#it took me three fucking hours to type this all out

[joelswritingmistress]

Neighbors with Benefits: Chapter 14 (Joel x reader)

Joel Miller x f!reader

Word Count: 2000

Your mother was busy getting all the side dishes ready for the picnic while your dad packed coolers of beer, soda and water outside and prepped the grill.

“I'll bring these out,” you offered, repeating what felt like a thousand times, “What else do you need?”

You knew your mother had a thousand things to say, and maybe a hundred questions after that. Still, she remained cordial and attempted to seem normal on the surface. You knew by her tightly wound mannerisms that she wasn't even close to portraying that - at least not to you. She might've fooled a coliseum full of people with her mask, but not you.

When everything was set up and less than an hour remained until guests began to arrive, you tried to excuse yourself.

“Okay, I’m going to shower.” You scampered toward the stairs but your mother called you back.

Fuck. You had almost gotten up the stairs, but without stalling made your way back to where your mom stood in the kitchen.

“Do you need any more help?” You tried to butter her up a bit by offering your aid and pressing on a smile, but your mother wasn't having it.

“You need to consider what you're doing, (Y/N),” she warned, “I'm saying it for your own good.”

“Okay,” you halfheartedly agreed.

“I mean it,” your mother went on. “I honestly don't know what other advice to give you. He’s a man. He's married.”

“He's not with Cecille,” you insisted, “Do you really think I'd get involved with a married man? I mean, I guess legally he is but they haven't lived together for awhile and they're getting a legal divorce.”

“You're twenty-three.”

“And I'm able to date who I want to date,” you said without trying to sound confrontational. “Mom, I know on the surface this looks bad. But I'm going to feel this out and see where it goes. If I get my heart broken, it's on me. I have feelings for Joel and he has feelings for me. I’ll deal with the consequences, whatever they might be.”

She stared at you for a long moment before saying quietly. “Okay.” Her white flag was waving and, if nothing else, she was done fighting you on it - for the moment.

A temporary victory. You knew this meant your mother wasn't going to tell your father; not yet. And so you silently thanked her with a closed-mouth smile and took the stairs to take a shower.

***

The picnic had dragged. You checked your phone again and again and again. Joel, you guessed, was refraining from being the one to initiate conversation. You couldn't blame him, and you hoped that was all it was - him being cautious.

What if it's over? You wondered. What if that's it? What if all this scared him off?

Your anxiety got the best of you and you wandered around the side of your house to text him. Your thumbs danced on the screen as you asked how his day was going, if he got in touch with Tommy and if later was still good to meet up.

You chewed on your thumbnail and rounded back into the picnic. It was much to your relief that Cecille hadn't shown up. As the hours ticked by you grew more hopeful that she wouldn't swing by. Still, seeing her car in the driveway next door made your insides twist with a concoction of feelings.

Ding! Your phone sounded off and your head was pulled down like a magnet toward the screen.

Text me a time, Joel texted back to you, remember how to get to the fishing spot?

You typed back without hesitation: Yes. I'll let you know when I'm done here.

All you wanted was to be back with. You wanted to take in his body language, hear his words. You wanted to know that despite what had happened that morning, that everything was alright.

You glanced around the backyard at the scene you would have typically enjoyed. There was a four on four volleyball game going on, two people were playing cornhole, others were talking and laughing around the tables you'd helped your parents set up. Regardless of the smiles, the music, the laughter and the sun shining down on everyone, your smiles were forced and fake.

By the time the last of the guests were waving goodbye, you couldn't wait any longer.

Seven o'clock? You typed to Joel, while helping your parents clean up.

You folded a table in half and began lugging it toward the open bay of the garage. When your phone pinged, you set the table down on the driveway so you could check it.

I'm addicted, you acknowledged. Fuck.

Being head over heels for someone was more than you bargained for. You truly felt addicted to Joel Miller.

I'll be waiting, Joel wrote back.

His words out more pep in your step, and you hurried to lug in the cornhole boards and a second table. Inside, you helped your mother wrap up some of the leftovers and wipe down the countertops before finally hurrying to retrieve your keys and a backpack you prepared.

“Are you going to be home tonight?” Your mother asked. She held your gaze and you shook your head.

“I don't think so “ you told her honestly, “But I'll let you know for sure.” She added, “Is that alright?”

“Like you said, you're twenty-three.” She shrugged. “You can do whatever you want.” Your mother turned toward the sink. “Be careful. And text me.”

“I love you.”

She turned and met your gaze. Despite her outward, quiet concern for the situation she said honestly. “I love you, too.”

On a completely opposite and oblivious note, your father high-fived you by the front door as he entered after putting some things in the garage.

“See ya later, kiddo!”

You smiled to yourself, relieved by his nonchalant demeanor. “See ya later, Dad. Love ya.”

“I love you, too.”

You were out the door a few seconds later, speeding off into the night to meet Joel at your secret location. You needed to see him in the worst way. Despite his agreement to meet, there was doubt that plagued the back of your mind.

What if, what if, what if…

Your foot hit the gas a little harder as you drove from back road to back road until the park came into view. You had to really think to remember a few of the last bends in the road but soon you recognized the wooded area that led down to the lake.

Where is he? Where is he?

Relief filled your core when you saw Joel’s truck in a small clearing. Your stomach filled with butterflies as you pulled up beside him. Joel turned from where he sat in the driver’s seat and he flung his door open almost immediately.

Oh, no, you thought. He has something to say.

Joel looked like a man on a mission. You prepared yourself for the worst. You prepared yourself for the heartache. The other shoe was about to drop. All of a sudden you were scared to get out of the car. Joel's face was too serious. If you just sat there then you wouldn't have to hear his let down.

Stop! You scolded yourself.

You popped open your door and let yourself as Joel rounded the front of your car.

Fuck, he looks good.

Joel was all you thought all about all day - not that that was anything new. He stared at you down with jeans a snug fitting white t-shirt. It hugged his rugged upper in all the right places and your former anxious thoughts were replaced far different ones.

“Hi,” you said to him, folding your hands in front of you.

Joel didn't immediately say anything. He appeared as if he was studying you. You were sure he was far better at it than you were.

He walked the rest of the way to you and you went to speak again.

“Joel, I-” You were cut off when he grabbed your face and kissed you firmly on the lips. You kissed him back, letting your guard down completely in his embrace. Almost immediately it grew heated. Your hands began to wander. He began to snake your shirt up over your head and before you knew it you were nearly naked in the bed of his truck with his body blanketing yours.

“Joel,” you finally choked out, “I want you.”

“I love you,” he voiced in a gruff whisper against your lips before devouring them once more.

“I love you,” you whimpered back. One of your legs hooked around his naked waist and Joel groaned into your mouth.

Everything about the moment was feral and raw and right. Being apart all day amidst the uncertainty and the angst made you needy for one another. As bad as you wanted Joel, you wondered if he wanted you more. It felt impossible, but the way he approached you that evening without even saying a word left you breathless.

Darkness had fully taken over the world when the two of you finished. Even long after your lovemaking was through, your lips touched, your hands explored one another and Joel kissed along your collarbone, neck and shoulders.

Being out in nature completely nude and basking in the afterglow of perhaps the most tender, emotional sex you had ever had was an experience you wouldn't soon forget.

“I was afraid you were going to break things off with me,” you said quietly, kissing Joel’s neck as he closed his eyes beside you.

“I could never do that.”

“Never?” You let your teeth graze his neck as you continued to kiss him there.

“Mmm..” Joel moaned out loud, “Never.”

Laying face-to-face you linked your arm up under his and rested your palm on his shoulder blade. You pulled him close and kissed him. There was no getting enough of Joel. You slipped your tongue past his lips and he eagerly reciprocated. As you made out you felt him harden again against your upper thigh.

“I want you again,” you practically begged, pulling him closer. “Please.” Your hand drifted down to his lower back and Joel rolled his body back on top of yours with your encouragement.

His kiss was smoldering. You pawed your arms around him and tangled a hand in his thick, dark hair. When Joel’s lips parted from yours he kissed down your neck to the tops of your breasts before separating himself from you.

“No,” you begged, pulling him back with a smile as your teeth caught your bottom lip.

Joel satisfied you with a sloppy, closed-mouth kiss. “I'm just reaching inside for some blankets,” he explained, whispering against your lips. Joel pried open the back window on his truck and grabbed a small stack of blankets from the back seat.

You adjusted so he could place a few down on the truck bed and then laid back down flat and pulled him back to you.

Your bodies connected immediately as his lips crashed back against yours. When your lips finally parted to take a breath, you gasped out the words, “Don't leave me.”

Why was this such a problem for you? Even Joel, himself, saying he would never leave wasn't convincing enough. You were too deep into it emotionally and it was making you a wreck inside.

Joel, patient as ever, brought his lips to your ear. “You're mine.” His teeth latched onto your ear lobe and he swirled his tongue around the area. “All mine.”

Your head dropped back in pleasure and you dug your fingers into his back.

New kink unlocked.

@mellymbee @pedropascal111 @axshadows @mybritishstyle @untamedheart81 @amyispxnk @goodvibesonly421 @cosmic006533-blog @ashleyfilm @maybetomorrowgirl @rebeccawinters @cuteanimalmama @vickie5446 @writlingerz @drewharrisonwriter @churchofjoemiller

[maaaxx]

Whats the hecles thing? Is it atla or fandom related?

😈

Sorry I took a while to answer this I was trying to figure out what all I wanted to reveal about this.

No, Hecles isn't fandom related. But this book that im working on rn (cots not ihiap) is kind of inspired by it in a way.

This is probably going to be a longish post so the rest is under the cut

Hecles is a personal project im working on. I might turn it into an actual books one day but im not sure. Its a really neat story line and the characters are some of my favorite ocs ive created and yeah.

Okay so Im going to give what details i want to share and then talk about the actual characters. My thought process through this is going to be not at all organized.

Eris

History

Eris is a kingdom in this story thing that has a civil war going on. Its a the people vs the government type of thing. And inspired by both the American and French revolution.

The government and royal family is extremely corrupt, and took resources from the lower classes, but the lower classes have been able to survive for nearly a century with this war going on.

Its less of a war and more of the lower class people were revolting and causing a lot of problems and so the government started killing them.

Im calling it a war for a lack of better word. This part of the story is still extremely underdeveloped and is all over the place.

There is a magic system that again is extremely underdeveloped but the premise of it is the royal family is thought to be descended from one of the Universes secondary Gods.

There is a lot of biblical undertones in this but this part isnt it.

There is one 'primary' god, Rora.

And then there are 'secondary' gods.

One of which is Derisue. Eris is obviously part of the name. And this is the one that supposedly chose the royal family to rule by giving them magical abilities.

The reason Derisue decided to give these people magic was because this specific group of people were near extinct from another war that happened centuries ago. So this group of 50 ish people get these powers (there was a system to determine who got them) and were able to fight back and save their type of people and these people gets put in power.

A few more generations and their descendants start to be power hungry and all turn on eachother.

Theres this mini war battle thing and some die and some run away and the one that is left declares themself Queen.

Like I said, some run away and these ones all have kids too and so theres the royal family who have magic and then theres the ones who run away and they kind of introduce this magic into the general population. So theres a very small percentage of people who have magical abilities in this kingdom.

The royal family sees this as a threat and start hunting down these people. But then the rest of the population sees their nighbors and friends being executed and imprisoned and are like 'hey wtf' and get pissed off with the royal family. This leads to rebellions and the royal family punishes these people by taking resources and increases taxes and shit and thus starts the civil war thing.

Propaganda makes the nobility and royal family think theyre in the right naturally.

Something else to note about the magic system is that the further down the generations go the more diluted this becomes. Its kind of recessive too, so you might have someone who has very strong magic but then their sibling is really weak.

So then with all that context you get to where the story takes place.

Magnis and Titas are the princess and prince of Eris.

Titas is a prophet and has a lot of other more minor magic things that havent been established yet. He's like 10-12 years old during the story.

Magnis is the first person in the family to not have powers. Shes 15-16 ish.

The interesting thing about prophets is that they are extremely rare. Like there is only one other person known to have this power besides Titas and thats the son of the first Queen that i mentioned.

The one of the sons prophecies is of a person who is the child of Rora. (the primary god). Meaning this person has the strongest magic of anyone alive at the time because theyre a first generation and like i said everyone elses abilities is diluted.

Then the prophecy says this person will help end the war.

So naturally the family thinks this means in their favor and go to track her down. It takes decades but eventually they find Ourelia, or Oura.

Inspiration

Like previously mentioned this whole story has a lot of biblical undertones to it. But thats only the case when it comes to Oura.

Everything else, the clothes style, architecture, race, has Greek, Indian, Mesopotamian, and Arabic influences.

This changes based on class, mainly.

So the royal family lives in a 'palace' that closely resembles ancient greek temples. Think mount olympus.

The general clothing style for this class is still inspired by the greek, with hints of arabic influences.

There are 5 main classes.

High nobility and the royal family. Like I said, the royal families architecure is mostly greek but as you start to get down into nobility the arabian influences become more prevelant.

Lower nobility. Most lower nobility still has the arabian influences but it starts to drift more so into indian style.

Middle class. This is like people who live in the cities and stuff and get by well enough. The cities all try to copy the first and second class architecture so thats what it looks like.

Upper lower class. This is the modern equivilant of people who are just getting by. They have a house and food and stuff but no disposable income. Like their equivilant to a family living right on the poverty line. Theyre architecture isnt new, they just kind of live in whatever has always been there. And the structures used to be built how Mesopotamian people used to build so thats generally what their houses and shops look like.

Lower lower class. These are people who have nothing. Some are living on the streets in the cities and begging, some are living in ruins. But theyre generally really skinny and malnourished and have no income or anything like that.

The bottom two classes make up the vast majority of the population.

The lower you are the more looked down on you are by the upper class.

The bottom class is usually referred to as barbarians and such and are known for being unpredictable and dangerous.

The clothing generally follows that of the architecture. Oura is an exception well get to that later.

Hecles

Hecles is the poorest territory in the Kingdom. It's inspired by Appalachia and doesnt have a lot of resources so for the most part its abandoned.

It has a lot of mountains so unless you live there its hard to navigate. This makes it the perfect place to hide if your on the run.

The people there tend to be in groups. Or at most very small villages.

But the small villages are very few and far between. And at most like 50 people.

There is a lot of crime in this area so the villages are always on edge.

Children are treated horribly in this area. Theyre often killed or abandoned with the mindset of 'I cant take care of myself so how in the world am i supposed to take care of you. '

So its not uncommon for a toddler to be wandering around in the woods by themselves or for small children to almost form gangs.

This is one of the reasons this class is considered barbaric. If you see a 5 year old kid begging on the side of the road, dont approach him or else he might pull out a knife, stab you, and rob you.

The upper class likes to try to 'tame' these kids as like a vanity stunt. Like take them in and raise them and everything which is okay if they werent the way they were. They would often be abused or slaves or servants and not allowed out of the estate.

The Group thingy

Theres this one town in Hecles that was ransacked by bandits a couple years back and after that happened the entire population that was left alive moved.

Abandoning their children.

So theres these 5 kids.

Vita, Aticia (Atis), Birk, Nuave, and...

🥁*drum roll*🥁

Oura.

These kids grew up together along side others but after the ransack happened they were the ones left behind and not killed.

they were all between the ages of like 5-9 at the time.

So they stayed together and moved deeper into the forest and mountains and hunted and scavenged to survive.

They learned to fight off robbers and shit like that. And altogether this group is very strong and very good fighters and strategic and smart and stuff.

Atis and Vita are two of the people who still have magical abilities. With Atis its very subtle she is very manipulative. So she can influence peoples decisions and emotions in a way (??) its hard to explain. But shes not very strong strong but it came in handy when someone needed comfort.

Vita is moderately strong. Her powers revolve around life. Like she can control plant growth and even had a bit of healing powers.

And then obviously Oura.

Her powers are associated with the sun. Because Rora is the god of the sun and whatnot. So she can control heat. She doesnt know how to use her powers yet but the entire group knows Oura is very powerful.

She also has a lot of spiritual abilities.

I dont feel like explaining those right now.

something they did was watch for nobleman carriages on a path near where they camped out. the mountains are treachurous but they span through the entire kingdom and were smack dab in the middle so there was no way to get around them when you needed to go to the other side.

And so sometimes there would be a carriage with guards who get cocky and either look for kids to 'foster' or are just trying to get through the mountains. Theyre cocky but theyre also naive.

Birk is the youngest out of the group and is actually really sweet and like the baby of the group but they would make him stay on the side of the road and pretend hes hurt so the carriage will stop. And when they did stop the other kids would rob them.

One time there were a lot more guards than anticipated and they got caught and the guards were attacking because they were barbarious kids and Oura is their first line of defense. She used her powers to fuck with a cigar the dude had before they were getting robbed and one of their carriages goes up in flames.

They put two and two together and realzie she has powers and arrest her.

They ended up having to knock her out and she gets thrown into the back of the carriage that isnt on fire and bolt, leaving behind one of the guards.

That guard doesnt survive.

And they dont get Oura back.

Other stuff

Theres a test they can do to see if someone has powers by cutting them and observing their blood.

Normally when someone with the magic bleeds theres a silver shine to the blood.

But when they cut Oura its golden.

No ones ever seen that before.

They call up the royal family like 'hey i think we found that sun child yall are always riping about'

And so Oura is taken to the temple and is raised alongside Titas who is only a small toddler when oura gets there and Magnis who is like 5 or 6 at the time. Oura is 11 or 12 ish.

A decade later is when the actual story starts.

Thats all im giving you about that.

Characters

Magnis

Oura is the main character so i should probably start with her but Magnis is my favorite so oh well.

Magnis, like I said is the first person in the royal family to not have powers. A lot of people accuse her of being illegitimate but theres no way because her mom is the one who is Queen and connects her to the bloodline and yk moms cant give birth to children thats not biologically theirs. Atleast not in this universe, surrogacy isnt a thing here.

By rule, the oldest child is the heir, despite gender. But since Magnis doesnt have powers theres a lot of disagreements on whether or not she should be able to be Queen one day.

Especially when Titas, an extremely powerful profit, is right there.

Obviously this causes Magnis a lot of issues.

Shes the scapegoat of the family and will do anything to pleas her mother.

Think Zuko's impulsiveness and drive and obliviousness mixed with Azulas intelligence and you get Magnis.

Shes an extreme people pleaser and like I said, very smart. She aces all of her studies but she still isnt magic so this doesnt matter to her mom.

When word gets around of a rebellion group thats causing a lot of trouble in the 3rd and 4th class Magnis is the first to volunteer to wipe them out.

Her mom wants rid of her so she says sure and sends Magnis on her way at like 15.

Magnis is very self deprecating and also has the biggest ego in the world at the same time. Miss girl needs a therapist she aint doing well.

But shes fiercely loyal to Oura first and her mom second but Oura and her mom are on the same side so its the same thing right???

👀

But when her mom didnt praise her or pay attention to her or validate her, Oura did.

Oura is major oldest daughter vibes.

This isnt about Oura yet im getting off track.

Magnisses mom (i really need to figure out her name) knows how loyal her daughter is though, and shell exploit that sometimes. This becomes very important eventually but not in a way you guys are finding out today.

