#second of all girlies being adorable friends together just hits different

[ryansjane]

#girls supporting girls

[cuddlesslut]

Alrighty lets get started!! So i still really new to this so as to not overwhelm my self im going to try and stick to two charcters for now. I’m sorry if its not what your looking for. For the two im going to do my boys Suga and Daichi. Only because i just did Kuroo and  because im still trying to figure out how to write for Reon. I might however come back and write a part 2 with them. 

Prompt : Boys reacting to their tom boyish crushes all dolled up (Daichi & Suga)

just sayin i wrote this while drinking mojitos

P.S. this prompt reminds me of a series called Sinful Sweethearts by @thosenerdy3amthings​ so definitely go check that out!!

Warning: NSFW, FOUL LANGUAGE

Daichi Sawamura NSFW

you have know Daichi basically your whole life

growing up next to him your parents were very close which meant that you two were kept close together 

in fact until you made it to middle school and started playing volleyball for the girls team you had never had any other friends beside Diachi

so it was safe to say that growing up you were more on the boyish side

you were just more comfortable in sweats and baggy workout shorts than skirts. 

you even wore pants to school

even  highschool though you went to a different school Diachi stayed your closest friend you often finding yourself at the Karsuno practice after yours had ended.

 No matter how much your teammates fussed they couldnt convince you to ditch the large hoodies and sweats.

 You and Daichi always supported each other. you never missed his games and he never missed yours (as long as scheduling permited)

the third year boys often teased Diachi for his realtionship with you

“i dont know why yall dont just date already,” suga complained while daichi stated his usual reply “ shes my best friend you know its not like that” he huffs

Suga scowls “ first of all rude im supposed be your best friend, and second it cant be as just friends as you say when you get so protective when the seond years simp for her.”

“i just dont want her feeling weird around the team. you know Noya and Tanaka can be intense,” he explained

“still that doesnt acount for the way Y/N looks at you,” Asahi added to the convo

“what are you talking about Y/n doesnt look at me any special way, we’re just friends ,” daichi stated a little to forcefully almost as if he was convincing himself.

Suga and Asahi share a knowing look thinking about how their captain can be so dense. 

“any way are you ready for your  birthday party tomorrow night ,” Suga asked smiling brightly.

“i told you i dont need a party,” Daichi scolded for the fifth time today.

“ahh c’mon its not everyday you become an adult like the rest of us DI,”

finally admitiing defeat Diachi concluded the conversation.

...

it was finally the next day you were more nervous for this party than any volleyball game you had played.

and here you were standing in the tight black dress Suga with the help of your team, you should never wager against suga

Had convinced you to wear to diachis party tonight

still shell shocked you stood in front of the mirror of the bathroom Suga had chose.

It was weird to see yourself so girly

the black dress clung tight   to your body. leaving little the imagination.

Suga better be glad he won that bet

finally calming yourself you look around for your best friend

Finally catching sight of him Diachi stood with Suga and Asahi next to the bar of the club.

Suga was the first to recognize you a evil smirk hitting his face as he drew Diachis attention to you.

You couldnt help but notice how hot he looked in his button up and dark wash jeans, his shirt clinging so close to his chest.

he looked to damn good you thought as you bit your lip

little did you know the birthday boy was having an epiphany of this own

his eyes raked up and down you mind wandering 

had you always had such a great ass under those baggy sweats

“Happy Birthday Captain,” you teased.

Daichi took a sharp breath suddenly taken back by the way the title fell from your soft lips

all he could think about was how you would sound screaming that from under him.

lost in thought he missed the smirk his best friend had as Suga put his pan into motion

you stood there sway to the beat of the loud club music wanting to dance

“Y/n why dont you take the birthday boy for a dance,” 

you smiled before Diachi could protest saying how how he doesnt dance

you pulled him to the dance floor pushing your ass against him reaching up and wrapping your arms around his neck pulling him close to your body as you grinded to the beat

his hands found their place on your hips  

his cock twitched from the pressure of your ass in that short tight dress rubbing against his crotch

you were not helping his growing situation

bodies getting lost in the movement 

you looked up at the boy had been your best friend your whole life with one thought in you head

the same thought flashed into diachis brain

being bold he crashed his lips into yours 

Lost in the contact the kiss lasted forever getting more and more intense 

your not sure how you to got here

but here you were straddling Diachi in the back of his car

his lips sucking bruises into your neck, his large grabbing your ass as you bounced on his thick cock

“FUCK,” Daichi breathed heavily pulling you down into a sloppy kiss tongues exploring “ youre so tight come for me beautiful.”

“im so close Captain you moan feeling him stretch you.

thats it that one word flipped the switch for him he gripped tight on to your waist to hold you secure as he powerfully drilled his hips up into you.

hitting your spot deeper and with such accuracy you were both driven over the edge as you clinched tight around him pulling his release from him.

you both sat out of breath in the hot car, the widows fogged and the smell of sex stinging the air.

“happy birthday,” you said giving him a quick kiss.

he glanced at the watch on his wrist 

he smirked up to you “you know my birthday isnt over yet,” you smiled already liking where this was going. “lets head back to mine. I’m not done with you yet.” 

Koshi Sugawara Slight NSFW

He’s had a crush for you since the beginning of the school year

He thought you were the most adorable thing he’d seen 

with your sweaters that were  two sizes to big. (sweater paws)

You two became friends through a writing project. 

you too quickly hit it off you loving his wild humor 

its sometimes seemed like hed flirt with you but you figured it was just his personality and you were too shy to do anything

poor suga spent so much time flirting with you but you never paid it any attention so he figured you didnt view him that way and he was okay with that he just wanted to be your friend if nothing else.

and so thats how six months went by of being no more than friends

always returning Sugas simple firsts with a shy smile.

It wasnt until the celebratory party some random third year threw to congratulate the boys on making it to nationals

You sat at your best friend Kyioko’s house. 

This was the first party she was able to convince you to attend and she was making sure it counted.

there would be no big sweaters or jeans tonight 

tonight you were borrowing Kyiokos clothes. 

She dressed in a tight (favorite color) lace halter crop top with the lace exposing just the right amount of cleavage. and a pair of blaack shorts hugging your hips thighs on full display.

it wasnt what you were used to this being the most skin you had exposed to the public in years

thats coupled with the make up added to your face you almost didnt recognize yourself

it wasnt what you were used to and thats why when you reached the party and all eyes landed on you. you were slightly relieved that most of the people didnt recognize you.

it was almost exhilarating 

kind of like playing pretend.

like tonight you werent Y/N shy and closed off

you were a sexy and confident woman

that coupled with the shots you took with Kyioko. you found your new confidence 

thats why when you saw you long time crush and close friend Suga across the room you didnt hesitate to make your way over.

“No way is that Y/n” Daichi gasped causing Sugas attention to slip to where his best friend motioned. “wow i didnt expect to see her here,” Diachi let out with a low whistle.

Suga sucked in a sharp breath not prepared for the sight in front of him.

There you were making you way towards him throw the crowd. a smile on your face but it was hard for suga to focus on that smile when your whole body was on display for him. 

 His eyes trailed from down your figure taking all of the exposed skin that was normally hidden from him. 

the way the lace framed your stomach and cupped your breast. the cut into shirt showing him the most cleavage you had ever shown. moving his eyes down it was hard for him not to whimper at the site of your thighs

this man was entranced in your appearance. hed always thought you were the most beautiful even when you were covered head to toe, but seeing you like this it was hard not to drool.

And he wasnt the only one, Several guys had taken notice of you.

Some stopping you to ask if you were new,  cause there was no way’d theyd miss a hot babe like you at school. 

to which youd just roll your eyes keeping on your way to your target. 

feeling more and more emboldened by the attention you were receiving.

but these boys werent the ones you wanted

being the light weight you are you already had your eyes on your prize

go big or go home 

so you you strode right up to the vice captain

“ W- wow Y/n you look great,” Suga stuttered 

“thanks Suga,” you say placing your hand on his toned forearm

No turning back now the confidence was here to stay atleast for now

Suga took a deep breath as he took a turn being the shy one. not used to the aura you exuded. were you really the shy girl he knew. 

you moved closer enveloping him in a tight embrace

he could feel you tits press tight against him and he was trying not to focus on it not wanting to further anymore of the dirty thoughts crossing his mind

 staying close next to Suga you continued your flirtatious assault

dishing back all the flirts you had held back over the months

Finally the straw broke when one of your favorite club songs played through the crowed house and you pulled him close to dance with you.

“c’mon Koshi dont be so timid,” you teased. 

Suga wasnt sure if it was hearing his given name grace your beautiful lips or the facts that you had pressed your ass against his crotch moving seductively to the music but he snapped. 

Suga placed his hands tight to your hips pulling you closer to him not caring if you felt the growing bulge in his pants.

leaning down “you know if you wanted my attention you didnt have to dress so damn sexy. now i have to deal with all these vultures looking at you,” he whispered his breath hot on your ear.

you turned around wrapping your arms around his neck leaning even closer, 

“then why dont we go somewhere private then we wont have to worry about who’s looking,” you smirked heart racing

“i couldnt have said it better,” Suga said leading you out of the busy room ready to have you to himself. 

🌻🌻🌻🌻🌻🌻🌻🌻🌻🌻🌻🌻🌻🌻🌻🌻🌻

Sorry It took so long to write all my work got deleted and I had to start over! I hope you enjoy it 🍵 Anon!!! 💕💕 @🍵anon

Taglist: @emiyummy @insomniish

[luke-patterson-owns-my-soul]

The Interview: Part One

Title: The Interview - A Luke x Reader One Shot

Words: 3,177

Summary: Y/N gets to interview Sunset Curve when they finally go on tour near where she lives.

TW: None

Author’s notes: Ok… the interview part is kind of inspired by a glorious evening when myself and a friend got to interview our favourite band just before a gig. I was much clumsier that Y/N and made a complete fool of myself on more than one occasion, but it seemed to have worked because they loved the interview – or so they told us.

I hope you like it. I’m not 100% with it, but didn’t want to drag it out for the hell of it. This is set in the UK, so spellings may be a little different.

(credit @nikascott​)

The first time you heard Now or Never, you knew there was something special about Sunset Curve. Their lyrics and the beats of their pop rock tracks made you feel amazing and you couldn’t help but dance every time you heard them.

You spent all your time online anyway, so you decided to set up a Sunset Curve fan account. You didn’t expect much to come out of it due to bein in the UK while they were based in the US. But you religiously shared photos of the guys, wrote funny articles about them after speaking to people who’d been to their shows. Shared credited photos from gigs which soon got you respect from the fans and you began to build up a following.

You managed to fit running the account single handed, fitting it in between being at university studying for your degree in media and working part time. You’re not in it for the recognition, you just want to show your appreciation for a band you love.

Your best friend, Carrie, doesn’t get it. She doesn’t understand how you can spend so much time expelling energy on four guys you’re never going to meet, but she indulges you because you also run one for her band, Dirty Candi. Your friend and the rest of her group are insanely talented, and even though they’re not a genre you tend to listen to, you support them because that’s what friends do.

It’s been a year since you’d first heard Now or Never and since you set up the account. You’ve amassed over ten thousand followers, most of whom are also in the UK, when you get your first band member follow. Bobby Wilson, the rhythm guitarist likes a post you shared about him and promptly follows you. You get constant likes from him and sometimes the odd comment. Your followers go insane but you manage to keep calm, ish.

The second follow is Alex, the drummer. This time you do go a bit crazy, because he’s adorable and you can’t help be a little in love with him.

It takes less than a day after Alex’s follow before the bassist, Reggie to follow you and send your notifications into overdrive by commenting on a ton of posts. You scream into a pillow on your bed because it’s 2 a.m. and you don’t want to wake Carrie up.

The one follow you’re waiting for doesn’t come. Luke Patterson, the lead singer and your favourite member hasn’t joined his bandmates, and while you never expected it, you’re more than a little upset by the fact.

“Honey, he’s like a Rockstar. He’s got more important things to do than follow fan accounts online.” Carrie was right, but it still stung a bit.

“I know, but…”

“Y/N, sweetie. I adore you, but you need to let it go. I don’t want you working yourself up over this, please. Why don’t we have a girlie night, just the two of us? We’ll watch cheesy films, eat junk food, and sing bad karaoke. No phones.”

“I love you, do you know that?” I told her.

“How could you not?” She flicked her pastel pink hair over her shoulder with a laugh before going to prepare snacks while I got the lounge ready for an evening of lazing around.

:: ::

Halfway through The Greatest Showman, Carrie falls asleep, so after you cover her over with a blanket, you pull your phone out of the box she hid it in and scroll through social media.

         |Hey, @SunsetCurveFansUK did you see this??

Included in the message is a link to the official Sunset Curve account. You click on it and there’s a note from the band. Announcing a UK tour. You begin to hyperventilate as you try and prevent yourself from screaming out loud, but it doesn’t work and you let out a loud squeak, waking Carrie up.

“What’s wrong? Y/N, are you okay?” She sounds worried, so you shove your phone at her, unable to speak. “Oh, wow. This is cool. Start saving because I know you’re gonna want to go to every show.”

“Yes, yes I will.” Getting to your feet, you do a crazy dance around the small lounge of your apartment, making Carrie laugh. You only realise at the last minute that she’s recording you. “Don’t you dare post that online.” You warn her.

“Too late, sweetie. It’s already on my story and I tagged the band.”

“I hate you. Worst friend ever, I think I’ll advertise for a new one.” You grumble, making her laugh as you settle down on the couch to catch up on everything you’ve missed online.

:: ::

When tickets go on sale, you’re disappointed they guys are only doing four dates in the UK, but you buy yourself a ticket to all of them. Sadly, they don’t offer up any VIP tickets because they’re running contests for fans to win them for each show. Their tour manager, Trevor – who also happens to Bobby’s dad – has messaged your account asking if you’d like the opportunity to interview the band as a thank you for all the work you’d put into promoting them.

“Oh my God, Y/N. You’re gonna meet the band, your favourite band.” Carrie is grinning, happy for you as you stare at the message on your phone screen in disbelief. “Are you going to reply?”

“I… er… what is going on?” You stare over at your best friend who’s grinning widely at you. “This is a joke, right? Someone’s pulling the ultimate prank on me, aren’t they?”

“Y/N, look. For over a year, you’ve been pimping out those guys like crazy. You’ve increased their fan base here, which has made them want to tour here, and now they’re offering you this amazing opportunity. Take it and run with it, You deserve it.”

At her words, you reopen the message and reply to Trevor, saying you’d be honoured to do the interview. Then you freak out.

:: ::

The night of the first show and you’re hovering outside the venue waiting for Trevor to come and meet you once the guys finish their sound check. You can faintly hear the strains of Now or Never, and you get goosebumps. Thankful you’re nowhere near where the queue to get in is growing longer and longer, you start to pace outside the door. It suddenly opens outwards, making you jump, and Trevor’s head appears before behind it.

“Y/N?”

“Yeah, hi.” You hold out a hand for him to shake, surprising him and yourself with how composed your voice sounds. He shakes your hand and then motions for you to enter the venue.

“Great to meet you. The guys all love your account.”

“That’s amazing to hear.” You make conversation as you follow Trevor through a maze of narrow corridors.

“Are you ready?” He asks as you approach a closed door. You can’t help but hesitate, making him look back at you in worry. “Hey, are you gonna be okay?”

“Yeah, it’s all just a bit… overwhelming.”

“Look, they’re great guys, as normal as they come. There’s no need to feel nervous around them.” He smiles at you and pushes open the door, gesturing for you to enter. “Guys, this is Y/N from the UK fan account. Go easy on her, okay?” Once you’re fully inside the room, Trevor leaves and closes the door behind you.

“Hey,” Reggie speaks first as they all stand up. You shake hands and instantly feel at ease. “We all love your account, it’s very honest.” He’s clearly referring to your review of their last album where you openly said you weren’t a huge fan of a couple of the songs. It was an integrity you were determined to have on the account. You didn’t want to be seen as the type to blow smoke up their asses just because you were a fan.

“Thanks. I love running it. It keeps me busy and out of trouble, apparently.” You laugh as you pull a fold-up tripod out of your bag and set it up to record the guys for your account. “Do you mind if I film the interview?”

“Go ahead.” Alex waves his hand for you to continue. Once you’re set up, you pull out your journal with your questions written in.

“Hey, Luke. That looks like your journal.” Bobby comments, making the lead singer smile. So far, he hasn’t said much and it’s putting you on edge. Especially as he’s the only band member who hasn’t followed your account. Maybe he hates what you’ve done online. Trying to ignore the doubt, you press record on the video and start to ask the questions.

“My final two questions were submitted as part of a contest I put out to my followers. First up from Ellie is ‘if you could give the others a tattoo, what would it be and where?” As you’d hoped, the response to this question is all four of them bursting into laughter as Reggie’s face lights up.

“I pick Luke and would definitely get my face across his back.” You laugh at his enthusiasm. “Maybe if I get him drunk enough, I could at least get my name somewhere.

“Dude, there is no way I will ever have your name, any of your names, tattooed on me.” Luke grinned at them. “I’d probably get Bobby a dick, on his forehead. Just because it would be hilarious.”

You know Bobby is known as a bit of a womaniser and you’ve heard rumblings in the fandom that he’s slept with fans after shows, but you keep quiet as the guys laugh. Bobby picks a rainbow for Alex and Alex picks a cowboy hat for Reggie.

“Okay, the final question is from Sarah and her son Henry. ‘If the zombie apocalypse hit, who would be the first to die.”

“Reggie.” Three out of the four spoke in unison making the bassist pout and you laugh.

“But, we’d try our best to save him.” Alex pipes up, smiling at his friend. “We’d at least try to stick together, but if it’s a choice between me and them, I’m picking me every time.”

“That’s me finished,” you stop the recording. “Thank you for taking the time out of your busy day to sit with me. I really appreciate it.”

All four guys reassure you it’s been their pleasure and that they enjoyed the interview which pleases you as it took you almost six weeks to think of questions that they hadn’t been asked hundreds of times before.

“I’ll leave you guys to get ready for the show. I need a drink.” You stand after packing everything away and move toward the door to leave.

“Hey, Y/N.” Reggie’s voice calling your name makes you turn back to face them. “We put together a little goodie bag of merch for you as a thank you for all the work you’ve done in helping promote us here in the UK.”

“Oh, you didn’t need to do that.” You’re blown away and speechless. “I do it because I enjoy it.”

“And it keeps you out of trouble?” Bobby winks at you. Unsure how to react, you smile a little, positive it looks more like a grimace. You take the overflowing bag and clutch it in your hand.

“Hey, we need a selfie.” Alex says, pulling his phone out of his pocket. You suddenly find yourself between him and Luke, Alex’s arm slung over your shoulder and Luke’s hand resting on your waist. All you can feel is the head from his hand as you look at the camera Alex is holding out in front of you. Once he’s done, you take a deep breath, inhaling the aroma of Luke before stepping away.

Another round of thank yous and you leave the room and close the door behind you. Then realise you have no idea which way to go.

“Hey, you okay?” Luke’s voice makes you jump.

“Yeah, I just can’t remember the way out.” You’re embarrassed to admit, but you have to meet up with Carrie in the queue. She’d finally agreed to come to at least one of the shows with you, but only one.

“It’s a bit of a maze, here’ I’ll show you the way.” Luke falls into step beside you, his shoulder brushing yours in the narrow space.

“Thanks, you don’t need to do that.”

“It’s no problem, I’m on a drink run for the guys anyway, and the bar’s this way.” He shrugged, his shoulder once again brushing against yours.

“Well, thanks again. And for doing the interview, I hope it wasn’t too much of a chore.”

“Nah, it was fun. I’ll admit, I wasn’t sure what it was gonna be like at first, but you had some great questions.”

Silence fell and you start to feel awkward walking through the venue with a guy you’d crushed on from afar for well over a year. Eventually, the maze of corridors opened out into an area you recognised.

“Well, I guess I’ll see you later, at the show I mean.” You feel like a complete idiot.

“Yeah, it should be a great show.” You give Luke a small wave and make your way towards the door where a member of the security gets ready to let you out.

“Y/N?” Luke calls out. You turn to look at him. “Do you want a drink?”

Stunned, you kind of freeze to the spot you’re standing in. After a moment, Luke mumbles something and turns to walk away.

“That would be great.” You call out, knowing Carrie would kill you if you said no. You return to Luke’s side and follow him into the space that would soon be filled with fans. The stage was set up with their instruments and you can’t help the shiver of excitement that goes through you.

“Are you cold?” Luke asks.

“No, I just had a chill.” Before you finish speaking, he’s pulled off the flannel shirt he’s wearing and handing it to you. “Honestly, there’s no need. I’ll be fine.”

“Y/N, take the damn shirt. It’s cold in here and you’re in a tank top.” He insists with a laugh.

“God, you’re pushy.” You snap at him playfully as you take the shirt and slide it on. It’s still warm from him wearing it and you resist the urge to bury your nose in it.

“What do you want to drink?”

“Just a beer is fine.” You pull some money out of your purse, but he waves it away as he hands over a card to the bartender.

As you take a sip of cold beer, your phone chirps with Carrie’s ringtone.

“Sorry, I have to take this.” You pull your phone out as Luke asks the bar tender to take three of the bottles to the rest of the band. “Hello?”

“Where are you? The doors are opening soon.” Carrie’s voice is almost drown out by the noise around her.

“I’m just finishing up, I’ll be out soon.”

“Was Luke as dreamy as-”

“I’ll be out as soon as I can. Bye.” You cut her off, worried Luke will hear her question and shove your phone away again. “Sorry, my friend’s in the queue. I really should get out there.”

“Oh, yeah. Sure.” You go to put your almost full bottle of beer on the bar. “Take that with you. You can’t waste good beer.” You laugh and slide the bottle into the sleeve of Luke’s shirt to hide it from the security staff as the two of you walk over to the door. “Hey, it was nice to meet you.”

“Yeah, you too.” The two of you lock eyes for a few minutes before you remember Carrie. “I… I better go. Break a leg tonight.”

Before he can answer, you’re outside with the door slamming closed behind you. You take a deep breath to try and calm your racing heart as you walk around the building to find Carrie.

:: ::

“Where did that come from?” She asks, pointing to the shirt, as soon as you join her. You look around to make sure no one’s listening. You don’t want to be overheard.

“It’s Luke’s.” You whisper, laughing as her eyes widen in shock. Even more when you pull the bottle of beer out from the sleeve and take a long drink from it.

“When we get inside, you are telling me everything. But especially how you came out of an interview with the lead singer’s clothes on.”

Before you can answer, a cheer goes up near the front of the queue as the doors open and security begin letting the fans in.

Slowly, as tickets are checked, the queue moves forward and you’re finally at the front. The security guy recognises you and gives you a smile as he lets you and Carrie inside.

The first stop is the cloakroom so you can check in your bag and the goodie bag the guys gave you after the interview. Then Carrie drags you to the bar and starts pumping you for answers.

“How did the interview go? What took so long? Why did you come out wearing Luke’s shirt and carrying a beer?”

“Woah, slow down.” You order a couple of shots for the two of you from the bartender who served Luke earlier. He waves away your money, explaining you’ve been added to the bar tab the guys have running to your surprise and Carrie’s giggles. “The interview went really well. The guys responded so well to my questions and I took a selfie with them. Oh, shit. The photo’s on Alex’s phone.”

“Oh, really?” Carrie raises an eyebrow at you.

“Do you want me to tell you or not?” You move away from the bar so no one can overhear you. When you’re certain you have some privacy, you fill her in on what happened after the interview ended.

“Holy shit, Y/N/ I think you’re in with a chance there.”

“Carrie, no. He’s a bonafide Rockstar, who lives like thousands of miles away. I’m a student from London. Don’t get carried away. He was just being friendly.”

“Oh, sure. Because all rockstars offer their shirts to fans and buy them a beer.” She looks at you, a weird look in her eye as she orders another round of drinks. Out of the corner of your eye, you see Trevor the tour manager walking toward you.

“Hey, Y/N. I was asked to give you this.” He hands you a slip of paper before melting away through the crowd toward the stage.

“What is it?” Carrie askes as you unfold it. Written in the hardest writing you’ve ever had to decipher is,

Meet me backstage after the show? Luke.

You don’t know what to think, but Carrie crows like a damn rooster, attracting attention from other fans around you.

“Just being friendly, huh?” She hip bumps you, “I’m coming with you to the other shows, I need to see this unfold with my very own eyes.

Read Part Two here

[petite-ely]

Afraid // JJ Maybank

four - siblings querelle

Pairing: JJ Maybank x fem routledge! reader

Warnings: bad language (who’s surprised at this point), mention of fighting and getting beat up, mention of blood, underage drinking, mention of gun and violence, mention of drowning, mention of smoking, fear of losing sibling, mention of death, I think that’s it?? Tell me if I missed something

Description: after a rough day, y/n has fun during a kegger on the boneyard, but John B doesn’t seem to like it.

A/n: here it is! Sorry for the wait school started this week and I was really busy, but yeah, hope you enjoy!! :)

previously next

Afraid masterlist

gif by @toesure

Song recommendation

It was a couple of hours later, the sun was starting to set, creating and beautiful golden light on the boneyard. The kegger was roaring. You could see Pogues dancing around and enjoying the music, tourons flirting with locals and even some Kooks were there.

“Chug it chug it chug it.” Y/n downed her red solo cup full of beer, throwing it at JJ once it was empty, a small giggle escaping her mouth. “Yeah! You go y/n!” The blond exclaimed cheerfully.

John B shook his head disapprovingly at his sister’s action.

“what?” Y/n stared back at him. “It was a long day. Can’t I have some fun once in a while? Or is that something you can’t possibly wrap your mind around?” he crossed his arms, a stern look on his face.

“Why are you acting this way? I’m just trying, to look out for you, y/n/n.”

She grunted at his words, rolling her eyes at the same time. “Well, don’t. You can’t just boss me around JB, you’re not my dad.”

John B’s expression turned sour at the mention of his dad. “Whatever.” He turned around and started to walk away. “If you wanna act reckless and irresponsible, I don’t care. I’m not stopping you, but don’t come back to me if ever you get in trouble. I won’t be there for you.”

“Damn, he’s really mad uh?” JJ now stood by the girl’s side, holding two cups full of beer. “What did you do, stab him in the back?” she scoffed “Well, he sure acts like it, all I did was have a little fun. Ugh he’s such vibe killer.”

“Give me that,” she took one of the cup out of JJ’s hand and swallowed the content of it in a matter of seconds.

“Whoa,” he put his hand on the girl’s back “are you good?“ “I’m wonderful, couldn’t be better.” JJ frowned.

“Are you sure? You’re not acting like your usual self.” Y/N scoffed. “Just because I’m having a beer or two doesn’t mean I’m about to have a mental breakdown J. Trust me I’m alright.”

“Look I know sometimes we all drink together, and once in a while you and I smoke a joint for fun, but this-” he motioned to her, or rather the way she was acting “-this isn’t you y/n.”

The girl bit her lip harshly, as she thought of what to say next. He was right, this wasn’t her. During keggers, y/n would usually spend her nights sitting on a log by the bonfire (when there was one). She would chat with Kie and some other friends about various subjects like environmental issues, astrology and other such things.

Sometimes she would stay silent and admire the shapes that formed the fire, listening to the conversations around her whilst making up poems in her mind. Other times, when she felt a little braver, she’d go on and talk with a cute touron that was there for the night (she might end up kissing them but nothing more than that). On some nights, she’d just take Kiara’s hand and drag her away giggling like a little child. The two of them would just dance together to the music playing in the background, as if they were the only ones standing on the beach.

On rarer occasions, she’d just slip away from the party and climb to the highest place she could think of, whether it was a hill, a tree or a rooftop. She’d just sit down somewhere comfortable and silently admire the constellations dancing for her. (Sometimes she’d bring one of the pogues with her and they would play some soft music and talk about anything and everything). Those were always the best nights.

Since the beginning of the party, y/n had acted like a total stranger. She had danced, yeah but with people she didn’t know and she had drank, a lot. She had actually volunteered to participate in some stupid drinking game, a thing she had criticized many times before. JJ enjoyed it in the beginning. Watching her get out of her shell, being friendly and mixing with the crowd. But right now, he didn’t know the person standing in front of him. Y/n was soft and kind (although sometimes she used a pretty rough vocabulary) and also smart and funny. Not reckless, insensitive, spontaneous or careless.

Why was she acting this way?

Truth is, y/n didn’t completely know the reason for her behaviour. She has had a long day, that was part of it (and also a rough year). She wanted to forget for one night, yeah that was it. Forget about her dad, forget all her problems, forget who she was. It was like she put on this mask and became a totally different person for the night. She just wanted to have fun and act crazy for this one night. After that she’d go back to being her normal self. After all, she was allowed to have fun.

She wiped the small trickle of blood that ran down her lip. “You’re right,” she agreed. “This isn’t me. But I- I don’t want to be me for the night. I don’t want to worry and think about all the sad tragedies of life. I wanna have fun. I want to get drunk and dance and do some stupid things.” She looked at him directly in the eyes, her gaze softening at the sight. “ I promise that tomorrow, I’ll be me again.”

JJ removed his hand from her back and pulled gently at his blond locks. “Alright. I just hope you won’t regret it all tomorrow.” He said, before disappearing in th crowd.

What’s it all worth if I don’t regret it just a little bit? She thought.

Y/n slipped away into the crowd too, looking around her for Kie. The sun had fully set now, making it a bit harder for her to see through the mass of bodies all stuck to one another. Finally, after a long five minutes of looking (though it felt like much more), her eyes landed on her curly headed friend, sitting on a large piece of wood.

“Hey cutie.” She sat down beside the brunette. “Hey girlie.”

“How are you doing?” Asked Kie, taking a sip out of her reusable cup half full of beer (y/n actually had a matching one, but forgot it back at the château). “Oh, I’m just uh peachy, I’m just peachy.” y/n said with a small laugh, happiness dripping off her words like sweet honey.

Kie took a second to look at her friend. She had the most ridiculous grin slapped on her face, like a five year old on a sugar rush. Her cheeks were flushed pink and so was the tip of her nose. (It looked very adorable.)

“Are you drunk?” Y/n giggled. “Maybe just a little bit.”

To be honest she didn’t remember the last time she had gotten drunk. It felt so far away. She felt warm and fuzzy inside and like nothing could hurt her. Thiose were all signs that she was slowly getting more and more intoxicated by the alcohol she was drinking.

“So,” she booped the tip of Kiara’s nose. “What’s with you and my brother. Do you like him perhaps?” she wiggled her eyebrows.

“Not the way you think.” “Uh?”

“I mean, John B’s very cute and kind and all, and I love and care about him, but the same way you do. Like a brother. I don’t see him as nothing more than that.” y/n nodded.

“What about JJ?” Kiara nudged the y/h/c girl. “Did you finally tell him?”

“Are you crazy?! No! I’m not that drunk,” y/n responded loudly. “Besides, I’m pretty sure he doesn’t like me that way. He seemed so-” she took a small pause to search for the right word. “he seemed disappointed in me or something when we talked earlier.”

