#I just finished an exam with it playing in another window.

[theokusgallery]

Oh btw 3 days ago After making you Discover Oleander I had a stupid non-canon concept in my mind

Nick & Sunny Except that their eyepatches Are Oleander shaped Or Under The eyepatch theres an Oleander Replacing the Missing Eye

My Autism Going Brrr with how i could use The Oleander's Symbolism with these two

I'm literally listening to Orelander right now. This is really good timing

[jeanbie]

HIGHER THAN HEAVEN ★ masterlist.

pairing: levi x reader

genre: university au | warnings: sexual content, fem/afab!reader, masturbation, listening-to-the-other-fucking, sexual tension, slut/whore shaming (men being pigs), "slutty"!reader, mentions of spit | wc: 10.7k | ♬

note: why has this been a wip for like...a year? also i always like to try out new versions of levi and i feel like he'd actually be just a normal kinda grumpy guy in a modern setting so i hope u guys like my uni!levi interpretation ꒰* ॢꈍ◡ꈍ ॢ꒱.*˚

⏤ Levi wants to be mad that his neighbour keeps screwing guys really loudly. But how can he be mad when she's just so goddamn pretty?

It's the third time this week.

Levi knows what it means to let off steam, and he knows that exam season has just finished. For the last few days, the volume of noise where he lives has climbed exponentially; flats throwing parties, yelling in the hallways and laughter outside his window. 

Levi's happy, too, that his exams are over, but he has to admit, he thought there might be moral standards from the people he called neighbours. 

He sighs, momentarily tapping down the volume of his music as he hears what he thinks might be his neighbour against the shared wall. The sound is fleeting, and he almost thinks he's making it up, and then he hears her soft whimpers and two hard thuds against the thin separation between their bedrooms. Levi waits for a second, blinking, and then he closes his eyes.

He's never really met his neighbour. It's been around eight months of living next door to one another, and he doesn't think he's actually ever seen her. Once, he decided he'd try to confront her when she left her room, but just kept missing the opportunity. 

Unlike his previous three years of university, Levi had decided to bunk alone for the final climb of his undergrad degree. His friends would all be upstairs somewhere, either in studios of their own or sharing six-bed flats amongst themselves, but God knew that Levi needed the space this time around. 

In his first year, he'd shared with quite possibly the worst human beings he'd ever had the displeasure of knowing. He spent more time at Erwin's flat than his own, which is why he ended up moving in with him in his second year. Then, he took a spontaneous study abroad for his third year (spontaneous, as in all of his friends were doing the same thing, and there was no way he was staying here on his own when they were out having the greatest times in different countries), and now, in his fourth and final year, Levi just wants to know that being alone doesn't have to be a luxury. 

He needs the space, and the quiet. Granted, his studio is spacious, although it would be perfect if he wasn't on the ground floor with little to work with for a view. Eight months down the line, and he's still waiting for that promised peace and quiet.

There are two other people in this hallway, but his next-room neighbour, Room A, is by far the most interesting. He knows that the people in Room D are party animals, and during freshers week, they made that fact glaringly obvious. Room C are ghostly, silent most of the time until they remember that they, too, have music to play to block out other people's noise.

Levi likes being in Room B because it's not too far from the exit. If he were to open his door, he'd be adjacent to Room A; the space is so tight that he's not even sure they would be able to leave or enter at the same time. 

The list of what he thinks he knows about his next-room neighbour is longer than what he actually knows. He knows for certain that she's female, and that she cares about the cleanliness of her flat. If Levi's not listening to the sound of other people's mess, he can hear her vacuuming every other day, which he can respect. 

Levi knows that her name is Y/N, because he's heard it being called a few times, both for business and pleasure. He also knows that she's in her final year, just like him, because once he overheard her on a phone call complaining about her dissertation. That's about all he knows confidently. 

The rest is speculation, things he thinks he knows from listening: he thinks she sleeps with the radiator off, because he always hears the switch in the morning. He thinks she keeps her keys on her door because he hears them clink when it closes, and he thinks she mumbles to herself sometimes, because the walls are thin and if she's not on the phone, then who could she be talking to? 

Finally, Levi thinks that she might be a bit of a whore, and he means it endearingly, because the amount of times Levi has heard her fucking somebody is becoming ridiculous.

At first, Levi tried to be understanding. After all, it wasn't like she was screwing guys in the hallway. She was in her room, in her own time, and he tried to come to terms with that simply being out of his hands. The noise was unfortunate, yeah, but he could always put his headphones on for an hour or so. 

Then it just kept happening, like clockwork, like some sick joke. 

After about the sixth time, he was fed up. He'd thrown his headphones down, scowling angrily as his eyes flickered to the time in the corner of his computer screen — 1:23am. It was bad enough that he was working all night on his stupid assignment, and now his neighbour was screwing some asshole so loudly that he may as well have had no headphones on in the first place? 

At least she sounded good. 

Levi had deliberately ignored that thought for a while, until he heard her having sex with some guy a few months ago. He'd sighed, like a routine at that point, and remained seated on his couch, the remote in his hand ready to raise the volume of the football game on TV.

The noise was faint — if Levi had to predict based on the floor plans of their rooms, she'd probably be on her bed — but if he strained enough, he'd be able to hear her mewling, the even fainter sounds of slapping skin. 

He sat there, silently, listening in like a priest taking confessions in church. His silence was judgement and equal measures of fascination. Having never really listened to her before, Levi never knew she sounded like that. Submissive, but seductive, dirty and slutty. Hm.

He had learned to respect her sex life — even creating his own for a while, too, giving her a taste of her own medicine. If anything, that only made things more lively in Room A. Somehow he blames himself for it having got to this point, presently, where he sits listening to her for the third time in a week — and it's not even Friday yet.

16:34 Levi: she's at it again 16:35 Erwin: AGAIN???? 16:37 Hange: isnt this like the fifth time this week? 16:37 Levi: third

Levi turns his chair to face the other wall, looking up at the blank plaster. There's another thud against it, and he blinks, his brows raised slightly. Is she fucking someone against the wall?

16:39 Furlan: theres no way its that bad 16:40 Furlan: send vid

After skimming over the texts, Levi's eyes flicker back to the wall. Then, he rises up from his chair and walks towards it, angling his body with his ear to the noise. Now that he's close, he can't hear a thing, and he scoffs — typical — and prepares to move away.

"Mphf — damn, bitch. You're more of a slut than I thought."

Levi stops. 

Bringing his phone to his legs, Levi slumps his shoulder against the wall casually and almost cranes to listen. Without seeing anything, he feels like a fly on the wall. He hears someone with a deep voice grunting — he doesn't care about them — followed by occasional gasps, much softer, honeyed, elusive. 

"You thought I was a slut?" 

Levi hears her voice quivering, but there's little hurt in her tone. It's all lust, and he can hear the smile in her words. 

For a second, Levi hears her body thud against the wall again and he flinches backwards. She must be directly on the other side — if the bricks weren't there, her body would be up against his own. 

"Dunno what I thought," the male voice says, strained. "Wasn't-expecting-this. Shit, that's tight."

"Mm. You like it?" There's a beat of silence, and the faint sounds of breathy moans, high in an octave that sends goosebumps pricking over Levi's arms. "You like me?"

"Like your pussy. Shit, girl."

With every imagined thrust, Levi can hear her moaning, her voice raising as the pace fastens. Levi stands there, his eyes zoning out on the crack under his door and eventually, he pulls back. There's a slight ringing in his ears, and blood rushes to the tips.

16:51 Levi: phone can't pick up the volume 16:51 Levi: just trust me

It happened two more times before the weekend rolled by, and Levi thought that she must be on a conquest of bedding every guy on campus. Half of him thought it was to spite him specifically, although he wasn't even sure that she knew what she was doing was bothering him so much. 

Friday evening had been a strange eve of silence, but he still felt on edge, as if waiting for the sounds to emerge. The weekend soon enough rolled by with no more sexscapades, and he felt almost a sag of relief in his shoulders.

Levi had just gotten out of the shower when he heard a knock on his door.

"Oh. It's you."

When he pulls it open, inwards on his own room, Levi props his weight against the door and stares out at Reiner, who is holding a light board under his armpit. Reiner holds it out to him with a nonchalant shrug and holds the door open with his foot as Levi takes the board with a raised brow and plonks it onto his bed. 

Reiner stands in the doorway until he comes back, not quite daring to enter.

"I need one of those," Reiner offers in conversation. 

"Well, you've got a job, buy one,” Levi replies, making Reiner smirk. "If you've broke it, then you can pay for it."

Reiner throws up his hands, "Hey, they don't call me the gentle giant for nothing."

Levi's face drops into a disapproving frown, "Nobody calls you that."

"You're right," Reiner sighs with a charming grin and then folds his arms. 

Reiner and Levi know one another from one of their elective classes, and by some magical fate — or a wild coincidence — Reiner had been a mutual friend of one of his closest friends since first year. He also lives upstairs on the third floor, alongside some other guys and a girl that Levi didn't know very well, but had met once at a party and had kissed. He'd considered bringing her back to his room just to torment his neighbour but passed up the temptation.

Thinking of his neighbour, Levi's eyes quickly dash to her door, wondering if she might be inside and listening to them. Reiner doesn’t catch the look — or maybe he does, prompting him to his next sentence.

"You should come out tonight," Reiner suggests.

"Where?"

"A few of us are getting some drinks at Sonny's," he says. "Feel like I haven't seen you properly since that party, like, what, three months ago? You should get out more, have fun." Then, Reiner's smile widens and he, too, glances to his left to Room A, "Escape your sex fiend of a neighbour."

Levi might have cringed at the thought of her listening in, but to his surprise, he found a thrill rush through his body. Maybe she was listening right now, curled up to the door.

"I don't like Sonny's," Levi replies.

"Oh, you've been there before?"

"No. But I saw it on Eren's Instagram once, and it looked awful, sorry."

Laughing, Reiner shrugs his shoulders. "I don't care. It's just nice to get out. Really — what if we changed bars, would you come then?"

Just as he says that a soft thud can be heard from behind him, beyond the walls of the thin hallway that houses Levi’s room and his neighbours'. Levi almost cranes to catch the sound, half expecting his party animal hall-mates from Room D to come bounding inside, dressed in flamboyant attire to listen to loud music whilst getting ready to hit the town for the Friday deals that bars boasted of to rowdy students. 

Instead, the door just to the right of Reiner swings open and a young woman steps inside. Levi blinks — depending on which direction she goes in, Levi's life could get a little bit more interesting.

Levi knows that he’s seen her before in the common room, chatting to other friends around a pool table, or shaking a vending machine with a stranger to try and free an overpriced bottle of Dr Pepper from the machine's claws. 

Levi blinks once again, and Reiner turns at the sound of the door creaking open, and the breath almost leaves Levi's body in one giant exhale when she steps in their direction, towards Room A.

Ah. So this is Y/N.

Reiner's eyes move up and down with intrigue as she — you — step closer towards them. Judging by your almost surprised gaze, and the flit of your eyes as you look between them and the door to Room A, even Reiner knows that you are the aforementioned sex fiend, the famous neighbour who screws guys all the time and makes Levi all hot and bothered. 

Nothing is said — there is nothing to be said. For a split second, you pause, judging the space past Reiner to your door, to your sanctuary, meanwhile, the two men size you up, intrigued by your very existence. Levi feels his conversation skills run dry — what could he say now that you were here?

He has to confess, against his previous wishes, that you were pretty. Beautiful, even. He tries to downplay it by thinking about you pushed up against the wall with a cunt full of someone else's cock, but if anything the thought only makes things worse. 

As you push through the awkward silence of the hallway, Reiner slightly inches closer to Levi, as if to give you space as you stride by. To their surprise, you do so with a lifted gaze, having the nerve to look shy, guilty, friendly. 

Everything would be easier if you weren't his type, weren't Reiner's type. Levi thinks about that for a second as his friend devours the sight of you, and Levi feels his stomach dip. He's never even spoken to you before, but he feels like Reiner has just crossed a boundary somehow. 

The fact of you being as pretty as you sound, as desirable as Levi imagined you had to be to bring so many people back to your den (either irresistible or slutty, but sometimes those went hand in hand and he knew it) just makes the dull ache in his abdomen worse, his heartbeat fluttering ever so out of pace.

As you pass, you peer over at the two men, gazing at Levi in particular. You even look around him, eyeing his room. Then, when you look back at Levi, it’s as if something clicks — it was as if you registered that this man had been enduring your fucks and flirts for weeks and weeks on end, and had been courteous with not complaining once. 

You look at him, over him, sizing him up greedily. Levi moves from foot to foot in a way that looks impatient, although he isn’t sure he's fully convinced you of his indifference when you smile charmingly, your cheekbones full and round.

"Hello," you say — Levi almost buckles. He's only ever heard your voice through walls and doors, never face to face. He blinks dumbly, says nothing.

"Hey," is what Reiner offers with a wide grin, his gaze flickering to your body and then back to your face. But you don’t look back, only look over Reiner's shoulder to Levi, and then turn to your door and thrust the key into the hole. 

Your door untwists, unlocks, and in you go. After it closes and clicks with the lock, Levi hears you shuffling in your room, and then he finally looks back at Reiner. 

For once, Reiner says nothing. He raises his eyebrows and pulls a face, one that Levi rolls his eyes at, and then Reiner claps his hands together and announces his silent leave. 

Levi watches as if frozen in place as Reiner leaves the hallway, and when his own door closes with a slight tick, he strains to hear you beyond the wall, but can hear nothing.

A whole day has passed since then, but Levi can’t stop thinking about it.

He hasn’t left his room all day, to the stressed displeasure of his friends. The hallway has been frozen in a quiet stillness, with nobody coming and going at any point. Levi hasn’t heard you stirring since you walked past him and Reiner the day before, but he supposes he’s just thankful that he has no fears of being bombarded with sex for hours on end, or minutes at a time depending on which loser you lure home. 

Levi drops his plate into the sink, sighing with both hands flat on the side of the counter. To the left, he casts a dirty glance out the window, looking at the grey landscape beyond the glass. The car park to the hotel that is tucked neatly behind his building is virtually empty, and the giant lake-sized puddles ripple with rain. He felt like it always rained here. 

Listening to the rain, Levi finishes his ritual of cleaning the dishes and then turns off the tap with another sigh. It has just been too quiet today — unnervingly quiet, in a way that makes Levi feel more on edge than at ease. He's been craving this taste of silence for so long, but now that it’s here, everything just feels off. 

He pinches the bridge of his nose with an irritated exhale and moves through the thin archway to get to his bedroom, near the front door, when he hears something beyond the threshold of Room A next door. Levi stops in place.

The noise is so faint that he almost misses it. He leans his head closer in the direction of the wall, waiting for the next sound to give when he hears it again — a breathy whimper. The whimper transforms into a moan, one that Levi can hear as clearly as he would if he were in the room. There are no other voices, and Levi pulls away from the wall quickly like it's on fire.

No. It can’t be.

Levi finds it both annoying and amusing when he hears you entangled with some random guy every other day, but just the possibility of it being you, and you alone, in your room with nobody but your fingers, makes Levi’s throat tighten.

Before, it felt as though your sex life was a performance intended for Levi to listen to, but now that it’s just you, the moment feels private and intimate, and Levi doesn’t know what to do.

The moaning continues, staggered, stuttered, falling and rising in a tempo he knows only the hand of the moaner can create. By now, he’s somewhat of an expert on your noises, how you respond to whatever your partner is doing — the unfamiliarity of your pleasure tonight has thrown him off, and all Levi can do is apologise in his head and pull himself back against the wall. 

He’s come this far listening to you play with others. It would just be unfair not to hear how you really like it when you’re alone.

Levi can’t be sure what it is you’re actually doing; he’ll have to leave it to his imagination to conjure up the perfect image of you on your bed, legs spread, fingers stuffed up your cunt. He closes his eyes as he leans his head against the plaster, quite literally straining to hear every gasp leaving your mouth.

The world seems to slow around him, the sounds of your one-man show all he can hear. All of a sudden, he’s thankful for the unnatural silence of the hallway outside so he can hear it all.

What he pictures is lewd and perfect; you’re biting your lip probably, trying to contain yourself as you plunge your fingers deeper inside your pussy, curling them in a way nobody else can. The lights are dimmed, but in his mind, the picture of your body is crystal clear; the shape of your body is outlined by light, shadows cast attractively around the perk of your breasts, the glisten of crystalline sweat on your skin. 

With your chest rising, Levi watches in his mind as your thighs quiver, your knuckles pushing against your opening — if it was possible to get more of your finger in there, you’d do it.

Your fingers slide in and out covered in wetness, each plunge inside accompanied by another moan that makes him shudder. Levi’s ear is flat against the wall, his cock hardening uncomfortably beneath his joggers. 

All of a sudden, the shame of eavesdropping washes over him and he pulls away, breathing heavily as he moves from the wall to the bathroom. For good measure, he slams the door behind him, immediately turning on the tap and washing his face. What was he thinking?

Thankfully, there’s nobody to greet his ashamed walk back into his bedroom. He rubs the side of his face with a groan and glances back at the wall. For a moment, he pauses, but he hears no more sound.

Levi’s been in a sour mood since the weekend, and nobody around him knows how to solve it. 

At first, it had started with the dream he’d had; the dream where he’d shoved your head into a pillow and fucked your brains out, which woke him with a start and another guilty walk to the bathroom. Then, he’d turned up late to his class and simultaneously discovered that Reiner had, in fact, broken the light board he loaned him the other week.

After that, he received a bitchy email from the receptionist at his building about upcoming fire alarm inspections, and because he’d been too busy looking at his phone, Levi had slammed into a group of first-year girls in the library and caused one of them to drop all of her books and her coffee on the floor. Now, his wallet was five pounds lighter and his expression was sour, and no matter how hard his friends tried to coax him out of his foulness, it was no use.

“At least you bought her another coffee,” says Eren with a shrug as he watches the flustered first-year disappear out of the student café with her friend.

“Not the point, dipshit.”

“It’s probably ‘cause of the lack of sleep this man gets thanks to his harlot neighbour,” Hange suggests, their shoulders hunched as they finish up one of their handouts for their evening class.

At that, Reiner looks up from his phone and adds, “Hot harlot neighbour.”

“Is she actually?” asks Erwin. “I don’t know if I can trust your judgement in women, Reiner.”

“She is beautiful,” Levi mutters reluctantly, his face still drawn together with irritance. Admitting that fact only makes him feel worse, especially when the memory of his dream creeps back into his mind. He sighs and rubs his neck. “But she hasn’t really made any noise in a while.”

“Maybe she’s on her period,” says Eren unhelpfully. 

“Whores are on the pill,” Porco adds, suddenly reminding Levi of his presence. The blond-haired guy sits to the right with a coffee in one hand and a bagel in the other.

“Don’t you think it’s kind of sexist to call her a whore when I know most of you probably have higher body counts?” replies Isabel. She’s crept up on the knit of friends, but contrary to normal, her being here doesn’t make Levi feel any better. Right now, there are simply too many witnesses to his misery.

Eren shrugs. “Fine. Then she’s a slut.”

“As if that’s any better,” Isabel says dumbly. “You guys are pigs.”

“But she is beautiful,” Reiner says again. “I’m telling you — it’s a miracle Levi hasn’t made his move yet. If I lived next door to someone who looked like that…” He trails off. Levi cringes. How did he end up being friends with the worst people in the world?

Reiner sells Levi as actually having enough confidence to get up and knock on her door, when the truth of the matter is that Levi is too afraid to even approach the wall when he hears a noise anymore. In the time between him listening to you finger-fucking yourself and him having such an out-of-pocket dream about you, Levi hasn’t even wanted to listen to anything he hears outside of his room, too afraid of what he might do or think if he hears you again.

Besides, what would he even do? It’s been almost eight months of sharing a wall, and he’s come no closer to knowing you or anything about you. You’re as familiar to him as any stranger in this café, but the only difference is that he’s heard the way you whimper when your cunt is stuffed with cock and you’re up against the wall, which most people would have trouble competing with.

When you know how someone sounds when they’re most likely cumming on someone else’s dick, it’s an unbeatable bond.

Levi looks up at Reiner as if to say something, but then his eyes are drawn to the doors to the café. They widen suddenly, and after watching his expression shift, Reiner follows his gaze and looks over his shoulder.

After a few seconds, he whips his head back to the group and hisses, “That’s her!”

The speed at which their heads turn is almost funny to Levi, and he might have laughed had he not been so full of mortified fear at the sight of you. 

You look pretty today — really pretty. Pretty in a way that Levi can’t even begin to make sense of considering the only way he’s seen you so far is in glimpses, in the corridor dressed in comfy clothes, or stark naked with his dick up your snatch in his head. His whole body fills with a sticky heat as he narrows his gaze on you, hoping that by staring you might disappear like a mirage and spare him the embarrassment due to come.

But nothing ever goes the way Levi wants it to. He breathes in heavily when your gaze pans across the room as if you’re searching for someone, stopping with a comical wide-eyed look of surprise when you see a group of six or so people all watching you with strange intensity. 

Levi is not at all prepared for the way your brows knit together in confusion as you assess the strangers, only to raise in acknowledgement when you finally look at him for a moment too long. 

Words are not needed to convey the silent series of events that spiral after that look. Levi knows instantly what you’re thinking and what it means. He knows that you know he’s told everybody about you — and he knows that you know he knows who you are and how often you do what you do. 

There’s no way of explaining how confident he is that you’ve cracked the code in your head — he doesn’t know anything at all, only that when your face brightens into a smile he knows he’s screwed.

So fucking screwed.

“Oh shit, you were right,” Porco says after a while of mutual silence, and Levi is strangely grateful for the distraction of his voice as he turns back to his friend. “She’s hot!”

“And you’re being fucking loud, shut up,” Levi grumbles, his face scrunched into such a tight frown that it hurts to hold it. “Yes, that’s her. So what.”

“She’s looking at you,” Hange says rather unhelpfully. They’re sitting with their elbows on their spread legs, head low as they glance at you over the top of their glasses. Their brows are so high they might as well become a part of their hairline as they say a few seconds later, “Still looking.” A beat, and then, “Still looking.”

Levi huffs quietly, trying to find something interesting on the low table in the middle of the group to latch onto. All he can find are some of Hange’s papers and Porco’s bagel wrapper — neither are particularly inspiring to stare at, but he stares anyway, acutely aware of the heavy weight of your gaze on the side of his face as you approach the coffee counter. 

“Maybe it’s because you’re all fucking gawking at her,” Levi replies stiffly. 

To their credit, the group does their best to mask their very obvious staring, but Levi already knows that their hanging mouths have caused irreparable damage. He makes it a point not to look back over at you, and based on how his friends try to busy themselves with random things, he guesses you’ve reluctantly looked away from them and are currently buying something.

After today, Levi will never come here again — he’s just suddenly remembered that you’re real, and the notion of seeing you out in public just became his next biggest worry.

“Maybe you should go and say hi,” Isabel suggests, her mouth full around a bite of brownie. 

Levi looks at her with an incredulous look. “And why would I do that?”

“She’s your neighbour,” Isabel replies slowly. “It’s polite. And friendly.”

“I’ll go and say hi, if you want,” offers Reiner. When Levi throws him a dirty look, he says, “What? She smiled at me before. I might be her next conquest.”

“Not much of a challenge for her,” Levi mutters. Besides, you weren’t even looking at Reiner back then — but as soon as the thought comes to his head he immediately exiles it. He’s not going to stoop as low as to fight Reiner on it; it will only deepen the hole he’s dug himself now that he's opened his mouth and told people about you.

After around four minutes, Levi has exhausted all possible resorts of interest around the table and anxiously rubs the back of his neck. Reiner still has his head looking up towards the coffee counter, but the others have mercifully ceased their curious staring. He levels his breathing and takes a quick swig of his tea, all before absentmindedly turning his head to look over his shoulder.

Your back is facing everyone, your head thrown back in laughter at something someone next to you is saying. Levi represses the urge to bristle at his own thoughts of what you might be laughing at, what possibly makes you laugh and smile — what coffee did you order, or maybe you are a tea person? Hot chocolate? Levi’s face falls into a narrow look of horror — Jesus Christ, he’s in so deep and over what? The sound of you?

Levi decides that he’s possibly gone insane after a long four years in academia and rests his cheek on his shoulder for a minute, gaze low. His friends are right, to a fault; he could just talk to you, scratch the itch until it’s gone and he can relax and live like a normal human being again. But that would involve taking initiative and actually confronting you, which in the grand scheme of things seems like a terrible idea. 

He’d rather just forget about the delusional display of heated fantasies he’s conjured up after getting just a peek at you.

“Oh, shit. She’s looking again.”

It’s embarrassing how quickly Levi looks back at you without even thinking about it. 

Sure enough, you’re looking back at the group, a cup of something steaming in your hand as your friend leads the way through a cluster of tables towards the double doors leading out onto the wide front courtyard. The screaming voice in his head is commanding Levi to look away, but he just can’t. 

He watches you as you look back at him, mapping out every detail he possibly can while he has the chance to just look without any consequence, and feels his breathing constrict when you smile, so softly that it knocks the literal wind from his lungs, and raise your free hand in a wave.

And he doesn’t even move.

Somewhere behind him, Levi hears Reiner snigger and the brawny guy lifts his own hand to wave back at you, a grin plastered on his face. Your eyes barely move to look at Reiner in acknowledgement before locking back onto Levi with an almost hopeful look, and now would be a great time for Levi to move or do something in response, but he doesn’t. And he doesn’t know how to respond when your smile deepens into a smirk, almost like that was exactly what you wanted him to do.

