#just trying to short circuit my own brain a lil bit more at this point i guess

[lizardkingeliot]

i was reading the part in queen of the damned earlier where khayman sees louis and lestat kiss backstage (the same kiss from tvl) and thinking about how if i were writing that part in season 3 it would happen when they AREN'T actually back together yet but louis is there and lestat is about to go on stage and louis is just so pretty and he can't resist anymore so he just grabs him and dives in tongue-first and it's An Insane Kiss, Actually and when they part they're both wide-eyed and breathless and i don't know where i'm going with this i just need them to be messy and for the sexual tension to be turned up to 11 okay

[here2bbtstrash]

I posted 3,085 times in 2022

That's 3,085 more posts than 2021!

1,413 posts created (46%)

1,672 posts reblogged (54%)

Blogs I reblogged the most:

@here2bbtstrash

@gimmethatagustd

@jung-koook

@yoongukie-ff

@sunshinerainbowsbts

I tagged 3,065 of my posts in 2022

Only 1% of my posts had no tags

#fic review - 750 posts

#mposting - 591 posts

#queue what you want ㄱ -ㅅ-ㄱ - 584 posts

#mbox 📮 - 447 posts

#anonymous - 438 posts

#ask game - 331 posts

#look down on me like that - 218 posts

#ldomlt spoilers - 153 posts

#freaky drabbles - 123 posts

#fic rec - 99 posts

Longest Tag: 129 characters

#i usually try and take a brain break between chapters of this but i got so excited i already started on dialogue for a ch 5 scene

My Top Posts in 2022:

#5

Yoongi fingering u till u squirrttttttt

my god, anon. i don't know what to tell you. this was supposed to be a short lil drabble like the rest and then..... that that live yoongi happened and i. uh. my brain short-circuited. the thirst for this man overtook me. i think i just wrote the nastiest porn of my whole career lmao.

so anyway uhhhhhh - HOPE YOU ENJOY 🤪

pairing: yoongi x reader wordcount: 4.8k DO NOT FUCKING @ ME contains: my first ever OT7 scene :') ft. an incredibly dumb conversation abt squirting, best friend's friend to lovers (? idk what else to call it lmao), squirt god min yoongi (yes that's a warning), yoongi is in his that that live outfit bc i'm a menace to society, a lil bit of edging, multiple orgasms, overstimulation, and obv. a whoooole lot of tongue and finger fucking and SQUIRTING 💦💦💦

“Remember that girl I took home last night?”

You just know Taehyung is about to say something gross by the look in his eye, the way he bites down on the edge of his red solo cup as he glances around the circle of his friends.

Well, his friends and you. There’s a clear distinction.

A few heads nod, shoulders shrug. You brace yourself.

“Fucking geyser, I’m serious. Soaked my whole bed. I had to sleep on the couch.”

Hoseok’s loud cackle rings in your ears, and he has to cling to Jimin’s arm to stay upright, clearly already well past tipsy. “I was wondering why you were washing your sheets! That’s typically a once-a-year activity for you, Taehyung-ah!”

You make sure Seokjin doesn’t miss the death glare that you aim in his direction. He dragged you to this stupid party, said otherwise he’d spend the whole time in the corner reading webtoons on his phone. And now you have to tolerate the absolute fuckery of his nasty friends.

He grimaces a silent apology back at you, bringing one hand up to smack Tae firmly on the back of the head.

“She peed?!” Jungkook’s eyes are wide as he pauses with his own drink halfway to his mouth.

Everyone reacts at once: Hoseok quite literally doubles over, Taehyung fights to keep the corners of his mouth from turning up, Jimin gives an aggressive side-eye, Seokjin covers his face with his hand. Even Yoongi reacts, smiling a rare wide smile, shoulders shaking a little with laughter.

Namjoon takes the educational opportunity, clapping a hand firmly to Jungkook’s back. “Do you know what squirting is?”

You watch as Jungkook’s eyes flit across the circle. “I thought it was pee,” he admits, voice a little quieter this time.

“You are so fucking dumb,” Jimin says, shooting Jungkook a look of utter disgust. Hoseok is literally on the floor at this point.

“It’s, uh…” Namjoon makes a face as he searches for the right words. “Female ejaculate.”

“Girl cum?” Jungkook translates.

“I don’t care if it was piss, it was fucking hot,” Taehyung says as he downs the last of his drink.

“You’re disgusting,” Seokjin says with a shake of his head as he offers a hand to help Hoseok to his feet. Taehyung sticks his tongue out, waggling it side-to-side, which just sends Hoseok right back down again with another peal of laughter.

“I’ve never hooked up with a squirter,” Jungkook says softly, like he’s a little disappointed.

You open your mouth to speak up, as the only person with a vagina currently partaking in the conversation, but Yoongi beats you to it. “You just don’t know what you’re doing.”

His words surprise you for a second, but you shake it off and continue. “Not every girl can squirt. Most can’t.” You shrug slightly.

“That’s not true,” Yoongi counters, and you whip your head to look at him.

“What the fuck do you know, Min Yoongi?” The words leave your mouth before you can stop them. You don’t know why Seokjin thought it was a good idea to bring you around his friends, when he knows you have no filter.

Yoongi raises a hand, as if to signal that he’s not trying to fight. “I’m just saying. Once you learn what to do, anyone can get there. Just takes some patience. And a lot of foreplay. But I’ve never not made a girl squirt.”

You roll your eyes. “Well, I’ve never squirted.”

It takes a moment for you to realize what you’ve set yourself up for, and you have to fight the urge to clap a hand over your mouth. The same response ripples through the group a millisecond later: eyes widening, lips pursing in silent expressions of shock.

“I think I need another drink– should we all go?” Namjoon asks, extremely unsubtle.

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2,438 notes - Posted July 17, 2022

#4

compromise (explicit)

genre: twilight AU, straight-up cracky-ass porn, do not look @ me

pairing: vampire!taehyung x human!reader x werewolf!jungkook

summary: you're torn between the two loves of your life - but maybe you don't have to choose.

word count: 10k 😬

contains: explicit sexual content~*~ no seriously like i wrote this with my dick it is EXCLUSIVELY twilight-flavored porn sdhfjdkgsdf - taehyung is a vampire, jungkook is a werewolf, reader is in love with both of them, they can't stand each other, yktfv !!!! this is actually an incredibly poorly negotiated threesome, so uh, don't do it like this kids!!!!! just enjoy the filth 🫡 which specifically contains: a m/m/f threesome ft. mid-sex jealousy lol, biting, nipple play, clit stim and fingering, clit biting 💀, cunnilingus, spitting, neck.... licking?, a lot of body temperature descriptions bc we're sticking to steph's hot/cold lore bc i think it's funny idk, blowjobs/throat fucking, spit-roasting, first times, unprotected sex, some mildly improbable sex positions because they both have superhuman strength lmfao, a smidge of dirty talk/praise kink, ass play, anal sex, good ol' DP, annnnnd the grand finale: neck-biting and blood-drinking 🤭 also tae and jk throw "slurs" like 'leech' and 'dog' at each other the whole time sdfsdfjkf 💜

A/N: SURPRISE! AND HAPPY HALLOWEEN! I WILL NOT BE EXPLAINING MYSELF BUT UHHHH ENJOY SOME NONSENSE!!!!

thank you to @haliiimede for the incredible banner 🥺

read on AO3!

~*~

You’ve been on edge all evening, watching, waiting.

As the sun slips below the horizon and reddens the sky on its departure, you try not to read it as an omen of what’s to come. Night pours out black like it always does, dark blanketing the lush green outside your bedroom window, but your stomach refuses to untwist.

Not even the touch of Taehyung’s hand can settle your nerves, despite how familiar it is, cold as ice, hard as marble. He’d climbed in your window at dusk, the way he’s done every night for months now, but tonight the air between you is heavy. Tonight you can barely look at him.

“Jagiya,” his hundred-year-old voice drips, sweet like honey, rich like blood in the quiet of your room. “What’s wrong?”

You haven’t even opened your mouth to answer when his head snaps up, clearly alerted by some sound your weak human ears have yet to pick up on.

Right on time, then.

“Tae,” you murmur softly, bringing one hand up to cup his cheek. Your thumb strokes lovingly over the flawless perfection of his face as your human eyes meet his: rich ochre, deep enough to drown in. He’s well-fed; you made sure that would be the case when you planned this. You need every possible element on your side tonight.

He cuts you off with a growl before you can say more than his name. “Why is that dog here?”

The word spat through his clenched teeth sends a fresh wave of anxiety spiraling through your bloodstream. “Please don’t call him that, Tae.” Your voice is barely more than a whisper. “He’s my best friend. I wanted the three of us to talk.”

You realize you can hear it now, coming up the road: the distant but unmistakable rattle of Jungkook’s motorcycle. It draws closer and closer, until it’s underscored by the crunch of gravel as he pulls into the driveway. When Jungkook finally kills the engine, the silence in your bedroom feels loud.

Taehyung doesn’t speak, but you can tell he’s furious, every muscle in his body pulled tight. His hands curl into fists, flexing restlessly at his sides, and even the well-defined line of his jaw jumps like he’s holding back the urge to tear something apart.

You do the only thing you can think of to calm your boyfriend: you take his face in your hands and pull him in for a deep kiss.

As your lips touch, it finally sinks in: how scared you are about tonight– you’re shaking like a leaf in Taehyung’s arms, even though you know he’d never hurt you. At least not purposefully.

The heat of your mouth seems to distract Taehyung a little, but there’s still fury in his kiss, in the soft growls that he can’t quite suppress as his tongue rolls over yours.

Your bedroom door creaks on its hinges, and you pull away from Taehyung just in time to see a bright smile drop off Jungkook’s face as he stands in the threshold. Your heart plummets into your stomach. Three seconds in and you’ve already ruined everything. How very human of you.

