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slunch · 5 months ago

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Jelly Dreams

There was something on my mind a moment ago, but the thought has vanished.

Strings of multicolored pennants snap at the air above my head. I’m standing in the crowd in the middle of an open-air market. Behind the tin roofs, I can see the points of the snow-capped mountains that surround us. They’re close in the clear air, just a few steps beyond the edge of the market.

I scan the stalls, trying to remember what I was going to buy. I was definitely here for some reason. I pat my pockets, trying to find something amiss. Was I hungry? Needed a part for something? I turn and look behind me, trying to figure out the way I came.

One person brushes past me and I feel them take my wallet. I grab their arm a moment too late, and they twist free and sprint into the crowd. All thought of my present situation lost, I tear after them, pushing through the space they leave behind.

The thief turns right, darts into a narrow tarp-covered gap between two stalls. For a moment our pursuit is quiet and blue. The noise of the market is muffled here. We pass behind a food stall, sun-shafts through holes in the tarp flashing by in the steam. I try to keep my footing on the wet floor.

Ahead, they leave the alley and plunge back into the crowd. I exit the blue alley and the sunlight blinds me, so I stumble and fall. The thief is gone when I scramble upright.

I wait a moment and seek higher ground via a stack of crates and the roof of an unused stall. A flutter of dark material in an alley catches my eye but I stand, panting, and watch the thief pull away.

The wallet has my cards, my passports, my vital papers. It becomes clearer in my mind as I dwell on it. The wallet itself is artisanal; expensive leather worked by a close friend of mine for a large amount of money. The wallet has an emotionally significant symbol etched onto the front, an emblem of a close experience I shared with the friend who made it. To let it go would be dangerous and expensive and humiliating, and my body strains to continue the chase.

I remain still. I don’t know why I’m frozen until the two-step mantra rises.

To escape the dreamer, remain clear-minded and see your death.

I’m clear-minded now, having released my connection to the tether, but something is missing. I don't see anything in the market that could be my death. Fabrics, trinkets, electronics....

An icy metal railing catches the sun at the end of an aisle. A battered yellow sign warns people away from the edge. I focus, imagine myself leaning over the railing. Looking at the blue-shadowed glacial valley below the mountain, outcroppings of rock drawing my eye down, down. The ice on the railing melting under my hands. My hip bones on the railing as I lurch forwards, fingers slipping—

My stomach jolts and I snap out of the vision. Sweat beads on my brow, unnaturally warm for the winter, because of course it isn’t really winter—

And I snapped out of the vision again, into the real world. Out of the icy market and into my sleeping bag in my tent in the desert.

I sat up and drew in a long, shuddering gasp, hand already reaching behind me for the dreamer that had fallen with one tendril still on my neck and the others lying limp in the polyester fabrics.

“d,” I said.

I cleared my throat.

“DREAMERS!” I yelled.

I yanked my bare feet out of the sleeping bag and into the boots, flailed around on the floor of the tent for other dreamers (none), unzipped the tent, stopped!

I pushed my hand against the roof of the tent. There was a dreamer sitting above the flap. I slapped it sideways, through the fabric, and heard it flop onto the ground. Then I crawled out, dragging the one that was in there with me out onto the dirt, where I stomped it into mush.

This all happened in pitch-blackness. I had shuffled back to my tent and started on the second dreamer when the lights came on. The camp came alive with groaning and muttering.

“I got two!” I yelled to nobody in particular.

Flashlights scanned the ground inside the circle of tents, then around the perimeter. There was a thud and a muffled squish. “Got one!” yelled Mandela.

“Nothing here!” came another report, this one from Poke.

“Nothing!” yelled Star.

“All clear, I think,” said Koda.

“Okay!” I yelled, and sighed. There was silence while we reassembled.

“It’s 5:30,” said Poke, and looked at us. We all looked at the sky that was beginning to lighten.

“I’ll start the coffee,” said Poke.

Ten minutes later, we were sitting around the half-buried ashes of last night’s fire. Poke made the best coffee in what was left of the world. I savored it, rolled each grainy sip around my mouth. It was old trail coffee, but well-preserved. Low acidity, and Poke never burned it, regardless of how rough the previous night had been.

I was still in the post-dreamer stage where I relished every sensory connection to the waking world.

“Crane, how are you feeling?” asked Koda.

I looked up blearily at him.

“It wasn’t the worst one I’ve had,” I said, eyes back on the ashes.

Getting nabbed by a dreamer was a uniquely personal experience, and often a humiliating one. It was a stark reminder that you had slipped up. Forgetting to look up when entering an abandoned building, neglecting to check your back when traveling alone, or in my case, leaving the tent flap slightly unzipped.

Most people didn’t tell, unless it was a truly nasty one. A lot of people thought it was bad luck. Some people thought they were portentous, or full of rare psychological insights. Mandela talked about both of hers on this trip and they weren’t even that interesting. She definitely owed us after the first one, though. We lost twelve hours when we should have been on the road, propped her head up and spoon-fed her oatmeal and water. I wasn’t sure if she’d follow in her parents’ footsteps and never make it back up.

Mandela decided on a timeout after that.

“You know the drill,” I said to Koda, who was still watching me. “Cleared up, saw my death. I don’t think this one was more than ten minutes or so.”

“A speedrun,” he chuckled, and drained his coffee.

PC slang. Koda liked to flex his pre-crash birth year sometimes.

We broke camp swiftly and methodically. The last travelers to pass through had cleared brush around the site and swept the rusted table, and we did the same. Star led the way out, laminated map in hand. Mostly for show, because she’d done this route before and had a mind for directions, but old habits die hard and it never hurt to double-check.

“We’re finally turning south today,” she said. “We can get the shade from the highway on the trail, too.”

“Last day on foot, right?” asked Poke.

“Yep. We’ll get to the truck stop this afternoon ‘cause we started so early.”

“Yeehaw,” I murmured.

Tension left our shoulders and we adjusted our frame packs for speed at the cost of energy. The promise of a hot meal and a cold shower (and a truck!) was a lighthouse at the end of the shimmering desert.

Before the sun had fully burnt off the morning mist, we came up on the highway. It was a jagged line in the distance that snaked over the land and then suddenly, without warning, became a crumbling structure that loomed over our head. I could see a few dreamers lurking on its shaded underbelly.

To escape the dreamer, remain clear-minded and see your death. The thought was an unbidden but necessary guest, one I had invited into my mind years ago.

The trail didn’t cross underneath the overpass yet. It stayed in its long shadow, winding closer and closer to a point somewhere in the far distance. My gut clenched at the thought of passing underneath the clumps of dreamers. I glanced at my boots, where a few iridescent filaments lingered, and wiped them on some brush as I passed.

“This is a good route,” said Star. “I know you guys want to go fast, but if we hold a decent pace the trail will keep us in the shade for most of the day.”

“I wish concrete wasn’t so terrible for your legs,” said Poke. “Walking on that highway would be pretty nice.”

“Concrete also gets very hot in the sunlight,” said Star. “And there are no wind-breaks, so if you’re in a headwind it sucks.”

“Ech,” said Koda.

“It would be so nice to get an infra project out here,” said Mandela wistfully. “Just plant a bunch of trees in the median and on either side, maybe put down some dirt, and you’d have such a great road.”

“Hah,” said Koda. “Maybe bring it up at the truck stop and they’ll relay it to, what, Salt Lake? What’s the nearest city?”

“Reno, as of today,” said Star.

��Hell yeah,” said Poke. “That’s progress right there.”

We traipsed on in silence for a while. The sun rose steadily.

“You guys mind if I dictate?” I asked. The breeze from the morning had died down.

“Yeah, go for it,” said Mandela.

“Sure,” said Koda.

I reached back overhead and rummaged around in my pack. My fingers touched the toothbrush, crank battery, utility knife, and recorder.

I inspected it for dust and damage as I walked, absentmindedly falling into step behind Poke so I wouldn’t twist an ankle. The recorder’s batteries were still mostly charged and its current storage chip was only half full. The blue paint was chipped. My fingers had long since worn away the text on the buttons.

I clicked it on.

“Alright, day seven of the San Francisco courier trip. We’re almost to the truck stop, and it’s a beautiful day to be walking, especially after the run-in I had with a dreamer last night. However, I was in and out in maybe ten minutes. Nothing scary, it was, uh...”

I trailed off, unsure.

“Are you guys okay with me talking about it?”

I was met with grunts of assent.

“It was a market in some snowy mountains somewhere. The tether this time was my wallet that got stolen. Nice wallet though, I remember it was made by some random friend and had something etched on the front.”

“What was it?” asked Mandela, hunting oneiric symbols.

“I’m not sure, I just remember that it was significant somehow. In the dream.”

“Probably a crane, har har,” said Poke.

“That’s a tether for you,” said Koda.

“Yeah, it was pretty textbook,” I continued. “The dreamer got into my tent somehow, I must have left the flap open a little. I found one more on the roof and knocked it off before I got out, and then...who got the other one? Star?”

“Dela got it,” said Star.

“Yeah, Mandela got the other one. Three in total. Anyway, the weather is nice and we’re making good time. We did a package check this morning and everything looks okay.”

I clicked the recorder off and took a sip of water.

“We did do a package check, right?”

“Poke did,” said Koda.

“Yep.”

We walked on. I watched the scenery pass. There weren’t many structures or ruins on our route. There was an occasional tree with a dreamer or two hanging in the branches like a limp balloon, but as far as I could see it was mostly grass and scrub. Some low brown hills crept by us in the middle distance, and closer to the horizon I could just make out the mountain range. It was odd being this far west and not hearing cicadas in the late summer.

Cloud shadows drifted on the dead grass. There was enough cover that the air stayed cooler than it had been at the start of our trip.

“We can stop for a meal up ahead,” Star said after a while. “There’s a rest area somewhere around here, if it isn’t filled with dreamers.”

Sure enough, the rest stop materialized as our path drew closer alongside the raised highway. It didn’t look like anything much, just a bathroom and a few shade-giving structures with some trees and picnic tables, but I was glad to see it. Then we got closer and I noticed the dreamer infestation.

They slumped and clumped on the trees. Tendrils hung in the air and trailed over the picnic tables. As we watched, one slid off a branch and splatted onto the concrete, where it lay motionless for a moment before beginning a slow slide into the men’s room.

Koda inhaled and sighed deeply, and started expanding his walking stick.

“You know,” he said slowly, “when I was a California baby, we had these things called piñatas. I loved them.”

“...yeah?” said Poke.

“They were cardboard creatures, and they were filled with candy. When it was your birthday, they’d put a blindfold on you and give you a stick, and they’d hang one on a rope from a tree branch and let you go wild on it.”

“That sounds fun,” said Star.

“Yeah, it was pretty fun as a kid,” said Koda. “I remember one time one of my uncles was in charge of the rope and he kept yanking it up and down while I was blindfolded. I only got a few hits in before getting so frustrated I cried.”

We tried to imagine him as a crying child and there was a moment of silence, interrupted by two sharp clicks as Koda finished locking out the ends of his staff.

As we approached, one dreamer slipped off a picnic table and moved slowly towards us. As its tendrils extended upwards, Poke took a running leap and stomped on it with both feet. It made a huge mess, and Poke lurched backwards on his suddenly-slippery soles before righting himself under his frame pack. He turned back towards us in shame.

“Sorry.”

“Be careful,” said Star.

Koda said nothing and swatted the two remaining dreamers out of the trees.

We began the smashing in earnest. The procedure was very simple (if you were prepared): watch each other’s backs, always keep an eye on what’s above you, and burst the rubbery outer shell of the dreamer to destroy them. I didn’t think about it as killing, because I didn’t think they were alive. Dreamers just sat around and multiplied when nobody was looking. The closest Earth thing to them was a jellyfish, visually, but at least jellyfish had to eat.

The folklore said dreamers were solar-powered, and that was why you didn’t see as many when it was overcast. My anecdotal evidence said otherwise. It was interesting to see them after the person they’d attached to woke up, though. They barely moved, and didn’t even reach for a new person. They just lay there like fat little batteries.

I wiped some sweat off my brow and checked on the rest of the group. Koda’s methodical stomping had coated the lower half of his boots in a layer of gelatinous dreamer innards. Star and Poke weren’t far behind, and they always had each other’s backs. Mandela was still struggling with the finer techniques of dreamer smushing.

“Dela, you gotta be more decisive,” I called to her. “You’ll only slip on them if you don’t burst the outer part. If you punch through the center you’ll be fine.”

Gazing thoughtfully downwards, she gave me a thumbs-up and raised a leg for a particularly powerful stomp.

“I think that’s all of them,” said Poke.

Star huffed. “Man. That was a lot of dreamers.”

Even Koda was breathing a little hard.

We shrugged our packs off onto the picnic tables and slumped down in the shade. I felt a tickle at the back of my neck and flailed for an embarrassing few seconds until I realized some of my hair had come loose from where I’d tied it back. Mandela giggled.

We unpacked the rest of the lunch. Dense bread, dried meat, and dried fruit was the same thing we’d had on most of the trip, but none of us really cared. It got the job done, and now that we’d cleared out the dreamers, this rest stop was definitely one of the nicer places we’d eaten. All the tables were in the shade of the trees and structures by now, alleviating the worst of the heat, and we could see for miles across the empty landscape.

“We’ve got twenty minutes before we need to head out, if you guys want to relax,” said Star. It occurred to me, not for the first time, that the clunky watch on her wrist served the same purpose as her laminated map.

Koda stretched out across the top of one of the concrete tables and closed his eyes. Poke began methodically cleaning his rifle, even though it had been a few days since he’d last fired it. Mandela started trying to sketch the dappled shade across his shoulders.

I grabbed a roll of paper and wandered over to the bathrooms. The structure would have been a disgusting place pre-crash, rarely cleaned for the volume of people that passed through it. Now it was just a dusty shelter for the animals that sometimes slept there. A small amount of light came in through the gap between the walls and the rafters. Someone had installed a pump by one of the toilets.

There was nothing in the stalls or on the ceiling, so I sat down and the dreamer fell onto my neck from its perch atop the wall.

The mascot costume is heavy and my undershirt is soaked with sweat. Drums and whistles clatter all around me. We’re approaching the second hour of the parade, and it isn’t showing any signs of stopping. I don’t even know what part of the city we’re in anymore. Worst of all, the five cups of coffee I had this morning are getting to me.

I need to stop, find somewhere to take a break, but I’m in the middle of a group of other mascots. Sweat drips into my eyes and I blink furiously in the steamy, still air of my costume. It’s stifling. I stumble and the mascot behind me collides with me. It grabs me, shoving me up and forwards, and I can catch a muffled expletive through its snout.

We march on through the sun-drenched streets. My eyes scan the sidewalks for a convenient alley or convenience store, but everything is roped off for us. For our parade.

The light glitters off the windows and the drums echo off the buildings. The coffee churns in my gut and I can almost taste it in my mouth, bitter and burned. Poke never burned it.

When I remember who Poke is, I break into a cold sweat inside the costume. I don’t remember how I got here, not yet, but I need to clear my mind. That’s the first thing. I know there’s a second thing, but I can’t remember it yet.

The first step is always to accept your current situation; to take stock of what you’ve got. In this world, it’s established that I have to continue the parade. The physically roped-off alleys, the other mascots that push me if I falter. I can’t stop marching; that’s a given. I almost reach to pull off the head of my costume, but something tells me that’s a bad idea.

I take a deep breath of sweaty air and slowly let it out. Clear-minded. That’s the second thing. Remain clear-minded in spite of the obstacles the dream throws at you: tethers, physical discomfort, or rare emotional appeals.

I remember the next step is to see your death. How can I die here?

I’m on the street, but it’s all closed off. I can’t be run over by any cars. Something could drop on me, maybe. I look up and in an instant the sun blinds me, but I have enough time to realize I’m in the middle of a large avenue. Not underneath any windows or scaffolding.

The parade turns a corner and I sneak a look backwards. We’re part of a small cohort at the head of the procession. Behind me plod other brightly colored mascots, followed by a marching band and a train of whimsically themed floats. My padded feet slip on a pile of confetti and I almost fall. The costumed creature behind me doesn’t push this time, instead opting to knee me in the kidney. Even through the layers of fabric, it hurts. If I were to fall, I’d get no sympathy.

But would that be enough to kill me, I think, trudging along. Let’s see. If I did fall right now, the other mascots would trample me first. It’d hurt, but wouldn’t be enough. They’d be followed by the band, weighed down by their gigantic instruments. Maybe that would be enough, but there’s more to the parade. I was able to see at least five floats before they disappeared in the haze of heat and confetti.

If I were lucky, the wheels of the first float would hit my head instead of my legs.

I bolted upright on the cold seat. My head snapped back and crushed the dreamer against the concrete. I ripped it off my neck and slammed it against the wall a few more times for good measure. Then I stuffed it into the toilet, where it lay as I tried desperately to flush it with the pump.

I splashed water onto my face when I washed my hands. The bathroom was cramped and dark like a mascot costume.

When I ventured back out into the light, I noticed that the sun had shifted, and the rest of the group was watching me. Mandela visibly relaxed as she saw me emerge.

“You okay in there?” asked Poke. “I heard a lot of slamming towards the end.”

“You should eat more fiber,” said Star.

They were unconditionally glad to see me, which warmed my heart, but I couldn’t believe I missed the dreamer. I had even seen it crawl into the bathroom as we were walking up.

“Tricky, aren’t they,” said Koda, watching me silently shake my head.

“They always know somehow,” I said. “They’re always behind or above you, in those weird places where you have to look twice.”

“Yup.”

I stood there a bit longer, trying to follow the line of thought to its end and get it out of my brain, then shook my head.

“Ugh. Let’s pack up, I wanna get out of here.”

“What, you thought we were just sitting around waiting for you?” asked Mandela. “We’re ready to get going.”

I looked at the rest area. Everything was clean. My frame pack sat on the table, fully in order.

“Thanks, guys,” I said, and we kept moving.

I stayed in the back this time and kept my eyes up. I couldn’t stop thinking about that stupid parade. We were just a small parade of five people now, camping costumes fluttering in the breeze, but it made me nervous for some reason I couldn’t describe. Acting out part of the dream, however small and remote, felt wrong. Like we were walking into a trap or willingly winding up some vast and terrible mechanism.

I felt like the rest of the group could pick up on my unease. They might have attributed it to the fact that I was grabbed by two dreamers in a day, which was pretty rare, but I could never tell what they were thinking sometimes.

I kept walking.

It was mid-afternoon when we got to the outskirts of the truck stop. It was a small settlement, but the farms and scattered animal pens stretched out for a few miles around it. Some people in the fields glanced at us as we approached, but a group of couriers was nothing new to them. I was glad we’d made it before the sun went down, because there was nothing worse than checking for dreamers in the dark.

We passed a large wooden sign that said THEATER. Behind it, a solar panel array stretched over to the hills. I blinked in the reflected sunlight.

“Is that a road name?” I asked.

“Pretty sure it’s the town name,” said Star. “I’ve seen weirder. I stopped at a place in Montana once that was just called E.”

“The solar panels look pretty clean,” said Mandela. “That’s always a good sign.”

“Looks like a big place,” said Poke.

“Maybe,” said Koda, after some thought. “I’d estimate a few hundred based on the farms, but we don’t know what the southern side looks like.”

We passed the inner wall. It was nothing special, a ring of repurposed livestock fencing around the core of the town. A few kids on bikes sprinted past. Old trees grew from the remains of the paved road, thick roots pushing aside chunks of asphalt.

“Look, they could have dug up the pavement around those trees like they did for the main road,” said Mandela, pointing. “But they didn’t. It’s restricting their growth.”

“They’re making a statement,” chuckled Koda. “Theater likes their theatrics.”

The truck stop was a complex of a few buildings. Oak trees shaded the remains of a parking lot, around which a few structures rose for a couple stories. I could see the garage in the back. The parking lot was enclosed by a low fence that seemed more for decoration than utility. Where it opened to the main road, a woman lounged with her feet up on a table.

Despite the fact that she had watched us approach, she waited until we were at the table to swing her feet down and stand up to greet us.

“Afternoon,” said Koda.

“Hello, folks, my name’s Samantha, but you can just call me Sam,” she said. “We’ve got the common area here, lodgings over there”—she pointed to an ancient hotel-looking building—“and of course, the garage is behind the common area. Our truck stop offers a range of amenities, including hot meals, hot showers, and a prime location in Theater’s historic downtown.”

Recitation over, Sam smiled at us. “Well. If you’d like to follow me, we can deal with payment inside.”

She sized us up as she escorted us past the fence and into the truck stop. I felt more remains of asphalt under my feet. The air was cooler inside the compound.

“Five couriers is kinda rare, huh? Let’s see...”

Her eye was drawn down to Koda, as usual, and his gray-streaked hair.

“Leader.”

Koda nodded.

“Navigator,” she said, looking at Star and the constellation tattoos on her hands.

“That one’s a gimme,” Star said.

Sam’s eyes flitted over to Mandela, then Poke, noting his rifle, then back to Mandela. Most people on the road tended to give her a second look, which we were used to by now.

“If he’s the hunter, then you’re the mechanic.”

Mandela nodded. “Mechanic and botanist.”

Sam’s gaze lingered on her and then settled on me.

“So what are you, the second mechanic?”

“I’m an archivist,” I replied.

“Archivist?”

“I’m documenting the rebuilding, mostly, and taking some field notes for when Chicago eventually gets the trains out here.”

Sam frowned. “Rebuilding what, exactly? We’re not doing much of that these days.”

I shrugged. “Someone’s gotta write things down, might as well be a courier. We carry little things,” I said, neglecting to mention what our current package was, “but they add up. Traveling is a good source of information too.”

“The extra pair of hands has been pretty nice,” said Koda.

“I can imagine,” Sam said absently. “Here’s the main hall. We’ve got a few people passing through, but I’m sure you folks will want to get on the road as soon as possible tomorrow. I’ll tell the mechanics to prioritize your group tonight.”

“What kind of trucks do you have?” asked Mandela, craning her neck to look over at the garage. Bits of conversation floated over, followed by the clang of someone dropping a metal tool on a concrete floor.

“Oh, this and that,” said Sam, raising her voice over the ensuing swearing. “No gas, obviously, but we’ve got two vans and a few flatbeds.”

Mandela murmured something.

“Where are the showers?” I asked.

“Ha!” said Sam. “No worries. We’ve got them in the lodgings. I’ll get your group set up with the keys.”

We entered a large lobby that must have been grand once. Wires snaked across the flaking plaster and through crudely punched holes in the walls. A few copper pipes rose into the ceiling. Despite this, the rest of the space was taken care of. The afternoon sunlight through the windows only lit up a few dust motes, and someone had swept the floor recently.

Sam sat down at a large desk and flipped open her computer, already working the pedal on the floor. I felt the soft vibrations of the flywheel, heard it squeak as it started transferring power into the computer.

“Thing takes forever to start,” she said, poking a few keys.

“That sounds like a small wheel,” said Mandela. “What do you do if you need to get up or something?”

Sam looked up at us over the lid of the computer.

“Well, then she saves her work,” said Koda, who was already digging into his pack, and said to Sam: “Two rooms should be plenty, thanks.”

“I don’t use it for much besides numbers,” Sam said, licking a thumb to count the bills she had been handed, “and to keep track of a couple things. We’ve got a guest book in the common area if you’d like to sign that.”

Sam pulled open a drawer and withdrew a group of worn golden keys. Their edges were soft with use.

“Two rooms, then. Second floor, first two on the right.”

The shower was everything I had hoped for. I still checked for dreamers, though. Afterwards, I lay on the bed, sandals and all, and watched as the rest of the couriers unpacked.

“What did Sam tell you about Theater? Is there anything cool here?” said Mandela, poking her head through the door to the room that I shared with Koda and Poke.

“Not much,” said Koda, emptying his pockets onto the single table. “Kinda funny that they actually have a theater though.”