Magnis has a playlist and a pinterest board

Go check them out if you want.

Ouralia

Okay so from where we left off with her, Oura got taken to the temple to hang with the royal family.

Oura doesnt have a sense of family and how familys are supposed to operate but she does know what love is from the rest of the group and families love eachother right??? So why does the royal family treat eachother like this????

She all but looks at the Queen and tells her that she isn't allowed to raise her own kids anymore. Oura works with Titas and his powers and talks with Magnis and genuinely loves the kids like siblings. And makes it a point to build a connection with them.

(Or maybe its because Ouras alone for the first time in her life and she doesnt know what to do without a 'group', who knows)

She's very smart. She knows immediately that if she opposes what they try to teach her, nothing good will come out of it. So she 'learns' quickly about the history of Eris and how the magic people outside the royal family are all bad and need to be killed and jailed.

She memorizes what they want her to believe but she doesnt forget how hungry the village was before it was abandoned. And she will never forget the abundance of food they could get off of the carriages. Far more than what a few nobleman and some guards would ever need.

She would always remember the house she shared with her father before he left her alone and how there was a hole in the door allowing the cold to get in in the depths of winter and animals to come in and claw at her feet when she tried to kick them away.

And then there were more rooms in the palace than Oura could count. Some of which she was told were too sacred for someone to step foot in so the door has been shut for decades.

Remember the detail about the foster children? There was one that was a servent in the palace. He was from the 4th class and was about 5 years older than Oura. He had been taken when he was ten and put to work for the royal family. He and Oura bonded quick. He explained the rules to her and told her who she needed to look out for and what questions would get her slapped.

Oura woke up one day when she was 15 and he had disappeared. Oura was too scared to ask but there was a rumor about a banned book under his mattress.

Oura learned quickly that in order for the people she cared about to not get hurt, she needed to be in control. But in order for her to not get hurt, no one could know this.

She dug and found the Queens weaknesses and secrets and only stored them in her mind, less they would be found.

And she knew that there would be a moment when she would have to utilize those secrets to one up her.

I mentioned that Oura has a bunch of biblical undertones.

The child of a God, Saviour of a people, sound familiar?

Ouras pinterest thing Ouras playlist

Titas

Titas couldnt remember a time when Oura wasnt around. Magnis barely could, but Titas, not at all.

Titas was smart, but unlike Magnis, it wasnt clouded by the need for approval. He got the approval. He was the most powerful person in his family for generations and the only prophet for a century.

And he had Oura.

She learned to read and write with him and Magnis. She would tell stories about her friends when the sun set and they could finally talk without expectations of doing something else.

She told him about the value outside of magical powers and academic abilities. He wasnt just a prophet to Oura.

The rest of his family only saw him that way.

Titas decided long ago that he preferred Oura to his mother. And he knew how to read Oura in a way that Magnis didnt know to. He saw the split second glares as she lectured about political spiels.

And he was with her the night she went through his mothers office, digging for some dirt. Oura didnt think he was old enough to remember, but he was.

He knew Oura didnt like his mom. And he knew that when, not if, it came down to it. He would follow Oura.

[dragons-and-yellow-roses]

.

[fingertipsmp3]

That last post just reminded me of something honestly mind-boggling that that friend did

[biteyoubiteme]

black cherry flavored

ot5 txt x fem!reader

synopsis: how many ghostfaces are there again?

warnings: 🔞!!! gangbang, mentions of drinking, getting scared, fearplay? reader gets chased through house and doesnt know who it is, knifeplay (only used to cut off underwear), clit play, mean dom moments, filming during sex, slight breeding kink, unprotected sex, multiple orgasms (f!), creampie(s), marking, subspace, fingering, oral (m! rec), hair pulling!, overstim (f!rec), she/her used prob forgot some

wc: 9.2k (this one got away from me)

an: this is not proofread at all im so so so sorry forgive me sweet angel ily but I cannot believe october is over and this event has come to an end ;-; I hope you guys like this one! im a HUGE horror movie fan so I was excited to do this and hopefully it turned out well. I went with a different approach for a scream fic that was kinda based on different aspects from the movies and I hope you like it! feedback is appreciated :)) [m.list]

this is apart of my mini kinktober event check out the rest of the fics! [dumdum m.list]

"whats your favorite scary movie?"

You roll your eyes, hand coming up to cover the screen of your laptop. “Aren't you supposed to be doing your own work not pestering me about mine?” 

It was late in the night, the library dead silent besides the hum of the heater and faint typing on stiff keyboards. The door to the study space was cracked just enough to hear the elevator if it dinged, the indicator the floor would soon be closing for the cleaning staff. The clock on the wall told you it was close to one in the morning, only an hour away from the library being cleared and closed.  

“I'm avoiding the rest of my essay,” beomgyu shrugs, clicking his pen as a signal for an end to the line of questioning. “Annoying you just seemed like a better plan,” 

“Annoying all of us, I needed this done an hour ago,” yeonjun doesn't even look up from his laptop, glasses sliding down the bridge of his nose, lenses glossed over with the light from his screen, fingers speeding over the keys only to pause and jam the delete button. “Fuck, i lost my train of thought,” 

“It's already late, just turn it in tomorrow morning,” huening suggests, slouched back in his chair, thumbs nibbly swiveling on the joystick of his switch. “The syllabus said it was ten points off no matter how late after twelve you submit it,” 

“Don't talk to me right now, you got yours in on time. And I'm getting this done tonight whether I like it or not. I won't be able to handle looking at it tomorrow morning. the paper just won't get turned in at all if that happens,” yeonjuns back to typing furiously squinting at his laptop not noticing kais grin. 

“You should have listened to me about meeting up at nine, but nooo-” 

“Huening,” yeonjun warns. 

“I'm just saying…” 

Yeonjun picks up one of Soobin's scattered pens from the table, tossing it at Kai hitting him in the lap. And when Kai just laughs, Yeonjun picks up a few more to throw, the showering of pens making Kai yelp. 

“Shhh,” soobin doesn't even lift his head to see what's going on. He and tae had been trying to sleep for the better part of two hours, Taehyun having found success, sliding two chairs together to prop his legs up. He pulled his hat down over his eyes and hasn't said anything since closing them. Soobin only crossed his arms and laid his head down, leg bouncing showing he was still struggling to actually find it in him to sleep without his bed. 

The six of you usually booked the room on Friday nights from nine to two, blocking the time to try and catch up on work before the weekend. It was either the time you got the most work done or none at all. You're surprised it took beomgyu this long to finally turn away from his assignment at this point he's usually at the whiteboard doodling or trying to get everyone to play dirty hangman. 

It was easier to get all of you together here instead of one of your small dorms, the space hardly big enough for three people let alone six. In the library you didn't have to worry about cramming together, the fourth floors study spaces equipped with long tables and eight chairs. Out of the two libraries on campus this one didn't have many people visit often, especially not when the walk from any of the dorms was twice as long. The fourth floor was empty and quiet except for the group's laughter on nights you didn't worry about work. 

“You didn't answer that question,” beomgyu points out again, pointer finger pushing away your hand blocking the screen, “what's your favorite scary movie?” 

“I didn't answer it because I can't choose,” you confess, scrolling through the paper you're writing for class. 

“Is your homework twenty questions?” soobins voice is muffled, annoyed and sleep-ridden. 

“No-” 

beomgyu cuts you off before you could explain, brows scrunching as he reads. “Looks like it, this one is ‘what are the rules around sex’ there is no way this actually for your class,” 

“What?” this pulls soobins head up, the messy strands of his dark hair sticking up around his forehead. 

“Of course you wake up when you hear the word sex,” yeonjun quips, pursing his lips reading over his work on his screen. 

“No need to wake up you type so loud i couldn't fall asleep,” soobin says brushing his long fingers through his hair, you always noticed the later it got the grumpier he became, pouting lips and half lidded eyes always making an appearance after midnight. 

“It's for my film studies class. We’re learning about the rules of horror,” its clarification enough for soobin who nods but beomgyu lets his head tilt to the side, the vision of a question mark. 

“Rules? You can't just send a killer in, have them spill some blood, and call it a day?” 

“You could, but i'm sure it would follow a pattern, even without you realizing it,” scrolling through your work you pause on the first option. “First you have to think about the time period when the movie was filmed. Most of the popular ones ranged from the 80’s to the early 2000’s. A huge push in most cultures is the topics of sex, drugs, and money. It's the three things people try to control the most. Throw a bunch of badly behaving teens in with a psycho killer playing god and you can tell the masses how wrong something is. Like having sex,” 

“So wrong it would get you killed?” 

“Yup, in most, if not all, horror movies the people who have sex on screen or are known for sleeping around get killed off, leaving the poor virgin alive. Main characters who live to the end also don't drink, or do drugs. Rich people aren't safe, especially if you have a big empty house with lots of stairs, doors, and windows. The more for you to make the wrong decision not to exit from,” 

“Then who does live?” Kai asks, game paused in hand. 

“The girl next door lead, never her boyfriend, the camera man, unless you see him leave the group because you should never leave the group under any circumstances. But everyone else is fair game. Oh and if you say ‘i'll be right back,’ the lines a killer in and of itself,” 

“So I'd die because I like to have a good time?” yeonjun asks, fingers paused on his keys as he looks over at you. Everyone but tae is turned in your direction, listening intently. 

“Unless you're the killer, or lucky because you weren't in line of the camera when you decided it was smart enough to leave the house. It's very kill or be killed. Another rule is to never trust anyone,” 

“The list just gets longer and longer,” soobin sits back in his chair, arms crossed behind his head as he stretches, “you know i saw this one post on twitter that some people like the whole masked killer thing, gets them off,” 

“Of course you would be on twitter looking at stuff like that,” gyu fakes disappointment, shaking his head, “this is exactly why you wouldn't survive, you're a closeted perv,” 

“I don't know about closeted perv, he was openly scrolling past hentai the other day in the dorm,” yeonjun is back to typing, soobin kicking the foot of his chair. 

“Past it, i didn't pause on it,” 

“It was on your for you page! Clearly you have a habit of liking things akin to it,” 

“I don't know, I think it's kinda hot, the mask thing. or i guess more so the build up of fear, it's almost like foreplay, your pulse starts going, you get all flushed. And I did see this clip of these two guys dressed up…” this wouldn't be the first time any of you confessed to watching something that turned you on. All of you had been friends for years, growing up nothing had ever been an off limits topic. You can see the video in your head, the way they held the girl between them; how they manhandled her down onto the bed. 

“So you and soobin are both freaks,” beomgyu grins, the need to tease showing right in his eyes. 

“A threesome is not freaky,” Taehyun states, breaking his silence, hat still over his eyes, fully relaxed and laid back. If you hadn't known the sound of his voice you would have assumed he was still asleep, if he had even been asleep in the first place. 

“Agreed, anything over three is a little freaky,” soobin shrugs, bending over halfway out of his chair to pick up his fallen pens. 

“So would you? Sleep with more than two people at once?” gyu asks, the tilt back to his head, “this is the true test if you're freaky or not,” he chuckles. 

“I mean yeah… would you?” The question is directed at the room and you watch the question lay over them like fog, each of them thinking for a second, blank expressions all the way around.

Taehyun was the first to respond, shrugging his shoulders before nodding briefly, “I wouldn't let the opportunity slip by if it was offered,” It was a unanimous yes from all of them, the hummed agreement not too surprising. 

“Done!” yeonjun smashes one last key before stretching big, “finally fucking submitted, and right before we have to leave, im surprised the staff hasnt gotten around to our room yet to kick us out,”

Taehyun pulls his hat from his face, sitting up with a yawn, “good, i needed my bed two hours ago,” 

It always felt so good to sleep in on a saturday after a study session like this, you could already feel how cozy it would be to wrap up in your blanket. And even if the mattress was shit with or without the foam topper, it was better than laying out in the chairs like taehyun just was.  

All of you cleaned up the space, making sure to tuck in the chairs, pick up the discarded cups of late night bad decision coffee. Squishing in the elevator together, bags bumping into one another before you filed out; passing all the empty desks and empty aisles of books to make it out the front door. 

As soon as the outside air hits your cheeks you know it’s going to feel like a long walk back to the dorms. the boys tucking their ears into hoodies, zipping their jackets up, you and kai lived in the dorms on the opposite side of campus from the rest of them, their walk shorter by only a few minutes. 

“Okay we’re still on for dinner tomorrow right?” Kai asks the group. 

beomgyu’s jumping on the balls of his feet to try to generate some warmth. “literally just text us, I cannot think about tomorrow when i’m this cold and sleepy,”

“Yes, we’re still on, I've been craving anything other than dining hall food for the past week,” yeonjun adds, shivering as he pulls the straps of his bag closer to his chest. “We'll still meet up back here like usual,” he was walking backwards as he said it, already a few steps behind the others, “but see you guys tomorrow or should I say ‘i’ll be right back!’” he jokingly yells while the others wave goodbye. 

“don’t play jjunie, you might be next! don’t trust anyone!” He gives you a silent salute in response as you and Kai head out for your walk. 

Instinctively the two of you are shoulder to shoulder, bumping into one another every other step. Silence following each muffled step on the pavement. Sometimes the two of you didn't say anything until you split on the elevators. a quick ‘goodnight’ or ‘see you tomorrow’ thrown out as you step out on your floor, waving as the doors closed back up so he could go up one more level. Other nights it was the two of you giggling trying to keep it down as you walked under the moonlight, too late to be loud. 

You wrap your arms around yourself, shivering as the wind hits the treeline. spots of orange light from the spaced out street lights are rare, casting the two of you in darkness every time the moon is behind the clouds; every several feet the hash light is back in your path. 

“So you'd live? In a horror movie?” Kai asks, hands shoved deep into his pockets, shoulders to his ears from the cold. The wind is hitting him right in the face, tossing his hair from his eyes where he liked to keep it. He asks it so softly, the question highlighted in the divot of his brow, nose pink, face washed in the glow from the moon. 

“I'm not really a virgin so…,” it's not an embarrassing confession but when it's this late with his eyes trained solely on you it's like a spilled glass of red wine on white sheets. Impossible to look away from. 

“You wouldn't live for knowing how people survive?” 

“The smart ones usually die from bad luck, they know to head for the car waiting in the lot but forget the keys or if the keys are still in the ignition they never check the back seat. They know if you run into the woods to escape you can hide, but how unlucky for a rusty forgotten bare trap to be waiting for your next step. or if you miss that one here's a log to trip over, only to tumble down a hill and break your neck. Call the police? You're in the one movie a phone works only for you to forget never trust anyone because the police work for the killer,” 

“So none of us make it?” It's such an open question the way he asks it, the hopeful twinge hitting the ending, twisting it into something it shouldn't be. Written right over his features the soft words unsaid, can't we? There has to be a way.

“This isn't a movie kai, we’re fine,” 

“I know, it's only a question,” he's so easily flustered when alone, second guessing everything he says, as if one slip up will make you hate him. Now he's blushing, both of you falling back into comfortable silence. You can tell he's thinking by the way he's biting at his cheek, eyes watching his feet, making sure not to miss one step. You assume it's the end of what he has to say, his silence following you all the way back to your floor. The elevator doors opened finally giving him the courage to speak up. “Do you…” 

“Hum?” you lift your arm to hold the doors open, turned to see him struggling to get the words out. 

“Do you want to come with me to my parents cabin,” he says it all in a rush, avoiding looking you in the eyes just in case you reject him. “I mean you don't have to, the guys won't be there and if it makes you uncomfortable-” he cuts himself off, hand at the back of his neck, trying to rub away his embarrassment, “forget it- forget i said anything,” 

“It's okay, I'd love to go. where is it?” 

“Um it's like two hours from campus, my parents need me to check on it just cause and i thought, why not make a weekend of it? I mean, you can finally sleep on a real mattress, not whatever was issued here,” 

A weekend away did sound good, perfect after the semester you were having. And Kai is as sweet as they come, spending time with him wouldn't be bad at all. “Sure, when are you thinking?” 

“Next week?” 

It was all so very innocent, a sweet boy asking a girl to join him on a weekend getaway. He even packed you snacks for the drive, let you pick all the music, and made sure to carry your bag in when you arrived. 

You weren't stupid enough not to realize why you were here and the other boys didn't get an invite. The whole week you thought it over, pushing around the idea of being with him. And you could tell he was tossing it around all throughout the drive, periodically blushing without saying a thing to you, hands tightening on the steering wheel; knuckles turning white from the pressure. 

Halfway through the drive you realized exactly what he meant by cabin. Not the kind sitting near the edge of a trail, but one hidden deep into the woods for perfect seclusion. Kai had a late class to make up for and the two of you didn't get started on the drive until the sun was already setting behind the trees. Every shadow thrown across the road drew longer and longer as the car kept on. 

The gravel driveway leading up to the cabin was a stretch, but when you finally broke past the winding path the gleaming two story was not very cabin like. The windows reflecting the cars headlights back at you expanded most of the first level. Wraparound porch dotted with chairs, and a swinging bench. As soon as kai killed the engine the silence stumbled in, darkness spilling over the scene as you climbed out of your seat. 

“This place is huge,” you whisper, as if anything louder would disrupt the peace of the outdoors. You held your phone's flash up in front of you, huening fumbling to put the key into the lock on the first try. Each attempt from his shaking hand failed.

“Here,” you took the key into your own hand, twisting the knob and pushing the door open. 

“Sorry,” his voice wavering as he flips on the light switch, “i'm just- you know-,” he cuts himself off not wanting any more embarrassment to follow him. 

As soon as the lights come on you can't see anything outside, the windows a reflection of the room. A tv hanging over a huge stone fireplace, welcoming couches spaced out in a semi circle around a wooden coffee table, a bar topped with dusty glasses pushed in the corner. Kai kicks off his shoes by the door, walking further in you notice the dark hallway leading deeper into the first floor, a staircase waiting right by the entrance. But kai ignores it all while walking towards the kitchen. 

“I mostly have to check the doors and windows to make sure no one broke in,” he's trying to fill the silence, rambling to kill his nerves,”one year we had someone steal the tv, we don't really leave much now just incase, so that's why it looks so empty,” 

“People actually drive all the way out here and break in? The last time i saw a turn off the road before this one was an hour ago,” 

“You never know, it's best to just check and fill out a report sooner rather than later,” in the kitchen the backdoor is made of two foggy planes of glass, only the outline of kai seen in the weavering shape. He twists the knob and to your surprise it gives way and opens, “damn one of my sisters must have forgotten to lock it last they were here,” You lean your hip against the kitchen island, taking his explanation as is. 

“They come out here to check too?”

“Rarely they mostly come with their friends but stopped when they realized there is zero phone service this far out,” 

“There isn't?” you hadn't even checked to see if your phone was working, “what if someone had broken in? You have no phone to make a call from,” 

He chuckles pointing past your shoulder, right on the end of the counter a sleek black cordless landline rests in its holder, the blinking red light showing one waiting voicemail. “Sometimes it can be spotty but for the most part its a solid line of communication,” 

Hand still on the knob of the backdoor he locks the door before walking over to the pantry, finding only a crate of dusty wine and a stack of old jiffy pop popcorn. 

