it makes me want to put on leggings and a sweater

you know what would have been great? if ron got sorted into slytherin.

imagine– we have this kid on the train, the first friend harry meets, with his corned beef sandwiches and smudged nose. ron is eleven years old and he wants gryffindor, because he’s a weasley and that’s what always happens. but it doesn’t happen.

what a way to redeem slytherin house– or, god, at least complicate it. because ron is petty. he is mean and sharp and ambitious and jealous– and he is loyal to the ends of the earth. he is all those things, and he is and always has been good.

potter becomes before weasley in the alphabet, so harry says not slytherin please and gets told might as well be gryffindor. percy and fred and george are all sitting there in red and gold, ruffling the already-ruffled hair of the boy who lived, smug, and then ron sits down and the hat spits out slytherin!

c'mon it’d be fun. just imagine–

  • the weasleys freaking out– but even that first christmas molly sends him a sweater in beautiful green and silver.

  • snape taking points from gryffindor when ron breaks rules or mouths off. “i’m in your house.” “hm, couldn’t tell which weasley it was…” /drifts away

  • sitting with harry in potions and in flying– whatever classes they happen to share. meeting up to study. scarfing down their breakfasts at separate tables so they can go hang out in the empty classrooms before the day starts. hermione reads while they play exploding snap.
    • the trio signing up for all the same electives third year. this friendship being something they earn and work for; not just the one that looked easiest. (not to bash canon ron&harry, the bros to end all bros, but by putting this very obvious obstacle between them– it makes it that much clearer to the reader that this is a love worth fighting for, because they’re fighting for it).
    • ron being jealous that harry and hermione get to share this house, this home, these hours, while he’s stuck with malfoy and parkinson and goyle– because that would eat him up some days, some months, this insecure kid who’s been the last at everything all his life. this kid who always leaves and always comes back.

  • ron, who constantly compares himself to his brothers– not as smart, not as popular, not as good. one more nail in that coffin, here, yeah? he’s not a prefect, not a quidditch star, not a troublemaker– and even when he becomes those things, someone else has always gotten there first
    • well, i guess he got to this house first at least

  • ron still snaps at snape in potions, after hermione’s been ignored three times, “you know, sir, i think hermione might know the answer.” he still pulls the bars off harry’s window with a stolen, flying car. he still shows harry around the burrow shyly, not knowing what a wonder a warm home is. he still stands up in the shrieking shack as best as he can with a broken leg and tells a mass murderer that if he wants harry he’ll have to go through him first. 
    • ron weasley is a lot of things, but one of them is absolutely a true friend.

  • in their second year:
    • when everyone calls harry the heir, they eye ron at his side and sniff.
    • when hermione lays petrified in the medical ward, ron sits at her side and reads her homework assignments aloud and thinks my house this was my house
    • when ron hugs ginny’s damp, shaking frame after the chamber, ron says sorry and sorry and are you okay and i’m so sorry and ginny calls him an idiot.

  • the trio spends more time in the library with hermione, since ron can’t come to gryffindor tower to study, and homework remains a thing that has to happen. fred and george constantly try to sneak him into the tower anyway. 
    • “c'mon, ronnykins, you belong here, you deserve it, no one’s gonna fuss, it’s your BIRTHRIGHT,” and ron fusses and rolls his eyes at them
    • and then in fourth year in one of those periods where he’s not talking to harry and harry’s not talking to him– he just snaps at the twins
      • because it’s not, alright?
      • not his birthright, not his house, and maybe no one would fuss if he snuck in, maybe no one would care, and that makes it worse not better, because then he’s just that weasley who should’ve been gryffindor
      • and isn’t
    • (and harry overhears this caterwauling, feels his heart fall to his toes, and goes and awkwardly asks ron if he wants to go a few laps on his firebolt). 
    • (because, god, harry-the-chosen-one, harry-in-the-cupboard-under-the-stairs, harry-who’ll-save-us-all– he knows what it’s like to have should have beens on your shoulders, and he knows what it’s like to not be wanted).

  • ron cheers for gryffindor during quidditch matches in those first few years, and sits with hagrid and hermione and neville. harry’s seeker, and fred and george are beaters, and ginny becomes chaser eventually, and honestly screw the slytherin team. they have each and every one of them said disparaging things about ron’s mother.
    • harry and hermione badger ron into trying out for keeper fourth year; he and harry have been practicing on the quidditch pitch because its a non-library-shaped place to hang out where both of them are allowed. ron makes the slytherin roster, and malfoy grudgingly provides ron a team broom after the captain chews him out for a bit.
      • “he may be a weasley, but he’s our keeper, don’t you want to win, draco”
    • but the sort of things they spit in the locker room, the words the players hiss or snigger, the slurs that come easy to their tongues– ron would like to say that he considered just walking out of the cesspit, but instead he snipes and sasses and shouts and sometimes tries to spell slugs at the worst of them. 
      • it doesn’t do much, that one irritated voice of protest– except that it does. and he’s got a new (hand-me-down) wand, after the gilderoy fiasco, so the slugs even come out the right end.
    • fred gives him a black eye with a bludger one time (though ron does manage to block the quaffle) and molly sends a howler to gryffindor table with the morning post. (“RON DID YOU TATTLE”) (“IT WAS CLEARLY PERCY, FRED, SIT DOWN”)
      • (the weasleys often have family conversations across the great hall, with hufflepuffs and ravenclaws covering their ears long-sufferingly between them)

  • in the lake, it’s still ron hanging there in the water, still and bloated. it’s still harry’s heart that stutters in his chest, for all it’s just a game, just a game, just a game, right?

  • ron listens hard and tries to talk himself out of fist fights, all that next year in the slytherin common room as they read aloud rita skeeter articles.

  • when hermione calls dumbledore’s army to its first session in that pub, there are green scarves in that crowd– ron and one of the beaters who ron’s gotten to help glare to rest of the slytherin quidditch team into submission.

  • ron beats draco to being prefect (i think i remember it was dumbledore and not mcgonagall who seemed to award prefect status– snape doesn ’t get a say).
    • percy is SO PROUD, as usual, but so are fred and george. “did you see the little malfoy git? green with shame, my god.”

  • when harry has the dream about sirius, ron isn’t there to wake. but when draco’s pulled out of bed to be a professional bully– er, i mean inquisitorial squad member– ron follows at a careful distance and curses draco from behind. 
    • they ride thestrals over london. harry finds the prophecy and ron thinks about the sorts of things that get decided at your birth.  
    • sirius black was a son of slytherin who had a lion living in his chest that he couldn’t hide away. 
    • ron was meant to be gryffindor, and through a haze of injury and fear he watches sirius die just out of harry’s reach.

  • just imagine: ron with his temper and his sharp words and his fierce loyalty. ron who looks into the mirror of erised and sees house cups and prefect badges and ambitions earned– he could belong in slytherin. there is nothing wrong with wanting things, and he wants them so bad.

  • there are so many reasons to fight a war, and so many ways. harry and his sacrifices, his loving resignation. hermione’s good right hook and bottomless bag of supplies. luna, brilliant and a bit batty. lee jordan’s radio and mcgonagall’s burning patience and brittle, certain bones.

  • just imagine: when the last battle comes, there is a slytherin on the field who is not snape.

  • when draco and his parents walk away, in that last battle, ron–
    • who slept in the same dormitory as the boy for six years
    • who heard draco’s nightmares and saw him paling and desperate all sixth year
    • who is as pureblooded as lucius’s spoiled whelp
    • who remembers grimacing at the thought of squibs
    • who has known magic all his life
    • who spotted draco penning letters home to his mother every sunday and hiding them when the other boys could see–
    • ron sees them going.
      • he sounds no alarms. he says no farewells.
      • he turns back to his friends, and his fight, and lets them be.

  • just imagine: when harry kneels on the train platform and his second son asks him “but what if i get sorted slytherin, dad?” harry can say, “the bravest man i ever knew was in slytherin house. whatever you are, wherever you go, we’re going to be so proud of you." 
    • and they can both gaze over to where ron is squawking beside his daughter’s trolley of luggage because crookshanks (who will live to be forty eight million years old) has latched onto his shins with a violent fondness.
Imagine Andrew as a teacher

(bear with me I gotta get this out of my head) 

-Okay so he doesn’t go continue to play exy 

-But becomes a criminology teacher at Palmetto (cos Nora said that was his major) 

-With glasses and all that shit. His students have a love/hate relation with him. To put it mildly, he’s a complete ass but I love him 

-also Professor Minyard

-And mostly after the first class itself the students realise this- You do not talk when he’s talking or giving a lecture unless you want a perfectly aimed chalk thrown at your head or a “Get the fuck out or shut the fuck up you choose Avery” shouted your way 

-And you do not dare to make fun of his height. He will fucking annihilate you. “You think I’m smol small Johnson, have you seen your dick?“ 

-And yes he remembers your name and grade that fucker with his eidetic memory 

-And his students are terrified of him but have a lot of respect for this teacher who doesn’t look like an exy fan but occasionally shows up in jerseys or sweatshirts with “Josten” written at the back 

-So. One day this student has some work and goes to Andrew’s tiny office Imagine his shock and awe when he sees Neil Josten, Olympic winner, exy champion in all his glory sitting on Andrew’s chair with his feet crossed on the table 

-“You’re not Andrew.”, Neil says. 

-“I had some questions for mid-” And Andrew enters. 

-He stops when he sees Neil “Feet off my table. Now.” the disrespect ffs Neil  And the student’s just like do?? you?? know?? who?? that?? is??

-And the student looks over at Neil who btw still has his feet on the table and the student thinks “Does he have a death wish?” Neil breaks the silence and says 

-“I thought I’d surprise you.”       

“Leave”, comes the reply 

-And for a moment they both only have eyes for each other, leaving the poor sophomore highly uncomfortable 

 -And then thankfully, before he/she becomes a murder witness, Neil takes his legs off the table and smiles. Neil Josten smiles. This was the man who ripped Riko Moriyama apart. Who fought tooth and nail to get to where he was. Who’s mouth has gotten him into trouble more times than he could count. He fucking smiles. 

-And Neil walks past Andrew, almost brushing his shoulder while leaving and Andrew grips his forearm

-And everything but the two of them melts away. Nothing else fucking matters as if it ever did in the first place 

-And for a second, a fucking fraction of a second, Andrew’s expression shifts 

-And the student is in shock cos obvs Andrew teaches like he does everything else. With stone cold apathy and a tiny bit of disgust but still fucking brilliant. 

-And then Andrew says, “I’ll see you at home.” And then the student notices the “Minyard” on Neil’s sweater (Renee gave it to Andrew as a birthday present when she learned to knit and Neil wears it all the damn time) and understanding seeps into place. Neil leaves after a bit more staring. 

-And Andrew looks at his student and quirks an eyebrow.  

-By the next day the whole school knows that their criminology teacher is dating Neil Josten. 

-After that my poor baby Andrew has to keep repeating in the first class of every freshman year “If you want to be killed in your sleep or want to fail this class, try asking for an autograph. Oh and get used to death threats, you are going to major in fucking criminology after all.

Got7 reaction to you being awake *smuttish*

Request:  Got7 reaction to you walking out of their room in nothing but a tee shirt and sexy underwear when the other boys are there and saying sleepily “Oppa come to bed” please?


Jaebum

When he sees you standing at the frame of the door mouthing to him “Come to bed”, Jaebum being an angel will smile at you, tell you to go cuddle yourself in bed, give him five minutes to make the boys go to their homes and he’ll come to cuddle you. He told you before going after you. Stopping you in the middle, he kissed the temple of your neck and whispered. “Do this one more time, and I’m gonna back fire at you. They saw something reserved for my eyes.” he said as he cupped your pussy. “That’s mine and I don’t like others to see it. Clear? Go to bed, I’ll deal with you tomorrow, Love.”

Jinyoung

“Oppa, it’s too loud. Please just come to bed.” you’ll say, tiredly rubbing your eyes with the end of Jinyoungs’ dress shirt you were wearing. The dress shirt lifted a little and the end of the Victori Secret panties, his favourite ones, was on display. “Baby, you are really tired.” he’ll say, before taking you in his arms bridial style and tugging you to sleep with the background of “AWWWWS” coming from Got7 themselves. When in reality, when he tugged you, instead of “Good night”, you received “I saw them. And don’t think they didn’t. Not quite the right decision to tease me in front of the others, don’t you think?”

Youngjae

When he saw you coming out of the room and asking him to come to bed, in nothing but a hoodie and the dark red lace panties showing under the hoodie, Youngjae was quick to kick the boys out, making excuses like “She can’t sleep from the noise.” when the truth was that he couldn’t sleep because of the sudden visit and was very thankful for your interference. And playful. Because of the panties.

Jackson

When a small voice interuppted the boys saying “Oppa, please come to bed. I don’t want to be alone.” Jackson saw his beautiful angel in one of his t-shirts hair braided and the ribbon of the lace pink thong he gave you, could be seen from the shirt. He forgot about those around him and smiled softly. Standing up from the couch, he’ll accompany you to the floor where no one could hear you two. A light-feather kiss will fall on your forehead and Jackson will ask you to wait just a little bit.

Mark

You were a little bratty creature indeed. So when the “emergency meeting” took more than 30 minutes, you got upest. They ruined the perfect mood for a wild night. You kknew Mark was nice to Got7 and he wouldn’t kick them out without a little push. So you put on his grey hoodie and steped in the living room. “Oppa, I know t’s probably really important, but can’t it wait until tomorrow?” Mark smiled, knowingly and was quick to add “Boys,she’s right. Let’s do this tomorrow. It’s really late.” Soon they were all out and Marks eyes were full of lust. “So, where were we?”

BamBam

Bam Bam was angry when the boys ringed on the door bell. He was just about to eat his dessert, you, for being a good boy, and Got7 decided to show up. He couldn’t just kick them out, so he told you he’ll come back soon and if he doesn’t you to just fall asleep. Which actually happend. You fell asleep, the boys came in and asked where you were. BamBam told them you’re sleeping and everyone went to check, which caused you to wake up. “Oppa, are you coming back to bed?” “Soon baby, I’m coming soon. Sleep for now.”

Yugyeom

If the others couldn’t kick the boys out, Yugyeom couldn’t for sure. The maknae was having actually a pretty good time, but he was worrying if his kitten, you, will be alright to sleep alone, to which the answer was “No.” Soon you were standing in the middle of the living room wearing only his sweater and black panties with a ribbon that fell down your legs and was clearly visible. And then the voice of an angel came “Oppa, come to bed please!” and Yugyeom became as hard as a fucking rock. Yugyeom called you and told you to lie on his legs to sleep if you want and you obligated fast and happy. Yugyeom’s lap was your throne after all. When you layed your head you heared a hushed whisper “ What I’ll do to you once they are gone. Wait and see.”

vernon; the boy next door (m)

genre/warnings: fluff/romance/smut, flangst, adorkableness, use of non-penetrative sex toys, (not so) dry humping

word count:  14737

feat: Hansol Vernon Chwe/Original Female, Joshua, Jeonghan + various 

prompts: roommate!Vernon, silliness, cuddles, mac n’cheese = love 

(a/n) my birthday project for my muse. thank you for everything vern:) and kisses for @vernkn​ who gifed my soft sweater vernon aesthetic. enjoy!

She loved Joshua Hong.

When she was so graciously offered to live in her aunt’s vacation penthouse close to her university of choice, the only catch was that she had to pay some of the bills. Completely fair, because it was a kind enough gesture to give away a freshly furnished space to a niece you barely talked to. Luckily, there was enough room for another guest, enough to split the rent.

So in comes the savior of her life, brother from another mother, Joshua Hong, decked out in sandy beige Sperry’s and ironed white jeans. Fresh from South California, he wore their sunshine on his smile, and their attitude in his Cheshire eyes. He was attending the same university as well, and was conveniently looking for a means to stay. Needless to say, she pounced on him at orientation before he could ask anyone else.

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100 Reasons to Love Kim Namjoon

today is my 3 year anniversary of loving namjoon and so here’s 100 reasons everyone should love him !!!!!!!