“Closed ‘till Thursday!” hollered Star from the next room.

“It’s fine,” I said, lounging on my hard mattress. “You see one terrible rendition of a Shakespeare play, you’ve seen them all.”

“I wouldn’t mind seeing any rendition,” said Mandela coolly.

“Well, if you’re up for an afternoon stroll, we can at least check out the building,” said Koda, leaning out into the hallway. “Any other takers?”

Poke nodded.

“Crane?”

“I would, but I’ve got some sleep to catch up on,” I said, lying back on the mattress. The tough springs were heaven after a few dreamer-infested days on the road. “Just lock me in when you leave. I’ll have the window closed.”

Koda tossed me the spare key from the doorway as they headed out. I was asleep before my fingers finished curling around it.

I never dream.

* * *

For a second after I awoke, I thought I was back home. The wall was to the right of my head and the dim light through my closed eyes was exactly how I remembered it. I lay there, relishing the illusion, until someone across the hall slammed their door. The spell broke and I woke up properly.

The room was silent, dark, and stuffy, and the sunset painted a deep orange square on the far wall. My mouth was dry and my head pounded. The water in my pack was still cool. From the rest stop in the desert that had been full of dreamers.

I shook my head despite the pain, trying to dislodge the vision that clung to my brain like a gummy tentacle.

I slid open the window and took a breath of dry air. It was time to do my job and talk to some locals. I put more clothes on and grabbed my things from my pack, leaving a note for Koda and the rest of the group on the door as I left.

Archiving. Common area then closest tavern. Opened window for air. Watch for dreamers.

The door locked firmly behind me and I trotted down the worn steps and out of the bunk building. It was going to be a clear night, but the day wouldn’t let go just yet. Long shadows from the town’s other buildings stretched across the courtyard. The grand windows of the main hall were dark, but I saw a figure inside, silhouetted against the dusk as she swept the floors.

I wondered what this place had been before the crash. Maybe after the crash, for a little while, before the dreamers started dragging people away from the waking world. Before people figured out how to escape or constantly look over their shoulders and whole towns were swallowed up.

Who knows how long it took the first dreamers to reach this little desert town after their capsule hit the Pacific. Maybe they hitched a ride on the bottom of a desert bus, or on the wheels of an airliner passing overhead. Or maybe they just brainlessly slithered their way across the desert, chasing whatever it is people have that draws them.

I checked above the door to the common room, but it was clear. I pushed it open and the figure at the far wall stopped sweeping when she heard the creak.

“Hi,” said Sam. Her voice echoed off the hardwood floor and high ceilings. “What can I do for you?”

“Just some conversation, if you don’t mind,” I said. “I always talk to one or two people in the places we pass through.”

“I’ve got a busy evening ahead of me,” said Sam, “but go ahead. You’ve got until I finish this room.”

By the looks of things, she was close to done. I felt my way over to one of the threadbare seats, trying not to bark a shin on a low table, and hastily made myself comfortable. Most people liked talking about their lives to anyone who’d listen. Sam was a rare sort.

It was too dark to take notes, but that was fine. I barely wrote things these days anyway since I was always walking. I clicked a few buttons on the hand recorder.

“So, Sam, you were born post-crash, right? Was it here in Theater?”

“Mm-hmm. Born and raised.”

That was unfortunate. She didn’t look old enough to have a PC birth year but you never knew. I was still waiting to hear about the first few crash years from someone who wasn’t Koda.

“Was it always called that?” I asked, and watched her silhouette pause mid-sweep.

“No, we used to be Aberdeen.”

“What’s the story behind the name change? Did it have anything to do with dreamers?”

She sighed. “We opened a theater. It keeps everyone sane. We’ve got original plays by one guy, but the theater’s closed right now.”

“Until next Thursday,” I pointed out helpfully.

“That’s right. Opening night,” she said and picked up the broom.

“Is the playwright available to interview?”

Sam paused in the doorway to the lobby, a shadow in the dusk.

“No. He locks himself in the tower of his house for a week before he finishes a play. Also, if you want to interview more people, the tavern’s right off the square. Sorry for not being too talkative tonight, but it’s been a long day and my work isn’t done yet.”

That was disappointing, but then again I wasn’t sure if I had the energy for an extended interview. It had been a long day.

Lights came on outside. The streetlights here still worked, but I wasn’t sure how much longer the local power grid would stay up. That was a question for Mandela. Towns with good grids were always nice though, otherwise we’d be checking for dreamers everywhere.

I wandered in the approximate direction of the town’s center. Star would have been able to find it in an instant, but I just walked towards whichever cluster of lights was brightest.

Before long, the tree-lined street opened onto a plaza. A few strings of weak electric bulbs spanned the area between rusted traffic lights. More people wandered around. I didn’t like how carefree they seemed. The plaza was well-lit and full of good lines of sight, but you never knew what lurked around the corner in a dark alleyway.

The tavern was a large building at the far end of the plaza. An unlit sign indicated that it was called the Albatross. Inside, it was dim and quiet. I ordered the weakest beer I could find and settled in a corner, taking notes and wondering when the rest of the couriers would show up.

Eventually, I’d had enough. The place had filled up with more people. I got another drink and made a circuit of the main area until I saw what I was looking for: two people roughly my age who seemed to be enjoying themselves. I caught their eyes as I approached.

“Mind if I join you?” I asked. The locals smiled beerily and made welcoming gestures, so I pulled up a chair. After some small talk, it was established that they were Will and Hog (real name unknown). As for mine...

“Crane? That’s not a real name,” said the ever-observant Will.

“That’s right,” I replied. “You guys don’t know about road-names? You don’t do them?”

“What?” said Hog.

I paused, unsure how to explain the concept. They were big boys.

“It’s, uh, it’s easier to do certain things when you’re a little detached from people. On the road.

“Imagine you’re traveling through some difficult mountains, and someone in your group gets grabbed by a dreamer. Of course you take care of them while they’re dreaming. But imagine an entire day passes, or maybe more, and you have to take care of this person and watch your own back at the same time, and you have no idea when or if they’re gonna make it back up. Imagine the next town is a week or more away, and the entire time you’re not moving, but you’re eating into your supplies. Then a storm rolls by, or the temperature drops, and you have to get moving, so you make a choice...”

I gazed into the distance and brought my drink to my lips, letting the timeout bracelet on my wrist catch the light.

“What?” said Hog.

“Forget it,” I said. “It’s an old courier tradition.”

I neglected to mention the superstition about real names and other people in dreams, and that most courier teams inevitably became close after a few weeks on the road.

“What’s your real name?” Will asked.

“My home-name? It’s a little similar to my road-name. But it’s bad luck to say it right now. And I’m not going to part with it on the road like this,” I added, trying to indicate that some peer pressure and a little more beer would convince me to part with it.

Will nodded sagely and glanced at my half-empty glass.

“So,” I continued, “what’s with the playwright? I hear he’s a recluse.”

“No, he’s a man,” said Hog, and laughed a deep hur-hur-hur.

“Shut up,” said Will, scratching the back of his neck. He turned to me. “Mr. Haywood is great. He keeps us sane.”

“Oh yeah?”

“You gonna be around for opening night on Thursday? I hear the newest play is going to be some powerful stuff.”

“What kinds of plays does he write?”

“Weird ones,” said Hog.

“Absurdist dramas,” said Will.

I nodded and left a gap in the conversation, trying to get more out of them without appearing too nosy, but they didn’t bite.

“You guys squash any dreamers lately?”

There was a pause. Hog scratched some stubble. “Not really.”

“Do you know what they are?” said Will. “You’re from one of the cities, right?”

“We left from Chicago, yeah,” I said. “Nobody knows what they are yet.”

Will set his drink down a little harder than he intended, slopping foam over his knuckles, and leaned over the table towards me.

“Hog and I think they’re alien recreational devices.”

“Alien weed,” Hog added proudly.

“Not like weed, man,” said Will. “I told you. It’s like alien acid. You have to forget your earthly attachments and see your own death so you can ascend.”

I was glad that the survival folklore had made it to Theater, but less thrilled to see it come up in this context. The two-step solution was supposed to be used in life-or-dream-death situations, not half-baked conspiracy theories.

A small group pushed through the doors of the Albatross. One of its members waved.

“Next round is on me,” I said, and pushed my chair back. “Enjoy your night.”

I got in line and bought a large bowl of stew. The other couriers were almost finished with theirs by the time I got to their booth.

“You guys have a nice walk? I’ve been archiving. Scoot over.”

“Archiving brews, maybe,” said Star.

“False,” I said. “I’ve been assembling my data and I think Theater is close to a major breakthrough on what Dreamers actually are.”

“Really?” asked Mandela. “What are they saying?”

“Check this out.” I produced my notebook and spread it flat on the table. Everyone peered over their bowls as I carefully added another tally mark for Alien Weed.

Star dropped her spoon and rolled her eyes.

Mandela groaned. “I hate townies like that. You know they’ve never lost anyone to a timeout.”

“I tried to tell them about timeouts, but I don’t think they got it.”

“What, they couldn’t even imagine it?”

“I’ll buy us some drinks,” said Star. “Koda can tell you about the town.”

“They don’t get many couriers,” said Koda.

“Star said she’d been through before,” said Poke.

“That was years ago. I guess they haven’t had any since.”

Odd movement in my peripheral vision made me glance towards the bar. Star had been cornered by one of the locals. He gestured and stabbed a finger in our direction. In Mandela’s direction, to be specific, because although I couldn’t hear him, I saw his lips curl around with that and his nose wrinkle as he snarled the epithet. Then he lunged forward and threw a haymaker.

I started, and Poke and I instinctively moved closer on either side of Mandela, but the fact that Koda was still in his seat meant that things hadn’t gone completely south. I thought about what I had just seen and relaxed a little.

Visuals and body language were always important before a fight, doubly so in a room full of strangers. Anyone watching would have seen Star’s palms up in a placating gesture, head and gaze lowered as the aggressor loomed over her. That’s why it was okay for her to block the haymaker with her elbow and hit the man very hard in the throat. The kick to the stomach was probably warranted too.

The townie’s flailing arms cleared a table as he fell backwards. Star stood still, the model of restraint, as glass broke around her. Koda strode up a moment later before the other locals got to the scene to break up a fight that had already ended, and knelt down by the fallen man. Then he stood up and turned to Star. He said something and they both looked back at us, saw Poke and I sitting on either side of a very nervous Mandela.

I looked around the room. Will and Hog were glaring at me. The arrangement of legs under their chairs indicated they had been about to get up.

As conversation started to rise around the Albatross once more, Koda and Star leaned over to the bartender and had a hushed discussion.

There was a quiet noise next to me. Mandela and I looked over at Poke, who had just sheathed his knife.

“What?” he asked.

“You’re gonna get us kicked out,” I said.

“I checked my rifle at the truck stop. I gotta have something.”

Star returned with drinks.

“Good news!” she said. “We’re going to drink these, and then we’re going to leave!”

* * *

I woke up again after less than an hour’s worth of sleep. I was still a little tense from the bar fight. I lay in bed and stared at the ceiling for a while, wondering if Star was also wound up and awake in her room, and then slowly sat up and looked out the window.

A single light shone in the dark town. It was in the spire of a house on a hill, not far from here. The playwright was working late, and I suddenly needed to see.

The nap I had taken earlier in the afternoon had screwed up my sleep schedule, and a walk in the cool air before crawling back under warm blankets would help. Some part of me, the archivist that refused to leave a blank section in his notebook, told me this was a good idea.

I debated it internally and reached a decision after a few minutes.

The springs under the cot squeaked as I sat up, and I froze and looked back at Koda and Poke. Neither of them stirred as I pulled on my outdoor clothes, but I still kept my moon-shadow clear of their faces as I padded towards the door to pull on my boots and jacket. I paused at the door for a moment and decided to lock it. Koda had a spare key.

I stayed in the darkness as I made my way over to the playwright’s house. It was easier to see other things in the shadows when you didn’t walk in the light. The last thing I wanted was for a dreamer to fall on me, I thought as I checked the branches of a tree before passing underneath it. I imagined the rest of the couriers waking up and having to deal with an angry local who’d found me underneath a dreamer in someone’s backyard, or — I shook my head just thinking of it — some idiot panicking and pulling it off my neck before I made it back up. Dream death was supposed to be a peaceful way to go, but still.

In the still air, the bush ahead of me rustled. I stopped and waited for fifteen seconds until a dreamer slipped out from underneath it and crawled around the corner, trailing twigs and leaves.

Dream death. That happened once in my hometown, when I was much younger. They never said who accidentally pulled the plug. I supposed the guilt was punishment enough.

At least our group had never needed to deal with a timeout on the road. I’d met courier teams who had done it and they didn’t tend to stay together very long afterwards. Aside from the obvious reason of being down one member, a lot of people just couldn’t face the possibility of doing that to another person again. And so they stayed home, or traveled alone until a dreamer grabbed them.

I rounded a corner and stopped. I was at one end of an overgrown courtyard, which Haywood’s house overlooked. A single window on the second floor was lit up, and through it I could see the top of the playwright’s bald head. It looked like he was bent over a desk.

Something told me I needed a better view. This was straying out of night walk territory and into trespassing and spying on townie territory, but I didn’t care. Just like the snow market dream from the other day, I sought higher ground. In this case I climbed a toolshed in someone’s backyard and peered up at his window.

I couldn’t see much. Haywood’s head didn’t move. He was still bent over his desk.

I climbed further, made it to someone’s covered back porch by way of a thick tree branch, and paused when I tried to make sense of what I saw through the window.

Haywood was bent over his desk, but in an odd position. His arms weren’t writing, but folded on the desk under his head. He was wearing a shapeless hoodie, hood rumpled over the back of his head and drawstrings pooled on the desk. It was an odd hoodie, made of suspiciously nice material for a town in the middle of nowhere. No patches on its surface, and it looked almost translucent...

When I finally understood that a dreamer was pulsing quietly on his spinal cord I almost fell off the roof then and there.

Instead, I just froze in a half-crouch for a few seconds and felt the hairs on the back of my neck dance and tingle in the dark. Like the few minutes after chasing away a spider when every itch feels like it has eight legs, every rustle of wind and click of timber sounded like a gelatinous lump slipping off a ledge. There was a dreamer on him, in his second-floor room with a closed window.

If dreamers could get into these houses, I needed to go check on the rest of the couriers.

In my panic, I had barely registered the movement in the window. Haywood was stirring. His post-dreamer movement was the slowest I’d ever seen. He sat up with a faint smile and stretched, staring at the wall the entire time. This wasn’t a man flailing around in his first waking moments. This was a man deep in thought. This was a man who reached up and tenderly plucked the alien off his neck like he was picking a flower. This was a man who put the creature in an ornate lacquered box when it was done with him, efficiently cleaned the seeping wounds on his neck, and leaned forward with fire in his dead little eyes to start furiously writing down whatever it was that he had just experienced.

I was very glad we wouldn’t be here for Thursday’s opening night, I reflected in quiet horror as I climbed down from the roof.

I had to warn the group. Had to grab Mandela and Koda and Star and Poke and get out of this cursed place as fast as we could. Grab a truck, maybe, if Mandela could switch out a battery and get it ready for the road on her own. Worst case we all go on a midnight walk together.

On the face of it, I knew there was nothing logically wrong with talking about dreamer encounters. Their subjects were only taboo due to superstition. But to purposefully seek the nightmares out, and then bring them into the real world and immortalize them...I shuddered.

My body strained to run, but I knew enough to methodically pick my way back to the truck stop the same way I’d come. I looked at every bush, every overhanging eave and every tree, and despite that the dreamer still almost got me. I was almost to the truck stop, getting greedy with my time, so I barely noticed the tentacles swing up into the leaves. I wasn’t sure what I had seen and so I stupidly walked under the tree to check it out.

Looking up in curiosity was what saved me. My hand intercepted the dreamer as it dropped out of the trees, just barely kept the tentacles away from my neck. The fear and nervousness and disgust at this entire night converged on this thing, and it made a soft pop as I crushed it in my fist. A single tentacle waved at my neck and went limp a moment later as it expired without any further noise. I stuffed it into a knot in the tree and wiped my hands on the rough bark.

The rest of my night walk was uneventful. I moved slowly and methodically and avoided two other potential dreamer encounters before I got to the lodging building.

I crept up the ancient stairs and opened the door to the shared room as quietly as I could. I didn’t know what I expected. Koda sitting on the bed with a light on, maybe, like an angry parent. Poke glaring at me with his rifle on his lap.

I was greeted by nothing but two slumbering shapes. While I was gone, the moon had moved. Now only their edges shone silver in the room.

I closed the door and leaned against it, thinking while I watched them. What would I accomplish by waking everybody up now? We’d scramble to get our things together and get on the road in the middle of the night. We’d be half-asleep and with an angry town behind us. Probably without a truck. Best to wait it out.

I locked and bolted the door and got into bed, where I stared at the ceiling until dawn.

* * *

Poke was the first one up. He was the type of person who was never affected by post-sleep drowsiness, even after a dreamer encounter. He went from stirring to sitting up and awake in a matter of moments, and that was why we always relied on him to make the coffee.

Even so, I wasn’t prepared for him to turn to me and say “Crane, you look like shit.”

I blinked at him. “It’s been a long night. I’ll tell you guys about it when we eat breakfast.”

Once the rest of the group had gotten ready, we picked up some supplies and food, and walked to the plaza to eat and soak up the early-morning light.

“How was your midnight walk, Crane?” Koda asked after a minute.

I froze, sandwich halfway to my mouth, and looked around the plaza. It was empty.

“I went to Haywood’s house.”

“Who’s Haywood?”

“The playwright. I figured out which house it was from talking to the townies.”

“And? What was it like?”

The sandwich was a lump of glass in my throat as I swallowed.

“Bad,” I said quietly.

Everyone leaned in.

“I know this sounds insane, but Haywood is purposefully going under with dreamers. He keeps one in a box in his desk. I walked to his house last night and I saw him come up from a dream and put it away. Then he started writing everything down.”

“He what?!” Star yelled. It echoed around the plaza as Koda put a finger to his lips.

“He what,” said Poke.

“He’s turning his dreams into plays. He’s making people act them out. And I think he’s been doing it for a while because his neck is” — I shuddered — “all messed up. It’s like there’s been a dreamer on him every night for a month.”

“That’s not good,” said Mandela.

“No, it’s not,” said Koda thoughtfully. “None of you saw anybody crush a dreamer yesterday, correct?”

We looked at each other and shook our heads.

“I think people here have different superstitions. I don’t think they want to kill them.”

We pondered this.

“I think they know about Haywood,” I said, “but I also think they’re scared of me, and want to get us out of here as quickly as possible. Sam didn’t want to talk to me because she knew I was writing everything down. Also, she kept pausing when I asked her about the theater.”

“That sounds about right,” said Koda.

“You didn’t say anything earlier?” said Poke.

“I wasn’t sure until I heard from Crane. Star seemed okay with the town.”

“That was years ago! I was only here for a night and I was a little preoccupied.”

“We need to get out of here as soon as we can, I think,” I said.

“I’ll go get the truck then,” said Mandela, getting up. “You guys can pack up whatever’s still in the rooms.”

I clapped a hand on her shoulder. “I think we should all stick together.”

The rest of the group was already packing.

“Yeah, we’re not splitting up,” said Star.

We walked back in a group. The town center was sleepy and deserted, but more people were out and about as we got closer to the edge of the inner area.

“Packs now, then check out, then truck,” said Koda.

I opened the door to our room first. “Did one of you leave the window open?”

Koda frowned. “Check everything” — he put a hand on Poke’s chest as he surged forward— “carefully. I’ll check the other room.”

We rummaged. No dreamers, nothing missing.

“All clear,” said Koda from the next room. “Let’s get on the road.”

I was secretly relieved to see Sam not at her desk. We left the keys and headed to the garage.

It was smaller than I’d expected. The concrete floor was clear of tools but covered in oil stains. A truck sat pointing towards the door, which was already opened.

“Oil,” said Mandela quietly. “That means...” and she trailed off as the single mechanic there stood up from behind his workbench.

“Is this our truck?” said Koda. “Sam said you’d have one ready for us this morning. We’ve already checked out and we’re in a hurry.”

“Er, it can be,” he said. “I was about to put the last battery in.”

“Can we help?”

“No, no, I’ve got it,” he said, and we watched him unplug the battery and struggle to lift it off the ground.

“Here,” said Mandela, and leapt up onto the truck bed. She levered the battery bay open and paused.

“There are two empty slots here. I thought you said the truck only needed one.”

Mandela and I shared a look. Don’t ask questions here, we’re just good couriers trying to deliver our package as quickly as possible. We aren’t scared of a town full of dreamer-obsessed idiots.

“We’ve got the second one,” I said quickly, unplugging another battery. Poke helped me lift it into the truck bed as Mandela and the mechanic finished installing the first one. Koda and Star had already picked up the keys and were beginning to load up our packs.

Ten minutes later, we were out on the open road. The truck whirred quietly over the cracked highway. Koda was on the first driving shift.

“That town sucked,” said Star, dangling an arm out the window. “I don’t remember it being like that the last time I passed through.”

“Sure lived up to the name,” said Poke.

“I wonder what the play was about,” Mandela muttered. “Nothing good, probably.”

“You know,” said Koda, still looking at the road, “when I was a kid, we had naturally occurring dreams. People really liked to talk about them. There was no superstition around it.”

Poke wrinkled his nose.

“The funny part,” Koda continued, “was that nobody else wanted to hear about them. Nobody! It was universal. We all treated our own dreams as these incredible secret visions, but anyone else who heard about them just thought they were nonsense.”

“So you’re not too sad about missing the play, huh,” said Star.

“Not in the slightest.”

There was a moment of silence.

“You know, that town is pretty close to battery death,” said Mandela. “And I think they’re only just realizing it now.”

“Yeah?” said Poke.

“Do you remember the flywheel Sam was using for her computer? They know the basics of how to run a computer with dead batteries, but they’re still working out how to make it efficient. The wheel was too small, and running on bad bearings. Also the gearing was off, so Sam had to push the pedal faster than normal.”

“Hmm,” said Koda.

“And Sam said they don’t use gas anymore, but those were fresh oil stains on the floor. They probably found some old barrels and are trying to run some generators or something, and didn’t want us taking that last battery.”

I scribbled furiously in my own shorthand, watching Mandela gesture as she spoke.

“Also, speaking of which, the batteries on this truck” — she jerked a thumb behind us — “are terrible. They’re not gonna fail on us before we get to the next truck stop, but I don’t think we should leave it parked in the sun if we can avoid it. I’m gonna see if I can disconnect the cables when we stop for the night.”

I glanced back at the San Francisco-bound package tied down in the truck bed. We were still a long way out, but were making progress. We would definitely be there before winter. Maybe I could make it home next year in time to spend the summer with my family.

“You must have a lot of notes, Crane,” said Mandela. “Gonna write us a story about them?”

I had so many notes. I had to tie the events of the last day and a half into a neat little package, not to mention the voice clips about the playwright and the townies’ views on dreamers to integrate and the visions from the dreams, plus my own memories before they faded and the notes from Mandela rambling about battery death...

“Eventually,” I said, reclining my seat. “For now, I’m going to get some damn sleep.”