“Why does she look down bad?” Eren asks quietly, making Porco cackle with a laugh that makes you look away and slink after your friend. Levi affords himself the time to watch you go, watching the way your ass moves in your jeans, the way your breasts bounce in that shirt, the way your waist looks and the way your hair moves and the way your smile widens—

“You’re a lucky son of a bitch,” Porco says, shaking his head with an amused look on his face. “If I lived next to someone who looked like that, and looked at me like that—”

“Well, you don’t, so fuck off,” Levi snaps. Wrong answer: the boys in his group laugh even louder, and Levi wants to shrink to the size of an ant and drown in his tea.

God. Levi realises with a gigantic sigh that today has been a long ass day.

Levi rubs his hair with the towel and glares at his reflection in the mirror. He stares, long and hard, and frowns at what looks back. For a guy who is to be considered “grown”, he cannot believe how stupid he's being, how stupid his brain is.

He has never once had a crush on somebody he’s never even met before, and only actually seen properly about two times. In the long four years of being in this city, Levi has never entertained an interest in anybody, mostly because he felt he didn’t have the patience for a relationship nor the time, which is why the way he’s feeling now is all the more bothersome — and even worse when the person he’s having trouble understanding his feelings for is someone he’s barely met, never talked to, and knows likes cock more than the air they breathe.

It is simply outrageous that he likes you so much. And he’s not even sure if what he feels would qualify as liking you. 

Levi has never spoken one word to you and has never made any effort to do so, but alongside the audible archive of moans he has of yours in his memory and the mapped-out beauty of your face, Levi can distinguish that the pooling pit of desire in his tummy is closer to a crush than it is just general appreciation. And this feeling sucks.

Suddenly, Levi thinks back to seeing you in the student café and physically cringes at his reflection. All that for what? A smile? He is pathetic — Levi cannot believe that he has become such a strange man, and it is entirely your fault for being so pretty. And sounding so fucking sexy.

Levi hangs his towel on the small heated towel rack and washes his hands, hoping that in a metaphorical sense, it will wash away all of the terrible thoughts he’s having. Then, he shakes them dry and flicks off the bathroom switch, striding back into his room with a sinking feeling of emptiness. 

He makes his way to the kitchen and looks longingly at the kettle. A cup of tea would do wonders for the creeping headache forming in his skull, but like the idiot he’s suddenly turned out to be, Levi instead leans up on his toes to grab a bottle of whiskey from on top of the fridge and finds an accompanying glass to pour himself a drink. 

It’s been a long day, and he needs something strong. Quite frankly, Levi thinks he also deserves it.

For most of the evening, Levi entertains himself with his whiskey bottle, a glass and whatever the hell his TV can pick up in the black spot he calls home. He’s not sure how many glasses he’s had by the time he hears the corridor door swing open with its alarmingly loud squeal, but judging by how the room seems to tilt on its axis, Levi would wager a guess as to believe he’s had at least more than six glasses. 

He feels his heart in his ears, pounding like a war drum, and he immediately reaches for the remote and turns down the volume. Like a cat, he feels his ears prick at the slightest sounds, and quite quickly, it’s as though stones are weighing down his stomach when he hears a boyish kind of snigger in the hallway, followed by the sound of keys in Room A’s door.

Please no. Not right now.

Not when Levi’s trying to come to terms with the unnatural feelings he’s somehow garnered for you.

Levi hears you shush the guy of the night and push open your door, its hinges moaning with relief when both of you stumble inside and it closes with a click. It’s almost embarrassing how quiet Levi has gone in an effort to eavesdrop — as much as he dislikes the idea of you being fucked by some random guy, he has to admit that he’s come to find some enjoyment in the vision of you being destroyed, in the music made by your pleasure. It took a while to admit it, but now that he has, it’s like a weight being lifted.

Once again, he is left to wonder what you’re doing when he can no longer hear your moans or the guy’s stupid voice muttering: Levi’s imagined you stumbling through the narrow passage past the bathroom and towards your bed, arms snug around the guy’s chest. You’ve probably sat down, and the guy is between your legs holding your face with his hands.

Only you haven’t. Levi hears a familiar thump against the wall and his eyes widen excitedly.

“Get this shit off.” Levi hears the guy grunt unhappily, and, hey wait, when did Levi suddenly end up listening so close to the wall?

“You don’t like it?” you ask, your voice so quiet through the thin layer of brick separating you from Levi’s ear. 

“Like it better when it's not on,” the guy groans, and a few more thumps against the wall sound along with a strange dragging noise that Levi presumes might be your back. “God, you’re so hot.”

Well, that they can both agree on.

Levi closes his eyes as your voice begins to rise, foolishly high and breathy and in a way that makes Levi’s dick harden under his clothes. He pictures your face in his head, thrown back in a twist of pleasure, and fights the urge to grip his cock with his hand — he loses the battle and curses as he grabs his dick and begins to pump his wrist.

Levi leans his back against the wall and dips his head low to his chest, his eyes unwillingly fixed on the sight of his own cock hardening in his hand. Levi acknowledges that jerking off to his neighbour having a shag is a bit weird, but it could be worse, and as long as you can’t see him, he doesn’t care. 

He tightens his grip around his dick and drags his hand up and down, biting down on his lip to keep his satisfied groans from eliciting any unwanted attention.

On the other side of the wall, you feel the brick behind your head as the stranger lifts one of your legs up over his shoulder, falling to his knees like a beggar and lifting the bottom half of your skirt up over your hips. At some point during your ungracious entry into the bedroom, the man managed to slip down your panties and now has full, unrestricted access to your cunt, and wastes no time pushing his head between your thighs. 

Feeling the man’s tongue running flat up your slit, you moan breathlessly and stare up at the ceiling. You’ve fucked so many men it’s impossible to remember all of them, but you never get bored of the feeling of someone’s tongue up your pussy. Your heart stammers in your chest as you peer down at the stranger; his face is pushed between your legs and hidden from view, leaving you with nothing but dark locks of hair to gaze at, hunched shoulders and a pale hand pressing into your leg.

Admittedly, the only reasons you picked this stranger to approach in the bar had been because of the way he looked, and you close your eyes and let your jaw hang open in pleasure, all while your thoughts linger on who you pretend is between your legs instead of him. 

“You taste amazing,” the guy groans into you, and you smile pleasantly. Everybody likes being complimented, don’t they?

“Yeah?” you ask, smoothing one of your hands up around your tit, “It’s all yours.”

The guy groans, as does Levi, who’s listening so loyally that he might as well smash a hole in the wall and look through. Nothing is left to imagination anymore; it’s as if you’re narrating your night just for Levi’s sake.

“Yeah. You’re right. This pussy’s mine,” the guy laughs, nipping his teeth against your inner thigh and making you squeal unexpectedly. 

“Come on,” you rasp, worming your fingers through his twirly locks of hair with a slight grip. He winces and looks up at you from over your stomach, eyes dark and wide with the pain of your fingers tightening around his curls. “Fuck me, big guy. I want your cock.”

Levi’s wrist quickens. He blames the whiskey for the strangled little pathetic sound that burns in his throat, but there’s no way you heard it. Although these walls are so thin that he can hear every sound you make, there’s no way you can hear any of his noises. The logic defies Levi at that moment.

“God damn, you really are a needy girl, aren't you?”

No, you’re not, Levi thinks. Only you are — you grin down at the handsome man removing himself from between your legs and shuffle closer to grab a taste of yourself from his lips. He groans into your mouth, one hand on your ass and the other around the back of your neck. 

With his arms around you, the man guides you towards the end of your bed and ungracefully drops you down, groaning when you bite your bottom lip and stare up at him with an expectant look in your eyes. Levi could only dream of what makes the stranger growl like that as he strains to listen in. You open your legs to invite him in, watching as he pulls a condom from his back pocket and takes his jeans down to his ankles.

Levi’s cock is throbbing, the tip an angry shade of red as he swipes his thumb and smears a slip of pre-cum across the curved edge. Levi inhales deeply, feeling his whole body stiffen as he pulls his fist up and down, the fingers on his other hand grazing across his balls with a sensitive flush. He hears you moan outrageously loud and his wrist trembles — he must have slipped it in.

You tighten your legs around the stranger, pulling him and his dick further into your cunt, the wetness of it slippery and inviting and divinely powerful. Every man you’ve had up there has made a comment on how good it feels, and as the guy moans loudly and tells you it’s the best pussy he’s had, you think of your neighbour; his surprised expression when he saw you in the café, the way his friends threw him looks when you smiled. 

You know he’s been listening (if he hasn’t, then he’s admirably unbothered or deaf), and the thought excites you wildly.

You look beyond the man and to the wall, imagining your neighbour staring at the brick with a blank expression. Maybe he’s angry that you have another man over. You hope he is. 

Biting back a laugh, you moan for good measure and match every thrust with a sound. The guy stuffed inside of you mutters a string of curses, chest puffed with pride, oblivious to the vision you have in your head of your neighbour snug between your thighs, his face steeled into his usual displeasure. 

“Mmf, yes,” you whine, a little louder than you usually would. “Right there.”

“Say my name,” the guy growls, slapping your thigh rather sharply, “like a good girl.”

You flush, knees practically bent over to your chest as he folds you in half. For a second, you can’t even think of his name, don’t know if he ever even told you. Instead of wounding his pride, you drop a few girly moans and hope it distracts him, which it does. You wonder what would happen if you were to moan out your neighbours name — if you even knew it, that is.

“Oh, god,” you moan genuinely and close your eyes as the man sinks his cock in further. Thank goodness this man’s dick is long, you think, feeling the tip brush against a weak spot inside of you. The mattress beneath your spine is shaking uncontrollably, and the man peers down at you with a glint in his eye.

Levi’s head leans back and a breathless groan escapes — fuck, he thinks, but there’s no time to take it back, and certainly no chance he’s been heard. 

Unbeknownst to Levi, your ears prick up curiously. The man snug inside of you looks at your face with an equal amount of curiosity, his hands wide against your skin as he fucks you at an unmeasurably quick pace. It’s as if he has somewhere else to be than here, but the pressing wrinkle in his forehead deepens as he fucks you harder, nails digging into your skin, spit flying from his mouth to your breasts.

“My friend said your pussy was good, but I didn’t think it would be this good,” the guy says, his voice raspy. All you can currently focus on is the squelch between your legs, and for a hopeful sound of annoyance from your neighbour.

When nothing comes, you opt for staring up at the guy with wide eyes, as if the thought of being passed around a few friends shocks you. In actual fact, you could care less, just as long as you both feel good.

His next few thrusts knock the wind out of you, and Levi clings to those pitched sounds like they’re his new lifeline. Pumping the length of his cock with his hand, Levi clamps his eyes closed and tries not to become self-aware of what the fuck he’s doing, instead focusing all of his energy on the twisting ache in his stomach and the dull groan of his wrist bones.

What Levi does next horrifies him. His hips jerk suddenly, his breathing laboured as he imagines himself in your room between your legs. Just the thought of looming over you, chest bowed over yours, your legs over his shoulders as he sinks himself into your cunt. The look of pleasured joy on your face, that stupidly beautiful smile lifted so high. 

In the swirling darkness of his closed eyes, Levi conjures up images of you flustered and naked, covered in sweat and cum and as your breasts bounce the shine on your body curves — fucking hell, he’s in so deep, he’s so fucked.

“Oh! Oh, there, yep, there — hmpf!” 

Levi hears you so loudly that it’s as if you’re panting it in his ears. He fists his dick almost furiously, feeling the creeping heat move across his body like a wildfire. The phantom illusion of your body underneath him pulses, the feeling of your cunt wet and squishing around him feels so real he might believe it if he weren’t uncomfortably self-aware of how screwed up he is, fantasising about a girl he’s never even talked to before.

Even through the wall, Levi can hear your bed rattling against the opposite wall, each slap of skin as the stranger fucks himself into you; Levi zeros in on the sounds and produces the perfect scene in his head, one that makes his dick twitch in his hand and his feet slip slightly across the wooden floor. 

His chest rises and falls heavily, his hands trembling, his balls so sensitive he’s resorted to clinging to the wall like a rock climber with one hand while he pumps his cock with the other. Listening to you being fucked stupid is going to make him cum all over himself, and for a split second, that seems fine. That would be okay.

“Goddamn. You’re tighter than I expected,” the guy says, which sends Levi over the edge. 

He groans softly at the floor and feels his whole body trembling as the coil in his stomach suddenly releases, and a string of cum shoots from the end of his cock. Levi keeps pumping, cum falling down his hand and to the floor in a grossly filthy manner, one that he’s trying his best not to stress over as he focuses all of his energy and thoughts on the hand wrapped around his cock and how badly he wishes it was your pussy gripping him instead.

When he does open his eyes, Levi blinks away the blurry tunnel vision and tries to catch his breath, now uncomfortably aware of the sticky mess covering his hand and the floor around his feet. For a second, he feels complete bliss — until the ringing in his ears subsides and he hears you whining in that pretty fucking voice you have, and the shame washes over him like a bucket of cold water.

Levi forces himself up off the wall and stares back at it, almost as if it might transform into a window for you to gape at him, the dirty eavesdropper who just had an orgasm over a daydream and the sound of his neighbour fucking some random guy. He blinks in horror.

The guy screwing you groans like an animal — a dying animal, Levi thinks bitterly, until he realises that he’s the first person to have orgasmed in the strange threesome and he isn’t even in the room. 

Although guilt is consuming him, Levi can’t commit to pulling away yet. He might as well see it through to the end now that he’s become a part of it all.

Your cunt clenches around the guy’s cock like a vice, coaxing whatever last reserves of self-restraint he has before he grunts out a loud, “Fuck!” and slams his hips into you one last time, filling the condom with cum.

You feel the warmth bulging inside of you — lucky for someone to have gotten off in this exchange. Your pussy throbs and you squirm unhappily, hoping he might keep going.

“More?” the guy asks, breathless and shocked. “For real?”

“Mm. More, I need more,” you tell him, your walls fluttering around him. “Please, please give me more—”

No, no, no, Levi thinks in a panic. Please no more! As if being subjected to listening to some guy cumming after being in your pussy was bad enough, Levi wants nothing more than for it all to be over so he doesn’t have to listen anymore. He knows he could easily put in earphones and tune you both out, but that’s not the point. 

Still, he feels a sudden rush of bitter hatred when the guy slaps your skin and makes you whine, all before laughing and pulling out. Levi hears nothing for a moment until he hears a drawer pulling open and slamming shut, and he thinks in a hot flush that he’s about to have a terribly unhappy night listening to you getting screwed again.

You watch the stranger shake his cock for a moment once the old and used condom is off, and he quickly puts on a new one while he’s still hard and admirably shoves himself back inside. Your wet warmth welcomes him back encouragingly, and there’s no trouble keeping him hard once you’ve gripped him back inside. The man shifts himself inside of you and moves in and out, his eyes trained carefully on your face as if assessing your enjoyment. 

He creeps a hand between your legs and thumbs the hood of your pussy, and your eyes flash open with surprise at the feeling of his thumb on your clit.

“My god, you’re fucking gorgeous,” he comments, and Levi curses.

This can’t go on! Levi feels his mind reeling and he refuses to take responsibility for what his body does next; he wipes his hand on his joggers and glares at the door. Taking a few strides towards it, Levi forgets the cum on the floor and grabs one of his jumpers, pulling it over his head as he grabs his five seconds of courage by the balls and swings his door open. 

The sound of you being fucked is made even more pronounced in the hallway. Levi’s never admired his other hall-mates until now, because he knows they’re all either listening in the same horror as Levi used to or they’re out somewhere missing all of the drama. Still, Levi feels his heart thumping wildly in his chest as he raises his fist, and without thinking any of it through, he bangs his hand on your door three loud times.

The sounds cease.

Levi hears a flustered “fuck!” and a confused moan, each one from a different person, and now that he’s knocked, Levi knows if he does a runner, you’ll only know it was him when his door shuts in the now uncomfortable silence. Standing in the hallway, he knows he has to live out his embarrassment and see it through. 

The stranger pulls out of you in a fluster, staring down at you with surprise. “Should we answer it?”

You crane to listen, half-hoping it was a knock on someone else’s door and not your own, but you reluctantly glance up at him in shock and pick yourself up off the bed.

“Um…” you start, flustered and scanning the floor for something to put on. You spot your dressing gown slung over the chair at your desk and reach for it, giving the guy a pointed look as he scrambles for his underwear. You hoped it wouldn’t have, but the vibe is killed rather cruelly by whoever is banging your door so loudly. 

Tying the cord around your waist, you pass by the guy with a sheepish smile and smooth a hand across his chest. In a way, the stranger is surprisingly handsome, especially considering you only picked him out for the way his hair looked. He grins after a while and grabs his shirt, holding it in his hand as he leans to kiss your lips and slither past you.

“Lemme get it,” he suggests, already making his way to the door. You let him go without protest, simply standing to the side as he reaches the door, twists the handle and pulls it open. The map of muscles in his back tense when he sees Levi standing outside.

“Levi,” he says dumbly. Levi blinks in confusion. How does he know this guy, and more importantly, how does this guy know him? The stranger seems to pick up on his blatant confusion and shifts uncomfortably, “It’s Samuel. I live in Isabel’s flat.”

Levi visibly grimaces.

This city is just too small and he hates it so much. Why the fuck did the guy fucking you have to be someone in close connection to one of his closest friends, and why the fuck did it have to be the guy involved in the sex Levi has just jerked off to?

“We met?” Levi decides to ask.

“Not officially,” mutters Samuel.

Levi ignores him and glances back into the darkness, schooling his features into disinterest with all of his strength when he sees you standing in the shadows.

The revealing V of your dressing gown attracts his attention, his eyes trained on the curving line of your breasts pushed together by your folded arms. He looks up to your neck and face, shining with a thin sheen of sweat, and then finally acknowledges your face. 

Your makeup is smudged in a way that makes Levi’s cock twitch again, but he refuses to feed in to the pleasure he so badly wants to seek at the sight of you, fucked-out and equally surprised to see him standing like a loser in your doorway. You take a single step forward in what looks like wonder.

“What…are you doing here?” Samuel asks hesitantly.

Levi remembers he’s there and glares at him. “I live next door.”

“Oh,” says Samuel.

“I don’t care that you’re fucking. Trust me, I don’t.” He’s lying. “But can you be quiet about it?”

His voice cuts deep, making Samuel flinch, but in Levi’s peripheral he sees your face twist into an amused smile, your feet shuffling across the wooden floor to arrive by Samuel’s side.

“She’s not that loud,” Samuel attempts to say, in a pathetically unenthusiastic voice. Even he must know to an extent that you’re actually extremely loud.

Levi’s brows raise. “It’s not her I’m bothered about.”

“Oh,” Samuel says again. He turns to look at you like a deer caught in the headlights, but when his face drops at the look of amusement on your face, something tells Levi that Samuel may have expected you to defend him the way he just tried to defend you. 

Samuel’s eyes narrow and he snatches himself away from the door to find his shoes and phone. “Whatever man. She’s a slut anyway, you must be used to it by now.”

Levi hums, his eyes on you as you look back at him, unmoving, unbothered. Your eyes drop suddenly to his bottoms before pulling back up with your brows raised. After looking down with reluctance, Levi spots the cum he wiped on his joggers in a smudge across his thigh and he pauses.

Fuck. Fuck, fuck, fuck.

He can’t think of any other words.

Samuel slips his shoes back on and levels a dirty look in your direction, but you just smile sympathetically and wish him goodnight. He mutters something rude under his breath and barges past Levi on his way out, and Levi makes a point of watching Samuel go whilst trying to pretend that neither of you has just spotted what is drying to a crusty stain on his joggers.

Levi continues to stare down the hallway even when the door has slammed shut and Samuel has disappeared, but the sound of your feet shuffling on the floor makes him look back. He must be a good actor, because your brows furrow for a moment when you lock eyes, as if you aren’t sure whether or not he’s angry.

Of course, Samuel had been right. You were a loud fuck, you were a bit of a slut, and Levi is very familiar with the guests coming and going from your bedroom. But none of that matters at all now he’s here, looking at you hidden underneath a dressing gown, your lips parted with hesitance.

Levi stares at you for a second, wondering what he could possibly say to you now that the chance is right there. He should have known he’d say something stupid — Levi copies your facial expression and clicks his tongue: “I know you can actually do better than that.”

His words take you by surprise, but he watches as your wide eyes soften and your smile twists — his stomach churns, thrilled, enamoured. If he was stupid, he’d push himself into your room and kiss you, but luckily, he’s exhausted his daily dose of stupidity and fallen back into his usual state of normalcy.

“Oh, really?” you ask sarcastically. This is the first time he’s heard you talking since your shy little hello a few days ago, and without a wall between you and some dude’s dick up your pussy. 

Levi hums, weaker than before. “Him, of all people?”

“Well, I don’t pick them for their personality,” you tell him, and he blinks as he realises that you’re actually discussing the people you bring back to your room. Levi lets it sink in until it does, deep in his stomach, and he feels his neck burning.

Suddenly, Levi is uncomfortably aware of how aware you are; you know you’re loud, and you know Levi can hear every moan and cry and whimper, every thud against the wall, every gasp of breath, every boy. And something tells him that none of that is accidental.

“...Thank god for that,” he drawls finally, his gaze hardening on your own. This time, you hum, mockingly, and tilt your head while you look at him.

Levi doesn’t know how long he stands there for. All he knows is that the tension between you is so thick it’s almost choking him. He doesn’t even know if you can feel it too — the unimaginable jolt of sexual tension coiling around his body like a snake, his whole body vibrating excitedly. 

It would be so easy to move forward towards you. Levi doesn’t even think you’d refuse him. The sultry look in your eyes is inviting, enticing, and he lets his gaze wander back to the slip of skin above your breasts before he snatches his gaze back.

“I’ll be more quiet, if that’s what you’d like,” you say after a while.

He doesn’t say anything at first. Just looks at you for a second, weighing his options. Then, his gaze softens and he grunts — no. Be as loud as you want.

You seem to understand, for the smile widens into a pleased grin. “Alright. Sorry, Levi.”

He prays that you didn’t just see his body flinch as you said his name. Levi grunts again and waves his hand dismissively, turning for his room before the excitement of everything makes him become stupid again. He’s done enough stupid things today, thank you!

“Night, Y/N,” he says through clenched teeth, and if he had looked back, he would have seen the smile widen to a degree he could have never even expected, the confirmation you needed being your name on his lips, a name he would have only heard had he been listening.

Levi refuses to give in to his dumb urges and leans his back against his door when it shuts closed, listening shamefully as you hesitate before closing your door behind him. Finally, he lets out an exhausted breath and closes his eyes again.

For fuck sake. He’s a moron.

A moron who wants to fuck his neighbour, and is pretty sure that you know it.

Would you let him?

Levi stops himself from groaning like a pathetic loser when he thinks of you again, this time opening your door and letting him in, slipping the gown down your arms so that your breasts fall out for him; his hands grabbing them, pushing you back on the bed you were just being fucked on; his dick slipping inside of you, your cunt clenched around him, lips on his hands, cum filling you up like a cake, pooling out of you—

Levi feels his cock twitch again. He sighs loudly. 

He’s going to need another shower. Preferably a long cold one. Hopefully cold enough to send him into shock and kill him, just to spare him from the humiliating reality that Levi Ackerman has become an infatuated sad fuck with a raging hard crush on his stunningly sexy neighbour. 

Levi groans again. Fuck.

[orchidyoonkook]

To What We Were Before, And All The Things After | JJK | Ch. 8

Title: Photo Shoots and Blasphemous Discoveries

Pairing: Prince!College Student!JK x Fine Arts Major!(F)!Reader

Series Rating//Genre: (M) | College AU, Mild Royalty AU, Smut, Angst, Fluff, S2F2L, Indiffernce to lovers, sloooowwww ass burn

Summary: You're just there to help JK with his final project, so why are you being doused in water, facepaint and smoke? Art. Art is why.

Warnings: T, language, fluff, angst, honestly this one's kinda wholesome and fun, some photogrpahy jargin in there, but nothing a quick google search can't fix if you really need to <3, it's mostly surface level jargin. Also the smoke machine works cuz JK has great ventilation due to the massive windows being open, so don't worry bout that XD, some light and fun name calling, some world building. Ask if you need clarification on anything. That's all I think!

Word Count: 11,684

Release Date: September 1, 2024. 4:30PM

A/N 1: Surprise! Happy JK Day.

Series: Chapter One | Chapter Two | Chapter Three | Chapter Four | Chapter Five | Chapter Six | Chapter Seven

PJK [7:36pm]: Saturday afternoon. my place. 11am.  PJK [7:36pm]: bring an extra set of clothes, something warm. Sweats if you have them. PJK [7:37pm]: also, Im gunna need your shirt size

The first three weeks of November have flown by and dragged on at the same time.

The weather’s getting colder. You need a thick jacket if you want to be anywhere outside, and all leaves have fallen from the trees, leaving pines the only ones left with their winter coats on. Hot chocolate from greenhouse cafe has become part of your life’s blood so you don’t freeze, and gloves with pocket warmers inside them are once again a part of your everyday. 

But November skies have returned. And you frequently set up camp on the drying grass beside the greenhouse, dressing your canvas with oil paint to their likeness as it’s the only paint that doesn’t dry the second it’s out of the tube in the cold, static air.

Jungkook told you earlier in the week the shoot would most likely be this weekend, and that he just had a few final strings to pull together before being able to confirm. So with that in mind, you intentionally tried to finish all your work before this weekend, knowing the shoot will take a while to complete.

