#on some level he was probably like I am forever and do not understand these life and death concepts so he ignored them

[gonzodangerfeels]

I need to remember the pimps come from the slums and shouldn't be looked at directly.

[orchidyoonkook]

PG | KTH

Title: PG 

Pairing: Older Brother's Best Friend!Kim Taehyung x (F)!Reader

Rating//Genre: (M) | One Shot, Friends to Lovers, Age Gap, Slice of Life, Angst, Smut and Touches of Fluff

Summary: You aren’t delusional enough to think anything would ever happen between the two of you, not for a damn second. Be it the age difference, the fact that he’s your brother's friend, or the extremely high likelihood that he sees you as nothing more than Fourteen’s annoying little sister that he can use to rile said best friend up.

But that’s about it. Nothing more. And reality is something you’re able to keep a solid grasp on when it comes to him. You don’t let it go for the sake of acting on a one sided and unrequited feeling you know will pass… eventually.

Warnings: nicknames! a disgusting amount, language, assholes being assholes but being put in their place, brotherly love, sibling antics, tae is a swimmer and knows judo, also a Dan is--for the lack of better phrasing--a high belt level in judo. think of it like a black belt, OC cant keep it in her pants and neither can tae, mutual pining, lots of great gatsby references because I'm tyring to be that bitch (I am joking), tae has tats, OC's brother is an overprotective idiot but we love him anyway, slight physical abuse not by tae or reader or fourteen--basically someone grips an arm too harshly, some panic but no panic attack,

Explicit warnings under the cut.

Word Count: 11,521

Release Date: September 15, 2024. 12:00PM

A/N 1: The biggest most huge thank you to @violetsiren90 for being my sounding board, tech support and beta. She's a real one and y'all are sleeping on her work if you haven't alread read it. Go check her out!

A/N 2: My access to the adobe suite was aha....revoked. So! this is my first time making a banner and divider without photoshop. Therfore, the banner and the divider are a bit different than what I'm used to having XD. Tumblr is also absolutely destroying the qualty which is sooooo great. It looks wonky and blurry to me on desktop but fine on mobile so it is what it is. If i ever get adobe access again I'll probably come back and update the graphics.

Explicit Warnings: *ahem* nicknames, teasing, kissing, biting, marking (several ways), hand and finger kink (duh), voice kinklet (duhhhh), hair 'pulling' (m rec), semi public if you squint, hella foreplay, tae has a big dick, penetrative sex, oral (m+f rec), fingering, handjob?, multiple orgasms, body worship, switch like activities but mostly dominant tae, posessiveness, confessions, reader takes what she wants but so does tae, exhibitionism if you squint, slight cum play/eating, implied squirting, choking, cream pie. Pretty sure thats all of them. i never reailse how many i need to put until the list is done and wow *chuckes while blushing*

“Oi, can you fucking not? My sister’s right fucking there,” your older brother, Fourteen—nicknamed for his forever mental age—ridiculously and unneededly overprotective as always, says.

It is especially unneeded and ridiculous as he’s saying it to Tae, when all he’s doing is taking off his shirt to go for a swim in your pool. Like he’s been doing since you were tweens.

Well.

Since you were a tween and they were nearing the legal drinking age. But that’s besides the point. 

Best friend to your knuckle head of an older brother, you honest to god have no idea how they became friends. 

Taehyung is poetry and jazz and button up cotton shirts. Old book smell and expensive cologne, ringed fingers and whiskey, neat. The kind of vibe someone would get from being raised by a very successful lawyer for a father and a top ranking university professor of literature for a mother, while Fourteen is… your older brother. 

Maybe it’s a younger sister thing to not understand how her older brother has any friends. Considering you grew up with him, know all of his weird and gross habits, have a lovely dash of sibling bullying thrown in that you two share equally, and more. Yet, by some miracle, he and Tae manage to balance one another out. 

Tae—fucking somehow—makes your brother into a more presentable human being. He showers more than twice a week and wears deodorant every day now—even puts the seat down after peeing, a habit you’ve been screaming at him to stop doing since you could use the toilet. While Fourteen gives Tae a rougher edge he previously never seemed to be able to grasp, despite trying his best too. 

For example, the several delicate tattoos he now has all over his body, your favourite of which is an old timey record player on the inside of his forearm. They were something he’d been wanting to do for years, but only finally bit the bullet on and did once Fourteen took him when they were twenty two. 

Since then the collection’s only grown, much to your inner glee and mental dismay. 

And don’t even get you started on the delicate, thin rimmed glasses he occasionally wears—golden and the perfect shape for his face—or the ear piercings that just really fucking cement the tortured poet look that makes your heart clench every. single. time. you look at him. 

Similarly to what it’s doing right now, though no one ever knows due to your truly oscar worthy talent for acting completely oblivious to the beautiful shirtless man about to dive in. Call it over a decades worth of practice, and the fact that it’s also nothing you hadn’t gloriously taken in all teenagehood long. 

Every time you could get it. 

Which was a lot because Tae was on the high school swim team. 

For four years. 

And then the university swim team.

For another four. 

Teenage you was a lucky bitch. Now you’re only blessed with this sight when he comes over to swim laps or attempt to drown Fourteen. Which, admittedly, was still often. But not nearly as much as back then. 

The sight in question however, is curled black hair that frames eyes so warm you swear the sun’s relocated to his irises, and a jawline that makes the Statue of David’s pathetic in comparison. It’s fingers that make your mouth water from the way they flip book pages and thighs that make you think thoughts and things you never thought you would. 

It’s the scribbled text: ‘To err is human; to forgive, divine’ tattooed across his ribs, and a lean torso, muscled but not outrageously so. Just enough to have you forcing yourself not to stare at the delicate lines of his abdomen every time he comes over for a swim. 

Thank god for sunglasses. 

“Nah, I’m sure PG can handle it, Dumbass. I’ve only been using your pool every summer for the last 15 years give or take,” Tae says with a quirked brow and a half smile directed at you. 

Behind your sunnies, you heat up a touch, and internally sigh. Have you mentioned his smile yet? 

Because oh yeah, his fucking smile. 

Tae’s a nickname kind of person, hence why even you call your brother ‘Fourteen’. Taehyung’s called him Fourteen for so long now that calling your brother by his birth name just feels wrong. 

This being said, PG is Tae’s nickname for you. 

It stands for the TV rating ‘Parental Guidance’ because you’re younger by enough that when you were still under the age of 18, they—see: your brother and Tae because they’ve been joined at the hip since they met—were usually assigned babysitting duty. Very much the ‘take your sister with you’ sibling, but they never complained. Not once.

As much as you and Fourteen bully one another, you’re actually quite close when you aren’t verbally sparring—which is where his annoying overprotectiveness comes in. Even when it comes to Taehyung. 

“Yeah, Dumbass,” you copy, earning a smirk from Tae as he leans down to take his shoes off. “It’s just Tae.”

“It’s not about that YN, it’s about respect. You’re my little sister, and Fuckass over here,” you brother jabs a thumb in Tae’s direction, which earns you a second hidden smirk from the Fuckass in question, “Still doesn’t know how to respect that fact even after a decade and a half apparently.”

You shrug as Fourteen finishes his point and narrows his eyes at his best friend. Tae gives him a shit eating grin that screams ‘what are you going to do about it’ and your brother gives him a two fingered salute before shaking his head and taking off his own shirt. 

You take that as your cue to put your head back down because you don’t need to see that. 

Currently in very comfortable linen shorts and tank, you’re sitting on a padded pool lounger, rereading The Great Gatsby for the hundredth time. It’s one of the classics that never gets old for you, has the benefit of being a shorter read—therefore perfect for the poolside—and happens to be the copy Tae’d gotten you for Christmas a couple years ago. Pure coincidence, you tell yourself. Nothing more. 

With the beautiful addition of your very darkly glassed sunnies, it also makes the perfect decoy as you watch Tae over the top of the open book without risk of being caught. 

You firmly follow the rule of a little looking can’t hurt. 

You aren’t delusional enough to think anything would ever happen between the two of you, not for a damn second. Be it the age difference, the fact that he’s your brother's friend, or the extremely high likelihood that he sees you as nothing more than Fourteen’s annoying little sister that he can use to rile said best friend up—see: current shirt stripping debacle. It’s not the first nor the last time he’ll do something like it, and you’re pretty sure you and Tae have an unspoken agreement at this point to push as many of Fourteen’s buttons as you can together, just to see how far he’ll let it go before freaking out.

But that’s about it. Nothing more. And reality is something you’re able to keep a solid grasp on when it comes to him. You don’t let it go for the sake of acting on a one sided and unrequited feeling you know will pass… eventually. 

Despite the flames that rage and roar on in your heart. 

Despite the green light on the dock across the way tackling your brother under the water. 

You hold on. And only in these little moments of in between do you allow yourself to look. Pockets of time where a peek won’t be seen or recorded, and a moment of self indulgence keeps your sanity from trying to escape its tightly locked box.

You look and look and look until the green light is covered in fog once more, and the lid of the box seals tight.  

Another day, another glorious abuse of best friend privileges, Taehyung thinks to himself as he continues his butterfly down the imaginary lanes in Fourteen’s pool. 

He tries to come over at least three times a week. Four or five if he’s able, the more he’s over the higher chance he has to see you, not just Fourteen. But he’s rarely able to these days. 

Though the wind appears to have shifted in his favour today. You’re sitting on the lounge chairs again, reading away in the afternoon sun. 

It’s his favourite view. And it’s sweetened by the fact that you’re in the shorts he loves and reading a book he gave you. Something he’s done since before he could remember, really. 

Christmases and birthdays, he’s always given you a book. Usually a classic, sometimes something else. If it caught his eye or reminded him of you, he’d grab it and save it until the next Christmas or the next birthday, whichever came first. And you’ve always loved them, so he’s never stopped. 

They’re gifts that seem harmless to Fourteen, and for the most part they are. But these last few have been…different. Had deeper thought put into them. The titles, the story lines, the prose. He swears you notice it, but maybe that’s just his own wishful thinking. 

And he sure as fuck can’t be doing any of that. 

This cold water isn’t doing its job well enough.

Finishing his set, Tae swims over to rest before starting on his front stroke. Forearms hold him up on the edge of the pool, his chin balancing on stacked knuckles while his breath catches. 

He also uses this little break as an excuse to talk to you. He only ever freely can when Fourteen isn’t around, and right now his best friend is inside grabbing drinks, towels and probably relieving himself–which, knowing Fourteen—could take anywhere from thirty seconds to thirty minutes. So he has to take advantage of every moment he gets. 

“Got any new recommendations for me PG?” 

Books are an easy starting point when it comes to you. Fourteen may be a graphic novel at best kind of guy, but your brain can’t seem to inhale enough books to satiate it. And just the thought makes his temples rush with heat. 

He should dunk his head again.

You lower your Fitzgerald by one inch and raise an eyebrow to counter it. Just like your brother, you’re always one to give him a hard time. Make him work for every millimeter of ground conquered. And he’s pretty sure you have a smirk hiding behind the pages, though he can’t be certain due to the sunglasses hiding your eyes. 

“Maybe,” you say. “What do I get in return?” 

Answering that question about fifty different ways in his head, Tae decides none can be said out loud. He seriously needs to fucking reel himself in. Fourteen could return at any moment and the last thing Tae needs to have is a problem between his legs because you never make it easy for him. 

But rather than listening to his very rational thoughts and very logical brain, he instead decides to say fuck it, and croons in the voice that used to fluster you as a teenager. 

“What do you want in return, PG?” Hoping to soften you up, even the playing field a bit. 

And it works like a charm. 

Your body releases its tension on an exhale, your page is marked, book set to the side, and your legs extend and stretch before crossing at the ankle. It makes him wonder if your little girlhood crush on him still exists somewhere in the back of your mind. Probably not.

Scratch that. 

Definitely not.  

“What if I wanted a new nickname?” you ask.

Both his eyebrows raise in surprise. “What’s wrong with PG?”

“It makes me feel like I’m eleven,” you explain. And then hit him with a dose of his own medicine as you croon, “I’m not eleven anymore, Tae.”

No you sure as hell are not. And it kills him in a way that has him wanting to die over and over again. 

He could consider it. But he doesn’t think he’ll change it, not when PG can stand for so many wonderful things. Things you would never think he’d let it when addressing you. Things that would have Fourteen trying for drowning attempt number two thousand four hundred sixty three, and succeeding. 

“I’ll think about it—Fair?”

You ponder before agreeing. “Fair.”

“Now about those recommendations…” He reminds you, and that’s all it takes to get you going.

Fourteen comes out about ten minutes later, but by then, Tae has a new list of books to grab from the store, two laps under him with eight more to go, and you’re reading again—one bare leg bent at the knee he’s trying very hard to ignore when he comes up for air. 

By the time he’s due for another breather, you’re talking to your brother about plans for the weekend. 

“I’m going out early on Friday for Rei’s birthday, remember? And I’ll probably crash at her place after,” you say. 

Fourteen is sitting on the second lounge chair across from you, most likely playing a game on his phone if Tae had to guess. But at your reminder, your brother looks up.

“Fuck that’s right. Okay so no dinner then, I’ll just grab something on my way in.”

“Sounds good. What about tonight?”

Fourteen gives it about two seconds of thought. “How about Don’s?”

Your face lights up at the suggestion. “Fuck yes! I’ve been craving their milkshakes for like a week. Hey Tae!” you call to him. “Don’s for dinner? There’s a chocolate shake with your name on it if you’re down.”

Tae pushes himself out of the water onto the pavement and doesn’t miss the sly once over you give him while Fourteen chucks a towel at his chest, covering your eyes with his other hand. 

He catches the projectile before it can knock him back into the pool, and uses it to dry his hair.

“Dude! Seriously? Go find a fucking shirt or something, no one wants to see that.”

You swat your sibling’s hand away and give him a look that screams ‘grow up’ while Tae drapes the towel over her shoulders, a hand gripping at each end. 

“I’m only down if Dumbass is paying,” he says, smirking at your brother. 

“—What—”

“That sounds like an excellent idea,” you agree, holding out your hand in his direction. 

“—Hey wait a seco—”

Tae grabs and shakes just to watch the steam flee Fourteen’s ears at the contact. He meets your eyes conspiratorially, and you both nod before rushing Fourteen. 

“—You fuckers!—” is all he gets out before Tae and you are grabbing an arm and a leg each and throwing Fourteen’s fully clothed ass in the pool. 

He curses the both of you out several times as he treads, drenched and dripping, up the stairs and out of the water. Tae throws him the towel. 

“You’ll pay for that, Asshole,” Fourteen tells Tae, and Tae grins. 

“Oh, I’m counting on it. Worth it though.”

“And you!” Fourteen says, eyes on you. “What the fuck dude? The betrayal to your darling, one and only brother hurts. I’m wounded,” he lays it on thick, walking up directly beside you. 

You're a hairsbreadth too late to realize when he shakes his hair out directly over top of you and you shriek, pulling your knees up, protecting the book under your shirt and behind your legs at all costs.

“Fourteen! The book! I will kill you if you damage it!”

Fourteen chuckles. “Payback’s a bitch Little Sister.”

You sneer at him, checking your prized possession for injury. Not a scratch. 

“And sopping wet is your colour, Jackass.”

“Big words for someone who can just as easily be thrown in the pool.”

You pause. Eyeing him directly. 

“You wouldn’t.”

“Wanna bet?”

Your brother looks at Tae with an evil plot in his eyes and you screech as they both nod once. You drop your book behind you as they yank you up by your arms and fling you into the pool, too much momentum from them and not enough resistance from you leaving you matching your darling, one and only brother.

As you come up for air, two colossal splashes ricochet from the left and right. Tae and Fourteen having both cannonballed in on either side of you. You choke on splattered water for a second before you’re attacking them with splashes, merciless in your pursuit for revenge. 

“You both suck!” you half giggle half yell. 

“Yet you love us anyway!” your brother falsely—correctly—claims. 

You roll your eyes before trudging out, heavier and dripping with your soaked clothes.

And it's not until weekend plans are cast aside for current memories, Taehyung treating you all to dinner, and you treating everyone to milkshakes, that all is forgiven. 

It turns out Rei’s dad knows the manager of the most exclusive club in the city—Youth—and managed to call in a favour. So now you, her, and your other bestie, Lea, are all on the dancefloor to celebrate her birthday. 

Rei’s first request for the night besides not paying for a single drink, was to dress up in the hottest, sluttiest outfits the club's dress code would allow for. 

This, for you, meant a black, square necked, low cut, and thin strapped satin slip dress that hugged you in all the right ways, matching heels adored with ankle strap bows and a sultry makeup look. Lea chose a dark blue shimmery number with a high leg split, vibrant graphic eyeliner, and wedges, while the birthday girl found the skimpiest forest green mini dress you’ve ever seen paired with heels that wrap ribbons up her legs, and a subtle dewy look on her lids. 

She’s glowing, and needless to say, they both look hot and so do you. 

Rei’s second request for the night was to dance until you either collapsed or threw up, whichever came first. A goal you were all making a steady descent towards as the night progressed. 

That is, until your blood runs cold at the sight of your cheating ex boyfriend making his way through the crowd in a direct beeline towards you. 

Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck. 

You’re alone right now. Rei and Lea are taking a bathroom break. 

You insisted you’d be fine for ten minutes. It was just ten minutes. What could possibly go wrong in ten minutes?

But apparently god just loves to play jokes because here you are, three shots in, not emotionally prepared enough to be near him, let alone speak to him, and by yourself in this huge crowd of strangers while he’s making very good time on his route to you. 

Fuck! You do not want to deal with him right now or—fucking ever, actually. 

He’d cheated on you four times that he admitted too throughout your two and a half year relationship, all while faking being blindingly happy directly to your face. He’d lied to you and hurt you and made you wonder what you did wrong for him to do that to you. It took all of your third year of university and more therapy sessions than you care to admit to realize you were never the problem, and that he was a piece of shit. 

So, with the fifteen feet between you two quickly shrinking, you try your best to hide from him in the crowd, only to run directly into him when you duck past a fellow club goer. 

Son of a b—

“Heyyy Y/N, how’ve you been?” he says like he didn’t destroy your entire sense of self worth for a couple quick fucks. 

You want to down three more shots just to be able to puke all over him. Intentionally, you haven’t seen him in years and just the reek of his stale ass cologne has you close. 

“Fuck off Micah, don’t you have somewhere you need to be sticking your dick—like a garbage disposal?” You snark, doing your damndest to not let him get close. But the throng of bodies surrounding you have other ideas and you’re thrown against your least favourite person in existence.

Delusional as ever, Micah sleezes, “Doesn’t seem like you want me to leave just yet, Kitten,” and you shove him off you as hard as you can while bile rises at the horrible name you used to beg him not to call you. 

You need to get off the dance floor.

Now.

Before you can, Micah grabs your arm and he pulls you back into him, hard.

Tae watches you out of the corner of his eye, wondering why in the hell you came to this club, of all the clubs out there. 

The club he was at. Wearing that and truly testing the limits of his self control.

