#EDIT: RIP i did not watch this video all the way through until after posting this | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

dewykth · 4 years ago

Text

—CYBΞRSΞX (m)

pairing. jeon jungkook | female reader | park jimin genre & au's. smut, humor / camgirl!reader, camboy!pjm, rich boy!jjk word count. 10.213 warnings. please read ! multiple explicit sexual scenes, masturbation (f + m), porn, sexting, nudes, jk in a thong (bc yes), ice play, sex toys, face sitting, sub!jk, (soft) dom!reader, sub!jm, [18+] note. AHH it's finally here!! thank you to everyone who liked the teasers, i hope you'll enjoy this baby! this went thru a lot of editing, rewriting, and deleting, but i’m finally happy w it !! feedback is vv much appreciated <3!! note two. and yes, i did take the opportunity to write subby bts, bc i can, and we need more of it. thats it. sub jk rights!

—shoutout to vira ( @periminkle ) for beta reading and making me laugh w her reactions <3 ily

[teaser #1] ♡ [teaser #2] ♡ [playlist]

synopsis. there are three rules you set for yourself when you signed up for cybersex.com. one, separate work from your personal life. two, do not get involved with any cyberboy, no matter how stupidly & unfairly gorgeous he is. and three, do not, under any circumstance, fall for a client. they're very simple, and very easy to follow. so why are you about to get in bed with park jimin, cyberboy extraordinaire, in order to spite a loyal client of yours?

[ :: LOADING... my strange addiction :: ]

The hot pink log-in screen of cybersex.com is a sight Jungkook is embarrassingly familiar with. Frankly, he’s afraid to admit how many times he’s logged on this past week. It takes him no longer than a minute for him to input his account information, quickly searching for the sole reason he’s still on this site at all.

Jungkook glances at the time. He might still be able to catch a bit of your show tonight. Even if it were only for a few moments, it’d be enough for him until he actually got to talk to you tomorrow. Hopefully.

Jungkook knows better than to think he could ever get enough though.

● LIVE!: sittin here undressed...

By Sweetheart666

83,938 viewing now

The screen goes black for a second before you appear, sitting on your bed with a pink pillow between your thighs. Jungkook sucks in a breath, feeling his dick twitch in his sweatpants. Your hands are on your chest, playing with your nipples and whining softly. Your sounds spur Jungkook further, his eyes glued to the completely fucked out expression on your face and (too soon) his dick is fully erect. He doesn't know how you're able to get him like this so quickly every time.

There's sensual music in the background, but Jungkook only focuses on the pretty sounds falling from your lips. Jungkook begins to palm himself through his sweats just as you tease your fingers over the band of the mesh shorts barely leaving anything to the imagination. Jungkook's skin is hot to the touch, and he can feel the sweat building on his forehead.

“Oh? Do you guys want this off?”

Comments fill the screen quickly, all fervently voting in favor for removing the sheer white fabric. But this isn’t Jungkook’s first time, and he knows better than anyone you like for them to beg.

“Show me how bad you want me to take it off.”

v_steponmepls_ tipped 2,000 hearts!

secretly1ntoXhibitionism tipped 5,000 hearts!

bbybun14 tipped 1,600 hearts!

“Aww, is that all? Guess you don’t want it that much...”

Your fingers leave the band of your shorts, choosing to fiddle with the heart chain around your neck as you wait. Jungkook chuckles, knowing that the comments were all probably whining at your teasing. But as previously mentioned, Jungkook was a bit more experienced in your realm. His fingers dance on the keyboard of his computer.

nj_94 tipped 10,000 hearts!

Tiny red hearts fill Jungkook’s screen as he smirks, lying back against his headboard. He sees the way your eyes flash, before you’re smirking at the camera, as if you could see how desperate Jungkook was.

“So needy, aren’t you, nj_94? Alright, I guess I can give you a little something then...”

Jungkook suddenly feels warmth on his face, and he realizes he’s fucking blushing at your attention. There was something about you acknowledging him in front of almost ninety-thousand people that made his chest swell with pride. He’s so fucking whipped, a thought that crosses his mind momentarily before his focus is back on you. When you finally remove your flimsy shorts, Jungkook moans loudly at the sight of your dripping core. Oh, how he wishes he could stuff his face in between your thighs.

He pulls his sweatpants to his thighs, letting his dick spring free. Jungkook gathers his saliva, spitting into his hands before leisurely stroking his shaft. You play with your clit, moaning softly. He can see your juices dripping onto your mattress, leaving a mess. Jungkook briefly wonders how you would taste on his tongue.

nj_94 tipped 15,000 hearts!

“Wow, straight to the point huh?”

When you slip two fingers into yourself and whine, Jungkook’s strokes begin to speed up. He moans, uncaring of the fact that it was past midnight. Jungkook is mesmerized by the sight of your small fingers pumping in and out of your entrance. Your moans begin to grow louder, and he can tell by the way your hips are grinding along your hands that you're getting closer to your release. Jungkook can feel his coming as well, his strokes becoming sloppier.

“Fuck, I wish those were m-my hands instead of yours,” he mutters, lost in the way you’re making him feel. You moan louder, almost as if you could hear the words coming from Jungkook's mouth. It's impossible, but Jungkook lets his imagination wander.

“You’d probably make me beg for it, w-wouldn’t you?” he chuckles breathlessly as you grind down on your hand. “I-i don’t m-mind, though,” Jungkook is sure he’s mumbling nonsense, yet he can’t find it in himself to care when he’s so close to his release. “I l-love begging for you.” His voice sounds echoey, but in his lust-ridden mind, he can’t make sense of anything else other than you, you, you. Jungkook watches through lidded eyes as your hips stutter. You thumb your clit a couple more times before a loud whine rips through you, and you're reaching your climax.

Jungkook keeps his gaze on you, stroking himself a few more times until he too is spilling his seed all over his abs with a low groan. He’s left breathing harshly, lying on his back as he stares at the ceiling in a post-orgasmic haze. It takes a couple of minutes for Jungkook to fully recover before he looks at his computer screen again, realizing your live has abruptly ended. He sighs wistfully before closing his laptop shut.

Until tomorrow.

[ :: LOGGING IN... computer (almost, but not really) luv ::]

[ENDED]: feelin a bit bratty tonight?

By Sweetheart666

106,729 viewers / 202,728 hearts

jacker82: sailor moon cosplay plssssss?

i_swallow_: feet?

James Miller Jr.: would love to take you to dinner some time!

_tittystan_: OH MY GODDD PLSS PUNCH ME IN THE FACE T-T

catdaddyXoX: ur so hawt yumm XD

Scrolling through the comments section and reading them out loud always made you giggle to yourself. They were either always some absurd comment or a simple compliment thrown your way. And you’d be lying if you said doing these videos didn’t make your confidence go up tenfold. During the past few months you’ve been a Cybergirl, you’ve been steadily growing a following. Your past three videos have done exceedingly well, but it was always your lives that got the most attention.

It started as an easy way to get money to pay your bills. A lonely night in your apartment spent drinking cheap wine and crying about how pathetic you felt, because you couldn’t keep a job to save your life, led you to the hot pink sign up screen of Cybersex.com. You told yourself it would be just for you to get yourself back on your feet, but as you began to post more and see the numbers in your bank account go to the triple digits, you grew a penchant for the website.

All it took was a bit more effort into your videos for it to become your main source of income. You’ve grown much more comfortable around the camera than when you first started, and with that you've also been able to claim your place on the Hot200. It was undemanding work, for the most part. As expected, there was heavy competition between the cybergirls, which only worked to fuel your desire to chart. You had to come up with new and creative ideas for every video, and if you were being honest, you’d say you were pretty fucking good at what you do. And of course, there was no way for you to get fired.

To put it in simpler words, you loved being a cybergirl.

But, the best part, if you had to choose, were the personal clients. The ones who would pay an additional price in order to be able to talk to you directly, maybe even get a private show or pictures if they gave a bit more. You had yet to give a private show to anyone, which was pretty expensive depending on the popularity of the cybergirl. Not that you were complaining, there were enough message requests to keep you pleased and your pockets full.

An alert appears on the corner of your screen, signaling the low battery of your computer. After plugging it in you opt to clean your cam set-up, putting away your toys and equipment. You check the time on your phone, noting that you had time to shower before your upcoming session. One that you had been waiting impatiently for all week.

When you emerge from your bathroom, you pick up your phone again, scrolling through the messages until your eyes fall on one in particular. You look at the time. Punctual as always.

[𝟷:𝟹𝟶 ᴀ.ᴍ.] ɴᴊ_𝟿𝟺: ʜᴇʏ ;)

Him.

Nj_94 was your most loyal client, but he only messaged you twice a week. It’d been almost four months since you first started talking to him and you’d be lying if you said his messages didn’t leave you feeling giddy inside. Granted, you’ve never met him, nor do you even know what he looks like, but it didn’t exactly matter to you. Getting to know him over the soft pink message threads of the Cybersex app, you've definitely grown a soft spot for him. There was something about his cute, albeit awkward, self that sometimes had your mind brewing up visions of him beneath you, quivering and begging and-

You digress.

Your back hits the soft silk sheets of your bed, deciding to make him wait a bit. If there was anything you loved more than your little sessions with nj_94, it was teasing him.

[𝟷:𝟹𝟺 ᴀ.ᴍ.] sᴡᴇᴇᴛʜᴇᴀʀᴛ𝟼𝟼𝟼: ʜɪ…

There’s not a moment for you to put down your phone before there’s a chain of pings! echoing through the quietness of your bedroom.

[𝟷:𝟹𝟺 ᴀ.ᴍ.] ɴᴊ_𝟿𝟺: ʜɪ

[𝟷:𝟹𝟺 ᴀ.ᴍ.] ɴᴊ_𝟿𝟺: ᴍɪssᴇᴅ ᴜ

[𝟷:𝟹𝟼 ᴀ.ᴍ.] sᴡᴇᴇᴛʜᴇᴀʀᴛ𝟼𝟼𝟼: ɪs ᴛʜᴀᴛ sᴏ?

[𝟷:𝟹𝟼 ᴀ.ᴍ.] ɴᴊ_𝟿𝟺: ʏᴇs. ᴠᴇʀʏ.

ɴᴊ_𝟿𝟺 ɪs ᴛʏᴘɪɴɢ…

The text appears and reappears several times before his message finally graces your screen.

[𝟷:𝟹𝟾 ᴀ.ᴍ.] ɴᴊ_𝟿𝟺: ᴅɪᴅ ᴜ... ᴍɪss ᴍᴇ?

Of course you did, but you’d never tell him that. You sit up on your headboard, playing with the frill of your shorts for a few moments before typing out your message.

[𝟷:𝟺𝟷 ᴀ.ᴍ.] sᴡᴇᴇᴛʜᴇᴀʀᴛ𝟼𝟼𝟼: ʜᴍᴍ... ᴅᴇᴘᴇɴᴅs

[𝟷:𝟺𝟷 ᴀ.ᴍ.] sᴡᴇᴇᴛʜᴇᴀʀᴛ𝟼𝟼𝟼: ᴅɪᴅ ᴜ ᴅᴏ ᴡʜᴀᴛ ɪ ᴛᴏʟᴅ ᴜ?

On the other side of the screen lays Jungkook on his bed, eyes wide as he stares at your message. He knew you were going to ask him about it, but he didn’t think you’d do it right away. Of course he listened. And he enjoyed it an embarrassing amount, something he’d never be able to admit to anyone except you. Shaky fingers tap on the screen of his phone, typing out his response before he clicks the send button.

[𝟷:𝟺𝟸 ᴀ.ᴍ.] ɴᴊ_𝟿𝟺: ʏᴇs ɪ ᴅɪᴅ

[𝟷:𝟺𝟹 ᴀ.ᴍ.] sᴡᴇᴇᴛʜᴇᴀʀᴛ𝟼𝟼𝟼: ʜᴏᴡ ᴅɪᴅ ɪᴛ ғᴇᴇʟ ʙᴀʙʏ?

His heart quickens when he reads the sentence. It wasn’t uncommon for you to call him pet names, but it usually meant he was in for the night. And probably on your good side.

[𝟷:𝟺𝟹 ᴀ.ᴍ.] ɴᴊ_𝟿𝟺: ɢᴏᴏᴅ. ʀʟʏ ɢᴏᴏᴅ ᴀᴄᴛᴜᴀʟʟʏ.

[𝟷:𝟺𝟻 ᴀ.ᴍ.] sᴡᴇᴇᴛʜᴇᴀʀᴛ𝟼𝟼𝟼: ᴏʜ ᴄᴍᴏɴ ʙᴀʙʏ... ɪs ᴛʜᴀᴛ ᴀʟʟ?

[𝟷:𝟺𝟼 ᴀ.ᴍ.] ɴᴊ_𝟿𝟺: ɴᴏ ɪ

[𝟷:𝟺𝟼 ᴀ.ᴍ.] ɴᴊ_𝟿𝟺: ɪ ʜᴀᴅ ᴛᴏ... ʀᴇʟɪᴇᴠᴇ ᴍʏsᴇʟғ ᴛᴡɪᴄᴇ

A blush appears on Jungkook’s cheeks almost immediately after he types out the message. No matter how many times he’s texted you the most indecent and lewd words, he’ll probably never be able to fight the shyness that accompanies it.

[𝟷:𝟺𝟾 ᴀ.ᴍ.] sᴡᴇᴇᴛʜᴇᴀʀᴛ𝟼𝟼𝟼: ᴏʜ?

[𝟷:𝟺𝟾 ᴀ.ᴍ.] sᴡᴇᴇᴛʜᴇᴀʀᴛ𝟼𝟼𝟼: ᴛᴇʟʟ ᴍᴇ ʙᴀʙʏ… ᴀʀᴇ ᴜ sᴛɪʟʟ ᴡᴇᴀʀɪɴɢ ɪᴛ?

Jungkook glances down at his bare thighs, where the thin fabric wraps around his hips. He gulps.

[𝟷:𝟺𝟿 ᴀ.ᴍ.] ɴᴊ_𝟿𝟺: ʏᴇs.

[𝟷:𝟻𝟶 ᴀ.ᴍ.] ɴᴊ_𝟿𝟺: [ɪᴍᴀɢᴇ𝟶𝟾𝟹𝟺.ᴊᴘɢ]

There’s a moment where your mouth hangs open, watering at the sight of his salacious thighs. But, the thin black lace barely covering his prominent bulge is what makes you squeeze your thighs together. If his texts weren’t enough to show how desperate he was for you, this unexpected picture definitely got the point across. God, he was such a—

[𝟷:𝟻𝟷 ᴀ.ᴍ.] sᴡᴇᴇᴛʜᴇᴀʀᴛ𝟼𝟼𝟼: ɢᴏᴏᴅ ʙᴏʏ.

[𝟷:𝟻𝟷 ᴀ.ᴍ.] sᴡᴇᴇᴛʜᴇᴀʀᴛ𝟼𝟼𝟼: ᴛᴇʟʟ ᴍᴇ ᴡʜᴀᴛ ʏᴏᴜ ᴡᴀɴᴛ ʙᴀʙʏ

[𝟷:𝟻𝟷 ᴀ.ᴍ.]sᴡᴇᴇᴛʜᴇᴀʀᴛ𝟼𝟼𝟼: ᴜ ᴇᴀʀɴᴇᴅ ɪᴛ

Jungkook's heart throbs, or is that his dick? Either way, it's almost humiliating how easy it is for you to rile him up from a few words. You just had that effect on him. And, god, did he fucking love it.

[𝟷:𝟻𝟸 ᴀ.ᴍ.] ɴᴊ_𝟿𝟺: ɪ ᴡᴀɴᴛ ᴛᴏ ᴄᴜᴍ

[𝟷:𝟻𝟸 ᴀ.ᴍ.] ɴᴊ_𝟿𝟺: ᴡɪᴛʜ ᴜ

[𝟷:𝟻𝟸 ᴀ.ᴍ.] ɴᴊ_𝟿𝟺: ᴘʟssss :(

This was... new. Usually, you only allow him to be the one receiving all the attention and pleasure. Despite the waning professionalism in your relationship, this was still your job. It was only after your sessions that you'd grant yourself to come to the fresh memory of his whining and pleading. But who were you to deny him?

[𝟷:𝟻𝟹 ᴀ.ᴍ.] sᴡᴇᴇᴛʜᴇᴀʀᴛ𝟼𝟼𝟼: ...ᴏᴋ ʙᴀʙʏ

[𝟷:𝟻𝟺 ᴀ.ᴍ.] sᴡᴇᴇᴛʜᴇᴀʀᴛ𝟼𝟼𝟼: ʀ ᴜ ᴇᴠᴇɴ ʜᴀʀᴅ ʏᴇᴛ ʙᴀʙʏ?

[𝟷:𝟻𝟻 ᴀ.ᴍ.] ɴᴊ_𝟿𝟺: ʏᴇs. ʙᴇᴇɴ ʜᴀʀᴅ ᴀʟʟ ᴅᴀʏ 𝟺 ᴜ…

His fingers itch, his cock aching for any form of relief, but he knows better than to do anything without your permission. Besides, you make it all worth it in the end.

[𝟷:𝟻𝟼 ᴀ.ᴍ.] sᴡᴇᴇᴛʜᴇᴀʀᴛ𝟼𝟼𝟼: ᴀʟʀᴇᴀᴅʏ ᴄᴀᴍᴇ 𝟸 ᴛɪᴍᴇs 𝟸ᴅᴀʏ ᴀɴᴅ ᴜ sᴛɪʟʟ ᴡɴᴛ ᴍᴏʀᴇ?

[𝟷:𝟻𝟼 ᴀ.ᴍ.] sᴡᴇᴇᴛʜᴇᴀʀᴛ𝟼𝟼𝟼: sᴏ ғᴜᴄᴋɪɴɢ ɴᴇᴇᴅʏ, ʜᴜʜ?

[𝟷:𝟻𝟼 ᴀ.ᴍ.] sᴡᴇᴇᴛʜᴇᴀʀᴛ𝟼𝟼𝟼: ʏᴋ ᴡʜᴀᴛ 𝟸 ᴅᴏ ʙᴀʙʏ ʙᴏʏ

nj_94 has sent 3,000 hearts!

[𝟷:𝟻𝟽 ᴀ.ᴍ.] ɴᴊ_𝟿𝟺: ᴘʟᴇᴀsᴇᴇᴇ

You laugh breathlessly despite the wetness building between your thighs at his begging. Your hand slips behind your back, unclipping your bralette before slipping it off and throwing it somewhere in your room. You angle the camera so that only the top half of your body shows before snapping the picture.

[𝟷:𝟻𝟿 ᴀ.ᴍ.] sᴡᴇᴇᴛʜᴇᴀʀᴛ𝟼𝟼𝟼: [ɪᴍᴀɢᴇ𝟶𝟾𝟹𝟻.ᴊᴘɢ]

Fuck. Jungkook can’t take his eyes off of the image of your bare chest. Your hand sits right above the band of your thin panties, before the image cuts off. There’s a teasing glint in your eyes as you bite your lip, staring straight into the camera. Jungkook can’t help it, he whines. His hand is pulling the black panties down to his mid thigh before he can think. He sighs at the feeling, grabbing the strawberry lube -your favorite- from his nightstand drawer and squirting a generous amount into his palm. He begins to leisurely stroke his member before a ping! from his phone interrupts him.

[��:𝟶𝟹 ᴀ.ᴍ.] sᴡᴇᴇᴛʜᴇᴀʀᴛ𝟼𝟼𝟼: ʟɪᴋᴇ ᴍʏ ᴘɪᴄᴛᴜʀᴇ ᴛʜᴀᴛ ᴍᴜᴄʜ?