#LMAO I CAN JUST PASTE THE ENTIRE THING IN HERE #god bless tumblr #writing #this one is super long though so be warned #mine #it's set in a world based on a terrible terrible nightmare i had #also this one's way older from like 2022 or so

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sylphwing · 7 months ago

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hm. i do not like chilshi 🤔

#sylph.txt #everyone likes to joke abt how much of an epic divorce man chilchuck is #but i dont think he ever even refers to her as his ex-wife. i could b wrong bc it's been a while since i read it tho #idk a lot of his arc is him learning to b more open w others (which is essentially what ended his relationship)#and u can see how much he's grown in the chapter where senshi goes into his past #to me it would b a lot sweeter for him to take on these lessons and go back to her and make things work #it's been 4 years but he's remained loyal to her depite their issues. idk to me it rlly does feel like he still loves her he's just a fool #it's made p clear that he's a coward and that he's quick to run away so actually committing to her would b a nice way to wrap things up #we don't get to see much of his wife so i get y ppl r quick to put him w the only other man in the party #but like senshi knows abt his wife too like i do not think he's gnna b making any moves here bc he has morals lmao #(*only other older man in the party. laios doesn't qualify for old man yaoi to most chilshi likers)#(even tho chilchuck isn't old either but shh they don't care abt that)#when it comes to senshi the changeling chapter def helped him w understanding how old the rest of the party is #but he clearly still views them as significantly younger than him #i don't think he views chil as a child anymore but for the majority of their time together he did #and so going from that to in a relationship is uhh rlly weird to me!#senshi has always taken a sort of parental role upon himself #w him romance is no where as interesting as the platonic bonds he has w the rest of the party #similar to how romance is entirely unimportant to izutsumi in the succubus chapter #idk i def don't hate the pairing and there r some takes on it that i find funny #but for me i just don't see anything between them i think ppl just want an m/m ship to play with #that ao3 gap is only gnna get bigger lmao

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seventh-district · 1 month ago

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Could've left me just the way you found me, but you came and put your wings around me. You went out of your way, to fix what you didn't break.

This song is so incredibly Sam & Darlin' coded and no one can tell me otherwise.

[lots of lyrical analysis below the cut] [there's also a short little fanfic blurb of them stargazing down there too (this post got really out of hand lmao)]

For those not fully caught up, note that the following commentary contains various spoilers for Sam and Darlin's stories.

Note: Unfortunately this song is gendered, using the word 'girl' several times. Which sucks a little bit for immersion purposes, not only for keeping Darlin' gender-neutral, but also because I see this song as a duet between them, and Darlin' obviously wouldn't be addressing Sam with the word 'girl' either. So! As with most songs on their playlist, we're just gonna mentally omit any gendered terms we come across.

Side note: Frustratingly, this is one of those songs that didn't really even need to gender the subject in the first place. No part of the story or message is lost without it. But alas, many songs are like that, and so the playlist-makers of the world shall continue to suffer. [/lh]

Anyways, preamble's over. It's lyric time now yay!

Sam's Part

I was a ten-year train wreck

Technically for Sam I suppose it was 13 years, but ten is close enough (and 'ten' admittedly flows a lot better in the rhythm of the song than 'thirteen' would.) Anyways, we're not here to split hairs, (I have to remind myself), we're just here to point out similarities.

In Sam's Dec. '22 HBW, he says "For the last 13 years or so I haven't had to care too much about how I look. Seemed a little redundant after turnin', considerin' I didn't wanna be around much'a anybody anyway."

I think he's mentioned or alluded to that roughly 13 year period of time more than once, but that's the one I remember best so it's the example I'm using. There's still about 4 Sam audios I've yet to listen to as of making this post, so if I'm missing some Key Lore I'll edit this later. But for now, I don't think Sam has given many specifics on exactly how bad things got during that time. Luckily, 'train wreck' is a pretty broad and subjective term, so it easily covers any degree to which he may have fallen apart during those years.

It also feels like a very 'him' way of quickly brushing over the details of his past/his hurt, as he seems to tend to do with Darlin', (not all the time ofc but it's still something I've noticed) putting his own hurt on the backburner to prioritize and attend to theirs. Even outside of his dynamic with them, I think as a healer, it's something he learned to do. And now he does it with everyone. Put on a brave face, compartmentalize things and unpack them later, etc. I could go on and on but there'll be time for that in other posts I'm sure. For now, lets get back to the song at hand.

With a last-call longneck

Due to personal reasons, I've yet to decide if I want to HC him as having used alcohol as a coping mechanism during that time. I don't recall him having mentioned alcohol much, if at all, (maybe one mention of whiskey that I don't have time to find right now) so I don't think it's necessarily canon that he did, but it's certainly possible. My personal preferences aside, I'll admit it makes for some good additional angst. (And- self-indulgently- it makes some other songs on my playlist for them more fitting.) So, for the sake of this song, let's imagine that he did.

I was searchin', I'd been hurt real bad

This one feels pretty self-explanatory given what Alexis did, (and, if you wanna get even angstier with it, whatever his family did earlier on in his life) so there isn't much commentary to add on my end.

I HC that in spite of 'not wanting to be around anybody', he- like Darlin- still had a tiny part of himself buried deep down that was, in a way, 'searching' for someone to find solace in. (No this isn't me projecting onto them both haha what are you talking about-)

Movin' on, gettin' sidetracked One step forward and five back

This is generally applicable enough that I don't feel the need to give too much of a specific example. Anyone who's recovered or is recovering from trauma knows this non-linear, back-and-forth struggle well already, and I'm sure he was no stranger to it.

If I were to give some examples though, I could point to Darlin's (and subsequently, Sam's) encounter with Alexis at the summit, or the shit that Quinn dredged up about Fredrick and threw at Sam in the interrogation room. Those are both more recent examples and I imagine these lines of the song to be coming from a place of him prior to meeting Darlin', but still, they're some instances where I'm sure he felt like the past was pulling him back in. I'm sure that there's been many throughout those 13 years that we were never witness to.

Not your fault, I was scared to fall

This line reminds me of their 'Cuddles and Confessions' audio. I don't think he ever explicitly said he was 'scared' per se, so afaik there's no specific line I can quote, but in that and every audio prior, he was obviously hesitant to admit, perhaps even to himself, that he was gradually falling for them. Even after the initial confession, there's certain limits of his (e.g. biting) that he carries for far longer, and some that I (and others) HC that he'll carry forever. So this line feels to me like him reassuring Darlin' that his reluctance isn't the fault of them, but his past.

Darlin's Part

You were the star in the pitch black Shine the way on the way back

We don't have any canon instances of them comparing Sam to a star, but I can see it being something they'd say (perhaps less poetically, but the sentiment would be there) one night while laying up on their roof watching the stars with him. Maybe they're dead-tired, talking nonsense with lidded eyes at the end of a long day, fighting sleep in favor of more time spent with him.

"What- what're you pointin' at Darlin'?"

Their hazy focus is trained on the brightest star visible in their line of sight, arm stretched out to the sky above them. "That really bright one, to the... to the left."

Sam does his best to follow their less-than-specific directions of 'to the left', their pointed finger doing little to help given the difference in perspective. Luckily, after all these years, he knows this stretch of night sky like the back of his hand, so it isn't hard to locate the brightest one. Ghosting his fingers up along their arm, he takes their hand in his and brings it back down to earth. "Okay, yeah, I see it now. What about it though?"

"That's you." They say, matter-of-factly.

"That's me?" He questions, humor in his tone.

"Mhm." They nod with finality, blinking slow.

Sam considers the odd statement for a moment before gently correcting them. "I'm uh, I'm pretty sure that's Sirius, actually."

They scoff. "I am being serious."

Sam stifles a laugh into their hair. "No- no I mean- like... what's another name for it... Oh! It's also called the Dog Star."

"C'mon Sam, at least call it the Wolf Star if you're trying to turn this around on me..."

He shakes his head and readies himself to explain further, but they cut him off before he can start. "But no- no, this one isn't about me. That's you."

He decides to play along, finding something endearing in their overtired nonsense. "Okay... then would'ja be so kind as to explain to this confused old man just how, or why that star is me?"

Their frown is audible in their voice as they latch onto the wrong part of his sentence. "You're not old, Sam. ...Do I need to tell Asher to kick the jokes down a notch?"

He smiles at their over-protectivity. "There'll be no need for that, now. Was just a joke, darlin', I promise."

They huff, but thankfully shift focus back to the prior topic. "It's... I dunno. It's just you, Sam. It's... bright. Light. Something warm, out there in the cold dark. Standing out amongst all the rest. Calling to me, stealing my attention. I... I didn't come out here looking for it, but there it is. ...There you were. In the dark. The only bright thing I'd seen in... fuck, in years. Years of chasing fleeting warmth, tripping over myself in the pitch black, falling into... places 'n people I shouldn't have. You were the light in that darkness. Even there, surrounded by the ghost of him. You outshone it. Your warmth didn't hurt. I didn't have to squint when I looked at you. You weren't the blinding sun. You were the brightest star I'd ever seen. You guided me back home."

In the back of their mind, they recall something they once heard, something about light, and time, and distance. Space. Something about... how you can see a star that's already burnt out, because it's light hasn't reached earth yet. The ghost of a star that's already died. Only still perceptible thanks to time, and distance.

They remember Sam's words, once whispered to them on this very roof.

"Whatever your choice is... I'm not gonna live forever. I made that decision a long time ago."

They think about dead stars.

They think about time.

"...-lin'? Darlin'?" Sam's calloused hand slides up their forearm, pulling them out of their thoughts. "There you are. Think I lost ya' for a minute there... you good?"

They look up at Sam, concern creasing his features, shadows cast across his face from the light of the dying stars above him.

They reach out, pulling him down into them. Burying their face into his collar, Sam's concern grows when he feels it saturate with tears. A human might struggle to hear their words, muffled against the thick fabric, but his hearing catches it just fine.

"Don't burn out too quick. Please. I still need you here. I don't- I don't wanna be left in the dark again. Please, please Sam. Don't leave me here. I'm not selfish enough to ask you for forever, but please. Not yet. Not yet. Not yet."

.......Whoopsies! Really, genuinely didn't mean to improv an entire scene there, good god. Also didn't mean to swerve hard into angst at the end but uh. that's what came out! so I'm rolling with it lmao. Aaanyways let's move on, it's getting late and this is a song analysis post, not a fic.

Out of nowhere, answered all my prayers

'Out of nowhere' reminds me of Sam's words from the same HBW video I referenced earlier. "You came into my life like a damn wreckin' ball. There was no preparing for that, clothing or otherwise." While those were Sam's words, not Darlin's, I still feel like they feel similarly to how suddenly Sam came into their life as well. (Not in a bad way, mind you!)

[the significance of 'answered all my prayers' edges into my own personal more headcanon-y/personal/OC-ified Darlin' territory, so we can just gloss over this one for the sake of at least attempting to keep this more universally applicable]

Picked up the towel that I threw in Took in a heart that was ruined

Again, largely self-explanatory I feel. (*proceeds to explain anyways*) I imagine that Darlin' was at the point of throwing in the towel, hellbent on a solo-mission to find Quinn regardless of the danger it posed to them. I doubt they were looking toward the future anymore, (to reference Sam,) fully willing to throw themself at their problems until they really did break.

The specific use of 'ruined' hits hard here, because after everything they went through with Quinn, and especially after he recounted it all to Sam in that interrogation room, I imagine that they really, truly did feel ruined.

Showed me the past ain't a tattoo Loved me even when you didn't have to

These lines in particular make me sick with emotion every time I hear this song, because I feel like they hit the nail on the head for how Darlin' feels.

I'll be here citing various quotes all night that I feel showcase that sentiment, but we don't have time for that! So instead I'm just pointing to the entirety of 'Quinn's Aftermath' video, and leaving you with this single quote from it.

"Everything that he said reflects nothin' on you, and everything on him."

Equally Applicable Lines

And I don't know why Why you saw something in me, baby But you saw right through All the pain, and you came and saved me Yeah, I know you didn't leave me lonely Weren't the one that put the heartbreak on me Picked up the pieces It wasn't the mess that you made Could've left me just the way you found me But you came and put your wings around me You went out of your way To fix what you didn't break

Again, I think these lines are all pretty self-explanatory, and are just as accurate coming from either one of them. To me, at least, their entire dynamic is that they saved each other, in their own ways.

(But I will admit, the final verses about 'going out of your way to fix what you didn't break' are definitely conjuring up memories of Sam in the early days, literally going out of his way to visit and heal Darlin' after their fight with the two vamps. In general, his continued/repeated healing of them after they once again hurt themselves is the very literal definition of fixing what he didn't break.

But! While we may have more blatant examples of Sam being 'the fixer' so to speak, I think he'd argue that Darlin' has done plenty fixing of their own. Physical wounds aren't the only things that need healing, after all.)

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[shameless self-promo of my Sam & Darlin' playlist for those few of u interested enough to make it to the very end of this wall of text. if u liked this then u might like some of the other songs on there soooo maybe go check it out and maybe perhaps give it a follow so i can get a little serotonin boost or dopamine or whatever the chemical is that's released when Number Go Up. ...okay that's it i hope u enjoyed my fixation-induced ramblings! thank u and goodnight]

#redacted audio #redacted sam #redacted darlin #redacted playlists #redacted asmr #redactedverse #music stuff #Spotify #Seven's Blorbo Songs #<- starting a dedicated tag for these kinda posts bc i feel like there will be. Many more #gotta go dig up the few i've made in the past and retroactively tag them. they weren't as Involved as this one but i'll still include 'em #good fucking god this post got long. i started it at like 2pm and now it's almost 8. i've been locked in on blorbo analysis for 6 hours #don't ask why it took That long to make this post okay i am. very slow. but i had a good time so it's all good #there's like 10 other things i needed to spend my free time on today but this post Demanded to be made asap so here we are #i've been stewing on this song for several days since i found it and i literally had to make this post to get it out of my system #i was gonna make One Big Post to discuss the entire playlist at once but it's got 80+ songs on it by now...#and i like to Yap if u cannot tell so it literally wouldn't even all Fit in a single post. so i'll probably just do individual songs #or maybe a few per post if they all fit a certain theme and aren't enough to justify their own post #anyways i. am so very very very in love with Sam. if you. cannot tell. from the entirety of this post. and the state of my blog #about halfway thru this post i realized i perhaps should've just written a songfic but those take so much more effort and time #and i'm already editing two that'll come out later this month. with two more in the wings. so i can't afford to start another #(not Redacted fics btw sorry but in spite of the little drabble i did on this post i'm actually scared to write for this fandom)#i don't feel confident enough not to mischaracterize them. plus i'm already juggling more than i can handle anyways #anyways the drabble + this post in general probably isn't very good lmao i Should like. draft it and edit it tomorrow with fresh eyes #but i wanna go ahead and send it out into the world and just let it be. it's not that big of a deal

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monty-glasses-roxy · 3 months ago

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Okay so that AU based on Plex History stuff and the song the Horse and the Infant from Epic the Musical?

It's a medieval fantasy style AU, with magic, gods, kingdoms, and fucked monarchies. Bonnie is the prince of a kingdom who becomes friends with Roxy, a wolf from a northern town in the middle of nowhere. He and his father are considered very close to the gods and have been visited and guided by them many a time before. Meanwhile, Roxy was found nearly dead on a riverbank when she was a very small puppy and was adopted by Music Man. She was raised like her siblings (the Minis) by Music Man and the local community, is the best horse racer in the Northern regions and has nothing to do with the known gods ever outside of her regular education.

They meet at Roxy's first horse race in the South that just so happens to be in Bonnie's kingdom and the one he's also competing in. While all the other competitors recognise Bonnie either by name or face, Roxy doesn't have a god damn clue who this guy is and that throws Bonnie so off guard that they end up being friends.

However, since winning the race, Roxy has started to be visited in her dreams by a green, rabbit-looking god. He tells her very little she understands and honestly she doesn't care about this guy at all or what this "destiny" bullshit he keeps going on about is. Bonnie on the other hand, is receiving a few vague warnings not to trust his new friend, but don't exactly tell him why so he's not really sure what to make of it. But... well his father has been acting a bit weird lately... like he's afraid of something, almost seeming paranoid about some sort of attack on the kingdom... Weird...

So anyway, he hangs out with Roxy some more! I'm not sure how to approach the next part of the plot as there's a lot of options here, but basically, he goes on a trip with Roxy and their mutual friends to a kingdom his father defeated when he was little. They also find out what kind of atrocities he and his men committed there and what the fuck that has to do with Roxy, which, if you know the song I'm talking about you can probably make a pretty good guess where I'm going with this. Oh and also the place is crazy haunted and the ghosts all have it out for Bonnie specifically.

For those that don't know the song, the gods (Glitchtrap/Afton/Whoever) pressured and manipulated Bonnie's father into killing the baby of the royals he'd just killed in war. Except in this case, they didn't check the baby puppy was actually fucking dead before they moved on and forgot about her... until she showed up again in the kingdom they like fucking with the most. And makes friends with her would-be murderer's son with seemingly absolutely no knowledge of any of this shit.

But uhhh yeah this is basically a story about gods playing dolls with mortals and the consequences that has on them. And Old Man Consequences is there. He gets to be very cool here.

#he's over there laughing his god damn ass off as roxy flips glitchgod off for the third time this week #it's what he deserves I think #anyway! this is the AU cooking in my brain right now! almost everyone is in this in some way shape or form and it's very fun!#fnaf security breach #also this was a bitch to write summary posts of your own AUs are a pain in the ass to make #the thing with the song is that he's literally begging the gods not to make him kill this baby #and he's trying to come up with ways to avoid his fate of dying by their hand when he says he'll make sure his past is never known #the gods then respond with 'the gods will make it known' which literally just tells him they're creating this entire situation #like yeah sure you're REALLY looking out for the king here by making him kill this kid and saying if he lets the kid live then you'll just-#make sure they kill him. yeah that seems reasonable.#and yes this is based on some plex history stuff that I can elaborate on if so desired. same with this au honestly #it's a fun one for sure I love it #the king is like 'i need to finish the job' while simultaneously being so offended by Roxy's mere existence in the first place #just doesn't do what he expects her to do with her idea of revenge being different to his and he's just #so fucking offended #what do you MEAN he's not WORTH it??? He's the KING????? exCUSE me?!!#this is highly entertaining to roxy btw. comes at her with murderous intent and she's just like 'lmao you wanna kill me soooo bad'#'you wanna kill me soooo bad it makes you look stupid'#and she's RIGHT he KNOWS he looks stupid but god DAMN it #anyway that's enough tag spamming here is your explanation of that AU okay post over #I need a name for this au though hmmm #consequence of the gods au #hows that? seems pretty dramatic ngl but it'll do for now

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izzy-b-hands · 5 months ago

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Putting on last year's trans rigs stream from Drawfee before i have to get ready to go out with my mum and her bf today (bc i have the worst feeling in my gut he's gonna make that An Thing for me if given the chance today, aka whenever i eventually need the restroom while we're at Mystic)

#text post #Housemate was amazing and helped me calm down a bit before ae went to work bc my brain woke up in meltdown mode over this tbh #it sucks bc like. im excited to see my mum despite the Everything with that lmao #but im not excited for how her bf has been acting since they got here (and it's been day 1 out of 7 days)#with some outright homophobic comments while Housemate and i hosted them briefly at our house yesterday afternoon #not abt us but like. i mean. u know we're both queer so #doesn't really matter if it's abt us or not it's still fucky and makes me worry abt how he's gonna be today!!#doesn't help that he really wanted to go to Italy with her instead this summer #(despite the passive aggressive complaints from him & mum to a degree abt how expensive it was for them to come out here)#(we're ignoring the fact that a European trip would be even more expensive lmao tho i do think if they want to/can afford it they should go)#like. the Vibe from him has just been that he'll be Just Polite Enough but that he didn't want to be here #and he doesn't expect to have any fun and it's like #dude i am Trying. i and Housemate have looked up stuff to do that includes things he likes (like guns and historical weapons)#we tried making comments abt that yesterday like hey u might like this but if there's anything u have in mind already #and he was just. whatever idc but then made comments that made it clear he's not excited for anything else #like museums or the beach for sea glass hunting or the bird sanctuary or even the zoo #and all have places to rest/sit plus restrooms and food so I don't think it's a worry abt facilities thing for him #i think he's just fed up that I'm still involved in my mum's life since i moved and like #yes there's a detangling of the umbilical cord i and my past therapist were trying to eventually get my mum to cut #since cutting it myself in any attempt has had her metaphorically taping it back together #but like. it's not entirely on me here. I'm trying to set boundaries and make sure she's giving him more attention than me since he's w/her #more than i am now #i know he's upset when she helps me financially too (i offer to pay her back but she always refuses it) bc she took me aside yesterday #to give me some cash for the time with them for souvenirs/fun stuff i might not buy otherwise bc im trying to be mindful of money #aka still waiting on money my fkn job should have already paid me like. a week or more ago now #he makes her happy so even if he hates me i still care abt his frustrating ass #and i do want him to have as much fun as he can while still relaxing during the trip out here #but i feel like im gonna have to physically shake him by the shoulders screaming this before he listens #and even if he listens he probably won't believe me #sorry for the tag essay the edible hasn't kicked in yet can u guys tell lmao

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nexus-nebulae · 4 days ago

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just realised that the first media we consumed that made us REALLY sympathetic for the monster was that fucking point and click Mystery Case Files Ravenhearst game. bc that entire game i was legitimately fucking TERRIFIED of the ghost lady in that game but the second i found out her husband was abusive i doubled down on trying to help her escape. and the ending of that game Did make me cry out of fear but hey at least i did in fact help her escape

#i think that was the first game we ever like. completed. as well #NO it was hidden expedition amazon bc that one was less scary so it was easier to beat LMAO #we had both of those games on a single disc as a kid #one o those like. buy 2 for cheap game discs at like. best buy. i love those cheap bargain bin point and click games #hidden object games were my entire thing from the age of like. 8 to 12 #we also had like. three ispy game discs one of which had FOUR separate worlds to go to #which upon my recent googling was like. multiple ispy games packaged into one which i cannot find any record of??#i know for a fact it had a space section the fantasy one and the school days one #and then we had treasure hunt and spooky mansion as separate discs #I FUCKING MISS SPOOKY MANSION i have a download of it but i CAN'T PLAY IT bc it was made for computers older than windows 7 #it fucks up the aspect ratio of the screen and the mouse like. shows the cursor being about an inch to the left of where it Actually Is #its weird #anyway complete non sequitur here but I GOT THE STUPID ASS MULTIPLAYER ITEMS IN TERRARIA #i forgot i could just. make a multiplayer world. and not invite anyone to it. and get the items that way #so this can still be a purely singleplayer challenge i just have to click on a different menu to get these items #NOW I JUST HAVE TO FUCKING PAINTING HUNT. HOORAY 😳#they need to make a version of that emoji without the blush. i am not flushed i am fucking STARING AT U LIKE A MADMAN #the fucking. uluru painting. i chewed through 7 ENTIRE LARGE DESERTS FOR THAT FUCKING THING #7 LARGE WORLDS. DCU. DESTROYED ALL TRACE OF SAND. ONLY GOT ULURU IN AN OLD ABANDONED WORLD INSTEAD 😔#and now. now i have to search for fucking WALDO?????? WALDO????? this actually looped back around to the initial topic of the post huh #any hidden object BOOKS i would fucking eat up as well the Can You See What I See books??? i liked those better than ispy actually #walter wick is the one man responsible for my LIFELONGGGGGGG obsession with hidden object games #i LEARNED TO READ with ispy books initially and i fucking LOVED it it was so fun making learning a game #i learned to read like. wayyyyy faster than other kids apparently?#i dont remember what age but i was definitely early bc i knew enough that when i entered preschool i was like. past their starting level #i dont remember the details i just know like. i learned to read really early. and i was a late talker #but neither of my parents think i was. bc both of them were delayed in speaking too so they think its normal--#but like. my mom was Deaf she absolutely was a late talker #and my dad. well. lets just say my mother has less of the tism tendencies to gift to me #and also both were part of very very large chaotic families so like. mild neglect was part of the package yknow

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u3pxx · 1 year ago

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my comic for @aabadendingzine which is out for free over here.

extra stuff/commentary under the cut | like what i do? support me on ko-fi 💙

helloooo how's it going? i really hope you enjoyed the comic <3 it's rare for me to draw such wholesome things, i know [bats eyelashes]

DFGHDJKF ok i know, it's evil, the entire zine is evil you should go read it!!!!!!! but also, i remember coming up with this prompt and the image of mikeko trying to wake a dead apollo up evoked such a visceral reaction in me that i audibly went "NOOOOOO" when i thought it up LOL

the fourth page is the first page i ever thumbnailed bc i knew EXACTLY how i wanted this thing to end!

i think my favorite page of this comic is the 2nd page (the 4th page being my second favorite bc what can i say, i'm evil wheezes) i just really enjoyed drawing the montage of apollo going about his life and kristoph just. being there. always watching him.

i keep thinking about how spark brushel mentioned feeling like he was being watched those past 7 years. i imagined apollo would get a taste of that once he starts trying to find out the truth behind what happened in his first case.

and as for my favorite panel, I REALLY LIKE THIS ONE!! it's just fun shoving every important element alluding to the case 7 years ago to the moment when zak died!

and it's not very obvious but an element i really like about this one is zak still on the chair he died on. it's just his torso visible and i would've loved to make it more obvious that he's there but oh well.

i can't think of anything else to add about drawing this so i'll end it by saying: PLEASE GO READ THE ZINE, IT'S SO SOS SOSOSOS FULL OF LOVE FOR HURT AND TRAGEDY AND THE WAY MY FELLOW ZINEMATES EXPLORED THAT IS SUCH!!! GOOD AND HEARTWRENCHING STUFF!!!!!!!!!

i had to take a break from reading the zine when i went out to finish it bc my chest started to physically hurt bc ohhhhh lordy, it just hurt. it just hurt a lot! (please do read the trigger warnings before reading the thing bc this zine deals with a lot of heavy stuff!)

i like to joke about how i'm evil and enjoy evil things such as angst no comfort which. well, it's kind of true LMAO so i'm thrilled that i was able to be a part of this zine and cook up something completely terrible <3

here's the link for it again, go read it!

