#Two pages are done. the easy ones. i will work on it as I will...

[lovelytsunoda]

club tropicana | lando norris

summary: on an all inclusive holiday in ibiza, y/n finds herself falling head over feet for the charming british barman

pairing: bartender!lando norris x female! reader

warnings: reader has some crappy former friends, please do not get into a car with a barman at a shitty three star spanish resort (lowkey inspired by my 'benidorm' rewatch), cameos from carlos and fernando, im so sorry that this took me literally a month and a half to write.

club tropicana drinks are free / fun and sunshine, its enough for everyone all that's missing is the sea / but don't you worry, you can suntan

the sun beat down on the resort-goers, reflecting off the chlorinated water in the swimming pool. sunbeds were arranged around the large body of water. swimmers in the pool sat on mosaic stools underwater to order drinks at the swim up bar.

she was supposed to be on this trip with her friends. well, some friends they were. ending a friendship over text with about six weeks left in her second-to-last university semester before graduation.

and so she had gone alone, to the most affordable three-and-a-half star resort in ibiza. truth be told, she hadn't wanted to go to the party island in the first place. if she didn't leave the resort, it wouldn't even matter.

bookmarking her page, she sat her copy of dark sacred night down on the sunbed and strode towards the pool. the pool was crowded, but the swim-up seats at the bar were, unfortunately, the easiest way to get a drink at the resort.

she took a deep breath and ducked below the water, swimming over to where the bar was. she liked being underwater. all her senses were dulled, and the noise of the real world seemed to fade away.

"one vodka orange, please." her voice was quieter than intended when she sat down at the bar, and for a moment she worried that the barman couldn't hear her.

"coming right up, love." the barman was british, with a mop of curly hair and a pale yellow resort shirt that had the name 'lando' embroidered over the heart. he winked at her as he got the vodka down from a shelf behind the bar and began to mix her drink.

lando wasn't oblivious to the understated beauty of the girl in front of him, water running down her soft skin and dipping into the curve between her breasts. her wide, gentle eyes. the way the orange fabric of her swimsuit hugged her curves.

she was wearing a one-piece, a rarity in ibiza.

"so," he asks, setting the drink down in front of her. "what brings you to spain"?

he always asks, even if he doesn't care. but one thing he's noticed since he started working behind the bar is that everybody has something to say, and sometimes they just need a stranger to say it too.

kind of like the characters in that old billy joel song, the one about the piano and the man at the bar making love to his tonic and gin.

and she doesn't know what it is about lando that put her so at ease, but suddenly shes talking and talking and can't make it stop and now he knows all about the three years of friendships she forged at university and how all she had to show for it were two refunded ryanair flights and a text message saying that they 'needed space' and 'our friendship will not be continuing at this time' with no explanation of what she had done to push them away in the first place.

funny that.

"does that sound ridiculous?" she cringed. "it sounds really silly now that i've said it out loud."

"people come to ibiza for dumber reasons. i worked in benidorm for two years, and you should see the train wrecks that come through there." lando laughed, leaning against the tiled bar. "you're better off without them, if you ask me. they sound very catty."

"catty is saying it nicely." she laughed along, sipping her vodka orange.

talking with lando was easy. more so, it seemed like he genuinely cared, and that he wanted to listen. it had been a long time since she had felt like anyone wanted to listen to her. even still, the voices in her head were getting harsher and harsher.

"what are your plans for later?" lando asked, head cocked to the side. "i've got this friend, he owns a party boat company."

"lando, i'm not getting on a spanish party boat with a man i hardly know." she cringed, stomach flip-flopping. had she gotten the total wrong idea about him? he seemed like the kind of guy who would know just about everybody in ibiza, and probably half of benidorm as well. "does anything that i've just told you make you think that i would literally at all be interested?

lando raised his eyebrows. "you didn't let me finish, love. he also does nighttime stargazing tours. that far out on the water, there's nothing in the way of you, the sky and the stars. i thought that was much more up your alley. i could take you tonight if you wanted to."

she felt a pit in her stomach and cursed herself for jumping to conclusions. for a moment, the barman had looked genuinely hurt, right now, though, he looked at her with puppy-dog eyes, and expression that inevitably made her cave.

after all, she was on vacation.

and here she was, waiting in the lobby of the hotel in a low cut black halter dress. she'd done her makeup, which was a rarity. she was tempted to turn her location tracker on, but wondered who she would share it with. she could always tell the woman working reception to call her at a set time, and then the police if she didn't answer, she supposed.

lando pulled up outside in a little fiat 500, looking dapper in a collared shirt. his hair was visibly caked in gel, and he smelled like expensive cologne.

far more expensive than a barman should have been able to afford.

"are you ready for the night of your life, milady?"

she fought the blush, looking at his extended arm. no doubt he wanted her to link her arm through his. and they said that romance was dead.

"take it away, bartender."

the fiat should have felt cramped, but instead felt cozy. spanish synthpop music played on the radio, something uplifting and calming as lando drove through the cobbled ibiza streets. she looked out the window in wonder, eyes wide as the city nightlife passed them by.

all too soon, they had arrived at the dock, and lando was speaking rapid-fire spanish to another man who was leaning through the window. they laughed, and the spaniard clapped lando on the shoulder before taking a small handful of bills from him.

the barman stepped out of the fiat, crossing around the car to open her door and help her out of the little hatchback car.

"your carriage awaits." he grinned, cocking his head in the direction of the boat. "come on, i got us the best seats."

on the boat, an older dj was playing a wham! record, 'club tropicana' blaring out over the sound system.

"when does the bar open?" she asked quietly. "i'm craving something."

"in about twenty minutes, as soon as we leave port." lando replied, resting his hands on her waist. "in the meantime, can i tempt you to a dance?"

ah, why the hell not?

"hey, fernando," lando started before rattling off something in spanish. the dj nodded once before changing the record on his turntable.

spanish synthpop.

lando took her hands in his, pulling her closer for a spirited dance, his hips swinging back and forth with abandon. she fought the urge to burst out laughing as she let him pull her close. the sun was dipping low over the horizon, and down at the dock the deckhands were getting ready to leave port.

but with lando's hands burning into her skin as he lead her in something that might have vaguely resembled the tango, she had forgotten all about the fact that she was on a stargazing cruise, not a latin dance boat.

she only realized the song was over when the audience that had gathered around her and lando had started to clap. red faced and blushing, she dropped lando's hands and shyly pushed a strand of hair behind her ear.

"i think im ready for that drink now."

lando beamed, resting his hand in the small of her back. "of course, sweetheart. vodka orange?"

"you know me so well."

lando effortlessly slid behind the bar, hands flying as he grabbed glasses and bottles and shakers. she leaned against the bar, chin in her hand as she watched him work, muscles rippling in his forearms underneath the rolled-up sleeves of his white shirt.

he winked at her as he passed her the glass. by now, the sun had fully dipped below the horizon, and if one craned their neck up, they would be able to see a glimmering landscape of stars, uninterrupted by the muted lights on the boat.

lando came to stand behind her, his hands resting on her waist, protectively holding her body to his.

"so, be honest, this just made your trip a whole lot better, didn't it?"

despite herself, she laughed, relaxing into his touch. "yeah, it really did. thank you, lando."

"wait," he started, hand moving to her chin. "my job isn't quite done yet."

"what are you-"

she didn't get a chance to finish as the barman touched his lips to hers. they were soft. way softer than any barman's lips should be, well taken care of like the rest of the brit in front of her. she fell, no, tumbled into the kiss, feeling herself falling faster with every second that they spent lip-locked.

and she knew that there was no way that barman wasn't coming home with her. who needs return flights anyways? maybe she could just stay in ibiza and snog him for the rest of her her working life.

for now, though, she'd just settle with getting him into her hotel room.

[arliaeien]

This makes me think about my evolution as a writer.

My first long fic, as a new writer, I used to consider a chapter done around 2k~2,5k words. That's around 10 pages in Word.

Rewriting this same story one year later, it grew between 3,5k~5k. At the same time, as a reader, I was enjoying more and more the longer chapters (between 5k~10k).

There had been a long time while I only was writing one-shots, then engaging as a beta reader, making translations... To sum up: not writing stories, and even less, ones needing me to arrange a new story in different chapters.

Some years ago, I dedicated myself to the rewriting of my first story (the last I've done) and had those quite big chapters (around 7k), I was happy with, and that didn't make me think, except that one time, I had to cut one too big in two smaller ones. Those chapters were in no way a 'one idea, one chapter' thing like. The cuts were rather happening when there was a change about the place, and/or time passing.

And when I started writing the sequel of this 80k story, about the characters meeting monthly, I just wrote a one-shot for every month. Whatever it was 10k, 20k or even 30k.

It's not written in English and the fandom was almost dead for the last ten years. There were no readers (think like 30 hits in five years on AO3). So why should I have cared? The big one-shot was what I personally prefer.

Came year 2021. New fandom, existing fan base in English, no one in my mother tongue. And I've gotten this idea of post-canon story. One, nobody had done before me. Or rather, nobody had done it, the way I wanted it to be. It's this that has triggered me trying to write in English. ...probably succeeding, at some point. It is a 70k, in the end.

First long story in a while, whatever the language was different, I've kept the same tastes and methods, reflecting over the construction of the story, and ended up having chapter between 5k~7,5k. My goal was quite easy : three main ideas / scenes making one chapter. Providing long chapters to readers was what's important to me, because that's what I love myself.

Up to these last years. I'm working on a monster story (156k ongoing \o/). I didn't have any plan, starting writing it. My first chapter was a two-big-scenes, around 3K words, which I consider cool enough. Second chapter... was happening later, somewhere else. And I ended up having four-big-scenes, 7k words. Yeah, could cut this in two parts. Except number 3 was 3-big-scenes and 5k words. Go tear your own hair out. This was difficult to me. I couldn't work with chapters with sizes so different. It wasn't me. It didn't feel good. I couldn't see how anyone could actually enjoy such variations. How could it be considered otherwise than "Oh yeah, one long/short chapter!" / "Oh no, one long/short chapter!" depending on the reader's taste.

How long is not the point. REGULARITY was the point.

So my badly proportionate 'chapters' became 'arcs'. And every arc, was cut around 1,5k words. One idea, two maximum, and cut! I loved this. Writing fanfictions about one manga whose chapters were arranged to form arcs, it felt like respecting the canon better. Felt great!

...well, I was still myself. My goal of going between 1,2k~2k words for one chapter become 1,5k~2k. Then 2,5k. Today, I'm a little annoyed proofreading, having to fight against myself for some of them not going over 3k. Not too bad, but not what I wanted.

This to say: I'm living a paradox. The way I publish this story wouldn't suit me as a reader. 1,5k or even 2k a week is to me desperately slow.

I just can't. Re-reading some moments of the story for pleasure, or working on it, I usually go with 3 of them. Sometimes 4. All by instinct, not caring whether it's an arc or crossing two or more of them. Because the 5k~10k is what work for me as a reader :P

So, what's my point?

The ideal length doesn't exist. It's a matter of skill, and of feelings, but not only. My ideal length as a new writer was different from 2-years experience me, 5-years, 10-years, and now 18-years experience me. Sometimes I've cared about reader-experience, sometimes I haven't. I have loved the years producing the fattest one-shots. It's unrivaled freedom writing something. But even without arranging chapters, there were breaks, cutting scenes, the reader was able to breathe. And nowadays, publishing weekly for one year and a half, I use a format I wouldn't like myself but readers seems to enjoy (and that's strangely the same as the one I once used as a beginner : 2,5k per chapter).

...perhaps all this is a circle. ⚪

While looking for something else, I found an old ask I answered about "ideal chapter length" in terms of word count.

I've been asked this probably a dozen or more times, and each time I need to take a moment and adjust my thinking to take the asker's point of view into account. Because the thing is? The only time I ever try to factor the word count into how I write a story is when I'm aiming for a true drabble.

For whatever reason, this difference in thinking stuck with me today and I actually considered why that might be. And I think it's because I'm in my 40s and the first 25-30 years of my life, any stories I was reading were printed on paper and bound into physical books.

When I imagine a novel, I still think of a mass market paperback on my bookshelf. An average one would be maybe an inch thick, probably in the neighbourhood of 300 pages. A long one would be maybe as much as two inches thick and 500 or more pages long. A short one was always nice to have because it filled in the gaps in the shelf because 200 page books were so much narrower. Or so it seemed.

When I started posting my fic online, I still thought in terms of pages. I'd type them out in whatever word processing software I was using at the time, and I'd usually get a chapter's worth of ideas into 3 or 4 pages. Turns out that's about 1000 words, which makes sense with the number of 1000 word essays I wrote in high school. I'd been trained to encapsulate an idea into approximately that length.

And that's what it comes down to. The thing that always made that question seem weird to me. A chapter isn't about how many words there are in it, just like a cake isn't about how many cups of flour exist in each slice. A chapter is a an idea that helps make up a bigger idea called a story, and it needs to be however many words that idea needs to be to get it out.

[lesbianraskolnikov]

[evandore]

pray for me i need to finish my to do list by end of tomorrow so i can start november with a fresh slate or i will lose my mind

[jaggedamethyst]

golden boy | jayce x female reader

1.7k words

content: fawk it, jayce making a damn vibrator with hextech…and suspending my disbelief that they even knew what that was and he legit created it idc!! walk with me girl!!!

18+ minors dni, angst, pathetic! jayce, kinda mean but closed off reader, pining (?), some fluff, smut duh, vibrator used on reader…also jayce is kinda a sarcastic mf here

notes: idk what came over me guys, but I feel like this could end up being longer than just a one shot bc the angst made its way in like usual. also jayce is a smartie pants, leave him alone guys.

update: part two is up now!

series masterlist

.・。.・���✭・.・✫・゜・。.

He heard you before he saw you, your light saunter approaching him. Jayce had to immediately curse himself, because while he was rather smart, his reflexes were damn slow. He didn’t even think to cover his sketches before you were already close enough to crane your head over his shoulder.

A hand found his back, rubbing it encouragingly. “What ya workin on?”

Jayce was someone who loved to be affirmed. You both knew that. So before even registering the odd shapes you were looking at in his drawings, you wanted to let him know you were there and that any stress that lingered would soon dissipate. You were confused, then, when he rose quickly. He used his broad shoulders and back to block your view.

He smiled, clearly caught off guard. “Just some new stuff…you know…the mind never stops!” His cheeks soon blossomed with a rosy sheen across them. There was a sympathy in your gaze, but an even larger feeling of intrigue.

Jayce was easy to distract. As much as he loved to work on his creations and improving Hextech, he was also extremely needy. This often left him quite impressionable under your touch. Over the course of your relationship—which you would admit wasn’t actually a thing—you used this to your advantage.

You approached him slowly, an arm outstretched toward his face. He instinctively learned towards the palm of your hand. You intended to at least plant a kiss on his cheek, but he was a lost puppy these days. Just that action alone was enough for his body to relax into you. You had an opening. You slipped your hand behind him under the guise of stabilizing yourself on his workbench—grabbing a handful of the loose pages.

With a squeal you backed up, and spun around. “Wooooo what do we have here!”

“Wait-“ he turned between you and his work, “you tricked me?”

Holding the papers up toward the light to inspect them, you quirked a brow. “All in a days work, babe. Although…I don’t exactly know what I’m looking at here.”

Jayce was exasperated, how humiliating for you to have found these—even more that they weren’t even done. He was a scientist, after all. He needed time to finalize and test every possibility. He didn’t want to fight you for the papers—couldn’t really.

“Its just,” he sighed, “some stuff for you- or um, us?” He didn’t mean to sound like it was a question, a chance. It was definitive. He knew numbers and percentiles the same way he knew you. There was a desire there to be something more than just this. But he was entirely too passive to ever tell you. So he worked tirelessly at the only thing he knew you would show up and stay for. He didn’t mean for us to sound like a question, but it was.

You’d turned your back by then, the best angle of the sun shining towards your back and thus highlighting the drawings. Your intense gaze had faltered, your shoulders slumping. Like any other feeling you’d felt for Jayce in the last two years, you pushed it away—relying on humor as a shield. People are too fickle; you liked your independence and didn’t want to get hurt. Not again.

You ignored that feeling in your stomach that said to not be mean to him again, you knew he didn’t deserve it. You just couldn’t help it. Without acknowledging the weight of his statement, you continued, “what do they do?”

He senses your lack of focus, hastily snatching the pages from over your head. They quickly found their way back into a folder and cast aside.

“Well…its for,” his eyes purposely avoided yours. The ceiling was suddenly really amusing.

“Way to leave a girl hanging,” you scoffed, turning towards the door. “I just wanted to check in, but I will come back when I am wanted I guess.”

You didn’t take him seriously. That wasn’t new, but the feeling of wanting to do something about it was definitely a unique occurrence.

Before he could grasp what he wanted to say, the words flew from his lips. “Sit down.”

You stopped in your tracks, intrigued and slightly turned on by the firmness in his tone. “Scuse me?”

“You should sit…sit down. Over there.” He gestured towards a couch he’d made in his workshop. You complimented him on it once, knowing he’d made it just because he could. That was something you liked about him, undoubtedly. He had the capabilities to do so much more than he could even conceptualize and you wanted that for him. But the hopes for his future, rubs on his back, and longing gazes were too much for you.

Despite this, you were never one turn down a man like him finally standing up to you. You shrugged, “Sure, whatever…I’ll sit.”

“Good.”

The man turned quickly to retrieve one of the items he’d drawn in his sketches. This specific one was made with you in mind. It took so much dedication to perfect, but little effort to actually create, really. He’d think of your time together, the praise that would leave your lips each time he’d even breathe near your clit. The way your body would writhe against his. It was intoxicating. He figured something to make that even more special for you was due. But how could he just keep giving to someone who didn’t want to truly have him.

He wasn’t brainless. As much as he loved to hear it, being a good boy felt demeaning sometimes. He was a man, and he wanted you in a way you refused to see.

He’d show you.

“Take off your clothes.”

Jayce explained to you once that the body had red blood cells, that they carry oxygen. It confused you, now, because you were damn sure weren’t bleeding all over his chair and yet every single breath in your body was gone.

“What?”

“Clothes. Off.”

“In a I’m gonna experiment on you kind of way, or we’re gonna fuck kind of way because-“

“Both.”

You didn’t want to seem too eager, but damn you wished you had less pieces of clothing on right now. As you stripped, you were grateful then for the warmth of the forge. The sudden chill on your skin caused you to shiver. Jayce appeared suddenly, something in hand.

“I am actually not sure what to call this,” he showed you the object in the palm of his hand. It wasn’t very large, or maybe his hands made it seem smaller, you weren’t sure.

“Thats okay,” you leaned back on the couch, “show me.”

He was on you immediately, an eagerness on his lips you’d never felt from him before. You were usually the one in charge. So when he pushed you flat on your back, his clothes still on, you felt the difference. He’d swung his leg over you, now straddling you. You were too distracted by the kisses trailing over you to realize he’d reached between you two.

He made his way around your neck and toward your ear. “Let me know how this feels.”

You gasped, a vibration hitting your body unlike anything you’d felt before. Jayce was skilled in many ways but this was—wow. You met eyes with him, words struggling to form in your throat. Your brain seemed to have been empty, too.

He let the feeling pulse before slightly circling you, teasing you.

“So this, is what I have been working on.” He surveyed the way you gasped underneath him, looking into the distance. “Its not quite done yet, but I had to change some things here and there to make it better. Ya know, make it ergonomic, not too loud, stuff like that.”

You opened your mouth to speak, but all you managed was a frustrated groan. He was pissing you off. How could he be making you feel this good and talking like a fucking nerd right now.

“I also thought about sensation…what you like,” he smirked a bit. He was proud of himself. “Sometimes when you’ve had a particularly hard day, slow and deliberate does the trick, right?”

He continued to press into you, urging an answer from you. It was quite interesting how the tables seemed to turn but he didn’t complain. This is what he wanted—you helpless and confused under him while he ruined you for anyone else. He was tired of hearing how you couldn’t be tied down. Jayce Talis was no idiot, you were holding back.

“Isn’t that right sweet girl?” At the same time he questioned you, he’d raised the speed on you. A buck of your hips immediately after. “You don’t have to answer, I know.”

Sweet girl. He’d never said that before. The undertone of him trying to rile you up while simultaneously being his usual endearing self was too much. Your hands had found your face, a sudden embarrassment looming over you. That didn’t stop him.

“But, because I care about you feeling good, I added another feature.”

You felt the continuous sensation increase sporadically and then back down, chocking out a whine.

“Intuitive right?” He used a free hand to brush the hair from your collarbone, latching his lips there. He spoke into your skin, “Essentially, I used the Hextech to not only control the stimulation but to work at the users command with little effort.” He paused, wanting to see you. “So when I do this,” a surprised yelp from you, “or this, you really feel it.”

He’d never been more proud. You were often one to lead him, and he liked it. But now, with you here helpless, he couldn’t help but urge you on. He continued to ramble, speeding up to a pace he knew left you unraveling.