  1. he gave up a stable future of studying and going to college (despite being so smart) to risk everything and pursue his dream of becoming a rapper
  2. had to fight criticism for being an ‘idol’ rapper and struggled for years with his decision and identity
  3. when he says he loves himself !!!!
  4. never forget this cute tummy flash !!!!!!!!
  5. he loves all his members so much sosososo much, he always puts them before himself 
  6. WHEN HE’S LAUGHING REALLY HARD AND HE STARTS SEAL CLAPPING
  7. that one time tae came to sleep next to namjoon and namjoon sleepily held tae’s hand and wouldn’t let go
  8. his signature move when he takes his two index fingers and covers one of his eyes while looking deadass into the camera
  9. HIS DOE SHAPED PRETTY CHOCOLATE BROWN EYES !!!!!!!!!!!!!!
  10. professional self-dragger, literally willingly drags his own ass
  11. his mixtape release in 2015, every song was so important and deep and okay, it’s largely forgotten because of yoongi’s mixtape but it has so much emotion and meaning behind every song
  12. he loveloveloves dogs !
  13. literally has looked like the best thing the world has to offer no matter what rainbow ass hair color bighit sticks him with
  14. that golden age when his hair was black when will that look come back from the war ://////////
  15. you know that thing he does when he’s been rapping and suddenly breaks out into a smile and scrunches his nose and winks with one eye mmmmmmmmokay !!!!
  16. his angry rap when his neck veins show because he’s literally putting his all into it
  17. the way he looks in beanies !!!!!!!!! with one ear tucked in and the other sticking out
  18. the mole on the left side right under his jawline 
  19. the fact that he literally read books on philosophy for hyyh
  20. THE WAY !!!!!!!!! HE LOOKS !!!!!!!!!!!! IN A SUIT !!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
  21. that time his speaker wasn’t working and he yelled at it and it started to work, Legends Only
  22. the fact that he isn’t afraid to try out weird kinds of fashion and won’t hear shit about it
  23. has been known to support LGBT since 2012
  24. THAT TIME BTS WERE IN ISAC IN 2015 AND HE WAS EVERY MEMBER’S HYPE MAN 
  25. when he’s too lazy to wear contacts so he wears his thick black rimmed glasses :’(((((((((((
  26. that time he had a wardrobe malfunction and had his whole shirt ripped off during that dance break and he did the whole performance holding up the sorry remains of his shirt 
  27. the fact that kim namjoon invented dimples !!!!!!!!!!!!!!! no really he did
  28. how he is literally incapable of doing a fan sign without making it a display of how much aegyo he can fit in any given span of time and then immediately be shy and embarrassed about it
  29. 6 feet tall, he is 6 feet tall also don’t forget that he is literally the eiffel tower because nothing is taller than 6 feet just sayin
  30. that amazing and blessed time he had silver hair and my heart literally exploded !!!!!!!!!!!
  31. HIS PRETTY PINK POUTY PLUSH PERFECT LIPS 
  32. that time bts was doing rainism and he was the only one who didn’t know all the moves and messed up but pulled it off confidently in the end
  33. he literally loves his mom so much i’m :’(((((((
  34. HIS ALL BLACK OUTFITS AND THE WAY HE LOOKS WHEN HE WEARS ALL BLACK AND THE WAY ALL BLACK LOOKS ON HIM AND -
  35. the fact that every time someone tells him to do a freestyle dance, it’s literally the same awkward robotic jerky dance with the failing arms and legs since 2013
  36. when he tries to sing even though the members laugh at him
  37. HE JUST WANTS TO CATCH CRABS FOR GOODNESS SAKE
  38. his cute soft pretty pink knees :’))))))))))
  39. in the fire era when he had that acorn haircut and pulled that shit off when will your fave ever
  40. he reads, he has an IQ of 148, he was the nation’s top 1% in 5 subjects in high school, he -
  41. his smile his beautiful glorious soft glowing stunning breathtaking smile that smile that you only have the privilege of seeing someone have one in a million times in your life, the kind of smile that could change the world
  42. the way he looks in a choker the way he looks in a choker the way he looks in a chok-
  43. okay !!!!!!!!!! but his cute squishy tiny nose so kissable n someone please bop it and pinch it and it’s soosososo cute 
  44. the way he gets his hands inky and dirty every single fan sign every single darn one !!!!!!!!!!!! why are they dirty? what is he doing ?????
  45. THE AUDACITY HE HAS TO WINK AND BITE LIPS AT CAMERAS THE SHEER AUDACITY
  46. the way his arms look in sleeveless tops his arms !!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
  47. the way he looks in snapbacks mmmmmmmmmmmm
  48. that time on running man when everyone was supposed to have as many boxes as possible and he literally got his box snatched from his hands and he tripped over nothing he’s the dorkiest softest boy -
  49. SAILORMON !!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
  50. that time he wore the army khakis and outfit and i just ://////// oh my god
  51. his side profile his perfect gorgeous beautiful angelic side profile !!!!
  52. his obsession with ryan and how happy he got when jimin got him a ryan cake for his birthday fkdsfhgfd
  53. legs for days !!!!!!!!!!!!!
  54. that time namjoon was a minion for halloween 
  55. “I had to dance to survive in this cold, cruel world.”
  56. his cute outfit in the baepsae dance practice video :((((((((((
  57. he looks sosoososososo unbeliveably beautiful bare faced i just love him so much 
  58. that time during the hyyh prologue shooting when all the members were piling onto him and he yelled ‘MY BALLS, MAN’
  59. his fucnkgn !!!!!!!!!! puma photoshoot binch !!!!!!!!!!!
  60. the fact that he sang expensive girl and took the fact that he didn’t get a grammy for it like a man :///
  61. that time they won their first award in 2015 and he was cleARLY CRYING but denied it like “i’m not crying”
  62. THAT TIME HE LITERALLY DESCRIBED HIS ERECTION ON LIVE RADIO AIR IN ENGLISH 
  63. that one time !!!!!!!!!!!!!! bts had an outdoor performance and his white shirt got sososososooso sweaty it was basically stuck to him and see through if you don’t know what i’m talking about then goodbye
  64. those RARE times when he smiles and sticks his tongue out at the same time !!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
  65. that time he was complaining about jungkook and the fruit flies and the weird as shit way he pronounced ‘vaccuum’
  66. his messy friendship with jackson 
  67. the fact that he apologized for the mistakes he has made in the past and made no excuses about them 
  68. award for having the world’s cutest and flattest tushy !!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
  69. i don’t know if anyone noticed but the way he holds his fingers when he’s explaining something like he puts them in awkward bent angles and they’re really long and expressive i just looooovvveeeee
  70. that time he was doing a duet with this female singer for a show and he picked her up from the airport and held a sign with her name and got shy around her he’s the biggest gentleman DDDD:
  71. deep husky voice like shots of pure liquid gold sends shivers down my spine ://////////
  72.  KIM DAILY
  73. that time he held a tiny itty bitty baby frog on his index finger i dont know why it was so cute of him i just !!!
  74. sweaty namjoon when namjoon sweats the sweat namjoon produces 
  75. that time he tried to twerk but ‘something keeps dangling’
  76. when !!!!!!!!!! he wears tight pants and his thighs are almost bursting out of his pants jdfkkhkj
  77. the way he says ‘baby’
  78. EVERY ‘WHAT AM I TO YOU’ PERFORMANCE HE’S EVER DONE
  79. that time he was asked to pick between solo and bts and didn’t hesitate for a microsecond before saying bts
  80. THAT TIME NAMJOON DID THIS GUITAR ACOUSTIC WITH SOMEONE ELSE AND HE RAPPED SO SWEETLY MY HEART OVERFLOWED
  81. taught himself english by listening to 10 english dvds 10 times over 3 years 
  82. special thank you to every namjoon stylist who made him wear low cut shirts
  83. THE WAY HE LOOKS WEARING A MASSIVE HOODIE !!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
  84. ‘and i’m sexy like a porn star’
  85. accepts and settles for being the least popular bts member
  86. the way he looks when he wears headbands 
  87. when his sleeves are super long so he has sweater paws and his pretty fingers stick out slightly jdsfkshgkjfmncvb
  88. sub par body rolls that can still make you squirm and cry :////////
  89. once when he was the first in a lineup in a fan sign he told a fan ‘now you’ve practiced on me, you can do this in front of your real bias’
  90. got to write in “힙합하다 1” (‘This is Hip Hop 1: South Korea, Hip Hop and Life’) which is a hip hop book for 42 top korean hip hop artists
  91. THAT TINY MOLE BELOW HIS BOTTOM LIP THAT YOU CAN ONLY SEE IF HE SMILES REALLY WIDE
  92. the way he looks in a tie ohohohoohohoho my gosh !!!!!!!!!!!!!
  93. that time in the ariport the cameraman said ‘the girls love you guys’ and namjoon was like ‘thanks, we love you too’
  94. the way he wrote about the sunset in his diary when he went to dubai 
  95. HE HAS BENDY ARMS !!!!!!!!! NO REALLY I SWEAR THEY BEND BACKWARDS 
  96. he once told a fan ‘sorry’ when she told him she got him photocard
  97. he said that he wanted to know what it was like going to college and sometimes he feels like he missed out on that experience :///
  98. can you believe namjoon invented having pretty hands??????? Amazing
  99. he cares sosooso much about other people he’s always wondering how his fans are doing, what they feel like, always giving advice, always learning and growing, never stopping
  100. “I’m still existing, still breathing. Even though I keep looking forward and run, sometimes I still look back. The path in front and behind are still far, but even so, if the people who look at me are still dreaming and picking up their strengths, that alone makes me feel good. It’s okay to live this way, breaking down, getting hurt and looking back at the past. I will live. I am living like this. Me. Us.”
GOT7 Reaction: You Kissing Them In Front Of The Boys

(I hope this is what you wanted (((: This reaction is very short and to the point, but I hope you enjoy!! <3 Saranghae <3)

Youngjae:

Originally posted by peachyjyp

I feel as if Youngjae would be half into it, and half not. He would love showing off that you were his, and his lips were the only ones that got to touch yours; but he wouldn’t want to show off too much. He would give you a short, sweet kiss and giggle, covering his face as it went red when the boys would lightly tease him about it. You would probably feel a little embarrassed as the boys poked fun at you, sitting next to Youngjae and burying your head sweetly in his shoulder, him quickly becoming your shield.

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For Worse

This was a Request for an Anon. They wanted a Story where Bruce Cheated and the Bat Boys react. If you have request go ahead and make one! Also Let me know if you want a part two. (UPDATE: Lots of people have asked for a Part 2 so i’ll start working on it soon ^_^)  part two: here


You weren’t much of a wine drinker, not much of a drinker period in all actuality. When you did drink you preferred the sweetness of a strawberry margarita that masked the taste of alcohol. However, right now, as the slightly bitter liquid pooled to the back of your throat, you couldn’t imagine a better tasting drink.

Sitting on the large black marble kitchen counter, you swung your legs with childlike glee as the world around you suddenly started to feel a little hazy. Patting at your cheek with a sweater covered hand to wipe away some tear stains you filled up your glass of Zinfandel with the other.

The bottle clinks hollowly against the counter just as Alfred rounds the corner into the kitchen. He looks at your form sitting on the counter with wide worried eyes but you can’t be bothered to give him more than a half hearted crooked smile as you knock back half of your glass.

“Are you alright ma’am?” He asks moving slowly toward you. He can clearly see the intoxicated state that you’re in and he doesn’t want to startle you.

“Peachy,” you say with an airy sigh.

“It doesn’t seem so,” he says picking up the large empty bottle of wine. “It’s not even past noon ma’am.”

“I don’t know if I care that much Alfred,” you say with a chuckle. “This is usually the only time I get to be alone.”

He looks at you worriedly, “Maybe right now you shouldn’t be alone.”

You look at him, nose scrunching up in anger and a frown pulling at your lips. “I think I should, you aren’t exactly innocent either, are you?”

Alfred doesn’t waver when meeting your gaze, save for a brief flash of guilt that runs through his eyes. “Why don’t I fix you some coffee and breakfast to help sober you up.”

“When were you going to tell me?”

“Toast is probably the best option.”

“Where you ever going to tell me?”

“I know you like eggs, so I’ll scramble some for you.”

“How many times did you watch him fuck her?” You say as you grab at his arm.

He stops his rambling at looks at you with a slight tear in his eye, “I’m sorry Mrs. Wayne.”

You look at the older man and see the pain in his eyes and think about the shame he must feel, he is the one who raised Bruce afterall.

“Were you sorry enough to ask him to stop?”

“He pushed me away.”

“Of course he did,” you say snidely letting go of the man and pushing yourself off of the counter. Your sock covered feet hit the floor with slight pat and you walk over to the sink to put your glass down. “When breakfast is done, I’ll be in the bedroom.”

“…Of course ma’am.”

***

Wallowing around in your bed and wiping away ever falling tears all day wasn’t something that you thought you’d be doing when you married Bruce Wayne. However, at the moment you couldn’t think of what else to do. You needed to get your emotions out and rest at the same time. Damian would be home from school soon and the rest of the boys would be home for dinner.

The familiar roar of an engine caught your attention and you felt your body tense. Anticipation and anxiety wracked your form as you waited for the familiar footsteps of your husband to enter the room.

What would you say to him? Could you even bring it up? What if what you saw only happened in a dream? He would never actually hurt you this way would he? He had promised to love and cherish only you after all. How could Batman of all people break his promise?

In your thoughts, you’d barely heard the door to your bedroom open. He doesn’t say anything when he walks through the door. You hear the rustle of clothing and assume that he is removing his suit jacket. You assumptions were proved correct when he comes to sit on the side of your shared bed and pulls the blanket from over your head. He reveales himself to be in his white shirt and black suit pants.

His blue eyes scan over your form worriedly as he rubs a large thumb on your forehead. You have to bite your tongue to prevent sharp words from spewing out of you and rejecting his sweetness.

“Are you still not feeling well?” He asked voice soft and warm.

You shake your head.

He sighs with a sad smile and runs the pad of his thumb over you cheekbone, “I’ll have Alfred make you some soup.”

You don’t respond and stare at him relatively blankly and while this bothers him he shrugs it off to whatever sickness it was that was bothering you.

He stands from the bed and moves over to the closet to change into something more comfortable. You take the opportunity to sit up and push your body up against the headboard and you watch him. As he pulls the shirt off his body you can see every scar and bruise that he’d accrued recently, even the ones on his neck that hadn’t placed there forcefully.

When he slips the grey sweatshirt on over his head your trace is broken.

“Can I say something?”

He jumps slightly at the sound of your voice and turns to look at you with curious blue orbs.

“I always thought it would be Talia y’know? Especially on account of how Damian got here, but I thought it would be her.”

“What?” He asks with furrowed dark eyebrows.

“I always thought that the thing with Selina was harmless flirting, even if she did kiss you once or twice, I never really got mad.” You can feel your throat slick and tighten with nerves but your belly is full of rage.

You can see it on his face when it registers what you were talking about and the blanching of his face causes you to get angrier for some reason. You stand up quickly from your position on the bed and instinctively he holds a hand out in attempt to calm you.

“Why would you do that to me? What have I not given you that you couldn’t think ‘I shouldn’t do this, I have a wife waiting at home’?”

“We were caught up in the moment, it wasn’t supposed to happen.” He tries to explain.

“Multiple times, you fucked her multiple times! On different days, on different weeks!”

He looks at you pathetically and you suddenly find that your positions have been reversed and he is the one sitting on the bed while you are the one standing.

“You know I thought this would happen when we were dating, and I told myself that it would be much better if it happened then because I could just leave. But now I can’t, I’m stuck here with you, in this giant stupid house.” You can feel your tears start to well up again but you quickly wipe at your eyes in an attempt to wipe them away. “Were you going to stop sleeping with her? Or were you just waiting to get caught?”

He doesn’t respond and he hangs his head down in shame.

“Look at me!,” you snap agitated and causing him to meet your gaze. “You were bold enough to go and do it no you have to take the consequences the same way you did them.”

“I wasn’t going to stop,” he said truthfully. You feel your jaw twitch at the honesty and the frown that’s pulling at your lips is almost painful. “Selina has always been important to me I suppose, and it felt natural.”

It was almost as if you could hear your heart breaking and you couldn’t stop the sob that ran its way through your throat. You slapped a hand over your mouth in shame and turned away from him as the tears freely flowed down your face. Almost instinctively at your crying from, Bruce was at your side with a large hand on your back trying to comfort you.

“Don’t. Touch. Me!” You snap slapping his hands away. “Why did you marry me? If you felt that way you should have been with her!”

“I love you,” he says desperately.

“No you don’t,” you say pushing him away from you. “If you did you wouldn’t have done this.”

“Thats-” he starts but he stops himself.

“Were you going to say ‘That’s not true’?” You ask incredulously with wide eyes. “So you were planning on cheating on me anyway.”

“No,” he shakes his head.

“God, I’ve wasted all of this time on you,” you say moving around him looking for a pair of shoes to slip on and your keys. “All of the things that I could have done, places I could  have gone, and people who would have loved me, I gave it up for you. I put my career on hold so I could help you. So that Wayne Enterprises would have someone there while you rested. So that our son could have something other than mask to raise him. But you couldn’t do one thing for me? You couldn’t say no one time for me?”

He doesn’t respond, he knows he shouldn’t respond, nothing he can say will make this situation better.

Once you’ve collected your shoes, bag, and care keys, you let out a sigh,”I had really hoped that once you came home that there would be some way that you could deny this and I would have believed you. That I’d been slipped some sort of drug and had been hallucinating the things that I saw, but I was too hopeful.” You wipe at your eyes. “The worse part about it is that you’ve trapped me, Bruce. What can I do? My life has become our kids, your company, and your mission. That has been my job since we’ve gotten married. I lived for us Bruce, why couldn’t you?”

“I didn’t mean to- I didn’t mean for this to happen,” he pleads. “She was just-”

This isn’t about her, Bruce.” You shake your head and make your way to the bedroom door. “I’m going to stay at the penthouse. Don’t come by. Tell Damian that I’ll come get him for lunch on Saturday like I always do.”

“Are you coming back?”

You look at his sad blue orbs and shake your head, “I don’t know.”

***

Damian was the first to arrive home. Bruce watched from the bedroom window as he and Alfred made their way into the house. What was he supposed to tell him? Not just Damian, but everyone. That he’d driven their mother away and he didn’t know when she’d be back? That he’d ruined their family? No, never that. How could he break his children even more than they already had been.

With a frown, Bruce locked the door to the bedroom and sat in silence and darkness. If he’d gone to the cave he would have opened himself up to questions. In here, for the moment, he was safe. No one would bother him here.

***

“Hey Alfred, where is mom?” Dick asked, taking a drink of his water.

“Yes, I would like to know as well, Pennyworth. It’s not often that you come and pick me up from school,” Damian started pushing around some of his food with his fork.

“Mom didn’t get you from school?” Tim questioned with a furrowed brow. “That’s her thing though.”

“Hence the question,” Damian replied with smirk causing Tim to roll his eyes.

“Maybe she got tired of you being a smartass and didn’t feel like being bothered,” Jason adds in with a raised eyebrow and a smirk of his own as he rocks back on the legs of his chair.

“Unlikely, considering I’m her favorite,” the youngest said crossing his arms over his chest. “Besides, I haven’t seen her at all, not since this morning.”

“What?” The three older boys questioned alarmed.

“Alfred?” Dick questions again to the older man who hasn’t raised his head from his plate since the questioning started. “Where is mom?”

“I’m afraid, Master Grayson, that it would be best if you went to ask Master Wayne,” the butler deflects.

“Has something happened to, mom?” Tim asks seriously.

“I cannot answer that,” Alfred replies again.

In frustration Jason pushes away from the dining room table to make his way up to the master bedroom, the other boys following quickly behind him.

It only takes a minute for Jason to stomp his way to the bedroom and even less for him to begin banging on the door.

“Open the door up, old man” He starts impatiently. “We just want to know where mom is.”

There is a pause as the boys listen for movement, and when there isn’t any Jason pounds on the door again, “I’ll break the door open!”

“Jason!” Dick scolds. “Mom will be mad if you break her door.”

“Well how else am I supposed to get him to open it?”

“We could use our brains?” Tim suggests.

“No need,” Damian says pulling out his blade and shoving it in the jam of the door. He uses his weight as pressure and pops open the door.

“That still counts as messing up the door,” Dick says pointing at the ruined lock.

“It’s still intact isn’t it?”

“Whatever.”

Tim pushes open the door giving way to the light from the hallway to flood into the dark room. Tim quickly finds the light switch and the room lights up.

“Father?” Damian questions when the lights flicker on and he sees the man sitting on the edge of his bed with his head in hands.

The man doesn’t respond to his name being called and this sends the boys into a slight panic. Dick quickly walks over and places a large hand on Bruce’s shoulder and tries to shake him out of his trance.

The man looks at the boys and sadness flashes in his eyes as he realizes he has to explain how he’s taken their mother from them.

“Where is mom?” Tim asks.

Damian watches from a distance and takes in the state of the room. On the occasions that he’d have nightmares, he usually finds himself in his parents bed snuggled against his mother in the expansive bed as she protected him from the dreams. He probably knew better than anyone what their bedroom was supposed to look like.He noted that the dresser was suspiciously bare of his mother’s jewelry boxes and perfume bottles.  He casts a quick glance at Jason who seems to realize that something is off about the room.

Damian walks around the bed to his mother’s closet and opens it only find it empty. Jason stands behind his youngest brother staring at the empty room perplexed.