He mentioned it may leak over into Sunday depending on how much you get done on the first day, which is fine with you considering you usually spend Sunday evenings at his place anyway. You’d consider it an extended edition of your regularly scheduled broadcast.

And speaking of regularly scheduled, you haven’t missed a single movie night since Nel left. Granted, it’s only been three weeks, but even missing the two you did because of Nel had made an impact. 

You’d gotten so used to them, having that time to destress and unwind before the week starts. A nice little routine that helps reset you both mentally and physically.

Suddenly not having that was…a weird feeling you try not to remember. 

And you are more than happy to never miss another one ever again.

You aren’t sure what Jungkook tells Adaline he’s doing during movie night, but she’s never interrupted you, not even once. And it’s something you are increasingly grateful for, because she is one of the things you destress from as your unspoken rivalry always amps up the closer to exam season you get.

It’s Thursday evening, and you’re in your room finishing up a Microeconomics 3 assignment while piano music plays on a speaker in the corner. You use it to help you focus, and it’s working its magic as you’re finishing your work in record time. 

Music has always helped you work better, and you credit it largely with how you’ve been able to keep up with everything in your schooling.

Yuri’s in her room, doing homework as well you assume. Or maybe texting Tai—the dreamy, big dicked Ilcalos island Count—you swear she’s only put her phone down for sleep and showering, as she’s constantly checking to see if he’s messaged her. And you hope it turns out well for them, Yuri deserves someone who treats her well. Especially after the whole Jungkook debacle—which you’re not allowed to bring up—and then the poor rebound you aren’t allowed to talk about either. You’re just happy she’s finally found someone worth her time.

Picking up your phone, you shoot Jungkook a text back.

You [7:40pm]: okay! saturday at 11 sounds good. I’ll bring sweats and warm socks

You message him your shirt size too, curious as to what he’ll use it for, but you’re sure you’ll find out in due time. You always do.

Subject to many of his homework assignments, you’ve been posed and lit and adjusted every which way. 

Jungkook is incredibly professional when you’re with him as a model. Light touches to correct posing, always with a ‘may I’ before he does, and he fills the room with kind words, good vibes, and fun music so you never feel awkward. 

At first you were really iffy on the whole idea when he first asked in September, because it would be the prince of your nation photographing little ol’ you. You weren’t anything special—yet—and you’re still never one for being in the spotlight, or for being on camera. At all. But if it was just for homework, and you were helping out a friend…you figured why not? 

It helped that all of your worries immediately faded when you saw the results of that first shoot.

An email from a very non-princely email address found its way into your inbox. The subject was the date of the shoot, and the only message inside being:

 thanks. Hope you like them. 

Let’s do it again sometime.

-J

When you opened the attachments you made a quick dive to catch the phone that fell from your hands in shock. 

You looked…beautiful. Like you never had in pictures before. Not in school, or at graduation, not even in the ones you took of yourself. 

You didn’t know you were capable of looking like that. 

Like how he saw you. Captured you. 

And you’ll never admit you’ve held your chin a little higher with every shoot since.

They make you feel powerful, attractive. More confident, and sure of yourself, as if you were always meant to be in front of a camera. Like you’d been in front of one since before you could walk.

They do that for you.

He…does that for you—with his pictures, of course.

Jungkook is very talented. Very skilled with his camera, and you find yourself looking forward to the concepts he comes up with every time. Trusting him and whatever his vision is wholeheartedly. 

Though a small, immature piece of you is also pleased he still wants you to model, and not Adaline. That he finds you easier to work with over her.

Your competitive streak never fails to come out, even with the smallest, secretive things.

Take that Adaline.

You gladly help him out with his homework, and he does the same for you. 

If you ever need a male reference or a profile study. Anatomy practice, features practice, likeness practice. Anything and almost everything, all you have to do is ask, and he sits still or places whatever you need in front of you while you sketch.

Hands, however, have always been a personal favourite of yours.

They’re one of those things that can be drawn a hundred different ways and never look the same. Always a new position you can put them in. Consistently able to shake things up. And one set is never like the others—like eyes. There’s little differences in all of them and that’s where their magic lies.

You do these studies at the greenhouse, it has the best light to shadow ratio. When you ask him for one, he’ll switch to working with one hand, while the other does whatever you tell it. Normally either placed on your table or if there isn’t enough room, which nine times out of ten there isn’t because of all your supplies, you stick your foot on the lower metal frame of his table and he rests his arm, wrist or palm on your up bent knee. 

Due to this, you’ve unintentionally come to find out that his hands are very strong, very calloused, and very, very warm…

Also! Aside from hand studies, you love loose figure studies because they’re great warm up sketches. And what Jungkook doesn't know is that you have dozens of warm up sketches of him. Doesn’t know you sneak pictures here and there when you can, hiding them in a hidden album on your phone entitled ‘hmwk screenshots.’ And he definitely doesn’t know that when he’s sitting at the cafe, nose deep in assignments, you doodle his features or his outfit in real time.

A nose here, a jacket there. A muscular forearm covered in tattoos also tends to find its way onto your page every so often.

He’s got a good physique. And the ridges make for excellent anatomy practice. So does the intricate line work of tattoos, and fabric rippling. Especially in drastic lighting. Consistency is key in maintaining and improving your work and it’s not like any of these sketches will ever see the light of day anyways. 

They’re just, well…practice. 

A sigh escapes you, and you refocus on finishing your microecon work. You still have two more assignments to get done before Saturday at eleven.

“And why are you working with some random girl when I’m available, again?” Adaline asks. She’s currently sitting on Jungkook's couch in your spot. He’s setting up tomorrow's materials against the big white wall by the floor length windows that showcase his balcony.

It’s why he chose to live here instead of in the dorms or on campus. His place isn’t enormous, like most people would think, it has enough room for everything a regular student needs: bedroom, kitchen, workspace, living room, bathroom, even a guest room. But the one thing he keeps different is the big white wall where a dining room would normally be. 

Jungkook’s place has high ceilings, 10 feet tall, which is higher than the average but not excessive. And the wall that connects his kitchen to the balcony is a perfect mock studio. He can even keep all his equipment there; lights, gels, backgrounds, tubs full of props, camera cases, lenses, and more all stored in neat shelving against another wall. 

“Because students volunteered for extra credit, and she’s who was assigned to me,” a small lie, one he was sure that Adaline wouldn’t dig into too deeply. 

“Why didn’t you tell me I could volunteer?”

“Because you didn’t need the extra credit?”

She pouts, and goes back to her phone.

Adaline also doesn’t know it’s you he’s photographing and that is one hundred percent intentionally planned by him. 

He could sense something between you two after you made that one comment after fall break. He notices now how you stiffen slightly every time he mentions Adaline, and the one time he mentioned you in passing to test the waters, Adaline changed the conversion topic almost immediately. A look of annoyance, or maybe even insecurity in her eyes.

So he’s been lucky that Adaline has never wanted to see any of his schoolwork prior to or after the singular shoot he did with her. 

Lucky she hasn’t seen your face fill up his screen constantly. 

And extremely lucky that she doesn’t know about the hidden folder buried deep in his desktop labeled ‘eqpmt rcpts’ filled with dozens of candid shots of you.

To be fair, you don’t know about them either. They’re random, shots taken every now and then where he thought you looked happy, focused, or just existing. True candids of the most candid person he knew.

It started that day with his first assignment from Professor Hirmer. He’d taken those quick pictures of you painting, and then simply never stopped. 

He has pictures of you in the courtyard, walking and talking to Yuri, you smiling. He has some he took on his phone when you’re over for movie night, invested in the film or talking to him. And a bunch of you painting at the greenhouse. It’s hard to take secret candids when he’s right beside you, but he manages seeing as you haven't caught him yet.

He even has a few of you and Nel, love clearly written on your face in every single one of them.

Whenever he spots you before you spot him, and he has his camera on him, he takes a couple. 

They’ve amassed into a healthy sum, but he thinks of it as a harmless habit as no one will ever know. And it’s not like he’s following you around to take them or using them for anything nefarious. 

He just likes taking your picture. Capturing your spirit, your candor. 

Your realness. 

You are wholly yourself, always, no holding back, all of the time. 

And to him, it feels like coming up for a breath of fresh air.

“Hey!” you say as you let yourself into Jungkook’s apartment. You’d knocked but no one answered and it was currently 10:56am on Saturday, so you knew he was here. Plus, his door was unlocked.

“Jungkook?” you call. 

No answer.

You take your shoes off after closing the door and locking it. He should really keep his door locked. 

Very quickly become best friends with the couch, you toss your backpack of warm clothes on the floor while you wait for him to make an appearance. 

There’s shoot equipment everywhere; lights in the corner, some with soft boxes on them, gels laid out on the coffee table, and what you’ve come to learn is a lens case sits on the couch beside you in Jungkook's usual spot. 

Jungkook has also somehow managed to find some small trees in blue ceramic pots and what you’re pretty sure is a smoke machine. 

But the most peculiar thing is what looks to be a kiddie pool up against the wall with a folded tarp at its base. 

Well that's…interesting…

You hear a door open somewhere in the apartment and running water. 

“Jungkook? That you?”

“Hey! Yep. Just give me a sec, I’m almost done.”

The water sounds cease and Jungkook makes his grand entrance as he turns the corner holding a large watering can. Your eyebrow raises.

“For the trees?” you ask.

“What?” 

You point to the watering can currently making his veins pop. 

He laughs, “Oh! No. This is for later. You’ll see,” and walks to the other side of the room by the pool. 

“Aren’t we mysterious today,” you say, following him with your eyes. He’s in ripped black jeans that accentuate the muscle definition of his thighs, and a matching baggy shirt. When his back is turned you snap a quick picture. The fabric folds on his baggy shirts are some of your favourite mindless things to cool down sketch.

“Nah, just focused. We have a lot to get through today.”  He sets down the watering can and you can see the moment the switch flips from friend to photographer. “The guest room is ready for you. There’s a clothing rack inside with each look labeled. There’s also makeup and face paint, if you could bring out the make up after you're done changing, that would be great. We’re gonna start with ‘Bright and Bold’, okay?” 

You usually use the spare room as a change room when you have to switch clothes for a shoot. But they were always from your own closet. He’d tell you the concept he was going for and you’d bring a few options to choose from.

Makeup you were used to, though. Jungkook loves abusing your artistic abilities for his shoots in the way you decorate your face or body, saying they make his works a level up from the rest of his classmates. 

They also usually make for some of the coolest pictures you have of yourself.

This is the first time he’s ever bought clothing, though.

You shouldn’t be as surprised as you are, this being his final assignment for an important class, and him being as serious as he is about his work and the final product. But you can't help it, you’re excited to see everything he’s chosen for the shoot. 

For you.

For the shoot.

“Yep, sounds good. Be out in a few,” you reply. He nods in acknowledgement before moving to set something up and you don’t stick around to find out, grabbing your bag and heading towards the door lined hall. 

The guest room is modest and clean. White sheets and gray comforter with, surprisingly, two throw pillows to spruce it up. The walls are white too, but you’re pretty sure that’s because Jungkook’s not allowed to paint the apartment per his landlord's wishes—a thought that still makes you laugh.

He could buy any place he wanted, but chose to rent. ‘To get the real university experience,’ he explained when you asked him the first time you went over.

Black furniture accents the room. A comfortable looking leather chair sits in the corner by a glass door that leads to the balcony. It has a small table beside it. There’s a dresser with a mirror in the other corner and of course, in the center of the room, is the bed. It’s a nice room. However, the newest edition is what’s keeping your eye.

Four shirts hang from the rack at the foot of the bed. The first is vibrant and colourful, the second a light neutral short sleeved V neck, third is strapless and skin coloured, and the last is made from thin black fabric you assume will be skin tight by the looks of it. 

As promised, they’re all labeled with a sticker. 

You throw your bag on the bed and grab the colourful one first. Its sticker says ‘bright and bold,’ and you put it on after removing the shirt you came in, then zip it up. The material feels heavy, durable and expensive. You check the tag on the inside seam and see it’s from Ilkaya, one of the biggest and most expensive fashion designers on this side of the realm. 

Your eyes bug out of your head, and you try not to breathe too hard for fear of ruining it. Your routine of thrifting all your clothes makes you pretty damn sure you can’t even imagine how much this cost. 

It feels good though, comfortable, not itchy. Really freaking expensive.

You look at yourself in the mirror, and you have to admit you look amazing. It fits perfectly in all the right places, compliments your skin tone, and even brings out your eyes. Begrudgingly, you admit to yourself that maybe there’s some sense in what the price tag could be. But it would still be a ridiculous sum for a jacket.

With one last look in the mirror, you grab the palettes, brushes and other tools off the dresser, and leave your designated dressing room for the day in favour of returning to the living room. 

Jungkook’s got music going from your shared playlist. Insisting on making one after your second shoot together, when he decided you both agreed to the arrangement becoming a regular thing. It’s a good mix of both of your musical tastes, even though you guys figured out quickly that you liked pretty similar stuff anyway. 

“What do you think? Does it work?” You ask as you turn the corner. 

Jungkook fiddles with this camera before looking and pausing for a moment to take you in. You hope you look okay, but the weird look he has on his face makes you backtrack a bit. 

“Is this not the one you wanted? It had the label on it. But I can go back and double che- ”

“You look amazing,” is all he says, and your worry slides off you instantly. He smiles wide, the one you’ve come to recognize as genuine. 

“Thanks. But the colour’s doing most of the work for me,” you say, smiling back shyly.

He has a white background set up, and two differently coloured gel’d lights sit on opposite one another, a third, smaller floor light faces the background. A backlight, he’d call it. 

Bright and Bold indeed, though there is the matter of-

“What do you want me to do for my make up?”

“Actually,” he sets down his camera gently on a table, “Is it okay if I do it? I want it to be a little more on the amateur side and I don’t think your years of refined talent would let you get the exact look I want.” 

That’s new. But you're here to stand and look however he wants you too, so you allow him with a nod. 

“Sure, where do you want me to sit?”

“Here’s fine,” he says as he pulls a stool that was off to one side close to one of the windows. “As long as you don’t mind holding the make up. I don’t have a table to set them down on.  Should’ve thought of that, sorry.” 

You can tell he’s mentally scolding himself for forgetting something.

“No no, it’s fine,” you say, taking your seat, “I don’t mind, really.” 

Placing the balls of your feet on the bar that holds the chair legs together, you make your lap even enough to set the palettes out, and use a hand to hold all the brushes. 

Jungkook laughs, noticing your feet as you sit, “Cute socks.”

They’re light blue with a fox face on them, and little ears stick up from the elastic around the ankle. 

“Thanks,” you laugh too, they’re your favourite pair. “I call them my fox socks. They’re lucky.”

“Let’s hope so. Wish me luck fox socks,” he calls to your toes, and you wiggle them in response.

He picks a brush and chooses a colour. “Close your eyes and let me know if I’m pressing too hard. If it isn’t obvious, I’ve never done this before.”

You close your eyes and whisper, “Will do.”

It's a uniquely intimate experience having your makeup done. Willingly letting someone get up close and personal with you, allowing them to see every potential scar, blemish and pore in the name of beauty and for the sake of creativity. 

In this case, it’s also a little questionable considering where you feel the brush putting down colour: cheeks, lids, temple, nose. However, you’re simply a pawn in a well thought out plan, so you sit and wait for him to finish.

“Annnd done,” he says, making a final swipe with the brush on your cheek. “You look great! I didn’t hurt you, right?” he asks, showing you the makeup in a palettes mirror. Your face looks like it’s been attacked by a rainbow in the best way. You smile, taking the mirror from him and looking at all the little details. 

For a first timer, Jungkook did a really good job. 

“Nope, I’m good. How do you want me?”

Jungkook leads you to the backdrop, placing you in front. 

“One second,” he says, grabbing a remote and clicking a button to lower the black out curtains on the windows, and then another that turns off the apartment lights. He also clicks on all the lights he’s set up and you’re quickly illuminated by a bright red and purple as well as the back light.

“I’m good to pose?” he asks. 

“Yep.” 

You love that he always asks first. It makes you feel safe and considered, consenting to every touch prior to its occurrence. 

Jungkook instructs the first pose to have your hands on the sides of your face, making slight adjustments so that you don’t cover any of the makeup. And for the first time, his touches leave little sparks where they land. 

You’re sure it’s just because of the lights or that the shirt is thick and makes you warm. 

Or maybe you’re just nervous and need to get the first photo jitters out of your system.

Soon enough, the camera’s pointing at you and you smile the brightest you can. He’s given you the prompt of ‘you’re so excited and happy you can’t hold it in,’ and you work with it the best you can, taking the first few with the pose he gave before being given full reign. 

It’s a decent way into the first shoot when Jungkook says, “Hmm…we’re not quite there yet, I need a bit more,” and follows up with, “How about ‘you’ve just been commissioned by the Modern Art Museum to have the leading showcase for next year’.” 

You smile the biggest you think you ever have at the thought. Because that’s the dream, that is the biggest goal you could achieve. An entire gallery of your work as the primary exhibition in the Western Shores Modern Art Museum? You couldn’t go any higher. It’s every artist's dream.

“There you go! That’s it!” The camera’s capturing quickly as you imagine what it would be like to have your own showcase at the WS-MAM. Incredible is the first word that comes to mind, your work in the biggest museum on the continent? You can’t even imagine, but you want to. 

One day, you promise yourself. You’ll do it one day.

“Okay,” Jungkook says, breaking your daydream, “Let me switch out the gels for new colours and go again. These are great so far though, you're doing amazing.” 

You hold your hand out for a high five and he smacks it. “Go team!” you say, and he laughs.

An hour and a half, a makeup fix and three lighting changes later, the first shoot finishes. You collapse on the couch and rub the muscles on your thighs. 

Jungkook plops down beside you, nose deep in the pictures he’s just taken, double checking everythings good.

“This is a fantastic start, I hope we can keep it up all day and finish before tomorrow.”

“Me too,” you say, and you mean it. Shoots with him are always fun, but inevitably tiring. “I’m gonna to grab a water, want one?” 

“Yes please,” he replies without looking up.

In the kitchen, you open the fridge to grab the two bottles and notice a box, stamped with a coffee mug that has a greenhouse inside of it, on top. The greenhouse cafe’s logo. 

“Can I ask what’s inside the cafe box?” you ask as you sit back on the couch and pass him a bottle.

“Ah, caught red handed,” he says, setting his camera on the table and taking a swig. “I may have asked Vivan earlier this week to make sure there was an overstock of tarts so I could grab them for you as a thank you for today.”

...Oh

That’s so sweet. He’s never gotten you a thank you gift before, especially not in the form of the most delicious pastry to ever exist. Maybe you should get him something for all the times he’s helped you with homework? A solstice gift maybe?

There’s heat forming in your chest and you really hope it’s not the beginning stages of heartburn. Maybe Jungkook has antacids. 

“You didn’t have to do that, I’m happy to help.”

“So you don’t want them then?” his shit eating grin making a glorious comeback because he knows what your answer’s going to be.

“No! I want them. I most definitely want them.”

He chuckles and puts his water down.

“Okay Donatello, glad you accept. Let's move on to the next set up. There’s makeup remover and cotton pads in the room, and some moisturizer too if you need it.”

The next shoot is called ‘Regality,’ and it has you in the strapless shirt. You find out it’s quite a low cut when you put it on. There’s enough to cover you, but there’s definitely a lot of your chest showing. However, under the shirt on the hanger is a scarf to cover yourself with, which you think is very considerate.

“Makeup?” you ask as you come out again, scarf covering you.

“Neutral, but strong. Kind of like how my mother does,” the background is still white, but you have a hunch that it will remain white in this picture, unlike the last one. “This one is going to be black and white, so try to emphasize your natural beauty.”

You ignore that he essentially just said you're beautiful, surely he’s just being kind and professional. Making sure his model feels good about herself. 

Right?

Right.

You put on a coat of mascara and go light on the shadow so it won't be too dramatic on film. You also use a shade of lipstick that adds just a tint to your lips and a blush that makes your eyes pop.

Jungkook has you sit on the stool from earlier and faces your body three quarters of the way towards the camera, but keeps your head turned in profile. 

“Oh! Almost forgot, one second,” Jungkook jogs to his room, coming back with a palm sized velvet box. “I had my mother send these over for this shoot. She has better taste than me, so I let her pick them out.”

Your stomach plummets to the floor when he opens the box. 

Inside are two dangling diamond earrings, and quite possibly the most beautiful things you’ve ever seen.

And now you’re terrified. 

“Jungkook, I can't wear those. They look like they’re worth more than my house, my car and my tuition combined.”

He takes one out and places it in your hand for you to put in, it’s the length of your index finger. And all you can think about is the potential houses you’re holding as you look at it. 

It’s a semi-rectangular earring, encrusted with four columns of diamonds that cascade down, each column longer than the previous. Like a sparkling waterfall you can attach to your ear.

“Don’t worry about it, mum said she never wears them anyway because they’re part of a set that the necklace was lost to years ago. Please,” his face is nothing but reassurance and small smiles, “You’re giving them a chance to live again.”

You couldn't say no to those eyes even if you wanted to.

So you reply, almost breathless and still against your better judgment, “Okay.”

Placing them in one after the other, they have a significant, understandable weight to them. You take a couple deep breaths so you don't freak out, and then you return to your previously designated pose, profile set, body facing the camera.

“Can I adjust?” Jungkook asks, after taking a step back and getting a wider view. 

You nod gently, still terrified of the earrings.

He makes sure the earring is visible and untangled first, before a finger gently comes beneath your chin, and lifts it a bit higher. 

The feeling they leave behind is all you can think about as you stare at your place on the wall, Jungkook snapping away. Not even the soft light illuminating your profile is enough to make you blink.

This shoot goes by quickly, and you’re relieved to get the earrings back safely inside their box.

“It’s like 2:45, wanna break for a late lunch?” Jungkook asks. 

“Please, I’m starved,” you say, returning from the guest room after tossing on the sweater you brought. “What's on the menu?”

“Well, we have two options,” he says, looking very faux serious, “1. We order out from wherever you want and awkwardly wait for it to arrive because the next shoot is not one we can’t prep for, then eat, then shoot.  Or 2. I make use of the ingredients I bought to make Bulgogi Kimchi Fried Rice and you get lunch and a show.”

You're shocked. 

Jungkook…cooks? Oh this you absolutely must see.

“Hmm….” you say, pretending to really mull it over in the same ‘serious’ tone, “I’m thinking I’ll have to go with option two, Chef. But I’ll lend a hand where I can, no use in standing around doing nothing.”

“Every chef needs a sous.”

With both of you on task, lunch is getting made quickly. Jungkook has all the ingredients to make ‘my buddy’s famous family recipe,’ a man who you assume is a chef back at the palace. The island countertop is currently covered in them; onion, kimchi, marinated bulgogi, gochujang, cooked rice, eggs and more. 

You’re surprised at how skilled Jungkook is in the kitchen. He’s cutting the ingredients like he’s been doing it his whole life and working the pan over the stove like the proper technique has been drilled into him since birth. 

Thirty minutes pass, and after both of you shed a tear at the cut onions and evenly split the remaining tasks, you’re sitting on the couch about to take your first bite. It smells delicious. Your mouth is watering and you can’t wait to dig in, stomach painfully empty by this point.

Finally taking that first bite, you nearly die of euphoria.

“Ouhmahgaud,” you say, mouth half full. Jungkooks on the other side of the couch, trying not to cough out his own food from laughing at your reaction. His eyes are nearly shut with how wide he’s smiling.

“Good?” he asks after swallowing his food first, like a civilized person.

You’re vigorously nodding as you swallow your own helping in hopes you’re understood.

“You’re giving me this recipe. I need it. I don’t think I will survive if this is the only time I ever get to eat it.” Your bowl is almost half gone already. Thank god there’s leftovers, you will be having more.

Plus, you want to make it for your mom when you go home, she’ll love it. 

“I’ll text it to you later, don’t worry.”

You’re very sure the look on your face conveys the gratitude you feel and the rest of the meal passes in a very comfortable and satisfied silence. 

Twenty-ish minutes later, after letting your seconds settle for a couple minutes, Jungkook gets back to business. 

“Next look is the most adventurous, it uses the facepaint. Are you okay with contacts?”

“I think so, never tried them before though. Just give me a few before we start so I don’t explode when I stand up.”

“All good,” he says, before quirking a lip and adding, “I really don’t feel like explaining why there’s kimchi and bits of you all over my walls to either of our parents, so take all the time you need.”

You laugh, firstly at the visual, then at the idea of Jungkook meeting your mother. That would be something you needed on record, paper and film.

After a minute, you get up, the guest room making your acquaintance once more. 

“This one is called Enigmatic,” Jungkook calls.

“Got it!”

You take longer than normal to change, maybe eating before putting on the skin tight shirt wasn’t a great idea. But at least it was stretchy. 

It has long sleeves, a high neck, and is a very dark midnight black. There’s a matching black scarf for this one too, and a safety pin attached to the corner.

“Okay, what's the plan for this one? I hear facepaint is involved,” you say, back for round three, scarf in hand.

The background of the set is black now, a close match to your shirt. Jungkook is by the smoke machine, currently set up on the stool and plugged into a nearby outlet. 

You hold up the scarf, questioningly.

“That’s to go over your head after the paint, but let’s see if you can do contacts first, they’re in the washroom. Need help?”

“No, I'm good.”

You don’t succeed at first, but after a couple attempts you look in the mirror and see purple eyes staring back at you. You love them.