[𝟸:𝟶𝟹 ᴀ.ᴍ.] ɴᴊ_𝟿𝟺: ғғᴄᴋ ᴏғ ᴄᴏᴜʀs. ᴜʀ sᴏ ғᴜᴄᴋɴɢ ʜᴏᴛᴛ

[𝟸:𝟶𝟺 ᴀ.ᴍ.] ɴᴊ_𝟿𝟺: ᴡɪsʜ ɪ ᴡs ᴛʜᴇʀ ᴡ ᴜ

You wish so too. To have him begging to touch you, to feel you, right in front of you? Fuck, it definitely did things to you. He did things to you. And you wanted to show him.

[𝟸:𝟶𝟿 ᴀ.ᴍ.] sᴡᴇᴇᴛʜᴇᴀʀᴛ𝟼𝟼𝟼: [ᴠɪᴅᴇᴏ𝟶𝟾𝟹𝟼.ᴍᴘ𝟺]

Jungkook’s hand falters when he sees you’ve sent a video. Not that it was uncommon, but usually he’d have to send hearts first. But, he decides not to question it, instead choosing to click on the video. It takes a few moments to load, but once the first few seconds start playing, Jungkook’s mouth drops.

Your fingers are in your mouth, sucking and lathering them in spit before they trail down your body and under the fabric of your thin panties. Jungkook doesn’t need to see it, no, he can hear how wet you are. The sounds of your soft moaning and your fingers entering you drive Jungkook utterly wild, and he finds himself whimpering. He can’t stop watching the way you bite your lips and giggle, as if you knew exactly what you were doing to him. Of course you knew.

Jungkook replays the video, deliberate strokes of his hand sounding through the quietness of his room. “F-fuck, ____... what are you doing to me...” There’s another ping! that seems to reverberate in his head, and Jungkook slows his movements before he can get too lost in the endless ocean of his thoughts.

[𝟸:𝟷𝟾 ᴀ.ᴍ.] sᴡᴇᴇᴛʜᴇᴀʀᴛ𝟼𝟼𝟼: sᴘᴇᴇᴄʜʟᴇss, ʙᴀʙʏ?

[𝟸:𝟷𝟾 ᴀ.ᴍ.] sᴡᴇᴇᴛʜᴇᴀʀᴛ𝟼𝟼𝟼: ᴏʀ ʀ ᴜ ᴛᴏᴜᴄʜɪɴɢ ᴜʀsᴇʟғ ʙᴄ ᴏғ ᴍᴇ?

[𝟸:𝟷𝟿 ᴀ.ᴍ.] ɴᴊ_𝟿𝟺: ғғᴄᴋ ɪ ᴄɴᴛ ʜᴇʟᴘ ᴍʏsᴇʟғ

[𝟸:𝟷𝟿 ᴀ.ᴍ.] ɴᴊ_𝟿𝟺: ᴜʀ sᴏ ғᴜᴄᴋɴ ʙᴇᴀᴜᴛғʟʟ

[𝟸:𝟸𝟶 ᴀ.ᴍ.] ɴᴊ_𝟿𝟺: ᴄᴀɴ ɪ sɴᴇᴅ sᴍᴛʜɴ ɴ ʙᴀᴄᴋ?

[𝟸:𝟸𝟶 ᴀ.ᴍ.] sᴡᴇᴇᴛʜᴇᴀʀᴛ𝟼𝟼𝟼: ᴏғᴄ ʙᴀʙʏ

A few minutes pass before your phone finally vibrates, your screen lighting up with a new message.

[𝟸:𝟸𝟻 ᴀ.ᴍ.] ɴᴊ_𝟿𝟺: [ᴠɪᴅᴇᴏ𝟶𝟼𝟽.ᴍᴘ𝟺]

You hesitate for a bit, biting your lip before you press play. The sound of his hand fervently sliding up and down his shaft fills your ears, soft whines of pleasure slipping through the speaker of your phone. If you weren't turned on before, you definitely were now. Your hand travels down your body, slipping underneath your panties. Gasping at the pool of your wetness, your hand moves along your clit expertly as his hand slides along the mess of precum and red lube. Strawberry.

Right as the video is reaching the last ten seconds, your hands speed up against your heat. Your thoughts are clouded, lidded eyes staring at nj_94’s huge cock. Right before the video ends, you hear his voice, muttering nonsense, but that isn’t what makes you cease your motions. “F-fuck, ____, see what you do to me.”

It’s clear he doesn't realize he’s said your name, your actual name. But that's not even the weirdest part. No, because the voice sounds too familiar to you. Similar to the voice of— ping!

nj_94 has sent 5,000 hearts!

[𝟸:𝟹𝟺 ᴀ.ᴍ.] ɴᴊ_𝟿𝟺: ғᴄᴋ ɪᴍ ᴄʟᴏᴇs

[𝟸:𝟹𝟻 ᴀ.ᴍ.] ɴᴊ_𝟿𝟺: ʟᴛᴇ ᴍᴇ ᴄᴜᴍᴍ

[𝟸:𝟹𝟻 ᴀ.ᴍ.] ɴᴊ_𝟿𝟺: ᴘʟssss?

[𝟸:𝟹𝟽 ᴀ.ᴍ.] sᴡᴇᴇᴛʜᴇᴀʀᴛ𝟼𝟼𝟼: [ɪᴍᴀɢᴇ𝟶𝟾𝟹𝟽.ᴊᴘᴇɢ]

The still image of your drenching core is enough for Jungkook to spill his seed all over his hand. His hand slows as he pumps the last spurts of his cum, chest heaving harshly. He grabs a couple of tissues from his nightstand, using it to clean the cum off of his fingers.

[𝟸:𝟺𝟷 ᴀ.ᴍ.] ɴᴊ_𝟿𝟺: ᴛʜᴀɴᴋ ʏᴏᴜ

[𝟸:𝟺𝟸 ᴀ.ᴍ.] sᴡᴇᴇᴛʜᴇᴀʀᴛ𝟼𝟼𝟼: ʜᴀᴘᴘʏ ᴛᴏ ʙᴇ ᴏғ sᴇʀᴠɪᴄᴇ ʙᴀʙʏ ʙᴏʏ

[𝟸:𝟺𝟻 ᴀ.ᴍ.] sᴡᴇᴇᴛʜᴇᴀʀᴛ𝟼𝟼𝟼:,, ɪᴠᴇ ʙᴇᴇɴ ᴛʜɪɴᴋɪɴɢ

sᴡᴇᴇᴛʜᴇᴀʀᴛ𝟼𝟼𝟼 ɪs ᴛʏᴘɪɴɢ...

Jungkook’s head is spinning, but he doesn’t think it’s from the breathtaking orgasm you had just given him. He’s on edge as he watches the little typing bubble appear and disappear multiple times. What could you possibly be ‘thinking’ about? Were you thinking of ending this whole thing? Oh god, were you thinking of—!

[𝟸:𝟺𝟾 ᴀ.ᴍ.] sᴡᴇᴇᴛʜᴇᴀʀᴛ𝟼𝟼𝟼: ᴀᴍ ɪ ᴇᴠᴇʀ ɢᴏɪɴɢ ᴛᴏ ᴋɴᴏ ᴡʜᴀᴛ ᴜ ʟᴏᴏᴋ ʟɪᴋᴇ?

No, this was definitely much worse. Jungkook never would have guessed how far this would have gone when he first impulsively texted you all those months ago. After the first two months, when the sexting had turned into a regular thing, he knew you’d eventually grow curious. He knew you’d eventually ask. And, god, does he wish he had the fucking balls to tell you.

Jungkook would be lying if he said this hadn’t turned into something more than just sexting. At least for him. He wasn’t really sure how you felt about him, though sometimes the things you’d say when you were coaxing him into an orgasm would go to his head, and he’d think, if only for a moment, that maybe, just maybe, you felt something more as well.

But after he’d come down from his high, and come down back to reality, Jungkook knew it was just wishful thinking. How could you have feelings for someone you’ve never met, never seen? Even if you did, it wasn’t Jungkook you felt something for, it was nj_94. Which, yes technically was him, but not to you. You probably thought it was, well, literally anyone except your nerd of a neighbor who was too much of a coward to tell you who he was. What the hell would he even tell you? How the hell would he tell you?

“Oh, hey, _____! You know that guy you’ve been sexting consistently through Cybersex for four months? Well, surprise! It’s been me the entire goddamn time!”

SLAP!

Yet, even in the safety of his imagination, you're fuming, ears blowing steam as you slam the door in his face. A demand to never speak to you again, and Jungkook sinks into the floor from shame and embarrassment. Sometimes, you’d laugh in his face, disbelieving, or worse, unwanting of him.

Jungkook’s mind was a weird and ghastly place.

He doesn’t know how long he’s been staring at your message, but he sees you’ve gone offline, probably tired of waiting for him to reply. His thumbs hover over the keypad of his phone, but he can’t bring himself to say anything, not even to jokingly brush you off. There have been many moments before where you’ve brought up what nj_94 looks like, but somehow this time it feels different. Jungkook can’t pin down the feeling coiling in his stomach, so he does what he does best.

He ignores it.

BEEP! BEEP! BEEP!

The blaring sound of your alarm fills the once quiet room, ripping you away from your peaceful slumber, and you groan loudly into your pillow. Your hand fumbles around your nightstand as you try to blindly reach for your phone. Once you're able to turn off your alarm, you hear the pounding at the door. You lift your head, able to make out muffled calls of your name through your clouded mind. Who the fuck is trying to knock the door down so early in the morning?

You choose to bury your face in your pillows again, shifting the duvet over your head in order to block out the noise. Reaching for your phone once again, your eyes take a moment to adjust to the bright screen, and- oh, shit, you’re running late... again.

You throw the covers off your body, almost falling over the heap of clothes strewn over your bedroom floor. The knocking continues, and you rush out of your room, throwing the door open without sparing another glance at who’s standing at your doorstep.

“Give me five minutes!”

The figure chuckles, entering the threshold as you run back to your bedroom to throw on something presentable. “Rough night?” he says, voice sounding muffled through the closed door.

You laugh breathlessly, “More like rough weekend.” but you’re sure your voice is too quiet to be heard. Hastily brushing your teeth, you attempt to slip on your sweatpants at once. Following your successful multitasking and finishing your morning routine in record time, you emerge from your bedroom. Grabbing your keys and book bag from the living room, you pad over to the shoe rack near the front door.

“Wow, you should start waking up late every day if you’re gonna get ready this fast.”

You roll your eyes turning to shoot Jungkook a glare, “Don’t worry, I’ll start taking my time now just for you.”

Not waiting for a response, you open the door, gesturing for him to exit. He curtsies before he begins walking down the hallway to the elevator, you following closely behind.

-----

There’s something different about you today.

You’re quiet, gazing into the distance as you both walk to the coffee shop a few blocks away from your university campus. He tries to think nothing of it, chalking it up to the sleepiness still wearing off from the early morning. But usually you’d be pointing out random things on the street, or teasing Jungkook endlessly. And maybe he might miss the (albeit playful and meaningless) flirting, but he’d never say that out loud.

You reach the shop without a word, the sound of the city waking up and Jungkook’s boots hitting the pavement the only source of noise between you. When you reach the cashier, you’re still dazed, and if Jungkook didn’t know your order by heart (something he also would never admit), you’d probably forgo ordering anything.

Despite noticing all the things off today, Jungkook decides to not ask. He really doesn't want to push you to talk. And you’d come to him if there was something really bothering you.

At least that’s what Jungkook tried to do, but when you continue to be off in your own world, unknowingly ignoring his attempts at making conversation, he decides fuck that. And even though Jungkook would deny, again, if anyone would ever ask him, he does care deeply for you. Anything bothering you, bothers him.

“Alright, what’s up?” he asks, trying to seem casual despite rethinking the words a thousand times in his head.

“Huh?” you blink, coming back down to earth. “What do you mean?”

Jungkook sends you a disbelieving look, “You know what I mean. I asked you three times if you wanted a piece of my cheese danish, and you haven’t said a word since we left your apartment. So, what’s up?”

You duck your head, suddenly feeling bashful for ignoring Jungkook, but you haven’t been able to stop thinking about... him since the weird conversation you had on Friday. And to make matters worse, the fucker has been ignoring you. The only times he has bothered to text, was only to cancel your Saturday night appointment, despite the money already being transferred to your account. And when you tried to send it back, he declined the request without a word. Everything that he does leaves you more confused than before, and now you’re left to deal with these gross feelings building inside you.

Because even if you’re trying to ignore it, and him, as much as possible, your stupid brain can’t help thinking about all the sessions you’ve had with him, and all the mundane conversations that crossed the strictly business and purely sexual line. It was all too much, and you wished you could make sense of at least some of it, but now he won’t even talk to you. You can’t help thinking that maybe you had imagined it all. That maybe you had somehow convinced yourself that he felt the same way you did.

Or maybe he felt that it was becoming too much, too intimate, too serious, and wanted nothing to do with it. But even then, why couldn’t he have just told you that? Why did he have to fucking ghost you, for crying out loud? Why did-!

“Hello? Earth to _____!”

You blink, eyes focusing on the hand waving in front of your face. “Fuck, did I do it again?”

Jungkook chuckles, and you try to ignore the way your heart skips a beat. What the hell is up with you today? “Seriously, is everything okay?”

“Yeah, it’s just…” you hesitate, because what would you even call this? The whole situation is weird if you were to explain it to, well, literally anyone else. Not to mention the fact that Jungkook thinks you work as a coder from home. “Boy problems.”

Jungkook clears his throat, averting his eyes and choosing to focus on the grey concrete beneath him. “O-oh,” and as much as he doesn’t want to know about the other guy who’s got you so in your head, he still asks, “do you want to talk about it?”

You’re quiet for a moment, and Jungkook thinks that you might not say anything, that you might brush him off. He almost sighs in relief but then-

“Well, there’s this guy, and well- uhm,” you stare at the iced coffee in your hands, contemplating how to word your thoughts without actually spilling your secret. “We’ve never actually met, or anything, but we’ve been talking through this,” you pause again, glancing at Jungkook, whose jaw is clenched, “dating site. And well, we’ve been talking for about four months...”

Jungkook almost trips over his own feet whipping his head to look at you. You’re still talking, but now his brain is hazy and he can't think straight. No... you couldn’t... you’re not... you can’t be... you can’t be talking about... him, right? There’s... there’s no way. It has to be someone else. It has to be a coincidence that almost everything you’re saying sounds exactly like your relationship with... nj_94. Right? Right, of course, you’re definitely talking about someone else and it’s all in his-!

“...and when i asked, if uh, i’d ever get to see him, he kinda ghosted me, so, yeah.” you laugh nervously, noting the way Jungkook hasn't said a thing.

But, Jungkook is more sure than ever that you’re talking about him, well, not him, but nj_94, which technically- ok, you know what? It doesn’t matter because he feels nauseous and he’s sure he’s about to empty the contents of his stomach right here on campus in front of everyone. And now you’re looking at him with worry in those beautiful gleaming eyes of yours and oh, god, he needs to do something, anything to make this go away. Jungkook opens the lid of his coffee, taking a huge gulp without thinking anything of it because- OH FUCK!

IT’S FUCKING SCALDING. OH, GOD HIS TONGUE IS FUCKING BURNING AND HE’S SPUTTERING AND SPITTING THE COFFEE BACK OUT AND FUCK, IS HE SWEATING? IT’S SIXTY FUCKING DEGREES OUTSIDE AND HE’S SWEATING? NOW YOU’RE LOOKING AT HIM WITH CONCERN IN THOSE BEAUTIFUL GLEAMING EYES- wait, isn’t that the exact reason he’s stuck in this situation? God, what were you doing to him?

Jungkook barely registers the fact that you’ve both stopped walking, and are standing underneath one of the big trees on your campus. There’s a hand on his shoulder, and he realizes through his mess of a mind that it's yours.

“Jesus, Kook, are you okay?”

“Mhm,” he says, like a liar because no, he’s not okay, far from it actually. Because you’re fucking talking about him, and you don’t even fucking know it. God, the last thing he wanted was to make you feel like this. Truthfully, Jungkook doesn't exactly know why he’s been ignoring you. It was in a panic that he had cancelled your next session, afraid to talk to you after the sucker move he had pulled Friday night.

And he knows, he fucking knows that avoiding it is just making it worse. And that it won't go away, no matter how much he tries to ignore it. Jungkook is at a loss for what to do, and it's not like he could go to his friends to ask for help. This whole situation was too fucking absurd to even bother explaining. But if there was one good thing coming from this, it was learning that you did actually care about him, or...erm...nj_94, at the very least. Sure, there were almost a million other things Jungkook had to figure out, but hey, he’ll cross that bridge when he gets there.

Jungkook unconsciously pouts, willing the tingling on his tongue to go away. He’s too busy glaring at the offending coffee in his hands to notice the way your worried stare turns into one of suspicion, if only for a moment.

“Awww, do you want me to make it better?”

His head whips up at that, eyes widening at your words. Innocent and insignificant, yet Jungkook can’t help but think of the videos where you use the same tone. He’s sure that he’s completely forgotten the scalding burn on his tongue now. And it’s then that he sees it. The amused glint in your eyes, and the way your lips are pursed, seemingly holding back a laugh.

You’re making fun of him.

Jungkook scoffs, pushing your hand off his shoulder. You offer him the ice in your now empty cup, but he only rolls his eyes. You both toss your drinks in the can next to you, continuing the walk to your morning class.

And he tries to act upset, he really does, but when he sees you start to laugh, he can’t help but do the same.

[ :: ENTER... the (cyber)boy of your dreams ::]

There’s a familiar ping! that sounds through your bedroom, making you run out of your bathroom, toothbrush hanging from your mouth as you reach for your charging phone.

[𝟷𝟷:𝟹𝟸 ᴘ.ᴍ.] ᴍɪɴᴄᴀᴍs: ᴄᴀɴ ɪ ᴊᴜsᴛ sᴀʏ ʜᴏᴡ ғᴜᴄᴋɪɴɢ ʙᴇᴀᴜᴛɪғᴜʟ ʏᴏᴜ ʟᴏᴏᴋᴇᴅ ɪɴ ʏᴏᴜʀ ᴠɪᴅ ʟᴀsᴛ ɴɪɢʜᴛ?

Trying to ignore the slight pang of disappointment in your chest, you roll your eyes at his compliment. Typing out a response, you hit send before chucking your phone across your bed, huffing as you plop onto your mattress.

[𝟷𝟷:𝟹𝟹 ᴘ.ᴍ] sᴡᴇᴇᴛʜᴇᴀʀᴛ𝟼𝟼𝟼: ᴅᴏ ᴜ sᴇɴᴅ ᴛʜɪs ᴛᴏ ᴇᴠᴇʀʏ ᴏᴛʜᴇʀ ɢɪʀʟ ɪɴ ᴜʀ ɪɴʙᴏx?

[𝟷𝟷:𝟹𝟹 ᴘ.ᴍ.] ᴍɪɴᴄᴀᴍs: ᴊᴜsᴛ ᴛᴏ ʏᴏᴜ ʙᴀʙʏ ;)

Jimin was a bit of an icon in the cybersex world, adored by fans and other cyberboys alike. His videos centered on a more… demanding persona, which is what got him his mass audience. It obviously worked in his favor, if a peek at his account was anything to go by.

ParkJimin

@mincams

1,500,000 monthly viewers / 10,183,209 hearts

Most Popular: be a good girl, would you? / 7,937,937 views

And while a lot of cyberboys faked their personalities on screen, everything Jimin did had a sense of genuinity, and there was no doubt he was just as dominating in real life as he was on camera. You’d know better than anyone.