“Why? What makes you-”

Kiara was cut off by some shouting and screams being heard further away on the beach. A fight was about to break. She grabbed her friend by the arm. “Let’s go see.”

The girls arrived to see John B and Topper facing each other with threatening expressions, surrounded by a circle of curious people who only wanted to see them hurting the other one.

Topper Thornton? When did he get there ? And if he’s here that means that- y/n stopped her thoughts as her eyes landed on the blonde girl, watching her boyfriend with a scared look on her face. Sarah Cameron, Kook Princess.

“Dirty pogues!” John B shoved the kook harshly earning a chorus of exclaimation from the crowd gathering around them.

“Woah!” The two of them were circling each other, getting dangerously close to the water.

“John B!” Pope yelled at his friend. “We’re supposed to be incognito remember?”

“Babe, babe, babe, babe!” Sarah approached them, trying to stop her boyfriend from hitting the pogue.

Topper hit John B first, the impact sending him down in the water. Y/n quickly sobered up from the slightly intoxicated state she was in at the sight of her brother getting beat up. It was almost as if she could feel the hit on her own body.

“Guys! Guys! Chill!” Topper kicked John B right in the sides as he was trying to get up, sending him back down into the salty water.

“Hey John B, don’t make me down you like your old man, alright?!”

Y/n’s blood boiled in her veins, her face turning red with rage. She was so angry. First he had insulted her brother, and then hurt him but that wasn’t enough for him. He wasn’t satisfied. He had to mention their father. That was like putting alcohol right into a fresh wound. How could he do such a thing? At this point, y/n was basically fuming, she couldn’t hold it back any longer.

“You take that back you brainless piece of shit!” She launched herself into the fight, not caring whether she’d get hurt or not.

“Y/n, no!”

She jumped on Topper’s back, in hope of sending him down and make him stop hurting her brother anymore. She was able to strike him a couple of times right in the jaw, before he pushed her off violently, sending her flying down and hit the ground with a loud thud. She was just about to get back in the fight when two strong arms dragged her away.

“Let go of me!” She yelled, squirming to get away from Pope’s grip.

“As much as I would like to see you take him down, y/n/n,” said the Heyward boy, still holding her firmly, “John B would kill me if I didn’t stop you.”

Y/n sighed loudly and stopped trying to get away from her friend’s hold on her. She watched closely as John B pushed Topper right in the water and winced every time he got hit.

“Stop you guys!” yelled Kie.

They were both hitting each other without taking a break, making small grunts and groans at the same time. It was getting so violent, so fast. JB pushed Topper in the ocean again.

“Come on Topper! Come on!” He screamed with rage before going back into the fight.

“John B please stop!” y/n pleaded. The crowd was cheering as the fight went on, only encouraging the two teens to continue hurting one another.

Y/n gasped as John B went flying backwards into the water. They were in a much deeper part now and Topper was holding him down into the water. He was gonna drown.

“Topper! Topper, stop! No!” Sarah screamed.

“He’s gonna drown him!” Pope’s voice shaking slight in fear.

Tears were filling the Routledge girl’s eyes and sliding down her cheeks. She was no longer angry but so frightened. Her brother had his head underwater, not breathing for more than half a minute. He was gonna drown, he was gonna die too and she’d be alone, for good now. She couldn’t do it without him, no she couldn’t. She had lived all her life with him by her side, her best memories were spent with him. She couldn’t do it alone. She needed him.

“Topper, please. Let him go!” she was so desperate at this point. She was practically begging him for mercy. She didn’t even bother hiding the despair and concern in her voice. Her tears were crashing on the sand. She was breathless, panting even, the world spinning around her. It was like she was the one underwater. Like she could feel exactly what her brother was feeling.

JJ took a look at her and then at John B, his heart squeezing painfully in his chest at the sight of both of them. He had to do something. He couldn’t let Topper kill his best friend. He hurried to find his backpack, taking the black object he had stolen previously that day.

He held the gun against Topper’s temple, the safety releasing a clicking noise. “Yeah, you know what that is. Your move brisky!” JJ spat, his face almost purple with fury.

Y/n’s hand went to her mouth. JJ brought the gun and he was holding it at Topper’s head. She couldn’t believe it. The sight of the firearm, barely visible but still slightly glistening under the moonlight, was enough to send shivers ripple along her back. She didn’t like seeing JJ hold it this way, with so much pride in his eyes, like it brought him so much power (though it kinda did).

He wielded it as though it was something that protected him against every possible danger. Like he was invincible. It was almost sickening. He shouldn’t be this proud, this brave while holding it. It was a deadly arm, he should’ve been just as scared as she was. What if he hurted someone? Or himself? What if he killed someone? Y/n almost regurgitated the entire content of her stomach at the thought.

“JJ, no.” She had wanted to shout, but her voice came out softly, barely louder than a whisper.

People were now running away, hurrying to their car to get away from the crazy maniac with a gun. Y/n was paralyzed with fear. She wanted to move, to run and throw the stupid gun in th ocean, but it was like her feet were glued to the ground.

“JJ put the gun down!”

“Did you say something princess?” JJ turned his head to Sarah, his hands still holding the firearm against Topper’s head.

“We’re good. We’re good.” Topper let go of John B’s body, his hand raised up in surrender.

“Kie can you check your psycho friend, please?” Sarah spoke, making Kiara glare at her with hatred.

“John B!” y/n rushed to her brother, pushing everyone that came in her way. She didn’t care about her clothes which were getting more and more soaked with every deacons she spent in the cold waves. She offered him her hand, helping him get up and then quickly pulling him into a tight hug.

“Thank god your okay.” She let go of him.

John coughed intensely for what seemed like an eternity, the three thousand liters of water he had swallowed coming out of his mouth at the same time. Y/n looked at him worryingly, her stomach still bubbling with anxiety.

One of his eye was starting to swell, a deep red colour surrounding it. He would have to ice it if he didn’t want it to turn purple. His nose was also bleeding, the blood flowing down and dripping on his lips. Y/n wiped the blood away with her palm and pulled him in an other hug, once he had caught his breath a little more.

“I don’t know what I would’ve done if you,” she choked on her words, “if you didn’t make it.”

“Hey, hey, hey,” he grabbed her by the shoulders, still slightly panting. “I’m alright, little bug, I’m alright. My eye might be turning blue and my body might hurt, but I’m still alive aren’t I? I’m still here.” he reassured.

Y/n let out a small smile. She was still incredibly worried for her brother. He was hurt, but he was alive, that was good. Now all she wanted was to go back home and help him take care of his wounds.

“Okay every one listen up!” y/n flinched at JJ’s voice. He was so angry, it almost scared her. “Get the hell off of our side of the island!”

He fired the gun twice in the air, the sound echoing on the almost empty beach. Y/n almost fell back in surprise, letting go of her brother at the same time. The sound was ringing in her ear, her hands trembling. Why was he doing that?

She had acted so carelessly at the beginning of the night that she became a stranger in JJ’s eyes. But now, he was the one acting crazy and stupidly. It was not uncommon for JJ to be reckless but this? No, that wasn’t him.

Who was that person standing in front of her?

Taglist

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[hiccanna-tidbits]

Do you maybe have some headcanons or Au or something for Moana x Merida? I really like that ship! 🤗and I like your moodboards with moanida! ^^

Anon I need you to know I am literally crying TEARS OF JOY because I have FINALLY received an Ask on this humble little blog and I am OVERJOYED

Yes, I would love to talk about Moanida!!!

I’ve got a few AUs I kinda play around with for them--might make moodboards of them one of these days! A couple I really like are a Mermaid AU and a Selkie AU, probably with Moana as the mermaid/selkie because of her ocean connection??? But I really like the idea of Selkie!Merida too, since it would go so nicely with selkies in Scottish folklore and all that. Either way it solves the geographical issue because they can just swim to each other!!! Also yes, these gay girls crossing literal oceans for each other is absolutely the hill I’m going to die on. I’m also a fan of a sort of Mythology/Goddess AU where like Moana is an ocean goddess and Merida is a volcano goddess of sorts akin to Te Ka with cool lava hair and scary volcanic rock skin and only Moana’s soothing ocean waters can calm her eruptive (heh, get it?) rage. And this also means FORBIDDEN SAPPHIC LOVE FORBIDDEN SAPPHIC LOVE FORBIDDEN SAPPHIC LOVE

Also MOANIDA HEADCANONS YESSSS

I thought up some just for you <3 Some are more general and some are more specific AU-focused so I tried to sort them by AU but there’s probably gonna be some overlap.

General ~Merida is THE most overprotective girlfriend. Like she knows Moana’s independent and can take care of herself, but she absolutely will not tolerate slander of or threats to her girlfriend of any kind. If Merida were to meet Maui at any period in the timeline where he and Moana weren’t really cool yet and he was still being kind of a dick to Moana, Merida would try to fight a literal demigod. She doesn’t give a single fuck. ~Once Merida hears about the Tamatoa Incident, she wants to fight every crab she sees. She also develops a taste for crabcakes and crab rangoons because she starts eating lots of crabmeat solely out of spite. Moana finds this endlessly amusing. ~Moana definitely has the braincell between them. She’s constantly having to hold Mer back and talk her down from starting shit. Merida would unleash the Rage of a Thousand Suns upon her enemies if given half the chance. ~Merida is very physically active and loves working out--she would work out twice a day if given the chance. She’s just really about those exercise endorphins. Moana makes her fresh tropical fruit bowls and tropical fruit smoothies for after her workouts. Merida adores these and eventually she absolutely refuses to drink any smoothies not made by her girlfriend. ~They’re both lowkey caffeine addicts. Merida usually loathes getting up early (unless it’s to work out or go riding with Angus) and will snap at anyone and everyone until she’s had coffee. Moana knows how to get her hands on these really amazing-tasting, obscure types of Polynesian coffee, so she hooks them up with The Good Stuff. After tasting the coffee Moana gets, Merida honestly never wants any other B-tier type of coffee again. ~They love to go sailing in Moana’s boat. In a modern AU where the boat has a motor, Merida likes to make them go really fast for the adrenaline rush and the feeling of wind in her hair. It kinda freaks Moana out to go that fast, but it’s honestly worth it for the look of absolute elation on Merida’s face, and the way she laughs and cheers the whole time. ~Sometimes they like to go out on more calm, tranquil night sails. Once they’re a ways out, they just lie on the deck and stargaze. Moana points out all the constellations to Merida and rambles about how to navigate with them. Merida just turns and watches her with this super-smitten look the entire time. ~Moana teaches Merida some Maori. She teachers her how to say “I love you,” and, at Merida’s request, how to swear. ~Sometimes Moana calls Merida Maori words Mer doesn’t understand. Merida gets mad because she thinks Moana’s insulting her. It turns out she’s just calling Merida a bunch of super sappy Maori pet names. ~Sometimes Merida and Moana just like to talk shit about people who are pissing them off IN Maori, so they don’t understand. ~Whenever Merida absolutely goes OFF on someone for saying something homophobic or sexist or whatever, Moana just stands back and crosses her arms and smirks, and says “Thaaaat’s my girl!” It absolutely never fails to make Merida blush like a madwoman and start blubbering like an idiot and lose her original point completely. ~When they fight, they are SO stubborn, petty, and dramatic about it that they can stay mad at each other for DAYS. For really bad fights, they usually end up needing a mediator (in a RotBTD+ AU, I imagine this would be Rapunzel, Anna, or Hiccup). ~Angus and Pua are best friends. No, I will not be accepting criticism at this time. They get into lots of hijinks and shenanigans, and sometimes they sneak out together and Pua likes to ride around on Angus’s back. When Pua and Angus go missing, Mer and Mo just kind of sigh like “Oh, they’re out adventuring again, aren’t they?” ~Angus also always protects Pua so he never has to be scared of adventuring again!!! Pua still remembers his and Moana’s disastrous first sailing attempt, and Angus makes sure little Pua never gets into danger like that again. ~Hamish, Harris, and Hubert ship it SO hard! Moana turns out to be really good with kids, and has even been known to assist with the boys’ mischief from time to time. They definitely think Moana’s a good person to keep their sister’s chaos in check while not being TOO much of a boring wet blanket stifling her fun. ~Sina absolutely ADORES Merida and basically adopts her and treats her like a second daughter. After hearing Merida doesn’t have the best relationship with her own mom and feels like her mom doesn’t try to understand her or respect that she’s different from her, Sina gets like...SUPER angry and and starts doting on Merida to an almost annoying extent. She never wants Merida to have to feel forced into being someone she’s not, since she saw that with Moana and how much it absolutely KILLED her to be kept away from the ocean. ~Tui is leery of Merida at first, mainly because she seems like she’s going to be a bad influence on his daughter. However, he eventually comes around to her once he sees how much she loves his daughter, and they bond over both being ridiculously overprotective of Moana. ~Fergus also adores Moana, and basically knew Merida was gay from the jump--them dating is 0% a surprise to him. He’s honestly just glad that his daughter has someone more rational and down-to-earth to prevent her from doing anything TOO stupid. ~Elinor meanwhile, traditionalist that she is, is NOT about this whole lesbian thing and would probably be pretty homophobic...at least at first (steaming hot take, I know, she’s just got tradition so far up her ass I don’t know if she’d EVER be okay with her daughter choosing not only to forego marriage to man COMPLETELY--not just delay it--but marry a woman instead, who she couldn’t produce an heir with. Also sorry but I do not like her and probably will not portray her particularly favorably in my HCs sorry not sorry lmao) Maybe she comes around, maybe she doesn’t. I’ll leave that up to your imagination. Although I am not an Elinor fan so I think you already know my take XD ~Moana is grey-asexual grey-aromantic, so she CAN be sexually and romantically interested in people, it’s just...very rare. Merida is basically the only person she’s ever wanted to legit date. Maybe she likes boys too, but she wouldn’t know--she hasn’t found any she’s into thus far. Merida, meanwhile, has always been a raging lesbian, and has had lots of crushes on girls over the years (in an AU where she has the opportunity to, anyhow--ARE there even any girls her age in Dunbroch??? XD). When her parents would read storybooks to her as a kid, she’d always finding herself getting doe-eyed over the “fair maidens” rather than the fearless, ripped warriors who saved them from danger.  No crush ever hit her quite as hard as Moana did, though. But Merida knows for a damn fact she isn’t into men--90% of the time she can’t stand them and their antics, and the only men she’s ever really felt any kind of affection for are ones in her family or ones who remind her of one or more of her family members. ~Moana makes Merida flower crowns. Merida grumbles endlessly about how “girly” they are, so Moana hunts down some black flowers to make one with so it’ll look a bit more badass and intimidating. Merida absolutely LOVES it and wears it everywhere. ~Merida teaches Moana how to horseback ride and how to shoot a bow and arrow. She’s pretty not great at either at first, but Merida is incredibly patient with her. This shocks everyone around them, because since when is Merida patient with anyone? ~Merida also teaches Moana swordplay, and they LOVE to spar with each other. Agressive flirting during sparring sessions is very commonplace. If anyone attacks either Dunbroch or Motunui, Merida and Moana are a force to be reckoned with. ~Likewise, Moana teaches Merida how to sail and some kinda basic naval combat skills (i.e. how to shoot that harpoon gun or whatever it was she used to fight the kikimora off). ~They don’t have sex that often because neither of them has that high of a sex drive, but when they do, Merida tops if a strap-on is used. ~Moana is the kind of person who just kinda sings songs to herself as she goes about her daily routine and her chores. Merida loves to listen in because she thinks Moana has the prettiest singing voice on earth. That doesn’t stop her from teasing Moana about “singing all the got dam time,” though. ~Literally ALWAYS cuddling and kissing when they’re watching something together or just doing any kinda idle activity at home together. These girls cannot keep their hands off of each other. They hold hands in public pretty much everywhere they go, and Merida yells at anyone who makes a fuss about it.

Modern AU ~They meet while Merida is studying abroad in Tahiti. Maybe because Maui (who’s Moana’s cousin or older brother or something) has a tattoo parlor, and of COURSE Merida goes in to get some edgy bow and arrow tattoo to piss her mom off. Or maybe Merida is just snorkeling in one of the coves on one of her days off, and she runs into Moana and they just Vibe. ~I also like the idea of them meeting at a bar/nightclub type place in Papeete--like maybe Maui owns the nightclub because he just likes to party like that, and he lets his little sis Moana poke around in there because he’s lowkey a terrible influence XD And maybe one night Moana’s bartending to make a little extra cash and Merida comes in and gets really drunk on like a huge Sex on the Beach or something and starts really clumsily hitting on Moana and Moana gets SUCH a kick out of it. Merida can’t remember much of the flirting the next day, but she and Moana still become fast friends. ~Merida is constantly ditching class to sneak off and go see Moana. Her grades are plummeting. ~When the semester abroad is over, they promise to keep in touch over the internet--although Moana also wants to write letters because she loves the idea of having a pen pal. Merida teases her mercilessly for being so “old-fashioned” but also doesn’t have the heart to say no. ~They end up confessing they like each other over internet chat. Merida damn well knows she’s gay and has for a while now, but she’s terrified of telling Moana she’s into her because she’s really scared Moana’s straight. So when Moana is the one who ends up confessing to Merida, Merida has literally never been happier in her entire life. ~Once Merida graduates, they decide to just say “fuck it” and move to some big seaside city together (for some reason I really like the idea of them living in Los Angeles???). Merida needs to get away from her overbearing mom and Moana just really wants to see more of the world besides the South Pacific, so away they go! ~BROADWAY MUSICAL NERDS BROADWAY MUSICAL NERDS BROADWAY MUSICAL NERDS! They both fucking LOVE musicals, especially those with sapphic undertones (Wicked, anyone?), and will loudly and obnoxiously sing along to the soundtracks, much to the chagrin of all their neighbors. They’re also pretty big theater fans in general--especially Merida, always rather the dramatic type. ~At some point they save up and go to see Wicked on Broadway together. The trip ends up being one of their all-time favorites, and their fridge is covered in goofy, dumb selfies of them in New York. ~Moana goes to every SINGLE one of Merida’s archery tournaments, and every single game of any other sport she plays. Literally no one cheers more boisterously or enthusiastically than Moana does. Whenever Merida hits a bullseye or scores a goal, Moana grins and nudges the people next to her (even if they’re complete fucking strangers) and goes “That’s my girlfriend!!!” ~Merida is a goddamn punk, and is always walking around in spiked jackets, combat boots, and basically any other clothing that says “don’t fuck with me.” She tried to start a punk rock band once, but it ended up falling through because no one would sponsor Merida’s angry screamo songs about smashing the patriarchy. Moana still went to all of their tiny-ass, tacky concerts though, for the few months they were “touring” the city. ~Merida taught herself how to play electric guitar because she thinks it’s Edgy and Cool. Moana really likes to dance, and knows a fair number of traditional Polynesian dances and has even taught a class or two. Merida learns how to play some traditional Polynesian music on the electric guitar so she can play while Moana dances. The combination of hard rock-esque shredding and a very mellow island dance looks extremely bizarre to anyone watching, but the girls absolutely do not care.

@takaraphoenix I said I’d tag you in Moanida content I made and I am a woman of my word!!! Enjoy!!!

Please y’all, send me more asks about my ships!!! I love to talk about them!!!

[mimiatmidnight]

Predictions on Baby Girl Sussex?

I’m FREEEEEEEE from finals and ready to chat with you all once again! Thank you all for being so patient, I’m so excited to dive into all your questions and give them the novel-length responses they deserve 😉

I’m assuming you mean name predictions haha, cause the only other thing I can think of to predict would be her birthday (for the record, I’ll go ahead and put my sister’s birthday, June 10th, for no reason other than I predicted my own birthday, April 26th, for Archie!). But I love talking about baby names (as you can see by the length of this post 😅), so let’s get into it.

So I fully expect to be completely taken aback by their pick. Like not even on the same planet as my predictions. Cause that’s just how those two roll lmao. But IF they’re staying in the same theme as Archie’s name, I’m expecting something that’s also short, possibly nickname-y, kind of dusty and vintage, but with a whimsical charm, just like Archie’s. I am still operating with the assumption that she will one day be Princess (whether or not that actually happens, of course, remains to be seen), so I’m trying to keep that title in mind. And also, given that name meanings appear to hold significance to them, I tried to at least somewhat keep meanings in mind. So, in no particular order:

Eloise

“Healthy; wide”

French, English

I am SO charmed by this name. If I hadn’t already decided on Elliott for my future son’s name, this name would be right at the top of my future daughter’s list. I just thinks it’s so delightfully playful yet still timeless and classic. It gives easy and pretty nicknames with Ellie and Ella, or even Lizzy (possibly to honor her great-grandmother?). “Archie and Eloise” sounds so perfect and natural to me, without sounding kitschy or too over the top with the matching. “Princess Eloise” is so deliciously perfect, it just fits together like a puzzle piece.

Eleanor

Unknown meaning

English, French

Eleanor hits almost all the same beats I mentioned above for Eloise, even down to the lovely Ellie/Ella nicknames. It’s even more royal than Eloise, with such heady associations as the legendary Queen Eleanor of Aquitaine (not to mention the American Queen, First Lady Eleanor Roosevelt!). Eloise is closer to my heart, but I’d be thrilled with Eleanor as well.

Greta

“Pearl”; diminutive of Margaret

German

This one’s quite old-fashioned, but I think it’s so charming and would make an adorable name on a little girl. And fun fact, the name Meghan comes from a nickname for Margaret, which is why both those names as well as Greta all mean “Pearl.” So this would be a perfect way to honor little girl’s mama in a more subtle way.

Poppy

“Red flower”

Latin, English

Spunky yet sweet. Pays tribute to her mother’s homeland of California, while also sounding very at home in her father’s homeland of the UK. A flower name in honor of her mama’s own mama. This scarlet name would be even more perfect if the Ginger Avenger manages to make himself another little Gingette. And as I said to one of my anons the other day, “Princess Poppy” is so screeching cute I might actually combust if I think about it too much, so let’s move on.

Lea

“Meadow; weary”

English

To be totally honest, this one is mostly just because I’ve been addicted to listening to “Lea” by TOTO on repeat lately. Although “Princess Lea” might be a bit too . . . you know. Stor Wors. Even though the sci-fi princess pronounces her name differently, I think they’ll probably still want to avoid that association. Still, that song is heavenly and the name goes with all my criteria so I’m putting it in anyways.

Hazel

“Hazelnut tree”

English

Another nature name, one that I’m sure our favorite Earth Mama will enjoy ;) It’s newly popular, but in my opinion still retains that distinctive and whimsical uniqueness of a name that’s much further on the fringe than Hazel actually is. I can just picture a little hazel-eyed princess running barefoot around her gorgeous backyard, wild hair all spread out as she lays underneath a hazelnut tree. Ugh, so cute.

Etta

“Estate ruler”; feminine diminutive of Henry

English, Scottish

I suppose in response to Archie’s middle name Harrison, I’ve seen some Squaddies predict Henrietta for his little sister. And um . . . that is not a favorite of mine 😅 But if Harry wants to add his brand to his second little munchkin as well, why not Henrietta’s much more sleek and dynamic offshoot, Etta? It's got that old school feel, with also a spark of liveliness. I also love that it ties to their Black ancestry through one of the most legendary Queens of American Soul Music, Etta James.

Maeve

“She who intoxicates”

Irish

Incredibly endearing with a rich history. For my own personal use, this safer option might actually be called upon for my future daughter if I never manage to work up the courage to use my actual long-time Irish favorite, Saoirse. But for Harry and Meghan, I can’t really see them using this one. Still, I felt like I needed an M name to cover all my bases, and this is one of the few that I like. Some other honorable “M”entions (get it?) include Maisie, Melody, and Madeleine (thank you to my lovely anon for this one!).

Francesca

“From France; free man”; variation of Frances

Italian

I haven’t really mentioned middle names here, mostly because this post is long enough already and middle name combos just add a whole other level of crazy. But given the enormous legacy of her grandmother, I am extremely torn on whether Baby Girl will be getting a name in her honor. If her parents so choose, Diana’s middle name Frances, or even it’s more ornately feminine variation, Francesca, would be lovely honors for the little princess to carry. If they do end up honoring Diana, I’d expect it to be in Baby Girl’s middle name.

Violet

“Purple”

Latin, English

One last flower name for Earth Mama Meghan. Violet was my top pick for Archie when he was still the mysterious Baby Sussex, but though it has since fallen from my top spot, it still is a lovely, classic name of inarguable feminine grace, yet with an underlying core of strength and fortitude. I feel like Violet is a woman who ties her hair back with a soft velvet bow, but then hitches up her skirts, draws her sword, and shows the battlefield who’s boss. I just love the duality of this name, and I think it would be a lovely gift for a little girl.

Alice

“Noble”

German

Vintage, classic, girly, and solidly royal, this name calls to mind white rabbits and looking glasses. Once again, on a personal note, this might be an option for my future daughter if I chicken out on trying to get everyone to pronounce Alicia correctly. I love that name in the Spanish pronunciation, “Ah-lee-see-ah,” but I find the Anglicized “Ah-lee-sha” to be dreadful and I wouldn’t want to burden my girl with a lifetime of corrections. Anyways, Alice is just as elegant, if not quite as ornate, and in any case is much more likely for our British-American princess. Plus, what a stunning pair of name meanings to gift these two siblings: “Brave” Archie and “Noble” Alice. They sound straight out of an Arthurian legend. (Plus, how cute would “Archie and Alice” sound!)

Honorable Mentions Cause I Need To Wrap This Shit Up:

Evie/Edie (both follow all the E names I wrote about above, and Edie in particular is a modern name full of moxie that would be a great nickname for the older, traditional Edith)

Lily (yet another flower name, and I just like the sound of this one)

Spencer (another possible route to honoring Granny Diana, yet maintaining a much more modern and spunky taste than Frances, while also being less direct)

Clara (of Nutcracker fame, adding here mostly because I think I’d melt if I heard this in Harry’s voice and accent)

Lucy (same vibes as Alice and Clara)

Ivy (cute, simple, girly nature name, but unfortunately already in use by the daughter of Meghan’s close friend Jessica Mulroney)

Zoe (I have absolutely no personal connection to this name, but for some reason it just now randomly popped into my head as something they might choose, so here ya go)

So yeah! Sorry this was so long, but it was super fun! Thank you for sending in this great question. I’d love to hear all your guys’ name predictions, dream picks, and wild card guesses!

[abigail-ravensong]

So here's a headcannon dump of me & my wife's wiz characters (who are dating)

Some things first:

* Abby is Malistaires Daughter, like no one knows for obvious reasons

* Abby is 16, is a death student but considering a secondary school

* Fallon is 19 and is Ahead of Abby in school

* Fallon is Myth/Fire

* Abby has a pet blue Shadowbeast named Midnight

* Fallon has a pet Imp

* Abby has Narcolepsy

- Fallon has a bunch of creepy stuff scattered around her room that Abigail got for her, she doesn't..love the aesthetic but keeps it anyway because it reminds her of Abigail, plus it makes Abby smile

- Abigail has a pet cyclops but it stays at her dorm

- they constantly tease eachother about eachothers stereotypes & teachers, Abby has old family pics of Cyrus when he had an afro lol

- Fallon buys Abby a bunch of colorful/girly stuff it clashes with all the black in Abby's dorm

- Abby spends time with the death tree in nightside, she'll sit against him and listen to his stories, often falling asleep with midnight on her lap

- they both will wait for eachother outside their schools after class (they get out at different times), no one really pays attention to Abby but Fallon looks pretty out of place at nightside, no one's mean though

- they'll often have lunch together, usually have picnics at different places around wizard city

- Fallon knows more about death history than most death students, both thanks to Abby and because of her need to know everything

- Fallon could totally blackmail Cyrus with all the family secrets if she wanted (so far hasn't, she just likes poking fun at him when she can get away with it)

- argue about which school is better, sometimes gets heated because they're both very passionate about school pride (not malicious though)

- apology gifts include stuffed animals or minions in Fallon's case with a note saying "sorry you think your school is better xoxoxo"

- facetiming but with magic mirrors

- pet/minion howlers during class

- naps! Usually around ravenwood, in school towers or against trees, Abby falls asleep on Fallon (Fallon usually gets a nap in too)

- Fallon has a little "Abby nap time" bag with like snacks and usually a blanket & pillow, and treats for midnight, little creepy trinkets to give to Abby when she's sad (teeth, bones, poisonous herbs, graveyard dirt, Halloween toys etc.)

- "follow moody Abby around" day is actually a thing, in their calanders. Abby gets to drag Fallon around anywhere she wants and nerd out about whatever Fallon likes it because:

a.) Learn new thing

b.) Abby is adorable

- hide & seek!

- Abby loves following/stalking Fallon when she's doing school stuff, half the time she sits in on class (Cyrus deals because..what's he gonna do?)

- sitting on eachothers desks

- playing with & braiding hair during class

- help eachother with homework!

- Fallon will go with Abby during class on bad days and take notes in case she falls asleep

- Abby puts dead twigs in fallons hair; usually braids them in, Fallon has no idea why and is just very confused about it

- Abby won't answer why

- neither of them like..really understand eachothers schools? Fallon grasps more than Abby but she still just..doesn't get some of the things the death kids do.

- "She's confused but she's got spirit" for both

- Like fallon will always ask before getting Abby anything like graveyard dirt because she doesn't want to cause anything bad or whatever, doesn't get why she just knows its important

- Cyrus thinks their cute & tries really hard not be biased toward them

- they're pretty open. Wizard city is pretty accepting, everyone knows their together

- they both put random shit in eachothers bags/pockets

- rocks, crystals, dirt, twigs, candy, trinkets, handy/cute school supplies (troll & vampire pencil caps etc)

- Each school has a merch store

- Abby is the goblin friend

- Abby's favorite nap place is ravenwood, she loves being by the school trees (death life & myth are her favorites)

- like Abby spends times with those 3 trees a lot. They appreciate it greatly, only a handful of students actually spend time with them (well.. a lot of life students do but this isn't about them)

- Abby actually gets along pretty well with life students, myth students..hit or miss, and she's too nervous to talk to other death students

- moolinda really wants Abby to join her class

- mental picture of Fallon sitting on her unicorn in nightside waiting for Abby to get out, other death students just kinda watching her as they walk by, confused as to why she's there

- Abby, asleep against the myth tree waiting for fallon

- they go to eachothers school parties, the students just kinda accept this because no one is gonna tell them they can't party together (Usually it's myth/death school only)

- Fallon has beef with either an ice or storm student. Said student is..terrified of abby

- death students are known for their theatrics and are working on getting a theater club up and running

- Abby talks to herself, or spirits. Fallon isn't sure

- Abby had to collect something in sunken city, at the end of it she literally told the mobs "hello yes I hate you all please have a terrible day rotting in this dusty cave" flipped them off and roller bladed away

- Abby got Fallon into roller blading. They both have actual mounts, but Abby roller blades like 85% of the time

- usually with midnight either on her shoulders or flying beside her, they race

- Fallon barging into abbys rooms and opening curtains "you 👏🏻 need 👏🏻 some 👏🏻 sunlight!"