You couldn’t take it. It took everything in you to get the energy to yank his hair and finally speak, “Jayce-“

“Yes?”

“Shut up.”

“Can do,” and with that, he sucked down on your chest. He knew you’d loved that.

The entire ordeal felt like years when in fact, it had only been a few minutes since he started in on you.

“You go ahead and finish, I’ve got you.”

It wasn’t much longer before the heat in you exploded, a series of groans clawing its way from your vocal chords.

He’d continued to coax more from you, he felt he was owed as much.

Eventually sleep overtook you, the man recognizing the familiar lull that creeped up on you.

He spoke, mostly to himself, “we’ll talk later.”

You replied, to his surprise. “Sure thing, golden boy.”

part two

[luvmila444]

SWEET RELIEF - C.S

…………………………………………….. ☆ ★ ………………………………………………

Chris sturniolo x fmreader

summary: Chris can’t help but get a bit worked up while on a tutoring study call with you, when you realise what he’s doing, you only pushing him further to the edge.

content warning: male masturbtion; dirty thoughts; praise kink

word count: 2.8k

༶•┈┈୨♡୧┈┈•༶

Chris was a little embarrassed with how fast he had picked up the phone call from you, not to mention the blush that had spread across his cheeks and his quickly paced heartbeat when he heard your sweet voice ring through the speakers. 

“Hey, Chris!” You smiled as you spread your small pile of assessments and study papers across your desk to get yourself prepared. This had been a regular thing on Wednesdays and Saturdays for the past two months. You guys would set up a phone call together as you would help him study as Chris was falling behind in class…a lot. You guys had to do it over the phone as both houses were always so busy due to Chris’s brothers and your family always occupying your living spaces, making it difficult to have privacy and quiet to help him focus and bring his grades up. Therefore, you resulted in two easy phone calls across the week, which Chris always enjoyed a little too much. 

Chris loved that you could never see him and what he was doing at the sound of your voice over the phone. The sweet ring of it through the speakers. The way you ramble so passionately about the work. Yeah… he definitely liked having the privacy of his room for these calls more then he’d like to admit. Although he can never help but imagine what you looked like, what you were doing. Fuck… he’s been on the call for no more than ten second and he’s already getting himself worked up. 

“Chris…?” He heard you voice agin. Fuck that voice. 

“Yeah... I’m here, hey y/n.” He couldn’t help the smile that rose onto his lips hearing hear giggle at his slow usual response. 

“Okay well glad you're here,” you say readying the paper you had recently got giving by your teacher, on to the top of the pill of books you had been working on, “why don’t you fine the paper that mr Hudson gave us today and we will work through that one today, yeah?” You say cutely but trying not to talk so fast so Chris could take in the information. 

“Yeah, yeah sure…” he buries his way through his overflowing piles of unfinished homework to find the paper that was given to him today by his teacher “why did he give us the paper today, anyway?” Chris huffs, flipping to the first page that you wanted to start working on. 

“I have no idea, it’s not like we don’t already get enough work given to us on Mondays and Fridays, but now on Wednesdays too? It’s getting a bit intense at this point!”

Chris hums in agreement, loving the way you get worked up about things. However, once you were done with your small rant, you let out a sign that was so quiet only the most observant person would notice it, lucky for you, Chris was that person. As you made the noise Chris felt a familiar warm feeling in his lower stomach, just imagining you making that noise in a very different scenario…

“Did you see jenny today?” You interrupted his quickly drifting dirty thought, referring to girl who passes every class, not using her smarts but her body instead, fucking her way to good grades. 

“No, why? What was she doing this time?” Chris asked slowly, trying to calm his erratic heartbeat and suppress his dirty thought of you. 

“Woah I’m surprised you didn’t see her! She was practically pushing her tits out of her very tiny top to try and get out of this paper…. practically had all the guys drooling,” you huffed. You’d always been quite jealous of Jennifer. She could literally get any guy she wanted and could always get out of these stupid papers. It was irritating to people like you who tried their very hardest in their schoolwork and seem to go zero appreciation for it, when all jenny does is gossip, do her obnoxiously babyish laugh and pop a tit, therefore having the whole classroom wrapped around her finger. It was pathetic.

“Nah, guess i don’t really care that much about her,” Chris was very aware of Jenny’s usual inappropriate behaviour, yet he couldn’t pull his eyes away from you all through that class. He was sat near the back of the class, so he had a good view of his surroundings and could easily see you sat a few rows in-front of him, at the perfect angle so her couple see you left side perfectly. Chris simply couldn’t understand how anyone could pay attention in that class knowing that you were in there, not jenny but you. 

Your short denim mini shirt that accentuated you ass and hips so perfectly and highlighting your legs. However, to keep yourself warmer and seem more modest, you through a knitted sweater over the top, making Chris’s eager to rip it off and see what you hid beneath the layers of warm wear. God, if there was nobody else in that classroom, he would not hesitate you lift you up on the desk and kiss up your legs to your perfect thighs and up your body. He would make sure to take perfect care of you, bring his lips underneath your sweater and bring his hand to you perfectly round and covered tits. 

Full, he could barely take it anymore. He could feel his harder member quickly growing underneath his get sweats, but he didn’t want to stop. No… he couldn’t stop himself.

“Huh, thats surprising, i could’ve sworn that the guys next to me literally had dribble on his chin, it was crazy.” You laughed. 

Fuck that laugh. Chris brought his hand up to his crotch and felt where he had grown harder just thinking of you. He began to palm himself, trying to relieve the growing soreness between his legs. 

"We should get started now." You unintentionally break his train of thought, as he gulps, silently cursing at himself. "Because I you barely understood what was going on it that class."

"Uh, yeah." Chris coughed, forcing himself to focus. "What did you want to start with?" 

You voice begins to drift into an explanation of what was said at the beginning of the class, only worded in a simpler way, yet Chris could barely take in any of this information. You speak so innocently, brows furrowed, as Chris furrows his own for an entirely different reason. 

He continues to palm his dick through his pants while your voice was sending small electric jolts through him. All the way down to his dick, which has begun to strain painfully against his pants beneath his hand. Christ, i can’t actually be doing this right now-he thinks to himself. He licked his lips, quickly responding to what you were saying with a hum and an "ah, that makes makes more sense." 

Chris doesn't mean to drown out your words. Because he's listening. But more so to the hilt of your voice, and how it would sound much breathier, as you gazed up at him. One of his fantasies had you on your knees, teasingly licking at his cock, as your devious eyes held his. He had orgasmed extremely quickly, multiple times, when he found this imagine in his head. 

“So thats basically the first part,” you continued to explain, unaware and completely oblivious to Chris’s hand rubbing at himself on the other end of the line.  

He won’t do more. He can’t, this is just so wrong of him Just…relieve a hint of tension. You continued to speak, and your words began to sound like something he wished he could grab, as his hand tightened on his bulge, his rubbing growing messy. His breathing had grown heavier, but he covered it up by saying ‘yes’s and ‘no’s, answering your questions. 

“Sorry, I’m rambling. Did you have any questions?” You ask, feeling as if Chris wasn’t getting everything he needed out of your words. He had to spare a glance at his incomplete work, scanning to see if he’d written down any problems, trying to remember if he had any. Because the only problem he could think of right now is how his over-the-clothes rubbing was doing little to satisfy his need. 

His cock was now rock hard, it was torturous. His mind began to glaze over with lustful thought of you “I—I don’t think so.” He mutters out, his fingers reaching into the waistband of his sweats and briefs, pulling his cock, which was now leaking with drops of pre-cum and the tip was a bright rosy, red, much like his cheeks.

He imagined the way you would touch him. Would you be gentle and slow, or would you edge him and make sure he’s extremely overstimulated as you milk him dry. Chris’s breathing stutters as he strokes himself. The little hums you make when you think have begun to make his hips thrust up into his palm. His other hand had tightened around the sheet, praying that you can’t hear him jerking off to you. Chris becomes lost in your tone as his cock twitches. 

“Chris?” You slowly ask, making his hips jolt at the utterance of his name from your lips, but he tries to keep his voice of some composure. 

“Yeah?” He had to press his lips together after a needy whimper nearly falling. 

“Are you…okay?” 

Your question makes him halt, much to his cock’s dismay. “W-what?”

“You sound… i don’t know, out of breath?” You say, behind the line trying to think of why.

“Really, you think?” He hums with a small smirk on his face enjoying the uncertainty in your tone and how innocent you mind must have been.  You nod to yourself, but then you catch the smallest of sounds fall straight from Chris’s lips. You had to be mistaken, as it had almost sounded like one full of pleasure that could have only been as a result of one thing... 

Your mouth opened in shock as you realise. He’s out of breath because he’s…

“Chris.” You say again, hearing a stuttering whimper from him before he tries to cover it up by asking ‘yes?’ again.  

“What are you doing?” 

Chris curses himself because you sound suspicious. “I’m studying obviously. Being tutored s-so well... by you.” He says, really forcing down his cock’s wanting to just ask you to keep talking so he could reach his orgasm, attempting to stop himself from stuttering his words, but he just couldn’t help it. 

“You’re sure you’re good?” You asked unconvinced, as a small smirk rose to your lips.

“No. No, I’m all good, i swear.” He says, really forcing his words to sound normal, as he had slowly begun to stroke himself again, his cock angry. 

“Ah huh, yeah…okay,” you knew what you were going to do, this was going to be fun. “Did i tell you how good you looked today?”

Chris’s eyes opened, looking at his phone slightly trying to keep a steady pace of his raging cock but if you were going down this road of compliments, he probably wouldn’t be able to take it much longer.

“Uh, n-no,” he stutters pathetically, somehow unaware of the game you were playing. 

“Well, you did, your hair…wow. I could just run my hands through it! How do you always get it looking so soft?” You paused momentarily, hearing Chris’s surprised whimper. “Sorry thats kind of a goofy thing to say…sorry.” You were basically just teasing him now, the basic matters of the studying gone.

“I- no i don’t think its goofy. a-at all…” his words are broken up by that heaving panting.

“God. really? You’re so sweet chris…wow,” You hum, making Chris’s hips thrust up into his hand, his legs having widened as you spoke. 

“R-really?” His eyelids began to feel heavy again, wanted nothing more but to see the darkness and use it as a canvas to paint his dirty images of you in his mind. 

“Yeah, i mean you’re the literal sweetest” you hum lightly, “you always make sure i havea seat in class, you listen to me when i speak and when i help you i study, you defend me in-front of your friends! You’re so sweet! Such a sweet, good boy for me” you were practically grinning at this point.

Chris could have sworn that your words could have sent him spiralling over the edge.“I a-am?” He asked, almost to clarify that this was real, that you were actually saying this to him.

“Well of course, and you’re always so busy as well, yet you always make time for me in your busy schedule. You must be stressed a lot of the time. I could always help you…relax sometime, relieve some of your…tension.” You had lowered your voice now in order to have a more seductive tone to your voice now.

Chris chokes on a whimper as he places his hand over his mouth, still thinking you don’t know. “My tension…?”

“I mean, yeah… i could alway give you a massage, rub you down, you know I’ve been told I am very good at giving…massages.” It was becoming blatantly obvious what you were doing now but Chris must’ve been blinded and in a lustful haze because he still seemed to be completely oblivious to what you were doing. Continuously pumping his dick eagerly and chasing his release.

The thought of you sat on top of him, rubbing all down him in order to relax him was definitely doing the opposite effect and only working him up more. Fuck. He had almost come from the thought of you taking care of him. the tone you had dropped to makes his hand quicken as his hips had begun to grind into his palm.

“You’d do that for me?” Chris whined, only imaging what else you would do for him almost sent him over the edge.

“Of course, i would baby, you would tell me where it feels good before i drag my hands down your body…” Chris let out a pathetic whimper at not only the simple thought but at the nickname as well. Baby? Baby??! Oh, my lord he was going absolutely feral at this point, “however, through your clothes it mind be hard to properly get that tension out.” 

Chris moans through his teeth, as his hips pathetically thrust at your words. “No clothes?” 

“No clothes.” You confirm. “Would that be, okay? I wouldn’t want to make you uncomfortable— “

“Yes.” His answer was immediate, cutting you short. He coughs. “That would be fine.” 

You grin. “Good. Because that way I could really relieve some tension. I’d have to straddle you of course.” You pause to hear chris’s heavy breathing and the faint sound of his hand gliding along his cock. “You may even have to flip around, because I’ve heard that the most tension can be by your collarbones and neck.” 

Chris nearly orgasmed at the thought of you straddling him, as your hands wandered his body. “As in straddling..my front?” 

“Yeah, is that okay?” 

“Uh huh.” He hums, his cock twitching with a soon need to release. 

“I could give you that massage the next time we study.” You say, making chris’s breathing quicken at the possible reality of all that. “I could come over to yours.” 

At this point he couldn’t care how desperate he sounded. “Yes. Please, come anytime.” 

“Or maybe you should cum?” You ask, your innuendo strong, as pleasure began to rock through chris’s body. 

“W—what?” 

“Come to my place, i know yours is always super hectic.” You play it off, listening to the wet sounds his cock was making as you could hear how close he was to his orgasm. 

“Fuck…yeah that sounds good, i-if you’re happy then s-so am i…” he was no biting his own lip so hard he could’ve sworn he was drawing some blood. He now had his back so far arched up off of his bed and was practically fucking up into his own hand. 

“See, again, you are alway thinking…of me,” oh he was definitely thinking of you, thats for sure, “you are such a good boy.” And that did it. His orgasm wracked through him as quiet whimpers and moans left his lips his hips grinding into nothing. Wishing the air was you. He watched as the white strings of cum coated and stained his dark shirt. 

“Fuck” he let out a relieved groan, now not even hiding the action that he had just did. 

“Maybe next time we study i should just jerk you off instead,”

Chris’s eyes widened at what you had said, before realising how blatantly obvious what he was doing was. You giggled once again hearing Chris’s heavy breathes, pleased to know that it was you who had pushed him over the edge. 

“Fuck, you can do whatever you want to me,” Chris let out with a deep breathe. 

Oh, you certainly would…

༶•┈┈୨♡୧┈┈•༶

A/n : thank you so much for reading, this is literally my 3rd time trying to post this because I keep making mistakes 😭😭I really hope you enjoy and if there are any more mistakes pls lmk

ily my angels 💞 (especially @gamermattsgf)

[seamany]

The post that solved it all for me PART 1

NOT MY POST, THIS IS MOBILEBLACKSMITH2535 VIA REDDIT

(It might sound like I'm yelling at you in this paragraph but these are just things I wish someone told me like years ago) Here is where I talk about everything law of assumption that helped me ACTUALLY become a master manifestor. The law of assumption, as I see it, is the law of being. You cannot experience what you are not being. Coming from a person that used to cry myself to sleep every night feeling frustrated, hopeless, and extremely tired of putting all this effort into something and getting absolutely nothing back, this shit is real. Please do not take this post with a grain of salt. Please do not toss my story in with the probably hundreds of other "I have shifted" threads/videos you have witnessed. If you want to shift listen to every word that I say. I can't explain why we have this power I just know that from November of 2020 to July of 2023 I have been working my ass of to get somewhere, anywhere. In between those 3 years I had an on and off behavior towards shifting. I used to force myself to forget about shifting for a few weeks because it hurt too much to think about it. I felt like I won the lottery and I couldn't cash in the money. It was awful and I wouldn't wish that feeling of hopelessness on any other conscious being. Sometimes I would watch shifting tik tok compilation videos on YouTube and get a surge of motivation that would soon die out along with any semblance of dignity and self-esteem I had left. I'm telling you not asking you to see me as a real completely sane person because that is exactly what I am. Even though I'm creative and spiritual (not religious, spiritual), I can't help but see things logically. It's just my nature. I like patterns, formulas, structured systems, explanations, science, etc. I knew the probability of hundreds upon thousands of people describing in detail their experience of shifting couldn't be a phenomenon but a real...thing. I, for some reason, never doubted the possibility of shifting, more my capability to do it. Along my journey I've had my moments of distrust surrounding shifting in itself, and as I rounded onto the 3rd year of attempts I had increasing feelings of dread and anger. I was angry at the world that I live in, feeling dreadful that I couldn't escape it all. Then on one fateful fateful day, specifically July 31rst 2023 at about 8:30 am, I shifted. It was easy and it was effortless. Just as everyone says, but that's not something I'd like to focus on in today's post. I'm not making this post to tell you how simple shifting is or to "let go" (whatever the fuck that means) or to change your mindset. Those things are all useless compared to the thing that just clicked for me on July 31rst 2023 at about 8:30 am. What I am going to tell you is going to be so stupidly straightforward that your mind isn't going to want to believe me at first. You are going to try to make it more complicated than it is, just like you probably did with shifting when you first learned about it. But assure you that you should take what I am about to say at face-value. You don't need to let go, you don't need to change anything about yourself, you don't need to "release blockages", you don't need to reprogram your subconscious mind. You are done. You have your desire already. You are finished and there is nothing left for you to do.

LOOK AT MY PAGE FOR PART TWO

[emiliaoleary]

Hooking rugs that look like dogs

Here's how I do it:

The process I use is called rug hooking (not latch hook or punch needle or tufting, though it is the forerunner of the latter two techniques). Rugs are hooked by pulling loops of fabric strips or yarn through the holes of a base fabric with a coarse open weave, like burlap, or linen, or rug warp. The loops are pulled through the fabric with a squat-handled hook whose business end is shaped like a crochet hook.  There are no knots and the loops aren't sewed down in any way.  The whole thing stays put just by the tension of all those loops packed together in the weave of the foundation fabric.

This isn't a true detailed tutorial but a walk-through of my particular process. The same information is on my web page, emilyoleary.com .

I hook with yarn, rather than with cut strips of wool fabric, which is what many rug hookers use.  I can get a looser, more organic distribution of loops with yarn than I could with wool strips, which are hooked in neat lines. 

Mostly I use wool yarn. In terms of yarn weight, I can use DK, worsted, or Aran.  If I'm using thicker yarn, I leave more holes un-hooked; if I'm using finer yarn, I hook more densely or double up lengths of it.  I particularly like using single ply yarns (like Brown Sheep Lamb's Pride or Malabrigo Worsted).  I don't keep count, but I think I usually use around two dozen types and colors of yarn per dog.  

This is my yarn wall in my apartment. Mostly brown and gray yarn!

I start from a small drawing in my sketchbook, then I head to FedEx office to use a copy machine, blowing up the drawing repeatedly and experimenting with how big the dog rug should be. 

After transferring the image onto my linen, I immediately go over it with Sharpie, because the Saral is really difficult to see and really easy to rub off.

The rug is held taut by a PVC quilting frame that I set on my lap.

I push my hook down through the fabric with my right hand and my left hand stays below the fabric and guides the yarn while I pull it up and through with the hook. Not every hole in the fabric is hooked. Hooking every hole would make the rug too dense. I do hook pretty densely, though-- If you pick up one of my rugs you’ll see they have a slight curl to them, which is because they’re hooked pretty tight. I'm using all different weights and types of yarn, so it's a challenge to keep the overall tension even.

I hook my loops at varying heights to create a very low relief. Sometimes I trim the loops to make them fluffier or wispier or to shape a particular part. I look at a reference photo while I work and pull out and redo sections a lot.

My q-snap frame can accommodate the growing dog rug. I have extenders to make it bigger and I can clamp around my hooking.

The back of a rug looks like lines of little stitches. The lines are little worm trails snaking around because lines of hooking are not supposed to cross over each other. It's important to start a new length of yarn rather than cross over a stitch you already made! I read this when I first started and took it to heart. It makes it much easier to undo and redo hooking if you have to (and I redo sections A Lot). It also keeps the back from getting too bulky and resulting in uneven wear on the back of a functional rug that gets floor use.

When I’m done hooking everything I turn the rug over and brush watered-down Sobo glue on the edges of the dog, making sure to get one or two of the outermost lines of hooking. I do a couple coats of this thinned out glue. I'm careful not to use so much that it seeps to the front of the rug. When the glue is dry I cut the rug out, but I don't cut so close that the loops don't have any linen to keep them in.

​ It generally takes me at least several months to finish one dog rug. My hooking frame and yarn bag are very portable (though bulky) so I can hook out and about at coffee shops or the library or a brewery if there's enough space and light.

Hooking in the wild makes me an ambassador for making things in general and rug hooking in particular. I answer people's questions and always emphasize how relatively easy it is to get started hooking. Sometimes I get anxious that other people will hook rugs that look like mine but better, but I think that working in a traditional medium means you should share your knowledge for the good of the craft.

[flickering-chandelier]

Falling Slowly 

Pairing: Azriel x fem Reader

Summary: Reader and Azriel slowly get close and realize they’re destined to be together.

Word Count: 5.5k  oopsie. this man makes me feral.