“I look like a badass,” you say, returning. The smoke machine’s been turned on and it’s created a completely different atmosphere. At your reemergence, Jungkook shuts it off and comes close to give you a look. You freeze a little at the eye contact, his browns meeting your currently violets for a prolonged moment.

“They look better than I’d hoped, this is going to be great.” 

He reaches under the gels on the table for a piece of paper. It’s a makeup model face with the look he wants drawn on. “Are you able to do something like this?”

The diagram shows the cheeks, bottom half of the nose and down all the way to the neck as black, and the eyes and up as white, bleeding down into the black like smoke. You’re going to need eyeshadow for that part. If you did that with the face paint it would just become a gray mess.

“Yep, but it’s going to take some time to get it right.”

“That’s okay, I’ll use it to get the smoke machine properly set up.”

You use one of the palette mirrors and start with the white, covering the top of your face and making a good base layer for the eyeshadow. Then fill the bottom of your face and neck with the black. Carefully, so as to not make gray, you use a large brush to cover both sides with their respective eyeshadow shades, before blending them together like the reference. Your skin starts to feel like it’s on fire by the time you're satisfied and you check your phone for the time when you finally finish. 

4:37pm. 

Not bad. You put the scarf over your head and cover your ears with it, using the safety pin to hold it in place. 

“Done.”

Jungkook takes one look at you and lights up. 

“Have I ever mentioned how talented you are, and that you make my schoolwork so much more fun? Because I feel like I should again even if I already have.” Your cheeks heat, glad he’s excited you’re able to help. “How did you manage to make it look even better?”

“I do vaguely remember mentioning something about a deal with a semi-suspicious genie,” you joke. And both of you break out in giggle fits after a second, recalling the conversation from forever ago. 

Running through the same steps of lighting, posing, and adjustments, Jungkook then flips on the smoke machine and lets it fill the room heavily before starting to take pictures. 

You’re sitting on a small box this time, so that you’re slightly lower than the camera. Jungkook tells you to keep your hands at your sides and look up, just above the rim of the camera lens. It creates a very interesting look, and you're excited to see the results. 

He has you do a couple more poses before allowing you to do your own thing once more, trying to think of what would look mysterious and enigmatic.

You try to let the music inspire you. This is a look you’ve never done before, so you’re finding it a bit difficult to get into it despite Jungkook's helpful prompts and suggestions. But you flow a bit better with it as time goes on and you become more comfortable.

An idea pops up out of nowhere and you have him do a close up from the middle of your chin to the middle of your forehead. You stare straight into the lens to really showcase the purple contacts and makeup.

“This’s the one for sure,” he says, taking a few more. “Great idea, why didn’t I think of a close up in the first place?” You know he's talking to himself at this point. 

It’s close to 6:15pm when Jungkook decides he has enough pictures for this look. You don’t mind the longer shoot seeing as you set aside the day for this, and you can’t wait to see how these ones turn out in particular.  

You’re halfway through getting the face paint off, a mountain of gray stained cotton pads beside you, when Jungkook turns the music down.

“Let’s do a light, early dinner and then shoot the last one?” he asks. “I kept this one at the end because it’s going to create the most mess and it’ll be nice to have dinner out of the way for when I have to clean up.”

“More mess than this?” you point to the cotton pad mountain.

“Much more.”

“Light, early dinner it is,” you confirm, not wanting to have to wait till late to eat. “But can we order out so I have time to get the rest of this off?”

“Sure, what’ll it be?”

Clean faced, moisturized and ramyeon filled, you and Jungkook are preparing for the last shoot. Or well, lightly arguing.

“Water?”

“Mhm.”

“On me?”

“Yep.”

“From that thing,” you point to the contraption he calls a c-stand that will be holding the very full, very large watering can over your head for an extended amount of time, “And into there?” you point again to the kitty pool on top of the tarp that’s underneath the watering can c-stand. 

“That is the plan,” he looks amused at your slight distress.

“Are you nuts? What if it falls on me? How do I know it won’t unhinge and I’ll have a nicely cracked open skull to explain to my mother on Solstice break?”

“It won’t fall and you know it won't because you trust me and trust I wouldn’t put you in unnecessary danger. But if it does, tell your mom I say hi and sorry.”

You scoff at him, unbelievable. “So you admit there’s a bit of danger!”

Jungkook sighs, and looks to the ceiling. “Yes, YN. There is a touch of danger. But that’s only if, somehow, the c-stand I have triple safety checked, duct taped twice, and quadruple secured with four fifteen pound sandbags, decides that you deserve a watering can to the head.”

You side eye his tone. This wasn’t an unrealistic worry. But you do trust him. And trust he would never intentionally put you in any danger.

The trees are set up near the backdrop that looks like a row of brick houses. The shot is supposed to be ‘The Calm after Before the Storm,’ where you look relieved and happy in an ‘outside’ setting while ‘rain’ falls over you, also in black and white.

“Fine, but if I hear one peep from that thing,” c-stand staring down the tip of your finger once more, “I’m tuck and rolling and taking you out while I do it.”

“Very fair!” he says relieved, and goes to set up the stand with the watering can. 

You’d changed into the neutral V neck after dinner, and he’s asked for no makeup. So all you have to do now is stand and pose while trying not to die from foreign objects falling from the sky while you get wet.

Easy, right?

Wrong.

It is incredibly difficult, and you’re glad he made this one last because you’re at best; slightly miserable. Only the promise of a hot shower, hot chocolate with whip cream and marshmallows and your pick of whatever you watch afterward is keeping you going.

You started this one just shy of 8pm after waiting 45 minutes for the food. And it’s nearing 9:30 now. Jungkook has had to refill the watering can four times, dump the kiddie pool twice,  and you swear if you don’t finish within the next twenty minutes, you’re going to collapse from shivering.

To be fair, he does fill the watering can with warm water, but it only stays warm for so long before freezing water is pouring on you for the millionth time tonight. 

“I have one last idea, and by the way, I’m never doing this concept again so don’t worry about that, but also… don’t shut down the idea immediately okay?” Jungkook says. 

The watering can is almost empty again and you’re relieved that your time is almost up. That in itself should make for a good picture. He snaps it.

But his tone makes you a little wary, “Okay… what is it?”

“Pretend I’m Nel and you’re seeing me for the first time in six months, like you do at the end of April.”

Well, you didn’t have that down on your photo shoot prompt bingo card. 

Are you okay with the idea? You aren’t sure, but aren’t not sure either.

“I mean, I’ll try. Maybe you could give vocal cues to try and help? But don’t make it weird.”

“I won’t, promise,” Jungkook pauses for a second before adding, “Does he call you baby?”

You nod, and you distantly hear and ‘okay’ as you slowly allow yourself to get into that headspace.

You start, and the camera starts going.

You’re in the airport, waiting for Nel, ‘smoosh’ paper in hand. The gate opens, and through all the other passengers you see him, see that he’s in one piece, see that he’s safe. 

Your face illuminates with relief at that so much so that you don’t even notice the water that starts running down your face. 

You hear a ‘hi baby’ and in your head, it’s coming from Nel’s mouth as he nears you. You smile impossibly wider at the thought of seeing him, feeling him. Having him here with you. 

You look happy to see me, ‘Nel’ says.

“I am,” you reply. 

There’s repetitive clicking in the distance, but you ignore it. It’s probably just a flight attendant's heels on the floor.

“I missed you.”

There’s a long moment of silence before Nel speaks again.

I missed you too, baby.

You’re shivering hard now, lost in thought, unaware of reality. 

YN, Nel calls.

“Yes, love?”

“YN.”

“Babe, what is it?”

“YN, hey,” you're being shaken gently.

“Hmm? What?” you slowly arrive back to the present. Strong hands grip your shoulders. They feel nice. Solid. Deliciously warm. 

A very concerned looking Jungkook comes into focus, camera dangling around his neck and reaching for you.

Oh.

He’s the one holding your shoulders, trying to get you to come back to reality.

“There she is, welcome back,” he lets go and grabs a blanket from somewhere and wraps it around you. “We got the shot, go take a shower and warm up okay?”

“Okay,” you say, still a little dazed, but present enough to function.

You step out of the pool, holding on to the hand Jungkook offers to balance—Warm. Solid. Strong—and head straight for the bathroom, making a pit stop in the guest room to grab your bag with fresh clothes. 

The hot water cements your place back in reality, letting it warm you up and cleanse you of the day. 

You have no idea what just happened with that whole Nel thing, but it was a new feeling and a new headspace and you really aren’t in the mood to analyze or acknowledge, so it’s shoved onto a top shelf in the back of your mind for a later date.  

Once you're able to return to the directory of your mind, you don’t know how long you’ve been in the shower. But you know you’re clean, no longer cold, and in the mood for hot chocolate, so you step out and dry yourself with the towels Jungkook laid out for you on the toilet seat.

They’re soft. So soft in fact you consider only for a second shoving one in your now less full bag to take home with you. However, you do rather enjoy your friendship with the prince, so you think better of it upon second thought. 

Dressing in your sweats, you exit, tossing the towels in the hamper and your bag of the clothes you arrived in back into the spare room.

“Better?” Jungkook asks as you sit down in your spot on the couch for the last time tonight, wrapping up in the blanket he left for you. He’s in the kitchen but heard you coming.

“Much, thanks,” you sniff, “Is that hot chocolate I smell?”

Jungkook returns from the kitchen, two mugs in hand. “With extra whip cream and marshmallows, as ordered.”

You carefully take it from him, giving your thanks and happily slurping away the second it’s in your grasp. 

“Alright Caravaggio, what are we watching?” he asks, sitting down on his side, sipping away on his own. 

Sometime between you leaving for the shower and coming back out Jungkook changed into his own comfy attire, and tidied up the studio space as the pool and tarp are nowhere to be seen.

“I’ve thought really hard about this, all of however long I was in the shower,” Jungkook mutters something about 35 minutes; you ignore him, “And have settled on ‘A Miser Brothers Solstice’.”

He whines just a little when he says, “But it’s November.”

“So?”

“So, Solstice isn’t until the third week of December,” he’s saying this like his point is the most obvious thing in the world. 

It’s not.

“Your point?”

“That it’s November, and you want to watch a Solstice movie.”

You’re mockingly outraged.

“Who made you town grinch? I didn’t realize we had a holiday hater in our midst.” 

You loved the holidays, all the big ones, and the small ones, but Solstice was special. 

“I’m not a grinch, I’m just not there yet, mentally.”

“Then get ready to dive in head first, because you said I could pick the movie for risking my life for you and I pick ‘A Miser Brothers Solstice’.”

Jungkook doesn’t argue further, but he does roll his eyes as he puts on your movie with a small smile hidden behind his drink.

It’s sometime during the first act, you’re lying back against your corner of the couch, feet up and under the blanket when you ask, “What are your solstice break plans?” 

Jungkook takes a moment to part from the TV, very invested for someone who was so against it half an hour ago. “I have a lot of ‘princely duties’ to do for Solstice, like standing and looking thoughtful while my dad gives his annual Solstice speech,” you snort. “Then there’s the palace dinner, the parade through the capital, and the live televised event,” he says in a tv announcer's voice, “Where my family and I light the Solstice Star. And then there’s the new year and that in itself has another long list of things I have to do. Besides things like that though? Not much, and then it’s back here.”

Right.

You often forget who he is. 

That behind those kind eyes, and small smiles, behind the greenhouse study dates, and movie nights, and photoshoots, Jungkook has an enormous responsibility constantly looming over his head, counting down the days until he finishes his schooling. One that’s just waiting to drop onto his shoulders forever. 

You often forget that Jungkook is the Prince, first in line to the biggest throne in the realm. That you spend your time with not only Jeon Jungkook, friend and photography student, but also, His Royal Highness, Prince Jeon Jungkook, Heir Apparent and Future King of The Western Shores.

He just makes it so damn easy to forget.

You only asked because you thought maybe he had plans with friends or family, completely forgetting about all of the things the royal family does during the holiday season to celebrate with the nation, their people, and now you feel like an ass for even bringing it up.

But there’s something in his answer, or lack thereof, that snags your attention. 

“What about celebrating with your family and friends in private?”

“No time,” Jungkook’s stare goes distant as he brings his knees up and puts his arms around them, resting his chin. “Friends are always busy with palace preparations and dad’s not really the sentimental type. We celebrated when I was younger; big family breakfast, presents, tree decorating, whole thing. But after I turned about 13 or so, it started dwindling pretty quickly. Now it’s just me and my mom exchanging a gift with each other at midnight under the palace tree.” 

You don’t think you’ve ever heard something so heartbreaking yet beautiful in your life. 

“Your mum sounds wonderful, I’m really happy you two get that time together.” 

He looks at you, and you can tell by the look in his eyes he loves that time with her more than anything else. 

Solstice is supposed to be the time you spend with your family, blood or chosen. The time where you all gather to cook and bake, and exchange thoughtful gifts with the ones you love. The time where you truly cherish one another and count yourself lucky for all that you have. 

Solstice is your favourite time of the year.

To not spend it like that just seems…wrong. Horribly, painfully, awfully wrong.

“What about you?” he asks.

You don’t want to make him feel bad, so you tone down your answer, taking away the meat and giving the bones.

“My mum and I cut down our own tree and decorate it with the ornaments we’ve collected over the years,” you have them from every place you’ve ever visited, and your mum kept all the ones you ever made as a kid. You even get a new one every solstice to take a picture for and label with the year.  

“Then we bake solstice cookies until our hands cramp and survive off only them until solstice dinner; a turkey, honey glazed carrots, mashed potatoes with gravy, essentially if it waters your mouth, it’s there,” he chuckles at that. “We do gifts for each other too, opening them on solstice morning before making hot drinks and reading in the breakfast nook until the sun sets or till we get hungry, whichever comes first.”

Jungkook's eyes glow, radiating warmth, a lazy smile on his face as he listens to you. 

“That sounds really nice, YN.”

“It is,” you reply, looking him in those radiant eyes as you do. He looks… happy. Happy for you, that you get to have something like this that’s so special. It breaks your heart a little…maybe you can help.

“You wanna make some solstice cookies with me before break?”

His look of happy shifts to one of slight panic.

“What?” you question, and comically ask, “Have you never made solstice cookies before?”

He hesitates before answering a very quiet, “Uh…N-no.”

Your shock must be incredibly evident in the way he almost flinches at your reaction.

So you try your best to keep your voice level when you ask, “What do you mean, no?”

“I mean no. I’ve never made solstice cookies.”

That’s it. You can’t hold back any more, you’ve never heard anything so blasphemous in all your life.

“You’ve never what?  How is that even possible?”

He shrinks into himself a little more.

“The palace pastry chef always makes them because that’s kind of his job,” you stare at him in disbelief. “Is this really that big a deal?”

You swear there’s cog’s and smoke flying out of your ears. Solstice cookies are a religion in your household. You know dozens of recipes by heart, always finding a new one each year to try and up your game. You cannot imagine a solstice without making them. Wait no, actually you can, but it would be because you’re dead.

You held back in your answer earlier, for his sake, but you and your mom’s hands cramp up because you make enough cookies to give a box to everyone in the neighborhood. It’s one of your favourite traditions, and your neighbours even look forward to it every year, going so far as sending you both recipes to try out.

“Big dea—you’ve never fucking mad—not even when you were little? No one brought you to the kitchen and let you help? Aren't all your friends back home the pastry chefs' kids or something?” You don’t mean to sound harsh, but your tone is a little more passionate than you were intending. 

But Jungkook knows you, knows you occasionally get that passionate about things, and takes your outburst in stride. 

“Yeah, one of them is, but we don't sit around the oven and make cookies all break long. And his dad is always too busy to teach us even if we wanted to.”

You decide something. Right then and there.

“This year you are.”

“What?”

“Mark your last Saturday off because I'm going to show up here, ingredients-a-plenty and teach you how to make solstice cookies. I have a million recipes up here,” you tap your head with a finger, “But I'll choose the easiest ones. And I’ll come over early so we can spend the day making all of them. I can’t in good conscience leave for the break knowing you’ve never made them.”

He sighs. “Do I have any say in the matter?”

“Absolutely not.”

Jungkook stares at you and you can’t figure out what he’s thinking. You’re worried he’s going to say no anyway. To say you’re crazy and that they’re just cookies and that he has more important things he has to do on his Saturday before leaving for home.

But he doesn’t. And you should’ve known he wouldn’t, not after all the time you’ve spent together. 

You know better. Know him better.

“Alright Picasso. Sounds like a plan. I’m looking forward to it,” he decides, and goes back to watching the movie. 

It’s the first time he’s ever repeated a nickname.

“Wait! The wind guy wants to replace who?!” Jungkook shouts. 

You laugh at his confusion, and rewind the movie.

Jungkook wakes up sore.

His back is killing him, which makes sense since he’s half lying on the couch, half on the ground. 

The TV’s silently playing some slideshow of movie recommendations based on recent watches. 

He checks his phone, reaching for it on the coffee tale. 

14% battery. 

4:07am. 

Shit, he fell asleep. 

After the solstice movie he wanted to watch its predecessor. You had no qualms and so on it went, but he doesn’t remember much after the brothers started fighting.

Hearing soft, even breathing next to him he turns to see you, hunched over in your spot asleep, no doubt in the process of ruining your own back.

He should go to bed.

You should go to bed. 

But you’ve never stayed the night.

What should he do? Should he wake you? 

But you look so peaceful. And it’s nearing exams. You barely sleep when it’s exams season. 

Instead, Jungkook goes to check the guest room, but it’s a mess with yesterday's comings and goings. Make-up and clothes and hangers strewn everywhere.

Quietly, making a decision he hopes you won’t kill him for in the morning, he pads back to your sleeping form. 

It’s for your back, he tells himself. No other reason.

Deja vu sets in as he scoops you up from the couch, blanket and all. Just like last time, you gain enough consciousness to know to wrap your arms around his neck, but not enough to wake up. Your head rests on his shoulder and he selfishly savours the feeling as he walks down the short hallway to his room.  

Jungkook sets you down gently on one side of the bed, and your arms release, slumber undisturbed as he tucks you in.

He goes back to the living room to retrieve your phones. Yours is still at 56%, and he places it on the table beside you when he returns.

Climbing into his side of the bed, he’s careful not to touch you.

Though he wants to. 

Desperately. 

His sleep deprived brain is too slow to block out the thoughts that start to race. Thoughts of how he wants to turn around and pull you into his chest, slide an arm around your waist, and kiss you goodnight. How he wants to wake up in the same position, you still in his arms. 

But he’s also awake enough to know that will never happen. That you’re with Nel, and happy with him. That he’s drawn that nice, big line.

He’s awake enough to know you being in his bed is a fluke, unintentional.

A one time thing.

Plugging his phone into its charger, he sets it down on his own bedside table and pulls the covers up, falling back asleep.

His back facing you. 

An exhale wakes you.

Warm and cozy, you take a deep breath and roll to your left side, stretching on the way over. The scents of clean linen and something familiar find you. It’s comforting, that smell, but you can’t place it.

Another exhale, but this time you feel it as well as hear it.

You open your eyes to see a sleeping Jungkook face not a foot from your own and you jolt in shock, falling off the bed in the process. 

You look up from your new seat on the floor, ignoring the pain in your side from landing, and peer over the covers to check on Jungkook, who, miraculously, hasn’t woken up from your tumble. 

Relieved, your mind focuses on more pressing questions like ‘how did you get here?’ And ‘why were you in his bed?’ 

The last thing you remember was being halfway through the prequel to A Miser Brothers Solstice on the couch, watching Jungkook more than the movie because of how invested he’d become in the story. 

But you aren’t on the couch now. You were in his bed. 

The bed of the Prince of the Western Shores. 

The Prince who has a girlfriend, and you, who has a very long term, very serious boyfriend.

You hear a vibration, and following the sound, you find your phone on the bedside table. 

You quickly grab it quickly and go to the living room as quietly as you can manage. 

There’s a large number of unread texts. 

SlurryYuri [11:08pm]: hey, just checking in. You didn’t get home when you said you’d try for SlurryYuri [11:31pm]: Helloooooooo? YN? You there? SlurryYuri [12:14am]: it’s getting late YN, when are you coming home? Are you on your way?

Missed Calls: (3)

SlurryYuri [2:43am]: it’s been hours, so you better be dead or have crashed in the school somewhere. Either way I’m kicking your ass when you get home

Missed Calls: (2)

(Recent)

SlurryYuri [9:36am]: you’re still not home?? YN seriously, where are you SlurryYuri [10:23am]: If you don’t message me back in an hour I’m calling the police and filing a missing persons

Shit. 

Shit, shit, shit, shit, shit. You crashed hard, the shoot must have taken more out of you than you thought, so you never texted Yuri you were going to crash in a sleep pod at school like you’d planned too. 

You make quick work of messaging her back, glad she unintentionally gave you just the excuse you needed. 

YN [10:25am]: ohmygod I’m soooooo sorry, it was the school one. I fell asleep in the school. I’m sorry for worrying you. I’ll be home soon, promise. I’m just going to grab breakfast first. Again im sorry

SlurryYuri [10:27am]: thank the gods youre okay!! Don’t ever do that to me again YN! I don’t wanna be the one who has to break news to your mom!! She’s too nice.  SlurryYuri [10:27am]: and take your time getting back if your rushing for me, I’m not at the dorm SlurryYuri [10:27am]: Tai showed up yesterday out of the blue and took me dancing. We’re out getting brunch right now, and he has plans for the rest of the day SlurryYuri [10:28am]: Im just glad you’re not dead in a ditch somewhere

YN [10:29am]: me too, and okay I will. Thanks for checking up on me and making sure im safe, youre my favourite

SlurryYuri [10:30am]: damn right I am, see you tn <3

YN [10:30am]: see you <3

You exhale deeply, that was fucking close. 

Your stomach rumbles and it reminds you that you actually need to get breakfast. 

What could you have? You could order in again, but that means a wait time and you are hungry now. You could raid Jungkook's pantry, or see if he has any fruit, but then you think that’s a gross invasion of privacy when it’s not movie night and you haven’t asked if it’s okay. 

Wait.

The egg tarts!

You dash to the fridge, the marvellous sight of a greenhouse inside a coffee mug comes into view. Stuffing one down before you even get the box from the fridge, you exit the kitchen, sit down on the couch, setting the box on the coffee table. Once opened in front of you, you realize there is a healthy amount of tarts inside. 

How many did Jungkook ask for?

Speaking of, a bed-headed, yawning Jungkook makes his morning debut, still in last night's clothes.

“Hey,” he says groggily, walking over and stealing a tart.

“Hey!” you say back, not nearly as friendly. 

“Overnight tax, Picasso. Room isn’t free.” He chuckles at your faux outrage, popping half the tart in his mouth as he walks to the kitchen and grabs something from the fridge. Returning, you see it’s a morning protein shake. 

Gross. 

“So is that name the one you’re sticking to now?” you ask, picking up another tart. At this rate they won’t last until lunch.

“Yeah, that okay with you? It’s your name in my phone after all.”

“It is?” You didn’t know that.

“Yeah, has been since the start.” 

You’re quickly learning that sleepy morning Jungkook is very different from morning post work-out Jungkook, friend Jungkook and photographer Jungkook. His voice is deeper, he’s a lot more relaxed, and maybe even harmlessly borderline flirty, like he’s not all there yet. Softer. 

“Picasso’s just fine. A compliment really.”

“Oh? And what am I in your’s then? Hopefully something just as nice?”

You tell him like it is.

“PJK.”

“PJK?” he asks, incredulous.

“Yeah? It’s obscure enough to not be recognizable if someone were to see it, but enough for me to know who it is.”

“Nah, you need something better, PJK is boring.”

“It’s your initials.”

“And boring,” he’s really not letting up on this. 

“Well...what would you save yourself as?”

He mulls it over for a minute before deflating. “Okay, fair point, but I seriously want a new one. Something that can rival Picasso.”

“Do you have any nicknames? Something not completely obvious?”

For a morning person, Jungkook sure is taking his time. Maybe he was only a morning person before 8am, and then if he got up anytime after that he became a normal person who despised mornings like everyone else.

“Uhh…Vivian calls me JK, but that’s essentially the same thing as PJK. My buddies back home sometimes call me Kook, but I don’t think that works either. My mum has one for me that I will not disclose to anyone so long as I am breathing. So I guess not.”

A lightbulb dings over your head. “What about your security? Don’t they have special code names for you when they detail you? Like bear or eagle?” 

“Yeah, but it’s not nearly as badass as either of those.”

“Fess up,” you say. Now you have to know.

“Hare.”

“Hare?” Now it’s your turn to be incredulous. “Like a rabbit?”

“Yep.”

An idea pops into your head and an evil grin spreads across your face, one you know is already setting worry into Jungkook’s still awakening brain as you change his name.

“I don’t like that look,” he confirms. “What’d you change it to?”

You flip your phone around and hold it up to him.

“Bunny?” he says incredulously once again.

“Yes.”

“I give you Picasso, one of the greatest painters of all time, and you think giving me bunny is anywhere near on par with that?”

Teasing him is far too fun, especially when he makes it this easy for you.

“Oh absolutely. In fact, I think it’s the best name I could possibly set it as.”

Jungkook disagrees, vehemently. “No, change it back. PJK is fine.”

“Too late. You dug your grave, now lie in it.”

Jungkook brings a hand to his face, pinching the crease between his brows and takes a very long, deep breath, exhaling just as dramatically. 

You take that as your victory. But you’re sorely mistaken.

He launches at you, reaching for your phone and you scream, reaching your arm to keep it away from him. You have a fox socked foot on his chest to try and keep him back. His right arm is holding him up near your hip on the couches edge and he’s reaching with his left as far as he can without breaking his sternum on your heel. 