"You may be a death student but your not actually dead come on lets go get Boba"

- Proceeds to drag a half dead Abby out of bed and out the door

- Will totally summons a minion to get her up

"This troll will destroy everything in your room if you aren't up in 5 seconds!"

[aquaminwrites]

Paper Cranes | Kim Taehyung (M)

PAIRING: Kim Taehyung x F!Reader

GENRE: Fluff, smut, angst. Non idol AU. College AU. Best friends to lovers. Slice of life.

WARNINGS: Explicit sexual content, unprotected sex (stay safe!), so much fluff you might pass out

WORD COUNT: 18.3k

DESCRIPTION: It is said that if someone folds 1000 paper cranes, they will receive one wish. Kim Taehyung has been folding you paper cranes since he was six years old. He won’t tell you what he’s going to wish for once he reaches his goal, but even into your twenties, all you know is that he’s been wishing for the same thing every time.

You’re six years old when you receive your first paper crane from Kim Taehyung.

Your first year of elementary school is almost over—there’s only two months left until summer break, and you’ve been counting down the days until you are finally free to wake up as late as you want and play with your friends until the sun goes down.

That’s also why it strikes you as odd that there’s a new transfer student, his newly assigned seat right beside yours, being introduced to the class. His eyes are big and wide underneath a fringe of dark brown hair, and he’s cute in the way that all kids are cute—with rosy cheeks, big ears, and a shy demeanour that tells you that he would most likely rather have stayed at his previous school.

After a brief introduction of Hello, I’m Kim Taehyung, he shuffles over and takes his seat. He doesn’t really look at you, keeping his head down as he pulls his notebooks from his backpack. You see that the margins are covered in doodles, little cartoons and make-believe stories etched onto every far corner of the page.

You open your mouth to introduce yourself, but the sound of your teacher’s voice has you facing the blackboard once more. You try not to think too hard about the new boy sitting beside you, gently humming to himself as he doodles butterflies in an open meadow.

At recess, you’re playing with a few friends, doing cartwheels and rolling around on the grass. You’re giggling with your friend, Chaeyoung, when you hear a ruckus happening not too far away.

“Hey! Please, no, give it back!”

You glance over and see a group of three known playground bullies who have circled Taehyung, holding his notebook up above his head, so high that he can’t reach.

“What’s so special that’s in here, anyway?” One of the bullies taunts, as he starts to leaf through the pages. “This your diary or something?”

“Please, just give it back,” Taehyung begs, trying to jump up to grab his book.

Another bully places his hand on Taehyung’s chest and shoves him back, and the suddenness of the motion has the smaller boy falling and landing hard on his tailbone.

It’s when you see tears pricking his eyes that you begin to fume. You distantly hear Chaeyoung hissing at you to get back here, you’re gonna get in trouble! as you stomp your way over to the group of boys, ones that you know are in a grade higher than yours. So why are they picking on little kids anyway?.

“Hey,” you bark, tiny fists with white knuckles at your sides. “Leave him alone!”

The bully holding the book swivels in your direction and snorts. “Or what?”

Not one to back away from a challenge or a fight (to Chaeyoung’s dismay—you hear her groaning as she catches up with you), you defiantly stare him right in the eye before you wind back your foot and kick him in the shin—hard.

He yelps and drops the book, and you’re quick to snatch it back. “My big cousin is thirteen and he does judo,” you warn, venom dripping from your voice. “So I suggest you leave both of us alone if you know what’s good for you.”

Having recovered from the kick, the bully glares at you with flared nostrils, and he takes a step forward as if he’s ready to continue this fight. You just lift your chin and cross your arms over your chest, one eyebrow raised. When he sees that you’re not about to back down, he lets out a grunt and mutters, “Ain’t worth it. C’mon, guys.”

And just like that, they turn around and leave.

You hand the book wordlessly back to Taehyung with a trembling hand as Chaeyoung runs over and basically tackles you with a hug. The boy is still on the ground when he accepts the book from your grasp, looking up at you with shiny, doe eyes.

Chaeyoung can’t help but gush in her excitement. “You are so cool! And so tough! Wow! Wait—are you shaking?”

“Oh my gosh, Chae-Chae, I was so scared!” You wail, dramatically collapsing into your friend’s arms as the adrenaline bred from confrontation finally starts to slow. “I thought I was gonna get punched in the face for sure!”

Chaeyoung gasps. “You really think they would hit a girl?”

You roll your eyes. “Dummies with no brains will hit anyone.” You sigh and then turn to ask Taehyung if he’s alright, but when you glance over, he’s already gone. The only evidence that he’d been there in the first place was the patch matted grass where he landed from the fall.

After recess, you and Chaeyoung file back into your classroom, and you wander back over to your desk. To your surprise, there’s something resting atop it, though you had cleared it before going outside.

You get closer and notice that it’s a paper crane, folded with a ripped out page of a notebook that has doodles of butterflies in an open meadow on it. You glance at Taehyung, and he meets your eyes and offers up the tiniest of smiles.

“Is this for me?” You have to ask.

His smile widens, boxy and adorable. “I just wanted to say thank you.”

You cradle the paper sculpture in your hands and examine it carefully. Along the top of one of the wings, in surprisingly neat penmanship, he’d written, “Because you stuck up for me.”

“What they did to you was wrong,” you reply quietly, thumb running along one of the creases. “I hate bullies. I always have.”

Taehyung looks at you with something you can’t quite pinpoint dancing in his vision. After a beat, he gently says, “Don’t throw it away, promise?”

“I would never!” You gasp with mock-indignation. Taehyung just patiently waits for the response he wants to hear, his heart-shaped lips settling in a neutral line. You sigh, and then sincerely respond, “I promise.”

His boxy smile returns, and you can’t help but grin as well.

Maybe the new kid isn’t so bad after all.

—

You’re ten years old when you finally ask why he’s folding all those cranes.

It turns out that the Kim family had moved walking distance from your house. Their home is a little more isolated, with Taehyung’s parents owning a small strawberry farm with a decent amount of property. It’s ten minutes away by foot, and only a few minutes if you take your bike.

After that first meeting, you and Taehyung become the best of friends. He makes you laugh with his silly but innocent way of speaking, often acting out skits and things he’d seen on television for you because he knows it makes you giggle when you hear his girly falsetto.

It soon becomes routine for the two of you to go to and from school together, since your house is on Taehyung’s way. Every morning for the last four years, he’s either walked or biked to your house to pick you up. Sometimes when he shows up early, your mother ushers him inside for a post-breakfast snack. Other times, he brings your family baskets of strawberries from the farm, just because he knows how much you like them.

All the while, Taehyung still gifts you with paper cranes.

You think you’ve amassed around a hundred by now. Taehyung likes to make them for you on your birthday and special holidays, interspersed with random ones when he finds an interesting piece of paper he think you’d like, or even newspaper clippings, and his own doodles on lined paper. You keep every single one pressed flat and placed in a shoe box under your bed.

They’re all different sizes, and some of them were made with pieces of scrap paper. But they always have a message written on the wings, and you always cherish them because Taehyung took the time to make them for you.

On the day of your tenth birthday, you throw a party in your backyard. It’s the end of summer, just before school is meant to start up again, and you’re finally an age that has two numbers in it. You feel older, more mature.

And as an older, more mature version of yourself, in your pursuit of knowledge, you can’t help but ask Taehyung as he digs into a second slice of cake, “Why do you fold so many paper cranes?”

Taehyung’s eyes go wide, as if he thought you knew already. “You mean you haven’t heard of the legend?”

You narrow your eyes at him. Taehyung is a few months younger than you, so he’s still nine, a child.

“No?”

Taehyung shovels more cake into his mouth while he speaks, clearly ignoring Chaeyoung’s look of both disgust and fascination from where she’s been snacking on popcorn not three feet away.

“They say that if you make a thousand paper cranes, you get one wish,” he says simply without offering up much else in terms of explanations.

You wait for a beat in case he’s just taking a dramatic pause, as he’s known to do. When he contentedly licks the icing off his fork, you can’t help but regard him curiously. “What are you wishing for?”

Taehyung only offers you a wink in reply. “If I tell you, it won’t come true.”

Taehyung ends up getting you a charm bracelet with your birthstone on it, as well as a charm with the letter “T” that dangles down from one of the beads. Your mother tells you later that night, after the party has cleared out, that Taehyung saved up all his allowance to buy that for you. She heard so from his mother. You feel warmth rise up to your cheeks as you think of your best friend and his kind, boxy smile and the ten paper cranes he’d neatly stuffed into an envelope in lieu of a card.

This time, the message on the wings says, “You’re finally double digits! Happy birthday! Love, your best friend, Tae-Tae.”

—

You’re thirteen when you start to look at him differently.

“You want me to what?”

You roll your eyes in an attempt to act flippant, though the hands worrying at the hem of your shirt give you away. “Come on, Tae, it isn’t that big of a deal.”

“Sorry,” he holds up his hand, his eyes still squinted in confusion. “But you want me to what? Why me? Why now?”

You groan, already embarrassed by the question you’d posed in the first place. At the insistence of him repeating your request, you fear you might actually spontaneously combust. The two of you are in your room, sitting on your bed, and Taehyung is staring at you as if you’ve grown a second head from the top of your shoulder.

“It’s just a kiss, Tae. I don’t want to start high school without having kissed anyone before. And you’re my best friend, I trust you.”

“Chaeyoung’s also your best friend,” Taehyung grumbles, his shoulders slumped as he glances anywhere but you. “Why don’t you just ask her?”

“I’m not attracted to her, you dummy,” you huff, arms crossed over your chest.

Taehyung, a budding flirt, cannot help but quip, “So, you’re saying that you find me attractive?”

You roll your eyes again so hard that you’re fairly certain that you just saw the back of your skull. “Don’t be stupid. Are you going to help me out or not? Because if not, I’ll ask Jimin or something, he probably wouldn’t ask as many dumb questions—”

“Jimin?” Taehyung gawks. “Fine, I’ll do it.”

You don’t know why, but you’re surprised when he agrees. You asked, after all. What had you expected? Taehyung is a lot of things, but he has never once let you down in the seven years you’ve been friends. The weight of the verbal contract starts to sit on your shoulders, not to mention the act in question that is about to take place. You wipe your damp palms against your shorts and scoot a little closer to Taehyung, who is staring intently at you with his big, beautiful brown eyes.

You’re so close to him now that you can feel the body heat he radiates. Your eyes scan all over his face, and you think to yourself that he’s grown up a lot since you met him all those years ago. He still hasn’t quite grown into his ears, and he still has the scrawny gangly quality that all early adolescents have in their limbs. But you suppose he’s objectively cute, and not a bad face to kiss for your first.

When you get close enough, you let your eyelids close and you tilt your head just slightly in anticipation. Taehyung meets you halfway, and you feel your heart hammering against your chest as soft, gentle lips press lightly to your own.

You’re expecting a quick peck, for it to happen and then be over. What you’re not expecting is for Taehyung’s hand to reach up and cup your cheek when he senses you trying to pull away, thumb grazing over your skin as you allow yourself to sink into him just a little more.

After a few seconds, Taehyung drops his hand from your jawline and you slowly pull apart. You instinctively run your tongue along your lower lip before nibbling on it slightly, too shy to look at Taehyung in the eye as he scratches the back of his head.

After a thick silence, full of something you can’t quite explain, Taehyung clears his throat.

“So, uh,” he begins, his voice cracking just slightly at the end. “Was it okay?”

You finally look at him, his eyes warm but also apprehensive. You can tell by the way the muscles in his shoulders bunch, and he curls inward as if to make himself smaller. You hate when he does that.

“It was perfect,” you say honestly, sending him the tiniest of smiles, if only so that his worried frown would go away. “Thank you, Tae. Really.”

He clears his throat. “Uh, yeah, no problem. Hey, look, I have to head back home, I promised my parents I’d help with some stuff on the farm tonight. So I’ll see you at school on Monday?”

You watch dumbly as Taehyung is already up and off your bed, straightening out his clothes before making a beeline for your bedroom door. You barely have the chance to say a proper goodbye before he makes himself scarce, slipping out of your room, barreling down the stairs, and out the front door.

Your hand rests upon the warm indent of where Taehyung had just been sitting moments before, and you furrow your eyebrows in an attempt to understand what just happened. You were the one that asked him if the two of you could kiss, so why do you feel so weird about it now? Why did Taehyung touch you like that, like he really wanted you to be in his arms?

You raise your fingertips to softly run along the edge of your lower lip as you replay the kiss in your mind. A thought threatens to weasel its way into your consciousness, but you shove it down and pretend as if the butterflies in your stomach are only a result of being kissed for the first time. You tell yourself it isn’t because of Kim Taehyung, and that you’ll see him at school on Monday and everything will go back to how it was.

Although, you find it harder and harder to keep those thoughts at bay when you discover the paper crane folded in your locker with a small, single heart etched onto one of the wings.

—

You’re seventeen when everything changes.

You and Taehyung pretend the kiss never happened. You never talk about it after, and part of you wonders if Taehyung wants to talk, but is just too shy or nervous to say anything. Either way, as soon as high school starts, there’s no time to think about such silly things as a preteen kiss.

Everything feels the same, but also different. Your friends start to worry about things like popularity, something that wasn’t that big of a deal just a few years ago. Friend groups split up and people move on to different cliques, girls start wearing tighter clothes and the hallway by the boy’s locker room always smells like cheap body spray.

The one constant in your life, though, is Taehyung.

The two of you share a good number of classes together, and you still walk to school side by side every day. You always sit together at lunch in the cafeteria, and are always speaking in stupid inside jokes that make your other friends roll their eyes at you. You know there are rumours about you and Taehyung, but both of you constantly squash them down.

But it does’t help that neither of you have dated over the past four years since entering proper adolescence. You both just tell people that you don’t have the time, or that you just haven’t met anyone worth being with. And besides, you’re happy with how things are. Why would you want them to change?

You’re best friends, and you always will be. That’s all.

You’re in your senior year and it’s right around the time that everyone is receiving their admission packages for university. You had worked really hard the year previous to get good grades, and you just hope and pray that it’s enough to warrant an acceptance to your dream school.

When your mother hands you a thick, large envelope with the university’s header in the upper corner, you practically rip it from her hands and tear into it right in front of her. Happy tears blur your vision as you squeal upon reading the first line.

Dear Y/N,

We are pleased to offer you early admission to Seoul National University…

The first person that you want to tell is Taehyung.

You grab your heavy winter coat, tug on your boots and mittens, and run as fast as you can down the street towards the Kim’s farm. It had snowed the night before, so it takes you a little longer than usual as your boots crunch through the freshly fallen tufts of white. Because Taehyung’s area is a little more rural, the plows have a harder time getting there to clear everything away. But you pay no mind, overjoyed at the news you can’t wait to share.

When you get to the house, you knock on the door before peering into the side window. You wave at Taehyung as he comes down the stairs, a look of surprise on his face at your sudden appearance.

“Hey,” he greets, opening the door for you. You step inside and he offers to take your coat. He’s grown tall, you realize, as he easily moves around you to hang your things in the hall closet before ushering you further into the warmth of his house.

“Are your parents home?” You query, poking your head around the corner into the empty living room.

“No, they had to go run some errands,” Taehyung shrugs. “Winter’s pretty slow for us here, anyway.” He leads you upstairs to his room, a place where you’ve been thousands of times, and he plops down on his bed as you take a seat next to him. “So to what do I owe the pleasure of your company?”

You try to ignore how Taehyung man-spreads across his duvet, and how thick his thighs have become since he started working out with that sophomore friend of his, Jungkook.

Finally, you blurt out with the biggest smile across your face, “I got in.”

Taehyung immediately sits up, pin-straight. “You did?”

Your smile somehow gets wider as pride and joy spread across his face. “I did.”

“Y/N!” He beams, jumping up and gathering you in his arms. “That’s amazing! You did it! I’m so fucking proud of you!”

You wrap your arms around his neck as his find your waist and you bask in the feeling of being held by your best friend. He’s always been so warm, and on a cold day like today, you welcome his embrace and his love for you.

Finally, you remember to stop thinking of yourself for five seconds and ask, “What about you?”

Taehyung suddenly goes still, and his grip on you tightens just slightly. “I…I’m not going.”

You pull away and look up at him. He’s dejected, eyes downcast and his face angled away from you as if he thinks you’ll be disappointed in him. You’re not, though. You never could be.

Sighing and running your hands along his shoulders in comfort, you say, “I’m sorry, Tae. I’m sure you got offers from other schools though, yeah? You worked just as hard as I did last year to get your grades up.”

“It’s not that,” Taehyung sighs, a crease forming between his brows. “I got in.”

You’re officially confused, taking a step back to purposely put yourself in his line of vision. “You got in? So what do you mean you’re not going? I thought the plan was that we were going to go to Seoul National University together.”

Taehyung exhales hard through his nose and scrunches his face, his eyes closing. It’s the face he gets when he’s overwhelmed with stress, unsure of how to articulate his words. You wait for him to be ready, smoothing out the collar of his sweater to keep yourself occupied. His hands grip tighter on your waist, and it takes you a second to realize that he’s still holding you.

“My parents need help with the farm,” he says quietly. “I declined my offer of admission.”

At those words, your heart breaks and your mind starts to race. Every thought you have at first is selfish—what will you do without Taehyung? The two of you have spent over a decade together, seeing each other damn near every day. Will your friendship survive the distance between Daegu and Seoul? The plan was to always stick together, to experience college milestones side by side.

You force yourself to push those thoughts aside so that you can focus on Taehyung. You know that SNU is his dream school, too. And not only did he get in, but he had to turn them down. You know that it wasn’t an easy decision for him to make, but he’s always been selfless like that—he’s always put you first and taken care of you, so it’s no surprise that he would do the same for his blood family.

“But it’s not forever, yeah?” You ask gently, brushing a strand of hair away from his eyes. “I’m sure that since you got in already, they can hold your admission until you’re ready.”

“Yeah, maybe,” he nods, but you can tell that he’s done talking about it. He doesn’t want to think of a reality where he’s stuck on his parents’ strawberry farm laying down fertilizer while you’re off in the big city making new friends and having new experiences. You see it in his eyes when he finally meets yours. He’s scared. Terrified of a future without you.

Always able to read his mind, you pull him in for another hug, nuzzling into his neck as you murmur, “You’re my best friend, Tae-Tae. Just because we won’t live down the street from each other anymore doesn’t mean I’m just going to forget about you.”

His inhale is shaky, and it takes all of your willpower not to cry, too. “Promise?”

You don’t know what possesses you, but you rise to your tip toes and press a soft kiss against his cheek. He whips his head to face you with wide eyes, but you just send him a tiny smile and reply, “I promise.”

The rest of senior year, you and Taehyung are practically inseparable—even more so than before. You find out that Chaeyoung also got into SNU, and the two of you manage to work it out so that you two can be roommates when you move into the dorms. You find solace that you at least won’t be completely alone in a different city, though your heart still hurts at the thought of Taehyung missing out on his opportunity.

The two of you spend as much time together as possible, almost as if the clock is ticking down on your friendship with your imminent move coming up. Summer is full of laughter and long nights by the river, reminiscing about simpler times when you were kids. When things didn’t seem so complicated, and distance was never an issue.

Your moving day rolls around faster than you could have ever anticipated. You’ve loaded the last of your things into the back of your parents’ van when you see Taehyung jogging down the street towards your house.

You’d texted him earlier that morning to let him know that you were leaving soon. Of course, he’d known that it was going to be today, but he still wanted to make sure he got to say goodbye to you before you drove to Seoul and out of his life.

When he reaches you, his eyes are misty and red and you’re sure you look just like him. It feels like the end of a chapter, like a pivotal moment where you’re stepping away from your childhood and moving into life as an adult.

Taehyung stops at your feet and just stares at you for a second, his eyes darting all over your face. You look up at him, doing the same, until a tear slips from the corner of your eye and then suddenly you’re sobbing into his chest and he’s holding you and whispering sweet nothings into your ear.

“You’re going to do great,” he promises, rubbing small circles on your back. “You’re going to make so many new friends, because it’s impossible for people not to love you. You’re going to become the city girl that I know you’ve always dreamed of being, and you’re going to make Seoul your bitch.”

You laugh at the last comment, pulling away to look at him again. “Thank you, Tae,” you hiccup.

He smiles, though it doesn’t quite reach his eyes. “And you’ll call and FaceTime me all the time, right?”

You sniffle, giving a nod. “Of course.”

Taehyung reaches up to tuck a loose strand of hair behind your ear. “Promise?”

You exhale shakily, but meet his gaze head-on. “I promise.”

He looks down and something in his line of vision glints. He notices the charm bracelet on your wrist, and he can’t help but chuckle. “I can’t believe you still have that.”

“Of course I still have it,” you say with the tiniest hint of a smile. “It reminds me of you.”

You hear your mother calling you from the passenger’s seat of the van, ushering you that it’s a long drive and you need to leave now.

Taehyung clears his throat a few times, trying to be strong for the both of you. He takes your hands and presses something into your palm, and from the feel of it, you already know what it is. The paper crane in your hand makes you cry more, and Taehyung presses a kiss to your forehead.

“Go on, Y/N. Go find your future.”

Your lower lip trembles as you speak. “I don’t want to leave you.”

This time, when he smiles, the warmth is back in his eyes. “You’re not,” he swears. “We’re best friends, remember? Wherever you go, I won’t be far behind. Just wait for me, okay?”

You promise him again, because how could you not?

“Okay.”

Once you’re in the car, you put your headphones on and select the playlist that Taehyung made you of all his favourite songs. It reminds you of him, anchors your heart in Daegu, where he remains on his parents’ farm until it’s his turn to pursue his dreams. You look at the crane that you hold like a precious gem in your palms, and the tears start welling up again as you read the message written on one of the wings.

“Don’t forget about me while you’re off at university. I know you’ll do great things.”

—

You’re nineteen when you meet Park Jinyoung.

You notice him immediately when you walk into one of your tutorials—an elective on music history that you take because you’ve heard that the professor gives great lectures.

Also, because Taehyung was the one who introduced music to you all those years ago, and you’ve grown to love it too. He also loves hearing about what you’ve learned in lecture when you do get the chance to talk, which, as the years go on, becomes less and less.

It’s no one’s fault, really. Distance makes things hard, as do the responsibilities that come along with being a university student. You have paper after paper due, and Taehyung tells you that he doesn’t want to bother you when you’re in the middle of your studies. Your schedules also just don’t align, with him still helping on the farm and having to be up at the crack of dawn and going to bed early, and with you opting for afternoon and evening classes so that you can get a little more shut eye to start your day.

He still mails you paper cranes every now and then. Not as often as he used to, but it still makes you smile when you get to add another one to your growing collection. You must have close to five or six hundred by now, and you’ve had to start a second shoebox to make sure everything fits.

But Park Jinyoung is different. And he’s here.

For one, he looks like a Disney prince. Like someone had pulled him from a designer fashion catalogue and plopped him in the middle of your tutorial. You’re nearly late, so the only remaining seat is next to him. He smiles shyly at you when you sit down, and you try to hide the blush dusting your cheeks behind the length of your hair.

You dig into your bag for your laptop and flip it open as your TA walks into the room, prepared to take notes. But then you check the battery on your computer and notice that there is definitely not enough of a charge to keep it alive for the duration of your class.

Cursing yourself for not charging it overnight, you notice that the man sitting beside you has the same model. You muster up all your courage, turn to him and ask, “I’m really sorry about this, and I’m usually not this unprepared, but do you happen to have a laptop charger I can borrow? We have the same one, so I figured—”

He smiles at you and your stomach does flips. “Of course.” He pulls the charger from his backpack and hands it to you, and you gratefully take it and plug in your computer. “I’m Jinyoung, by the way.”

“Y/N,” you introduce, shaking his offered hand.

“You know,” he says after a beat, a drawl in his voice that has a tiny hint of mischief in it. “Letting you borrow my charger is a pretty big favour, considering that we’re basically strangers. I think I might need some kind of repayment.”

You raise an eyebrow at him curiously. “Oh? Like what?”

“A cup of coffee,” he states. “After class?”

There’s no use in hiding your blush now. You smile, biting your lip. “I can do that.”

It doesn’t take long for Park Jinyoung to become your boyfriend. You and Chaeyoung move into the off-campus apartments after your freshman year, and it turns out that Jinyoung lives in the building next to yours. He’s as sweet as they come, the perfect, doting partner, someone that loves you and isn’t shy about it, either.

He holds your hand in public, guides you by the small of your back through large crowds, brings you flowers just because he feels like it, and proudly shows you off to his friends when you’ve hit the six month mark of your relationship.

His only thing is that he thinks the charm bracelet you’re wearing is weird. So he asks you to take it off. And so you do, and sits in your jewelry box, pretty much forgotten.

Things are good. Really, really good.

But of course, life always likes to throw curve balls your way.

One afternoon, you’re sitting on the couch with Jinyoung in his apartment, his arm wrapped around your shoulders as you watch some true crime documentary on Netflix after an early dinner. It’s just starting to get good when your phone rings on the coffee table, the loud buzzing startling you as you take a look at the screen.

You pick up and in a confused tone, answer with, “Mom?”

“Hi, sweetie,” she replies, sounding tired.

You sit up straight, suddenly on high alert. Your mother doesn’t really like phone calls, much prefers texts for some reason (she’s partial to emojis, and you almost regret downloading the keyboard onto her phone), so the fact that she’s calling at all is unusual.

“Is everything okay?”

She’s quiet for a second, and you can hear your pulse in your ears. Jinyoung pauses the movie and adjusts how he’s sitting so that he can fully face you. He gives you a curious look but you just shrug your shoulders helplessly.

Finally, your mother sighs and says, “Taehyung’s grandmother passed away two nights ago.”

You suddenly feel cold all over. Why are you only hearing about this now, from your mom of all people? Why hadn’t Taehyung told you himself? You try to think of the last time you spoke to him, and you realize that it’s been months. Ever since you and Jinyoung started dating, you’ve completely neglected him. And the realization that you promised you wouldn’t starts to weigh on you, and you’re crying before you know what’s happening.

“When’s the funeral?”

“Tomorrow,” she responds. You immediately stand up and swipe at your eyes, grabbing your coat from the front hall of Jinyoung’s apartment. He rises to his feet and pads after you, confusion plain as day on his face.

“I’m getting on the next bus,” you say. “See you soon.”

“What’s going on? Is everything alright?” Jinyoung asks in a minor panic as you grab your things and already have a hand on the doorknob.

“Family emergency,” you say, already weary. “Don’t worry. I’ll be back for class on Monday.” You rise to your tip toes and press a lingering kiss to his lips, to reassure him more than anything that you’re going to be okay. “Love you.”

“Love you too,” he murmurs against your mouth, stealing another peck. “Text me when you get to your parents’ house, okay?”

You nod. “Okay.”

You manage to catch a late bus to Daegu, and you make it home just before midnight. You text Taehyung to let him know you’re coming home, and you just get a heart emoji in response. You know how close Taehyung and his grandmother were. She practically raised him while his parents were busy making ends meet. She was always so kind and so warm, a precious soul who treated you like you were also her grandchild. She used to braid your hair and make you flower crowns when you were small, and the world is a little less bright without her.

It feels weird being back home. Since Seoul is so far, you don’t get to visit as often as you’d like. You really only make it home for the holidays, and even then, you don’t stay very long. But now that you’re here, everything seems so small. Everyone knows everyone else’s business, and it’s just not like that in the city. Everyone there is too busy focusing on achieving the next goal to worry about the trivialities of others. There it’s so loud, with cars and buses and drunken college students in the streets every weekend.

Here, it’s quiet. And in your neighbourhood too, it’s dark. Living on the border between rural farmland and suburbia means that there aren’t as many street lights to illuminate the roads. You haul your overnight bag over your shoulder and make your way up the driveway to your front door.

Your mom is there before you can even knock, pulling you into her arms in a tight hug. You can tell she’s been crying. Taehyung’s family is your family too, after all.

“You must be exhausted,” she says, kissing your crown. “Why don’t you wash up and get some rest?”

You can’t help but agree, your back stiff from sitting on a coach bus for three and a half hours. But once you’re all settled into your old room and lying in your childhood bed, you find yourself unable to fall asleep. You toss and turn for about fifteen minutes before you rest flat on your back and sigh loudly.

Turning your head, you see the framed photo of you and Taehyung from his birthday the year you turned eight. It was winter wonderland themed, and you and the other kids were allowed to make snow forts in the big field behind their house. The photo was of you and Taehyung cheek-to-cheek with rosy cheeks and noses from playing in the snow. It makes your heart ache thinking of the pain he must be in. So you send him a text.

[Sent 12:31am] Y/N: Hey. Can I call?

[Received 12:33am] Tae-Tae: Ok.

You tap the phone icon beside his name and wait as it rings. Taehyung picks up almost immediately, but he’s quiet on the other end.

You take the opportunity to speak first. “Hi.”

After a second, Taehyung responds, voice heavy with melancholy. “Hey.” He lets out a derisive laugh with no joy behind it whatsoever. “It’s good to hear your voice again. I was starting to think you forgot all about me.”

You don’t know how to address your absence in his life, and you don’t think you’re ready right this second to tell him about Jinyoung. So you deflect.

“How are you holding up, Tae-Tae?”

He’s quiet again, and you hate it when he gets like this. When he doesn’t know what to say, or how to process what he’s feeling aside from crushing despair, so he just stays quiet because he knows how much you hate to see or hear him cry.

Finally, he croaks out, “I’m not.”

You feel a tear slide from the corner of your eye down your cheek as you sit up in bed. “Do you want to talk about it?”

He laughs again, hollow and empty. “What would be the point? She’s gone.”

“Tae…”

“I’m really sorry,” he cuts you off. “But I just…” He sighs hard on the other line and you play with a loose thread on your comforter as you wait for him to be ready. “Is it okay if we talk tomorrow? I just…have some stuff I want to say that I can’t do over the phone.”

You bite your lip, exhaustion just now beginning to settle into your bones. “Y-Yeah. Okay. Sure.”

“Okay,” he repeats, more to himself than anything. There’s another long stretch of silence, and then quietly, he adds, “I miss you.”

Miss. Not past tense. Present tense. His choice of words doesn’t escape your notice, and guilt starts to weigh heavily on you. Taehyung is supposed to be your best friend in the whole world, the person you’d spent every day with from ages six to seventeen. You love him, and he loves you, and you’re supposed to tell each other everything.

So why is it that he couldn’t tell you about his grandmother? And why is it that you feel like you can’t talk to him right now?

You realize you’ve gone quiet on your end and respond, “I miss you too, Tae. Try to get some rest, alright? I’ll see you tomorrow. Love you.”

He takes in a shaky breath and lets it out slow. “Okay. Goodnight.”

And then he hangs up.