Your feelings for Azriel really snuck up on you. Of course, as soon as you had been taken in by the High Lord and his inner circle, you noticed how unbelievably gorgeous he was, but that was true of all of the Illyrian men that became your family. He was such a quiet, steady presence, it was easy for him to blend into the background, and you had a feeling that he didn’t mind that one bit.

Slowly though, he let you in more and more and you started to see through the shadowsinger’s thick shields that he always kept up. It started when you had been in Velaris for a few months, and you were finally feeling like you were settled in, that you had a home there. You were reading in the library of the House of Wind and he came in, settled down in a chair a few feet from the one you were occupying, and lifted an eyebrow when you glanced at him, no doubt silently asking if he could stay. You nodded, smiling faintly. He picked up a book that looked to be for research, his brow furrowed in concentration and his shadows wisping around him every time you dared look up at him. And thus, started your library time together.

It had gone on like that for a week or two, never a word spoken between you, but you enjoyed his comforting presence more than you liked to admit. Though it did become harder and harder to keep your eyes on your book when he was present. Finally, one day when the two of you had been reading silently for about ten minutes, he cleared his throat and said in a low voice, “you read a lot.”

The sudden sound of his slow, deep voice after weeks of silence sent a shock through your body, making your toes curl. You shrugged, hoping he couldn’t see the heat in your cheeks in the dim light. “So do you, it seems.”

He held eye contact as the side of his mouth quirked up into the slightest smile that sent electricity through your body again. You noticed his shadows were back, circling around him idly. They didn’t often show up in the library anymore. It took all you had to not squeeze your thighs together, knowing full well that he would notice. “Research,” he said. After a beat he added, “Plus, I like the quiet. It’s nice to hide out from Cassian for a while.” 

You couldn’t remember if he had ever said so many words to you directly. You found yourself hoping that he was just trying to keep the conversation going. “Completely understandable,” you laughed. “I come here for the books first and foremost, but the quiet is definitely welcome, too. I love that I’ve found a family here, but it can get… overwhelming at times.”

He nodded, like he knew exactly what you meant, continuing to gaze deeply into your eyes. “I’m glad. That you’re here, I mean. That you see us as your family,” he said quieter than before, almost like he was unsure if he should be saying it.

A smile broke out on your face, and he held your gaze for another beat, his smile widening just slightly before he bowed his head back to his book, seemingly done with the conversation. 

You hoped he didn’t notice that you did not read a single page for the rest of your time in the library that day.

A few days later, you were itching to get out of the house and wander the beautiful streets of Velaris. After breakfast, you worked up the nerve to call Azriel’s name as he was leaving, timing it out perfectly so the two of you would be left alone in the dining room. He raised his eyebrows, clearly surprised. 

“What are you up to today?” you asked, trying to sound casual.

He cleared his throat, definitely caught off guard. “Well, Rhys has me off to get some intel this morning, but if everything goes to plan, I should be back around lunch…” he trailed off, obviously waiting for you to explain yourself.

“Perfect,” you said, not able to keep the smile off your face as you looked up at him. “Do you want to go to lunch in Velaris with me? I’ve been dying to get out of the house and try somewhere I haven’t been yet.”

Azriel studied you for a moment, his head tilting slightly, one of his shadows curling around his ear, like he was trying to use his skills to see through to your intentions. “Okay,” he said finally. “Sure. Lunch. I’ll find you when I get back?”

“Great,” you grinned up at him before swooping out of the dining room, trying your best not to bounce on your toes. There was no denying it anymore: you had a crush on Azriel, and you couldn’t wait until he got back that afternoon.

You were in the library, of course, when he returned. He was out of his fighting leathers, but still wearing all black, his clothing perfectly tailored to him. He looked…so good. The side of his mouth was quirked up the slightest bit, leaning against the door frame with his arms crossed, his wings tucked tightly behind him. “How did I know I’d find you here?” he murmured, almost playfully. 

“Lucky guess,” you smirked, placing your book on the table next to your chair and sidling up to him. You noticed his eyes trailing after you, for once not focused on your eyes, but on your body, watching the way your dress hugged your hips as you moved toward him. You flushed. 

“Do you have a place in mind for lunch?” You asked when you were so close to him, your toes were almost touching. He towered over you, his eyes latched onto yours now, his shadows nearly tickling your arms.

“This was your idea,” he said, a hint of teasing in his voice. Azriel? Teasing? Heat went straight through you again. You tried to control your breathing.

“You’ve lived here longer,” you countered. “You know places that I don’t.”

He smiled. A real, full smile. It was life-altering, ground-shaking. You tried to take a picture in your mind of your first real Azriel smile. You couldn’t help but return it. “I’ve got somewhere in mind,” he said finally. 

“Lead the way,” you said. Even to your own ears, you sounded too giddy. You tried not to be embarrassed. 

It wasn’t until you were standing outside on the mountain that you realized the implications of what you had asked. He would have to fly you down to the streets of Velaris. It’s not like you hadn’t had one of your Illyrian friends fly you somewhere before, but now it felt… different. 

You glanced at him, and his hesitant expression told you that maybe he was thinking the same thing. Trying to make the transition the least awkward it could be, you walked right up to him and titled your head. “Ready?”

That tiny half smile appeared as he scooped you up into his arms bridal style, holding onto you tightly, yet being as gentle as possible as the two of you left the ground. You had gotten more used to flying with them, but it still made your stomach twist into nervous knots. You couldn’t help but close your eyes and lean your face into Azriel’s chest, not wanting to look at the ground approaching. 

As you leaned into him, you felt his muscles tense. “Sorry. We’ll be on the ground in a moment.”

“Don’t be sorry,” you said, leaning up to look at him, so he could hear you. “You’re better to fly with than Cassian or Rhys. They always try to scare me more.”

His body tensed, his grasp on you tightening. “I would never do that to you,” he said, his voice suddenly serious. 

“I know,” you said, just as he smoothly landed. He held your gaze as he gently set your feet on the ground. 

Your knees felt a bit shaky, whether from the flight or from your proximity to him, you couldn’t tell. You held onto his rock solid forearms for a minute, trying to steady yourself. 

“Are you alright?” he murmured, his eyes scanning your body, concern flashing on his features.

You cleared your throat, finally letting go of him. “Yes, sorry. I’m still getting used to that."

He nodded, still watching you as if to make sure for himself that you were okay. After a moment, you started walking, hoping to push down the heat that you’d been feeling at the touch of your skin against his.

The two of you walked side by side through the streets of Velaris, not saying much, though you could see from the corner of your eye how often he glanced at you. You watched as his shadows circled around his arms, as he stretched his wings out when the walkway was clear enough. You couldn’t remember seeing him do that before. They were usually tucked in close behind him when he walked around the house.

“Are they heavy?” you asked. 

He just looked at you, his brow slightly furrowed. 

“Your wings,” you clarified. 

They seemed to bristle a bit once you mentioned them, a tiny wave rippling through from one side to the other. “You get used to it. But, yes.” The hint of a smile appeared on his face again. “Why do you think Illyrians are all so fit?” 

You smiled, playfully nudging him with your shoulder. “I haven’t met any besides you three,” you looked up at him to find his eyes already latched on your face. “I thought it was just a you thing."

His face remained stoic except for his eyes, which widened very slightly. 

Suddenly, he cleared his throat, finally taking his eyes from yours, and gesturing at a small building, nestled between what seemed to be two other restaurants. Unlike many of them in Velaris that were open and had tables stretching out into the outside, this building was completely closed, keeping whatever was in there concealed. “We’re here,” he said, his voice a bit more gravelly than before.

You followed him inside, past a roaring fireplace to a small table in a corner of the restaurant. It wasn’t crowded at all, which was a relief since it was so small. It was cozy and inviting though, with low light, candles flickering everywhere and soft music playing from somewhere nearby. You noticed that the chair he was seated in was perfectly accommodating to his wings. You could tell why Azriel was the one out of the group who liked it here. It was calm, quiet, dark. Intimate.

Azriel’s eyes were on you as you settled in, seemingly trying to detect how you were feeling about his choice of establishment. You looked around before meeting his eyes. “I see why you like this place. It’s like the library.”

The side of his mouth quirked up in that half smile you were starting to memorize. “I thought you might appreciate it.”

After you ordered, you looked at him and his eyes were already on you. “You have intense eye contact, do you know that?”

He coughed, but you saw the smile he tried to hide. He slid his eyes back to yours and you tried hard not to react. “I study people. It’s my job.”

“You’re not on duty now, are you?” you said teasingly. 

Azriel shrugged one shoulder noncommittally. “It’s hard to turn off the instinct.”

“Alright, then,” you said, already regretting it before the words even came out of your mouth. “What intel are you picking up on me right now?”

He leaned forward, bracing his forearms on the table in front of him, eyes boring into yours like they could see straight into your soul. Hell, maybe they could. You had never had the courage to ask what exactly his skillset entailed. “You seem… curious about me,” he said in a low, gravelly voice that brought heat to your cheeks. “For whatever reason,” he smiled faintly, lifting one eyebrow. 

“Azriel, is that some self-deprecation I hear?” you said, trying to keep your voice steady. 

Leaning back in his chair again, he took a moment to respond. “Maybe a bit.”

You shook your head. “No, I will have absolutely none of that from the Night Court’s shadowsinger and spymaster. You are far too cool to be talking about yourself like that.” You tried to sound playful, but even to your own ears, you sounded far too serious. You meant it though, of course. How could he not see it?

He just studied you for a moment, not moving except for a slight tick in his jaw. Finally, he said, “As you wish, Lady.”

Clearing your throat, you settled back into your chair, mirroring his posture. “So is that all you’ve picked up on me?”

A slight smile. “All I wish to share.”

Mercifully, before you could reply, your food had arrived. Azriel seemed to hesitate, waiting for you to take your first bite before he dug into his own food. It was delicious, and somehow made you feel right at home. 

You ate in silence for a few moments, your focus so wrapped up in the delicious food in front of you that you did not realize his eyes were once again fastened on you. Once you finally took a reprieve from digging into your meal, you looked up, found his eyes on you, his expression unreadable, and you flushed, slightly embarrassed. 

“I’m not eating like a lady right now, am I?” you asked, your voice slightly wavering, no doubt showing your concern at the lack of decorum.

He let out a quiet chuckle that was music to your ears. “You look like a lady to me,” he said, his gaze not leaving yours.

You flushed even deeper, and he smiled, lighting up his eyes. Two real Azriel smiles in one day. You felt faint.

“You should do that more,” you whispered.

The smile dropped as he raised an eyebrow. A silent question.

“Nevermind,” you said, turning back to your meal, fearing that if you admitted how much you savored the smiles, they would stop appearing.

Azriel seemed like he wanted to push further, but decided against it. You thought he could probably figure it out anyway. He wasn’t the spymaster for nothing.

You could feel his eyes on you as you finished your meal, too distracted by him now to properly taste any of it. 

At last, he said “Did you enjoy it?”

Despite how few real interactions you’ve actually had with the man, you felt comfortable with him, so much so that you dared to say, “The meal? Yes. The company?” You paused, looking up at him from under your lashes. “Absolutely.”

Perhaps it was wishful thinking, but you swore you saw his fingers clench for a moment, heard his breath catch, as the shadows appeared around him for the first time since the two of you sat down. After a moment, he said, his voice thick, “I’m glad.” 

Your last remark took all the bravery you had, and you didn’t dare ask him the question back. 

Later, the two of you walked in companionable silence back to the House of Wind. His arm lightly brushed yours as you neared the mountain, and you again felt electricity jolt through from the point of contact all the way down to your toes. You may not know Azriel extremely well, but you were pretty sure every movement his body made was deliberate. Was that one deliberate, too?

At the foot of the mountain, the two of you turned to face each other, and he smiled lightly. “Ready?”

“As I’ll ever be,” you said, stepping closer to him before he gently picked you up. You could tell that he was making an extra effort to fly smoothly for you. 

“You doing okay?” he asked, low in your ear.

Looking up at him, you nodded. “Going up is better than going down.”

“Good to know,” he met your eyes for a moment, his eyes twinkling. Your fingers flexed where they held onto him, and the side of his mouth tilted up the slightest bit.

He landed on the balcony outside of the dining room, setting you on the ground, but not letting go of your arms yet, his eyes searching your face, like he remembered that you needed a minute to get settled on the ground earlier. You reveled in the feeling of his rough hands on your bare skin, and after a moment, you reluctantly stepped back, unable to stop your hand from lightly grasping his bicep as you did so. “Thank you, Azriel. For all of it.”

Azriel nodded, smiling faintly, his eyes not leaving yours. 

You wanted him to say more, desperate to continue whatever this was, but unfortunately Cassian walked out onto the balcony. “What are you guys up to?” he asked, his voice dripping with amusement, his gaze flicking back and forth between the two of you, no doubt noticing how close you were standing.

You glanced at Azriel, not sure what to say. He seemed to understand and answered Cassian. “We just went to grab lunch.”

Cassian grinned. “Just the two of you? Alone? Interesting.”

Azriel rolled his eyes. “Goodbye, Cassian.” 

Cackling, Cassian mock saluted at the two of you, and left. 

You suddenly felt awkward as the two of you were alone again. “So…” you trailed off.

He laughed, and you could feel heat rise to your cheeks for what felt like the hundredth time that day. “See you at dinner?” he said. 

“Dinner. Yes. Absolutely.” By the cauldron, you were starting to sound like him.

Azriel seemed to be thinking the same thing as he studied you for another moment, his eyes sparkling with what could only be described as a hint of mischief before he spread his wings and soared into the sky without another word.

You wandered around aimlessly for the rest of the day, not able to focus on anything but the memory of his hands on your skin, so gentle despite the scars, his eyes gazing into yours, the smile that you hadn’t gotten to see before today. 

Dinner came and went mostly without incident, though you often felt Cassian’s eyes darting between you and Azriel. You glared at him, silently begging him not to make a big deal about what he saw, especially in front of everybody. Thankfully, he got the hint and said nothing.

The next day, you got up a bit earlier than usual, chose a dress that was a bit nicer than what you would normally wear around the house, braided and pinned your hair carefully, and set out to very casually lounge in the library, like you would any other day.

You tried not to sigh with relief as Azriel came in some time later, his shadows nowhere to be seen, and took his normal seat near yours.

He eyed you, and smiled faintly. “You look nice,” he said, quietly.

You blushed. His smile grew. “Thank you,” was all you could say.

Azriel lifted an eyebrow. “Are you going somewhere today?”

“Not that I know of…” you trailed off, debating on whether to attempt to explain your appearance to brush it off, or let him assume correctly that you did it because of him.

“Do you… want to? Go somewhere today?” He said, his voice more hesitant than you would think possible for the Night Court’s spymaster.

“With you?” You asked, sure your eyes were lighting up with excitement.

Azriel smiled, holding your gaze. Your knees would have buckled if you hadn’t been sitting. “That was the idea, yes.”

“Of course,” you beamed, trying to keep your voice even.

Just like that, you were in Azriel’s arms again, flying down to Velaris, where the two of you wandered happily, with no real destination. He was a bit more talkative today, asking you about books you were reading and your life before Rhysand found you and brought you into his family. He told you about the far-off places he’d been throughout his years as Rhysand’s spymaster, what it was like growing up with Rhysand and Cassian as his found family. You had never heard him speak so much, and you couldn’t get enough of it. You wanted to listen to everything he could possibly share, wanting to savor every detail of it. 

And that’s how it went, just like your routine with the library. Every few days, when Azriel had the time, he would fly you down to Velaris and you two would wander the streets, stopping for food, perusing the shops. Slowly, slowly, he opened up a bit more to you, talking about his past every once in a while. He never went into much detail, but it was more than you ever expected from him. You were honored that he trusted you even that much. You became addicted to the sound of his voice, to the rare moments when his arm would brush yours, or when he would place his hand on your back to steer you away from somebody in your path who wasn’t paying attention.

On, and on, and on, you kept up your routine and you could feel the walls that he kept up for everybody break off little by little. 

Still, you couldn’t tell if it was friendship that he was feeling for you or something else. It certainly wasn’t friendly feelings you had towards him. His gorgeous face, his piercing eyes, now had a permanent spot in your mind and in your dreams.  

One afternoon, when you assumed Azriel was out doing his spymaster duties because you hadn’t seen him all day, you were about to leave your room when you heard his voice low, speaking to someone. He sounded mildly upset. You knew you shouldn’t eavesdrop, but you certainly didn’t want to walk past them, so you waited it out.

“When are you going to tell her?” the other voice said, in a rushed whisper. Cassian.

“I don’t know. How are you supposed to just … tell somebody something like that?” Azriel sounded more frustrated than you’d ever heard him.

“How should I know? You’re the one who spends all your time with her. You should know what the best way to tell her is.”

Azriel sighed, and you could picture him running his hands through his hair. “I don’t know. I don’t know what to do.”

“Well, you better figure it out. She’s going to think that you’re not into her.”

“You think so?” Azriel sounded worried.

“Dude, you’ve been spending every moment possible with her for weeks, and you haven’t made a single move.” 

Before Azriel could respond, footsteps sounded in the hallway, and their conversation cut off completely. You seized your chance, hoping to gain some insight as to who they were talking about. 

You left your room, trying to look casual, and at the sound of your door opening, the two of them whipped their heads towards you.

You raised an eyebrow as you walked towards them. “What? Do I have something in my teeth?” you teased, trying not to dwell on what you had heard. Azriel was into someone?

Azriel just stared at you, his cheeks dusted red. Cassian smirked at you. “Nope, beautiful as ever, sweetheart.” 

Azriel’s eyes darted from yours to Cassian’s, his expression turning lethal and his shadows suddenly appearing, swirling around his head, his arms. You had only seen that kind of quiet rage in his eyes when there was an enemy present in the Night Court. 

You couldn’t fathom what would warrant this reaction. “Az, are you okay?” you asked, softly.

His eyes met yours again, the rage flickering away into something else entirely, though you couldn’t quite place it.  He opened his mouth, but couldn’t seem to speak for a moment. Finally, he choked out, “Yes, fine. I’m just -- I have to go.” Without another word, he bolted down the corridor, out of sight.

Cassian rolled his eyes, turning back to you. “You guys have been hanging out a lot lately, huh?”

You shrugged, trying not to let your feelings show. “Yeah, we’re friends now."

He cocked an eyebrow. “Friends? You sure?”

Sighing, you leaned your back against the wall. “Honestly? I don’t know. Sometimes I can’t tell.”

He pushed further, as you figured he would. “Well, how do you feel? Do you want to be just friends?”

You narrowed your eyes at him. “If I tell you, do you promise not to make fun of me, or run off and tell everyone about it?”

Smiling, he raised his right hand, like he was taking an oath. “I solemnly swear that your secret is safe with me.”

“...Fine. No, I don’t want to just be friends. To be completely honest, I think I’m a little in love with him.”

Cassian’s eyes widened, but before he could respond, you said, “I swear to the Cauldron, if you say anything to anyone, I will get Amren to toss you into the pit of the library.” 

At that, he clamped his mouth shut and held up his hands. “I won’t say anything to anybody,” but his demeanor turned serious as he leveled you with a steady gaze. “But I really think you should tell him.” 

You swore you could feel your heart beat faster at just the thought. “What if it ruins everything?” you said quietly. 

Cassian held your gaze. “It won’t.”

Before you could press him on what he meant, he smirked and clapped you in the shoulder, following in Azriel's wake down the hallway.

Surely it wasn’t incredibly narcissistic to think perhaps the “she” they were talking about before you interrupted was you, right? Who else had Azriel been spending all his time with? But… What was it that Cassian wanted him to tell you? Was Azriel interested in you?

Your head spun for days, especially as Azriel was noticeably keeping his distance from you. He had not come to the library, and had hardly talked to you at all. You felt an ache in your chest at his absence. 

After he had been avoiding you for a week, you couldn’t take it anymore. You knocked on his door after dinner, realizing as it opened that you had never seen his room before. Over his shoulder you could see a humongous bed with black sheets and weapons scattered about on tables pushed against each wall. 

He was clearly surprised to see you, hovering in the doorway, like he was unsure if he should invite you in or not. 

Before he could say anything, you blurted, “Did I do something wrong?” 

His brow furrowed in confusion, his shadows suddenly swirling around him. “Why would you think that?"

You shrugged incredulously. “It’s the only reason I can think of for you ignoring me for the past week,” your voice broke and you cursed yourself for showing him how much you had been hurting. 

His eyes softened, his expression pained. “I-- come inside,” he said, stepping away from the doorway so you could venture inside. He closed the door behind you and you gulped, standing awkwardly in the middle of the room. 

He slowly walked over to you, stopping a few paces away, his wings folded tightly behind him, his body tense. It took him a moment to finally meet your eyes. When he did, he said simply, “I’m sorry.”

“For what?” You asked, your voice wavering. “Az, what’s going on?”

Running his hand through his hair, he sighed, and gestured behind you at an armchair nestled between two of his tables laden with weapons. You sat down gingerly and he sat on the edge of the bed, facing you. His enormous wings stretched out behind him now that he was settled.