Moving an inch back from Taehyung, you unwind your arms from around his neck and try to regard both of them at once. This conversation suddenly feels much harder to navigate than you’d anticipated.

“Hi, Jungkook,” you say softly. Your best friend is practically glowering in the doorway now.

“I thought you wanted to talk. I don’t need to see him turn you. Or suck your soul out, or whatever.”

You try to stay calm, because someone has to. “It was just a kiss, Jungkook. I meant it, I do want to talk.” Your gaze flits from Jungkook to Taehyung. “To both of you.” As your eyes find Jungkook’s again, you pat the bedspread on your other side. “Will you come sit down?”

Taehyung makes a noise so otherworldly that chills rip up your spine, enough to make you shiver. “He’s fine where he is.”

See the full post

2,451 notes - Posted October 30, 2022

#3

the spins (explicit)

genre: smutttyyyyyy as hell (with like one angsty conversation about isolation as a trauma response, but said in much vaguer terms lol)

pairing: jungkook x reader

summary: you discover a new side to your former lab partner, frat wonder boy jeon jungkook, when you confess to him the one thing no man has ever been able to make you do.

word count: 10.3k

contains: explicit sexual content AKA porn!!!!! alcohol, minor frat house shenanigans, reader is a total bitch but in a highkey relatable way, jungkook is The Only Good Frat Boy, mentions of shitty hookups/sexual dissatisfaction/faked orgasms, an **absurdly** lengthy and gratuitous cunnilingus scene, a lil bit of teasing/begging, spitting, LOUD sex, reader’s first partnered orgasms, also JK has a tongue piercing 👀

A/N: so writing this nearly killed me,,, lmao. i have two inspiration sources that i must credit- one is jai’s @gimmethatagustd INCREDIBLE fic paint me naked, which gave me the final shove i needed to topple over into JK hard stan land (listen he’s 3 years younger than me, i had a complex about it, it’s fine). seriously go give it a read and give her some love, i fully credit her with moving college!JK into my brain where he now lives rent-free.

the other source of inspiration is this insaaaaane imagine audio (WARNING, extremely NSFW and will literally ruin your life!!!!!) that hooked me on the idea that JK would be competitive about eating pussy and….. yep, smack those two things together and ta-da, this porn was born. godspeed and thanks as always for reading 💜

this is now (finally) on AO3!

~*~

You really don’t know why you came to this party. It’s so crowded, bodies pressed together, people screaming to be heard over the noise, or just because they’re white girl wasted. The music is terrible, the floor weirdly sticky, the container of jungle juice in the kitchen extremely suspicious. You opted for tequila instead, the last of which you now drain from the bottom of your red solo cup. The whole place smells like cheap beer, vape smoke, and frat boy cologne.

Yet another Jack Harlow song comes on over the bass-boosted speakers and you roll your eyes. That’s it. Time to go home and actually finish the psych paper you’re putting off.

You shove your way into the kitchen, trying to be the only upstanding citizen in this godforsaken frat house and actually put your trash in a trash can. You spot one in the corner– nearly overflowing, but still good enough, except that a whole circle of Brads and Chads block your path. You do your best to squeeze past them, but because they don’t do anything except live at the gym and snort protein powder, they might as well be a brick wall.

“Excuse me,” you try. Nothing.

“I need to get through,” you say with a gentle push. It’s like talking to a brick wall, too.

“Alright, fuck it.” You roll your eyes and decide to just fucking go for it. You’ve had enough liquor that you won’t feel the pain until tomorrow anyway.

The circle breaks apart in confusion, not a brain cell in sight, as you slam your way through. They part so quickly that your plan works too well, and the excess momentum shoots you forward. You stumble, losing your footing, already cringing because you’re about to faceplant on the nasty floor of this nasty frat house kitchen.

“Hey, whoa!” A voice way too close to your ear for comfort shouts, but then an arm snakes around your waist and saves you from your doom, gripping you tightly. “Careful!”

You glance up, wondering if this guy is going to try to turn the moment into some attempt at flirtation, the world’s worst meet cute, but then you see big round eyes staring back at you with legitimate concern. Oh, fuck. You know those Disney princess eyes. Your stomach drops.

“Whaaaaaaaat!” Holding you in one arm, an unopened 18-rack of beer hoisted up on his shoulder with the other, grinning like a kid in a candy store, is none other than frat wonder boy Jeon Jungkook.

Ah, shit. You knew he was in a frat, of course. He doesn’t shut up about it. But you didn’t know it was this one– well, actually, you don’t even know which frat house you’re in right now. Alpha Beta Omega? They’re all the same to you. You don’t really understand why they have factions anyway instead of all just living together, but that would probably be too gay.

“I didn’t know you partied!” Jungkook is still smiling a smile that takes up his whole face, clearly unable to believe that you’re standing here in his disgusting frat house kitchen in your leather jacket and your combat boots.

You huff a laugh as he slowly unloops his arm from around you, assessing to see if you’re stable enough to stay upright. You shoot him a look as if to say I’m fine, dumbass. Uncoordinated, not intoxicated. There’s a difference.

“I do not party,” you correct him. “Never once in my life have I partied. I merely come to the parties, stand on the edges and observe, get my free alcohol, and then depart. Like I’m doing right now.” You aim your solo cup at the trash can and miss by about a foot.

“You– hang on,” he pauses, turning back to offload the fresh case of beer onto the kitchen counter. There’s a clamor of excitement from the Brads and Chads as they crowd around to slap him on the back, shouting things like “okay, JK!” and “let’s fucking gooooo!”

You have to get out of here, you think to yourself, and then you watch Jungkook bring his tattooed hand up to rip the cardboard front of the case off effortlessly, and that is lowkey kind of hot.

Quiet, you tell your tequila brain. No lusting after frat boys. Not even the one you sat next to for an entire semester in bio lab, the one who was actually way smarter than anticipated and didn’t just use you for an easy A, who genuinely seemed like he cared about the way you answered “How was your weekend?” every time he asked, and who didn’t even say one problematic thing the whole semester.

Just because he’s the exemplary form of his species doesn’t make him not what he is, you remind yourself. Even the best frat boy is still a frat boy.

Jungkook returns as the rest of the bros swarm the counter and proceed to decimate the case of beer. That must have been the reason they were waiting here, at their proverbial watering hole, because they circle up and dissolve back into the party, several of them clapping Jungkook on the back again in thanks as they leave.

You realize he doesn’t have to yell to be heard anymore as he says, “You’re leaving already?”

See the full post

2,900 notes - Posted May 20, 2022

#2

the shape of your body (explicit)

genre: fluffy slowburn smut

pairing: jimin x reader

summary: the same day you finally manage to speak to your months-long public transit crush, you end up seeing much more of him than you bargained for.

word count: 24k 🙇‍♀️

contains: explicit sexual content~*~ (after a slow burn lmao) - new york city grad school AU, strangers to lovers, reader is an art student, public transit thirsting, jimin is a dancer and a nude model, namgi and vhope as side characters, basically everyone is gay (they're ART STUDENTS in NEW YORK CITY it's called realism 💅), a smidge of member x member side character relationships, jimin is biromantic demisexual 👀, conversations about body image issues/past relationship struggles/demisexuality and libido, soooo much making out, a couple "failed attempts" at sex, accidental voyeurism (but not how you think lmao YOU'LL SEE), showering together non-sexually, and: fingering, clit stim, nipple play, come eating/sharing 🤭 an attempted blowjob, face sitting, & protected sex (multiple rounds 🥵)

A/N: asjdshgkdfjgs i can't believe it's done 😭 there were so many times i thought i would never finish this fic !!! i have too many friends to thank for talking me off of SEVERAL ledges where i was convinced this whole thing was trash and that i should just stick to short porn or perhaps simply never write again. i'm so glad i saw this one through because there are concepts in here that are deeply important and personal to me wehhh 🫠 i sincerely hope y'all enjoy this one!! thank u for enduring mostly radio silence while i was in jimin lockdown, and of course, happy early birthday to mini, the light of my mf life 🥰💜 (oh and LDOMLT ch 8 is coming next so buckle tf up bitches 👀)

an eternity of smooches to @haliiimede for beta reading and just generally being the best fucking person on planet earth ✨ AND TO @goodsoop FOR THE DEMI SENSITIVITY READ VERY SORRY THAT I AM THE WORLD'S LARGEST IDIOT AND FORGOT TO CREDIT..... i love you both 🥺

read on AO3!

~*~

You’ve taken the subway thousands of times since moving to New York.

Morning rides, squeezed nearly to death between commuters in suits blinking back sleep and school-uniformed kids scream-laughing and paper coffee cups gripped tight by winter-numb fingers.

Long trips with your sketchbook on your lap, riding the line all the way to Pelham Bay Park and back, to surface above ground out where there’s a little more space to breathe, until the setting sun floods orange glow between the buildings just before you descend again.

Late nights coming home, Namjoon’s head thudding back against the train window behind him as he dozes off, one arm thrown around your shoulder to ward off any drunk creeps, his free hand interlaced with Yoongi’s on his other side.

It’s always been the three of you, first in friendship, and now that the two of them have figured out they’re something more, you don’t mind it. But when it’s late and you’ve had enough drinks to feel warm all the way through, to melt something open inside of you, and you glance over to see a loving flicker of eyelashes exchanged as Namjoon leans down and presses a kiss to Yoongi’s temple, you can’t help it.

There’s a little bit of an ache there, right behind your ribs. Sometimes.

But mostly, when it comes to the train, you take the 6 to school. You go through the motions this morning the same as you always do: headphones around your neck, bag slung over your shoulder, immediately dropping into the first empty seat you see as the train doors shudder closed and the car starts to move. Six stops down, 51st street to Astor Place, five days a week, you know it like a heartbeat.

You just wish you knew him, too.

Subway Boy, as Yoongi affectionately labeled him the time you got two pitchers of margaritas deep and made the mistake of confessing to your roommates about your crush— if it can even be called that. Can you truly have a crush on someone you know nothing about, not even their name?