Music blasts through speakers that move the ocean on the dancefloor. Bodies sway like waves, some crashing into one another with teeth and tongues and passion, others pushing with the current, grinding and gripping and grabbing at anything they can get their hands on. The louder and faster the notes whirl over their swells, the harsher the storm rages on, people flowing in and out of the eye when needed. 

He’s sitting at a booth on a dais high enough to watch you in the hurricane whilst being out of eyesight, notably with one or two faces he barely recognizes enough to most likely be your friends. 

They appear to be currents. They drag you into deeper waters and you let them, helpless to their siren call. Leading you to your place amongst the sea life, and reveling in the way the melodies wash over you again and again with every song that plays. 

His eyes follow you as you dance, curious if Fourteen knows you’re here before flinging the thought out of his head as quickly as it entered. You’re grown now, don’t need protection anymore. A lesson he learned the day you returned from university after graduating. 

No longer his best friend's kid sister who they kept an eye on, but a woman who was and still is growing into herself beautifully. A woman who is steadfast, strong and more often than not, correct in her opinions. A woman who is well read and equally if not more so well spoken when she deigns to acknowledge his existence. A woman who knows how and when to turn all of that off in order to team up with him in a roast battle for the books against her brother. 

He thinks of that day as the beginning of his downfall. 

He can humbly admit that his intelligence, demeanor and education are things that have been nurtured into existence by his parents and carefully maintained by himself with practice and both mental and physical exercise. He takes care of himself, inside and out. Exercises regularly, eats well, has good hygiene. He’s level headed and patient. Respectful and responsible. Controlled and competent. 

He prides himself on these things. Actively works towards keeping them maintained. 

And yet. 

Somehow when it comes to you, he is little more than a single brain celled idiot. 

All of the things he uses to measure his self worth evaporate whenever you enter his field of vision and he becomes fucking ravenous. And all of his focus goes into controlling himself.

He’d never noticed before, never thought of you in the way he does now. How when your currents break from formation and head towards the bathrooms, their outgoing force creates a riptide that some fuckhead with a stupid haircut uses to sweep in and dance with you. 

But you push him away. 

He doesn’t get the memo, and the mophead tries his best to yank you out to sea again.

Magma flows through Taehyung's veins, thunder cracks in his ears and all he can think about is storming through the crowd to steal you from said fuckhead by claiming you for himself.

But he won’t. 

Can’t.

All because of his darling best friend. 

Fourteen doesn’t know about his feelings for you of course. And Tae rather likes being alive and in one piece, two things he most definitely would not remain should he act on any of these feelings.

You are wholly off limits, forbidden. A little too young, a little too immediately related to his best friend, a little too perfectly his fucking type. It kills him every time he can’t even look at you without Fourteen going into what he calls ‘asshole mode’. 

So you remain in his very close periphery. Untouchable to the fingertips he aches to caress you with as you dangle your existence in front of him. Your wicked tongue, your delicious intelligence, your sexy fucking legs—fuck!

He has to stop thinking about you like this.

But that only makes him want you more. 

It’s like the gods handcrafted you for him. Every piece, every detail of you immaculate, but he committed one to many sins in his past life, and now they’ve locked you away forever as punishment. 

You float across the night sky, stuck in a golden cell. Its fourteen bars hold you hostage amongst the stars, all while he’s chained to the bottom of the ocean floor gasping for air. 

But fuck the gods and fuck their gilded cages. 

He’d break from his chains, swim to the surface of the sea and grow wings. Would break your prison apart with the sheer force of his wanting, then drag you down to the depths if it meant he got to keep you for himself. 

He would. He really, really fucking would. If his world wouldn’t implode completely if he did. 

So he keeps these thoughts to himself. Forces them down as they try their damndest to bubble over and burn him, because they will if he lets them. If any of them get outside these little moments, the ones where he allows himself to feel, he would burn and burn and burn until there was nothing left. 

Therefore, Taehyung has never been more grateful that his best friend was stuck on the night shift while he watched you dance and enjoy yourself, because it granted him this sliver of time to pretend like your brother doesn’t exist. 

That you are something he could let himself have, if you wanted him to.

And he’s solid in his decision to only observe, to stay inside his little moment, until fuckhead doesn’t get the message for the third time and Taehyung is out of his seat before he can think. 

Because Fourteen isn't here. 

And old habits die hard. 

“What the hell? Let me go, Micah!” You see his eyes then, red rimmed and glazed. He definitely has more than one thing in his system as his grip on you hardens further. The more you struggle, the tighter he grasps and—ouch, ouch, ouch, yank, fuck! Ow!—it’s really starting to hurt. 

“Just give me one more chance Kitten, I promise I’ll do better,” he whisper in your ear over the music, and you cringe back from how loud he is. But that doesn’t stop him from continuing, “I fucked up, I know I did. But that was years ago, and I learned my lesson. Just one more chance Kitten, just one more, and I—I promise. I promise it won’t happen again. It won’t. I really miss y–AH! What the fuck!?”

The hand on your arm releases the second Micah yelps in pain. You look down to see familiar ringed fingers around Micah’s wrist, clutching so hard they’re white knuckled and skin bruising. 

A broad chest comes to rest at your back, and an arm snakes around you. Its large palm rests on your stomach and hip as it pulls you tightly against its owner. 

Words covered in sharpest ice are spoken from behind you, their baritone so recognizable they have you melting back into him. 

Safe. 

You’re safe. 

Exhale.

“Do. Not. Touch. Her.” Taehyung growls so deeply, so powerfully, you feel the rumble from behind his sternum reverberate into your body. 

Micah’s focus shifts from his wrist to the man several inches taller and several years his senior still holding it. You watch as his face contorts from pained to confused and then to murderous. 

“The fuck are you to tell me not to touch my girlfriend?” Micah seethes, and you stiffen because no the fuck you are not, and haven’t been for several years. 

How blitzed out of his mind is he right now?

You don’t even get the chance to deny his words before Taehyung’s on Micah like fire to dried grass.

“Don’t make me laugh, Asshole. No way in hell an pig faced looking fucker like you could pull a woman like her. Now,” Tae roughly shoves Micah’s hand back to him, and it forces Micah to stumble into the people behind with the force. “Get the fuck away from My Girl before I make you My Problem. And trust me,” Tae says in a tone so dangerous, you’ve never heard him sound so terrifying in the fifteen plus years you’ve known him, “You don’t want me to make you my problem.”

And you realize, that this isn’t the Taehyung you’ve grown up with; seen through his awkward teen years and watched come into his adult life with. This isn’t jazz music and poetry Taehyung. 

This Taehyung has only ever come out the handful of times you’ve ever been in trouble. The one who studied Judo with Fourteen growing up, the one who has his fourth Dan. 

The one who does not play when it comes to you and your safety. 

It’s enough to know that Taehyung is more than pissed off, and more than a little ready to beat the absolute shit out of Micah, if the whiskey on his breath says anything about his loosened inhibitions. 

Micah seems to sense this too, and decides to back off. But not without a stupid macho expression and two middle fingers directed at both of you as he disappears into the crowd, and out of sight. 

You can feel the tension radiating off Taehyung in waves, a coil so tightly wound that a gentle breeze could set him loose, so you turn around and attempt to safely unwind. His hand moves from your stomach to your lower back, and you ignore the trail of wildfire it leaves in its wake because Tae’s eyes haven’t wavered from the spot where Micah just stood. 

“Don’t.” You say, loud enough for him to hear. And his flame filled irises snap to yours, burning. “He’s not worth it.”

Your words seem to bring him back somewhat because Tae sniggers. “Damn right he’s not,” then softens. “Are you okay?”

You look anywhere but at him, the reality of the last three minutes crashing down onto your head like broken glass while the both of you are still caught in the middle of the dancefloor. 

The people around you seem to understand something’s happened, and you’re left mostly untouched aside from the gentle nudges of inebriated party goers whose balance isn’t the best at the moment. 

Like the mellowed waves in the eye of a storm.

Taehyung seems to make sense of this at the same time you do, and lifts his free hand for you to take. Slipping your fingers into his, he leads you to an unused and out of the way emergency exit hallway somewhere in the back of the club. It’s completely empty and dark, undisturbed besides the occasional server passing by. 

It’s private. 

It’s safe. 

You’re safe.

You’re safe.

He lets go of your hand and looks at you again. “Now, are you okay?” 

The adrenaline is wearing off, and you can feel yourself start to shake. You ignore it. Sort of.

“I’m okay,” you say. But he’s eyeing you suspiciously and rightly so, so you repeat yourself, trying to convince your own brain more than his right now. 

“I’m okay, really! I’m good. I’m–” you exhale a shaky breath and he doesn’t ask before pulling you to his chest. Wrapping both his arms around you, one around your back while the other holds your head protectively to him. Your own go around his waist as you grip him back tighter.

“I’ve got you,” he says.

“I’m okay,” you say again, muffled into his black high necked shirt, taking deep breaths of his soothing, familiar scent. You do it and again, and again. Repeating the pretty lie to yourself again and again until it becomes the truth. 

He doesn’t let go until you do, and you don’t let go until you’ve finally stopped shaking.

You look up into his eyes, and all signs of his previous wrath are gone. It seems the hug didn’t ground just you, it grounded him too. Got him out of the headspace that would’ve been required for action first, words later. But now the sun is back, it shines down on you, and you bask in its warmth. 

“I’m good now. Thank you,” you say in an even and unwavering voice, because you are. The panic and immense relief having washed over you, and you’re once again simply, pleasantly buzzed. 

Though you do have a new problem in the form of the warmth pooling low from the feeling of both his hands still on your lower back. 

You’re trying to convince yourself it’s his way of keeping you safe.

But the lock on your box has the key inside it, and it’s just begging for you to turn it. 

“Good,” he replies, still not letting go. And it’s chipping away at your sanity. “Who was that guy? I only caught the last bit of his pathetic ramblings.”

You wince. Due to a lovely combination of not being very active on social media, not being much of a picture taker, and the newly dyed hair Micah seemed to be sporting tonight, you’re not surprised Tae didn’t recognize him. 

“Ah. Uhm…That was...Micah,” you admit, unable to meet his eyes again. That’s when you notice his outfit tonight is all black. 

Oh you are so fucked.

 “As in Micah, Micah?” Tae asks neutrally, familiar with what your ex had done, just not what he looked like. 

“...Yeah...”

“I see.”

“Yeah...” You say again. Because what else could you say?

Tae cracks a smile. “Should’ve let me kick his ass. The balls on him not only to approach you, but to call you his—” he cuts himself off, biting the inside of his cheek before continuing in a hushed, caring tone. “After everything he’s done to you, you should’ve let me, PG. Consequences be damned.”

Your cheeks flame at the nickname so close to your ears. So tenderly said. And you honestly can’t tell if you still hate it in this moment, or if it’s only adding kindling to the fire his hands are fueling at the base of your spine. 

The new name he’d called you earlier, its ignition point. 

My Girl.

My Girl.

You swear, even in your panicked state, you’d momentarily forgotten how to breathe before inhaling far too much all at once. 

Fuck, what you won’t give to hear him say it again. But you’re 98.9% sure that’s the three shots of vodka talking. Trying their best to turn the damn key. And maybe they succeed in turning it half way—hell, maybe all the way, because you look him back in the eyes and hear yourself say,

“Maybe I should’ve, but I was far too distracted by the new nickname you finally gave me to give a single fuck about anyone else.”

The moment the last word is out Taehyung stiffens beneath your touch, fingers locked on your back, and you’re very pretty sure you just fucked absolutely everything up. 

Years of good behaviour, of keeping yourself in check. Of pockets of time and side long glances and knowing nothing would ever happen, stolen from you. By your own big, fat, adrenaline depleted, vodka loosened mouth. 

You're a second away from damage control before his grip shifts from your lower back to your hips. 

Higher. Tighter. Controlling. Oh fuck.

He leans down to murmur, “Liked the new name, did you?” in your ear.

Shivers shoot from your crown to your core and down to your toes. Having his deep, deliciously inviting voice so fucking close to your pulse point has you millimeters away from drowning in it. You know he can feel it course through you, just like you can hear the smile it makes him display away from your eyesight as he does. 

“You did then,” he responds for you, a cat toying with its meal as he lifts his head once more to look into your eyes. 

You don’t need a mirror to know the state of your pupils. Your gaze is glazed over in the sinful kind of way.

“I did,” you needlessly confirm, looking up into similarly blown out ones.

The fingers twined behind him release, and make their way around to his abdomen. They pause to splay for just a second at the defined ridges, before slowly crawling up his chest and meeting again at the nape of his neck. 

They play with the soft hair there, gently scratching their nails at the skin beneath where it grows and you watch as your ministrations cause his eyes to roll back, flutter shut, and his head to meet the wall behind him. A barely audible moan escapes the confines of his lips before he swallows,  the divine bob of his adams apple as he tries to regain his composure is the dawn of your undoing. 

“Fuck, PG that isn’t fair,” he groans towards the ceiling, his hands on your waist clamping down harder, pulling you so close your bodies touch in more places they definitely shouldn’t be. The contact has you reeling and all you want is more, more, more of it. 

More of him.

“PG isn’t the name you called me earlier,” you hum, yanking on a single loose strand and Tae sucks in a steep breath, biting the corner of his smirking lip with a canine. 

You want to hear him say it again. Badly. So you release the sensual grip you have on his nape, and let his head lul slowly back down to where it was, his deepening amber wholly fixated on your now entirely onyx. Your heart is begging for release from your chest, and for a moment you wonder if he can see your pulse thrumming in your eyes, because you sure as hell can feel it.

“No, it’s not. But it also hasn’t meant to me what it means to you for quite some time now,” his voice like honey, thick and dripping its way over your body. It’s making you dizzy and weighty with want. It has your mouth opening slightly as he leans closer still, knocking his nose gently with your own. Inhaling in your exhales. Teasing you. Making you work for it. 

“And what does it mean to you?” you ask, barely above a whisper, irises never straying from his as your bottom lip brushes against his in one solitary, intoxicating moment that has you more buzzed in one touch than three shots has had you all night. 

“Pretty Girl,” he breathes onto your lips, pushing his thigh between your legs at the same time he pulls you impossibly closer. You hear yourself moan ‘fuck’ at the contact it gives your throbbing cunt. Too focused on the need coursing through you like a live wire—your body pure water—to think about what you’re saying.

It’s a sweet sound and a violent pleasure he devours as his lips finally, finally, finally crash into yours, pinning you in place and allowing him to take every piece of you he wants. One hand slithers up your naked spine to hold you, your backless dress doing you every favour imaginable as his other continues to help you grind over his thigh.

His tongue slips into your mouth and you suck on it, causing him to jerk into you once with the rapidly growing want pressing into your lower belly. But your hands hold firm at his neck as you pull him into you, a knee lifting to meet his hip. Needing more contact.

The electricity filled pathways his fingers leave down your back, over your ass and across the bottom of your thigh to support your search for pleasure do nothing but spur on the overwhelming need to touch him everywhere. 

No holds barred. No clothes worn. Nothing stopping you. 

He uses his new grip to spin you around and press his hips into yours as your shoulders meet the wall. You’re left to moan sickly sweet sounds of bliss into his ear as Taehyung frees your mouth in favour of your jaw and neck, sucking gentle purple hues down the column of your throat and onto your collarbone. 

“Pretty Girl,” he whispers between love bites, “My Pretty Girl.” Over and over and it has you melting so far into him, the only thing keeping you apart is fabric and a potential audience. Though from the colour you’re going to have to cover with far too much concealer tomorrow, you don’t think he quite cares about that last part. 

It drives you farther into insanity. Years of want and restraint and pretty white lies you told yourself are crashing down on one another and it shows in the fervor of your touch, your wants, your pleads.

“Fuck, Tae—please. Please, I need you— please,” you beg, and the bite he leaves at the junction where your neck meets your shoulder has you gasping for air that refuses to be consumed gently. 

But Taehyung is a man on a mission. One who will not be deterred, and you can’t tell if he will be your pinnacle or your inevitable end. 

With what is very clearly great effort, Tae pulls himself back from your decolletage, only to kiss your lips once more. Open mouthed and dirty, tongue clinging to you like the only thing he’s concerned about is swallowing down as much of you as he can while you’ll let him, and you’ve never felt more desired in your life.

He’s hoarse as he says, “Not here. Not for the first time. Not…not here.” 

“Then where,” you ask, near impatient and far too eager as you let your hands roam wherever they want. And you find your thumbs tracing the waistline of his pants, dipping a nails width below where they should. They trail over the indented V of muscle you know is hiding under his shirt. He shudders. 

It makes you smile wickedly. 

“Then where, Taehyung,” you murmur into his neck with that wicked smile in your words as you trace your nose along his jaw. 

“Fuck, you’re something,” he says, almost pained, bringing you immense delight. To know you affect him as much as he does you. That you have him as much as he has you. 

Sly hands slowly pull his shirt from his trousers in an attempt to urge him on. It works, and his response is quick. 

“My place. It’s a ten minu—fuck PG,” he almost scolds as your digits toy with the hair at his navel, dipping lower—enough to feel the beginnings of something—but not low enough to discern anything. 

Yet.

 “Can you behave for that long?” 

You smirk. 

Retracting your hands, you hold them up to show you can be good, do a quick once over to make sure you're decent and spin on your heel to walk towards your booth. Tae is behind you immediately, hand placed low on your back, thumb rubbing circles on the sliver of skin it touches. You ignore the goose bumps that arise.

Rei and Lea are at your table, thankfully. You explain to them you ran into Micah and that it really shook you, so Tae’s going to take you home. They know who Tae is, so they’re not worried when they give you goodbye hugs or when they tell you to text them when you're home safe. 

You promise you will, and hope that the rest of Rei’s birthday goes well. 

True to his word, it’s a ten minute rideshare before you’re pulling up to a tall, black windowed apartment building.

You’ve only been to Tae’s a handful of times with your brother, mostly for things like pick ups for concerts and such, but now that you’re here—alone with him—you’re trying hard not to jump him in the fucking lobby. 

The pulsing between your legs has only worsened since you removed your hands from his waistline, and you’re close to crawling out of your skin with need. 

His hand stays in its place at your lower back as the elevator climbs. 

It’s not helping and completely helping at the same time.

Fuck.

Tae lives on the sixteenth floor and the view is incredible. It’s the first thing you see past the island when you walk in the front door. There’s the kitchen to the left past the entrance, which turns into the living space that’s furnished in a way you can only describe as pure Tae. 

Books littering every surface, warm neutral toned furniture to counterbalance the colourful artwork he keeps on the walls. There’s an old record player with a collection of vinyls in the corner and what you assume is this morning's coffee mug on the art book filled coffee table.

To the right of the living space is the bedroom. It’s a studio apartment, but Tae’s managed to keep the flow of the place beautifully with some creatively put, gorgeously decorated room dividers. And the tall floor to ceiling windows wrap around it all, showcasing the lights of the city as they blend into the stars in the night sky. 

Mesmerizing. 

Just like the man locking his door behind you.