“Wait, I didn't think they made these anymore,” you reach out for the thin metal handle attached to the panshapped popcorn container. Shaking it you hear the rattle of the kernels, “when i was younger i thought it was just something people had in movies,” 

“My sisters and i love the stuff, it's also easy to pop outside over the fire,” 

“So all you leave is popcorn and wine when you're not staying here?” you tap the crate of wine with your foot, his grin boyish and shy. 

“It's a good thing for us now i guess,” 

It's what leads you to sharing the bottle, passing it by the neck as he gives you a tour of the house. His lips right at the spout, nerves loosening up with each sip he takes, creaking steps leading up the second floor. “And here is my room,” 

It’s right at the end of the hall, bed neatly made with a single stuffed penguin sitting against the pillows. “You left him here all alone?” You ask, picking up the plushie, Kai's standing in front of the closet, the slatted doors making up most of the wall behind him facing the bed. 

He shrugs placing the half full wine bottle down on his dresser, “someone needed to protect my prize possession,” he falls right onto the mattress, head thrown back, hair spilling against the pillows, “i always sleep so good in this bed,” cheeks flushed from the wine, half lidded eyes watching you from under his lashes. It's an invitation you don't pass up. 

You climb in after him, feeling relaxed from drinking even if it was only a little bit, you can tell it's helped him too, his lazy smile so blissful. “I'm sure this bed is good for other things too,” you don't even care about being bold, not alone with him under you as you dip your head, nose brushing his. 

The first kiss is so soft, a brush of lips together lasting no longer than a second. Kai whines in the back of his throat, an ache for more hidden in the desperate sound. It's addicting to have someone seem so needy for your attention, his legs instinctively tangling with yours, hand at the back of your neck pulling you back down for another kiss.

The two of you fumbling to feel at each other, your hand sliding up under his shirt to touch his warm skin, his stomach flexing at the brush of your cold fingertips. His hand at your waist pulling you closer to him, needing you as close as he can get you. The kiss is sloppy in seconds, his tongue sliding against yours, noses bumping as you breath in each other.  You can feel that he's semi-hard, pressed against your thigh between his legs. 

He's a mess, whimpering when you pull away to take off your sweater, leaving you braless in a tank top. greedy hands back on you, pulling you back down on top of him, he’s grinding onto you desperately, fully hard from only kissing. 

every little noise he makes is caught in your mouth, his fingers fumbling for the button on your jeans. you have to pull away after his failed attempt, giggling as you brush his hair back, “it’s okay to take it a little bit slow huening we have all night,” you remind him, “I don’t want you cumming in your jeans when it could be in or on me,” he's looking up at you with total devotion, with an expression that lets you know he'd let you do anything if you asked. 

“Please?” and it doesn't even matter what he's begging for, you would let him do just about anything in return for looking at you like that. 

You're quick to rid yourself of your pants, falling back to the bed and letting him roll on top of you. Hands in his hair as he presses into you, one hand holding himself up while the other snakes down between you two. The soft gasp you let out eggs him on, drawing soft circles over your clothed clit like he knows exactly what to do. You twist your fingers into his hair, his lips tracing down your neck, hips back to grinding into your thigh. At first you don't notice the smell of popcorn. It's faint upstairs, wafting in through the vents, buttery and warm as kai slips his fingers into you. Your hips rolling on his hand, meeting every thrust, heel of his palm pressed to your clit. 

It isn't until the popcorn starts to burn that you say something, the tang in the air subtle as kai sucks hickeys on your sensitive skin. “Is something on fire?” 

Kai pulls away from the crook of your neck, “what the fuck?” breathing deeply to catch the scent. It's clear in the air now, hanging around like a question. “Stay here,” 

it's so unceremonious when he pulls his hand from your panties, fingers dropping onto his tongue to clear them, “i'll be right back, okay?” 

“O-okay,” you're confused more than anything, knees pulling in feeling overly exposed all of a sudden. It's silent in the house, the soundtrack of your kissing dimmed to nothing, before it's replaced with the creaking of his dissipating steps down the stairs. 

You feel a little foolish sitting in his bed, the crumpled sheets and discarded plushie a reminder that this is not normal for a hook up at all. Letting out a long breath you push out of the bed, all relaxation felt before now gone as you reach for the wine bottle on the dresser. You take a heavy swig from the bottle, needing your courage back. It felt silly to worry over burnt popcorn. 

Your stomach turns, sickening realization settling in. the two of you had only picked up the wine, neither of you even put the jiffy pop close to the stove's burners. You're quick to look for your phone, checking in the pile of your clothes on the floor, and finding nothing. Your bag was by the door downstairs, right next to the shoes, if your phone wasnt up here it was bound to be in your bag. 

You didn't say anything as you made it to the top of the stairs, not until the phone rang. Not the familiar song that came through your speakers but the deft echo of a warning siren. The kind of ringtone that was played in a movie when someone was receiving bad news, and it didn't stop, traveling up the stairs, playing once, twice, until nothing but silence. 

“Huening?” your voice wasn't as strong as you wished, faulting at the end as you took your first step down the stairs. 

No response. 

The last step creaks under your weight, the sound triggering the phone, that chilling ringtone back in the air. All the lights are on, nothing outside the windows visible as you watch your reflection walk past. You look right at the front door as you walk past, all of your things still in place, even Kai's shoes are still right where he left them. 

In the kitchen you find the ringing phone, the little screen bright green as it shows the incoming call. The skins faucet turned on, the pelting water beating down on the thin aluminum foil of the jiffy pop, hastily tossed into the basin. Thin rivulets of smoke still curling from the singed popcorn. The stove's gas burner still lit with a blue flame. 

The ringing continues as you turn everything off, feeling suddenly too cold and alone standing under the golden lights. It doesn't help that you're only dressed in your panties and tanktop, bare feet padding across the tile to pick you the phone. 

Unknown caller. Read the directory, not even the number shown underneath. You hit answer before you could think better of it. 

“Hello?” your pulse was in your ears, washing down your neck, but you're stunned to recognize the voice over the phone. 

“What's your favorite scary movie?” 

You can't help but laugh, the sound bubbling up before you respond, “kai, are you using the ghostface voice on me right now? You already had your hand down my pants no need for the theatrics,” 

You can't even pick up a trace of his real voice over the filter, the soft chuckle on the other line trickling down your spine. “You didn't answer my question, you have to have a favorite, what comes to mind?”

“So we’re quoting the movie now?” you ask, looking around the kitchen, leaning back against the countertop. “Should i go all in and start asking to make it to the sequel?” 

He chuckles, so soft and sensual, unlike his usual boisterous laugh. “Maybe…but a little birdie told me that you're not a virgin and you know what happens to those who sleep around right?” 

“Enlighten me,” you cross your arms smiling at your reflection in the window. It's a bit silly to be here roleplaying in the first place but it's not like you're against it. What gets you is that it's coming from kai of all people. So soft and sweet, giggling and shyly walking you home. But you truly never know what a persons into until you're faced first with it. 

“They don't last very long,” so smug as he says it. 

“They don't?” 

“Nope, and you have a list of things that you've already done wrong. I don't know if you truly deserve to make it to the sequel,” 

“Oh? What did I do wrong?” you smile, checking out your nails, thumb running along the bed of your cuticles as you listen. 

“Humm, let me see. First you're all alone in that big old house, did anyone ever tell you never to go into the dark and scary woods all alone?” 

“I'm not alone, i have you,” 

He ignores the last half of your statement, “Aren't you? hum, funny how i don't see the boytoy around anymore,” 

“I can't believe you planned all of this, who knew you would be so freaky? I can't say that it doesn't turn me on though,” 

“Oh? How cute that you still think I'm your little boyfriend. I mean didn't you see the signs? The door was unlocked in the back, popcorn on the stove when you didn't put it there, and now a missing boy toy. It's a shame you seem to have forgotten everything you've learned in class, or maybe it was the wine,” 

“A few sips won't make me stupid, seriously huening come out, i want to get back into your bed,” you push off the counter, walking back toward the living room until you're stopped dead in your tracks. The sound isn't coming from the phone but just up ahead around the corner.

Your laugh echoes in the empty house, followed by your own words, “it’s okay to take it a little bit slow huening, we have all night, I don’t want you cumming in your jeans when it could be in or on me,” 

You follow each line into the living room, the tv on and showing a video of only minutes ago. 

“Please?” kais weavering voice seems so loud here instead of between you two. 

You can see yourself push down your pants, watch the way the two of you fall right back into each other. Only now you're seeing it from the perspective of the closet, it's the only place you could think of that he would have placed the camera. The slats of the wood even in frame. It's like someone dropped a bucket of ice water on top of you. Standing in front of the tv as if you're Carrie from the prom and someones set up a cruel joke. 

“Cute huh?” the voice over the phone asks, that little laugh following right after, “i sure think it is. Look at the way your body reacts to his fingers, you’ll be that pretty for me won't you?” 

You feel the hair on the back of your neck rise, the house too big for this kind of game. Even just standing there now alone it felt like you were a fish in a bowl, stuck to be watched from all sides. And not from the video but from the figure standing right on the outside of the window. 

He was dressed in all black, nothing like what kai had been wearing before. And covering his face the dripping white mask of ghostface. You only catch a glimpse because the lights are on but it's enough to remind you that maybe this isn't a joke. “Are you outside?” 

“I don't know? Am i?” but as he says it you see down the hallway a dark figure step out of a doorway. 

Everything in you freezes, your heart rate plummeting, a cold sweat breaking out across your skin. You hadn't even noticed your fingers had been trembling before, not until your deathgrip on the phone starts to hurt. “Don't hang up on me,” he warns over the line, but the person down the hall doesnt even have a phone in sight, his slow prowl reminding you to move. 

You take off back towards the kitchen, the back door playing in your head as the best possible exit but as soon as you're in front of it, tugging on a door knob needs to be unlocked you see the haze reflection of two more figures waiting right against the glass. You can hear the laugh of the person on the phone even if it's not to your ear as you rush to pull open any drawer that might have something in it to protect you. But every pull leads you to find nothing at all, “what the fuck!” 

The door shakes as they try to pull it open, the glass rattling as you lift the phone back to your ear, “okay huening, that's enough, i get it, ha ha, funny, but seriously-” 

“Were you looking for a knife?” he cuts you off, voice so calm when you're falling apart. 

“What?” you're exasperated, huffing the question like it's a slap in the face. 

“I know where one is, if you want it,” 

It's then that the masked man from the hall comes into the kitchen, the steel knife in his hands glinting in the light. “You have to be fucking kidding me right now,” youre desprate to find an explanation for this. The island is between the two of you, his head tilting to the side, the open mouth of the mask mocking you as he takes slow steps around the marble. You're matching his every move, both of you circling the kitchen like two fighters waiting for the ding of a bell. 

The door rattles again, the sound making you yelp, hand pressed to your racing heart. It's the distraction you need to bolt right through the kitchens arch way and run to the front door. 

You're moving so fast you have little time to slow down, partially slamming into the door, fingers fast to twist the locks. 

As soon as it's opened you're standing face to face with another ghostface mask, his black clad outfit sticking to his figure as he towers over you, phone hovering right over the mask's gaping mouth. “Hum not out the front door i guess,” 

You try to slam the door shut but his boot clad foot moves fast catching it right before it could close completely. Spinning you run towards the stairs, the sound of their following footsteps close behind. The door to the bedroom is still wide open as you barrel through turning around and throwing the door closed and twisting the lock. 

But it's only a moment of relief when you feel a hand clasp around your mouth. Your scream is muffled from their fingers, your eyes closing as if that would fix the situation, the phone in your hand falling to the floor, “Shhh it's okay,” Kai whispers, a strong arm wrapping around your middle pulling you closer to him. 

The weight is lifted off your shoulders hearing his voice, hands wrapping around the one covering your mouth to tug it away. “What is going on?” you ask, pulling yourself away from him. your back is to the door and he steps closer backing you right up against it. 

“Didn't you say you found it kinda hot, the whole fear thing?” he asks, leaning close enough to kiss, “i wanted to make it extra special for you, and you don't mind if we all share you, right?” his knuckle lifts your chin up so you’re eye to eye, nose to nose, his normal shy smile turned devilish. “All you have to do is say no,” 

It was crazy to say yes. your heart still pounding, breathing only just starting to regulate, and yet you want him, you want them. “I-I don’t- I don’t want to say no,” 

“Then don’t,” he pushed his whole body against yours, engulfing you in his warmth, taking you for another kiss like you hadn’t left the room at all. You don't even notice him unlocking the door, not until the knob is shaking against your back. 

Kai pulls you towards the bed, the closet doors behind him open showing the empty space with a lone camera on a tripod. The red light looking back at you like a warning, you looked right down the barrel of the lens wondering if you would ever see this again, and praying that you did. Kai fit his fingers over you eyes, “don't look at it, don’t think about its there,” 

You hear a chuckle, so similar to the one over the phone, only without the filter. Now so easily recognizable as yeonjun, you can picture the way his mouth looks as he does it, his canines on display as he smirks. You don't even have to see him to know, you've known all of them so long you're sure one touch and you could guess who was who. And with both of kais hands on your eyes the brush of someone's fingers on your cheek lets you know exactly who it is. Soobins hands are the softest of the bunch and your face tilts in his direction. “Soobin?”

he lets out a huff of a laugh, “you caught me. And you know it's kind of rude not to open the back door when we come knocking,” 

“You scared me,” it's a soft confession that they all chuckle at. 

“Did we?” beomgyu teases, so much closer than you expected, the ghost of his touch going up your arm, goosebumps popping up along the trail. 

Your senses are on overdrive, pulse loud enough to be heard if one listens close enough, every little thing heightened by your fading fear and covered eyes. You feel a hand slip down your stomach stopping right before your panty line, a single finger sliding under the waistline to pull it and let it snap back against your skin. You jolt from the contact, body flush with kai’s, his hard cock pressed to your back. 

You hear rustling from the closet, and kai lets you go, letting you see yeonjun taking the camera in hand. He's adjusting the viewfinder, the others standing in a circle around you, it should be intimidating, the masks off now, looking at you like you're something to eat. It's taehyun that steps forward first, thumb reaching out to drag across your bottom lip. You open your mouth letting him press the digit flat against your tongue. 

“You’ll be good for us, won't you?” he asks, and you close your mouth sucking his finger as you nod. He smirks, “i want first,” 

It's all he says before he's pushing you down on the bed. It's so quick the air is almost knocked right out of you, your hands scrambling to find purchase on the beds duvet cover. It's almost a shame how wet you already are, the way your panties are cut away, the cold knife in taehyuns free hand only just brushing your skin. The fabric tossed around from person to person. “I did most of the work,” kai adds as you bury your face into the sheets, “she wouldn't be this prepped if i didn't start early,” 

“And that's why you have to wait,” “You didn't even get her off,” they talk over each other.  

“You guys didn't give me time!” kai tries but they ignore him when you give a sharp whine. 

Taehyun shoves his fingers right into you, your body so willing to take him in. but you hear his belt being undone with one hand, and it's a shame you cant see the way his cock looks from this angle, because as he pressed the tip right at your entrance, slick fingers helping to lude up his veiny shaft, you can tell he's going to be the perfect stretch. 

Your moan as he sinks into your warm heat is echoed by the rest of them, a choir of the perfect voices turned husky and wanting. “Holy shit,” teahyun breathes his hand pressed right to your lower back, your feet dangling right off the edge of the bed, toes only just barely touching the ground. 

“Doesn't she feel amazing?” kai asks, “fuck i bet she fits like a fucking dream,” gyu adds as he walks over to the other side of the bed climbing in to lay against the headboard. His zipper was already undone, pants low on his hips as he watched you get pounded into. 

Because tae was not holding back anymore, it felt like he had been waiting all night for this exact moment, to chase his high without question. And your pussy was so welcoming, sucking him in, practically begging for his cum. 

Yeonjun walked around the bed, zeroing the camera in on you as your legs bend, heel of your feet pushing on taes thighs. Taehyun wraps his hands in your hair, tugging your head back, extending your throat to the camera, arching your back just right, “i want to be able to watch back how you looked while i fucked you okay?” 

“Oh, look at that, huening marked up our toy already,” soobin reaches out a finger, tracing over the hickey kai had left on your skin, your eyes were wide and begging as you watched him, mouth caught open in a moan as taes thrusts turned sloppy. “Fuck, look at that mouth,” 

yeonjun bent down to catch the image. “I think someone needs to fill it,” 

Soobin didn't need to be told twice. He was tugging his cock out of his jeans, leaking precum already dotting the tip as he gave it long languid strokes. Your mouth was already watering at the sight, knowing taking him down your throat would be a task but one you wouldn't back away from. 

But taehyun was already cumming, orgasm cresting as he slammed his hips into your ass, cock twitching as he let out a deep rumbling moan. He let go of your hair, head falling forward into the duvet as he stilled inside you pressing as close as he could get, the tip of his cock hitting you just right as he spilled inside you. 

“I want next!” gyu calls out, raising his hand like he knows the answer to a question. 

“No-” soobin starts but beomgyu is already moving from his stop on the bed as taehyun pulls out, the gush of warmth leaving your cunt dripping down your thighs. Yeonjun is quick to catch the sight on film. 

“Look at that,” it sounds so endearing coming from him, a true sight to behold as you whine from the feeling of being empty. You feel like a ragdoll as soobin pulls on you, tugging you further up the bed so that you're on your hands and knees in front of him. 

“Open,” his tip is already prodding at your lips. You feel the bed dip behind you, gyu finding his place as he drags his fingers through the leaking cum traveling down your legs, he does his best to shove it right back into you, fingers dragging over your clit, circling it as soobin shoves his cock right into your mouth. 

You give a muffled yelp, tongue flattening to make it easier for him to slide in and out of. His head is rolling back, hair spilling around his ears as he moans. He twists his fingers in your hair, both hands wrapping around your head to bob you up and down on his dick like his own personal toy. You're nails dig into the sheets, the sloppy sounds of him fucking your throat taking up the most sound. 

Beomgyu keeps one hand on your clit and the other guides his cock into you, he's quick to snap his hips forward sending you forward on soobin, until you're choking for air. Moans sending vibrations up along soobins shaft. His eyes tighten, needing to pull away before he cums too quickly, face flushed red as rivulets of your saliva still connect you to him. 

The constant pressure put on your clit from beomgyus fingers has your stomach tightening in knots. Now that you're not taking soobin in beomgyu picks up his pace, the skin on skin slapping sounds melding with your whines. “I want you to cum for me, i want to be the first one to make you cum, please,” he sounds so desperate, not matching the way he drills into you, tip hitting your cervix in a mix of painful pleasure. He can feel your fluttering walls, every particularly hard thrust making your cunt react just right. And when you cum hes a blubbering mess, “fuck fuck fuck-” not expecting to cum so fast, but youre drawing it out of him, with each little sound you make. He's almost embarrassed by how long he cums for, head falling forward to rest on your shoulder blade, his dick pulsing inside you, curses turning to nonsense, the drawn out, “fuuu- ahh, ah,”  

“Look at how pretty she looks when she cums,” yeonjun smiles, bringing the camera close to catch the way you are trying to blink the spots from your vision, “soobin next? Or maybe kai? Both of them seem to have waited so long for you,” 

Kai leans back against the dresser, arms crossed as he watches you, expressionless as he follows the shape of your body. Only one of your tank tops straps are on, your breasts already spilling out from the thin fabric, soobins eyes caught on your peaked nipples as he strokes himself. But you look back over to huening, the way he's standing there like he's unaffected at all. But you know it's not true, not when he's straining in his pants, the bulge itself drives you insane. “Hyuka?” 