The funeral takes place on a dreary Saturday. It isn’t raining, but it’s overcast. Taehyung stands with his family as he grips his mother’s hand. You stand with your own at their side, though you can’t quite see Taehyung when he’s flanked by both his parents. You hear him though, the quiet words of encouragement he sends to his mom, his voice thick as he works through the tightening of this throat to offer her comfort.

Other people in the neighbourhood, aside from just Taehyung’s family, also show up for the funeral. His grandmother was loved by many, and it at least warms your heart to know that she lived a long, happy life.

After the burial is over, Taehyung’s family hosts a reception at their home. You smooth out the fabric of your black dress after one of Taehyung’s cousins offers to take your coat. Gazing into the living room that is packed with friends and family, you try to spot Taehyung, but can’t seem to find him.

You wonder if maybe he’s in his room, just wanting to be away from all the noise for a second. You know that he wants to talk to you, to tell you something. But you can’t help but be a little worried, especially after how he’d ended the call last night. You know he’s hurting, and all you want to do is help.

So you slip past the crowd huddled around the refreshment table and tiptoe upstairs and down the hall, towards his bedroom.

You notice his door is slightly ajar, and he’s sitting on the edge of his bed with his head in his hands. You knock gently so as not to startle him, and he turns to look at you before rising to his feet.

He’s taller now, you notice. Broader too. He’s grown into his ears, his hair getting long with his fringe obscuring his eyes. His heart-shaped lips are pressed tightly together in a worried frown, and there’s a crease forming between his brows that you want to smooth out with the pad of your thumb. He looks…handsome. Different, but he’s still Taehyung. Your Taehyung.

You hate how breathless you sound as you say, “Hi.”

Taehyung doesn’t move at first. He just looks at you, eyes darting all over your face. He looks like he’s seen a ghost. You can’t stand the thick tension that settles between the two of you, so you boldly stride over to him and loop your arms around his middle, burying your face in his chest. He stiffens at your touch, but after a second, you finally feel him embrace you back.

You squeeze him a little tighter and that’s when the dam breaks.

“Fuck,” he whimpers, leaning his weight on you as you feel tears hitting your shoulder. You rub small circles against his back as he cries, his body wracked with sobs. You guide him back towards the bed and help him sit once his breathing evens out, and you fetch him some tissues from his desk so that he can blow his nose.

You sit beside him, still rubbing his back with your head on his shoulder. He doesn’t really make any move to touch you or hold your hand like he used to when you were kids and one of you was having a hard time. The thought of it makes your heart sink. Have you two really grown so far apart?

The silence is long and awkward. Something you’re not used to with Taehyung. But you suppose, it’s been two years since you’ve properly seen him in person. Even when you’d come home for winter break, things with your family are always so hectic that you never really get to see anyone outside of your extended relatives before you have to go back to school. There are so many things that are different now. You aren’t children and life stops for no one.

“How’s Jinyoung?”

You whip your head to face him, eyes wide. You never told Taehyung about him. Not for any particular reason, it just…never came up.

You swallow past the dryness in your throat. “How did you—”

“Your tagged photos on Instagram,” he replies quietly, staring at the floor. “I saw it last night before you called. And,” he notes, gesturing to your bare wrist. “You’re not wearing your bracelet anymore.”

Your hand immediately stills.

“Why didn’t…” He reaches up to pinch the bridge of his nose. You move your hand away from his back, settling it into your lap to nervously fiddle with your fingers. “Why didn’t you tell me you had a boyfriend?”

You search for words, but come up short. “I…”

“You what?” Taehyung spits. “You get your first boyfriend, and then what? I don’t exist anymore?”

It’s your turn to sigh. “Taehyung, you’re not being fair.”

“No, you know what, fuck that,” he seethes, getting up from the bed so that he can pace back and forth in front of you. You look up at him helplessly, wringing your wrists as he fists at his hair. “You promised me, Y/N. You fucking promised.”

You’ve made so many promises to Taehyung in the past that your brain short circuits trying to figure out which one he means. Frustrated, you challenge, “Promised what?”

You regret the words as soon as they leave your parted lips. Taehyung stops, his hands now hanging limply at his sides. His hair is a disheveled mess, and you swear you catch a glimpse of a falling tear as the light catches it on its way to the ground. When he answers, it’s barely above a whisper.

“That you’d wait for me.”

You feel your heart fall into your stomach, and you stand up, reaching for him. “Tae, I—”

He moves away from you, and you retract your hand as if you’d been burned. He reaches for something on his desk, and you can’t help the shaky exhale that leaves your lungs when you see that it’s another paper crane. This time, it’s made with black paper, and you can see the inscription done with silver ink.

“Here,” he mumbles, holding it out for you to take. “I made it for you yesterday when my mom told me you’d be coming back.”

You accept it, because how could you not? Wave after wave of guilt washes over you. It shouldn’t feel like this, you think, with Taehyung. This is your best friend in the whole world, the one you share everything with. Guilt isn’t something you should feel for having met someone, for accepting love from someone else. It isn’t fair that he’s making you feel guilty for being happy. For living your life. Nothing about anything makes sense anymore, and when you look back up, Taehyung is already halfway out the door.

“Tae,” you call out one last time. He turns, and his face doesn’t suit the sadness that mars it. You don’t know what to say, so you settle on, “I’m really sorry.”

He offers you a solemn half nod. “Thank you for coming. Grandma would have been happy to see you.”

And then he’s gone, leaving you in the solitude of his empty bedroom.

You look down at the paper crane, heavy in your palms. You read the words etched onto the wing and it makes you hate yourself just a little bit more.

“Thank you for not forgetting about me.”

You allow yourself just one minute to cry. One minute to face the fact that you feel like you’re losing the most important person in your life, and you don’t know what to do to fix things. You let yourself break down from the sadness of being all alone in a house that used to feel like an extension of your home. But now…it’s just a house. It’s just a house in a small town that has nothing left for you.

So after your sixty seconds are up, you muster up all your energy and do the only thing you can.

You go back to Seoul.

—

You’re twenty when the shift happens.

It’s also when things start to fall apart.

You haven’t spoken to Taehyung since his grandmother’s funeral. It’s been months. Your birthday came and went without a text from him, and it was the first time you cried yourself to sleep since you were in high school.

You feel like a piece of your soul has been ripped from your body. And what’s worse is that you know that if you were to give Taehyung a call, he would answer. Regardless of whatever fight you two are having, no matter how angry or frustrated or confused you are with how you feel, you know that if you need him, he will be there for you no matter what.

But you don’t call.

Because you’re scared.

Scared of what, you aren’t entirely sure. But after returning to Seoul from Daegu, something changed. You’d started isolating yourself more, focusing only on school and not spending time with any of your other friends or going out like you used to.

Jinyoung notices as well—notices that you don’t invite him over as often as you used to, that he needs to coax affection from you when you used to give it so openly. He definitely notices when you fake an orgasm just to be done with sex. Your mind has just been so preoccupied, and part of you had believed that being intimate with your boyfriend would snap you out of it.

But the entire time, your mind is elsewhere. And you don’t know how to ask him to stop, so you squeeze down on him and moan like you know he wants to hear, arching your back off the bed just so that he’ll hurry up and get off of you.

Once he’s finished, Jinyoung rolls back onto the mattress and stares at the ceiling. Your room is dead silent, save for the sound of the both of you catching your breaths. You take your blanket and tug it up so that it’s covering your nose and mouth, hoping that he won’t notice your obvious discomfort at just lying in bed beside him.

Jinyoung exhales hard through his nose. “You wanna tell me what’s on your mind?”

You bite your bottom lip so hard, you’re sure you’ve broken skin. “Nothing’s on my mind.”

“You’re a terrible liar,” Jinyoung remarks, sitting up and running a hand through his dark hair. He leans his elbows against his bent knees and stares off into the distance. “I know you’re in love with someone else.”

His remark shocks you so much that you sit up and scoot away from him, sheets clutched tight to your body. “What are you talking about?”

Jinyoung observes your body language and snorts, but it’s not one full of mirth. It sounds sad, like he’s finally coming to terms with something he’s been wrestling with for months.

“Even now,” he notes, lightly gesturing to your posture. “I just told you that I know you’re in love with another man, and instead of reassuring me and telling me that I’m crazy, you’re hiding. You’re hiding because you know I’m right.”

Your mouth feels so dry. You try to squeak out, “Jinyoung, that’s not true, I just—”

“Don’t,” he says with a tone of finality to it. He reaches down and grabs his boxers first, then slips out of your bed to gather the rest of his clothes. “I’m not stupid, Y/N. I know you’re not happy. Fuck, I’m not happy. And that’s not what a relationship is supposed to be. It’s supposed to be two people in love, not one person in love and the other pining over some guy from back in Daegu.”

Your blood runs cold. “W-what did you say?”

He exhales slowly, reaching up to pinch the bridge of his nose between his thumb and index finger. His face is scrunched in regret, as if he’s just revealed something he wasn’t supposed to know.

“When you came back from Daegu after you had that family emergency,” Jinyoung explains, “You seemed…different. Sadder. You wouldn’t talk to me about it, so I spoke to Chaeyoung. She told me about that friend of yours, Taehyung? The one who would always send you the paper cranes in the mail?” He chuckles derisively. “Best friends since age six. How am I supposed to compare to that?”

Your lower lip starts to tremble. By now, he’s fully dressed. “Jinyoung, you’re being unfair.”

He laughs again, louder this time. “I’m being unfair?” He scoffs. “You’re supposed to be my girlfriend. We’re supposed to be partners. If you’re having a hard time, you’re supposed to be able to come to me. I’m the one who has been here through everything, and yet I’m the one being tossed aside like I don’t matter.”

“But you do matter,” you insist, shifting to rise to your feet. Tears are blurring your vision now, but through the mist, you can see Jinyoung holding out a hand to stop you.

“I get it, you know,” he says, so quietly you almost miss it. “Really, I should have seen it coming. You used to talk about him all the time. Your friend from Daegu. You never told me his name because you wanted to protect me, right? Didn’t want me to know that you were only dating me so that you could get over him?”

You’re more confused than ever. “No, Jinyoung, that’s not it, you have it all wrong, I love you, I—”

“Please,” he cuts you off, voice strained. “Please just…let me talk, okay?”

You hiccup through a quiet sob as you hug your knees to your chest under the blanket. You nod. You can see in his eyes that he’s really hurting. And so if he needs to say his piece, you will let him. He deserves as much.

“I should have known right from the beginning when I found those boxes of paper cranes under your bed.”

Your heart stops dead in your chest and suddenly you’re furious. Wave after wave of confusion, anger, and betrayal wash over you as he continues to speak. Jinyoung was snooping around your things? Had he read all the messages that Taehyung had written for you over the years? Those were meant for the two of you only, not for anyone else.

You squeeze your eyes shut, trying to calm your mind. You want to scream at him. You want to tell him to get out, to leave, to never speak to you again. But then you open your eyes, and you see him standing by your bedroom door, eyes full of tears, heartbreak weighing his shoulders. And that’s when you know that you can’t.

As much hurt as you feel right now being confronted in this way, you know that Jinyoung is hurting even more. You don’t know exactly how long ago he found the cranes—he may have mentioned it, but you still can’t properly focus. You just know that the two of you aren’t meant to be. Maybe you were when you first met, and the two of you really were happy for the year and a half that you dated. But the space between you, both physical and metaphorical, is too great of a gap to conquer. And at this point, you don’t even know if you want to try.

And it’s the uncertainty that Jinyoung reads on your face clear as day.

“I’m going to go,” he says, placing a hand on the doorknob to your bedroom. “But we had a good run, yeah?”

A tear slips from your eye and rolls down your cheek. “The best.”

He shoots you a half smile before shoving his free hand into the pocket of his jeans. “Lock up after me, okay?”

You don’t shift to rise from the bed, but agree anyway. “Okay.”

And then you’re alone.

You slide your clothes back on, a simple tank top with an oversized hoodie and a pair of sweatpants. You make sure the front door to your apartment is locked, your fingers lightly grazing over the door handle where Jinyoung had been not moments earlier.

It’s hard to breathe in the silence. You feel your lungs starting to constrict, and then the tears start pouring out. You slide to the ground, back against the door as you cry into your sleeves. It takes you a minute to gather the strength to get up in search of your phone, but all you know is that right now, you’re not okay. Right now, you can’t be by yourself.

You’re dialling the number by muscle memory alone before pressing the device up to your ear. It rings once. Twice. Three times. And then—

“Y/N?”

His voice floods your ears and you let out a sigh of relief as it washes over you. It’s just your name, but when he says it, it sounds like music. You’ve missed his deep baritone so much over the past year that as soon as he speaks, you immediately break down again.

“Tae, I…I…”

“Where are you?” He immediately asks. You hear him shuffling, and the sound of car keys. “Are you at home?”

You sniffle, trying to calm your breathing. “Y-yeah.”

“Okay,” he says gently, and your heart clenches. You really don’t deserve a best friend like him. “I’m on my way.”

He hangs up before you get a chance to argue. You text him your address just in case he’s lost it, although you know that he probably knows it off by heart by now. You know that Taehyung is driving all the way from Daegu, so you curl up on the couch and decide to watch a movie to distract yourself while you wait. The movie plays, some chilling true crime documentary, and you jump slightly when you hear a knock on your front door.

Turning off the television, you scramble over and peer through the peephole.

It’s him.

You throw the door open and you’re breathless, looking up into the molten brown eyes that you hadn’t realized just how much you’ve missed. You just stare at him for a second, eyes searching his face, his brows furrowed in concern. He’s doing the same, taking you in, as if it’s the last time he’ll ever lay eyes upon you.

“Hi,” he says in a rush. You launch yourself into his arms at that, pressing your face to his chest and collapsing into a fit of sobs. Taehyung holds you steady, stronger arms than you remember leading you back into your apartment as he closes the door behind him with his foot.

He guides you to your couch and sits you down before you’re clinging to him again. You feel like an idiot for calling him and making him drive all the way down from Daegu just to comfort you through a break-up, but you suppose that’s the magic about Taehyung. You didn’t even have to ask, didn’t have to say anything other than his name and he was already on his way over.

Taehyung’s arm pulls you closer to his side, and you end up halfway in his lap with your head resting on his shoulder. Your nose brushes against the crook of his neck, and he stiffens for just a second before relaxing once more. He smells like cedar wood and cypress, a comforting smell that fills you with nostalgia.

After a few seconds, you squeak out, “I’m sorry, Tae-Tae.”

He glances down at you, and you can’t help but notice how close his face is to yours. “For what?”

“Making you come all the way here,” you say, moving away from him to give yourself a little distance. The rush of emotions filling you is too confusing—you blame it on the fact that you haven’t seen your best friend in about a year, and not the fact that he’s even broader and more chiseled than the last time you saw him.

Jinyoung’s words echo through your mind and you squeeze your eyes shut. You were just dumped by your boyfriend of over a year, how are you already thinking about someone else? You feel so conflicted, because you don’t want Jinyoung to be right. You don’t want to admit that somewhere deep down, over the course of your lives together, you started feeling something for Taehyung.

Who else would drive all the way down from Daegu to Seoul just to comfort you because he knew you couldn’t be alone? Who else would set aside whatever hurt he felt over the fight you had that made you not speak for a year, just to be by your side at this very moment? Who else does any of the things that Taehyung has ever done for you?

Your chest feels warm, and you know that Taehyung is watching you carefully. His arm is still around your shoulders, but it’s loose, and leaning more on the material of the couch than your body.

He fiddles for a second with the material of your sweater’s hood before letting out the tiniest chuckle through his nose. You turn to face him curiously, and his eyes are distant with thought.

When he notices you watching, he gestures to your clothes. “That’s my hoodie. I was wondering what happened to it.”

You look down at your sweater and swallow past the dryness in your throat. It is Taehyung’s, you realize. You had swiped it from his closet before leaving Daegu. It was your favourite hoodie of his, one that he always let you wear, even though it was his favourite as well. He always said it suited you better, so he just let you get away with it. You had brought it with you to Seoul so that you could bring a little piece of him with you, a small comfort in a difficult time of transition. You’d worn it so many times over the past few years that you forgot it was even his.

Taehyung looks around. “Is Chaeyoung home?”

You shake your head, using the sleeves to dry your eyes. “She’s at her boyfriend’s place tonight. Jinyoung was over, and…”

The implication is there, and you see hurt flash over Taehyung’s expression for just a fraction of a second. It’s there and gone so quick that you’re unsure if you actually saw it or not. You bring your knees to your chest and make yourself small on the couch. Taehyung notices and scoots closer, hand resting directly upon your shoulder as he brings you back into his warmth.

“It’s okay,” he says quietly. “You can talk to me.”

And so you do. You tell him about what happened with Jinyoung, leaving just a few details out. You tell him about how you knew that it was over with Jinyoung a long time ago, but just didn’t have the courage to end things. You tell him how much it hurt to realize you had fallen out of love with him when it was clear that he was still in love with you. He talks you through your breakup, lets you know that you’re an amazing person and the right guy will come along one day and sweep you off your feet in the way that you deserve. That you’ll be loved unconditionally, and that when it’s the right person, you’ll just know.

You look up at him then, and a silent moment passes between the two of you. Taehyung’s lips part gently, and you swear he’s getting closer. You feel drawn to him, like the pull of a magnet, but you know that this isn’t right. Jinyoung left only a few hours ago. And while you can’t ignore the way your heart hammers in your chest, you know that you can’t. Not right now.

“I’m tired,” you whisper before he can get any closer. “I think I need to go to sleep.”

Taehyung gives a quiet nod, but doesn’t look away from you for a second. You swallow, and decide to let yourself be selfish one more time.

“Come with me?”

Taehyung doesn’t need to be told twice. You take him by the hand and lead him to your room, shuffling through your belongings to see if you have anything big enough for him to wear to bed. He’s already in a loose shirt, but his jeans pose more of an issue. You see a pair of Jinyoung’s sweats in one of your drawers, but the thought of giving those to Taehyung seems disrespectful to both of them.

“Hold on,” you say, before darting out of the room and towards Chaeyoung’s down the hall. Her boyfriend, Namjoon, is pretty tall and you know he’s left some clothes here before. You find a pair of pyjama pants in her closet and rush back to give them to Taehyung.

After he changes, the two of you slip under the covers. It isn’t the first time you’ve shared a bed together, but it’s the first time you’ve done so as adults. Taehyung turns to face you, and you do the same. You feel a tear slip from your eye, and Taehyung lifts his hand to brush it away with his thumb.

“Why are you crying?” He asks, voice deep and gentle.

“I don’t know,” you admit, scooting a little closer. “I missed you, Tae.”

He offers you a smile. “I missed you too, Y/N.” His hand moves from your face to rest along your waist, and you bite at your bottom lip to prevent any unwarranted sounds from escaping at his touch. But you don’t shy away from him either, letting him touch you, letting yourself be held by someone you care so much about and who you know just wants to protect you and keep you safe. “Get some sleep, yeah? We can go for pancakes in the morning.”

You smile at that, an ear to ear grin that has Taehyung smiling in turn. “Yeah?”

“Yeah,” he promises. He leans in and brushes a soft, barely-there kiss to your forehead, and you’re glad it’s dark in your room so he can’t see the blush that paints your cheeks. “Goodnight, Y/N.”

“Goodnight, Tae-Tae.”

You wake up the next morning feeling more rested than you have in ages. You move to sit up but realize that you can’t budge. You glance over to your side and see Taehyung fast asleep, his dark hair mussed and his cheeks puffy. He’s got a leg slung over yours and his arms hug your back to his chest, and he’s snoring just slightly as day breaks through your window.

You can’t help but smile and  allow yourself to sink back into his grasp for just a few more minutes.

Finally, the two of you get up and head over to your favourite hole in the wall diner for breakfast. Taehyung’s only been to Seoul a few times, so it’s a big deal for him to be in the city. He looks at everything with wide eyes and an even wider smile as you walk down the busy streets. You know that he wants to be here, wants to live an exciting life in the city with you nearby. You want that, too. You always have.

You get to the diner and you both order short stacks with way too many sugary add-ons. You’re digging into your breakfast when Taehyung says, “I’ve been meaning to tell you, I have a surprise.”

You crinkle your nose at the sight of him chewing with his mouth open. “Gross, Tae. What is it?”

He swallows with a roll of his eyes to get you to quit nagging, and it warms you to see that nothing has changed between the two of you. Finally, he announces, “I’m moving to Seoul.”

You nearly choke. “W-what?”

“My parents don’t need my help on the farm anymore,” he declares, and you can see that he’s practically vibrating with excitement. “I contacted the dean of admissions at SNU. You were right, they held onto my admission offer until I was ready. I’m moving here and starting work on my degree.”

After your brain finally processes the information, you lay your utensils down and slip into the opposite side of the booth where he’s sitting and hug him close.

“You’re moving here?”

“I’m moving here,” he affirms. And you feel your heart soar. The world is shifting, and you can’t help but feel like things are starting to move into place.

The two of you catch up over the rest of breakfast, and you offer to help Taehyung look for apartments while he’s here. He tells you that he still has to get back to Daegu, and that his parents are probably going to be worried if he doesn’t return soon. You promise to keep an eye out for listings for him anyway, and you can tell he’s just as excited to be getting out of Daegu as you were. Probably even more so, since he’s been trapped there even longer.

When he leaves, it’s with a bear hug and a promise to keep in touch, for real, this time. You both swear that you’ll never let anything like that tear your friendship apart again, and you tell him that you’ll count down the days until he moves to Seoul.

You get back to your apartment, and you feel lighter. Happy. You think to yourself that you should be sadder, more melancholy over your breakup, especially since you did love Jinyoung and the two of you were together for a long time. But as you tidy up your apartment a little before Chaeyoung comes home, your mind begins to wander.

You start to ask yourself if you were only with Jinyoung as a distraction, if he was right in that you were only using him to forget about someone else. And then once the distraction wasn’t working anymore, you stopped trying to pretend. You run a hand through your hair, wincing at the thought. You hope Jinyoung finds someone who will love him the way he deserves to be loved. He’s a good person, and he deserves a happy future with someone who will cherish him.

Once the common area is clean, you shuffle back into your room only to spot something on you desk. You let out the tiniest laugh at the sight. It’s a paper crane, made out of some scrap paper that Taehyung had no doubt found on your desk. You pick it up and look at the message written on the wing, something you haven’t done in over a year.

It’s longer than the other notes you’ve gotten from him, spanning over both wings, but then you realize that it’s a quote. You’ve heard him say it before, in quiet, contemplative moments. It brings a smile to your face as your eyes dance over the neat penmanship.

“Close friends are truly life’s treasures. Sometimes they know us better than we know ourselves. With gentle honesty, they are there to guide and support us, to share our laughter and our tears. Their presence reminds us that we are never really alone.”

You chuckle to yourself before carefully pressing the crane flat and holding it close to your heart. Taehyung always did love quoting Van Gogh.

—

You’re twenty-one when you realize you’re in love with your best friend.

With Taehyung living in Seoul, it’s like nothing ever changed between the two of you. You hang out nearly every day, sleeping over at each other’s apartments a few times a week when it’s too late to walk home and neither one of you feel like spending money on a cab. Seeing him happy and thriving in the city brings you more joy that you can express. He takes up darkroom photography as a hobby, and you love looking through his contact sheets to pick your favourite shots.

The two of you are closer than ever. It’s confusing, feeling this way about Taehyung. But you can’t ignore how your heart feels when he’s nearby, how you get nervous around him when he looks into your eyes for a second too long. You tell yourself it’s nothing when you wake up with his arms around you, holding you like you’re lovers, and remind yourself that you’re just friends when he presses kisses to your forehead when you say you have a headache.

You may have been using that excuse a little more liberally than necessary in the recent past.

You’re in love with Taehyung. And admitting that to yourself is easier than you realize. It’s the fear of the unknown, of the possibility of rejection upon confession that has you waiting for the right moment to tell him.

Because how could you not? You two have never kept secrets from one another before, and you know that even if he doesn’t love you like you hope he does, you’ll find a way to work past it. You would rather tell him the truth and hurt for a little if he doesn’t reciprocate, than never tell him and keep more secrets from your best friend.

It’s the end of the year already, and everyone around you is abuzz with talks of New Year’s celebrations. But around this time, you never really think about New Year’s, if you’re being honest. You care more about the fact that it’s Taehyung’s birthday, and that you finally get to celebrate it with him in Seoul after so many years.

You manage to gather up your friends to throw him a surprise party in your apartment, which is where they’re all hiding, now. You and Taehyung had gone shopping for his birthday, and you had plans to go for dinner and drinks later. You tell him that you have to drop off your bags at home first, since you don’t want to bring all your stuff to the bar, and he agrees.

You open the door to your apartment and immediately slap your hand over your face when you see that your polite house guests have all taken off their shoes and left them along the front hall. You chuckle and take Taehyung by the hand, who is also biting back a smile, and lead him to where you both know your friends are attempting to hide.

With a flick of your finger, you switch on the lights. All of your friends jump out of their hiding places and scream, “SURPRISE! HAPPY BIRTHDAY TAEHYUNG!”

He’s laughing so hard that his eyes have turned into crescent moons. Jimin emerges from the kitchen with a cake and lit candles, leading the singing when it comes time to shut the lights off again. Taehyung looks over at you with adoration in his eyes and you give him a one-armed hug.

“Make a wish,” you gesture to the cake. His eyes linger on you for a second longer before he turns and closes his eyes. He’s quiet for a few seconds, and then blows them out, getting all of them in one long breath.

Everyone cheers and claps before someone, presumably Yoongi, puts on some background music. It’s a chill hip-hop playlist that he curated a while ago that often plays when everyone gets together. If there’s one thing Yoongi is good at, it’s creating sonic atmospheres that fit every situation.

The party is in full swing. People in the kitchen are taking shots, a few of which you and Taehyung participate in, while others are in the living room either having nonsense conversations or playing Settlers of Catan. You notice Taehyung nursing a drink from the corner of the room, observing everyone quietly until he sees you watching him. You put your cup down and walk over to him, taking his free hand in yours and lacing your fingers together.

“I have a gift for you,” you whisper into his ear, needing to rise to your tip toes to do so. He turns to you with a grin and then gestures to the party.

“This wasn’t the gift?”

You laugh and shake your head, a warm and comfortable buzz humming through your veins. “Trust me. You’ll like this gift more.”

You sneak him away to your room, which you had expressed to your friends prior to their arrival was strictly off-limits (Chaeyoung graciously offered to use her room for everyone’s coats and bags). Once the door is closed and the two of you are alone, suddenly, you feel really nervous. Taehyung stands by your desk and his eyes dance over the little trinkets and things, as well as photos he’s taken that you’ve pinned to your wall.

While he’s distracted, you pick up the gift you bought him from under the table and hand it over. It’s in a bag with multicoloured tissues sticking out from the top, and he takes it from your hands with a boxy smile.

Moving the tissues aside, you see his face shift into a look of awe when he pulls the heavy book from the bag. He stares at the cover, holding the tome in his hands as he struggles to find words.

“It’s letters from Vincent Van Gogh to his brother Theo,” you say, just to cut the tension. “I know how much you love him, and I read a few parts of it from a copy I found at the library a while back. I figured you would like it.”

“It’s perfect,” Taehyung breathes. “Thank you, Y/N. For…everything.”

“You’re welcome,” you reply, suddenly bashful. You look up at him and his eyes are on you, and he’s looking at you in a way that you can’t quite read. It’s now or never, you decide, and you take the book from his grasp and lay it on your desk. “I have something else for you. But you have to close your eyes.”

Taehyung cocks his head to the side but agrees, closing his eyes until they fall shut. Exhaling shakily, you take a step closer until you’re nearly toe-to-toe. You gently cup either side of his jaw and lift yourself up, pressing your lips against his. The kiss is soft and lasts only a few seconds, and when you pull away, you lean into his ear and whisper:

“I love you, Taehyung.”

You move to take a step back, bashfully looking away when you feel his arms loop around your waist and tug you flush against him. His lips are on yours again in a split second and you whimper against his mouth as he kisses you for all he’s worth. His hands are everywhere as your fingers tangle in his hair, both of you desperately trying to get closer and closer.

“Never thought I would get to do that again,” he jokes when he finally breaks away for oxygen. Then, as if he’s suddenly remembered something, he says, “I have a gift for you too.”

Your eyes automatically dart down to the growing bulge in his pants. He laughs and swats at your arm.

“Not that, you perv.” He reaches into his pocket and pulls out a paper crane, one made with paper that has little pink and red hearts all over it. He re-shapes it so that it stands up on its own and gives it to you, and you look up at him curiously before looking at the message.

Your heart nearly stops as you read the words.

“Because I love you.”

Tears are in your eyes as you repeat them. “You love me?”

Taehyung’s grip on you tightens, and he leans his forehead against yours. “I love you,” he affirms. “So much. And for so, so fucking long.”

You kiss him again at that. It’s slower this time, and now that you have both spoken your truths, there’s no need to rush. You’ve loved Taehyung your whole life, and you’ll continue to love him for the rest of it. You feel the back of your knees hit the edge of the bed and then you’re tumbling down, taking him with you. The length of his body is pressed flush to yours, his strong, lean thigh parting your legs as he slips his tongue in your mouth.

The moan that escapes your lips as he grinds into you is lewd and you have to remember that all of your friends are literally just down the hall. You try to be quiet but Taehyung is having none of that, his large hands playing with the hem of your shirt until he’s tugging it up and over your head.

His lips are everywhere, worshipping you with his mouth and tongue as he nips at the curve of your breast and maps out galaxies across your ribs and stomach. Under his questing fingers and insistent mouth, you feel like an absolute goddess. His touch is so reverent, so intoxicating, that you nearly cry out his name as he presses a kiss to your core through the denim of your jeans.

“F-fuck, Tae,” you whimper as he begins to slowly unzip your fly. “Please, I need you.”

“I have been waiting for years to hear you say that,” he admits, working the material down your legs. He drags your panties down too, and you sit up to unhook your bra. He’s still fully clothed, you realize, but there’s something so sexy about how he’s looking at you, crouched at the foot of your bed, your bare legs thrown haphazardly over his shoulders that you don’t protest just yet.

He presses a kiss to your inner thigh and you can’t help but shiver. The smirk he sends your way is devastating, and you feel yourself getting even wetter at the sight of him with his mouth so close to where you desire him the most.

“Keep your eyes on me, baby,” he murmurs before he’s flicking his tongue directly against your clit. You yelp, not expecting it when he closes his lips around your sensitive bud and alternates between sucking and flicking motions. Your thighs tighten around either side of his head until he pins them open, exposing you completely.

His eyes never leave yours as his tongue gets to work exploring you for the first time. He licks a stripe up your cunt, not too hard, but just enough so that you know he’s there. He pays extra attention to your clit, noticing just what makes your body sing and sigh so that he can do it again and again and again. You jolt slightly when you feel one of his fingers prodding at your entrance, and Taehyung kisses your mons gently.

“Really want to fuck you with my fingers,” he admits. “I’ve been dreaming of it for so long. Can I…?”