A kiss is placed on the back of your neck as you slide out of your shoes at the front door. You angle your head to allow more space, letting the arm that folds around you bring you closer to him. The feel of his arousal begins to grow behind you once more and you push back against him. A faint grunt meets the shell of your ear before his hand delicately slides up from your lower stomach and past your sternum. It teases your neck for just a moment before it meets your jaw to turn your lips towards his. 

He captures them in a brutal kiss, drinking you in for all you’re worth and then some as his other hand replaces the one that now holds your jaw in place. He pulls you into him but you spin in his hold, throwing your arms around his neck once more and dragging him towards the living space. He sheds his jacket in the process, uncaring of where it lands on his floor so long as you are still kissing him. 

You only stop when your ass meets the top of the couch and Taehyung palms the back of your thighs to lift you, your legs wrapping themselves around his hips as you sit on its edge. 

He growls at the contact and it has you raking your nails down his neck and over his shirt as you open for him once more, tongues clashing and teeth scraping at the desperate nature you both share. You yank his shirt up and he breaks from your embrace for only the amount of time it takes for the fabric to hit the floor before he’s back on you, adding twin bruises to the other side of your throat. 

You let the strings holding up your dress fall naturally to the side, revealing your chest to him, and a  low, “Fucking hell,” is murmured somewhere below your ear before a nipple is in his mouth and you’re arching into his touch, slices of need shooting straight downwards. Giving no mercy to your attempts to draw out the pleasure. 

One large hand cups a breast, molding it to his wanting before he switches and you’re groaning into the air above you, begging him for more, determined to have his tongue anywhere and everywhere you can get it. He lavs at your peaked bud, roaming over the sensitive flesh, making you squirm at the sensations he’s drawing from you. 

You never want it to end as he makes his way back up to your mouth, dragging his bottom lip over all of the freshly deepend skin it trails in its wake, making you hazy with the feel of him and his marks. 

His delicate touch wanders the insides of your thighs and your cunt aches for it the higher it climbs. But it slides up not down, reaching around to your ass and hoisting you onto his hips. 

Turning, he walks the eight paces to his bed, places a knee on the mattress for support before setting you down. His lips never leave yours he crawls over you, settling his hips over yours for mere moments, allowing you to thrust only twice before he’s removing himself completely and sinking to his knees. 

The fingers you’ve spent way too much time thinking about can’t get enough of your skin as they skate down your sides, taking the dress bunched at your hips with them. You raise your hips to help him get the scrap of fabric off, leaving a delicate, black lace thong the only thing keeping any of your remaining modesty intact.

You watch as his now fully blackened gaze takes you in, jaw dropped in slight at the sight of you with your legs opened on his bed. Like you were the prize he’s been waiting years to claim, and now that you're here and that you’re his his, he can’t quite believe it. 

It’s then you realize that he wants you, and has been wanting you. That your attempts to stay in reality these last couple years weren’t just harder for you, but for him as well. 

It hasn’t been one sided.

He wants you. 

Taehyung. 

Off limits, older brother’s best friend, swim club participating, jazz and poetry loving, judo knowing, book gifting, perfect smile having, protective, Taehyung. 

Wants you. 

You can physically feel the gush that rushes from your core at the thought and you know Tae can see it through the lace.

“Holy fuck…you’re fucking drenched and I haven’t even properly touched you yet,” he rasps, unbelieving. 

“Then touch me and find out just how much I want this,” you whisper. Begging, pleading, praying your words have their intended effect. “How much I want you, Taehyung.”

The sound that leaves his throat is a mixture of a whimper, a groan, and a guttural noise indicative of pure desperate want as he takes hold of your legs and spreads them further. Those mother fucking fingers trace from your ankles to your knees accompanied by the occasional light kiss, back up your inner thighs, and finally to the spot where you’ve been weeping for him for the better part of thirty minutes with a heaping side of ten years yearned. 

He places one open mouthed kiss on the top of your clothed clit and that simple touch has you arching, lightning crackling through your veins with the pleasure it brings. Tae slides one single finger down your covered slit before pushing it under and pulling it to the side. 

At the mere sight of you he’s swearing so fiercely under his breath that you involuntarily clench and he can’t fucking take it anymore.

His mouth is on you and you buck at the sensation. Yielding you no mercy, his tongue swipes from opening to clit in one long lick that has you gasping, clutching bed sheets above and below your head to keep from screaming. 

“Oh my—Fuck—Tae. Ohmygodohmy—” you’re rambling. Incoherent. A mess. 

He’s consuming your very being, no nerve left untouched, no reaction too minimal for his learning as he snakes his hands around your legs to haul you closer, pull you deeper into his mouth and you can’t fucking take it. You’re screaming out at the intensity he circles you with, and you can feel your impending orgasm come rushing to the surface. You’ve barely even processed it’s begun before you’re spasming so hard Tae has to remove an arm from your leg to throw around your pelvis. 

His devious fucking eyes meet yours for one earth shattering moment as he slips two fingers inside and begins a secondary merciless pursuit on your already overwhelmed senses. Using the pads to press upwards in time to the motions he never ceased with his tongue, a second wave is cresting before the first has ceased and you feel yourself clamping down, legs holding him in place as the intensity of your release climaxes. 

You’ve never felt a pressure so intense before, it’s like your body is a volcano and you’re erupting for the first time while someone sets off fireworks from its peak. The lava flows in waves, your hand holding his hair as you ride his face, shuddering at the vibrations his moan into your cunt leaves on the most sensitive parts of your body. 

Gentle strokes and licks calm as your pleasure begins to wane and you can breathe in more than just stuttered inhales again. 

“Holy fu–” you try to get out, but your voice is hoarse, like you’ve been screaming the entire time. 

And fuck, maybe you have been. You sure as hell can’t remember or think of anything more than the warm fuzzy feeling currently radiating from every single pore in your body. The damningly  deliciously dizzying feeling in your head not allowing for coherent thoughts to pass. Your limbs are loose, your body wholly relaxed. 

You’re…Well. You’re fucking perfect right now. If you could stay in this moment forever you would without second thought. Locked in this room with him for all time sounds like the best way to live out the rest of your days.

Until you wince as Tae blows warm breath on your core and he chuckles, then does it again. 

“Hey,” you say, sounding much clearer now, “Stop that and come here.”

You slip your hand down his face and grab him by the jaw, pulling him up and over you. Tae tastes like fire and whiskey and ambrosia and you as you kiss him with abandon, near feral as you take what you want from him and he revels in it. 

He’s on his elbows and a knee over you, and you use it to your full advantage to palm him over his pants and—Fuck he’s big. No wonder he was so thorough on you. This is going to hurt no matter how much prep either of you did.

He hisses at the contact and that only spurs you on, grasping firmly at his base and roving up and over the head with the heel of your palm, squeezing gently in time with his reactions.

“Christ PG, if you keep doing that I’m going to cum in my pants,” Tae laughs into your neck before rising to sit back on his heels. He gets as far as undoing his belt buckle and button before you take over, sitting up and pulling him out. 

He is disastrously beautiful, just like the rest of him, and your mouth waters at just the idea of him in your mouth. 

Licking your lips, you hear him curse quite colourfully as you take the tip into your mouth and swish your tongue over the head. Once. Twice. Thrice. 

Tae raises one hand to his eyes and the other behind him to hold him up as you take him deeper, shaking from restraining himself so hard, murmuring to himself, “Oh fuck. Fuck me, can’t believe—so fucking good, pretty—perfect—ohmygod,” and you seal the motherfucking deal by taking him into the back of your throat and looking up into his eyes at the same time. 

Taehyung barks and bucks once into your throat before removing himself and throwing you down onto the bed. He looks furious in the way that gets your heart racing, your cunt thrumming and your breathing so fast your chest feels like it might shatter from the crosscurrents. 

He grabs each of your hands and raises them above your head, sliding his fingers up your wrists and between your own, holding them in place on his pillow.

Leaning down, he uses his lowest timber to speak darkly into your ear, teasing your swollen clit with the tip of his cock. Sliding back and forth, sending bolts of white hot need through you. 

“You drive me fucking insane,” he starts, thrusting, teasing, torturing. And you moan at the contact. 

“You make me want to throw away a decades old friendship just for the chance to touch you.” 

Thrust, tease, jolt, whine. 

“And what’s worst of all is you’re the best thing I’ve ever tasted, the most beautiful I’ve ever seen, and you turn me into a complete idiot the second you enter the room. It’s like your fucking presence takes away all the working functions in my brain and leaves me with only the incurable fucking desire to make you cum until you can’t remember you own fucking name. Only mine.”

Thrust, squeeze, glide, jolt. “Tae...” you whine, delirious with pleasure, drunk on his greed and  delighted by his torture.

“I call you PG because it’s the only way I can get away with calling you anything more than your name around him.” He sounds almost angry with how low he growls. “And it means so much more than you could think.”

He leans further into you, so close now that his lips brush your ear as he speaks. 

“My Pretty Girl,” thrust, “My Precious Girl,” moan, “My Perfect Fucking Girl.” 

He releases one hand to line himself up with your entrance. “That’s who you are to me. That’s what I’m calling you when I call you PG. My Pretty, Precious, Perfect Girl. My Girl.” He slips past your walls, sinking deep and you both groan in euphoric unison. “Mine.”

Tae pulls out, slow and controlled. 

Blissful. 

Then pushes back in, methodically. 

Torturous. 

Feeling every inch you can take, which is every single fucking one.

Inevitable.

Bottoming out for the second time, you whisper, “Yours,” into his ear, and he turns fucking ravenous.

Setting an absolutely ruthless pace, he claims your body, taking what’s so clearly always been his. Your legs wrap around him again, digging a heel into his ass as you drive him closer, harder with every push. Then lay claim to the one thing you’re able to, taking his lips with yours and biting down hard enough to draw the most sinful groan from the back of his throat. Hoarse, deep, almost broken with how raw it is. 

One hand bruises its fingerprints into your hip while the other holds him up over you, and you use this to your advantage, slipping one leg around his and flipping the both of you over. 

You trail your tongue down his jaw to his clavicle, he tastes of sweat and lust and sex and it is the most intoxicating thing you’ve ever consumed. Creating your own gardens of little blooming flowers down one side of his neck and up the other, Taehyung moans greedily into your ear as your ride to match his thrusts, sending him deeper while you decorate your willing canvas. 

Because as much as he wishes to lay claim to your body, you want to claim his as well. 

“Mine,” you say, positioning yourself to take over completely, using the springs of the mattress to do most of the work for you. 

“Yes,” he says. But that’s not good enough. 

“Mine,” you demand, and let loose, pressing down on the mattress with your knees rapidly, creating the glorious effect you wanted. You watch as the up force from the mattress causes Taehyung to be driven into you so quickly he throws his head back, mouth dropped in pure ecstasy. 

“Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, YN, What the fuck—” he rambles, lost to the pleasure, biting his lip, going slackjawed, clenching and unclenching his fists into bedsheets that already have your handprints seared into them.

And you keep going, a little torture creation of your own. 

“Mine,” you demand again, and this time, it clicks.

“Yours! Fuck, yours. All yours, only yours,” he surrenders and you slow back down to a regular pace, breathless. 

It’s a great move but it’s exerting. 

You all but collapse on his chest and he takes over, thrillingly pissed off due to your power play. 

“So that’s how it’s going to be?” he asks, and you clench at his tone. 

He removes himself and you whimper, but he’s maneuvering you like a ragdoll on the bed and you’re more than fucking willing to be thrown around. 

He’s kneeling on the bed, lifting your hips and sliding into you in a doggy style, but then he’s doing the most insane thing you think you’ve ever seen. With an arm around your stomach he brings your back to his torso and twists you both to face the open floor to ceiling windows. One of your legs is thrown over his that’s up to splay you wide for the skyline to see, and you can see your reflection in the glass. 

You look beyond fucked out, and so does he, and it’s the sexiest thing you’ve ever seen. But then his hand is sliding to your throat, and a whispered, “Is this okay?” finds your ears. You nod.

Gripping the sides of your throat, he slides his other hand to graze your clit before beginning his own version of the move you just pulled. Pumping into you at a pace that has your g-spot screaming from all of the attention it’s receiving, his fingers swiping deftly over the bundled nerves at the apex of your thigh whilst lightly cutting off the blood supply to your brain. 

It has you twitching and hazy and dizzy in seconds. You can see yourself losing to the feeling so steadily building at the base of your spine in the glass. Mouth open, body willing, the man who’s been at the center of your wanting for longer than you can remember, its deliverance. 

Dark, sex tousled hair, muscled forearms holding you up and driving you insane. Blackened eyes focused on you and only you through the mirror the darkness of the night’s sky has created for you. 

It’s that visual that sets you over the edge when he releases your throat, and you feel a gush flowing from where you two meet.

“Fuuuck yes. My Perfect Girl, cum all over my sheets, drench my cock. That’s it,” he purrs in your ear and it’s doing nothing but sending shock after shock into your already over sensitive and pulsing cunt, letting your consciousness float somewhere above or below you, you don’t really care. 

All you know is that you feel light as a feather and not of this earthly plane. 

Taehyung removes himself and lies you down gently. He’s back inside soon after and it just feels right as he fills you, like it’s where he’s meant to be. 

He hovers over you once more, and you lift a single knee to his hip, mimicking your position from the club as he thrusts into you with fervor, chasing his own high after delivering three mind shattering ones to you. 

Reaching one hand to his cheek, you hold him as he kisses you, working himself to completion. 

Using your other to deliver a few expert circles to your clit, so you can come together, you breathe in each other's release and  drown in once another’s embrace. 

You leave his name on your tongue this time. A gift. A cry so delicate that a tear falls from your cheek and he kisses it away.

Taehyung inhales sharply, before stuttering his exhale and an exquisite warmth fills you.

“F-f-uu-ckkk,” he shudders as he lets the aftershocks of his release claim you in the most basic and animalistic of ways. You drink in the vulnerable sound, taking his mouth with yours one final time as you bask in each other's pleasure. Silent but for catching breaths, exertion evident as you hold one another. 

Taehyung rests on your chest. Lines are sketched gently with your nails up and down his spine and into his hair as he comes down, content in the afterglow, where nothing is wrong and everything is perfect. 

Before consequences kick in and regrets form. 

When he decides he’s ready, Tae lifts and removes himself from you and you can feel the remnants of your combined efforts slide down to the bedsheets. 

Tae takes a single finger and gathers it up before pressing it back in. You hiss at the now tender flesh. Though the pain doesn’t stop the warmth newly pooling at the sight and feel and meaning. 

He pumps it back in once, twice before removing his finger and placing it in his mouth to clean off. Your cunt flutters at the sight and Tae smirks, leaning forward to share his findings with you in the form of a filthy, open mouthed, tongue filled kiss. It’s slightly salty, slightly metallic but you pull him back for one last lick when he tries to pull away. 

Watching him kneeling there, in the glow of moonlight, you realize just how truly beautiful he is. The shape of his illuminated profile, the expanse of his chest as he breathes in, the colour of his skin under silver rays. He’s stunning. 

You smile up at him, spent, sated and so astronomically fucked if your brother ever finds out. 

Tae must see the thought on your face, because he says, “Don’t worry about him. I’ll handle it.”

But you honestly don’t give a fuck about that right now. That’s a tomorrow issue. What you want to know is, “Did you mean it?”

“Mean what, exactly?” He specifies. 

You sit up, eye to eye as he sits on the edge of the bed, one leg on the ground. 

“All of it. Any of it.”

There. 

Now it was out in the open. And the rest is up to him. 

You could drag yourself back down to reality. Chalk this night up to booze and bad timing and perfect timing. Could convince yourself it was just one night and that it would have to be enou—

“All of it,” he interrupts, the most sincere expression you’ve ever seen on him on full display. “Definitely all of it. Every last fucking word.”

You slump on your exhale, so fucking relieved you didn’t have to keep trying to lie to yourself that you could forget this happened. 

You’re laughing before you can fight it off, shoulders shaking. Smiling so wide it hurts. 

“Uh..YN?” Tae asks, clearly not sure how to take your reaction and you compose yourself. 

“That’s PG to you,” you say as you crawl onto his lap, and kiss him into oblivion. 

It’s interesting to finally sit on the dock across the way in East Egg. 

The fog is gone, the sky is a brilliant blue, and the little box you kept sits open next to you, the lock and its key lost somewhere to the depths below your feet. Funny how harmless it seems now that there’s nothing locked inside anymore, like it could never really have hurt you in the first place. 

You take in your newly emptied creation, and quirk a brow when you see it move. 

A wiggle at first, before it’s shaking and spinning and shrinking, turning from a box into a glass windowed locket. Golden and delicate and beautiful, with a matching chain. You ponder for a moment what it could be for, before turning to look down at the green light to your right. 

An idea strikes. 

Unclasping the little window, you lift the opened pendant to the green light. And to your delight, the emerald hue hops into its new home, closing its tiny windowed door. 

You smile at the clever little light, lacing the chain around your neck, resting it on the middle of your sternum, right above your heart. Its brilliant hue shining brightly through the pane for all to see.

Funny how the green light you so longed for, longed for you back, and is now yours for keeps.

A/N 2.5: This is what has been rotting in my brain for the better half of two weeks so please enjoy, it was supposed to be short and trope filled to cure my writers block but apparently I am incapable of short. But trope filled it clearly is. Overall tho, I'm quite pleased with this one.