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bertoyana · 6 months ago

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i'm so sorry i don't want to be the "the party ended 5 years ago and he's still here" person but dark phoenix's final scene is still SO funny to me. especially to see how erik plays charles like a fiddle

like: he shows up with NO helmet AND a chess set. (he did this last time in days of the future past, and it worked, right? so it should work again, right? right???)

so, he sits, completely uninvited mind you, and he tries (and fails terribly bless his heart) at starting a normal conversation, he asks charles about his retirement, probably trying to get charles to like, talk about it or whatever

(rip erik's hairline)

charles is not having any of it, which... valid. the last time he and erik had a full conversation, erik told him to shut the fuck up

anyways, erik realizes his failed attempt at being casual did NOT work like he wanted, so he pulls out plan b - he calls charles his old friend (which, if you pay attention, in the prequels they use 'old friend' as a term to de-escalate the situation)

which WORKS, for some reason, and charles immediately deflates and gives erik the tiniest smile in existence, because erik showing he cares always seems to do it for charles lmao

(he's so embarrassing . god bless. @ x men: is this your leader)

anyhow, erik pulls out the second part of his plan b - he asks charles if he wants to play a game. still playing casual. just two buddies. just two guys. some guys. just some friends having a toootal normal n casual conversation.

and you can immediately see charles close himself up, he crosses his arms and avoids looking erik in the eye. erik managed to soften him up with the 'old friend' and having his helmet off, but it's not enough YET so erik pulls out his plan c. luckily his last one, christ, charles really does like to keep them waiting doesn't he

keep an eye on erik's entire demeanor in this scene, his position is not closed off like charles', he's open, he leans on the table, and maintains eye contact with charles. his head is tilted to one side and everything, completely harmless

i'm so obsessed with charles' microexpressions here james mcavoy you are so insane

anwyays, charles uncrosses his arms and his position does come off a little more open, but if you watch the scene you can see him shake his head. this obviously touches him - but he's probably intending to say still no. probably because he has the biggest martyr complex i've ever seen in a fictional character

so, erik pulls up his fucking plan d (lol) and hopefully this time IT WILL be the last. he pulls the pawn out of his jacket pocket.

(why the fuck is this played like a fucking romantic scene i'm so serious, why is he smiling to himself like that)

mind you, erik had the pawn in his pocket the entire time, which could mean either of two things:

charles looks surprised/confused the entire scene, but in THIS part he doesn't look confused, he just looks like he's still trying to figure out what erik is trying to do. so it either means erik makes charles play this 'guess where it's hiding' game all the time (????) which doesn't really sound likely for him to do, but erik is always begging charles to get into his head so it wouldn't surprise me if he actually did this every time. god knows he's desperate enough or

erik was expecting charles to reject his offer right away, and had multiple other plans shoved up his ass if this was the case. this also seems likely, he's obsessive enough to have thought multiple ways through.

anyways, he puts his two fists up and pulls up the most mortal sentence in existence. one he knows charles won't be able to deny him

"just ONE game 🥺 for old time's sake???? 🥺🥺🥺" man stfu you are 62 years old GET UPPPP

anyways - pay attention to his wording.

"just one game" because erik came ALLLL this way for charles, so charles might as well play ONE game with him, and then erik could be gone - if charles wanted it that way.

"for old's time sake" when things were easier and when they were more at peace - when they were on each other's side. when they were together and the mansion, just after charles had saved him and gave him a hom- oh wait

(also, there's 100% a hidden meaning here. and there’s also a 100% chance i’m reaching but idc. the pawn could be in his left hand or his right. the possibility is 50/50. the only way charles could know with 100% certainty was if he entered erik's mind - if he took up erik's offer. but he could also not get into erik's mind and just... guess and fail - by thus, not taking erik's offer. erik is giving him an out, a choice to make the first move)

(and the chess piece he offers charles a WHITE pawn. the white pieces are the first ones to move.

also also if you have paid attention to the previous movies, erik is always the one to use the white pieces, this is the first movie where we see charles play with white)

anyways, charles does struggle a bit with the choice, but ultimately he decides to accept erik's proposal and """guesses""" right.

and going from erik's... entire face and smirk lmao i'm guessing charles went into his head to get it right. mind you, this is like sex for them

charles accepts - erik is very relieved to know he's not the only one who's down horrendously. and after the worst guessing game in history (seriously, the pawn was in erik's right pocket and then he had it hidden in his right hand... man i guessed that shit and i'm not even a telepath) they start rearranging the board

so anyway, erik gives charles this look like he wants to climb him like a tree, which means that playing edward 'down embarrassingly bad' rochester in jane eyre (2011) finally fucking paid off

erik doesn't even blink mind you, and charles doesn't take his eyes off erik either way, which means they are just STARING at each other without blinking for god knows how long LMAOOO 😭😭😭

once everything is said and done, erik makes a silly little joke and charles rebuts. then erik gives him the biggest smile i've ever seen him give to someone since magda, and then he follows it up with a smaller, softer smile with no teeth

seeing this for the first time in the theater was like getting shot in the chest, no joke

mind you erik stopped trying like three minutes ago but for some reason, the first time we finally see charles soften up in the ENTIRE movie is after he sees erik smiling at him. which could mean nothing.

and the thing is: charles does have a big heart, and he means well, most of the time, but he also doesn’t necessarily has… the best way of showing it with his actions lol. erik knows this, and he knows charles has a thing for lost causes, for people the society has given up on. charles threw himself into the freezing water to save erik - even when he didn't KNOW him.

AND he also knows charles has the biggest soft spot for him, he KNOWS - because all those years ago, charles' biggest accussation wasn't "you paralyzed me" it was "you left me". because after erik lost his wife and daughter, charles rushed to find him, to make sure he was okay. because nine years ago, charles looked at apocalypse and said "fuck you you are twisting erik's grief, and you are hurting him" to A GOD BTW. TO HIS FUCKING FACE NO FUCKS GIVEN AT ALL

tldr: call erik the fucking violinist because boy he sure knows how to play charles like a fucking instrument and how to press all the right keys to get him to say yes to him. he gave charles an out if he didn't want to come with him, but he also came PREPARED for it, mind you, he came PREPARED to take charles with him to genosha. he didn't get to take charles with him 30 years ago, and he was going to be dammed if he didn't take charles with him NOW (this time with no bullet wound and no helmet lol)

and the most insane thing to me is, that he knows charles has a soft spot for him, he's known this for 30 years, and yet, the only time he uses it in his favor is to get charles to say yes to him on this. the only time he uses it is when he thinks he can do something to help charles - to give him back all the kindness charles gave to him 30 years ago.

anways i'm insane. i'll be back here eating glass if you need me. i'm so normal about them. simon kinberg broke something in me 5 years ago

#i'm so sorry about the bible and the terrible english only one of those is my fault #cherik #xmen #erik lehnsherr #charles xavier #long post #otp: i want you by my side #meta #yapping*

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sashaisready · 2 months ago

Text

Starting Over: Chapter 1 - Betrayal

Mob!Bucky x Female Reader

Series Masterlist

When Bucky throws you out of the house for a betrayal and won't listen to your side of the story, you know the only way out is through - it's time to start over. Maybe this was never going to be your happy ending.

Warnings: Swearing, angst, betrayal, mean!Bucky,

Hi! This kinda came outta nowhere lmao. Apologies for the angst, I just needed to do an angsty/sad fic cos I'm in my feels. As always, I appreciate your comments and reblogs. This is a two part series (standalone, not linked to any of my other fics, not the same characters as in Sweet and Sour) second part coming soon...

Wordcount: 3.7k

💔

“I can’t believe you’d do this to me, Doll. After everything we’ve been through? Was it all a lie?”

“Don’t deny it! That’s your voice on the recording! Banner proved your phone was there, it pinged there – we’ve got the proof. Even now you’re lying, you just can’t help yourself, can you?”

You had read about people being too stunned to move or speak, but you always thought it was a little embellished for dramatic effect in books. Surely, you could just push through? Surely shock did not have such a profound effect on your body that it rendered you temporarily paralysed and mute?

But you had calmly walked down the stairs towards the lobby of the house twenty minutes ago and hadn’t moved since. You just stood there now, rigid and dumbfounded, trying to understand how your entire world had just collapsed around you mere minutes beforehand. Now, you got the ‘stunned’ thing. You understood.

The aftershocks of Bucky yelling at you echoed around your head. What had just happened? You’d been sleeping peacefully just before he stormed in your shared bedroom, roaring at you before your eyes had even opened. You’d never seen him like that before. This wasn’t your Bucky, this was work Bucky. The one he’d always worked so hard to keep you from.

Why wouldn’t he listen? What did he mean, the recording? The phone ping? Your skull ached as you tried to make sense of it all. You would never do a thing like that to him. You loved him. You’d die before you purposefully tried to hurt him. Why didn’t he understand that?

You briefly considered going back upstairs, finding him wherever he was in the labyrinth of this house and straightening this whole mess out. Telling him you loved him, and he had to listen. Taking him in your arms, kissing him softly.

But the memory of the look in his eyes, the sheer rage they contained, the hatred that lay there, stopped you.

There was nothing to go back for.

You managed to pull yourself from your paralysis and move towards the hall closet near the front door. Well, it was more like a small room than a closet. An overflow from the walk-in closet just off the master bedroom upstairs. A huge space packed with a selection of Bucky’s jackets and shoes. He liked keeping some of them downstairs, getting the staff to rotate them when he wanted a change. Some of your things sat in there too - a few high-end coats, beautiful shoes.

Correction, past tense - they were yours. Not now.

“You’re a liar! You lied to me…Bet you loved spending my money too, didn’t you? Laughing all the way to bank as you sucked me dry…”

You screwed up your face as the memory of his voice flooded you. He was just so angry…he just wouldn’t listen. He wouldn’t believe you…

You pushed it all aside and opened the closet door, darting and shuffling through the combined thousands of dollars at your fingertips - the Dior, the Gucci, the Prada. You knew it was in here somewhere.

Then you spotted a flash of red behind one of the shoe racks in the far corner. There she was.

You moved towards it, grabbing at the red fabric and tugging. It squeezed past the luxury shoes and revealed itself as you pulled it toward you - your faithful red backpack.

A relic of your former self.

No designer labels here, just a bag that had followed you throughout your life - high school, college before you’d dropped out, various apartment moves and vacations. The once-bright crimson colour had faded over time, but it was still sturdy and strong, still TARDIS-like in how much you could pack inside. It stuck out like a sore thumb in the closet against the glamour and opulence.

You knew how that felt.

You unzipped it and dug through the contents. A pair of jeans, a sweater, a couple of T-shirts and your beaten-up old sneakers. Some pairs of underwear and bras. A few other simple garments. All polyblends and cheap textiles. No fancy labels to be found. No fine silks or luxe fabrics that Bucky had liked to spoil you with.

This backpack was all you had to your name when you’d moved in here. Funny how life went in circles, because once again it was all you had now.

At the time Bucky had taken it from you and insisted you throw it away - you wouldn’t need it! He’d buy you a whole walk-in closet full of clothes!

And he did.

A dizzying amount. More than you could ever wear. A mix of designer labels and custom pieces that fit you perfectly. Fine tailoring and exquisite details. Dresses. Blouses. Pants. Jeans. Organic cotton t-shirts. Skirts of every length. Winter coats that had cost the same as two months of your rent in the city. Underwear sets so pretty and delicate that you were almost too nervous to wear them.

And accessories, too. Handbags. Jewellery. Shoes. Oh, the shoes. Heels, flats, boots, sandals, sneakers and slippers. Shoes for fancy parties and shoes for hikes. Shoes for the grand vacations. Shoes for just lounging around the house. Shoes you only wore for sex.

All gone, in an instant.

It didn’t matter, anyway. You always told him you didn’t need any of it. And you weren’t lying. You’d never lied to him, despite what he believed now. You were always happiest in sweats and loungewear, you just liked being comfortable and yourself. You just liked being near him.

At the time you’d talked him round about letting you keeping the backpack - nostalgia, you know? You’d had it years, after all.

But he didn’t think you needed it. That was then, this was now. Why keep an old bag when you could get anything you’d ever want? He’d buy you a hundred backpacks, he said, he’d get your initials embroidered, he’d let you design your own, he’d have your favourite designer make you one - especially for you.

But that wouldn’t be your bag. The bag that had seen everything. Your constant companion.

You persisted. What was one little backpack in a big old house like his? It would take up no space at all. He wouldn’t even know it was there.

He relented eventually, he’d always loved how down to earth and low-key you were. He was fond of your sentimentality. You’d never been interested in his money; you’d kept the love notes he wrote you - not the shopping receipts - but he still liked to spoil you. You deserved it.

Or so he’d told you then. But it was a different story today.

The bag had been hastily stashed here in the closet the first day you moved in and had been there ever since, languishing amongst the Italian tailoring.

Until now.

Part of you wondered if deep down you had always known this day would come. Maybe your gut had sensed it was all too good to be true, and you knew you needed to store a parachute for the inevitable fall.

You sniffed, wiping away the threat of more tears. There would be time for that later.

You looked down at the slip you wore, the slinky, silly nightie thing he’d bought you that you’d worn to bed. Not very practical now you’d be out on the street.

Your brain suddenly switched into survival mode, most likely in an attempt to stop yourself from falling apart, but you couldn’t think about it all now. You needed to find somewhere to stay. And you couldn’t do that in a silk nightdress.

You quickly shrugged the gown off, leaving it in a tangled pool on the floor of the closet and mentally apologising to Martha who would have to pick it up tomorrow. You grabbed the backpack and pulled on the jeans, a bra, one of the tees and the sweater. You rolled the Dollar Tree socks onto your feet. Kicked on the sneakers. It was all a little musty from being folded up in the bag for so long. But it would do.

You caught a glimpse of yourself in the closet mirror and gasped. Aside from the wild eyes and tear-stained face, you looked like a version of yourself you hadn’t seen in a long time. Another life.

Hello again.

Next: where to go. The obvious places were Wanda’s or Nat’s homes. And you’d go there. Either would work. Either would welcome you with open arms, being the true friends that they were. Bucky’s betrayal had made you question everything you knew about love, but not the faith in your friends to catch you when you fall. That was unshakeable.

Maybe you could alternate who you stayed with until you got back on your feet, so you weren’t too much of a burden to either. You just couldn’t face either of them tonight, you needed to be alone.

You frantically rummaged through the backpack again until you found what you were looking for at the very bottom. You let out a little yelp of relief.

The battered old wallet had seen better days, but it was hanging on. You opened it up and breathed a sigh of relief that you’d never transferred your driver’s license into the Gucci wallet Bucky had given you on that first day. Thanks, lazy past self. It wasn’t like you’d driven much anyway, not with his all drivers on the payroll and the Uber account he’d loaded onto your phone.

The wallet also contained debit and credit cards you’d never cancelled but hadn’t touched since Bucky gave you your very own black card. It was funny how you used to obsessively count every penny and now you could charge whatever you wanted without a second thought.

Not now, then, you corrected. You needed to get used to your life with Bucky being referred to in the past tense.

“You were working with the feds this whole time, Doll? Is that it? You were all laughing at me? Laughing at how easy it was to let you in? The cute little waitress doing her ‘oh shucks!’ routine, catching me hook, line and sinker?? God I’m such a fucking idiot…”

You stifled a sob, but continued hunting through the wallet.

You thought about your purse sitting out on the side table by the front door. You could take that with you and charge a hotel room it. He probably wouldn’t even notice such a small charge amongst his wealth, and even if he did, he wouldn’t begrudge you a few bucks for a roof over your head for one night. Would he?

No. Enough.

He had ended it. He had implied you were a leech. He didn’t listen, he didn’t trust you. He didn’t believe you. If he truly thought you’d done what he said…he couldn’t ever have loved you. Not really.

No more spending his money, even though you never really felt comfortable doing so anyway. The showdown tonight had confirmed your biggest fears - he’d always resented you for spending his cash. You couldn’t live like that anymore.

Besides, you didn’t want him to know where you were. Not that you thought he’d come after you…but still.

Fortunately, the wallet had a ream of stale bills stuffed in one of the sections. You exclaimed in excitement; you remembered them now. It had been your last day at your waitress job. You’d quit right before you came over to this place to move in, and Lou had given you the rest of the week’s pay plus tips. You had fought him on it, insisting you didn’t need it - but Lou had asked you to take it. For his sake.

“I want you to be happy, hon’,” he’d told you kindly when you had shared your plans. “And I know you’re a smart girl. But you’re getting mixed up with…a different kinda world. A…different kind of guy. You never know when this might come in handy”.

You’d frowned at him at the time, not quite sure what he meant. But as you stood there in the closet clutching the cash, you sent him a silent thank-you for his foresight. God bless Lou. He was exactly right.

You shoved the money and the wallet back into the red bag and moved from the closet into the hallway. The house was completely silent. If Bucky knew you hadn’t left yet, he’d made no effort to stop you. You admitted that a tiny part of yourself had hoped he’d come after you and admit he’d made a terrible mistake.

But he wasn’t coming.

You slung the backpack over your shoulder as you headed to the front door. As your hand curled around the handle, you turned and took one last look at what had been your first real home. What you’d hoped would be your last home.

You looked over at your phone which you’d tossed onto the dresser next to the closet in your panic. You briefly pondered taking it, but it wasn’t yours anymore. You’d buy a burner in the morning and get a new cell plan once you were back on your feet.

Wow. You were surprising yourself with this pragmatism. But you also knew you were hanging on by a thread.

But the fact was - you’d survived before Bucky, and you’d survive after him, too. You always kept going. You’d been dirt poor before, you could do it again. You’d been alone before, too. You’d been alone most of your life.

You could do it again.

‘Tenacious’ - that’s what Nat had called you once. You weren’t sure if you agreed with her at the time, but now you wanted to prove her right. You wanted to be the person she believed you to be.

You already knew it would be much harder now, as you’d had a taste of the other side. How the other half live, as they say. Before, you didn’t know any different - you didn’t know what you were missing. Now you absolutely did. Not just the money…the comfort…but being cared for, being loved.

On some level, you’d always known this wasn’t going to be your happy ending. You knew deep down that the house of cards would eventually fall, because it always did.

You just wished you weren’t always right.

You opened the door and stepped out into the dark.

💔

You walked for thirty minutes towards the city. Bucky lived on the outskirts and most of the journey had been leaving his estate along the single, winding road that led up to his property. None of his men paid you any mind. Not the ones with guns pitched up along the perimeter. Not those waiting in cars half a mile from his house, keeping an eye out for any potential threats as they did every night. They all knew who you were, so word must’ve spread fast. Otherwise they would’ve been falling over themselves to check on you and find out why the boss’ girl was out walking by herself at this time.

You wondered if Steve or Sam had put a message out on the comms. ‘They’re over. Don’t worry about her anymore’ or words to that effect. Something cold but concise. That’s how this operation worked.

You’d developed friendships with some of these men. Chatted to them and even brought them coffee when they kept watch on cold nights. You would watch then from the windows and tell Bucky you were worried about how freezing it was out there, and he’d laugh it off and say it was part of their job and they were fine. But they were always grateful when you came out with a thermos, always told you how much it meant to them.

All of it forgotten in an instant, you were disposable as anything else in Bucky’s empire. You understood that now. Just like when he wanted a new car or a new watch, he’d toss away the old model - then find himself something newer and shinier.

You walked a little further as signs of civilisation starting to appear and Bucky’s acres of land disappeared behind you. A gas station. A boarded-up strip mall. You were a little frightened walking alone by yourself, but the sheer adrenaline your situation propelled you forward.

You breathed a sigh of relief when you eventually found a tired-looking Holiday Inn up ahead. A few of the lightbulbs on the neon sign were out, meaning it spelled out H LIDAY INN. A leaky drainpipe dripped a steady stream of water over the entrance. Oh dear.

But it would do for now.

You took a deep breath as you went inside and checked in at the front desk, paying for a basic room with your waitress cash. The disinterested receptionist gave you the key card and sighed with boredom, barely looking at you as she barked the directions to your room and resumed Candy Crush on her phone. She didn’t seem surprised to see a lone woman turning up in the middle of the night, arriving to a roadside hotel on foot, paying for two nights in crumpled bills. She didn’t even ask to see your ID. That all gave you a pretty clear idea of what the staff were used to here.

You passed an ancient-looking PC that guests could use, which surprisingly, as it looked like it was last updated for Windows 95, had WiFi. You made a mental note to log on tomorrow to message Wanda and Nat on social media and fill them in …and hopefully get one of them to come pick you up.

You grabbed some chips and soda from the vending machines then walked towards the elevators. Not quite the glamorous dinner you’d become accustomed too, but it would do. For now.

You hit the button to call the elevator as you slumped against the wall, the exertion of your long walk and the evening finally catching up with you. The elevator creaked and spluttered but it finally got you to your floor.

You scanned your keycard and swung the room door open, dumping your backpack and snacks onto the wood-veneer desk before flinging yourself onto the double bed. The no-frills basics were worlds away from the fancy hotels you were used to staying in with Bucky, but it was clean and comfortable. And most important of all, it was private.

“Just get the fuck out. We’re done here so save your tears. Over. Finito. I don’t need some liar in my bed, being sweet to my face then sticking a knife in my back – then not even having the guts to admit to it when she’s caught red-handed”.

Finally alone, you allowed yourself to weep. To mourn the end of your relationship and the man you thought Bucky was, versus the man he turned out to really be. To grieve, to bid farewell to the life you thought you had (and would continue to have) with him, and the way you thought he saw you. It wasn’t just about losing him and tarnishing your memories, it was also grieving for a future and a life you thought you were going to have.

“I don’t care. You’ll figure something out, sweetheart. You’re just lucky this is all I’m doing after everything you’ve pulled…”

Large, wracking sobs took over your body as you curled up on the hotel bedspread and allowed yourself to feel it all. You ate the chips and drank the soda, barely tasting either. You turned on the TV and let the black and white movie on the one working channel serve as background noise. Fatigue eventually swam over you, smothering you like a weighted blanket.

Soon there were no tears left and the well had finally run dry. Mercifully, sleep finally came for you, and you gave into it without a fight.

And you slept. And slept.