Well, you know a few things.

He must live further north than you, because on the days you see him, he’s already on the train when you board at 51st.

He must like music, because he always has a set of fancy bluetooth earbuds in.

You’re pretty sure he’s an athlete of some sort, because he’s usually carrying a gym bag—and because during this summer’s heat wave, the one and only time you’ve seen him wear shorts, you nearly fainted at the thick, defined muscles of his thighs.

He has an affinity for jewelry, delicate silver always glinting through the multiple piercings in his ears. At odds with this, he seems to prefer to dress comfortably, and you’ve seen him in enough branded school t-shirts and sweats to figure he must also be an NYU student, though you can’t say for sure if he’s undergrad or graduate.

You deeply hope you’re not crushing on someone who still needs a fake ID to drink, but there’s no way to be certain.

Most importantly, you know that he is absolutely stunning. Elegantly handsome, with expressive deep brown eyes, skin like glass, and round cheeks and full lips that flush frozen pink on particularly frigid New York days. His hair has changed colors a few times over the months that have passed since you first took notice of him, but it’s currently a honey blonde, and long enough that he often reaches up to card a hand through it. He does it now, pushing loose strands back to expose his forehead as he frowns down at his phone.

On days where you share the same car, you notice very little else that happens on the ride, thoroughly entranced in Subway Boy’s beauty and his mystery. The train could probably catch fire and you’d miss it entirely.

Today happens to be one of those days, and excitement glitters in your bloodstream as you realize he’s seated across from you. The rush of seeing him always feels like its own reward, some kind of cosmic sign that the day is going to be a good one.

And then the train stops moving.

There’s an audible reaction from a few people in the car, and you glance up a moment later when a voice buzzes over the intercom. You’re able to make out “attention passengers” and very little after that, just the basics about some sort of unforeseen interruption of service and that the train should resume moving again soon.

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3,604 notes - Posted October 9, 2022

My #1 post of 2022

party on you (explicit)

genre: SMUT SMUT SMUT with an extremely small side of fluff lol

pairing: hoseok x reader

summary: the only thing stronger than your social anxiety is your big dumb crush on hoseok - and you're certainly not expecting it when he tells you the real reason he threw this album release party.

word count: 9.8k

contains: explicit sexual content aka PORN !!!! idol-verse, literally takes place at the JITB album release party, friends to lovers, erotic hand holding, they're both cute and dumb, a studio hookup 👀 dirty talk, thigh riding, cunnilingus, a single pussy slap lol, taint touching (?), HOBI EATS ASS, multiple orgasms, overstimulation, throat fucking, reader gets a facial, and a lil bit of cum eating, it's cute 😌

A/N: so, hi, i went to hobipalooza lmao. this is actually lowkey a songfic ??? charli xcx was one of the earlier acts on hobi's stage and. my god. seeing her live was a religious experience, and when she performed party 4 u i was like hnnnhghg this should be a fic. and now it is !!!! and i hope u enjoy 🥺🥺 i tried some new stuff in here, both soft and freaky lmao so i'm nervy to share!!! as always your support and feedback means the world to meeeee ok ilysomuch bye~

read on AO3 !

~*~

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4,457 notes - Posted August 5, 2022

Get your Tumblr 2022 Year in Review →

[oh-for-merlins-sake]

CRUMBS ‘N’ CRUMPETS | gw

summary: ever since y/n opened a bakery across from weasleys’ wizard wheezes, george hasn’t stopped thinking about her. he hopes that holiday cheer, a blanket of snowfall, and one chocolatey recipe will give him the courage he needs to make his christmas wish come true.

pairing: george weasley x fem!reader

word count: 1.6k

warnings: several mentions of food, gets a lil steamy, alcohol

a/n: ok so i was feeling HELLA COZY and wanted to write a comfy christmas fic hehehehe. enjoy! and happy holidays!!! 💛

taglist: @iliveiloveiwrite @andromedaa-tonks @pansydaisy​ @a-little-too-much @slytherinsunrise @marvelettesassemble @msmarklee1213​ @letsgotothehop @finnishslytherin @starlightweasley @witch-and-a-half​ (message/ask to be added/removed, loves!)

The twinkle of shimmering white lights danced across your vision as George twirled you in a sloppy circle, keeping time with the vibrations of familiar Christmas songs that rattled your feet.

“I’m going to need to sit after this!” You laughed.

“Can’t keep up, darling?” George teased, a mischievous smirk tugging at his lips.

You gripped his arms, slowing him to a halt. “Oh, don’t flatter yourself, Weasley.”

He raked a hand through his disheveled ginger locks. “I don’t have to — you do plenty of it for me.”

George shot you a wink, but the only response you could muster was a dramatic scoff. Just as he opened his mouth to quip further, someone toppled into you, resulting in a heaping dose of eggnog poured directly down your front.

You gasped from the sudden, thick chill and glared at George, who was stifling a raucous laugh.

“‘M sorry, Y/N,” she mumbled.

“It’s all right, Eleanor, you didn’t mean to,” you assured as you propped her back up.

You passed her back to her seemingly sober friend who apologized profusely on her behalf. She tugged Eleanor out of the shop, and you heard a boisterous laugh erupt from behind you. You spun on your heel to find George with his head on the nearest display case, trembling from how hard he was laughing.

You feigned anger, “George!”

“Honestly, Y/N, I think eggnog suits you!”

You swiped your wand across your body to instantly launder your bright red blouse. George protested, “Oh, c’mon, at least save me some!”

You rolled your eyes and playfully shoved his shoulder.

The stuffiness of the shop began to settle on your sweaty skin as clusters of people roved around you. A gust of icy air blew in as another horde of people clamored through the door. The chill was inviting.

Your eyes fluttered shut as you tossed your head back, exposing your sticky neck as you relished in the fleeting cold. George bit his lip, averting his gaze, knowing all too well how he longed to taste your salty skin.

“I could really use some fresh air,” you sighed, opening your eyes. “Care to join me?”

“It’s getting a touch hot for me as well,” George nodded in agreement, absentmindedly loosening his tie.

You gulped at the sight and quickly pivoted to lead him towards the door. He followed achingly close behind, and you resisted the overwhelming urge to spin and close the gap.

You were grateful to reach the wintry air.

“You sure know how to throw a Christmas party, Weasley,” you said as you tamed your tousled hair.

George chuckled and shook his head. “Every year, we think it’s going to be a hell of a lot smaller than it ever is.”

“Well, it gets my official stamp of approval!” You curtsied before mimicking a grandiose stamping motion. “Of course, only if the new girl’s opinion even matters.”

George laughed. “‘Course the new girl’s opinion matters!” He pointed sternly. “Some may say it’s the most important one.”

Only a few months had passed since you opened Crumbs ‘N’ Crumpets, your bakery across the street, but it felt like you’d known George for years. Like clockwork, he’d stop in on Tuesdays and Thursdays, sampling the daily special and shoving a few bills into the tip jar; and every Saturday morning, you’d leave a steaming cup of coffee with a warm chocolate chip muffin on the doorstep to Weasleys’ Wizard Wheezes; and after a bustling day of business, when the shops all closed and the keepers turned in, you’d both walk down the alley, admiring the colorful Christmas lights that strung above the streets.

Neither of you dared to discuss it, and neither of you would admit that the routine meant more than you ever led on, but as he watched you giggle and admire the twinkling lights above your head yet again, he knew that he was careening down a treacherous path.

“Fancy a snack, George?” You asked suddenly. “I’m starving!”

The firewhisky you downed earlier created a cavern in your stomach; and the same was true of George. “What can I get you?” He asked, turning back towards the party.

You stopped him and nodded towards the bakery. “I was thinking we could make something of our own,” you challenged.

A faint blush sprawled across his freckled face as you dragged him by the hand. “Are you sure you want my help? I was banned from the kitchen as a child — blew up far too many things with my brother.”

You giggled as you unlocked the door to the bakery, pushing it with your shoulder and causing the silver bell overhead to chime. Guided by the moonlight that crept through the storefront, you led George to the back before flipping a switch to illuminate the messy kitchen.

A doughy mixing bowl sat unwashed in the sink, patches of flour blotted the countertops, and a few holly-patterned pot warmers sat on the cool, linoleum floor.

“Neat as a pin,” George teased, nudging his hip against yours.

“Do you want a snack, or don’t you?”

George chuckled as you pulled a delicate recipe box from a nearby shelf and flipped through the cards within. Eventually, you withdrew an old-time favorite: your mother’s homemade, melt-in-your-mouth, triple chocolate cookies. George was eager to learn how to concoct such an extraordinary confection — or rather, pretend to learn.

Honestly, George couldn’t comprehend much when he was around you. You raptured every ounce of his attention and always managed to short-circuit his brain and send his stomach into an endless bout of somersaults. Focusing on anything but you was a fruitless task.

His heart fluttered as you danced around the kitchen, spinning dough, sprinkling flour, and sampling chocolate. You were completely in your element. It seemed an intimate blessing to be standing there, rolling globs of sticky dough between his palms beside of you.

“I shattered my ulna when I was eight, and these cookies were the only thing to get me through those bloody buckets of Skele-Gro,” you recalled, slapping the last ball of dough onto the aluminum cookie sheet.

George grimaced. He was all too familiar with the sensation that accompanied a hearty helping of Skele-Gro. “These must be pretty wicked cookies then!”

You laughed and slid the tray into the toasty oven. “You’re in for a real treat, Weasley!”

George’s mouth was practically drooling at the delicious chocolate aroma that wafted through the air as he scrubbed colorful measuring cups and wooden spoons in the sink. Each time he passed you a dish to dry, your hand would gently graze his, which sent him into a complete and utter tizzy.

As soon as the timer chimed, George practically raced you to the oven.

You laughed as you stood between him and the oven, turning off the timer and placing your hand against his chest. “You’ve got to let them cool, Georgie!”