The shyness in your voice is what does it for him, beomgyu only just pulling out of you with a hiss. More cum dribbling out as he pushes his hair back looking at his handiwork. Yeonjun is right next to him too, getting the perfect shot. 

Taehyun languidly lounges back against the headboard, cock still hard as it rests against his stomach, hand wrapped around the base as he watches you. It distracts you enough not to see kai moving replacing gyus spot. 

Kai wraps his hand in your hair but unlike taehyun he forcefully pushes your head down into the mattress. The whole mit of his hand cups your skull, your whimper making him chuckle. His free hands traced up your side, slipping under your tank top as he feels along your skin. “You know I was thinking about this the whole walk back after our study night?” his hand dips down fingers sliding along your wetness, “i kept thinking about how perfect it would be to absolutely ruin you,” 

You're already sensitive from finishing already and kai can tell as your thighs tremble but it wont stop him from pinching your clit. Your hips push back against him, yelping as he goes on to rub circles over the bundle of nerves. “Seeing it happen- watching you get used as a little cum dump is so much better than I ever imagined,” he works your clit, building up his speed until your back is arching, nails biting into your palm as you feel your orgasm building too quickly. You're trying to rock back into his hand but the way he has you bent helps very little. Your cries heighten until he pulls it all away. 

“No huening please!” 

“Aww how cute, she's begging,” beomgyu laughs and you're whimpering in response. 

“Kai…please!” 

“You're already doing so well because i want you begging to be filled with my cum, crying from how badly you want it,” his hand goes back to your cunt, pressing into your clit rubbing at a pace that has you seeing stars, your hands scratch out for looking for anything to hold onto. Yeonjun takes your hand in his keeping the camera facing your reaction as your eyes roll back. Its in the middle of your climax that kai pushes his cock into you, finding a punishing rhythm as he fucks you into the matterss. 

“Beg for it,” he growls, hand in your hair twisting in the strands. You can feel him all the way to your throat, stretched out so good, he presses right into your gspot like he was made for you. 

“P-please- hyuka i need it- i-” you cant even get the words out anymore, the squeaking of the bed building as he increases his speed. You can hear the wet sounds of the other boys jerking off, “i want your c-cum, i need it,” 

“Louder,” yeonjun mutters in front of you, your death grip on his hand not loosening anytime soon. 

“I want it! I need your cum, please!” But Huenings is so lost chasing his own high that he drops his hand from your clit to grab your hip, his bruising hold and brutal thrusts making you cry out. 

Beomgyu reaches down under you, fingers finding just the right rhythm to send you over the edge at the same time kai cums. His faltering thrusts and throaty moans makes you feel weak. Your cunt is strangling his cock, his release pushed as deep as he could get it into you. When he pulls out you collapse onto the bed, completely used up. 

It feels never ending body too tired already when you feel soobin climb into the bed. He lays right behind your exhausted form, both of you on your sides facing yeonjun, “look who's next, do you think you could get another one out of her? I hear you're only a freak in theory and not practice,” 

But soobin doesn't take the bait, one hand sliding under you and wrapping around your chest, hand coming up to cup your breast, fingers twisting your hard nipple, and the other lifting your leg to get better access to your leaking cunt. Your thighs are so sticky soobins fingers slip on his hold, having to tighten his grip to make sure he can keep you open. He's been ready since the start, his cock aching as it prods your now puffy swollen cunt, so used you're sure you would be sore for days. 

When he sinks in your whimpers are so soft they are hardly heard. Yeonjun is kneeling on the floor, arm holding the camera resting on the bed. He captures the way soobins dick slides in with ease, no resistance now with how much slick is coming out of you. Every drag of soobins cock comes away stained in white. A ring of the combined cum circling the base, balls sticking to your skin with every thrust. 

His breathy moans are lost against your neck, pitiful little sounds before he's muttering, “im sorry, oh god- im-” 

“Don't you dare cum yet,” yeonjun warns soobin, who pauses his thrusts trying to listen but can't find it in him to restrain. Yeonjuns fingers pinch at your clit, your whole body reacting to the feeling, jolting you back to life as you cum. soobin unable to handle the pressure and is a complete mess, whimpering as he pulls you closer, hugging you as if he could merge bodies. 

It took him a while to finally pull out, a much needed break for only a few breaths before yeonjun passes the camera to taehyun to keep the filming going. You can feel the weakness all the way down to your bones, sure if you stand you could collapse to the floor, legs too weak to hold you up. But yeonjun is looking at you like you're being served on a silver platter, all done up with all the best fixings. 

“Best for last huh?” he grins climbing over you brushing under your eye to catch a single tear that's fallen from your overstimulation. “Its so fun to see you so dumb on cock, so unlike how we usually see you,” 

You hum in response as he pushes your legs open, hands at the back of your knees pushing them to your chest. When he puts them over his shoulders you whimper, reaching out to wrap your arms around his neck as he sinks into your wet heat. Bent in half you feel your toes curling, sure that if you came one more time you would be better off sleeping for the next year. “I think this is good practice, don't you?” he asks like you'll respond to him with anything other than a string of muffled whimpers. Your body is coated in a thin layer of sweat, sticking to his skin as he takes a slow pace. It's like he's apologizing, lips peppering across your cheek, down your neck. “We’ll keep you so happy, stuffed full like you deserve. Would you like that?” 

You're nodding, eyes closing as he uses you. You don't even notice the way your body is reacting, that slow rise of your next orgasm building up, “i-” you can’t think about cumming again already feeling so dumbed out. 

“Hum? Are you going to cum, pretty?” he picks up his pace, sinking his hips and hitting you right against your g spot. Your head rolls back as it washes over you, body tightening until you feel like you’ve combusted into little particles. “Oh look at that, so perfect for me, your pussy feels so good when it's squeezing me like this,” it's all he says before he’s trembling, a guttural moan taking over as he cums, you swear you can feel its warmth spreading throughout you. And when he pulls out he takes the camera back from taehyun focusing it in on the sight of all the combined release staining your folds. 

“Look at how she pushes it out,” beomgyu says, mesmerized by the way you look leaking so much cum. But it's Kai who leans down, fingers collecting anything he can before shoving all the cream right back into you. “Its almost like she wants us to fuck it right back in,” 

🏷taglist: @kissmekissykissme @bts-txt-ateez @apeachty @stwq2349 @isa942572 @tomorrowxforever r @beestvng @soobingf-blog @lovinjjong @lola-horore-553 @cypher-03 @midnight-mochii i @hueningwhy @choibeomning @soobinbunnie5 @yunjinswifee @cupidtaehyun @bamgeutsz @prince-jjae @nessaassen02 @iluvhyukaa @mrsjohnnysuh @wand3rlustm3

thank you so much to @beomiracles @prince-jjae and @thetxtdevil for beta/proofreading the first part of this fic!

[sleepyjuice]

toxic!rafe will blow your phone up the second you post something on instagram that he’s ‘iffy’ about.

you posted a photo dump which consisted of some random photos of the beach, some of your friends, one of you and rafe of course, but the one that had rafe seeing red was the last slide, which was you in a bikini. he texted you several times at first, and while you were literally typing your response, he called you. your fingers were typing so fast to respond to him that you accidentally declined the call, and he did not like that. you immediately went to call him back, but another text from rafe rolled in, saying ‘fuck you don’t talk to me we’re done’ you sighed loudly, knowing damn well he was talking out of his ass right now, so you sat back and waited for the inevitable next string of texts to roll in. which they did, only seconds later.

rafe <3: do you get off on making me mad or something

rafe <3: like i’m racking my brain trying to understand why you do the things you do and that’s all i can come up with

rafe <3: and i see at least 4 guys have already liked your post like that’s crazy to me?? thought i told you to block all the guys that followed you?? of course you didn’t

rafe <3: also who even took that pic of you??? bc i know damn well it wasn’t me so who the fuck you posing for with your fucking ass and tits out? WHAT THE FUCK

rafe <3: DO NOT PUT YOUR SHIT ON DO NOT DISTURB answer me rn.

rafe <3: nah it’s cool actually i’m gonna go hit up my other gfs so you have a good night.

you rolled your eyes at that last text, deciding to fully turn your phone off. you knew he would likely try to text or call you again very soon but you didn’t want to deal with it right now. this wasn’t your first rodeo, you knew nothing you could say to him right now would calm him down, so letting him freak out on his own was the best method to his madness.

three hours had passed since you turned your phone off. you had caught up on some reading and turned on your current favorite show, but found yourself interrupted by a knock at your front door. you expected it to be rafe, but instead it was a large bouquet of your favorite flowers and a gift bag. you glanced around to see if rafe was lurking around, but saw nothing. when he freaked out over text and was able to reread his actions, he usually waited a bit longer to show his face as opposed to a verbal argument.

you brought the flowers inside and set them on the counter before grabbing the card attached to the side of the bouquet.

sorry we argued. you are so beautiful and i love you so much. got you a little gift and sent you some money for food and i set your appointment with your nail girl for tomorrow at 10. love you forever baby -rafe

you couldn’t help but smile just a little. the flowers were beautiful and the note was pretty sweet, so you chose to ignore the part where he said ‘we argued.’ you didn’t get a word in, but you let it slide. especially after you opened the gift bag to see the new dior bag you had been wanting.

you hurried to turn on your phone, immediately seeing a $500 apple payment from rafe as well as a new text from a few minutes ago.

rafe <3: hope you like the flowers and bag baby. love you! :)

you: i love them. thanks rafe, love you too

rafe <3: good to hear. lmk what you end up getting for dinner and i’ll pick you up tomorrow to take you to your nail apt. can’t wait to see you baby

you would order yourself dinner that was obviously way less than $500, but you would send rafe a picture and thank him again. you’d facetime him before bed and conversation flowed like nothing had even happened just hours before. he’d ask you what color nails you were getting, tell you funny stories about the old men at the country club and excitedly plan what you two were going to do the next day. the cycle seemed like it would never end, but you often forgot about the bad when he was talking so sweetly to you and all you could think about was how excited you were to see him tomorrow.

[malachitezmeyka]

My sleep schedule's a bit messed up after a week of holiday and I can't fall asleep at a reasonable time while at my grandma's, so obviously I'm once again being plagued by my favourite kind of brain rot

Currently thinking about how there must have been a small moment of peace, a few weeks maybe, before Zaheer's breakout starts having major consequences but after Kuviren figure their shit out and everyone warms up to each other, where the Kids can relax and take a breather and act like the teenagers they never got to be

Because yes, I'm standing by what I said, none of the kids ever got to be actual teenagers:

Suiren had to grow up quickly after the loss of her parents. Her whole childhood was spent taking the brunt of Haya's violence, always aching, always hungry, with no one to turn to. The world's not fair, she learned quickly. You've got to help yourself because no one else will. You have to get Midori out of here. She trained herself not to cry, not to need as much food, not to require comfort. As she entered her teens, her childhood self had already starved to death. By the time she turned 13, she was already weary and burdened and exhausted, with no hopes for the future. By 15 she dropped out of school, and her only friends all that time were her sister and her moose lion. She can't think of anything but protecting Midori. No job in Gaoling will take her, deterred by her lack of schooling, her swamp heritage and what Haya had said about her. But money has to be earned somehow. Most girls like her end up in brothels, but she knows her prodigious waterbending skills could be put to a different use. By 17 she's an assassin, spending hours in the shower trying to scrub away the blood that is no longer there, focusing on nothing but the next mission, slicing the throats of those young girls with sparkling golden brown eyes that sometimes show up in the corners of her vision. The supposed carefree teenage years that she was owed are now way beyond her understanding.

Midori is not as weighed down with the weight of the world as Suiren, but she had her youth stolen as a consequence of what happened at the South Pole all those years ago too. Her trauma – Haya yelling at her for the slightest mistake, always calling her a useless child, calling her weak and a whiny brat for showing emotions natural to any child in her situation – left her extremely anxious, so quiet it's very easy to forget she's even there. Children are meant to be seen and not heard. And then there's the guilt, knowing full well her sister skips meals for her, takes punishments for her, endures beatings for her, no matter how hard Suiren tries to hide it. Midori hit puberty already wishing she was never born, maybe then Suiren's burden would have been alleviated. All of that in turn made it impossible for her to make friends, not to mention everyone knowing that her sister is the swamp freak, and their aunt's endless list of chores practically kept her chained at the house so she couldn't go out even if she had the chance to. She spent her 17th birthday fully aware her parents are out there, and allowed herself a childish hope that they'll be reunited, just like she always wished for thirteen long, horrible years. But her parents were killed within weeks afterwards. The day they got the news of their demise was the day she knew there was no going back. The day she knew that she was now an adult.

Bolin was protected by Mako for most of his life, ever since his parents were murdered when he was six, but even with his brother always looking out for him, what kind of childhood is living on the streets, running errands for triads? Still, out of the hundreds of homeless children in Republic City, he and Mako are the lucky ones, they were discovered and taken in by that probending trainer. But nothing in Republic City comes for free, and the two of them just so happen to make up two thirds of a team. His early teenage years were, he realises now, wasted, training in probending all day, every day. They go out on the field in every match they can but are still barely getting enough in earnings to scrape by, and life is only bearable because they can stay unconditionally in that room above the arena. He adores probending, the love and attention from his fans, but more often than not wishes he was part of the groups of friends that come to watch the games instead. He meets Korra at 16 and within the year has to witness her almost die three times, and despite all that training he was near powerless to stop it. After that was all over, he enlisted in Kuvira's army at 17, trying to get rid of that feeling of helplessness by deciding to help fix the mess created in the world during that year. But a soldier cannot be a child, and a child cannot be a soldier.

Kuvira's childhood ended the day her parents abandoned her at Suyin's front gate and never looked back, leaving her with nothing but the clothes on her back and a small sack of belongings. All for sometimes acting out, a result of them never paying her any attention as well as her possessing stronger bending than she could handle. It was easier to label her a problem child and get rid of her than to realise the cause of the issue. Suyin was different from her parents, extremely impressed by Kuvira's bending skills, to the point she made her her protege, and Kuvira, so unused to the praise, threw herself headfirst into making Suyin proud. Bending, dancing, training... It took up all of her free time, but as long as she gained Suyin's approval, she found that she didn't care. What use would she have for that much free time anyway? She's 17 and already made captain of the Zaofu guard as well as named the best dancer in the troupe. Some say it's because she's Suyin's prized pupil, but no one can deny that her metalbending is outstanding. But she never has time to hang out with the girls from the dance team or her comrades from the guard, and she pretends it doesn't matter to her, but she secretly yearns for that feeling of belonging. She sacrificed her teenagehood to make Suyin proud, and after all of that, despite everything Kuvira did, Suyin still doesn't consider her a daughter.

Opal is easily the most privileged of the five, being born into one of the wealthiest Earth Kingdom families does come with its perks, after all. But those grand metal domes of her home city that opened like flowers every morning were nothing more than gilded cages to her. Once it became obvious she wasn't a bender, her mother lost interest, happy to let her do as she pleased as long as she upheld the family image. It doesn't matter what hobby she chooses, nothing she achieves will be enough to rectify that her lack of bending brought an end to the rather short-lived Beifong dynasty of strong earthbending women. But she has to focus on something. Baatar shares their father's love for engineering, Huan has his art, the twins are total momma's boys with their metalbending games, Opal has nothing and no one. Somehow, even while distracted, her mother managed to keep her close enough that Opal could never meet someone without their first impression of her being through her mother's lens. She turned to books to cope with the loneliness, always dreaming of a life away from Zaofu. She's freshly 17 when she got it, but what started as a dream come true quickly turned into a nightmare once the northern air temple was attacked by the Red Lotus. Her childhood innocence and belief in the good of the world died somewhere within that cave.

My point is, the five of them deserve to act like teenagers, to gain back what they lost. Let Suiren rebel, let Midori make friends, let Bolin have fun, let Kuvira relax, let Opal express herself, LET THEM BE KIDS

And I just love to imagine what they'd get up to in that moment of peace. Maybe they gather together, a bit away from the RL, and play dumb games like Fuck Marry Kill. Playing with Kuvira is always a challenge because she knows exactly which buttons to push, which is how she got Suiren to say, through gritted teeth and lots of cursing, that she'd marry Mako, because the other two options were Suyin and Unalaq and she's a distinguished lesbian and not fucking a man thank you very much.

Maybe they go out in the early hours of the morning and climb to the top of the rocks hiding the cabin from view to watch the sun rise over Republic City. Maybe their games of truth or dare get so intense you wouldn't want to be caught in the middle of one. Maybe while on supply runs one of them sneaks some alcohol, and they proceed to nearly kill Bolin when he suggests playing spin the bottle. Maybe they go skinny dipping in the lake. Maybe they find secluded spots to practice and figure out how their bending all works together. Maybe they try to figure out ways to hide the hickeys Suiren leaves on Kuvira. Maybe they make fun of how Green Opal become blushy messes near each other. Maybe if preserving secrecy and anonymity wasn't such a big concern they'd sneak off to attend festivals in small surrounding towns. Maybe after long days they collapse and sleep in one big pile together. And maybe the RL know full well what the five of them are doing, but given that they're anarchists and naturally lax with rules, they decide to just let them do what they want, all the while reminiscing on everything they got up to as teenagers.

The five of them are in their early to mid twenties and about to become the third generation of the Red Lotus setting out to try and change the world, hopefully with more success than their predecessors. But maybe, before they do, they'll get to act like dumb, careless teenagers like they were always meant to, just one last time.

[bbokicidal]

"Are you serious...?" - Angst! [Hyung Line SKZ]

Notes : These are all obviously fictional situations, the red flags are just based off of habits we know they have (like Chan's need to be needed, Changbin being blunt/honest.) This post isn't me saying I think they have these red flags, it's just a fun angsty prompt I wrote down. If you don't like it, scroll and don't read.

If people like this - a maknae line will be written! If not, prolly not lol.

Warnings : Angst with no comfort, red flag behavior - some of these aren't even that bad or could be misunderstandings but still.

Maknae Line | "Good Luck, Babe." Part Two!! Here!

BangChan - Brushing off/Having the wrong priorities

One time, it was him forgetting a dinner date - the next, he was staying at the studio late when he was supposed to be meeting your parents for the first time. You let it slide because ultimately you understood that his job took up a lot of his time, and honestly? It wasn't easy to forget about but he had a tendency to take care of you and make up with it by quick gestures before he left the apartment or when he came home; Soft back hugs, quick cuddles before he fell asleep, or kisses in passing. Lately, however, he's been slacking. He'd begun to shrug you off any time you'd touched his arm or hand, nudging you away while he typed on his laptop. He'd tip his head away from yours while laying in bed together or he'd sit further away on the dressing room sofa.

The tipping point was when he was getting ready to go on stage and was standing in wait for the others to be ready. There was still five minutes and Chris looked a bit jittery, so you figured a quick hug or kiss would help ease his nerves. However as soon as you approach and reach to touch his arms, he steps back and keeps his eyes trained on his phone. You reach again, hesitant, and his brow furrows as he maneuvers to the side to get away. "Don't touch me."