💔

Bucky was at his desk looking at paperwork when Steve came back into his home office. He was doing his best to ignore the nauseating rush in his gut, trying his hardest not to think about you and the way your face had crumpled as he confronted you. Most likely it was just your guilt, anyway.

“Barton said the shipment arrived right on schedule, everything accounted for,” Steve advised as he poured himself a shot of bourbon from the small bar setup in the corner of the office. “And Sam’s out at the shipyard, running through the plan with Rumlow”.

He was desperate to address the elephant of the room and ask Bucky how he was holding up, but Bucky had previously insisted nobody bring your name up. So he didn’t.

“Good,” Bucky replied curtly. “And Stark?”

“All on board. Said we can iron out the details next week”.

“Perfect, thanks”.

Steve nodded, downing the last of his glass as he placed it on the ornate tray and headed to the door.

“Oh, and Steve?” Bucky called out to him.

“Yeah, Buck?” He turned to face his friend.

“Do you….you uh know…where she went? After…what happened?” He asked, the tiniest hint of hesitation in his otherwise firm tone. Most people wouldn’t have spotted it, but most people didn’t know Bucky like Steve did.

Steve shook his head, “No, Buck. Some of the men saw her leaving on foot a little while ago”.

Bucky swallowed but his face betrayed no emotion, “On foot?”

“Yeah. I guess she didn’t have a lot of options…” Steve shrugged.

Bucky nodded, “Yeah…I guess I just assumed she’d book a cab…or call one of her friends…” he said wistfully as he looked back down at the papers across his desk.

“She left her phone. Scott found it by the front door, next to her purse. I’m not sure she took anything with her, actually,” Steve mused.

Bucky frowned, “No…phone? No…money?”

Steve shrugged, “I don’t think so. But that’s good, right? You said yourself she was probably just playing a long-con to get your money too…”

Bucky’s gaze dropped back to the desk, his grip on the fountain pen he was holding tightened, the nib shaking from the force of his strength.

“You okay, Buck?” Steve asked tentatively as he watched the way the pen shook.

Any hint of vulnerability was immediately snuffed out as Bucky’s eyes snapped back to Steve.

“Of course. Fine. Let me know what Sam says”.

Steve nodded, “Right. I’ll call him now”.

As Steve closed the door, the pen snapped in Bucky’s hand.

#mob!bucky #bucky barnes #bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes x reader #starting over fic

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ellecdc · 2 months ago

Note

hii!! i rlly like your writing and was wondering if you could do a request ? remus (or wolfstar ) x reader where its like posthogwarts and she went to a diff wizarding school and the wizard thing was hush hush cuz she was a muggle, but then one day she like accidentally uses magic and they were like “ omg wait what” and like yeah. anyways pls feel free to ignore this its a very odd request LMAO. thank you so so much for taking the time to read this !!! (im sorry if this sounds weird i dk how to talk to ppl) ok bye 🫶

this was a very cute prompt! thank you so much for your request and your patience in my writing it!

poly!wolfstar x fem!reader who they believe to be a muggle [1.8k words]

CW: fear of werewolf prejudice, fear of muggle born prejudice, I also included a line in French and you can find the translation at the bottom of the work

Sirius knew that they were, perhaps, being a little bit selfish by keeping such a big secret from you.

Statute of Secrecy be damned, they were well beyond the point in your relationship where they could have (and likely should have) told you that he and Remus were wizards (oh, and, while we’re at it, Remus turns into a beast once a month so there’s that, too).

And while their friends all suspected it was Remus who was hesitant to tell you the truth on account of his lycanthropy, it had actually been Sirius who kept procrastinating the long overdue conversation.

But Sirius had to admit that he was very scared to tempt fate, because meeting you had been a complete fluke and he wasn’t willing to muck it up by scaring you off. How many times in one life did someone get the chance to meet a perfect angel?

Sirius had already met Remus which felt like nothing short of destiny, and then they met you, and that felt prophetic. And who was Sirius to mess with the prophecy?

“You cannot chicken out tonight.” Remus muttered as Sirius rapped on your door, earning him an indignant scoff from his boyfriend.

“I’ve never once chickened out in my entire life, thank you very much. That’s why I was sorted into Gryffindor.”

Remus merely snorted. “Sure, that’s why this is our seventh attempt at breaking the news, yeah?”

Sirius refused to look at Remus before banging (slightly louder) on your door once more before you finally opened up.

Gods you were so bloody beautiful; smiling like you couldn’t physically be any happier that your two boys were here, eyes excited and bright and so full of love and fuck sakes he couldn’t do it.

“Hey dove.” Remus greeted for the both of them, seeing as Sirius’ brain was short circuiting on account of your beauty and loveliness, pressing a kiss to your hairline and all but shoving Sirius past the threshold of your door. “It smells amazing, what are you making?”

Your smile seemed to grow impossibly brighter at the praise. “A vegetable bake! It’s sort of Mediterranean, and I’m making pasta to go with it.” You explained excitedly, and Sirius honestly felt like he was going to start overflowing with the amount of fondness he had for you.

“You going to say hello to our girl, Siri? Or are you just going to keep staring at her?” Remus taunted as he walked further into your flat to place the flowers he was carrying for you in a vase - the routine of bringing you bouquets every time they visited so practised that he knew where to find your vases.

“Of course, gorgeous. Sorry for being rude.” He murmured as he pulled you into his chest and breathed you in. “You’ve got to stop answering the door looking so bloody beautiful; I completely forget myself.”

You giggled into his chest and then leaned on your tiptoes to press a chaste kiss to his lips that he - the selfish bastard - didn’t find nearly enough before he pulled you into a second deeper, lingering kiss.

“It’s good to see you, Sirius.”

Sirius sighed happily - because really, it was even better to see you - as he shuffled the two of you towards the kitchen Remus was now fussing in.

“Beautiful!” You cheered as Remus positioned the bouquet in the middle of your kitchen island; and Sirius could see the mischief in Remus’ eyes even if you couldn’t.

“Just like you, dove.”

And, quite possibly one of their favourite sights, they watched you turn bashful as you opted to fuss with the arrangement instead of looking at either of them.

“Listen, sweetheart, we were wondering if perhaps before we eat, we could chat with you about something?” Remus decided to rip the bandaid, and Sirius wanted to hex him for the way your body tensed and you looked at him with what appeared to be mild horror.

“Oh- uhm, okay, yeah, sure that’s… that’s fine.” You stuttered as you moved to the kitchen table to take a seat, both boys following obediently.

Sirius watched as Remus moved last week's bouquet - which Sirius had secretly cast a stasis charm over so that they would last longer - out of the centre of the table and closer to Sirius so that they could both have a better view of you.

“Is…everything okay?” You asked cautiously as you fiddled with the sleeve of your shirt. Sirius wanted to throw up.

“Of course, dovey.” Remus assured you, though it was Sirius’ thigh he gave a comforting squeeze under the table. “We just know that we’ve been seeing each other for a while now, and we’ve grown to care about you quite a lot- you know that, right?”

Sirius watched as the divot between your brows only deepened as you nodded hesitantly. “So much, gorgeous; we care about you so much.” He insisted when it didn’t look like you truly believed them.

“But we just, well, we haven’t been completely honest with you, is all. And now that we’re at this point in our relationship, we…we feel like we owe it to you to be honest.” Remus continued, clearly beginning to feel just as out of his depth as Sirius was.

Your face fell completely blank, though Sirius could tell you were still tugging nervously at your shirt sleeve.

“Baby, I swear this isn’t bad, we- I rather think I’m in love with you, and-”

But as Sirius went to reach his hand over to rub at your arm in a way he hoped to be comforting, he ended up knocking over the vase stationed in front of him.

It didn’t break, thank Merlin, but it did topple over before Sirius could catch it and the water poured over the table.

Remus went to stand quickly to avoid being soaked, but no sooner had he pushed his chair away from the table was the vase floating towards you and the water completely vanished.

Not looking at the boys in front of you, you righted the vase and repositioned the florals to your liking before looking up at Remus who was now standing and staring at you owlishly, and Sirius who was gaping at you from his seat.

“Did you just-” Sirius started, voice no more than a whisper, but was quickly cut off by the sound of a timer in the kitchen.

You waved your hand in that direction mindlessly before sinking back despondently in your chair and staring down at your lap, the timer silent.

“Y/N.” Remus rasped. “Did- was that…are you a witch?”

You appeared to flinch as if you’d just realised what you’d done before you looked up; all colour seemingly draining from your face.

“What? I-” You started with a nervous chuckle. “I don’t know what you’re talking about? There’s no such thing as witches…”

But Sirius knew what he saw, the first could have been an accident - a trick of the mind - but the second act of magic was all the confirmation he needed.

Silently, Remus summoned the vase of flowers towards him before charming them to dance to imaginary music, plucking one from its stem and turning it gold before reaching across the table to put it behind your ear as you gaped at him.

“You’re…a wizard?” You whispered in disbelief.

At that, Sirius stood and spun, turning into Padfoot and panting excitedly at your feet as his tail whacked against the table leg with every wag.

A wet laugh escaped you before either boy realised you were wiping your eyes.

“Oh my gods?”

“Awe, dovey.” Remus cooed as he moved over to Sirius’ chair so he could take your hands in his. “Don’t cry.”

“Is this what you guys were going to tell me?” You asked cautiously, hopefully.

Padfoot melted back into Sirius, but he stayed kneeling at your feet as he rubbed soothing stripes up and down your calf. “Yes, baby; this was it.” He assured you. “I’m sorry we scared you.”

“So, that boarding school you went to in France?” Remus asked with an arched eyebrow.

“Beauxbatons.” You confirmed with a nod of your head. “And your boarding school in Scotland?”

“Hogwarts.” The two boys chorused, and you all let out a chuckle.

“It’s almost embarrassing that didn’t give it away right there.” You laughed breathlessly.

“Since we’re, uh, being honest about stuff…” Remus continued, trailing off awkwardly as he shared a grimace with Sirius. “I’m also, well, I’m also a werewolf.”

“Oh.” You breathed quietly.

Sirius held his breath as he watched you consider this before you nodded your head decisively.

“I’m muggleborn.”

Sirius and Remus shared a quick look before Remus let out a disbelieving chuckle. “Is that- …what?”

“Baby, are you trading that information like we might think that’s a negative?” Sirius teased you lightly.

“I suppose it depends on who you ask…” You whispered, and both boys softened.

“Not us, dove.” Remus offered. “Good.” You smiled at him. “Then me too.”

“Is that really how you feel about it? About me?” Remus asked quietly.

“No, it’s not how I feel about you.” You denied. “J'ai l'impression de tomber très amoureux de toi.” You admitted shyly, and Sirius couldn’t be held responsible for the mortifying cooing sound that resonated from the back of his throat.

He grabbed your face roughly and started peppering you with kisses: “how”, a kiss, “did we”, a kiss, “manage to find”, another kiss, “the most brilliant and beautiful witch”, kiss kiss kiss, “in the whole world?”

You were giggling and trying - not very hard, mind you - to pull away from Sirius’ ministrations when you stilled and let out a gasp.

“What?” Both boys paused.

“Supper!” You nearly shrieked as you went flying into the kitchen, muttering to yourself in French as you turned off the stove top and fussed with various pots and dishes.

“I am so unbelievably in love with her.” Remus murmured, eyes glued to your form as you danced through the kitchen.

Sirius scoffed as he leaned against his boyfriend with his arms crossed, feigning nonchalance. “I can’t believe you were so scared to tell her.”

Sirius didn’t need to look at Remus to know he was glaring at him; he could feel it.

But he also felt his heart grow three sizes when you turned to look at both of them with a beaming smile and a steaming dish in front of you, completely unphased that one of your boyfriends was a werewolf even though as a witch you knew exactly what that meant. And not only were you unphased, but you were still falling in love with them regardless.

Sirius had admittedly been very scared to tempt fate, because meeting you had been a complete fluke and he didn’t want to muck it up by scaring you off. Because really, how many times in one life did someone get the chance to meet a perfect angel?

If meeting Remus had been destiny, meeting you was prophetic; and who was Sirius to mess with the prophecy?

(translation: I feel like I’m very much falling in love with you).

900 notes · View notes

pupyuj · 7 months ago

Text

→ “your colorful secrets.” || jang wonyoung x reader fic.

— weeks after the event which you call "the weirdest thing that's ever happened all year", wonyoung approaches you about your 'strange' behavior towards her in the most 'wonyoung' way possible...

word count: 10.6k

dynamic: dom!mean girl!jang wonyoung x sub!nerd!reader.

content warnings: smut, fingering, clit play, nipple play, masturbation (for like, a minute lmao), overstimulation, mommy kink, degradation.

requested? : kind of!

a/n: well, we finally made it ya'll! 😭😭💞 i feel like i'm gonna say this about every fic i write here from now on but PHEWWW THIS QUITE LITERALLY TOOK FOREVER?? but i was more than happy to flesh this little universe out more and revisit our favorite mean girl and her awkward nerd <33 just like you guys, "magic words" is one of my favorite things that i have written so even though this kinda took me wayyy too long to finish, I WAS SO HAPPY THAT I STILL DID IT UEUEUE MEAN GIRL WONY MY BELOVED 🥺💓 anyhow, i really, really hope you guys enjoy this and here's to more mean girl wonys in the future hehehe

p.s. i hope ya'll don't get bored too easily bcs wow there's a shit ton of talking in the first half of this fic—

previous: magic words.

jang wonyoung was late.

to class.

which wasn’t exactly all that surprising considering she thinks she can do whatever she wants. but she was never late to class. you would know—you were always waiting until she entered the room. it was like you were never calm until she appeared, but that was because you have had the biggest, lamest crush on her all year. even the professor took a pause when he called wonyoung’s name for attendance and nobody was there to respond with “i’m here, professor~” and a cheeky smile. you stared at the empty seat in the middle of the classroom, wonyoung’s seat, and wondered what could’ve been in her way for her to—

“just hold on for mommy, ‘kay?”

you dropped your pen, covering your red face with your hands. your seatmate gave you a brief look before going back to reading her notes. did you really have to think about that first thing in the morning? well, it wasn’t as if it was all you have been thinking about for the past two weeks: wonyoung’s lips on yours, her hands all over you, her sweet voice soothing you, and her eyes looking at you like you were her last meal… you still couldn’t believe that entire thing even happened!

ever since then, things have been really weird. a lot of people looked at you more when before wonyoung fucked you, you were usually ignored which you liked. and you knew everybody whispered about you and wonyoung too. neither of you were being discreet in that room in the library that day so you heard all sorts of things from your fellow students the day after. usually about how they didn’t think you were that kind of girl, or how they never thought wonyoung would ever consider fucking ‘someone like you’. see, other people would be mad if they heard some strangers say all those things about them but actually, you agreed with them.

everything about that day went against a lot of things that you thought about yourself. well, you weren’t planning on staying a virgin forever but you really didn’t expect for it to be taken by jang wonyoung of all people!

“come on, baby. give me a show.”

you squeezed your thighs together, your heart hammering inside your chest. god, it almost felt like wonyoung was right up against your ear—talking to you and berating you for thinking about her 24/7 after she fucked you. you felt your core clench upon remembering how warm wonyoung’s hands were, how her fingers felt ramming inside you… god, you wanted it all again. but there was no way she would agree to that, right? knowing wonyoung and the kind of girl that she was, that would be the only time she would fuck you, right?

a pink jacket catches your attention, making you look up from your thighs. jang wonyoung has finally arrived. she was talking to the professor as she sat in her seat, all smiles and giggles as usual. she throws a brief glance over her shoulder, sharp eyes meeting yours. you didn’t miss the way the corner of her mouth lifted up, smirking at you as she eyed you down. you didn’t even know how the fuck she was able to do that within a millisecond of looking at you, but she did it anyway and it only made you squirm in your seat.

oh, how pathetic you were. you’ve been feeling all sorts of things after wonyoung fucked you, but you never knew what to do about them. for now, you just wanted to get through another day of being in wonyoung’s presence despite everything that’s happened. she hasn’t spoken much to you since that day and you doubted that anything was going to change—she’s jang wonyoung after all. you were probably just another hook-up to her, something she’s bound to forget about in a week or so.

(see, that was just all kinds of wrong because right at this moment, all the nosy people who were staring at wonyoung can clearly see how she spared your pitiful figure by the window little glances every other minute with a sly smile on her face. she didn’t make an effort to be discreet. she never does. when jang wonyoung likes something, she is going to let people know—she has to! or else they’ll all just think you’re up for grabs.

no. wonyoung was going to show them only she can really pull all the nice girls in this school. especially you—(y/n) (l/n), the campus’ adorably awkward bookworm who’s very endearingly clumsy despite her well-put appearance. god, how wonyoung had become obsessed with you and you had absolutely no idea.

but it was more than just your character too. for a while now, actually ever since she fucked you, something about you has been bothering her mind. it’s made her unable to stop thinking about you and truthfully, it fucking pissed her off so much that she had to brainstorm a plan, a solution, for it. which became the reason why she was late today. will wonyoung actually execute it? who knows! for now, she can stare at you scribbling on your notes and laugh to herself because she knew, oh she so knew, that every time you paused, shut your eyes, and shook your head—you were thinking about her.)

thankfully, the class ended after another hour and a half. halfway through it all, you got bored and opted to stare out the window. so much so that you didn’t realize class was over until the familiar scent of money and local fame wafted into your nose—wonyoung had walked past you, and she winked at you. you found yourself freezing up in your seat, so fucking pathetic. nobody seemed to notice what wonyoung had just done which was fortunate for you! with bright red cheeks and ears, you packed up our belongings in record time and swiftly power-walked your way out of the classroom.

the attention that was put on you as you walked along the hallways of the building was annoying, for the lack of a better word. it seems like everybody was looking at you as if this was the very first instance of a loser somehow ‘getting’ the popular girl to sleep with her. sometimes, you wish it never happened. as good as it felt, the aftermath was almost not worth it. you’ve heard cruel things being said about you after that day and to save your enrollment, you kept yourself quiet and pretended like you were unaware. except that you weren’t, so every time you make eye contact with someone and they start whispering to their friend or something, it only adds up to that pool of anger that was slowly building up from the pit of your stomach.

still, you couldn’t bring yourself to blame wonyoung for it all. you were part of the act as much as she was but you also can’t say that you brought all this attention and rumors to yourself. you blamed the other girl’s stupid reputation, actually. but it’s not like you can rewind time and make yourself leave that goddamn room when you thought wonyoung was never going to come. there was no point in dwelling on it now. it happened and you have to live with the consequences. being talked about isn’t half as bad as the threat of your scholarship getting revoked anyway.

you were right on the other side of the building when you realized you had no idea where you wanted to go. you just wanted to get out of that classroom, away from wonyoung’s sights so she can’t have you acting up in front of everybody. not that you would actually be able to make stable eye contact with her anyway. naturally, you found yourself marching towards the washroom. you were nearing to the door when you heard a few girls chattering lively.

you entered the washroom and there stood in front of the mirror were kim jiwon and shim jayoon—your acquaintances and wonyoung’s super smart best friends from one of the science programs. they were the last people you wanted to see face-to-face and for good reason! as soon as they saw you, they squealed and grabbed your arm, yanking you to stand in front of the mirror with them. “there’s the woman of the hour!” jiwon teased, lightly pinching your cheek.

“more like woman of the week—literally nobody is shutting up about you! this must feel like heaven.” jayoon nudges your arm, firmly believing that you liked all of the attention you were getting when you really didn’t. you would do anything to be invisible again.

“is this really what it feels like to be popular? i hate it,” you grumbled, earning a sigh from jayoon. “i don’t know how you guys ever manage.”

“you have an outdated opinion about all of this, baby girl! don’t you like having everyone’s eyes on you? now they’ll see how much of a pretty little thing you are—it’s great!” jiwon said. no, she was not very successful in convincing you that this wasn’t the worst thing that’s ever happened in your academic life so far. but you decided that you wouldn’t fight her on it and instead, stand idly between the two girls while they gossiped and twirled and played with your hair.

you were completely signed off from the conversation; the only thing in your mind was the feeling of wonyoung’s hands in your hair while she kissed you. unconsciously, you touched your lips with your fingers. fuck.

“oh, you’ve got it bad, huh?” jiwon teases.

“hey, don’t blame (y/n)! wonyoung’s a good kisser—i’d miss her lips too,” jayoon sighs dreamily. then she gasps and grips your forearm tightly. “do you want to fuck her again?” she asked with shiny eyes.

“w-what?!”

“where’d you get your information from, jayoon? wonyoung fucked her.”

“oh, right!”

you covered your face with your hands, “please stop talking.”

jayoon forcefully pries your hand off your face, “listen, gaeul-sunbae is having a party next week and we’ll be there with wonyoung! you should come! we’ll make sure to get you guys a room.” jayoon says with a wink. god, they’d let the two of you fuck in a house full of your schoolmates?! that would just add onto your world of troubles.

“i’m not going to any party and i’m never sleeping with wonyoung again, okay? i just—i want this all to end. i hate it when i’m looked at.” you gently wiggled yourself out of the two girls’ hold and once again marched towards the door.

“you shouldn’t have fucked her then.” jayoon says with a shrug as you reach for the handle, making you pause.

“she fucked me.” you corrected your friend before swinging the door open and exiting the washroom.

“yeah jayoon get your facts straight!” you heard jiwon laugh as you bolted out of the washroom. you rolled your eyes, shaking your head, and glaring at the first person you saw in the hallway. the person in question raised an eyebrow before turning to talk with his friend, eyes lingering on your leaving figure.

gosh, this school was a nightmare.

nevertheless, you survive the long walk back to your classroom without sparing another person a glance. did you bump into people because you absolutely refused to look up? yes! did you care? not at all. it was much, much better than dealing with the scrutiny in everyone’s eyes. apparently, sex was only a problem when the girl who wanted nothing to do with it actually did it. every time you remembered how everyone in the library looked at you after you and wonyoung left that private room, you wanted to scream. literally. all of the negative things that came after the event made you forget about the sweet stuff. like the way wonyoung insisted on driving you home, how she walked you to a bus stop when you refused to ride with her, how she patiently and wordlessly waited for your bus with you, and how she gave you a kiss on the cheek when your bus did arrive.

but what good was having wonyoung’s attention if everybody was also going to look at you, but in a worse light?

you knew it probably wasn’t fair, but you grew a tiny bit of resentment towards the popular girl.

you entered your classroom after a deep breath—eyes glued to the ground and hands hidden under the straps of your backpack. it felt like you were back in high school all over again. this sucked so bad. but unfortunately, getting to your seat was only a bumpy road! all you had to do was not look up and start reading material once you’ve sat down. it should be so easy. of course, fate had other ideas.

wonyoung had bumped into you while walking towards her own seat, forcing you to tear your gaze from the ground to look at her. oh, she was so pretty—no, (y/n)! “sorry.” wonyoung says with a cheeky smile. (she was excited that she finally got you to look at her. and as expected…) you blushed, merely looking away from the other girl before rushing to your seat. you heard a few giggles behind you which only confirmed your suspicions—it was definitely planned. it didn’t help that your cheeks and ears were flushed red… gosh, even your neck felt warm. you know what also didn’t help? how wonyoung’s intense gaze didn’t leave your figure for a while. you could feel her staring at you like you were some piece of meat for her to devour and you weren’t even exaggerating by saying all that!

it was the same kind of look she was giving you right before she kissed you that day. despite your resistance, you met wonyoung’s stare. you noticed that she was surprised to see you raise your head, but it looked like it pleased her more than anything. wonyoung tilts her head and smiles slyly at you while her eyes travel from your hands, your exposed thighs, to your legs… now who knew jang wonyoung could be such a pervert? you squeezed your thighs together, glaring slightly at wonyoung who merely giggled before finally turning around and facing the front.

things like that—wonyoung’s attention, her interest, her affection—were the only good to come out from that hook-up. the rest? the side-eyes, the rumors, the whispers, the unwanted popularity spike? you wanted nothing to do with it. but, again, it wasn’t like you could reverse time.

so, you were going to do what you’ve always been good at: hide yourself to the point of invisibility. it’s never failed you before, and it shouldn’t now.

the only challenge was jang wonyoung herself—will she let you out of her sight?

you didn’t want to think about the most obvious answer. instead, you tried your damned hardest to not think about her at all for the rest of the day. you poured all of your attention to the lectures, the coursework, and the notes. basically anything just to avoid hearing her voice in your head again. at least it wasn’t as bad as the first few days after she fucked you. during those times, you quite literally replayed the entire thing in your head every minute. it wasn’t surprising that you ended up failing a few small quizzes around that time.

when you’ve put every belonging you had in your backpack, you practically rushed to get up from your seat and headed to the door. avoiding every eye that latched onto your figure. you successfully passed wonyoung’s seat without trouble until…

“ah, (y/n)! finally, i can talk to you.”

ms. lim, the professor for your last class of the day, calls you. you turned around with a tight-lipped smile on your face, reluctantly walking closer to the teacher’s desk while most of your classmates walked out of the door. wonyoung was still in the room. she was staring. fuck, why is she always staring?!