Jimin had begun texting you a few months ago, right when your videos had begun charting. It definitely took you by surprise, having only been messaged by two other cybergirls asking where you had bought your lingerie. And seeing his immense following only made you question it even more. What did he want to do with you when there were so many others who were more... on his level?

Yet, despite you sometimes disregarding his messages due to the suspicion you had in the early weeks, there would still be a text from him every Wednesday without a doubt. This obviously led to you, eventually, texting him back, if only to satiate your curiosity. And well, he was definitely... intriguing, considering the fact that you’ve been speaking ever since. Though, your ‘acquaintance’ with him has definitely crossed that line of playful flirtiness and frisky texting.

Cyber fuck buddies was probably the best way to describe your relationship with Jimin now. One lonely, frustrating late night had led to you and Jimin exchanging some very lewd thoughts with each other. And yes, although you had broken your second rule of being a cybergirl, the intense orgasm Jimin had given you was enough for you to... tweak them a bit.

See, at the beginning of your Cybersex journey, you had set rules for yourself, if only to make your job easier. And rule number two was to never get involved with a cyberboy. And, really, you were doing a great job at ignoring them completely, then Jimin had managed to slip his way into your life. But could you really blame yourself? Jimin was fucking hot, and you had your own desires that needed to be satisfied every once in a while. When he had just offered himself up, what were you supposed to do? Say no? It’s not like you were fucking him in real life anyway.

So, you changed that rule to never fuck a cyberboy. Harder to actually break and straight to the point. And yet... here you were, thinking of bringing none other than Park fucking Cyberboy Jimin onto your next show.

And you know, it sounds fucking stupid because what the hell? Did you not go over your own rules just now? But Jimin was the only one that could (possibly) help you in this very... unique situation. And, no, you were not gonna fuck him. Despite how much you’ve bent your rules, you were still going to try to respect them. Besides, you had other plans for him.

Like you mentioned before, Jimin was as demanding in his videos as in real life. Yet, there he’d be, in your direct messages, damn near begging for an opportunity to film a video with you.

Who would have thought that Park Jimin, the one who has everyone begging for him, actually wanted to be on his knees for you.

And at first it was easy to brush it off as a meaningless joke. Hell, you’d even respond back with a quip of your own. But when he actually explained himself, you had to say, all his points were very convincing. Something about gaining a bigger platform and a more ‘enlightening’ sexual experience. But, you had never brought anyone on your channel, and honestly, you had brushed the idea of a ‘partnership’ with him to the back of your mind. That is, until now.

Now, you needed him more than ever, for your own reasons.

[𝟸:𝟸𝟸 ᴀ.ᴍ.] sᴡᴇᴇᴛʜᴇᴀʀᴛ𝟼𝟼𝟼: ɪs ᴜʀ ᴏғғᴇʀ sᴛɪʟʟ ᴜᴘ ғᴏʀ ᴛʜᴇ... ᴄᴏʟʟᴀʙᴏʀᴀᴛɪᴠᴇ ᴘʀᴏᴊᴇᴄᴛ?

[𝟸:𝟸𝟹 ᴀ.ᴍ.] ᴍɪɴᴄᴀᴍs: ɪ ᴛʜᴏᴜɢʜᴛ ʏᴏᴜ’ᴅ ɴᴇᴠᴇʀ ᴀsᴋ

[𝟸:𝟸𝟹 ᴀ.ᴍ.] ᴍɪɴᴄᴀᴍs: ᴏғ ᴄᴏᴜʀsᴇ ɪᴛ ɪs

[𝟸:𝟸𝟺 ᴀ.ᴍ.] sᴡᴇᴇᴛʜᴇᴀʀᴛ𝟼𝟼𝟼: ᴛʜᴇɴ ɪ’ʟʟ ᴅᴏ ɪᴛ.

[𝟸:𝟸𝟺 ᴀ.ᴍ.] sᴡᴇᴇᴛʜᴇᴀʀᴛ𝟼𝟼𝟼: ᴜɴᴅᴇʀ ᴛᴡᴏ ᴄᴏɴᴅɪᴛɪᴏɴs.

[𝟷𝟸:𝟸4 ᴀ.ᴍ.] ᴍɪɴᴄᴀᴍs: ᴀʀᴇ ʏᴏᴜ sʀs?

[𝟷𝟸:𝟸𝟻 ᴀ.ᴍ.] ᴍɪɴᴄᴀᴍs: sᴜʀᴇ...ᴀɴʏᴛʜɪɴɢ ғᴏʀ ʏᴏᴜ

[𝟷𝟸:𝟸𝟼 ᴀ.ᴍ.] sᴡᴇᴇᴛʜᴇᴀʀᴛ𝟼𝟼𝟼: ɪᴍ ɪɴ ᴄᴏɴᴛʀᴏʟ

[𝟷𝟸:𝟸𝟼 ᴀ.ᴍ.] sᴡᴇᴇᴛʜᴇᴀʀᴛ𝟼𝟼𝟼: ɴ ᴡᴇ ғɪʟᴍ ᴀᴛ ᴍʏ ᴘʟᴀᴄᴇ ᴛʜɪs sᴀᴛ.

[𝟷𝟸:𝟸𝟼 ᴀ.ᴍ.] sᴡᴇᴇᴛʜᴇᴀʀᴛ𝟼𝟼𝟼: ᴅᴇᴀʟ?

[𝟷𝟸:𝟸𝟽 ᴀ.ᴍ.] ᴍɪɴᴄᴀᴍs: ʏᴏᴜ ᴅʀɪᴠᴇ ᴀ ʜᴀʀᴅ ʙᴀʀɢᴀɪɴ, sᴡᴇᴇᴛʜᴇᴀʀᴛ.

ᴍɪɴᴄᴀᴍs ɪs ᴛʏᴘɪɴɢ...

[𝟷𝟸:𝟸𝟽 ᴀ.ᴍ.] ᴍɪɴᴄᴀᴍs: ᴅᴇᴀʟ.

[𝟷𝟸:𝟸𝟾 ᴀ.ᴍ.] ᴍɪɴᴄᴀᴍs: sᴇᴇ ʏᴏᴜ sᴀᴛᴜʀᴅᴀʏ ;)

The buzz of quiet conversation fills the room, accompanied by the sounds of the documentary playing on the projector that no one could be seen paying attention to. Even the professor seemed to be falling asleep grading papers near the corner of the room. There were excited whispers of a party later tonight, but you, you were ecstatic for reasons completely different.

“Pssst! Jungkook!”

Jungkook lifts his head, looking around before he feels a tap on his shoulder. He turns around and almost jumps back in shock from how close your face is to his.

“Uh, yeah?” he whispers back.

There’s something in your smile that throws him off, demure and something else he can’t seem to figure out. Maybe Jungkook pays too much attention to anything you do. Fuck, you're driving him crazy just sitting there.

“Are you doing anything tomorrow?”

“Uh, no... why?” he stutters, and maybe it’s just the dark lighting in the room, but he swears he sees your eyes gleam.

“No reason,” you respond, leaning your head against your hand. Your other hand comes to toy with the necklace sitting around your neck. “But I’d advise you to stay home this weekend.”

His eyes widen. What the fuck? Did Jungkook hear you correctly? Or is he starting to hear things too? What the hell are you doing to him? “W-what?”

“I don’t know if you’ve heard about the... show,” you make sure to look right into his eyes, “playing tomorrow night. I heard it was going to be really special.”

Jungkook blinks multiple times, sure the confusion and shock is written on his face as he stares at you. Fuck, he doesn’t know if he heard you correctly, and he’s too afraid to ask. He’s only able to dumbly murmur a “what?”

You only smile, no indication that those words had actually left your mouth. Except the fact that Jungkook had seen it. “There’s supposed to be a storm tomorrow. It’s not safe to go out.”

The lights flicker back on, and students begin to get up to leave the lecture hall. Jungkook is glued to his chair, staring at the desk you had just been sitting in. He’s too stunned to even bother thinking of a response, but luckily (or unluckily) you don’t seem to mind it. Instead you rise from your seat, swinging your bag over your shoulder.

“I’ll see you later, Jungkook.”

He glances up, swallowing hard at the coy grin on your face. Jungkook can’t help but follow your movement, watching as you pause at the door. You turn your head, making sure that you meet his eyes once again before winking at him. You take your leave, disappearing down the hallway but lingering in Jungkook’s mind.

There was... no way you knew, right? He’d been so careful not to let anything slip. Maybe you were talking about a TV show? As much as Jungkook tried to tell himself that it was all in his head, that no, you didn’t know about his not-so-little secret, somewhere, in the back of his mind, a voice kept telling him that it was futile.

He’s embarrassed to admit that once he gets into the safety of his apartment, he runs to his computer, biting his nails as he waits for it to turn on. Jungkook clicks on the pink heart icon in the corner of his home screen, inputting his memorized account information.

USERNAME: nj_94

PASSWORD: boyzwithfun97

Jungkook hasn’t logged onto Cybersex since last Saturday, but searching for your name is like clockwork. Right as he clicks on your profile, he sees you’ve made a new post. Usually, Fridays were the days you went live, but apparently things were different tonight.

[9 MINUTES AGO] SWEETHEART666 said:

no live tonight, babes. vv special video coming tomorrow <3.

Yeah, he was completely and utterly fucked.

[ :: JOINING... the valley ::]

Jungkook doesn’t know how to feel.

He doesn’t even know what to expect. It’s finally Saturday, well Saturday morning and Jungkook finds himself lying in his bed, staring blankly at his ceiling. He’s already dreading the day, knowing that all that would be on his mind today would be you, and your stupid, vague words with your stupid smirk and, fuck, let’s just be real for a second; Jungkook has never been more mortified in his twenty-three years of living. Though if anyone were to ask, he’d say he’s doing fucking peachy, like the liar he is.

He hasn’t seen you since yesterday when you almost gave him a stroke from those borderline seductive words of yours. Fuck, a “show”? What else could you possibly mean? Did you know that he watched your videos? For Jungkook’s sake, he prays to whoever is up there that that’s all you know. The walls of the apartments are thin, thin enough for Jungkook to hear you moaning every time you film, and definitely flimsy enough for you to catch the sound of your name tumbling from his lips almost every goddamn time he comes. But, god, does he really wish he knew how you felt about everything. Instead of leaving him in the dark, he wished you would have at least told him you weren't angry at him for watching your videos in secret.

Oh, how things have taken a turn.

Something Jungkook is great at is pushing away his feelings. Which, in hindsight, has definitely never ever gone even remotely in his favor. Does that stop him from burying it all down? No. But it definitely has taught him ways to distract himself from anything and everything. And one of his favorite distractions is working out. In the gym located in the lower level of his apartment complex, he’s able to filter out the world, his thoughts, and throw all the shit he’s pushed down onto the treadmill. He focuses on the loud drumming of his playlist, pressing down on the arrow button until he’s completely drenched in sweat, panting from the thirty-minute sprint. Then it's weight lifting, which isn't as distracting as he’d like it to be, but if he turns his music up louder, he can't hear the way his brain is screaming at him to just! make! sense! of! his! feelings!

But it only lasts a short hour and a half during the workout. Now, all Jungkook can focus on is the way he hasn't ridden this elevator with you in what seems like forever, and how much he misses talking to you, even if it's just as nj_94. He wonders if maybe he’ll catch sight of you walking back from doing your laundry like he always does when he comes back from his Saturday workouts. Much to his dismay, there’s no sight of you when the elevator reaches your shared floor. His shoulders deflate, and he walks with his head down, feeling completely pathetic.

It’s only when he’s a few feet away from your apartment entrance that he spots the unfamiliar man leaning against your door. He’s poised, aura oozing with confidence and nonchalance. Jungkook slows his walking. Who the hell was he?

The man in question turns his head slightly, and consequently makes direct eye contact with Jungkook. Jungkook feels his eyes widen at how attractive this man was. But, honestly, he would be more surprised if he saw you with someone who looked any less than a fucking god amongst mortals. The man looks Jungkook up and down, plump lips shifting into a smirk before he tilts his head. Jungkook tenses, throwing him a quick nod of the head. His smile widens before the door to your apartment opens, and he walks in, disappearing as quickly as the door shuts.

Great, the last chance he had to see you before tonight was gone. No questions answered, but it was fine. Everything was fine. All he had to do was wait a bit more. Jungkook glances at his watch, sighing loudly before inputting the code, rather harshly, to his apartment.

Only five more hours.

Five minutes.

Jungkook has lost count of how many times he’s refreshed your profile page. He probably looks as crazy as he feels waiting for the clock to hit eleven. He doesn't know what he’s feeling. Excited? Unnerved? Terrified? Jungkook's willing to bet it might be all three.

The minutes seem to go agonizingly slow as if taunting him. The ticking of the clock above his bed threatens to send him into overdrive. He has half a mind to rip it from the nail on the wall and throw it across the room. Even the soft rain hitting his bedroom window makes him want to scream. But he knows every jumbled thought crossing his mind is just an attempt to distract him from the absolute fear he’s feeling right now.

Then finally, finally, after the umpteenth time Jungkook has refreshed the page, right when he feels he's about to implode and have his insides turn into mush, it appears. Right as the shorthand hits eleven.

● [LIVE!] ur fav boy on his knees... w/ a special surprise <3

by Sweetheart666

2,039 viewing now

Jungkook swears he feels his heart stop beating, and he almost doesn't click on the live, he almost shuts his laptop and walks to the corner of his bedroom to rethink his actions in shame.

Almost.

The sight is familiar, one of your dimly-lit bedroom and a king-sized bed freshly made with black satin sheets. It’s a view Jungkook has grown all too accustomed to, after spending countless late nights watching you come undone under the same light. But tonight, everything has him on edge. Even the sensual music playing quietly in the background makes his heart rate increase.

It takes another minute before you appear in frame, wearing that damned smirk on your face again. But now there’s a flash of something he can’t seem to name, that flickers in your eyes. Jungkook must either be losing his mind, or the camera was playing tricks. You greet everyone in that same sweet voice of yours, as you always do in every video. You wait a few more moments for more viewers to join, toying with the heart that hangs on the chain wrapped around your neck. Everything seemed normal so far, and for a split second, Jungkook is able to breathe again. But before his thoughts could get any further, he comes into the frame.

“Everyone, this is Minnie. You might know him as Jimin, or mincams. He’s the first person I’ve ever brought on my channel, so please be nice to him...”

The same guy that had been standing outside of your apartment door. Jungkook should’ve connected the dots. It was all right in front of his fucking eyes, yet he was too in his feelings to even realize it. This was your ‘special surprise’.

Jimin’s face is eerily familiar, and Jungkook realizes that it’s not from the fleeting hallway interaction. No, he’s definitely seen him on the trending page of Cybersex multiple times. He doesn’t know how he didn’t recognize him at first, having clicked on his videos out of curiosity before. He briefly wonders how Jimin, the ever dominating and controlling Cyberboy, was so willing to get on his knees for you. Then again, Jungkook knew better than to doubt your authority over anyone.

“...unless, of course, he misbehaves.”

Jungkook almost chokes on his spit, mind failing to grasp the last few words that had tumbled from your mouth. Had he heard you right? Judging by the way Jimin’s eyes light up, he’s gonna take a wild guess and say that yes, this was going exactly where Jungkook thought it was. He looks down at his pants. Jungkook was definitely more excited than terrified now.

You stand from your spot on the floor, but Jimin stays kneeled right where he is, eyes following your movement behind the camera. Jungkook glances at the growing number of viewers, half probably from Jimin’s own audience. Just one look at the comments, he notes that this is definitely something his fans had been waiting for.

“Sit on the bed. Strip down to your underwear.”

Even though he knows your words aren’t directed at him, Jungkook’s dick has a mind of its own. Sure, he’s watched the way you dominate during your solo shows, but seeing you order about another man, fuck, does it do things to Jungkook.

He watches as Jimin obeys immediately, sitting on the edge of the bed and almost ripping his shirt in his haste to please you. You walk into frame again, holding a piece of fabric in one hand. You trace your fingers over the slope of his nose, past his lips, and down the length of his neck. “Such a pretty face. Shame I have to cover it...” you pout, though your eyes are shining with mischief. Your hands bring the silk scarf around his eyes, tying it behind his head.

Jungkook puts his hand over his growing bulge as you guide Jimin further back onto your bed. You turn him to the side, both of your bodies perfectly lining up with the camera. Fuck, is it driving Jungkook absolutely wild knowing that this was all happening just on the other side of the wall behind him. God, the things he’d do to be in Jimin’s place. Or just be there in person.

You’re on his lap now, nipping at his neck as Jimin’s soft moans filter through the speakers of his computer. Your hands, however, are kept at your side, only making Jimin’s pleas for your touch more desperate. Yet, you give into none of it. Pulling away from him, but not without another whine from the blinded man, you grin. “So whiny.”

Jungkook pauses his clothed palming, waiting with bated breath as you go behind the camera once again. The sight of Jimin’s flushed cheeks and harsh breathing makes his dick harden impossibly more. You appear in frame, this time with an unfamiliar object in your hand. Your hand goes to Jimin’s chest, and he jumps from surprise, then immediately after whines at your soft caresses. Once his nipple stiffens, your other hand clamps the pink clip onto it, prompting a gasp from both Jimin and Jungkook.

Jungkook watches as you adjust the tightness while struggling to pull down his pants laying down. Jimin looks even more flustered than before, hands digging into the flesh of his thighs. “Does it feel okay?” he hears you whisper, and Jimin nods eagerly. You chuckle, “Use your words, baby.”

“Yes,” Jimin’s voice is strangled, and Jungkook can see the painful swell of his cock outline through the camera lens. “It’s perfect.”

“Good.” you pat his cheek before pushing him to lie down on his back. Another piece of fabric comes to wrap around Jimin’s wrists, placing them above his head. You climb over his body, opting to lay over his thighs, just below his prominent erection. “Tell me, baby,” Jungkook’s eyes catch the matching pink remote in your hand and the smirk on your face. Your thumb presses down on the button, and the sudden sounds of buzzing mixed with Jimin whining sets Jungkook’s skin ablaze. “Is it ok if I use you for tonight?”

“F-fuck, y-yes, p-please use me, sweetheart.”

Jungkook has his hand on his shaft, leisurely stroking as he watches you press the button once again. The humming stops, but Jimin is left gasping, back arching off the sheets. The sight spurs Jungkook further, and he brings his own hand to his erect nipples, pinching hard. You move to straddle Jimin’s thigh before lifting the other clamp to his mouth. “Open up, baby.”

Jimin quickly complies, opening his mouth wide enough for your index finger and thumb to enter. His lips wrap snugly around them, sucking until you tap his cheek. Your fingers and the clamp emerge drenched in his spit, but Jungkook only gets a glance before you’re shoving them beneath your thin mesh slip-on. The clamps come to life once again, you and Jimin releasing simultaneous moans of ecstasy.

There’s a thin sheen of sweat building on Jungkook’s skin as he pumps himself harder, whining at the sight. God, he’s never wanted to be beneath you as much as he wants to now. He watches as you press the remote once again, giggling quietly at Jimin’s complaining. Jungkook stops his stroking, despite how much he wants to continue, realizing he’d probably make himself come unintentionally. And he could tell you were just getting started.

Your hand trails down the expanse of his chest, trailing down his toned stomach before stopping right above the place Jimin wants you the most. Your touches are playful, teasing as you use your other hand to reattach the wet clip on Jimin’s bare nipple. Jimin gasps when you press your hand down on his erection. “Nngh, sweetheart. It hurts.” he pouts, and Jungkook is almost sure if he wasn’t blindfolded, he’d be giving you puppy eyes.

But you’re inexorable.

“Awww, do you want me to make it better, baby?” you’re still talking to Jimin, but you look straight at the camera, and at Jungkook, as you say it, lashes fluttering.