Your lips pop apart in surprise. "...Are you serious?"

He looks over, eyes briefly wandering your face before he reaches to fix his in-ear and walks away to the door, disappearing around the corner and leaving you standing there alone. Even the soft touch of Felix's hand on your back as he passed by was warmer than anything you'd felt from Chris in the last two months.

Lee Know - Keeping secrets / Prioritizing Privacy within himself

Minho had a very, very bad habit of not telling you things. In this instance; That he was leaving for tour in two days.

A world. fucking. tour. The only reason you didn't know about it was because you hadn't been out of your home in the last few weeks unless it was for a quick coffee at the cafe or to grab lunch with a friend. Work was heavy during this time of year and as someone who worked remotely, you often spent grueling hours in your office on your computer - hunched, tired, head pounding and back sore.

So you would think that when you entered your bedroom one evening after just finishing up sorting files in your office, you'd be happy to see your boyfriend already there. And you were for a moment, until you realized he was packing three rather large suitcases full of his clothes and necessities. He looks to you, then away, wordless.

"Are.. you.. moving out, or something?" You breathe in a laugh, eyes wandering over Minho as he folds a t-shirt and tucks it into his suitcase with the others.

"No. I have to bring all of my luggage to the company building tomorrow so they can have it at the airport when we leave for Australia."

"Australia?" Your brows quirk. "When -- Why --"

"Tour." He stops his movements to stare over at you, a hint of irritation evident on his face. "We're going on tour for six months."

"Six--" You breathe out, eyes widening. "Six months. And you didn't think to tell me?"

Minho moves to drop a pair of pants in his suitcase. "I would've told you if you could handle the news, maybe. Every time I mention leaving all you do is whine and pout about how long I'll be gone."

"I get upset, yes, what girlfriend wouldn't be upset that her boyfriend is leaving for a week or two? But six months, Minho, I --"

"Don't start." He all but huffs out the words, shutting you up immediately. Minho turns away to continue folding items of clothing on the shared bed and as you watch him do so, you stand and have to wonder if you want to be there when he returns home from the tour.

Changbin - Not knowing the difference between being rude and being blunt

He didn't seem to understand when to stop. Changbin had a tendency to be honest, sometimes to a fault, though you never seemed to complain about it because most of the time it wasn't a big deal. He called Jeongin out for saying the wrong word when singing, or blatantly threw people under the bus when a joke was taken too far.

And he was like that with you, too. He would be honest with you when you asked his opinion of something - was the shirt unflattering? Were you being too loud? Was your makeup bad today?

He'd lay it on you point blank. Yes, the shirt fit a little weird. Yes, you were being a bit loud in his ear. And yes, your eyeliner was going in two different directions. Criticism that was asked for. But when it wasn't asked for? Oh.

"What is your problem?" He bites as he follows you down the hallway to your bedroom. "We have ten minutes, just wear the damn dress and put your shoes on. We have to go."

Your huffs mix with stifled sobs as you rip open your dresser drawer and dig for other options, hands shaking and eyes teary. "You just told me the dress looks ugly, Changbin. I'm not wearing it out if you don't like it--!"

"What does it matter if i don't like it? It's your body, wear what you want!"

"You're my boyfriend!" You retaliate, frustrated. "I want to look nice for you and -- for the group, and I want you to like what I wear, obviously!"

Changbin lets his eyes roll before he turns out of the bedroom doorway and down the hall. You pause to watch him go, listening as he bites about how he doesn't have time for this and needs to leave for the group dinner. You stand in front of your dresser in shock as the door to your apartment slams shut, leaving you in silence and all on your own.

Hyunjin - Being too cocky / Making you feel inferior

It hadn't happened before now, and you weren't sure why it happened at all. But it did.

You'd approached to gently hold onto your boyfriend's arm as he talked to an older idol - someone he looked up to and had just done a collaboration video with. You'd only come up to tell him that the food was delivered and he could have dinner before his stage, but the look he gave you when he finally turned his head was .... wild.

No words were needed. The way his eyes directed to the side you stood at before falling as if looking you over and then immediately looking away; The way the smirk on his lips only widened and his tongue pushed at his canines as he redirected his gaze elsewhere. The soft scoff that left his lips. The way his arm slipped away from your hold in clear nuance that he didn't want you touching him.

It made you feel like less. Like he was pretending he didn't know you - Like he wanted you to bug off and disappear from his line of sight.

Hyunjin had a tendency to put on a confident, bold persona when he was on stage and at first you thought maybe that was why he was acting this way. It was lingering in his body from the dance video he'd just filmed with the other idol and eventually, it would wear off.

But as he turned from you and lifted a hand to fix his hair, he talks to the other as if you're not even there at all. And you have to wonder if it's a persona for the video, or a side of him you had just experienced for the first time. Now you could only hope it wouldn't happen again.

[naturesapphic]

Billie’s Passenger Princess

Billie eilish x fem!reader

Warnings: smut, fingering, oral, arm biting, tongue sucking, belt riding, dominant Billie, sub reader

A/n: 1585 words bro. I worked hard asf on this. THIS TOOK ME AN HOUR YALL BETTER LIKE, COMMENT, REPOST ANYTHING please 🤭🥺

The sun was setting when you and Billie were out driving. Y’all just came back from dinner and the both of you were just driving around deciding to wait before going home. Billie was dancing around in the drivers seat while you were singing along with her, dancing along with her. You were wearing a cute little light blue sundress while Billie had on a baggy white t-shirt, baggy pants along with her favorite black and white cap that she always wears.

The song changed to a slower and more sensual type song and you knew it started to affect billie and yourself. Billies hand went over to your leg and made its way up to your soft plush thighs she loves so much. You blush and look over to see billie driving with one hand and using her knee to help. She stopped at a stop light and looked over at you with her sunglasses on, looking up and down at you. You saw her bite her bottom lip and slowly have her hand go up into your inner thigh.

“You’re so pretty mamas…” she rasped out as the light turned and she hit on the gas to go. You felt your face blush at the nickname and compliment she gave you. Her hand went higher as her fingers started playing with your lace panties, letting her hand go inside and start playing with your clit. You gasped at the feeling of her ring covered fingers rubbing your pussy and you threw your head back at the pleasure. “Take these off for me mamas..” billie demanded softly and you quickly obeyed her by reaching down and removing your now ruined underwear. You threw them in the back seat and Billies hand quickly went back to where they were.

“Can you put your legs up to your chest and have your seat lay back some princess?” Billie asked you as she keeps her eyes on the road, occasionally letting her knee take control of the wheel from time to time. You do what Billie says and put your knees up to your chest, revealing your bare soaking wet pussy to your girlfriend who was drooling at this point. You also let the seat back some to give Billie some room to do whatever she wanted to you. Billie put her arm back over to you and started rubbing on your pussy again which made you start biting on your bottom lip harshly. “Mmm…you feel so good babygirl…so wet and warm…” billie commented and you felt your face heat up again. “Please b-billie…” you begged her, you weren’t sure what but you just needed her to do something.

Billie chuckled and inserted her index finger into your pulsating hole, your walls instantly swallowing her finger. Your girlfriend bit her lip and added another finger, her fingers going deeper and deeper. You grabbed onto her arm and moaned into it, slightly nibbling on her skin to keep yourself from moaning loudly. You could hear how wet you were with billies fingers pounding into you and you got embarrassed on that but Billie seemed to love it. Billie added another fingers which in total were three fingers buried deep inside of you. She was finger fucking you like there was no tomorrow and soon your legs were shaking and you were biting onto her arm. “Come on baby. Cum for me. Cum all over my hand sweet girl.”

She said as you arched your back and let out a pornographic moan as you cummed all over her hand but it didn’t stop there. You started squirting and did it all over her hand and on the dash board of her car. Billie wasn’t even mad that your juices were all over her car, in fact, she was mesmerized. She pulled her fingers out of you and put them in her mouth, moaning instantly at your sweet taste. You sat there breathing heavily and trying to compose yourself while Billie was happily sucking on her fingers. “Fuck. You taste so good. I need more.” She stated and pulled over to a deserted parking lot where the only light there was was dimly lit street lamps. Billie put dragon in park and laid her seat all the way back. “Sit on my face baby.”

She demanded and you felt your eyes widen at her. “W-what? Baby we are in public!” You said as you nervously looked around. “Baby…you weren’t worried about that when I was pounding my fingers into you.” She said bluntly and you blushed at that, realizing that she was right, plus she parked in a abandoned parking lot, no one is here, it’s completely dead silent and no signs of life anywhere. You shakily went over and sat on her stomach and billies hand immediately went to your hips. Billie licked her lips and helped you sit on her face and when your soaking pussy was on her mouth, she dived in. She took your clit between her lips and starting sucking the life out of it. You moaned out and leaned forward a bit, covering billies face with your dress. “F-fuck..!” You moaned as Billie was nibbling, bitting, flicking her tongue, and sucking on your clit like it was the best lollipop in the world.

She then guided her tongue further down until it was at your pulsating hole and plunged it in, making you yell out at the sensation. Billie licked all in your velvet walls and can feel it pulsating which made her smirk as you grab onto her hair since her hat fell off a while ago. You rode her face as her hands were massaging your ass like it was a stress toy. Her tongue went even deeper to where she was curling her tongue so she could hit your g-spot which she did successfully. Your thighs started to shake again like last time and Billie could feel your walls clenching around her tongue so she had to use her jaw to really put the work in and make her precious girl cum. Not long after, her hard work paid off and you closed your eyes tightly as you came hard all in her mouth and all over her face.

Billie hummed in approval and used her warm tongue to clean you of your juices. You whimpered and tapped the top of her head a few times to get her to stop to which she immediately did and helped you off her face and onto her lap. “I love your tongue and your fingers. I just love you in general.” You said panting. Billie giggled at your words and held you close in her arms, her hands going down to your plump ass and starts to rub it gently. “I love you more mamas. And just know I’ll gladly make you cum anytime. Even in dragon.” She said winking at you which made you chuckle at her horniess. You stop laughing and look up in her ocean eyes and get lost in them until her plump glistening lips are hovering over yours. She places her lips on yours and deepens the kiss quickly making your head spin. You start to slowly grind on her black bulky belt and you felt her smirk into the kiss, slightly breaking it.

“Can you give me one more babygirl?” She asked and you nodded, fully starting to grind your pussy onto her belt. She grabbed onto your ass more and started to help your grind better on her. Billie took one of her hands off your ass and places it on your throat, slightly squeezing it and lifting it up to her face as she captures your lips in hers once again. You opened your mouth slightly to give her access to your mouth and she immediately gliding her tongue in, dominating you as always. You moaned louder when you were almost close to cumming and when she started sucking on your tongue, some salvia started coming out at the corner of y’all’s mouths and down yalls chins. Soon enough, you came hard on her belt and on her lap making her pull away from the kiss and lick her lips. “You made a mess on me everywhere today sweetheart but I wouldn’t want it any other way.” She said winking at you at the end making you hide your face in her plump chest.

She wiped her chin that was covered in your cum and salvia as she grabbed your face softly and started wiping away at your chin and mouth, causing you to break out into a smile at how thoughtful she was towards you. “I love you bils…” you whispered and she smiled as she pulls the seat belt over y’all and buckles it. “I love you more sweet girl. Go ahead and rest. It’s a thirty minute drive home and I know I exhausted you so go ahead and sleep. I’ll wake you up when we get there.” She said softly as she starts dragons engine and pulls out of the parking lot. You nodded against her chest and falls asleep on top of her while one hand is on the steering wheel while her other hand is busy running her fingers through your hair. You fell into a deep sleep on top of your loving sexy ass girlfriend.

A/n: this shit literally took me AN HOUR please repost, like, and comment. 🙏🏻 remember to stay hydrated and to rest. I love y’all :)

[cavillscurls]

daddy next door | j. miller (two)

❝ summer lovin’ ❞

You run into some trouble at the summer fair. Joel is there to help.

chapter warnings/tags: MDNI. no-outbreak!joel. neighbor!joel. foul language. food consumption. age gap (reader is in her 20s, joel is in his 50s). harassment and attempted coercion (not joel). depictions of anxiety & a brief anxiety attack. reader is a sensitive gal!! readers dad is a cop, other side characters are as well. major daddy issues. absent mother(s). reader is a bit prudish to the idea of smoking, but it’s justified. flirting. mutual pining. sexual tension. fluff. angst. no depictions of race or body type, other than reader being shorter than joel. some outfit descriptions. word count: 9.6k

a/n: don’t even look at me i know this took so fucking long. but here it is. thank you for waiting. i know, no smut, cry about it (i joke) but i am in my world building era. thank you to @kiwisbell for beta reading and being my cheerleader. truly one of the best highlights of my days these last few months, that gal. enjoy. 🤍

one. | series masterlist. | three.

You spend most of your days thinking about Joel Miller. 

You convince yourself it’s harmless. What possible threat could your imagination pose? You had otherwise kept your distance from him since the day you greeted him at his doorstep two weeks prior. Friendly exchanges of hello when he would pull in his truck from work and you were riding your bike back home. A nod over the white fence while you would read on the hammock and he would tend to something in his yard. He would chat with your father occasionally down by the mailboxes, normally only when the predicament of being there at the same time forced them to. From the pieces of conversation you had picked up, it was usually in regards to sports or the heat. Regardless, you still couldn’t help but feel on edge seeing your father standing next to him. 

You have no stake in Joel, no claim. But the idea of him becoming another tainted piece in your father's puzzle makes you nauseous. 

He’s not like him, you tell yourself. He couldn’t be. 

And in your mind, he’s not. Your rampant imagination paints him as the picture of perfection. A good person. An idea you have long forgotten as a viable quality in a man. 

You could spend hours fantasizing about what he’s like. You do.

How he might take his coffee, or what late-night talk show he prefers. Boxers or briefs? You take him for the former, though you certainly don’t mind entertaining the idea of the latter. You presume he’s not the type of person to talk through a film. Prefers the mountains to the beach. Dogs over cats. And if you had the opportunity, you would spend hours discovering every minute detail that made him the type of man worth mulling over. 

The type of man worth dreaming about. 

But fantasies don’t last forever. And amidst the approaching weekend, you are quickly snapped back into the realism of your world. More so, your father's world, and the predicament it poses for you:

The county fair. 

The event of the summer, and how lucky your town is to host it. The fairgrounds are never as crowded as they are this weekend of the year, and ‘everyone who is anyone’ in town makes an appearance. Something that, despite your revulsion to the line of thinking, your father takes very seriously. 

He expects you to be in attendance, you know this. To keep a pretty bow wrapped around the family name. The dutiful Chief and his poor, sweet daughter whose mama left her far too young. 

It’s a much more entertaining show than reality.

“Meet ya back here at ten o’clock,” your father beckons as he parks the cruiser in the field already packed with cars. 

You nod at him, the distant sound of children laughing and the scent of sugar inundating you. He would make his rounds, as he always did. Butter up the locals with his practiced charm and make connections with out-of-towners. It doesn’t matter how useless they are—it’s all part of the façade. And you will trudge along, find a quiet spot to read the script you snuck into your purse, or treat yourself to a funnel cake. You will smile and wave at those who greet you, even those you despise. And you’ll do so without any quips or complaints, kind and compliant as ever, as not to disturb the fragile balance. 

It simply isn’t worth the disruption. 

The pink cardigan you had wrapped around your waist seems useless now; even in just a tank top and floral skirt, you can feel the unforgiving heat dripping sweat down your skin. You should’ve found some excuse; pretending to be sick never worked for you as a child, and you doubt it would be any different now. Cramps? Your father is hardly inclined to speak with you, let alone about feminine problems. Too late anyway, you think to yourself as you make your way towards the bustling fairgrounds. It takes all of five minutes before you’re left alone, your father already caught up in the likes of Mrs. Wilkins and the rest of her school board posse. 

Once upon a time, this used to be your favorite place to come. Distant memories of a woman with a smile much like your own, holding hands and darting towards the ferris wheel with freshly squeezed lemonade and some obscene stuffed animal you had won at one of the various carnival games in hand. There’s laughter and the sweet disposition of summer. There’s joy. There’s peace. 

Now, there are only painful reminders. 

You find a decently secluded spot just beyond the various game vendors on the outer perimeter of the grounds, the setting sun shielded by thicker patches of trees. There are no picnic tables, but the concrete ledge around some of the landscaping is suitable enough for you to dwell. Your thighs welcome the coolness of the stone when you sit with a huff, taking a moment to catch your breath. 

It’s too hot. Too crowded. And you haven’t even had to talk to a single person to already feel properly overstimulated. 

You rummage through your bag for the distraction you brought along. A heavily annotated copy of Much Ado About Nothing. Something a bit more lighthearted for such a somber affair, but still, the statements of its profound leading lady speak to you. You run your fingers over the highlighted line on your current page:

I cannot be a man with wishing, she says. Therefore I will die a woman with grieving. 

How you envy Beatrice and her cunning. Merry wit and a thrill for independence, using her words to spar with men and women alike. A moment in the Bard’s work that feels ahead of its time, and yet, still couldn’t be any more relevant. Perhaps it’s less envy and more disappointment with yourself for the lack of choices, initiative in your own life. 

Fiction and fantasies often have a funny way of reminding you of reality, despite how escapist they are. 

You are able to spend a good twenty minutes undisturbed in your thoughts. But just when you think there is a semblance of peace to be found, your name is being shouted across the yard. Once, then twice. Heading jerking up, you have to squint before a sharp shiver shoots down your spine at the realization of who the voice belongs to. 

“Fuck,” you mutter, slamming the pages shut and shoving them quickly back into your bag. 

Blonde curls and devilishly deceiving dimples. He’s got a beer in his hand. Great. He’s waving and heading in your direction, no escape plan in sight. 

Trevor Conrad. The star baseball player of your graduating class, the town's all-American pride and joy who of course went on to be the police academy's top cadet. You suspect he’s absolutely buzzing for your father to mentor him, one reason you assume he wants to be in your favor. 

The other may have to do with the handful of dates you regrettably went on with him a couple of years prior. You didn’t consider them anything remarkably serious, never escalating any further than a few stolen kisses and an admittedly uncomfortable make-out session one afternoon when you watched a film at his house. Some boring action thriller. You had been under the impression his parents would be home, a lie for the first hour and a half that, looking back, you realize was a calculated tactic. 

He’s with a group of familiar faces who all linger behind. Those you were only worthy enough to be to be seen with when you were seen with him. Superficial friendships, if that. A matter of status and convenience. 

You recognize Ashley Becker, former cheerleader, who extends a miffed roll of her eyes, stomping away with the rest of the group when Trevor waves them off. You figure, even after years of less than subtle flirtation, he hasn’t picked up on her interest. Or maybe he doesn’t care, still putting his energy into you. The type of man who thinks because he staked his claim once, he’s entitled to it again. 

You rise to your feet in a bit of a scramble when you hear him tell the group he’ll catch up, only a few yards ahead of you now, and put some distance between yourself and the ledge. The last thing you need is him sitting down and trapping you in conversation. You sling your bag over your shoulder, holding the strap taut, and prepare to exit whenever the easiest opportunity presents itself. 