“This is her’s,” Damian mutters, “Where is her stuff?”

When it clicks for Jason he’s consumed with rage and he’s stomping over to Bruce again and pushing his startled brothers away. His large hand is around Bruce’s collar in an instant and he’s pulling the man up.

“What did you do? Why did she leave?” Jason questions acidly, his own blue eyes clashing violently with Bruce’s.

“Leave?” Dick questions. “How do you know she left?”

“Majority of Ummi’s things are gone. Like they were packed up.”

“She left us?” Tim questions swallowing thickly.

“I’m pretty sure she left him!” Jason hisses shaking the man who is still staring blankly at him. “What did you do?”

“What could you have done to make her leave like this?” Tim asks.

Dick examines his adoptive father keenly as he runs the scenarios through his mind. His mother adored Bruce, so why would she just leave?

Seemingly having enough of being pushed around Bruce quickly wraps his hand around Jason’s wrists and squeezed before ripping the hand off of his collar. The stretched fabric falls limply around his neck as he looks at the four of his sons angrily.

“You all need to leave,” He says sternly. “Your mother is safe.”

Dick’s gaze falls onto where the collar hangs limply at Bruce’s neck and he spots a purple bruise on his neck that causes a thought to run through his mind and it makes his hair stand on end.

“You wouldn’t,” Dick says with a shake of his head and a disbelieving smile. “You couldn’t, not to Mom, right?”

“What are talking about, Grayson?” Damian asks looking in between the two men.

Bruce meets Dick’s gaze and the younger man feels himself getting hot with anger the longer he holds his gaze.

Tim examines his father and finds the same bruise on Bruce’s neck and he puts it together. Instead of letting his anger consume him he glances back at his younger brother and grabs his arm.

“Let go of me, Drake,” Damian struggles as Tim pulls him along.

“Alfred knows where she went doesn’t he?” Tim asks glancing at the guilty man. A quick nod is all he needs as he proceeds down stairs with the young boy.

“Who was it with? Viki? Talia? Who?” Dick questions angrily.

Jason snorts in anger as he realizes what his brother is implying.

“Selina,” Bruce responds after a long pause.

Dick shakes his head in anger, “I knew you could be an asshole but not like this.”

Dick locks eyes with his brother, “We should find out where mom is and go see her in the morning. I’m sure she wants to be alone now.”

Jason nods and watches as his Dick leaves the room. He stares down the older man for a second before stomping out.

***

It seemed like it was always raining in Gotham, despite whatever the season was. At the moment that suited you just fine. The wide open space of the penthouse was smaller than what you were used to but still felt empty. You were happy that Bruce hadn’t tried to come and see you, you don’t think you could have been as civil as you were if he had come to see you.

So when there was a knock on the door, you felt dread fill your stomach. You quickly padded over to the door and looked out of the peephole and saw the distorted visage of four familiar figures.

“Boys!” You say with wide eyes as you swing open the door.

“Ummi!” The youngest voice calls out as he leaps at you burying his face in your stomach as his small but strong arms wrap themselves around your waist.

“Damian,” you say with a smile, running a comforting hand along his back.

“We were worried,” Dick says with a smile and a shrug as he pulls a bouquet of flowers from behind his back.

“You’re all so sweet,” you say with a smile moving to the side and letting the boys into the home.

“We didn’t want you to be alone,” Tim says, “We also wanted to make sure your weren’t in danger.”

“Oh,” you say sadly and closed the door behind them. Damian let’s go your waist and instead opts to hold your hand. “I shouldn’t have left in such a hurry, I know it can be unsafe.”

“We understand, mom” Jason says with a smile. You meet his normally stern eyes and you feel your tear ducts well up. “Hey, don’t cry! I brought food.”

We, brought food,” Dick pops in as Jason shows you a bag in is hand. “Tim set the table.”

Damian brings you over to sit you at the dining room table as Tim makes a place for the each of you.

Jason and Dick bring the food out and then sit down to join you.

“We’re sorry about Bruce,” Dick starts looking at you with a sad smile. “But we understand and we’ll be here for you.”

The boys nod their heads in agreement.

You smile at your boys, feeling slightly better than you had been in hours, “Thank you.”

Heavy Petting (M)

MASTERLIST

Genre: Smut, Cathybrid! AU

Word count: 4k

pairing: Jimin x reader

Warnings: rated M, sexual content, language, cat/human hybrid, (reverse?) thigh riding, sub!Jimin

A/N: part of cathybrid!BTS miniseries!

others:  Yoongi   |   Taehyung

fluffy drabble based on this oneshot

Keep reading

eddie but with body dysmorphia

-so eddie has always been small

-compact, if you will

-and he secretly liked being small, being able to fit in people’s (richie’s) arms so well, finding the tiniest of spots to hide during hide and seek

-but one day while after he got to high school, sometime after he hit puberty, something changed in him

-he got taller and thicker and he wasn’t enjoying it

-he started to feel like he was taking up too much space

-he kept these thoughts to himself, as he does with most everything

-but they all notice eventually

-he won’t sit on bill’s shoulders to play chicken anymore

-won’t let stan give him piggyback rides

-before he started seeing himself this way he used to borrow bev’s sweaters all the time but now he refuses because he’s convinced he’ll stretch them out

-he won’t ride on the back of mike’s bike when they travel around town

-and richie especially notices when eddie won’t let him wrap his arms around his waist anymore

-at first richie thought eddie was slowly distancing himself

-trying to slip away

-he was so hurt when eddie refused to cuddle or change in front of him

-he goes to bev, who is obviously one of his best friends,

-“i just feel like he doesn’t love me anymore you know? he won’t let me touch him like ever”

-“richie, can’t you see it? it’s not you, it’s him. he feels bad about himself, he’s got body dysmorphia”

-and of course she then had to explain what that term actually means

-but then it all comes together in the old trashmouth’s head

-“you’re a godsend, marsh. what would i do without you?”

-“crash and burn”

-so he goes to eddie, not knowing if he should confront him straight up or wait til eddie says something himself

-but that’s obviously never gonna happen so plan b

-they’re chilling in richie’s room, doing homework

-richie puts his math book down and starts kissing eddie’s neck

-“rich, stop, i’ve got work to do”

-then he starts playing with eddie’s hair

-“richie you’re distracting me”

-“you’re so beautiful, eds. i love you so much”

-“shut up, trashmouth. don’t call me that”

-richie starts slowly moving his hands around eddie’s shoulders and then slipping them under his sweater

-“i mean it, babe. you’re just so beautiful, i can’t believe i wasted all that time being your friend when i could’ve been-“

-“beep fucking beep richie! i don’t want to play right now”

-“why won’t you let me touch you, eddie?”

-and eddie has to pinch the bridge of his nose

-“i have work to do”

-“i don’t mean just now. i mean ever. we don’t hug, or cuddle or make out, we haven’t been together in weeks”

-“that’s what you’re fucking worried about? that i’m not having sex with you?”

-“no you stupid idiot i’m worried that you’re gonna start hurting yourself because you think you’re fat”

-“what are you even talking about”

-“i’m not stupid, eddie. you’re wearing baggy clothes, you only eat green shit, you won’t let me see you without a shirt on….for some reason you hate yourself and that’s fucking ridiculous because you’re probably the most attractive person i’ve ever met in my life”

-eddie doesn’t know what to say because he never thought richie would figure it out

-“i love you, eddie. you. the way you are. i love your floppy hair and your sparkly eyes, i love how you can be kinda squishy in the middle, i love your arms and your legs….dear god eddie your ass is literally out of this world”

-and eddie laughs through his tears

-“i don’t want you to change, i don’t want you to start to disappear”

-eddie takes richie’s dorky face into his little hands and kisses the tip of his nose

-“i’m not gonna go anywhere. i love you, trashmouth”

-“i love you too eddie spaghetti”

cool i’m in pain

{PART 17} I Won’t Stop You // Jeon Jungkook, Vampire!AU

Originally posted by jengkook

Pairing: Jungkook x Reader

Genre: Vampire!AU, Fantasy, Angst, Smut

Summary; As Taehyung finally reveals his creation to you - you find yourself sharing soft, tender and heartfelt moments with both him and Jimin; before being reunited with Jungkook - The Prince and Princess of the Ball.

I update this series every Tuesday evening, 9pm-10pm (UK Time) 

{Part 1} // {Part 16} {Part 17} {Part 18}

Keep reading

BTS’s reaction to their s/o having a PDA addiction:

💌 requested by @pastelxxwitch (your English isn’t bad at all, sweetie!)

A/N: As I mentioned before, I don’t write NSFW, but hopefully I was able to do this request justice. I made it super fluffy. Hope you enjoy it, loves~ 💖


Jin: You have a problem, you know you do. It’s too much - you always go too far. But when you get the urge to cuddle your boyfriend over a respectable family dinner, it’s not something you can easily dismiss. He’s looking so handsome, serving stew to his mother, sleeves rolled up, shirt damp with sweat and kitchen steam - less like a boyfriend, more like a husband. A husband that needs a barrage of hugging and kissing as punishment for being so drop-dead gorgeous.

As he sits down opposite, you give him a look – the look – to let him know what’s up. He doesn’t get the hint at first, so you inch your toes across the wooden flood until you find his shape under the table, and give his leg a nudge with your foot.

His eyes flicker to yours, brows raised in amusement. You’ve been together long enough to understand what his silent signals mean. Translation: “So, playing footsie is a thing we do now?”

You rub your foot up and down the inside of his calf, smiling at him through half-lidded eyes. Translation: “Yes, it’s a thing we do. Starting now.”

Jin looks you up and down, totally distracted now. You’re winning. Just a little more, and he’ll bend to your will. With one last brush of your toe against his trouser leg he stands up, displacing his glass of water, so that a few drops spot the table. “I just remembered that there’s a bottle of wine I forgot to open. Y/N, come and help me get the wine glasses.”

That’s your cue to leave, following him to the kitchen for an emergency make-out session:

“Was there a reason you desperately needed to disrupt our family dinner?”

“You were looking unfairly handsome,” you reply, “You needed to be punished.”

“With kisses?”

“The worst type of punishment.” You kiss him to prove you mean it.

Originally posted by jinmini


Yoongi: Well, this is new.

Normally, you have to beg Yoongi for hugs in public – pulling on his sweater sleeves, pulling on his hair, pulling on his ragged ends with pleas of “Please, Yoongi. Please.” Then he’d roll his eyes, shuffle closer and drape you in his warmth, with an arm around your shoulder while he mumbled about how embarrassing you are.

But today - today is different. And you certainly aren’t complaining.

Pressing his nose into your neck, pulling you closer, his hands fall around your waist, reaching down until they find leverage in the back pockets of your jeans. Without you asking; without him kicking and screaming and making a fuss about it.

You have to pull back a fraction to check his cheeks, which burn pink, just to make sure this is definitely your boyfriend and not some weird, alien replacement.

“What?” he demands.

You shake your head, and curl your arms around his neck. “Nothing… I just though you didn’t like cuddling in public.”

“I don’t.”

“Then what do you call this?”

He burrows deeper, pressing his face into the fabric of your shirt. “I call this an emergency.”

“Emergency?”

He nods. “I was running low on hugs.”

Originally posted by leojuseyo


Hoseok: You fidget anxiously. It’s been three hours, fifteen minutes and nine seconds since your last cuddle with Hoseok, and you’re beginning to feel cold already – what you need right now is a hug, or a hand in your hand, anything really, you’re not picky. But in the middle of the supermarket, mid weekly shop, isn’t the best place or time to tackle your boyfriend. Still, his back is looking exceptionally inviting underneath that tight-fitting t-shirt, just asking for you to snatch him up as he stretches up to reach a cereal box on the highest shelf.

As he turns back to toss the box in the shopping trolley, he pauses, eyeing you up and down, and that’s when you realise you’ve been biting your lip all this time, making heart-eyes his way. Not so subtle.

“What?” he asks, although he knows exactly ‘what’.

You press your palms onto the trolley’s handle and push it in his direction so the metal frame bumps against him. “Don’t ‘what?’ me.”

His response is a chuckle. “Is it that bad? You need me that much?”

You nod, and he licks his lips, before glancing up and down the aisle. There’s no one about. A motion of his hand is all the invitation you need to dive into his arms, and drown him in kisses, hidden by the shelves of biscuits and crisps.

Originally posted by itsrapmonster


Namjoon: “Namjoon, I need a hug.” You hold your arms out to your boyfriend.

“What why? Are you feeling okay?” As usual, Namjoon’s brain is spinning with possible reasons for this sudden request. Are you down? Depressed? Feeling lonely or anxious? Whatever it is, Namjoon’s ready to hug it away, even if you are in the middle of the main street.

You just shake your head at his concern, your smile stretching fondly. “Nothing’s wrong. I just love you. And I want a hug.”

That’s all you need to say. Namjoon’s face relaxes, his shoulders sag, and he breathes a sigh of relief. A hug for love’s sake. Of course. In one step, he’s by your side, wrapping his arms around your waist – not because it’s raining in your heart, or the sky above you is crumbling down, or the very fabric of the Earth is fraying. But just because you wanted it.

And you also – “Was that the first time you said that you love me?” he asks.

“I think it was.”

“Well. I love you too.”

“Good.”

“Good.”

Originally posted by bangthebae


Jimin: You have a new hobby: embarrassing your boyfriend in front of his friends.

Jimin, who’s normally more snuggly than your bed on a rainy Monday morning, forgets all about your habitual cuddling when he’s with his group, keeping his distance instead, and getting jumpy when you brush against him.

Now that you’ve figured out how much power you possess – with him pleading “please – not so much PDA while I’m around my friends, I need to keep some semblance of my masculinity”, and you cooing back “sure thing, my squishy mochi” – it’s time to wreak some havoc.

The next time you’re at Taehyung’s house, you decide to put your plan in motion, pouncing on Jimin and tackling him to the couch. This should be fun.

“What are you doing?” His cheeks rise a couple of shades of red.

“Just cuddling like we normally do, mochi-wochi,” you purr, settling yourself in his lap.

The other boys burst out laughing at your actions, while Jimin squirms underneath you, trying to wriggle free. But it’s no use. Cuddling is serious business to you, and there’s no way you’re letting him go.

Sighing, he surrenders, and with his masculinity in shreds, he kisses your cheek as a form of peace-keeping. “Alright you win,” he mumbles, “Just, please, no more ‘mochi-wochi’.”

Originally posted by minblush


Taehyung: You and Taehyung are tied together by the heartstrings. You have a connection that you can’t quite explain, and somehow, you both seem to know exactly when the other’s craving touch - feelings so in sync, Taehyung needs you exactly when you need him.

Today is no exception. You’re sitting in a café with Taehyung, smiling stupidly-in-love over ice-cream sundaes, when all of a sudden you need – need – to cuddle with him, or your heart might seize up.

Without a word, without warning, you slip out of your seat, and rounding the table to Taehyung’s side, wrap your arms around his shoulders.

He twists his neck to gaze up at you, brown eyes blinking. “You alright?”

“Yeah. I just really needed a hug, all of a sudden.”

“Good, me too.” He grins, and you duck your head down for a kiss on his unsuspecting lips.

With a smooth motion, he slides his chair back, making room for you to sit on his lap, which you’re more than happy to accept, and from this perch you have easy access to his triple-chocolate knickerbocker glory.

“Oh, I see how it is,” Taehyung scoffs, as you lick chocolate sauce off his spoon, “You only like me for my desserts?”

“Opps. Exposed,” you laugh, and Taehyung leans in to peck a stray speck of chocolate from your chin.

When you kiss back again, he shivers below you, body responding before he can control it. Forgetting the café around you, the hustle and bustle of baristas and customers, you and Taehyung melt into each other like the ice-cream in your bowl.

Originally posted by buisually-appealing


Jungkook: Jungkook doesn’t like cuddling in public. It’s something you learnt about him a long time ago, on your first date in fact, sharing secrets with a game of ’20 questions’ - when he said ‘I’m embarrassed to touch in public’ you had almost ended the relationship then and there. How were you – one of the clingiest, touchy-feeliest people on the planet – going to cope with a guy who melted into a blushing pile of mush any time you so much as brushed fingers in public. Even when you got him to hold your hand, murmuring ‘Look, see? No one minds, no one’s looking,’ he’d still stay as stiff as steel, and snap your fingers apart when anyone so much as glanced in your general direction.

Thankfully, you had discovered a way to combat the problem, crafting the perfect date for you and your boyfriend – a public place where you could touch to your heart’s content, without Jungkook shying away from the eyes of disapproving grannies and curious children: a magical place called the cinema.

Seated in the back row, you can share a bag of popcorn and as many kisses as you want, without fear of being watched. With everyone else transfixed on the film, you and Jungkook can devote yourselves to each other. As the movie heroes strike out on quests to discover new lands, you explore new parts of Jungkook, acquainting yourself with every centimetre of exposed skin: cheeks, neck, knuckles, the inside of his wrists, any part he gives. He relaxes in your arms, and watching him unfurl for you is better than any film – he is your masterpiece, better directed that Steven Spielberg. In the dark of the cinema, you fall in love.

Originally posted by aestheticvbts


! I did not make the gifs !

Fruits - Peter Parker

request -  hi! i was wondering if you could write something about a peter x fem!reader where she’s homeschooled and doesn’t have friends and then she meets peter and they become close ? thanks!! 

a/n - i changed the request up a bit, and made the reader tony’s daughter to give it an even more ‘fluffy’ feel to it and i think it failed horribly BUT thank you so much for 1k!!! i can’t even believe all the love i’m getting for these fics, it makes me so happy to know you guys like them :) don’t forget to request a peter parker/spider-man fic if you’d like and follow!

I sat at the dining table just across from the living room, headphones in as I watched a math lesson that was just uploaded onto my school’s website. It was just around 10 AM when my school day started, a bowl of freshly cut fruits on the table as I took notes in my small book, sometimes glancing around to see if something more entertaining was going on.

Being the kid of a billionaire had it’s perks, but some downsides to it as well. Sure, I was able to access anything through money, but I was stuck at home a good 99% of my life, hidden away from the public eye at the request of my father. I’ve never been able to go to school and have a ‘normal’ life, with my only friends being the middle aged people the world calls the Avengers.

I paused the lesson and took my headphones out, heading out to the kitchen counter to pour a cup of coffee for myself, only to hear the door opening.