Now that makes Jungkook cease his motions. Even in his hunger-ridden mind, the words feel strangely familiar, like he’s heard them before, but in a different situation. Jungkook can’t seem to remember, but the thought disappears as quickly as it came. You’ve left Jimin alone on the bed again, standing beside as you slowly strip yourself of your underwear. Hearts blow up the screen as you smirk at the camera. “Everyone’s so needy today, huh?”

You crawl up next to Jimin, tracing your fingers lightly over his toned chest. “You could probably come from these alone.” Jimin voices his pleading objections, desperate to feel your hands elsewhere, but you leave his side once again, walking closer to the camera. “Hmm, let’s ask your fans what they think.”

There’s no need to even glance at the video chat, because your laugh says it all. “Looks like they want you like this, Minnie.” He arches his back of the bed, attempting to plead with you for more stimulation. “Nnngh, please, sweetheart.” Yet you only giggle quietly. Your hand reaches for the remote off to the side before you turn the clamps on once again. Jimin’s breathy moans are loud, loud enough to filter through your shared wall, and Jungkook gulps.

Leaving Jimin alone on the bed once again, you emerge with a silver bowl in your hand. You crawl onto his thighs again, clicking the button and halting Jimin’s pleasure. Your fingers pick up an ice cube before tracing it down his chest. Jimin shivers at the coolness, but otherwise stays quiet, waiting for your next move. When you reach the band of his boxers, you leave the ice cube to melt on his abs before pulling them down and letting his cock hit his stomach. Jimin gasps at the cold wetness, tied hands digging into the mattress above his head. “Is that better, Minnie?” he only nods in response, and this time it’s enough for you.

Jungkook glances at the mess on his lap, a mix of his precum and spit lathered all over his shaft and hand. He looks back at his screen, and he sees you’ve crawled over his chest, nearing his face. Your hand goes to cradle his jaw, using your thumb to trace his bottom lip. “Tell me, Minnie, is this mouth only good for whining and complaining?” Jimin shakes his head fervently, tongue coming out to lick at your thumb. “Hmm, mind if I test it for myself then?”

Jimin swallows, trying to find his voice. “Please.”

You push his head back onto the bed, placing your knees on either side of his head. Another ice cube finds its way to your hand, and you bring it to Jimin’s lips. “Open, Minnie.” he complies, sucking the ice into his mouth. His mouth is left agape, and you smile, pleased. “Good boy.”

You slowly sink down, just enough for Jimin to start licking and sucking your heat. You gasp, holding your breath before letting out a small whimper. The hand that’s not steadying you holds the remote, pressing down on the button once again. Jimin groans into your clit. Jungkook watches the way your back arches with pleasure as his hand speeds up on his dick. He imagines being the one underneath you, eating you out like he’s wanted to for so long. Jungkook tries to be quiet, he truly does, but, fuck, just the vision of you spread out above him, makes him moan out loud.

“C’mon, Minnie, louder. Don’t you want everyone to know how good I’m making you feel?” Jungkook doesn’t realize how loud Jimin is until he hears his moans clearer through the wall than his computer speaker. Jungkook swallows down his whines as best he can, but when he sees the way your toes curl from Jimin’s unrelenting mouth, he can’t help it anymore. He’s sure the noises falling from his mouth can be heard as clearly as Jimin’s, yet he can’t find it in himself to care. Not when he’s so close to his own release.

Your whimpers only spur Jungkook further, and he’s too lost in the way you smirk straight at the camera to worry about his volume anymore. He groans, on the edge of ecstasy when your voice sounds through his clouded mind. “C’mon, baby boy, I know you can do it.” White flashes behind his eyelids, and he comes in spurts of white all over his stomach. Jungkook doesn’t notice the way all light in his room has suddenly shut off, leaving him with only the glow of his dying computer to luminate him.

When Jungkook finally opens his eyes, there’s nothing but darkness, the harsh sound of rain splattering against his window and the howling noise of the wind mixing with his harsh breathing. Even Jimin’s whines and the humming of his laptop has stopped. The post orgasm haze clouding in his mind the only indication that whatever just happened was actually real.

CLICK!

[ENDED] ur fav boy on his knees w/ special surprise <3

by Sweetheart666

687,982 viewers / 2,298,836 hearts

#16 on trending

“Fuck.” he mutters, finally grasping the fact that the power had gone out. But, it’s when Jungkook’s eyes adjust to the darkness, that it comes back to him. Something you said that sounded too familiar, and this time he knows it’s not his imagination.

“Awww, do you want me to make it better, baby?”

It becomes clearer as his breath evens out.

“Awww, do you want me to make it better?”

You know.

#bangtanhq #btsbookclub #btsguild #btsgoldnet #goldenclosetnet #cypherwritersnet #btsghostie #jungkook x reader #park jimin x reader #jeon jungkook x reader #jimin x reader #park jimin x you #jeon jungkook x you #jimin smut #jungkook smut #bts x reader #bts smut #w; cybersex

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smolsix · 4 years ago

Text

The LTNM 2 analysis that specifically does its best to debunk the loop theory

I’ll preface by saying i still havent seen the mobile game so RIP me. [i can’t download it and never have the attention span to watch a video of it]

Oh and I haven’t seen the new comics either I wanna buy em and read em in person first WEYHO

Little Nightmares 2 is NOT a loop or time loop.

We’re shown Mono at the start of the game appearing from a TV, implying based on his later ability to teleport between them that he teleported there somehow. Where he got this ability is never implied, but I believe that because he is a resident of the pale city or near it that TVs have a certain affect on him. Note how Six is largely unaffected by the TVs throughout the whole game and makes an effort to pull Mono out of them. The Viewers are continually captivated by them and the TVs have some sort of affect over them.

Likely the Radio Tower’s signal warps people into being affected by the TVs, and Mono living in proximity was also affected by it.

Six also has her hunger again, although it’s only seen at the end of the game. I believe Six was already a resident of The Maw. In the room you find her in the radio tower you’ll notice on the wall a painting of a girl in a yellow dress with the face scratched out, which is also located on The Maw in the lady’s quarters. I also do NOT think the Thin Man created this room for her to calm her down, but rather this room was created by Six’s mind. If Mono is to be believe to be the Thin Man caught in a loop, he would have NO idea about this painting. And if he did, why would he put it there for her? I bring up her hunger as a possible correlation to Mono’s abilities, and that her hunger is a product of The Maw and likely its food has this affect on people, same way the Radio Tower has its affect on the residents.

So Six already having ties to the maw could imply ltnm2 is either a sequel or prequel, but w the presence of dark six from the tv appearing in this game w such a loud presence im highly leaning on prequel. but i know that some creators said a while back it’s a sequel??? idk

For a time loop to take place the radio tower or thin man need some control over time, which is not shown in the slightest. How could he possibly turn back all the events, and for what purpose? To prevent himself becoming the Thin Man?

I’ve seen a lot of people mention that the Thin Man specifically goes for Six in the first encounter w him, but I honestly think it’s just that he sees Six first. The pulse that goes through the room when he enters causes her to fall out from under the table, and if you specifically do not hide under the bed he will capture Mono first, completely contradicting this idea.

So why did Mono become the Thin Man? I believe that the radio tower simply replaced the Thin Man after he was destroyed. It needs to keep status quo and as a result, found and locked away a suitable replacement. I know people think he was trapped in there for a long time based on the sequence where we see him slowly turning into the Thin Man, but consider how long Six was also in there and how fast she turned into a creature as well. She was in there maybe a few hours, it’s likely that the sequence was a creative choice to get you confused and invested in what’s happening to him before giving the final reveal, not as a means to show a long time has passed.

Obviously because of this, it’s likely that this ending is also alluding to Six’s fate at the end of the first game. After she kills the lady and consumes her, she gains her ability to suck the life out of people at a glance. It’s entirely possible she will replace The Lady as a result, should The Maw function the same way.

Also, Six is NOT a monster, she is NOT “evil” and whatever else you want to call her. She is a child who is only 9 and she is a product of her environment. In this world the slightest mix up means death, and she has grown up in this world. When you first meet her she’s very apprehensive in helping Mono until she needs help, too. In the playground she hardly plays, opting for standing around areas [like standing up against the goal post instead of playing w a ball or anything] or vaguely doing things. This can imply that despite the fact she is a child, she hasn’t been able to have a childhood. She still enjoys childish things like toys [implied by her room], and has a sense of curiosity [how often she plays w the x-ray whenever you’re around it and her animation showing her looking at the toy she’s holding or at herself], but hasn’t been able to actually indulge in child things most of her life.

Her letting go of Mono was a case where either:

A) she wasn’t sure they’d both make it out in time and decided to save herself

B) she knew she was getting hungry and would kill Mono when they left together

I’ll honestly take either of these, they both make sense.

I also want to touch on the idea that the hanging man is either mono as the thin man, or original thin man, and here’s my ideas as to why it’s neither:

For it to be the original thin man, we need to assume he wasn’t destroyed by Mono. If he wasn’t, then why did Mono replace him. If he was, he couldn’t have gotten to the maw to hang himself, and why would he leave a note.

For it to be Mono as thin man he needs to have somehow gotten to The Maw before Six, and then killed himself there in that specific area. I want to mention that the Thin Man’s appearance outside of TVs is distorted and not at all solid in the same way as normal people. For mono to get to the maw he either had to have taken the normie way there on ship, or teleport through the TV. But based on what we saw, his teleport ability can only be done through TVs already turned on by the outside, and they must be near each other [he never goes great distances]. It also makes sense that he could possibly not even affect TVs too far from the radio tower where the thin man stays, and where the frequency reaches. Basically I’m saying you’d be hard pressed to make it all the way to the maw in the middle of the ocean [or where ever it is haha].

The only TV we see within the maw itself is in the library and must be turned on. so we can’t really guage TV population within the maw. and should the TVs affect people as they do in the pale city, i highly doubt they’d be left on carelessly should they warp the guests.

oh yeah and

the chair sizes are completely different, since i’ve noticed people saying they’re the same chair.

ANYWAYS all else i wanted to touch on was that it’s very very likely the bosses in the maw are actually puppets! in the hospital you will see their faces pinned to the wall, fitting for the mannequin area! not sure why the mannequin’s are affected by light but the puppets on the maw are not, who knows.

that’s all i got, i’ll post any changes i have to my ideas after the comics/vln

EDIT: I just remembered that we DO see the thin man in a TV at the end of the DLC for ltnm1, but it’s unclear if this takes place in the maw or the pale city.

This means that either he does have more power and is capable of jumping farther and that point is moot [but then that means he didn’t get here till after the events of the maw so, it still doesn’t line up w hanging man], OORR it was just in the pale city and was a simple teaser.

#SORRY THIS ENDED UP LONG I HAD A LOT OF THOUGHTS ABT THIS THEORY I KEEP SEEING HGHGHG #text #ltnm2 #spoilers #little nightmares 2 #long post #ooc #i hope u know im super nervous to post this HEGEEEEE

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ri-ahhh · 4 years ago

Note

could I request something where E is like editing but y/n gets bored and sits on his lap and starts to grind which ends up with maybe some punishments from E after he's had enough?

(my first E anything, this was a trip haha -- shout out to Pao @persistence-ofmemories, here’s your ethan smut lol)

You’ve been watching him all day. Strolling around the house shirtless with his AirPods in and sipping a smoothie while he conversed easily on continuous business calls. Hunched over his laptop answering emails. Sitting at the table with Grayson while they brainstormed new video ideas and Wakeheart promotional pitches.

Something about businessman Ethan hit so much different for you. He’s not an overly serious person on the daily, but CEO Ethan doesn’t fuck around. When he’s on these calls, his voice takes on this timbre that’s deep and confident and self-assured. Leaves no room for argument when he knows what’s best for his brands. It makes you clench your thighs and bite your lip as you watch and listen from your perch at the bar where you’re doing your own work for the day on your laptop.

But he can also get extremely caught up in it, in the perfection and responsibilities that are required when you’re a self-made businessman. Sometimes it’s hot and endearing, and sometimes it’s frustrating. Tonight, it’s frustrating.

You emerge from the ensuite bathroom in his room, dressed for bed in one of his t-shirts and squeezing some of the excess water out of your hair from your shower, to find him at his desk chair and on the phone again. You frown, checking the time on your phone. It’s after 10:30 PM, much too late considering he’s been doing this since around 8 this morning.

You walk up behind him, leaning over the back of the chair and wrapping your arms around his broad shoulders. You press a lingering kiss to his temple and nuzzle his cheek as you inspect what he’s working on. A still frame from their new video they’re about to post is on the screen of his laptop.

“I can’t decide if we should leave this part at 11 minutes in, bro. What do you think?”

You don’t know who he’s talking to, probably Ryan or maybe even Grayson; they have a habit of calling each other even if they're both in the house, rather than just get up and go wherever the other one is. You’re a little confused as to why he’s editing of all things right now, though.

“Babe, what are you doing? Isn’t this what you pay Ricky for now?” you ask, reaching a hand up to play with his hair. It’s getting so long, and you're not mad about it one bit.

Ethan glances up at you and puckers his lips. You oblige him with a quick peck, but you still expect an answer. He has a habit of trying to temporarily appease you when he’s busy and focused on something.

He sighs when he realizes you’re not giving up that easily. He puts the phone on mute, and you do indeed see Grayson’s name on the screen. “Ricky’s swamped, so I told him I had this one. It’s not too crazy.”

“You’ve been working literally all day, E. Can’t you come to bed so we can spend some time together before we go to sleep? I can’t stay up too late, I have a meeting in the morning.”

Ethan hesitates, turning the phone speaker back on to talk to his brother through his headphones. “Hey, Gray one sec.” He mutes it again. “Sweetheart, this won’t take me very long, I promise. The video is gonna be pretty short.”

You roll your eyes and pick up the towel you had dropped to the floor, turning your back on him to hang it up in the bathroom. You refuse to be the nagging girlfriend. If he wants to prioritize work he doesn't even need to be finishing right now, you’re happy to guilt trip him.

“Whatever, E. It doesn’t feel like a long time to you, but a ‘short video’ still means like three hours.”

When you come back into the bedroom, you expect him to be lounging on the bed with his phone, laptop shut for the night and LED lights on. So when you find him in the exact same position, talking to Grayson once again, a wave of rage and hurt washes over you. Ethan is usually an amazing and attentive boyfriend, and you’re not particularly clingy with him; you just want to spend some intimate time together after a nonstop work schedule on both your ends had left that time lacking in your relationship lately, and which doesn’t show any signs of changing in the coming week.

You consider giving in and slipping under the covers to pout and go to sleep after all. Even if you were tired enough to go to sleep now, though, you know you’d be way too mad to achieve that. Your course of action is easy, then.

“Baby...” Ethan huffs, irritation and amusement both detectable in his tone when you march over to him and swing a leg across his lap. He grunts when you plop yourself in his lap, adjusting until you’ve got your arms wrapped around his middle and your face nuzzled in his neck. “Seriously?”

“Seriously?” you mock his deep voice. You know he hates that, and your lips curve up where you press them to his neck when you feel him tense up a little. “We both know you don’t need to be doing this right now, I heard you and Gray decide to post in three days. No sponsor with a deadline to get approval from. You’re just being a workaholic instead of a considerate boyfriend.”

He shakes his head, his arms curved around you so he can still reach the keyboard of his laptop. You hear the clicks of the keys resume as he has the nerve to keep working. “I just want to get this done, so it’s over with and so I don’t have to worry about it in a couple of days. You’re being a brat.”

You scoff indignantly. You’re being a brat just because you want to spend some of the limited free time you both have with your boyfriend?

If that’s what he thinks you are, then you’ll let him have it.

You can hear Grayson’s muffled voice coming through the one AirPod Ethan’s wearing in the ear opposite from the one you’re next to. Perfect. You smirk and start planting sweet, innocent kisses up the side of his neck until you reach his ear, taking the lobe in-between your teeth teasingly.

Ethan inhales sharply when you tug on it with a little nibble before releasing it and putting your mouth right to his ear. You start rocking against him, sitting up some to put your hands on his shoulders.

“I’m gonna get off on you, with or without your help,” you whisper straight into his ear, smirking when your hot breath raises goosebumps on his bare skin. Now, it’s just a competition between his stubbornness and his desire for your pussy. The latter will win, you know it — it’s only a matter of time. “If you want to make this a mutual effort, I’m more than happy for you to do that.”

He releases a heavy breath, and you smile against his skin when you feel him hardening predictably beneath you. You grind deeper into him, and lick your tongue along the words inked into his skin on his collarbone.

He stays stubbornly focused in the chair, and you can hear Grayson still talking in his ear, but Ethan isn’t responding to him. His chest and neck are flushing pink, and you sit back to see if that pretty color is gracing his cheeks, too.

You grin when you see that it is. His arms are still draped loosely around your waist, no longer typing, so you lean back with your hands on his knees, still grinding on the large bulge growing in his sweatpants. His eyes trail over you, how the t-shirt of his that you’re wearing pools at your hips, exposing your soft cotton panties that you sleep in so he can see your pussy rocking on his dick.

“Feels so good,” you murmur, tossing your hair over one shoulder and biting your lip. You reach one hand down and lift your shirt so you can both see the wet patch growing in your panties. He lets out this tiny little masculine moan that has you going harder, faster. You grin and lift your eyes to watch him watch your hips, and the heat in his gaze makes you shiver. “Would feel better if you were inside me, E. Want that big dick inside me, stretching me out. Don’t you want that, baby?”

Ethan shakes his head incredulously again, clearing his throat. “Hey, I’m tired Gray. I’ll finish tomorrow, okay?”

He doesn’t wait for his brother to answer before ripping his headphone out of his ear, tossing it onto his desk, and tapping the red button on his phone to hang up. You squeal and giggle when he stands up suddenly, cupping his big hands under your thighs so you come with him. You wrap your legs around his waist instinctively, and don’t waste any time threading your fingers into his hair and dragging his lips to yours.

He moans into your mouth and stumbles to the bed, but your kiss is short-lived as he tosses you onto the mattress. You bounce and laugh again, scooting back to settle against the pillows as he crawls predatorily on top of you. He looks fucking amazing -- his hair a mess, skin tan from all the shirtless skateboarding he’s been doing lately, dick print evident in his grey sweats. Your mouth and pussy water simultaneously, and you reach out for him as he gets closer.

“You think that was cute?” he asks with a tiny smirk, allowing you to wrap your arms around him as he settles between your legs. “Turning me on while I’m working? While I’m on the phone with my brother?”

“Kind of. I did ask you nicely to stop working,” you remind him, trailing a finger down the line bisecting his torso until you reach his pants. You palm his erection through the soft fabric, grinning when he thrusts into your touch. “Not my fault you can’t listen.”

Ethan hums and hooks his fingers into the sides of your panties, making your hand fall away from him as he slinks them down your freshly shaved legs and leans back to toss them over his shoulder. His eyes are glued to your pussy and the shimmer of your arousal clinging to your smooth lower lips. Your head falls to your shoulder as you spread your legs more for him, whining thankfully when his fingers brush up your slit.

“So wet for me already,” Ethan says, collecting the slick moisture on his fingertips as he strokes you lazily.

You nod, lifting your hips to encourage him to deepen his touch. It feels good, but it’s barely there, and he definitely hasn't come near your clit. “Please, E.”

He tsks his tongue at you, smirking as he watches your face watch his. “Patience, baby. You couldn’t wait for me to finish working. You’ll have to wait a bit to get to cum, now.”

His words turn you on as much as they anger you. He laughs, actually laughs, when he feels more wetness seep onto his fingers from where he’s toying with your hole. “Oh, baby, did you like that? You like me making you wait?”

You have too much pride even through all the maddeningly unsatisfying pleasure he’s bringing about to answer him outright. You let out a loud moan when he sinks his two middle fingers into you. “You...you’re an ass.”