He peered down at you, suddenly overwhelmed by how little distance separated the two of you. “Sorry,” he muttered. The faintest trace of a smirk lined his lips. “I can be a bit... impatient.”

You gazed up at him, stammering as you attempted to craft some sort of coherent response. You were well aware of the fact that merely standing on your tiptoes at this point would close the minute gap between your lips and his; how the scent of chocolate evaporated as you inhaled his musky cologne and the notes of cinnamon that escaped his breath; how you’d been standing in silence for probably longer than what was socially acceptable — perhaps you should say something, you thought.

“That makes two of us,” you whispered. You were doused with a sudden wave of courage before swiftly tugging George to your lips by his evergreen tie, worried that if you waited another second, that courage may dissipate into another missed opportunity.

His lips melted into yours as he pressed you against the balmy glass of the stacked ovens behind you. You sighed into the kiss and tugged the ends of his ginger hair as his large hands swept underneath your blouse to rake at the small of your back. You gently tossed your head back, giving George’s mouth free rein to finally dance across your neck. A soft moan escaped your lips as you hooked your fingers through his belt loops to pull him completely against you.

You were perfectly content to continue indulging in your finally realized fantasies until a faint, burning odor infiltrated the kitchen.

You gasped and pushed George off of you, flinging the oven door open to reveal greatly crisped, blackened cookies.

“Blimey, I’m sorry, Y/N!” George exclaimed.

You safely extracted the sheet of cookies and set it on the counter before turning off the oven. You couldn’t help but laugh at how carried away you’d gotten.

“Bet they’re still bloody delicious,” George assured, reaching for a scorched cookie.

You giggled as he audibly crunched on the sweet, doing his best to hide the grimace that threatened to surface. “Well,” he muttered, “Guess that means we’ll have to try again another day!”

The two of you tossed the charred sweets in the bin, both flushed and bashful about the events that had just transpired. Neither of you mentioned it as you locked the bakery once more or as you migrated back to the Christmas party across the street. You wondered when either of you would bring it up, if at all; if either of you would ever muster the courage to do such a thing again.

As you both maneuvered to settle against a wall, George chirped, “Oh, look!” He pointed above your heads. “Mistletoe.”

He smirked as you rolled your eyes.

Well that didn’t take long.

[waithyuck]

touch

pairing: ghost!zhong chenle x reader (f) *halloweenie special*

genre: supernatural au, fluff (with suggestive tones)

word count: like 2k cuz I suck

warnings: one lil mention of murder, themes of haunting, suggestive content (like kissin and some heavy petting, but nothing explicit y’all), non consensual touching (not in a sexual way, more like ‘omg I think a ghost touched me’ yk), explicit language, chenle is a lil lonely ghost boi, reader simps for him,,,,and forms a relationship,,,,with a ghost,,,,