“Give it!”

“Never!”

You try to bring up your other foot to push him away, but Jungkook is strong, and forces both it and the one on his chest down with the arm that was supporting him, temporarily keeping himself up with his left hand on the back of the couch. 

With your legs out of the way he can almost reach his phone. But in his distracted state, misses the couch when he goes to put his supporting arm down again, and flips onto the ground, taking you with him. You scream, but his arms wrap around you as he makes sure to take the brunt of the impact, landing on his back, you safely secured to his chest. 

There’s a moment of pure stunned silence, you resting your forhead on his chest while you process, him not letting go of your waist as he gets a breath into his winded self, before you’re both laughing as you take in what happened.

“You okay?” he asks.

“Yeah, you?”

He takes a second to respond. “I’m great.” 

You push to sit up, and he releases you from his hold, but that was a mistake. Because now you’re sitting on his lap. 

It takes an entire three seconds of you staring at him and him staring right back before you jump and scramble off him as fast as you can. 

“Sorry.” you say in unison, you standing and him from the ground. It’s a painfully awkward 8 seconds before you break, cackling at the whole situation, and he joins in with you again. 

Jungkook brushes off his pants as he gets up too. “Got any plans before tonight,” he asks, business as usual.

“Nope, cleared my schedule in case this went long, I’ve got the whole day.”

You swear his smile grows two sizes.

“Well in that case,” he looks to the TV, then back to you, “Wanna start movie night early?”

An entire day to relax and chill out before the hell that is exams season takes your every free second? 

Yes please.

“Solstice movie marathon?” you propose slyly, near devious.

“I’ll get the popcorn,” he confirms, already halfway to the kitchen.

You spend the day like that, on the couch watching movie after movie, both pretending the little incident never even happened. 

But you make sure to go home after movie night this time. 

Chapter Nine: TBR

A/N 2: This chapter kicked my ass but it's here and I couldn't be more thrilled. I really like how it's ended so I hope you guys do too.

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

<- Back

[returnsandreturns]

have a little something

---

“Hey, what if you didn’t go out crimefighting tonight?” Foggy says, casually, after Matt makes his Dog That Heard A Noise face in the middle of a movie, one of the first nights that Foggy’s had to spend with him alone in what feels like decades but is more reasonably months.

“I know,” Matt says, sighing and getting up to get the suit, “but—I have to.”

“You don’t, actually,” Foggy says, lightly. “You could stay here and finish the movie or we could go get drinks or—go Christmas caroling. Ice skating. Over the river and through the woods. I don’t know, something seasonal. Or, I mean, I could take you to bed and fuck you so hard you can’t walk.”

Matt turns back slowly, halfway to his bedroom.

“What?” he asks, face surprisingly difficult to read.

Foggy could play it off as a joke, a light jest between friends, but everything’s so fucking weird now. For all that he considers himself the most sane and level-headed person in his immediate circle, he should still be allowed to be weird occasionally, too. Or a cool, sexy wildcard, at least.

“I could take you to bed,” he says, with significantly more intent, standing up and walking closer, “and fuck you so hard that you can’t walk.”

Matt’s mouth drops open a little and he’s blushing by the time he says, strangled, “Fuck, Foggy,” and takes the step between them to pull him into a rough kiss.

—

They were nineteen the first time they fucked, after a slightly delirious kiss in the hallway outside their final exam of their freshman year, a hug went awry. Matt tasted like black coffee and one cigarette that Foggy reluctantly gave him that he took one drag of before making a low dying noise and handing it back.

“How is that worth lung cancer?” he asks, pointedly.

“Shut up,” Foggy says, leaning halfway out a window. “You’ve probably gotten caffeine poisoning like fifteen times this week. Your eye is twitching right now.”

“Your eye is twitching,” Matt mutters.

The exam takes Foggy two hours and he waits for Matt’s extended testing time to be over, slumping down against a wall to sit on the floor. He looks up when Matt comes out looking pale and grim.

Foggy stands up.

“Bring it in,” he says, opening his arms, and Matt sighs and basically falls into him for an exhausted clingy hug.

“We did it,” Matt says, pulling back, face close in a way that means Matt’s going to kiss him. Not that Matt’s ever kissed him before but Matt definitely knows how close their faces are in relation to one another and has done nothing to rectify it and that means all these little bits of the safety lock Foggy has in his head holding him back from falling for Matt Murdock almost click into place.

“We did it,” he echoes.

Matt kisses him.

Click.

—

“What are we doing?” Matt asks, when they’re half naked and crammed uncomfortably into a twin bed.

“Dunno,” Foggy says, unzipping Matt's fly. “Who cares. Feels good.”

“. . .feels good,” Matt acquieses, moaning when Foggy get a hand around his dick, adding desperately. “Feels really good.”

The decision that Foggy will fuck Matt comes during an approximately two minute brainstorming session where they agreed on everything offered and then Foggy says, “Okay, so, anal,” and Matt says, “. . .that, please,” and then suddenly Matt’s ass was in the air and Foggy’s dick was inside him and they’re fully sober except for desperation and caffeine and it’s the weirdest fucking moment of Foggy’s life.

“Have you done this before?” Foggy asks.

“Just fingers,” Matt says, groaning when Foggy thrusts in harder. “Jesus. This is. . .more.”

“Does it hurt?” Foggy asks, concerned.

“Don't stop,” Matt says, urgently.

“Okay, eager,” Foggy says, happily, patting his hip.

Matt huffs out a shaky laugh, says, “It kind of hurts but not as much as it—oh, fuck, Foggy, right there, right fucking there, please, please, please!”

It's the begging that sends Foggy over the edge earlier than he'd like but he still beats Matt, who comes just from his erection rubbing up against the sheets when Foggy fucked him harder and harder until Matt's words get swapped for incoherent moans.

Foggy gets rid of the condom then lingers awkwardly next to Matt's bed, not sure what the next step is here.

Matt's curled up on his side and he smiles sleepily, saying, “I think, all things considered, we could probably cuddle.”

“All dicks considered,” Foggy says, climbing back into bed to pull Matt into his arms.

“All asses,” Matt says, voice muffled in Foggy's chest.

“Well, really just yours,” Foggy says, kissing the top of Matt's head when he snorts softly.

After a few minutes of quiet dozing, Matt asks, almost shyly, “Do you maybe want to do that again sometime? Just for fun?”

“Sure,” Foggy says, because that’s the only option he can think of. “I’d be into that.”

They meet up every few days during that summer to hang out and hook up and then Elektra happens and then Marci happens and then it seems like the moment has passed. They’re adults and they have the firm and Matt’s a fucking vigilante superhero and those few months might have been Foggy falling in love but they were also just something that happened.

They were fun.

--

“Wait, is this all it took?” Foggy asks, when he’s got Matt on his back in bed, Matt’s legs wrapped around him. “If I had just noticed when you got that vigilante spark in your eye, do you think I could have just—fucked it out of you?”

Matt’s laugh is a little crazy as Foggy lifts him up to thrust in deeper, his head falling back on the sheets as it turns into a breathy moan.

“I want to say no,” he says, “but you’re really good at it.”

“All you had to do was ask, buddy,” Foggy says, lightly. “Or beg—I do really like it when you beg, actually.”

“Foggy, just fuck me,” Matt says, laughing when Foggy stops abruptly, buried inside of him. “Please, okay? Fuck me, please.”

Foggy pulls out and thrusts back in as hard as he can, pushing Matt up the bed, and Matt says, “Foggy,” in a way that makes Foggy ache. He leans down to kiss Matt, messy, sitting up again to see Matt’s face looking soft and sweet. He’s always worn vulnerable difficultly, but so freaking well.

God, he wants to keep this. He wants to timestamp this as the moment things finally started to go right again. He wants Matt.

Afterward, Matt’s sprawled out on his back and Foggy’s idyly hovering over him and kissing his neck when Matt says, so quietly, “I think about what it would have been like if we got together back in college, sometimes. Like-actually got together.”

“Yeah?” Foggy asks, sitting up.

Matt nods and smiles faintly when he asks, “. . .do you wanna do it right this time? Please?”

Foggy smiles down at him.

Click.

[nyctophiliq]

✮ ┆A GET-WELL KISS. ada wong

last time ada was here she left you with wanting more and without a promise of getting back to you. despite promising yourself that you won’t be fooled by her again, you can’t help but give in to her cheap trick of trying to kiss you.

CONTENT WARNING.           18+ only, minors dni. SUGGESTIVE CONTENT UNDER THE CUT; female-bodied reader, set after re4r, medic! reader, mention of previous encounters, mention of sex, mention of wounds, stitches, flirting, making out, | ~1,1k words

A/N.                    got sidetracked from the event uhm… ada brain rot set in a hard but a little by little, i am getting to finish the event entries too !!! so i hope you guys enjoy this for the time being <3

the med bay was tranquil which was always a surprise considering that while your employer’s puppets were out during the night and show up in the morning for a quick tape and glue job, by this time you would be flooded with work. only she walked in, shielding her eyes from the bright lights that lit up the room.

after getting her onto the exam table and finally getting out of her what happened and where was she shot or hurt you were ready to cut her visit short because ada wong was one of your ethical shortcomings.

“any pain i should know about?” you can’t even look into her eyes to make sure she is not trying to hide her pain or any other injuries she might have missed to mention just to get out of here. “just the stitches but i think i can manage.”

“still, just to be on the safe side i’m gonna give you some painkillers if that’s fine.” you reach into your white coat to pull out your prescription pad, scribbling down the name and dose of the pills, tearing the paper before handing it to her. you wait with a puzzled look as she looks back at you, not taking the prescription, a small smirk on her lips like she is about to jump on you. “fine would be a get-well kiss.”

eyes almost falling out of their socket, a ball of air suffocating you in your throat as you hear her words. a get-well kiss… without a doubt, she was playing to benefit herself, because when was she not?

it happened before, you were on-call to treat anyone who came in complaining of whatever and she came- waltzing in and holding her upper arm with the look of a wounded dog who was too proud to admit their defeat. she sat in front of you, talked, and talked. still, it never felt like she was telling you anything crucial about herself or what she really wanted. the mystery drew you closer and closer, first a touch, then a look, and a kiss that finished with your blinds being pulled on for your office windows and her kneeling in front of you, pushing your thighs apart and tasting you until you were begging for more, begging her never to stop.

so little hesitation on your side might have been a tad bit childish, fumbling around with the piece of paper before tossing it on the desk behind you, but still understandable. ada was… a charmer, a sight for sore eyes, and any other metaphor that could overly describe how beautiful she was and clever with her words and tone.

took it slow, leaning up and closing your eyes like you were expecting a slap, afraid of the rejection if this was just a teasing remark and yet another way for her to confirm that you were still thinking about that previous incident. your hand takes her hand resting on her thigh, the other touches her cheek to pull her close and keep her steady against your lips. the warmth drains from your shaky fingers when both her hands attack your face, dipping you in your place as she stands up from hers, pushing you back onto your chair, and completely taking over every sense you have.

the smell, the touch, that one last look you get of her before your eyes shut once your surprise wears off. her fingers gripping your skull, a harsh grip as her tongue demands entrance into your mouth and you let out a lewd moan as her saliva mixes with yours. it’s so much more intoxicating than you remember, her tongue clashing with yours in a fight you can hardly call vicious when you give up so easily on dominance, so she can have what she wants.

and she wants you.

so she takes you, takes your breath away, and turns your head inside out as her kiss twists your thoughts. you can already feel the room warming up, your clothes becoming heavier with each nod of her head to position you the way she wants, the way it gives her the easiest access. you can’t help your hands flying over hers, clamping down on them as you battle the growing urge to escape her hold because this high that she is bringing you is gonna be a painful fall if she doesn’t come back.

and you don’t want her to leave.

ada’s nails dig into your skin to make sure you are paying attention, that you can’t escape as her tongue continues to duel with yours. she keeps her movements smooth, her lips soft, gentle even, as if trying to take everything you give without hurting you. you choke back a groan of pleasure as she pulls on your bottom lip with her teeth, leaving you gasping and unable to control your own actions. you open your eyes again to see her looking back at you with a pleased grin, her pupils dilated as her chest rises and falls.

her lips linger several moments against yours, barely touching as she huffs, out of breath and full of adrenalin. ada smiles wildly, her expression turning to one of adoration and affection. she strokes her fingers down your neck, hands drifting down to rest on your shoulders. her voice is quiet, her touch gentle. “feels much better… thank you, doctor.”

her seducing words never failed to kill every coherent thought in your mind, the way your muscles shook as your arms found their way around her body to keep her close. “a-anytime.” and it’s so embarrassing as you stutter, voice barely audible in the quiet sterile room. a wicked smile plasters on ada’s face, her fingertips coming up to run along your lower lip to cut that thin string of saliva still connecting the two of you. 

she sighs, still trying to catch her breath before huffing out a question, “so should i come back or…” she asks and you shake your head as you lean against her stomach, indulging in this newly found comfort.

“if it hurts some these…” you point behind yourself, hopefully at the desk where the prescription was. “pills should ease it and if you get a fever you should come back and see me.” the spy above you chuckles, her fingers now resting in your hair.

“and if i dont have a fever, can i still come and see you?” your eyes pop with excitement and if you had a tail it would be wagging a little too enthusiastically. you move your head, glancing up at her and nodding.

“yes, you can.”

[crdteezv]

Frat House - Winwin Ver.

DISCLAIMER (important): This is a continuation of a fratboy series I’ve done for all the Wayv members! I recommend you read the prologue here first so everything can make more sense. You can also choose the other members here or at the end if you are interested in seeing someone else!

Paring: !stoner! !fratboy! Winwin x f! reader

Genre: college! au, frat! au, smut

Synopsis: You continue playing an interesting game of Spin the Bottle/Truth or Dare with Ten and his friends. You were dared to spend the night with one of them. When the bottle was spun, it landed on Winwin. You wondered what type of things you and him were about to get into tonight…

Warnings: smut. !stoner! winwin, teasing, kissing, fingering, choking, manhandling, overstimulation, unprotected sex

Word Count: ~2.4k words

A/N: I FINALLY FINISHED THE WAYV FRAT HOUSE SERIES 😭! I’m really sorry it took me so long to complete, but it was a motivation issue, and I struggled to finish it. Since it was my first time writing a choose-your-own-ending fic, I found it a bit hard for me to do at first. However, I’ve now done all 6 members, and I’m really happy to have finished the whole series! To those who were waiting, thank you for being so patient with me, and I apologize once again for the delay. Anyway, I don’t think I can take on something like this again anytime soon, but it was still fun to make, and I hope you all enjoy this final part of the series!

After Hendery spun the bottle, it landed on Winwin.

You were relieved it wasn’t Hendery, though the result still surprised you. You knew it was going to be awkward since you and Winwin weren’t close. He barely spoke to you whenever you came over, and he usually stayed in his room.

Winwin smiled at you, not bothered at all by the outcome.

“Well, looks like we’re spending the night together,” he said.

“Seems like it.”

Hendery shot both of you a dirty look but held back from saying anything.

Not long after, everyone headed upstairs to sleep.

Now, you're in Winwin's room, and you can already smell the weed in the air. You notice some joints on the windowsill, and your eyes widen. He didn’t seem like the type to smoke. He told you to make yourself comfortable on the bed as he picked up one of the joints.

“Do you mind if I smoke in here? I’ll step outside if you want.”

“No, it’s fine. I used to do it a long time ago.”

The look on his face showed disbelief.

“Really? You don’t seem like the type to smoke.”

You were taken aback by his forwardness. “Excuse me?”

He chuckled softly. “Sorry, sweetheart, you just don’t seem like the type.”

“Hey, freshman and sophomore year were rough for me. What can I say?”

He laughed and sat in the chair by his desk, leaning back with his legs spread out casually. He flicked his lighter, covering the joint with one hand as he lit it. Inhaling deeply, he let out a smooth puff of smoke.

He looked incredibly attractive in that moment.

Each time he took a hit, he maintained eye contact with you, making you shift uncomfortably in your spot. It was becoming harder to maintain your composure, and you eventually had to look away, focusing on the moon outside the window. You noticed another joint on the sill and briefly considered joining him. Only Ten had ever seen you high. You usually preferred to smoke alone because you didn’t like being around others while doing it.

“You can take one if you want, love. I see you eyeing them,” Winwin teased.

You glanced back at him, considering it.

“I don’t know… I haven’t smoked in over a year, and I’ve been trying to stay away from it.”

He stood up from his chair, walked over to the window, grabbed the joint, and handed it to you.

“Come on, just this once. Besides, it’s been a while for you, right? You’ve been stressed about exams. It’ll help take the edge off.”

He did have a fair point. The whole reason you came over was to de-stress from your upcoming exams. Reluctantly, you agreed, and he handed you the lighter. As usual, you struggled to get it to work. It always took you what felt like a million tries before you got it right. Noticing your frustration, he sat beside you on the bed.

He gently took the lighter from your hand and lit it effortlessly on the first try. You felt a little embarrassed watching him do it so easily.

He watched closely—perhaps a little too closely—as you wrapped your lips around the joint, forming an O with your mouth. The sight alone made his body react, a twitch in his pants betraying his thoughts.

"Good girl," he said, knowing exactly what effect it would have on you. As soon as the words left his mouth, you instinctively moved your knee away, and he noticed you subtly pressing your thighs together. He silently registered this reaction.

You started to cough after inhaling, which he found oddly endearing. He was amused that you still coughed even though you had done this before. But when he saw a tear streak down your cheek, his laughter stopped. You shot him a dirty look and went quiet, unsure if he should make his next move.

“It’s okay—you look pretty when you cry,” he said softly.

For some reason, his words were starting to affect you. A faint arousal stirred inside you.

“Oh, shut up,” you muttered, but you couldn’t help the way your body responded.

He laughed, and the two of you continued passing the joint between each other. As the night wore on, he played some background music, and you started to feel more at ease. You even got to know Winwin better, something you hadn’t expected.

At some point, you both ended up lying on his bed, having finished smoking. You were wrapped in his blankets, playfully bantering back and forth.

“So, is this why you’re always in your room whenever I come over? Hiding away and smoking all day?” you teased.

He laughed at your question. “Well, some of the time, yes. But most of the time, I’m just sleeping.”

You nodded at his answer, but you were becoming more aware of how dangerously close the two of you had gotten. All night, you couldn’t stop locking eyes with each other. He slowly placed his hand on your face, cupping it gently.

“You look so pretty tonight. Even when we were playing truth or dare earlier, I couldn’t keep my eyes off you.”

You felt flustered by all the attention he was giving you. You never imagined you’d end up in his bed like this.

“Why are you saying all of this to me now?”

With his other hand, he wrapped his arm around your waist and pulled you onto his lap.

“Why not? I’ve been thinking about it the whole time.”

You felt him shift beneath you, something hard pressing against you. He just smirked, his hands now resting on your waist. A warmth spread through your body at his touch, and you could feel yourself melting on top of him. The sensation was overwhelming, and instinctively, you started to rub against him back and forth.

“Oh, you really like this, huh, sweetie?”

You were too embarrassed to respond, so you just nodded, feeling a wave of heat rush over you. You couldn’t even bring yourself to look him in the eye. He gently lifted your chin, pulling you closer, until you were just inches away from his face.

“Look at me when I’m talking to you.”

Your heart was racing faster than ever. The smoking from earlier had heightened your arousal, and all you wanted was to kiss him—but something was holding you back, telling you not to.

But you couldn’t resist him. Leaning in, you pressed your lips against his. He was slightly taken aback by your boldness but didn’t mind at all. His hands lowered to your hips, slowly gliding down to cup your ass. You let out a low whimper, and he smirked against your lips, taking note of your reaction.

With his hands still on you, he pulled you even closer and broke the kiss with a soft moan. “You’re excited about this, aren’t you?” he teased, clearly enjoying how much he was affecting you.

All of this was overwhelming, but you craved more. Wrapping your arms around his neck, you kissed him again, deeper this time.

But he had other plans for you.

His hands roamed over your body, caressing the arch of your lower back. The simple touch made you flinch—it felt like your whole body was on high alert, hypersensitive to everything. His hand slipped lower, and when he pressed against the wet spot through your shorts, he grinned. The smirk on his face made your heart race even faster.

“Get up for a second,” he murmured, signaling for you to stand. You did as he asked, and he swiftly removed your shorts and panties.

You straddled him again, and as you settled back down, he slid one finger inside you. The sensation made you moan almost instantly. His cool touch combined with the heat radiating from your body sent waves of pleasure through you. You threw your head back, overcome by the feeling.

“God, how are you this wet already? All we’ve done is kiss,” he said, his voice laced with amusement. “Who would’ve thought you were this needy for me?”

“P-please… don’t stop…” you managed to say, breathlessly.

“Oh, I don’t plan on it, love,” he replied with a smirk. He added a second finger, and you let out a louder moan, unable to contain yourself. The pleasure was too much, and neither of you seemed to care if the others in the house could hear.

Lost in your own world, you started to move your hips, riding his fingers, desperate for more. He loved every second of it, but your sounds were growing louder, and a brief hint of anxiety flickered in his eyes. Not wanting anyone to interrupt, he lifted your shirt with his free hand and made you bite it, holding it between your teeth.

You were confused for a moment until you realized what he was after—your tits.

Your boobs were finally on full display, and his gaze lingered. He hadn’t been exaggerating when he said he couldn’t keep his eyes off you tonight, especially with the way your tank top hugged your body, clearly revealing that you hadn’t bothered to wear a bra. 

With his free hand, he groped one breast, leaning in to suck and gently bite the other. You were a trembling mess, overwhelmed by sensation. Tears welled up in your eyes as you bit down hard on your shirt, trying to muffle your sounds. Everything felt so sensitive, so heightened. It wasn’t supposed to feel this good, but somehow, he was making it impossible for you to stay quiet.

Suddenly, he switched sides, sucking the other nipple and kneading your boob while adding a third finger inside you. Your body was shaking, teetering on the edge, and you didn’t know how much more you could take. You felt his smirk against your skin.

“You’re getting close?”

All you could do was nod, unable to form words. He stopped teasing your chest and began pumping his fingers faster. To make it even worse, he started rubbing your clit with his thumb. The sensations were too much, pushing you closer to the edge. Desperate for release, you pulled your shirt off completely and wrapped yourself around him, burying your face in the crook of his neck. Your heavy breathing against him sent goosebumps down his spine.

And then it happened—you came hard, spilling all over his fingers and the bedsheets, making a mess of everything. But before you could catch your breath or say anything, he flipped you onto the bed, now on top of you.

“Now it’s my turn,” he said with a dark grin.

“But I just—”

“I don’t care,” he interrupted, his voice firm. “Besides, you can take it.”

He quickly stripped off his joggers, boxers, and shirt, leaving you no time to protest.

“I know you can,” he coaxes, leaning in close.

He had such a stern and cold look in his eyes that it sent shivers down your spine. You could see how long and girthy he was, and while you had a feeling he’d be packing, it still made you nervous about whether or not you could take him. But before you could dwell on your thoughts, he wasted no time and slowly pushed his way inside you.

You threw your head back against the pillow, letting out the loudest moan of the night. Everything felt so sensitive right now that there was no way to hold back your moans. He started fucking you with a rough and steady pace, expertly hitting all the right places, making you feel good in ways you never imagined.

As he thrust deeper into you, the intensity grew, and he had to grip the top of the headboard for support. Although he didn’t heavily express it, you sensed that he felt extremely sensitive too, but he was experienced enough to keep his composure.

His golden necklace dangled in front of you, its coolness contrasting with the heat building between your bodies. All you could do was lay there and moan for him to take it easy and slow down. The sensations were becoming overwhelming as you started to feel overstimulated. You had just come all over his fingers, and now it felt like you were on the brink of doing it again on his cock.

“I-I don’t think I can last much longer,” you gasped, your voice breathy.

He noticed you tightening around him and wrapped one hand around your neck, shoving himself even deeper inside your wet core. You both teetered on the edge and with a few more thrusts, you felt the wave of pleasure crash over you as you both climaxed at the same time, making an even bigger mess than before.

He instantly pulled out of you, spilling the rest of himself onto your chest. Letting out a sigh, he chuckled to himself, glancing down at the scene before you.

“Look at this mess we made.”

You looked down, and all you could see was a mix of your fluids. Embarrassment washed over you, and you instinctively shoved your hands over your face.

“Oh, I’m so sorry for this! I’ll clean it up, and—”

He instantly left the room for a moment and returned with a couple of washcloths. Efficiently, he cleaned you up and swiftly changed the sheets on his bed, the movements smooth and practiced.

“You didn’t have to do all this, you know,” you said, watching him work.

“I had to; I’m the reason I got you into this mess, literally,” he replied with a playful smirk.

You let out a laugh, realizing the joke he was trying to make. His casual attitude made you feel at ease, even after everything that had just happened.

“Besides, you still have to spend the night here, and I couldn’t let you sleep on a dirty bed,” he added, glancing over his shoulder at you with a wink.

At that moment, you forgot all about the truth or dare game from earlier, and Hendery was the one who had set this whole situation in motion. You didn’t mind, though; you both had grown closer from this, and you even found yourself a new smoking buddy.

**A/N: ** If you want to see what would happen if the bottle landed on a different member, choose here: [KUN] [TEN] [XIAOJUN] [HENDERY] [YANGYANG] 

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Nightlife 13

Warnings: dubcon, noncon, touching, coercion, manipulation. Proceed with caution.