He chuckles again, wiggling his fingers a little bit inside you before taking them out, making sure he has your eyes locked on his when he sucks them into his mouth.

“Fuck,” he whispers, licking the stray bits that cling to his lips as he leans back over you and slips the same fingers back inside. He still doesn’t touch your clit, but his fingers start pumping and moving just how you like, filling you up but putting all the pressure in just the right spots.

Your legs spread even wider, head tossed back to the pillow as you grab the forearm supporting him over you with one hand and clutch the sheets by your head with the other.

“E...holy shit!” you whimper, digging your nails into that eagle on his arm. His fingers feel so good, hitting you just right, but it’s not enough to make you cum, and he knows it. He smirks down at you, watching you fall apart as the sloppy slick sounds of your pussy mingle in the room with his heavy breaths and your high-pitches gasps and moans. You don’t know how much more you can take of it.

“Ethan, please make me cum, please make me cum!”

Ethan groans, your begging music to his ears, and he relents by finally adding his thumb to the mix, lighting upon your clit and rubbing gentle, slow circles into it. Your back lurches off the bed, your eyes meeting his as you plead with him not to stop, that you’re almost there.

Of course he doesn't listen, though. You want to sob when he pulls out of you with a harsh growl, licking his digits clean again before sitting back and shoving his sweats down his legs. He stands off the side of the bed to kick them off his feet.

“Don’t you dare touch yourself,” he reprimands, shaking his head when he sees your hand instantly gravitate to your pussy. You whine but obey, waiting for him to climb back on the bed. He gathers your shirt in his hands, pulling up. “Lemme see your tits, baby. Wanna see them when I fuck you.”

You lift your arms at once, letting him pull it over your head so that you're both left completely naked. Ethan cups them both in his hands as he settles between your spread legs once again, and he ducks down to swipe his tongue over your nipples with sweet little suckles. He leaves each of them with a nip of his teeth and a soothing swipe of his tongue before he’s moving up to your mouth. You didn't realize it until that moment, but you needed the intimacy of his kiss, and it both calms you and makes you voracious for more of him.

As if he can read your mind, Ethan reaches between the two of you and takes his dick in hand, running the tip up and down your slit to coat himself in your copious arousal before tapping it against your clit. You jerk against him and moan into his mouth, which you feel curve against yours. He pulls back, watching your face intently as he pops the head into your entrance and sinks into you with one slow, gradual thrust.

You don’t think you've ever been this close this early, but you're still wound tight from how high he brought you just a few moments ago with his fingers. “God, E, fuck me. Fuck me with that big fucking dick.”

For the first time tonight, he obeys your command, moaning wantonly at your words. His hands cup the backs of your thighs and keep your legs close to your body as he pushes your knees to your chest. He’s deep deep in this angle, and you cry out so loud you wouldn't be surprised if Grayson could hear you down the hall.

That’s the least of your concerns, though, when he’s pumping into you so good, his thrusts hard and powerful as he grunts along with you, desperation clear in his own deep voice. You can tell he’s close too, He’s hitting just the right spot, and you lock eyes with him as you clutch his biceps in a death grip as he gets you right to the edge.

“Oh my...fuuuck E, I’m gonna cum!” you sob, and your body is letting go so hard you think your head has gone to another dimension.

“Baby, shit,” he hisses with how fucking tight your pussy starts spasming around his cock, how extra wet and warm everything gets all of the sudden. His head swims, and he slows his dick inside you, his heart and his ego ready to explode with how much he loves seeing you fall apart so good, because of him.

He lets go of your legs to lean over you again and mouth at your neck, bringing you back to earth with whispers of sweet nothings and gentle kisses to your face.

It takes what feels like all night, but eventually you can open your eyes again and be cognizant of your surroundings. You smile tiredly and let out a whispered curse as you cup his cheeks to kiss him lazily for a few moments, before releasing him and telling him to cum, too. He sits back again, and you shove your arms under your pillow, thrusting your chest out so your tits bounce for him as he starts pumping into your sensitive pussy again, chasing his nut.

His eyes flit back and forth from your chest to your face, where you're smiling up at him, all fucked out and sexy. “Fucking give it to me, E,” you whisper, clenching around him purposefully. He groans, looking at you desperately, questioningly. “Inside, baby.”

Ethan gives you all of three more sloppy, hard thrusts before you’re moaning with him as he shoots his load exactly where you told him. You love the unique warmth of his cum deep in your pussy.

He slowly collapses down on top of you, and you welcome his weight literally with open arms, holding him close to your chest, playing with his hair and giving him the same loving whispers he did to you.

When his breathing has slowed nearly back to normal, you direct his head up to kiss you. Your lips smack together quietly, and the feel of his mouth on yours just makes you feel complete in a way nothing else can.

“I should interrupt your work more often.”

#this makes me nervous #not exactly punishments but i'm not super into that sorry #hope this satisfies any e cravings haha #ethan dolan #ethan dolan smut #ethan dolan fic #dolan twins #grayson dolan #dolan twins fic #blurb #e blurb

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shirlleycoyle · 3 years ago

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How 9/11 Became Fan Fiction Canon

Every fictional character you can think of has experienced 9/11 in fanfiction.

A Clone Wars veteran with two lightsabers is on United Airlines Flight 93 and prevents it from crashing. Ron and Hermione get caught up in the chaos as the towers fall. Buffy the Vampire Slayer and her friends watch the attacks unfold on TV from Sunnydale. We have spent 20 years trying to process what happened on 9/11 and its fallout, and that messy process can be tracked through the countless, sad, disturbing, and sometimes very funny fanfiction left across the internet.

Many of the fanfics written in the weeks and months following the 9/11 attacks seemed to directly respond to the news as it happened, processing the tragedy in real-time through the eyes of characters they loved. In the absence of a canon episode where Daria Morgendorffer paid respects to those lost, writing fanfic about these characters also experiencing trauma helped fans cope.

One YuGiOh fanfic published on fanfiction.net in May 2002 could have been ripped exactly from what this writer experienced that Tuesday morning. “It started as a normal day,” user Gijinka Renamon wrote. Yugi and his friends were in school, where their teacher informed them of the attacks and sent everyone home from school.

“After reading people’s 9/11 fics, I decided to write my own, and put a certain character in it. And Yugi and his pals were my first choice,” the author's note reads, explaining the connection they felt to United flight 93 and the World Trade Center attacks. Given that they lived in Pennsylvania, and “it’s close to New York, I felt really sad about it.”

Stitch, a fandom journalist for Teen Vogue, told Motherboard that this reaction to 9/11 is not at all uncommon in fandom.

"Fandom has always been a place that positions nothing as 'off limits,'" she said. "Historical tragedies like the Titanic sinking and atrocities like… all of World War 2 show up regularly across the past 30 years of people creating stories and art about the characters they love. So, on some level, it makes sense that 9/11 and the following 20-year military installation in the Middle East has joined the ranks of things people in different fandoms turn into settings for their fan fiction."

Reactions depicted in a handful of Buffy the Vampire Slayer fanfics published in the weeks after the attacks ring a little truer to the characters. “Tuesday, 11th September 2001,” written by Anna K, almost echoes the lyrics from “I’ve Got a Theory,” one of the songs in the musical episode that aired in November 2001. “We have seen the apocalypse. We have prevented it. Actually, we’ve prevented quite a few. So we know what they look like,” they write, before taking a darker turn. “They look a lot like…New York today.”

Killing demons and vampires doesn’t phase the Scooby Gang, but when preventable human death is brought into the picture, it’s gut wrenching.

“What am I supposed to do…When I can’t do anything to save the world?” Buffy cries into Spike’s chest, watching the attacks unfold on TV in a fanfic the author described as being “about feeling numb and helpless.”

In “Blood Drive,” Kirayoshi writes about Buffy and her friends saving a van full of donated blood meant for victims of the attacks from a group of thirsty vampires. One Buffy the Vampire Slayer fic even takes a blindly patriotic turn, where noted lesbian witch Tara McClay helps Xander hang an American flag from the window of the magic shop to make Anya feel better.

Experiencing 9/11 as a young teenager was overwhelming not just because of the loss of life. Almost immediately after the event itself, it was as if the entirety of American culture re-oriented itself towards an overtly jingoistic stance. As we get distance from the attacks, seeing the tone of television and movies from the early 2000s is jarring, and some have gone viral on Twitter. In the world of pop music, mainstream musicians like the Chicks, formerly known as the Dixie Chicks, were blacklisted from the radio while Toby Keith sang about putting a boot up the ass of terrorists. On the Disney Channel, a young Shia Labeouf reading a poem he supposedly wrote about the events. The poem concludes with the line, "it's awesome to be an American citizen."

In a world so completely saturated with this messaging, it is not surprising that fanfic authors started including 9/11 in their work so soon after the event. Even The West Wing had a strange, out of continuity, fanfic-esque episode where the characters reacted to 9/11. In some cases, it made sense that the characters in the stories would be close to or a part of the events themselves.

"For characters like John Watson or Captain America, the idea works to an extent," Stitch told Motherboard. "In the original Sherlock Holmes works and the 2011 BBC series, Watson had just returned from Afghanistan. For Captain America and other Marvel heroes, 9/11 was something that was addressed in-universe in The Amazing Spider-Man volume 2 #36. Technically, 9/11 is 'canon' to the Marvel universe."

In “Early Warning: Terrorism,” a fanfiction for the TV show Early Edition in which a man who mysteriously receives tomorrow's newspaper, predicting the future, avoids jingoism, but tries to precent 9/11 from happening. This fanfic remains unfinished; it’s unclear if the characters successfully prevent 9/11 in this retelling.

Largely in fanfic from the era just after 9/11, when many young authors were trying to emotionally grapple with it, the characters don't re-write or undo the events themselves. It's this emphasis on the reaction to tragedy that colors the fanfiction that features 9/11 going forward.

Although fanfiction authors have been writing about 9/11 consistently since soon after the event, whenever that fanfiction reaches outside of its intended audience, it looks bizarre.

A screenshot of a Naruto 9/11 fanfic on the Tumblr subreddit comes without any context, or even more than two lines and an author's note. It’s impossible to suss out if this falls into the category of sincere fanfic without the rest of the piece or a publication date, but modern-day commenters on the Reddit thread see it as classic Tumblr trash.

Screenshot from r/Tumblr

“Bin Laden/Dick Cheney, enemies to lovers, 10k words, slow burn,” one user joked in the replies, underscoring the weirdness of Naruto being in the Twin Towers by comparing it to a What If story about Cheney and Bin Laden slowly falling deeply in love.

It’s hard to tell how much of the 9/11 fanfic and fanart starting a few years after the attacks is sincere, and how much of it is ironic, and trying to make fun of the very concept of writing fanfiction about 9/11.

A 2007 anime music video (in which various clips, usually from anime, are cut together to music) that combines scenes from The Lion King with Linkin Park’s “Crawling” and clips from George Bush’s speeches immediately after the attacks feels like the perfect example of this. Even the commenters can’t seem to suss out if this person is a troll or not.

There’s no way that My Little Pony: Friendship Is Magic 9/11 fanart could be serious, right? Especially if the description pays tribute to “some of the nation's most memorable buildings,” and features five of the main characters as child versions of themselves. The comments again are split between users thanking the artist for a thoughtful remembrance post, and people making their own headcanon for why Twilight Sparkle is surreptitiously absent from the scene.

Screengrab via DeviantArt

There’s Phineas and Ferb fanfic that combines a 9/11 tribute concert with flashbacks to Ferb being rescued from the towers as a baby, written on the 10th anniversary of the attacks. It jumps from introspection to lines like, “‘Quiet Perry the Platypus. I’m trying to listen to these kids singing a 9/11 tribute.’”

The author's notes make it more likely that they meant for this to be a tribute piece, but it doesn’t quite make sense until watching a YouTube dramatic reading of it from 2020, fully embracing the absurdity of it all.

“For me, 9/11 is synonymous with war. It completely changed the course of my life," Dreadnought, the author of a Captain America fanfic Baghdad Waltz that sees Steve Rogers and Bucky Barnes fall in love over the course of the war on terror, told Motherboard. "It’s the reason I joined the military, and I developed deep connections with people who would go on to deploy to Afghanistan and Iraq. These very much felt like my generation’s wars, perhaps because people I graduated high school with were the youngest folks eligible to serve at the time.”

Dreadnought told Motherboard that although they didn't deploy, their career has kept 9/11 and the trauma from it in their mind. After seeing that people who fantasize about Steve and Bucky getting together seemed particularly interested in reading fanfiction that related to 9/11, they decided to try their hand at it.

"I had to do something with all of that emotionally, and I’m admittedly a bit emotionally avoidant. So I learned through fic that it’s easier for me to process those feelings and the knowledge of all the awful stuff that can happen in war if I can turn it into something creative," Dreadnought said. "Give the feelings to fake people and then have those fake people give the feelings to readers!"

To Dreadnought, who is a queer man, the experience of researching and writing this was more cathartic than they first expected, especially as a way to navigate feelings about masculinity, military culture, and queer identity. But they said the research they did, which included watching footage of first responders at ground zero, was what helped them finally process the event itself.

"It was like a delayed horror, and it was more powerful than I expected it would be." Dreadnought said. "When I was eighteen, I was pretty emotionally divorced from 9/11; I just knew I wanted to do something about it. So coming back to it in my 30s while writing this fic, it was a very different experience. Even the research for this story ended up being an extraordinarily valuable exercise in cognitively and emotionally processing 9/11 and all of its second and third order effects."

Fanfiction that features 9/11 provides an outlet for people who still grapple with the trauma from that day. But Stitch warns that the dynamics of fandom and how it relates to politics can also create fiction that's less respectful and more grotesque.

"With years of distance between the stories written and the original events of 9/11, there seems to be some sort of cushion for fans who choose to use those events as a catalyst for relationships—and Iraq and Afghanistan for settings," Stitch said. "The cushion allows them room to fictionalize real world events that changed the shape of the world as we know it, but it also insulates them from having to think about what they may be putting into the world."

The tendency of turning these events into settings or backgrounds for mostly white, male characters to fall in love has the unintended effect of displacing the effects that the war on terror has had on the world over. Steve and Bucky might fall in love during the war on terror, but they would also be acting as a part of the American military in a war that has been criticized since it started. Fanfic writers in other fandoms have come under fire for using real world tragedy as settings for fic before. In the aftermath of the 2010 Haiti earthquake Supernatural fanfiction about the actors Jensen Ackles and Jared Padalecki going to the island to do aid became controversial within the fandom. There have also been fics where characters grapple with the death of George Floyd that is written in a way that displaces the event from the broader cultural context of race in America.

"A Captain America story where Steve Rogers is a 'regular' man who joins the US Army and 'fights for our freedom' post-9/11 is unlikely to deal with the war’s effect on locals who are subject to US military intervention," Stitch said. "It’s unlikely to sit with what Captain America has always meant and what a writer is doing by dropping Steve Rogers into a then-ongoing conflict in any capacity."

After enough time, “never forget” can even morph into “but what if it never happened?” A 19k+ word Star Wars alternate universe fanfic asks this question, wondering what would have unfolded if someone with two lightsabers was on United Flight 93. This fic, part of a larger fanfic series with its own Wikia, considers what would have happened if Earth was a military front in the Clone Wars.

In this version of events, a decorated general who served in the Clone Wars is able to take back control of Flight 93 before it crashes, landing safely and preventing even more tragedy from happening that day. In the end, all of the passengers who made harrowing last calls to their loved ones before perishing in a Pennsylvania field survive thanks to the power of the Force, and are awarded medals of honor by President Bush.

Twenty years after the attacks, it’s painful to think about what would have happened if people got to work 15 minutes later, or missed their trains that morning. There weren’t Jedi masters deployed to save people in real life, but for some of the fanfic writers working today, the world of Star Wars might feel just as removed as the world before September 11, 2001.

Fiction serves as a powerful playground for processing cultural events, especially generational trauma. The act isn't neutral though; a decade's worth of fanfiction that takes place on or around 9/11 shows how our own understanding of a traumatic event can shift with time.

How 9/11 Became Fan Fiction Canon syndicated from https://triviaqaweb.wordpress.com/feed/

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stardomtrash · 3 years ago

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Oh SHIT Giulia unmasked Starlight Kid?!

Hi welcome to me finally getting Stardom World and catching up on everything out of order with no rhyme or reason. The blog where I scream into the void about my current hyperfixation.

So at the 2.13.2021 Korakuen Hall show, seems like Giulia went FULL heel and, after winning the match, added severe insult to injury by forcibly unmasking her opponent. I know that this is Japan, and that masks are not as sacred as in Mexico, but SLK has adopted this lucha character and unmasking a luchador is A Big Deal.

So she tries to rip the mask off both during and after the match, but is either countered by SLK or the entirety of Stars just GANG her and she’s dragged away. But when DDM shows up to even the odds and keep up the fighting with Stars, an injured and defeated SLK is left alone with Giulia.

And Giulia brought scissors.

This was... actually rather unsettling to watch. She cuts chunks out of this beautiful and iconic mask, breaking off the trimmings, and I think a part of me (and the audience) thought that would be the end of it, that she’d get interrupted. But no, she keeps it up until she cuts through enough to rip the whole thing off SLK’s head, and you just HEAR the audience gasp at this. Like this was a SHOCK. It was violating.

SLK immediately buries her face into the canvas - we don’t see her. The referee finally gets control and throws a towel over SLK’s head, Stars run in and assist to cover her up, and Giulia is standing their smug as you like, holding up the mask like some sort of decapitated head trophy.

Giulia is oh-so patronising after this, saying to Kid “Hey, you did your best. Keep doing your best. Or are you scared now?” and Kid can’t even look at her, let alone respond. It’s this really gut-wrenching moment when you remember that, as a heel, Giulia can be absolutely brutal, and cold as you like. She goes straight into calling out Tam after this, like what she just did to SLK was nothing to her. Meanwhile, Kid has had this piece of her ripped out.

For me, I’ve known little of SLK outside of her heel Oedo Tai persona. Watching her work as a face is really, really interesting. She can do both VERY well.

I love the athleticism of wrestling, but I love the character and story work more. While Stardom is in many ways a lot less kayfabe heavy than I’m used to - evident by 90% of this blog being me documenting the wrestlers just dicking around and vibing - I’ll always allow myself to get caught up in character work and a story. Wrestling exists outside the realms of regular fiction as it’s so much harder to forget that it’s all fake, all scripted. The escapism isn’t easy. But when you allow yourself to immerse yourself in what the wrestlers are trying to do, and analyse it just like you would anything else, it’ll hit you just as hard as any other piece of fiction.

Or as hard as Syuri’s kicks

So yeah, this was an awesome moment in Stardom that I wanted to talk about. I’d like to do more of these blog posts, shouting into the void about things here and there. I’m always up for a discussion too, if anyone wants to fangirl with me :D I’m incredibly new to Stardom so a disclaimer for everything I write is that I don’t have the years of context behind everything, so forgive me if I read into something the wrong way.

Tl;dr - Giulia is a son of a bitch and this was awesome

EDIT: I just found @dynamitekansai has a video of the unmasking and it’s defo worth a watch, thank you for this!

There is the pro-shot version here, but I prefer the above link. Better angle, more raw. This one’s queued up to when she starts ripping at the mask, not when the scissors come into play

EDIT 2: found SLK’s Twitter after it happened. She posted this pic:

Google Translate is sketch at the best of times, but this was clear as day: “The most important thing for me was torn and peeled off. I will never forgive you.”

On her Twitter, Giulia referenced a pro wrestling magazine article talking about the brutality of the match, saying about it, “What is heinousness? I can't hear people... I was just joking around for fun!”

If that doesn’t speak volumes about her character, I don’t know what does.