A/N 3: As always, thanks for reading, loves. Xoxo, - Yoon <3

Masterlist

[tallykale]

episode 19

as you can probably tell, i've thought a lot about what post-canon one would look like in my vision... i've said before that i have issues with straightforward fix-its, and i do genuinely love the tragic open-ended conclusion that the series has, but i... am not immune to playing with characters like dolls LOL

here's some writeups about where everyone is at mentally in these pictures. please please please PLEEEASE feel free to ask me more about this cuz i love talking about my beautiful mind palace

charlotte: somehow the most optimistic person in here, mostly out of necessity. when she died, she saw parker leading her out of a cave as her waiting room and was about to take his hand when airy respawned her, so she has a brief moment of bonding with bryce when he talks about the waiting room and seeing stella. with the knowledge that there is potentially a way to get out (bryce and liam being the proof) and the fear of rotting away again she is by far the most actively motivated to help liam figure out the computer. a lot of her days are spent talking to liam over the mic and writing out the code in the dirt so she can try to understand it. she still has to push against her natural misanthropy (and often shouts at liam or bryce for being fucking stupid and useless) but both working on the code and helping amelia give her something concrete to focus on outside herself. she wants to get home so she can make amends with her friends. charlotte is scared of dying! she's really genuinely horribly scared of dying and has awful vivid nightmares about rotting away. she often pushes amelia into talking about her life which causes some tension, but it's because she really hates seeing amelia lose herself like that - a metaphorical rotting away of the self.

subway seat & atom: not on the same level of pure existential depression as the batch 1 contestants, but they both feel the hopeless mood pretty harshly regardless. subway feels very lonely as the only hidden object still 'awake', and likes to carry whippy creamy around rather than just leave him sitting on the ground constantly. tray is too big and unwieldy for him to do that with, but he 'hangs out' with her anyway, talking to her and whippy creamy in the hopes that it'll get them to want to wake up again. atom doesn't talk much, but he still carries his piece of grass. he's definitely the person who's the least affected by the prospect of being stuck on the plane forever, since he… doesn't really perceive existence in the same way as everyone else? he's an atom. but his time in the competition definitely made him view everyone else as friends, and he feels even more powerless than usual in the face of this incomprehensibly difficult problem.

amelia: falls into total hopelessness when bryce rejoins, basically seeing it as the final sign that they're never going home. still calls everyone their competition names (she actually gets into a big fight with bryce about it lol). she gets really clingy and dependent on bryce when he first comes back but it crashes and burns pretty quickly when, during an argument, bryce tells her how much he wishes he could just go back and never have let liam in and forgot about everything… which really sucks for amelia to hear, given that she's part of that everything. after that, with bryce isolating himself, she's kind of reliant on charlotte to keep her going. she blames liam for airy dying and secretly kind of thinks he killed him but just isn't telling them… she also doesn't really believe there's any way of getting out and is just kind of waiting around to die of, like, old age i guess. after how long she's been here, amelia is convinced that she has nothing to even go back to and frequently forgets details about her life. regularly cries and hates being alone. the shift markings on the side of the water tub have changed from being a way to keep track of time and stay sane to a horrible reminder of how long they've been here and how much longer of an eternity they have before them.

bryce: hates himself and liam and airy and the plane and his entire stupid fucking life. bryce is really, really fucking pissed off at liam for losing the notes and letting texty die and every other mistake he's made, and isn't shy about telling him that. as well as being angry, he's also incredibly miserable, because he was finally starting to turn his life around (he quit drinking after the plane) and now it's all for nothing - and even worse, those 7 months he spent getting better were 7 months he did nothing to help the rest of them, especially amelia. he's horribly guilty about that, and that he didn't tell amelia about the fake votes before he was eliminated… but finds it easier to just let liam take the heat for that one at first. after he fights with amelia about it he becomes a bit of a hermit, hanging out by himself next to the plug, and never responds when liam tries to talk. contemplates suicide regularly but pretty much the only option is drowning himself, and the idea of that still scares him more than staying like this forever. would kill for a beer.

liam: tortured by horrible guilt every day over a million different things. these include getting bryce pulled back into this (plus delayed guilt over getting him for real killed), letting texty die and not saying anything about the charger, not telling amelia that everything was fake, knowing that charlotte is going to die if he doesn't get really smart really fast… he's frequently gripped by fits of rage where he almost smashes the computer and has to hobble around outside with the axe for a while to blow off steam. he has really bad nightmares and dissociative episodes, made worse by the isolation and spending hours in a dark cave. liam really wants to fix things with everyone but genuinely has no idea how to start that conversation. he assumes airy killed himself (and views it as an unforgiveably cowardly move) and directs a lot of resentment towards him. he has a lot of things he wants to say, especially to bryce, but the fact that he cant talk to anybody one on one makes things difficult. spends a lot of time just reading through the code, too afraid to actually make any changes in case everyone explodes, but talking it through with charlotte at least makes him feel like he's doing something. more than he would like to admit, liam catches himself staring at the plane as if it's a simulation or a livestream.

[adventuringblind]

Keep me Close

Past Jules Bianchi x reader, platonic Charles Leclerc x Reader

Genre: angst

Request: yepyep finally got me some angst things to write

Summary: Charles's new girlfriend can't understand why he's so attached to the reader

Warnings: talks of death, name calling, a table gets flipped

Notes: I definitely didn't cry writing this at one point. Also, no hate to Alex!! I know hardly anything about her, but I know her and Charles are currently together, and it fits the Timeline, so please bear with me.

Masterlist

Your love for Jules was something you find in fairy tales. It was beautiful, and both of you felt connected on a level deeper than anything imaginable.

It started when you were both merely kids. You were six, and he was eight. The two of you had met at the wedding of a mutual friend. Dressed in nice clothing, he'd marched right up to you and claimed to be a knight looking for a princess.

You were inseparable after that. It was like you'd found your soulmate.

When you turned eighteen, Jules had immediately proposed. And when you countered by asking if you were both too young, he said, 'Why waste time when I know I'll love you forever?'"

You'd gotten close with Leclerc family. Specifically with Charles since Jules was named godfather. He spent a great deal of time with you and Jules.

Then 2014. Everyone was sure Jules was going to get a seat with Ferrari. It would be a crime if he didn't.

You remember kissing him, good luck. The last feeling of his lips on your before getting in the car.

You remember telling him to be safe with the rain; that you love him dearly. He replied with his signature wink and an 'I love you more and I always am.'

Then everything stopped. The world seemed to no longer spin. Time refused to move forward as you willed it to go back.

It couldn't be real. There was no way it had happened. You still thought that as you sat at his bedside faithfully for months. There wasn't a world you wanted to live in if it didn't have Jules.

Charles was similarly devastated. He'd lost someone dear to him. The boy spent all his free time sitting with you in the hospital. Even bringing around food that Pascale had made to keep you alive. Something you didn't want to be at that moment.

The bond you'd formed with Charles during this time is hard to explain. There is nothing romantic. He's family despite the age gap not being that large.

He was, and is still, family. You'd promised to still take care of him despite the loss of Jules, and he promised to do the same in his stead.

The start of the 2024bseason brings on an interesting turn of events. Charles had split with his girlfriend before the new year and is now with his new girlfriend Alex.

You like her. She's very sweet as far as you've been told. But there is something there that makes you worry. You just blame the fact that you want the best for Charles.

The first time you met her was at a family dinner. Charles brought Alex with him to introduce her to everyone.

You were actually the first person he introduced her to. You felt honored, but there was something behind her eyes that you couldn't quite pinpoint. But you kept it to yourself and made friendly conversation.

The next time you saw her was when she dropped by the Leclerc family home unannounced. The position she caught you in wasn't a bad one, but it probably didn't look good to her.

Charles had a rough race in Monaco, as per usual, and was laying with his head in your lap while you ran fingers through his hair. It's the same thing Jules had done when Charles was a child after a bad Karting race.

Alex definitely didn't look pleased with you. But she managed to put kn a smile and say hello.

It was awkward. Especially after Charles and her went into another room because you could hear them talking in hushed whispers.

Your fingers find the chain with your wedding ring on it. Your lips press against the cold metal as you hold the ring to your mouth. "I hope I'm doing this right, Jules. It's hard without you here."

The last time you saw Alex was at a birthday party. Your birthday party. Something you don't like having after Jules because he was the one who always made the day special.

Charles is a stubborn man though and decided it was necessary. Partly because this is his way of remembering that you are alive and with them, but it also gives him and excuse to drink and dance.

It wasn't anything massive. Or at least - not a massive as it could have been. There were a good number of people crowded into your Monaco home. The food is good, and the music is better. It definitely felt like a party Jules would have dragged you to in your youth.

It's not long until Charles appears at the door with Alex in tow. He comes to you, and you embrace him as usual. The smile on his face makes everything worth it. despite having to deal with a party for a few hours.

Pierre also finds you and starts up conversation. The three of you fail to notice the fourth becoming increasingly agitated.

A loud crashing sound pulls all of their attention. Alex flipped over the table in her agitation and is now sending chills down your spine with the look on her face.

"Why are you so determined to be some kind of homewrecker! Why can't you just stop being a creep to Charles and let us live in peace!" She screams. It hits your mind like a shadow. The world fades away, and your thoughts are filled with the doubts you have daily.

Tears fill your eyes, and your body goes rigid. "I'm Charles' godmother. Y/N Bianchi. I am no homewrecker." You choke.

Charles and Pierre take a protective step in front of you. "Get out!" Charles' voice drips with venom. Alex looks stunned. She doesn't move even as Charles shouts at her. "Nobody gets to speak like that to my family! Get out!"

Then she runs. Avoiding the gazes of disapproval.

Charles spins around and places his hands on your shoulders. His eyes scanning your face to assess the damage.

"I'm so sorry that happened. You're amazing. Always have been. And anyone who says differently is a fucking asshole."

Even through the tears, she smiles. Jules couldn't have left her in better hands.

[wastemanjohn]

fic masterlist

wincest and daddycest. follow the smell of dead doves under the cut :)

sam/dean:

when i'm down on your knees you're how i pray Rating: Explicit; Word Count: 13,703; Warnings: Incest

Summary: It’s not as if Sam doesn’t know what makes Dean tick, after all. He can’t have forgotten all the fantasies Dean has shared with him over the years, even the really nasty, violent ones that flushed Sam's cheeks a glaring scarlet, evoked awed responses like "Jesus, Dean, you’re really into stuff like that?" Dean didn't mind - quite liked watching Sam squirm, actually - and he'd long since accepted that he’d likely never get Sam on board with acting out the more grisly tales buried deep in his spank bank. But then again, Sam is different since he...

Dean still can’t use the words “Sam” and “died” together in the same sentence.

some unholy war

Rating: Explicit; 12,328 words; Warnings: Incest, Canon-Typical Violence

Summary: Somewhere between a bar fight and the end of the world, Sam and Dean learn to take care of each other again.

exit light

Rating: Mature; Word Count: 3,730; Warnings: Incest

Summary: Tonight doesn’t smooth over all the ways their lives are in ruins, hand back all that he and Dean have lost, atone for all the things it’s driven them to. It certainly doesn’t change the fact that one year from now, Dean is going to die. 

heart of a dog

Rating: Explicit, Word Count: 2k, Warnings: Incest, Sam is 17

Summary: They were supposed to be going to the fucking laundromat. But that was almost four hours ago, and Sam can smell the musty sweat wafting through from where their clothes are still festering in the trunk. He should really have learned by now not to trust Dean, when he insists on his little bar detours on the way - just a quick one, Sammy, don’t be such a little bitch. The thing is, the chances of it being a quick one are always about as slim as Sam’s patience right now; and a quick one always evolves into half the damn bar when a pretty young thing catches Dean’s eye.

Her name is Daisy. Dean’s probably forgotten that by now. He’s definitely forgotten about Sam. 

♡♡♡♡

john/dean and sam/dean:

what it is

Rating: Explicit; 48,258 words; Warnings: Non Con Elements, Incest, Canon Typical Violence

Summary: Everything that has ever gone wrong for Sam and Dean starts and ends with John.

i don't mean to suggest that i loved you the best

Rating: Explicit; Word Count: 1,930; Warnings: Incest

Summary: Dean’s need is a dark pit, a bleak, bottomless thing, and that’s the pull. That’s the lure, for John. People who need the way Dean does, people who want to crawl inside the ones they love and live there forever, they’re easy to control. They’ll do anything for you. John finds that fucking irresistible.

Sam hates his father. But he understands him perfectly.

with new bones in your closet

Rating: Explicit; Word Count: 4,890; Warnings: Incest, BDSM

Summary: It’s almost funny. It’s almost too predictable that Dean would do this for John, be this for John, take his submission to all too literal levels.

destructive love is all i am

Rating: Explicit; Word Count: 604; Warnings: Incest

Summary: Things like this don't just go away.

love is

Rating: Explicit; Word Count: 2323; Warnings: Incest, Non Con

Summary: Love is all you are.

shimmer and rot

Rating: Explicit; Word Count: 3012, Warnings: Non Con, implied CSA

Summary: That witching hour loneliness can eat you alive.

snuff

Rating: Explicit; Word Count: 4552; Warnings: Incest, Homicidal thoughts, Sam is 17

Summary: There's nothing good on TV, and Sam's contemplating killing his father again.

the world was so easily won

Rating: Explicit; Word Count: 3153; Warnings: Dub Con Elements, Incest, Violence

Summary: The bites are about five days old now. They’re not healing well, skin-split punctures and raised pinks and purples. Any forming scabs have chafed raw all over again under Dean’s clothes. And Sam’s running his fingers over the worst ones, almost gentle, like a doctor examining an open wound. There’s nothing at all gentle about Sam’s rage-tight mouth though. Nor his mutter of, “I’ll fucking kill him.”

♡♡♡♡

johndean

toss me a breath when you hold me down

Rating: Explicit; 1624 words; Warnings: Incest, consensual non consent

Summary: It's never been quite like this.

and if you crave it then you know that you are injured

Explicit; 3593 words; Warnings: Non Con Elements and a very nasty John

Summary: He doesn’t even flinch when John’s hand comes down on his thigh. Doesn’t pull away when John flutters his lips over the nape of his boy’s neck and whispers, “Why don’t you let me take care of you?”

when i hear your lips make a sound

Rating: Explicit; Word Count: 2682; Warnings: Incest

Summary: It's a damn risky thing to do, with Bobby asleep upstairs. But Dean never disobeys his father, and he’s horny as all hell. It’s not a prime combination for sensible decision making.

i heard love is blind

Rating: Explicit; Word Count: 12,764; Warnings: Incest; addition of John/OMC

Summary: There are a few shadowy figures on the sidewalk, the night’s offerings left on the shelf. They're all boys, their frames slight and their legality dubious. They look up at the sight of John’s headlights, but he keeps his head forward and carries on driving. He’s seen exactly what he’s looking for just up the street.

The boy is alone. He's a cookie cutter street whore, all mesh and tight pants. John can see the ghostly entrails of his breath, the skinny arms wrapped around his chest like chains. When John winds down his window, the kid steps forward in a tired, non-urgent sort of way. His lack of pretence is appealing.

John checks him over to make doubly sure that he's the right choice. He’s tall. His hipbones jut a little, distorting his tight pants, the waistband flapping over his barely there stomach. His hair is a few shades light of brown; it's short, but chunky and uneven, like he's cut it himself without a mirror. When John peers closer, he can see that the kid's lips are full and pink. That definitely helps. He's not to John's exact specifications, especially with his completely absent bulk, but he'll do. Beggars, choosers, all that noise.

and you learn how to settle for what you get

Rating: Explicit; Word Count: 3,163; Warnings: Dub Con, Incest

Summary: Yet John chooses this, over and over again. John loves Dean more than he loves anything.

sharp teeth, dry heat

Rating: Explicit; Words: 2504; Warnings: Incest, grief (addition of dean/ofc)

Summary: Your world was terrifying, and John knew how hard he was to love.

someone forever warm

Rating: Explicit; Words: 4290; Warnings: Incest

Summary: He takes a moment to enjoy the thought that John has slayed the monster, now he’s come to claim his prize.

trade

Rating: Explicit; Word Count: 771; Warnings: Non Con Elements

Summary: You'll hide from mirrors until the marks fade away.

nowhere boy

Rating: Explicit; Word Count: 2528; Archive Warnings: Incest

Summary: The true meaning of Christmas is family, and all that crap. Everyone always forgets about Jesus. Probably a good thing, Dean thinks, as he adjusts the red ribbon around his neck with its dumb little bow and checks himself out one last time in the smudged bathroom mirror. Jesus definitely wouldn’t approve of what he’s about to do.

quiet room

Rating: Explicit; Word Count: 1878; Archive Warnings: Non Con, Incest, BDSM

Summary: This is what love looks like.

the dark is light enough

Rating: Explicit; Word Count: 3219; Archive Warnings: Incest

Summary: It's hard, with the lights on. Lights on, with his boy so close John can hear his pulse; see the freckles dusting the tops of his thighs, the strip of fine hair from his belly button down to his groin; pert pink nipples on a chest that blushes from the middle out when he's excited, all these intimate details John shouldn't know; but he sits with it, he breathes it in and he lives with it. The closeness; the vulnerability; like an exposed nerve.

Yeah, it's hard, hard to face this. Who they are, what they've become. But John isn't doing it to punish himself. He's doing this for Dean.

yesterday's hymn

Rating: Explicit; Word Count: 1323; Warnings: Non Con; past CSA: addition of original male character

Summary: A bad man doesn't pawn his soul so his son can live.

so many moving parts

Rating: Explicit; Word Count: 7302; Archive Warnings: Incest

Summary: And sure, no one’s actually said the word anniversary, but they've never had a day like this before.

when the stiff wind blows

Rating: Explicit; Word Count: 8625; Warnings: Incest, BDSM

Summary: Dean is in tune with John's patterns and emotions, even some four states outside of their blast radius; and when John withdraws, Dean chases. Dean knows his absence, his distance, when John is not fucking handling it. And somewhere along the way - he learned how to help.

then leave me the bones

Rating: Explicit; Word Count: 6816; Warnings: Heavy Angst, Incest, Dub Con

Summary: John’s moods are like a slow growing tumor. Easy to miss at first. Causing all kinds of problems when it's too late.

stutter

Rating: Mature; Word Count: 1655; Warnings: Incest

Summary: You know there is so much harm Dad could do in these moments, if he were so inclined. He as good as says it himself sometimes, with his quiet promises of I'd never hurt you, Dean, like a pre-emptive hail Mary for his sin.

♡♡♡♡

johndeanna:

now bleed for me

Rating: Explicit; Words: 3689; Warnings: Incest, Gunplay

Summary: John comes back unsteady, whisky on his tongue, scents of tobacco and cheap perfume clinging to the jacket Deanna loves to wear, because it’s so heavy and big on her, it smothers her like a hug. My dad, Deanna thinks, broken in all the same spots she is, yet so remote. My dad.

i've loved all i've needed, love

Rating: Explicit; Word Count: 4602; Warnings: Incest

Summary: She never seemed to realize that her daddy's a piece of shit. John hates the way she found out.

this dream is for you (so pay the price)

Rating: Explicit; Words: 2,333; Warnings: Incest

Summary: So John comes to her, during that weird time that's not really morning or night, comes to her after they've finished half a bottle of Jack and a pack of Lucky Strike between them, comes to her with everything on his face that sits heavy and acidic in Deanna's heart.

all you wanna do

Rating: Explicit; Word Count: 10,178; Warnings: Incest, Misogyny

Summary: For the prompt: Deanna’s boyfriend gives her a red lingerie set for Christmas that she opens in front of John (optional: Sam). After OMC is sent home with a chastisement, John makes her show them off to him. Or, Deanna has started dating and John is a fucking creep about it.

a simple motion

Rating: Explicit; Word Count: 2353; Warnings: Incest

Summary: But watching her - watching her is different. Watching isn't touching, and there's no law against that.

i'll be your mirror

Rating: Explicit; Word Count: 2551; Warnings: Incest, Misogyny

Summary: The girl in his bed isn’t quite his wife, but in the glowy relative darkness she has room to morph. 

one day like this

Rating: Mature; Word Count: 6182; Warnings: Incest, grief

Summary: Sam goes through his father's old photos.

♡♡♡♡

sam/john

coming up roses everywhere

Rating: Explicit; Word Count: 14618; Warnings: Incest, Sam is 17

Summary: Where John wasn't planning to snoop around Sam's laptop, but his boy seems to be hiding something.

♡♡♡♡

john/dean and sam/john

don't say you need me when you leave and you leave again (samjohn only quietly implied)

Rating: Explicit; Word Count: 8,224; Warnings: Non Con Elements; implied sexual abuse

Summary: Maybe Dad felt the kind of loneliness that ate away at your soul until you lost sight of the fact that you were even alive, maybe Dad needed to grab the nearest willing body and pull it close, close.