Note: I know what you’re thinking, why the fuck are you doing this? Well, you wanted bouncer Lee and I did too. Also, short!reader, not sorry.

Part of The Club AU

You have to make the call. You have no choice. One way or another, your father will find out and it will be worse if it’s not from you.

Another D and you're below water. You have no chance now. You’ll be lucky to finish with a C average for the semester and with that, you’ll lose your entry scholarship. You don’t understand where you went wrong. You try so hard. It doesn’t matter, it seems the more you try, the more wrong you are.

You hit the green button and wait for the line to pick up. You wait.

Waiting.

Still waiting.

The voicemail answers. You’re not surprised. You often have to leave several before you hear back. Yet when your father calls you, you answer. You don’t hesitate. 

“Hey dad, it’s me. I called because… because I need to talk to you. Please call me back. Love you.”

You hang up after leaving the message and blow a raspberry. He hasn’t even told you when he’s picking you up from campus after exams. Another week and you’re going to be done. You already have half your dorm packed.

In those short spurts where you’re not at Lee’s, you're sorting everything into the donate and take piles. Most of it you’ll leave behind, things you won’t need at your dad’s place. Things you can replace.

As soon as you put your phone down, it vibrates. You huff and pick it up. You need to study, even if it doesn’t matter.

Lee. Again. You’re not surprised. You almost admire his persistence given your own inconsistency.

‘Still coming over, sweet thing?’

Shoot. You don’t remember him asking. That’s the thing about Lee. He seems to frame demands as questions. Or maybe you really or that hopeless. You answer him. Sure. Why not? Not like anything will change if you do.

You get your bag ready to go and head down. Your dorm mates are bogged down studying, a few already gone as their exams finished early. Life seems easier as them. You suppose that most people see the world like that; they want to be someone else, though no one would ever want to be you.

You sit on the curb and wait. You tune out the world with your headphones. It’s been a while since you listened to music. Really listened without any distraction. 

Your head pops up as you see the familiar car approach. You stand and cross the street. You get in the car. The routine is just that. You’re used to it. You haven’t told Lee yet either. He doesn’t know that you’re going home for summer. You don’t expect him to be happy to hear it but it can’t be a big surprise. All the college students are leaving.

“Hey, darlin’,” he leans over to kiss your cheek as you pull your earbuds out, “whatcha listening to?”

“Oh, just…nothing–”

“Nah, go on, put it on,” he insists as he hands you auxiliary cord, “I could use something new.”

“Really, it’s–”

“Come on, I wanna listen.”

You don’t argue. Why? It’s a small thing. It’s nothing. You unplug your headphones and shove the cord into the port. Your music plays automatically.

So come on, Virginia, show me a sign Send up a signal, I'll throw you the line The stained-glass curtain you're hiding behind Never let's in the sun

Billy Joel croons from the speakers as you place your phone in the cupholder. You sit back and buckle in as he hums and gives a thoughtful nod. He taps his fingers on the wheel before he pulls out.

“You got a taste for the classics,” he muses, “I ain’t heard this in a while.”

“Uh, yeah, I like it,” you shrug.

“Good song,” he remarks, “I’m a fan of You May Be Right, myself. But I’m not too picky. You listen to Seger? How about Elton? You seem that sorta girl.”

“Some, yeah,” you cling to your bag and watch through the window.

“Hickory missin’ ya,” he says, “ain’t ya excited to see him?”

“Yeah,” you answer glumly.

“Whatsa matter, then? Don’t know why you’d be so down when you got that rascal waiting on ya… and me.”

“Just school,” reply evasively.

“Ah, yeah, you were saying you’re having some troubles. Wish I could help.”

“Ugh, well… no one can help me now,” you plant your elbow on your door and put your chin on your fist.

“Now, don’t be moping ‘less you gonna tell me what’s going on,” he says grumpily.

You sigh. You can barely admit it to yourself. You don’t even know if you can say it out loud.

Your vision turns bleary and you sniffle. It’s too late. You should’ve asked for help months ago. You made promises you didn’t keep and now you have to accept the failure. You wipe away your tears and sit back.

“My GPA is garbage. I’m gonna lose my scholarship and my dad– my dad’s gonna kill me.”

“Oh, honey, kill you? Don’t talk like that. I’m sure he wouldn’t, not a sweet thing like you. Besides, if he’s an ass about it, you still got me, don’t ya?”

You nod but refuse to look at him. He’s sweet but he can’t understand. Your dad isn’t the type to just say oh well or to give second chances. This semester was a second chance and you blew it.

“Maybe it just isn’t for you. Schoolin’ and all. I know lots of people who never did it,” he speaks as he drives. “Or maybe you’re in the wrong kinda school.”

“Maybe,” you grumble and pick at the zipper on your bag.

“You can change, can’t ya? Pick something else. Something you’re better at,” he suggests. “Like I said, I went into the military. They offered me some school but I told ‘em not to waste the time.”

“I don’t know what I’m good at,” you sigh.

“Well, you’re good to me,” he says brightly, “you know I’ll help ya. I’ll take care of ya no matter what.”

“But you don’t have to.”

“I wanna. Why are you sayin’ that?”

“Cause… cause it’s a lot. Don’t you think?”

“No, wouldn't say it if I thought it was too much,” he rebuffs, “don’t get no attitude with me, now.”

“I– I’m not but… but… I don’t want to…” you shake your head and stare at the dash, “I’m going home for the summer, Lee. I have to go home. And I feel bad with you doing all this–”

“Going home?” He says so quietly, his voice almost cracks, “but, darlin’, I’m taking you home right now. Ain’t I?”

“That’s your home. I mean, my dad. I gotta… I gotta figure this all out. When he finds out–”

“You’re a goddamn adult,” he growls and grips the wheel tight, “you shouldn’t be so worried about him and damn it, he should be treatin’ ya a lot better.”

“I know, but he’s my dad. He– he paid my tuition. He’s gonna want me to work that off at the restaurant–”

“Work? He– What the heck is wrong with ya? You shouldn’t be workin’? Silly little thing. He’s your dad, he should be supportin’ ya, not takin’ from ya,” he seems angrier with each word, “what kinda man– and you’re gonna leave me for him?” He snarls, “just like that. You’re gonna hurt me?”

“Hurt you? No, but… but I have to.”

“You don’t gotta do nothing. Sounds to me like he don’t want anything to do with ya anyhow, so maybe you should stay in town.”

“My lease is over at the end of the month.”

“Mine ain’t,” he insists.

He’s quiet. You squirm and bite your lip, “Lee?”

“You said you was gonna marry me. How’re you gonna do that if you’re all the way somewhere else?”

“I know I said but… I’m nineteen. I thought you meant later.”

“I’m a lot older than nineteen,” he scoffs, “I’m not waiting til later.” He sneers through the windshield, “you said. You promised!”

“I did, but–”

“But? But you were just lyin’, I get it.”

You nearly choke. You weren’t lying. You just were caught off guard and didn’t know what to say. Like now. You're not just stunned by the sudden shift, you're scared.

“I didn’t lie,” you croak, “please…”

You cover your face and take several deep breaths, trying to hold back. He huffs and you feel his firm touch on your leg. He squeezes as he slows the car.

“Don’t cry, darlin’, alright? Don’t do none of that. I know you meant it. Let’s just figure this all out first, schoolin’ and all that. Alright?” He coaxes, “you know I’ll be there for ya, don’t ya? No matter what your dad says.”

“Yeah,” you drag your hands from your face.

“And I know you’re not gon’ leave Hick. He needs ya around.”

[ornii]

Folie a Deux IV: Jealousy

(I also Made an alternate Cover! Don’t know why)

A college student finally finished their midterm exams and makes their way back to the dorm. First thing they do when they enter is check YouTube and spot the perfect video.

Jenna Ortega and (F/n) (L/n) answer the Webs most searched questions. It plays as the two sit casually together.

“Hello I’m Jenna Ortega.”

“And I’m (F/n) (L/n), and we’re here to Answer the Webs most searched questions about us.”

The video begins as the duo take a board and answer various internet searches. (Y/n) tears off one.

“Is (Y/n)… Blind.” He said, he turns to the camera, staring at it as people try not to laugh.

“…No.” He answers, “It was just a Character I was playing, I’m not actually blind, but what I will say is that acting blind is a lot harder than you think.” He explains, Jenna eyes him as he looks at her.

“Okay so let’s say we’re doing a scene, and I have to listen to you, I can’t look directly at you even though I obviously want to, I have to basically look in your general direction but not directly at you.” He said, she nodded, admitting that makes sense.

“He’s smarter than he looks she says jokingly, the interviewer continues as another question pops up.

“How did.. Jenna Ortega and (F/n) (L/n) meet.” She said, “it was… the Grammys?” She Said and (Y/n) nodded.

“Yeah it was the 2020? I remember they told I was gonna sit next to Orgeta so I thought, “oh it’s probably Brian Orgeta or something.” This was my first Awards show so I was obviously anxious and I had a few things in my brain to say to break the ice, well it didn’t end well. I look to my left and this, beautiful girl just sat down next to me and, you remember the old windows PC’s and that blue screen sound effect they make? That was my brain.” He explains without cracking a single smirk, Jenna pursed her lips, trying not to laugh, also because he said she was beautiful.

“But yeah, ever since that, and us getting casted in Wednesday we’ve been friends ever since.”

“Yeah, Friends.” She mutters.

With the last question, they both tear it off and say in unison. “Are Jenna Ortega and (F/n) (L/n).. dating.” They look to the camera to speak but the video, hilariously and abruptly ends.

“So they cut the video for dramatic effect?” (Y/n) Asks Miss Ortega as he sits at a marble table inside a beautiful kitchen, it was part of a beautiful villa in Tuscany Italy. He asks the girl walking out of the room putting on a pair of gorgeous golden earrings, her hair done so well, adorning a beautiful gold trimmed Princess Line dress. He saw her and much like before, his brain couldn’t fathom her beautiful, he simply stood up and walked to the window, looking out to see the gorgeous countryside and it’s beautiful hills, perfectly matched by the slowly setting sun.

“I really appreciate you coming with me.” He said, “I mean getting invited to some ball was pretty scary.” He explains, Jenna shook her head. “It’s funny to hear that, I’ve been doing this since I was a kid, it’s natural to me.” She explains, walking next to him she also looks out the window. Taking in the slowly setting sun over the beautiful Italian mountainside.

“I could look at this forever.” She said, reveling in the beauty of the moment. (Y/n) nods, his phone suddenly rings, checking it was his manager and he reluctantly answers.

“Hello? Oh, yeah I’m just waiting I— oh, she did?” He said, Jenna turns to him, her interest growing in his conversion.

“That’s, fine? Okay.” He hangs up, and turns to Jenna.

“Apparently Olivia’s going too, so that’s fun.” He said, Jenna was taken aback slightly. Not expecting someone else.

“It’ll be nice to see her at least, cmon we should get going.”

The two were escorted, mostly driven to there. (Y/n) was humming to “Good 4 U”. Jenna, having a taste for music picks up.

“You must really like that song.” She said and (Y/n) nods, “Love it. Actually, I guess the boys version I made was okay, but nothin compares to the original.”

“Boys?” She replied, and (Y/n) reluctantly shows a video, it was a small recap of it all. (Y/n) releasing a version that swaps the protagonists of the song. Not to diss Olivia but to show that breakups are nasty on both ends. Turns out, Olivia loved it, and obviously retweeted it.

“Breakups suck on both ends a lot of times, it’d be like if you and I stopped being friends, we’d both be hurt.” He explains, Jenna sees the look in his eyes, she always found he was always honest, even if it was painful and the look in his Eyes, he would be hurt if they stopped. Jenna reached out, her hand almost grabbing his, until the vehicle stopped, they halted and prepared to make center stage, as the door opened (Y/n) stepped out first, adjusting his suit he then turns to the door and reaches out for Jenna, she smiles, taking his hand and steps out. The duo make their presence known.

Cameras flash and (Y/n) was still a bit novice at this, Jenna took it for the moment to make her power move, her arm wrapped around his and he was surprised but didn’t make any attempt to stop her, the two walk in to the Ball, adores with tapestry and music, it felt like the 1900’s once more, a whimsical prince with a beautiful princess on his arm, this was a fantasy to many, but a dream come true for (Y/n).

It was mostly mingling and talking, the two keeping close to each other. While they weren’t locked arms they were still in yelling distance, mingling and enjoying the ambiance. Staying in the Limelight, but something caught (Y/n) in the corner of his eye, a girl with sleek black hair approaching, in a large silver Ball gown, it was Olivia. She smiled and approached, (Y/n) was caught off guard by another beautiful woman talking to him first!

“(Y/n)?” She asks. (Y/n)s pep picked up and he smiles.

“Yeah, it’s nice to meet you!” He offers a handshake and Olivia kindly shakes it. Yeah we’ve talked on the internet before but, it’s weird in person.

“You come here alone?” (Y/n) asks.

“Yeah, it was nice to not be on tour or stuck making music, good to get out, you?” She replies, (Y/n) looks over.

“No, Jenna’s with me.” He said, Olivia nods in jest, “A nice date night then huh?” She said.

“What? No it’s, she came as a friend, I’m not too good with people.” (Y/n) awkwardly admits. Olivia looks around for a moment, spotting Miss Ortega, who sees the two chatting and, isn’t in the most enjoyable mood. Olivia smiles.

“Hey, Mind if we talk in private? Something I want to run by you.” She asks, (Y/n) casually agrees and Jenna watches the two walk away to a more secluded part of the Ballroom. Her frown was very prominent, and she sulked after, slowly following them. They pass by a pillar To the outside and Jenna has lost their trail, listening to any talking she picks something up, she follows past a pillar and to smaller balcony, she was suddenly stopped as (Y/n) came around the corner. They almost bumped into each other.

“Oh! Sorry!” (Y/n) said, Jenna’s worry faded as she looks around.

“It’s fine, so, what were you up to?” She asked.

“Olivia.” He said at first, “she wants to collaborate on a song, first collab for me!” He said with a giddy smile. Jenna couldn’t help herself with a smile. (Y/n) walks out to the Balcony and Miss Ortega soon follows.

“So, music?” She asked, “Yeah, she’s working on something called.. “Vampire.” Can’t say much more.”

“You aren’t taking any more acting roles, are you?” She said, a hint of sadness on it.

“I don’t know… I’m not really fit for it. I mean I had my first kiss on a Netflix show, am I really made for this?” He says to her, Jenna shrugs off his fears.

“It’s a rough thing at first but… wait, First?” She asks, not fully catching that first part. (Y/n), lacking any awareness nods.

“Yeah, that scene we did after my character did that whole speech and Wednesday had that vision.” He explains, Jenna blinks a few times in disbelief.

“Was I..?” She asks, trailing on. (Y/n) awkwardly nods. “Yeah, you were my first Kiss. So, how did I do?” He admits, for the moment the roles were reversed, Jenna was the dumbfounded fool whose heart skipped a bit. Jenna’s face was perfectly lit by the moonlight which hid her growing blush, she turns to face the party, hiding her smile so much.

“You did… you did fine..” she said, and calmly but confidently walked back to the Ball.

[literallyjustchi]

Akademiya Chronicles

Chapter 1

Hi! My name is Chi, and I am a seasoned writer. :3 I've written a full novel, 20 chapters, and 44k+ words. I'm here to give you quality writing (fanfics and not) that you don't often see here on Tumblr... without all the grammatical errors and simple typos. I hope you enjoy my first chapter ever posted *here!*

tumblr keeps messing up my formatting and IDK WHY, SEND HELP!!!!!

(MC is female, and characters may or may not be OOC. I tried to keep them as in character as I could.)

______________________________________________________________

Kaveh burst through the Akademiya’s library doors dramatically and collapsed at the nearest table, which coincidentally happened to be mine. My fellow classmates gave him a dirty look but went along with their work, most likely used to–or tired of–Kaveh’s antics.

As for me, I was too busy studying for one of the many upcoming exams. It annoyed me how Alhaitham was at the top of the class without studying or trying, and I wanted to be better than him. I knew I was smarter… I just had to put in the work. Ultimately, it would all pay off, and I would get bragging rights.

Kaveh groaned. “I should just drop out. This whole Kshahrewar thing is hard.”

I rolled my eyes, flipping a page in my book. “Keep going. You’ve already spent so much money getting where you are.”

“Easy for you to say, miss perfect grades. At least you aren’t as dreadful as Alhaitham.”

“Please stop enunciating your words. It’s very annoying.”

He sighed. “I mean, how can someone be as ignorant and… dumb as him? I never knew someone could be as dense and arrogant as him until I met him!”

“Keep your voice down. We’re in a library.” Alhaitham was anything but dumb, but I didn’t feel like arguing.

Kaveh moped. “Nobody understands my woes.”

“I understand, Kaveh.” I just don’t care. Ouch. Is that a little harsh? I closed my book with a defeated sigh. “You wanna go get something to eat for lunch?”

“Together?” He gasped, earning another sharp glare from the others. “Of course! You’re paying, though. Right?”

I put my book into my tote bag and stood up. “Wouldn’t have it any other way.”

______________________________________________________________

To my luck, Cyno and Tighnari were both at Puspa Café, with Cyno animatedly over-explaining the inner workings of Genius Invokation TCG even though Tighnari already knew all the nitty-gritty details.

Kaveh beamed. “Look, Cy and Ti are here! Let’s go talk to them.”

“I think I’ll pass.” If Alhaitham had one thing right, it would be that socializing was draining. I already finished my quota with the few words I exchanged with Kaveh.

Kaveh linked his arm with mine and dragged me to their table in the far corner next to a window, the sunlight filtering through. “Too bad. You need to get out more–have fun, y’know? Don’t want you to end up like Alhaitham, all moody and gloomy.”

Tighnari set down one of his cards and waved to us. “Look who decided to show up. My second favorite pair.”

“Who’s your first?” Kaveh asked.

Tighnari lowered his voice, “Cyno and Sethos, but you can’t tell them,” he said teasingly.

Cyno grimaced. “Gross. Sethos.”

I stifled a laugh. Cyno, though he’d never admit it, even if you put a musket to his head, had a soft spot for Sethos. It was mildly adorable.

Kaveh plopped on the bench, sitting next to Cyno. I, more gracefully and less rambunctiously, sat next to Tignhari with a small nod of acknowledgment.

Cyno shoved a stack of cards at Kaveh. “You’re playing. Here’s your deck. You know how to play?”

Kaveh took the deck and examined it. “Uh, sorta.”

“Good. Tighnari isn’t that good, so I hope you’re better.”

Tighnari rolled his eyes and slid an iced coffee my way. “I had a feeling you were coming.”

I took the coffee into my hands. I almost always came to the café to de-stress or as a break from my never-ending studies, so it was nice that Tighnari remembered, even though he didn’t often come to this side of Sumeru. Maybe it wasn’t a bad idea to agree to come with Kaveh.

The boys played a few rounds of TCG, with Kaveh losing to both of them. Tighnari had no idea what he was doing, but he was doing it better than Kaveh. It was funny to watch Cyno oneshot all of Kaveh’s active characters in one fell swoop, and Tighnari accidentally wiping out Kaveh’s supports and draining him of dice.

Tighnari leaned over to me and whispered while the others were too focused on their game to pay attention, “Don’t make this obvious, but Alhaitham just walked in.”

I nonchalantly looked toward the direction of the entrance. There he was, in all his glory. And sweat? Archons, save me.

It got much, much worse because Sethos was with him. Of course, Sethos was with him. He just had to be. This day couldn’t possibly get any better.

I winced, whispering back, “You didn’t tell him you and Cyno were here?”

“I didn’t know Kaveh was coming. Just you,” he replied.

“Well, what do we do?” “Reap what we sow, I guess. What is there to even do?”

“Prepare your shield of indifference and act like you saw or heard nothing.”

“Acting oblivious has never worked…”

“Today it will. Hopefully. Just act normal.”

Sethos was the first to spot us, his gigantic, shining smile vanishing like a smoldered flame once he saw Cyno. I averted my gaze and pretended I saw nothing.

My plan didn’t work because he and Alhaitham immediately made his way towards our table. Cyno and Sethos’s eyes locked in a fierce gaze, and I could’ve sworn that the pair wouldn’t pounce at each other like rishboland tigers if it weren’t for the fact that they had a crowd. I didn’t dare to look at Alhaitham, but I could see Kaveh scowl from the corner of my eye as I looked down at my lap.

After a long, awkward pause of silence, Tighnari spoke, “Hey, guys. Would you like to join us?” Kaveh and Cyno both muttered a “no,” while Alhaitham and Sethos said “sure.” It was almost comedic.

Sadly, Alhaitham was a freaking sadist because he sat next to me, leaving the only spot left for Sethos with Cyno and Kaveh. There was not a single doubt in my mind that he did that on purpose. The benches were supposed to only seat two people, but they could take three. It was a little cramped as Alhaitham’s thigh brushed against mine, and his hand would’ve done the same if it wasn’t wrapped around my coffee cup.

Definitely on purpose. And I hated that he pretended like nothing was happening.

Cyno pushed a deck into Sethos’s hands. “Join us.”

Sethos took the deck, looking at it like a challenge. Because it was.

Then, Cyno gave another to Alhaitham. “You can join, too, if you want. I think you’re a good player.”

Yeah, he was a good player.

Alhaitham took the deck. “Thanks. I’ll play.”

Cyno looked at me. I shook my head, and he shrugged. “You play really well, too. You could probably beat Al if you tried.”

I narrowed my eyes. He was definitely trying to egg me on, and I wasn’t going to take the bait. It was obvious bait–only an idiot would fall for it.

Alhaitham scoffed. “She couldn’t beat me if she tried.”

I snatched the spare deck from Cyno’s hands. “I’m in.”

Tighnari shook his head. “Here we go again…”

[alice-after-dark]

Rosie Bennett's Finishing School for Young Ladies - Why, When We Do Our Darkest Deeds, Do We Tell?

Inspired by @hiemaldesirae's fem!RadioStatic content and his Hazbin Institution for Homicide Practitioners AU (at least the idea of these two in a school setting).

This is the inspiration for the school uniform.

Takes place during the late 1920s.

Soon enough exams are over and the much anticipated winter break has begun. Alison gazes out the window of the library, enjoying the fresh snowfall and the quiet. Most students wouldn't fathom staying at the school over break, but Alison loves it. Plenty of solitude and quality time with Rosie.

It is late afternoon. She should start heading towards the dining hall, she decides.

The snow crunches under her boots as she crosses the campus. Snow blows about her. There is a storm coming. She can empathize. The storm inside her is getting stronger by the day, the itch under her skin is almost unbearable. She has to do something about it soon or she fears she will lose her mind and do something reckless and stupid.

Once at the dining hall, she wastes no time in grabbing an apron and setting to work. Contrary to popular belief, Alison excels in most of her classes, home economics especially. She prides herself on her cooking, passed down to her by her mother. Of course, her Creole dishes are often looked down on as improper and low class, but she doesn't care. It isn't her fault if most of these students (and even the teachers) have never had anything with actual flavor in their entire lives. She pities them really.

It's about an hour later that the doors open and Vivian sweeps into the dining hall in all her magnificent glory. Alison admits she is fascinated by the woman. For all her excellent acting skills, Alison knows danger when she sees it, has learned to sense it from her years running about the Louisiana bayou. Vivian is a true wolf hiding in the delicate skin of a doe, beautiful and dangerous like a poisonous flower. The woman knows the power she holds and wields it with practiced expertise. She may play the sweet and charming school darling to the masses of the student body, but Alison knows there is something darker there. She recalls the young woman on that night, covered in blood with hardly suppressed rage lurking in her eyes.

Alison wants to devour her whole.

"You're cooking?" Vivian questions as she lays her coat and scarf over one of the chairs. There are snowflakes melting in her hair, making her sparkle in the lamp light. Her cheeks are flushed from the cold. Alison focuses on the task at hand.

"Rosie allowed it. I thought it was hardly fair for Mrs. Abernathy to be stuck here all break too so I offered to cook dinners so she can leave early. She'll still be here for breakfast and lunch."

"You seem very close with Mrs. Bennett."

"I like to think so. She is a very dear friend."

Rosie is in fact the reason she is here right now and not stuck in some other stuffy school. Rosie is the reason for many things. Alison recalls those hot months spent in the upper class woman's summer home, her subtle instruction on how to be a proper lady, how to charm those around you, how to avoid suspicion. She taught Alison how to hide in plain sight, how to observe those around her, and what signs to look for. Rosie is the reason she hasn't gone mad...or been caught.

"What are you making?" Vivian interrupts her thoughts.

"Jambalaya," she answers. "My mother's recipe. It's almost finished if you want to sit. I'll be out in just a minute."

Vivian nods and soon Alison joins her at the table, placing a bowl in front of her before starting in on her own meal. Mrs. Abernathy's cooking is certainly good, but it's nothing like the taste of home.

Vivian takes a bite and puts a hand to her mouth, blushing prettily. "This is so good!"

Alison's smile reaches her eyes. "Thank you. My mother was a very good cook." She watches Vivian press another bite of meat past her painted lips and Alison swallows in time with her. Watching her like this, she could almost believe Vivian is as innocent as she appears.

The talk is light as they eat. Vivian helps with the dishes and they walk back to their dorm together. The itch is still present, but it has been sated for now and Alison's mind is currently distracted by the pretty thing beside her.

That was yet another thing Rosie had helped her with. When all the other girls were fussing over boys, Alison just...hadn't seen the appeal. She'd questioned Rosie about it and the woman had listen to her with grace and understanding and Alison had come away with the knowledge that, not only did she in fact prefer women to men, but she also experienced desire differently than most. She didn't completely lack desire, it was just more complicated for her.