Keep reading

I Don't Wanna Live Forever [Connor Murphy x Reader]

Title: I Don’t Wanna Live Forever
Pairing: Connor Murphy x Reader
Fandom: Dear Evan Hansen
Requested: no
Summary: Your family takes an annual trip to the mountains with the Murphy family every year to unwind over the winter break–that being said, Connor Murphy isn’t the sweet kid he used to be, and you’d rather be anywhere else than sharing a room with him for two weeks. However, between your parents, a line of accidents, and a mapless trip in the woods seem determined to bring you together–if you can make it out alive.
Warnings: Connor’s potty mouth | Mentions of drugs, abuse, alcohol, panic attacks, sex trafficking, sex, blood, hospitals | First person reader | face paced/vignette style | not proof read | tenses may change
A/N: Here’s that long ass thing I’ve been working on for weeks and just finished a few minutes ago, ayy. Based entirely off the “Connor hated skiing” line. This is long af with no read more option, sorry :/ Here we go! (THANKS FOR 500+ FOLLOWERS ♡♡♡)


Connor Murphy was a lot of things.

He was stubborn–I’d never seen him admit he was wrong, but I’d definitely seen him throw scrabble pieces across the wooden floor of the cabin, leaving Zoe to scramble red-faced to collect them as he stomped up the oak steps to his room, echoing around the house.

He was annoying–I’d told him once I wasn’t crazy about Iron Maiden, which resulted in the album being on blast for the entirety of the time he drove Zoe and I around the mall in the family’s silver minivan.

He was stoic. He was impatient. He was angry.

I’d begged my parents not to go cabins for winter break. I’d begged them to pick a different mountain range if we were so dead set on skiing. But Mr. Murphy and my mother were business associates, and the last thing she wanted to do was make them feel like we were no longer on good terms–especially because of Connor.

“Larry’s been having an awfully hard time with Connor, sweetheart, you have to understand,” my mother crooned in our rental car, fixing her lip liner as she drove, my father keeping a white knuckled grip on the Jesus handle above his head. “He’s not doing very well in school and he’s been throwing tantrums at home. Poor Cynthia is at her wits end. They’re lucky to have that sweet Zoe, she’s so talented and smart. Poor Connor is jealous and acting out, just try not to rally him up, alright, dear?”

I didn’t dignify her with a response, mostly because I knew she wouldn’t like what I had to say anyway, but also because I knew she wouldn’t care to listen, either. I sighed loudly, watching the snow flurry softly outside the window. It wasn’t fair–here I was in the middle of something so remarkably beautiful, and I’d be shoved in a minivan with the Murphy kids and stuck in the valley town’s 1970s mall with crappy t-shirts and a vape store that Connor would spend all day in.

The cabin was huge, up with a view of the town below, nearly three stories made of solid, stripped oak, in the middle of a winding road with a four percent grade. Half the cabin was supported on beams which plummeted down the mountain face. I’d be lucky to stand on the deck without vomiting, let alone being able to venture into the hot tub.

The Murphy’s minivan was already in the drive, trunk shut, meaning they’d unpacked and I’d be left with whatever miniscule space they’d left for me in the loft area.

“Remember to be nice, sweetheart,” my mother crooned again, fluffing her hair in the mirror and giving me an enthusiastic smile in the rearview. “It’s important! They’re practically family.”

Geez, I was lucky to not have Connor Murphy for a cousin.

Slinging my backpack over my arm and exiting the rental car, I took the liberty to stretch, despite the cold air that stung my cheeks and the snow that fluttered down into my hair. This may very well be the last moment of solitude I had for the entirety of the week, and I was going to revel in it.

A movement caught my eye, suddenly, and I lowered myself off my tiptoes to glance up at the second story window–a curtain fluttered shut. It was most likely Zoe or Connor checking out the commotion that was my father and mother bickering over who carried what into the house, and shutting it once they’d realized I caught them. Feeling vaguely uneasy, I turned just as Larry Murphy, bundled in a parka, burst out of the house to take two suitcases from my father.

It was going to be a long two weeks.

——

Cynthia Murphy made me stand by the kitchen counter as she was stocking the cabinet with neon colored cardboard boxes containing various sugary, pink cereals with marshmallows and prizes inside. The Murphy kids were both picky eaters, I remembered quickly, Connor more so than Zoe.

Mrs. Murphy kept playing with my hair, crowing about how much longer it looked (despite the fact I’d cut it since the last time I’d seen her) and how pretty and grown up I’d become, asking me the usually annoying adult questions (“Any thoughts on schools yet? Oh, Connor can’t decide either! Do you know what you’re going to major in? That’s alright, you’ll figure it out soon!”) It would’ve been annoying, I decided, if and only if she didn’t look so sad all the time, the purple bruising under her eyes visible still underneath the layers of makeup. My mother could say whatever she liked about Cynthia Murphy where her wifely duties were concerned–Mrs. Murphy tried to be a good mother (re: tried, period), and that was more than enough to pass her in my book.

In the background, my parents were settling into the second master bedroom, Larry Murphy yelling at the bottom of the stairs to announce our arrival. I could do without the annual reunion, awkward questions about school. The Murphy kids were tolerable–Zoe definitely more so–but it didn’t mean they had to force us together so artificially.

Zoe skimpered down the stairs first, her soft moccasin boots barely making any sound on the stairs–I was surprised to find her long legs bare, her thighs peeking out beneath a pretty pink chiffon dress, covered by what I hoped to be a faux fur parka. Her pretty auburn hair was curled, pulled back with a polka dot headband I could recognize from her childhood. She was wearing eyeliner, and cotton candy flavored lip gloss I remembered sharing when we were thirteen.

It was such a stark contrast from how I remembered her before. The last I’d seen her she’d been gawky and fifteen with a mouth full of metal and a bra full of kleenex. She was practically grown now, and beautiful–it made me feel slightly subpar in my own blue jeans and blue sweater. Regardless, she smiled brightly and skipped over to me, opening her arms to wrap them around my neck.

“It’s so good to see you!” She exclaimed, pressing a quick kiss to my cheek that shocked me, as well as some others–Larry Murphy’s horrified expression was priceless, and I was convinced Connor put her up to it–but I just laughed and hugged her tightly before letting her go.

“You look so pretty,” I told her with a wry grin, and she just tossed the expression back, nodding with a, “So do you!”

“It’s so good to see you girls are still so close,” my mother tittered, beginning to uncork a glass of wine–we didn’t drink much at my house, but the Murphy’s, I knew, did, and my mother certainly wasn’t going to let that go to waste. “Where’s that sweet boy of yours?”

Larry Murphy at the bottom of the stairs, banging on the oak walls, yelling out, “Connor!” was enough to make both the Murphy women flinch visibly. Zoe still had her arm around my waist as we stared up at the ceiling above us, waiting for the squeak of sneakers on the polished wood.

“Don’t yell.”

Zoe jumped away from me as if she’d been burned, pressing herself against the countertop as if to make herself invisible. Mrs. Murphy, her hand clutched to her chest after the initial nose, fought hard to smile believably. I, myself, had jumped at the unexpected sound–Connor Murphy’s curt tenor clear across the room, no where near the stairs, instead standing the doorway were we had just come from. I couldn't  quite make out his frame from here–there was a line of bodies blocking my view, my parents, Mrs. Murphy, and Zoe all formed a human barrier that constructed the divide between Connor and I. Fine by me.

“There you are!” Mrs. Murphy chirped, clearly still nervous, visibly by her shaking voice and hands, fluffing her hair to give her something to do. “You didn’t miss much, Connor, they’ve just arrived.”

My mother said something unintelligent in way of greeting, to which Conner didn’t reply, just shut the door carefully behind him to keep out the cold air. I couldn’t see his face from here, but I could make out that he was much too still for a teenage boy, much too quiet.

“–You remember her, don’t you, Connor?”

My throat closed up as the Red Sea parted, everyone’s heads turning to look between the two of us.

He didn’t move from the doormat–boots  caked in snow, as if he’d gone for a walk, and the bottoms of his skinny jeans were muddy and slick looking. Still, he didn’t shiver, which was slightly unnerving. He was skinnier than I remembered, like he hadn’t been eating, and his face was all angles. He slouched, his pink mouth which was mottled red from the cold was set in a heavy frown. His eyes, which were scanning somewhere around my waist and hadn’t come anywhere near making eye contact since he’d seen me, had blown pupils. Drugs. He was doing drugs in the middle of the afternoon.

He hadn’t cut his hair since I’d seen him last, brown curls poking out of the bottom of a black sock toboggan with a soft pompom on top. It could’ve been funny, I supposed, his rough puberty finishing to leave him left over with this, something akin to a drugged out vogue model who listened to way too much 2008 Fall Out Boy, if he didn’t seem so…unnervingly somber for someone who clearly wasn’t sober. Geez, this kid was a school shooter in the making.

I glanced back up to find him finally staring at my face, shooting an uncomfortable alertness down my spine. His eyebrows were crooked in vague amusement that didn’t seem to reach his mouth, and I felt my face heat up under his scrutiny. If he was trying to intimidate me, it wouldn’t work. I wasn’t scared of boys like him.

“Yeah, I remember her,” he grinned mirthlessly, stuffing his hands into the gut pocket of his hoodie, giving me a nod that, while meant to appease our parents, also felt like a vague threat. I didn’t smile back.

“Great! Wanna show her the room?”

Connor grinned crookedly. “Follow me, kid.”

——

The upstairs layout was just like I remembered  it–Two rooms, one main one in the first entrance with a king bed tucked in the corner, a TV and a few gaming systems with some furniture in the front, a bathroom with two doors which lead through to the other room, which held the fold out couch and television I was accustomed to using.

The Murphy kids already had their belongs strewn about the room–Zoe’s stuff animals and princess blankets eclipsing most of the bed and an ancient Nintendo DS on the table with SpongeBob stickers on the cover that I’m sure belonged to Connor–and it left me very little room to maneuver through.

Connor was silent as he lead me up, as if I didn’t know the way, but surprised me by stopping in front of the king bed, holding out his arms to signal me.

“Your room, my lady.”

I cocked an eyebrow. “This–this is your bed.”

“Not this year. Dad’s decided it’s a little too Flowers In the Attic for Zoe and I to share a bed this year–I’m on the pull out and you girls get to have your fun.” He shot me a bitter smile to let me know he wasn’t thrilled about having the pull-out–he shouldn’t be, the thing was total garbage–but surely he’d enjoy the privacy of it?

“I don’t care to take the pull-out,” I told him, keeping my bag on my shoulder despite the fact it was beginning to be painfully heavy. “If you wanna–”

“Don’t have a choice,” he said, already turning toward the bathroom to walk to his half of the loft. “The bed’s yours.”

——

So, Connor Murphy had turned out to be a total dick. It should’ve unsurprising information, I knew, but part of me still remembered him as a charismatic kid I was, at one point, friends with. Back when the three of us all slept in the king bed, before any of us ever had a zit, when we’d fall asleep in the floor watching early 1990s Pokémon episodes, because Larry Murphy didn’t like them watching it.

Even the Connor I remembered at fourteen, gangly and silent and shy with close-cropped hair felt better than this. I was past uncomfortable, sitting stiffly between he and Zoe on one of the couches in the living room. There was a faux fur blanket hanging behind us, shedding hairs onto Connor’s black jacket, which would’ve been funny if he wasn’t picking at his nails with a slightly rusted pocket knife–I notice he’d painted them, which I oddly admired. I’d kissed a boy earlier this year who painted his nails, and his palms were always soft when he’d reach up to cup my cheeks. It softened Connor in my head, just slightly.

He was careful, I saw, to stay on his side of the couch, leaning into the apex of the arm and the back of the couch rather  than flush with me, his thin legs stretched out and crossed at the ankle to avoid me. I appreciated it, but it didn’t stop me from leaning forward, my elbows on my knees, sitting on the edge of the cushion. I could still feel warmth radiating from him–it was late, and I was tired with a full stomach. If I wasn’t careful, I’d fall right into him, and he’d never let me live that down.

Zoe practically was asleep, leaning forward as well with her head on my shoulder. Cynthia had let her have nearly two glasses of wine at dinner–not enough to get her drunk, but it didn’t change the fact Zoe was still lithe and young, and easily tipsy.

We’d all gone into town for a very awkward dinner–I was just thankful to be placed between my father and Zoe, in a position on the opposite end of the table from Connor, who was stuck in between Larry and Cynthia, looking as if he were in a permanent time out.

Now we were gathered around the coffee table in the cabin, the seven of us hunched over a tiny photo album that I couldn’t really make out from here. There were fuzzy polaroids of us as children, looking nothing like we did now. Connor and I at six, soaked from romping in a sprinkler. Zoe and Connor sharing a chocolate icecream cone, their faces covered in the brown spatter.

“You were all so small,” Mrs. Murphy crowed with a choked voice, covering half her face with her hand in a faux attempt to eclipse the emotion. “Oh, I miss it. You kids used to spend so much time together! Now we only get together for break, and Zoe is so busy there’s hardly enough time for her to spend quality time with her sweet brother.”

Zoe snorted loudly, earning a glare from Mr. Murphy I was positive I wasn’t supposed to see. I snuck a glance at Connor, whose face betrayed no emotion, just staring blankly ahead in the direction of the album. From his position, I was positive he couldn’t see more than the chipped leather cover of the book. Even if he leaned forward, he wouldn’t have been able to see much.

My mother and Mrs. Murphy went out in loud voices in a seamless attempt to pretend the seemingly secret interaction had taken place, so, while the focus was shifted, I turned my attention to Connor.

He didn’t cock an eyebrow this time when he caught me staring, instead just furrowed his eyebrows and looked at me, as if he expected me to speak.

“Can you see?” I asked, nodding my head in the direction of the book.

“I’m fine,” he said immediately–vaguely irritating, I’d admit, but nonetheless understandable. I was sure Cynthia Murphy had spent most of her life making sure Connor was comfortable at all times. Still, this was my olive branch, in an attempt to make this trip a little more tolerable, and Zoe seemed less than likely to console her brother at this point.

“We can change seats, I’m not really looking,” I promised, sitting forward more in my seat to show that I was ready to make the change.

“I’m fi–”

Connor was cut off by a squeal from his mother, who had tossed the book into our laps. It had taken a great deal of squinting, letting my heartbeat slow before I realized she’d been showing us something and not trying to kill some giant bug between us.

The polaroid was grainy, an ivory hue that whitewashed the photo and the years of existence made the picture hard to decipher at first, especially when we were so tired. The time stamp was from the late nineties, glowing yellow in the corner of the frame. I recognized the gilded tub from upstairs that dominated half the bathroom, big enough for three adults easily.

Connor threw to book onto my lap first, like it had scalded him. I should’ve done the same, but it took me a moment. To see, to adjust, to read and understand what was so socially condemning about the photo.

It was Connor, I realized first, small and tanned with bony ribs and chunky fingers and the apples of his cheeks straining against his baby skin. His hair was cropped so short, it looked almost silly. Beside him was me, my hair wild and tangled, curled as if my mother had teased it for dinner. My wide eyes were blazing, much too big for my face, and I was grinning with wet lips at the camera.

We were in the tub, surrounded by big pink bubbles.

We were very, very naked.

It shouldn’t have been a big deal–not really, unless you counted the fact that if this had been printed, our parents would be arrested for child porn. I was mostly covered, sitting beside Connor, my shoulders hunched forward. But Connor was standing, meaning the camera got a very decent view of–

“What the fuck, Mom!” He screaming, standing and ripping the book off my lap. Cynthia’s tittering died immediately, the hands covering her laughed instead covered her horrified face.

This was how it started, I realized.

“It’s not fucking funny,” he growled, tossing the book across the room, banging against the wooden wall with a heavy whomp.  

“That’s enough, Connor,” Larry Murphy growled low in his throat. Cynthia’s head was downcast, her eyes wide and wet. I recognized the emotion immediately–she shut down with conflict the same way Connor did.

“You don’t get to laugh at me for shits and giggles this whole trip,” Connor said, already lunging up the stairs, his hands shaking. “If I wanted to feel shitty, I’d have a conversation with you.”

So much for having a quiet trip.
——
Zoe wasn’t quiet in her gossip about Connor–his door was fashioned shut, I saw, and I doubt he’d come out for the rest of the night. I was positive he could hear his sister’s loud comments from our room.

“Sorry, he’s such an ass,” Zoe groaned, stretching on the bed, her little lilac nightgown shifting across her thighs. “I think his high is wearing off or something–don’t let it bug you. You don’t have to be nice to him, by the way. I’m not gonna let him hurt you.”

I shrugged, noncommittal. “We were friends once. I’m not gonna be mean, he’s never done anything to me.”

Zoe snorted. “You didn’t just see that? He’s a monster, and it gets worse.”

“He just has a temper. Everyone gets like that sometimes.”

I wasn’t sure why I was defending Connor–half because I didn’t want Zoe to tell Connor I disliked him, then he’d actively terrorize me–half because I had no idea why Connor Murphy was so pissed off. It was just a picture. Yeah, embarrassing, I’ll admit I wasn’t too thrilled about eighteen year old Connor Murphy seeing my nipples, and I’ll admit he definitely had the worst end of the stick.

“He loses his shit like that all the time,” Zoe said. “It’s not just a temper.”

“He’s your brother, Zoe,” I reminded gently, brushing out my hair in the bathroom mirror. “Can’t you give him the benefit of the doubt?”

“He’s no brother of mine,” she whispered, rolling over on the bed and clicking off the light.

——

The next few days passed as the usually did–the adults going places without us, albeit romantic and boring, and leaving the three of us to wander about the town below the mountain crests. It was Zoe’s turn to pick the day’s activity, and she’d chosen the mall.

The place was all dark oak, and hadn’t been remodeled since the late seventies at the earliest. Zoe was chipper, balancing a bag of organic soap and bath bombs on her lap that she’d bought at a local shop, pouring over the cheese fries between us on a plastic red tray.

Connor had also been well-behaved since his outburst several days ago, albeit quiet. He’d separated from us the second we’d arrived, holed out in some record store. Zoe was thrilled to be rid of him, and very vocal about it. I was bored out of my mind.

“Don’t look now,” Zoe said brightly, despite her face suddenly shifting into a mask of disinterest. She bit down on her lip, covered in a pink glitter lipgloss she’d applied much too liberally, and pulled on her pretty auburn braid. “There’s some boys two tables behind us checking you out.”

I felt my face get hot. “You’re lying.”

“Nuh-uh,” Zoe said, leaning into take a sip of her milkshake, biting down on the straw–the look on her face told me she’d got their attention.

“How old are they?” I hissed. The last thing we needed were some creeps following us around the mall–this was how sex trafficking started. Surely Zoe knew that this was a huge red flag.

It was clear from her overzealous wave she didn’t.

I felt a hand on the back of my chair before I saw them–to Zoe’s credit, they were pretty. Both in thick denim blue jeans, both in letterman jackets over white tee-shirts. One was tall, skinny, with pretty dark skin and hair cropped close to his head. The other was a little thicker, pale and short, in badly need from a shave. They were smiling brightly at the two of us in a way that was less awestruck and more closely resembled a triumphant conquest.