“Was wondering if I’d catch you here tonight!” He’s all smiles and pride as he approaches you, his voice just as irritating as you recall. Something about its pitch, you think. Too high for a guy of his stature. For the type of guy who carries himself like a god. 

“Well, here I am,” you say with a shrug, forcing a breathy chuckle. Trevor stops just a foot or two in front of you, eyes wide and slightly bloodshot. You wonder what number beer he’s on, the lofty scent detectable and off-putting. 

“What’re you doin’ out here all by yourself?” he asks, and you can only presume the curiosity is linked to some ulterior motive. 

Keep it casual, you remind yourself. Don’t make a scene. 

“Oh, just—just killing time while dad makes his rounds,” you tell him with another shrug, displaying a polite smile. 

“Hardly seen you out at all this summer.” He gives you a bit of a once-over. It makes your skin crawl. “Should come by one of the games. We play every Saturday.” 

Recreational league. Because the high school glory in this town wasn’t enough to satiate him. It takes every ounce of strength inside of you not to roll your eyes. 

“Yeah. Yeah, sure. I’ll try to catch one if I can,” you lie straight through your teeth. “Weekends can be a little busy around the house, though. So…” 

Blame it on your father. Blame it on anything else other than the complete disregard you have for engaging with him and the rest of his group. 

You can’t quite pinpoint his fascination with you, but you do note the sun disappearing, and how secluded your choice of dwelling is from the rest of the crowds. You’re not isolated, but certainly far enough that the attention is off of you, as people have begun to move away from the games and food and towards the rides and live music. You can’t shake the gnawing feeling of panic that settles in your belly. 

He gives you another look over, pursing his lips before taking the finishing swig of his beer. “Should come join us,” he suggests, licking the residue of liquid off his bottom lip. “We’re thinkin’ about heading over to the fields for a bit, you know—” 

He lifts his thumb and pointer finger to his lips to mimic smoking, raising his eyebrows at you. 

What a gloriously law-abiding citizen, you think sneeringly.

It wouldn’t even matter if he did get caught, and you know that. The amount of ludicrous stories you have heard your father talk about sweeping under the rug often a cause for concern. 

Your arms wrap around yourself instinctively, as if to make yourself smaller. “Oh… oh, I don’t know. Don’t really know if it's my thing.” 

“Come on, princess,” he purrs, and you swear you feel the bile rise in your throat when he takes a step closer, towering over you. “Can’t stay locked up in your tower forever.” 

What the fuck do you want from me? You want to scream it, shout it for him and everyone to hear, but you don’t. You don’t move, you hardly even breathe. The feeling of being zeroed in on familiar and frightening. 

“I think—think I’m, uh, probably just better off waiting here for—”

“You know, if I didn’t know any better,” he continues. Like you don’t even exist. Like your words are meaningless to him, and maybe they are. Maybe he’s already deemed his thoughts the right ones. “I would think you were trying to avoid me or something.” 

You try to string something coherent along, anything to settle him. “No! No. Look, Trevor, it’s just that I—”

“I’ve been nothing but good to ya since we met,” he continues. “Now I know it didn’t work out back in the high school days but, come on. Give a guy another chance.” He tilts his head at you as if to plead with you. But there is a falsehood to his innocent expression, one you do not realize until the next words continue to slip past your lips. 

Why this, why now, you can’t decipher.

“I just don’t think it’s such a good idea,” you try to reason, keeping your voice as patient and temperate as possible. 

The less information, the better. But he’s relentless. 

“And why’s that?” he presses, arching a brow up at you, mask beginning to falter. 

“I don’t… I don’t think we’d be a very good match.” 

Wrong answer. You’re certain of that by the way his face falls entirely. 

“Why not?” 

Because you don’t know the first thing about me! 

You really want to scream it now. 

Because you don’t care about a word that I have to say. Because you only seek me out when it’s convenient for you. Because I don’t enjoy your company. In fact, I don’t even find you all that particularly attractive. Because I’d be miserable with you, and I’m already miserable as is! 

You say none of it, of course. 

“We, I mean… we hardly have anything in common, you know?” you stammer, scavenging for an answer acceptable enough to cease him but not to cross him. You have searched for similar words more times than you’d care to admit. “I don’t… I don’t think we’d make good company for each other. I would hate to waste your time.” You’re chewing on your bottom lip as you await his reaction, unprepared. 

Something changes in him. A thread snaps. You think you may register the shift even before he does, nostrils flaring and pupils dilating. That’s when you feel it, cold and rough, his fingers wrapping around your forearm with the hand not occupied around the bottle. Your nervous system is shot, entering a battle for fight or flight, but your body remains frozen, rigid. Your breath catches in your throat, and your wide eyes watch his bitter countenance carefully. 

“Listen, princess,” he spits, leaning down towards you, voice low and dripping with acid. It’s all condescension now. You feel his breath on your face, the stench of alcohol hitting your nose. “I’m not sure where this superiority you seem to have comes from, but let me tell you something since no one else will. This town? They ain’t interested in you. They’re interested in your father, and that’s about it. You had your chance to do something worth noticing, and you fucking lost it. So, I’d suggest you finally take me up on this opportunity I’m giving you.”

Tears burn at your eyes, but you refuse to let them fall. They emerge from a chasm of places; the inevitable truth, while harsh, his words hold. The current predicament that you feel less and less in control of as the minutes pass. The cowardice in you, searching and screaming for the strength to deny him, but fearing an aftermath so grand, you wonder if compliance would be an easier option. 

He’s more than annoyed at your silence. “I really don’t wanna have to ask you again,” he all but threatens, and you feel a yank on your forearm sending you into his chest. “Now, don’t embarrass me by keeping friends waiting.” He tugs on you again, this time, trying to drag you along with him. 

“Trevor, please,” you croak, using every ounce of viable effort to try and pull your arm from his grasp. It’s starting to hurt, but you know it’s useless. “Maybe another time, I–” 

“What did I just tell you?” he snarls, the sudden lilt in volume making you flinch. “Very least you could do after ignoring me all this time is come by to say hi, now let's go-–”

“M’pretty sure she already said no.” 

It comes from behind you, unexpected. Deep and honey-coated unlike the voice in front of you. It resounds your senses, preventing them from coiling in on themselves. A warm, bright light at the end of a dark tunnel guiding you back to safety. You see Trevor’s heated eyes flicker over your shoulder, brows pulling in dissatisfied confusion. The unyielding pressure on your forearm loosens—slight, but enough for you to regain a sense of the throbbing flesh below his touch. 

“Can we help you?” he seethes. You’re afraid to move despite the screaming void inside of you begging to turn around, follow the voice. Confirm your desperate suspicions of who it belongs to. 

It couldn’t be, could it? 

“You can help me by lettin’ go of her.” It could be. It has to be. You wouldn’t forget the sound of that voice even if your life depended on it. 

“Listen, old man. I don’t know who you think you are, but this is a private conversation—”

“Doesn’t seem all that damn private when you’re makin’ a scene for anyone who walks by to see.” He cuts Trevor off, just as he did to you. A complete disregard for any sort of explanation or excuse. Though, when it happens this time, you’re overcome with a sick sense of satisfaction; watching as Trevor’s face falls further, twisting into disbelief. “Think you oughta let the lady be.” 

Trevor stands up straighter now, releasing you swiftly in the process as if you’re an afterthought in the face of his challenged ego. You feel the air enter back into your lungs, using the opportunity to take a small, cautionary step back. 

“Don’t think you speak for her,” Trevor quips, and you eye the way his hands tighten into fists, one still firm around the neck of his beer bottle. You take another step back. 

“No more than you do, boy.” It’s a sharp, calculated choice of words, combating the way Trevor attempted to demean him. The emphasis on the final syllable sends a shiver up your arms. 

You think you may be reaching the precipice of composure with how your body trembles in anxiety, dizzied, and overwhelmed. But suddenly, the shadow behind you is no longer figmented. It’s tangible and real. You can’t recall if your body continued to carry you backward on its own accord, or if he stepped forward, seeking you. Nonetheless, ever faint, your back is met with the steadying warmth of a solid chest. Trevor hardly notices, too lost in his silent, heated battle of eyes exchanged with the man behind you. Doesn’t notice the distance that separates you, nor the subtle trail of knuckles that brush along the small of your back. An anchor, grounding you back to earth. Blooming you back to life. 

Trevor doesn’t like to be challenged, you know that much. The mere realization that his current opponent is not as malleable as others throwing a wrench in the usual, uncivilized manner he enjoyed handling things. He would cause a commotion with you, sure. But not with another man. What would that say about his own masculinity? His strength?

It’s frightening and cynical how quickly he changes. He looks behind you, up and down, and then to you in the same fashion. His eyes still unsettle you regardless of the way his lips begin to upturn into a lax grin, as if he hadn’t just bared his teeth and threatened to eat you alive. 

“Listen, man. I think you got the wrong idea,” Trevor coaxes, charm returning to the forefront of his demeanor, and you think you may be sick to your stomach. “Total misunderstanding, we were just… catching up.” You know he’s looking at you, eyes of daggers waiting for their next slice, but you refuse to meet them. Eyes firmly planted on the grass below you, you can make out the tips of black boots at your rear. Despite your defiance, you don’t miss his final remarks before he walks away, knowing the underlying poison embedded in them is only for you: “We can finish catching up some other time.” 

You’ve forgotten how to breathe. Ice-cold liquid runs through your veins, yet does nothing to stop your skin from burning in the heat. The familiar sensation of panic burrows into your limbs, and you worry you won’t be able to stop it from ruining you entirely. 

But when you finally muster the strength to turn around, long after Trevor’s shadow has disappeared into the vast field, buried back in the crowds, he’s there. 

The very masterpiece of your mind, an image your imagination has conjured endless times. 

Joel. 

He looks different, more relaxed. Lost are the pressed slacks and sleek button-ups; they’re replaced with a pair of dark wash jeans and an olive flannel atop a black t-shirt. His hair is slicked over, damp as if he’s just washed it. His glasses are gone, too. The roundness of his eyes is a bit more prominent without them, lined with age and a furrowed brow as they search you with blatant concern. 

“You okay?” 

His voice is so soft, so gentle, that you don’t think twice before lurching forward, body acting before brain. You wrap your arms around his torso and bury your face into his sturdy chest. You hear a quiet sound of surprise followed by a beat of hesitation. But then, a strong arm wraps around your waist pulling you flush against him. The other snakes up to the nape of your neck, fingers weaving in between locks of hair to delicately cradle your head into his chest. 

“Hey,” he breathes, and you do your very best to only let the first stream of tears stain his shirt. Body beginning to tremble as you try to keep the others at bay. “Hey, s’alright, darlin’. You’re alright. He’s gone.” 

Darlin’. Darlin’. Darlin’. 

He smells so fucking good. Like rich mahogany and dark coffee; a hint of something fresh from his soap or shampoo. You fill your lungs with it, allowing it to linger and permeate into your bloodstream.

Comfort. Safety. 

He beckons your name. Once. Hushed. Not in a manner of rushing you, but checking to see if you’re still with him. Like he knows you need this. And you do. 

“I’m sorry. I’m so sorry,” you mumble into his shirt. 

You’re not sure what you’re apologizing for. For crying, maybe. For inconveniencing him, taking up his time with a situation you should have been able to handle yourself. 

He lets you cling to him a while longer before the hand in your hair descends for your jaw, pulling your face out of the comfort of his chest and forcing you to look up at him. The churning in your stomach settles. The pass of his thumb across your cheek sends a new type of coolness over your skin, satiating the heat. 

“There you go again, apologizin’ when you don’t needa be,” he mumbles, low and rich, you feel it vibrate through his chest into yours. Only for you to hear, and you’re blinking up at him in awe, disbelief that the image before you is even real.  “Are you okay?” he repeats, and you swallow hard, fearful your throat has gone too dry just at the sight of him. 

He’s here. He is real. He’s right in front of you. Touching you. 

“Yeah… yeah, I’ll be okay.” You nod your head, clearing your throat, embarrassed at the hoarseness. You don’t know which one of you you’re trying to convince. 

You realize that you’re still clinging to him, fingers bunched at the back of his flannel, neck beginning to cramp at how far back you’ve tilted it to accommodate his height. Another wave of embarrassment, and slowly, you release him, slinking your arms from around him and hugging them across your chest instead. His hand falls from your face in tandem, and there’s an unmistakable wave of disappointment. Something gone missing. 

“Thank you,” you add, remembering your manners. As if there are any right words to convey the relief you feel at his presence, which, you realize, in and of itself surprises you. You furrow your brows at him. “What… what are you doing here?” you ask. Curiosity. An attempt to move the subject off of your undesirable encounter. 

Joel huffs a breath, not quite a laugh, but you note the way the corners of his mouth twitch. 

“Good to see you, too,” he says, a hint of amusement.

You open your mouth to speak, rebuttal. Tell him he has no idea how good it is to see him. Especially here, especially now. But you figure he can sense that now is not the time to joke, rattled emotions still clear in your countenance.

“Thought it’d be good to make an appearance. Don’t needa be known as the town hermit,” he explains matter-of-fact, and then his eyes are looking after the direction Trevor disappeared in, brows lowering. “Who was that?” 

You stare at him, uncertain. 

Who was that? You’re confident that if he had asked anyone else in this town that question, they would have entirely different answers. Perhaps far kinder and polished representations. 

“Guy I used to go to school with,” you settle on, unable to conjure anything else of substance. “We went on a couple of dates senior year, but… nothing special.” Nothing at all. 

“Hm.” He appears to mull over your answer, eyeing you in the way that makes your chest flourish with heat, the spot between his brows twitches as he comes to his own astute conclusion. “He been botherin’ you?” 

“That was the first time in a while,” you tell him honestly. “I knew I’d run into him eventually. One of many reasons I don’t like coming here anymore.” The last bit is a careless slip of the tongue. 

Again, he takes you in. Processing. There is an intensity behind the way he thinks, gears seemingly turning in his head right before your eyes, both frightening and exhilarating. You can’t anticipate what he’ll say next, something that—on any other occasion, would have your stomach bubbling over with anxiety, but like most things involving Joel Miller, doesn’t—excites you. 

“I reckon you came with your pops?” 

“Yup.” You pop the p, less than enthused. 

“Hm.” Think, think, think. You want to peer inside his brain, know everything about him. The fear of your previous encounter dissipates into nothingness under the presence of Joel. “Well, I don’t know about you, but I think the time would fly by a little faster with some company.” 

And there it is, served up right under your nose on a silver platter. Opportunity. To know him, ask him how he takes his coffee, or what late-night talk show he prefers, or if he would choose the mountains over the sea, or if he knew how difficult it was to not think about him every waking moment—

You’re gawking again. You know it by the way his lips move, the indent of teeth in his cheeks while he tries to bite back the amusement. So silly, he must think you are so unbearably silly for the way you behave around him. If only he knew. 

“Oh, I—I don't know. I really don’t want to take up any more of your time, I—” 

“Got all the time in the world, darlin’,” he shrugs, hands shoved in his pockets. You envy his nonchalance. “Besides,” he steps forward, leans in, a secret, and you hold your breath. “I’ve got quite the sweet tooth, and that ice cream stand’s been callin’ my name. You even know how quickly I finished off those muffins you gave me?” 

It’s your turn to laugh, soft and bashful, the rest of the feeling your run with Trevor had sucked out of you returning with vigor. He’s teasing you, he wants to make you feel better, and the realization coats your muscles in honey and light and something so sweet, you simply have to taste it. He’s smiling down at you when you tilt your head at him, this time, flashing his pearly teeth, divulging you in a gut-wrenching glimpse of his dimple. 

“You wouldn’t let me go eat it all by my lonesome now, would ya?” Cheeky, unrelenting man. He doesn’t even recognize that the decision has already been made. Giving into him a task that takes very little coaxing. 

You do, for a brief moment, feel a sense of worry. It doesn’t stem from him but from those around you; would it be proper to be seen alone with him? The vast nature of the occasion would make it a rare sighting from those you know, but feasible nonetheless. Even worse, what if your father saw? Innocent as it is, you cannot shake the looming fear of a reprimanding. He would find something wrong with it, something to scold you for, tell you you’re selfish or bothersome. 

But Joel’s here. He saved you once already. And beneath the worry, you discover something stronger, something uncharacteristic, something you convinced yourself didn’t exist. 

You don’t care. 

Not what anyone else thinks. Not what your father may say about the matter. You don’t care. Not when there is the bright reassurance of the man looking down at you, and the warmth in your chest, and the need to know, to know him. 

You take a deep breath. “We can’t have that, can we?” You give him the same, open-mouthed smile, and he is so clearly pleased, you can hardly handle the warmth now. It’s spread from your chest to your cheeks, your stomach, between your thighs. And you think, if this is what being selfish feels like, you never want it to end. 

“Well c’mon then,” he beckons, cocking his head for you to follow as he turns towards the crowds. 

You don’t hesitate.

You learn all about Joel Miller on your walk through the fairgrounds. 

He tells you about the move from Austin, deciding it was time once he realized he was one man in a house built for two. He has a daughter, Sarah, who moved to New York after college to pursue a career in fashion. You note the instantaneous shift when he begins to talk about her, a perpetual smile plastered on his face. City life was proving to move too fast for him, and with no one around to take care of anymore, he decided to start taking care of himself. He makes it a point to tell you he’s not married, that Sarah’s mother isn’t in the picture. Something about the mentioning of it makes your stomach flip, that he considers it important you know. He doesn’t go into the details, and you don’t ask. 

He owns his own company. A contracting firm that he shares the load of with his younger brother, Tommy. He tells you that neither of them finished school, he being a young, single father, and Tommy being quite the “delinquent.” That they got lucky with the hand they were dealt, and nowadays on his end, it’s mostly paperwork and phone calls. 

You like the way he talks. Calm, collective, perhaps even a bit serious at times, but you don’t take offense to it. And when it comes to your turn to share, he is an attentive listener. He asks questions only without interruption, keeping the smooth flow of the conversation rolling. You tell him, although rather dreadfully, about community college, and how you have been taking a couple of general courses the last few semesters while you figure out what you want to do. It’s a partial truth. 

You wonder if he notices your unease surrounding the topic, as most of his questions end up steering in the direction of your hobbies. You tell him of your love of theatre, particularly classical works, film, music. You share the last one in common, as he admits to playing a bit of guitar himself. 

“Well, I don’t know a ton ‘bout that Shakespeare fella, but I think Sarah was in one of his plays once,” he says. 

“Oh, yeah?” You eye him through your peripheral, raising a brow in inquisition. “You remember which one?”

He blows a stream of air through his lips like you’ve caught him thoroughly off guard, and you try not to laugh because fuck, is he so handsome. Every peek from the corner of your eye is a perfect little gift, and yet, you’re still selfish for more. 

“Twelve somethin’? All I know is she played a boy, and I had no idea what she was sayin’.” 

Now, you really do laugh. “Twelfth Night,” you correct gently. “It’s a good one.” 

He shoots you a knowing look. “Woulda been better if I could understand half of it.” 

“It’s not all that bad once you find the rhythm of the language,” you explain. “It seems a lot scarier at first glance. Or first listen.” 

He’s quiet for a moment, pondering over your words. Think, think, think. Taking strides a bit slower. “Well, maybe you’ll just hafta teach me more about it sometime.” 