#starlight kid #giulia #my ramblings #mask #trash's trash rambles

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everydayanth · 5 years ago

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Academic Elitism: an institutional issue

Sorry for being so rant-y lately, but the elitism of university has been a problem for me from the exact moment I accepted my scholarship with a signature and a handshake in high school. (The scholarship was later revoked due to state up-fuckery, but that’s another story, and I was already in too deep by the time they told me).

My parent’s house was only an hour north, my younger sister had already claimed my room, but I was excited. I was in the furthest dorm building, because that’s where the scholarship kids went, it was like a poor kid diversity hall, every few doors was someone from a completely different background, but we were all poor except our Swedish RA, and there was an odd pride in that. We all had various scholarships: robotics, dance team, nerds like me, etc. (not the football or hockey athletes though, they had their own dorm next to the library for... reasons, lol).

But being the last hall, it wasn’t actually full, most of us had entire rooms to ourselves, often whole suites; our hall was co-ed, but rooms were only occupied at every-other, staggered down the corridor. Only the front two halls were used, the back two closed off for construction or codes or something. We had to hike up the hill for dining halls, which was fine until snowdays that shut the whole campus down (and I mean west Michigan ones, with 4+ feet of powder and ice underneath). I had an old computer my dad got me for graduation and I didn’t know it was old until my peers started calling it a dinosaur. I had to use the library computers to write and print papers, and most places I went, I ran into the other scholarship kids. We didn’t talk much, just a head bob here and there, awareness at our similarities and an annoyed spite at being thrown together this way. It was lonely for everyone.

I had a purple flip phone I’d gotten only that calendar year (2009) and was still learning to text with (abbreviations? instant messaging? what?). My roommate had come down from Alaska to live near her dad, we’d talked in the summer, but I never saw her. I moved my things in and her stuff was on her side, I texted her about going to turn in paperwork and when I came back, there was a note on my bed and all her things were gone, she couldn’t do it, had never been away from home for even a night. She left a few mismatched socks and a bag of junk pens that I resented for years.

Social media was mostly a way to talk to people across campus and exchange homework and party times/locations. We posted over-edited photos of our food and still jogged with our mp3 players and ipods. But within two years, I had to trade in my computer three times and upgrade to a smartphone to keep up with the expectations of communication. Professors would cancel classes by emails an hour out, and if I was on campus, I simply didn’t get the message, running between classes with 19 credit hours and three jobs. Work would call in or cancel my appointments (tutoring) and I needed to be able to communicate at the rate of my peers, so though it wasn’t something we could easily afford, my parents let me get the smartphone and my dad helped me find computers that could keep up with writing papers and researching without having to go to the lab, which saved so much time.

There was little understanding for my suffering. I didn’t have a car, I had to call my parents and organize a time to get home or take the train which was more expensive than waiting around on an empty campus. They were often things that even the wealthiest students had to deal with, but there were so much more of them for us, more stress, more problems, more solutions, more consequences, and in some ways, more determination.

I spent plenty of breaks holed up in my room, but when the swine flu/H1N1 outbreak happened, guess where they quarantined students?

In our hall.

Not the back one that was closed. In the room attached to my suite.

After half a semester alone, suddenly strangers shared my bathroom. I never saw them, I would just hear the formidable click of the bathroom lock followed by the shower. A week later I got a blue half-sheet note in my mailbox about quarantines. The other kids were as pissed off, as we watched kids escorted in with blue masks and were told to just get cleaning wipes from the front desk –they ran out in a week.

We were the recyclable students, brought in to trade scholarships for university grade averages. Many of my friends were struggling with scholarship qualifications and gpas (which only encouraged my continual obsessive perfectionism and involvement).

We were expendable.

I didn’t understand the elitism then, or I did, but I’d twisted it in my head from years tossed between private and public schools. I was an invader, I wasn’t supposed to be there, but I wanted to be. I understood that I didn’t deserve it, that I had to work harder to stay. I completed Master’s coursework for my Bachelor’s degree, finishing two BA programs (anthropology and English: creative writing) and 2 minor programs in philosophy and world lit, lead several campus groups and volunteered with honor’s societies. I spent hours on campus every day, running home just to go to one job or the other. I slept about four hours a night and I still romanticize it because I loved it. And I was good at it. It was a closed system, easy to infiltrate, easy to watch and observe and follow, to feel protected from the world, but there were always ways that I came up short.

I didn’t have leggings or Northface fleeces or Ugg boots or name brand anything (except a pair of converse I got in 8th grade from my Babcia). I had old high school sweats and soccer shirts, hand-me-down clothes from sisters and cousins that mix-matched a style I thought was unique but I now understand screamed I don’t really belong here. Example: I went to propose an independent study to a professor I really admired and I panicked about what to wear. I still cringe at the memory, gahhhhhh, but I pulled on what I thought was a decent dress because it had no rips or stains or tears and though I’d picked it up from a clearance rack, it was the newest thing and therefore the best. But in retrospect, it was definitely a “party” dress, I grabbed a sweater, hoop earrings that had always been beautiful in my neighborhood, and heels I never wore otherwise, and presented my idea. This old professor was just like “um...did you dress up for me?” Clearly spooked by red flags and I realized my mistake. Saved by quick thinking I clarified “no, I have a presentation later,” and being a familiar face in the social sciences department, I let him assume I was dressed up as something. I just went in my sweats and t-shirts after that, got a haircut that tamed the wavy frizz and learned the importance of muted tones, cardigans, and flats.

I made a lot of interesting friends in the process, people who also stuck out from the American Academic culture: exchange students, older (non-traditional) students, rebels, and other poor kids. But that also meant that we all evolved during our time there, so friendship was quick and fleeting as we adapted or dropped out or remained oblivious, lost in our studies and dreams of changing the world or our lives.

I had no idea how to approach the dining halls because I could only afford the bronze plan that was included with my room+board scholarship. I could enter the hall ten times per week, with four included passes to the after-hours carry-out (this was an upgrade from the free high school lunch I was coming from). I met other kids on this plan and their dorm rooms had fridges and microwaves and shelves of ramen and mac’n’cheese. Mine was sparse, my fridge had jugs of water from the filtered tap in the common room, and though it had a shared kitchenette, it always smelled bad or was being used and the nearest grocery store was Meijers which was a 15-20 minute drive from campus. I used so much energy dividing up my meals and figuring out how to sneak food from the hall for later or just learn to not eat, which is another story involving malnutrition, broken bones, and the American Healthcare System.

We like to summarize the college experience with fond struggles. I went back to my old high school to watch my younger sisters’ marching band competition that first year (it’s MI, and they were good). My old art teacher (not much older than we were but she felt so much older at the time, also her maiden name was Erickson and so was her fiance’s so she didn’t “change” her name and that blows my mind to this day), anyway, she stopped me to ask how school was going, and I was not prepared to be recognized in anyway and stammered out something like “oh, yeah, stressful. Fun, cool, yeah,” like the eloquent well-educated student I was. And she said, “oh, I loved it, don’t you love it? Everything’s so charming, and being poor? Oh man, it’s hard for a while, but it’s so good to go through.”

I was dumbfounded at her reference to poverty as a thing to go through when you’re a student. I again had to remember that I was infiltrating places where people weren’t just marginally more well-off than I was, but far beyond, in a place where they couldn’t comprehend an alternative, couldn’t conceive of surviving poverty, of not having a reliable place to fall if you mess up, parents who couldn’t support you if things went wrong, who couldn’t save you from having to drop out if scholarships were canceled because the money just wasn’t there.

Talking with my parents never worked, and I recently found this video by The Financial Diet about Boomer shame in being poor, where many Millennials were united by it and it was #relatable. But all this is to say that there are so many layers and ways we develop in higher education that are often overlooked by the romantic nostalgia of the elite expectation. What we demand from education vs. what it offers us in return is rarely equal for students coming from poverty, and it starts with that first sacrifice of looking at money and deciding it has to be worth it to do something bigger, and that education is a necessary piece of that goal.

Now I live near Brown University, I’ve been to Harvard when we lived in Boston and recently took a trip to Yale with bold expectations. I am friends with several people who work at these places and I hear the same things: so many students are in a place where their obsessions are considered more important than the larger world, an argument that Shakespeare is a woman is more important to prove than the greater issues of sexism in society as a whole, while others are trained to look at data and the world as a pocketable fact-book, going to conferences and week-long summits and then off to D.C. to make important decisions about places they’ve never been to, for people they’ve never met, about problems they’ve never experienced.

It’s not new. It’s not romantic. It’s not nostalgic. It’s just sick.

I was horrified at New Haven. I have read so many social science reports and papers and experiments and academic bullshit that has come from professors at Yale with a big badge of ivy-league validation. So much of this research was focused on homelessness and culture clash and socio-economics in America, as that was my “dissertation” that got me discounted master’s classes for my BA in Anthropology. Anyway, my point was that I thought this noble, proud university that put out so much research was going to be situated in something of a utopia, where their research is put into practice. Obviously, I was wrong, but I didn’t expect how wrong. (I had also started reading Leigh Bardugo’s Ninth House, so... there’s another thing).

My observations were validated by employees of ivy-league schools, who have watched over the past 2 decades as they grow more and more reclusive, hiding away from the public except through a few, probably well-intentioned, outstretched hands that do little to contribute to the world outside the university itself. These ivory towers are built by poaching: environments, observations, resources, research, and yeah, even students.

I love academia. I will sit in a library for hours just pulling down tomes (and putting them back in their proper locations like a dork) and drawing connections just for fun. But right now, I’m a bit bitter and spiteful and angry.

When something like Coronavirus sneaks up on us, we have a tendency to throw the most expendable people under the bus as quickly as we can, and all I can think about is my shadow of a suite-mate sneezing and coughing with swine flu for two weeks, at how I refused to use my own bathroom and listened to my hall-mates’ advice about showering at the rec center a mile away as we all collectively locked our bathroom doors and were left there by the university to get sick without insurance to help with any foreseeable costs.

It’s not the same now, they’ve rebuilt the entire section of the campus, it’s odd to see it, I wonder where they put the expendable kids. Or maybe they don’t accept them anymore. I’ve worked in college admissions since then, and it is a scary industry of politics and preference and hidden quotas and image-agendas. Not all schools are industry monsters, but when you’re expendable, they sure do feel like it, whether you graduate summa cum laude with two degrees, six awards, and five tasseled ropes around your neck or not.

I wish I had a positive message. I wish I was in a place to help people who feel expendable or like they can’t keep up with communications because of technology or language or network or environment. But I don’t have much right now. For all its posturing and linear progression, academia needs to create profit. All I can do is yell about this existing.

If you are feeling expandable in university, I can tell you you’re not alone. I can let you rant about all the small ways your peers don’t get it, whether its an accent they shit on or ceremonies you don’t have the right clothes for or textbooks you share with a friend to cut costs but then they hoard them. I can relate to you about guilt and that sneaking panic that fills you with anxiety at night as you question yourself and wonder if it’s worth it at all, if it’s necessary, if it’s okay to be expendable to follow something that feels bigger. I can validate your doubt and tell you that you’re not actually expendable, you’re a bridge.

I’m sorry it still works like this. I wish we figured out how to change it by now, I wish I had secret shortcuts to tell you about, that there was more accountability or hope, but I’m not seeing it lately. I hope you do. <3

#academia #anthropology #sociology #university #culture #h1n1 #coronavirus #poverty #wealth gap #elitism

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ashintheairlikesnow · 4 years ago

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WIP Wednesday: Whumptober Previews, Take 2

I still have a few more to go, but I am in the final stretch for writing my @whumptober2020 pieces! I already posted one preview of what I have so far (you can see Days 1-12 here), so here are previews for the rest of what I have written - and sneak peeks at what’s planned out but not written yet!

Whumptober starts tomorrow - we’ll see how you feel about my work this go-round! Last year, Whumptober Day 1 introduced Daniel Michaelson. This year... it starts with Danny, too.

Day 13:

“Vanni, they thought he was you.”

“I know, Ridley!” Rossi never snapped at Ridley, but here it was, and Connor forced in a hitching, shaky inhale around the tremendous, inescapable weight pressing down on him, determined to keep breathing long enough to understand. “I know they did.”

“And they fucking poisoned him and then dumped him to fucking die-”

“I know!” The two men went silent for a second, Ridley staring with shock at Rossi and Rossi glaring furious towards the window without looking back. Connor’s breath, rattling in his struggling lungs, was the only sound in the room.

Day 14:

Peter glanced over his shoulder, back towards the house. The thermometer had climbed a little more, reading 98.5 degrees Farenheit now, and Peter blinked as he shivered again, swallowing without any saliva. His mouth felt dry, and strange. Why was he shivering - how did he have goosebumps - if it was almost one hundred degrees?

As if he’d heard Peter’s thoughts, the side door opened and Micheal came out, wearing his weekend outfit of slim black slacks and a pale heathered gray t-shirt, what Madam allowed him to wear. He was carrying a glass of water with ice and a little striped straw stuck in the top. The black shock collar he was never allowed to remove - not yet, Madam said, not until Micheal learned how to be silent without needing encouragement, to her satisfaction - cut a wide band across his neck, the black box small and nearly perfectly blended in at the back.

“Peter,” He said in a low voice - not quite a whisper, but just as quiet. “I brought you a drink, I-” He looked up, squinting towards the sky. “It’s hot. Should you be out here?”

Day 15:

He drops back to the ground, groaning, eyes fluttering open and shut, before he reaches out to grip onto Ora’s arm again. He turns to look at them, and his eyes are glowing so brightly he can see the reflected light on Ora’s face, the flicker of yellow against their irises. There are things that move beneath the light in Ryan Michaelson’s eyes, and he no longer feels them pushed back under the surface of his skin.

“I’m so fucking hungry,” He whispers, and his fingernails dig into Ora’s arm until they begin to bleed and whimper, but they don’t - can’t - pull away. Not until he lets them.

They will be lost in his eyes until he decides to let them go.

Day 16:

Count to ten, Tris! One… two...

Her voice is so loud he jumps, but when he looks to the left, nothing’s there. Just the white walls, plain and featureless, white tiles that were smooth under his fingertips back when he was allowed to touch them.

Everything is cold, and the boy has been shivering for so long that his muscles ache from the constant tense-and-release, tense-and-release, struggling to keep him warm.

Day 17:

She giggles a little, then glances over her shoulder, mouths something at the cameraman. Oliver can guess what. Edit that out.

Kelly Donahue doesn’t want the episode to be aired with her giggling like a schoolgirl at a bit of idle flattery. Well. Everyone has their things they like to hide, don’t they?

She has her giggle. Oliver has a teenage boy locked in his bedroom.

Day 18:

“Your mother,” Patrick interrupted, with gentle violence, “believes that you are squandering an opportunity.”

“An-... a what-”

“We respect your decision - and your brother’s - to refuse interviews, especially at his early date.” Patrick sounded like he’d rehearsed this answer, delivered with the same smooth cadence he had during his speeches before the Board of Directors. “But, considering the effort it took us to find you-”

“The effort it took Nate to find us,” Ryan corrected, ice growing along his veins at the same time it took over his voice. “Nate. It was Nate who watched the videos, it was Nate who talked Abraham into showing him the yard, it was Nate who spent fucking night after fucking night trolling fucking satellite photos to try and find us. Don’t act like the effort came from you. It came from my brother’s goddamn fiance.”

Day 19:

“If this is a trap, I’m going to owe Gavin fifty bucks.” Vera checked and rechecked her handgun, as though it would suddenly be less loaded than it was just a few minutes before. Her jaw was set in a grim line, eyes flashing a kind of damped-down fire, embers ready to spark. Her thick black hair, showing growing hints of gray, was pulled into a tight bun at the nape of her neck, and she wore a pair of black pants and a tucked-in t-shirt, ready for the fight she was definitely expecting. “I don’t want to owe Gavin money, Isaac.”

“It’s not a trap,” Isaac replied, making his own nervous check and recheck of the table and chairs. “I don’t think it is, anyway. My instincts are saying it isn’t.”

“Your instincts-”

“My instincts have been spot-on for a decade, Vera. Just trust me on this. She let us pick the day, the time, the location… she let us give her the location with less than four hours’ notice, even. If this is a trap, she’s piss-poor at setting it.”

Day 20:

He’d been flying, and the fall had been worse than the arrow, at first.

The sudden burst of white-hot pain had stunned him, caught him mid-spin enjoying an early-morning chill, and sent him tumbling to the ground below.

He’d heard his own frantic keens of panic and fear as if from a distance, and then they’d been drowned out when he slammed into the trees, feathers flying all around him as they were ripped free by the branches he smacked into one after another on the way down.

Day 21:

"Mmhmmm. Christopher. Stanton." Nat listens for a long time, then says quietly, "No known health problems. Autistic."

Jake looks up, and Nat calmly looks back at him, while speaking into the phone. "Yes. Yes, I'm confident. He is sensitive to fluorescent lights, scared of needles, and terrified of sedation. Yeah, I realize that I just described the exact environment we’re sending him into.” Chris whimpered, and Nat’s voice went ragged, her eyes closed tightly against the sight of his face pale, sweaty, twisted with pain. “Listen. Just-... just put on the fucking papers that Christopher Stanton is fucking autistic, because that's what my goddamn rescue is - I'll sell someone else's firstborn to fucking Satan if he isn't, mark my fucking words - and we're wasting time while he gets worse!"

Day 22:

Rossi picks the glass up and just as he tilts it up to his lips, Connor rears back and up on his knees and swings one of his hands, the black leather ‘paw’ smacking into the rim of the glass and spilling it in an arc across Rossi’s suit, onto the table, soaking his cards and hitting the next person at the table right in the eyes.

“Connor, what the fuck?!” Rossi’s voice isn’t furious, not yet - he’s too shocked to get beyond the simple surprise.

Day 23:

The drugs in his system weigh him down, he is too exhausted to understand what’s happening or how to begin to fight it. His eyes keep trying to close and stay closed, and he whimpers, forcing them back open.

“Pozhaluysta…” He groans, collapsing forward against the heavy solidity of the man, the soft tailored fabric of his expensive suitjacket, the scent of clove cigarettes that clings to him like a woman’s fingers clutching tightly. “Pozhaluysta, otpusti menya…”

Day 24:

“My name is Melody,” The girl said, nearly extending her hand, but then she realized the creature’s right hand was nothing but wickedly sharp talons, and it was bound in front of him to his left. “Oh, I’m sorry. What’s your name?”

The creature blinked once, twice. Watched her, tense and maybe suspicious, and then shook his head. “No… no name.” He spoke slowly, as though words came only with difficulty but a soft little trill sounded under one voice, layered it with another. “Pet.”

Day 25:

“Wh, where, where, where-where, where am, am I-”

“Sssshhhh.” The person in the dark blue uniform presses a plastic-gloved hand to his shoulder as he tries to sit up, pushing him back down. “Hey no, you gotta stay steady, there. Don’t move.”

“Please-... please, sir, h-hurts-”

“Not sir,” The person says, gently, a bit of auburn hair falling over their forehead. “Can you see?”

“K-Kind... kind of... hurts-”

“Sssshhhh. I know. I know it does. Just hang on. Tori’s going to help me get you some paperwork going. Don’t worry, kiddo.” The person pats him, lightly, and then looks up, brown eyes scanning the hallway outside. “You’re not the first we’ve pulled through this.”

Day 26:

Calon Nie hummed to himself, tapping talons on the floor, watching the boy sit so still, as though stillness could protect him from the dangers of the world. “Good. Failed, you, to keep new eyes. Costs a life, to give something new. Killan Josta, human boy, he fail Calon Nie. He fail the life given, when eyes don’t work. Did not respect sacrifice.”