♡♡♡♡

dean/mary

this be the verse

Rating: Explicit; Word Count 6822; Warnings: Big Non Con warning for this one. Additional pairings: johndean

Summary: There are a lot of things that Dean doesn’t tell Mary about her husband. It’s best that John stays 27 in her head forever, like Hendrix or something, young and beautiful and fucked up in a pretty unremarkable way.

♡♡♡♡

dean/fem!Sam

when the earth moves again

Rating: Explicit; Word Count: 1947; Warnings: Incest, somnophilia

Summary: It was something. Something that felt good; something that some part of him was willing to give her, even if it wasn't conscious, even if it wasn't much. And hell, Sam didn't have much in life that made her feel good.

♡♡♡♡

sam/fem!dean

hunky dory

Rating: Mature; Word Count: 4917; Warnings: Incest, pregnancy resulting from incest

Summary: Deanna went out this afternoon. For hours. Didn't say where she was going; but it's got to be the first time she's left Bobby's place in weeks. She left her phone behind on the nightstand, in this way that Sam couldn't help but suspect was intentional, because there had to be something about that; had to be something in the way Deanna caught Sam's eye through the window as she was coming back, all slow down the path with Dad's jacket over her shoulders and this tight expression on her face. Something in the way Deanna had sharply changed direction at the sight of Sam, veering off until she faded into the salvage yard and Sam couldn't see her anymore. And it's not that Sam meant to be hovering near the front of the house at the exact moment of her return like a worried parent, but shit happens.

Let her be, son, Bobby had said, without looking up from his scotch and that leatherbound demonology book he'd been annotating all day. Harder you push, the more she's gonna clam up.

It bothers Sam when Bobby talks like that, like he knows Deanna better than Sam does or something. As for letting her be - well, if Bobby knows Sam at all, he's got a strange way of showing it

♡♡♡♡

john/original male character

safe in the dark (how can you see?)

Rating: Explicit; Word Count: 2492; Archive Warnings: Non Con Elements

Summary: Because maybe there was something about Dad's energy that fizzled with those weary neon lights; and Dad still didn't say much, and Sam still can't read the man's mind, but you don't live for eighteen years close enough to rub up against each others last nerve without learning how to spot when something might be wrong. And theres always something wrong with Dad - he's sour faced and miserable, the cause of that changes day by day - but he'd been so insistent. You don't leave this car, Sammy, okay? This guy's a loose cannon. I don't want him to see you.

Sam had snorted, and Dad had looked at him with resigned contempt; but it had faded quickly, and there'd been that something Sam couldn't put his finger on as Dad had got out of the car. Something about the way he didn't look to check Sam was obeying, something stilted in his footsteps. Something that made Sam log the path he took across the parking lot, register the room number he knocked on. The door had opened, and Dad had gone inside, but it had closed so quickly that Sam hadn't been able to see the guy. The loose cannon.

[youcouldmakealife]

SOTM: Erin/Julius; cosmic vertigo

For the prompt: More Erin and Julius understanding each other on a deep level

“Have you ever thought about the universe?” Julius says.

“I get a headache whenever I do, so I mostly try to avoid it,” Erin says, then, feeling Julius’ eyes on her, “Yeah, I guess. You’ve got to narrow it down a little from ‘literally everything in existence’ for me to figure out what you're getting at, though.”

“How things — change, I guess,” Julius says. “How if something went just a little differently, your life could be completely different too.”

“So like alternate universes,” Erin says, relieved. That’s much less likely to give her a headache. Not unlikely, but thinking about what, exactly, exists past forever? What a constantly expanding universe is expanding into? The last time Erin let herself think about it too long she ended up with a migraine. Possibly a coincidence, but she’s not risking it. That thing lasted two days.

“Yes,” Julius says. “If I was drafted one pick higher, or lower, I would never have come to Edmonton.”

“And you wouldn’t have met Jared, and therefore me, and neither of us would be lying in this bed right now talking about the universe,” Erin says. “Something like that?”

“Something like that,” Julius echoes, then gazes at her for a long moment, not speaking.

“Stop measuring how good a consolation prize I am,” Erin says. Doesn’t matter how great he thinks she is: nobody’s great enough to make up for the pain and suffering of playing for the Edmonton Oilers.

Julius’ mouth quirks, like she’s said it out loud.

“You’re alright,” he says.

“Thanks,” Erin says. “I do my best.”

“Worth coming here,” Julius says.

“Let’s not get too crazy here,” Erin says.

Under the covers, Julius finds where she’s laced her hands on her stomach and prises the nearest away so he can lace his own fingers through it, that hand thief. She likes to sleep like she’s in a coffin and he knows that. Still, she supposes she can lend it to him for a little while.

“Feeling philosophical tonight, are we?” Erin asks.

She doesn’t have to ask why: he’s going back to Finland in two days. Only for a month, before he flies back to Alberta to train with Jared and his buds in Calgary. She doesn’t have to ask why for that either. Dude isn’t going to train in a city he’s never even lived in, a city that hates his guts, just because he misses her brother, though she’s sure Jared would argue otherwise. She won’t make him say it.

“I can come,” Erin says. “If you want me to. I can come.”

Julius blows out a breath. “Next time,” he says.

“Sure,” Erin says. “It’s not — it doesn’t expire or anything. Standing offer. I mean, unless I have something else going on. Then you’re shit out of luck.”

“I will make sure your schedule is clear,” Julius says.

“Thanks,” Erin says. “Thoughtful of you.”

“Would you like your hand back?” Julius says. Erin doesn’t think she’s imagining the reluctance. A month’s not really a long time if the universe is your scale, but if it isn’t, well. It’s long enough.

“That’s okay,” Erin says. “You can have it a bit longer.”

*

So the thing is, when Erin told Julius she’d go to Finland with him, well — it isn’t that she didn’t mean it, because she did, it’s just that she sort of figured that at some point between her saying that and him taking her up on it, she might just spontaneously get past her fear of flying.

Except, fear is such a strong word, isn’t it? She’s fine. She’s been on planes without dying. She even hopped on a plane to see the Canucks host the Oilers — would someone with a lifelong fear of planes do that?

And yeah, sure, it was only ninety minutes, and by the time she quit telling herself that they probably weren't all going to die — but if they did, they better not fuck up and identify her as Bryce’s girlfriend in all the death announcements — they’d pretty much already begun the descent.

Then, once she was done a new recital of how they probably weren't to die — at least they’d better not, because Bryce would feel so guilty about inviting her — they were taxiing to the gate.

And while, like, statistically, that was one of the most dangerous times, like how parking lots and the kilometre around your house are the places you’re most likely to get into an accident, it’s hard to work up the same panic when you’re like, twenty feet in the air instead of twenty thousand.

The flight back wasn’t too bad either, and by the end of the trip, she thought she might have even gotten over that whole fear of flying thing.

She was incorrect.

The thing is, she actually did okay on the flight to Toronto. It helped that it was first thing in the morning, and apparently sleepiness beats out panic, a fact she’s going to be taking advantage of in the future. She genuinely thought she'd reached the other side of it, but the flight to Amsterdam has quickly proven her wrong.

Planes aren’t supposed to shake. And dip! She swears they started to drop out of the sky at one point. Julius said that it was a normal amount of turbulence, but frankly, no turbulence is normal, is it? Sure, it can be a typical amount of turbulence, but normal? They’re in a metal tube in the sky, being thrown around by wind. Erin does not consider any of that to be normal.

“You didn’t tell me you don’t like flying,” Julius says, so quietly Erin can hardly hear him over the almost deafening plane sound nobody else seems to be bothered by. Erin thinks that’s pretty big of him, considering she’s had his hand in a death grip since the turbulence began, and she hasn’t relinquished it even now that it’s finally stopped. In his shoes, she’d probably be going with ‘you know these hands make millions, right?’.

Money that means she’s flying in comfort, if not…comfort. For some reason, Erin thought it’d be easier to deal with things in business class. She doesn’t know why — in a plane crash, the front of the plane is the least likely to survive. But hey, at least Erin got free champagne.

The champagne didn’t help. She hadn’t really thought it would, but she’d been hoping.

“Oh, I don’t know if I’d say I don’t like it,” Erin says. It comes out in a voice she's never heard in her entire life, so perky it’s almost shrill.

“Something stronger?” Julius asks, looking about as disturbed by Stepford Erin as she is. She doesn’t know if he’s talking about the word she’d use or the next drink she should have, but either way the answer's probably yes.

“Do you want your hand back?” Erin asks. It’s not so much an offer as a genuine question, because she’s not sure her hand will unclench for long enough to release it, and she’d probably grab it again the next time the plane started rocking, though maybe she can figure something else out. Grab his thigh or something. It also makes him millions, but it can probably hold up to the abuse a little better.

“You can have it the entire flight if you need,” Julius says. “And for the others.”

Erin’s really, really been trying not to think about the fact there are more flights after this one. Plural.

“Might make it hard to eat,” Erin says. He has the window seat — no fucking way she wants to see just how high up they are, even though she already intellectually knows it — and she’s had custody of his right hand since take off.

“I can figure it out,” Julius says, stroking his thumb over her knuckles. It isn’t quite relaxing — nothing is, right now, not with that damn plane noise — but it’s, you know, not not relaxing, which makes it better than pretty much everything in the world at the moment. It makes Erin’s eyes prickle.

“I know it’s irrational,” Erin says. “I’m well aware of all the statistics, and that it’s safer than basically every kind of transportation. I know. It’s ridiculous. I'm being ridiculous.”

“We can drive,” Julius says. “When we get to Helsinki. We can drive instead. Or take the train.”

Erin tips her head back, trying to keep the tears from spilling. That still leaves Amsterdam to Helsinki, but one flight is better than two. “How long a drive is it?” Erin says.

“Does it matter?” Julius asks.

Erin shakes her head, and when they fall, she swipes at them with her free hand.

“We can drive,” Julius says, thumb tracing back and forth, and Erin focuses on it, the slow sweep of his skin against hers, until the flight attendant comes, asking if they’d like something to drink.

“Champagne,” Erin says. “Please.”

“Two,” Julius says, even though he didn’t even finish his first. “Please.”

“What are we celebrating?” the flight attendant chirps, and Erin stares up at her, unable to muster even a weak smile. Beside her, Julius must be pulling out the ‘dumb fucking question’ face he gives reporters, because the flight attendant says, bright and fake as Stepford Erin, “Two glasses of champagne,” then hurries on to the next seats.

“People,” Julius murmurs, and Erin slides down, twisting in her seat until she can put her head on his shoulder. Probably makes it harder than she needs to, since she refuses to give up Julius’ hand the entire time, but he doesn’t complain, just keeps up the slow sweep of his thumb, and when she finally makes herself comfortable — or, as comfortable as she can, considering the circumstances — he kisses her hair.

“Sorry about stealing your hand,” Erin says. She really hopes he doesn’t think it’s an offer to give it back, because he’ll be disappointed.

“That’s okay,” Julius says. “I don’t need it for my job or anything.”

Erin decides to hold on a little tighter, just for that.

[sidekick-hero]

(steddie | mature | 2k | tags: established relationship, post-s4, Valentine's Day, Robin is the best, fluff | summary: Steve loves Eddie, he really, really does. He just can't say it. | @steddielovemonth prompt Love is just a four-letter word by @sal-si-puedes | AO3)

"He probably thinks I don't love him, Robin. Which is... ridiculous. I do! I really, really do. I just can't say it." Steve is pacing around the blissfully empty Family Video Store, his hands making a mess of his hair as they run through it in frustration.

"This is so stupid. I* am* so stupid, it's just four stupid letters, even a preschooler can say it," he rambles, his eyes wild as they look at Robin. "Why am I like this, Robbie?" His voice breaks, along with his heart, at the thought of Eddie doubting Steve's feelings for him for even a second.

Robin walks over to him and grips his shoulders tightly, her blue eyes boring into his as she says in her firmest you-listen-to-me-now voice. "You're not stupid. This is my best friend you're talking about, so watch it." That earns her at least a half-smile, which counts as a victory considering Steve was already pinching his nose to hold back tears.

"I know you love him, Steve. Everyone knows it. One look at you when he's in the room, or even when you're just talking about him, is enough to know you love him. And I'm sure Eddie knows it too. He has to."

Robin's words soothe some of the fear in Steve's heart, knowing that she would tell him if she really thought he had messed up. But even though it's okay now, Eddie won't wait forever for Steve to say those three little words. No one would. Steve knows that his heart couldn't take being with Eddie, loving Eddie and telling him that, only to never hear it back from him.

"I don't know. Even if you're right, I feel like I'm losing him. That something in me is broken, and one day he'll realize that too, and then he'll leave." With an even smaller voice Steve adds: "I can't lose him, Robbie".

They don't hug very often. Robin shows her affection in many ways, but most of them aren't overly physical. That's Eddie's job, clinging to Steve like a koala most days, always touching Steve in some way, even if it's just his shoulder nudging Steve's. Robin pulling him into a tight hug now means a lot to him, but it's also a testament to the gravity of the situation.

With their arms around each other between the horror and action movie sections, Steve takes a moment to just soak in the comfort she offers. What happened at Starcourt messed them both up, caused them both more trauma than any teenager should have to deal with, but on a very selfish level, Steve can't help but be grateful that it happened. A life without Robin Buckley sounds like the greater horror to him.

After a few minutes, Robin gently pulls away from Steve to look at him. He's reluctant to let her go, even though he knows this is an even longer hug than the one she gave him when Nancy told him they weren't getting back together after defeating Vecna. She wanted to go to Boston, make a career, see the world. And Steve? Steve wanted a home, a place to belong, and someone to share that home with. They wanted different things, he realizes now.

That doesn't mean it didn't open old wounds, memories of how it felt to be rejected by her, his love for her thrown in his face like it was worthless. Bullshit.

As attuned to him and his thoughts as ever, a true testament to the fact that they share a brain cell, Robin says, "I think it's understandable that you can't say it. The last time you told someone you loved them, you were hurt, badly. Your heart is probably just trying to protect itself. Like a kid who touched a hot stove and got burned wouldn't touch another stove, you know?"

Steve nods, because in a way it makes sense. It just doesn't help him to know.

"But what am I supposed to do, Robin? It's not Eddie's fault that I'm broken."

"You, Steve Harrington, are not broken. Just a little bruised. There is nothing wrong with you just because you got hurt and have the scars to show for it. Like Max, because of the injuries to her leg, she cannot walk like she used to before Vecna, so she uses her crutch. She's not broken. Is she?"

"No, of course not. If anything, she's even stronger now, I saw her hit Lucas with the crutch and tell him to hurry up on the way to the movies," Steve says, smiling at the memory.

"See!" Robin waves her hand at him in excitement, almost bouncing with it. "All you need is a crutch!"

They look at each other wide-eyed before matching smiles break out on their faces, Robin's giddy at having found a solution, Steve's reflecting the tentative hope blossoming in his chest.

His talk with Robin certainly helped, but as Valentine's Day approaches, the fears and insecurities start to creep back in. It's not even like Eddie is giving him any indication that he's not happy with Steve or their relationship. Quite the opposite, in fact.

Eddie tells him he loves him almost every time they see each other, at the most random moments. Some days he whispers it in Steve's ear to wake him up, other days it's his way of saying good night to him with his arm around Steve's waist and his hand over Steve's heart in a protective grip. He says it casually when Steve brings him breakfast in bed or lunch to the record store where he now works. Just yesterday he said it while Steve was buried deep inside him, their hands intertwined beside Eddie's head and brown eyes looking softly up at Steve.

It's not meant to make him feel bad about himself, he knows that.

He still does.

So when he opens his front door to the sight of Eddie standing on his doorstep in his nicest jeans and a forest green button-down Steve has never seen before, clearly having put some real effort into his appearance, Steve almost crumbles.

He's a shitty boyfriend, isn't he? There's this amazing guy who goes out of his way to look nice for Steve, even though he doesn't even like Valentine's Day, just because he knows it's important to Steve. And he can't even tell him he loves him.

Some of what he's feeling must be showing on his face, because Eddie's cheerful smile falls and he hurries into the house to pull Steve into his arms, slamming the door shut with his foot.

"Sweetheart, I'm sorry, I told Dustin green wasn't my color, but he insisted. I look hideous, don't I?"

That makes Steve snort wetly into Eddie's neck before muttering a fond "Idiot" into it.

Eddie just hums, obviously pleased with himself for making Steve laugh. "You can tell me. You know I don't mind getting naked for you."

"You're getting a little ahead of yourself, aren't you?"

Eddie grinned wolfishly at him. "I don't know, the tear in my Hellfire shirt from when you ripped it off me begs to differ."

Steve blushes at the memory, even as he laughs at Eddie's words. Instead of saying anything else, Steve pulls him back into his arms and Eddie goes willingly.

"Hi, baby," he says, his nose brushing behind Steve's ear.

"Hi." Steve breathes him in, the smell of cigarette smoke and his shampoo strong where his nose is buried in Eddie's hair.

They don't let go for a long time.

It's Eddie who pulls back first, and Steve does his best not to read into it. "You want to tell me what's going on?"

The Steve from before the Upside Down would have just shaken his head and told Eddie that everything was fine before pulling him into the bedroom to reassure them both that it was. Not talking about his feelings, fears, and needs might have worked for hookups, but he learned the hard way that it doesn't work when you want to be in a relationship.

So Steve takes Eddie's hand and leads him over to the couch where they both sit facing each other. They don't let go of each other's hands.

"I know you're probably wondering why I haven't told you... why I haven't said it yet."

Eddie's eyebrows disappear behind his fringe. "It?"

Sighing, Steve watches his fingers run over Eddie's knuckles. "You know. That I love you."

"Oh."

It's hard to place Eddie's tone, and even harder to place the silence that follows, but it makes his knee jiggle with nerves and his stomach churn. Usually it's Eddie who tends to fill the silence between them when it feels too big, too heavy, but today it's Steve.

"It's not because I don't want to, I swear. It's just," another frustrated sigh, the hand currently not held by Eddie's rubbing over his face, "I just can't say it. And I am so, so sorry, because you deserve to hear it. Every day. But I can't... I can't. So I understand if you don't want to do this anymore. You deserve better, Eddie. You really, really do."

Eddie lets Steve's words settle between them, aching and raw, but he never lets go of Steve's hand.

"You're right," he finally says, and the sound of Steve's heart breaking is deafening to his own ears. Pinching his nose, he tries to take his hand back from Eddie, but his boyfriend (if he can still call him that) won't budge. "You're right about me wondering, Steve. But that was before."

Looking up, a frown forming between his eyebrows, Steve asks, "Before?"

"Before I realized that you do tell me that you love me, every day. You say it when you tiptoe around the trailer in the morning to make breakfast without waking me. You tell me every time you pack an extra blanket or sweater when we go to the quarry because you know I always get cold. I hear it loud and clear every time you bring me lunch, even though it means you waste most of your own lunch break driving around town. It's in the way you try so hard to make Wayne like you because you know how much that means to me, and in the way you hold me after another nightmare, and in the way you kiss me sometimes like there's nothing in the world you'd rather be doing, without it having to lead anywhere, just because you like kissing me."