And apparently her complicated nature had decided that Vivian, the stunningly beautiful and popular school darling, heiress to the Haynes' fortune, and regal bitch with the skill and talent to back it up, was exactly what she wanted.

Lovely.

[mysticmellowlove]

can we get another yandere chat / yandere streamer please I really wanna know where the three people went

note; omg i'm fucking alive holy shit. i'm in exam period right now and i swear the universe is trying to take me out. shit's rough out here lol. I've been rattling the bars of my enclosure waiting to get out and write some more. missed you guys, cute lil friends xxx

warnings; yan chat is back, yan streamer, reader 'sugar', yandere tendencies, gang violence, they mean frfr,

word count; 1123

After logging off for the day and raiding one of his friends Streamer found himself checking on his discord, in particular the chat he had going on with three of his long-time fans, affectionately titled his three musketeers to respect their anonymity. The ones that had been with him since the beginning when he had no viewers and a silly dream of becoming a popular creator.

To think that he had that in his foreseeable future, it was intoxicating. Fans, money and most of all influence. Of course, he couldn't forget about his lovely mod as well.

His eyes scanned over the private chat with a satisfied grin on his face, they had found him. For a while now there was one particular chatter that was getting on his nerves. No matter how much Sugar banned them they always seemed to find a way back. He had been trying to appeal to Sugar for weeks now, always mentioning them and gifting various rewards that were specifically aimed towards the beloved mod.

Streamer knew things sometimes got a little parasocial when it came to internet personalities. Still, something about this creep trying desperately to get close to Sugar had his blood boiling as if he was using the chat as an e-dating server. He wasn't the only one either, it seemed.

A call button appeared on his screen for a moment before he adjusted his settings and answered it, the people chatting on the other side becoming more and more apparent.

"The man of the hour." One of them jovially said, a playful lilt to her voice. Porthos always seemed to be the one ready to talk, with perhaps a little too much energy to seem natural. It seemed her words had set in motion the other two greeting him, one with their ever-present modulated voice covering their identity and the other sounding like he'd just finished smoking a pack of cigarettes.

"Hey you, I see some interesting things in the chat." He hummed as he took a sip of the coke he had next to him, waiting for the three to fill him in.

"Yeah, we tracked down the guy in the chat that was bothering Sugar, it was laughably easy." Porthos mused, the low hum of who knows what buzzing in the background.

"He had his details all out in the open, turns out using multiple emails all leading to the same IP is a dead giveaway." She said before a sniffle interrupted her.

"Don't take all the credit, it was only because I have access to the city records that we even found him," Athos noted.

"Technically I did most of the work." The final of the three, the one who hid behind the voice changer, Aramis chimed in. The other two seemed to stop talking as soon as they spoke up, for good reason as well. There was something different about Aramis, but their knowledge was gladly welcomed.

"I assume you're all waiting for the finale?" They monotonously droned as the sounds of clicking came from their mic. Not long after a window popped up, fileshare. Without needing to do anything the file opened to a video and began to play.

The camera work was jittery but it was obvious what was in the middle of the screen. On the ground, legs and arms bound, was a middle-aged man wriggling. There was a group of men surrounding him, masked and dressed entirely in black with a badly stitched logo on their jackets.

No sounds came from the men as they drew ominously closer, that's when things really picked up. Their feet began to slam into the sides of the bound man, muffled screams coming from his gagged mouth as he tried desperately to wriggle away. Hands ripped at his clothing, showcasing the darkened bruises on his skin as the men continued their assault. The video tracked for about twenty minutes, all of it consisted of the men beating the shit out of the man on the ground. Screams turned to groans turned to whimpers as a mixture of piss, tears and blood mixed on the ground he was on.

His body seemed to turn entirely blotched with bruises as the video went on and on before no more sounds appeared to leave the man. Then the footage cut.

The silence seemed to wane on for a moment before Athos spoke up.

"That's some dark web shit or something." The only response he seemed to get was a clipped laugh from Aramis.

"I like supporting local businesses." It was no secret that Aramis was the only one of them who dared to play around on the darker side of the internet but damn were they good at it. Who knew what they got up to after hours, but it wasn't hard to tell that he had hired someone to beat the shit out of the creep.

"He's gone, probably being sold right now, well that parts of him that made it out unscathed. Don't worry, these guys are newbies but the group they're part of don't play around." A low whistle left his mouth as he listened to Aramis ramble about the exploit.

"You're a freak for real." Porthos laughed, seemingly having gathered herself, "Now that's dealt with I think we should get something in exchange, don't you?"

He rolled his eyes as he scanned the now blank screen.

"I'll organise something." He began before he was cut off rudely.

"Not something, we know you know where they are so why don't you get us all a little gift." Athos drawled. A harried sigh left his mouth as he tugged at the strands of his hair. The three of them were his fans, their support over the years had helped grow his platform greatly and they did fund most of his activities but... that also meant he had to keep them pleased.

Athos eluded that he was a well-known figure in the city, Aramis had ties to the black market and Porthos seemed to have no boundaries... they could very well take him down if they wanted to.

"Sure, I'll pick something up." He finally managed to get out, his voice obviously strained. All that greeted him was a chorus of laughter as the call ended. He stared at the screen for a moment more, thinking about the logistics of breaking into Sugar's apartment before a notification came through.

'Good boy' With a scoff he closed the application and got off his chair, annoyance swelling inside him. He was still closer to Sugar than them, he didn't have to panic yet.

[littledrummeraussie]

tell me all the things that you couldn't before.

masterlist. | want to be added to my taglist?

warnings: brief mentions of sex. a nightmare. hurt/comfort. lots of loving for Ashton. badboy!mechanic!Ashton AU.

word count: 5435

author’s note: This fic was written back in January, 2020, as part of the infamous A Permanent Chase fic, which I'm not sure will ever see the light of day as it only lives in my head and my heart.

The original concept is the following (to help you understand the fic better):

Ashton (in the beginning appearing as Fletcher) comes back to Sydney, where he starts working at Calum's garage as a mechanic. Shortly after this he meets our girl and starts to pursue her. They do start dating, but after some complications happen, and she finds out Fletcher is not the person he tells people he is, but someone else (Ashton), and she quickly breaks things up between them.

What she doesn't realize is that she and Ashton have met before, just after graduation at a beach party, where they fell in love for a night, but never saw each other again. Ashton does recognize the girl, but she doesn't recognize him for a long time, until finally Ashton does tell her the truth about their past.

The story is a mess - the original idea included gangs and street racing in which Ashton also partakes, lots of chasing after the girl in different places and scenarios, who eventually starts to put together how Ashton really loves her and actually wants to protect her from things happening around the city. (This is a huge reason why I never really worked on the story - I couldn't decide on anything, so it's just a big mess.)

They eventually make up and finally kiss at another beach party (full circle), and decide that they want to start a relationship with each other. There are lot of added stories to them in my mind, all of them following the main story above.

I also realized over the years that in some ways they are kinda toxic, but I cannot help it, I love my babies so much. So if you have any additional questions, please feel free to ask them.

Feedback and reblogs are appreciated!

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It was well past midnight when you realized that there was something out of the ordinary. At first everything seemed to be normal, your night started like any other: you stopped by the garage after work, parking your car just outside the building and greeted the boys who were still working there. You’ve convinced Ashton to finish early, making Calum close up for the night, and dragged your boyfriend up the stairs to his flat.

He was in a really good mood, and with a cheeky grin he pulled you into the shower with himself. His hands were searching and grabbing at whatever body parts they could reach, and after he’d promised you the best fuck of your life, Ashton picked you up to cross the tiny apartment to his bedroom, where he made good on his promise. You were lying in a tangled mass afterwards, watching the last rays of sunshine peeking through the window, painting Sydney in the most beautiful shades of pink, orange and yellow.

You were ready to make some dinner, but Ashton preferred cuddle time, and held you close to his side while he ordered Thai food from one of his favourite places. You spent the time kissing and talking about your day until the guy arrived with your order, and you ate in comfortable silence in the kitchen, playing footsie all through dinner. Usually this was the time when you went out to have fun around town, or just lay on the couch, watching the TV mindlessly, but the last few weeks have been different.

Since you’ve decided to take up some courses to help you with your work, it meant that eventually you needed to take exams on them as well. You had your doubts when you first approached Ash with the idea, but he was supportive, and in his own way, he helped you with your studying and papers. It usually meant buying you coffee or letting you rant about your problems – or ordering food when he thought you could use the extra time. And his apartment was much quieter than your noisy neighbourhood. He did not mind you staying over if it meant cuddles, food sharing and sex – all three of those happened regularly, so he did not complain.

You have already started revising notes when Ashton came up to you and gave a kiss on your neck. You leaned back against his chest, looking up at him with a smile.

“You’re going to bed?”

“Yeah, I promised Calum that I will open in the morning, since someone decided to drag me away early,” he leaned forward to press another kiss on your forehead, his red locks falling over your face. “And I don’t want to keep you away from your notes and books, which are clearly more interesting than your own boyfriend.”

“How tragic,” you laughed, turning around on the kitchen chair to wrap your arms around him. “Please file a complaint, and I will talk to the management.”

“And what will I get as a consolation prize?” he quirked an eyebrow at you.

“Blowjobs.”

“Oh, plural? That doesn’t sound so bad,” Ashton grinned at you, brushing a lock of hair behind your ear. “When can I start collecting them?”

“You know how offices work – it might take a few weeks to get an answer,” you bit your lip to hide a smile, and Ash just huffed at you.

“If it was up to you, I wouldn’t get my blowjobs for the next 30 days or so,” his fingers found a way into your tied up hair, slowly pulling out strands and combing them back into an even messier bun. “Any way to file a complaint about filing complaints?”

“I might know someone who can help you,” you tilted your head forward, pressing a small kiss on the skin of his stomach, then quickly blew a raspberry on it. “But only during opening hours.”

“You are terrible,” he laughed, grabbing your face and pulling you closer to plant a kiss on your lips. “Alright, I’ll leave you to your notes.”

“Don’t hog the blankets,” you poked his side, and Ash laughed again, pushing your hand away. “Good night, Cardinal.”

“Is that a joke on my hair?”

“You tell me,” you winked at him, and he leaned back to give you another kiss.

“Good night, you monster.”

* * *

You knew something was up when you heard noises from the bedroom. The flat was really small, with no actual doors between the bedroom, the living area and the kitchen, and at first you thought the all-nighters you pulled would bother Ashton and he wouldn’t be able to sleep with the light on in the kitchen. But he was a heavy sleeper, still and calm, and the only thing that ever broke the silence was his light snoring. But not tonight.

The first thing you heard were the rustling sheets, a pillow thumping down onto the floor, the bed creaking under his weight. There was a loud gasp, more rustling, something hitting the nightstand or the bed frame, then another loud thump on the mattress. More gasps, more heavy breathing – you could hear the panic in the way he was trying to catch his breath, choking on air, like he couldn’t get enough oxygen into his lungs.

You pushed yourself out of the chair, running to the small bedroom to check on Ashton. He was tangled up in the sheets, body twisting around as he tried to kick off the covers, thrashing in his blanket prison. His arms were swinging, trying to grab onto something (or someone), hitting the pillows and the bed with every move. He pushed his head back into the pillow, turning it left and right as he was panting, his Adam’s apple moving almost in a frantic, panicked way.

He was no stranger to nightmares – when he was exhausted or just had a bad day, he would go to bed early, resting his head on your stomach, hugging your body close to him like a pillow, and that usually did the trick. He slept soundly and without interruption. But sometimes he was just so lost in his own head that he forgot about it all, not caring about the dreams sneaking into his sleepy mind, and he usually woke with a start in the middle of the night. He would curl his body around yours, telling you that he’s okay, he just had a bad dream, he will fall back to sleep soon – he only ever asked you to hold his hand during these moments.

But tonight was different, Ashton never had a nightmare like this, one that physically shook him. He was fighting so hard to wake up, but nothing seemed to work. You dropped onto the mattress, climbing closer, and grabbed him by his shoulders, shaking him with all the strength that you had.

“Ashton! Ashton, wake up! Ash! Wake up!”

Suddenly he bolted up, eyes wide open, staring at the wall and taking in a lungful of air, making himself dizzy in the process. You shifted closer, climbing between his legs, and wrapped your arms around his trembling body. You held him close, running your fingers over his back, murmuring soft words into his ear as he buried his face in your neck, taking deep breaths, trying to calm his hammering heart.

“I’m here, Ash, it’s okay. I’m here. I’ve got you.”

He locked his arms around your waist, pulling you closer, never loosening his grip on you. You ran your hand up to his shoulder, lightly massaging his tense muscles, caressing his neck, brushing your fingers over his hair. His skin was cold and sweaty, his hair wet and sticking to his forehead. His breathing was slowing, and you moved your head to press a small kiss on his temple. He tensed for a second, but then melted into your arms once again.

“It’s alright,” you whispered, still stroking the red locks at the back of his head. “It’s over. It was just a dream, it’s over. I’m here. You’re awake. It’s okay.”

His breath was hot on your neck as he inhaled deeply, nuzzling his face back into your skin. His muscles were slowly relaxing, but he was still tense and sweaty, and a shiver ran through his body. He tried to burrow closer to get more of your warmth, and you let him stay in your arms like this for a few more minutes. When you could feel he was a bit more relaxed, you pulled back a little, lifting his head up to look at you. His eyes were glassy and unfocused, and it took him a few seconds to get out of his daze.

Ashton’s gaze skipped over yours, instead focusing on the chain hanging from your neck. The silver ring he gave you almost a year ago was hooked on a thin necklace, the weight of the metal resting between your breasts, a comfort you never knew you needed. You still remembered the time when he wore it on his finger, playing with it whenever he started getting nervous. He called it a good luck charm, something he desperately needed while he was chasing after you. But once he got hold of your heart, he gave it to you – since then it became something much more than just a piece of jewellery. For you: a reminder; for others: a warning.

His clumsy fingers wrapped around the ring, slightly tugging on it. You slowly tilted his head up again, trying to catch his eyes. His hazel ones finally found your gaze, and you gave him a small smile, lightly running your fingers over his stubbly jaw.

“Hey, you’re okay?”

Silence, then a nod.

“How about you go and take a shower? Get warmed up,” you rubbed his arms, trying to warm his still cold skin. “And I will change the sheets.”

Another nod.

Ash let go of your necklace, slowly peeling himself out of the bed, starting to go to the bathroom, then stopped, looked back at you. You gave him another encouraging smile, nodded at him that it’s okay, you both will be fine, after which he finally made his way out of the room. When the lock clicked and the shower started up, you let out a breath you were holding back. A thousand questions were running through your mind, but you didn’t want to take too much time thinking about them. You wanted to make sure Ashton was comfortable after his nightmare, that he can come back and relax into the bed, wrapped in your arms, and sleep off this horrible experience.

You started stripping off the sweat soaked sheets, pulling out a fresh set from the drawer, working methodically in changing them. After that you opened the window, letting in fresh air, the slight breeze clearing away the remaining shadows from the room. You reached into another drawer, choosing a soft pair of sweatpants for Ashton, and finally went to the kitchen, making tea, waiting for him to finish up.

The lock on the bathroom door clicked, and it opened with a slight squeak. Ash stood behind the door, a towel wrapped around his waist, water dripping on the tiles from his red hair. You stepped to him, holding the pants out for him. He took them from your hands, his fingers brushing against yours as he did, and that made him look at you.

“I made you tea,” you nodded towards the kitchen, leaning against the doorframe. “If you want some.”

“Thanks,” his voice was quiet and small, and he coughed a little to make his throat work. “I– I’ll be there.”

“Take your time.”

You stepped back to the kitchen, piling up your books and notes to shove them to the corner of the table. You knew there was no way you would go back to studying, not tonight. Any exam could wait – Ashton needed you now.

After a few more minutes he emerged from the bathroom, shuffling to the kitchen, and dropped down onto the chair next to you. He sighed deeply, then leaned forward, resting both his arms on the table, and put his head down on them, hiding his face. You watched him, how his back moved as he was breathing in and out. His muscles were still tense, you could see it from the way he was holding himself. You scooted a bit closer, and slowly put your hand on his elbow, a tentative touch. When he did not flinch away, you started to lightly rub his arm, up to his shoulder, down on his back, then back up again.

When you reached the back of his neck, Ash moved his head to the side, looking at you as you stroked his drying locks with your fingers. His hazel eyes were searching you as you were working through the tangled ends, brushing them back from his face. He let out another small sigh when you touched his face, caressing his cheek, which made him nuzzle into your hand.

“Do you want to talk about it?” you asked, resting your hand back on his arm.

Ashton looked at you for another second, then hid his face back in the crook of his elbow. You waited for him, you knew he needed time to work through the thoughts in his head, to decide if he wanted to face them again. He slowly pushed himself up, reaching for the mug in front of him, taking a sip of his cooling tea. His fingers were running over the rim, circling it mindlessly as he focused on something in front of him.

“You… left me.”

There was silence in the kitchen – his words left you speechless. It sounded silly at first; you knew how you felt about him, how first his attention was unusual, almost uncomfortable at times, and that you wished he would give you just an ounce of space; how you started to miss him when he wasn’t around, how you watched over your shoulder if he would appear somehow, stalk behind you, keeping his distance, but never taking his eyes off of you. You knew he had his reasons to do so, and you learned to love him for that – it wasn’t so hard, he found a way to your heart, and you willingly let him in. You never wanted to let go of him ever again.

“I have no intention in doing that,” you reached out to take his hand in yours, squeezing it. “And no reason.”

“But what if you do?” he whispered, pulling his hand away. “What if you find one?”

“Ash… is this something you’ve been… thinking about lately?” you asked softly, your fingers going up to your necklace, running them over the ring.

He did not answer; his eyes were still trained on the same spot as before. He was drumming on the tabletop, the rhythm getting more and more frantic and complicated. You desperately wanted to reach out and stop him, to make him look at you, to let him know you were there, you were listening, that you wanted to understand. But it seemed he was lost in his own thoughts – thoughts that brought out a nightmare that clearly shook him to the core.

“Ashton,” you said in a small voice. “Don’t push me away. Please.”

Those words made him look at you. Those words were his words, begging you to give him another chance, to make up for the mistakes he made when you met again. They were Ashton’s words, not Fletcher’s; they made you stop in your tracks, made you listen to him. They broke you in a way you’ve known you will never be broken again. That was the first time you’ve really let him into your heart, and you never wanted him to leave.

Ash sighed deeply, slowly turning around in his chair to face you, though his head was down. His fingers nervously twitched in his lap, and he started wringing his hands, looking for the rings he usually wore to play with. He once told you that sometimes he felt naked without them, and he liked wearing at least one to mindlessly spin it around, or take it off and put it back on. You moved a little closer, pushing your knees against his, slowing down his bouncing feet. Leaning forward you reached for him, pushing your fingers between his tightly clasped ones, and interlocked them. There was a slight shake to his hands, and you gently ran your thumb over his skin, trying to calm him again.

“I’m sorry,” he finally breathed, slowly looking up at you from under his lashes. “I’m just… unsure.”

“Of me?” you tilted your head to the side, trying to see all of him. He just shook his head.

“Of myself,” Ashton answered, rubbing your hands with his thumbs. “If I’m good enough for you.”

“Of course you are,” you squeezed his fingers in yours, pushing your forehead against his. “You are my Ashton. How could you not be good enough for me?”

“That’s not what everyone else thinks,” he said with a humourless laugh. “People talk, all over town.”

“Some neighbourhood gossip won’t make me leave you,” you shook your head. “What could they tell me that I don’t already know? I know you, Ash, I know who you are.”

“You have the heart of an angel, and I’m the devil who’s holding you back,” he whispered, tilting his head down.

“Maybe I’ve had enough of heaven,” your hand went to his jaw, slowly tipping his chin up to look back at you. “If hell is where you are, then I’m packing all of my bags to be with you.”

“Y/N…”

“Or maybe they have it the wrong way around,” you continued. “Cause you definitely feel like heaven to me. Maybe it’s not their definition of the place. But screw them – my heaven is all tattooed up and gorgeous.”

A blush coloured his cheek, and he moved closer to rest his forehead on your shoulder, his legs bracketing yours. You were tangled up in each other, silently sitting in the kitchen for a few minutes, Ashton’s hand on your thighs while you played with the hair at the nape of his neck. Then he slowly pulled back, rubbing his eyes – was it tears, or sleep, you didn’t know – and looked back at you again.

“Your parents still hate me,” he added, resting his elbow on the table, leaning his head against his hand.

“They hate everyone,” you answered with a shrug. “They even hate me. That’s not an accomplishment.”

“I’m sure they would prefer anyone else over me,” he searched you with his eyes. “Someone who can give you a real future.”

“What do you think, what does a girl need?” you quirked an eyebrow at him, and it was his turn to shrug.

“Financial security?” he asked, and when you rolled your eyes at him, he continued. “Someone like that guy you work with – what’s his name? Liam?”

“A suit and tie?” you shook your head, putting your hands on his knees to lean closer. “Really, Ash? When I can have you, your jackets and chains, and the fire red Mustang? Well, tough luck, because you’re stuck with me for good.”

“But am I enough for you?” Ashton sighed, reaching for you and holding your face in his hands, making you really look at each other. “I wanna give you the world. Hell, I wanna give you the galaxy. The universe. But I’m just this guy, fixing cars and running my mouth at people. And you… you’re smart and beautiful and could get anyone you set your eyes on.”

“And that’s you,” you nuzzled your face against his hand, looking at him pleadingly. “You’re the only one I want.”

“What if Liam asked you on a date? Or one of the guys at that course? What if you get along so much that you realize that you could just… do better than me?” his gaze slipped down to the ring resting against your chest, saying the next words looking at it. “You know I would do anything for you… but I know I can’t keep you forever.”

“Ash, how long have we known each other?” you asked, reaching for him, brushing his hair behind his ear.

“7 or 8 years. Dunno. Why is that important now?” he sighed, shaking his head.

“What do you think… how many guys did I date during that time?” you questioned him, but did not wait for an answer. “Only two. And you wanna know their names?”

“Please don’t kick me when I’m already down,” he whispered, but you’ve had enough.

“They are Fletcher and Ashton. They are you, Ash. I might have had a few flings and one night stands, and sure, I went on a few dates with guys. But it was only ever you I had a real thing with. It was only you who was ever good enough for me.”

“Then why did you even go on those dates if you didn’t want anything from them?” the question left Ashton before he could stop himself, and you could see him flinch when he realized what he’d said.

“I wanted to know how I felt about other people. I wanted to give myself a chance, see how we could work out. You know – if you never try, you’ll never know,” you shrugged a little while reaching for his hand, slowly interlocking your fingers with his. “And I– I think I wanted to know how you would react.”

“Remember the hole in the wall?” he quirked an eyebrow at you, and you needed to stifle a laugh.

“I was always waiting for you to show up during your dates,” you confessed, squeezing his hand in yours. “You know, just crash them. I wanted you to crash them. I know it took me a long time to let you in…”

“Well, half the time you were mad at me,” he said, leaning closer and resting his forehead against yours. “For one reason, or the other.”

“And in the other half I desperately wanted you to kiss me,” you finished, nuzzling your nose to his.

“You know I would have done it in a second,” he breathed. “I wanted to walk up to every single one of those guys and tell them that you’re… that you’re…”

“Come on,” you whispered, licking your lips. “Say it.”

“Mine.”

“Don’t think I was never asked on dates at my job or at school,” you gazed at him while saying the next part. “I was, numerous times. You know what I say to them when they call me pretty? Thank you, my boyfriend thinks so too. Or when they invite me for coffee? Thanks, but Ash is already bringing me some. And when they don’t want to let it go, I say: trust me, you do not want to meet him.”

“Are you really saying those things?” he asked you, and you nodded.

“I’m also implying that I’m having the best sex of my life, and I don’t plan on giving up on that,” you finished with a smile.

A moment later Ashton started laughing – it was his first real laugh of the night, and he hid his face, trying to stifle his giggles. It was the most beautiful sound you’ve ever heard. Suddenly the night wasn’t that dark, but instead everything seemed to start to glow a little bit. It was Ashton’s smile, shining through the blacks, dark blues and grays of the night, warming up the chilling air around you, shifting everything back to your usual teasing, but loving normal, the one you’ve built up together.

“I love your smile,” you whispered when he finally looked back at you, still trying to catch his breath. “I know I’ve always told you that you should wipe that grin off of your face, but god, I’m happy you never did. I just… there are so many things I just love about you that I’ve thought I hated before. Like your snake tattoo, or your loud car and obnoxious sunglasses… your terrible jokes and sexual innuendos, and how you never fail to say them at the worst times… I love your stupid red hair, and…”

“My hair is not stupid,” Ash mumbled, a smile still playing at the corner of his mouth.

“No,” you shook your head, reaching once again for him to brush your fingers through his red locks. “No, it’s not.”

Ash nuzzled closer, closing his eyes for a moment to enjoy the caresses and light tugs on his hair, making a small noise that almost sounded like purring. He turned his head, brushing his lips against your wrist as you wrapped a curl around your finger, pushing it behind his ear, stroking your hand down his cheek and jaw. Hazel eyes followed the movement of your fingers until you ran your thumb over his chin, and his gaze finally found yours.

“Can I kiss you?” you asked him softly, pulling back a little to see his face.

“Are you asking for permission?” there was another small smile tugging at the corner of his mouth, and a slight blush coloured his cheeks.

“Just checking if you are in the right headspace,” you returned his smile, and he nodded shortly.