“Hello, ladies,” the shorter man greeted, grinning like a shark between Zoe and I. His hair was dark, curling around his temples–handsome, maybe my age, maybe ten years older. It was impossible to tell. There were lines around his eyes that either indicated he smiled too much or was simply older. “What are two cute girls like you doing inside on a day like this–the ski lift is just a walk down the road.”

“We’re here shopping with our brother,” I said immediately, giving a grin. The taller boy quirked his eyebrows at me–his eyes, I noticed, were dark with tawny flecks hidden in them.

“That’s cool,” he said to me, switching places so that the other boy could be closer to Zoe. They both pulled chairs up to our table, facing us. My stomach pinched uncomfortably. “Where’s he at?”

“Nike,” I lied, seeing the sign from the distance and knowing very well that Hot Topic, while probably true, didn’t exactly invoke fear.

“Ah,” he said with a grin, his eyes glancing down at my bare arm with a grin. With two slim fingers, he reached forward to pluck at my woven bracelet Zoe had made me a few nights ago, my name in block letter strung across the twine. His hands were uncomfortably hot, and I drew my arm back into my lap. “Aren’t you cold?” He nodded to my bare arms. I’d left my flannel with Connor, who was sitting on a bench at the time–I hoped he remembered to grab it. I was just wearing a striped cotton tee right now, and my arm had broken out in a case of goosebumps, though I wasn’t sure it was from the cold.

“I’m fine,” I said, careful not to meet his gaze. He was pretty, and if I wasn’t careful, I might end up going somewhere with this guy.

“You know,” he began, and I could hear his grin turn predatory. “You’re very pretty.”

A jolt shot down my spine–I wasn’t pretty, not really, which terrified me. I could hear what the other boy was whispering to Zoe, but I could tell that all the stars were gone from her eyes. She looked pale, panicked. These weren’t the kind of boys we needed to hanging around with.

“I know,” I said quickly. “We really need to call our brother–”

“I think he can wait long enough for me to get your number, right?”

Across the table Zoe laughed, too loudly, pushing back and standing from her chair. She was grinning at the dark haired boy, beckoning her to follow with a jerk of her chin.

“Zoe–”

“We’re gonna run to get some coffee, okay? Connor should be back soon, don’t wait up.”

She didn’t meet my heavy glare for long, and didn’t turn around when I yelled her name. I watched in silent horror as the boy put his hand flush with her lower back.

I was alone.

The panic crept onto the back of my neck long before his thin fingers did. He smelled like cinnamon, strongly, like he’d done one too many sprays with his cologne that morning. When I turned to face him, his tawny eyes were asking.

“Is this the part where you say you’ve got a boyfriend?” He grinned, his teeth blindingly bright in his tan face. He was so close I could see the threads on the collar of his letterman jacket–it looked soft.

There was a possibility, I realized, that they weren’t dangerous. That I was just being paranoid–Zoe wasn’t stupid, and she wouldn’t go off with a strange boy unless she was sure it was safe. Still, they were definitely in college.

And boy, were they pretty.

“I do have a boyfriend, actually,” I said, lifting my chin to meet his gaze so he wouldn’t think I was lying. There was a small voice in the back of my head, screaming, raised on her tip toes that I should just take this plunge–let him hold my hand or kiss him or whatever he wanted to do, because this was a shitty trip and I deserved to be as reckless as the Murphy kids were allowed. I didn’t see a reason why I shouldn’t.

Besides, you know, the obvious.

He quirked an eyebrow. “You have a boyfriend?” He asked, biting back a smirk. I felt the voice in the back of my head get sucker punched by my ego. So, he didn’t think I was pretty after all. Which meant he was dangerous.

Which meant Zoe was in trouble.

“Yes,” I growled, standing, yelping a bit when his hand snaked up to grab at my wrist, nearly breaking my bracelet and keeping me bent over the table.

“Let go,” I hissed–the food court was nearly deserted, and the family in the corner was carefully avoiding my eyes. I wasn’t sure I had the voice to scream.

“I don’t believe you have a boyfriend.”

“Let go, or I’ll scream,” I warned, yanking on my arm. He let go immediately, holding his hand high above his head, which I knew was meant as a gesture of calm, but instead looked an awful lot like he intended to strike me.

“Where’s your boyfriend, then?” He taunted loudly, thrilled to see no one in the court coming to my aid. I felt sick, the panic rising in my chest. Where was Zoe? She was in trouble. I was in trouble. I was going to have to scream–

“He’s right here.”

My arm flailed, immediately cocking back in an attempt to elbow in the stomach whoever had wrapped their arm around my neck, their other spidery hand snaking just slightly under the hem of my t-shirt to splay across my hip, finger tips barely brushing my skin above my jeans. The arms were strong, vice like, pressing me against a hard body, and suddenly I felt limp, panic leaving me as I realized whose familiar smell I was enveloped in.

Hair grazed across my cheekbone, and I could make out the dark locks if I looked out the corner of my eye, and I nearly yelped when I felt lips press chastely against my temple.

I couldn’t make out much of the boy anymore, my eyes level with Connor’s adams apple from where he was pressing me against him.

“Babe,” Connor said cooly, calmly, making my knees knock against his. “Who’s this?”

“H-he’s leaving,” I managed to stutter out, barely a whisper, my voice hoarse. I sounded terrified. No wonder this ass in the letterman jacket hadn’t be intimated by me, I sounded about as frightening as a kitten. Connor pressed his fingers against the nape of my neck, tilting my head against his jugular so that I couldn’t see anything but the pale column of his throat and his dark hair. It was getting difficult to breathe–I felt sick. He moved his hand to wrap around my waist, yanking me tightly to him.

“You heard her,” Connor said, again stoic–half of me wished I could see his face, but the other half knew it would be terrifying. Connor’s temper was legendary and destructive–to see him so angry wouldn’t make the fist in my gut unclench. “Go. Take your friend with you.”

There was a beat of silence. Then two. I couldn’t hear much but my own shaky breathing, warm and wet against Connor’s neck, his hair making the space much too hot. I wasn’t aware I had knotted my fingers into his shirt until he started walking, dragging my stumbling form forward with him. He was going fast, too fast for me to keep up, and my chest could only rise so far before deflating painfully.

“You gotta breathe,” he grunted, one of his arms still around me. His face felt hot against me.

“Z-zoe!” I choked out, realizing I had no idea where she was. She could still be with that boy, be in danger–

“Oh, Christ,” he exclaimed bitterly, letting go and beginning to trudge forward. I was terrified briefly, suddenly overwhelmed with the fact I didn’t know where I was. There was a Game Stop, and a Victoria’s secret, the neon lighting combined with the screaming toddlers and the kissing teens and Connor was leaving

An arm swept up from behind me, leading me just as quickly, mumbling something I couldn’t make out into my ear.

“Zoe!” I grinned, immediately feeling safer, feeling my fear melt away just smidgen in my gut.

“I’m so so sorry I left,” she sobbed. “I went looking for a cop, but I found Connor first and I told him you were in trouble–”

“It’s fine,” I said immediately, surprised that my voice was no longer wet. “Thanks, Zoe.”

I was calm, or, at least calmer by the time we reached the van. Connor was waiting by the passenger side door, which was opened, leaning against a scratch in the silver paint. He wasn’t looking at us, instead appearing to observe the silver snowflakes as they fell.

My reflection in the side mirror revealed my face was red and blotchy, not just from the cold wind. I felt gross–guilty for the fact I hadn’t been able to defend myself and Zoe, guilty for the fact Connor Murphy was the one who had to come to my rescue, and guilty for the fact I’d cried all over him. His zipped up hoodie seemed to have escaped the mess, but that didn’t mean I didn’t feel awful. 

He stepped out of the way when I made it close, gesturing for me to get in the passenger side door while glaring at the ground. I was only vaguely surprised, and followed along immediately. Zoe and I almost always rode together in the back. I let Connor shut the door, ignoring the disgusted look Zoe gave as she got into the back.

Connor hoisted himself into the driver’s seat, surprising me with a costume change, reappearing in only a forest green tee. He held out his hoodie to me, balled up in one of his fists without looking at me, before just tossing it into my lap.

“I–”

“I left your flannel in the back. Put that on or you’ll freeze.”

He licked his lips, staring coldly out the front window, before starting the car. I swallowed. Yeah, he definitely hated me.

“Okay.”

——

“You’re sure you’re alright, honey?” My mother asked for the third time. Her hair was tied up, her pink bathrobe covering little of her cleavage and bare legs. She was cradling a wine bottle in her hands, looking at me in faux concern.

I gave her a soft smile. “I’m fine,” I lied. I’d calmed considerately. Connor and Zoe had both agreed I needed to shower to wash off the panicked look on my face–I’d asked them to keep the days happenings a secret. They’d reluctantly agreed.

She gave me a clipped smile. “Maybe you should go to bed early, yeah? That’s what I plan to do.”

I nodded, scratching at my bare leg. I’d taken advantage of Zoe’s absense and changed into boxer shorts and an oversized tee with a kitten on the front–she and Cynthia had headed into town for the night, spending the night at a spa and would be gone for a few days, and my father had taken his annual ‘me time’ and booked a hotel downtown to do his own thing. I think Mr. Murphy went with him, but regardless, he was out of the house. It was just me and my mother.

And Connor. I tried not to think about it. I planned on offering him the big bed tonight, in way of thanking him for today, but we hadn’t spoken much since the incident and I felt…odd. Unsure how to thank him. Unsure why he helped.

I supposed the Murphy men were just gentlemen, even under all that teen angst.

“Yeah,” I agreed. “I’m probably gonna sit out on the balcony and then head to bed.”

She grinned. “Don’t stay out too late, it’s almost down to single digits, dear.”

I just nodded, sliding off the countertop, and slinking upstairs. I was surprised to see Connor sitting on the bed. I grinned.

He looked different, to say the least. He was still without his jacket, wearing only his tee and jeans, and little pair of socks with stars on them, which did seem a little out of character, but I assumed Cynthia bought them. His head perked when he saw me, simply craning his neck, keeping his shoulders bowed forward over his body.

He looked small, I realized. He didn’t look like a boy who punched holes in walls or scared off very big very scary men in shopping mall food courts. He looked like a vogue model with a little too much innocence.

He gave me a grin with no teeth, and it didn’t quite meet his eyes, but I gave him a sheepish smile back.

“Hey,” I greeted, tugging on my top to cover my shorts a little better–Connor Murphy didn’t have any interest in seeing my thighs. Despite all the panic, I’d been playing over and over in my head the comment the boy in the mall had made, incredulous that I had a boyfriend. It was silly to let it sting me, considering he probably wanted to stuff me in a van, but it crippled me nonetheless.

“Hey,” he greeted back, not rising from the bed.  I waited for him to speak again, and when he said nothing, I continued.

“I, uh, meant to say, since Zoe’s gone, you can have the big bed like good old times.”

He frowned. “I don’t need the bed.”

“I don’t either,” I promised, leaning against the banister. “Plus,” I sighed, scratching at the back of my head. “I’m not entirely sure how to thank you for today. I’d probably be selling for a low ball price on the dark web right now, if it wasn’t for you. So, thanks.”

Connor was still frowning. “You’ve had a really rough day. You should take the bed.”

“No,” I insisted, beginning to get frustrated. “I’m really okay, I promise. I can’t give you anything else, take the bed.”

His dark eyebrows knit together quickly, licking his lips again nervously. “I don’t–”

“Plus,” I cut him off again with a curt laugh. “I owe you for your Oscar performance. That was crazy, you know. I can’t believe you fooled him into thinking a guy like you would be with a girl like me.”

His head snapped up. “A guy like me?” He reiterated coldly. I felt my face grow hot.

“You know,” I said quietly.

“Know what?”

“That you’re cool,” I muttered. “And nice looking. And I’m not.”

I was thankful for the warm lighting in the room, concealing my red face. It was already dark out, the blinds drawn tightly. Connor’s fists clenched in the white lace comforter on the bed. I didn’t want him to feel bad for me, and I sort of regretted saying it. Connor had already seen me blubbering today and he didn’t need my shitty teen angst to deal with.

He bit down on his lower lip, staring coldly at the ground before murmuring, “I need a shower. Take the bed.”

I shook my head. “I’m gonna go for a walk.”

He just nodded, rising from the bed. “Don’t get too far. It’s cold out.”

Connor shut the bathroom door behind him, and I was left feeling like a total idiot. I could hear the shower running before I left, snagging Connor’s grey jacket from my bed post and sliding it on. I went down the stairs, sliding out the first door to the outside, stepping out onto the first floor balcony. I made a mental note to the shut the blinds later, before walking around to the front of the cabin.

I should’ve been thrilled to be alive, I realized, snorting at how melodramatic that sounded. Still, as I burrowed deeper into Connor’s jacket, watching my thighs turn red from the cold, I realized that I was shrouded in a veil of melancholy I wouldn’t be able to shake off.

I missed Connor. I missed being his friend. I missed him coming over for play dates when we were kids, gauzy fairy wings strapped to our backs, jumping on a trampoline when Zoe was still to young to participate. I missed writing him letters, like a pen pal, despite the fact he only lived on the opposite side of town. Going to different schools hadn’t deterred us, for a while, at least. We had sleepovers every birthday, and Zoe told the best scary stories. I remembered hiding under Connor’s bed with him, a hand clasped over my mouth so Zoe wouldn’t hear our breathing.

I remembered kissing him when we were in kindergarten, ridiculously late at night, a quick smack on the lips during a game of pretend. I’d kissed Zoe, too, when we were probably much too old for it, but thinking of Connor tugged on my chest.

It stopped as we turned twelve, I realized. I never saw him–he was still playing little league, and I stopped coming to his games to pick dandelions with Zoe. He was beginning to get teased. My parents insisted the slumber parties should stop, we were too old. Every time Connor and I were together at birthdays or Christmas parties, adults would joke about when we’d fall in love, how soon would it be before we got married. We avoided each other like the plague, unless we knew we could be alone. And we were never alone.

Connor hid inside himself. Zoe made fun of him at parties, loudly. I kept quiet.

He stopped calling during the summer months. He never rode his bike by my house. The only time I saw Connor Murphy was the annual ski trip.

I missed him. He’d been a childhood friend, and I’d let him go without a second thought to save myself some shred of dignity, like it wouldn’t be ripped away from me regardless.

Connor Murphy was nothing to be ashamed of.

And now it was too late to be his friend.

It had started to snow again, so I wiped my face and rose, walking the opposite way I had come, skirting the stairs–they led to the upstairs, but only to Connor’s room, and I didn’t plan to barge in uninvited, especially if he was still in the shower, two rooms blocked me from getting to the king bed, so I’d have to walk all the way around the house.

The lights were out, I saw, but again no one had bothered to close the blinds. The television might have been on, a dim blue glow resounding onto the leather couch–

I froze.

As it turned out, my mother hadn’t gone to bed. The television was on, showing some late show with some old white man making cracks about some politician I didn’t care for, casting the blue haze onto the coffee table, revealing the wine bottle my mother had been cradling. Two empty glasses sat on the table–my mother’s bathrobe crinkled on the floor.

I was disgusted in a comedic way, just for a moment, to see my mother in her nightgown kissing my father, who my brain had filled in under the assumption he’d arrived back.

I’d begun backing up to the stairs, Connor Murphy’s naked body be damned, when I realized my father’s car had never pulled up, and I’d been on the front porch the whole time.

A better look in the window revealed a man a little older, a little more gray and a little more handsome than my father.

I was sprinting by the time Larry Murphy had begun to peel his shirt off his back.

I didn’t knock by the time I’d made it to Connor’s room, just threw open the door, struggling to get my breathing under control. I stumbled to the pull out couch, dragging the sheets up around my freezing legs. I was in shock, I knew, and I needed to calm down before Connor came in–the bathroom door was shut, but I couldn’t hear the shower anymore, despite the steady trickle of steam coming through the cracks. I was trapped in this room until Connor came out.

My mother was cheating on my father Larry Murphy. Larry Murphy was cheating on his wife with my mother. I couldn’t breathe. I couldn’t breathe. I couldn’t believe it, I had to have made it up, this had to be a dream–

“What are you doing in here?”

It was an exclamation, alarmed, grasping a towel tight with thin white knuckles.

Connor. Connor in a towel. Connor wet with slick hair and chest hair and navel and hip bones. Connor Murphy, son of Larry Murphy, who had his tongue down my mom’s throat–

“Hey, breathe, what’s going on? What’s wrong?”

By the time my eyes snapped back into focus, Connor was struggling to pull on grey basketball shorts without dropping his towel, and I dropped my gaze back to my shaking hands, almost startlingly red from the temperature change and what was most likely shock. I was hyperventilating, struggling to smother the sobs. I knew this deep in the house, they probably wouldn’t hear me–they were most definitely preoccupied anyway. 

The bed dipped, and Connor’s bare side brushed my thigh. I didn’t mean to jerk back, but I did, clinging to the arm of the couch and staring horrified–Connor looked almost hurt, but mostly panicked. I tried to calm down, for his sake.

“S-sorry!” I sobbed. “Sorry! I-I-I didn’t mean–I didn’t mean–I didn’t–I–”

“Hey, stop, breathe. You gotta breathe. Go slow, okay? Stop tryna talk,” he commanded, holding up his hands to show he wasn’t gonna hurt me, readjusting so that he sat up on his knees, leaning  over me to take my hands, rubbing them between his own despite the claminess.

I avoided his eyes, focusing instead on the dip of his collar bone, surprised to see thin lines of chest hair, wet and plastered to his chest. He was skinny, and I could see his ribs despite the tiny stomach roll from where he folded in the middle. His thumbs rubbed soothing circles across the backs of my hands, and for a moment, I didn’t think. I could’ve forgotten everything and fallen asleep right here with him.

He pulled my hands against his chest, cradling mine in his own, pulling me forward, asking with his slate eyes if it was alright.

I pretended we were friends.

“You wanna talk about that?” He asked very softly, looking down at where our hands were clasped against him–he was warm, his skin pink and hot from the shower. He’d combed his hair back out of his face, and it was almost cute like that. “If it’s about today, I promise you’re safe, alright? I wasn’t gonna let that guy hurt you.”

My heart sunk in my chest, nearly restarting my panic attack. I shook my head.

Connor deserved to know.

I was scared, briefly, that it would set him off. He might yell at me, throw things, kick me out of the room. He might hit me.

I didn’t care. He had a right to know.

I swallowed thickly, shaking my head. “N-no.”

“Did something happen on your walk? Are you okay?”

I shook my head.

“What? Trouble back home–your boyfriend break up with you or something?”

“My mom–” I started, voice breaking, feeling fresh tears of shock on my cheeks.

His eyebrows furrowed, tightening his grip on my hands. “Is she okay? She–”

I saw it in slow motion–his jaw unclenched, eyebrows relaxing from their set, pouted mouth turning down. It was calm. It was knowing.

“You saw them,” he said very softly, letting my hands fall back into his lap. I was too shocked to move them away from his thighs.