Eddie scooted forward and bridged the gap between them by taking Steve's face in his hands.

"Steve, you've been telling me you love me for months with everything except words. I don't really need them. It's just a four-letter word."

And, fuck, now Steve is crying. Eddie wipes away his tears with his thumbs, and when that's not enough, he kisses them away with his lips.

Steve is so in love with him that he has no idea how the feeling even fits in his body.

"Damn," he chuckles wetly, "that means I didn't even have to find a crutch?"

Now it's Eddie's turn to look at Steve in confusion, clearly worried that his boyfriend might have lost his mind. "What crutch? Is this a sex thing?"

Laughing and shaking his head fondly, Steve raises his free hand to his head, palm facing Eddie. Then he brings his thumb, index finger, and little finger up, keeping his ring and middle fingers down, before moving his hand back and forth slightly.

"Robin came up with this. She said if I couldn't say the words with my mouth, maybe I could say them in a different way. I thought of trying sign language," Steve adds sheepishly.

Before he knows what's happening, Eddie is on top of him, pressing him into the couch with his body weight and showering his face with kisses.

"You're so smart," kiss, "and beautiful," kiss, "and wonderful," kiss, "and I love you so much." The last part is accompanied by a lingering kiss on his lips and Steve melts under it.

Even though he obviously didn't have to tell Eddie this way, Steve is glad that he did.

He also thinks it won't be long before he can say those words, too. If anyone can help him walk without a crutch, it's Eddie.

[sweetnsour1]

9:36:01

Angsty fluff, Bakugou x fem reader

Part 1 of Broken Collection

Go back to part 0

“An echo.”

“An echo?”

“Yeah, ya know-“ you interrupted yourself with a few waves of your hand…an attempt to summon some sense of understanding. “Like the same thing, but not…and it comes later.”

Your thoughts faltered when you looked up at the sound of a chuckle, but your timing was off. The evidence was already being erased from his lips with the pass of a scarred hand. A quick cough and eye roll reset his expression before he tried again.

“Yea, I get what an echo is. Don’t get how one brought ya here.”

You huffed, returning your gaze to your lap. This was all frustrating and so…so stupid. You were frustrating. You were-A slippered foot nudged your leg. He bent to your sprawled-on-the-floor level, hooking a finger beneath your chin, raising your probably bloodshot eyes to meet his naturally red ones. Your eyes watered as they widened at the close proximity. Fuck, he looked so good…and you were so tired.

“Hmm…fix your face.”

“Ugh, I know. I haven’t slep-“

“No, this.” Something ran across your lips, tracing the frown you didn’t know was on display. By the time you could process his touch, it was gone. He was standing in the doorway again. This time with his hand down, palm out. “Well, come on.” The rush of panic was instant, your head was throbbing, your ears were ringing, your thoughts frozen before they could start.

“Huh?”

“Did ya wanna sleep out here?”

“No.”

“Okay then.” He moved closer, and you let him help you up.

Ugh, standing felt like such a pain after a night of dancing with Mina and Kaminari. They were probably still out. You’d bailed after the third spot…once you realized you were in walking distance to-

“Ya good?”

You nodded, seeing he’d led you to the bathroom. “Soft,” you mumbled into the pile of folded somethings he pushed into your arms.

“Remember where everything is?” He paused for an extra moment while you blinked up at him. “Nothing’s changed.”

You must have nodded because he seemed satisfied before heading off to the kitchen. You wandered to the mirror, ignoring your reflection, and placed the clothes on the counter. Nothing’s changed. What a lie. So many things had changed.

However, he wasn’t wrong…quite a few things seemed to have remained: The extra loofahs beneath the sink, the clean towel hanging on the shower door because you’d always forget to grab one, lavender bodywash, color protecting shampoo, the drain cover to catch your hair before it wreaked havoc on the plumbing.

You let the water burn, and steam fill the room. Anything to hide these markers, these tiny headstones detailing who was here for a moment before having to move on. Eventually, you groaned and shut the water off. You couldn’t hide in here forever.

“What am I doinggg?”

“Using all the hot water in the building.”

“Shit!” You wiped at the shower door to reveal an empty bathroom. “The fuck?”

That same chuckle floated toward you. “Don’t worry, still out here.” A hand waved from the hall. “Ya didn’t shut the door.”

“Oh, sorry.”

“Stop saying sorry, idiot.”

“Sor-“

“There’s food when you’re done.”

It felt so fucking good to be clean. You were halfway through putting lotion on, freezing mid-thigh. You’d bought this…for him at first, but then a larger size when you ended up loving the scent. Now it was just something else on the long list of things you had avoided for months. You finished getting presentable enough to journey to the kitchen.

He really did look so fucking good. His shoulders were relaxed, no longer grinding up towards his ears. His breaths seemed calmer than before. His back and shoulders had gotten bigger in all the best ways, while his waist seemed smaller somehow. He finally had the undercut you’d pushed for years ago, but he’d never wanted to try. He really, truly seemed like he was doing so much fucking better. But you knew that…you knew…you had said…you-

You jumped as his hands grabbed your face. When the hell had he turned around?

“The hell? You okay?” His thumbs traced along your cheekbones. Oh, tears.

“Yea, yea…just tired.” You tugged free of his grip, backing away to sit in the living room, burrowing into the corner of the sofa you used to like best. He half followed, and you could feel the question coming. He opened his mouth as you rolled your eyes. “Promise.” He shut it again with a tch, disappearing into the kitchen again. It’s like you were running lines from a script you’d memorized.

The food he finally brought over was probably delicious. You could only register it was warm and filling. It was hard to focus on anything really. Too much alcohol, too little sleep, too many memories, just too much.

“So an echo?”

You paused, noticing you had slid a pillow between the two of you at some point.

“Mmm. It’s probably better if we don’t unpack that.”

The cushions shifted as he stretched his long arms up and back down to rest along the back of the sofa. You found your gaze ripped away from the shoulders you couldn’t stop staring at by that same soft laugh you’d missed so much.

“Probably. Still wanna hear it though.”

“It’s just a theory…”

“Ya love those.”

“Mhmm.”

“So what is it this time?”

“It’s just…we broke up.”

“That’s true.”

“Well we broke up because we thought-“

“We?”

“Well we broke up because I thought we weren’t bringing out the best in each other anymore. Everything was harder and stressful and exhausting. We both put work first, but that made us feel shitty at home. But if we took time off to be at home, we felt shitty about not being at work. We were too similar and enabled so many bad habits.”

“Yea yea, I remember all that from before. Now what’s this echo?”

“Yea, so…we broke up because I thought that might be true. Now it’s been a while. And we’re both doing much better. Great even. And it’s just like a shitty echo of the heartbreak. Ya know? Because it’s like proof that we’re better apart than together. And…”

“And?”

“And so I guess that’s why I’m here.”

“Hmm.”

“What?”

“Doin’ great, huh?” His fingers ran through his blonde hair. “Are you doing better?”

“What? I mean…I’ve never been ranking higher than I am now. And the agency-“

“Not what I asked.”

“You asked-“

“Not work. Are you doing better?”

“Oh…yes?” Finally you were looking when his eyes crinkled and his laugh was set loose. Pretty.

“Now ask me.”

“Ask you?” He was no longer laughing but his mouth looked ready to release another at any moment. “Um, are you doing better?”

His hand was just warm enough for you to not flinch as it made contact with your neck. His thumb stroked the side of your face. Your eyes closed and you leaned into the touch you’d stayed away from for most of the year. You opened them again, unsure of how long he’d let you rest in the literal palm of his hand. He was fully grinning now.

“Not at fuckin’ all.”

“Not at fuck-wait not at all?” Your thoughts were getting more sluggish by the minute.

“Nope.”

“But-“

“Yea work’s great, but I’m always great at work.”

“But…You seem so relaxed and happy and I dunno…different?”

“No shit. You showed up at my door like I ordered delivery.” He laughed at your pout before it was fully formed. “Guess you’re too exhausted to wonder why I was awake at two in the fuckin’ morning.”

“But…but you go to bed at eight.”

“Been a while since i could do that.”

“Why?”

“You’re not the only one getting chased by echoes, kid.”

“Oh.”

Mmmmmm still unsure where this one is going, but these two are tugging me along. So we’ll see

Next part

Masterlist

[mariacrow]

Hi love, Let me start off with saying that I adore your writing! I was wondering if you could do some cute fluffy relationship head cannons with TFP Optimus, Bulkhead, and Bumblebee with a human female S/O please?

Totally okay if you ignore this one, just wanted to throw something out there. Keep up the amazing work!

Thank you, love 🥰 I planned on doing TFP Autobots relationship headcanons so here are your boys amongst everyone else ;)

This one is EVEN LONGER 💀 (that’s what she said pt. 2)

For Decepticon headcanons click here! 💜

I AM SORRY FOR ANY GRAMMAR MISTAKES OR TYPOS, I DIED WRITING THIS 😭

TFP Autobots x reader

❀ relationship headcanons ❀

2nd person

female reader

how you’d get together, confession

how you’d function together, PDA

intimacy, preferences (NSFW)

how long would it last

excluding Arcee because I mainly do male characters

OPTIMUS PRIME

HE SAID 🤨

It would take a looooong time for you two to click. He would treat you equally like he does everyone else and not give you any signals, not even mixed, so you would think it’s impossible to take it to another level with him.

As time would pass though, you two would isolate yourselves more and more when you’d have a chance. He’d take you on long relaxing rides.

Most of the time he would let you blabber while he’d stay silent and listen. He can listen to your beautiful voice all day.

After a couple of romantic rides he’d finally confess to you, asking if it’s even possible for a creature like him to love a creature like you. He’d ask you to be his one and only, to conjux.

He’d totally understand if you’d reject him but of course you wouldn’t reject him, IT’S OPTIMUS PRIME, WHO WOULD REJECT OPTIMUS PRIME??? (lmao)

He’s okay with PDA but he’d still kinda avoid it, he prefers when you two have proper privacy. He’s often too busy throughout the day anyway.

But when you do get some alone time, he always makes sure it’s the best you’ll ever get.

His sex drive isn’t high but at times he would get intimate with you and make you feel special.

He’s quite romantic actually, vanilla yet very sensual. He would do anything to give you maximal pleasure.

He likes to take it slow and passionate, take his time with you but sometimes, just sometimes, when he has too much pent up stress, he’d take it a bit rougher than usual to relieve himself.

He’s not that vocal, definitely a groaning and grunting type. He’d praise you though, tell you how beautiful you are and how much he loves you.

Definitely calls you “little one”.

Prefers missionary or you riding while facing him so he can look at the complete soft beauty in front of him. Sometimes you push his size kink button which makes him tightly grab onto something, sometimes even damage it.

After he’d feel kinda bad, he’d make sure he didn’t hurt you or bring you any kind of displeasure. He’s the king of aftercare though, that’s for sure.

Da hell u mean how long would it last??? FOREVER OFC. IT’S OPTIMUS PRIME!!! 🤸‍♀️

🍓

RATCHET

Grumpy doc. (MY FAV!!!!!!!!!)

He’d pretend you annoy him the most just to deny his feelings.

As time would pass and as you’d grow on him more you’d catch him getting distracted by you. He’d just keep staring at you with a poker face, secretly admiring you. When you’d catch him he’d shake it off and continue his work.

Slowly he’d get overprotective, wanting to become your guardian probably. He’d also talk with you more often, perhaps even flirt a little with his old doc jokes, make you giggle and admire your blushy face.

He’d take advantage of some alone time with you in the base to confess. He’d let you sit on his shoulder for the first time while he works and talk quietly to you.

Finally he’d spill his spark for you, apologize for being too rough on you at times and asking for a chance to change that.

He’s actually a very good kisser, you could smooch him all day. But NEVER in front of the others. PDA is a nono, especially when you get him flustered which you tend to because he cannot absorb so much beauty at once.

Four walls and a locked door is the best for him. He can admire you properly and have his way with you. He might seem vanilla but he can get kinky.

He’s a control freak in bed too. Considering his age, his pace isn’t the best. He’d always complain about his hips and back but his strength is definitely something to cherish. He’s actually quite experienced so he doesn’t need a quick pace to give pleasure to both of you.

He’s girthy and it’s definitely something he’s proud of. He can get quite cocky and throw a couple of dirty talks. He can get very loud too, likes when you’re loud as well so he can shush you for fun.

He kinda has a breeding kink too (perhaps even doctor & nurse/assistant or patient kink), loves filling you up and seeing your tummy bulge, not letting it leak out.

He isn’t an exhibitionist but he’d love to do it on the control panel with you or in the med bay. As time would pass and as he’d remember how good IT feels, he’d want to do it anywhere and at any time, whenever you’d tickle his wild side with a provocative comment or a provocative look.

One thing that’s hilarious is that he can almost immediately fall asleep after nutting (excuse my language). He tries his best not to but he’s an old tired doc after all, you can’t be mad at him.

He’d pray it lasts because deep down he knows he got too attached. Even when you two would argue, when he’d yell at you for a stupid thing for example, later he’d do anything to make it up to you.

He loves you very dearly.

🍓

BULKHEAD

GENTLE GIANT!!!

He would confess to someone by secretly researching customs about Earth and he would be nervous at first.

You two would bond with some common interests he did research on previously. He’d buy you gifts and take you anywhere you want but at the same time he’d worry about your safety.

He gets flustered very easily so you’d get the memo that he likes you from the start.

It would take him a long time to confess which would result in him being a pure blushing mess. The moment you’d kiss him he’d probably almost faint.

He’s ok with PDA, he doesn’t care what anyone thinks. When he’s with you he’s in another dimension.

He’s a big snuggly wuggly teddy bear. Cuddling has become one of his fav things in the world because of you.

He would also need a lot of time to allow himself to get intimate with you hence he’s so huge. He’s scared he could hurt you.

Hence he needs a lot of words of affirmation, communication is key with him.

He’s a soft dom but can also be a switch if that’s what pleases you. He likes when you tug at his chin. He also loves when his digits are tangled in your hair, it’s his favorite part of your body.

He isn’t really a kinky type or at least his fear of bringing you any harm is suppressing anything that can come out onto the surface. That’s why he might be an experimentalist.

He would not stop until you’re fully pleased. You need to talk to him a lot during sex if you want him to be maximally confident with you.

He’s probably the best at aftercare. Would wrap you up in a blanket and bring you food or anything you ask for really.

He only prefers long term relationships and he’d hope you’re his precious little human forever.

I AM SO SORRY THIS IS SO SHORT!!! :’((

🍓

BUMBLEBEE

Precious Bee is so clingy that it’s SO obvious that he’s into you.

He wouldn’t leave your side almost. He’d be all happy and bubbly and win you with his optimism.

Don’t let that bubbliness full you though, he’s a hot head and would do anything to protect you. He’s protective in the right amount though.

He’d always snuggle into your hair and press his muzzle against your cheek, as if he’s kissing you. He’d ask you to kiss him back by tapping his cheek and muzzle.

When you’d kiss his muzzle it would be over for him. You’d officially become his partner. He’d probably find a tiny gear to put on your wedding finger.

Totally into PDA! Especially when it annoys Smokescreen and makes him jealous.

Cuddles and any kind physical touch are his absolute FAV. He’s so spoiled when it comes to nuzzling which he does all the time (is obsessed with your softness).

He’s actually very quick to get intimate. You could say his sex drive is high due to his youth.

He’d take it nicely and passionately, especially with his servos. He has a specific kink with digit play. Loves touching you absolutely everywhere and almost every time he overstimulates your private parts with them before he actually penetrates you with his spike.

His stamina is crazy and he always takes advantage of it. His pace is very quick all the time but if you ask him to be slow he will. Your pleasure is also very important to him.

He has a thing for beauty marks, he’d kiss every single one of them every time. You’re the only one he puts his muzzle down for. But not gonna lie he loves when you tug on it.

Perhaps he’d be into leashes and chokers and stuff if you really asked him.

He’s a very soft lover after all so expect epic wholesome aftercare.

Considering he’s a hot head there might be some minor arguments with him but that won’t stop you from having a long term relationship.

🍓

WHEELJACK

JACKIEEEE! (2ND FAV!!!!!!)

He’d flirt the hell out of you. He’d flirt and flirt and flirt, make you blush and get flustered all over again until he makes you fall for him. He’d tease you with calling you “sunshine” or “kid” or “doll” or “baby girl”.

He’s a player, likes it casual but when he knows you’re the one, he doesn’t give up. He’s extremely stubborn.

You’re probably the only reason he’d stay in the base.

He’d take you out and if he notices you’re a romantic soul, he’d be the most romantic man out there even though, in reality, he isn’t romantic at all.

Doesn’t mind PDA, loves showing off how he’s the best boyfriend in the world (or at least he thinks so lmao).

You know he’s a HUGE hot head. Would kill for you.

The moment of confession would probably be the night you get intimate. We could say the best way he can express his love for you is through sex so expect some extreme overstimulation.

He’s into lingerie, especially black and red. Loves making you stain your panties good too.

He INVENTED dirty talking. Also very into oral, eating you out like the tastiest snack. He also loves eye contact, he’d make you look at him or else he’d stop.

He can combine all sorts of paces and positions and roughness, he has his own magic tactics. He loves making you scream while he’s praising you. Doesn’t matter if the base is full or not, he’s a risk taker and it really turns him on.

Sometimes he’d even grab you with one servo and slide you up and down his spike like a pocket pussy. Backshots and reverse cowgirl must be his fav positions.

One his fav places to cum is onto your face, definitely. Or into your mouth. He likes it gushy and messy. His stamina is crazy too.

Would shower you with kisses and praising afterwards, make sure you’re alright.

As I said, he’s into casual stuff but you’re probably the only one who would make him take relationships seriously and enjoy the long term.

🍓

SMOKESCREEN

He’d be so cringe at first. He’s an act first then think after type of mech.

He would flirt SO MUCH with you to the point he’d start annoying you.

He’d notice though. He may seem confident but in truth he’s nervous underneath all that cockiness. He tends to overthink.

He’d ask others for advice, research, anything that could make you his.

At first he would view you as just another one of his dolls he plays with but when he’d realize he actually has serious feelings for you, he’d get serious.

The confession would be spontaneous as he’d probably make out with you like the horny teenager he is. He’d promise to be loyal though and he’d keep that promise.

He’s into PDA, loves showing off how you’re his.

He has a weird kink in making you jealous and vice versa. You’d play a flirting game with anyone you know just to get each other jealous which would result in “who’s gonna give up first and frag the other”.

Loves giving you pet names but also loves when you give him pet names too and refer to him as “baby boy” hence he’s a switch. Also into exhibitionism.

Has a thing for breasts and thighs. He can whimper at times too and when you’d bring it up later he’d deny it and be like “WHAT!? NU-UH!”

Loves when you ride him or his face but is also into backshots even though he prefers when you face him. Perhaps he has a tiny sex tape kink too.

Surprisingly he’d make you cum every time which he would brag about later. His cockiness is always present nonetheless.

As I said, even though he can be an immature horny teenage boy, he can get serious when you put him in his place.