“Yes,” you gasp, fingers tangling in his hair. “Please, Tae, fuck—”

“So fucking beautiful,” Taehyung groans as he gathers your wetness on two of his fingers and starts to press them into you. You moan at the stretch, of the feeling of him touching you so intimately. You feel his knuckles slipping past your folds until his fingers are buried deep. Then he curls his fingers in a come hither motion and tugs gently on the front of your walls, and your eyes nearly roll to the back of your head. You slap your hand over your mouth as he rubs that spot over and over, lips and tongue back on your clit. You whimper and try to keep quiet, but the slick sound of Taehyung’s fingers fucking into you and his tongue lapping at your most sensitive area are just too much.

You feel yourself starting to shake, like that coil inside of you is about to snap. You can’t believe how well Taehyung knows your body already, how he can tell exactly what you need. You feel yourself teetering along the edge, and you gasp out that you’re close. Taehyung takes his free hand and fondles your breast, pinching at your nipple until you’re crying out.

“Come on my tongue,” he moans against your skin. “Come on my tongue and my fingers, come for me baby, c’mon, soak my face, I know you can do it—”

Your orgasm hits you so hard that you nearly scream. Hands fisting the sheets, you squeak out his name and buck your hips, grinding against his mouth as you come. His fingers keep working inside of you, as does his tongue on your clit, to prolong your pleasure for as long as possible. When the feeling starts to border on pain, you whimper and squirm away.

Taehyung kisses a wet trail up your stomach and between your breasts, stopping to lavish each nipple with attention as you impatiently tug at his shirt.

“Get naked,” you whine, gripping his sleeve. “This is torture.”

Taehyung smirks at you, purposely slowing down as he licks and suckles along your neck. “Baby, I haven’t showed you torture yet,” he purrs with an edge to his voice. You can feel how hard his cock is through his jeans, and the rough scratch of denim against your sensitive core is becoming too much.

You start to grind against him, aching for some kind of relief, and it’s your turn to grin when you see him squeezing his eyes shut.

“Fuck, you’re going to be the death of me,” he pants, sitting back on his haunches as he peels off his shirt. You get to work on his belt and his jeans, unable to stop yourself from staring when you see just how big he is. You look up at him with wide eyes and he laughs breathlessly. “You really know how to make a guy feel good, you know that?”

He moves to kick off his jeans and boxers, and then you’re finally both bare, both exposed and vulnerable for the first time. Taehyung places his hands on the bed and crawls over you, pressing his lips to yours to kiss you slowly. The kiss is gentle at first, and then becomes more insistent as he adds more pressure. His tongue on the seam of your mouth coaxes you to open up not only your lips, but your thighs as well. You part both for him as he settles himself against your heat.

Your thumbs massage gentle circles against his jaw as his tongue gently caresses yours. You hitch your leg over his hip and bring him closer, moaning quietly as you feel the underside of his cock brushing against your clit.

“Condom?” He asks, panting. You shake your head.

“I’m on the pill and I’m clean,” you say in a rush. “Just wanna feel you. I trust you.”

“M’clean, too,” he promises, dipping down to kiss you again. “Been waiting for this moment my whole life. I love you, Y/N. So much.”

“I love you too, Tae,” you murmur against his lips. You trail your hand down to grip his cock, hot and heavy in your palm. You take some of your slick and pump it along his shaft, and you love the groan that leaves his throat at the sensation. Then you guide the head of his cock to your soaking entrance, and he slowly pushes into you.

The stretch is immense, but not painful as he fills you inch by inch. This, you realize, this is how it’s supposed to feel when you’re with the right person. Taehyung fills you so completely, like the missing piece of a puzzle, and you whimper out his name once he’s reached the hilt.

You feel his hot breath against your neck as he just stays there for a minute, cock pressed deep into you, unmoving. It’s as if you’re both memorizing each other, this feeling of being so close and yet needing to be closer still. You squeeze your walls down on him just slightly and he chokes on a breath.

“Fuck,” he grunts. “We really were made for each other, huh?”

“Yeah,” you breathlessly agree, turning to kiss the corner of his mouth. “I feel it, too.”

He pulls out nearly all the way before thrusting back in, slowly, so that you can both savour the feeling. You sigh out his name and hook your legs around his waist, urging him to go deeper, harder.

Taehyung obliges, his lips never leaving yours as he braces his knees on the bed and one hand against your headboard, and starts to fuck you harder. The way he rolls his hips makes you dizzy, and you’re clawing at his back to pull him in even more. It’s so intoxicating, having him this close, bare skin against bare skin, offering up your rawest forms to one another. You feel his heartbeat against yours, pulsing in rhythm.

You whimper at his next deep thrust, one that has you shifting slightly up the bed. The pleasure is starting to overwhelm you. You’ve never felt more safe in anyone else’s arms, never felt more loved, more adored. Taehyung makes your heart soar, and the realization that you want to be with him forever brings tears to your eyes. You gasp out that you’re going to come, and his fingers are on your clit in an instant, somehow always knowing exactly what you need.

His name falls from your lips as you come, clenching down on his cock like a vice. He thrusts shallowly through your orgasm to prolong it as long as possible, his arms holding you as you quake and shiver from the aftershocks. Once you’ve come down, your eyes flutter open and you see Taehyung gazing down at you, his eyes full of wonder.

“You look so beautiful when you come,” he confesses, blush dusting his cheeks and chest. You laugh, a little breathless, and reach up to kiss him.

“Your turn to show me what you look like,” you purr against his lips. “Fill me up, Tae. I want to feel you, please…”

Not needing to be told twice, Taehyung adjusts the angle of his hips and starts fucking you harder, the blunt head of his cock pummelling against your g-spot. You feel that familiar heat starting to pool again, and you’re still shaking from the overstimulation. But Taehyung sees this and keeps doing it, keeps focusing on fucking your g-spot over and over until you’re moaning loudly and the bed frame is rattling against the wall.

“Come with me, baby,” Taehyung begs, lips and teeth on your neck. “I know you’ve got one more in you. Need you to come with me. I’m going to count you down, and then you’re gonna come on my cock. Okay?”

You feel your walls fluttering already, but you try to suppress your urge to come and weakly reply, “Okay.”

“Okay,” he pants, fucking you harder, the wet slap of his hips against yours obscenely filling the room. “We’re gonna come together in five.”

He maintains the same pace, but thrusts a little bit harder.

“Four.”

Harder still. It’s when his fingers land on your clit that you actually let out a scream.

“Three.”

You’re a mess as he fucks you faster, stapling your hips to the mattress with every thrust. You’re certain you’ll bruise after this, marks you’ll wear like badges of honour. But that’s for later. Right now, you need to come, and he’s stalling. You blink up at him and see that he’s watching you, making sure you’re paying attention.

“T-Tae…”

“What number are we at, sweetheart?”

You shiver at the pet name, and manage to squeak out, “Two.”

“Mm, good girl,” he grunts as he buries his head into the crook of your neck and delivers another particularly hard thrust. He feels you shaking underneath him as he furiously rubs at your clit. He can see in your eyes your desperation, your need for him. But he wants to stall for just a second longer. Just a little bit longer—

“Tae,” you cry out, your throat dry. “P-please, I can’t h-hold it, I—”

“One.”

Come, you hear him order. You feel like you’re floating. Like there’s nothing that exists in the universe except you and Taehyung, bathed in a beautiful white light as pleasure ripples through your bodies at the same time. It’s overwhelming, how good he feels, how intimate and right it feels to be with each other in this way. You cling to him, holding each other as you both reach euphoria in the safety of one another’s arms. You feel him filling you with thick ropes of come, marking you as his, and you take all that he has to give until you’ve both come down from your highs.

He lifts his head to look at you, gazing into your eyes before you pull him in for a kiss.

After he pulls away, Taehyung murmurs, “Thank you.”

“Hm?” You nuzzle your nose against his. “For what?”

He grins at you, big and boxy, and the sight alone makes you smile.

“For making my birthday wish come true.”

The two of you quietly clean up and get dressed once again, remembering that there’s a party just outside in the next room. Taehyung helps you straighten up your hair as best he can, though it still looks a little matted in the back. And you try to tame his hair as well, though your determined fingers had been keen knotting his locks. Once you both look somewhat presentable, you place your hand on the doorknob.

“Wait,” Taehyung says. You turn to face him, and he simply kisses you. You melt against him, so happy to finally be able to do this whenever you want. He pulls away and tucks a strand of hair behind your ear. “I love you.”

“I love you too,” you respond, and give his hand a squeeze. You intertwine your fingers and open the door, stepping out to rejoin the party.

Chaeyoung is the first to notice when you come back and she literally screams when she sees the two of you.

“Finally! Oh my god, Namjoon, look, it finally happened!” Chaeyoung is still screaming, tugging on her boyfriend’s arm. Everyone then turns and sees the two of you holding hands looking bashful, along with the blossoming dark marks dotting your neck, and a chorus of cheers rings out through the room. You playfully glare at your friends that are blatantly exchanging money, and hide your face against Taehyung’s chest when Jimin and Jungkook come over to high-five you both.

“We have been waiting for this day since forever,” Jimin drawls, alcohol slurring his words slightly. “Kookie and I had a bet to see if you would get together before the end of the year, and you just made it with a day to spare. So now Jungkook owes me fifty bucks.”

“Two more sleeps!” Jungkook whines. “You lovebirds couldn’t wait for two more sleeps?”

“Regardless,” Jimin interjects. “Thank god it finally happened. I don’t think I could have waited much longer.”

“Hey,” Chaeyoung butts in, Namjoon watching her in amusement. “You don’t get to complain about waiting for those two idiots to get together. Did you know I was there when they met? And did you know that I figured out that Taehyungie had a crush on Y/N the second week that he joined our class?”

You look up at Taehyung in alarm. “You’ve liked me for that long?”

Taehyung blushes, suddenly bashful as he gives your hand a squeeze. “Yeah. Since the first day we met. Chaeyoungie figured it out and flat out asked me one day at recess. She had me cornered, so I had to tell her. But she promised she would keep it a secret. And, apparently to her credit, she has.”

“Damn right, I have, I’m a great friend,” she grumbles. “Even though it literally killed me to see you both not acting on your feelings for over a decade.”

“Enough about that,” you say hastily, waving your arms. “It’s Tae’s birthday. Did you want to open presents? I can get you a slice of cake.”

Taehyung just chuckles and nods at your obvious ploy to divert your friends’ attentions. “Sure. Let’s go open presents.”

“Can I also just say,” Jungkook declares, a shit-eating grin on his face. “I don’t know what was going on in there, but Tae, you deserve a high-five.”

You swat at your younger friend in dismay. “Jungkook!”

“You were pretty loud,” Chaeyoung admits with a shrug. Jimin nods pretty vigorously.

“Neither of you noticed when we turned up the volume on the music?”

Taehyung glances at you and scratches at the back of his neck. “Uh, no…we were…a little…preoccupied.”

You groan and slap your hand over your face. “Did everyone hear us?”

From across the room, Yoongi barks, “Yup.”

You’re about to hang your head in shame when Jimin lifts his cup. “I propose a toast!”

You and Taehyung are handed drinks, some fruit punch concoction that Seokjin mixed up. You all raise your cups as Jimin ponders what to say. Suddenly, he snaps his fingers, and beams at the two of you.

“To wishes coming true.”

You lean up and peck Taehyung on the cheek.

“To wishes coming true.”

—

You’re twenty-three when Taehyung folds his 1000th paper crane.

Being with Taehyung is like a dream come true. He really is unconditional with his love, and even when he simply looks at you, it makes your heart beat a little faster against your ribcage. He’s just so passionate and so open about his love for you, and being with him is incredible.

Not that it isn’t also without hardships. Every relationship falters from time to time. Angry words are exchanged, stubborn attitudes have gotten in the way of reason and logic and instead allowed for emotion and hurt to rule. But you always come back to one another, always talk it out. Because you both know that love is a choice, and that being in love and staying in love takes work. And so you both put in the work.

It doesn’t take you both long to decide that it’s time for the two of you to move in together.

And after months of planning, it’s moving day. It’s a day that’s been a long time coming. The two of you were already basically living together in Taehyung’s tiny bachelor apartment, but this new apartment is going to be the both of yours. A shared space for the two of you, one that you can make a home.

You’re unloading the last of the boxes from the truck into your new place, surveying the area with a sigh. You and Taehyung have already decided on what colours to paint the walls and what art to buy, so it’s just a matter of getting everything unpacked and sorted.

“Are there any more boxes left in the truck?” Taehyung asks, stretching out his spine with his arms raised above his head. You plop down on the couch and groan, shutting your eyes for just a second.

“That’s the last of it. Finally.” Cracking an eye open to peer at your boyfriend, you ask, “Did you want to start unpacking now?”

Taehyung shrugs, lifting the lid off a box that’s labelled Kitchen. “Might as well. We can unpack for a bit and then maybe go get something to eat in a few hours?”

You rise up to your feet, heading for your new bedroom. “Sounds like a plan. I’m going to make the bed and unpack our clothes, okay?”

He’s already trying to figure out the best place to put your drinking glasses, peering at each cabinet for what feels like the perfect spot. “Okay. I’ll come help you once I finish up in here.”

You make your way into your room, the bed having already been delivered and assembled prior to your actual moving day. You, being the more organized of the two of you, had scheduled your moving day so that it would be a little later in the month. That way, you and Taehyung were able to order your new furniture and assemble it without all the clutter of cardboard boxes getting in the way. Now, it was mostly just a matter of unpacking your essentials and decorating.

Unpacking goes relatively smoothly. You’re done organizing yours and Taehyung’s clothes, placing his silk button-ups on hangers so that they can be properly stored. There’s a pile of flattened cardboard boxes on the ground in the corner of the room, a symbol of your triumph and accomplishments. You’re feeling good, having found your second wind, and reach for another box.

When you lift the lid, you suddenly freeze. It’s the box you packed that has three shoe boxes in it, and you gingerly lift out each one, placing them down on your bed before doing away with the larger cardboard box. You take a seat at the edge of the bed and place one of the shoe boxes in your lap. You lift the lid and see all those paper cranes, made of different sizes and different kinds of paper.

You can’t help but smile, thinking about how Taehyung’s been getting back into the habit of making you paper cranes again recently. He had stopped for a while when you first started dating, maybe giving you one every few months, but as of late, he’s been making them more and more. And the messages he’s been writing on the wings have been for little things, nothing major or monumental like when you were kids.

You recall just last week, he made you one  that just read, “Because you made me the best coffee ever” after you bought a new Nespresso machine. Taehyung always did like celebrating the everyday moments, the ones that you would have probably overlooked. That’s one of the things that makes being with Taehyung so exciting, so wonderful. He makes every day seem like magic.

You’re just in the process of reading some of his old messages, the ones with messier penmanship that were crafted by a child, when you hear a throat clearing by your bedroom door. You look up and see Taehyung smiling at you, hands stuffed in his pockets.

“Kitchen’s mostly unpacked,” he states, wandering over to you. “What are you looking at?”

Gesturing to the boxes, you smile, “The cranes that you’ve made me over the years.” You scoot over to make room for Taehyung, who immediately takes a seat at your side, thighs touching as he loops one arm around your waist and rests his chin on your shoulder. Pecking you on the cheek, he gives a low whistle.

“That’s a lot,” he notes. “I can’t believe you kept all of them for all these years. When you see them all in one spot like this, it looks kinda crazy.”

His tone is bashful, almost a little embarrassed. You turn to face him, pressing a sweet, soft kiss against his lips. “It’s not crazy,” you promise. “It’s a beautiful, romantic gesture, and it’s made me so happy ever since we were kids. And it still makes me happy when I look at them. So there.”

Taehyung laughs at your tone of finality and nuzzles his nose against the crook of your neck. “Okay.”

You lean into his embrace, an automatic reflex at this point. You shuffle through the cranes until you find the one you’re looking for. You gasp when you see it, and you carefully pull it out. It’s old and worn, yellowing along the edges, but it’s the one. The one made from a ripped out piece of notebook paper, with butterflies drawn all over it, flying through an open meadow. Your eyes start to well up when you read the first message Taehyung ever wrote for you: “Because you stuck up for me.”

“The first one I ever made you,” Taehyung notes quietly, his arm tightening around your waist. “I remember that day so clearly. I remember when you came over and scared away those bullies, I thought you were an angel.”

You laugh at that, nudging him playfully. “Oh, come on. That can’t be true.”

“It is,” Taehyung insists. “You’ve meant so much to me since we were little kids, you know? And I’ve loved you ever since then. We’ve seen each other grow up, seen the best and worst parts of one another…” Taehyung sits up a little straighter and looks deep into your eyes as he says, “No one in the world knows me as well as you.”

You lift your hand to brush his fringe out of his eyes, lingering to softly caress his cheek as he leans into your touch. “The same goes for me,” you promise. And then you joke, “I feel like you know more about me than my mom does.”

He laughs at that. “Probably.” Taehyung suddenly goes quiet, his eyes focused on the boxes of paper cranes on the bed. “How many have I made for you?”

You ponder for a second. “A lot. Maybe around nine-hundred…”

“Nine hundred and ninety-nine,” he replies. “The one I gave you three days ago was number nine hundred and ninety-nine.”

You cock your head to the side. “Why did you ask if you already—”

Taehyung suddenly looks nervous. You see it in how his expression changes, how his shoulders curl inwards and how his foot taps anxiously against the ground.

“I love you,” he says, and it sounds like he’s saying it for the first time. He reaches into his pocket and pulls something out. “I love you, and I want you to have this.”

It’s a paper crane, one that he takes his time properly re-shaping so that it can stand on its own before laying it on the flat of his palm and extending it out to you.

“Number one thousand,” you remark with a smile, picking it up and holding it in your hands. You frown slightly, noticing that it’s heavier than it should be. It feels a little like something is inside of it, and you regard Taehyung curiously when you see that there’s no message on the wing like their usually is.

He bites at his lip slightly, and you feel your heartbeat drumming faster and faster.

“Open it.”

With shaking fingers, you carefully unfold the piece of paper until it’s flat in your hands. You look up at Taehyung, tears rolling down your cheeks, as he slips from the bed and takes your hand, lowering himself to one knee.

Taped to the inside of the paper is an engagement ring, along with the message, “Will you make my wish come true?”

You can barely see Taehyung through the tears, but you’ve never been happier. The way he’s looking at you now, open and honest, makes you even more sure of your answer.

“I know we’re young,” Taehyung says in a rush. “And I know we’re just moving in together now, and that I’m still only halfway done school. But we can always wait to get married, it doesn’t have to be anytime soon, I just needed to ask you because if I didn’t, I was going to explode, and I—”

“Yes,” you laugh, wiping hastily at your eyes. “Yes, I’ll marry you.”

Taehyung carefully removes the tape from the ring and slips it on your finger, his boxy smile practically blinding as he takes in the sight of you as his fiancée for the first time. Once the ring is securely on your finger, Taehyung kisses you, and it’s like the rest of the world doesn’t exist. You quickly clear everything off the bed, albeit a little hastily, as Taehyung’s curious hands start to wander, and your clothes, one by one, hit the floor.

You take your time with one another, committing each other’s bodies to memory with your mouth and hands before Taehyung finally slides home and has you seeing stars. His touch is like fire, melting away any fears or insecurities about the future until all you can see and feel is him on you, inside of you, offering you forever and you gladly accept with an open heart.

Boxes are left abandoned for the echo of moans along the temporarily barren walls. You never do finish unpacking the rest of the apartment that night.

Instead you fall asleep, tangled in the arms of your soulmate, bare skin against bare skin. You can’t wait to spend the rest of your life with Taehyung, though it wasn’t as if living without each other was ever going to be an option, anyway. Not with how the universe put the two of you together. Your best friend, your fiancé, and two years later once Taehyung gets his degree, your husband, and a few years after that, the father of your children.

You’ve never been loved so wholly, so completely, so unconditionally as you have with Taehyung. And while it might have taken him a thousand paper cranes to muster up the courage to propose, but you can’t help but think that he’s been making every single one of your wishes come true since he walked into your classroom in Daegu all those years ago.

You can’t wait for forever with him. So for now, you sleep, the brilliant diamond resting upon your ring finger full of promises of a bright, beautiful future with Taehyung by your side. Just as it was destined to be.

A/N: Finally, it’s done! I hope you liked it. I’ve never written in this kind of format before, so I hope it all made sense. Let me know what you think, and please share it if you enjoyed! Constructive feedback is always welcome :)

[whysthatsofuckingfunnydickwad]

Slow Hands

Eddie Kaspbrak/Richie Tozier

Here’s 5.2K words of basically pure smut. Blame Sara for this because she peer pressured me. 

“Don’t forget, Rich, we’re going to Ben’s poetry slam tomorrow night,” Eddie said into the phone that was pressed between his shoulder and ear as he typed away on his laptop. He had a report that was due before the end of the weekend that he somehow needed to cram into his ever-tightening schedule, and unfortunately for his school work, Eddie’s attention span always seemed to be taken up by the extravagant Richie Tozier.

“Don’t worry your pretty head about my commitment to my dear Benjamin, Eddie Spaghetti,” Richie said on the other end of the line while scribbling Eddie’s last minute reminder onto the calendar-templated dry erase board Mike had bought for him after the time Richie missed two exams in a row due to mixed up dates. “Do you remember what the dress code was? Stan might kill me if I show up underdressed to anything ever again.”

Eddie laughed softly to himself at the memory of Stan nearly bending a salad fork in his fist when Richie had showed up dressed casually for the annual Exotic Bird Protection fundraising banquet. Stan’s bird watching group had donated 100 dollars per chair for whomever Stan decided to bring with him as representation for the members in the New York area. Apparently the location, The London Club, had confused Richard, who showed up in skinny jeans and a flashy jean jacket to a black tie event.

“Yeah,” Eddie said with his words so laced with his smile that Richie could picture it perfectly in his mind if he closed his eyes, “Ben said that it’s casual dress, you should be fine.”

Their conversation continued and Eddie eventually abandoned his laptop, shutting it down and moving to lie on his bed. Talking to Richie came as easy as breathing; the pair had grown impossibly closer since their big move despite how large the city was. Eddie’s grown to realize that it’s easy to develop a feeling of being impossibly small somewhere as large as New York City. Nobody knows him and everybody is travelling in a different direction than he was; it’s breathtakingly new for a small town kid.

Eddie, who happened to be mid sentence, yawned and looked at the clock on his bedside table while finishing his thought, his eyes widened at the late time, he opted to ignore the number of hours he’d just spent on the phone with someone he’d seen all day and would see again for most of the day tomorrow.

“Ouch,” Richie laughed at Eddie’s impossibly adorable yawn, “Getting tired of me, Eds?”

“I got tired of you years ago, Richard,” Eddie said and giggled when Richie audibly gasped in mock offense. “Listen, man, I still have to shower before I go to bed, you know I hate leaving the apartment with wet hair.”

“You’re gonna take a shower? Are you kidding, without me? Eds, I’m wounded,” Richie said into the phone, expecting a humorous groan and brief goodnight, but that’s not what he got.

Instead, Eddie laughed heartily and said, “Okay then, why don’t you come and join me?”

Eddie held his breath, surprised at the sudden boldness that has taken hold of him, and just as he’s about to abandon his previous statement and blame the late hour, Richie, having swallowed thickly before even comprehending what Eddie had said, replied with a small laugh, “Only if I get to lather your girly soap on you.” 

Eddie tried to come up with an excuse to leave the conversation before he could embarrass himself but before he could mutter anything, Richie, whose voice seemed to drop at least half an octave and had become filled with air, interrupted.  “Tell me more, Eds.”

“I’d let you do more than just that, Rich,” Eddie said through the shaking release of his held breath. A shiver went up the lower half of his back and shot through his shoulders at the thought of Richie’s hands sliding through his hair, rubbing in the peppermint scented suds and massaging his scalp. He vividly imagined Richie gripping a fistful of his brunette locks and pulling his soapy hair back into the steaming stream of water to wash the foam down his bow arched back and Richie’s pale arm as the taller man sucked marks into the expanse his neck. Eddie could feel the turnings of lust growing hot in his stomach.

“Tell me what you want me to do, Eddie,” Richie whispered into the phone and Eddie nervously rubbed his hand against the terry cloth fabric covering the tops of his thighs, imagining Richie’s constantly confident touch as he spoke. Eddie was beginning to forget how to breathe.

“I want you to touch me,” Eddie whispered, unsure of what to say as his hand rose to rub against the firmness in his soft shorts, fingertips moving to dance along the hem. “Can you make me feel good and clean, Richie?”

Eddie bit his lips together and physically smacked his palm to his forehead at the words that had tumbled from his mouth. Dumb. Beverly would be disappointed in the awkwardness he was allowing to spill out of him like word vomit.

This time it was Richie releasing a shaking breath as his free hand moved slowly from gripping his freshly washed sheets to toying with the silver button on his jeans, taking his time with the fastenings that were pressed against his growing erection. “Oh, Eds,” Richie says lowly into the phone, “I can make you feel better than you’ve ever felt before, but the things I want to do to you are far from clean.”

Flashes of Richie lying on his bed with his pants low on his hips, face flushed, eyes heavy with lust, and his hand rubbing against the crotch of his jeans shoot through Eddie’s head and he finally allows his slender fingers to dip into his shorts and briefs, coming into contact with the hot, velvety skin of his shaft. “Oh, g-god, Richie,” Eddie moans high pitched and needy as his fingers start to squeeze in waves around him, “I want you bad, Rich. I want- I w-want-.”

“You want me to make you feel good, baby?” Richie interrupts as he finally drags his fly down and pushes the denim pants down his lean thighs. “You want me to touch you all over, Eds, every last inch of your gorgeous skin?” Richie’s voice dropped to a low, almost unsure whisper, “Are you touching yourself, Eddie?”

The sudden breaching thought that Eddie is gasping as he touches himself while his best friend is on the other end of the phone threatens to bring him crashing to earth with fear. The thought terrifies him for the briefest of moments, until he hears Richie moaning softly on the other end of the line. More images spark in Eddie’s mind of Richie gripping his length in his pale hand, the dark hair travelling from the base of his prominent cock to his navel where his shirt has risen to expose his stomach. Heat pools heavily in Eddie’s stomach at the thought of Richie getting off to him just a couple of blocks over and he felt his abdomen contract as he neared completion. Throwing caution and fear to the curb and abandoning the taunting thoughts that could possibly bring him down from his high, Eddie moans into the phone, “Please, Richie.”

Richie’s skin had grown hot and red as he started to perspire with anticipation, he sucks in a breath and grips his hard on tightly, “Eds” he says, breath hitching, voice weak with lust and anxiety from his pressing question, “Can I come over?”

Eddie moves his hand from his length to grasp the soft sheets at his side with white knuckles as shivers violently racked his body at the loss of touch so close to climaxing. Eddie’s cock twitched against his belly as he sucked in a couple of deep breaths, attempting to calm himself down enough to answer Richie’s question.  He could practically hear Richie’s anxiety in the silence over the line.

With a stuttering exhale, Eddie whispered, “Yes.”

In high school, Eddie had been on the track team, ditching his inhaler once and for all, and worked his way up to setting the state of Maine’s high school records for the 200 meter straight dash and the two mile run. It took Eddie nine and a half minutes to run two miles. Now Richie, who had never joined any sports in high school, sprinted down two and a half miles of the ever awake streets of New York City and set a buzzing new record for the time it took for Richie to get to Eddie’s studio apartment. Richie was knocking on Eddie’s door twelve minutes after having hung up the phone in his apartment.

Eddie jumped when he heard the knocking; his fingers had been twisting together with anxiety as he waited for Richie to arrive and now that Richie was there, just on the other side of the door, they had stopped fidgeting and began slightly trembling. Eddie looked at himself in the large mirror he had hanging on the wall, he already looked fucked up; his hair sticking up in different directions, cheeks flushed, chest heaving under the soft white V-neck he wore, and his still erect cock straining against the fabric of his red shorts.

When he opened his apartment door, Richie looked just as wrecked as Eddie had imagined, and for a moment Eddie allowed his eyes to trail over Richie in his crumpled state against the doorframe, the taller man still panting from his run. When their eyes met, Richie swallowed thickly at the lust pooled in Eddie’s doe eyes and parted his thin lips, “I almost got hit by a taxi. I mean, I guess I kind of did, I was on the hood for a second. I think the guy started yelling at me but I didn’t stop.”

Eddie laughed and let the smile continue to tug at the corners of his mouth as he bit his lip and looked up shyly through his lashes, “Only you would get hit by a taxi and still run.”

“I think I was running towards something pretty important,” Richie whispered as he finally moved into Eddie’s personal space, letting the door softly swing shut behind them. Almost methodically, Eddie’s hands moved to hold the back of Richie’s neck and tangle in his dark curls as he picked Eddie up. Eddie allowed his strong, tanned thighs to wrap around Richie’s narrow hips before Richie set him down on the closest surface, which happened to be the counter that separates the kitchen and the rest of Eddie’s living space, crowding him almost instantly. “Eds,” Richie said upon an exhale.

Their foreheads rested together as Richie moved to stand between Eddie’s thighs, hands sliding up soft flesh before meeting the terrycloth of Eddie’s shorts and watching his fingertips disappear underneath the cuffs. Eddie, heart pounding violently within his chest, moved in until his nose bumped lightly against Richie’s freckled cheek and hesitated before slotting his lips against the slight roughness of Richie’s chapped ones.

Richie, whose heart was pounding in his ears and whose cock was straining furiously against his zipper, almost crumpled under the intensity of the chaste kiss and tried steadying his shaking hands by roughly groping Eddie’s upper thigh, hands almost lost entirely underneath the fabric of his shorts. Eddie gasped slightly into Richie’s mouth at the rough nature of his hands, which allowed Richie to smoothly slide their tongues together.

With soft fabric bunched against his slim wrists, Richie’s hands moved around to take handfuls of Eddie’s ass and pulled the smaller boy closer to him. Richie pulled back to whisper into Eddie’s ear, “I need you to tell me if it gets to be too much, Eds.”

Eddie nodded and Richie reattached his lips to the addicting flavour of strawberry Chapstick and Eddie Kaspbrak. Pulling Eddie’s hips forward again to meet his own, Richie groaned deeply into Eddie’s eager mouth as the tanned brunette pushed at Richie’s jacket, the denim bunching at his elbows before getting stuck. Eddie’s pelvis meeting his own sent electricity up Richie’s spine, causing the hairs on his body to stand tall and gooseflesh to rise from his pale skin. Pulling away from the kiss took all the physical self control Richie had over his body and then some, feeling cold as soon as his hands left Eddie’s body.

The view, to say the least, was worth it. Eddie’s hands were braced against the hard counter, shoulders slightly hunched, rising and falling with his panting breaths, his thighs were parted with his hard on trapped and prominent within his shorts, legs dangling off the edge of the counter. His mouth was red and swollen, lips glossed with Richie’s saliva, eyes glazed over with longing, and a blush stained his cheeks and chest. Richie had never seen anything quite as perfect.