“I need to tell you something. And I’ve been avoiding you because… I wasn’t sure how to bring it up. I’ve been trying to figure out the right way to say everything, and  I didn’t know how you would react,” he said, his eyes on you as his shadows swirled around his head. 

“O-kay,” you said. “What is it?”

Azriel took a deep breath and bowed his head, staring at his hands clasped in front of him, his elbows resting on his knees. Finally, he said quietly, “You’re my mate.”

You felt like all the air had been sucked out of the room. 

“I --” and before you could question him, you knew it was true, feeling the bond snap into place. You looked up at him to find his eyes on yours, more anxious than you’d ever seen him. “I feel it now,” you whispered. 

His eyes widened and his body went even more rigid. It didn’t look like he was breathing. 

“How long have you known?” was all you could think to say.

It was a long moment before he answered. “I… had a feeling for a while. I felt connected to you from the beginning. Even if you weren’t my mate, I knew you were different. Special. When you first met me, you never paid attention to my scars.” His fingers flexed as he said it, his deep voice slightly shaky. “Most people can’t help but stare, but you… whenever you looked at me, your eyes were on my face. Always.” He drew a deep breath and his eyes bore into yours, like he wanted to make sure you were still there. 

He continued, “But I wasn’t sure, didn’t know how it was supposed to feel when the bond snapped into place, so I started going to the library to be close to you, hoping I could confirm it. That first day at lunch, when you asked me what I was sensing about you… that’s when it happened. That’s when I felt it… that unflinching rope tied around my heart, connecting to you. Then, I couldn’t stay away, that bond was always tugging me toward you.” 

You gaped at him, images of him over the past few weeks blurring together in your mind. 

“I didn’t know how to tell you,” he said, his voice breaking on the last word. “I didn’t know how you felt about me and I didn’t want to ruin what we started.”

The hurt in his voice finally spurred you into action. You got up from the chair and crossed over to him. He sat up fully, his eyes locked on yours as you straddled him, settling into his lap and holding his face in your hands. His body finally relaxed, his shadows dissipating as his hands held your waist gently. 

“I’m in love with you, Azriel,” you said quietly. “I could not be happier that I get to be your mate.”

He made a choking sound, his eyes swimming with emotion. “You’re not mad?”

“Why would I be mad?” you said, your face inching closer to his.

“I kept it from you.”

“It’s okay, love,” you said gently, wrapping one arm around his neck and running your other hand through his soft hair. “I understand.”

“You love me?” he asked, finally smiling, his mouth an inch from yours.

“Of course I do.”

“I love you,” he murmured, cupping the back of your head with his hand and leaning in to kiss you gently. 

You felt tears stream down your cheeks as he kissed you, and he wiped them away with his thumb, his touch featherlight. 

“Happy tears?” he whispered against your mouth.

“Mhmm,” you mumbled, deepening the kiss.

He kissed you gently for a few more moments before he groaned, wrapped an arm tightly around your waist, stood up, and tossed you onto the bed.

Your eyes widened and he smirked, making your toes curl. 

“Ready to stay up all night, mate?” he teased, his eyes flashing with lust.

You could only nod. 

-----

You two missed breakfast the next morning, too wrapped up in each other to pay attention to what time it had become. 

Mercifully, you were left alone most of the day, and it took some coaxing, but you finally convinced Azriel that you would need nourishment to continue the fun you were having, so eventually you did make it to the dining room in time for dinner.

All eyes were on you both as you sat down side by side, trying to be as nonchalant as possible even though you knew that all your friends could smell the new mating bond on you.

Cassian broke the silence, grinning at Azriel. “Well, she looks absolutely ravished, Az.”

A growl released from deep in Azriel’s throat as he lunged across the table at Cassian, tackling him to the ground. 

Rhysand laughed, opening the door to the balcony, and the two tumbled out, arms and wings thrashing. He looked at you, mischief twinkling in his eyes as he shut the door behind them, locking them out on the balcony. “He’ll be better at controlling that, with time. Trust me.” 

You laughed, feeling your cheeks heat at the protectiveness that Azriel now felt for you. 

“I guess you’re officially part of the family now,” Rhysand smirked. “Congratulations.”

[endless-ineffabilities]

chemical override (7)

Ewan Mitchell x actress!reader

a/n: again, I'm thanking all of yous for fueling the chemical override fire! Your comments/messages are so sweet and hilarious and wild - just as this story demands <3 Happy reading!

series masterlist ▪︎ main masterlist

The arrangement you and Ewan share is in place, but jealousy rears its ugly head when another costar takes an interest in you. It isn't Aemond's allegiance that renders Ewan green-eyed, so to speak...

London

Whenever Ewan needs you, you answer the call.

Because, in truth, you need him too. This might not be the most savoury of arrangements; it might not be what you pictured in your head when you thought of getting back together.

But this way, you can have him, and he can have you.

It's a win-win situation. Even if you're not his, and he's not yours, as he so nicely put it.

So you're there when his need arises. Which, as it happens, arises often - intense, wanton, and greedy. He takes you for himself, your body left littered with markings that can only be from his teeth, his fingers, his aching manhood.

Beads of sweat would cloud your vision as the side of your face is pressed to the mattress, your legs bent to give him better access, so that he sinks deeper. He would whisper, - you're mine... you're mine... fuckin' mine, darling - when he leans down to pant roughly in your ear, momentarily forgetting about the one condition of this whole thing.

You're not his. But as he finishes inside of you, claiming your lips in a bruising kiss, you also have it in you to conveniently forget.

Your respective apartments in London set the stage for your trysts. Ewan comes over so often that he's had to use the back entrance, after getting papped once on a foggy Sunday morning, leaving your apartment building in the same clothes that he wore when he entered at midnight.

LATE NIGHT RENDEZVOUS! - on page 6! Game of Thrones spinoff stars can't get enough of each other!

When Ewan said that the whole thing was going to be a secret, he must have failed to account for the near-impossibility of that notion for a celebrity.

What can be kept secret for those in your line of work?

A romance between two young, highly coveted actors will see the light of day eventually, aided by the blinding flashes of papparazzi cameras.

Predictably, your friends catch on and demand to know how you little lovebirds found your way back together, because of course, they always knew you would.

Sadly, you have to burst Phia's bubble when she calls one evening. "We're not back together."

A pause. She mulls it over. "But the papers..."

"I know."

"He's been seeing you... " She claims, her tone growing unsure.

"He has."

"Then what... oh." You can practically picture the realisation coming across her face. Would it be accompanied by distaste or disappointment? Neither is good anyhow.

"We're seeing each other. But, not really, if you get what I mean."

"No!" she exclaims. You can hear shuffling in the background, like she just slammed the book she was reading shut. "Whose brilliant idea was this?"

"That's doesn't mat - "

"It's Ewan's, isn't it?" she answers, confirming her own suspicion. "That little devious bastard."

"It's not his fault," you find yourself shaking your head, then you startle as the buzzer to your apartment gets your attention. The routine is in place - it's the receptionist letting you know that Ewan is in the lobby. Speak of the devil...

Hmm. You walk to the intercom to let him upstairs, thinking of him coming to claim his prize. But he's not the devil - he's my twisted angel, whose heart I broke.

Phia isn't finished. "What do you mean, it's not his fault? If this was his idea, then let me just talk to the lad and screw his bloody head on straight."

You stand by the door, waiting for his arrival, because whenever Ewan needs you, you're there.

You need him too.

"Phi, I... I want this," you reply. "I have to go."

"Babe, we're not done here. You're not getting off easy."

"I know, I know," you smile at her genuine concern. "Maybe you're right, maybe this all wrong." But...

You know you don't have to say it outright. It's there to see, clear as day.

You love him.

She sighs loudly, resigning herself to the truth of her friend's predicament. "You'll figure this out, the both of you."

"Hope so, Phi." The doorbell rings. You rush through your goodbyes, dropping the call with a promise to keep her updated on what she deems a ridiculous situation.

You greet him at the door, and he stands there, with his black hoodie obscuring his face like he's Daemon about to do some nefarious act of sorts. And he just might. He chews on his lip, and smirks as he takes you in.

"Darling," he greets as he lets himself in. He shrugs off his hoodie and drops it in its usual corner, before beckoning for you with his arms reaching.

He runs his fingers through your hair, as he kisses your neck and inhales your scent, purring, " - fuckin' missed you, beautiful - " as his skilled fingers find the hem of your old shirt.

"My darling girl," he says, and you so badly want to hate him, because he's not being fair. Why does he get to act like this matters to him, when he made it clear that this is only so both your needs are met? Why does he look at you in a way that makes your heart skip a beat in hope, with those same blue eyes that blazed when he once said he loved you?

How can you make sure that you don't fall back in love with him, when that love was never truly gone?

"Ewan," you moan as he pushes you against a wall, his rough hands kneading your flesh. You help him pull his shirt over his head, and your fingers drag upward along his skin until it finds the silver chain around his neck. You use it to pull him even closer, not a breadth of space between you.

He kisses you, and it's like an anchor finding home.

Yours or his, it matters little.

It nearly bubbles out of the two of you - those forbidden three words - each time his hips slam right into yours. It's almost there, fighting, waiting to be heard. His 'I really do fucking love you', and your 'I'm sorry about everything, about lying, all I ever wanted was you.'

Nearly. If only things were that simple.

He never stays for long afterward. Small talk is shared - about his new film, the ongoing production for yours, the upcoming engagements you both have for season 3 of House of the Dragon. The bloody weather, even.

The holidays have come and gone, and soon the two of you will again have to fly out to work - you, back to Atlanta; him, to LA for the pre-production of his film with Jenna Ortega.

He took on the film after all, and you should be relieved, but it's hard to feel any sense of ease when you know he will have to be with her in a way that he can't be with you. To the rest of the world, soon enough, they will have to play at being together. Your only claim to him rests in between the sheets, in the countless hollow trysts to be shared.

He doesn't reach for you after the deed is done, after his clothes are back in place and his hair is relieved of that post-sex tousle. As if touching you would cast him aflame.

But you feel his eyes linger on you, all the time, especially when you try to avert your gaze.

What is he thinking, you wonder. Who does he see?

On his way out, he has to deal with an obstacle in order to retrieve his hoodie. An adorable one, at that. Your black Bobtail cat, Sansa, nestles comfortably atop it. Her paws grip the cotton material of the hoodie as Ewan tries to pull it away.

"She likes you," you smile at the sight of Ewan gingerly trying to lift Sansa so she doesn't lash out at him. Even though the likelihood to that is low, with Sansa taking so well to Ewan's constant presence, so much so that you sometimes find her meowing at the door waiting for him to come back. The traitor.

"Good girl," he whispers to her, his hoodie almost released from the weight of her fluffy shape. "That's it."

Then he turns to you, smiling as he shrugs his hoodie back on. "I don't think she wants me to leave."

Like mother, like daughter, comes your thought. But when he straightens, and appraises you with a sideways glance, an amused hum escaping his lips, you realise that you said it out loud.

He smirks openly to himself, his ego blossoming. You roll your eyes at him, mumbling, "Oh, give me a break."

He simply shrugs, walking over to the door.

"I'll call you," he calls over his shoulder as a matter of courtesy, but he sounds uncertain, and the question lingers. Please don't say no, his tone practically begs.

How can you ever?

Arms crossed in an attempt to act nonchalant, leaning against the wall, you smile and say, "Try not to miss me too much, Mitchell."

His eyes linger as they always do. "Impossible task," he responds, casually, unaware that he just upended your whole world with his words.

He solidifies the grip he has on you, before he leaves.

And so the fucked up cycle continues.

Los Angeles

A ginger tabby cat slinks around Ewan's ankles as he sits in the director's office, reminding him of your Sansa and the way she would slink in between your bodies the moment she finds an opening, which is usually after the heated roll in the hay.

He smiles to himself on instinct, remembering how you once shared that you wanted to adopt another cat, preferably a Ragdoll, and name him Benjicat.

"Benjicat?" Ewan had asked.

"Yeah," you smiled, as you stroked a purring Sansa between her ears. "Benjicat Blackwood."

Ewan merely blinked, the connection dawning on him, the brilliance of your idea not lost on his supposedly indifferent mind. He could not hold back his warm and appreciative smile as he gazed at you, and for a moment, he pretended that things were back as they were.

He briefly had the idea that, perhaps, you should adopt the future Benjicat together.

Until the bitter thought crossed his mind - he wasn't the one who quashed that possibility first.

In the office in LA, Jenna sits daintily across from him, still aloof and somewhat of a stranger. She had given him a shy smile when she sat down at the table, exchanged pleasantries and surface-level compliments, the works.

Ewan feels nervous, almost ill at ease, and he normally would be able to single out the reasons why. It could be the notion of meeting an acclaimed director and his future costars. Trying not to stumble on his words, messing up their first impression of him. Maybe he had chainsmoked one cigarette too many before the meeting, worsening the anxiety-inducing effect of his staple black coffee with six sugars.

But this is different. He knows the thing he is dreading is when the matter of the PR business will be brought up.

So he doesn't know what emotion comes over him when the director, Autumn de Wilde, lightly remarks in an attempt to break the tension, "So, Ewan, how's your girlfriend?"

"M-my girlfriend?"

"Yeah," she says jovially, "your costar right? It's all over the socials."

"Oh, I love her," Jenna chimes in. "Is she back in England or is she filming somewhere?"

She's not my girlfriend, is what he should say, but he can't push the words out of his mouth. He's not even sure he wants to. After all, that is why he had the idea for the friends with benefits arrangement in the first place - because he can't cope with the fact that you're not his girfriend anymore.

"Mmm, yeah, she's - uhhh - she's filming in Atlanta," Ewan answers, dodging the main question, but not really.

"Well, say hello to her for me," Autumn says. "She's a keeper, huh? What with her being okay with the PR bullshit you will have to do."

Jenna purses her lips apologetically at him, then remarks, "I don't like that Bruce guy. I know some people who worked with him, and they share the sentiment."

Ewan feels lighter, knowing that they're on the same page. He asks tentatively, "That PR thing... is it set in stone or - ?"

Autumn sighs, "Apparently so, kid. But I heard along the grapevine that great ol' Brucey is dealing with some suit and he might have to pull out of the film."

"Some suit?" Ewan asks.

"A lawsuit," Jenna says.

"Oh." What the fuck. "If he pulls out then what that does mean for us?"

"Halle-fuckin-lujah, that's what," Autumn laughs. "More creative control, more logistics control... more happiness for everyone, really."

"Does that mean the PR relationship will be scrapped?" Ewan blurts out, before sheepishly adding to Jenna, "I mean, no offense - "

"None taken," she shakes her head at him. "I never had a liking for that stuff anyway."

"Well, we'd have to consult with the rest of the execs but they're a lot more likely to be conducive to requests," Autumn says.

Ewan feels a rush of relief, one he immediately wishes he can share with you. If you only you stuck it out with him. If only you didn't leave him hanging at the first sign of trouble.

If only you weren't unsure of how you felt about him.

He calls you afterward, because he wants to, the last remaining shred of his resentment towards you be damned.

"Production nearly finished, darling?" He asks, the pretense of holding back from using the term of endearment long since abandoned.

"Mhmm, I've got one more week here in Atlanta, Mitchell."

You've gone back to calling him Mitchell - not baby, love, or anything remotely romantic.

It bothers him, but he's determined not to let it show.

"I've got about a week and a half here still."

"Then we've got season three prep in London, right?"

"Yeah," he mumbles. "I'll see you back there I suppose."

"Okay," you reply, sounding uncertain of what to say next. "Are you... is everything okay?"

"Yeah, yeah," he automatically says. "I just thought... maybe I can come see you."

He listens to your steady breathing at the other end, and it calms him. He waits in silence, until you respond with, "Aren't you busy out there, Ewan?"

He is, and he is aware that it makes him seem desperate. It has only been a few weeks since your last rendezvous back in London, and he is supposed to remain nonchalant. Unaffected. This is not supposed to be some kind of lifeline for him. The thought of you should not be what runs through his mind at every waking moment.

He contradicts all of that, when he admits, "I am, but I want to see you anyway. I can fly out for a day and we could - "

"Ewan - "

"I need you."

You sigh deeply, and he pictures the silhouette of your shoulders rising and falling, the pinch in between your brows, the concerned frown your lips take the shape of.

He misses you. Do you miss him too?

"I know," you say. "But I'll see you soon in London, okay?"

That was not the answer he wanted. There are times when you sound dispassionate and he feels like you couldn't give less of a shit about him, and it kills him.

Even though it shouldn't, and this is what he should have expected, after proposing the arrangement.

But there are also times when you give him a spark of hope to cling to.

"Besides," you muse, "we'll soon have to prepare to give the fans what they want. All the love for Aemond and Alyna surely will not be ignored by the writers. I know I'm rooting for them."

Ewan laughs, "I am too."

Aemond and Alyna. You and him. There are fans, and there are fans, and Ewan is proudly a member of the latter.

"Okay, so, I have to head back inside," you say. "I - uhhh - "

"Yeah, darling, I'll see you soon." I miss you.

"Hmm," you respond, stealing his signature line right from his lips.

He stays on the line, unwilling to let you go.

"Mitchell?" you ask.

"Yes, love?"

"I guess you missed me too much after all."

He smiles wistfully, "I guess I did."

London

Production for your film wraps in early February, just in time for the initial preparations for the upcoming season of House of the Dragon.

You arrive back in London a week before the table read, just in time to join the rest of the cast for a mini reunion at Matt's apartment.

A few drinks in, with numerous tales regaled amongst the large group about what everyone has been up to for the past half year, and you realise just how much you missed being with the cast.

They truly are the best bunch of people you could have ever dreamed of working with.

You eventually found yourselves branching off into little groups, with some preparing food in the kitchen, others smoking out in the balcony, and the rest scattered in the expanse of the apartment.

Matt's place is well-decorated for a bachelor pad, with personal knick-knacks at every corner. You note this to him, as you sit on the plush carpet in his living room. Your little half-circle consists of yourself, Matt, Phia, Liv, Bethany, and Tom, all in varying degrees of inebriation, but either of the lads arguably take the cake.

"You see that?" Matt leans close, pointing to the green shelf nestled in the corner. "On the second level right there, is a prop I stole from season one."

"No way," you squint in that direction, unaware that he gives you a good once-over, the admiration in his eyes plain to see.

The others are quick to point it out in typical fashion.

"Now, now, Smithy," Tom quips. "Try not to burn holes in the girl with yer eyes there."

"She's my babe," Phia jokes, winking at you.

"Oh really?" Matt simply leans back on his palms, unaffected. "Not Ewan's?"

"Oop - " Liv's eyes widen like saucers. "Don't even go there, Smithy."

"Why ever not?" Matt shrugs.

"Guys," you shake your head, waving a hand in dismissal. "it's fine. It's... whatever."

"He's not here," Matt says. "We can talk about it."

"Gossip girl over here," Bethany smirks.

Matt was right in pointing out that Ewan is yet to arrive back from the States. Of course, Ewan had given you a call letting you know that he would be spending the night before the table read at your apartment.

But right now, in this moment, you didn't really feel like going through the sordid details of your affair.

"We can talk about it," you say, "but I'd rather not."

Matt laughs, "Okay. But are you or are you not together?"

"Matt," Tom groans, pinching the bridge of his nose in amusement at his mate's boldness.

"Hey, it's a simple question!"

"It is, isn't it?" you shrug, allowing him that, because he is speaking true. It is supposed to be simple. "We're not actually together... but some of you already know - " you shoot Tom and Phia pointed glances " - that we had a thing once, and we may have a thing still, only lesser and more casual." You look around the group, hoping they got the gist, and that no follow-up statements are necessary.

"Hey, I get it," Bethany replies. "It sounds complicated, but it's your business, sweetheart."

You hum gratefully. The others jump on another topic, but Matt slinks closer to you, with the on-brand glint in his eyes. He says, lowly, "That's good, then."

Your mouth parts in pleasant surprise, as you finally take notice of the way he looks at you. "Say that again, Smithy?"

"You heard me," he answers. Smooth. Matt has been known to be the resident casanova of the cast, with his undeniable charm on and off set. He can get along with absolutely anyone, and this includes the array of women who get pulled in by his charisma.

It's lost on you why he would now set his sights on you, but you can't deny that you enjoy the attention.

Fabien suddenly comes into view with that digital camera of his pointed towards your group. He snaps one of Tom whose raised bottle of beer half covers his smirking face. Then he turns to you and Matt, saying, "Give papa a smile, kids!"

Matt quickly slings an arm around you, making you lean against him. He coolly points to the camera, posing like he usually does. You smile widely, your brain in a pleasant daze from the alcohol, the banter, and the alluring scent of Matt's perfume.

"Send me a copy of that, Fabs," Matt comments after. Fabien will probably post the photo on his usual Instagram slideshow, but Matt happily stays off the socials.

"Gonna get it framed?" you joke, nudging him lightly with your shoulder.