a/n: FUCK IT ITS FINALLY DONE. FUCK. is this edited??? HAHAH. no

< previous

~12/17/2020~

~~~~

moving out on your own for the first time was hands down probably the scariest thing you’ve had to do in your short life. sure, finding a place that was relatively cheap had you excited at the possibility of having a sense of responsibility, and getting away from your parents was a definite plus, but the entire prospect of being alone was, well, terrifying.

you probably should have asked more questions when agreeing to move into said place; a one bedroom apartment that was big enough to fit you and you only. it was cute and clean, and it was all you needed with the minimal amount of things you had.

the cheap price didn’t raise any red flags in your admittedly stupid and naive brain, but it definitely should have. you cursed yourself looking back at not inquiring about exactly why it was affordable.

about two weeks in is when some weird shit started to go down.

you expected there to be the usual noises that occur in an apartment building, but the ones you heard in the early hours of the morning, every morning, seemed a little bit different.

it sounded like small sniffling, like crying, and sometimes the floorboards would creak softly outside your bedroom door, scaring you beyond belief. you even went as far to ask you neighbor if they had been crying every night, to which she looked at you like you had gone nuts.

the touches started not too long after that.

you felt like you were going insane, but you would swear on whatever god you needed to that there was something touching you at night.

light, feather like traces across the skin of your arms, light presses against your face and shoulders, and the occasional cold poke against your legs had you almost ready to give up on the apartment entirely.

you couldn’t leave though; if you were to break the contract you signed, you would lose an incredible amount of money just for vacating early.

you tried to convince yourself it was just your imagination; stupid childlike paranoia from watching horror movies as a kid.

however much you tried, nothing would be able to convince what was before you currently, was part of your imagination.

“woah, what the fuck?!” you screamed, your eyes widening at the sight of the extremely pale boy standing a few feet in front of you. “who the fuck are you?” you clutched what remained of the pile of laundry in your arms, the rest fallen onto the floor as your heart seemingly beat through your rib cage when he stared back at you in awe.

“wait, you can see me?” he asked quietly, his mouth agape as your face screwed up in confusion.

“what? of course I can see you, what the actual fuck?” you blurted back, subconsciously taking a small step backward, dropping the rest of the clothes as the boy seemed to float forward. his feet didn’t touch the ground and he seemed to slowly become more translucent the farther down his body you looked, shocking you even more.

“oh my god,” your breath was staggered as you became to realize what this boy actually was. “oh my god, are you dead?!”

“well that’s one way to put it, yeah.” he stayed out where he was, not moving forward any more into your space. “I’m a ghost.” he put both his hands up and gave a small sheepish smile. “ta-daaa…”

your brows furrowed in confusion, your idiotic human brain trying to process what was actually going on in your apartment right now.

“so wait a minute,” you started suddenly, bracing your hand on the wall beside you to keep yourself steady. “have you been the one touching me at night? what the hell, dude??” you weren’t sure how it was possible, but a blush rose to his ghostly cheeks.

“I didn’t mean anything creepy by it…” he softly spoke, looking down at his feet. “I just haven’t felt any human contact in a...very long time. I’m sorry.”

you wanted to be more angry at him, but then thoughts swirled into your mind of how lonely he must have been, and how long he could have possibly been here on his own.

you continued to converse with the ghost boy (crazy, you were aware) and came to find out that he was actually straight up murdered in this exact apartment about twenty years ago. the most surprising part was that the damn apartment building you were living in has been around that long, considering it’s shady history.

chenle was visibly upset talking about it, sparing the gory details but explaining enough for you to understand that he was killed in his sleep during a robbery turned hostile. it made your heart ache knowing that he died alone, and has been alone ever since.

sure, there were people living in this place before you, but no one stayed long, for obvious reasons. they either found out the history of the murder or were scared away by chenle who was just trying to fill the whole in his dead, ghostly heart.

“you’re gonna leave, aren’t you?” he finally asked, his voice somber.

you did consider it before, but now it felt wrong to do, especially after meeting and somewhat befriending the exact thing that was potentially going to drive you away.

“no,” you replied solidly, shocking him as his head shot up to look at you. “I’m not going anywhere, now that I know you’re not gonna like, try to kill me or anything.”

you tried to joke to make the atmosphere more lighthearted, and it seemed to work as a chuckle escaped him. you sat in silence for a few moments, before a realization hit you.

“wait, wait,” you put a hand out in front of you in emphasis, surprising the boy in front of you. “how are you able to touch things?” you paused for a moment, “and me?”

the boy, chenle, rolled his eyes at you before looking at you with a void expression. “jeez, everyone has the stereotypes so messed up. have you ever seen the movie ghost with patrick swayze? it came out in like 1990.”

you blinked at him a few times before nodding slowly, having an idea of where he was going with his point.

“yeah well, it’s like that,” he paused, coming closer to you and reaching his hand out tentatively, trying to gauge your reaction. “if we just practice enough,” He was close now, directly in front of you with his hand hovering over your arm. “we can touch whatever we want, whenever we want.” his hand wrapped around your wrist gently to prove his words to be true, and you softly gasped at the feeling, still trying to wrap your head around this crazy scenario you were living in.

“that’s nice,” you said, slightly nervous at your own reaction to him touching you. you couldn’t deny that it didn’t feel nice to have someone caress your skin so gently…

he stared at you silently, his face seemingly emotionless as he held you. it didn’t take a genius to decipher the look in his eyes, however. glistening with life and longing, looking at you like you were the only person in the world...and you supposed to him, you were.

“you’re so…” he started, his voice quiet as his other hand reached out to touch your face. hesitant at first, he drew his hand back a millimeter, before letting his fingers brush against your cheek as you sighed and found yourself leaning into him. “pretty. so pretty.”

it seemed crazy; this raw form of attraction at first sight that you were feeling. you had no doubt he was experiencing it too, just from his confession alone.

your lips parted to speak, but no words came forth as you brain short circuited, taking in his handsome features as you finally realized just how attractive he was.

the hand that was holding your wrist slowly slid up your arm, causing your skin to prickle at the sensation of his touch on your skin. it slid up over your shoulder and up your neck, to finally rest on your cheek like his other hand was now doing.

the moment was insanely soft and intimate, and even though his hands were slightly cold, the air around you both seemed to grow warmer and warmer with every passing second, almost suffocating you with each shaking breath you took.

without a second thought, you lunged forward into his space, wrapping your arms around his shoulders and kissing him softly, his hands dropping from your cheeks to rest on your waist as a surprised grunt came from within him.

‘this is so crazy’, you thought, leading him into your room as you kept your lips attached, ‘absolutely insane.’

you weren’t sure how this even came to happen; you’d never thought you’d be flat on your back against your mattress while a literal ghost boy ran his hands up and down your waist as he kissed you like a man starved. you were still slightly convinced that he was a figment of your imagination; he felt so real, nothing like what you assumed a ghost would feel like against your skin.

his hands weren’t as warm as a living humans would be, but you still relished in the feeling of his fingers gripping at the skin of your waist, holding you close to him as he kissed you without holding back.

you highly expected him to be shy and inexperienced; since he had died so young you figured he wouldn’t know what to do.

it was a stupid assumption, to say the least.

you gripped his hair gently and tried to sit up, only to have him keep you down as he sweetly moved his mouth against your own. his grip was becoming more needy and before it could go too far, you pulled back.

you relished in the sight of his red puffy lips, seemingly so alive and human, like blood was still coursing through his veins. his eyes showed wide, blown out pupils as he stared down at you, his eyes hooded slightly.

he licked his lips once before softly falling beside you, his shoulder brushing yours as you both laid in the middle of your mattress in a calming silence.

“well that was a strange turn of events.” you panted, curling your body beside him as you tried to catch your breath. who knew that a dead boy would be such a damn good kisser?

he smirked at you in response, not saying anything as he grabbed your hand in his.

“now you definitely can’t go anywhere. I’m attached.” he teased, looking at you longingly with a cheeky smile on his face. you rolled your eyes but still smiled nonetheless, knowing that you wouldn’t be going anywhere anyway, for a very long time.

you weren’t sure how this was all going to work out, but you’d figure it out as you went along, together.

[valkyrieofsmut]

Red who’s so eats strawberry’s during ovulation at a sweets shop and absentmindedly stares at a cake decorated in strawberries while slowly getting more and more horny not realizing why till he snaps out of his bored daze and realizes what he’s looking at and quickly says a ‘I got to go’ before porting off to find his so or a private place to rub one out

Yes. That is all.

.

Red’s eyelights were on something- he knew they were, could tell that they were, but he wasn’t paying attention. His brain was too focused on what time of the month it was... 

Strawberry time... 

Such a silly and inane thing wouldn’t mean much to anyone, but, for Red it had special meaning. It was when his girl hit the high point of her heat cycle- ovulation, humans called it.

He heard that sweet laugh and blinked, his eyelights focusing and the sight of a strawberry cake decorated with fresh strawberries appeared.

He pushed away the blush growing on his cheekbones, and the erection pushing at his seem... No wonder he was hard... heh...

(Y/n) wandered over to another display, looking at all of the strawberry items. She had a glow about her that seemed to light up the area and call to him- that come hither siren’s song... 

Fuck- the things that woman did to him... 

He felt himself twitch and knew that he wouldn’t be getting rid of the stiffness without help any time soon.

Red turned away from the counter and started through the aisles, finding (Y/n) and wrapping his arms around her from behind. “sweetheart- gotta lil bit of an’ issue...” The way it was pressing against her, he knew she knew what he meant. “gonna have ta give it a pass...”

“Red, I haven’t gotten anything, yet,” she complained.

��i’ll come back fer it, jus’ tell me what ya want,” he told her, his nasal ridge nuzzling into the crook of her neck. “i’ll get ya anythin’ ya want... even th’ expensive shit- my treat...”

“No, horny man,” she told him. “I don’t know what I want, which is why I’m still looking around.”

Red felt a lusty growl growing in his chest. “how ‘bout we split th’ difference an’ we get a quicky, then ya can pick what ya want...?”

She thought about it for a moment, but agreed.

The door closed behind (Y/n) in the one person bathroom, Red appearing a moment later, making sure the door was locked before pulling her to him.

Their mouths and tongues met, a rushed tangle pressed by the urgency to not get caught.

(Y/n) gasped as he picked her up and pressed her against the wall, grinding against her and teasing them both.

“fuck, (y/n), need ya bad,” he told her, shoving his bottoms out of the way.

A needy whine left her as he pulled her bottoms out of the way. “Yeah?”

“ya fuckin’ know it, sweetheart.”

Red couldn’t quite hold back the sound as he pushed forward, sliding in to be surrounded by her hot, wet walls so easily, and neither could she.

He put his mouth back to hers and the kissing continued as they tried to hide their noises in each other’s mouths.

Red moved, his pelvis rocking to fill her and retreating, picking up speed and sending bursts of pleasure through them both.

He had to pull back, gasping for air for a moment before burying his face in her shoulder, trying to muffle his voice as he started pounding into her. The needy gasps and whimpers she tried to hide made him need her more, going faster and hitting harder into her. She was so wet... she was dripping down him, and probably onto the floor-