“i wanted to thank you for all the help you gave last week for jiyoung’s little… ‘art for amateurs’ club.” ms. lim sighed at the name (she has always hated it but ms. kim jiyoung, her fiancé, loved it too much to change it) and smiled up at you.

“no need for thanks, ma’am. i was passing by the art room that day and i just thought i’d help.” you hear a few people shuffle behind you. more students walking out. a flash of pink walks by behind you. wonyoung. you blinked and smiled at the professor, acting as normal as you could.

“if you don’t mind, i need you to do another favor for me,” ms. lim opens up one of her drawers and carefully takes out a lunch bag from it. the professor smiles sheepishly at you. “i hate to ask my students to do little chores like this. but i’m going to be preoccupied with grading and lesson plans for the rest of the day and that idiot jiyoung forgot to grab her food from me.”

you chuckled lightly, “hard to imagine ms. kim of all people would forget about her food. i’ll take it to her, no worries.” you carefully held the lunch bag in your hands and smiled at your professor.

“thank you, (y/n). she’s been all over the place lately! worrying about this one special pupil of hers that she’s practically begging to put up a piece of her work in the walls of the art building. it’s a whole thing, i won’t bore you about it. run along.” ms. lim waves you off with a laugh. you bowed to the professor before happily exiting the classroom with ms. kim’s lunch bag in hand. when you left the room, you saw that the hallways were still quite full with students lounging about—looks like it wasn’t going to be an easy walk to the fine arts building but oh well.

the first hurdle was squeezing through a crowd of jocks from different teams creating a ruckus in the middle of the hallway. the second struggle was nearly getting picked on by said jocks when they just so happened to notice you sneaking by. thankfully, a nice cheerleader with red hair diverted their attention so you could slip away. it was a quiet and pleasant walk along the school courtyard towards the fine arts building from there, with only the wind and soft rustling of leaves accompanying you.

the building was quiet, save for your own footsteps. usually, the hallways would be filled with sounds of casual chatter and the muffled voices of instructors and students alike. you had to say though, you much rather preferred the silence. it was comforting. you were usually surrounded with a lot of yelling, hollering, and laughing which sometimes wasn’t all that bad but considering everything that’s been happening the fast few days… yeah, this was preferable.

it didn’t take long for you to reach ms. kim’s classroom, and there you were met with a vast empty room littered with half-finished paintings and beautiful illustrations created by the students and ms. kim herself. there was a backpack and a big canvas set near the back of the classroom but you pay it no mind. it was common for students to stay after school hours just to kill time or work on their projects. you put down the lunch bag on ms. kim’s desk, all the more ready to turn around and leave when a particular painting caught your eye.

it wasn’t anything special by any means. in fact, it was buried behind more colorful paintings and you could only see half of it. you approached the painting, looking around the other canvases just to see it in full. it didn’t look finished, but then again maybe that was part of the appeal. the painting was that of an arrangement of beautiful flowers in a jar, they were wilting. or maybe they were just coming to life, looking at the soft streams of sunlight that shone down on them.

regardless, you didn’t have the luxury to analyze the painting any further when you heard shuffling behind you. alarmed, you turned your head quickly and… well, fuck.

“wonyoung…”

the tall girl clad in pinks and blues smiles at you. it wasn’t a very comforting smile.

“the one and only,” well, that sounded familiar. you watched as wonyoung threads the ends of her hair using her dainty little fingers. a smirk dances on her lips while she stares you down, very much liking how she has rendered you speechless with her mere presence. a bit of a dramatic statement but it was true! “how’d you like my work?” wonyoung asked, eyes quickly flickering over to the flower painting behind you.

you followed her stare, but quickly looked back at her in shock. “you painted that?” you gasped.

“you make me sound like i’m just a stupid bimbo,” wonyoung sighs dramatically. “of course, i painted it. would anyone else’s work look as gorgeous?” ‘charming’ as ever, wonyoung flips her hair over her shoulder with a smug look on her pretty face. you turned away, very quickly rolling your eyes before settling them back on the painting. you were impressed. you wouldn’t have guessed that wonyoung of all people would have that kind of talent, but then again, she is one of the class-toppers and nobody knows who she is exactly.

“it’s beautiful.” you admitted. you heard wonyoung chuckle, but she doesn’t say much else. you don’t look back at her, choosing to stare at her painting instead. again, something stopped you from looking further into it. wonyoung stood beside you, briefly looking at her painting with a somber look on her face before quickly covering it up with her usual cheeky, queen bitch smile. it was dead silent. did you even want to speak to her? for two weeks, you’ve resented all the attention that was given to you because of her. you’ve glared at the back of her head, cursed her in your mind whenever some students whispered about you… but somehow, you’re the one who’s tongue-tied now that you were actually alone with her.

it was confusing—feelings, that is. hell, the last real face-to-face interaction you’ve had with her was on that day. when she kissed your cheek before you got on your bus.

“wasn’t expecting you to be here, (y/n),” wonyoung unzips her pink jacket, slowly taking it off before putting it on an empty seat. you watched her from the corner of your eye, she was taking deep breaths and you could hear her. then she fixes her hair and turns around wearing a glowing smile. “but this is just perfect.” she steps towards you and instinctively, you jolted backwards.

“i-i just dropped something off for ms. kim… from ms. lim, i mean. i should get going.” well, it wasn’t going to be easy! what with wonyoung being inside your personal bubble and your heart beating so fast that you can’t quite hear your own thoughts. it didn’t help that she towered over you, and again, her perfume was a fucking weapon—rendering you immobile.

“don’t be like that, (y/n). i’m upset with you.” wonyoung says with a pout. cute, but you really shouldn’t let your stupid crush on her stop you from just getting the hell away! wonyoung was fascinated with the way your eyes wandered. she knew that no matter how angry you were with her, she was always going to have the same effect on you. and it was delicious. being able to have that much of an impact on someone.

“you never called or texted me. i was waiting, especially after i sent you home,” wonyoung stands even closer and for a second, you actually saw some kind of emotion in her eyes. dissatisfaction, perhaps. “didn’t know you were like that, (y/n).”

“i d-didn’t even think you’d want me to contact you after… after all of that.”

“i wouldn’t have given you my number if i didn’t want you begging for more of me over the phone, dumbass.” wonyoung bumps your shoulder with her own as she walks past you. the way you looked (confused and… so fucking stupid) must’ve made her pissed, judging by the way she started dragging her equipment around with her eyebrows furrowed and eyes glaring at you every now and then. you stood there awkwardly, fiddling with the hem of your uniform. you should really leave. you had things to do at home! this wasn’t a time to waste with someone who was mad at you and someone you were mad with.

all it takes was a period of silence to remind of how much wonyoung affected your life. and suddenly all the anger was back. the longer you stood there and looked at her, the more it boiled up and threatened to tip over. but you were going to be mature. you were going to leave the classroom and go on with your life, leaving it all (wonyoung) behind.

“i have a few ideas on how you can make it up to me though.” wonyoung averts her gaze from the empty canvas in front of her to you.

given the way she was looking at you—or rather, has been looking at you, wonyoung was up to no good. and if you wanted any chance to redeem the little reputation you had in this academy, you had to be strong and not get swayed by her and her pretty little face and those soft lips and that mesmerizing pair of eyes. you shook your head, “i am not fucking with you again, wonyoung.”

the taller girl laughed, “what? did it look like i was going to make you do that? gee, (y/n), it takes one hook-up to corrupt you, huh?” wonyoung laughs, a smirk making its way to her face when she sees you glaring daggers at her. “you’re going to be my muse.” she says, crossing her arms and scanning you up and down. gosh, she didn’t even bother to hide the lust behind her stare… but you could tell that her statement wasn’t a joke.

“you’re… going to paint me?” you asked. wonyoung hums, staring right at you as she pulled her hair up to a ponytail, quietly anticipating your answer while you stood idly by the windows.

“only reason i’m here is because ms. kim has been begging for me to put something of my own up in the hallways. usually i would just refuse but the lady’s been nice to me since i stepped a foot in this school so why not? plus, what’s a better subject than my latest and possibly most popular fling?” wonyoung gives you a very sarcastic smile that makes you roll your eyes. you seriously needed to get out of here.

you were more than ready to leave until you remembered the way wonyoung’s eyes looked when she confronted you about the silence you gave her. then a pang of guilt hits you the more you think about her actions after the two of you hooked up. the walking together, the waiting together, and the kiss on the cheek. maybe attempting to cut her off was a dick move on your part…

“okay.”

wonyoung’s face visibly lights up. adorable.

“where do you want me?” you asked, blushing at the sight of the cute look on her face. all of your activities can wait. you wouldn’t have been able to live with yourself knowing that you were potentially hurting someone. albeit unintentionally and the person in question being your best slash worst nightmare.

“just sit in front of me and we’ll figure it out from there.” and so, you and wonyoung get to work. well, of course it was mostly her doing the work while you just sat on a stool and listened carefully to whatever she told you.

oddly enough, the weight of her stare wasn’t as intimidating or nerve-wracking like it usually was. wonyoung had a certain softness in her eyes as she studied your features closely, and every time you figured that she saw something she liked, something would sparkle behind those beautiful brown eyes. watching wonyoung in what seems to be her natural environment… well, ‘unexpected’ would be the understatement of the year. you figured it would be parties and social clubs and outlet malls but then again, nobody really knew wonyoung.

getting so much as a glimpse of the untouchable popular girl was truly something. and despite everything that’s happened you find yourself feeling the way you did the first time you laid eyes on her on campus during freshman year. awestruck, with your heart nearly beating out of your chest as you desperately tried to look at something that isn’t her but ultimately failing. wonyoung gives you a smile, and it wasn’t her usual cheeky-teasing one. she looked… bashful? and is that a hint of pink on her cheeks?

it was strange to see, but you ended up smiling a little at the sight of a rare cute wonyoung. the tall girl’s cheeks show a deeper shade of pink as soon as your lips curled up in a smile, making you giggle a little. not a lot of words were shared between the two of you after that as wonyoung completely immerses herself in her work. and during that entire time you just stared at her, admiring her focused state. you wondered if she was concerned at all about making a mistake—her hand moved skillfully across the canvas with the attitude of someone that was sure about their abilities. you would hear an occasional tut partnered with a quick hum and followed by a quiet, satisfied laugh, giving you the impression that wonyoung was confident about the picture she was painting of you.

you’ve never been more curious in your life. you wanted to know how wonyoung sees you. it would be from an artist’s perspective but maybe you’ll see even a spot of how wonyoung truly sees you deep inside. especially after everything that has gone down between the two of you, and especially after her reaction to you forcing yourself to forget her existence for two weeks. it’s not like you were looking for any chance of the popular girl returning your feelings, you just wanted to know if you were anything to her at all. maybe you’ll get to know it here.

“(y/n),” wonyoung snaps you back into reality. she beckons you over with a proud look on her face. “come over here. see if you like it.”

soon enough, you were standing beside wonyoung, staring at the most impressive painting in the room. it was you; sitting on that stool wearing a gentle smile, but almost half of your entire form was covered by a slightly see-through curtain and the tiniest streams of sunlight. at first glance, the painting looks incomplete or rather, abruptly finished but it looks perfect in your eyes. and on wonyoung’s eyes too, judging by the way she looked at her own work with approval.

“it’s beautiful, wonyoung.” you said with a grateful smile.

“mhm. it’s y—” wonyoung pauses, and clears her throat. “obviously.” she said, chuckling awkwardly and flipping her hair over her shoulder with less flair than usual. you did not know what the hell that was all about. (“it’s you.” wonyoung wanted to say. but she bit her tongue real quick. why? well, jang wonyoung was not one to try to woo a nerd of all things like that! but really though—it’s you. of course it’s beautiful.)

you were admiring the painting some more and the longer you did, the more you noticed just how many details wonyoung put into it. from the slight crinkle of your eyes while you’re smiling down to that tiny little scar you had on your right cheek. amazing.

“w-wait, you’re going to put this up in this building?” you asked, now blushing wildly. it’s not even that you were embarrassed of having your face put up in the fine hallways of this campus (there have been many instances of your face being plastered everywhere because of your very impressive achievements as an honor student). it’s the fact that wonyoung was involved in all of this that makes it all complicated.

“no.”

surprised, you looked at wonyoung with slightly widened eyes. she worked hard for this painting for the sole reason of putting it up, and now she won’t? maybe she sensed your discomfort at the thought of putting up a painting of you made by wonyoung, which you know would just repeat the never-ending nightmare of being surrounded by rumors all over again. you would ask the tall girl to give you a reason why, but you noticed that she was standing closer to you now, eyes darkened and very much drawing you in.

just like last time.

“for my eyes only.” wonyoung says quietly. she was referring to the painting, sure, but she was looking at you the entire time. the implication makes your face heat up, and suddenly you’re finding it hard to do anything else except to just stand there. obnoxiously close to wonyoung with your eyes constantly flickering up and down from her eyes to her lips. you remember what those lips taste like, how they feel moving against yours. what you would give to feel and taste them all over again.

“i need a break,” wonyoung’s gaze pierces through your own, inviting you in. “don’t you?”

and all it took was the slightest nod of your head for wonyoung to lock your lips in a searing kiss with her own.

god, it felt like your chest collapsed within itself. your hands immediately cup wonyoung’s cheeks, and having learned a few things from the last time you kissed her, you were much, much better at keeping up with her despite your heartbeat running a mile a minute. wonyoung’s own hands were on your hips, pulling you closer until she started undoing the ribbon on your uniform. then, she unbuttoned your shirt, forcing herself out of the kiss and putting her lips on your neck as she did so. it was hard trying to keep yourself quiet with the way wonyoung nibbled and softly sucked on your skin… which was why you just stopped trying.

“ahh… mhm, wonyoung…” your moans were met with a hum from the taller girl, whose kisses now reached your chest.

“you missed me, didn’t you?” wonyoung whispers against your skin, leaving a mark just below your collarbone where she likes it best. she tilts her head up, lips hovering over your own, only touching slightly. “you missed mommy?”

fuck, that was gonna do you in.

too embarrassed to truly admit it all, you nodded, which earned you a pout mixed with a glare from wonyoung. “i’m gonna let that go once. you’re lucky i missed you more.” eventually, you found your waist pressed against a lone desk while wonyoung continues to kiss you. you were topless now, what with wonyoung discarding your white shirt somewhere on the floor.

“w-what if ms. kim comes in…?” you asked when you felt wonyoung’s hand sliding up your thigh. surely she won’t be as careless as last time, right? the two of you were barely hiding! the curtains didn’t leave much to the imagination and the door was only halfway closed… if you weren’t careful with your mouth, some unlucky soul passing by will catch the two of you and you really don’t know if you can handle more of that. maybe you were naive to expect wonyoung to change within two weeks, because right after you asked your stupid little question, wonyoung had pulled down your panties and unclasped your bra from behind. goodness, she works fast.

the tall girl decided not to waste time and completely disregarded your question. “up.” she taps your hip, urging you to sit on top of the desk behind you. as you were getting yourself settled, wonyoung takes the opportunity to stare at you. you were as cute as ever—flushed cheeks, messy hair, lips quivering, and pretty eyes glossy with anticipation, even though you tried to disguise it with uncertainty. wonyoung couldn’t believe how easy it has been to knock down your defenses. she was so sure that even she, the jang wonyoung, was going to get rejected and embarrassed for the very first time in that library, given your reputation as a hardass.

but alas, she always gets what she wants in the end. as she should!

you pull wonyoung closer, eager to feel her lips on yours again. then she allows you to kiss her, doing the same exact thing as last time—staying still and letting you do what you want. wonyoung noticed that your kiss was softer, more careful. you were holding her face so gently, caressing her cheek with your thumb before letting your hands fall to her shoulders, giving the control back to her. it warmed her heart in a way that took her by surprise, but that was nothing compared to the pure amusement she felt when she caught you untying her ribbon.

“you’re brave today, hm?” wonyoung whispered with a smirk. she doesn’t stop you, though! she holds your stare as you let her ribbon drop to the ground, and then you start unbuttoning her shirt so excruciatingly slow. you stopped halfway through, only getting to see a little bit of wonyoung’s crimson red bra before putting your lips on her neck. and finally, for the first time, you heard her whimper.

you couldn’t see it as you were busy kissing her neck, but wonyoung was a blushing mess. she never whimpers! but with your sudden courage and the way you left the softest and sweetest kisses on her neck, wonyoung couldn’t hide it. “are you… marking me up?” wonyoung asked with a giggle.

immediately, you stopped, staring at her with half-widened eyes. “is that okay…?”

wonyoung would’ve called you stupid if the sound of her own loud heartbeat didn’t render her speechless. “don’t tell me you’re going to ask for permission if you so much as want to put your hand on my waist or something.” wonyoung said. she can imagine it clearly in her head, actually! you were too polite for your own good.

“well, consent is important—”

“yeah, yeah. how about you use that pretty mouth of yours for something worth my time, dummy?” wonyoung urges you to kiss her again, craning her neck to give you access. and you did it happily! you were so obviously excited that even wonyoung thought it was endearing, laughing lightly as you gently sucked on her soft skin. you did that for a while. how could you stop, anyway? the mix of wonyoung’s sighs, feeling her thin, dainty fingers smoothly threading your hair, and her other hand laying still on your thigh, squeezing ever so often when you do something she likes… well, suffice to say that it was almost impossible to stop.

leaning back, you stare at your work. the sight of your marks on wonyoung’s neck only made your core buzz, making you not-so-subtly close your legs. wonyoung regains her composure, eyes darkened once again before she forces her legs open, one hand slowly sliding deeper up your inner thighs while the other keeps your legs apart. “since you’ve had your fun… naturally, it’s my turn now, correct?” and of course you were nodding your head eagerly like an obedient pet, just how she likes it.

your breath gets caught in your throat when wonyoung cups one of your breasts in her hand, her face dangerously close to the other one, more than ready to pleasure you. “i was thinking of being nice since i missed you… but you made me upset with your stupid tantrum over the last time we fucked,” wonyoung feigns a smile and a shiver runs down your spine. “so, to truly make it up to me… you’re going to take everything i’m giving to you today.”

scary. terrifying even, but how could you say no? the (y/n) of two hours ago would be really disappointed of you but fuck it. wonyoung’s got you wrapped around her finger once again and you’re going to let it happen again.

only moans escape your lips as wonyoung’s warm mouth closes around your nipple. a new sensation, and it was wonderful. you found yourself hugging wonyoung’s neck, pushing her face impossibly closer while she licked and sucked as she pleases. your cunt clenches around nothing, and you buck your hips slightly just to urge wonyoung to touch you down there even a little bit but you should’ve expected that she wouldn’t care about that. her hands were rather busy! one played with your other nipple while the other held your thigh in a grip so tight that it almost hurt.

wonyoung releases your nipple from her mouth, her lips now attacking your chest area with little bites. you weren’t opposed to it. in fact, the frustrated look on wonyoung’s face was a delight to see! “should’ve known you were going to be a pussy about it all… wouldn’t have waited up all night for your text if i did.” wonyoung tightens her grip on your thigh, making you wince. but the pain was quickly overshadowed by pleasure as the tall girl pulled on your nipple.

“how was i supposed to accept that you didn’t want anything to do with me anymore…? you were screaming my name so sweetly in the library… and i was in your head after all of that, right?” wonyoung briefly lets go of your thigh to pull your hair down, forcing you to meet her eyes. “i know you did… in the end, the campus’ smart goody-two-shoes is just a fucking slut in the making, isn’t she?”

wonyoung’s eyes shine with excitement upon seeing you look at her so desperately. she knew that you’d never take any insult if you were in your right mind… and it only turned her on when you said nothing to her, your head so clouded that you’d allow wonyoung to say anything she wants to you. the tall girl spreads your legs apart, staring at your glistening pussy before her hungry eyes pierce back into your own. “and to think that you wanted to leave when you’re all drenched like this! what would you have done if i let you go? surely not touch yourself,” wonyoung laughs, but it was a cold and mocking one. your cheeks flush with embarrassment since she was right—you can’t bear to touch yourself, which is why you’re so desperate to have her fuck you already. “you need me, and i want a pretty doll i can play with however i like. let’s help each other out, (y/n)-ah.”

wonyoung doesn’t wait for you to say anything (of course she doesn’t) and starts massaging your clit with her thumb. you gasped at the sensation, holding onto her arms and almost closing your legs up. you try to control your sounds this time around, all that left your mouth were the usual pathetic whimpering and panting but at least you weren’t loud! wonyoung didn’t like that, though. she presses her thumb harder against your clit, making you whine loudly. “that’s more like it.” the tall girl muttered under her breath. the longer she pleasured your clit, the sooner you were losing control of yourself. and eventually you were just giving into what your body wants—grinding against wonyoung’s hand, pulling her closer so you can kiss her…

you gasped sharply as wonyoung plunged her two fingers inside your cunt, and she was giggling at how you were wrinkling her shirt up due to how tight you were holding onto her. fuck did it feel good to be filled up. when wonyoung curls her long fingers inside you, you clamped your hand over your mouth, afraid of alerting anyone who may be lurking around. annoyed, wonyoung swats your hand away, “come on, i don’t want to punish you so early.” none of what she was saying went through to your head. and it wasn’t even because you were trying to be a disobedient brat but because of her pace.

she snaps her wrist with each thrust, enough to make sure that you feel every inch of her fingers inside you before pulling out. it was hard to focus on anything, even more so when wonyoung’s pretty brown eyes were raking all over your body, getting familiar with your features once again. it wasn’t everyday something catches her eye so easily, but when she entered that secluded room in the library and had the luxury of staring at you while you were asleep, she was charmed. not even she thought that she would have you on top of this table merely two weeks later—writhing under her touch and moaning her name, but wonyoung quite liked this outcome.

why, after you were so good for her the first time she fucked you, you’ve been on her mind!

“a-ah..! wonyoung…” your sweet voice snaps the tall girl back to reality. you’ve completely wrapped your arms around her neck now, how precious. wonyoung puts her lips to work, wanting to taste your skin once again. and that she does! giving you kisses from your cheek, to your jawline, to the crook of your neck and all that the way down to your chest. conveniently, the desk was long enough for wonyoung to be able to pull you down so you’d be lying back comfortably. she towers above you, a grin on her lips as she watches you try to hold on to your climax.

it was so glaringly obvious that you were close. with the way your walls clenched around wonyoung’s fingers, a few more thrusts should do it. and that made wonyoung way more upset than you can imagine. there was no way you were going to make this so short, right? but she feels it. not only have you dug your nails on her free wrist trying to hold onto her, you’ve also started whining very loudly. wonyoung, annoyed, wriggles out of your painful hold and shoves her thumb inside your mouth, effectively shutting you up. drool starts dripping down along your jawline—wonyoung wasn’t going to let you off easy judging by how she pressed her thumb flat and hard down on your tongue.