"Oh, you bet," he winks at you, making you swallow nervously. Speaking to him now, in this way, you realise just how easily the Matt Smith is able to get with the ladies. Charm practically oozes off of him.

And Daemon was your original favourite, after all.

Fabien and Matt walk you and Phia back to your apartments in the wee hours of the morning. Though your neighbourhood was only 5 minutes away, the lads gallantly insisted that they wouldn't let you go without an escort.

Your group weaves its way through the empty streets of London, chatting and laughing away, the effects of the alcohol yet to wear off. At some point, Matt wraps an arm around you, and you let him keep it that way.

You have grown fond of him, having spent a lot of time with him during filming. And, well, you needed to keep your balance anyway.

Not to mention, he offers a pleasant distraction from having to yearn all the damn time for what you once had with Ewan.

Fabien and Phia walk ahead to her nearby apartment, so you're left with Matt in front of your building.

"We'll be spending a lot more time together this season, fortunately," he says.

"That's kind of a given," you laugh. "Alyna's never going to drop her oath to the Queen."

"And the King."

"Consort," you finish for him.

He laughs freely, shaking his head, before his expression turns a bit serious. He dips his face closer to yours, whispering, "And in real life? Is Alyna sticking with Aemond?"

That stumps you. Matt's blue eyes are indeed arresting, but one mention of Aemond is enough to bring you back into the Ewan Mitchell spiral.

But... you're not his.

You shrug in response, smiling softly, "I guess some things just aren't meant to be."

You become convinced that the universe must be testing you because your phone buzzes in that moment, revealing an incoming call from Ewan One-Eye.

Matt spots it easily, challenging you with, "So what then, beautiful? Are you going to answer the call?"

It buzzes once more, and another time, before you press decline.

Matt doesn't give you the time to regret your decision. He swoops down and plants a soft kiss at the corner of your lips. Nothing too much, but just enough to toe the line of simply being friendly.

"I - I better head inside - " you stammer, your face heating up.

"You better."

"I'll see you soon, Smithy."

He nods, "See you soon, my Alyna."

Ewan can hardly focus on the script in front of him. He struggles to get his lines out efficiently during the table read, and he hopes that no one else notices.

It would be a miracle if you actually take notice of him, with Matt stealing your attention as he sits to your right.

The cast and crew are positioned around the room, and you just happened to be directly across Ewan, right in his line of sight. He would revel in it, but not now, with Matt leaning in once in a while and whispering something in your ear that makes you softly giggle.

How unprofessional. Whatever he is telling you, it sure must be fucking fascinating.

He isn't entirely oblivious of your growing closeness with Matt. He saw the photos of the two of you walking the streets of London, snug against each other, but he chose not to think much of it. After all, how many times has Matt been pictured with an arm wrapped around a costar? That is just how he is. Open and friendly.

Ewan had not been inclined to think it meant something more in your case.

"Ewan," he hears Tom sharply whisper to his left. "It's your line."

The room is silent in anticipation, eager to get on with the script. You lock eyes with him and offer an encouraging smile, and he is just about to reciprocate, but then he notices Matt's arm resting on the back of your seat.

Like he has laid a claim on you.

Ewan ends up grumbling out his lines, lacking the vulnerability that Aemond is meant to be displaying in that scene.

His keeps his expression stoic, trying to do his best to accomplish the task at hand. A tiny consolation is that the script to season three seems to be marginally better than that for the previous season.

There is not a single scene of Aemond and Alyna thus far, but the script is littered with those of Daemon and Alyna. Which makes complete sense, since they're fighting for the same cause, and Daemon has been somewhat of a mentor to the young Alyna.

Ewan liked their dynamic, being a fan of both the characters, and their real-life counterparts. But the scene that is playing out before him may be enough to sway his bias to the contrary.

Daemon and Alyna. You and Matt.

Ewan scoffs to himself, forgetting where he is for a moment. Tom side-eyes his weird behaviour, thinking, the lad must have left his marbles back in America.

Ewan doesn't notice. His thoughts race a mile a minute - Do the writers not see the potential goldmine they've got with the Aemond and Alyna dynamic? Do they not know how crazy it would drive the fanbase?

Is Matt unaware that it was his name - Ewan's, and no one else's - that you were screaming last night?

Your sputtered little pants of his name rise from his memory, your breathing ragged by the time he finished making love to you the third round in the same night.

That... that was his.

You are -

"Mate," Tom clasps him on the shoulder, "drink some water, yeah? You look bloody flushed."

Ewan hums gratefully, nodding once, shaking the image of you from his mind.

After all, he wears his Adidas joggers today, and the thin material would not be able to conceal it if he ended up having a raging hard-on, in front of everyone during the damn table read.

When another scene of Daemon and Alyna comes on, with you and Matt eagerly reciting your lines to each other, the boyish lust that Ewan entertained essentially dies.

He purses his lips, a ghost of a smile, ever the good and supportive costar.

He raises his head to distract himself by looking around the table, eventually locking eyes with Phia, who had already been looking at him strangely.

You okay? she mouths.

His head snaps toward the sound of your laughter before he could respond.

"Shoot, sorry," you smile, apparently having read the wrong line. Everyone at the table waves it off, a cacophony of 'it's alright' and 'you got this' heard around the room.

When you finish the rather long, drawn-out speech Alyna makes, there is an intermission before the next scene.

People begin turning to each other to make comments, some stand to stretch their legs. Then Ewan hears it - "How'd I do, Smithy?" followed by "Not too shabby, my Alyna."

His Alyna?

Ewan flips the bloody table over in his mind.

Ewan calls you the following night, under the pretense of the arrangement.

In truth, he'd take anything. He could sit on your couch and watch paint dry, if it meant being around you.

"Not tonight, Ewan," you say, and his heart sinks.

"Why not?" he asks, uncaring about how downright needy he sounds.

"Uhhhm, I have a friend over," you reveal.

"Phia? I'm sure she'll understand."

"Oh, come on, Ewan. It's not Phia, and even if it was, I wouldn't just send her away."

"Who then?" he insists, but some part of him already knows the answer.

"Fabien," you say, "and Matt. But Fabien already left to go see Bella, so it's just - "

"You and Matt, huh," he spits bitterly. For an actor, he sure is unable to mask his emotions.

"What are you insinuating? We're friends. You're his friend too, Ewan."

"Hmm," his grip on his phone tightens, "you seem a lot closer than friends to me."

"You're being ridiculous," you scoff. "I would ask you to still come over if you want to hang out with us but not if you're being this unpleasant."

"Forget it," he practically snaps, immediately regretting his tone, "let me know when you're less occupied."

"Ewan - "

"It's okay, darling," he cuts you off, wanting to be done with the conversation already. "I'll come see you before the cast shoot." He refers to the Entertainment Weekly photoshoot the entire cast is slated to do in the coming week, the first offering of season three promo.

"Okay," you exhale, then say, "Sansa misses you."

That earns a weak smile out of him. If only her owner could say that she misses him too. "Does she?"

"Mhmm," you respond, and he hears the smile in your voice, "so... so you better come over soon or she might start clawing at the door."

Matt makes his presence known, his voice becoming audible as he walks into the room where you are, asking, "You alright, love?"

"Ewan, I gotta go," you say in a rush.

"Okay," he sighs in defeat. He drops his phone on the couch, then paces around his apartment, needing to get the picture of you and Matt canoodling out of his mind.

He audibly groans. Why must he torture himself so? If you say that you and Matt are just friends, then that must be the case.

My Alyna, Matt had called you.

In a sudden flash of madness or genius, Ewan picks up his phone and redownloads a certain wretched app.

It takes less than a minute, and soon he finds himself back in the mostly uncharted waters of Instagram. Careful not to accidentally like any post as he had before, he makes his way to the section that lets him create a new post.

Scrolling through his photo gallery, it doesn't take long before he finds one to his liking.

No editing is needed. He knows that the image and its subjects need no addition.

In his eyes, you are perfect as you are.

That night marks Ewan's second ever official post on his Instagram, yet again sending the entire fandom in a wild tailspin.

It's a picture of you sitting on top of your bed, hair slightly dishevelled, and with an old pyjama shirt on. Sansa is cradled on your bare thighs, and a smile graces your face as you pet her dotingly. The angle is from the side, where Ewan lay on his designated part of your bed, surreptitiously taking the picture.

The morning light cast a soft glow on your face, and the entire scene had made Ewan wish he never had to leave.

Under the post, reads the caption -

My Alyna.

💌 next chapter

🎧 series mixtape

Taglist: @namelesslosers @skymoonandstardust @valyrianflower @luckyfirebasement @omgsuperstarg @elissanatok @callsignwidow @sinistersnakey49 @darkwriteracademia @yyrzmomo @queenofshinigamis @luvaerina @shamelessblazecrown @mirandastuckinthe80s @elleinex0x0 @pierrotlu @aegonswife @strangersunghoon @lunampacheco @writer-ann-artist @gaiaea @of-swords-and-words @ateliefloresdaprimavera @m00n5t0n3 @helaenaluvr @peachysunrize @annie-ruk @luvly-writer @ananas26t @athenafaes @lovelyteenagebeard @mamawiggers1980 @moongirl27 @katherine93 @barnes70stark @justbelljust @cloudroomblog @somestufftoday @esposadomd @girl-in-the-chairs-void @insideyourimagination @vyctorya @wildrangers @livcookesgf @onlyrealjoy @hotdismylife @thepurplecrown @just-fics-station @clarkysblog @sprinklesprinkle888 (continued in comments ... )

Some notes in the margins...

In part 8 - the EW photoshoot, more season three prep, and big news regarding Ewan's upcoming film!

I'm taking all your amazing ideas into account, and you'll continue to see smatterings of them in this story.

As always, I can't wait to talk with yous in the comments! Which couple is your endgame? <3

[leurdhavemerky]

Only in His Dreams (Part 2/2)

Part 1 here

Remembering his intimate dream, Viktor has a particularly difficult time when you visit him at work.

Contents: Academy/scientist gn!reader, romantic tension, flirting, lovesick Viktor, Jayce catching a stray

Word count: 800

Viktor was adjusting his Hexclaw, holding a magnifying glass to an irritatingly small screw. He picked up his blue-handled flathead and prepared to tighten it, but there were footsteps coming down the narrow hall.

Had it been anyone else, Viktor wouldn't have cared. It was the familiar sound of your platform shoes that immediately caught his attention.

Louder and closer, louder and closer, louder and- ah!

Viktor dropped his tools. They clattered against the table. His screwdriver rolled along the surface.

Your footsteps stopped as you reached the closed lab doors.

One knock.

His eyes shot down to his chest as he hastily straightened his maroon tie.

Two knocks.

He ran a hand through his messy hair, trying to fix it quick.

Three knocks.

Deep breath. Exhale. Stand up.

"Welcome, allow me to get the door."

Viktor took a short journey to the entrance of the lab. He nervously reached for the gold-plated door handle and stood back as you stepped in.

Your eyes moved along the room, making observations.

There was a large window with the geometric academy motif on the right wall, and numerous chalkboards and supply cabinets on the left. A controlled mess of gears littered the central table, with Viktor's half-deconstructed Hexclaw lying on it's side.

Finally, you acknowledged him with a warm smile, excited about your work-related excuse for being in the academy's most esteemed space.

"Thanks, that was kind."

You met Viktor's amber eyes, and he lingered there. He looked lost.

"Am I...interrupting your work?"

He remembered the pink haze, the joy fading as he stirred awake. Viktor blinked. This is real now, he thought. I must do something about it.

"Nonsense. What brings you to me?" he asks, shifting his gaze. The heat in his face would have burned him alive if he hadn't done that.

"My department is interested in using Hextools for a 'productivity boost.' The council said we'd need signed documents, though."

"I am surprised I was recommended for this. Shouldn't Jayce provide his signature?"

You bit the inside of your cheek.

"I figured," you chose words carefully, "but he isn't in the lab much, at least from what I've picked up on."

Viktor shifted his weight.

"Besides," you shrugged, "you're very approachable."

He nodded appreciatively, beginning to guide you across the lab. His pace was intentionally a little slower, as he hoped you would admire his gadgets.

Along the back wall were two desks, one covered in grand vases of flowers, among other gifts and congratulatory letters. The second was "decorated" with open notes and silvery tools.

The aftermath of Progress Day.

Viktor's grip tightened on his cane. You glanced at the colorful arrangements a few feet away, playfully rolling your eyes to ease the tension.

He gave a knowing look, and one side of his mouth came up into an easy smile.

Viktor pulled the chair from Jayce's desk and brought it close to his own.

"Have a seat, right beside my lovely trinkets," he teased, gesturing to scattered parts.

"Lovely trinkets," you reciprocated, studying the grooves of various coppery cogs.

Oh, that voice. What I would do to hear your song once again.

"Now, what papers do you have for me?"

You presented Viktor with four pages, and he reached for a pen. It was constructed beautifully, black with gold accents.

Skimming through the introductory paragraphs, he recognized these documents as standard Academy approval forms. Nothing out of the ordinary, besides the individual before him.

...sanction the use of the following...acknowledge that...safe for the use of employees...

He could feel you looking as he read. His head felt lighter by the second.

..in the event that...incredibly nervous- no, no! Keep reading!...trained to handle...tools of interest...I understand these terms and- finally!

Relieved, he twisted that pretty pen open.

"Should I know anything more?"

You shook your head.

With that, he copied his signature on the necessary pages. The beginning of the V curved, with it's main dip cutting fiercely. The other letters were inscribed with more care. For example, the dot embellishing his i formed a near perfect circle on each page.

"Unfortunate," you state, "that I don't have any other business for you."

Viktor slipped the pen into the shirt-pocket of his white vest.

He took a soft breath and asked, "why do you say that?"

"I'm curious about these inventions," you replied, turning to the open claw and the contraptions surrounding it.

Your eyes fell on him. He was close to burning again.

"Not to mention- I'm curious about the inventor."

With that statement, you had lit a sparkler from the roaring flames in Viktor's heart. His eyes lit up with a rare speed, and his wordless lips parted. The house, the honey. The dream came back to him once more, but this time, the torturous doubt was gone entirely.

You winked and snatched his nice pen from the shirt pocket, quickly replacing it with a pink rose from one of Jayce's silly bouquets.

With growing disbelief, Viktor's head whirled.

I am not invisible! I belong in the mirror!

You grabbed the signed papers from his desk, laughing lightheartedly. As you rushed away, that hard platform sound echoed satisfyingly off of the marble floors. It further shook Viktor's already scrambled thoughts.

Quieter, farther. Down the narrow hall. Quieter, farther. Quieter, farther, and- ah.

[gia-d]

Back in October last year, I started reading This is an Adjuration by @not-freyja.

By the time I had made it to chapter 5, I had already started typesetting this story as I read because I knew this would be one of those stories that I needed to have on my shelf.

When I finally caught up to the story at chapter 31, I begged the author to let me bind this when it was finished.

Nearly a year later, and what is probably the most important bind of my life is finally finished. Check out these glamour shots, and if you want to hear more about the actual binding process and about how this fic actually changed my life, see below.

So funny story, before I get into the technical side of this bind, but this fic actually changed my life. Not as in I was greatly emotionally moved by the story, though don't get me wrong I absolutely was, but genuinely this fic introduced me to some of the best people I have ever had to privilege of knowing (Hello Class, you know who you are 🩷), and also, it introduced me to Freyja, the incredibly talented author, who, as I type this, is curled up in bed next to me fast asleep after flying half way around the world to go on a two week long date with me.

Moral of the story folks is comment on the fics you like. You might accidentally meet the love of your life on, and I can't believe I'm saying this, AO3.

Anyways, about the bind!

This bind was a challenge from day 1. I had to do the typeset for this 300k word fic 4 times, and had to split it across 2 volumes. This was the longest fic I have ever attempted to bind, and it was so thick I couldn't get it in the paper trimmer.

To make this book as durable as possible, I attempted a few techniques. I secured it with 3 tapes, I made an Oxford hollow, I rounded the spine, I made a slipcase and I used 2.3mm boards where normally I use 1.8mm.

The slipcase is covered with embossed faux leather, buckram and plain ribbon, and lined with gold satin fabric. I've never made a slipcase before so this was an experience.

The books are covered with an emerald green silk finish bookcloth which really gave the books the luxury they deserved. I foiled custom end papers as well as every chapter title page using heat reactive transfer foil on toner ink (never again I am never doing that again omg it took days). Huge thank you to @la-sera for letting me use her artwork which helped inspire this fic!

The grey flashback chapters I had to use HTV for the border decoration and I'm very happy with how that turned out because it was so easy and straight forward, unfortunately it just wasn't viable for the whole book.

It feels weird to finally have these books done. They have my blood, sweat, tears and my heart poured into them, and I've been working on them for so long that it's odd to actually have them finished. I'm so proud of this bind, and feel like I've grown so much as a fanbinder by making these.

Anyways, if anyone has any questions about the process, please don't hesitate to ask!

(and if you are an Linked Universe fan and haven't read Adjuration yet, this is your sign!)

[blackbirdsblackberries]

I Hate The New Hero!

Pt 3: How bad can a day get?

Pt 1 - Pt 2 - Pt 3 (You're here) - Pt 4 - Pt 5 - Pt 6 - Pt 7 - Pt 8 - Pt 9 - Pt 10

Tim gazes at you. He doesn’t know what to do or feel.

He hates you, he really does, but at the same time he kind of enjoyed the afternoon with you. If you put aside the arguments and such it was kind of fun being in your presence.

He’s conflicted, he should hate you – you’ve done bad things in the past and you hate Aranea! But, hanging out with you gives him some kind of weird feeling – euphoria fills him when you make a sarcastic comment in jest or when you chuckle at one of his jokes.

There were times you both fought but it felt nice to see you come back into the room and not just leave – his parents tended to leave for the whole night if they got into an argument and he’d have to stay in his estate alone.

He watches as you sleep peacefully, you’re in the lower age part of his class – with you being sixteen and he seventeen – yet you look so much more youthful while sleeping, your face isn’t in a scowl or bored look, you look content.

Tim slowly gets up from the bed and looks around the small, cramped room. It's easy for anyone to feel claustrophobic and it feels wrong for someone to live in it who acts like how you usually do.

His attention is drawn to the toy chest in one corner, curiosity fighting with respect to open it. One peak wouldn't hurt and surely you wouldn't find out.

He walks over, one of the floorboards creaking, it was only two steps but felt longer for him. He opens the chest. As he stares down at it's contents he's filled with disappointment.

In the chest there's only diaries, metal and engineering bits and pieces. He guesses he should have expected this, you're a civilian, you wouldn't be hiding anything to begin with.

His eye catches on a childish diary decorated in stickers and press on jewels. Before his mind can register what he's doing he picks it up and turns it over in his hands a couple times, examining it.

The date goes back twelve years. So you'd be about four at the time. There's nothing to hide so he opens it - a sneak peak never hurt anyone.

Diary entry 1:

Today I got this diary from my mama! I can decorate it however I want! Mama said it's my birthday gift, I wanted a stuffed toy but this works too! I don't want to disappoint my mama by saying I don't like it!

My neighbor, Susan, is helping me write this! I love her, she's very old and wrinkly and I think she is going to turn to dust. Which is sad.

Bye now!

The first thing Tim noticed was the messy handwriting. It was endearing in a way to see it. The next was the way you spoke about Susan. It was blunt but it seemed you liked her.

He goes to turn another page when he hears the front door of the apartment open and talking entering the once quiet apartment.

He quickly places the diary where it was before and he packs away everything. He debates putting you into the bed before deciding that you're fine.

He walks out and is immediately met with a plate smashing the wall next to him as a frazzled man stands in the kitchen, cowering almost. Tim puts his hands up slightly to show he's harmless and the man's stiff form eases slightly.

The man raises his hands and signs out a sentence.

"What are you doing in my apartment?"

Tim raises a brow, should he sign back or just talk? After some consideration he decides to sign back.

"Your child and I are partners on a project for school"

The man's eyes darken slightly at the mention of his daughter - or who Tim guesses was his child, they bare some resemblance.

"So my child is a slut like her mother then?"

Tim stares, jaw dropped. No fucking way he just said that. Tim shakes his head.

"No, of course not! We had to do a poster!" He states, he doesn't bother with the sign language, the man didn't seem to be deaf judging by the scar on his throat.

The man points to the door before signing.

"You better go right now before my wife punishes you! As it is my child is in trouble!"

Tim, not wanting to cause a fight or scandal, walks to the door and leaves. He wonders how your father is going to "punish you", clearly you had to have been spoiled by someone to end up so rude - even if you were fun to hang out with for those hours.

Tim gets to the front of the apartment and gets into the car waiting for him. One thought was one his mind however:

Are you as bad as they all assumed you to be?

----

You wake up the next day to your dad and mother standing above you angrily. Not a good way to start the day and you had to sort out your red eyes before people asked if you'd been crying.