Red adjusted his pelvis so that he could hit that special spot inside of her, and she was suddenly trying not to make any noise as she raced toward orgasm, starting to pulse around him, and then, she was coming, squeezing him tight.

A growl vibrated through him, rattling his bones at the feeling, and he only lasted a few more thrusts.

“fuck- sweetheart- fuck- fuckin’- stars-” he ground out into her shoulder as he pressed as deep into her as he could, filling her with his warm magic as his jaw snapped, catching the shoulder of her top in it and biting, probably tearing holes in it.

They panted for a moment, then Red nuzzled her as a purr grew in his ribcage, his soft side showing as he gave skeleton kisses along her jaw, his own jaw twisted in a dopey grin.

“Can I still pick whatever I want?” (Y/n) teased breathlessly.

“anythin’,” he answered.

"Good, 'cause you owe me for this shirt- it's my favorite shirt!" She halfheartedly complained.

Red chuckled as he kept nuzzling her shoulder. "mmm, doll, i'll fix it if ya want."

"You just keep your promise," she told him. "After this, I might want to buy out the store."

Red's voice was husker when he spoke again. "sweetheart, ya don't clean up, wear my cum in ya all day, i'll buy ya the fuckin' store."

:~:~:~:~:~:~:~:~:~:~:~:~:~:~:~:~:~:~:~:~:~:~:~:~:~:~:~:~:~:~:~:~:~:~:~:~:

Red’s eyelights were on something- he knew they were, could tell that they were, but he wasn’t paying attention. His brain was too focused on what time of the month it was...

Strawberry time...

Such a silly and inane thing wouldn’t mean much to anyone, but, for Red it had special meaning. It was when his girl hit the high point of her heat cycle- ovulation, humans called it.

He heard a loud laugh and blinked, his eyelights focusing and the sight of a strawberry cake decorated with fresh strawberries appeared.

He pushed away the blush growing on his cheekbones, and the erection pushing at his seem... No wonder he was hard... heh...

“Can I help you?” One of the workers asked, finally getting to him.

“uh- i- heh...” He quickly threw on his mask of charm. “ya got any a those strawberry cakes ready ta go?”

“Of course,” the worker responded, turning and quickly getting a box and folding it as they turned to a computer to tap a few buttons, then turned around, moving a cake into it as a tag printed.

Red quickly paid and shortcutted to (Y/n) ‘s room, setting the box on the night stand as he looked around. He made a quick circuit around, but couldn’t find her, and ended back in her room with a groan.

“fuck...” he grumbled, landing on the bed face down. He’d hoped to find her and work out some of this build up that stupid cake had caused. It wasn’t going away, either, with her scent surrounding him.

Red shuffled until he was nuzzling her pillow, feeling himself throb and twitch.

He couldn’t take it anymore! He needed some relief!

He buried himself under the covers, and pushed his shorts down, breathing in the beautiful scent surrounding him.

His hand went to his very stiffly protruding cock, starting to stroke it softly.

He had half a hope that (Y/n) would come back and catch him, ask what he was doing... he’d tell her, “sorry, sweetheart, can’t last wit’out ya,” and she’d join him...

But it didn’t happen, and his hand sped up, tightening around him as he displaced the blankets and they fluttered around him. The smell of her was surrounding him. He was imaging her there, riding him hard and fast as he jerked his cock.

“fuck- nnnghh- oh, fuck, sweetheart-” he groaned as he got closer, a rough growl coming from him as he closed in, and then- “rraaaaaagggghhhhh!”

His hand continued over his cock as it throbbed and pulsed his release, making him groan as he caught his breath and cum spilled all over him, his shorts, and the blankets. “nnnnnnnnnngh,” he groaned in content. “only thing that’d make it better is (y/n)...”

Ask Masterlist?

[mcfreakin-bxtch]

this is so strange to ask, but could you write something about Mando and the reader and about their age gap (she’s 20/22 - that’s because technically he’s 33/34 - i don’t remember well)? choose you if something fluff or anything else, obviously just if u have free time!! ☀️

This is not strange at all man, and yes I think that’s about right. Or at least it sounds right to me.

I decided to go for fluffy fluff with a smudge of angst and mentions of smut on this one since I’ve been writing a lot of smut lately, buuuuut if you all would like a smutty part two I would be more than happy to oblige as soon as I can!

This is also unedited and short I apologize. 

-

You hate this. 

Din—you were there when Moss Gideon called him by his true name—is sitting with the Child in the hull, rolling that metal ball towards him on the floor, gently so that the Child has a chance to grab it. When the baby giggles, you grin and there’s a soft noise that escapes through the vocoder. It makes your heart swell with a longing ache. 

When you first met Din, you never thought in a million galaxies that it would go this far. That one job would lead to another with your skills, and eventually you would become the Child’s caretaker. That slowly, as you became more familiar, the Mandalorian started to creep into your every daydream. It soon escalated into your every thought, your every breath, and the butterflies in your stomach that flutter in a frenzy when you were around him; the very same ones that still reside within the confines of nervous giddiness. 

At first, you chalked it up to a stupid crush. You are young, early twenties, and he’s a man; just in his early thirties, and illuminating every bit of swagger and enigma that was just sexy and appealing to you. And Din is nothing but good towards you, even stoic and ever so distant in his way. He’s kind when he’s not bounty hunting, he’s soft when it’s just the three of you on the Razor Crest—with the Child more than you, obviously, but he never once has asked you to leave the room if you sit from afar and watch. It’s something that you could easily get over and eventually move on from. You said this to yourself every day and night when your thoughts drifted to that Din Djarin cloud of yours, and occasionally—if the need was too much—you’d stick your hand down your pants and think of his cock inside you as you came. 

Then he almost died. That broke you, made you realize that it was all more than just a crush; somewhere along the lines, you fell in love with him. Hard. Life is funny like that. 

But he just doesn’t feel the same about you and you will never be the to make him laugh like that and no doubt smile. You will never even have a chance of feeling a sliver of his bare skin against yours, or the brush of his lips. You will never hear any adoring words of affection from him that’ll turn you into a puddle of lovey gooiness. It’s something you have to endure and suffer through. 

“Hey.”

You blink through your daydream, realizing that Din—Mando, you have to remember to call him; Din is too… personal and you don’t want to make him uncomfortable—has been calling your name. 

“Sorry,” you mumble. “Just… thinking.”

“Yeah.” The modulator crackles. “Are you hungry?”

As much as it sounds appealing to you, you're in too much stress right now to put in the effort to eat, so you shake your head no and watch as he sighs and stands up. He stands in place and wobbles with one foot poised in one direction and the other in yours. It’s like he’s contemplating something and that brings your undivided attention. 

“Did I—did I do something?” He asks with uncertainty. 

You blink dumbly at him. “W-what do you mean?” You curse yourself for how weak you sound. 

“I—” He stops, puts his head down for a moment, then whips it back up to you and clenches his fist. “I mean did I do something to make you… distant?”

Distant? Oh. Oh. You thought you were really good at concealing your emotions, you really did. But you’re not as good as you like to imagine and now the jig is up. You’re going to have to tell him, because he’s, well he’s the Mandalorian; the one you’ve been partners with for a while, so he knows when you’re lying and you just—you need to tell him. It’s only fair to the both of you. 

You wring your hands nervously in your lap and chew on your bottom lip. Your heart is pounding against your chest rather uncomfortably that spreads to the rest of your body and makes your leg start to bounce with the increasing anxiety. 

C’mon. This is now or never. 

“Mando I’m—I’m in love with you.” It practically comes out a whimper, and it’s too fucking quiet but you take a deep breath and will yourself to keep going. “And I know that that probably makes you uncomfortable, and that you don’t feel the same way at all. So I’ll… you can drop me off at the next stop. I’ll be okay.”

As painful as it was saying, you can’t deny how good it feels letting it all out. Din—Mando—appears to be in shock. His whole body is stiff, and you’re sure if you poked him he would sway under the miniscule pressure. Your stomach is in knots, awaiting his response to your confession with tears burning in the back of your eyes. But you will not cry, not here and not now. 

“You think—” He chuckles, deep but without humor. “And here I was sitting here thinking that you didn’t like me.”

Wait. What? Is this real?

A gust of air escapes you with an airy laugh. “Wha—wow.” You don’t know what else to say. It’s like your brain is short circuiting, blank and unyielding in its chaos. 

“Yeah.” He sighs and takes tentative steps towards you until he plops himself down next to you, but doesn’t face you; he stares ahead at the Child. It’s quiet for a little, sans the gurgles and babbles, and you take this moment of silence to collect your thoughts. 

“Why did you think that I didn’t like you?” You finally whisper. 

The helmet tilts down. “Because… because you’re so young.” He whispers. “And I was trying to spare you from making you uncomfortable or—or hating me. And you still—” He stops. 

You nod your head eagerly and encourage him with a small smile. You need to know. 

“And you still call me Mando.” He relents. “I know that sounds stupid, and I know that you’re just being respectful and I appreciate that. But I don’t know, the doubt started to creep in when you didn’t ask your silly little questions like you always do, especially about my name.”

This is all just… ridiculous. You start to giggle, and you can’t stop even when the visor stares quizzically at you and you feel him tense even more beside you. 

“I-I’m sorry it’s just,” you manage to croak. “It’s just this whole time, and our own insecurities were holding us back.”

It takes a minute, but eventually you hear that sweet, raspy and robotic chuckle filter through the helmet. Your heart swells and your smile is wide to the point of discomfort that you can’t stop. 

“And with the age thing,” you start. “I don’t care about that. I’m an adult and you’re an adult. Just because your bones crack when you stand and you groan when you have to bend down does not mean I love you any less.” 

You grin at the end and expect him to argue back, or to laugh with you. 

“...Can I kiss you?”

Maker. Maker this is really happening. 

You lick your lips and nod, not fully trusting your voice. 

“Close your eyes.” It comes out soft, almost a whisper. 

You look towards the Child, who must have fallen asleep on the blanket Mando—Din, you can call him Din now—laid out as they played, and close your eyes. The anticipation is killing you already and it’s only been a second, but you’ve been waiting so long for this and it’s finally within your grasp. There’s a loud hiss that makes you slightly jump. 

Then there’s a soft wisp against your lips; that small ghost of air that flows from his mouth onto your awaiting kiss, teasing you. You keep your eyes tightly shut as he palms your cheeks in his hands—bare and rough but soft against and you wonder just when he took those gloves off—and he presses his lips against yours. 

At first it’s soft, just a cautious press. It’s still enough to take your breath away, to have to fight back the urge to keen into him and throw yourself onto him. Then he finally, finally, kisses you harder. You immediately gasp and he clumsily fits his mouth against yours, trying to move in perfect sync. You follow his lips, losing yourself to the language of this kiss; the first of the many that are to come, the one that’s a little unsure but absolutely reventing in the simplicity of it, begging for more and more. When you trail the tip of your tongue against his plump lip, you swallow his moan and explore the divine taste of him. Din responds just as eagerly and your body is on fire, and he’s the cooling water and the smoldering flame at the same time, bringing you into his warmth and completely enveloping you into… into his everything. 

You whine when he pulls away for air, and he indulges you into a few more pecks before he completely pulls away. It feels cold but your swollen lips thump with an untainted love that’ll keep you sated; at least for a little while. 

Tags: @scarlett-berserker​, @justlovetoreadfics​, @lil-baby27​, @mando-vibes​, @beepbeepyabitch, @that-void-witch​, @im-the-music-whore​, @certifiedhunter​, @softpedropascal, @domino-oh-damn, @okaydacre​, @lemongrove​, @appreciating-chase-brody, @iwontforgettheapplepie, @mybabyboytony​, @olyamoriarty, @pcrushinnerd​, @elusive-ivory​, @dizzydazed​, @bluejeancntrygrl​, @dadzawas-eyebags, @moonstruck-witchy @our-mrlangdon, @parody-the-emi, @evalynanne, @purplewaterbird, @vikingqueen28, @tedpicklez, @blunt-cake-yes, @agoldin, @lustriix, @readsalot73, @kateb013, @eupphoriaaa, @imalovernotahater, @everything-lost-and-unsaid, @dlmafa1, @hoodedbirdie, @drunkenliterary, @fioccodineveautunnale​, @fangirlfree, @mrsparknuts, @amarvelousmandalorian, @ironheart-hanako, @bunniotomia, @thisisthe-way, @rosadorando, @meganoid1997, @adikaofmandalore, @cahooter, @charliepeaceout, @dreamgirl-67, @phoenixhalliwell, @acrylics-and-sunshine, @sunkissed-winter, @oloreaa, @equalstrashflavoredtrash