“Holy fucking fuck,” Richie muttered before he tore his jacket off the rest of the way and he stripped his T-shirt from his body, causing the blush already on Eddie’s face and chest to deepen from pink to crimson. Following Richie’s lead, Eddie shyly lifted his V-neck over his head and threw it to the floor. Before he could push his overgrown bangs from his face Richie was pulling Eddie’s slight body off of the counter and carrying him towards the queen sized mattress that Eddie had resting on a box spring just below the bay window across the room.

“Richie,” Eddie moaned while tightening his legs around Richie’s slim waist and burying his face in his neck while one of his hands carded through Richie’s hair. It took Richie no less than three steps to trip over his previously discarded jacket, toppling forward and half landing on top of Eddie.

“Fuck, Eds,” Richie said, scrambling to get off of the shorter man and check for injuries, “I’m so sorry, I didn’t mea-”

Before Richie could ramble on Eddie pushed the trashmouth off of him, the lanky man landing on his back what felt like seconds before Eddie was climbing on top of him, knees spread on either side of Richie’s hips. Planting his hands on Richie’s chest, one over his ribs, and the other against his breastbone just above the other man’s racing heart; Eddie ground his hips down, plush rear meeting Richie’s desperate and clothed cock. “Bev taught me some wrestling tricks, and yeah,” Eddie stated without stopping his merciless grinding against a moaning Richie, whose hands had settled on Eddie taut thighs, “I will use them against you.”

Richie couldn’t help the whole hearted laughed that punched its way out of his chest, eyes squeezed shut and brows furrowed, “Be careful Eds, mental imagery of you and Bev rolling around together on the ground might just make me cream my jeans.”

Eddie scoffed and, almost thoughtlessly, reached forward and harshly twisted one of Richie’s pink nipples between his thumb and index finger. Richie screeched at the pleasure-pain that coursed through his body through the small peak and bucked his hips up against Eddie sharply, body arching off the ground at a backbreaking angle. Eddie pressed his bottom against Richie’s crotch to hold him down as he continued his slow torture. Experimentally, Eddie moved until both of his hands were placed over Richie’s pectorals, thumbs rubbing tortuously slow at the aroused buds, one slightly bruising from Eddie’s previous attack.

Richie, who was now moaning with abandon, felt the growing sensation of peaking building inside of him, beginning to squirm underneath Eddie and growing desperate for more. “Oh, god,” Richie moaned, his voice laced with need as Eddie’s small thumbs continued their stroking movements, “Eddie, I’m all for nipple play and cumming untouched, but I don’t wanna jizz my pants. Not tonight.”

The pleading tone in Richie’s voice left Eddie with a satisfied feeling deep in his gut, one he would have to address at a later date because as soon as Eddie let up, Richie all but picked him up and threw him onto the pillow top mattress. The bounce that came after his initial impact with the bed left Eddie in a fit of giggles that hadn’t died down by the time Richie had crawled on top of him and when he was finally able to calm himself, he looked up to see Richie staring at him with complete adoration. 

“Tell me I’m not dreaming, Eddie Spaghetti,” Richie whispered and his large hand settled on Eddies rouge cheek, thumb stroking the soft flesh there. Before Eddie could speak, as it seems to often be, Richie whispered again, a smirk taking over his face, “Nah, I couldn’t be. Dream Eddie is never this pretty.”

Eddie didn’t have the words, instead reaching down towards the waist of Richie’s jeans, nimble fingers toying with the button until it popped open, exposing the fly of the jeans and the ever-thickening trail of hair that lead from Richie’s navel to his cock. With one hand Eddie, torturously slow, dragged the zipper of Richie’s jeans down, almost leaving the man over him exposed, with the other he pulled Richie in by the back of his neck for another chaste kiss. 

“Please, Richie,” Eddie whispered as Richie kissed from his mouth and down his sharp jaw, hands pushing languidly at the denim at Richie’s hips, “Don’t make me wait any longer.”

Richie nodded against Eddie’s skin, mouth leaving small red marks in its wake as he travelled down Eddie’s exposed chest and worshipped the familiar skin he’d never had the liberty of touching. Eddie arched towards Richie’s mouth and whispered small pleads into the air as Richie’s mouth reached the hem of his shorts, teeth biting at the material. “Let me see you, Eds,” Richie moaned and Eddie nodded, pleads increasing in volume.

“Richie,” Eddie thoughtlessly continued to nod, eyes shut and hands pulling at the soft fabric of his pale bed sheets. “Please touch me.”

Richie’s hands gripped the red fabric and started slowly tugging the shorts down Eddie’s sculpted, hairless legs, kissing the newly revealed skin of Eddie’s hip. Once Eddie’s cock was free, resting upwards against his stomach, Richie pulled Eddie’s shorts the rest of the way off and discarded them without concern of their landing point. Without a moment’s hesitation, Richie took Eddie’s length in his hand and placed his mouth along the side, kissing the tender flesh. “Eds?” Richie started, receiving a broken moan from the man above him, “I wanna suck your cock.”

“Fuck,” Eddie yelled when Richie’s tongue flattened itself against Eddie’s member and dragged itself to the tip where pre-cum was pearling and dripping in rivers. The salty taste of Eddie left Richie desperate, mouth encasing the head and swallowing the shaft down his throat. Eddie impulsively bucked up, hand flying into Richie’s curls and his brows knitting together as he lifted his head to watch Richie’s mouth experimentally engulf his cock.

Continuing to gently buck into Richie’s mouth, Eddie felt his stomach heating up at the feeling of Richie’s slightly crooked teeth scraping against the delicate skin of his cock. Blindly, Richie reached towards the night stand placed beside Eddie’s bed, wrapped his fingers around the knob of the small drawer, pulling it open and grabbing the bottle of lube that resided there. The hand that had been wrapped around the hairless base of Eddie’s cock moved to pour lubricant along the long fingers of Richie’s other hand, once satisfied Richie tossed it to the side and listened the bottle clatter to the floor. “Christ, Richie,” Eddie said as his bucking started to grow reckless and choppy, pleasure coursing through his shaking body.

Eddie roughly pulled Richie’s head away from his crotch by his curls just as his fingers started exploring Eddie’s puckered and desperate entrance. The overwhelming sensation of Richie’s perfectly filthy mouth and the breaching feeling of being stretched open left Eddie with a tight knot of pleasure in his stomach that was all too close to coming undone. Richie immediately tensed and froze every part of his body that touched Eddie and started to shake with fear that he had done something wrong. Eddie felt Richie’s rigid body before he saw the worry in his magnified eyes. 

“Are you okay?” Richie asked, lips swollen and coated with spit.

Eddie nodded and Richie visibly relaxed but didn’t continue his exploration of the naked man’s sensitive hole and Eddie felt the tension in his stomach from his impending orgasm leave him, sheepishly Eddie whispered, “I was going to cum.”

The blush that covered Eddie’s body darkened and Richie, keeping intense eye contact with Eddie, allowed his sheathed finger, already two knuckles deep, to curl and twist within the warmth that was Eddie.

“That's kind of the point, Spaghetti,” Richie smirked before lowering his head to pepper kisses and hickies over Eddie’s tanlined thighs, fingers slowly working their way in and out of Eddie’s tight body.

Eddie moaned and clutched the bed sheet, pulling the taut fabric from the corners of the mattress. As Richie added fingers to his relentless attack on Eddie’s entrance, Richie felt his heart begin to speed up in anticipation.

It's taken them upwards of a decade to get to this point. Years of pining had lead to the moment in time where Richie Tozier would brutally fuck Eddie open with his astonishingly long fingers. Richie occupied his mouth by continuing to suck at the head of Eddie’s abused cock, drool cascading down his shaft and causing Eddie’s skin to erupt with goosebumps. “Richie,” Eddie gasped, white knuckling his sheets, “Fuck, Richie, just fuck me. Please. Oh god.”

Richie pulled away from Eddie until their bodies no longer touched. The smaller man, who laid before his best friend naked and shameless, arched his back off the bed while trying to follow Richie’s warmth. Staring down at Eddie, Richie began pushing the denim jeans off of his hips, slowly exposing the brightly patterned briefs underneath, and Eddie, who was sweaty and panting, began to shake with the desperation and anticipation he felt fluttering in his stomach. 

Once Richie had kicked off his shoes, socks, and jeans, he climbed over Eddie with a grace he hadn’t ever seen Richie possess. His glasses had started to slide down the bridge of his narrow nose and, unconsciously, Eddie reached up to pull them off of the man above him but before he could Richie grabbed his wrist. “I wanna be able to see you, Eds,” he whispered, hot breath fanning over Eddie’s features, “I’ve wanted you for so long.”

Eddie felt a lump forming in his throat and pulled Richie down to press their lips together, stopping any unwanted whimpers in his throat from escaping. The kiss grew and swelled until the pair were frantically feeling each other, as if scared the other would disappear. Eddie’s hands roamed the uncharted plains of Richie’s back, running over the horizontal stretch marks that formed from his junior year growth spurt that brought him from 5’6 to over 6 foot. His nimble fingers danced up the knobs of Richie’s spine and came down over his shoulder blades while dragging his nails against his pale skin. Richie trembled as Eddie’s fingers dipped under the elastic band of Richie’s briefs, digging into the soft flesh of his ass.

 Richie shot up, Eddie’s hands still on his hips, and slid his underwear down, shucking them off of his ankles with a slight kick. Eddie’s thumbs rubbed over the protruding bone of Richie’s hip and flicked his eyes down to Richie’s erection briefly before looking back up and into the towering man's eyes. Richie leaned forward again, placing his weight down on his bony elbows and pressing his nose against Eddie’s, the smaller mans hands moving to hold Richie’s biceps. Richie’s lips softly pressed against Eddie’s again before he pulled away. 

Eddie’s legs were spread wide as Richie adjusted above him, knees bending to cage Richie’s hips while he leaned up on his elbows to chase Richie’s mouth. “Eds,” Richie said as he brought his hips down to meet Eddie’s, their erections pressed together hotly against Eddie’s pelvis. “Eds, I don’t have a-“

“I don’t care. I want you inside me,” Eddie whimpered as Richie continued to grind their cocks together. “I’m clean.”

“Eds, are you sure?”

Eddie nodded frantically, bringing one hand up to Richie’s curls and pulling him forward. Their foreheads pressed together and Eddie swallowed thickly, “I’ve never wanted anyone but you, Rich. I need you.” 

Richie’s brows furrowed and brought his hand down to his manhood, wrapping his long fingers around the base and bringing his length to press down between the soft flesh of Eddie’s ass. The head of his cock pushed against the puckered hole and Eddie dropped down from his elbows to throw an arm over his eyes and use his free hand to grip the sheets that bunched below him. “I’m gonna fuck you so hard, Eds.”

“Rich,” Eddie moaned, tapping Richie’s arm that continued to rub the leaking head of his cock over Eddie’s entrance. “Richie, you threw the lube somewhere.”

“Fuck,” Richie shouted as he jumped off of Eddie, the smaller man giggling as Richie ran around the bed, his pale, and surprisingly supple, ass shaking as he moved. Once Richie found the lube, he ran back over to Eddie, a smile pulling at his lips as he listened to Eddie laugh. 

For a moment, Richie felt his heart ache at the sight of Eddie. A tangled mess in the sheets of his bed, with a million dollar smile spread across his face and all the fondness and love Richie could ever hope for in his gaze. Richie felt the image settle in his heart as he climbed back over Eddie. “You’re so beautiful, Eds,” he said, free hand moving to Eddie’s cheek, “Most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen.”

Richie moved until his hips rested between Eddie’s thighs and buried his face in the nape of the smaller boys neck. His mouth sucked at the sensitive skin there and, with his free hand, lubed his cock to the sound of Eddie moaning beneath him.

Pressing himself against Eddie’s entrance, Richie slowly pushed his cock into Eddie and began to tremble at the feeling of warmth enveloping him. “Fuck,” Eddie moaned as Richie’s cock stretched him out and he dug his nails into the skin of the taller mans shoulders. Richie’s mouth moved from Eddie’s neck up to his jaw, kissing and licking at the soft angles of his face. 

Once Richie’s hips rested against Eddie’s, his cock fully nestled inside of the smaller man, Richie looked up to meet Eddie’s eyes, hovering above him and putting his weight on his elbows. The pair stayed silent for a moment, Eddie’s hands roamed Richie’s collarbones and neck while Richie’s gripped the loose sheet beneath him.

Eddie let out a shaking breath before moving his hips slightly, feeling the drag of Richie’s cock and whimpering. “Fuck me, Richie.”

Without hesitating, Richie pulled his hips back almost completely before slamming them back against Eddie’s, shaking the man below him with the force of it. The eruption of pleasure punched a shout out of Eddie’s chest and his cock, which rested against his pale stomach, began leaking pre-cum in rivers that flowed across his ivory skin. 

“Fuck, Ed’s,” Richie moaned, eyes squeezing shut as rivets of pleasure traveled up his spine. “Jesus fucking Christ, you feel so fucking good. Holy shit.” 

Eddie moaned and pulled Richie’s chest down to meet his as their hips met rhythmically. The smaller man was panting and letting out whines as Richie slammed into him, moving his entire body up the mattress. Slowly, Eddie’s hands travelled up to grip Richie’s unruly and sweaty hair in a vice, jerking his head to the side to meet his lips in a slick and messy kiss.

The man above him moaned and, despite the sweat covering his skin, broke out in goosebumps at the tingling sensation fluttering down from where Eddie’s hands gripped him. Richie moved his mouth from Eddie’s and trailed open mouthed kisses along his jaw and down his neck before sucking a dark purple mark into the skin his collarbone rested beneath. The pinching feeling left Eddie squirming and tears began to pool in his dark eyes, the sensation becoming too much as Richie shifted and began hitting his prostate with every thrust of his hips.

“Right there, Richie,” he yelled out, back arching to chase the feeling. “Right there, fuck me.”

Richie laughed weakly against Eddie’s shoulder and slowed his hips, “That’s kind of what I’m doing, Eds.”

Eddie moaned, freely and slack-jawed, “You fuck me so good, Rich.”

“Yeah?” Richie groaned, moving to balance on his hands to look down at Eddie as he rocked his hips into the man below him. “You like how I fuck you, baby? Nice and deep?”

Eddie nodded his head as Richie’s hand moved to cup the side of his rouge race, thumb dipping into his mouth and grazing his tongue. “Keep going, Richie. Please,” he whispered as Richie thumb moved to trace his bruised lips, “I’m so close.”

Richie began to slam his cock harder into Eddie with a steady but brutal pace, slim hips meeting the soft sides of Eddie’s thighs as the smaller man held Richie close with his legs. “I want you to cum without me touching your dick, Eddie.”

Eddie whimpered, his cock twitched while his balls ached and tensed with the need to release. The coil in his stomach tightened and, as Richie’s cock continued to meet his prostate in a brutal attack, he felt his remaining resolve start to shake, working him up as moans and tears began to flow freely from him. “Shit, Richie. Shit, I love you so much. I love you so fucking much, keep fucking me. Please, please Rich.”

Richie’s eyes squeezed shut and he felt his composure snap, his hips stuttering and his cum starting to shoot out of him and into Eddie’s warmth. “Eds, Eds, Eds,” he moaned with each thrust, “Fuck, I love you, Eds. So fucking much.”

At the feeling of Richie’s warmth and the confession falling from his lips, Eddie squeezed his eyes shut and began to spill ropes of cum against his stomach and Richie’s chest, arching as Richie’s hips continued to work him through his orgasm.

The stars and lights behind Eddie’s eyes began to fade out as Richie collapsed against him and mouthed at his neck, moaning praise incoherently. Eddie’s legs, still wrapped around Richie, trapped the other man on top of him as his hands trailed along the angry red marks that marred his back.

The pair come down from their high, sweaty and sticky, wrapped in each other and the late night New York bliss. 

“Hey,” Richie whispered against his skin, still breathless, “I love you.”

Eddie felt more tears gently leak out of his eyes, hugging Richie closer to his body, “I love you, too.”

“Do you think,” Richie started, unsure of how to finish, he took a moment to think it over before huffing out a lazy laugh, “Do you think we should take that shower now?”

Eddie laughed below Richie, the force of his giggles jostling Richie. “Definitely.”

[girlsbtrs]

Me, Taylor, and The Search for Musical Legitimacy

Written by Lila Danielsen-Wong. Graphic by James Nida Grey.

As a child, whenever I took art classes, they were full of girls. I took group piano lessons with four other girls from my neighborhood. Any theatre I was involved in casted regardless of gender because there were never enough boys to fit a show. My middle school orchestra was about three quarters girls. 

It came as a shock that when I started getting involved in any songwriting I could do, I was suddenly in the minority. The few all-ages open mics I could go to were set up by dad-types and primarily populated by their friends of the same demographic. Teenage rock band-type boys dominated the non-classical learning spaces. 

However, this isn’t about them, this is about me, Lila Danielsen-Wong, a girl you’ve probably never heard of, and a girl you probably have heard of. Her name is Taylor Swift.

In 2010, I was a sixth-grade latchkey kid who spent a whole lot of time watching music videos on YouTube. Taylor Swift had just released her third studio album, Speak Now. Although many girls my age had been enchanted by Fearless, I was a pretentious and precocious preteen who was resistant to popular things, and was much more interested in niche Boston folk singer-songwriters like Antje Duvekot and Lori McKenna. 

However, niche Boston folk singer-songwriters don’t really make lots of YouTube content geared at middle schoolers, so the YouTube recommendations led me from my folk corner, to The Band Perry, to a song called White Horse. 

This snowballed into me listening to every Taylor Swift song on Youtube, to learning to play the piano chords to each of them, to writing complete songs of my own. Although I’d been writing simple piano melodies for years, songwriting now occupied every corner of my brain in nearly every free moment. When I learned Dear John, I decided it didn’t sound as good on piano, so I decided I needed to play it on guitar. I snuck into my mother’s room and learned to play an E chord. Soon, all I did was practice guitar and write songs. I wanted to write like she did, to articulate my feelings as well as she did, so precisely that everyone who listened understood not only me, but themselves better. However, I was not ready to publicly be someone who listened to Taylor Swift. Occasionally a YouTube comment would remove me from Taylor world and remind me “All of her fans are teenage girls.” At eleven I didn’t have the words or the context to understand why that so briskly discredited her. I knew it was an insult, and I knew it was an insult that worked. 

Flash forward two years, I was one of the youngest writers at a summer songwriter lab geared toward teens that one of the local theatres held yearly. Remember the rock boys I was talking about? This is when we became acquainted. We had just come back from writing songs in our randomly assigned groups. I had a hard time contributing, being a not-quite-high-schooler who’d never tried co-writing. One of the older girls was talking to the rock boys and I remember the conversation word for word. One of the rock boys asked her how the session went. She responded “eh, it was all girls,” to which the boy said “mine too, a lot of just-singer girls, you know cause of like, Taylor Swift.” They laughed and went on to complain about the younger songwriter girls who “don’t even know what they were doing.”

The conversation they were having, “Taylor Swift, a frivolous girly artist, is encouraging frivolous girls to come into our serious artist spaces and making them frivolous,” stuck with me through my teen years, and it wasn’t until recently that I started to understand. Taylor Swift found success because she could connect with girls like me, and I found my absolute favorite thing, my life calling, because of Taylor Swift; but Taylor Swift was being discredited because of me, and I was being discredited because of Taylor Swift. 

In older interviews, Taylor talks about how after the first time she went to Nashville to pitch herself to labels, she heard nothing. So she decided she needed to be different, and that’s when she started writing songs. At that moment, I realized that I was going to have to be (crucify me) “not like other girls” if I wanted to be taken seriously or have my ideas heard. The next day I came back to the young songwriters lab with my viola instead of my guitar, and managed to finesse my way into playing on nearly half the songs in the showcase. 

I don’t need a list of MLA cited sources to explain that art geared to girls and young women is dismissed. It is not a hot take to say that art created by young women is often instantly devalued. Taylor Swift wrote music about girls and young women for girls and young women, and she didn’t have much interest in being a sex symbol. Not that there’s anything wrong with female artists who use their sexuality, but Taylor Swift gave the men who gate-keep musical legitimacy nothing they wanted from her. Still, she wrote Speak Now with no co-writers before she was old enough to legally drink. She followed it up with Red, a diverse transition album that showed off her songwriting range. 1989 broke records, started an 80’s pop revival and seamlessly transitioned her into pop. Taylor Swift was everywhere, and yet I heard the same things echo. 

“She isn’t a real artist because she only writes about relationships.” 

“Her audience is just rabid fans who don’t know anything about real music.”

“She’s just a pop star who won’t stand the test of time.”

I spent the tail end of 2015 writing songs that emulated the rhythmic lyrics of 1989, but if anyone asked who my musical influences were, I’d often omit her and stick with niche Boston folk singer-songwriters. Me and my music were not going to get pegged as a naive and shallow fangirl.

It was my freshman year of college. I was at my local state school because I couldn’t really afford to go to any of the music programs I wanted to go to, when I ran into a friend who I knew from the songwriting labs. She invited me to the guitar club that she ran, and of course I went. Although the rock boys weren’t the majority numbers wise, they dominated the room. They asked about my beat up Guild guitar. Impressed with how I inherited it from a rocker guy my dad works with, they encouraged me to play a song. I pulled out my most meticulously crafted coming-of-age ballad, and let them hear my line, “we’re all cynics and romantics, it’s semiotics and semantics,” to which they responded “cute song.” 

With the release of Folklore and Evermore, there’s been a shift. After teaming up with Aaron Desner of the National and Bon Iver, Taylor got a bit of that male approval that she never really needed. Pitchfork commented, with surprise, that Folklore showed “some real signs of maturity.” Each album that an artist releases should probably be more mature than the last. Surprise at lyrical maturity from a 30-year-old songwriter who penned lines like “you come away with a great little story of a mess of a dreamer with the nerve to adore you” as a teen, comes across a little underhanded. 

Much of the next generation of musicians have been influenced by Taylor. Conan Grey’s TikTok hit Heather was based on Last Kiss. Rising it-girl Olivia Rodrigo is a hardcore fan. Even Phoebe Bridgers, who has been memed as “Taylor Swift for girls with crumbs in their beds” or “Taylor Swift for people whose parents still love each other” lists Taylor Swift as an influence. Although this new shift is one for Taylor Swift and not a change in the ingrained biases against women and their art, I wonder if it’s going to trickle down to the artists she influenced. 

My favorite line in Evermore, Swift’s latest studio album ft. sad dad rock, comes in the second verse of Coney Island. In this song, Matt Berninger of The National slides in and out, singing lines in less predictable blocks than in other Swift collaborations. Together, Swift and Berninger coo “do you miss the rogue who coaxed you into paradise and left you there/will you forgive my soul when you’re too wise to trust me and too old to care.” It’s funny to hear one of the world’s biggest superstars share a line so monumental to the album. I wonder if it’s because she knows how much louder it will be when a man is holding up the low ends. 

[lvmosity]

saviour | harry potter

pairing: harry potter x muggleborn!hufflepuff!reader

requested: yes! by @scoofpoof​ thank u ♡

request: can i request for a harry potter x muggleborn! hufflepuff! reader? reader doesnt know harry potter (gasp) but he does bc they grew up in the same place and he lowkey has a crush on her. reader still doesnt know harry potter in school n is one of the top students. harry knows that she is physically strong bc she plays muggle sports n knows self defense. shes kind but not a coward so one time harry asks for help when he is being bullied n she agrees... reluctantly. u can choose the ending. thanks!

genre: fluff maybe?

word count: 3.4k (ok i didnt expect this to be long)

warnings: bullying, mentions of blood & scars, reader is a badass

tags: @sadhwstudent​ 

credit to the owner of the gif

It had only been less than two months since the news of Lord Voldemort’s supposed return from the dead had spread throughout the Wizarding World and all Harry Potter could do was watch in frustration as people branded him as a liar and deranged. He had to thank the Ministry of Magic, primarily Minister Fudge who took full control of this and covered up what he thinks to be complete utter nonsense. It wasn’t a surprise to him really as the Ministry of Magic were, after all, corrupt and incompetent.

Whilst Harry lied in bed feeling extremely alone and lost during those months, he did not get a single letter from his two best friends; Ron and Hermione, despite their promises. He was starting to wonder if they too had turned blind and decided their friendship wasn’t worth it but after finally meeting up one day for an explanation, he realised it was done so under Dumbledore’s orders which made the situation worse.

Then the events that followed after made it harder to cope with. He had discovered an old alliance formed by Dumbledore during the First Wizarding World and that half of them had either died or were seriously harmed. His godfather Sirius Black had informed him that the Dark Lord was in search of a special object that he had no access to during his previous attack, along with the mysterious actions of his headteacher who has ignored him throughout the summer. The pressure was starting to be a heavy toll on him, and he was forced to deal with it.

Unfortunately, it also became a difficulty attending school. His classmates had started eyeing him weirdly, growing awfully distant with him to which they would immediately stop talking once Harry entered the room, and some of his other so-called-friends had removed him from their lives. It also couldn’t help that certain students, none other than Draco Malfoy and his goons, had begun to bully him more than ever, hitting him with nastier remarks as well as the constant push and shove tactics.

Harry felt isolated and disorientated, felt as if no one had truly believed the words that came out of his mouth, felt as if he was made a laughing stock to the Wizarding World, felt as if Voldemort had already won the battle and it had barely even started. Ron and Hermione tried their best to cheer him up and distract him from reality but it would end in failure each time.

He was starting to lose hope, starting to think he was better off buried twenty-feet deep under the dirt since he knew his parents were the only ones who wouldn’t judge him, starting to accept the many labels plastered on him; he was a liar. 

He just had spent a strenuous hour-long detention session with Professor Umbridge in the afternoon due to his apparent cheek talking as well as spitting ‘false’ information about the Dark Lord’s return. Feeling emotionally drained, Harry found himself making a bee-line to the school’s library to have a moment to himself, he wasn’t prepared to face his friends and hear their worries.

Night had already fallen meaning everyone would be asleep by now, the hallways had also gotten dark. Luckily enough, the candles were the only light source as it made it slightly easier for Harry to find his way through the darkness. However, he wasn’t able to see anything further down the hall and he worried that a prefect or a professor on duty might catch him and drag him back to the dorms. Although, he’d rather bump into them than Filch.

And soon enough, once he had turned a corner and heard hurried footsteps approaching up ahead in the darkness, he started to panic. It was only a matter of time before he suddenly collided into something hard and he desperately hoped it wasn’t any of the two. Waiting to hear a grumpy voice scold him, he hears a high-pitched squeal instead.

The unknown figure in front quickly whispers a ‘lumos’ before being blinded by a bright light. Harry hisses at the sudden flash and squints his eyes to see past it expecting to see Filch or a professor. To his surprise, he realised it was just a girl but it wasn’t just any ordinary girl, it was you.

You look at Harry with a bewildered look to which he returns. Opening your mouth to question his presence, your head quickly whips back and a small gasp escapes from your lips. Both of you hear another set of footsteps approaching from behind and you instantly grab Harry’s hand and rush off to find a room or a spot to hide in.

After locating a random closet room, you hastily pull Harry inside with you and shut the door from behind. Harry leans against the wall and starts to pant but you hush at him indicating to keep quiet. You whisper a ‘Filch’ to him and he nods in realisation but mentally facepalms seconds later because you couldn’t see it anyways since the room was completely dark.

Several minutes pass by and no sign of footsteps or a grouchy voice could be heard meaning the coast was clear. Relieved, you flick your wand and a light illuminates from the tip of it, now the room was bright enough to see.

You turn to Harry and smile at him sheepishly, feeling embarrassed for grabbing a stranger’s hand. “Sorry about dragging you here, I had to make sure the both of us didn’t get caught, you know how Filch is.”

Harry shakes his head rapidly, “It’s fine, I appreciate you looking out for me though.”

“No worries...” Your words falter at the end waiting for him to introduce himself as you had no knowledge of the boy standing in front of you.

“Harry, Harry Potter.”

“Ah, well,” The sides of your eyes crinkled as you give him a friendly smile. “You’re welcome Harry, Harry Potter.”

You burst into fits of giggles, finding your small joke amusing. A faint blush creeps onto his face and Harry’s head shifts to the side in an attempt to hide it as he found you it adorable. Fortunately for him, you didn’t notice it but you noticed something instead and it wasn’t fortunate for him.

“Harry! Your hand’s bleeding!” You gasp as you reach out to his hand, lifting it up to your face to inspect it.

Harry winces at the sight of the blood, his scab had cut open supposedly from the harsh grip you had on him whilst you were running away before. It was only a minor cut and it didn’t really bother Harry whilst you reacted differently by shrieking as if he had lost a hand.

“What happened to your hand? Why do you have a scab?” You eye it closely, “It looks recent too.”

Harry scratches the back of his head with his other hand and stays silent, unsure on how to explain it to you that Professor Umbridge is a vile, old bat that enchanted a special quill to cut into his skin when he uses it. He also didn’t want you to worry too much and snitch on her to Dumbledore in case you would get in trouble.

Slightly frowning at his choice to ignore your question, you gently push him back to sit on a random obstacle as you rustle inside your school robes only to pull out a tiny first-aid box and kneel in front of Harry. You pick up a wound spray out of it and spritz it on his cut causing Harry to hiss at the slight pain.

Mumbling a quiet ‘sorry’ to him, you continue to dab the blood away, taking extra care not to deepen it. Once you saw that the cut was cleaned up, you pick up a plaster and place it on his cut, softly smoothing it out so that it sticks on properly.

Harry watches you intently as you smile to yourself feeling proud at your work, even if it simply was just tending to your aid. Harry lifts his hands up and stares at the plaster, it was girly for his liking as it was coloured a pastel purple and had a daisy pattern. He found it cute.

"It’s my friends,” Harry looks back at you. “Mine recently ran out so my friend lent me a few since I’m always getting into fights.” You bite your lip and look at Harry, waiting for a shocked reaction from him, he probably doesn’t expect you to be a troublesome girl.

“B-but for a good reason! I only fight the bad guys, y’know the bullies and all.” You stutter, trying to defend yourself. You began to bring up past events of you arguing with a Slytherin called Pansy and how it ended badly, showing him old bruises on your arm that were close to fading away. You then bring up another fight including a boy from your house and rambled on about how he blamed you for messing up a potion to which you secretly made it blow up in his face out of annoyance.

As you continue to rant, you didn’t notice Harry’s gaze on you. He knew all about you and how you are as a person, he knew this because he’s observed you for years. Harry figured that you didn’t know him too well as you saw him as a stranger but to him, you weren’t.

The two of you grew up in the same neighbourhood, practically living across from each other but a few houses down. Both of you also attended the same school and shared most classes together, yet throughout the years you didn’t seem to acknowledge his presence until now. 

This wasn’t a surprise to Harry as he was a quiet child and didn’t get on with the others in his year. He stayed reserved, spending most of his time in school sitting inside class with his teacher during break and lunchtime watching other children have fun. The teacher wouldn’t pay much attention to Harry but it didn’t bother him as he was much interested in watching you play on the field outside.