Heading to school was as uneventful as Gotham gets and when you get to the front gate you realize your two friends aren't at school today. Great. Your day is the best!

You debate sneaking back home and going on a day patrol, maybe running into Signal, though you hope not. He's nice and all but he along with the other Batman lackeys and Batman himself give you bad vibes, they set off your spider senses and cause you to feel icky when in their presence.

Before you can make a decision you hear your name being called out and Tim walking up to you with a serious expression. You think you're going to barf - now that you think about it, Tim gives you the same reaction Red Robin gives you - a feeling of anger and motion sickness.

Each vigilante gives a different type of icky feeling so it's crazy you haven't noticed Tim giving you the same feeling.

It's not your business though so you won't think about it further.

"Did you bring the poster?" He asks, his arms crossed over his chest as he looks to you in slight annoyance. "Duh. It's in my bag." You respond, rolling your eyes and handing him the poster.

He hums and puts it in his bag and you raise a brow. You won't question why he did it, probably just wanted the credit of handing it in.

With that you head to your first class of the day: Engineering.

[nanamis-princess]

✯¸.•´*¨`*•✿ ✿•*`¨*`•.¸✯

Asking them to peel an orange for you; strawhat addition

Synopsis: they peel an orange for youuu<3

Genre: fluffy fluff fluff

T/w: 🤔 I don’t think there is any, lmk if I’m wrong. Possibly misspelled words I’m sleepy lolll.

Luffy, zoro, nami, sanji & usopp (separate) X reader

Luffy

-he’s sitting out on the deck drawing as you guys are heading to you next destination. You come and plop down next to him, he turns smiling at your presence. “Look y/n! I’m drawing a fish.” He holds up the drawing so you can see better. Smiling at his drawing you look towards him before he goes back to drawing “luffy can you peel this for me?” You ask innocently.

-he sets down his pencil and sketchbook before taking the orange from your hands, “yeah sure!” He begins working away.

-he gets done peeling it fast and tries getting the bigger pieces of the orange strings off for you. He also steels a little piece of the orange before handing it to you with a bright smile. “Here you go!”

-once you begin eating your now peeled orange, Luffy tries a small piece of the outer orange. His face twists in discomfort, humming in discomfort he gets up and goes to the railing spitting the rind into the sea.

Zoro

-He just got comfortable in his hammock after struggling with his swords to cooperate. Laying back with his eyes closed listening to the way the boat rocks softly with the waves. Hearing you make you way to him, he opens one eye. His arms are crossed behind his head. “Mhm?” He hums as he scans over your face for any signs of discomfort.

-you hold the tangerine second guessing if maybe you shouldn’t ask, he looks comfortable. “I was going to ask if you could peel this for me” you say looking at the tangerine. “Are your fingers broken?”he asks as his attention is on you now. You let out a little huff “no I just didn’t want to get all the stickiness on my hands” you say feeling a little dumb for asking him now

-just as your about to turn to leave he holds out his hand for the orange

-it doesn’t take him long to peel it, he gets off some of the white strands but then hands it to you. “Bon appétit” he says in a plain sarcastic tone, mocking Sanji in the process with a small grin on his face.

Nami

-shes sitting in the kitchen with a book and a cup of tea while you guys are docked somewhere. Just you two on the ship, keeping an eye on it. She turns her page as she acknowledges you coming in, her eyes look up from her book as you sit across from her. “What’s up?” She asks as her eyes go back to her book.

- “I want this tangerine but I don’t feel like peeling it,” you say hoping she gets the hint. She looks at you above her glasses with a tsk noise leaving her, she puts her book mark in place and closes her book.

-she takes the orange and begins peeling it as the citrus smell fills the space between you. She picks her tea cup, placing it on the table so she has a place to put your orange. She get most of the white strings off, peeling an orange is mussel memory at this point. She splits it in half for you.

- before siding the plate to you she takes three little piece of the orange, she eats a slice and smiles at you. “preparing tax” she motions to the small piece she took before opening her book.

Sanji

-he just got done with the lunch rush and luffy’s big appetite, sitting out on the deck enjoying his cigarette. He notices you out the corner of his eye as you are walking to him, he smiles brightly at you as he puts out his cigarette in the ashtray. “Hello sweetheart” he says as you stand across from him. “Hi Sanji, I wanted to tell you that lunch was good, I never got to tell you earlier” you say with the orange in your hand.

- “I’m glad you liked it my sweet” he says with a small smile as he admires you. He takes note of the orange and nods towards it before holding out his hand. “I can peel that for you” he looks up at you and takes it once you hand it to him.

-he’s swift and makes it look so easy, he even gets a majority of the white strands off for you. He makes it so they are just little pieces, you don’t even have to rip it apart. Handing the pieces back to you “here you are my love” he says with a smile before getting up to discard of the rind.

-he comes back out to sit with you as you watch Luffy and usopp try to catch dinner.

Usopp

-you find him sitting down fidgeting with his slingshot and making more ammo. It takes him a moment to realize you are sitting across from him but he smiles when he sees you. He gives you a brief yet detailed rundown about how he’s going to take down bad guys with his weapon.

- “I was wondering if you could peel this for me?” You ask looking at him as he dusts off his hands. Usopp nods “yeah yeah, I got you” he says as he takes the orange. He works away a the rind then the stringy parts.

- he splits it in half for you, one of the small pieces come off and he holds it up to his mouth it make it look like a smile. He smiles whiling holding it up to his lips then eats it before holding out the rest for you.

[crdteezv]

The Project - Haechan + Ten

Paring:  !popular guy! haechan x ! popular guy! ten x f! reader

Genre: college! au, smut

Synopsis: You're paired with the most popular guys in your school, Ten and Haechan, for a group project.  Everyone seems to love them and fall for their charm but you simply couldn’t understand why. But now, you’re entangled between two best friends, caught in their pull…

 Warnings: smut. !teasing dom! haechan/ten, they’re both best friends, the reader can be a little shy at times, sub reader, mention/use of alcohol, dirty talk, teasing, praise/ slight degradation, heavy cumplay(you have been warned…) (3some), oral (f. giving), thigh riding, edging, hair pulling, manhelded, light voyeurism, slight dacryphilia, drunk/unprotected sex 

Word Count: 10.5k words

A/N: Listen I made this fic to feed into my own delusions because I want them both so bad 😭🙏🏾. It’s the way I never see anyone make a fic of the both of them…

At first, the library was silent, except for the soft rustling of pages and the quiet footsteps of those browsing the shelves. You sat at a wooden table near the back, chin propped on your hand, eyes flicking between the textbook in front of you and the half-empty Word document glowing dimly on your laptop. The project was due next week, and despite your better judgment, you’d somehow end up stuck with the most well-known people in your school: Ten and Haechan.

Everyone at the college loved them—Ten for his effortless charm and quick wit, and Haechan for his playful smirk and endless energy. Together, they were practically irresistible. You, however, weren’t so easily impressed. Sure, they were undeniably attractive—maybe even annoyingly so, but their constant antics were exhausting. 

Ten lounged across from you, lazily twirling a pen between his fingers as he skimmed through a stack of notes. His dark hair fell into his eyes, and every so often, he’d push it back with an easy flick of his wrist. Meanwhile, Haechan slouched to your left, half-heartedly typing while humming a pop song under his breath. They were supposed to help with the presentation, but all they did was interrupt and bicker.

“Seriously, can you guys focus?” you snapped, patience wearing thin.

Haechan huffed, crossing his arms. “Tell him to stop acting like he’s some kind of gaming expert.” 

Ten scoffed, leaning back. “I can’t help it if I’m just naturally better.” 

“You’re not,” Haechan shot back. 

“Your aim is trash.” 

“And yet, I still clutched that last round,” Ten said smugly. “

That was lag!”

You groaned, pinching the bridge of your nose. “Oh my god, can you two drop it and actually help? You’re annoying everyone.”

Haechan snickered, leaning back in his chair. “Relax. No one cares. They’re too busy pretending to study while sneaking glances at me and Ten.”

You rolled your eyes. “Maybe if you spent less time worrying about your stupid little video game, we’d get something done.”

Ten leaned forward, resting his chin on his palm, eyes glittering with amusement. “Are you always this uptight, or are you planning hard to get and you secretly love being in our group?”

That was the last straw. “I don’t love anything about this group, except how fast I’m leaving once we’re done.”

Your voice had risen just enough to catch the librarian’s attention. She shot you a sharp glare over her glasses, arms crossed in clear disapproval.

“Enough. Take your noise elsewhere—you’re too loud.”

Before you could protest, she was already ushering you, Haechan, and Ten toward the exit. You muttered apologies, but it was clear you weren’t welcome back anytime soon.

Once outside, you whirled on them. “Great. Where are we supposed to work now?”

Ten and Haechan were laughing, clearly not taking you seriously.

“Oh, you think this is funny?” you snapped.

Haechan tried to collect himself, but his grin gave him away. “Sorry, it’s just… we’ve didn’ never seen you this mad before.”

“Well, maybe that’s because I actually wanted to start this project, and neither of you has even looked at it,” you huffed.

That seemed to guilt them—at least a little. Ten placed a hand on your shoulder, offering a small smile. “Hey, we’re sorry for the dumb arguments. It’s always this guy’s fault for starting them anyway.”

“Hey!” Haechan protested, offended.

You chuckled despite yourself, feeling a bit better. With a sigh, you said, “Come on, let’s just work at my dorm.”

They exchanged glances before nodding.

Ten smirked. “Good idea. At least your dorm won’t have a cranky librarian.”

You all laughed as you headed off together.

Back in your apartment dorm, the air felt heavier, more intimate. The space seemed to amplify the tension, especially knowing you’d be stuck with Ten and Haechan for the next few hours, your sanctuary invaded.

Trying to ignore their amused chatter, you moved through the space, heading to your room to change into something more comfortable—a cropped top and loose shorts. It was nothing unusual, but when you stepped back out, you noticed their eyes lingering.

Haechan’s usual smirk faltered for just a second, his gaze flicking from your bare waist to your thighs before he quickly looked away. Ten, on the other hand, didn’t even try to hide it. His eyes roamed over you with an intensity that sent a prickle down your spine, a slow smile tugging at his lips.

“Nice outfit,” he said casually, leaning back against the wall. His tone was light, but there was something else in his gaze—something new.

“Yeah,” Haechan added, his voice quieter than usual. “It’s… cute.”

You crossed your arms, ignoring the sudden warmth in your face. “Thanks… now let's focus, we have a lot of work to do.”

But as the evening dragged on, the shift in the air became impossible to ignore. Ten’s gaze lingered a little too long, and Haechan’s teasing remarks carried a different edge. You became hyper-aware of every move, every accidental brush of skin as you worked side by side. And though you’d never admit it, a small part of you didn’t entirely mind.

You start to wonder if you can even handle being in a group with them…

A few days had passed, and the three of you had gradually started working more on the project together. But today, it was just you and Ten. Haechan was stuck at soccer practice so he wasn’t able to make it. You couldn’t ignore the tension between you.

Ten sat across from you at the dining table, his dark eyes scanning his screen, though his focus seemed divided. You could feel his gaze lingering—on your face, your hands, the curve of your neck.

“Something wrong?” you asked, trying to keep your voice steady as you typed away.

“No.” He leaned back in his chair, stretching with an exaggerated sigh. The hem of his hoodie lifted slightly, revealing a sliver of toned skin. “Just thinking about how weird it is without Haechan here. It’s so quiet.”

It was noticeably quieter without Haechan filling every silence with endless chatter.

“Maybe that’s a good thing,” you muttered, glancing up at him. “We might actually get something done.”

Ten’s lips curled into a slow, almost dangerous smile. “You don’t like working with him?”

“I don’t like either of you, to be honest. But I don’t have a choice,” you corrected.

His gaze sharpened, watching you intently, and it was starting to unravel something inside you.

“Are you always like this?”

“Like what?”

“This cranky,” he teased. “Every time we work on this project, you never loosen up.”

“Well, I wouldn’t be if I wasn’t the one doing all the work. “You two barely help as it is and never focus when I try to talk to you about it.”

Ten pushed his laptop aside, folding his arms on the table as he leaned in closer, his eyes tracing over your features. “I can fix that,” he murmured. “I’ll start paying more attention.” His gaze flickered downward, lingering just a moment too long.

You shifted in your seat, avoiding his eyes.

“You know, you’re different when we’re alone.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“You’re… more shy,” he said.

His gaze dipped briefly before returning to yours, amusement dancing in his eyes. “And you’re more on edge…maybe even nervous?”

“You don’t know what you’re talking about.”

He smirked. “Then why can’t you look me in the eye, love?”

The pet name caught you off guard, leaving you momentarily speechless. Before you could respond, his fingers grazed the back of your hand—a fleeting touch, but one that sent a trail of warmth up your arm.

The air between you shifted. The room felt smaller, the distance between you shrinking even though neither of you had moved.

“That’s what I thought,” he murmured.

“I—” you started, but the way he was looking at you—like you were the only thing in the world worth focusing on—made your voice falter. He got up from his seat and made his way over to you and sat beside you.

He then leaned in, closing the space between you. His lips met yours in a slow, deliberate kiss. His hand slid to the back of your neck, pulling you closer, deepening it. Before you knew it, you were on the couch, straddling his lap.

Ten’s hands found your waist as your fingers tangled in his hair. The soft groan he let out when you shifted against him sent a shiver down your spine. You tested the friction between you, and his fingers tightened their grip, anchoring you in place. His lips left yours, trailing hot kisses along your jaw and down your neck.

“Fuck, Ten… we shouldn’t be doing this. We have so much—”

Your words cut off with a sharp inhale as his hands slid lower, cupping your ass.

A quiet whimper escaped before you could stop it.

“Oh, come on, sweetie,” he murmured, a smirk tugging at his lips. “We’re just taking a little break, right?”

Typical. He always found a way to get what he wanted.

“Besides… you could use one after working so hard on this project, don’t you think?”

You could only nod, wrapping your arms around his neck, and pulling him closer. Your hips rolled against him, and his grip on you tightened. He let out a low groan, his control slipping.

“Mhm, since you love grinding on me so much,” he murmured, his voice low, “how about you do that for me on my thigh?”

You blinked, taken aback. “You can’t be serious…”

“Very.” His gaze darkened, sharp, and unwavering.

Hesitantly, you straddled his thigh, your body already aching for more. As you began to move, the friction sent a rush of pleasure through you, a soft whimper slipping past your lips. Ten’s grip on your waist tightened, his breath hitching.

“God, you look so good like this,” he coaxed.

“Shut up—”

He flexed his thigh beneath you, and the sudden pressure made you moan—a sound that caught both of you off guard.

“Aww,” he cooed, voice dripping with amusement. “It’s cute that you think you can talk back to me.” His fingers traced slow circles over your hips. “Besides… you like the attention I’m giving you.”

You finally understood the pull he had on people. He always knew exactly what to say, effortlessly drawing them in, keeping them hanging on his every word. And somehow, you’d fallen right into his hands.

Your movements quickened, the tension in your body coiling tighter. You buried your face in the crook of his neck, barely able to hold yourself together.

“Mhm, are you close, my pretty girl?” he hummed and all you could do was nod.

“Then let go for me.”

With a final roll of your hips, pleasure crashed over you, leaving you trembling against him. You barely registered the mess you had made, too lost in the lingering high.

“Damn,” Ten chuckled, running a hand through your hair. “You were really pent up, huh?”

Embarrassment flooded through you. You couldn’t even look at him. You had completely fallen into his trap.

“Whatever,” you muttered, scrambling off him. "Can we just clean up now and actually get back to work on this project?"

He laughed and agreed, the teasing glint in his eyes never fading. But as you got up to grab a washcloth, he caught your wrist, stopping you in your tracks.

“Just know this isn’t over,” he murmured, his voice lower, more serious. “We’ll continue this another time.”

You stared at him, startled by the weight of his words—like he meant every single one. Slowly, you nodded, signaling your understanding.

The two of you cleaned up and got back to work, but no matter how hard you tried to focus, you couldn’t shake what had just happened. And the worst part? You weren’t sure if you wanted to.

A few days later…

Haechan showed up at your dorm much earlier than expected, that same cocky look on his face as he breezed in, making himself at home. You should’ve been annoyed, but strangely, you weren’t. 

"Where’s Ten?" he asked, walking right past you and flopping onto your bed like he actually lives here.

“He’s coming later,” you muttered, trying to ignore how his legs sprawled out, taking up way too much of the bed.

“Guess it’s just us then,” he said, his smirk widening as he propped himself up on his elbows. “You don’t look thrilled.”

You rolled your eyes and tried to focus on the project in front of you, but before you could, Haechan was leaning over your shoulder, his breath brushing your ear as he glanced at your screen.

“So, how was working with Ten last time? I bet you missed me,” he teased, a mischievous glint in his eyes.

You couldn’t help but think back to the last time you’d worked with Ten. The memory of it made heat rise in your chest, and you wondered, just for a moment, if Ten had told Haechan about what had happened between you two.

“Not in the slightest,” you shot back. “I get more work done with him than I ever do with you.”

“So you like him more than me?” Haechan asked, his voice laced with a mock pout.

“Well, I didn’t say all that…” You paused, looking down at your hands. “It’s just quieter when you’re not around. And I will admit, I sometimes kind of miss—actually, never mind.”

You could feel his eyes on you, and you knew exactly what he was thinking. He wanted to tease you about whatever you were about to say.

“Don’t stop now, sweetheart. What were you going to say?” His voice turned flirtatious, the kind of tone that made your stomach twist in ways you hated to admit.

You hated when he did this—when he played with you, knowing just how to push your buttons. He loved seeing you become a mess, trying to keep your composure while he unraveled you bit by bit.

“It’s nothing, alright? Now, unlike you, I actually care about passing, so can you please stop teasing me and help me with this work?” you snapped, trying to get back to the project.

But instead of listening, he swiveled your chair to face him, locking eyes with you. His usual playful gaze was now replaced with something deeper, something more intense. He was towering over you as you sat up to look at him, his hands resting firmly on the armrests of your chair as he leaned down, looking at you with an intensity that made you catch your breath.

“Forget about the work for a second and focus on me,” he murmured, with one of his hands slowly creeping down to your thigh. “I want to know what you were going to say.”

Your breath hitched, and your heart raced as his thumb moved in slow circles against your skin. You couldn’t find your words. His touch felt like fire, and it left you frozen.

“I was going to say that I kind of missed you…” The words slipped out before you could stop them, and you immediately regretted it.

He gave a low, amused chuckle. “Wait, really? I thought you didn’t like me because I always talk your ear off. ”His tone was playful, but there was a hint of disbelief in his voice.

You swallowed hard, fingers gripping the edge of the chair. “Well, I don’t mind it, to be honest. You kind of help me unwind when you make me laugh. Your jokes really do help, and they make me forget about the project for a bit. Not that Ten isn’t funny... he is, just quieter and mostly keeps to himself, you know?”

Haechan was quiet for a moment, clearly surprised by your confession. He genuinely thought you didn’t like him. But now, hearing you say this, something shifted in his expression. Maybe you’d grown a little soft for him after all.

Haechan’s eyes softened, just for a moment, before the smirk returned, wider and more confident than before. He leaned in closer, his breath warm against your ear as his fingers lingered on your thigh, the contact sending a jolt of heat through you.

“Didn’t think I had that effect on you,” he murmured, voice low and teasing.

You tried to steady your breath, feeling his proximity like a weight pressing against you. Every inch of your body screamed for you to move away, but something in you didn’t want to. Something was pulling you in, and you couldn’t quite understand why.

You tried to steady your breath, feeling his proximity like a weight pressing against you. Every inch of your body screamed for you to move away, but something in you didn’t want to. Something was pulling you in, and you couldn’t quite understand why.

“I bet you do this to all the girls you mess with,” you said, rolling your eyes as you turned your chair back around to focus on the work.

Haechan chuckled softly, the sound vibrating against your skin as he leaned down, his lips brushing your ear in a way that made it hard to think. “Only the ones I really want,” he replied, his voice low, almost a whisper.

You shifted uncomfortably in your seat, trying to focus on the work in front of you, but it felt impossible with him so close. The heat from his body, the way his breath ghosted over your skin—it was all too much.

"Why are you doing this?" you managed to ask, your voice barely above a whisper as your typed away on your laptop.

His lips curled into that familiar smirk, but now it had a sharper edge. "Because I can," he said simply, his thumb making slow, deliberate circles on your skin. "And because you haven’t told me to stop."

You gasped at his words, but couldn’t bring yourself to push him away. Instead, something inside you shifted, and the line between annoyance and attraction started to come together.

"I-I thought you were here to help me with the project," you said, trying to break the tension with a half-hearted attempt at humor.

"Who says we can’t multitask?" His grin widened as he moved to side of you so he can look down at you and see the bashful look on your face. "Besides, I think we’re doing a pretty good job of it already."

Your pulse quickened, and you realized you weren’t sure where this was headed anymore. The teasing and flirting were growing more intense, more real, and you couldn’t decide if you wanted him to stop or keep going.