You nearly stop in your tracks, looking over and tilting your head up at him. He’s smiling down at you, closed lip, but prominent enough that the godforsaken dimple pops out at you again. He seems genuine. You realize very quickly it’s something you’re not used to. 

“I would love to,” you tell him honestly, voice failing you in a whisper. 

But before your emotions can take any more reign over you, you’re both coming to a stop before the brightly lit ice cream stand. The crowds are thicker at the center of the fair, elated screams of children and laughter, music that rattles your ear drums from every direction. But now, you find it all easier to tune out. No longer do you feel the all-encompassing thread of anxiety weaving through you, and perhaps it’s because most of your focus is on Joel; in all his glory, standing with his hands on his hips as he peers up at the menu, different hues of pink and yellow and blue flashing over his face in sync with the lights around him. 

“Well, shouldn’t be too hard of a decision,” he’s saying, but you’re hardly listening. Your eyes are trained on his neck, the tan skin that peeks out of the collar of his flannel, a thick vein running down its length. There’s a film of sweat glistening over his jugular, and you wonder just how delightful it would feel, taste, to run your tongue across it. Silly, silly girl. 

Now, he’s looking down at you, one arm leaning against the stand’s counter, and you try with great difficulty to blink the haze out of your lust-blown eyes. “Chocolate or vanilla?” he asks. 

You have a taste for something you believe is far sweeter. “Chocolate,” you say, despite yourself. 

He hums in approval. “The correct choice,” and then, he’s fishing into his back pocket for his wallet, and you’re snapping out of your fantasies and back to attention. 

“Oh, I can cover mine,” you tell him, fumbling with the zipper of your purse as the worker approaches the windowsill, asking Joel what he can get for him. 

You look up after retrieving the wrinkled five-dollar bill to meet Joel’s unamused gaze, shaking his head. He’s already handing his card over. “Two cups of chocolate, please,” he says to the man at the counter, but his scolding eyes are still on you. 

You frown. “Joel—”

“Would ya knock it off? I’m buyin’ you the damn ice cream.” He’s stern, serious with his words. But the smirk that lingers at the corner of his lips keeps everything in earnest jest. He wants to buy it for you, and that’s that—final decision. You’re almost embarrassed at how eagerly the small gesture makes your heart swell. How easy it is to give in to him without fear as a playable factor. 

You can’t remember the last time someone bought something for you just because they wanted to, because they felt like it.  

“Thank you,” you mutter, arguing no further. 

Once you retrieve your cups, you find a vacant picnic table nearby to dwell on while you eat. Joel chooses to sit beside you, both of you facing away from the tabletop and towards the bustling crowds, the limited space of the bench forcing the firm flesh of his outer thigh to press up, ever slight, against yours. You try to focus your energy on the sweet, soothing cold taste of your treat, taking tiny spoonfuls as slowly as possible, a subconscious tactic to keep him here, next to you, longer. Even if just to watch the nameless bodies pass by, the pleasure of mere company a rarity. 

“Can I ask you somethin’?” Joel’s the one to break the silence, and you’re grateful. You nod at him, and he eyes his spoon as he fiddles it mindlessly around his cup, brows pulled in focus. 

“Earlier… you said seein’ that boy was one of the many reasons you didn’t like comin’ to the fair anymore.” He places his emphasis right where you had. Attentive. Thinking and listening. “Why else don’t ya like it?” 

Oh. 

It’s not what you were expecting. You stop eating altogether, cradling the cup delicately in your lap and losing your eyes to the passing patrons. You wonder if he can sense your trepidation because he doesn’t repeat the question even after your silence has long extended its warranted amount. Memories bombard you, and there’s that momentary feeling of fight or flight again; you don’t fear him as much as do yourself, and what may become of you, and him, if you are to spill the thoughts that now swirl ceaselessly in your brain, replacing pleasant fantasies with their stain. 

You had never recounted the story yourself; it has always been told for you. More opportunity. The chance to reshape tragedy into the tale of your choosing. But no matter how long you sit there, silent, thinking, anything but truth seems like a waste. An opportunity to be honest, brave. 

“Um...” You try to form the words, but they’re stuck. Be brave, be brave. You clear your throat, swallowing hard. “Well, my uh… my mother used to bring me here every summer.” Bile rises in your esophagus, the acidic taste a punishment after such a treat. “She left us when I was six,” you explain plainly. “No idea where she is.” 

A waiting game. For pity, or sorrow, or some overly dramatized display of grief as a means to be sympathetic. You wait for it, brace yourself for it and the robotic actions that you once trained yourself to follow in response. 

But it never comes. 

Silence, and then, you find it in yourself to peer shyly at him and discover he’s already looking at you. No pity, or sorrow, or grief. Tenderness. Understanding, even. He turns himself a quarter, setting his half-eaten cup down and leaning his elbow against the table, facing you. You watch his jaw roll side to side, contemplation, before: 

“Sarah’s mom… she left, too. Couple weeks before her first birthday.” 

Yes, understanding. You feel it all, a tsunami, washing you away from your lonesome shore and back into the vast waters. Anger, sadness, resentment, and understanding. Your heart aches in your chest. For Joel, for his daughter, for yourself, a version then and now. Being brave pays off. 

You set your cup down, turning to face him similarly. “I’m so sorry, Joel,” you whisper, sincerity. 

He nods slowly. “Yeah, me too.” And he means it. You know he does. “Listen, m’not… pretendin’ to understand your situation, but if there’s anythin’ I took from mine s’that… who we are? It ain’t based on other people’s poor decisions. And it sure as hell doesn’t mean there’s somethin’ wrong with us.” 

Words you have waited a lifetime for, and he gifts them to you effortlessly. 

The sting of tears is second nature, though you hardly notice them at first with the way he’s looking at you—so much understanding. Only when a drop of liquid slips off your lashes, tainting your cheek, do you attempt to compose yourself. 

You blink rapidly. “I’m sorry, I—”

He’s touching you, and suddenly, the weight of the world seems less daunting. Two careful palms cradling your cheeks, a sea of copper boring into you.

“Hey, no. No. Don’t be.” He’s shaking his head, eyes pained, but honest. “Not about this. Never about this, okay?” A rogue thumb swipes away the proof of your despair, and you want to loosen the floodgates, sob into his arms, and relinquish yourself to him with the budding trust that he would take care of you. 

But you also want to be strong, be strong for him. Harness the strength he’s giving you. So you nod, a promise that you hear what he’s saying and accept it at face value. You let him wipe the few following tears that slip, let him hand you back your ice cream cup and tell you to eat it, it’s good for the soul, which makes you blow out a shaky laugh. You let the silence wash over you again, less fearful of its presence, while you eat and watch the crowds. You let yourself be brave again, scooting an inch over, and laying your head on the curve of his shoulder. You let him rest his cheek against the crown of your head in return, a subtle intimacy, necessary and calm. You can’t remember the last time you felt so calm. 

You stay like this for some time—you could stay like this forever—until he tells you, rather dismally, that he has a work conference call tomorrow morning that he’s dreading. 

“On a Saturday?” you question, lifting your head and flashing him a twisted expression. 

He smiles tiredly. “Bein’ the boss doesn’t always allow alotta down time.” 

You purse your lips, attempting to hide your disappointment. It’s his much too kind way of telling you it’s time to call it a night. 

“Well, then we oughta get you home,” you say, forcing yourself to your feet, empty cup in hand. 

Joel studies your face for a moment—you still can’t decipher what he’s thinking, a mystery you’re growing impatient to crack—before following suit. He takes the cup out of your hands, stacking it atop his, and nodding his head for you to follow towards the garbage bins. 

It’s on your short stroll across the yard that you take a moment to dig into your purse, finding your phone to check the time, only to discover something far worse: two missed calls and three texts from your father. 

“Shit,” you curse under your breath, coming to a stop. You’d left it on silent. With shaky fingers, you open messages. 

9:57 pm—

Heading towards car. 

10:04 pm—

Where are you? Let’s go!!! 

10:11 pm—

Leaving. Call a cab. 

The last one was fifteen minutes ago. 

Joel slows his steps once he realizes you’re no longer beside him. “Everythin’ okay?”

“Uh, yeah. Yes. I just—my dad had to um…  he had to leave, and I’ve gotta find another way home.”

Because of course, he couldn’t possibly give you some grace. Couldn’t make the effort to at least look for you before taking off. The bare minimum had never been an expectation from him before. You’re rapidly tapping away at your phone, hoping your nearby option isn’t outrageously expensive, when Joel’s frame steps in front of you. 

“Well, here. Let me give ya a ride back.” You hear him say it, but only for a moment do your eyes flicker up to acknowledge him. 

It’s a nice offer. Generous. Too generous. If you weren’t so accustomed to self-sabotage, and less panicked, you may have even taken him up on it. 

You shake your head. “Oh, no. It’s okay, I don’t wanna—” 

He’s touching you again. A swift hand loosely coming up to take one of your wrists between his fingers, any ability to focus on the task at hand lost to his allure. You look up at him properly, the sight of a sympathetic smile and sincere eyes causing your breath to hitch. 

“What, put me out of my way?” he muses. His thumb draws a pattern over your pulse point, your ride awaiting confirmation suddenly a tedious afterthought. He has your full attention with a single touch. 

You open your mouth to rebuttal but nothing comes. It’s nothing if not sensible. Your neighbor offering you a ride home, inevitably heading in the same direction. Although it isn’t just your neighbor, it’s Joel, and for some reason, the two haven’t solidified in your head as equals yet. Just how attainable he really is. 

You realize you would be a fool to turn him down. 

You lower your phone, nibbling at your bottom lip. “Are you sure?” you ask quietly, but your stomach churns with excitement at the prospect of your perfect evening not quite having to reach its end. 

Joel smiles. 

“Positive.” 

He’s witty. It’s something you didn’t expect.

You laugh more on the drive home in Joel’s truck than you think you’ve laughed all year. Granted, most of his jabs stem from the ridiculous interactions he’s had with those in town—those you know, have known, their mind-boggling antics less surprising to you now—but you find solace in how honest he is with you. How he confides in you. 

He looks good. Meaty thighs spread open in the driver's seat, one hand occupying the wheel while the other arm leans casually against the center console. He takes up the whole seat, a vision, the kind of man who can occupy space without consuming all of it, the inside of the vehicle appearing crammed with his broad body. The front windows are rolled down, a steady breeze whistling through his curls, and you’re grateful for the cardigan now as it’s wrapped around your shoulders, shielding you from the goosebumps growing on your arms. Whether they’re from the wind, or him, you don’t know.

You attempt not to stare too long or too often, regardless of how your eyes hunger to follow the veins across his thick forearm or the strong build of his jaw. Try to maintain some semblance of composure, despite the proximity of him, his scent, his being, intoxicating. And no matter how many times you clench your thighs together below your skirt, you cannot ignore the growing ache that lingers there just upon the sight of him. 

You think, however naive, how easy it would be for him to become the end of you. In every fantastic way imaginable. 

Still, in those moments of silence, there’s comfort. You find solace in how mindless his presence feels; no worries, no regrets. You can just be. A pleasantry long forgotten, perhaps never fully discovered. 

You’re looking wistfully out the window, elbow propped up on the sill, resting your cheek against your palm and admiring the clarity of the stars, when a familiar percussive intro coming from his stereo perks your attention. 

“Oh, I love this song,” you tell him, eagerly reaching for the volume knob on the dash and dialing it up a couple notches. 

I've been roamin' around, always lookin' down at all I see.

“Whole album’s a good one,” Joel remarks, and you tilt your head at him with faint surprise. 

“You know it?” 

Painted faces fill the places I can't reach.

You catch him rolling his eyes. “M’not that old.” 

“Yeah? Well, you never told me just how old,” you tease. 

You don’t expect it to land so unsteady, but there’s a pause, a shift in the air palpable enough that it frightens you briefly. “Fifty-two,” he tells you, less conviction in his tone. 

You know that I could use somebody.

Only three years younger than your father. 

It should make you uneasy, yet somehow, it only causes your sick fascination with him to blossom. 

You only hum in response, nodding. Scared to display your interest too eagerly, but you catch the way he eyes you out of his peripheral at the revelation. Seeming to search for your reaction, he waits until the truck is pulled still at the approaching red light, cocking his head fully over his shoulder to take you in. You return the glance, eyes timid—timid, but not unsure, nor displeased, nor appalled, nor any other reaction you assume he anticipates—and you’re studying one another, seeking common ground in the heavy silence, and you think he must find his reassurance in your eyes for his own soften if only a bit, and you note the way the corner of his lips threaten to upturn, your own mirroring. 

Someone like you and all you know and how you speak; countless lovers under cover of the street.

And then there’s the summer night breeze, mischievous and unruly, wafting through the open windows and taking the hem of your skirt carelessly in its path. The fabric flounders mere inches, revealing the tops of your thighs, and his eyes, just as untamed now, falter to catch a glimpse. 

You know that I could use somebody.

You suck in a breath, fingers twitching in your lap with the instinct to reach for the fabric, pull it back down to your knees, and allow yourself some semblance of decency. You fight a war with the warmth in your belly, and it wins, too enamored at the way he unabashedly takes in your body. As if he had been holding back before, and only now does he allow himself the indulgence. Fantasy and reality become one. And when he trails his wandering eyes back to your face, your lips part; not for words, nor air, nor sounds, but some hope that he’ll give you a taste of everything you have ever wanted. 

Someone like you.

Green flashes across his face. He clears his throat, and then, his eyes abandon you for the road as the engine roars back to life. The loss is agonizing. 

No more than five minutes later, he’s pulling into the driveway adjacent to yours. You see your father's cruiser parked in the driveway and your stomach sinks, every muscle in your body returned to its usual tension-coated stasis. Joel cuts the engine, and with it, the music, the breeze, the serenity, all disappear. You’re both silent, still, eyes plastered forward for a while. Lost in thought. Wonder what he’s thinking, 

Joel gets out first, wordless, but stalks around the front hood to the passenger side to open the door for you. You flash him your wide eyes, his own as chasmic as the sky in the low light, muttering a soft thank you as you scoot off the high bed of his truck. 

He walks you over to your side of the yard. You’re aware it's essentially useless, but neither of you complains. When you reach your side of the fence, you stop before the gate, turning on your heels to face him. He comes to a halt a few feet ahead of you, hands in his pockets, the glow of the moon casting shadows across his face. You take a deep breath, clutching the strap of your purse taut, and finding the courage to speak first. 

“I had a really good time tonight,” you tell him, sheepish, peering up with caution. “Thank you.” 

He’s looking down at you, expression neutrally unreadable. “No need to thank me, darlin’,” he speaks lowly, as if not to jar the night sky, quiet and intimate around you. “It was real good for me, too.” And you know again that he means it, and you’re certain you won’t be able to sleep tonight with such rampant thoughts. 

Don’t just stand here like a freak, the moment’s over. 

You clear your throat, eyes falling to your feet. “Well, I should… I should get inside.” Let me stay out here forever, please. “Goodnight.” 

“Yeah, me too.” When you look up again, he’s nodding to himself. His expression has changed, brows back to their perpetual knot and stiffness in his jaw. “G’night.” 

And it’s so hard to look away, even harder to move. Something that lingers between your exchange of glances is heavy, palpable, real.

“Goodnight,” you whisper, once more for good measure. 

And with great difficulty, you peel your eyes off of him and turn toward the gate. Your feet feel like weights trying to depart from him, but you only make it about three paces before— 

“Wait.” 

Calloused skin grazes you, careful fingers wrapping around your wrist, a bit more firm than before, and halting you in your tracks. The touch is unlike Trevor’s. Considerate, soft. Awaiting permission to go any further. And when you finally muster the courage to turn and face him, you find a dire look in his eyes. 

Pained, desperate. Restraining himself from something unspoken. 

The gap between you feels vast, only his outstretched arm occupying the space. It’s vibrating, begging to be explored. Uncharted terrain. And maybe it’s the rescue, or the conversation, or the sweet treat, or the ride home, or just Joel and your unyielding fantasies. But you cannot deny what feels like a culmination of every blip in time leading up to this moment, and you’re striding forward, a split second of doubt before trembling fingers reach for the collar of his flannel. 

You think he descends towards you in unison, for when you touch lips, there’s urgency. Clambering hands and uneven breath, there is no space to find where you end and he begins. His hands steady themselves at your waist, pulling you flush against his warm body, and if it weren’t for the taste of him enticing you—coffee, mint, and chocolate so sweet—you may have collapsed. But he would catch you. You know this by the way his fingertips dig into you, bits of skin meeting skin where the hem of your cardigan and tank top rise, and you’re on fire. A light you did not even know existed inside of your flourishing, whirling, wild flames. 

Your fingers find the skin of his neck, thick and warm, before your arms wrap snug around it. Close, you need to keep him close. His hands, steady and seasoned, explore the slopes and panes of your back, bunching up the fabric of your cardigan between your shoulder blades, a means of restraint.  

Don’t, you want to beg him. Don’t hold back. 

That’s when you feel it—wet and sweltering and fucking delicious, his tongue prodding at your lower lip, and you waste no time in granting him his desires. Your lips part in a gasp, a deep groan rumbling through Joel’s chest that leaves you lightheaded, as he licks eagerly into your mouth; tongues dancing, lips sheen with saliva and growing swollen from the sheer intensity of it, and your throat releases a faint, uninhibited moan between breaths. He loses a bit of himself then; you hear that same, low sound, this time sending a wave of warmth to your thighs, before he wraps you in his wingspan, pulling you to your toes, as close as he can have you. 

And this is it, you think. Everything you’ve ever wanted. Even when he’s pulling away from you to catch his breath, forehead to forehead, breathing each other in. Even when you find the courage to open your eyes and look into his, instantly lost in the allure. More, more, you want more. You would take anything he gave you. Peaceful. Perfect. And nothing could take it away from you. It’s yours now. Nothing, nothing, nothing—something. 

You almost miss it. Just out of the corner of your eye, distant and flickering, the light turns on in your father's window from behind the curtains. The bubble pops. 

“Oh my god!” you gasp, planting your hands on his chest and pushing firmly, creating distance. You hardly notice the sudden concern on his face, vision gone white, hands sweating, breathing no longer labored by desire, but panic. “I—I can’t—I’m—” You’re unable to find the words, and maybe they don’t exist. 

He’s saying something, but you don’t register it. His cheeks are flushed, brows lowered in despair, disappointment, but he doesn't know. He doesn’t know why you can’t be here, why you can’t do this, why you have to break away. And that version inside of you, the one that had always pleaded and cried to be let out, crawls her way up your throat. She pushes tears into your eyes, and like always, just before you can let her out, a greater force shoves her back down, wires your lips shut, and forces you to remain as you are. 

You hardly even notice that you’re moving, running. Stumbling your way through the gate and dashing across the backyard. You don’t dare look back, and the sound of Joel calling your name is the last thing you hear before you unlatch the back door, slipping out of fantasy, and drowning back into the den of harsh reality. 

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Ao3 | KOFI

[michaellangdonswhore]

warnings: again, smut. put me in a fucking hospital.

word count: 5.5k

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You were, by far, Jonathan Crane's least favorite student.