He was captivated by you. You were different from most girls in his year; you loved playing muggle sports as you would constantly single-handedly beat the boys at football. Gradually, he developed a crush on you. He would consistently hear stories from his classmates of how you would beat up bullies and stand up to anyone making fun of your friends, or rather anyone. You were strong for your age, in fact, you were always strong. 

Growing up, the stories would get crazier and Harry got a chance to witness it come alive. During one chilly December night, he stumbled upon the scene of you being harassed by two men. Irritated by their actions, Harry was about to call them out but in a blink of an eye; you quickly grab one of their arms and twist it, launching him over your shoulder and slammed him down on the ground. 

The other man shrieked in horror and ran away, bumping into Harry’s shoulder in the process. Satisfied, you calmly walk away from the groaning man and left a speechless Harry. From that moment onwards, his admiration for you tripled.

Not only were you strong, but you were also freakishly intelligent. Scoring ‘Outstanding’ grades in most of your classes to which you were one of the top students in Hogwarts, always positioning a place higher than Hermione (she hated that). 

Harry was abruptly pulled out of his thoughts as he sees you with your head tilted to the side, staring at him with a raised eyebrow.

“Hey, I asked if you were alright. Something wrong?”

“Oh, er, n-no. I was just thinking about something.”

“Ah,” You place your chin in both the palm of your hands, looking up at Harry. “Say, you haven’t told me how you got that scab. What happened?”

Harry sighed. “Umbridge.”

You roll your eyes, “Of course, I’m not surprised.” You stand up and sit beside Harry who scooches a bit to the side to make space. Although, due to how small the obstacle you guys were sat on, your hands were lightly brushing up against each other and Harry tried his best to keep calm and fight the uncontrollable blush.

“I don’t know why I’ve only just realised this but you were the guy that was with Cedric the night he died, right?” Harry turns his head to you, startled at the sudden change of topic. “And you’re the one who keeps saying that the Dark Lord has returned.”

No answer. Harry stays silent, he had a feeling that you were also going to make fun of him, call him a liar and walk off; forever ignoring his existence. But instead, he hears a soft giggle.

“Don’t worry, I believe you.”

Harry shoots you a confused look, “What, really?”

“Yeah, why wouldn’t I?”

“It’s just... mostly everyone doesn’t, and they bully me for it.”

You frown at the new information before your face relaxes. “I’m so sorry that’s been happening to you Harry...” Harry shrugs and you couldn’t help but start to feel bad. “I wish it was different. If there was a way for me to help, I would--”

Harry’s head perks up; “Then help me.”

“What? Harry, I barely know you.”

“But I know you.”

“You don’t even know my name--”

“Y/N, your name is Y/N Y/LN.”

“Okay, now that’s weird.”

Harry shakes his head, “It’s a long story but we grew up in the same neighbourhood and attended the same primary school.”

“Oh,” That made sense. You were beginning to think you had a stalker. “How come I’ve only just met you today?” 

“Must be a magic spell I put on myself to be invisible.”

You playfully nudge him. “Oh shut up, a kid that young wouldn’t have been able to learn the spell for it yet.”

You both laugh and for a moment, Harry’s troubles had disappeared and he was enjoying the company, your company. As the laughter fades away, Harry turns back to staring at you and you question him, “What?”

“So, will you help me? With the bullying?” 

You bite your lip and ponder for a few minutes. An hour ago, he was just a stranger to you (and whoa, has it already been an hour?) yet it felt like you guys had already met before, like fate had brought him to you and perhaps offered you both to initiate a friendship or more. Wait, what were you thinking? You’ve only just met the guy!

Your eyes meet up with his once more and he gazes at you softly, waiting for an answer. You couldn’t help but feel even more bad for Harry. What were you going to say?

“Okay.”

●●●

The next morning had arrived and like always, Harry had to deal with the usual weird looks and whispers from the students that passed by him in the halls. Ron and Hermione would instantly glare at them to which they’d shut up and walk off but they knew they’d start whispering again once they turned their backs away.

Frustrated at her best friend’s ignorance, Hermione pulls Harry’s arm back causing the three of them to stop in their tracks. “Harry, aren’t you going to say or do something about this? You can’t just ignore them!”

Harry whips his arm out of her grasp causing Hermione to frown. “It’s nothing to worry about, I’ll be alright.”

“Alright?! How could you possibly feel alright when everyone is going around making a mockery of you--”

“Well, well, if it isn’t Potter.” The three of them turn to see Draco and his two other delinquent friends walk up to them, a smug look plastered across Draco’s face. “Finding it difficult these days, aren’t we?”

Ron scoffs, “Screw off Malfoy.” He nudges Harry and a mumbles a ‘let’s just go Harry.’ as him and Hermione start to walk away but Harry stays put.

“You know, I’m surprised you haven’t had enough and dropped dead just like poor Ceddy. You can both die as cowards.”

Harry steps closer, glowering at Draco. “Don’t you dare talk about Cedric like that.” 

Draco also steps closer, their foreheads almost touching each other as anger boils up within them. “Or what?” He shoves Harry back by the shoulders causing him to lose a bit of his balance but luckily enough Ron and Hermione were a few meters away to catch him in time.

Standing back up, he was about to lunge at Draco with his fists clenched up ready to land a punch but before he could, he was interrupted by shouting. 

“Hey Draco!”

Everyone turns around and sees you up behind Draco whose head wasn’t turned around in time. He didn’t get the chance to acknowledge who the person calling his name was as you punched him square in the face making him stumble back in pain and tripped on his feet, landing hard on his back. 

The rest stood there in horror and utter shock, their mouths slightly opened as their minds were trying to register what had just happened. Harry couldn’t believe it, you stood up for him. Were you watching the situation unfold?

Draco groans and looks up at you, pinching the sides of his nose bridge in an attempt to control his now bleeding nose. “What the fuck--”

“For your information blondie, Harry and Cedric aren’t cowards.” You slowly lean over Draco, peering down at him with narrowed eyes as you smirk. “And neither am I.” You wink and reached into your robes before throwing tissues at him, Draco watches them fall to the ground and your figure walks away, a pleased look on your face.

You make your way to the trio whose eyes were focused on you. You stand in front of Harry and hand him a potion. Harry, still speechless, stares at the unknown potion in his hands.

“It’s Murtlap Essence,” You lightly tap the sides of his hands that had his scab from last night. “Soak your hand with that, it’ll heal it.”

A warm smile appears on his face, the sides of his eyes crinkled making it more genuine. He was so thankful, he couldn’t seem to think of words to express his gratitude. For years, he was yearning for you to acknowledge his presence and the time finally came, better than what he expected it to turn out to be.

But his smile was enough for your heart to flutter and you started to notice his presence was stronger than ever before, you didn’t know why you hadn’t known him before but at least from now on; the image of his smile would burrow itself in your mind. This would be enough to want to know him more.

The two of you stare at each other for what seems like forever and the other two clear their throats, feeling awkward and unsure what to do or say. You and Harry switch back to reality and the realisation of staring at each other for a while makes you both flustered.

“Thank you Y/N, for everything. You didn’t need to punch Draco though,” Harry laughs and so did the rest of you.

You shake your head, “Nah, that pompous brat deserved it. I made sure to punch him hard so his father would hear about it.” You joked, giggling afterwards.

You faintly smile and point past the trio, indicating that you were going to take your leave. “I’ll see you soon Harry, yeah?” 

He nods and you stroll past him, but not even several meters away until Harry calls out for you: “Hogsmeade. This Saturday, would you come with--”

“Yes.”

You hastily answer back without stopping or glancing back but the both of you knew each one had supported an excited smile, both now looking forward to the date that was soon coming up.

As Harry watches your figure get smaller further down the hallways, he felt his admiration for you become extremely stronger. He saw you as his saviour, back then when he was young and vulnerable but managed to make his childhood happy despite the problems occurring in his household. He saw you as his saviour right now, where he is older and still vulnerable with the bullying and all, but once again, you made his life worthwhile; he didn’t have to worry as much anymore.

He has you by his side now, and he’ll do anything to protect you in return as an act of kindness. Just like what you did by defending him back then.

[reminiscing-writer]

Off The Deep End

-

Warnings: none for this chapter. Starts with fluff, ends with angst. But shits gonna hit the fan lmao

-

-

Spencer pulls up the comforters in an attempt to cover his ears from the horrendous alarm that was enveloping his room.

“Make it stop," he grumbled into an empty bed.

"It's been ringing for a little more than an hour now," he heard his favorite voice from the attached bathroom of their bedroom, "it's about time you woke up, don't you think?" She peeked through the doorway, rolling her eyes with a smile at her sleepy husband.

"I have a better idea," Spencer mumbled sleepily.

“Oh?”

"You come into bed with me." He propped himself onto his elbow, barely managing to pry his open. He glanced over to the digital alarm clock on the bedside table which read 6:15 in bright red luminescent lights.

He inhaled a sharp breath slowly sitting up in bed, stretching his arms widely. The covers fell back onto the bed as he stood up and made his way into the bathroom.

"Excuse me," Amelia looked at her husband from the mirror. He wrapped his arms around her waist from behind, resting his head on her shoulder. "Occupied." She giggles as he kisses the nape of her neck.

“Can you join me in the shower?” He asked his wife, looking at her big brown eyes through the mirror.

She turned to face him, smiling sweetly, “I'm already dressed, babe.” She puts on her earrings. “Sorry.” She apologized laughing at his disappointed sigh.

“You don't have to be at work ‘til 8. That's enough time for a second shower.” He rests his forehead against hers. He gives her a look up and down, thanking all the Gods he could think of for giving him an eidetic memory.

Her style was modest and girly. Floral prints and pastel colors. Lots of dresses and skirts (which she loved to twirl and spin in).

She quickly gives him a peck on his stubbly cheek, and squirms her way out his arms. “Get ready quickly. Breakfast will be ready in 20, and I would like to eat with you before I leave for the day.”

-

Pulling the buttons on his cardigan close, he rushed into the kitchen when he heard the bacon sizzle.

“Lia,” he grumbled, quickly stuffing a few raspberries in his mouth before she could stop him, “you spoil me.” He kisses her cheek.

She gives him a toothy, childlike grin.

She loved being appreciated and praised. It made her feel giddy. And, when she felt like that, she gave this adorable smile, which was one of the many things Spencer loved. Her two front teeth, and side canines displayed themself through her smiling lips.

“Should I do the omelette?” Spence offered as he set the table.

“I was thinking of no eggs today.” She answered, pouring pancake batter onto a second pan. When he gave her a questioning look- eggs being her favorite in the mornings- she just shrugged. “The smell has been setting my stomach off for a few days now.”

After he poured the duo Orange juice, the two quickly ate, cleaned, and rushed out the door. Both said their ‘I love you's’ and parted their separate ways.

-

Amelia, being a preschool teacher, had very simple hours. From 8am, until 2 in the afternoon. After that, she was home, and usually waiting for her husband's arrival.

Spencer didn't have such a predictable schedule. Sometimes he would come home around 5 in the afternoon. Other times, if he had paperwork he wanted to wrap up, he would stay late till nearly midnight. And, of course, if a case came up, he could be gone for days.

But, regardless, whatever his schedule may be for the day, he always, always, made sure Amelia was aware of it.

Today was no different. She got home from work at about half past two. She had a feeling in her stomach. One of much excitement. A part of her wanted to wait for Spencer to come home, but a bigger part wanted to find out before him. That way, she could surprise him if she was right. And, if she wasn't- well, at least, that way, he wouldn't be disappointed also.

She tossed her handbag onto the couch of her apartment, and made a beeline for the bathroom.

After a total of three minutes, she's on the bathroom floor, one hand over her mouth, her other hand holding tightly onto a plastic stick and her eyes flowing with tears.

Happy tears.

She couldn't believe her eyes. There it was. The pregnancy stick she had bought nearly four months ago, finally in her hands reading exactly what she was hoping for.

Two solid lines, screaming, that she was going to be a mother. She wanted to call Spence straight away. She wanted to scream it off the rooftops and to the world. She wanted to call her best friend, and her mother and sister-

But first, she obviously had to tell her husband. But, not like this. She couldn't say news like this over the phone. No, she had to surprise him.

So, that's exactly what she planned on doing. Very quickly, and very happily, she got to baking. And whisking, and piping. Soon enough, she had a dozen cupcakes baked and frosted.

Some pink with blue sprinkles, some blue with pink sprinkles. She had a few topped with candles which she planned to light right before Spence came home.

Which reminded her-

Amelia paused the music which was blasting from her cell phone, and dialed her significant other.

One ring, two ring , three r-

“Hello?” She heard his voice answer.

“Hey,” she smiled widely. “Still at work?”

He hummed, “Yeah, just about wrapped up. I should be home soon.”

Amelia's stomach was storming with butterflies and she was scared, thinking, somehow, that her husband would unveil her secret through the phone. “Hurry,” she bit her bottom lip, “I have a surprise for you.”

“Oh?” She heard his voice perk up, “Is this a family friendly surprise? Or, should I just come straight to the bedroom?” She could hear a smirk playing at his lips.

“Why don't you just hurry home, and you can see for yourself.” Amelia teased.

-

Amelia must've fallen asleep watching television, because, one moment, she's watching The Real Housewives reruns at 3 something, and the next, she's waking up feeling lost in sleep at almost midnight.

She feels discombobulated for a moment until she realizes she was waiting for her husband before her unplanned nap. Confused, she looks around her quiet, empty- very dark- apartment.

Sitting up on the coach, she grabs her phone and dials Spencer's phone, simultaneously turning on a nearby lamp.

He said he'd be home soon. She thought to herself. She swallowed hard, her sleep making her mouth dry.

No rings. Straight to voicemail.

Yawning, she goes to her contacts, and dials the next best number she can think of.

After two rings, she hears an all too familiar male voice. “Hey, Amelia.”

“Hey, Derek. Sorry for waking you.” She knew she didn't wake him. She could hear the television in the background.

“Nah, mama, it's cool. What, Boy Genius not letting you sleep?” He laughed. Amelia could hear Savannah asking Morgan who's phone call he was on so late at night.

“Um- actually, that's why I called. Boy Genius isn’t home yet.” Amelia stood from the spot she was in for the past few hours, “I spoke with him earlier, and he said he'd be home around 3-ish.” She fiddled with her fingers, and an uneasy feeling in her stomach.

She could feel the confusion on the other line as Morgan quickly made an excuse, “You know, he probably turned his phone off and didn't realize it. That man is basically a caveman when it comes to technology. You know that.” Amelia started pacing her living room floor, “Don't stress, I'll call him and figure out where he is.”

The worried wife bit her inner cheek, “Thanks, Derek. Again, sorry for bothering you and the missus.” She felt guilty.

“Nothing to apologize about, Kid. I'll figure out where Pretty Boy is, and when I do, I'll eat his ear off for you.” He snickered, making Amelia smile. “Get some sleep. He’ll be home soon.”

Amelia wasn't tight-knit with Spencer's team, but she were fairly close. They were his family after all. So, it felt natural having to call Derek Morgan when Spencer hadn't come home yet. He was basically Spence’s big brother.

Saying another round of ‘thank you’s and ‘sorry’s, Amelia hung up the phone. Turning to face her kitchen counters, she saw the cupcakes she had set out in wait for her husband. Pink and blue sweets littered the countertops.

She had an uneasy feeling stirring within her. Nothing like the one she had before taking the pregnancy test. No, that was excitement. This, what she was feeling now, was all dread. With every fiber within her, she felt a strong fear.

And rightfully so.

-

Spencer was on the nose when he said he was ‘just about wrapped up’. After the call with his wife, he was more excited than usual to get home.

Spence and Amelia had what an outsider would call, puppy love. They were young, and openly affectionate. They were in what seemed to be a never-ending honeymoon phase.

Being together for 5 years, three of those as married, Spencer still looked at Amelia as if she was the reason the sun shone every morning, and she was the one who put the stars in the sky.

This was no ‘puppy love’. This was an ‘old couple sitting on a porch watching the sunset love’.

Spencer quickly packed his satchel, and because he was the last to leave the office, shut off all the lights. Taking the elevator down and quickly jogging to his parked car, he throws his bag in the passenger seat, and just as he's about to get in himself, he hears a voice call for him.

“Um- excuse me?” The curly headed brunette looks up, over his shoulder. He sees a hunched over chubby man, standing at the entrance of the parking lot. The two men lock eyes, and the stranger shows Spence a paper map from the distance. “I was a little lost, and was hoping I could just get some directions.”

The FBI agent licked his lips, and stepped a few feet away from his vehicle. “Where did you need to go?”

The chubby man made a smile which was crooked, “Question seems to be where I am now.” He laughed.

Spencer walked closer to the man who opened up the map. “Well, you're here,” he pointed at a cross section between two streets.

“And, now, where would that leave the Fish Market on Drewry Street?” He asked Spencer.

“Well, on Drewry Street, for starters.” Spence gave half a laugh, locating the street on the map.

As he pointed with his index finger, he looked up and saw the man staring intently at him. A smile took place on his lips, and before Spencer could react, or ask any questions, he felt a blunt force hit the back of his head.

Stumbling back with a grunt, the tall helpful man grabbed the back of his head, feeling warm, what he assumed was blood. “What the- agh! Mmpph!” A hand covered the agent's mouth.

In lighting speed, a windowless van pulls up beside the men. The man behind Spencer pushes him into the back of the new vehicle. The once hunched, and seemingly harmless stranger, now stood taller than Spencer. He shut the door of the van, leaving a half conscious, fully confused Spencer lying in the back. He jumped into the passenger seat of the van, and the car sped off with a screech.

Leaving behind only a skid mark on the road, and Spencer's satchel in the car, the van was long gone before any bystanders could take notice.

[stina-is-a-punk-rocker]

‘always and forever, lara jean’: a bungled mess of my thoughts while watching the movie

Alright, cards on the table: I never finished reading the book. I got bored a couple of pages in, so I just read up the summary on Wikipedia and called it a day.

Not gonna lie, I expected better from the movies. I loved the first movie; it was cute, it was fun, it hit all the right places. The second movie was… eh. Jordan Fisher is cute, so that’s a plus.

And then we got the third movie; the final in the To All the Boys I’ve Loved Before trilogy.

And it was somehow even worse.

Maybe I’m exaggerating. Despite its shortcomings in the plot and character development-related departments (the fact that Lara Jean wrote addresses for letters she never meant to send is something that will bother me on my deathbed), the movies have their merits. They’re cutesy and charming and enjoyable, overall; movie-LJ is sweet and unashamedly a girly-girl, which is a refreshing change from the #NotLikeOtherGirls, pick-me girls and bruh girls we had in loads of other YA movies growing up. Peter’s pretty cute, too; he’s not a possessive freak like so many other love interests (The Kissing Booth, After, Anna and the French Kiss), and his and Lara Jean’s dynamic is cute, too. Not to mention- we finally have an Asian lead whose Asian-ness isn’t the whole focus of the story!

Again, maybe I’m being extra with all this. The series is, at its core, solely for entertainment purposes. Not every piece of media has to have an underlying message and you shouldn’t need to read between every goddamn line to find something worthy of enjoying. They’re certainly helpful for whiling away a couple of hours; perfect for bingeing with a pint of ice cream in hand, and all of this is in good fun.

Also, it goes without saying, but: spoilers ahead.

The film beings with Lara Jean scribbling a postcard to Peter while she’s in Korea with her family. The inclusion of that little snapshot of Asian culture made me so happy- seriously, fuck everyone who says diversity in media doesn’t matter. I’m not even Korean, and I was overjoyed at seeing a couple of scenes just from the same continent I’m on. The K-pop music in the background was a fun touch, too (although all Korean music isn’t K-pop, but that’s a rant for another day).

(Also: Blackpink has so many more suitable songs than Pretty Savage that go with the theme of the movies. Kill This Love in the second movie while Lara Jean is getting ready to go to her boyfriend’s match is bad enough- they’re supposed to be in love in that scene, goddammit.)

One thing that bothered me throughout the movies is how obviously non-Korean Lara Jean and Margot look. It’s like whoever chose the cast went for any random Asian- Lana’s Vietnamese and Janel Parrish is half-Chinese, and it’s so obvious. You seriously couldn’t find two Korean-Americans who even vaguely resembled each other so they could pass for sisters? The actresses do a stunning job and I don’t want to shit on them, but I just wish they didn’t go with the ‘all Asians look the same, what’s the difference?’ mindset.

Also, a nitpicky thing I’ve noticed in movies with characters who read a lot: no one holds their books up while they’re reading. Your arms start to cramp, which is why you keep your book in your lap while you’re reading, or you rest on your belly and hold the book in front of you. My spine and shoulders didn’t suffer years of torture as a chronic reader for you to include characters who hold their books up while reading.

A major gripe I have with Always and Forever, Lara Jean is how the characters are almost jarringly out of character- not from the books, but from the two previous movies, too. Lara Jean didn’t have much of a character to begin with, so I can’t say much about her (she dissed Oasis at one point; it’s okay for me to be mean to her), but the rest of them are either caricatures of themselves or just totally different people.

Movie Peter >>> Book Peter. He’s almost too perfect (except for the fact that he unironically loves The Fast and the Furious, which… ew), almost too much of the ideal boyfriend. Not that my perpetually single arse would know. How do boyfriends even work? I wouldn’t know the first thing to do with one; how often should you feed it? Do you need to take it on walks?

(In the notes I’ve written towards the end of the film, I’ve complained about Peter being immature and making Lara Jean feel bad about following her dream to go to NYU. He confuses me.)

Not to mention how distractingly adorable Noah Centineo is from some angles and under certain lighting conditions (other times, he reminds me of the human version of Shrek and that bothered me). King of weird Tweets and Instagram captions though he may be, he’s got a really nice smile, and his gravelly voice is both parts sexy and disturbing.

But I digress.

I’ll never forgive the directors for what they did to Kitty and Chris- two of my favorite characters, from both the books and the movies. Kitty’s annoying to the point of being borderline unlikeable- gone is the occasionally snarky comic relief we all came to love; in her place is an annoying brat whose every line comes out forced. Also, making soap is fun; fuck you, Kitty.

Chris is essentially Dixie D’Amelio’s character from that TikToker Grey’s Anatomy ripoff; the main character in One Direction fanfiction from 2012 who doesn’t want to go to the concert but her best friend gets a ticket for her so she can’t bail but Harry Styles sees her in the crowd and falls in love at first sight and 50k of mutual pining and misunderstandings late, they get together. She’s cynical and snarky and hates capitalism and consumerism and prom (because of course she does), but secretly, she’s into it (because of course she is). My guess is that she’s there to appease all the arseholes (including myself) who accused the characters of being too one-dimensional, but it seems too out of place in a movie that doesn’t have much plot to begin with.

I really, really hate how Lucas was done dirty- throughout every single movie. Of course, it’s Lara Jean’s story so not every side character has to be fully fleshed out- but you’d think three. entire. movies. would be enough to give Lucas a bigger role than the GBF and the token black guy for the diversity brownie points. Every single time Lucas shows up, it’s to push Lara Jean and Peter’s story forward. I would’ve liked to see a romance for him pushed forward instead one for Chris- especially because he says, at one point in a previous movie, that it’s hard to find other gay boys, so it would’ve been sweet to see him find love- and Chris’s character arc could’ve been focused on reconciling with Genevieve. Instead, we see the OG Reggie from Riverdale be the one to show Chris the bright side of monogamy, and Lucas gets a date to prom as an afterthought (another darkskin black dude, so no one thinks the film is racist).

Genevieve’s character in this movie gives me whiplash. Look, I’m all for girls supporting girls- healthy female relationships are something way too many YA movies lack- but she goes from bitch queen extraordinaire to friendly the moment the next scene calls for it. Her character isn’t consistent. A redemption arc should be executed cleanly and believably; you can’t have a character be a total prick one moment and then suddenly be, “Hey, if you get into NYU, let me know,” the next.

And Genevieve’s still an arsehole to Chris; at one point, in NYC, while they’re at the NYU campus grounds (I knew that Lara Jean was going to go to NYU the moment she saw all the banners; I fucking called it), Genevieve tells Chris, “University is for people who actually have a future,” and I recoiled. I’m not the nicest of people and yet that was going too far. Chris doesn’t hesitate to shoot back a, “You peaked in high school,”, but still. Y i k e s. You can’t convince me someone’s turned over a new leaf when they say something like that.

Lara Jean’s dad (forgot his name; gonna call him Dr. Covey) is as unremarkable as ever, and his new wife (forgot her name, too… Trisha? Trina? Eh, something like that) is… unsettling. I mean, I get that they’re all loved up and twitterpatted, but there’s something about all the smiling they’ve got going on that chills me to the bone.

Also, Trisha/Trina kinda looks like TikTok’s ThatVeganTeacher and it bothers me.

Another huge problem with this movie even being made is that the series never had enough plot to continue onto a trilogy. Lara Jean’s letters are what the plots of the first and second movies revolve around; the third only mentions them in passing. The final love letter from Peter was a cute callback, but there’s a massive continuity issue with the first two movies and this last one- both character and plot-wise.

Maybe I’m not articulating this clearly enough, so I’ll use an example: take Harry Potter, for example. Harry’s main goal throughout the series is defeating Voldemort. And it takes all seven books for him to get there, to finally achieve this.

Lara Jean’s goal in the first movie changes midway; from keeping up the façade with Peter so she can avoid the crap with the rest of the letters getting out, to making her fake relationship real. It forms a bridge with the second movie; the letter that went out to John Ambrose, and her dithering between Peter and perfection (I’m not sorry). But what does the third movie have to do with any of this?

There were way too many music montages. You couldn’t go five minutes without a random pop song playing in the background, and it was annoying as hell. Don’t Look Back in Anger was w a s t e d on this stupid film. The artsy scenery shots were even worse- no, I don’t give a fuck about the New York skyline or a bird’s eye view of whatever vehicle Lara Jean is in. A few shots of Seoul would’ve sufficed; the rest was overkill. This movie is way too damn long already (almost 2 entire hours!!!); cut out a couple of those. No one cares.

I thought they’d pull the whole Aladdin trope with character-A-keeps-trying-to-tell-character-B-the-truth-about-a-lie-B-believes-in-about-A-but-B-keeps-interrupting, but Lara Jean (typing her name out is annoying, why couldn’t she have a single name, like both of her sisters?) comes clean earlier than I expected. Peter’s reaction about LJ not getting into Stanford is… uncharacteristically mature? No “Why did you lie to me?”, no accusations, not an ounce of betrayal. Which I did not expect from a guy who’s a little bitch for the greater part of book one (I really don’t like Book Peter, in case you couldn’t tell). I know fuck-all about book three’s Peter, so I can’t tell if he really did adopt this mature, well-adjusted persona, or the movie did it to make Peter seem like less of a dick (like they did it with the sextape-that-wasn’t-a-sextape in the first installment).

On a sidenote, how do these main characters in YA books get into really good colleges with zero to no visible effort? These arseholes fuck around for the entirety of the story and have way too much going on to actually do schoolwork, but they waltz into Ivy Leagues at the end. And apparently, I’m not the only one bothered by this.

There’s something to be said about how the movies don’t really sexualize minors (characters who are minors, to be fair. None of the MCs look anything like teenagers), though. It’s almost weird to see them not getting drunk and partying and having sex all the time. Maybe that’s why Lara Jean trying to get her hand on Peter’s dick felt so stilted and awkward (I cringed so hard when she kept trying to touch him and he kept pushing her hand away, holy shit).

And the kissing. It’s to be expected from a romance film, but there was so. Much. Kissing.

The amount of product placements (… actually, I could count only two: Apple and a pair of Beats headphones Lara Jean puts on at one point, but the movie shoved so many iPhones in my face that I’m obligated to exaggerate) would’ve made anti-capitalist Chris mad.

I’m guessing this all takes place in a parallel universe, sans the coronavirus. Still, being in quarantine this past year and being socially awkward for every other one, it was agonizing seeing everyone so close together in NYC. When Peter kissed the ball (lol) (I have the sense of humor of a straight boy in middle school, don’t judge me) when him and Lara Jean go bowling, I had a visceral reaction. And what are the odds of Peter meeting his estranged dad at the very same bowling alley?

Speaking of Peter’s daddy issues (I’ve written “Hardin but diluted” in my notes; I watched this movie at, like, 1 AM; I’m not entirely sure what was going through my head at that point)- I hated how they guilt-tripped Peter into giving his father another chance. In the wise words of Hannah Montana, everybody makes mistakes- but leaving your wife and two kids for another woman is pretty far from a little oopsie on Mr. Kavinsky’s part. I don’t blame Peter for hating him, and I’m not in a place to judge whether Mr. Kavinsky (does he get a first name?) should be forgiven or not, but I feel like they let him off too easy and made Peter seem like a misunderstood teenager with anger issues for not accepting Mr. Kavinsky’s (crappy) apology at once.

And it adds nothing to the story at all; Mr. Kavinsky peaces out after having one (01) coffee with his firstborn, and he’s never seen again. If you’re going to introduce a subplot, make it tie into the main storyline- the very least you could do is make it an important enough part of the story to have more than 10 minutes of the run time. It makes no sense as to why they’d bring up Peter’s dad in this last film, when he’s already gone through two perfectly fine. I guess it was a ‘tying everything up’ part… even though no one cared.

Lara Jean’s handwriting is surprisingly ugly for someone who’s written that many love letters. And her styling took a definite nosedive; her outfits in the first movie were so effing cute, but now they’re just… meh.

There are so many conversations and lines that the writers must’ve thought sounded good enough for someone to type out the quote in curly font and slap it on a screenshot from the movie to post on Instagram, but when it comes to the actual delivery, they just sounded… weird.

Peter says one time near the beginning of the film, “You know what I’m looking forward to the most in college? Never having to say goodnight,” because he expects him and Lara Jean to get into the same college.

But I guess the word they should’ve used was ‘good-bye’, because this just makes him sound stupid.

At one point, Lara Jean asks Kitty how much Kitty’s gonna miss her when she goes off to college, and Kitty says, “A four.” Later on, she confesses, “I’m gonna miss you a twelve, Lara Jean,” and all I could think was, “But we’re endgame, Archie!”

(In hindsight, I probably shouldn’t let people know I’ve watched Riverdale; it lessons my credibility.)

Still, there remains some good to be found: all the baked goods looked very delicious and made me crave chocolate chip cookies. Peter wearing the socks Lara Jean gifted him at the beginning of the movie was a cute gesture, and Lara Jean giving Peter her teal hatbox? The one she kept her love letters in? Was so? Cute? Help?

And hey, it’s a cliché that’s been done to death, but I’m always a sucker for that part in movies where the girl walks down the stairs in a pretty dress with her hand on the banister and the boy turns around and his mouth falls open and all he can say is, “Wow,”- and this film did not disappoint! Not to mention how cute both Lara Jean’s and Chris’s prom dresses were.