“You knew,” I spat–an accusation. I hadn’t meant to make it one.

Connor scrubbed at his eyes roughly, flopping onto his back against the bed. Frustrated.

“I was tired of my dad reading my fucking emails, so I hacked into his–I only saw a few. I didn’t want to see anymore.”

I paled, feeling nauseous. “So it’s happened before?” I choked.

He swallowed. “That was two summers ago.”

“Fuck,” I hissed uncharacteristically, surprised to find Connor stretching out an arm to me. I took his hand with a firm grip. “How long before then.”

He shrugged. “Maybe our whole lives. Maybe before. I’m not sure, angel.”

I nodded, secretly pleased that he was so calm. It kept me level, grounded, watching where our hands were linked.

“What do we do?” I choked. “I have to tell my dad. He deserves to know.”

Connor’s eyebrows furrowed. “Everything would change. He’d tell my mom.”

I bit down on my lip, folding down onto my back to lay down beside Connor. “I hadn’t considered that.”

Connor sighed, scratching at my hand tenderly with his black painted nails. “I’m not sure that my mom and Zoe could handle the news–it’s not like they’d turn to me. They’d be alone. Zoe might even take my dad’s side.”

I groaned, stealing my hands to scrub at my eyes. My wet hair was beginning to dry in a tangled mess.

“This is too much,” I mumbled, rolling onto my side to face Connor, staring at his bare, freckled shoulder. “I don’t know what to do. If I can do anything.”

I jumped a foot out of my skin when he placed a hand at the corner of my jaw, brushing the tangled hair back out of my face. “You don’t have to think about it right now. You’ve had a really long fucking day. You should sleep.”

I didn’t want to sleep–I didn’t want Connor to leave. I didn’t know how to say that.

I couldn’t believe that everyone had tried to desperately to convince me Connor Murphy was a bad boy–fuck them, Connor Murphy was good. He was better than everyone in this cabin combined.

He cared about me.

I caught his wrist, which froze in my grasp, but I just took his bony hand and cradled it between my hands the same way he’d done mine, tracing the lines across his palm. He sucked  in a sharp breath.

“Okay,” I said, and he smiled, moving away. I let go of his hand.

“I just have to turn off the light. Get comfy.”

His retreating footsteps filled my stomach with dread, but nevertheless I unzipped his jacket and draped it on top of the blanket so that it would at least keep my feet warm. Pulling the pillow tight behind my head, I was pleased to find it sort of smelled like Connor’s shampoo as the light clicked off. It left me feeling a little more safe. Ironic, I realized. I was in the middle of a wilderness, I’d almost been abducted, my mother was downstairs ruining our family, and all I could find myself to be worried about was if Connor would be okay.

The bed dipped behind me, shocking me into stillness, surprising me even more when someone lifted the sheet and slid in behind me, a bony hand resting on my hip.

“This okay?” He asked, and I dared to open my eyes to meet his. They were unsure, nervous. He was scared I’d reject him. I nodded, scooting closer.

“It really will be okay, you know,” he assured. “Whatever you choose, I’m gonna be with you.”

“You’re amazing,” I said without thinking, but being entirely sincere. Even in the dark, I saw his eyes go wide and his cheeks tinge a deep magenta in his pale face.

“No, I’m not.”

“Yes, you are,” I assured with a laugh, reaching across the divide to poke at his side, slightly surprised to still find him shirtless. He’d withdrawn his hand almost immediately, keeping respectfully to his side of the bed. “I’d be dead without you. And you’ve supported me this whole way.”

His jaw clenched and unclenched, freeing one of his arms to pick at the wrinkled sheets between us. “I just, fuck, I knew you’d hear some shit, but I was hoping you’d be able to come out here and we could start over again, like before? Zoe started her smear campaign almost immediately. I just, fuck, nevermind.”

I watched him withdraw, turning over with his back to me, the pale plains of his back bared to me.

“Con,” I said very softly. “I don’t care what they say–fuck them,” I laughed, watching Connor’s shoulders shake. “I think you’re good, Connor, and I miss being your friend.”

I watched with bated breath as his back rose and fell with his steady breath in the cold room, his skin radiating heat. I shifted closer, crossing the divide between us. He didn’t respond.

I didn’t sleep.

——

I was alerted late in the day by a noise–it was daylight, I noted, the clock on the bedside table reading it was almost noon. I was groggy, still in the state between sleep and consciousness. The room was shrouded in a bright grey hue from the winter wonderland outside–it had snowed a significant amount, apparently, and the white fluff stuck hopelessly to the window.

At the foot of the bed, Connor was on his knees, pulling a navy sweater over his head. It was tight, with a stretched collar and holes at the hem, but he looked good in it. His hair was frizzed at the temples, and his eyes were wide when we saw me.

“You’re awake.”

I just nodded, a little embarrassed. Part of me hoped Connor would just let last night drop, and we could continue our indifference toward each other, but most of me felt as if we had an unfinished conversation to attend to.

“Is anyone back yet?” I asked, surprised as Connor came to sit in front of me, legs crossed kindergarten style. He shook his head.

“No, actually. No one came back from their trip, and the lovebirds have miraculously vanished for a ski day. It’s just me and you.”

“Oh.”

Connor seemed unsure for a moment, brushing his hands off on his pants. “I’m sorry, um, about last night? I should’ve asked first if it was okay to sleep next to you, I just–I know you said you missed being friends, so I thought–”

“It was nice,” I cut him off with a smile that was nearly all false bravado. “Warm. I really do miss hanging out with you.”

He pursed his lips in way of a smile. “Me too. Miss having friends, period, but you’re kinda great, so–I’ll shut up.”

Stretching, I groaned with the sensation and smiled widely at him. “We can be friends again, don’t you think?” I asked, rubbing the sleep from my eyes. When my vision cleared, he was sitting by my feet, eyes downcast.

“It’s kinda lame, isn’t it?” He asked, sending ice down my spine.

“What, I’m not cool enough for you?” I teased half heartedly, despite feeling slightly sick. If Connor left now, I’d be marooned on this island I’d made for myself, and it wasn’t ideal knowing I no longer had any allies.

“No! That’s not what I–no, fuck, I just meant. Don’t you like Zoe better?”

I shook my head. “I like Zoe–but I liked you first.”

“Yeah, I liked the Teletubbies first, doesn’t mean I prefer them to Death Cab for Cutie.”

I snorted. “Okay, I like you best. You’re both really similar, you know, but you’re kinder.”

He shot me a glare, which I supposed I’d earned. “Liar.”

“Can’t lie,” I protested. “And I like you better. Get used to it.”

He swallowed, shifting on the bed and looking at me again as if grappling to say something. His eyebrows were pinched in the middle, making him look slightly worried, small. I watched the way his mouth bowed as he opened and closed it, my eyes tracing over his soft lips.

He was pretty, I realized, in a way I wouldn’t have considered before.

“What about when you leave?” He asked softly, scratching his arm absently.

I frowned. “What about it?”

“We won’t see each other again.”

I smiled. “Connor, you just live on the other side of town. I do own a car.”

He frowned. “You’d come to see me?”

“If you wanted me to,” I answered honestly. “Or we could go do stuff. It doesn’t make me any difference–whatever you want, I’m game for.”

His eyebrows took a sharp hike into his hairline. “Whatever I want, huh?”

My stomach clenched nervously–decidedly a good kind of nervous. I didn’t realize it till he placed his hand on my ankle, grinning up at me with crooked teeth and pretty eyes, that I might’ve begun to develop a small crush on him.

Which wasn’t okay.

——

“This is such bullshit.”

I cackled as Connor continued to strap on his snow boots, repeatedly tripping and losing his balance in the snow.

“C'mon, it’s fun!” I protested, pulling my sock toboggan down tighter over my ears, trudging another few slow steps through the slush. Connor was frustrated, I could tell, seeing his pink nose and ears, his breaths coming out in angry puffs of smoke.

“No,” he grunted, dragging himself up the trail a few more steps. “Video games are fun. Cartoons are fun. Cheap Internet porn is fun. Dragging my frozen ass up a mountain covered in snow for ten miles is not my idea of fun, dude.”

“It’s not ten miles,” I protested, taking a seat on a mostly clean looking rock, patting the seat beside me in condolence to Connor, giving him a much needed break. He’d agreed to go outside with me at least once to take a hike, since the Murphy kids never ever wanted to do anything that didn’t involve fried food or touristy tie dye t-shirts. We’d been going for a few hours now, and the last bench had easily been miles ago. I wanted to see where the trail ended.

Part of me was scared he’d only agreed because he thought I would break. I’d surprised myself with how calm I’d been after, well, what a nightmare this trip had been. I supposed I’d be worse once my dad got back–but he wasn’t yet, so I was content to have my last moments with Connor.

“We’ve been out here for hours, man, don’t you think we should head back before it gets dark?” He whined, leaning forward on his elbows and rubbed his hands together–he had on mittens, which was probably the cutest thing I’d ever seen. Say what you want about Connor Murphy, his aesthetic was absolutely demolished once you put him in a fire engine red puffer coat.

I sighed, glancing wistfully up the trail. I’d like to finish, but Connor was right–it was getting dark, too dangerous out for us to be out here alone. He’d humored me enough for today.

Time to go back and face reality.

I just nodded, stuffing my hands in my pockets and rising from the rock, giving a decent stretch before moving forward back down the path, Connor scurrying along beside me.

“Thanks for coming,” I said again, nudging him with my shoulder. He stumbled gracefully, grinning with a subdued force that warmed me a little, before checking me back with his shoulder.

“Don’t tell anyone,” he warned, stuffing his hands in his pockets. “But it wasn’t totally awful.”

I snorted. “I won’t let anyone know Connor Murphy can feel fun.”

Biting back a smile, he nudged me again. “God, please don’t. Then they might bring me back here and I’ll have to spend another two weeks with you.”

“I’m sure I’m just killing you inside,” I teased. “How dare your parents give you unfiltered access to a teenage girl.”

“Who never wears pants around the house,” he added sagely.

“And sleeps in your bed!” I choked with laughter, the bird walking along the snow path in front of us clearing the way. “God, I can’t believe I did that. I’m sorry, I was probably awful. Did I snore?”

His mouth twisted, as if trying to look indifferent but instead just failed at smothering a smile, both corners of his lips turning in a different direction.

“Not awful,” he offered, earning an embarrassed groan from me. “No! It’s cute, like a kid, I promise. You kicked the shit out of me, though.”

“You’re kidding me,” I groaned. “I’m so so sorry! I didn’t hurt you, did I?”

“Might be some bruises,” he grinned, to my further mortification. “Hey, nah, I’m kidding. Any damage will heal. It’s kinda funny.”

I cocked an eyebrow from where I was hiding my face behind my gloves. “Seriously?”

“Yeah, don’t sweat it,” he said, reaching out to take my wrist, pulling one of my hands away from my face. He didn’t realize it, just held it, swinging stiffly between us as we walked. He held his breath for a moment before continuing, “I would’ve let you know if I didn’t like it.”

“Kinky,” I said upon reflex, earning a lazy kick to my ankle.

“You’re hilarious. I just meant you’re warm, maybe the bruises are worth it.”

I felt my face get hot, words forming in my belly, escaping before I could choke them back. “Yeah? Maybe I’ll kiss them better tonight, if Zoe isn’t back.”

He let go of my wrist like I’d burned him.

“Sor–”

“Don’t,” he said quietly, stuffing his hands in his pockets, beginning to walk quickly ahead of me.

“What?” I screeched, frustrated.

“Don’t fake flirt with me. It’s not funny,” he spat, continuing walking too fast on his ridiculously long legs.

“Who said it was fake?” I grumbled. “I’m not making fun of you, Connor.”

There was a beat of silence, pulling at my heart with sharp claws, the dull ache starting in my chest and spreading. I’d messed up everything.

“It’s getting dark,” he growled. “And we don’t have a flashlight. Try and keep up.”

——

The panic set in at twilight.

We were running.

He was holding my hand again, dragging me roughly down the mountain, hoping desperately to see some kind of light pollution as the sun set, but there was nothing.

“We should see lights by now,” I told him. “We can see the lights from our cabin, we should see the lights now.”

“We went down the wrong side of the mountain,” he gasped, already out of breathe. I knew his lungs weren’t the best, and we’d been running for awhile now.

“There has to be something at the bottom,” I whispered hopelessly.

“There is,” he growled. “It’s called a gorge, then you climb the other mountain, and there’s the next state. Fuck, how did we get so turned around?”

“Doesn’t matter, Con,” I said hopelessly. “It’s gonna be dark soon.”

His dark eyes widened. “You aren’t sincerely suggesting we try to find shelter. In the middle of a national park.”

“I’ve got a flare gun and a flint,” I told him. “But we have to get back up out of the trees.”

“You want us to climb the mountain again?” He hissed, holding both my hands now. “Are you positive you don’t have signal?”

I nodded. “I’m really sorry, Connor.”

“Don’t be sorry. Start walking.”

——

It was an accident.

It was dark.

I had an analog watch, letting me know it was nearly nine pm. We’d found shelter just as it had started to snow–the  ground here was wet, quickly freezing into ice, and we kept slipping up on the trail. I’d set off the flare an hour ago, and, so far, nothing. The snow had begun to pick up, and we’d found a alcove between two adjacent rocks–not big, about the size of a walk in closet, but enough space for us, our bags, and a pile of wood that refused to light. It kept the snow and wind off of us, and the alcove was high enough I felt safe, with a small mouth that made me feel as if at any instant we could be trapped.

It was an accident.

“The fire won’t light,” I said again, hopelessly, watching my now bloody fingers go numb from trying desperately to get the flint to do its job. I couldn’t feel them without my gloves on.

Connor, huddled in a corner, viciously rubbed his arms in an attempt to get warm. I knew the  temperature would only drop from here. If someone hadn’t seen the flare….

“There’s no dry wood. I checked.”

“Nothing?”

“No, okay? Nothing. That’s it.”

I knew he was right–and searching now would only prove to be counter productive and dangerous. I moved our bags and the pile of firewood to the entrance, sealing us in.

“It’s gonna be pitch black soon,” I warned, watching Connor tap angrily at his phone. “You should probably save your battery. I don’t have a flashlight.”

He snorted. “You’ll bring sleeping bags and a flint, but not a flashlight?”

“It’s the emergency bag! I didn’t pack it, Connor. Make fun of it all you want, but it’s keeping us alive!”

There was a beat of silence, before he clicked his phone off, leaving us in darkness. “M sorry.”

I dragged out the single sleeping bag, stretching it out to him. “Don’t be sorry.” I felt guilty–it was my fault we were in this mess to begin with. “Wanna granola bar?”

“Save it,” he said in a clipped tone, unsure what to make of it since we were veiled in darkness. “We might need it later.” Then, softer: “What’s the plan?”

I heard him stand, and walk across the slick ice of the alcove, coming to stand beside me, his hand at my elbow.

“Well,” I said very slowly, feeling my throat get thick. “Survive the night, stay awake, and once dawn hits we head back to the other side of the mountain, if no one comes.”

“If no one comes,” he echoed, voice oddly hollow. I choked.

“It, erm, is very possible they think we just wandered off, you know? We’re teenagers,” I reminded gently. I left out the part the police would be less than willing to look–Connor had a history of running away after a bad binge.

“Fuck,” he growled.

It was an accident. It was quick, in the dark, we couldn’t see.

He reached our for me, his open palm colliding with the back of my head, yanking me tightly again his chest, my nose buried in his nylon puffer coat. I felt his other hand, too forcefully, at the small of my back, and I nearly screamed, terrified this was an episode I couldn’t control–

“We’re gonna make it outta here,” he breathed against my ear, his breath warm and humid against my freezing ears. It set off a light bulb in my brain. “We’re gonna go back home and–fucking shit, I’m gonna be a goddamn good friend to you and we’re gonna–fuck,” he hissed, his clipped voice breaking off. “I’m gonna take care of you, I’m not going anywhere.”

I let myself break open, collapsing against him, openly sobbing with regret. He stiffened, but just tightened his arms around me despite our bulky clothes.

“I’m sorry,” I whispered. “This is all my fault.”

“It is not,” he hissed, shaking me a little. “We had no way of knowing this would happen. The trail looked safe.”

I just nodded, knowing that arguing would tire me out. I felt the lethargy begin to creep in my bones–Connor was warm, and it was late, and we were tired. Falling asleep meant dying.

“Get out the sleeping bag,” he said, extracting himself from me, and I heard his hands scrape along the hard rock looking for the entrance. “And I’ll look for some more blankets in the bag, see if we can’t insulate–fuck!

“What is it?” I screeched, turning, grabbing his hand to only find that my own was suddenly wet, almost sticky, and Connor pulled away with a howl. I smelled the metallic sting before I realized.

“Something cut my hand!”

“Stay away from the wall,” I warned. “Take your undershirt off, I’ll rip it up.” I felt around desperately for Connor’s phone, immediately illuminating our little cave with a blinding blue light.

The amount of blood smeared across the wall was nauseating. There was a sharp spot Connor must’ve grabbed too quickly.

He was crying, trying desperately to unzip his coat with one hand, the other dripping onto the floor.

“Fuck, I hope something doesn’t smell that,” I whispered, laying down the light and running to help him get undressed, careful of the open cut across his palm.

“I knew I was gonna get naked tonight,” he said with an unsure laugh, “I just didn’t realize it would be like this.”

My face flushed. “What, you thought I’d suck you off because we’re about to die?”

He shivered, accentuated by me ripping his white shirt down the front, exposing his blue, goosebumped skin.

“Fuck,” he hissed, and I was unsure if it was from the cold, the pain, or my foul language.

“Hope this is clean,” I muttered, wrapping a strip of his white shirt across his palm in a desperate attempt to stop the bleeding. It was a good way to get an infection, but I wasn’t sure what else to do.

“I didn’t–I wouldn’t ask you to–”

“I’m not sucking you off!”

“Fuck, I just meant–hypothermia, skin to skin, I saw it in a movie–”

The phone light clicked off. I sighed, tying off the cotton bandage.

“You wanna get naked in the sleeping bag,” I finished.

“I don’t want to!” He howled. “And not naked–just, enough to stay alive, shit. It’s gonna be negative ten out here soon, I just wanna stay alive.”

“We should hurry,” I said, surprising myself by reaching out to urge him to rub at his bare chest, earning a gasp from him. “You’re gonna freeze soon. Get your pants off.”

I handed him the sleeping bag, my breath catching as I heard his belt clink to the floor, trying very hard not to think about the implications of this. How far did he expect me to undress? And, if we did get in here, it would be ridiculously tight, we might fall asleep–

“Hurry up, this bag is an icicle with one person.”

Straightening out my bra and panties (even if we were going to die, Connor Murphy did not get to cop a feel) I felt my way to the sleeping bag.