🍓

ULTRA MAGNUS

UH OH 💀💀💀

If you choose to fall in love with this man expect to be heart broken twelve times until you get together (if that’s even possible).

Kidding, it’s possible. But still very difficult. Prepare for a long one, he’s a very complicated mech 💀.

He would not even notice you. At first he’d just call you a native or a soldier but once he starts calling you by your actual name that would be the signal that he views you as someone who he has a positive opinion on.

You’d have to be REALLY pushy on him, be as clingy as possible, annoy the hell out of him so he’d actually set his guard down.

You’d develop your relationship with him scolding you like a parent, telling you what to do and what not to do while you’d disobey him. Sometimes you’d even bring a TIIINY smirk on his face because you’re just too cute, he can’t be mad at you forever.

With that, he’d get overprotective and follow you around all the time, not letting you out of his sight.

Would always correct you that you should refer to him as “sir” or “lieutenant” or even “commander”. He loves it when you do it in bed especially, it REALLY gets him going. Also has a brat taming kink.

This would go on for a loooong time until you actually conjux. He’s definitely a type of mech to keep you in handcuffs in a relationship.

PDA? What’s that? Sometimes it would seem he’s keeping you a secret.

When it comes to intimacy you’d probably think this mech’s sex drive is ZERO. But oh. He’d grope you and touch you everywhere, ex vent into your ear, giving you a sign at the most unexpected time that he wants you then and there.

He has a LOT of pent up stress so you’d be his stress outlet. His foreplay is a bit dry to be honest but he’d learn his way with you.

Even though his roughness can result in not caring about your pleasure at all, he’d still make your eyes roll in the back of your head.

Soon he’d realize how good you actually make him feel as he’d lean and kiss you (your lips, torso or back/neck, depends on the position which don’t matter to him as long as he’s on top).

Would definitely mark you all over with his servos because he tends to grope HARD. He also loves seeing the outline of his spike on your stomach as he couldn’t help but press onto it and feel it move in and out of you.

His aftercare is very poor too. At first you’d get intimate as if it’s a one night stand. He’d leave almost immediately or the next morning without even saying anything.

He’d isolate himself as first, making you feel as if he’s using you as a toy but in the end everything would come together and he’d give himself to you.

He’d still keep his formality at times. Getting intimate with him would probably be the only time he’d express his emotions as much as possible even though it really isn’t much.

This could go on either forever or fall apart after some time… Depends on you.

Dividers belong to @baexywth and @animatedglittergraphics-n-more 🍓

@k----a27s helped me with Bulk, Bee and Smokey! ❤️

[screamofdespair]

An An Magazine N°2394 (17/04/2024) : Interview with Miyamura Yūko (Kazuha's VA) & Horikawa Ryō (Heiji's VA)

General & Movie 27 (The Million-dollar Pentagram)

[宮村優子 Miyamura Yūko as 遠山 和葉 Tōyama Kazuha]

M.Y : Please, propose to me as soon as possible (laughs).

Can you tell us what you like about Toyama Kazuha ?

Kazuha-chan is a calm and peaceful character who almost never gets involved in incidents or crimes, unlike Heiji. She’s genuinely sweet and cheerful and her love for Heiji is sincere and deep. She’s so fixated on him that she doesn’t realize when other men are interested in her. I think she’s quite popular, though...

Kazuha is a character who speaks Kansai dialect, is Miyamura-san also from Kansai ?

I myself am from Kobe, so i can speak the Kobe dialect, but Kazuha-chan is from Neyagawa in Osaka, and speaks Kansai dialect. Actually, there are various types of Kansai dialect and the one she speaks is a very strong, somewhat classical version of it. I used to hear it a lot when i was a child. I think it's probably the Kansai dialect that my father's generation spoke, and that’s what i have in mind when portraying her.

How do you see the relationship between Heiji and Kazuha ? 

When will these two realize that they have mutual feelings for each other ? (laughs). I really don’t mind about finding a nice romantic setting for their confession... I just want them to confess as soon as possible. I hope they both jump straight to a proposal! (laughs). And honestly, Kazuha-chan seems to be giving off a bit of a resigned vibe lately...

When you heard that Kazuha will appear as a main character in this movie, how did you feel ?

I'm really hoping for some progress in their romance, so please make it happen! (laughs).

What do you like about Heiji ?

First of all, his sparkling eyes when he solves mysteries! Then, how cool he looks when he’s riding his bike. It’s also adorable to see that despite his abilities, he becomes clumsy in the presence of the girl he likes. Heiji also gives us the impression that he comes from a good family. My favorite moment between Heiji and Kazuha is when they are on the bike together, and Heiji says, 'If you let go, I’ll kill you! To me, that felt like a proposal on the level of ‘stay with me forever’.

What advice would you give to the two of them, who aren’t making much progress, as someone with more life experience like you ?

Well... to begin with, i think Heiji should hurry and go greet Kazuha's parents with a greeting like : Please, let me take care of your daughter!

By the way, there’s an episode where Kazuha carries a matching charm with Heiji. Do you have something similar that you carry around, like a charm ? 

I don’t have a charm, but i maintain my peace of mind by looking at pictures of my pet dog on my smartphone. (laughs).

Do you have any thoughts on the relationship between Kazuha and Ran ?

When there is progress in the relationship between Shinichi and Ran in the original work (manga), i'm as happy as if it were my own. Even during the recording sessions the scenes where they support each other's love are really fun and cute. I think there’s something only Kazuha and Ran can understand, like the ‘struggles of falling in love with a detective’. But at the same time, i also wish for Ai Haibara’s happiness. So, i want Dr. Agasa to develop cloning technology that can create multiple Shinichis (laughs). Also, there aren’t enough Conans compared to the crime rate! So i hope they increase the number of Conans as well. If it’s Dr. Agasa, he should definitely be able to do it!

Do you have any memorable moments from the recording sessions of this movie that you’d like to share ? 

Minami Takayama, who voices Conan, is always amazing, and this time was no different, she was incredible as ever. I even took notes, listing what exactly made her performance so impressive. It was just astonishing...

Each character in Conan is very popular. Do you hear such feedback from fans ?

Of course! As a fan myself, i watch the show with my Conan fan friends all the time. Every character is charming, and the story is interesting no matter where you dive in. Sometimes, there are occasional small plot elements, so i can't take my eyes off it from start to finish. Personally, i really enjoy the scenes where Kogoro looks competent, and even though Gin and Vodka don’t appear in this movie, their buddy dynamic is something that i love. Oh, and i was really moved by the relationship between Inspector Nakamori and Kid.

Finally, can you please share the highlights of this year's movie to our readers ?

This time, the culprit and the mystery-solving aspects are very intriguing, but there’s also... Kid’s secret!!! Look forward to it!

[堀川 りょう Horikawa Ryō as 服部 平次 Hattori Heiji]

H.R : I believe there's a certain appeal in things that are not easily achieved (laughs).

Can you tell us what you like about Hattori Heiji ?

First of all, he doesn't back down. Heiji gets really annoyed with people who give in and say things like "it doesent matter." That kind of passion is very much like him, and i like that. By the way, although he is the greatest detective in the West, he becomes a complete failure when it comes to Kazuha-chan. She is his weakness. That’s definitely where to hit him!

Heiji is a character who speaks in Kansai dialect. Horikawa-san is from Kansai, isn't he ?

You know, while portraying Heiji, i sometimes think, ‘nobody talks like that in Kansai these days!’ (laughs). Expressions like 'seyakate,' 'souden ga na,' and 'chaiman ga na' you wouldn’t hear them even if you crossed the street in Kansai these days (laughs). As a high school student, what era is Heiji even from? But well, since it’s fiction, i understand the desire to exaggerate a bit. This time, the story takes place in Hakodate, and the Hokkaido dialect 'waya' is used.

When you heard that Heiji would appear as a main character in this movie, how did you feel ? 

Here we go again! (laughs). I was really excited. Especially because there wasn’t any talk about him being a main character next year. About a year ago, i got a call saying, ‘sorry, we need to record a preview for next year’, and i thought, ‘wait, does that mean... next year?’ ‘Yes, that's right.’ That’s how i found out. I was really happy.

How do you see the relationship between Heiji and Kazuha ?

In the previous movie, ‘The Crimson Love Letter’, Heiji said to Kazuha, 'If you let go... I’ll kill you.' To me, that’s basically a confession. It’s almost equivalent to saying, ‘i love you’, so i think his feelings have been conveyed... But i wonder if they’ve actually reached her. It doesn’t seem like it, does it? (laughs).

What do you like about Kazuha ? 

She often scolds Heiji with some harsh words, but from my perspective, they are just messing around like a married couple's quarrel. I’m always like, ‘oh, they’re at it again’. But actually, i don't mind being scolded like that, as does Heiji. During the recording sessions, i often think, ‘she’s so cute’. Honestly, i wouldn’t mind if she scolded him a bit more… (laughs).

What advice would you give to the two of them, who aren’t making much progress, as someone with more life experience like you ?

I think their feelings have already been conveyed, so isn’t that enough ? (laughs). Of course, i’d love for them to finally get together, but that slow progress seems so typical of Heiji and Kazuha, don’t you think? (laughs).

Do you have any memorable moments from the recording sessions of this movie that you’d like to share ?

There’s a scene where my character has to fight an opponent in an unbelievable location, something that could only happen in an anime. It’s a completely unrealistic situation, but the characters are fighting with all their might. So, as voice actors, we have to give the same level of effort to make it work. That particular scene left me really exhausted during the recording sessions. But that’s exactly what made it so entertaining. Being able to immerse yourself in the role to the point where it feels like you’re stepping into the picture is one of the best parts of this job. The feeling of accomplishment and the exhaustion afterward were incredibly satisfying.

Each character in Conan is very popular. Do you hear such feedback from fans ? 

Yes… but it’s a bit embarrassing (laughs). Well, there’s no denying that all the characters are really cool. But if people feel that the appeal comes not just from the way they look, but also from the acting, i think it’s because all the actors aren’t trying to ‘be cool’. We’re just giving it our all. I truly believe that fully committing to the role is what makes it come off as cool.

Finally, can you please share the highlights of this year's movie to our readers ?

When it comes to Heiji, it's not only about his feelings for Kazuha but also his dedication to pursuing the truth. I hope the readers can truly appreciate this admirable aspect of his character. There’s plenty of entertainment too, such as Conan-kun’s skateboard sequences, but also more profound emotions and nuances of life that adults will relate to, alongside the action and mystery-solving. This film is packed with so many elements that i recommend watching it at least three times (laughs). You really can’t catch everything in one viewing. Personally, i watch any movie at least three times!

Note : The translation might not be the most accurate word-for-word, but i did my best to make it coherent.

[monkmain2]

I figured if I were to post these pictures here I might as well include the whole thing

extremely long page of text below the cut

his idea has been rattling around in my brain like a little gremlin who just snorted five lines of coke and drank an entire can of monster energy

I was extremely reluctant to actually get this idea out there because my little autism creechur brain was 100% convinced that it was the most cringy shit ever created and i would be violently and incessantly beaten down by the very fact that i had posted something so blasphemous on the internet by my very own conscience

But at this point i feel like there’s no point in keeping it in or else it’ll just infect my brain forever and i’ll never be able to think about anything else so if it is disgustingly cringy i suppose i’ll just have to embrace the cringe and deal with it

Ok fine admittedly if it is cringe i’ll probably just disable reboots and comments on this post and adamantly deny its existence if anyone brings it up

Ok so uh it’s a concept for an alternate UTMV

God this is so fucking cringe i hate it already why am i like this

I don’t even want to keep going why is this so cringe to my gremlin brain

AHEM

So uh

It’s sorta an expansion of that “UTMV but Ink is really fucking short” idea i had a while ago

So like it’s like when Ink tried to destroy his soul it did the refusing to shatter thing for no particular reason other than i couldn’t think of a better way to cobble together an explanation for why he still has one

So it still made all his memories go away but it also reverted him back to the age in which such a mentality would be expected aka a baby

As for how he left his AU after this that’s something that i have to talk about Nightmare and Dream’s weird convoluted story in this AU for you to understand

So unlike normal Dreamtale instead of Dream being a perfect angel that everyone loves and Nightmare being jealous of him he’s a belligerent little shit with anger issues that everyone just kind of puts up with because he’s the guardian of positivity so they can’t really hate him

Nightmare isn’t jealous of him and is instead self-conscious because everyone hates him for no reason even though he’s just a shy bean who’s trying his best and he thinks something must be wrong with him

So one day some kids decide that it would be fun to climb the tree and steal an apple. Nightmare sees them doing this and climbs after them, and they get into a slight scuffle which ends with one kid falling out of the tree with a couple apples. When Nightmare goes to make sure he’s ok, the kid shoves an apple in his mouth for bullying reasons.

Nightmare does the whole explodey goop thing, but he doesn't go crazy or anything, and instead it hurts so much he accidentally thrashes his tentacles too much and levels the whole area, killing the kids and obliterating the tree.

Dream comes running and yells at Nightmare for destroying the tree and killing the kids even though it’s clearly not his fault. And then uuuh i don’t really know the other stuff about Dreamtale after the whole Nightmare eating all the apples part so bing bang boom some shit happens and now Dreamtale is uninhabitable and Dream and Nightmare decide to fuck off and go protect the multiverse instead.

Dream solves all his problems with violence and Nightmare solves his problems by either pretending to have an intent to kill or curling up on the floor and crying. (he just like me fr (i’m totally not projecting here (why would you think such a thing))) also Dream isn’t allowed to enter the Omega timeline for anger management reasons

Some bullshit happens that results in a Swap!Sans exiting his universe right as a reset happens so that’s how i shoehorn Blue into being a character

Also Error is still here by the way he’s still destroying universes and stuff nothing much is different about him

Speaking of Error, at one point he notices Ink’s AU and moseys on over to destroy it as usual. Nightmare and Blue jump in to protect the AU, but when they realize Ink is the only one there, they decide to just distract Error instead of actually fighting him while they get Ink out of there. Blue grabs Ink, and Ink uses his magic AU powers or whatever to sense the coordinates of Blue’s AU and teleports there to get away from Error. After they get Ink to the Doodlesphere, (Error can’t go the the Doodlesphere in this AU) they realise they can’t just dump him in the Omega timeline, because if he gets stressed he’ll read the coordinates of someone's AU and teleport there, and there are so many characters from so many AUs there, it’ll be unreasonably difficult to find him if he does. so they decide that the best course of action is to keep him in the Doodlesphere to protect him from Error themselves.

Oh yeah Ink is also mute for some reason

That’s pretty much it i think

Vaguely related rant time!!!!!!!!!!!

Honestly I don't think posting about this will help me stop thinking about it. In order to, like, not get bored in the undertale fandom, you have to constantly make AUs because focusing on one AU doesn't really work unless you want an extremely convoluted story that drags on forever. The only other option is to make an alternate multiverse, so you can just fuck about with no real storyline. But that gets old too after a while, and if I don't have access to drawing tools I just get lost in this one repeating storyline with stupid amounts of angst because it’s not interesting without angst. 

Being in a fandom does kind of stifle your creativity after a while, but the very fact that I'm hyperfixated on undertale makes it hard to tear myself away and try other things even if I know I should. That’s part of the reason I'm trying to get back into writing my wolf story, so I have something else to think about,. the problem with that is, it isn’t an open storyline. I know how it’ll end and what will happen next, so I can't really imagine random circumstances to chuck the characters into since that would never realistically happen in the world I created.

The moral of the story is my school better fix the weird restrictions on every single decent drawing website in existence or I might explode

My god this entire thing spans two and a half pages of a google doc i had to make a new one just to write this without it lagging

[jesus-is-an-ally]

How do you get past feeling stupid when you believe in God? Like, how do you ignore the feeling that you should be an atheist and not believe in God and that all this is just, a fake made up religion meant to control people? And obviously when i say you i mean i. I want to believe but i feel so dumb for it. I know im a smart person but every time i get involved with christianity i feel like im taking to an imaginary friend because thats how everyone refers to it. I feel like im feeding into an industry that colonized people, when i dont even go to church.

And ive had experiences with God that feel so unlike any religious experience ive had, but my brain always forces me to logic it away. Like ill feel an immeasurable level of calm and happiness and then my brain will go 'those are just endorphins'. How do i get past that?

Long read ahead, but I encourage everyone to read it, because I did my best to answer this and I think there's some good stuff in here.

Hey anon. First I'd like to say that I am not professionally trained, I do not possess a biblical degree of any kind, nor am I a pastor or a priest or anyone like that. But I have been a Christian my entire life, so that should count for something, Lord willing.

I also want to say that I think this is a very good question and I thank you for asking it, as it gave me a chance to think deeply on my faith in order to put it into words.

I always find it really hard to explain faith. I struggle to explain to fellows Christians, to non-Christians, and especially to people who aren’t religious or spiritual in any way. This is probably because faith is very much not a thing of this world, so it is nit easily translatable. But I will try my best.

I too have dealt with doubts in my life. I have felt the need to logic it away. All Christians have one doubt or another, and if they say they haven't, they are lying or potentially believing in a watered down, more palatable version of Christianity.

Either way, let's face it, the world is designed by the devil to make you doubt. The good news is that there is no question or doubt or critique that is going to make God start shaking in Their boots, realizing They hadn't thought of that. They are omnipotent, and anything you are wondering can most likely be found in the Bible, if you know where and how to look.

There are many books that explain the logic of Christianity, such as “Person of Intrest” by J. Warner Wallace or “The Case for A Creator” by Lee Strobel, who has also written many other books similar to this. Fair warning, it’s been forever since I’ve looked into either of these books, so there’s a chance there’s questionable stuff in there that I don’t remember.

However, I do need to say that faith is very much NOT a logical thing. It’s a belief in something that you cannot see, touch, hear, or otherwise sense except with your soul. It's the trust that God is out there, even when you lack concrete evidence.

I believe a person cannot become a believer by force, whether their own or someone else's. You have to truly open up your heart and let the Holy Spirit in. You must confess with your mouth that you believe in the Son of God who died and rose again, that you are a sinner, and that you need forgiveness and guidance.

I'm not pulling this out of my ass, there are a bunch of verses on how faith is not based in the logic of this world. Here are a few.

Trust in the Lord with all your heart and lean not on your own understanding;

‭‭Proverbs‬ ‭3‬:‭5‬ ‭NIV‬‬

My message and my preaching were not with wise and persuasive words, but with a demonstration of the Spirit’s power, so that your faith might not rest on human wisdom, but on God’s power.

‭‭1 Corinthians‬ ‭2‬:‭4‬-‭5‬ ‭NIV‬‬

For we live by faith, not by sight.

‭‭2 Corinthians‬ ‭5‬:‭7‬ ‭NIV‬‬

There's a story I heard when I was a kid about a pastor being asked if he can hear God speaking to him in his prayers, and the pastor responded "no, I can't hear Him, it's much clearer than that". Faith is something practically unexplainable in earthly concepts or words. But it is solid, even it doesn't feel like it.

Hebrews chapter 11 is all about faith and what people have done by it, and I encourage you to read it, but I'd like to specifically call attention to Hebrews 11:1, which says,

Faith shows the reality of what we hope for; it is the evidence of things we cannot see.