Before you could respond, he lowered his voice again, towering down to the side of your face with his lips dangerously close to your ear. “So, what’s it gonna be? You want me to help with the work... or something else?”

The question hung in the air, thick with anticipation, and you knew there was no turning back now.

Haechan's eyes never left yours, his smirk deepening as he slowly, deliberately, moved closer. His hands found the armrests of your chair, trapping you in place as he loomed over you, his presence all-consuming. Your breath hitched, heart hammering against your ribs as the heat between you both thickened.

“I’m still waiting for an answer,” he murmured, his voice like velvet, wrapping around you, making it impossible to ignore the way he was looking at you—like he had already won.

Your fingers twitched over your laptop keyboard, but your mind was blank. The work in front of you might as well have been in another language for all the attention you could give it. Haechan knew it too. He could see the way your lips parted slightly, the way your body betrayed you, leaning in despite yourself.

He then knelt down for a kiss.

Soft at first, like he was testing the waters, but when you didn’t pull away, he tilted his head and deepened it. His lips moved against yours with slow, intoxicating confidence, his tongue slipping between them, tasting you, claiming you. A low hum of satisfaction rumbled from his chest as he pressed closer, bending down to make up for the height difference while you sat frozen in your chair.

But he didn’t want to keep bending down to reach you.

Without warning, he grabbed your laptop, placed it on the bed, and shoved everything off your desk, letting it scatter carelessly.

 He grabbed you, and picked you up  as if it was nothing. A small gasp left your lips, but it was swallowed by the intensity of his kiss as he carried you to the desk.

“Hey—” you barely got the protest out before he set you down on the cleared desk, stepping between your thighs and pulling you flush against him.

“You’ll live,” he murmured against your lips, his hands already roaming, fingers tracing the hem of your shirt, gripping your waist like he owned you.

Your hands found his broad shoulders, gripping onto him for stability, but really, you just wanted to feel him, to confirm this was real. He pulled back slightly, just enough to look at you, his dark eyes flickering with something dangerous. “You taste even better than I thought,” he admitted, smirking as he brushed his thumb over your bottom lip, teasing, testing.

You swallowed hard, your skin burning from his touch, from the way he was looking at you like he wanted to devour you. You wrapped your legs around his waist, holding him close, not wanting him to leave.

 “You’re so full of yourself,” you muttered, though your voice lacked any real bite.

“Only because I know what I want.”

He was kissing you again, harder this time, hungrier. His hands slid up your thighs, gripping them as he pressed closer, trapping you between his body and the desk.You couldn’t think, couldn’t focus on anything but the way he tasted, the way his fingers gripped your skin and how his tongue moved with yours as if he had all the time in the world.

Then, suddenly, he pulled away, only to take your place in the chair. He sat down, his hands gripping your hips as he pulled you closer, settling you on his lap like you belonged there.

“There,” he breathed, looking up at you with hooded eyes, his fingers brushing your hair back before trailing down your spine. “Much better.”

Your heart raced in your chest, your fingers threading through his dark hair as you looked down at him, breathless, caught between disbelief and raw desire. The way he gazed up at you, lips swollen from kissing, hands on your hips, fingers grazing the hem of your shirt—it was clear this wasn’t over.

Haechan’s touch grew bolder, his fingers slipping under your shirt, leaving a trail of fire on your skin as he leaned in, his lips brushing your neck. His hand moved lower, fingertips skimming the waistband of your shorts before slipping inside. Your breath caught as his fingers found your heat, his touch deliberate and teasing.

“Look at you,” he whispered, voice thick with desire, his fingers pressing where you needed them most. “Already so wet for me.”

Your grip on his shoulders tightened as he worked you slowly, his fingers curling, coaxing pleasure from you with each calculated stroke. The way he watched you, reveling in your little reactions. Your hips moved against his hand, chasing the sensation, but he kept you on the edge, never giving you quite enough.

Just as you felt yourself getting closer to the edge, a sharp knock at your front door broke the moment.

Both of you froze. Your breath was ragged, your body trembling as you tried to make sense of reality again. Haechan’s fingers still rested inside you, a silent, frustrated pause between you before the knock came again, louder this time.

“Shit,” you whispered, scrambling to reach for your phone as it buzzed on the desk beside you.

Haechan smirked, watching you with lazy amusement as you answered the call, pressing the phone to your ear while attempting to steady your breathing.

“Hey, I’m here I’ve been knocking on your door for awhile now,” Ten’s voice came through, oblivious to what he had just interrupted. “Are you home? Also, I remember Haechan told me he was going to be there earlier than me. Is he with you right now?”

You were so caught up in the moment that you didn’t hear Ten knocking on your door for the past five minutes. You swallowed hard, forcing your voice to sound normal, despite the heat still pulsing through your veins. “Uh—yeah! Yes, I’m home and yeah he is here. I’ll be there in a second.”

You ended the call, exhaling sharply, your gaze snapping to Haechan, who hadn’t moved an inch. His smirk deepened, his fingers brushing over your thigh before pulling away completely, leaving you aching, unsatisfied.

“Guess you have to go let him in,” he murmured, amusement dancing in his eyes.

You shot him a glare before scrambling off his lap, your legs still shaky as you hurried to fix your clothes. The smug look on his face only made your frustration grow.

The project was finally turned in, freeing the three of you from hours of cramped sessions, awkward tension, and the intense moments that had built up between you and each of them.You thought you could finally breathe—maybe even return to normal. But as you sat in your dorm with Ten and Haechan sprawled lazily on your bed, your mind kept drifting back to everything that had happened.

Since you had all worked so hard on the project, you figured you deserved to celebrate, cracking open a bottle of your favorite alcohol and passing around shot glasses. The familiar burn of liquor settled in your stomach as the three of you took turns, the warmth spreading through your veins.

Haechan, as usual, wore that signature smirk of his, arm draped over the edge of the bed as he teased Ten about something trivial. Ten, leaning back against your headboard with his legs crossed, watched in quiet amusement, his dark eyes flicking between you and Haechan. The dynamic between them was as natural as ever—so why did it feel like you were under a microscope every time Ten’s gaze lingered on you?

“You’re quiet,” he noted, his voice smooth yet concerned. “You’re always like that, but this time it feels… different.”

“I’m fine,” you said, forcing reassurance into your tone. “Just relieved we finally finished the project.”

“You want to get rid of us that quickly, huh?” Haechan teased, his eyes glinting mischievously.

“Well, not necessarily… I just—”

“Oh, stop teasing her. You’re making her uncomfortable when you do that,” Ten interjected, rolling his eyes.

“What? It’s a valid question,” Haechan scoffed, sitting up a little. “She even said herself that once the project was over, she was done with us. Hell, I’m surprised she even invited us back to her place.”

You hesitated, his words lingering. He wasn’t entirely wrong. At the beginning, you hadn’t wanted to be grouped with them. But after spending so much time together, you had started to see them differently—especially after everything that had happened between the three of you.

Ten studied you, sharp gaze reading you too well. “Actually… he has a point.” His voice was quieter now, more curious than teasing. “What changed?”

You swallowed, glancing between them. “I don’t know,” you admitted. “Maybe... maybe I just got used to you guys.”

Haechan smirked, leaning in slightly. “Got used to us, huh? That’s one way to put it.”

The air in the room thickened again, that same tension from the past week creeping back in. But this time, there was no project keeping you together—only whatever this was, simmering beneath the surface, waiting to be acknowledged.

Haechan’s playful expression never wavered, the alcohol loosening his tongue. “Oh, you got used to us alright—especially with me. Do you remember  what happened the other day when it was just us alone?”

Your heart stopped. He was bluffing. He had to be. He wouldn’t—

Ten’s eyebrows lifted, his smirk deepening. “The other day? What happened the other day?”

“Nothing,” you blurted, shooting Haechan a sharp look. “He doesn’t know what he’s talking about. The alcohol just getting to him.

“Oh, but you know exactly what I’m talking about, love.” Haechan leaned forward, elbows resting on his knees as he grinned at you placing his hand on his cheek. “And I think Ten might want to know how—”

“Okay!” you cut him off, your voice a bit too loud. “How about we play a game instead of… whatever this is?”

Ten’s gaze flicked between you and Haechan, curiosity piqued, but he let it slide—for now. He reached for his drink, shrugging. “Sure. What game?”

“Truth or dare,” Haechan suggested immediately, his grin looking sinster.

You hesitated, knowing full well this could only end badly. But with both of them watching you expectantly, you nodded. “Fine.”

At first, the game was harmless. Ten dared Haechan to chug his drink; Haechan asked Ten about the weirdest place he’d ever hooked up with someone. But it didn’t take long for the questions to turn more personal, the tension thickening with each round.

Finally, it was Haechan’s turn to ask you. He leaned back, swirling his drink lazily as he fixed you with a look that made your stomach churn. “Truth or dare?”

“Truth,” you said, your voice quieter than you intended.

His grin widened. “What’s one thing you’ve always wanted to try but never had the chance to?”

You hesitated, your mind racing. You could lie and say something safe, but the alcohol buzzing in your veins made your tongue slip. “I’ve…always kind of wanted to try a threesome,” you admitted, your face burning the moment the words left your mouth.

The room went silent.

 You didn’t dare look at either of them, but you could feel their stares, the weight of their shock, and something else entirely.

“Wow,” Ten finally said, his voice low and laced with amusement. “Did not see that coming.”

Haechan, on the other hand, laughed outright, his grin practically splitting his face. “Shit, really? A threesome?”

“Shut up,” you muttered, covering your face with your hands. “I shouldn’t have said anything.”

“Oh no, no, no,” Ten said, his tone teasing. “You can’t drop something like that and then get shy about it. That’s not how this works.”

“Yeah,” Haechan added, shifting closer to you on the bed. “Now we’re curious.”

You peeked through your fingers, gaze darting between them. Ten’s smirk was sharper than ever, and Haechan was looking at you like he wanted to eat you alive.

“What are you guys doing?” you asked, voice barely above a whisper. “Why are you looking at me like that?”

“Nothing,” Ten said innocently, though the look in his eyes told a different story. “Just wondering if that’s something you’d want to… explore.”

Your heart pounded. “You’re joking.”

“Does it look like we’re joking?” Haechan asked, his hand coming to rest on your knee. The touch was light, but it sent a shiver up your spine.

“This is crazy,” you said, shaking your head, but neither of them moved away.

“Maybe,” Ten said, leaning in closer. “But you’re not telling us to stop.”

Before you could respond, Haechan’s hand slid higher, his fingers brushing against your thigh. At the same time, Ten’s fingers found your chin, tilting your face toward him. His dark eyes searched yours, waiting for hesitation. When he didn’t find any, he leaned in, capturing your lips in a kiss that was soft yet teasing, coaxing you to relax.

Haechan wasn’t as patient. His lips found your neck, pressing hot, open-mouthed kisses against your skin, his hand still inching up your thigh.

Ten’s touch slid beneath your shirt, tracing the curve of your waist. “You’re shaking,” he murmured against your lips, voice low, almost cruel. “What’s the matter? Too much for you?”

Haechan chuckled against your skin, his teeth grazing your collarbone. “Bet you’re loving every second of this, though. Aren’t you?”

You couldn’t answer—couldn’t do anything but let out a soft whimper as Ten’s hands slid higher, fingertips grazing your heated skin. Haechan’s lips found your ear, his breath warm and teasing as he whispered darkly,

“Let’s see how much you can take.”

Ten’s lips left yours, but his dark eyes never wavered from your face. A slow smirk played on his lips as he studied you—needy, breathless, already trembling. “Look at you,” he murmured, his voice cutting through the thick haze of arousal clouding your mind. “So worked up already, and we’ve barely even touched you.”

Haechan’s grip on your thigh tightened, his palm searing through the thin fabric of your shorts. He leaned back slightly, gaze raking over your parted lips, the way your chest rose and fell with each uneven breath. “You’re acting so shy,” he murmured, voice laced with amusement, “but I can feel how much you want this. You’re practically shaking.”

You opened your mouth to retort, to defend yourself, but the words died in your throat when Ten’s hand slid beneath the hem of your shirt, his fingertips grazing your bare skin. He started to grope at your chest, making you whimper. The teasing softness of his touch sent a shiver up your spine, and Haechan let out a low chuckle, clearly enjoying the sight of you caught between the two of them.

Haechan chuckled lowly, clearly enjoying how easily you melted between them. “What’s the matter?” His voice dripped with mockery. “Are you scared? Or are you too busy imagining what it’d be like if we really gave you what you wanted?

Your breath hitched, and warmth rushed to your face at the bluntness of his words. “You’re… you’re both ridiculous,” you managed, but the tremor in your voice betrayed you.

Ten tilted his head, his smirk widening. “Oh, we’re ridiculous?” His fingers trailed down to your ribs, causing you to shudder. “Says the one who just admitted they’ve been fantasizing about a threesome.” He leaned in, lips brushing the shell of your ear as he whispered, “You’re not very good at hiding how much you want this, you know.”

The warmth in your face spreads down your neck and throughout your whole body. The alcohol was starting to take effect, making you feel hot all over. You instinctively tried to pull back, but Haechan’s grip on your thigh tightened, keeping you locked in place.

“Don’t go running now,” he said, his voice low and commanding. “We’re just getting started.”

Ten’s fingers found your chin again, tilting your face toward his. “That’s right,” he murmured, his thumb brushing over your bottom lip. “You’re going to stay right here and take what we give you, aren’t you?”

Your heart was pounding so hard you thought it might die in this moment, and when Ten’s lips captured yours again, you felt like you were going to pass out. This kiss was deeper—hungrier—his tongue teasing yours with a deliberate slowness that drove you insane. You couldn’t stop the soft moan that escaped you when Haechan’s hand slid higher, his fingertips teasing the edge of your shorts.

Ten pulled back slightly, his lips brushing against yours as he spoke. “Why don’t you show us how much you want this?” he said, his tone equal parts coaxing and commanding. “Go ahead, pick one of us.”

Your eyes widened, darting between the two of them. The weight of their gazes, the smugness of their smirks—it was overwhelming. It sent a hot pulse of anticipation pooling between your thighs. Finally, you reached out, fingers trembling slightly as they pressed against Ten’s chest.

His smirk softened into something darker, more possessive. “Good choice,” he murmured, and before you could second-guess yourself, he was pulling you onto his lap. His hands gripped your hips, guiding you to straddle him.

“You’re lucky,” Haechan drawled from behind, his tone rich with amusement as he leaned lazily against the headboard, watching the two of you with a grin.

Ten chuckled, his hands sliding up your sides as he kissed you again. This time, his lips and tongue worked with slow, deliberate precision, savoring the way you melted beneath him. Behind you, Haechan’s presence loomed—his gaze burning into your back as he observed every shift, every sound you made.

“You look good like this,” Haechan murmured after a moment, voice low and teasing. “All desperate and needy. I wonder if you’ll look even better bent over for us.”

The words sent a jolt of heat through you, and Ten must have felt it because he smirked against your lips. “Looks like someone likes the sound of that,” he murmured, fingers tightening around your waist. He shifted beneath you, letting you feel just how much he was enjoying this. “Go on, then. Show us what you can do.”

Your breath hitched, but your body moved before your mind could catch up. You slid off Ten’s lap, hands pressing into the mattress as you bent yourself over for Haechan, heat crawling up your neck as you met Ten’s gaze. His eyes darkened as he looked down at you. When you hesitated, his hand found your chin, tilting your face up to meet his.

“Don’t be shy,” he said softly, his thumb brushing over your cheek. “You wanted this, didn’t you?”

Behind you, Haechan moved closer, his hands sliding over your shoulders as he leaned down to murmur in your ear. “Better make it good,” he said, his voice low and taunting. “We’ve been waiting for this all night.”

The room felt impossibly small, the tension thick enough to cut with a knife. Your hands trembled slightly as you reached for Ten, fingers working at his belt. His smirk deepened, and when Haechan’s hands slid down to your waist, pulling you back against him, you realized there was no turning back now.

The soft clink of metal filled the space between you. Ten’s gaze was dark, heavy-lidded with anticipation, watching as you tugged his jeans down just enough to expose the growing bulge straining against his boxers.  

“You’re eager,” Ten murmured, his voice low and teasing, watching as your fingers trembled slightly while sliding under the waistband of his boxers. “I like that.”  

You swallowed hard, unsure if it was his words, the sheer intensity of the moment, or the way Haechan’s grip tightened around your hips that sent another wave of heat coursing through your body.  

“Let me help you with that,” Haechan murmured from behind, his hands sliding down to the hem of your shorts. You gasped softly as he tugged them down, the cool air against your skin a stark contrast to the warmth of his hands.  

“Fuck,” Haechan muttered under his breath, his voice dripping with approval as he let his fingers trail over the curve of your bare ass. “You’ve been hiding this from us?”  

Ten chuckled above you, his fingers threading into your hair. "Don't distract her, Haechan. She has a job to do."

Haechan smirked, his hands lingering for a moment before shifting to his pants. “Fine. But don’t keep all the fun to yourself.”  

You barely had time to process their banter before Ten’s hand guided your head closer, his cock now free and standing tall before you. The sight of it made your stomach twist in nervous excitement, and the weight of his gaze as he looked down at you made your skin tingle.  

“Open up,” he said, his thumb brushing over your bottom lip, his tone calm but commanding.  

You parted your lips hesitantly, and he groaned softly as you took him into your mouth, your tongue running along his length as you adjusted to the feeling of him filling you. He was thick, and the stretch was enough to make your jaw ache slightly, but the low, breathy curses he let out encouraged you to keep going.  

“Good,” he murmured, his fingers tightening in your hair as he guided you into a steady rhythm. “Just like that.”  

Behind you, Haechan’s hands gripped your hips firmly, pulling you back until you were bent over in front of him, your knees spread wide. He slid his fingers along your inner thigh, teasingly close but never quite where you needed them most.

“You’re dripping,” he said, his tone dripping with smugness as he slid a finger through your slick folds. You whined softly around Ten’s cock, the vibrations making him groan and tighten his grip on your hair.  

“Don’t tease,” Ten muttered, his voice rough with arousal. “You’ll break her before we even get started.”  

Haechan laughed softly, but his teasing didn’t last much longer. He started to finger at your cunt at a rough and delibrate pace. You felt yourself squeezed around him and he took notice of that.

"Mhm, you like this, don’t you, baby? Who would’ve thought you could be such a little slut?"

Your core clenched around his fingers at his degrading words.

“Woah, you’re so needy—it reminds me of last time.”

You froze. Just for a second.

Ten was struggling to keep his composure, drowning in the way you were sucking the life out of him, trying to tune out Haechan’s blabbering. But his ears perked up at those words. Last time?

“Wait… what do you mean by that?” Ten’s voice was sharp now, cutting through the heat in the room.

“Oh? She really didn’t tell you?” Haechan chuckled, his tone dripping with amusement. “Well, that day I came over early to work on our project together… let’s just say she was making a fucking mess in my lap, with my fingers shoved so deep inside her. She was close—so fucking close—until you showed up and cockblocked us.”

Ten stiffened. His grip on you tightened.

He thought he was the only one. Turns out, you’d been spreading your legs for Haechan too.

His voice dropped, laced with something darker. “Is that true, baby?”

You couldn’t answer. Shame burned through you. It wasn’t like you meant to lead them on… you just wanted them both.

Your silence pissed him off. His fingers tangled in your hair, yanking your head back, forcing you to meet his gaze.

“Answer me.”

For the first time, you felt intimidated by him. A little afraid.

But also… excited.

A part of you liked seeing him like this—possessive.

“Y-yes… it’s true…”

Ten didn’t say a word. He didn’t need to. His silence spoke volumes as he suddenly shoved you all the way down to the base of his cock. Your eyes widened, tears welling up as you instinctively gripped the sheets, your throat tightening around him.

“So, I’m guessing, love, you haven’t told Haechan about what we did not too long ago either?”

Haechan’s eyes flicked toward Ten, curiosity piqued. His fingers never slowed as they worked inside you, meticulous, teasing, pushing deeper as he turned his attention toward him.

“Wait… don’t tell me something happened between you two, too.”

Ten smirked. Arrogant. Smug. One hand braced on the mattress as he leaned back slightly, the other still tangled in your hair, keeping you in place as he pushed you even deeper on his cock.

“Oh, we did something, alright. Unlike you, I actually made her cum—right on my thigh, at that.”

Haechan’s brows lifted in surprise. He hadn’t realized just how desperate you were. How needy. He gave your ass a light smack, making you jolt, a muffled moan vibrating around Ten’s cock, causing him to moan and throw his head back.

“No way… wow. And here I thought we were the slutty ones.” Haechan chuckled, shaking his head. “But you? You really just like getting passed around by the both us, huh?”

His words alone made your whole body tighten, pleasure pooling low in your stomach. You squirmed, barely able to control yourself. And he noticed.