Dr. Covey and Trisha/Trina’s wedding was cute, too- I struggled to decide whether Kitty wearing a necklace that says ‘feminist’ and a tux is a bit too on-the-nose, but I’ve decided that it’s nothing to get my knickers all in a twist about (for clarification: it’s not the necklace or the crossdressing that made me debate this; I just wish they didn’t make a big deal out of it- I wish they didn’t have Kitty and Lara Jean get into an argument about her not wearing a dress, if that makes sense?).

And the final letter- the one from Peter to Lara Jean- I ate that shit up; it was so, so, so cute.

In conclusion (why is it so easy for me to crank out 3k about my thoughts on a Netflix movie and yet when it comes to English Lit. at school, I’d stare at a blank sheet of foolscap for ages?), did I enjoy the movie? Not really. There were parts of it that I liked, but it was overall too boring and I kept wishing I’d watched the new SKZ Code episode instead every few minutes.

But that doesn’t mean that it was bad. I kinda feel a little sad, actually, now that Lara Jean and Peter’s story has come to a close; To All the Boys I’ve Loved Before, the first movie, is one of my favorites, and bitch though I might about them, the kinda grew on me… like an innocent plant, at first, but then like a fungus. Not a parasitic fungus, just not mutualistic, either… kind of like a commensal.

Maybe I should stop with the biology similes.

[urirealvibekiller]

˚   ．    ♡ this is an idol life ship for @thechoppersan​ !! sistah nana !! i love you loads and loads okay :(( <3 hope you enjoy this ehehe !! 

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˚   ．    ♡  your entertainment company 

˚   ．    ♡ your pre-debut days 

you were scouted at the sm town concert in brazil. you were a little bit skeptical and unsure at first because it is such a big decision and although they were offering you a place among their trainees, it wasn’t guaranteed that you would debut so you had your doubts but ultimately, you decided to give it a chance. 

of course there were some challenges at first such as the language barrier, rigorous training, and your naturally shy personality. but that didn’t last long; you made friends with fellow trainees and the place practically became your second home. 

you’re a fast learner and a hard-worker so you adjusted to everything and everyone was impressed with how fast you learned the language and how diligently you work everyday. 

you trained for four years before debuting. 

˚   ．    ♡ your position(s), role(s), and what you’re known for

you are the lead vocalist, lead dancer, and visual of the group. 

you’re also known as the quiet one of the group as well as the fake maknae. however, you’re the fake maknae because of how young you look and initially, fans mistake you as the maknae. your group members don’t ‘baby’ you or anything though. if anything they respect and adore you. 

you’re also known for your artistic abilities 

you’re playfully dubbed as snsd taeyeon’s sister (i had to, i’m sorry ahahah), which makes sense since you guys are from the same company and look similar.  

you actively participate in the songwriting process.

˚   ．    ♡ your group 

there are four members in the group, including you. 

your group was hyped both by the company and by fellow artists even before the actual debut. 

your group members (in order of age) includes:

soo-ah (’91-liner) is the oldest and the leader. she’s from seoul, korea and she trained for six years before debuting. she’s the main vocalist and lead rapper. she’s the official mom of the group and is known for her cute nagging. she’s a great leader and can be strict during practice or serious times but is also so loving and kind-hearted.

yume (’95-liner) is the main rapper and the face of the group. she’s japanese and is from osaka, japan. she’s the mood-maker and social butterfly of the group. she trained for five years before debuting. she’s actually one of your first friends when you first joined as a trainee. 

ella (‘98 liner) is the main dancer, sub-vocalist, and maknae. she’s korean but she lived in england for five years with her uncle’s family before moving back to seoul after passing the sm global auditions. she trained only for six months before debuting. she can speak english fluently. she’s the savage one of the group - definitely the ‘evil maknae’ but she also has the kindest and softest heart. extremely funny. she’s kind of a tsundere but she genuinely cares about others. she just shows it in her own way. 

your group has a very tight relationship and bond which contributes to your team work. you guys are basically sisters. you, soo-ah, and yume actually have been best-friends since your trainee days and they were your first friends. ella did join you guys the latest but you guys welcomed her with open arms and she fit right in and pretty much immediately feels at home with you guys. 

˚   ．    ♡ your group’s concept 

your group has a girly and innocent concept, similar to most songs done by apink (used to be my ult group omg i miss them). your debut song similar to nonono by apink and it quickly became a hit and became one of your most popular songs along with another title track which has a similar tune to mr.chu by apink. 

in the recent years, the girl-crush or darker concepts have become more popular so a lot of fans think that your group has a nostalgic feel and gives a taste of a more classic form of kpop with a modern twist which is absolutely loved by fans.  

˚   ．    ♡ your female best-friend 

hyuna || you and hyuna are an interesting duo, especially because you guys have a contrasting public image in a sense that she is known for her sexy image and you’re known for your innocent image. but you guys also have such a beautiful friendship and have more similarities than what is seen on the surface. 

you guys met at an award show where you guys met in the bathroom actually. you talked for a while and actually hit it off and ended up exchanging numbers and the friendship quickly blossomed from there. 

you guys are extremely supportive of each other and are each other’s biggest fans. she posts a lot of pictures of you guys together on her instagram. you guys even have also do instagram lives together, just talking and being yourselves which the fans love to watch and witness. 

˚   ．    ♡ your male best-friend

baekhyun || you guys are so similar yet so different and that’s what makes your friendship so precious. you help each other grow and become better versions of each other. 

you’re actually really good friends with all of exo through him; you’re especially close with chanyeol, kai, and sehun, you guys are basically a squad at this point. 

you have a lot of duet ballads together on sm station. 

some fans like to ship you guys but there is nothing but platonic love here. 

there are actually some funny rumors about you two. 

the funniest is that he’s only close to you because you look like taeyeon and he’s trying to replace her with you. :)) you, your group, baekhyun, exo, all sm artists, lee soo man, and the whole kpop industry finds it funny okay. it is very hilarious. 

˚   ．    ♡ your boyfriend

taeil || i mean you might be tired of being shipped with him at this point ajhsk YOU GUYS ARE JUST perfect. 

you guys have been pretty good friends since your pre-debut days. you become closer after being paired together for a couple cover song which was a special stage for inkigayo. 

working together with him and all for the performance, you guys bonded on a deeper level than you guys ever did before. you talked about really deep stuffs like your careers, your thoughts on certain issues in the industry, your plans for the future. 

since then you guys have been really close friends. 

as you gradually grow feelings for each other, you guys have this skinny love. everyone around you knows you and taeil have a connection that is more than just platonic and even both of you can feel it but you just didn’t really verbalize it. maybe because you have been friends for such a long time it was harder to admit romantic feelings. 

when he did finally ask you out, everyone was like not surprised but absolutely elated. 

you guys dated privately for a year before you decided to publicly announce the relationship on your first anniversary. 

the support from the fans is immense okay. you both quickly become the nation’s sweetheart couple. 

˚   ．    ♡ miscellaneous 

you also professionally pursue art as more than just a hobby. 

some of your drawings are featured at some of seoul’s art galleries. 

xuimin used to have a crush on you (again i had to oops) but he never said anything because it was around the time you still had the dating ban. but you guys are good friends now. 

you guys won the award for best new artist at MAMA. 

---------------------

thank you for requesting nana !! have a beautiful night sisturrr 

[haechanmochi]

You Were Beautiful

Alright OGs, last one before my small ass hiatus.

Requested by @leefelex

Pairing: Seo Changbin X Fem!Reader

Genre: Fluff-ish? In which (y/n) is a major tomboy with a mad crush on Binnie

-

Crop-hoodies and tight leggings were never your first choice of clothing. Heck, they were never even your last choice.

So called 'tomboys' always wore them. You preferred actual tomboy clothing over the ones you were wearing right now. Like big sweatpants and a baggy shirt with the name of a rock band on it.

So why were you going out of your comfort zone today?

For the longest time, as long as you could remember, you've had a major crush on your friend's brother, Changbin. He'd always hang around when you were over at her place and you've gamed together a couple of times as well - online of course.

Seeming as how he liked to talk to you about such things, you had a small glimpse of hope that maybe he returned the feelings you had for him in the slightest.

You had kept your secret in check, hidden deep under your baggy shirts - just like your boobs were, but had an unfortunate slip-up to your friend during your last sleepover.

Jinnie was Changbin's little sister and practically your best friend since what? Middle-school maybe?

The polar difference between the two of you often had mislead people into thinking you were a lesbian couple, with you being the more male-biased partner, but thankfully, she never let that bother her the way you thought it would.

While being a big fan of bikinis and short skirts, Jinnie was never one to cower under pressure or embarrassment. So when her exes, who were mostly senior boys at high school, would tease her - not bullying exactly - about your assumed relationship, she would stand tall, proud and bite back,

"At least she can make me finish in bed".

You almost lost it that day, breaking into a fit of laughter when the two of you left the building hand in hand.

Despite your mutual interest in men and not women, Jinnie and you had fooled around a few times after drunk parties - but that was in college when she wanted to see for herself what the 'lesbian life' - as she put it, had in store.

So back to your crop hoodie and tight black leggings with three white stripes running down each side - why?

A couple of days after your slip-up to Jinnie, she had started investigating into her brother more to find out if he had anything mutual going on for you. She was extremely supportive of it - like you expected her to be.

Then she broke down the 411 of what she had overheard during a conversation between Changbin and one of his friends that was almost equally as attractive (in you eyes nobody could overpower Changbin), called Jisung.

The two had been bickering and teasing each other while playing an intense game of mortal combat when Changbin had mentioned you - really loud too.

Then Jisung had teased him about it - all, "falling for her and her gaming skills", to which Changbin had responded,

"I see her more as a gaming bestie, you feel me? Cause I dunno, her being my sister's best friend might make it awkward".

You replayed the apparent words that left Jinnie's mouth.

So he sees you as a dude? That's just great.

Not even a week had gone by since the eavesdropping and Changbin had sent you an e-mail.

What are we? In the 60s?

You opened it up to reveal an attachment - an invitation to a gaming tournament where you could meet all the YouTubers who game. So like comic-con with gaming.

At first you typed in an entire paragraph, apologizing for not being able to make it due to 'other plans' but you reconsidered before hitting send.

If a gamer is what he saw you as, then you could impress him with something he likes about you.

However, the cargo pants and big t-shirts weren't gonna cut it - you considered this invitation as more of a date and decided, for once in your damn life, to dress up for the boy. He deserved it after having to see you only hidden under layers of clothing for so many years.

So here you were, seated quietly on Jin's bed while she swiped on your mascara for you after you accidently pricked your eye with the bristles the first time.

Nothing too major had been changed, other than mascara, and after careful consideration, some highlight. No foundation and no eyeshadow or even lipstick. You settled for your green-apple chapstick instead.

You wouldn't say it was a life-changing moment for you because it's not like you were looking at someone new, but when you glimpsed at the mirror a few seconds later, you felt pretty.

That's something you haven't felt in a while.

All the insecurities that you had hidden under your big clothing were stripped away to reveal, what you felt were, your flaws.

"I'd smash", Jin nodded in approval with a duck face while walking in circles around you, "also who knew you had such a nice butt".

You groaned in embarrassment when she poked at your buttcheek.

"Okay okay, now go get your man sis", she cheered on quietly while I descended the stairs to the living room where Changbin was on the couch, scrolling mindlessly through his phone.

"We're all ready", you almost whisper, shyly and he looks up from the screen.

To say in the least, Changbin was surprised - when he had asked you to accompany him to GAME-CON, he hadn't expected a full on snack to give him a slight arousal.

He has assumed you would wear your usual baggy stuff, which he low-key found adorable - but unlike you, would never let it slip up to anybody.

"Hey, you" he chuckled nervously attempting to establish a more comfortable aura, "Have you seen (y/n) anywhere?" He joked and you socked his shoulder lightly.

"Alright then, let's get it"

~•

GAME-CON had been an absolute pleasure, especially with fucking Seo Changbin next to you, brushing his arm against yours occasionally or pulling you by the hand to go see something exciting.

The thrill of having the boy right there enhanced the experience so much more than it originally was.

While Changbin was in the restroom, you watched a cute couple playing together. The girl kept squealing whenever there was blood on the small computer screen and she'd cling onto the boy's arm.

Is this what men want?

When Changbin came back, only one gaming booth was available so you agreed to take turns trying out the newest unreleased updates.

The first game he played was the new and improved Tomb Raider.

To be honest, it was quite more violent than you expected so you started to try out the things that the other girl had been doing.

You scooched closer to Changbin and his determined face showed no sign of him noticing, even though the boy was burning with desire underneath his demeanour.

During the storyline in which Lara Croft cuts the neck of an enemy and blood spurts out, you throw away your pride and let out an awkward mid-high pitch squeal and tug of Changbin's arm ever so lightly.

He gives you an odd look but continues to watch.

After this repeats a few times, Changbin exits the game and takes your hand, leading you towards the closest Cafeteria.

"Okay what's up?" He asks you suspiciously and you feel yourself heat up.

"Nothing is up, I just felt a little frightened is all".

Changbin scoffed, not in a mean way, and stated proudly,

"(Y/n), you play Mortal Combat and Splinter Cell every weekend with me and you don't even flinch, what's going on?"

You let out a defeated sigh and confess,

"I just- wanted you to stop seeing me as just a dude-girl and more of a girl who is -"

"Girly?" He cut you off.

You looked down at the marble table-top, tracing your fingers silently a long the cracked pattern.

Changbin stops your ever-wandering hands when he cups them in his relatively larger ones.

"Tell me, (y/n), despite me appreciating how boyish you are - and maybe teasing you about how tough you look when you play, have I ever, asked you to stop doing it? Have I ever asked you to stop being macho and just so chill?"

You shook your head no and he sighed, bringing one hand up to lift your chin.

"And you know why I haven't? Because I like how interesting you are. I like how intense you are with gaming. I like that you don't really put an effort into your clothes but still end up looking so cute".

You blushed at his comment, expecting it to stop there but he kept going.

"You were always beautiful and you still are - and frankly, if you were a boy, you'd be the cutest one out there".

You were currently dumbfounded as you tried to find the right sentence fragments to piece together in a situation as such.

"I like who you are, completely as you are - and even though this outfit, out of the blue, made me feel things, I like everything about you, whether it's with clothes or without", he said smirking at the last part and you did the only thing that came to mind, swatting his hand away playfully.

"Let's get something to eat, I'm starving", you broke the obligatory silence and Changbin appreciated you reverting back to your original self.

"Whatever you want, boyfriend", he chuckled as you gasped in playful offence, almost tackling him to the ground then and there.

Maybe nothing was official as of yet and maybe that was okay.

[momo-de-avis]

I am going to tell a story I have never, not once, told anyone before. Not any of my friends, not my family, not my boyfriend, not even my therapist, who would be the one person to benefit from this. I have no idea why, there isn’t a single logical reason, except maybe because I’ve been holding on to it for over fifteen years.

between the ages of 8 and 13 was when my life was at the lowest point. It’s not something that became clear to me until very recently, to be honest. 

When I was 7, I had a best friend. Let’s call her R. R and I were little shits. We were mischievous little creatures. We got into detention constantly, the teachers kept sending our parents cards, and we didn’t care. R was bossy as hell too, but I didn’t mind. I like her. She loved barbies. Her mom bought her a barbie wedding dress one day and this bitch showed up at school--this was kindergarten--with that wedding dress to marry a boy because she decided to. That’s the sort of person R was. People thought she was too bossy but I didn’t, and I didn’t care. We were little shits together.

Then one day, in second grade, out of the fucking blue, she didn’t show up. I remember that morning the director came into our classroom and told us she had bad news. She said R had left the school and wasn’t coming back, that her parents had decided she shouldn’t attend our school any longer, but never told us why. This was right in the middle of the school year and I was shaken. Literally overnight, I lost my best friend. She called over our house several times after that, but never gave me an explanation--and in any way, I was fucking 7. I couldn’t understand, but didn’t care. She still invited me to her birthday parties, or to go play with her at the S. João park, or to spend time at the beach, and that was cool for me. But I had lost my one friend at school.

Then came third grade, the moment my life spiralled out of control.

In third grade, we had a new kid. Let’s call her M. Nobody liked M, and I didn’t understand why. I didn’t care. M got close to me. I don’t remember how we started talking, but I remember vividly seeing this lonely kid shunned by others and thinking that wasn’t right, that I understood her. So I became her friend.

All around me, the other kids kept telling me M wasn’t to be trusted. That she was a bitch. I didn’t understand why---she was nice to me, she liked hanging out with me, and I just thought she was lonely. I was all she had.

And then, people started to get to know M. And she made more friends. And out of the blue, M turned every single kid on me. And she embarked on a journey to antagonize me that would last until my eighth grade.

This kid liked to be at the centre, it became clear to me. She wanted the attention. As soon as someone else grabbed her attention, she stopped talking to me. Her attitude changed: she was rude, dismissive. She mocked me in front of others, called me names, called me a baby, called this and that. And I was completely lost. I couldn’t explain it. The very people who had called her a bitch behind her back to me were now her friends, and she kept antagonizing me. throughout the rest of the school year, until fourth grade, I lost whatever friend I had. I don’t think I spent another recess in the company of anyone at all until I was 14.

A person like this, of course, became nothing short of an absolute demon when puberty hit. Youse, M wasn’t just suddenly popular by acting mean and being a bully. She was the hot one as well. She had porcelain white skin, she blushed easily, she had these light eyes---I forgot the colour---and her body developed faster than any other girl. At 12, she had boobs, and she used that to her advantage. In 2002, she would show up in school wearing those keds shoes that were popular at the time, and she wore piggy-tails and chewed gum. She knew she was hot and she used that to her benefit. She played truth or dare with everyone, she kissed every boy in the class, she let the guys grope her boobs because she had them bigger than all of us. She would brag about this too.

Every bad boy there was, she got them sniffing after her ass. There was P, who dated her---12 years later, I learn he is a drug addict and lost everything. There was that other dude, I think they called him Bubba, who kept getting into detention (never heard from him again). And there was a group of bad boys in my clss who just adored how bold she was.

It should be noted this was private school. In private school, there’s no mercy. These kids will be out there fucking at 13 and binge drinking at 14, and if you don’t do it, you’re bound to be ostracized. Which is what happened to me. Because the only kid who befriended this bitch when she was 8 had a really soft spot for making me hurt. She made me cry, alone and humiliated, in front of everyone in class so often I dead ass lost count. She made fun of everything about me when it came to being a girl---no boobs, no puberty, no this, no that, look at me, I’m such a girly girl, and you’re a little boy. One day, she even put fucking sand in my hair! Because she really, truly knew no limit.

But this was private school. In private school, especially when you attend it for nine fucking years, teachers don’t care. I’ve seen more bullying in that school---including teachers---than I saw any sort of violence in public school. The teachers thought I was a whiney baby. Because, you see, my brother attended that school, and he was a genius---a smart student, good grades, hot boy who had all the girls after him and he had tons of friends. So why wasn’t I up his league? It had to be my fault.

And this bitch M, she was an above average student as well. And she never got in trouble. She always got away with it. There was a charm to her---she was an alpha sort of person. She got whatever she wanted out everyone, and she mostly used her femininty and her body to obtain what she wanted of her friends.

And the teachers really believed I was at fault. I remember this one time, so vividly it still baffles me, when I was upset about something but I was keeping it to myself. When I sat at my desk, I took my jacket off and flung it over my shoulder, and the zipper hit the desk. The desks weren’t made of wood, but plastic, so the bang was super loud and hollow. My teacher---who had so often praised my brother and then tell my mother ‘I just don’t get why she’s not at his level’---stopped the entire class and decided to teach me a lesson. He said, and I still remember the words (and their tone): “You think you’re always the victim, don’t you? You think you are always the poor one being victimized, but look at you, you can’t even act normally.”

Everyone was staring back at me, I was burning up and I had no idea what I had just done. I held my tears as best as I could and just.... bore with the rest of the day.

And as the years progressed, M just got a lot more demonic. I have sincerely forgotten most of it, I think for my sake and not from my decision per se, but the scar it left just hasn’t healed yet. I remember her yelling at everyone in school I had lice. I remember someone inviting me to their house for a sleepover, and because I was so fucking deprived of humanity I went, only for that person to share details with her and have M profess before school stupid shit I forgot about me. “She wears kiddies’ underwear!” I was terrified of getting undressed in the locker room because M loved pointing out the littlest things that only rich kids in private school care about. One of them once complained that the fact that my socks were worn out at the sole was ‘disgusting’ and I was, obviously, just poor. Because in private school, ‘poor’ is an insult.

I remember crying myself to sleep every single night on our trip to Serra da Estrela. I remember M driving me to the edge so violently I stormed out in the middle of an event---I don’t even remember why---with tears in my eyes, barely breathing.

And I remember what the teachers told me: stop being a baby, stop playing the victim, you always think you’re right, don’t you?

And here’s where my life got even better.

My mom was at her absolue worst. It was precisely in this moment that she had decided that, whatever happened in her life, I was going to pay for it. And my brother signed up for it as her usual accomplice.

At 12 years old, I was barely anorexic. I wasn’t eating, I was crying myself to sleep and I had ‘mysterious bruises all over my body’ that not a fucking adult in my life dared to wonder why they were there. I didn’t study. I didn’t read a book. I didn’t live. I didn’t breathe at all. Every time I pick one of my diaries up and read the words of that 12 year old kid, I cry at the thought of just how miserably isolated I was. Everything that should have been a red flag is there, so crudely, so raw, I just... Cannot understand how every single adult in my life missed it: suicide ideation, begging God for things to change, begging God to get M out of my life. Every single entry starts with either ‘another shit day at school’ or ‘something different happened’. Every story is a story of betrayal: someone I thought was my friend, again, sided with M to humiliate me in public. Mom is losing her mind again. Mom is pissed. Mom is unbearable.

I developed serious rage issues pretty young. I used to throw dolls and water bottles at the walls only to swallow a scream. I punched doors and one day broke the computer screen with a single punch. I ruined my things because I got suddenly so blinded by rage that, if I didn’t let it go, I would suffocate to death. And I just hit whatever was there. I grabbed things and I crushed them with my hands. I punched my legs and knees because at least nobody could see it and it didn’t make a noise and the pain just felt relieving. I just had to let that rage out there, and the entire universe had come together to let me know that, whatever was happening, it was my fault. My whole fucking fault. And I believed it.

My dad was never really around for complicated reasons I shouldn’t get into, but there was a time, between 11 and 13, when he tried to connect. We went skiing together twice. I visited him in his home (Porto) often.

And my mom hated my dad. And I was the one who was going to pay for it.

She would go on a ramble, throwing a tantrum like a child. The day before I would leave for a trip, she would find every lose end possible to humiliate me. She would barge into my room and yell ‘you are a pig, look at the pigsty you live in’. I had to pack my bags completely alone. If I asked for help, she wouldn’t help me. ‘I’m too busy’, ‘leave me alone’, ‘I work 8 hours a day and come to home to deal with this---how do you not know how to pack a bag?’ I was also 11, 12, 13.

Every single time I visited my dad, this happened. My mom would go on a rage---never in front of my brother---and she would make sure I was going to pay for being the daughter of this man she hated. She humiliated me so often i shrivelled and winced and hid away. I started finding solutions to problems on my own. I never sought her help for anything. 

So, between this and M’s doings, I was a few steps below depressed. And not ONE adult noticed. Not a single teacher at school---in fact, they were convinced of the opposite. Because you see, I am the daughter of an important man in our country. He is rich and he has connections and everyone knows him. And that was enough for people to see that I never had problems---I had everything! Being called an ungrateful spoiled child was a common thing. One time, I accidentally burned the top shelf of my bookcase---it was superficial only, but it left a black mark on the wood. My mom wouldn’t have it. She lost her mind, and whenever I did something ‘wrong’, she would call my brother.

My brother, very calmly, looked me in the eye and said “Mom could have you kicked out if she wanted, do you know why? Because this bookcase isn’t yours, it’s hers. It belongs to her. So she could sue you for property damage.” Yes, a 23 year old told his 13 year old sister that her mom would sue her for accidentally burning a shelf superficially. And my mom never did a thing about it either. She stood and watched.

I had no one for years. My mom isolated me from my family and the world. When I wanted to join extracurricular activities, she forbade me---because I’m a girl, and I had to be controlled. Every single summer, I spent it isolated. Every school break, I spent inside my home. My grandmother, who very much admitted to my face she preferred my brother over me, considered me a nuisance. My mother NEVER played with me. And my brother... Boy, he was the major bully.

When I was 12, one time, my report card came home. I was nearly failing two classes---math and portuguese. I only excelled in languages---I was always top student in english and above average in french. But math, I sucked at it. And even though I was already developing a taste for writing, I sucked at portuguese. But I had a 2 out of 5 at both.

My brother screamed at me for hours. He asked me how was I not ashamed. He asked me what was I doing.

He then grabbed me by my wrist and dragged me across the house, shoved me into my room and said: You are not leaving this room until school starts again, and all you are going to do is study. And then, he slammed the door shut and locked it.

At night, my grandmother came in behind his back to bring me a plate of food. I wasn’t even allowed to eat, but I guess she felt sorry.

The very next day, he had forgotten about it. And I didn’t see him for weeks.

Shortly after, my mom---for some FUCKING reason---decided I should visit a therapist. Except she never told me it was a therapist. She said it was a ‘special doctor’. When I got there, I was wondering what the fuck kind of doctor talked.

He pulled out this whiteboard and drew three stick figures: a woman, a man and a child. He said: imagine this is a family, and they’re going out on a cruise. What do you think happens to them?

I did what any kid in my position would: shrugged and looked away. It took me about ten minutes to say: they all died.

When I told this to my therapist—you know, the one I actually picked for myself—she explained it was merely a child’s way of getting out of there fast. But for years I wondered—how the fuck do you let a kid get away with this?

Thoughts of death to me were so constant there is fucking murder ideation in my diaries. I wrote down with red pens in a confusing, horrifying handwriting ‘I hope my mom dies’ because I couldn’t deal with this any longer. And I knew my mom was reading them too! Because I caught her stealing my diary from my desk more than once.

At thirteen, I was on the brink of just... I don’t know. Looking back, I swear to God I don’t know how I survived. It was around this time that I started getting head-first into writing. I wrote and wrote and wrote on every margin of every textbook, on my notebooks and every scrap of paper I could find. I carried a notebook with me where I wrote poems—I remember the other kids trying to steal it from me to read it.

And my teachers thought I was distracted. My grades kept plummeting, my attention span was that of an ant on LSD and all I did with any hint of passion was write. And every single person tried to steal that from me—because it was distracting.

Eight grade is pretty much erased from my mind. That was probably when a lot more was done than single punches, but I don’t recall. I do believe a part of me just deleted everything for survival, but the diaries I kept are evidence of it was like, because everything remained: M was still a bitch, harassing me, chasing after me, humiliating me, and my mom was still unbearable, still screaming at me, still complaining about every single thing I did, and my brother still called me stupid and dumb and said I was a shame and all that—it’s all in the back of my head. I do know that was when the infamous Serra da Estrela episode happened—what’s more ironic is that I actually have pictures. I took a fucking film camera with me and had those pictures developed.

And then... It all stopped.

In ninth grade, M left. Apparently, her parents were done with her shit. And things changed. The kids who had ganged up on me suddenly realized I was... Kind of cool. I started hanging out with those who had once been M’s friends and they... Liked me. I changed the way I looked and turned into a fucking star of a 2000s music video, and people followed my trend? They actually saw me as human, and a cool one at that.

All it took was for one fucking demon to go away.

The last I heard of that bitch, she was sent to the north of the country by her parents because she couldn’t stop fucking up. And also, she is living in Poland now, and guess what she is? Just guess what this fucking demonic human being does in her life?

Animals’ Rights Activist. Because of fucking course you would, you fucking cow.

This is a period of my life I try not to think about. It’s there and it’s almost untouched by me. It’s locked in a box that I don’t let many access to. But it defined me in the worst way possible. It fucking broke me to pieces, and whatever good things I had about myself, they were plucked away. When I look back, I can’t hold my tears because I was surrounded by adults who should have seen the signs, because they were so fucking clear, but they all willingly ignored them. As if it wasn’t enough to be ganged on by one girl who apparently made it her life mission to ruin my life, the teachers signed up for it too. Not because she was that good—but because I was the daughter of an important man, and the sister of a former brilliant student.

And I just so happened to be a fucking screw-up in everything I did as well.

Rebuilding my confidence from that is nearly impossible on most days. I am 29 today and I still wince at the thought of those things. I still haven’t recovered from this shit.

Every time I refuse to hang out with my family and have to bear with people’s judgement because family is family, I am sent back to that day when my brother dragged me across the house like an animal after calling me stupid and dumb and lazy and locking me in my room. I’m sent back to the time when I was 6 years old and he forced me to sit down at the kitchen table with the book open to do my homework after I told him I didn’t understand it and expected for the teacher to explain. But he wouldn’t have it. He would force me to stay up until 1AM, and wouldn’t let me go to bed until I finished. And when that wasn’t enough, he’d beat me. Just slaps after slaps to the back of my head until I cried and begged my mom to do something—but she just watched. Every time I am sent back to those days when my mom called me pig and treated me like shit simply because I dared to have a dad. I am sent to those days when she joined my brother in humiliating me.

And these days, she stands next to my boyfriend, telling funny stories about me when I was a kid, speaking proudly of just how I was always an artist! Smiling and full of cheers while my brother casually holds a glass of wine, leans into my boyfriend and says: the box of shame is opening up!, uh-oh, Ana, are you ready?—all of them, acting like normal people, acting like what I ever was mattered to them in the least, like this was how it always was—and I looked at them and I think: how fucking dare you?

I am 29 and still undoing the mess you caused, and you smile and toast with wine glasses like nothing happened. No matter how much you lie to others, there is a stack of diaries from a terrified 11, 12, 13 year old, wishing on every page that she would die, begging God to kill everyone around her because she couldn’t deal with it any longer, just wishing to go to sleep and never wake up again. A girl who was underweight because she refused to eat, who slept ten hours a day and who cried herself to sleep every night, a girl who punched walls and herself and who broke thins because no one fucking listened to me until I showed it in your beloved materialistic things turning up broken—alone, isolated, with not a single friend, developing mental issues that would prevail for the rest of her life. And these people cheer and make fun jokes about how much I used to scream, or how creative I always was as a kid.

Go to fucking hell every single one of you.

I’m sorry about this. I don’t know what went through my head, but here you have it. It’s seven in the morning and I can’t sleep, so I figured I’d put this to good use, considering I somehow couldn’t stop thinking about it.

And M, wherever you are, I swear to fucking God I will break your fucking nose one day, you slimy bitch.

One thing I have to concede: M gave up her innocence willingly in the name of popularity. She was an object at every guy’s hands. She let boys do to her whatever they wanted just to be popular. And that has got to be the saddest thing ever. I never cared about that because I considered myself ugly—not because I believed it, but because everyone told me—even though I enjoyed pampering myself. But whenever I saw sticking her tongue into everyone’s mouth or taking her bra off in front of other kids, that was too much for me. And when I look back, I realize she made herself an object for the sake of popularity.

And my god, that was so sad that I truly pity her.