“I’m… I’m sorry,” The boy said hoarsely, curling in on himself even more, his wings instinctively curling protectively around him. “I… I don’t want anyone to d-die for me. I didn’t mean to-... I didn’t mean to fail. I, I tried to p-pray for them, to stars, to-”

“Paugh! Mysteries do not hear you.”

Day 27:

Jake answers, and on the other side of the door, the old woman stands holding a large cardboard box in her arms, her grandson present, as nearly always, at her side. He holds a large box, too - so big, in fact, that only the top half of his face is visible.

“They’re sayin’ it could be a week before we get power back,” Ruth says, with a world-weary sigh. “A full-on week. We figured we’d bring you some supplies.”

Day 28:

Ora Collins is hungry.

Day 29:

Jake is a tall man, but the emergency room always made him feel so small. Even now, part of him rehearses the scripted stories. I fell while climbing a tree. I crashed my bike. I tripped going down the stairs.

He has lies to tell today, just like he always has, but today the lies are for Chris, not himself.

He’s my brother. No, different dads, that’s all. His mom lives a few states away, I handle all his medical stuff.

Day 30:

(AKA Possession, Part 2)

Ryan and Nate take down Abraham Denner.

Day 31:

Danny is left for dead.

#ash does whumptober #whumptober previews #whumptober prep #whump

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annab-nana · 5 years ago

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Intruder - Colby Brock

Colby tries to stay the night in y/n’s apartment without her knowing, like he did at Sam’s, but when she overhears him in her kitchen, she fears someone much scarier is in her home for reasons other than video content.

Warnings: some curse words

Word Count: 1.9k+

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Colby’s POV

“So, I’m going to stay the night in y/n’s apartment tonight if you need me,” I tell Sam on the phone. We were going to get together and start editing our new series, but it’s Thursday. I have to post tomorrow and have nothing. The viewers have been wanting me to sleep in someone’s else house like I did in Sam’s. Most were saying to do Jake or y/n since they both live in the same apartment complex as us. I kind of want to do y/n because I think her reaction will be funnier and I’ve already snuck into Jake’s place when I redid his bedroom. And, y/n’s hanging out with some of the girls tonight, leaving her apartment open and free for me to enter since she gave me the spare key to it when we moved in.

“Okay, good luck!” Sam’s chipper voice flows through my ears as we say our goodbyes and hang up. Since she isn’t there, it will be a lot easier to sneak into than when I did Sam’s. I grabbed a bag and started to put the different things I would need tonight in it. Snacks, a charger, a pillow, a blanket, headphones, my camera. I change from my clothes of the day into my new Take Chances hoodie and some sweatpants to get a little more comfortable. I walk into the kitchen and prop my camera up to begin my intro.

“Guess what, guys? We’re back at it again, sneaking into my friend’s houses and staying the night without them knowing.” I say and pause for a second, so Reggie knows to add the vlog clip here.

“So, y/n is out right now with Tara, Devyn, Kat, and Cassie, leaving her place open for me to come in and stay at. Now, y/n isn’t like Jake, who leaves his house unlocked, so you may be thinking to yourself right now how I’m going to get in. Well, I’ll tell you. Back when we moved in, we all chose someone to have our spare key. I gave mine to Sam, Jake gave his to y/n, and Sam and y/n gave me theirs. That was their first mistake. So, I have this thing to get me in.” I say as I show the camera y/n’s key.

“I’ve packed a bag with all the things I’ll need and all we have to do is go in and find a spot. I think they already left, but I’m not sure so I’m going to leave everything here and go over to check. If she’s there, I’ll say I have the camera because I’m going to Sam’s to film and I came over to get something to eat because I do that a lot. She has good snacks and stuff.” I say as I laugh to myself. I leave my apartment and walk over to y/n’s which is right next to mine. I knock, just in case she is there, but I hear nothing, so I pull out my key and go in. When I open the door, she walks out of her room.

“Hey, I was coming, but it looks like you know how to get in,” She giggles as she runs her fingers through her curled hair. Her makeup and hair was done, but she was still wearing a t-shirt and leggings.

“Yeah, I thought you’d have been gone by now, but I was coming to see what you got to eat before I head over to Sam’s.” I smile, trying my best to hide what I was actually doing. She lightly giggles again before speaking.

“I went grocery shopping yesterday. You know where everything is, but I have to finish getting ready.” She went back to her room and I let out a breath before turning to the camera.

“That was close guys, but it looks like she’s about to leave and as soon as she does, it’s go time,” I whisper to the camera before I turn around to look for something to eat.

“I have leftover Olive Garden in the fridge!” I hear y/n yell from her room. Oh, that sounds good right now. I grab it from the fridge and pop it in the microwave. I hear her footsteps coming closer. By the sound of it, she’s wearing heels.

“Okay, so, cardigan or no?” She asks me as she puts it on and then pulls it off her shoulders so I can see what the outfit looks like with and without it. She has on a thin-looking orange sweater, ripped jeans, and black heeled boots.

“I say leave the cardigan,” I tell her, and she nods, throwing the cardigan on the couch and grabbing her keys and purse.

“Okay I’m going to go with the girls, but I’ll see you later. Don’t forget to lock the door when you leave.” She says as she waves and shuts the door behind her. I turn to the camera, my eyes wide at the fact that we managed to get in without her suspecting anything.

“We did it, guys! We’re in. I’m going to finish y/n’s shrimp alfredo and then I’ll go get my stuff and we will look for a place to sleep.”

Y/n’s POV

“Okay girls, I need to get home. I have to film tomorrow and do a bunch of other stuff,” Tara says as she stands up off Kat’s couch. We all came to Katrina’s house after we ate out. We made a few TikToks and messed around and now, it was getting kind of late.

“I should probably leave, too. It’s getting late.” I say as I rise to my feet as well.

“Hey, y/n. Want to take me to Sam’s?” Kat asks sweetly and I nod. We all leave Kat’s place and go to our homes. Kat and I head to the elevator and get in.

“Let’s see if Colby left me place unlocked or not,” I tell her. He forgets to lock it sometimes, but we’ll see.

“What was Colby doing at your apartment while you were gone anyway?” She chuckles and I start to giggle a little.

“He was hungry,” I laugh as the elevator doors open.

“See you later, y/n!” Kat says with excitement as she stops at Sam’s door.

“Bye Kat!” I shout back at her as I continue down the hall and turn to go to my apartment. I check the door and thankfully, Colby locked it back. I pull out my keys from my purse and unlock the door. As soon as I step into my house, something feels off. I don’t know what it is, but something’s weird. I look around and make sure everything is as I left it and it is, so I shake off the weird feeling and go to my room.

I change out of my outfit into some leggings and a bigger t-shirt. Then, I go to my bathroom and take off my makeup. I throw my hair into a high ponytail and plopped down onto my very comfy bed. In no time, my eyes grew heavy and I fell asleep.

I woke up to the sound of something falling in either the kitchen or living room. Either someone is here, or Sam or Colby brought some kind of demon or ghost into my house. I kind of hope it’s a person, but I’m scared either way. I grab my phone and check the time. 1:26 a.m. I call Colby first. It rings a few times, but no answer. Next is Sam. He doesn’t answer either. Last, I try Jake and he answers.

“Hello?” He answers and I sigh in relief to hear one of my friends’ voices.

“Jake, are you busy?” I whisper into the phone.

“No, what’s up? You sound weird.”

“There’s someone in my kitchen and I don’t know what to do. Sam and Colby didn’t answer their phones. I’m scared, Jake.” I try my best to be quiet, so they don’t hear me.

“I’m on the way.” He hangs up and I put down my phone. I slowly and quietly get out of bed and wander over to my closet to grab my baseball bat that I have kept with me since I have been living on my own. I hoped I would never have to use it, but here we are. I tiptoe into the hallway and peek around the wall to see who is in my kitchen.

All I see is the silhouette of a man and he’s rummaging through my cabinets. I sneak closer until I’m right behind him. I let out a silent but shaky breath and lift the bat, ready to swing. Right before I do, Jake opens the door, letting the light of the hallway flood into my apartment and lets us get a better look at who was in my home. When I see his face, I lower the bat and thank God that it was just Colby here and not someone trying to hurt me.

“Holy shit, y/n! Were you going to hit me?” Colby asks me, eyes wide as he looks from me to the bat in my hands.

“You better thank Jake because if he hadn’t let the light in for me to see you, I would have definitely hit you. Now, tell me why the hell you’re in my apartment.” I tell him as I relax, now knowing that there isn’t an intruder in my house.

“You know that video I did where I stayed at Sam’s after pizza night?” He asked me and I nodded as everything clicked in my head. I looked around for the camera and I saw it sitting on the counter with all three of us in view.

“If you guys want to keep watching Colby, I suggest you tell him to not make stupid videos like this that could end up getting him hurt,” I tell the camera as I show them my bat. We laugh at the situation we’re in and Colby turns the camera off.

“Thanks, Jake, but you can go now. I know I can count on you over Sam and Colby any day.” I tell him as I give him a hug before he leaves. As I shut the door and turn on the lights, I look over to Colby is poking his lip out.

“What’s wrong with you?” I ask him. If anyone has the right to be mad or upset, it’s me, not him.

“Why can’t you count on me or Sam?” He pouts, arm crossed across his chest. I roll my eyes.

“You two didn’t answer your phones. I thought someone was literally coming into my house to kill me. I was fucking scared and you two idiots didn’t answer your phones. I know why you didn’t now, but if I was being killed, Sam would have slept right through it.” I chuckle lightly to calm my nerves.

“I didn’t mean to scare you that bad,” He whispers as he scratches the back of his head.

“It’s okay, but I’m not sleeping here alone. You’re staying.” I tell him and he nods. “Come on. I’m tired and I was so rudely awakened by your obnoxious ass.” I say as we walk to my room and get in bed. I snuggle up into his side and fall back to sleep peacefully in his arms.

#colby #colby brock #colby brock imagine #cole robert brock #sam and colby #cute colby #cute colby brock #fanfic #colby brock fanfic #colby brock fanfiction #colby brock x reader #reggie webber #sam golbach #jake webber #katrina stuart #tara yummy #devyn lundy #cassie martin #y/n

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athina-blaine · 4 years ago

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“Hey, everyone, welcome back to my channel. My name is Maggie Abernathy and today we will be continuing our investigation of the, uh, eldritch monster slash English teacher who calls itself Jonathan Sims.”

Maggie is determined to catch Mr. Sims via her channel, and then everyone would see how cool and smart she was, right?

For @skyberia, check out their amazing art!

Chapters: 1/1 [Complete]

Words: 5,998

Tags: POV Outsider, Teacher AU, 160 Never Happened, Scotland, The Eternal Struggle for Validation, Statement-Related Trauma, this ended up being a little less crack humor than i had first intended lmao, i blame jonny

The video opens to the image of an empty school courtyard. There’s a grunt, and then a young girl runs into the frame, turning to face the viewer. She has wild hair and even wilder eyes and is patting the wrinkles out of her grey, baggy hoodie. She couldn’t be more than 13.

Cut to a classroom, the camera peeking through a zipper.

A man with dark hair and nice clothes was standing at the front with his back to the other students, writing on the board.The video quality drops sharply, a faint whine humming in the background.

A low-quality dub begins playing over the image.

“Jonathan Sims came here in September of 2019. After some investigation, I have discovered that he previously held a position at the Magnus Institute in London, which investigates paranormal activity. Coincidence?”

There's a shift, and a voice from within the video speaks out.

“Mr. Sims, I have a question!”

The man turns, and there’s an touch of impatience to his expression.

“Miss Abernathy, this is not the time for—”

“Where’s the ark of the covenant?”

A sigh. “It was dismantled and melted down in 588 BC. Miss Abernathy—”

“What’s written on the Voynich manuscript?”

“Astrological readings and herbal recipes.”

“Who killed—”

“Miss Abernathy,” the man says, stringent, “please stay focused on the lecture. I’ll answer any questions at the end of class.” He turns back to the board. “And put away your phone.”

A hand appears over the camera, shoving it deeper into darkness. Another fuzzy dub plays over the image.

“Mr. Sims knows all these things he shouldn't know! Everyone says he's just joking, but I think it's something else. Maybe he's an immortal?"

Cut to a bustling lunchroom.

T he camera stares between a carton of milk and an orange, pointed towards a table filled with adults. One of them is the man from before, sipping from a porcelain mug. His back is to the camera again.

Suddenly, a mysterious object sails through the air. It’s a cup of vanilla pudding. The man turns sharply, eyes landing on the incoming projectile, before it hit him square in the face.

“Did you see that!” a voice hisses as the man scrambles for napkins. “There’s no way he could have known what was coming unless he literally has eyes in the back of his head! Researcher’s note: he might literally have eyes in the back of his head. Investigate further.”

“Miss Abernathy—”

The camera spins to an older man with graying hair walking into the frame, and, with a bitten off swear, the image spins away entirely.

Cut to an empty, school hallway. The camera is facing the door to a classroom.

“Every day, at the same time, give or take an hour, Mr. Sims returns to his classroom for some reason. He always makes sure no one's nearby before going in and locking the door. What's he hiding?"

The man walks into frame, glancing up and down the hallway, before walking inside, closing the door behind him.

“I bet he's doing some kind of dark ritual or something. I swiped a key from the teacher's lounge," the camera points down to a hand clutching a silver key, "so let's bust him."

With a jerk, the camera rushes towards the classroom and bursts into the door.

“Mr. Sims, Mr. Sims, there’s an emergency!”

The man shouts, dropping a bag full of tapes and papers.

“Miss Abernathy, please,” the man, startled. “Where did you get that key?”

Another dub plays.

“Okay, so I didn't catch him doing anything weird, but it's only a matter of time, right?"

Cut to a pair of feet walking across the sidewalk, the camera rocking back and forth.

“Every Friday, Mr. Sims leaves the school grounds and goes into town. He might be meeting some other eldritch thing. Hopefully, we'll find out.

The camera peeks around a stone wall. At the end of the sidewalk, there’s the man talking to another man with short hair and glasses. They seem friendly. The second man glances directly into the camera, then lifts his hand and waves.

The first man whirls around and, with a tight mouth, begins storming over. There’s a muffled shriek and the image blurs, footsteps clacking wildly on the pavement.

“He does have an accomplice!” the girl says, panting.

Cut back to the courtyard. The girl is wringing her hands, and she clears her throat.

“So, I haven't found anything substantial yet, but I think I'm getting close. Remember to, um, like, comment, and subscribe, everyone, and I’ll see you next Tuesday.”

She walks out of frame and the camera is jostled. The video ends.

Maggie’s alarm was going off. Reaching over, she tapped around for the snooze button. Five more minutes.

Failing to find the button, she groaned, and lifted her head.

6:43.

Her alarm was set to go off at 6:15. School started in 17 minutes, and it was a 20-minute bike ride, minimum.

Swearing, she ripped off her bedsheets and ripped clothes off their hangers in her closet. No, no, she already had detention this weekend for the pudding cup thing. She couldn’t be late today. Crap, where was her backpack? She plucked it out of a pile of discarded clothes on her floor, threw on her hoodie, and ran out her bedroom.

Speeding through her bathroom routine, she ran into the kitchen, snatching up a granola bar, before tearing through the living room. The sound of deep, rumbling snores stopped her.

Dad was sprawled on the couch, still wearing his work clothes, blanket knocked aside. He hadn’t even taken off his watch and his work boots were caked with mud. Maggie had been up until 3 AM editing her video, which means he must have come home even later.

Jeez.

She fixed the blanket and shoved a pillow under his head and he barely stirred. He must have been really exhausted. Maggie dropped a kiss on his head before sprinting through the door and clamoring onto her bike. If she really pushed herself, she might make it before attendance.

By the time she rolled into school, the second bell was ringing. Her name was second on the attendance sheet. She wasn’t going to make it.

Dumping her bike near the rack, not even bothering to lock it up, she burst through the double doors and raced up the stairs, throwing open the door to her first period classroom.

“—Abernathy.”

“Here!” she said, squeezing the word out of her overwrought lungs.

Mr. Sims looked up from the attendance sheet.

“Welcome to class, Miss Abernathy," he said, unperturbed. "Right on time."

It wasn’t. It was, in fact, five minutes after attendance was usually taken. Maggie didn’t have the energy to process that, though, slumping into her seat with relief, heart racing in her chest. Ugh, she was sticky and sweaty and felt gross. She hated cardio.

Mr. Sims finished taking attendance shortly after, and then asked for the class to turn in last night’s homework. He went from desk to desk collecting their papers, and he slowed when he reached Maggie.

“I would ask that you not stay up so late in the future."

He said it with a gentle, knowing curl of his mouth.

Maggie stared up at him. Any other time, she would have pulled out her notebook and jotted down such obviously suspicious activity, but, for now, she let herself savor the fact that she wouldn’t be having double detention this Saturday, and shrugged, pulling out her English journal.

There was time for investigating, later.

It was pizza and green beans for lunch today. Maggie scanned for available seats. Today, she was lucky. There was a seat open by Cynthia, from math class.

“Um, hey,” she said, approaching the table. There was a hushed silence as eyes swiveled towards her, and she swallowed, nervous. “Can I sit here, today?”

One of the boy’s eyes shot towards another, who shrugged.

“Yeah, go ahead,” he said.

Pleased, she sat down. Usually, she’d have to sit in the far corner of the cafeteria. It was much colder over there.

“So, I, um, posted a new video last night, on my YouTube channel,” she said to Cynthia, stirring her green beans, “if you guys wanted to check it out.”

“You’re still making those things?” said Cynthia with a raised brow.

“Oh, uh,” she said, pausing at the tone of her voice as she said things. “Well, yeah. I’ve gotten, like, three new subscribers.”

“You’re so obsessed with him, you know that? It’s kind of creepy.”

Maggie barely held back her flinch. “I’m not obsessed, I’m investigating—”

“Isn’t he married?” said one of the boys. “I think I met his husband at the bake sale last month.”

“Yeah, that’s right,” said Cynthia. “My mom sees them both all the time in the café. Won’t shut up about how cute they are. Oh, that reminds me, we had this customer the other day—”

“I bet he’s doing something really freaky during study hall,” Maggie said. If she could just get them to care … “You know, whenever he goes back to his classroom? He always looks around to make sure no one’s watching and locks the door. Isn’t that suspicious?”

“Yeah, sure, weird,” said Cynthia, turning to the boy across from her. “So, we had this customer, and I think he must have been from Wales or something …”

Maggie opened her mouth, but nobody was looking at her. Embarrassment flushing her face, she stared down at her food, because still, still nobody cared about her videos. She briefly fantasized about huffing and picking up her tray and dramatically storming off, but there was nowhere else to sit. Nowhere but that cold back corner of the cafeteria.

She’d just need to dig up something more exciting to put in her videos. For instance, what it was that Mr. Sims got up to during study hall. Then they’d check out her videos. Then they’d see what a good detective she was.

She plucked up one of her green beans, but found she wasn’t hungry.

Maggie knew there was something weird about Mr. Sims since pretty much the moment she met him; when the principal was introducing him to the class at the start of the semester, and he was taking attendance.

“Maggie Abernathy,” he had said, and Maggie’s eyebrows shot up, stunned.

“Um. Here?”

He didn't react to her surprise, moving on to the next student. At the end of class, she walked up to his desk, fidgeting with her hands in front of her chest.

“Why did you call me Maggie?”

Mr. Sims looked up, one brow raised. His expression was so severe and dignified that Maggie had to look away, too intimidated to make eye contact.

“It’s your name, isn’t it?”

“Actually, my name’s Margaret.”

“Oh, that’s,” he lifted the attendance sheet, squinting. “Yes, that appears to be the case. I apologize.”