“we’re gonna make this last, baby,” wonyoung says. she sees the tears pooling in your eyes and it only makes her feel warm inside. she was getting so excited to have her way with you, and a few tears wouldn’t stop her. “and everyone’s going to know again. i know you don’t like that but this time… they’ll know you’re mine.”

wonyoung didn’t plan on saying that last part out loud but thankfully enough, you were way too busy moaning her name to even hear it. a knot tightens in your stomach and you gasp, the sensation becoming all too familiar with you now. wonyoung pulls her thumb out of your mouth and slowly slides a third finger inside your cunt—and then there it was.

“aww…” wonyoung cooed as you came all over her hand. but she doesn’t stop any of her movements. instead, she leans down, catching one of your nipples with her mouth and continuing on fingering you through your orgasm.

“f-fuck..! wonyoung, w-wait…!!” you clawed helplessly at her back. amidst your hopeless whining and moaning, wonyoung just giggles. her eyes flicker up to get a brief glance of your face, her own core clenching at how tight you’ve closed your eyes, how you’ve bitten your lower lip to the point of it hurting. she absolutely loved getting to see you undone piece by piece… even more so when you allow it to happen. which is what you finally do as you bury your hands in wonyoung’s hair, pushing her further down your chest and whimpering sweetly at every flick of her tongue on your nipples.

wonyoung wasn’t letting her hand rest, however. she keeps fingering you in a semi-fast pace, hoping to edge you closer to another orgasm. clearly, she was taking advantage of your dazed state and in all honesty, of her own adrenaline-driven state. in her right mind, she would have let you cum the first time and stop there since she knew you can’t handle too much of what she can really give you but god… wonyoung just has to see you fall apart completely under her.

“someone learned a few things from last time, hm?” wonyoung teased as she gently massaged your clit in circles with her thumb. “you’re taking it so well. good.”

you gasped loudly as she plunges her fingers knuckle-deep inside your walls again, now thrusting faster than ever. wonyoung completely gets lost at the feeling of your warmth around her fingers. with her towering above you, she was distracting enough for your mind to wander elsewhere. every so often you’d notice the way she slightly bit her lower lip, whimper quietly, and huff as she fucked you… and as your eyes trail down lower (as low as you could, anyway), you saw that the tall girl had been clenching her thighs together. gods, wonyoung looked so hot being desperate like this.

it made you blush, how much she wanted to feel as good as she was making you feel good. next time, you are going to make sure to return the favor. it was what she deserves, as much of a pain in the ass she was.

“are you okay, (y/n)…?” wonyoung, concerned that you have spaced out, asked. her thrusts have slowed and her eyes are now softer.

you nodded meekly, “yes, mommy.” the nickname slipped out so naturally that it caught wonyoung off guard. and was she… blushing? flustered, even?

(wonyoung wouldn’t even know where to start if someone were to ask about the hold you have on her. it almost sucks that you don’t know about it, but wonyoung’s pride wouldn’t let her admit it outright. not yet, anyway.)

“we’re almost done.” wonyoung regains her composure. she completely pins one of your wrists down with her free hand, the other ramming inside your walls out of control, and her forehead nearly touching yours while you moaned helplessly. with your one hand, you clutched the edge of the desk, refusing to hurt wonyoung any further because you knew you would make her blood had you decided to hold onto her with the way she was abusing your pussy. wonyoung chuckles slightly at how smoothly her fingers went in and out of you—her hand was completely drenched in your cum and wetness. she was practically drooling at the thought of getting to taste you.

wonyoung would rather do it from the source, but she knew you wouldn’t be able to handle her mouth. not at this state. and not with all the things she wants to do to you with her tongue alone.

she feels you clenching around her again, and she watches as tears squeeze out of your eyes. she kisses them away, whispering some comforting words in your ear before she thrusts her fingers knuckle-deep inside you. wonyoung intertwines your fingers since she knew you’d need it as you came all over her hand once again. unlike last time, wonyoung makes sure her hand is still, only pulling out as you’ve started to calm down a little. your eyes wandered all over the ceiling, still trying to get a sense of things. you could feel wonyoung’s eyes on you though, but you couldn’t tell what she was doing.

so ‘surprised’ would be an understatement when you feel her clothed, wet cunt pressed against your knee. wonyoung smiles bashfully as she slightly grinds her clit on your knee. hell, she nearly fucked you into unconsciousness—she shouldn’t have anything to be afraid of doing now. even if she has to become this spectacle for you.

“j-just need to… do something about this.” wonyoung says. her voice was a bit higher from her whines, obviously feeling so good that she can’t help but show this new side of herself. underneath her, you were a bit rattled but completely flustered and quite confused as to what you should do. not that you could do anything, anyway. you couldn’t really feel your legs and your head was still getting itself situated. you were basically watching wonyoung grind herself into you… and it was heaven.

wonyoung meets your stare and grins, “liking the show, babe?” she teased. she giggled when you covered your face with your other hand, you were so red. but you were brazen enough to raise your knee slightly and pressed it against her clit, making her moan out loud for the first time. a smile of satisfaction spreads on your face—you finally heard wonyoung make that kind of sound!

“cheeky little doll.” wonyoung says before leaning down and kissing you. she stops her grinding, having had enough for now and slowly pulls you to sit up, carefully.

much like the last time this happened, nothing much was said afterwards. you were merely hugging wonyoung while you recovered, and you’d smile every time you felt her leave feathery-light kisses across your shoulder and draw random circles on your lower back. wonyoung allowed you to hold her for as long as you needed, never worrying about how the sky has turned orange or the supposed project she was assigned to start today for ms. kim. a gust of wind seeps through the slightly open windows and you shiver.

finally, wonyoung pulled away. “let’s get you dressed up. ms. kim should be on her way anyway.” she helps you stand on both feet and picks up the random pieces of clothing scattered around the area, almost scolding herself for throwing them around haphazardly. wonyoung was the one who buttons up your shirt, makes sure your skirt is all nice and tidy, ties up your ribbon perfectly, and styles your hair as if it was never a mess. and then she decides that you would look cute with a bit of lip tint—but also because you needed a good excuse to give people if they so happen to ask you why your lips were so red and fucked up.

you stayed still as wonyoung dolled you up. it was strange though, because at this point, she has fucked you three times and you’ve bravely looked at her in the eye then but now you can’t. every time her eyes flicker over to yours, you blink and set them elsewhere. you can’t tell her about how your pussy clenches under her gaze. you can’t tell her that if she does something so simple as this, helping a fellow girl to look presentable, it turns you on. and it probably wasn’t even because nice-and-friendly wonyoung was a rarity! it was because of that damn crush. and how you can still feel her hands all over you but ugh, you’re so tired of coming to that conclusion.

you get it: you are morbidly obsessed with how wonyoung makes you feel! god, can i be any more pathetic?

“you’ll text me this time, right?” wonyoung asks after she is done. she has also gotten herself look as perfect as she always does.

“i can’t exactly escape you now, can i?”

“mhm! glad you’re aware of that.” wonyoung puts on an exaggerated smile, but really, she was excited.

you then pulled out your phone and sent wonyoung a simple ‘hi’ text message. “there. happy?” you mimicked her fake smile.

“ecstatic, actually.” wonyoung replied with a straight face as she stared blankly at your useless message. she saves your number and suddenly snaps a quick photo of you without warning, setting it as her contact photo for you. when you tried to sneak a peek, wonyoung moved away from you with a laugh, and saved your name as ‘dum’ on her phone, even waving it all over your face and laughing even more at your disgruntled reaction. how mature… and endearing.

when silence started to fill the air, you almost wanted to ask wonyoung a few things about this whole… thing. whatever it was. as much as you liked the whole doll talk earlier, you didn’t exactly understand it. were the two of you going to be friends-with-benefits now? well, more like barely-acquaintances-with-benefits. was wonyoung going to make a habit of cornering you at some isolated place and fuck you? because really, you‘d prefer a small warning before she starts using you. confused as you were, you didn’t let a word slip. you just stood there, watching wonyoung as she put up an empty canvas on the easel.

“is it okay if i rest for a bit before leaving?” you asked in a quiet voice. wonyoung nods as she pulls her hair up for a half-ponytail, only briefly looking at your figure as you walk past her to sit on the instructor’s chair at the front of the classroom.

“i’d insist on taking you home but you seem to adore public transportation.” wonyoung quipped from behind her canvas.

“you’d only find some excuse to touch me again in your car so yes, maybe i prefer taking the bus rather than that.” you replied. attempting to avoid thinking about wonyoung’s hands all over you while you sat on the passenger seat of her car was futile, thank goodness she was focused on whatever project she was working on.

“thanks for the idea.” oh you just knew wonyoung had a stupid smile on her face thinking about it all. that pervert!

although you would be lying if you said you weren’t into the idea, but that was something the two of you should save for much, much later.

for the rest of your time there, you merely sat on ms. kim’s chair. sometimes you watched wonyoung even though you couldn’t see much of her face. occasionally, however, she would peek from above the canvas to check on you and you wouldn’t look away like you usually would. you would hold her gaze, smiling softly before gazing at the setting sun outside. the only thing that was on your mind was how everything has changed now. whether it was for the better or for worse, you couldn’t tell yet.

there was no use dwelling on it. you simply have to see where things go. one thing was for sure though: jang wonyoung wasn’t going to be out of your life so easily.

you pondered on that chair for a while before you finally decided to leave. you promised wonyoung that you would text her as soon as you got home, and you knew that even though she barely gave you a glance since she was so focused, she was happy that you promised that. while you headed for the door, you felt wonyoung’s eyes follow you until you were completely gone. but even as you walked through the empty hallways once again the hair on the back of your neck stood on end and you found yourself stopping in your tracks completely on top of a flight of stairs.

“that… really all just happened. again.” you mumbled. ugh, your ears felt hot. your cheeks too. matter of fact, your entire body was just warm.

“what happened?” a chipper voice nearly makes you jump out of your skin. ms. kim has suddenly appeared beside you. you hadn’t noticed that she was already there when you turned to the corner.

“o-oh! ms. kim, hello,” you greeted, hand clutching your chest. “ah, right. i dropped off your lunch bag. ms. lim said you forgot it earlier.”

“really? thank you, (y/n). she must be very busy if she couldn’t visit me herself. i’ll make sure to tell her that you did well delivering my food.” the art teacher pats your shoulder. her smile was striking and infectious—no wonder ms. lim always looked so lovesick around her!

“no need. it’s no problem at all,” you glanced at the giant clock on the other side of the wall and felt panic rise from the bottom of your stomach. “my bus should be making its way to the stop now. have a good day, ms. kim!” and so you were off to running as fast as you could to catch your ride, leaving the art teacher baffled but quite amused at the stairs.

“never seen (y/n) a bit loose in the head like that before.”

inside the art room, wonyoung has gotten busy. the tiniest specks of paint decorated her face, her hands had become quite the mess but what mattered was the picture she was creating. she was quite surprised with herself. only earlier did she feel that familiar rush of creating something with efficiency—when she was painting you. she was feeling it again, and it was great. it has been quite some time before she felt that rush. as rich her mind was with concepts, wonyoung found it hard to materialize them in a painting for some reason. maybe she was just lazy. maybe the pictures in her head just weren’t clear enough.

but somehow you of all people—of all things, really—made it all so very clear.

“ah, the things a good pussy does to the human mind.” wonyoung laughs at her own words. she couldn’t wait to bother you all night long later.

“i knew it!”

once again, ms. kim has surprised a student. fortunately enough, wonyoung didn’t make a mistake and only flinched slightly. “hello, ms. kim.” the tall girl greeted. she doesn’t take her eyes off her canvas since she knew that the teacher was already sauntering towards her with that contagious energy she always has.

“wow. i half expected you to be struggling for inspiration as usual but you actually got somewhere!” ms. kim pats wonyoung’s head, very much satisfied at wonyoung’s progress with her work. oddly enough, wonyoung found herself blushing deeply letting ms. kim look at a personal piece from her so freely. not that she gave a fuck about keeping up her reputation even with the teachers, but jang wonyoung was nothing if not so stubbornly prideful.

because no! she cannot bear being teased about painting (y/n) (l/n) for the second time in the same day!

“is that…”

wonyoung’s blush get deeper. here it comes.

“she did say she came by this room… i see!” ms. kim laughs and nudges wonyoung’s arm, teasing the girl as if she was some kid who was having a crush for the first time in her life. incorrect, by the way! because jang wonyoung doesn’t do crushes.

the art teacher leans back and allows herself to fully take in her student’s work. it was a beautiful painting of you, surrounded by orange and yellow colors, looking lost in thought as you gazed out the window. your face was slightly obscured by the curtain, similar to the previous painting of you that she has done. perhaps a clue as to how wonyoung truly sees you.

“never thought you’d want a muse, wonyoung! but she’s not just that, is she?”

wonyoung settles her palette and paintbrush on an empty stool, exhaling and stretching her sore shoulders. now, she wasn’t the one getting fucked but damn, did you exhaust her too! it was in the good way at least, so wonyoung can’t really be mad at you. with you in her sick little head, wonyoung offers a mischievous smile to her teacher, “my cute little secret is what she is.”

1K notes · View notes

dovveri · 5 months ago

Text

ordinarily

synopsis: you’re having a few issues with your sex life so you decide to start seeing a sex therapist with your boyfriend

warnings: reader receiving, cheating, lots of sex talk bcs this entire fic is literally set around sex, fingering, clitoral stimulus, vibrators, dildos + strap on, sana watches reader masturbate

w/c: 7.8k

a/n: if u didn't know im a psych student and this idea came to me at 3am while cramming sexual dysfunctions for my finals and i ltr wrote this in a few hours bcs i was OBSESSED - that being said this is all still fictional bcs... let's be honest i js wanted to have sex with dr sana but some of the facts are still real! the treatment however... not so real LMAO

❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･

“ms. l/n?”

“yes!” you scramble upwards at the sound of your name, pulling your boyfriend up with you and walking briskly towards the woman who’s called you. she offers a kind smile, gesturing for you to follow her.

“is it alright if i bring my boyfriend along?”

she nods, “yes that’s fine. it’s actually customary that both partners are here for appointments like these.”

she leads you towards her office, a clean, organised room with a small couch next to the doctor’s table and chair, and what looks like an upgraded version of a classic examination table.

she seats you both and rolls her chair forward so she’s facing the both of you when she talks. “so how can i help you today ms. l/n?” her eyes are kind, a hint of a smile on her lips.

“u-um just y/n is fine dr. …” you glance to her badge, “minatozaki.”

“alright y/n. sana is fine for me too then.” she smiles.

“r-right sana. so we’ve just been having some trouble with our- um- sex life recently and i think it’s mainly my fault.”

she frowns a little, picking up a notepad on her table to jot down some things, “why would you think that?”

“um well- i- i haven’t um- i’ve never had a penis in me before. my previous male partners would only ever use their hands or mouth but because we were getting a little more serious than that, i wanted to let ben-“ you glance at your boyfriend who looks a little uncomfortable, shifting around in his seat a little, “be the first and we’ve tried for a while now but it’s always just too painful? and i know everyone says the pain passes and whatever but it never seems to pass for me…” you blush, getting progressively embarrassed as you go on.

"i see. do you mind if i ask you a few questions about your sex life?"

you nod, feeling intimidated by the things she's jotting down into her notepad.

"how long has this been going on?"

"umm- i'd say we've tried to have penetrative sex for about 2 months now?"

"have you ever experienced anything like this before?"

"no."

"do you have any history of previous mental health problems?"

"not really, no."

"when you attempt to have sex, do you engage in foreplay?"

"u-um... yes."

"and are you able to secrete natural lubricant from that?"

ben lets out an undignifed snort. you elbow him, face burning red when sana looks up from her notepad, narrowing her eyes at ben who shrinks in his seat, covering his mouth.

"u-um yes i think so."

"ben? is this true?" sana's eyes are locked on ben.

"sorry doc are you asking me if my girlfriend gets wet?"

"for lack of better words yes."

"well yes she gets plenty wet. i always make sure she's turned on before i go in. if you’re asking about if i'm good at sex then yes. i am. plenty of girls in the past have cum because of me."

"i didn't ask that but thank you for your contribution." sana says a little sarcastically, looking back towards you and then down to her notepad. you elbow ben again in response who glances at you slightly annoyed, the tips of his ears red.

"what sorts of foreplay activity do you engage in, does it arouse you, and on average how long would you say your foreplay would go on for?"

"i- um- i-"

"this is a safe space. everything i'm asking is purely for diagnosis reasons, there's nothing to be ashamed or embarrassed about, i deal with lots of clients everyday who come in and have talked about much more bizarre things and none of them are nearly as attractive as you are which makes it a lot worse when someone comes in here claiming they have sexual proclivities towards aliens or otherworldly beings."

you blush, the throwaway compliment in there didn't fly past you. "do people really ask about that?"

sana chuckles a little, "oh you'd be surprised the things people come in here about."

you laugh a little in response as well, feeling more comfortable around the doctor, "um well i guess we do all the normal stuff. kissing, whatever, um it usually lasts about... 10 minutes?" you turn to ben who shakes his head a little so you correct yourself, "20 minutes maybe. and um yeah i guess it does arouse me."

sana hums, making a few more notes, "are your nipples sensitive? your breasts? does he play with them? what about your clitoris?"

"i- um- yes... to all of those."

"have you ever orgasmed before?"

"i- yes."

she senses the hesitation in your voice, looking up curiously, "have you orgasmed during sexual relations with ben?"

you shuffle in your seat a little uncomfortably. ben looks at you expectedly, but you can't bring yourself to meet his eyes.

"yes. yes she has." ben replies for you instead when he realises you're not responding.

sana's eyes cut to his with a scowl forming on her face, "did you know only 64.4% of women are able to reach their orgasm during sex? and that number is even lower when the sex is just penetrative? in comparison, 91.3% of men reach their orgasm, in fact, sexual dysfunction in men is actually more common when men orgasm too fast."

ben raises an eyebrow defiantly, "your point doc?"

"that it's normal for women not to reach orgasm. and normal for them to fake it when their boyfriends are pretentious assholes that think they have the best game in the world but in reality, have inflated egos that would easily be shattered if he found out he wasn't as good as he thought he was. most of these women care too much about hurting their partner's feelings than to tell the truth."

ben leans forward aggressively, ignoring your protests for him to sit back down, "i don't know what kinda whack patients you got in here doc but i'm not one of them. i don't need anyone to worry about my feelings like you women do."

sana rolls her eyes, not backing down from his intimidation, "do you have any problems with sexual activity? come too fast? not able to get it up? not able to come?"

ben sputters, "w-what?! who do you think i am?!"

"it's a yes or no question."

"no! i don't have any of those problems! i told you i'm not one of your weird patients!"

"alright that's all we'll be needing from you today. i think this session will be much more productive for y/n if you leave the room. so if you'd please-" she stands up and opens the door, indicating for him to leave.

"what? you can't just kick me out! this is my girlfriend! i'm just as involved in this as she is!"

"actually, since you haven't admitted to having any problems with sex, and you've both said that foreplay and arousal is adequate, there's nothing more that involves you. so yes, i can kick you out."

ben looks back at you, his face red, but you push him forward, "just go ben don't make a scene. i'll see you outside." he frowns, sending a final glare to sana before stomping out the room.

sana closes the door softly after him, settling back down with a sigh.

"i'm so sorry about him i didn't know he would react like that i-"

"it's okay y/n. this is actually quite common. sexual dysfunction is often severely underreported in men, because of the masculine standards they put themselves up to, lots of them won't seek treatment. that's why most of the clients we get are women who come in here with their boyfriends, and a lot of the time these boyfriends don't think they have anything to do with the women's sexual dysfunction, and a lot of them can't accept that they do."

"but you just said-"

"i know what i said. and it's true that if your foreplay is indeed enough and arousing for you, and that this isn't because of any sexual dysfunction he may have, then it no longer directly regards him. however, just because it doesn't directly involve him, doesn't mean it's got absolutely nothing to do with him. i do think i have an idea of what you're going through, but to confirm i'd like to ask a couple more questions if that's okay with you? and hopefully you can be fully honest with me now that ben isn't here."

you shuffle in your seat a little. "yeah of course."

she smiles, going back to her notepad, "so backtracking a bit, i'm assuming ben hasn't been able to make you orgasm?"

you blush, shaking your head.

"how about with previous partners? is there anything they've done that's helped you reach that orgasm or are there any similarities you can think about between them?"

"mm well for one, i've only ever been able to come when i'm with women."

"oh?" sana looks up again over her specs, a twinkle in her eye.

"u-um yeah and with them it's mostly um, using their hands or oral, and even then i normally need at least some clitoral stimulation to come. i have tried using dildos before but i also find it a little too painful, but i'm at least able to bear it when it's with a woman, with ben i kinda just push him off because it's all too much."

"i see. that's quite normal. most women do require clitoral stimulation to be able to orgasm. a very small proportion of women are actually able to come from penetration alone. do you masturbate?"

you blush again, fiddling with your fingers, but her friendly smile reassures you, "yes. well- less since i've been with ben because he doesn't really like it when he finds out i've touched myself. he gets a little offended and always says i don't need to masturbate when i have him. he takes offense because he thinks i'm doing it since he's not doing a good enough job or something."

"hmm." she hums, jotting something else down, "is he doing a good enough job? i know you said foreplay was fine but i just wanted to check in on that again."

"he's alright i guess. like most men i've been with in the past he does kinda rush things a little, and he does do foreplay it's just a little rougher than i like sometimes. i also think um-" you blush, eyes flickering around the room.

"mm?" sana smiles gently again, encouraging you.

"i think he has trouble finding my clit? or i don't know he always kinda fumbles around when he fingers me so his hands always brush against my clit a little too rough and then he presses down on parts where he thinks it is and asks me if it feels good."

sana hums again, writing down some more notes before the next question. "so back to masturbation, before ben, how often would you say you masturbated?"

"oh u-um, maybe like once a month?"

"and you're able to make yourself come?"

"sometimes. sometimes it just gets too tiring and i end up just falling asleep."

"i see." sana writes a few finishing notes and then places her notepad on the table. "so from what you've told me today, it would seem like you have something called genito-pelvic pain or penetration disorder. normally this sort of behaviour has to go on for at least 6 months before it is diagnosable, but even though it’s only been two months for you, we can still work on ways to improve your symptoms. so there's nothing physically wrong with you or your body, this is more of a cognitive response to a fear of pain from penetration. what happens is because of this fear, you're vaginal muscles tighten when you're about to have sex, they're trying to protect you from this invasive thing that's going to enter your body and that it thinks will cause you a lot of pain. this is why it's so much more painful when someone does penetrate you, because you're muscles are already working actively to try and push it out, they only get tighter and tighter making sex more painful for you. this kinda creates this cycle of fear because it does hurt when you have sex, so the next time it happens, your muscles learn to anticipate this pain and try to close you off from this external invasion. does that kinda make sense?"

you nod a little hazily, the words floating around in your head.

"it's a good thing that you're still able to take penetration though. in some extreme cases women's vaginas have been sealed so tight penis penetration is impossible. now there aren't any medications for this unfortunately, but the main treatment is to unlearn this fear that's maintaining the disorder, and eventually you'll be able to engage in sex that is enjoyable for you again."

"how would i unlearn that?"