This is the verse often pointed to when people discuss the biblical definition of faith, and it's the best I can offer.

However, it sounds like science and reason is not the only thing you are struggling with. As for morality, how can we be Christians when Christianity was used to abuse, colonize, and murder innocent people all throughout history and even today?

I'm not going to use the bullshit excuse of "oh they just weren't real Christians" because that is unhelpful, defensive, and probably not even true. All Christians are sinners, and hatred, murder, and all of that other stuff are sins, so it is possible that many or all of those people were true believers.

The simple answer to this question is that sometimes you just have to accept that your people did bad things and swear do your best to stop it from happening again (without spending so much energy on it that you burn out). I have had a lot of practice at this since I'm also white.

In German elementary schools, when they teach the children about WW2, what they basically say is “hey, this is our history, you didn’t do it so you don’t have to feel guilt, but you do have a duty to never let it happen again”.

I think this sort of thinking should be taught to the descendants of all oppressive people. I will also add that we also need to check ourselves that no nasty thoughts have slipped their way in. Often, you can continue the hurt without realizing. But this doesn't mean that Christianity is secretly evil or that Christians are inherently going to abuse others or any of that.

At the end of the day, there's nothing I can truly say that will instantly make you believe.

Like I said, it's not something I can force nor is it something you can logic your way into. No amount of evidence, even if it's the most rock-solid thing in all of the universe, can make someone have faith.

I hope there is something in here that can help you in some way, anon, and I pray God blesses you and keeps you safe.

[earlgreytea68]

Many years ago now, when I was a very unhappy and depressed lawyer, I went to see a therapist. The therapist diagnosed that I was suffering from severe levels of stress and asked me to keep a "stress journal": for the week between appointments, I was to write down whenever I felt my stress spike.

When I returned to the next appointment with my stress journal, the therapist was shocked I'd actually done the assignment. He said nobody actually keeps a physical journal. I suspected that maybe he didn't fully understand my personality type and the fact that some of my stress was the result of PEOPLE ASKING ME TO DO THINGS THEY APPARENTLY DIDN'T ACTUALLY WANT ME TO DO BUT I WAS RESPONSIBLY DOING THEM BECAUSE THAT'S HOW I AM.

Anyway, I digress, that's not the point of the story. The point was that when we looked together at my stress journal, we diagnosed that a recurrent source of spiking stress was receiving an email. This was so many years ago that it was before the smartphone, in the age of the BlackBerry, and every time my stupid BlackBerry vibrated, my stress skyrocketed. Having figured that out, the therapist was like, "What happens if you miss an email for an hour?" And that was hard to articulate. Probably nothing, tbh. Like, realistically I could go without checking my email if I was too busy with work, so why couldn't I when I was home watching TV? So the therapist suggested I confine my email checking to a set schedule. Only at the appointed times would I check my email and deal with whatever had come in.

And you know what? The world never ended, and it WAS a huge relief not to feel like I had to immediately be available for every email. To this day, my work email does NOT come to my phone and I only check it at my appointed times of day. (Actually, I resisted getting a smartphone until very late because after I left the law firm I thought the most glorious thing in the world was PEOPLE COULDN'T REACH ME.)

Anyway, I was thinking about all that today because I had a bad day at work and I realized that I was dreading checking my email and it just made me think that I have lingering issues around email. But then, the more I thought about it, the more I was like, ...no, I probably have lingering issues around WORK because of that job experience I had. Like, was it really about what emails I might have, or was it because I spent the day feeling manipulated in an unpleasant way that made me wary and suspicious of certain things around me, and then THAT made me think, like, I was overreacting because of the way that previous job experience was and the fact that the way it manipulated and abused me will never actually fully leave me, but THEN I was like, OR is it that I honed excellent instincts for that kind of situation happening and I should listen to myself when I feel that way, or or or--

Which is all to say that I wonder sometimes how I would have developed as a professional had I not had that career experience so early on in my life. But then I am in a weird way grateful for it, not because it forever kind of messed up my head in some ways but because I learned SO MUCH about those messed-up situations. Like, it was awful, don't get me wrong, but I did learn a bunch of coping mechanisms I still use today. Like limiting my email exposure. And I think I am warier than a lot of other people I know who didn't go through a workplace that mentally abused you the way that mine did, but I'm not so sure that's a terrible thing. I think it makes me touchy about work-life boundaries and i think there are way worse things to be in our capitalist society.

And also, every once in a while I think about the fact that I didn't think I was going to make it through those years but I did and I am pretty proud of myself for that, so also that. I made it through the other side when I honestly for real didn't think that I would, and every once in a while I have a day that reminds me of how I felt all the time back then, and it makes me remember to be grateful how many days I've gotten to have without that feeling.

[syndrossi]

So I have been thinking that Jon while being more trusting of his close family compared to Rhaegar who understandably always stays alert is pretty disconnected from it in itself? He doesn't feel the need to pick a Targaryen name for neither himself or his hatchling and isn't all that invested in Targaryen family history or legacy. Same goes for being a Stark. He follows old gods and carries himself with a certain manner but that comes with being raised in the north. First and foremost he's a bastard, has always been and ironically still is on some level despite what Rhea and Daemon did for him and Rhaegar. The world has never let him forget and he certainly never has. He still thinks about it: before coming to King's Landing when him and Rhaegar thought they were bastards, when meeting Jace, Luke and Joff, seeing them being cared for by Rhaenys. I really love this theme and I am intrigued with where it will go. I wonder what Rhaegar thinks about it since he knows more about Jon and his past than anyone and as an adult was very connected to both his house and the prophecy regarding it. I am also curious whether Daemon will fully pick up on it. He has been doing it a bit already, giving Jon space and noticing his distress and melancholy (damn Daemon doesn't get enough credit for being sharp! I mean it's fair since we have Rhaegar right there and Daemon's feelings cloud his senses sometimes). On one hand here Jon is a young bastard boy who grew up in the Vale and has been violently pulled away from that life (which Daemon acknowledges to himself!) but on the other he has been aware of his parentage for quite some time. This matter intrigues me because it feels so real. Jon's struggle with finding his identity in his families is a real thing. I am excited to see where it's all headed. Wonder what perspective Daemon and Rhaegar will bring with them, since as I said they both were and are closely tied to Targaryen's family history, legacy and prophecies!

Yeah, Jon's disconnect with both of his heritages (Stark and Targaryen and now Royce) is an ongoing theme. For his Targaryen heritage, he didn't learn of it until he was an adult, so he never had a chance to connect with it. It's one of the reasons I have him as not really bonding to Rhaegal--whether because Dany's dragons were all semi-bonded to her or because Jon didn't really accept that part of him fully, it's hard to say.

He's a child again, so there is in theory a chance for him to actually grow to accept his heritage, but then there's the wrinkle of his Royce ties now. It's quite possible he'll be tapped for Lord of Runestone, so what does that mean for his identity? Is he forever doomed to be trapped between two houses/regions, neither of which quite feel like home? Can a person be two things? Or even three? (His past connection to the North hasn't disappeared suddenly, after all.)

I don't even know if it's a struggle Jon is particularly conscious of. He's used to being an outsider, not quite fitting in, always different/held apart.

Daemon may or may not be helpful with this. Although he's softened on the "RUNESTONE? ABORT ABORT" mindset due to Rhaegar's struggles, that doesn't mean he wants either of his children to embrace their Vale identity, and he still would prefer if they abandoned it entirely. If anything, he probably worries they don't feel worthy of their Targaryen heritage and will overcorrect in pushing it on them. (Rhaegar's not going to mind, so long as Daemon isn't outright disparaging the Vale, but it may feel overwhelming to Jon.)

(Daemon's very sensitive himself about Targaryen heritage, as he feels that people like the Hightowers are pushing to erase it, which is another reason why he's more likely to be aggressive in preserving it through his children. He sees it as defending against it being lost.)

Rhaegar is more likely to guess what's bothering Jon and try to help him work through it since, as you mentioned, he has a lot more context than Daemon. How exactly he thinks it should be solved, and how Daemon helps (or doesn't) and what Jon feels about it all is for us to watch unfold!

[ryuichirou]

Replies

Some replies, starting with the ones related to the dragon!Malleus drawing from yesterday.

Anonymous asked:

*claps hands and rubs them together*

Hehehehehe dragonussy ✨ (recent Malleus drawing)

Yes! Finally!! 🤤😏 After all this time…!

Anonymous asked:

Mal only tops in dragon form

Look at him, Anon.

Look at him closely.

He is a bottom bitch with a dragon pussy so big that no dick could possibly satisfy it, so he is to stay forever hungry, underfucked and cranky until the chosen one (or a donkey idk) shows himself and fucks him to the ground.

 (In all seriousness, please don’t try this with us. We don’t like switching and we mention it every single day.)

Anonymous asked:

J-Jamil, do you know what it’s like being someone looking at a man that looks the way you do? 🥵

I think he knows, Anon… he knows it well enough to abuse this power that he holds 😔 So cruel and so beautiful!

Anonymous asked:

Have you seen Jamil’s B-Day groovy? He braids his hair and puts all the pretty hair accessories in with magic! Also, his sprites have him with these headbands that he just SLAYS in. It’s not fair for him to be so pretty ♥️♥️

Yes! I really wanted to compliment Jamil for having dedication to do his braids every single day, but then the groovy dropped lol The cat is out of the bag. I guess that makes perfect sense, who would want to spend so much time on that if you can do it with magic… good for him.

The headband looks cute on him as well; this guy is way too pretty for his own good.

Anonymous asked:

Who knew Lilia discovered the theory of relativity, turned down Henry VIII, was the first person (fae?) on the moon, and escaped the Facebook lizard!

(related to an ask from yesterday)

Yes! Especially the last thing!

The fact that no one other than the rest of Diasomnia boys would believe him… younglings are so cynical these days :(

Anonymous asked:

I feel like “Wait for It” by Leslie Odom Jr. really matches Jamil especially his feelings toward Kalim near the end of the song.

I really like this song, Anon. Maybe this is because it’s kind of difficult for me to separate it from its story and Burr and Hamilton specifically…

I agree that Jamil resonates with the feeling of unfairness when some other person just keeps doing whatever he wants and winning, while he has to sit back and wait, but Jamil’s situation still feels very different.

Then again, Jamil got his “what are you waiting for though?” moment, so 🤔 You’re onto something.

Anonymous asked:

You know, when I first read that thing you wrote on Vil being taken advantage of by older men in the industry, all I could think about was "All You Wanna Do" from the Six musical. Like, listen to it while picturing Vil and you'll understand what I mean.

You ask was driving me insane for this entire week, Anon, because I was trying to find one reply where we already talked about Vil in relation to this song, but plottwist: it doesn’t exist lol But we did get an ask about it in relation to Alois! Which is funny because somehow we keep walking back to their similarities from time to time.

To answer your question though: yeah I get it. It’s like the perfect level of uncomfortable coping with the idea of “I am not being taken advantage of, I am just that good compared to others”. Vil probably had his breaking moment when he stopped lying to himself about this whole thing.

Anonymous asked:

Do you watch k dramas? If so, you should really check out Glory. It’s a super intense one

K-dramas aren’t really our thing, but I checked the synopsis of Glory, and honestly it sounds super cool! And has this vibe of a lot of k-movies that we love, interestingly.

Thank you for your recommendation!

[wutheringheightsfilm]

Jumping in on the Merlin thing for a second and his awful, upsetting character arc from beginning to end... like I fully get where the bootlicker accusation is coming from, but I do think the show is actually like borderline horror if you start taking the destiny thing into consideration. My personal view of Merlin as a character is that he comes to Camelot in s1 completely unaware of what he's stepping into. Truly unprepared to come to The Anti Magic Capital that Classism and Genocide Built and witness a public execution within the first 5 minutes. His WHOLE deal in s1 is him like dangerously stepping into situations he doesn't fully understand because the social rules governing them are so nonsensical to him.

But by the time s2 starts he is Very Aware of how much Camelot is actively a terrible place for him to be and also he is in some deep and frightening level bound to that place and to Arthur. He is genuinely desperate to get out in s2 (he's a little angry and reckless throughout) and every attempt he makes to go against Destiny* ends in tragedy. Freya is the biggest example, but (wait sorry this in the back of s1) I also think a lot about how Will was pushing him to go against the grain only to get killed saving Arthur's life and to have Merlin's own mother tell him he belongs at Arthur's side NEXT TO WILL'S FUNERAL PYRE. It's a really scary moment if you concede that some element of Fate is at play and is working to keep Merlin in place.

Anyway, anyway I think by the end of s2 Merlin has been forced to accept "his place" (he betrays Morgana and is so furious that he acts out and let's Kilgarrah loose which I mean a lot of people probably died right??) so you get him being more cheerful in s3 because he is has to be happy right? He can't ever leave so he Has to believe in the prophecy and Arthur. It's a sunk cost thing, right? People have died for this. Merlin is killing people over it.. Morgana is lost forever. So it HAS to be leading to something beautiful. Merlin will keep supporting this regime because The Future will be better (undefined when or how and who cares that Arthur never really gets better). And the end is s3 is so hopeful and Merlin probably really believes it's all coming together at that Round Table they are really on the edge of something and then... and then.

Well Lancelot dies. And Uther dies in the worst possible way. And Arthur never, EVER gets better. And Merlin's world gets smaller and smaller and his ability to imagine anything but the path he's been stuck on forever goes away completely. And in the end the only thing THE ONLY THING he has is Arthur's life. Arthur staying alive, the thing which will mysteriously lead to the perfect future that makes all the previoys atrocities ok, is the only thing he can believe in. He will sacrifice anything and anybody for that one fact. It is the entire crux of his tenuous personhood.

Sorry I'm getting carried away here and not even talking about Fate very much here, but like it is absolutely chilling to get to the last episode and have Merlin confront Kilgarrah** over the fact that Albion did not in fact happen and have his answer be roughly "all has happened as it was meant to, this has been the story the entire time, you've done everything you were meant to". And so of course Merlin is going to spend the next millenia still on the same path, still forced to wait for The Promised Future to make good.

AND LIKE TO BE CLEAR its all bad writing. Genuinely, the first half of the show did not set up the back half. The writers were going for something in s4 and s5 entirely beyond their means. The politics of the show were abysmal (see: never knowing how to handle the genocide or fucking picking a side with Uther) and ultimately the writers were too in love with the status quo to tell a functional story. Like I am not in anyway suggesting that Merlin's relationship to fate and possible lack of conplete free will is something they did on purpose (if only because I'm never convinced the show fully understood how bad Merlin's situation was... one too many jokes where the knights played keep the food away from him, you know?) but I do think it's a necessary talking point to see what does happen to Merlin or to others in the first two series when he makes these attempts to act outside of his circumscribed role (like his attempt to free Morgana from Camelot that gets a lot of Druids killed).

*On the topic of Destiny I do think the show plays coy on how much of what happened was truly inevitable, but ultimately the viewer is meant to believe that Mordred and Morgana's fall and Arthur's death were all things that could not be changed because that's Arthurian Legend and also because, well, everyone starts to look pretty indefensible if Morgana wasn't always going to turn into a "villain" (as dubious as the politics of positioning her as such are). (Though actually I do think one thing that people let slide when people talk about Morgana is YES she correctly wanted to kill Uther and those who supported the magical genocide, BUT ALSO she was ultimately unable to break away from her class allegiance as a noble woman who believed she was entitled to a hereditary crown. Those two causes were inseparable for her. THAT'S why people kept telling her she took after Uther so much.) So anyway I think it's valid to say that if Merlin could have brought himself to completely ignore Gaius and Kilgarrah in s2 then maybe Morgana wouldn't have gone evil, but well. The show (for the much worse) simply wasn't built that way in-universe or out of universe (because, again, the politics of bbc Merlin Are stunningly awful).

**Kilgarrah has the avatar of Fate is also such an interesting question. I think the first two series kind of play with he idea that Kilgarrah is, well, certainly self-serving and looking for vengeance and that possibly he is misleading Merlin to that end. But then the show doesn't really do anything with that idea and in his subsequent appearances has Merlin treat Kilgarrah's advice and wisdom with complete good faith (though in-universe this is obviously partly the result of his never to be resolved grief over the sudden and violent loss of his father and becoming the last dragonlord). So I do think the writers intention with him by the end of the show is, unlike Gaius***, that he really was a mentor/wiseman figure for Merlin and was Truthfully communicating the prophecies.

***Gaius can go kick rocks truly. He is so terrible and like I get why Merlin feels like he's the only permanent, stable (parental) relationship in his life (I love you Hunith! I'm so sorry the show hates mothers!!!!) but genuinely Gaius should have died by the end of s3 at the latest this is LITERALLY Hero's Journey 101 to have the mentor/parent die. If we're taking my No Free Will Conspiracy Theory at face value then the fact that Gaius didn't die is all the proof you need that he was toxic to Merlin's well being and development of self hood outside of the prophecy.

Ok ok. I'm done for now, but literally I am always down to talk bbc Merlin, I am so upset about it all the time.

HI!! Okay I had to reopen my laptop in order to answer this because the mobile app was shitting itself lmao. Let me go point by point here because you said a lot of compelling stuff

your destiny + sunk cost fallacy theory is really interesting, and i really wish the showrunners/writers had realized this for themselves--and if they did, actualized it in the writing of the show. that would have been so interesting if we had gotten true moments from Merlin of him regretting where he has gotten to in life to that degree. god if only bbc merlin was actually a psychological horror about how you can't avoid your fate that's been predetermined for you. honestly if bbc merlin had grappled with predeterminism at all beyond a shallow skim of the surface of the idea it would have been 10 times more interesting

"Though actually I do think one thing that people let slide when people talk about Morgana is YES she correctly wanted to kill Uther and those who supported the magical genocide, BUT ALSO she was ultimately unable to break away from her class allegiance as a noble woman who believed she was entitled to a hereditary crown. Those two causes were inseparable for her. THAT'S why people kept telling her she took after Uther so much." <- this is actually incredibly true and honestly i do think it is a side effect of the show refusing to grapple with class dynamics as a whole because it lets the audience ignore it as well unless you're purposefully thinking about it, though i do still think her arc is what a previous anon said: the stereotype of someone who's Too Radical and Goes Too Far, and i'm not a fan of that at all. I'm not saying you're saying her arc isn't that, but it's just so badly written like you said 😭

"but genuinely Gaius should have died by the end of s3 at the latest this is LITERALLY Hero's Journey 101 to have the mentor/parent die. If we're taking my No Free Will Conspiracy Theory at face value then the fact that Gaius didn't die is all the proof you need that he was toxic to Merlin's well being and development of self hood outside of the prophecy." <- WHAT I'M FUCKING SAYING!!! Gaius should have died and it's a crime he didn't!!!!

Anyways overall I find your fate conspiracy theory to be super compelling and it has a lot of implications i didn't consider... ugh if only Merlin (and the writers of the show) had like an ounce more of self awareness and then it would have truly been horrifying for him to realize the cycle he's stuck in... ugh we could've had it all.