Well, she didn't know about all that. Yes, Margaret had been her name, but she hated it. It was so old and came from her grandmother, who yelled at her all the time. She’d always wanted to have people call her Maggie, but she had this terrible vision of people calling it stupid. Only her diary knew what she really wanted.

Mr. Sims smiled, his expression gentling. It made him look a lot younger, and she flushed.

“Unless you would prefer to be called Maggie, Miss Abernathy?”

The heat on her face became that much worse, and she fixed her hair.

“Um, yeah, that would be cool.”

At home, Maggie was working on her new video and decided talk about her new teacher. She had titled it, My new teacher’s a cryptid!, half-jokingly, but it had received the most views she’s ever had. Almost 200! She had received one comment, the only one she'd gotten that wasn't from her dad, and it had said she should keep investigating.

So, she just sort of … started investigating. She hadn’t really expected anything else to come of it, but then Mr. Sims just kept acting strangely. Nothing to prove anything, not really, but just enough to make Maggie wonder that, maybe, there actually was something more going on here. And if it got her videos more views, then, well, she supposed it was a win-win.

It was more than just the name thing, after all. She always got the feeling Mr. Sims was … watching them, somehow. Even when his back was turn to the class. He always knew who was playing with their phone under the desk, who was cheating, etc.

Even outside of class, she sometimes got that feeling. It only became more obvious when the feeling went away; it felt like taking her backpack off at the end of the school day. That’s how she knew the best times to continue with her investigations. Like now, for instance.

Maggie waited until Mr. Sims left before sneaking over to the classroom. She could have anywhere from 10 minutes to an hour, so she needed to be quick. He locked the door, but Maggie had just swiped the key from the teacher’s lounge, again.

It’s not her fault they just left them dangling on a hook where anyone could grab it.

As quietly as she could, she slipped inside and closed the door behind her. Now, to investigate.

Pulling out her phone, she cleared her throat.

“Okay, um, hey, guys,” she said, voice low. “I’ve successfully infiltrated Jonathan Sims’ classroom. Hopefully, we’ll discover more information about whatever it is that’s happening here.”

Reaching for the desk, she froze. She hadn’t had a problem imagining going through his desk, but being here, actually faced with doing it, she found it much harder. This was his desk. What if he had something ridiculously private in here?

Come on. The camera’s rolling.

Taking a deep breath, she opened the first drawer, but found it to be locked. She tried all the drawers, but they were all locked. Dammit. What was she supposed to do now?

She scanned the desk with her camera just to have something interesting to put in the video.

“What’s with this weird tape recorder?” she mumbled, fingers brushing the buttons. “Looks ancient.”

Then, she heard a voice. Mr. Sims.

Crap. It would be suspension for sure if she was caught having stolen the key again. Trying not to move anything out of place, she sprinted towards the back of the classroom and into the closet. She could see though the slit panels as Mr. Sims entered the room, talking on the phone.

“—go straight home,” he said, taking his seat. “If you buy one more scented candle, I’m going to—”

He sighed.

“Yes, alright, fine. I love you, too.”

He hung up, and then pulled the tape recorder closer to him, grabbing a file from the stack of papers. Intrigued, Maggie held up her phone, still recording. Perhaps this wasn’t a waste of time after all.

Mr. Sims cleared his throat, and then pressed a button on the recorder.

“Statement of Timothy Dale regarding an appointment with his acupuncturist. Statement recorded by Jonathan Sims, former Head Archivist of the Magnus Institute.”

Maggie narrowed her eyes. He was taking a statement? Like some kind of cop? He had mentioned the Magnus Institute just now. Did this use to be his job?

How … boring. No wonder he left if this is what he did all day.

Mr. Sims took a deep breath, and then his voice … changed.

“I didn't think I had so much blood,” he said, softly. “I don't think I have so much blood. I don't know how I'm alive.” He paused, seeming to collect himself, before continuing, “It started when I went to visit my acupuncturist. I’m a pretty stressed out guy, you see. It’s funny, how something can sound so painful, like being stabbed with dozens of needles over and over again, can actually be quite relaxing, but Mrs. Lloyd had a magic touch.”

Maggie shuddered. Gross. She hated needles.

“Mrs. Lloyd wasn’t there that day, though. Instead was a strange man who called himself Mr. Bail. I asked where Mrs. Lloyd was and he said she was on an extended leave of absence, but that he would be able to provide a level of care even better than Mrs. Lloyd, if I was interested. Obviously, I was interested, I had been looking forward to this appointment all well, and I figured he was trustworthy since Mrs. Lloyd left her facility in his care, so why not?”

It may have just been the needles, but Maggie was starting to feel weird. Unpleasant. Maybe recording this was a bad idea, after all? But even though she thought about it, she couldn’t bring herself to lower the phone.

“The procedure began, and it didn’t hurt, but it felt different. Everything was fine until the end, when I noticed that some of the puncture marks were bleeding. I hadn’t even felt it. I confronted the man, enraged, but he said it was all a part of the healing process. He said it all with a smile. The front desk person was sensible enough to give me a refund. They were lucky I didn’t call the police. But something wasn’t right. The marks wouldn’t stop bleeding. No matter how long I kept the bandages on, they kept bleeding. Days went by and they just kept bleeding.”

This was gross. This was really, really gross. Did some guy really go to the Institute and make this kind of statement? It must have been a prank. Mr. Sims had to know he was being pranked, right?

She didn’t think he knew, though. He sounded scared. Why was he reading it if he was so scared?

She needed to get out of here. She might be suspended, but she didn’t care anymore, she just wanted to get away from this awful, awful story. But when she tried to move her legs, she found, with a sinking feeling, that they wouldn’t go. She willed herself to open the closet door, but it was like she was encased in a stone mold. She couldn’t even lower her phone.

The only thing she could do was shake, and breathe.

“I’ve lost so much blood these last few weeks. I don’t know how I’m still alive. My chest hurts and my breathing’s shallow and I’m so pale and cold, but more just keeps coming out. It’s gotten on everything; my clothes, my bed, the walls. And the smell …” Mr. Sims frowned. “Have you ever been around that much blood before? You can taste the metal in the back of your throat, all the time. It doesn’t go away.”

Stop.

Please stop ...

“And it just keeps coming.”

He talked and talked and talked, until Maggie’s eyes burned and her legs cramped. She was shaking so hard, she thought that at any minute Mr. Sims would hear her and save her from whatever this was. But he just kept reading.

Finally, Mr. Sims' voice returned to normal.

“Mr. Dale committed suicide shortly after this statement. Due to the amount of blood discovered in his home, the police initially suspected a burglary gone wrong, but there were no signs of forced entry. There’s little else to be gleaned from scanning through online archives.” He sighed. “Even the statement file had blood on it. It sounded like a pained existence. End recording.”

Maggie slapped a hand over her mouth to hold back her gulping gasp for air.

It was over.

Leaning back in his chair, Mr. Sims let out a long breath. The lines on his face seemed deeper. More tired than before. But there was something else. Something … satisfied. Nausea curled in Maggie’s stomach. He looked as if though he had just had a big dinner.

At last, Mr. Sims got up to leave, and she could have cried. She so, so desperately wanted to get out of this closet. She wished she had never come here in the first place.

But then, just as Mr. Sims fingers brushed the handle, she saw something on the back of his hand. Some kind of wrinkle, gnarled and ugly. How had she never noticed such an eyesore before?

But then, it opened.

It was an eye, bright green, and it was staring right at her.

When Mr. Sims closed the door, she slid to the floor, arms and legs wracking with tremors. Tears streamed down her face.

What did she do? What did she do? Lifting her phone, she tried calling dad, knowing full well he was likely in the middle of his shift, but she needed him.

“Pick up, pick up, pick up,” she whispered, biting her lip. It went to voice mail, and she buried her face in her knees, tears trailing down her cheeks in thick globs. “Please …”

She needed to get out of here. When the shaking subsided and Maggie felt like she could move again, she stumbled towards the school entrance, not even stopping to grab her bike.

She wasn’t sure where she was going, but anywhere was better than here.

The 403 bus would be coming in another 34 minutes. It could take her to the Glasgow airport. She didn’t know exactly what to do with this information, although a vague plan of buying a ticket back to America was forming in the back of her head. Mom would probably be mad to see her, but there was nowhere else that Maggie could go.

A bus pulled into the stop, but it wasn’t hers. It was still another 23 minutes. She really hated living in the countryside, sometimes.

“Excuse me.”

She looked up. There was a man with soft brown hair and glasses standing near the bench. He must have just gotten off. There was something familiar about him, but she couldn’t put her finger on it.

He smiled.

“Are you Maggie Abernathy?”

She straightened up with shock.

“Sorry,” he said, holding up a hand. “I’m a big fan of your YouTube channel. Your videos are very good."

Maggie's jaw dropped. Well, that was certainly ... unexpected. She tried to say something, but it kept getting twisted up by her tongue. She’s been so desperate for anyone to take even the slightest interest in her videos, that, now that she was given the chance, she didn’t even know where to begin.

“I, um, not really,” she said, tracing the pattern of her jeans. “I just copy stuff I see from other channels. You know, BuzzFeed, Ghost Hunt UK, and stuff.”

“Oh, Melanie King fan, are you?”

“I mean, yeah. She’s only got the best ghost hunting channel online. People say its Franco Overton’s channel, but they just like his dumb humor." She kicked at the gravel with a pout. "King has the real stuff.”

“I’ll be sure to pass along the compliments.”

It took a moment for her to process the implication, but when she did, it hit her like a brick wall.

“You’re friends with Melanie King?”

“Well, ex-coworkers, really,” he said, scrubbing the back of his head. “Although I’ve been trying to get her and her partner up for Christmas. She and my husband don’t really get along, though.”

Maggie only knew of two out gay couples in town, and, with a sinking feeling, she figured this man wasn’t Mrs. Adair. He wasn’t wearing nearly enough hair spray.

“You’re Mr. Sims husband, aren’t you?”

“Oh, does my reputation proceed me?” he asked, smiling. “My name is Martin Blackwood. It’s nice to meet you.”

Maggie lifted a hand in greeting, too stunned to form a polite response. If Mr. Blackwood knew about her videos and was watching her videos, that must mean …

“Does … does Mr. Sims watch my videos, too?”

“Sometimes. I keep telling him to talk to you about it, but he says to let you have your fun.” He laughed a little, “Honestly, I think you intimidate him."

Somehow, she had never considered that Mr. Sims could be watching her videos, too, and all the terrible things she did and said. Mr. Blackwood was watching them, too, who seemed so awfully nice.

Now Maggie remembered where they had properly met before, outside of her ambushing. It had been at the bake sale last month. Maggie had brought scones, but they were wrinkled and soggy, even though she thought she had stored them correctly.

Mr. Blackwood had advised her to sprinkle her scones with flour before putting them in the oven, that way the glaze would set in right. He still ate one, and said it was delicious.

What was such a seemingly normal man doing with ... whatever Mr. Sims was? Had she made some kind of mistake? But that was impossible. Even now, she could see the image of that, that thing on his hand.

Another image came to her, though. Mr. Sims had tried one of her scones as well. His eyes had widened, exclaimed them to be "Quite good" and asked what she had put in them, to which she said orange zest. At the end of the day, he had come back for a second scone.

Maggie's video that week had been all about how Mr. Sims seemed to have some kind of compulsion power, and all the malicious ways could potentially use it.

Maggie lowered her face in her hands, her stomach roiling so badly she thought she might vomit.

“Are you okay?” said Mr. Blackwood, taking a seat next to her.

“I’m sorry,” she said, shaking her head. “I didn’t mean to …” She trailed off, not even sure what she had even meant to do. “I just wanted to do something cool.”

“I think your videos are pretty cool.”

“No you don't," she said, under her breath. "No one does. Everyone at school thinks I'm creepy."

“I suppose you do get a little intense, sometimes. Although, I was really impressed how well you aimed that pudding cup.”

Her face flushed bright red, more embarrassed than she had ever thought possible.

“I’m sorry,” she sniffled, wiping her face. “I don't think those things about Mr. Sims. I just thought this channel would make people want to talk to me.”

Mr. Blackwood hummed, looking out towards the road.

“Well, I think you have the right idea, personally,” he said. “If you do the things you love long enough, you might meet people who love those things, too. And they might want to be friends.”

Maggie looked down at her feet. It was hard to process anything with how much was stuffing her brain. But Mr. Blackwood was nice. She liked the sound of his voice. Having him sit next to her, silent and patient, helped her senses settle themselves.

She grimaced. Had she really been thinking of flying back all the way to America?

Seeming to sense her struggle, Mr. Blackwood turned towards her.

“Is it alright if I ask what you’re doing out here?”

She futzed with her hands, trying to find the right words. This was Mr. Sims' husband, after all. “I saw Mr. Sims reading something. I think he called it a statement.”

Some of the color drained from Mr. Blackwood’s expression, and she fully expected him to call her crazy, because, yes, it was a little crazy, but instead, he said,

“That must have been rather frightening.”

Maggie blinked. He knew.

Mind racing with questions, she started with, “Why did he do that? It looked like he enjoyed it or something, but also like he didn’t. Like he was, I don’t know,” her nose twisted, “eating it.”

“It’s complicated,” he said. “He doesn’t enjoy it, though, but if he doesn’t do it, well,” he glanced down at his feet, “he won’t feel so good after a while.”

Maggie leaned back, considering the trees on the other end of the road. It sounded awful, having to read those terrible stories all the time. No wonder Mr. Sims looked so old. She’d only listened to one, and she was pretty sure she was going to have nightmares for weeks.

A noise caught her attention. A car was pulling up to the bus stop, and when the door opened, every muscle in her body stiffened. It was Mr. Sims.

“Jon,” Mr. Blackwood said, rising to his feet and Maggie jumped up alongside him. Mr. Sims glanced at him, surprised, but his attention turned back to Maggie. She glanced at his hand, but nothing was there.

“Miss Abernathy,” he said, voice laced with distress as he closed the car door and began approaching them, “you can’t just disappear like that. The entire school is—”

Mr. Blackwood pressed a hand to his husband’s shoulder, leaning in close and whispering something into his ear. The expression on Mr. Sims’ face shifted from barely concealed concern to stark horror, the color draining from his face.

“Oh my god,” he said. “Miss Abernathy, are you—”

“I’m fine,” she said, quickly. Mr. Sims didn't seem to think it was fine, though. It unsettled her, seeing that fear in his eyes.

“I am so sorry," he said, holding his hand out, as if he were placating a wild animal. "You were never supposed to see that.”

“Is …” She hesitated, picking at a frayed thread in her hoodie. “Is it okay if I go home early today?”

Mr. Sims didn't seem capable of formulating a response. Mr. Blackwood squeezed his husband's shoulder, and smiled at Maggie.

"I'm sure that will be fine. How about we go back to the school together and wait for your parents?"

Her eyes slid over to Mr. Blackwood before returning to Mr. Sims. Both of their eyes held nothing but concern. Mr. Sims had brown eyes. Not green. She hadn’t noticed that before.

She nodded.

Maggie got to stay home for the rest of the week.

After her voicemail, dad had lost his mind. She said she just had a bad nightmare after falling asleep in class, but that didn’t seem to be what was troubling him.

It was only later that day, towards the end of dinner, that he gently admitted he was furious at himself for missing such an important call. She told him it was fine, he was working, she knew that, but that didn’t seem to make him feel better.

He even took a few days off to spend time with her, make sure she was okay. They watched TV and played board games together. It was the most she'd seen him in months.

And she didn't have to go to school! Much as she loved her dad, that was still probably the best part. She had all her assignments emailed to her and she would sleep in until noon.

There was still her channel, though. During a bout of intense guilt, she had deleted it, barely giving herself time to second guess. She just couldn't stand the thought of all the things she'd said and done being bared before the world. Then, she turned to her phone.

It took her hours to build up the courage, but when she finally played that video, she was almost disappointed to find that it was distorted beyond all recognition. She deleted it.

By the time the nightmares finally abated by the time Monday rolled around, she was actually starting to feel better, just a little bit.

Maggie was in the school library when she saw Mr. Sims again. She had been in the middle of staring at the tail of a mountain hare, scratching her chin, when the door closed. She looked up to see him juggling an armload of books.

“Hey, Mr. Sims!”

He jumped, the books tumbling out of his arms and onto the floor with a loud crash. Maggie winced, and shot up from her computer, but Mr. Sims held out his hand.

“That’s alright,” he said, leaning down to begin picking up the books. “It’s good to see you again, Miss Abernathy. How are you feeling?”

“Better."

“I’m glad to hear it.” As he straightened up, dusting off the sleeve of the books, his expression shifted to something a bit more unpolished. “I should have told you this much earlier, but I wanted to apologize for frightening you so badly.”

Sheepish, Maggie soothed down a loose strand of her hair. “It’s okay. I know you didn’t mean it.”

Mr. Sims frowned, clearly deciding it mostly certainly wasn't okay. “Still, you can rest easy knowing I won’t be taking statements on the school premises any longer.”

"I shouldn’t have snuck into your classroom in the first place.”

“It’s not your fault, it was mine for not being more diligent."

Still, it must have been awfully inconvenient for him, but the way his lips curled downwards made her think he didn’t want to talk about it anymore. She cleared her throat.

“I’m also sorry about filming you,” she said. “And stalking you. And throwing food.”

“It's alright. I’ve been through much more harrowing experiences than a wayward cup of pudding.”

Maggie had no trouble believing him, fully aware of the rumors of the scars that pocketed Mr. Sims skin, but she was pulled from her musings when Mr. Sims glanced down at her monitor.

“What are you working on?”

“Oh, um,” she fixed her hair, blushing, “the multimedia club asked if I could put together something for morning announcements. They wanted a segment on the rabbits that live nearby.”

“Did you get these images yourself?”

“No, I’m just editing it. Frank is the one who films it. He’s got this amazing camera his dad got him for his birthday.”

“Seems like it’s coming along nicely.”

“Thanks,” she said, taking her seat, picking at her cuticles. She wasn't quite sure what exactly the boundaries were, but she couldn't know until she asked. “So, like, you know everything, right?”

Mr. Sims raised a brow.

“Do you know when Brendon Urie is dropping his next album?”

“Unfortunately, precognition is not among my list of skills.”

Maggie pouted. Mr. Sims looked torn for a moment, before sighing.

“I believe there’s talks for a holiday release, however.”

“No way,” she said. “Do you know when he’s going on tour? Is he gonna come to London again, or maybe Glasgow? Is it—”

“Have a good day, Miss Abernathy,” said Mr. Sims, continuing further into the library. Maggie huffed, but returned to the monitor. The school had way better editing software than what she had at home, so she was hoping to finish this before school ended.

“Hey, Maggie.”

She turned. Frank lifted a hand in greeting, dropping his computer bag on the table and she smiled.

“Hey there, Frank. You got some really great footage today.”

“Oh, um, thanks,” he said, a light red staining his cheeks. “It’s hard to take a bad picture with this camera, though."

"No way, you've got a real knack for it." She pulled up an image of two rabbits cuddling next to each other. "This looks so good! You must have waited around for hours to get a shot like that."

Frank scrubbed the back of his head, the flush of his face growing bright. "Yeah, I had to work for that one a bit. By the way, Alice is inviting the club over to her house later so we can go over our videos together. Her mum’s bringing snacks. You wanna come with?”

Maggie's hand paused on the keyboard. “Oh, um ..." Be cool. "Yeah, that sounds fun.”

“Great. See you there.”

Frank waved and Maggie waved back. Oh, shoot. Now she’d really need to finish the video before school ended if she wanted it ready to share with the rest of the club.

Pulling out her phone, she sent her dad a quick text about her plans, before turning back to the monitor.

#the magnus archives #tma #themagnuspod #jonmartin #jonathan sims #martin blackwood #fanfiction #fic

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