My hand on his chest, he guided my legs one at time–one by his side, one between his knees–and gently folded me down against him, uncomfortably tight as his shaking fingers zipped the sleeping bag up.

He was breathing hard against my temple, and I immediately began to sweat–between the nylon bag and the fact I felt all of Connor Murphy pressed against my chest and stomach–it was nerve wracking.

“Don’t fall asleep,” he reminded in a hoarse voice, shaking a little. I couldn’t quite figure out where his hands were.

“Don’t get a boner,” I begged, earning a beat of silence before:

“I, uh, am–I’m really trying not to,” he groaned, and I could feel how hot his face was against my temple.

“If it helps,” I said, slightly disgusted. “You can imagine our parents kissing. That really kills my fire.”

“Ew,” he said. “Please don’t.”

I grinned. “What? You don’t want me to be your hot step sister?”

Stop it,” he begged, making me laugh, pressing my face against the soft cushion of his hair, nosing at the column of his throat. He groaned a little, and I felt his fingers twitch beside my hips.

“I can’t believe their secret is going to die with us,” I sighed. “No one is ever going to know.”

“I can’t believe you’re lying on top of me in your spiderman panties, but that’s also happening, so you’d better believe it,” he sighed, hands twitching again.

“You can touch me, you know,” I breathed, a little embarrassed against his ear. “We’re gonna die anyway, might as well die comfy.”

“We won’t die,” he promised, his hands clasping over the small of my back regardless.  “Hey,” he crooned, in a soft voice I hadn’t heard before. Encouraging. “Remember sharing a sleeping bag when we were kids?”

I laughed half heartedly, remembering fully. “The thing was always full of pixie stick wrappers.”

“It was an addiction, and I have quit,” he said sagely, earning another laugh from me. I almost joked about the pot, but part of me knew it wasn’t a funny joke. It didn’t have anything to do with him. He sighed, one finger trailing up my spine. “God, I was so in love with you.”

I froze against him, my body a live wire. His hand pulled back.

“I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have said tha–”

“Were you really?” I asked. I felt him smile, before leaning in to kiss my cheek, slowly, his dry lips lingering.

“Don’t tell me you didn’t know,” he groaned. “Zoe had me convinced you were just humoring me because you knew I’d do anything for you.”

I pulled up, as far as I could (which wasn’t much) squinting to make out his face in the dark. “That wasn’t true. You were my best friend.”

He nodded. “Yeah, I know. God, that time when you kissed me….I’m so sorry we stopped talking. I don’t think I’m ever gonna forgive myself for that.”

“Connor,” I said very softly, reaching up to tangle my hands lightly in his hair. “If we’re gonna die…can I just….”

He surged up before I could, the nylon around us snapping taunt, squeaking in protest. Up on his elbows, his bony hands found their purchase on my bare hips, and I felt the wetness through one of the bandages–his hand was still bleeding, the idiot.

His lips were dry, and he kissed much too roughly for someone who wasn’t holding my head in place, our teeth clinking together in a way that I knew was an accident, sending my skull ringing. His eyes were squeezed shut in the darkness.

I can’t believe it took us to the brink of death for him to admit this.

God, he’s an idiot.

I reached up, pulling at his hair, holding his head to mine, his tongue licking roughly up into my mouth before breaking away–

“Boner,” he warned in a squeak, earning a loud laugh from me, collapsing against his chest.

“Not even in death, Murphy, am I sucking you off on a first or last date,” I giggled against his neck, giving him a chaste kiss there, listening to him groan. His hips canted a little, scaring me, before taking a deep breath to calm himself.

“First date, huh?” I felt him grin, followed by a yawn.

“Stay awake, Connor,” I urged, smacking him hard. “Or I’m gonna twist your nipple.”

“Kinky,” he sighed lethargically. Shit, he was gonna sleep.

“Connor–”

“Promise me this,” he sighed, nuzzling lightly against the side of my face. “If we survive the night by some miracle, and we don’t freeze to death or get eaten by bears or bleed out–you wanna kiss me again? With more clothes on? As my girlfriend?”

I leaned into his touch, tilting my head up to give him access to suck a hickey into my neck, groaning.

“Murphy, if we live, I will suck you off.”

That was the last thing I remembered.

——-

Three days later, it’s still cold. I’m not wearing much–a blue gown with shitty pink flowers, it’s made of some kind of plasticy cotton material. There’s blood under my fingernails and bruises on my neck that are almost embarrassing when I remembered how I got them. My clothes were gone.

Connor was gone.

My mother and father were leaning over my bed, the Murphy's  (minus Cynthia) are behind them. No Connor.

They explained it slowly, eyes wide. They found Connor and I nearly frozen, unconscious. Connor lost a lot of blood, they said, and he wasn’t do so well but he’d woken up several days before me.

He wouldn’t eat until they let him see me.

I’d nearly ripped out my IV to get to him.

He was wearing the same shitty hospital gown, his hair pulled back. He’s got hickies I don’t remember giving him across his collarbone that are ridiculously visible. There were purple bruises under his eyes, like he hadn’t been sleeping.

“They said you were still too sick to get out of bed,” he grinned, opening his arm, and I immediately stumbled over to the thin mattress, pressing myself tightly against him. His hand is thickly wrapped in cotton, a few tubes full of a yellow brown liquid in them. He was combing my hair–which I’m sure was a rats nest–out with his free hand.

“They said the same about you.”

“We’re really lucky, you know,” I said softly, tapping at his chest. “I almost lost you.”

“Almost lost you,” he choked out, pulling away to scan my face, before grinning. “Which would’ve sucked, because you’re my only friend right now.”

“Friend?” I said, trying hard not to sound disappointed. I supposed I shouldn’t have been–what we’d done in the heat of a moment hadn’t meant anything then. It had been a lie for my humor.

It wasn’t fair.

Connor’s eyebrows furrowed. “You, um–do you wanna be my girlfriend?”

I frowned. “I mean, only if you want me to.”

He grinned, the smile splitting across his face. “It’ll suck–your parents will hate me.”

“Right now, I kind of hate my parents, so.”

“I do a lot of pot.”

“We can do something else instead,” I grinned, nudging him, having the nerve to blush.

He licked his lips, looking down at where he’d intertwined our hands. “You–you can’t fix me, you know? I’m still gonna be, you know.”

I nodded, bring his hand up to kiss across the bloody knuckles of his good hand. “I know. I promised I’d be your girlfriend, though. A promise is a promise.”

He grinned. “I’m glad you say that–because you did promise something else.”

I shook my head, rising from the bed. “The kiss is for when we have clothes on, remember.”

“I wasn’t talking about that kiss.”

Connor Murphy!

{PART 23} I Won’t Stop You (M) // Jeon Jungkook, Vampire!AU

Originally posted by jengkook

Pairing: Jungkook x Reader

Genre: Vampire!AU, Fantasy, Angst, Smut

Summary; Prince Jeon Jungkook, the first of his name, teaches you the meaning of loyalty and respect. And while you submit to him entirely, you and Jungkook both think about the future, and he can’t help his love and desire to protect you overflow.

“He loved her in her entirety. He wanted to undress her mind, make love to her thoughts and deepest insecurities. She wanted to bring down the many cold walls he had built around him; and he welcomed her with open arms.”

I update this series every Tuesday evening, 9pm-10pm (UK Time)

Please note: This chapter contains scenes of a sexual nature.

{Part 1} // {Part 22} {Part 23} {Part 24}

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Bygones of the Sun | 05 (M)

Originally posted by hobismole

Genre: Angst/fluff/(future)smut || dance captain!hoseok, bad boy!au, uni!au

Pairing: Reader x Hoseok

Length: 4.3k

Summary: Jung Hoseok was once the sweetheart of the school, the dance captain whom every girl, including you, can’t help but fall head over heels for. But like the force of the ever-glowing sun, everything that rises must also set. A year of inactivity later and he’s now the school’s resident bad boy. You’re a firm believer of allowing the past be the past, and yet you can’t help but wonder where the risen sun has gone into hiding—because perhaps its shadows have out-shined its own radiance.

01 | 02 | 03 | 04 | 05 | 06

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Je T’aime, Mon Cher Eddie

For @time-for-tozier who came up with this idea, I hope you like it!!

Eddie watched as the clock’s minute hand moved towards the number 12, making a ticking noise as it wet round. He was so fixated that he jumped when the bell rang, the cue for people around him to pack up and leave the room.

He slammed his yellow note book shut and shoved it, and his pencil, into his backpack, before running out of the classroom to meet up with the other losers.

He sprinted down the hallways, bumping into several people and nearly tripping twice, before he reached the door. He swung the door open and walked to the bike rack around the side of the school.

“Hey Eddie,” Ben called to him as he walked over.

“Hey guys,” Eddie took in the positions of his friends. Mike was sat on the ground, fiddling with his bike, it kept breaking. Ben was sat on a bench about a meter away from the bike rack, a book resting open on his lap. Beverly was sitting on her bike seat, hands already gripping the handlebars as if she was in a hurry to go. Bill and Stan were stood next to each other, however, Eddie noticed, much too close to be considered normal. And Richie, well, he was being his usual self. He was hung upside down on one the metal bannister of a nearby stair case, dark hair brushing the ground.

“Eds! You finally arrived!” Richie near shouted bouncing his way back over to the group. “Can we go now?”

The losers collectively rolled their eyes and grabbed their bikes, climbing on and cycling towards the woods.

Their was a field there that they had claimed as their new hangout. It was completely secluded and surrounded by trees. In the spring, the ground was covered in daisies, Richie loved it, and prided himself on making “the best daisy chains in Derry”. In the Summer and Autumn, the grass was green and soft. And in the Winter, the Loser’s decided to just hand out at each other’s houses instead, with the careful avoidance of the Tozier, Marsh and Kaspbrak residences.

They were all laying on the grass. Beverly had her head resting on Ben’s lap as he sat cross legged playing with her hair. Stan and Bill were laying shoulder to shoulder, Mike was spread out like a starfish, and Richie was resting his head on Eddie’s stomach.

They were peaceful.

“Richie, I couldn’t help but to notice that you were in my French class this morning.” Bev spoke up, breaking the silence.

She knew there had to be a reason behind his sudden appearance in the class. She knew that she took it so that one day, when she was old enough, she could move to France and never look back. She knew that Stan’s parents wanted him to focus more on his religion. She knew that Ben was already fluent in the language and didn’t need to take a class. She knew that Bill found it too hard because of his stutter. She knew that Mike and Eddie simply didn’t want to take the subject, seeing no reason for it.

So what was Richie’s reason?

“You take French?” Eddie chuckled, sitting up. “Since when?”

“Well, obviously since this morning dipshit. I already know how to say some stuff. Such as,” Richie cleared his throat. “Ta mère aime ça dans le cul.”

Bev’s head shot up. “Beep Beep Richie.”

“W-what did he say?” Bill asked.

“Do you really want me to tell you?” Bev whined. The rest of the group, bar Richie and Ben, nodded. She sighed. “He said “your mother likes it up the ass.”

Groans of “Richie”, and “really?” We passed around as Richie smirked.

“Hey Rich? Do you know anything that’s not rude?” Eddie asked.

“Umm yeah,” Richie replied. “Eddie, tu as de beaux yeux.” (You have beautiful eyes)

“What does that mean?”

“Ahh, my dear Eddie Spaghetti, that is a secret.”

“Don’t call me that. Bev? Can you tell me what he said?” Eddie asked Beverly, who was staring at Richie with a strange look on her face. She stared for a few more moments before turning to Eddie.

“Sorry Eddie, I don’t know what he said.”

————

The next morning Richie bounced into school with too much energy for 7am on a Tuesday.

“Good morning, mes petits choux.” He smiled, leaning his chin on Eddie’s head.

“Richie, if I may ask, why did you just call us ‘your little cabbages’?” Ben questioned.

“I did it because I felt like it.” Just then the bell rang for class.

“Um, Richie? Can I talk you you for a sec? In private?” Beverly asked. Richie nodded, he loved the girl like family, they both dealt with similar issues in their home lives. “Do you like Eddie? You know, as in like him?”

Richie blushed. “No, where did you get that idea?”

“You’re always hugging him, you never stop staring at him, and yesterday you told him, in French, that he had beautiful eyes.”

“You said you didn’t understand what I said!”

“Well I lied, I guessed that you didn’t really want me to tell him, otherwise you would have simply said it in English.” She sighed. “Richie, what’s the real reason you started taking French class? You know I’m not going to judge you.”

Richie sighed. “I’ve been dealing with so much at home and then I come to school and he,” Richie leant back against the wall. “He makes me feel safe, and, I dunno, loved I guess? I just wanted a way to tell him how I feel and explain what’s happening at home. But it was way too painful to say it all in English, so I thought it’d be easier to tell him in another language.”

“Oh, Richie.” Beverly wrapped him in a hug. “That’s so sweet.” Richie gave her a half smile, and they began walking to their first class, which happened to be French.

———-

Eddie was just dozing off when he hears the taps at his window. At first he was scared that it was a leper, or a murderer, but he was assured it wasn’t when someone spoke up from behind the glass and curtains.

“Eddie? You awake?” Eddie pushed he covers off and got out of bed, he walked over to the window and opened the curtains.

The person at his window was Richie.

“C-can I come in?” Eddie could see the tears making their way steadily down Richie’s cheeks. He pushed the window open as quietly as he could and Richie clambered in.

“Rich, are you okay? What happened?” Instead of the answer Eddie knew he wasn’t going to get, Richie clutched him in a hug, openly sobbing.

Eddie guided Richie over to his bed and lates him down so that Richie’s head was resting above his heart. He never got answers, but he knew how to calm his best friend down. He liked listening to Eddie’s heartbeat, to confirm he wasn’t alone, and he like it when Eddie ran his fingers through his hair.

That’s exactly what Eddie was doing when Richie stopped crying and mumbled something.

“I’m sorry? I didn’t catch that.”

“Je t'aime. S’il te plaît, ne me quitte jamais.” (I love you. Please never leave me.)

Richie fell asleep soon after that, Eddie had no idea what the sleeping boy had said to him.

Over the next few months, Richie refused to stop talking in French whilst around Eddie. Beverly noticed he would constantly be blushing whenever Richie spoke the foreign words, in a thick accent. All of the Losers agreed that it was The only good impression Richie Tozier had ever done. During these months, Bev had to put up with Richie’s constant pining for Eddie.

She would always catch him calling Eddie a ‘magnifique petit tournesol’ (gorgeous little sunflower) or telling Eddie that he ‘avait l'air si mignon dans ce pull’ (looked so cute in that sweater’. He even said ‘Mon Amour.’ (My love) a few times

She was fed up of it. She knew without a doubt that Eddie had the same feelings towards Richie. So, during their 5th period geography class, Bev gave Richie a stern talking to.

“You need to tell him.”

“What?”

“Eddie! You need to tell him how you feel! I’m like 99% sure he reciprocates your feelings.”

“Yes Bev, but what about the 1% hmm?” Beverly rolled her eyes, they spent the rest of the lesson in silence.

A few weeks passed and Richie and Eddie found themselves alone at Loser’s Meadow, as the gang had dubbed it, watching the sun set.

“Eddie, I’m about to ramble in French and you just need to listen, you don’t need to understand.”

Eddie furrowed his brow. “Oh, okay.” He secretly loved it when Richie spoke French, however, he’d never admit it.

“Vous ne comprenez pas un mot que je dis en ce moment, et honnêtement? Je pense que c'est une bonne chose.

(You don’t understand a word im saying right now, and honestly? I think thats a good thing.)

J'avais besoin d'un moyen de pouvoir te dire ce que je ressens sans que tu me détestes.

(I needed a way to be able to tell you how i feel without you hating me.)

Parce que je sais que tu ne m'aimes pas en retour. Qui pourrait m'aimer de retour? Je suis un morceau de merde sans valeur.

(Because I know you don’t love me back. Who could love me back? I’m a worthless piece of shit.)

Vous voyez, vous n'avez absolument aucune idée de ce que je dis. En ce moment, tes joues sont d'un rouge vif avec combien tu rougis, et ton sourire n'a jamais été aussi beau.

(See, you have absolutely no idea what I’m saying. Right now, your cheeks are bright red with how much you’re blushing, and your smile has never been more beautiful.)

Tant que je continue à sourire et à parler, ce regard restera sur votre visage. Je ne veux jamais que tu arrêtes de sourire.

(As long as I keep smiling and talking, that look will stay on your face. I never want you to stop smiling.)

Ok, maintenant pour la vraie merde.

(Okay, now for the real shit.)

Eddie Kaspbrak, je t'aime depuis que nous avons neuf ans. Vous avez toujours été mon refuge, pour les nuits où il n'est pas sûr de rentrer à la maison, ou j'en ai fini avec le monde.

(Eddie Kaspbrak, I have loved you since we were 9 years old. You have always been my safe haven, for nights when it isn’t safe to go home, or I’m just done with the world.)

Vous êtes la seule personne à qui je fais confiance. Sauf ça. C'est la seule chose que vous ne saurez jamais, parce que je sais que vous ne ressentirez jamais la même chose.

(You are the one person I trust everything to. Except this. This is the one thing that you’ll never know, because I know you’ll never feel the same.)

Je t'aime Eddie Kaspbrak, je t'aime.

(I love you Eddie Kaspbrak, I love you.)”

Eddie giggled. “What the hell did you just say?”

“Oh, um, just a very detailed description of your mom’s vagina. I can retell it in English if you’d like?”

“Beep beep Richie.” Eddie said whilst laughing, as Richie sat admiring him, a wistful expression on his face.

A few days later saw Richie climbing into Eddie’s window at 3am with a bust lip and a black eye and tears streaming down his cheeks.

Without having to ask, Eddie pulled him into his bed and wrapped his arms around the crying boy. Richie wouldn’t stop muttering something in French until he fell asleep.

“Je t'aime.” Eddie made himself a promise that he’d look those words up as soon as the library was open tomorrow.

As soon as Richie left the next morning, Eddie pulled on a Red sweatshirt, one of Richie’s that he’d left behind years ago, and some shorts. He ran out of the house, making sure to kiss his mother goodbye before he left, and raced to the library.

He walked in and asked the receptionist to point him towards the ‘languages’ section.

He grabbed himself the first French dictionary he could find and flipped straight to the ‘T’ chapter, he already knew that ‘Je’ mean ‘I’.

Eddie gasped when he read the meaning. He dropped the book, causing a loud thud, and ran straight for the exit. He clambered back onto his bike and sped down the streets. He knew where Richie would be. The out of use highway bridge. He would always go there on a Saturday to smoke, listen to The Smiths and get away from his Parents.

Eddie threw his bike down as soon as he arrived, taking a puff from his asthma inhaler. “Richie?” He called out.