[wickedwitchwc]

milo picks up mark bridal-style and gives him a lil squish on the butt (hi! it's zestyeli haha)

(Hi! I know you! I’m Angie, I’m sick and tired, and for some reason I took this message as a challenge. You’re welcome/I’m so sorry? I don’t know which...)

***********

“What th-” was about all that Mark could get out when he was suddenly swept off of his feet, not an uncommon occurrence in their household, frankly. He was still slightly caught off guard, especially when he turned in his husband’s arms and saw the mischievous look on the man’s face.

“Um.” Mark floundered for a moment, watching the other man carefully. “What’s the big deal?” He asked, even as he slid his arms around the other man’s neck, just for the added support.

“Well, my dear, my love, my life, we need to have a conversation.” Milo said, as he began to move, carrying Mark from his office and, conspicuously, towards their daughter’s room. “And I figure like this, you can’t so easily run away from me…”

Mark blinked, and blinked again at the man. What had he done now? And why was it so bad that Milo thought he’d run from him? “I already don’t like where this is going…” Mark noted, holding on tightly as Milo nudged the already partially open door with his elbow, carrying him inside. He was highly suspicious of what they’d run into in their toddler’s room, but when he examined it… it didn’t seem to be in shambles. Yeah, her toys were everywhere, but that was kind of a given for the way their kid played. He’d been more worried that she’d broken something, or colored on the walls, or something equally destructive, given Milo’s behavior. But seeing her angelic face glance up at them from her seated position on the floor wasn’t what he expected. 

He cast an expectant look back at Milo, who seemed to sense right away that Mark was waiting for an explanation. “Jenn?” Milo said patiently to the little girl. She perked up immediately at what Mark referred to as his husband’s ‘parenting’ tone. “Why don’t you repeat for daddy what your doll just said to the teddy?” He gently encouraged her.

Jenn blinked at him, seeming to try to remember. Then, her face abruptly brightened with recognition. She bent over, grabbing the mermaid stuffie in question, and shook it at the offending teddy bear. “She told him she doesn’t fucking want to play!” She said, and she said it so shrilly that Mark winced a little at the sound of it. But that wasn’t nearly as bad as seeing Milo’s knowing look shooting immediately in his direction.

Yeah now he knew why Milo had decided to just pick him up. If Mark had been standing for this display he totally would have made a run for it. “I can explain.” 

“Oh, I can’t wait to hear this.”  Milo said, as he hefted Mark in his arms again. He glanced back down to their daughter, first. “Jenny? Are you supposed to be out of bed after we’ve tucked you in?” He asked her. After a couple of minutes where Mark watched uncomfortably as Milo talked their kid back into bed, (honestly, Milo got superdad points just for being able to do that with his hands full,) they left the toddler’s room, with Milo closing the door behind them.

With the two of them alone once again, Milo looked back to Mark, apparently awaiting his explanation. 

“Okay, to be fair, she was supposed to be napping…” Mark tried. “And Wade kept doing this stupid thing…” 

“In the game you were playing?” Milo said, nodding along with his explanation.

“And I might have let one or two curse words slip, and she walks in…” Mark continued.

“And instead of telling her that was a word we don’t say…” Milo replied ambiguously.

“I mean, I didn’t want it to come around on us one day, and have her use it as black mail against either of us, so…”

“Mark…” 

“I might have gone ahead and just taught her a whole bunch of cuss words and the context for when you would be saying them.” Mark finally just admitted.

Milo gave him a blank look, as he tried to wrap his head around that bit of information. It was like his brain had short-circuited and was taking a couple of seconds to reboot. His husband was smart to pick him up before hand. Mark would have seen that as a clear opportunity to make a break for it. 

Finally, Milo seemed more or less recovered, and he looked to Mark. “Why…?” 

Mark shrugged. “She was either going to learn it from us or from the kids at school, and I mean. I’m not about to get blackmailed by a fricking three year-old.” Mark said. “So I just taught her everything. And she cusses better than me now. And I would have given you a head’s up, but, I mean, judging by your reaction now…” Mark trailed off.

“Mark.” Milo said again, and now his voice was taking on a slightly more dangerous caliber. “We are about to unleash that precious, precocious little girl upon the unprepared masses at La Cadena Elementary, and while the other kids are learning their vocabulary words from such harmless entities as Sesame Street, or See Spot Run…” 

“Okay, well Jenn’s just getting a head start from the mean streets of Cincinnati.” Mark shrugged. “It’s not really that bad, a lot of kids pick up this stuff from their parents, she would have learned it anyways. I don’t think it’s as big of a taboo these days. Is it?” Mark asked, Milo got his answer in a sigh. 

“Well when her teachers send her home with a note detailing how she got in trouble at school for calling one of her classmates an asshole…” Milo said.

“Oh.” Mark said, after a moment. “Yeah I guess that would be a problem.”

“Yeah, and guess who I’m going to blame?” Milo continued.

“Oh, oh! And what are you gonna do, punish me?” Mark asked, and from the look he got he immediately regretted saying anything. 

Milo looked him over slowly, sizing him up, and it dawned on Mark that Milo absolutely did know how to punish him. Well, okay. Maybe ‘punishment’ was the best word for the somewhat sadistic streak that Milo could have in the bedroom, especially when Mark was learning to enjoy those games they would play. 

Carefully, Milo lowered Mark to the ground, letting him steady himself on his own two feet before releasing him. “Don’t tempt me.” Milo told him, using that dark tone that sent shivers down Mark’s spine. Then the man abruptly slapped his behind. 

“Ai!” Mark yipped, taking a few steps back for his own safety.

Milo shot him a knowing smirk. “As you were.” he said, brushing past Mark, leaving him alone in the hallway once again.

[matrixaffiliate]

Ojalá - Cede

Chapter Update! FFN and AO3

Cede

It had been a bit strange, adjusting to their flat being short two residents. It had always had four residents. First, it was the Marauders, ready to start at university. Then Peter took a position in Canada after graduation leaving Remus in the second room on his own. Then Remus took a position two hours away, and despite how much Sirius insisted the commute was fine, Remus moved closer to his work.

James and Sirius probably would have been able to make the rent on their own, but it definitely would have made things tight back then. So Remus offered to help find someone to take the spare room. His friend Lily happened to be looking and her friend Marlene had needed a new place as well. So when Remus moved out, Lily and Marlene moved in.

But now, James and Lily moved out as they continued to plan their upcoming wedding. And that left Sirius and Marlene to finish out the last four months of the rental agreement.

Sirius sat at the kitchen table, eating a sandwich as he scrolled through flat listings on his phone. He heard the lock turn and sighed, McKinnon was home.

Don't get him wrong, Sirius liked Marlene, a lot, and you'd have to be blind to not see how drop dead gorgeous she was. Marlene was brilliant and sexy and clever and could sling insults better than anyone. But since Lily and James moved out, Marlene had been a nightmare.

She was sharp-tongued with him in ways she'd never been in the nearly three years they'd all lived together. The ways they had joked and laughed when Lily and James had locked them out of one or the other's room seemed to be gone now, and Sirius was confused as hell as to why. They had been mates - at least he thought they had. Now she couldn't seem to stand being in the same room as him.

"McKinnon," he didn't look up from his phone as she went straight for the room she used to share with Lily. She didn't respond, she never did anymore. Sirius wished he knew what was going on. He realized he'd need to talk to James about it at some point. He was James' best man and Marlene was Lily's maid of honor. How were they going to function at their best mates' wedding if she couldn't even bother to look at him, let alone say hello?

Sirius tried to put it out of his mind. Obviously, she wanted to be difficult and he'd best let her be for now. If she really loved Lily, she'd put on a good face at the wedding and then be done with it. He went back to scrolling through flat listings, saving the ones that he wanted to email about and finishing off his dinner.

He'd just about decided to go for a ride on his bike when Marlene came out of her room. Her eyes met his and Sirius saw ice in her stare. But rather than the c'est la vie attitude he'd been choosing to take, Sirius felt a fire of anger light in his chest. What right had she to make him feel unwelcome in his own fucking flat? He paid both his half and James' half of the rent, just as she paid her's and Lily's. He had just as much right to sit at this table as she did.

He met her stare and let his anger seep into his expression. Either she didn't notice or she wasn't intimidated. He liked that about her, Marlene didn't let anyone push her around. She walked purposefully to the kitchen and opened the fridge, which pinned her against the wall. Sirius wasn't sure what he was doing, but he was tired of her treating him like a problem. So he walked right up against the open fridge door.

"You know, adults usually don't take their problems out on their friends."

Marlene didn't look at him, instead, she kept staring straight ahead into the fridge. "I don't have a problem."

"Bull shit," Sirius spat back at her. "James and Lily move out and all of a sudden you don't look at me, you don't talk to me, you even try to avoid being in the same room as me. If you don't have a problem then tell me what the hell is going on, because if I wanted to be treated like fucking scum I'd go back to my dear mother."

It flashed in her eyes then, sympathy. Normally he'd hate that, but right now he took it as a hope. If she still could feel something for how he grew up maybe she didn't think of him as the scum of the earth after all.

"Sirius..."

"What did I do, Marls?"

Marlene laughed, a sardonic sound as it fell from her lips. "What did you not do, Sirius?"

"Fuck, Marlene, you can't just tell me everything I do is wrong!" Sirius wanted to shove the fridge door shut but Marlene beat him to the punch. The old machine rattled as the door slammed into it.

"That's just it," she shot back, "you don't do anything wrong! You do everything right!"

Sirius' confusion only fueled his anger and he stepped into her space. "Then why treat me like I'm some sort of pest? Why are you acting like we haven't been friends for the last three years?"

He put his hand against the wall behind her to steady himself. She was staring up at him with wide eyes and Sirius couldn't stop himself from dropping his eyes to her lips. He almost forgot why he was angry. How had he ended up this close to her?

Sirius had been attracted to Marlene from the moment he laid eyes on her, but she'd been in the middle of a relationship then, and when she'd called it off with what's his face he had just started dating someone; and while they'd both been single for the last year or so, they were friends rather than strangers sharing a flat, and Sirius wasn't sure he wanted to risk their friendship by bringing feelings into it. Now, though, looking down at her with their bodies a breath's distance apart, he felt like he had nothing to lose.

"You aren't a pest," Marlene's voice had gone quiet and she couldn't seem to look away from him.

"Then why," Sirius closed the distance between them, causing Marlene to press up against the wall, "are you pushing me away?"

She was so close to him their breathing caused their chests to touch and Sirius refused to stop staring her down. She had made him feel like trash the last month or so, but right now she was making his skin burn. The feelings he'd buried when she first moved in had sprung to the surface and he was almost ready to give into them and kiss her.

"I, I'm sorry," Marlene's voice was quieter still but she continued to hold his eyes. "I didn't mean to, I was only trying to get myself to not ruin everything."

"To ruin what?"

She didn't answer; just pulled her bottom lip between her teeth. But for the first time since he pinned her to the wall her eyes left his just long enough to drop to his lips before snapping back up to look at him.

Sirius was losing his grip on the situation. He officially couldn't remember what happened to get them to this point. They were entirely too close. Sirius couldn't help himself. His free hand came up to her face, tucking her hair behind her ear and running his fingers down her curls. Her breath caught as he did and that was probably what did him in.

Sirius lost control.