“Oh? Are you close, sweetie?”

You couldn’t answer. Not properly. But you tried to mouth a desperate "yes" around Ten’s cock, the vibrations of your voice making his hips twitch, sending him closer to the edge. Haechan didn’t waste a second, fingers moving faster, deeper, maliciously curling until you shattered around them, a slick mess pooling beneath you.

“Fuck, you’re so hot,” he groaned, his fingers slowing as he pulled them out, coated in your release. “I can’t believe you came so quick… but I’m not done with you yet.”

Your breath hitched as you heard the unmistakable sound of his zipper lowering. Then the rustle of fabric.

A moment later, you felt it—the blunt head of his cock pressing against your entrance. Your body trembled as he pushed forward, the stretch immediate, overwhelming, sending a gasp tearing from your throat.

“Shit,” Haechan hissed, his grip on your hips tightening as he pulled you back onto him, sinking inch by inch. “So fucking tight.”

The fullness of him made your thighs shake, made your fingers curl into the sheets. He didn’t give you long to adjust. Not even a second. He pulled out almost entirely before slamming back in, the force knocking the breath from your lungs, making you jolt around Ten’s cock.

“Careful,” Ten warned, though his voice was strained, his fingers flexing in your hair. “She can’t exactly focus on me if you’re going to fuck them like that.”

Haechan only smirked, setting a punishing rhythm, hips snapping against your ass with enough force to make the room echo with the sound of skin meeting skin.

“Maybe I don’t want her to focus,” he shot back, his voice laced with amusement. “I want her to have no thoughts in that pretty head of hers.”

Your moans were muffled, choked by the cock filling your mouth, and the sensation sent Ten spiraling, his hips rocking up to meet you, his grip on your hair unrelenting. His other hand cupped your cheek, his thumb tracing over your skin as he guided you, helping you take him deeper.

“You’re so good at this,” he murmured, his voice softer now, but still laced with heat. “So eager to please… I didn’t think you had it in you.”

Behind you, Haechan let out a low chuckle, his hands sliding up your waist before gripping you harder. “Guess we bring the slutty side out of them.”

His words were punctuated by a particularly hard thrust that made you cry out around Ten’s cock, your whole body quivering. The overwhelming sensation of being completely filled by both of them made your head spin.

“Shit,” Ten groaned, his fingers tightening. “I’m not gonna last if you keep doing that.”

Ten’s hips stilled. His grip on your hair tightened as he let out a low, guttural moan, his release spilling into your throat. You swallowed on instinct, the warmth flooding your senses as his hand slid to the back of your neck, holding you still for just a moment before he slowly eased you off him.

“Good.” His thumb brushed over your swollen lips, his gaze dark, approving. “You’re such a good girl, aren’t you?”

Before you could catch your breath and process what just happened, Haechan’s hands slid up your back, pressing you down slightly as his thrusts grew rougher. More desperate. Bruising.

And he wasn’t stopping anytime soon.

“Don’t think I’m letting you off easy,” Ten muttered, his voice taut with restraint as he chased his own release.

Your body trembled, every nerve lit up, tension coiling tighter and tighter. You were long past resistance—willing, desperate, ready to let them take whatever they wanted.

Ten wanted more. Wanted control.

He moved to take Haechan’s place, pushing him aside effortlessly.

His hands gripped your thighs, spreading you further apart, forcing you open beneath him. Your legs shook as he adjusted you at the very edge of the bed, your head hanging back over the side, hair spilling to the floor. The sudden inversion sent blood rushing to your face, making your vision swim, but the only thing you could focus on was Ten looming over you, his dark, hungry gaze drinking you in like he’d waited his whole life for this.

Behind him, Haechan leaned back lazily in your desk chair, arms crossed, amusement curling at the corners of his lips. He wasn’t going anywhere—he wanted to sit back and watch, wanted to see exactly how much of a mess you became beneath Ten. His cock, still slick from your arousal, lay heavy in his hand as he stroked himself leisurely, the sight sending another wave of heat flooding through you.

“Look at you,” Ten murmured, voice smooth, taunting, as he slid his hands up your thighs, thumbs pressing into your soft flesh. “All laid out for us, completely at our mercy. Is this what you wanted all along?”

You turned your face, the heat of shame burning at your chest, but Ten wasn’t having it. His fingers caught your chin, forcing you to meet his gaze.

“Don’t get shy now,” he smirked, eyes glinting with something wicked. “You’ve been begging for this for weeks, haven’t you? Strutting around in those little crop tops, teasing us while we worked on that stupid project. Did you think we wouldn’t notice?”

“You didn’t make it easy for us,” Haechan chimed in, voice dripping with mockery. “Bending over in front of us, dropping pens like it was an accident. You wanted us to look. You wanted us to see what we could do to you.”

“That’s not—”

Your protest was cut off with a sharp thrust, Ten pushing inside, stretching you open inch by inch. A startled gasp tore from your throat as he bottomed out, hips flush against yours, filling you completely.

“Don’t lie,” he growled, his voice dropping lower as he gripped your waist, holding you still as your body clenched around him. “Your body doesn’t lie. You’re soaking wet—dripping all over me like you’ve been dying for this.”

The position made every thrust hit impossibly deep, your body arching off the bed as he moved, slow and deliberate at first, dragging pleasure through you with every stroke.

“Fuck,” Haechan muttered from his chair, his hand moving over himself as he watched, eyes heavy-lidded with lust. “You’re really taking him, huh? Bet you’ve been fantasizing about this every time you pretended to hate us.”

“Remember that day you yelled at us for being too loud?” Ten taunted, his pace quickening, each thrust sending a shockwave through you. He leaned in close, lips brushing your ear, voice dark and sinful. “Bet the only reason you wanted us to keep coming over was because you were hoping we’d fuck you right then and there. Probably got yourself off to the thought of it, didn’t you?”

Your pride flared, warring with the undeniable truth. You shook your head weakly, but your body betrayed you, hips tilting up, chasing more.

Haechan clicked his tongue, unimpressed. He pushed himself out of the chair, stepping forward, leaning down until his face hovered inches from yours. His hand wrapped around his cock, lazily stroking himself as he spoke.

“Answer him,” he ordered, voice sharp. “Tell the truth, or we’ll stop right now.”

The thought of them stopping—leaving you like this, empty, aching—was unbearable.

“I…” Your breath hitched, voice barely a whisper. “You’re right. About everything…”

Haechan laughed, low and dark, standing straight again as he resumed stroking himself. “Knew it. You’ve been obsessed with us this whole time.”

Ten groaned at your admission, fingers tightening around your thighs as he thrust into you harder, his control slipping. “Fuck, you’re so tight,” he muttered, voice ragged. “Can’t believe we wasted all that time working on that stupid project when we could’ve been doing this.”

You whimpered, fingers clawing at the sheets beneath you as he fucked you faster, the sound of his hips slamming into yours filling the room. Each thrust pushed you closer, every nerve in your body strung so tight you thought you might snap.

“You’re such a mess,” Haechan mused, eyes locked on where Ten disappeared inside you over and over. “Moaning like a desperate little whore, like this is all you’ve ever wanted.”

Ten smirked, leaning down again, lips brushing against your ear as he whispered, “Maybe if you’d just been honest from the start, we could’ve given you this sooner.” His teeth grazed your skin, sending shivers down your spine. “You didn’t have to play so hard to get.”

The words sent you over the edge. Your body tensed, pleasure ripping through you in an overwhelming wave, a choked cry spilling from your lips as you clenched down hard around him.

Ten cursed under his breath, movements stuttering as your orgasm dragged him closer to his own. And he wasn’t far behind.

"Fuck," he muttered, voice tight as he pounded into you harder, fingers digging into your thighs, sure to leave bruises. "You’re gonna make me—"

Before he could finish, his hips slammed flush against yours, a guttural moan ripping from his throat as warmth flooded deep inside you. The sensation sent a shiver down your spine as he collapsed onto you, breath ragged.

"Don’t think you’re done yet," Haechan’s voice cut through the haze, dark and amused. He stepped closer, cock still hard, still ready. "It’s my turn now."

Ten’s pace never faltered, each thrust deep and ruthless, fucking you through your orgasm like he had no intention of stopping. Your head hung off the edge of the bed, back arched as he drove into you with a force that left your whole body trembling. His grip on your thighs was bruising, possessive, dragging you onto his cock with every sharp snap of his hips.

"Look at you," Ten growled, eyes raking over you, voice rough with hunger. "Taking it so well. Like you were made for this."

A low chuckle came from the side—Haechan, stepping in closer, dark amusement curling at the edge of his voice. "You’re hogging all the fun, Ten. Move over. I’ve got a better idea."

Ten smirked but didn’t stop. "Go ahead. They’ve got a mouth too, don’t they?"

Your chest heaved as Haechan came to stand by the bed, stroking himself lazily, already hard again. His grin was sharp, wicked.

"Open up," he ordered, tone laced with amusement. "You’ve been so good for us so far. Let’s see how much more you can take."

Your body was already shaking from Ten’s relentless thrusts, but the demand in Haechan’s voice sent another shiver through you. Lips parted, breath ragged, you let him grip your face, guiding himself between your lips.

"That’s it," he murmured, mockingly sweet, fingers tightening against your jaw. "Such a good girl, aren’t you? Always eager to please."

The moment he pushed past your lips, Haechan groaned—low, filthy—as he slid deeper, his grip keeping you in place. The angle forced your throat to stretch around him, and at first, he moved slow, savoring it, before picking up speed, using your mouth like it was his to claim.

"Fuck, you feel good," he muttered, voice strained as his fingers curled around your neck, using it like a handle. He thrust deeper, his other hand tangling in your hair. "Always running that mouth, acting like you’re too good for us. Look at you now, getting fucked from both ends."

Ten groaned above you, pace growing erratic as he slammed into you, every drag of his cock against your walls leaving you shuddering, overstimulated and wrecked. "Your such a fucking mess," he muttered through gritted teeth, grip tightening on your thighs. "Can’t get enough, can you? So desperate to be filled up."

Your muffled moans vibrated around Haechan’s cock, making him hiss through his teeth. His hips snapped forward, pushing even deeper, your throat tightening around him as tears welled in your eyes. His fingers dug into your jaw, holding you there.

"Look at you," Haechan purred, voice dripping mockery. "Drooling all over yourself, tears running down your face. You’re such a fucking slut... but you love it, don’t you?"

You could barely think, body trembling, pleasure unraveling into something raw as Ten’s rhythm turned frantic. His grip was almost punishing as he chased his release.

But this time, he didn’t finish inside you. He pulled out, breath heavy, stepping back to stand beside Haechan. His hand wrapped around himself, stroking slow, watching you with a dark, satisfied smirk.

"I’m not done yet," Ten murmured, voice low, commanding. "We’re going to make sure you’re completely covered by the time we’re finished with you."

Haechan chuckled, thrusts turning erratic, both hands now gripping your hair as he fucked your throat deep. "You hear that?" His tone was a promise, sharp and teasing. "You’re not just taking us—you’re going to wear us."

The words sent a fresh wave of heat coursing through you, your moans muffled as Haechan’s cock twitched deep in your throat. With a rough groan, he pulled out, moved to where Ten had been, and thrust his length into your dripping cunt. The wet slap of skin against skin filled the room as he fucked Ten’s release deeper into you, the filthy sensation making your body tremble.

Soon, it would be his turn to fill you up.

Behind you, Ten stroked himself furiously, his breathing ragged, his eyes fixed on your face.

“Stick out your tongue,” he ordered, voice thick with arousal.

You obeyed, tongue darting out just as Ten groaned and shoved his cock deep into your throat again. His taste coated your tongue, the lingering traces of his release making you shudder as he pulsed against the tight warmth of your mouth.

Haechan grunted, gripping the back of your thighs and pushing your legs up, nearly folding you in half as he picked up the pace. His cock drove into you mercilessly, each thrust hitting that spot inside you that had your body convulsing beneath him.

Once again, you were being fucked from both ends, completely at their mercy.

You never could have imagined this happening—all of it, just because of some stupid project. But now? You couldn’t be more satisfied with the outcome. The way Haechan’s cock bullied that sensitive spot inside you, the way Ten’s length filled your throat, stretching it with every ruthless thrust—it was overwhelming in the best way.

A loud, muffled scream tore from your throat, but it was swallowed by Ten’s cock as he fucked into your mouth with a brutal pace. The sounds in the room were obscene, bouncing off the walls—your muffled cries, the wet slap of Haechan’s hips against you, the rhythmic creaking of the bedframe as it slammed against the wall. Your tears only turned them on more, and you felt them harden inside you.

You clenched hard around Haechan, your walls gripping him tight as the intensity built inside you, your orgasm just out of reach. He felt it, groaning as he dug his fingers into your thighs.

“Oh, you’re close, aren’t you?” His voice was strained, breathless. “F-fuck… I think I am too. Ten, how’re you holding up over there?”

“Shit, I’m right there,” Ten panted, his grip tightening in your hair as he fucked your throat harder.

That was all it took for them to lose control.

Ten came first, spilling across your tongue, the warmth of it coating your lips and dripping down your chin. His breath hitched as he pulled back, watching the mess he’d made of you, satisfaction clear in his dark eyes.

Haechan wasn’t far behind. He cursed low under his breath, thrusting deep one final time as he came, filling you to the brim before pulling out, the last spurts of his release spilling across your stomach and chest, hot and sticky against your skin.

“Fuck,” Ten grunted, stepping back to admire his work. His chest rose and fell with ragged breaths as he smirked. “You look perfect like this. Completely ruined.”

Haechan chuckled, trailing his fingers through the mess on your face before gripping your chin, tilting your head up to meet his gaze. “And to think you wanted to get rid of us,” he mused, voice dripping amusement. “Now look at you. Completely fucked out by us.”

The room was thick with heat, the scent of sweat and sex lingering in the air. Your breaths came in sharp, uneven gasps, your body trembling from the sheer intensity of it all.

Haechan smirked, brushing his fingers lazily down your thigh, a silent reminder of the claim he’d left on you. There was still hunger in his eyes, but beneath the cocky exterior, something softer flickered there. “You really outdid yourself,” he murmured, voice low and teasing. “Didn’t think you’d last this long. Guess we underestimated you.”

He wiped a bead of sweat from his brow, leaning against the desk with that same smug grin. “What did I tell you? All those little outfits, all that attitude—you were just waiting for this to happen. Should’ve made a move sooner.”

You were too exhausted to reply, your body still thrumming from the aftershocks. You lay there, head hanging off the edge of the bed, limbs boneless, chest heaving as you tried to process everything. Their gazes were heavy on you, but for once, you didn’t feel embarrassed.

Instead, a small, tired smile tugged at your lips. “You two are… so annoying,” you muttered weakly.

Ten and Haechan both laughed.

“Annoying?” Haechan echoed, crouching beside you. His fingers gripped your chin again, forcing you to meet his gaze. “You weren’t saying that a few minutes ago, sweetheart”

Ten leaned in, brushing a stray strand of hair from your face, his smirk softening just a little. “Don’t worry,” he murmured, voice smooth.“We’ll give you time to recover… but don’t think this will be the last time you will see us.”  

The weight of his words sent a fresh jolt of heat through you, despite the exhaustion weighing down your limbs. Haechan caught it, the way your eyes widened slightly, and let out a low chuckle.

“For now,” Ten continued, fingers trailing down your arm, “we should clean you up. Can’t have you looking like this all night, can we?”

Haechan stretched, grabbing a towel from the desk before tossing it to Ten. His grin never faded. “And after that? Maybe we’ll play another game,” he mused, teasing. “Who knows? You might be able to go another round.”

You groaned, throwing an arm over your face as you let your head sink back against the mattress. “You two are crazy,” you muttered, though there was no real bite to your words.

Ten laughed, wiping you down with surprisingly gentle hands. “You love that though,” he murmured, certain.

And as you lay there, your body exhausted but your heart pounding with the lingering adrenaline, you realized you couldn’t argue with him…

[gay-dorito-dust]

Heavily Inspired by @dreamdragonkadia own amazing Percy x hades!reader fic.

Part 2

Disagreements between the two children of hades were never easy ones to walk away from, especially not when it’s Nico that said the words that made you wonder how long he was sitting on for.

‘You’re not her you know.’ He tells you in the heat of the moment.

You scoffed, looking at the boy you considered a younger brother. ‘I’m very much aware I’m not and I’m glad I’m not too,’ you smiled humourlessly as you add, ‘because if that’s the logic we’re going by in this argument, then you’re not my brother.’ You finished and you watched Nico’s eyes widen in pain and panic before narrowing into a glare as to hide how your words hit him square in the chest.

‘I’m glad we’re on the same page then.’ He spat before disappearing in the shadows, leaving you alone in your shared cabin that felt all that more isolating and cold now that you were the only person in it. It hurt you to hurt your sibling in such a way but what else could you do when he always tried to compare you to a ghost of his past? After all you’ve done for the boy, after all you’ve done to protect him on missions it seemed like no matter what you did, you’d always be second place to Bianca to him, but you knew that it wasn’t okay to think about it; but sometimes you wished you were the only child of hades if that’s was the treatment that awaited you from your younger siblings.

Nico had been through so much, lost so much and had a tendency to hold onto things when he’s better off letting go, but according to him you weren’t his sibling so it wasn’t your job to tell him this, you felt a wave of guilt and sadness crash down upon you as worry for Nico filled you: something you quickly shrugged off as nothing as you stubbornly refused to run after him like you would’ve once upon a time ago. Nico was old enough to deal with his own issues and emotions without you having to baby him through it.

So instead you took your jacket and left the cabin to head down the lake in hopes that by being close to the body of water would help make you forget about your spat with Nico; It doesn’t work and your sat on the wooden dock glaring at your own reflection, only to see a glaring Nico looking right back at you.

You two really were siblings even if it was just through your godly father. You’re both stubborn, tend to hold grudges, vengeful when wronged, amongst many others and it only left you more annoyed but before you could do anything a voice called from behind you.

‘Hey.’ Luke smiled as he jogged down to you, ‘I was wondering where you were,’ he then notices the look upon your face and his smile dropped from his face as concern but knowing look took over, ‘fight with Nico again huh?’ He asks as he sits himself close next to you and grab one of your hands, squeezing it in hopes of bringing you comfort.

‘What’s new then being compared to his sister.’ You replied sarcastically but Luke could tell that Nico’s words hurt you deeper then you’d ever admit, for Luke remembered the moment you met Nico you’ve done everything in your power to keep him happy and safe, Luke knew this better than anyone as he also remembered the way your eyes light up the moment you found out you had a brother; No longer would you be alone in your cabin or at your table at the dinning pavilion anymore now that you had a little brother.

Luke knew you loved Nico more than anything in your entire life and could see it in the way you developed a reckless attitude towards his safety to go as far as to risk your own life for his. So Luke knew that every fight you had with Nico only left you feeling a whole variety of feelings, that had you unable to go back to the dark cabin for a week, not that Luke minded you bunking with him in the Hermes cabin during this time.

‘You and Nico are both so alike that arguments are bound to be more commonplace between the two of you.’ Luke said as he threw an arm over your shoulder and brought you into his side, kissing your forehead. ‘But if Nico is anything like you then he’ll come running back and ask for his sibling back.’

‘I told him he wasn’t my brother.’ You said with no emotion in your voice, looking at Luke with tears in your eyes, unable to forgive yourself for saying such a thing even if it was best in the moment. ‘What kind of sibling says that to another?’ You added rhetorically as your hands gripped on the hades mythomagic card that Nico left for you, the hurt only becoming worse when you remembered that he gave you it because it was the only card you didn’t have; your brother gave one of his own cards to complete yours even if it meant leaving his incomplete.

Unconditional love that only a brother would have towards his older sibling and you hated how you were both becoming.

‘Did you mean it?’ Luke asks.

‘No, never-‘ you began.

‘Then Nico will know that you didn’t.’ Luke cuts you off, giving you a soft smile. ‘That kid adores you to Tartarus and back even if he doesn’t admit it, I know that right now your both hurting right now but that hurt will pass and you’ll come back together stronger then before.’

‘How do you know that will happen?’ You whispered as the feeling of tiredness had begun to seep into your bones now that you were with the one person who could comfort you. Luke moved so that he was sitting behind you and pulled you flushed so that your back was pressed against his front, resting his head atop of your shoulder as you both overlooked the lake. ‘I know because if the children are anything, they’re stronger together, a unit in knowing that you have each other’s backs no matter what despite all the arguments you may have.’ Luke says as he presses a kiss to your cheek, tightening his hold on you as he felt you grasp his arms in response for comfort, wanting nothing more then to give they to you during this sensitive time. ‘You’ve only got each other and neither one of you are stupid enough to throw that all away. Okay?’

‘Okay.’ You swallowed thickly as you could only look at your reflection once more, only seeing yourself looking back this time, as your mind wondered back to Nico and whether he was okay and if he was safe; unknowing of the fact that Nico was thinking the exact same things in regards to you.