"well first of all, masturbation helps. a lot. you say you were only really doing it once a month in the past but actually, masturbating weekly or even twice a week is perfectly normal. and i know you said your boyfriend doesn't really like it but... well it's your body right? if he can't make you feel good then you need to start learning how to make yourself feel good. you need to start turning sex into a positive experience again. later down the line, that also means a lot more foreplay than what you're currently doing. i'm talking like an hour at least. using lube as well will be extremely useful, even if you are wet, it always helps to be fully prepared for that first penetration. i know this all sounds like a lot right now so we'll start slow. would you mind getting up on the examination table and taking off your pants and underwear. i'd like to examine your pelvic muscles a little more closely."

you nod, shuffling onto your feet and beginning to strip out of your clothes. sana pays you no mind, grabbing a new pair of gloves and slipping them on. you figure sana has done this plenty of times in the past, there was nothing to be embarrassed about. well... aside from the fact that sana was really pretty and her really pretty hands were about to be touching you and-

she's turning back around when you lay on the examination table, hands crossed on your stomach, fiddling with your fingers. you avoid her gaze but catch the way her eyes linger a little on your legs. she moves closer towards you, you keep your gaze fixed on the ceiling, feeling the tips of your ears go red at the attention.

she giggles a little and you're confused, "y/n you have to open your legs for me to be able to see anything."

"oh right i- um-" you shyly spread your legs apart, revealing your cleanly shaven lips.

sana squeezes something into her hand, "this is just lube. to see your pelvic muscles in action means i'll have to part your walls so i'm just lubricating them to make it a little more comfortable for you." she looks up at you, waiting for your consent, and when you nod, she gets straight to work.

you gasp at the cold feeling of the lubricant running down your folds, wiggling a little. then, sana's hands come in and start massaging the lube along your folds, spreading it so it covers the entire surface area of your core, fingers gentle as she spreads the liquid. your breath catches a little when she bypasses your clit, squeezing your hands together, and trying your best to not make any inappropriate sounds while in your doctor's office.

you sneak a glance down at her, watching the way she has her lip caught between her teeth while she focuses, eyes glued to your folds. she spreads your lips and starts applying the lube on your inner folds as well, meticulous with her work, making sure no slice of skin was missed.

"i'm going to start prodding around your entrance now alright?"

you can only choke out a hum in response, not trusting your voice to give away the fact that this was turning you on very much.

one of her fingers glides down to your entrance, her other hand still holding your lips open, and she starts to poke gently at your entrance, you can feel when a short fingernail dips in just slightly, wiggling around a little to try and loosen you up. at this point you're kinda glad sana went with the lube because it meant she couldn't tell she was actually getting you spectacularly wet on her own, your own slick mixing with the lube she's spread all over.

she starts pushing a finger in very slowly, but you cringe a little and shuffle your hips when she's about a knuckle in. she pulls out gently, "hurts?"

you nod, "a little."

she starts pressing gently against your folds again, "i'm just going to try massage your folds from the outside, hopefully it'll get your muscles to relax a little with some stimulation."

it is relaxing, the way she's gently pressing into you, it’s certainly never like anything you’ve felt before, it turns you on, but also eases you, it’s a combination you’ve never experienced.

when she gently runs a finger over the hood of your clit your hips jerk and you gasp.

“sorry! too much?” sana backs away quickly, hands raised so you can see she’s no longer touching you.

you inhale, forcing yourself to look at her, your gaze a little blurry, eyes lidded, “n-no. that was- g-good actually.” your voice is a lot scratchier than it was, you can’t believe how turned on you are from just minutes of being with her. “a-actually would it- um- are you allowed to take your gloves off? like if you want to! you don’t have to if you think it’s gross or anything i just think it could help a little so you can feel exactly where your skin and nails touch me.”

sana raises an eyebrow, seeming to consider you, and you want to crawl back into your pants, run away and never see be seen in public again the longer she takes to regard you.

but then wordlessly, she takes her gloves off, flicking them into the bin and reaching for the bottle of lube.

“oh um- you don’t have to. i’m wet enough i think.”

sana smirks then, squeezing some into her palm, “oh sweetie i know. remember what i said about lubing up anyway though? there can never be too much lube.”

you blush at the pet name, gritting your teeth when you feel the cool liquid and the soft touch of her fingers again. except this time it’s so much more real, you can feel every single brush, every stroke, every movement of her fingers against you. when she brushes against your clit again, you can’t help the faint moan you let out. your cheeks burn in embarrassment when you feel her still her movements against you. “s-sorry i-“

“it’s okay. you can make as many sounds as you want. just relax. stop thinking sweetie.” she brushes over your clit again, with a little more purpose this time, and you let out another whimper, trying to stop your hips from grinding against her hand.

the next few minutes are torturous. you're biting back moans every 2 seconds, focusing on keeping your hips solidly on the examination table, hands clenched tight together, you’re so wet you can hear the way she's sliding through your folds much more easily now, able to insert the entire length of her fingernail in with each stroke downwards. your breathing has gotten observably heavier, each inhale and exhale is strained, and you certainly couldn’t look at sana anymore, eyes glazed, just trying to focus on not giving yourself away.

"i’m gonna try go in again now okay?"

you nod, a little desperately, closing your eyes to block out the sight of her between your legs.

she gently prods at your entrance, now able to slide a knuckle in fairly easily, you feel like jelly around her, unable to control your own movements when you jolt downwards, sucking in more of her finger and moaning at the feeling.

“alright?”

“mhm just- just do it.”

“do what sweetie?”

“just- you know-“

“hmm?” she slips a little further in, and you clench around her, your muscles trying to trap her inside of you.

“f-fuck- i- yeah- fuck-“

she giggles a little and you flush, you realise again that she’s very attractive and very good with her hands and those hands are now inching even deeper into you, and before you know it, she’s got her entire finger buried inside of you.

you’re breathless at the feeling.

“painful at all?”

“n-no. not at all. feels- um- g-good.”

you can hear the smirk in her voice when she teases, “you feel good.”

you clench around her at the praise, unaware that sana’s trying her very best to stay as professional as possible, despite wanting so badly to rid you of all your clothes and fuck you until you were moulded to only be able to take her.

“relax baby. i’m going to slide back out now okay?”

you whine when you feel her retreating slowly, your walls gripping her finger, urging her to stay inside. but she comes out until just the tip of her finger is in you, and then pushes in again, filling you up deliciously.

you exhale deeply, back arching at the feeling.

“good?”

“fuck- so fucking good oh god-“

she’s pulling out and pushing in again, slow and careful, watching your body for any signs of pain and fixed on the way your face contorts in pleasure at the feeling of being sexually satisfied for the first time in months.

“think you can take another?” you peek open your eyes to find that sana looks slightly more dishevelled than before, her breathing also a little irregular now, her voice low with lust. you gulp at the sight.

“y-yeah.”

now that you've caught a glimpse of her, you can't look away, your eyes tracing the way her gaze is a little clouded, her tongue peaking out to wet her lips. then she's pushing in again with a second finger, rubbing your clit lightly with her other hand and pressing down onto the external parts of your folds to get you to loosen up.

you suck her in easily, whimpering a little when she stops and looks up at you in concern.

"k-keep going p-please- i can take it- fuck-"

so she continues her journey, pressing in deeper, and deeper, until she's able to fit two fingers snugly inside of you. you moan when she fills you up, pulsing around her, muttering curses and hands moving to hold onto the sides of the examination table.

but then, sana's pulling out again, and this time she doesn't come back. she clears her throat, moving towards the sink in her office to wash herself up.

you clamber onto your elbows hazily, completely soaked and watch in confusion as she dries her hands, her cheeks flushed.

"i think that's enough for today y/n. you can use the sink and this towel here to clean yourself up and get dressed. i'll wait for you outside." she doesn't spare you another glance and slips outside the room, closing it behind her to give you some privacy.

you take a second to recover because what the fuck just happened? you can only follow her instructions dumbly, picking up the towel she's left for you and cleaning yourself up, still incredibly sensitive when you twitch with each swipe along your folds. you put your clothes back on and rearrange your hair so that it doesn't look like you were just about to come mere minutes ago.

once you're tidied up and you've cleared your mind, or at least pushed all the lustful thoughts about being fucked into the table aside, you step outside the office, looking around to find that sana's with ben at the front desk, talking to the receptionist.

you clear your throat to announce your presence when you walk up to them. ben seems to have calmed down and he kisses your cheek sweetly when you sidle up next to him. you take note of the way sana eyes the action, her grip on the pen getting just a little tighter.

"alright y/n. i talked with ben to get an idea of your availability so i hope it's okay that i've booked you in for another session in about 2 weeks."

"yes that's fine!" your voice comes out unintentionally higher than you meant it to. the nerves and confusion hitting you at once.

"and i'll also set you a little homework. like we talked about, masturbation is key to getting better. so here's a self-care kit, it's got a clitoral vibrator and a few different dildo sizes as well as a couple of bottles of lube. i want you to try using the vibrator first, get used to the feeling of orgasming, and then start to bring in the smallest dildo. ben can watch if you want him to or help, but just remember what i said about making sex a positive experience. that's the main purpose of all of this, just relearning that sex is good and that it’s meant to be fun and enjoyable. i'll check with you in 2 weeks how the progress is going and we'll go from there. any questions?"

the entire time she talks to you, she barely looks into your eyes, it's clear she's already discussed all of this with ben who looks more than happy to be a bystander to your sexual pleasure if it meant he would be able to have sex with you later on. you find yourself a little disappointed that she won't acknowledge you. you shake your head no, and she slides you a few forms and the self-care package she mentioned, discreetly wrapped and in a cute little takeaway bag.

"great i'll see you in two weeks y/n. if you'll excuse me now." she sidesteps you and walks briskly back into her office, your eyes trail after her, but you shake the feelings from your head, refocusing on the present and the way ben has his arm wrapped around you.

❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･

it's a fortnight later and you're sitting in a familiar waiting room, this time without ben because you convinced him to stay behind after his retaliatory actions the last time he was here. maybe you also just wanted to see sana alone but you weren't going to tell him that.

if you were being honest, sana hasn't left your mind once since you left the clinic two weeks ago. even when you were completing her assigned homework tasks, it wasn't broad muscles and rugged facial hair that you were thinking of, no matter how hard you tried, your thoughts always drifted back to the way sana had handled you so carefully, the way her fingers felt inside you, how she paid attention to every single reaction you made, every small sound, twitch, how attentive she was. and sometimes your thoughts drifted into territory that was a little more imaginative. those usually consisted of sana using the various toys she'd given you to bring you to heights you weren't able to bring yourself to.

"y/n?"

your head snaps up at the voice. you beam seeing her, she has her hair up today, pretty earrings and perfect features accentuated. she smiles in response at you, gesturing you to follow her to her office.

you settle into the familiar office again, much more relaxed and excited than the last time you were here.

"i see you're looking a lot more chipper than 2 weeks ago." sana comments with a smile, grabbing her notepad that you recognise from last week.

"just happy to see you again."

her smile fades a little at that, but you don't let that discourage you.

"right... so tell me how your fortnight has been. have you attempted to have sex with your boyfriend again? uh... bryson was it? or brendan?"

"ben. and no we haven't had sex again. i also took your advice and let masturbation be just a personal experience. he asked to watch and help but i told him it would be better if he didn't."

"that's good to hear. how has the masturbation been?"

"great! you were right! i've forgotten what having sex just for the sake of doing it for myself felt like. i've spent so long thinking i enjoyed it when i was really just an item for my partner's satisfaction. in a sense that brought me joy as well, being able to provide a source of happiness for them, but i realised that that's not a healthy thing to keep doing."

sana smiles genuinely, "very good y/n. i'm glad that masturbation has helped you realised that. how about your vaginal muscles? did you try using the dildos in the self care package?"

"um- yes i did but- i was actually hoping- uh-"

"hmm? what is it?"

"well i still haven't really been able to cum from using the dildos, only from the vibrator. it's not as painful anymore to put them in, and i'm still working up the sizes, but it still doesn't really feel good? like it just feels like there's something in me, it doesn't really derive pleasure or anything like that."

sana hums, thinking a little, writing down a few notes before closing her notepad. "would you show me?"

"i- um- sorry what?"

"how you've been masturbating. it may be something with the technique, but if it's something else more serious, i'd need to know about it."

"oh! yeah of course." you stumble upwards, repeating your movements from 2 weeks ago, stripping of your clothes, except this time, you take your top off as well.

sana yelps and turns around at your abrupt show of skin.

"something wrong sana?"

"oh- um- no nothing i just thought- um- i didn't think there was reason for your top to be off as well-"

"you wanted to see how i touched myself right? i generally try and stimulate my tits as well since my nipples are quite sensitive."

"right... yes of course." she turns around again, avoiding your gaze and looking to the floor, waiting for you to get on the examination table.

your lips quirk a little at how shy she's being, "is something the matter sana? you see naked bodies all the time in this line of work don't you? and you pretty much saw me naked last time as well..."

sana blushes even brighter, "um- well- yes but- most of my patients tend to be middle aged and they certainly aren't as attractive as you are."

"you think i'm attractive?" you're laid on the examination table now, head turned to the side so you can watch as the doctor fumbles where she's seated, still not looking at you.

"i- um- well- forgive me- i'm trying really hard to be professional right now and-"

"is that why you left in such a hurry during our last session?" you start trailing your hands over yourself, finding yourself easily aroused in the presence of the other woman.

"oh- um- well- yes i- i didn't want to make you uncomfortable-"

you moan gently when a practiced hand glides up to squeeze softly at a tit, the other sliding down slowly towards your centre. "you could never make me uncomfortable sana. well actually... i was only really uncomfortable when you left me so empty last time. i couldn't wait to go home and try out the toys you gave me, i haven't felt so turned on in so long and i needed to get that out of my system as soon as i could." you're trying to get a rise out of her, but everything you're saying is the truth anyway.

sana's eyes are on you now, wide and a little shocked at the words coming out of your mouth, and you revel in the way that meant her eyes now travelled your body. you try and angle yourself so she can see the way you squeeze at your breast, brushing over a nipple lightly with your palm and watching it pebble in reaction, your other hand dipping down to trace along your folds, finding that you're already dripping, the fact that the object of your sexual desires for the last 2 weeks is now only inches away from you, watching you touch yourself, driving you further off the edge of sanity.

"y/n..." sana's voice comes out almost 2 octaves lower than her usual register. you catch the way she wets her lips and crosses her legs.

"i'm so wet already i don't even need lube. and i know you kept saying to use it no matter what and trust me i did when i got myself off at home, but right now, just look-" you bring your hand up from between your legs, making an obscene display of licking your fingers and sucking on them, making sure she could see the arousal that coated your fingers.

sana's jaw tightens at the sight, she shuffles a little in her seat, unconsciously moving closer towards you.

"you don't have to worry about being unprofessional sana. i promise i want this just as much as you do right now." you slide your hand back down yourself, finding your clit easily after the practice you've gotten over the last fortnight, and rubbing circles around it.

"bold of you to assume i want this. this is my job after all." you leak at the register in her voice, it's something you've only been able to imagine in your fantasies.

"you don't want me?" you pout a little, turning onto your side so your entire body is facing her, your arm pushing your breasts together while a finger tugs gently on a nipple, your other hand still rubbing fast little circles into your clit.

sana chuckles darkly, her eyes closing, she seems to be trying to force herself to keep still.

"because just to be clear... i've thought about how you touched me every single time i came these past two weeks." your breath hitches when you recall the way you'd vigorously rub one out to her, sometimes multiple times a day ever since you started masturbating again. "i- oh fuck- no one has gotten me that turned on in such a short amount of time ever- nng- and i'd think about the way you felt inside me, and how careful and gentle you were- fuck- and then i'd think about how rough you could get as well- oh- and how i'd try and be so good for you- can you- can you pass me the dildo? i think i can slide the smallest one in now-"

she gets up from her seat wordlessly, exuding a dark aura that makes you clench your thighs in anticipation. she moves towards your bag, digging for the package and pulling it out, taking the smallest dildo and then moving back towards you. her pupils are blown, hungrily drinking you in, your fingers speed up just a little at the attention.

you reach out a hand mid-moan, asking for her to pass you the toy.

but she clicks her tongue, pushing your hand away gently and lubing up the toy herself.

you gulp, turning so you're laid flat on your back again, spreading your legs so she can see just how wet you were.

her eyes meet yours briefly, and you adore the way she checks in and makes sure you're okay with this, and you nod, giving her permission before she's sliding the dildo into you.

"oh shit-"

sana hums, pushing the little gold dildo in further, transfixed on the way your fingers move just a little rougher around your clit with every centimetre.

when she's completely inside you moan, clenching around the dildo, it was a comfortable size inside you.

"any pain?" her voice is rough, laced with barely concealed lust.

you whine, "n-no- you can move."

she starts pulling out, and it is almost painful the threat of being empty leaving you desperate, grinding down to try and keep her inside you, but she pushes back in, just a second faster this time and you moan unabashedly.

"f-fuck-" she starts up a rhythm, pulling out of you, then pushing back in, each time a second faster than the last.

you rub your clit, faster, harder, pulling on your nipple, switching to the other one to make sure both were attended to, you've never been built up this quickly. even when you were masturbating you had taken her advice and teased yourself for at least an hour before you got anywhere close to cumming.

you crave her, eyes lidded watching the way the veins in her arms become a little more visible when she thrusts in a little harder. you can hear the examination table shaking under you, you can't keep still at all, trying to meet her on each thrust, the tools and materials clattering about loudly. the possibility that someone could hear you outside flies across your mind but you can barely give it a second thought, in fact, it turns you on even more knowing that you were getting fucked by the most gorgeous doctor that you've been obsessed with the last fortnight, and on the other side of the door everyone was just going about their regular days, having no idea the heights of pleasure she was bringing you to.

"o-oh s-sana oh my god- holy fuck-"

"hmm? good?"

"yes yes so good- oh my god you feel so good inside me i'm gonna- oh fuck-"

"do you mind if i..."

you look down at her, vision a little blurry but you can tell she's asking to do something, "yes yes oh god- whatever- you can do whatever you want to me- oh fuck-"

you feel a soft hand come to rest on your stomach, sliding down to just a little below your belly button, and then it presses down just gently, "oh fuck!" your hips jolt upwards, pleasure running up your spine.

sana stops the pressure but keeps her hand on your lower stomach, "was that okay?"

"god yes- oh sana you're gonna make me cum please-"

so she presses down again, a little harder this time, and you feel the coil in you snap, white enroaching your vision, your thighs shaking, head tilted back, a high-pitched gasp leaving your mouth, feeling completely breathless.

sana waits for you to come down patiently, helping you through your orgasm, continuing her thrusts into your cunt but slower and much gentler.

eventually, you feel your back and hips meet the surface of the examination table under you again, breathing heavily and opening your eyes slowly.

sana's moved next to you, brushing strands of hair out of your face, you preen into her touch. but the next thing she does has you clenching tightly around the dildo that's still inside you. she brings her fingers to her mouth, sucking them in and making a show of wrapping her tongue around them. "exquisite."

you blush, clenching your thighs together at the sight.

she gives you a slow once-over again, before exhaling shakily and turning away, moving to the sink to clean up a little. you struggle a little to sit up, still recovering from your mind-shaking orgasm, and you're about to pull the dildo out of you when she speaks up again, still with her back turned to you.

"keep it inside you. that'll be your homework task for the next fortnight until our next session." she turns around, seeming to have collected herself a little better, her eyes fixed only on your face, purposely avoiding the rest of your body.

you sluggishly start to clean yourself up, wincing a little each time you accidentally move the dildo inside you.

"so you are able to come from penetration, you don't have to worry about that. and it's normal that you need some clitoral or other stimulation to be able to orgasm, often just penetration isn't enough. for the next fortnight i want you to continue masturbating, but i want you to practice leaving a dildo inside yourself afterwards, so your vaginal muscles get used to the feeling of something being inside. you can slowly work your way up the sizes, just don't push yourself and make sure you stop if it starts becoming too painful."

you nod, trying to bring your breathing back to a normal pace while you slip your clothes back on.

"alright. were there any other concerns you wanted to talk about?"

you shake your head, coming to a stand.

"okay. you can make the next appointment with the receptionist out front. i'll see you in 2 weeks y/n."

you nod, again, walking out the door when she opens it for you, but turning back before she can close it catching her a little by surprise, "thank you sana. i look forward to seeing you again soon." your voice is still a little scratchy but sana blushes, pursing her lips and nodding, closing the door after you.

you sigh a little dreamily, feeling more blissed out than you've been in a long time.

❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･

this continues between the two of you for a few months.

you loved teasing sana and getting her out of her professional state. once you had worn lingerie under your coat to see her. you laugh remembering the way her eyes widened and her jaw dropped as soon as you took off your coat when you were in the privacy of her office. you'd let her fuck you however she wanted, and then you'd use each new experience to get you off during the fortnight that she'd give you new exercises, all increasing in intensity to help build you up to being able to take an average sized penis.

your favourite one to think about was that week that ben started complaining about how you'd been seeing sana for so long that surely you'd be able to take him by now. he insisted on coming to your next appointment but he was forced to sit outside and wait for you. little did he know you were on the other side of the door, a hand clamped over your mouth, the other holding you up against the door with your breasts pressed against it while sana railed into you from behind. of course she kept harnesses in her office. she had said they were mainly there for educational purposes, to show people how to put one on properly so it was safe and wasn't hurting anyone, it was just an added benefit that she also used them to pound into you with increasing dildo sizes each fortnight.

you lean onto your elbows while you watch her wash off the dildo she had just used on you. it was the biggest one yet and you're still fluttering a little remembering the way it filled you up while you rode her.

"what?" she turns around, drying off the dildo and slipping it back into your bag, pulling her shirt back on.

"just think you're nice to look at."

she rolls her eyes playfully, "shut up y/n."

you wiggle your eyebrows, "make me."

she glances at you, narrowing her eyes a little but making no effort to move closer, "as if you could go another round. you came so hard just then."

you giggle and sigh in satisfaction, resting your cheek on a hand, "i did. you're so good at what you do."

sana hums, finishing getting dressed and looking semi-presentable, settling back into her seat, but her expression changes a little while she studies you.

"what's up?"

"... have you tried having sex again with your boyfriend?"

"i told you i haven't."

she hums again, mind drifting elsewhere and you shrug, sitting up and starting to clean yourself up. "you can try now y'know? you were able to take that dildo and that's pretty much the average size of a penis already. unless he's bigger than that...?"

you scoff, shuffling into your pants, "no. he's actually smaller than the one you just used on me."

"then you should try having sex again."

you pull your shirt over your head, thinking over what she's saying. instead of sitting down in your own seat you climb into her lap, her arms wrapping around you automatically, hands gripping your waist while you make yourself comfortable. "doesn't that mean i won't be able to see you anymore?"

sana chuckles a little emptily, "i'm your sex therapist y/n. you knew this was going to end eventually."

"yeah but you don't fuck your other clients do you?"

sana laughs then, you feast in the sound. "no, no i don't."

"good. i was actually thinking..."

"hm?" she brings a hand up to your cheek, brushing slightly.

"would you... i don't know... like... i think about you when i get off yeah but i also think about you like... all the time..."

"mhm."

"so i was wondering if... i don't know if you felt the same if you wanted to like hang out outside of here? and like i don't mean to have sex i mean like go on a date maybe...?" you're shy, bringing this question up, blushing and avoiding her eyes.

"you have a boyfriend y/n." she deadpans.

"well yeah but i was thinking of breaking up with him anyway. now that you're bringing up having sex with him again i don't want that, and i don't want to stop seeing you. i guess just- just the threat that this all might be over soon- well i don't want it to be over. i like you sana." you say a little more firmly this time, meeting her eyes with decisiveness.

sana smiles then, all eyes, leaning in to peck you gently, "come back in a fortnight and we'll see. if you're no longer with him then... maaaybe i'll let you take me out."

your eyes brighten at her response, jumping out of her lap with excitement, "really?! oh my god i'll call him right now and do it-" you're reaching for your phone in your bag when she laughs, pulling you back into her

"don't do it over the phone silly. not even he deserves that."

you pout a little but it’s quickly wiped away when sana kisses you, lips slotting perfectly against yours with practiced ease. you sigh into her, addicted to the feeling, the taste, the smell of her. it was probably the easiest decision of your life, choosing your sex therapist over your boyfriend.

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