“Eddie?” He looked up to see Richie sat on the bridge’s ledge, feet swinging backwards and forwards. Eddie began to run up the hill towards the dark haired boy, whilst said boy stumbled down towards him. They met halfway.

“Eds, what are you doing here? Aren’t you supposed to be babysitting your mother or something.”

“Je t'aime aussi.” Eddie stated, not even bothering to tell Richie off for calling him Eds.

“What?” Richie looked unsure of what he’d just heard.

“Je t’aime aussi.” Eddie took a breath. “I love you too.”

Richie wasted no time in pulling Eddie in by his waist, connecting their lips. Eddie fisted his hands in the collar of Richie’s shirt. They pulled away a few moments later, in need of air, and rested their foreheads together.

This felt right. This felt like home.

Stranger Things/Jim Hopper imagines - Behind closed doors

Originally posted by timmy-chalamet

AN: First of all, Season 2 is my life and my religion and Stranger Things is one of the best tv shows I’ve ever watched honestly how they topped season 1 is mind blowing. Also, me being me and you guys know me well, I was attracted to many characters on this show but Hopper is daddy (in more ways than one). I want to write more stranger things so stick around and send in requests for any character but let’s kick this off with some pure smut. You’re welcome. 

Summary: You get into some trouble and Hopper hides you away in the cabin until it blows over but isolation isn’t for you. (Basically this is what I figure would happen if Hopper had the argument with someone older.)

Pairing(s): Hopper x Reader

Word count: 1,593

Warnings: Reader is 18 so is of age. It’s cliche but you’ll like it, Mentions of dead parents. This is smut. So expect smut. Vaginal fingering, dry humping, rough sex, hair pulling, and strong language ahead. This takes place probably after season 2 as I need to use the cabin.  

You were such an idiot. You were always so careful and this is the time you get caught.

You went to the only person you knew that could help you and it was Jim Hopper. He was friends with your father when your father was alive and you figured your dad asked Hopper to look out for you if anything ever happened to him. 

Unfortunately for you, Hopper said there was nothing you could do except wait it out in hiding for it all to blow over and then took you out into the middle of nowhere to an old cabin and told you that this is where he hid Eleven. 

He told you that he didn’t know how long it would be until the storm passed but you’d be safe there. 

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Neighbors


Inspired by Shawn’s recent Instagram story and this line:

“Wanna, like– I mean, if you’re not busy… We could get lunch? Or even just coffee if you don’t have a lot of time?”


She sighed, looking around the mess that is her new apartment. Her back hurt, her arms were burning and she was so exhausted, she felt like passing out.

“Where do these boxes go, hun?” her dad asked, holding up a box with “books” written on it.

“Just put those in my bedroom, thanks,” she replied, taking a sip from the beer her best friend had handed her.

Moving into your new fancy place in Toronto could be really awesome but also very tiring and she groaned, seeing all the boxes in her living room she had to unpack.

Her best friend put an arm around her shoulders and as if she could read her friend’s mind she said: “Hey, the view makes this bearable, don’t you think?”

She grinned at her friend, squinting her eyes a little because the sun is shining bright on the balcony. “Yeah, true. The view made me buy this!”

“So… when’s the housewarming party?” her friend asked, raising her perfectly arched eyebrows.

The girl shrugged. “I have to put actual furniture here first. And clean up. And decorate.”

“Yes, yes, Miss to-do-list, I get it. It has to be perfect, I know. As always,” her friend stated, rolling her eyes.

They laughed as they go back inside and she knew she’s nowhere near done yet but she already feels at home. It’s a warm feeling. And she knew this is where she belongs.


Three weeks later

She’s on her way to the elevator, carrying a bag with groceries and another shopping bag from H&M because she just couldn’t resist buying that cute dress and the sweater she really needed as the concierge calls her name.

“Excuse me, Miss!”

She turns around. “Yes?”

“Could I ask you for a favor, please?”

She smiles a little, nodding. “Yeah, sure.”

“I have a parcel for… um,” he looks at the box, “Mister Shawn Mendes. Your neighbor. I know he hasn’t been home for quite a while but could you just take this for me? I have no space to store this and I would have asked Mrs. Johnson from 310 c but she would just forget about it, you know how she is…”

He smiles at her apologetically and she nods again. “Yeah, I can take it. I mean… I haven’t seen my neighbor yet and I don’t know him but I guess it’s a nice way to say hello”

“He’s very nice. You’ll get along perfectly,” the concierge says with a smirk. “You are both young and so hardworking! And both charming young things.”

She smiles back. “Yeah, we’ll see about that and um… thanks!”

She takes the parcel, briefly looking at it in the elevator. It says “Armani headquarters” on it and it got sent all the way from Milan. She raises her eyebrows a little.

Must be nice being a superstar. Getting free designer stuff all the time.

She felt a bit insecure when she found out who her neighbor was. 

Living door to door with a teenage pop sensation slash superstar could be a bit frightening, knowing how famous he really was.

She dreaded the thought of having lunatic fangirls standing in front of her door, screaming and shouting Shawn’s name but so far it has been very quiet and she hasn’t seen him yet as he was probably busy being the good looking popstar he was, traveling the world, making girls scream wherever he went.

She didn’t really get the hype. 

Her best friend freaked out when she found out who the mysterious neighbor was, making her want to move in with her. 

Or camping on Shawn Mendes’ doormat.

But the girl living in the condo next to him, didn’t get too excited. Sure, he was good looking and talented and cute and all of that.

But she didn’t understand how people could scream and shout, seeing him, shoving phones into his face for a selfie when he was just a regular person who happened to sing and play the guitar.

She didn’t understand until she saw him. In person.

It was a Saturday and she knew he was home.

There were footsteps in the hall, male voices, sounds of a guitar and doors shutting and she took a deep breath, brushed her hair and ringed the bell.

She wasn’t wearing anything fancy, heck, she was in her gym shorts and a loose band shirt she got at a concert some time ago. And she was wearing fuzzy socks.

Not sexy at all.

And she regretted her outfit choice as soon as she saw him, standing in the doorframe, looking like a Greek God or something. A light stubble, messy brown curls sticking up slightly, wearing black pants and a white t shirt that fitted him well and as he looked at her, eyes a bit sleepy and a wry smile spreading across his plump lips, she had to swallow thickly.

He blinked twice.

She looked down at the parcel and up at him.

“Um… hi!”

“Hi,” he said in a deep, raspy voice, smiling down at her.

“I’m your new neighbor and I wanted to say hi and I have this parcel for you and um… yeah, hi…” she rambled, blushing a bit because he was looking at her in a way that made her nervous.

He was checking her out. Briefly looking her up and down and she squared her shoulders a little.
His gaze rested on her bare legs for a little bit too long and he bit his bottom lip in a way that made her heart flutter and race and she felt hot suddenly.

“Oh, thank you so much!” he smiled brightly, taking the parcel from her. It looked tiny in his hands. “And nice to meet you,” he added, stretching his hand out. “I’m Shawn”

She shook his hand, saying her name.

“Nice to meet you, too.”

He leaned against the doorframe, obviously not in a hurry to close the door.

“I just hope I don’t bother you with my music. I’m working on something right now and it can get a bit… loud,” he said with a smug grin, dipping his head a little, after nodding into the direction of his condo.

He was towering over her, playing with the parcel in his huge hands and she looked at his long fingers, noticing a silver ring on his middle finger. He was wearing a black watch that looked cool and expensive and she pressed her lips together. She understood it now. The hype. The fangirls.

He looked like a teenage dream. Almost as if he wasn’t real.

Too handsome for his own good.

She looked up at him. “No, um, all good. I don’t mind.”

He gives her a crooked smile, licking his sinfully plump lips. “Okay, good. Just tell me if it’s too loud… and if you need anything I’m right here,” he said in that soft voice of his she already found so endearing.

She awkwardly shifted her weight from one foot to another. “Yeah, thanks! Goes both ways… the if you need anything thing… not the music thing, obviously…”

She blushed and he smiled at her, running his fingers through his curls. “Yeah,” he replied, never breaking eye contact and she felt like dying on that door mat of his.

“Okay, so I should try this on, I guess,” he frowned, looking at the parcel and she nodded.

“Must be something nice… coming from Italy,” she smiled and suddenly regretted her words. “I only saw that it’s from Milan, I didn’t…”

He laughed and it sounded like the most beautiful thing she has ever heard.

“It’s okay! All good. Yeah, they send me awesome stuff now… it’s just really cool because I actually hate going shopping,” he chuckled, blushing himself.

She smiled at him. “Oh, I can’t relate. Shopping is my favorite hobby.”

He tilted his head to the side. “Yeah, well, that’s because you’re a girl… must be natural, eh?”

She laughed. “Yeah, yeah, I guess. So cliché.”

He smirked and she looked down, avoiding his burning gaze. “Okay, um… I’ll leave you alone now… so you can try your new stuff on and yeah…”

He smiled. “Okay, yeah, see you.”

“See you,” she breathed and tried to walk gracefully back into her condo.

Don’t trip, don’t trip. Don’t mess up.

She exhaled loudly, closing the door after her and let out a little groan.
She reached for her phone because she really needed to talk to her best friend now and she quickly typed OMG CALL ME into her phone, pressing send.


Shawn sighed in frustration, looking into his empty fridge.

Living alone was not as cool as he thought it would be. His clothes were dirty and scattered on the floor in front of his washing machine, there was nothing to eat and he missed his mom.

Coming back from tour to his new posh place felt good at first but now all he wanted was to go back to Pickering to eat his mom’s roast and he started to feel jealous of his little sister who got to sleep in a freshly made bed and eat home cooked food all the time.

He groaned, looking at the stove. There was no salt. He had used everything his mom had given to him and he looked down at the chicken he was trying to make taste somewhat eatable.

He bit down on his bottom lip, turning down the John Mayer song he was listening to.
He could go to the supermarket and actually buy food – and get mobbed in the process.

Or he could ask her.

He was pretty positive that she had salt in her perfectly tidy condo with a full fridge and nice flowers everywhere. She looked like a girl who had flowers in her apartment.

And nice pillows.

He shook his head, trying to clear his mind. But he couldn’t help it. He couldn’t stop thinking about her.

Those long, lean legs. Her nice ass, he got a good look at when she walked back to her condo.

The outlines of her obviously nicely shaped breasts through that grey band shirt and he licked his lips again.

He was feeling frustrated, coming back from tour. He was needy, antsy somehow and he had felt hot and bothered, closing the door after receiving his parcel.

Leaning against the door he had to cup himself through his pants adjusting his cock that had started to stir against his boxers that were getting all tight around his dick as she had turned around and he had watched her hips sway slightly.

There were thoughts in his head. Thoughts he shouldn’t have about a girl he didn’t know.
Inappropriate thoughts crossing his mind. About her. Naked. Moaning his name. Panting. Legs spread and back arched.

He tugged at his hair in desperation. He shouldn’t feel like this about a girl he just met but the way she blushed and rambled made him want to be dominant with her. Be rather rough. Take her from behind maybe because he loved that position and she would feel him deep inside of her.

He felt guilty, thinking that. She probably had a boyfriend anyway. And Shawn would leave for Brazil soon. So that was that.

He hesitated a bit before knocking on her door. But he took a deep breath, fixed his hair and knocked.

His heart started to race, hearing footsteps.

She opened the door and he shoved his hands into the pockets of his pants.

“Hi!” he said, his voice cracking a little. “So this thing about needing something came sooner than expected,” he said with an amused huff and she smiled up at him.

“Yeah, I guess?”

“Well, I just came home from tour and the only thing that is in my fridge is some mustard and disgusting smelling milk and I wanted to cook something but I ran out of salt,” he frowned a little, his cheeks turning pink. “That’s why I was wondering if - um – if I could borrow some?”

She nodded, giving him a beautiful genuine smile and his heart did a stupid little jumpy thing he didn’t know it could make until then.

“Sure! I got you.”

She turned around and he was about to drool. He shamelessly stared at her ass and he didn’t want to be like this. Lusting over her like some horny teenager. But he couldn’t help himself.
He totally had the hottest neighbor in all of Canada.

She came back from the kitchen. “There you go,” she smiled and his fingertips brushed over hers as he took the small package from her.

“Thank you so much! You saved me from starving! I mean I could always order pizza but I’m trying to impress my mom.”

She let out a soft giggle. “Good luck with the cooking, it smells like you burned something though.”

He looked over his shoulder in an alarmed way. “Oh, fuck, yeah, I should go look after that! Thanks again!”

And with that he ran back into his apartment, trying to save his dinner.


She looks at her freshly baked cupcakes and knows that there is no way she would eat all of that. She had baked too many cupcakes and couldn’t stop thinking about knocking on his door.

She found it way too cute how he had nothing in his fridge and here she was, practically surrounded by food.

That’s why she takes two cupcakes, arranging them on a plate. This time she is prepared. With gloss on her lips, wearing her favorite bra and a nice t shirt, denim jeans and flip flops. All wavy hair and bare tanned legs. She knocks. And waits.

Maybe he isn’t home.

She is about to turn around as she hears footsteps. And there he is.

Shirtless.

Fucking shirtless, only wearing some sweatpants he must have thrown over in a hurry.

“Hey,” he pants, looking at her, slightly confused.

“Hi! Oh. I’m sorry. Didn’t want to disturb!” she says, no, gasps.

He looks almost photoshopped. Ripped abs, defined v line, pecks and arms, defined and muscular. 

She swallows thickly, looking down.

He looks over his shoulder, an alarmed look on his face. “You aren’t! All good. Can I - er - help you?”

“No, no. I just baked those and have some left over and I thought you might like some?” she says tentatively, holding up the little plate.

He smiles in a genuine way, looking very grateful. But still tense.

“That’s so sweet. Thank you very much!”

He presses his lips together, hearing the high-pitched, female voice coming from his bedroom.

“Shawn? Who is that?”

A blonde girl comes up behind him, looking like she’s on the cover of Sport’s Illustrated or something, wearing nothing but a large men’s shirt.

And now she knows where his shirt is.

On some blonde bombshell with a D cup.

Silicone probably.

“Oh,” she squeals. “Cupcakes? Awesome!” the blonde girl grabs one, grinning at Shawn.

“Who’s that, Shawn? Your neighbor?”

Shawn looks flustered and his cheeks are red. As well as his ears.

“Yeah… that’s my neighbor.” He awkwardly introduces them and he shakes his head slightly - desperate -  at his pretty neighbor who looks shell shocked with her plate in hand.

As if he wanted to say no no she’s not my girlfriend. She’s just an one night stand. Meaningless. I swear. I was thinking about you all the time. Imagining you under me. Because you drive me crazy.

“Um-well,” she blurts out. “I should… leave, I’m sorry. Bye,” she hands Shawn the plate as if it had burned her and almost runs into her condo, leaving an embarassed Shawn behind.

He closes the door, groaning in frustration. That was not what he had planned. This shouldn’t have happened.

His one night stand should have left hours ago but she was clingy and annoying and Shawn was too polite to kick her out. But it was time now.

The blonde girl is nibbling on the icing of the cupcake and Shawn picks her clothes up, holding them up.

“Hun, I really should work now, sorry but… you know…” he says, sounding annoyed.

Her eyes widen. “Oh, I see,” she says, sounding ice cold. “I’ll leave. I get it.”

He sighs, turning around so that she could get dressed.

“Bye, Shawn! And don’t ever call me again! Asshole!” she spits out, leaving his place and he slams the door shut. 

“Yeah, bye” he snorts angrily. Just to huff a frustrated “fuck!” afterwards, letting himself fall onto his couch, hitting a pillow in frustration.


He slams his hand against her door. But she won’t open. Of course not.

“Hey! I know you’re home! Come on! Please! Open the door!” he yells.

He rings the bell again. Over and over until it starts to get annoying.

She opens the door with an annoyed huff.

“What?” she hisses. “I’m working on a paper and I need to concentrate. If you would stop ringing my doorbell- that would be nice. Thanks,” and she proceeds to slam the door into his face.

He’s quick, sliding a huge foot into the doorframe.

“No! Wait!”

She rolls her eyes at him, opening the door again.

“Your plate! Here!” he awkwardly holds it up, handing it over to her. “Tasted so good, really! Thank you!”

“Mhm,” she breathes out in an annoyed way. She isn’t exactly mad at him. She’s mad at herself. For believing that she would actually have the tiniest bit of a chance with this guy who looked like a young god and lived the superstar lifestyle. Fucking blonde bombshells included.

“She isn’t - that wasn’t - that girl is not my girlfriend,” he blurts out.

“I don’t care, Shawn”

“Okay. Just wanted to make that clear. I don’t have a girlfriend.”

“Okay.”

“Okay?” he frowns, brows furrowed, curls messy and bopping a little.

“What do you want to hear? I don’t care about your love life or whatever… we don’t even know each other.”

She looks him in the eye, looking dead serious.

He licks his lip nervously and steps closer so that he towers over her, hands on either side of the doorframe. He looks down at her and gulps, tilting his head a little. 

“Wanna, like– I mean, if you’re not busy… We could get lunch? Or even just coffee if you don’t have a lot of time?” he asks, feeling his cheeks get bright red as well as the top of his ears and he shifts his weight from one foot to another.

She tilts her chin up a bit.

“I have to see about that - I actually am busy right now.”

She sounds distant and he sighs.

“Come on… please… I’d love to get to know you.”

She nibbles on her bottom lip. And he wants to kiss her so bad. Part those pretty lips with his and slip his tongue into her mouth. 

He wants, wants, wants her.

“Really?” she says, barely audible.

She knew there were girls out there who would sell their souls for this. A date with Shawn Mendes.

He nods. Eyes dark.

“I’m not who you think I am. I don’t have a different girl every night,” he says quickly.

“I know what you’re thinking. That I’m some stupid teenage star who has a lot of hook ups and gets drunk in fancy bars but I’m not!” he adds. “I’m a regular dude. Really.”

She shrugs. “I don’t really think ‘bout you so you’re good.”

His face falls. “O-okay, right, yeah. I shouldn’t have assumed that.”

His shoulders hang a bit as well as his head and he wants to turn around but she holds him back. “No wait! Sorry, that was kinda rude. I’m just- I mean… coffee would be nice,” she breathes out and his face lights up again.

It frustrates her how freaking adorable he looks like that, smiling, looking like a lovesick puppy.

“Really?”

“Yeah, I mean- it’s just coffee, right?”

“Just coffee,” he grins.

And he’s already so involved in this. He loves the chase. The thrill. And he can’t wait for what’s to come. 

BTS Reaction ⌲ Seven Minutes in Heaven

Requested by Anonymous“My request to you is for a reaction being in seven minutes in heaven? It’s an American game where two people get drawn or chosen to go in the closet and do whatever they want (sex, makeout, anything).”

Note → Ah, thanks for the explanation! I hope you like this and once again, feedback is greatly appreciated. ♡


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