“I would love that.”

Without a second thought you leaned forward, one of your hands sliding up the back of his neck and into his hair, the other one cradling his jaw, tilting his head a little to the side. His breath was hot on your face as you moved closer, cheeks and noses brushing, lips slowly pressing against each other – one soft, the other slightly chapped. You kissed his bottom lip, moving to the top, nuzzling closer and closer, until he opened his mouth and let you kiss him deeper, brushing his tongue against yours as you both tasted the other. Ash made a needy little sound as you nipped on his lips and kissed his chin, his jaw, brushing against his cheek as you nudged your nose against the soft skin behind his ear.

“I chose you, Ashton. I’ve been choosing you every single day since that night on the beach, and I’ll do it as long as you let me. I’m freakin’ in love with you if that hasn't been clear before,” you breathed softly, kissing the shell of his ear. “You’ve been on my mind for the last 8 years, and if that’s not love, then you have to find a better word for me, because I’m failing here, and you know I’m good with words. But you just have this effect on you where I completely lose my sanity, and I would gladly give up on it forever, if it meant I get to spend the rest of my life with you.”

Ash reached for you and wrapped his arms around your waist, pulling you out of your chair, and sitting you on his lap. His hand rested on your thigh, keeping you close to his body, as his fingers ran through your hair, guiding your face to his again. It was his turn to kiss you, and he started with the softest of touches, just to feel each other’s breath on your lips, the warmness of the other’s skin, the shiver running through you when you’ve finally lost your patience. Noses and lips pushed together, and he kissed you deeply, tongue brushing against yours as you were holding onto his shoulders. His scent clouded your mind, his touch burnt your skin, and you never wanted this moment to end.

“I love you,” Ash pulled away just enough to brush his lips against yours as he spoke. “I love you, I love you, I love you.”

You pressed another kiss on his temple, cuddling closer in his lap to feel as much of his skin as you could. His arms wrapped around you more strongly, and he rested his head on your shoulder, pushing his face into your neck. For a few minutes you’ve stayed like this – slow caresses on waists and backs, fingers brushing over hair and tattoos, lips leaving small kisses wherever they could.

“Come on,” you ran your thumb over Ashton’s cheek. “I think it’s time we go back to bed.”

“I’m sorry. I didn’t want to keep you away from your studying,” he started apologizing, but you shook your head, smiling at him.

“Screw exams. You’ll always be my first priority,” you tugged a little on his hair, tilting his head up towards you. “How does that sound to you?”

“Like something I’ve always wanted from you,” Ash returned your smile, then reached for your hand to kiss your knuckles. “Thank you, beautiful.”

You climbed down from his lap and reached for him to pull him up from the chair. You made our way back to the bedroom where the sheets were freshly changed and the pillows fluffed up just as Ashton liked it. He hesitated for a moment – the nightmare was still fresh in his mind, and even after you’ve talked through everything, he was still a little bit shaken from it.

“It’s alright,” you leaned against his side, pressing a kiss on the tattoo on his arm. “I’m here now.”

“I’m– scared to fall back to sleep,” he admitted, then sighed deeply. “It’s stupid, I know.”

“No, Ash. It’s perfectly normal,” you pushed yourself up on your tiptoes to kiss his cheek. “Don’t ever feel ashamed, especially not because of your dreams. You’re human, it’s okay to fall sometimes. I’ll always be here to pick you up.”

“How did I get so lucky?” he turned to you, gathering you in his arms for a hug, resting his head on top of yours.

“Must have been that lucky charm of yours,” you answered with a smile, feeling the ring resting between your bodies.

“You are my lucky charm,” Ashton whispered, brushing the hair back from your face.

“Well, then you should definitely hold onto me.”

He huffed at you with a smile, shaking his head. You pulled him down on the bed, both of you getting comfortable under the blankets – Ash scooted as close to you as he could, nuzzling his face between your head and shoulder. You wrapped your arms around him, letting him rest his weight on you, running your fingers through his hair.

“You smell so good,” he mumbled against your skin, pushing his nose to your pulse point. “Am I not too heavy?”

“You’re perfect where you are,” you continued brushing your fingers over his curls, skimming them over the back of his neck, down his shoulders, then back up again. “How are you feeling?”

“Like maybe I will be able to fall asleep,” he breathed, then reached for the ring hanging from your neck. “Is it okay if I stay like this?”

“Your peace of mind is worth every numb limb and hours spent awake,” you kissed his forehead, then the hand holding onto the ring. “You would do the same for me. And just so you know, you make an excellent pillow.”

“You too,” he closed his eyes, resting his hand back on your side, cuddling close. “Will you… will you hold my hand? Please?”

Without another word you slid your fingers against his, interlocking them. He squeezed your hand in return, letting out one last sigh as he slowly let go of all the tension that kept him awake. His body melted against yours, muscles relaxing as his breathing evened out, and in a few minutes all you could feel was his light snoring tickling your neck. You brushed your fingers through his hair again, pressing one last goodnight kiss on his forehead before resting back against your pillows.

Ashton slept soundly in your arms, head resting on your shoulder, arm thrown over your waist, fingers interlocked on the bed. He fit perfectly against you, his weight all the comfort you needed in your life. You would have stayed up all night just to make sure he had no more nightmares, but his soft sleepy sounds slowly lulled you to sleep too. The last thing you remembered was his lips brushing against your neck as he shuffled in his sleep, and you fell asleep with a smile on your face. You knew for sure he was your forever – and you planned on reminding him of that every single day for the rest of your lives. Even if it meant chasing away his nightmares every night. Because he was worth it.

[heaven4lostgirls]

wish you were sober

band!singer!remus x singer!reader

cw: mention of alcohol, teenage drinking, kissing, fluff

being with remus was like sipping coffee whilst the sun rose. he was a breath of fresh air whilst still remaining calm. you had loved him before you had even known that you did.

you and remus had met in your 5th year at hogwarts, you were a half blood like remus however you were a transfer from a different wizarding school. he knew that you were different the moment you stood up and told sirius black to shut the fuck up in the middle of slughorns class. he had fallen not only for your looks but for your wit, humour and somewhat alike shyness you both seemed to share.

remus had first proposed the idea of you joining the marauders band in his 6th year when marlene had decided to focus on her owls and her new girlfriend, dorcas meadows.

you were more than excited to join the band considering you had been at their practices ever since remus lupin had stuck to your side since you joined hogwarts, and their music exceeded words.

you now stood with remus in the front of the room of requirement which had been changed into a concert venue where the boys and you would be playing a brand new song.

‘wish u were sober’ was something you and remus had written and composed together over your late night talks in the gryffindor common room whilst sipping butterbeer and the slight mix of firewhiskey.

the opening of the song started and you and remus faced the crowd as you took a deep breath and began singing

This party's shit, wish we could dip

Go anywhere but here

Don't take a hit, don't kiss my lips

And please don't drink more beer

you felt remus’ eyes on you as he smiled slightly towards you as he started the next verse

I'ma crawl outta the window now

'Cause I don't like anyone around

Kinda hope you're followin' me out

But this is definitely not my crowd

you both held your microphones as you turned to face one another and belt out the chorus

Nineteen, but you act twenty-five now

Knees weak, but you talk pretty fly, wow

Ripped jeans and a cup that you just downed

Take me where the music ain't too loud

sudden flashbacks invade you mind if you and remus sitting at gryffindor parties after the end of exams, at the end of the quidditch up and at the end of the year. all around you is flowing alcohol and inebriated people however all you can focus on is the boy who’s lap you’re currently sitting on who’s scars have suddenly become more beautiful than the last time you saw them. your eyes flick to his lips and his flick to yours too.

“can i kiss you rem?” you hear yourself asking

“merlin, you don’t know how long i’ve wanted to hear that,but not like this, not here.”

Trade drinks, but you don't even know her

Save me 'til the party is over

Kiss me in the seat of your Rover

Real sweet, but I wish you were sober

you both continue to sing and finish the song whilst looking into each others eyes. the energy feels electric in the air and the room of requirement feels like it’s buzzing. you can’t hear the screams of everyone around you but you can see remus’ eyes drop to your lips.

you do the same and you can almost feel the tension rising as you both stand panting in front of one another out of breath from belting out the lyrics.

suddenly it alls goes static in your head as you feel a pair of chapped lips on yours. you faintly hear sirius and james yell out in unison and excitement. this. this is what it felt like to be home.

the love that encompassed you and remus in that exact moment was one that you would remember when you told stories to your children and for when your children would tell their children.

music had brought you and remus together, and fortunately nothing could break you apart<3

[nillthirteen]

Ooh! About my previous ask about boss fights, I've just come up with another question for that, if you wanna answer it (For the DS one or future ER one.):

Which boss do you think has the most *awe-inspiring* presentation?

Oh I really like this actually!

SPOILERS FOR ELDEN RING AND SHADOW OF THE ERDTREE

Also word vomit below.

Don't say I didn't warn you.

I'm not super sure to be honest, it's definitely a multi-way tie. That being said, none of the Dark Souls bosses really hold a candle in terms of presentation to any of the Elden Ring fights. Not played enough of DS3, DS2, or Bloodborne to rate any of them, so maybe we'll revisit the concept once I have.

The Midra fight is one of maybe three fights that actually made my jaw drop, due to my fascination with the lore, and the presentation does nothing to hurt that. The Consort Radhan fight did the same thing, but I still prefer the presentation of the original. He feels so much larger than life, and despite his huge frame, immense strength, and array of moves, you're still shown how he's a fraction of the man he was. To be honest, I think that mystique of imagining how powerful Radhan was is more interesting than what we're actually shown.

Anyway, getting off track. I think the lion dancer, because of it's fucking incredible animations, and how they sync with the music make it feel like a playable cutscene, and it's so damn cool. It's one of those magical moments in a game, where everything works together so well, it transcends everything, and becomes, as Noodle put it, "playable concept art".

But I do have one I prefer.

Back in January, when I was playing through Elden Ring for the first time properly, I finally reached Maliketh at the start of a 2 week break off school. I was so hyped to sink my teeth into the game and get all the way through, and I figured he'd maybe take a day or two to learn and finish. Problem was, he countered my build. Hard. I was a Greatsword user, and surprisingly fragile to any kind of status effect. Maliketh did holy damage, and given the speed of his animations, and my limited range of damage, if I got hit once, it was enough to kill me within a couple of seconds, plus it lowered my max health, so the next time would definitely be fatal.

I ended up having to learn to do the fight hitless.

This took two weeks.

I want you to imagine, for a moment, a young trans girl, sitting in a dark room, staring intensely at the screen as she does her tenth run of a boss in about an hour, desperately hoping she'll be able to beat it today, because she knows she won't get another chance for another two weeks, thanks to mock exams.

A young woman, going through one of the hardest points of her life, clinging to one of the few things that gave her a sense of accomplishment and joy. Something which had gotten her through some very tough nights.

Imagine, now, you are this girl. And you begin the run. You slip through every attack, weaving in and out, a cloaked figure swiping blindly, as you pick and choose the exact attack animations which take advantage of the gaps in an attack, punishing even when there's no window, finding your own opportunities to attack, dissecting every moment. You reach the second phase, your now massive, burning, and armored opponent, flinging himself from height to height, spinning about with the force of a helicopter, and you do not slow down. You keep pace, weaving and dodging as the healthbar slowly wittles down. In this moment, there is no divide between you and your character. There is no distance, to be bridged by story or setting. You note a small opening in the boss's swing, you risk it, make it, and land the killing blow.

In that moment, I experienced something quite unlike any other game I have ever played. The presentation had me fully enveloped, and worked in complete parity with everything. It was one of the most incredible moments I've ever had in a game.

In conclusion, Soldier of Godrick wins.

[specialagentlokitty]

Mr Evershed x student!reader - longing for a family

Hi I have a request for an EvershedxStudent Reader with the new prompt list 2 number 62. Thanks. - Anon 💜

62: “Adopt me.” “What? Why?” “Because nobody has ever been as nice to be as you have…”

Sitting on a wall outside of the school, you sighed to yourself as you looked down at your feet, swinging them back and forth.

You heard the gate open, and you looked to the side to see Mr Evershed look out of the gate.

“Not coming in?” He asked.

You shrugged, and he sighed, making his way back over, standing in front of you with his arms crossed.

“I know it’s hard, but you can’t just avoid everything you don’t like, you know that right?”

“I know, but for now it seems like a pretty good option…”

“Sometimes things won’t able seem great, but eventually things will start looking up for you.”

“Yeah because foster care is a walk in the park…”

He sighed softly.

“Come on, why not come in just for a few hours. It’s nearly lunch and we’ve got pizza today, I know you love pizza.”

“No money so no point.”

“Come on.” He smiled.

Mr Evershed gestured to the gate and you sighed heavily, jumping down from the wall and you made your way to the gate.

Stepping inside you stood there waiting for him to close the gate again, then he followed after you into the school.

You weren’t wearing a uniform, and right now that wasn’t what he wanted to focus on, he just wanted to focus on getting you into school.

Mr Evershed came back out, giving you another smile as he gestured for you to head down the hallway.

He followed alongside of you, glancing at you before looking back down the hallway.

“You know I know what it’s like when things seem hard.”

“Okay?”

“It does get better eventually, it just takes time. It’s not going to get better over night, it’ll never get better that fast. You won’t see it straight away, but one day you will.”

You shrugged a little bit.

“You’ll wake up one morning, and you’ll see just how great life is.”

You walked inside, and you sat down at one of the tables, looking around the cafeteria.

“It’s empty.”

“It’s not lunch yet, but I thought you’d be more comfortable without all the people. It’s the small steps first.”

Mr Evershed walked over to the counter, getting you some pizza and chips, along with a drink and he brought them over, setting them in front of you.

He sat down opposite, and he rested his arms on it, still smiling at you.

“I just don’t see the point…” you mumbled.

“I know you’re going to do great in life (Y/N), you’re going to pass your exams, then one day you’ll come back here and you’ll tell me everything you’ve been doing.”

“How do you know?”

“Well, I know you’re smart, and I know you have a huge passion for computers. I know you’re going to get into a good college, and one day you’ll be making games just like you wanted to. I even had a little go at that game you made for one of your classes.”

This made you look over at him.

“Did you win?”

“Absolutely not, I had no idea what I was doing.” He chuckled.

You smiled a little, turning back to your food.

“Did you read the guidelines?”

“There’s guidelines? I spent half an hour just trying to figure out how to get past the starting screen. Im not great at this stuff you know.

“Cause you’re old.”

He chuckled.

“Maybe, you want to show me how to play it after lunch?”

You nodded your head.

“It’s pretty straight forward when you know the keys, I haven’t had chance to finish it yet or add any obstacles.”

“I’m sure I’ll still have a hard time completing it.”

You gave a half shrug.

He sighed softly.

“I know you’re struggling (Y/N), but u want you to know that you’re not alone, alright? You’re never alone.”

You rested your head on your arm, turning your attention towards the window instead.

“Everyone has a family but me…”

“Family isn’t always blood (Y/N). You can make your own family, you can have whoever you want in it.”

You looked over at him.

“You’ll find a family one day, I know you will. I know they’ll love you and take care of you, like you should’ve had all along.”

You thought about what he said and quietly went back to eating.

You had never thought about having a family of your own, you had never really experienced what it was like to have a family.

Everything you learnt about families, kindness, hope, you had learnt from Mr Evershed.

As you guys were heading back to the office you looked up at him.

“Adopt me.”

He stopped, immediately turning to look at you.

“What? Why?”

You shrugged a little bit, looking away.

“Because nobody has ever been as nice to be as you have…” you mumbled.

He sighed softly, and you turned away from him, making your way down the hallway.

He followed you.

“I don’t really know what it’s like to a family… but you taught me a lot…”

You turned around to look at him.

“Guess I thought it would be nice to have a father or something… sorry…”

You made your way for the front doors instead of the office.

“(Y/N)! Hey!”

You just left, and he sighed to himself.

You never had really been good at expressing yourself, and whenever you did you always made sure to leave the situation immediately.

Mr Evershed noticed it was almost as if you were protecting yourself from being hurt.

It broke his heart, you had been used to rejection, you had been so used to not experiencing kindness, you had never really experienced the love that a kid should have had.

You were almost isolated from the rest of society that you just didn’t seem to have any hope in anything at all anymore.

He wanted to change that, bring you out of the shell you had built around yourself, but he didn’t know how

[mar3ggiata]

professional help, c26. I don't smoke.

simon riley x original character.

trigger warnings: violence, sexual assault, mentions of rape, trauma, sexual themes, swearing, use of alcohol and drugs, mentions of death.

song to listen to when reading this: Nights, Frank Ocean.

abstract: Hey it's Alba, how is it going. so me and Simon had another little fight, but we're getting to know each other which is good. he still has no idea I'm a piece of shit and everything in my life is fake. poor thing. still, I had fun.

'Oh, wait till I tell you I got you a present.'

'Alba what the fuck!' He looked at her while raising his shoulders, which made her laugh out loud and groan out of frustration. He thought he had to leave. 'What? Fucking hell, I can do what I want Simon!' She raised her voice, but she was smiling. 'It's Christmas, of course I got you a present, let it go…' She started eating, he couldn't move. He didn't get her anything. He didn't even think about it cause he was too busy not wanting to go. And now, he had to deal with her getting him a gift as well, and what kind of gift did she get, it's not like they knew each other… He stayed silent and mentally cursed her for being amazing at cooking.

The fish was very nice. Michelin star, he was used to MREs and awful mess hall food. He ended up eating most of the roasted potatoes as well. He hated her, he really liked her cooking. She still wouldn't speak, but she looked like the silence wasn't bothering her. 'I didn't get you anything', he confessed. She took a sip of wine, he watched her lips gently graze the glass. 'You got the chocolates.' He rolled his eyes, 'It's not the same thing.' She smiled, 'It is if I eat all of them.' He helped her clean up. She washed the plates and trays, he put the leftovers in the fridge as she requested. They went back to talking. She asked him what he had to do to become a captain or colonel. He tried to explain the difference in ranks at best he could. They spoke about driving in the UK, left and right-hand traffic. She kept saying how mad she was at the British who always needed to be different from the rest of the world. 'It makes most sense to drive on the left', he was arguing, she was saying she had always hated it. He even joked she wasn't a good driver, she pressed a hand on her chest, gasping and saying 'how dare you'. He had so many questions for her. He started with asking about university in Italy, she said it was difficult, the exams were extremely hard and many students committed suicide every year becacuse of stress from studying. She asked about leave time for the military, when you're allowed to go on vacation. She offered to roll him a cigarette with loose tabacco, while he finished drying the plates with a towel. She opened the small kitchen window, he had seen the astray there on the window sill. He got lost in thought looking at her small fingers fitting the tobacco leaves in the rolling paper. When she licked the paper to make it stick, he had to look away.

He got closer to the window to blow out the smoke, she was standing in between his body and the window sill. The roads were empty, it felt like her apartment was frozen in time. The music was still playing, there was the fresh smell of lemon lingering in the air. He looked down at her, rollie in between her fingers, her chest raising as she took him small breaths. If she took just one step foreword, her head could have rested on his chest. He could have wrapped his arms around her like he did at the ballet school, feeling her back again, her arms. She would have circled his neck again, her hand in his hair or on his shoulders. She didn't take a step foreword. Her ashtray had a few cigarette butts in it. Two of them looked different from the others, the filters long and white. Cardboard filters. She smoked weed. He was dumbfounded for a second while he realised. It made him feel as if he found cocaine in her bathroom. His mind went to his brother immediately, after what had happened with him he became strongly opposed to drugs. Not that he had ever used before… She didn't seem like the type to smoke, he would't have imagined. He had grown into the stereotypical idea that any drug was bad and would ruin your life, he thought people who used were stupid and shallow and wasteful of their money and would slowly lose their ability to think and communicate. He hated to learn this was her case too. After seeing what happened with Thommy, she would probably end up like that as well.

She noticed his distant expression and asked him if he was alright. He decided to ask. 'You smoke weed?' She looked at the ashtray like she had just remembered about the filters. 'Yeah, occasionally. Why, you wanna smoke?' She looked up at him, with those big green eyes. No, Alba, my brother was an addict I don't want to smoke. 'Nah, I don't smoke.' His expression was betraying him, she knew something was going on. She asked if everything was good. He stubbed the cig in the ashtray and took a few steps back from the window. He wanted to leave again. He knew this wasn't a good idea, he should've stayed by himself. 'What's going on?' She asked again, this time raising her voice just a little to sound more assertive. He could't tell her. He shook his head and reached for his mask, putting it on. She closed the window and came closer to him, on the opposite side of the counter. 'Would you tell me what's going on?'

'I don't like drugs', he finally answered, vaguely. He was ready to put on his jacket and run away. She opened her arms, still looking at him. 'Okay. I understand. Does it bother you I smoke weed?' He tried his best not to think she was accusing him or assuming stuff about him. 'You're an addict', he said, his voice was low and emotionless, his demeanour completely changed. His eyes were dark, with that mask back on it was even harder to read his expressions. She took it as a sign, that he put it back on. 'What? No I'm not!' She crossed her arms. Does he even know what he's talking about? In university, she had full on exams on substance abuse, she was fully aware she wasn't at all addicted to weed. She knew what she was doing, she could stop anytime she wanted. And even if she did have a drug problem, it sure wasn't his place to judge her. I can do what I want. What was he on about?

'I smoke every now and then, that doesn't make me an addict'.

'That's what an addict would say…'

'...io faccio il cazzo che voglio.'

She stayed silent after that. Thing is, she had debated for a long time whether if to get weed and start smoking again was a good idea. She did it soon after the accident, got way too high cause it was her first time after years. But now, she was proud of her routine, she was proud she wasn't dependant on it to sleep, it only helped to take the edge off sometimes. She liked to roll her little joints, she didn't even smoke them whole in the same night, it was just for comfort and unwinding . 'Does it bother you I smoke?' Her tone was assertive and serious, cause she got offender at his assumption. 'It does, it's dangerous and stupid.' He was back to being is normal self then, distant and masked. 'Okay, I didn't ask your opinion. It relaxes me when I can't sleep.' She explained. 'So you like it?' He took a step foreword, she was repressing more italian from slipping out. 'I don't need to explain myself to you.'

'Fine then.' He sounded so fucking childish and petty it was making her mad. He definitely had some trauma attached to drugs, it would explain his adversion. She took a step back and leant against the stovetop. A part of her wanted him to leave, she wanted to challenge him to leave. Realistically, even if he was still standing there in front of her unmoving, he would have left if she asked him to. 'Why won't you tell me why it bothers you?' She tried to sound more open. She channeled the therapist in her. 'I don't have to explain myself to you.' Now, in normal settings, she would have told anyone to fuck off at that point. She decided to take it as a challenge and a meditation exercise. She took her time, breathing in. I really hate you right now. 'Not telling me won't do you any good…' she tried. 'Are you threatening me?' She felt sorry for him. He wasn't his fault, poor thing. It never was, it happened countless times during therapy, every single one of her patients had guilt inside them, and trust issues and the inability to distance themselves from work. She had thought Simon was no different, with the exception his trauma was probably rooted inside him, covered by bad coping mechanisms and denial.

'Jesus Christ, Simon. No.' She took a step towards him. 'Let go of that military shit. How am I supposed to understand if you don't talk?' He looked like he was finally listening. 'I want to know why you don't like it, I care about your opinion.' He stayed silent for a few seconds, probably trying to decide whether to trust her or not. 'My brother was an addict.' His brother, probably deceased. She remembered he said his family passed, he meant all family members? It made sense, and she was grateful he had told her. His whole family was dead, that was what he said during the walk with Jinx a few weeks back. Her eyes softened. 'Thank you for telling me.' He needed to know his past was safe with her. 'Does the fact I smoke remind you of him?' He looked at his feet and was playing with a string of fabric from his hoodie. 'Yes.' he said.

'I understand. There are many stages to substance abuse, Simon. Would you believe me if I told you I am not addicted to weed? The amount I smoke is so small I couldn't get addicted even if I tried.'

'…yes.'

'That's good.'

Silence had filled the room, they looked at each other like they were deciding whether the night should end there or they could still hang out. The music still played in the background, it was almost eleven at night. She thought if she didn't initiate a conversation they would look at each other all night, which she didn't mind cause he was handsome. But still. He surprised her when he spoke first.

'You can still get addicted.'

She chucked, 'I don't have the money for a drug addiction Simon.'

'I don't like it.'

'Are you asking me to stop smoking?'

'Yes. Use melatonin to sleep.'

'You have no control on how I live my life, I’m sorry.'

She crossed her harms on her chest. She didn't know what to think, maybe it meant he cared about her wellbeing, maybe he was just selfish and didn't understand how social interactions worked. She finally moved from her spot against the stovetop and opened the box of chocolates. She turned around and got the with cake she had baked. He looked at her while she cut him a piece and placed it on a paper towel. He read her expression, he read her kind eyes. She was saying you can stay or you can go. This piece of cake is for you, though. His eyes on her were the definition of fear. He looked so incredibly stiff and uncomfortable. She felt bad again. He didn't have a family, he didn't have a partner, he didn't have anywhere to be for Christmas and had probably been alone for the majority of his adult life. It was no surprise he wasn't used to kindness. When you're shown with care for the first time after a life of violence, it might be scary. But her, it took her so much violence to become that kind, and she thought he knew. He knew. She pushed the piece of cake towards him as a peace offering.

'I bet you put strawberries in this…' He murmured.

When she smiled, he felt like she put a hand through his chest and caressed his heart.

notes: florence chocolate cake recipe???

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