He brought his lips to hers and his hand came down to grip her waist. She tasted better than every dream he'd had of her, and his body moved of its own accord as he pressed her back into the wall so that his body was flush against hers. But what spurred him on more than anything was how she responded to his kiss. Marlene gripped the front of his shirt, pulling him closer as she pressed on her toes to kiss him further. She parted her lips with a moan as her hands moved over his chest. Her touch was electric and it short-circuited Sirius' logical brain. Everything revolved around this woman, feeling her body against his, kissing every inch of her skin, hearing her sigh his name as he moved against her. He wasn't thinking about after this moment, he was hoping to be consumed in this moment.

The rush he felt when she started pushing them back towards the bedrooms pushed him over the edge. He picked her up, wrapping her legs around his waist, and carried her back into his room.

"I've wanted to do this for fucking ever," Marlene sighed as she pushed her hands under his shirt.

"Well, then we're both idiots," Sirius pressed kisses down her neck and the deep collar of her shirt, "because I have too."

Marlene arched into him and brought her black nails to his scalp. "Wait," she panted, "swear we don't tell James or Lily that part."

"No shit Sherlock," Sirius laughed, "I quite prefer taking the Mickey to being roasted, especially when it concerns James."

Marlene laughed, a breathless sound, that quickly became a moan as Sirius deliberately turned her mind back to him and away from their former flatmates.

Much later, Marlene's curls splayed out on one of his pillows, Sirius ran his hand lazily over her curves.

"When?" Sirius asked. "When did you know you wanted me?"

Marlene's soft smile was relaxed in a way he'd never seen before. "The day Lils and I moved in."

Sirius couldn't keep the smirk off his face. "You wasted a lot of time. I was going to ask you for a pint that night before Lily mentioned your boyfriend."

"Fabian wasn't a bad guy," Marlene sighed, but her smile, soft, sexy, and sated, was all for him as it stayed planted on her face. "But he wasn't you."

"I should have dumped what's her name the moment you dumped Fabian." Sirius scooted forward to kiss her, pulling her body flush against his.

"Her name was..."

"She wasn't you, Marls," Sirius cut her off, "she doesn't matter."

He chuckled at the way Marlene's expression shifted from shocked to pleased to that earlier soft smile that was all for him, because of him.

"Find a flat with me," her voice was strong and it lacked the inflection of a request.

While Sirius would normally tease her, he found the feeling in his chest left him incapable of doing anything but grinning like an idiot before nodding once and kissing the fucking daylights out of her. Because he never thought he'd have more than dreams when it came to Marlene. Yet here she was, in his bed, telling him she wanted to keep living together, while she kissed him like he was the last remaining source of oxygen and she was suffocating.

And if Sirius could find more excuses to keep that soft smile on her lips, he was going to exploit every single one of them.

[littlespoonevan]

broadcast the boom, boom, boom (Preview)

so here’s a lil sneak peek at the beginning of the Never Been Kissed au!!! I’m hoping it’ll be finished by saturday/sunday but for now, here’s the first scene. i hope you like it!!!! <3

*

Isak would like the record to show he never actually signed up to be a part of the uni newspaper. After an ill-fated decision at one of Eva’s parties where he’d drunkenly stashed the boys’ weed in her living room when the cops showed up, Sana had cornered him in their biology lecture and blackmailed him into joining Vilde’s editorial team.

It’s been six months since then and Isak is still stuck here. (At least he’s managed to rope Jonas in too in the interim.)

Right now, they’re in a meeting. It’s the beginning of January and the beginning of the second semester and Vilde’s high pitched voice is getting significantly more shrill as different people on the team suggest ideas for stories. He doesn’t really get why she cares so much. The newspaper isn’t anything special – Blindernbladet is a fortnightly editorial that you’re more likely to see clogging bins on campus and abandoned in lecture halls than anywhere else.

But Vilde runs the office as if they’re working for the fucking VG.

“Do you not understand how important this is?” Vilde snaps at some first year that had suggested they do a story on the new menu options in the student centre.

Vilde turns to the room at large, eyes wide and mouth set in a firm line. “Our funding is going to be cut if we don’t start drawing in readers. We need hard hitting stories.” She smacks her hand on the table to emphasise her point though it’s somewhat hampered by the way it clearly makes her palm sting.

“Why don’t we do an exposé then?” Noora, their resident social affairs writer along with Jonas, suggests.

“Yes!” Vilde exclaims, pointing her pen at Noora with a gleam in her eyes. “Good. This is what we need. What about?”

“Youth culture?” Eva offers as a follow up.

“We could do interviews with students?” Sana chimes in. “From different courses and year groups to get the wider perspectives.”

Vilde nods fervently, dismissing everyone to their posts while she holds Sana, Noora, Eva and Chris back. Isak suppresses the urge to roll his eyes and retreats to the safety of his desk. He usually covers the science section with Sana but since she’s currently preoccupied he fucks around on the internet, messaging Jonas – who’s sitting on the opposite side of the room at his own desk – on Facebook.

Eventually he does actually start doing his work, skimming through the list of article ideas he and Sana had brainstormed earlier before Vilde had called a meeting. Selecting one at random, he opens his browser again and starts researching. A couple of hours later he’s neck deep in notes and half-formed paragraph plans when Vilde suddenly appears behind his computer screen, flanked by the girls.

“Hei, Isak!” she says far too enthusiastically. “Do you mind chatting in my office?”

Vilde’s “office” is a tiny box room with a glass wall that allows her to monitor the entire editing room while also separating her from the rest of floor and boosting her air of importance. Deciding it’s easier not to argue, he dutifully stands up and follows the girls into her room, dropping into the seat in front of her desk that she gestures to.

Vilde sits in her own chair on the other side of the desk with the girls taking up residence on either side of her once again. She looks like a mob boss. A mob boss with a pink bow in her hair. “So we’ve been discussing the exposé idea in more depth and we realised that interviewing university students may not be the way to go.”

“Okay…?” Isak says. He doesn’t really understand why he’s the one that’s being let in on this project.

“Popularity, cliques, those kinds of things don’t really impact you in university, you know,” Vilde continues matter-of-factly. “The campus and the courses are far too big to allow it to even be an issue.”

Isak agrees. He doesn’t think he’s heard the word popular since he started uni. No one gives a shit in college; everyone has their own friends and their own parties to go to and that’s enough. He privately thinks they’d have a better chance of exposing binge-drinking or drug use or something than they would some non-existent social hierarchy but Vilde clearly already has a plan in mind.

“Therefore we realised we need to go back to the source,” she continues, pausing dramatically as she bores her eyes into Isak’s. “High school.”

Isak just stares at her, still waiting for her to get to the point of her little spiel.

“We can all agree that the competition in high school can lead to a very toxic environment,” she says primly and the uncomfortable look on her face suggests she’s remembering the girls’ own difficulties with Sara, Ingrid and the Pepsi Max girls back when they were at Nissen.

“When we were in high school it was too difficult for us to look at the broader picture objectively. But now that we’ve been gone for a few years we have a wonderful opportunity to really delve into how this social hierarchy works and how it impacts on students’ mental health.” Vilde looks to the girls for approval when she pauses and they all nod meaningfully at Isak, making noises of agreement.

“Okay, I think so too,” Isak says uncertainly. “But what are you telling me for? I write for the science section.”

Vilde shares another look with the girls and Isak doesn’t miss the ways Sana is biting back a smirk and Eva is watching him like she’s just waiting for him to explode. Jesus christ, what have they done?

“Well,” Vilde starts hesitantly. “We’ve decided this would be most effective if we had someone on the inside to actually write the article.”

Isak doesn’t speak, waiting for Vilde to elaborate, because he refuses to believe she’s suggesting what he thinks she is.

Then, like ripping a bandage off, she says it. “We want you to enrol in Nissen for the month.”

It takes Isak a second to react, mostly because his brain short-circuits as soon as he hears the word “Nissen”.

“What,” he says flatly. It’s not a question.

Vilde takes a breath, flitting her gaze away from his no-doubt homicidal expression as she stands up. “We’ve already called the principal; you know Chris’ dad is on the board. We’ve discussed it. They will allow you to enrol for the month; they’re very interested in how the article will turn out. They’re hoping it will open the eyes of the students, especially if it’s written by someone close in age to them. The only caveat is that we have to keep all students anonymous, of course.”

She can’t be fucking serious.

“Why do I have to do it?” he snaps. He’s pretty sure there’re plenty of people who’d be happy to avoid uni for a month.

Vilde clears her throat. “We all agree you’re the only person on the team that we trust who could also actually pass as a seventeen year old.”

And that’s just fucking rude.

“I don’t look seventeen!” he insists indignantly.

“Isak, you do have a bit of a baby face,” Noora says gently. And wow, okay, she’s so not getting any food from his shelf whenever she runs out starting from now until the end of eternity.

“We’ve only been gone for three years, won’t all the teachers still recognise me?” he points out, desperately looking for a way out of this.

“The principal will inform your teachers so they don’t make a scene,” Vilde tells him. “Honestly, Isak. This is a great opportunity, we can’t squander it.”

“Vilde, what about my classes?” he asks wearily, deciding to redirect to the real matter at hand. He’s hanging onto his patience by a thread at this point. He’s in his third year of a bio-chem degree; he’s not some fucking first year taking a political science class and only showing up to college when it suits them. He actually takes his education seriously.

“Sana spoke to your professors,” Vilde hastens to explain.

“We may have conflated some details and hacked your email account,” Sana adds, waving a hand. “Don’t worry about it.”

Vilde shoots her a look before returning her gaze to Isak with a winning smile “You can take your lectures online for the month and all your labs take place in the evening so you can still go to them after school.”

“So you expect me to double my own workload and make my life a living hell for a month just so you can write some stupid article?” he demands. Honestly, what the fuck kind of parallel universe did he wake up in this morning?

“You’ll be on a reduced timetable,” Sana says exasperatedly. “And taking mostly science classes which will be a walk in the park for you. Besides, like we said, your teachers will be informed. You won’t have to do homework; stop stressing about the academics. We need you to focus on the social side of it. Join the revue, meet people.”

And oh no. No. They can fuck off. He’s not doing that.

“I’m not joining the revue,” he says in horror.

Vilde rolls her eyes. “You don’t actually have to play a role,” she says impatiently. “Join the PR group or paint the set, it doesn’t matter. But get involved.”

“It’ll be the quickest way for you to make friends and get invited to parties,” Chris adds.

“I’ll help you with uni for the month,” Sana sighs like he’s causing her a great inconvenience. “Okay? Whatever you need. Just get us the story.”

Isak wavers, contemplating his options. Would one month really be so terrible? He knows it’s not so much about the workload and more to do with his own experience of high school. High school to him is marked by three major red flags: his father leaving, his mother’s breakdown, and shoving himself ten miles deep in the closet.

He fucking hated himself in high school. His life was a complete train wreck and he’s only just started to actually feel good in himself again. He doesn’t want to go back to that.

“One month, Isak,” Eva says softly. “Just four weeks. And if you write this, you can leave the paper. We won’t try to make you stay.”

The dismayed expression on Vilde’s face says she hadn’t quite agreed to that term but it makes Isak consider it. One month and he could be completely done with all of this. It’s not even that he dislikes the paper at this point; he just feels like it eats up too much of his free time. He barely has a fucking social life because he’s always either researching for articles or researching for his own assignments. But that could all be over by February…

Pushing down the itch of panic beneath his skin, he grits his teeth. “Fine.”

He’s going to regret this.

*