You knew it, and it was complete bullshit. You were always on time, always in every class, and always completed the work. You had always had such good grades in every class, but not with him.

While not giving you the worst grade imaginable, you were never able to get over an A-, which pissed you the fuck off. Obviously, to any other normal student studying psychology, they'd take the A-, but not you.

And again, nothing over an A-. There was the frequent B+, sometimes B, and when you really pissed him off he would go as low as a B-.

You've done everything you could to get him to like you. You would ask questions, clearly put extra effort into the homework, and even applied to laboratory studies that he ran. You hated not being liked.

However, at this point in the year, you had given up on trying. You still did everything you were supposed to do, because you wanted a good grade, but you hadn't bothered participating or showing any interest anymore. You had decided to focus more on your other classes. Due to this, you had been working late into the night, causing you to be exhausted for your 8 AM lectures with Crane.

You were exhausted, trying to pay attention. Your head hurt so much for looking at a screen for so long last night.

Crane is flipping through a slideshow, and you find yourself dozing. It's not that this stuff bored you, you had just already learned it back when you took AP Psych your sophomore year of high school.

You snap back into reality when you hear your name being called.

Crane is singling you out with an annoyed expression on his face. You turn red because everyone, all 400 other people in the class, are staring at you.

"I'm sorry. Is this boring you?" He puts his hands on his hips.

"No-" You begin.

You're stammering. You normally don't have such a rough time with public speaking, but being downright exhausted and being singled out for nearly falling asleep in class is extremely embarrassing.

He pauses for a moment and stares you down.

You feel as if you were naked, as if you were completely exposed to him. You didn't like him looking at you like that, like he was taking into account every imperfection.

"As I was saying..."

Thank god.

He resumes to what he was talking about before and you're more alert, heart pumping full of humiliation. You're taking notes now, typing quickly and probably annoyingly loud (you can tell because he keeps shooting you small glares every time you hit the spacebar).

Finally, the hour is up and he reminds everyone about the homework due that Friday. You collect your stuff and head out the door. You don't realize, but he watches you leave.

Everything you do irks him.

Maybe it was because your first paper challenged his psychological beliefs, or because your intelligence challenged him in general. But literally everything about you pisses him off.

Your loud typing, your questions that challenges his lectures, how you turn everything in on time, how you flawlessly converse with the other students. He is so desperately waiting for you to slip up.

As previously stated, you were putting less effort than before into his class. He picked up on this. You were turning your papers and chapter readings in the last minute, you weren't asking questions, and you were even falling asleep.

You had three days to complete a portion of the assignments given. You completely forgot about it.

Due to your tiredness and your weakening desire to try for the class, you had forgotten to write down the homework in a planner that you always checked daily.

Crane is a quick grader, and usually he always grades your homework first; more specifically, as soon as you turn it in.

You realized you didn't do the work as soon as you woke up that morning for your 8 AM class. You had never ever missed an assignment. Ever. And you had no time to do it and make it to his class on time. You were freaking the fuck out.

It's okay. Maybe he hasn't graded it yet.

But no. He was such a strict grader. He was harsh.

Whatever. You may as well hope for the best.

To distract yourself from your predicament, you talk to the boy who sits next to you in the class. It's just smalltalk about the workload and about an upcoming test.

You stop talking when Crane clears his throat. You shift back in your seat and open your laptop.

"It's a Friday. It's 8 AM," Crane begins. You think this is going to be the introduction of a psychological speech. "For all 399 of you that did your homework last night, go enjoy your Friday morning."

People being looking around and whispering, not sure if this is a trick, but you know it's not.

You're freaking out. Your heart is racing and you cannot believe that he would actually do this to you. Usually teachers will just give you a bad grade and call it that, but to single you out and have the entire class leave except for you is an all time low.

"I'm not messing with you," Crane continues. "Go. You know who you are."

He's looking at you dead in the eye and you stay put as people slowly get up to leave, looking around to make sure others are doing the same. You avoid his gaze, looking at your computer screen.

Soon enough, everyone is out of the large lecture room, some looking back to see the one person who didn't do their work.

Once the door is shut, and everyone is completely out of sight, Crane locks both of the doors and looks up at you.

"Are you deliberately trying to fail my class?" He questions. "I thought you wanted to be outstanding."

You can't find words to say. He scoffs and moves to his desk, shuffling through papers and bringing out a decently large stack to over to you. It feels like hours pass by as he walks up the steps to you and drops them onto your desk.

You look at them, confused.

"This is the homework that was due at midnight." He explains.

"It's never so much..." You stammer. You can feel his hatred burning into your skin.

"It's what's due next Wednesday, Friday, and the following week too. Let's see if you can get this done by.... hm," He checks his watch. "By the end of the period?"

"All of this?" Your eyes widen.

"When's your next class?" He asks.

"You're my only one today." You continue to avoid his eye contact.

"Then you can stay." He says. "Until you finish all the work."

"But-"

"I can't trust that you'll do it." Crane says, taking a step back from you. "You need to complete it. In front of me."

"Please, Professor," You try to defend yourself. "I've been-"

"I can assume what you've been doing, you've almost fallen asleep in my class." He scoffs.

You feel your cheeks heat up with embarrassment over him getting the wrong impression. Does he really think that low of you?

You take a deep breath. You'll just have to deal with this.

"Do you have a pencil?"

He grabs a black pen from his desk and looks up to you, motioning to sit in the front row. Close enough. You swallow your pride and grab your things and the stack of paper, walking down to the seats in the front.

The class itself is an hour, but it took you almost five to complete the amount of homework he gave you. The readings were long, and the quality of work was demanding. You were eager to do well, to prove yourself.

You hate that he hated you.

His eyes were on you the entire time you did your work. The silence was loud, but you pushed through it. You got three weeks of homework done, and proudly put the stack back onto his desk.

"I'll see you Monday, Professor," you smile, then walk away.

After that, you tried harder; harder than you tried compared to every other class you took. You did this, not to get him to like you- but to get back at him with the fact that you knew your shit; you were a good student. You sat in the front, did side research, and spent nights studying for his endless quizzes. And he wanted to fail you to make you stop what you were doing, but you were getting all the answers right and you both knew that. He wouldn't want you taking anything to the next level.

With you in the front, it made it harder for him to not be distracted by you. Mid speech he would find himself locking eyes with you, disrupting his words and leaving him stammering for a brief moment. Ever since you've upped the eye contact, you've gained more control of the situation.

You arrived in class that Wednesday; the situation in which Crane forced you to stay and do two weeks worth of work in front of him occurred around three weeks ago. You're sitting in the front in between two empty seats; no one likes to sit in the front in Crane's class. It's usually only filled with around three to four people. Crane isn't in class yet, which is weird considering he's always there early, before anyone else even gets there. The class is almost about to begin and he's never been late.

Soon enough, it's one minute after the class is supposed to start and he's still not there. You start feeling antsy, wondering where he is.

Finally, he walks in; two minutes after class is supposed to start. So unlike him.

He places his briefcase on the desk and begins setting up his computer while everyone takes out something to take notes with.

"Now, you all know what I specialize in, I hope," He states, not breaking eye contact with his computer.

He specialized in phobias. Apart from dedicating his time to teaching you, he was a therapist mainly for fears.

"I'm sure we all know what exposure therapy is, correct?" He asks. Pretty much the whole class nods in unison. "Good. For those of you not on the same page, it's the type of therapy which someone is exposed to their fear or trauma."

He begins flipping through his slideshow, giving more and more information and lecturing about it, but you can't help but notice it's an almost bias review.

You're left with homework to write a review on some boring documentary on the history of exposure therapy and a pretty long excerpt of the textbook you all were reading.

So, you did your work and followed all of the instructions. You wrote a review on exposure therapy.

The next Monday, you get to class and you sit in the front row. There's a big stack of paper on Crane's desk, and you assuming that you're getting a pop-quiz, but no, that's not the case.

Crane's waiting for everyone with his shoulder rested on the large stack of papers. Once the time hits 8, he begins.

"I printed out all of your outlines," He begins. "I've made some comments and given some feedback. We'll spend the class working on them."

He starts calling out names and one by one, people receive their papers. You're sort of anxious- you left a pretty negative review on exposure therapy, something that he seemed so passionate about.

"Y/N Y/L/N." He says, saying your voice with more of an annoyed tone than the other students. You get up and grab your paper from his hands, tugging harder due to his firm grip. Clearing his throat, he continues calling out the following names. You go back to your seat, nervous to look at the paper. When you sit and look at it, your stomach dropped.

There's nothing on the front page. Then you look at the second.

See me after class.

There is literally nothing but a see me after class.

Oh my god.

What did I do?

Was he offended at all by what was written? Surely, that wasn't your intention... yes, you wanted to piss him off, but you had some respect for him. You didn't want to actually maybe- make him insecure about his work?

Class seemed to take hours to go by; you didn't even know what to do about your paper. He gave no other feedback other than to see him after class. How were you supposed to work with that?

You looked around at your classmates typing away. You're annoyed that he actually helped them.

See me after class.

At least give me feedback on my fucking paper.

Everyone then realized the time and began to pack up. Crane stood up from his desk and took his glasses off.

"Remember, papers are due Friday!" He manages to get out before people start heading out the door.

You put your things in your bag, trying to act out to your classmates as if you were leaving. You felt so embarrassed. You hated how he kept embarrassing you and how he had the power to do that. It was infuriating. You felt him staring at you as you packed your stuff up, moving slower, nervous that he would call you out.

You took your time, though, waiting till everyone was out of the room.

With everyone else there, you felt so confident. You were one of the smart ones and you at least had witnesses, but alone with him? You were completely inferior. He could quite literally ruin your life with a bad grade and could easily tarnish your image, being the head of Arkham and all that.

"I found your paper quite interesting," He says, emphasizing quite.

"I'm sorry-" you begin. "I didn't mean to offend you."

"Offend me?" He scoffs. "You think you offended me?"

"I just- I know this is what you do, right?" You stammer.

"I'm interested in your point of view." He says. "About the pain, how it's long term. I'm interested as to why you seem so against it."

You shrug.

"What's your biggest fear, Y/N?" He asks you. "What is it? Failure?"

"I'm not trying to fail."

"Oh, yes, you've proven that." He clicks his tongue. "Sitting in the front, turning things in quickly, wearing shorter skirts. Don't think I don't notice what you're doing."

"What?"

"You write intensely about the struggle that people with PTSD-"

"Wait," you interrupt him. "What did you say?"

"I'm trying to discuss with you what you've written."

"Professor, my clothing choices have nothing to do with me wanting to do well in this class," you say. Now you're offended.

Instead of apologizing, which is what you think any decent person would do, he looks you up and down and scoffs.

"You're wearing tights."

"What?"

"Surely, those must be uncomfortable. You're not wearing those to satisfy yourself," he says.

You grow red, and angry.

He keeps humiliating you.

"Who are you trying to impress?"

"Will you stop?" you groan in frustration. "Why don't you just let me get by like you let everyone else get by? I do everything you ask!"

"I want to know who you're trying to impress."

"I'm not trying to impress anyone," you hiss, finally looking up at his crystal eyes.

You know it's disrespectful, but you turn to walk away and to leave.

"No, no. We're not done."

You ignore him, walking towards the door, but he quickly beats you to it, shutting it and locking you in.

"I said we're not done." He said, completely composed. "Sit."

"I want to leave."

"Your biggest fear is failure, yes?" He questions. You don't nod or shake your head, but it is pretty much true; you hate failing. You need to succeed and be good at everything you do. "Sit. I can very much make that fear come true."

"I do everything," you repeat. "Everything. I do it on time, I'm here always, I'm prepared for everything."

"Can you just fucking-" He pushes you down onto the seat next to his desk. "Sit?"

You weren't expecting him to physically force you to sit down, but you could pick up on the pent up frustration he had with you.

"The off the cut sweater, no bra-" He points out.

You weren't wearing a bra. You were surprised he had picked up on the fact- you could've been wearing a strapless, but no. He was right.

"Are you even wearing underwear?" He whispers.

You're flushed.

What the fuck was going on?

You thought he hated you.

And yeah, you knew he was an attractive man, that's what made this whole thing pretty exciting, but you never thought you would be sat down with him leaning over you saying things like this.

"Let me see."

"Professor?"

He grabs you off the chair and pushes you onto his desk, spreading your legs for you. Everything was moving too quickly; this all felt like a fever dream.

He tugs at the middle of your tights, ripping them open to expose your- and he was right- bare pussy. He lets out a chuckle.

"You're not trying to impress anyone?" He questions, again, peering up at you.

You try moving your thigh to cover yourself, but he forcefully keeps them open.

"Who was that boy you used to sit next to... Tim, is it?"

To be honest, you really didn't know that kids name. He was just someone you sat next to out of habit since you had picked that seat the first day of classes. But you hadn't been sitting with him for weeks at that point.

"Is Tim who you're trying to impress?"

"No!" You argue, still trying to fight the grip of his hand off your thigh. "I told you... I'm not trying to impress anyone."

"Hm." He says, placing two fingers on exactly the right spot of your clit, slowly rubbing in circles. . "You're not even trying to impress me?"

You stay silent, for a brief moment.

"Not in this way..."

But it's past that point now. He's already touching you, rubbing faster, and your exposed pussy is laid out right in front of his face. You're embarrassed and self conscious. He's too close for comfort.

"Yeah?"

The fingers once on your clit are now entering you. You still can't comprehend the situation.

But for him, he was putting you in your place. It was enough of the looks in class, the semi sexual and revealing clothing, the obvious need for his approval and to show him she was as smart- maybe even smarter than him himself.

"Is that why you're letting me touch you like this?" He asks, using the two fingers to pump your pussy.

It's out of your control but you're getting wetter the longer and faster he fingers you. It's beginning to show, beginning to drip down his fingers and onto his wrists. He notices this, then stops and looks.

"Disgusting," He huffs before licking his fingers clean.

"That's disgusting," You repeat at him, glaring a little, but you can't help but want his finger- more of him back inside you. You feel empty, desperate for his hands back on you.

"I don't see you asking me to stop."

You're silent, again.

He smiles, kneeling back down and spreading your legs open again, this time with a more forceful grip. He doesn't use his fingers this time, devouring you with his hot mouth and basically digging in.

He was really good at this. To be fair, no one had ever actually eaten you out, but you had never felt anything like it. He moves his fingers towards you again and fucks you with them as he sucks and licks at your clit. He was freakishly good. You felt something drip down your thigh; you didn't know if you were sweating or if you were fucking leaking. By the sound of it, probably the second one.

He removes his fingers and dives deep into your pussy more, making obscure sounds as he does so. He stops and looks up at you.

"Take your shirt off. I want to see your tits," he demands.

You comply; he's already seen a lot.

"Fuck, they're perfect." He says, now standing over you, playing with them and poking and twisting at your hardened nipple. He's pushing his hardened clothed dick into your bare pussy, giving you some friction has he sucks on your neck and plays with your nipples.

He grabs your hips and flips you over, putting you on your stomach and leaning you over the desk.

He kneels back down, eating your pussy again; he can't get enough of it. He can't get enough of the small whines escaping your throat and the way you leak and how you shake when it feels good- or when the pleasure becomes too much.

He adds his fingers in again, this time three, and you let out a louder, but not too loud, moan than usual.

"Professor-"

"You can take it." He assures you. "You better take it. If you can't take this how can you take my cock?"

You just weren't used to it- you had been fucked, but not for so long. He keeps licking and devouring your clit while pumping in and out of you. You feel so full- on the brink. You feel hot, and god you feel good. You don't even realize it, but you're riding his mouth and his fingers.

"You know, I wasn't going to let you come," Crane begins between breaths, keeping his face close to your pussy so you could still feel him. "But now that I think about it... I want you cum drunk on my dick. I wanna make you cum over and over again until you're a fucking mess."

He goes back to sloppily and messily eating you out again. It was so dirty; the noise, what was leaking out of you. You then felt that familiar feeling and you couldn't stop it; no matter how wrong this felt or how humiliated and exposed you felt, you couldn't stop yourself from moaning like a mess and cumming all over his mouth.

You needed a second to recover, but he stood up and grinded his clothed dick against you. You weren't ready for the friction, wincing over the contact with you sensitive clit. He grabbed your neck and pulls your back to him, kissing you, continuing to grind.

He unbuttons his pants and undoes his boxers, his large thick cock springing out, begging to be touched. He pushes one of your legs up onto the desk to give him better access to you.

"You're fucking soaked," He says as he teases himself some more, collecting what's came out of you as some lubricant.

He keeps rubbing your clit and the outside with his dick, back and forth. It feels good, but it's not enough. He pushes harder with his dick on your clit, continuing to hump you.

"Professor, please," you look back at him, trying to guilt him into giving in and fucking you, but it's not that easy.

"Shut up, and let me take my time." He says. He continues this for a little, before getting a new idea. "I want you to cum on my cock without me fucking you."

"What?"

He pulls you towards him then on his lap on the chair next to his desk.

"Grind on it." He demands, holding you in place by your hips. "Get it soaked."

You hesitate, but he's impatient. He pushes you down and moves your hips for you until you begin to do it with him. You grind your pussy against his cock, stimulating your clit once more. It didn't feel as good as his mouth, and god it probably didn't feel as good as his dick would feel inside you, but it felt good. And you were so fucking horny, you were on the brink of cumming again.

"Yeah, yeah, you got it," he praised you, rocking your hips back and forth. He digs his nails into your hips, definitely leaving some cuts in your skin, but you didn't care. You were so close. He begins to bounce up, pretending to thrust into you, adding to your pleasure. "That's it, you- oh fuck, yes, cum on my fucking dick."

You're dripping onto him as you ride out your high, clenching around nothing. It seems to last for a while, wrapped up in all the pleasure combined with his dirty talk.

He angles his cock towards your entrance and pushes into you- he feels hot and he's sensitive due to teasing himself. But no- he doesn't want to cum yet. He wants to put you in your fucking place. And even if he does cum, he has no issue continuing and even fucking a baby into you. Then, you'd have to walk around with the shame.

He gently picks you up, but then harshly slams you up and down repeatedly onto his cock. You've had no time to readjust after cumming a second time, and you were extremely sensitive.

"Slower, professor, please," You cry, burying your face into his shoulder. "It hurts..."

"Shut the fuck up."

He grabs you by the neck and pounds up into you, rubbing your clit as well to add to the sensation.

Yes, it feels good, but it's so overwhelming you can't help but tear up. Crane notices this and it goes straight to his head.

"Are you fucking crying?" He scoffs. "Fucking crying for me?"

He picks you up, keeping you firmly attached to his dick, and throws you over the desk again. He's fucking you deeper and at an animalistic pace; like he fucking needs this.

"Keep crying for me. Keep fucking crying."

He harshly grips your tits, twisting your nipple in the process.

"Fucking perfect tits, perfect pussy, perfect everything. You fucking strive for perfection- but you're letting me fucking ruin you. Is this how far you'd go for a good grade?" He laughs, fingers deep in your clit.

You can only moan in response, but this doesn't satisfy him.

"Fucking answer me."

"Yes," you cry out.

"Yeah, you're just a fucking whore who'd sleep her way to the top if that's what it took." He says, tugging your hair back, your sweaty bodies pressed closer together.

His words are filthy, but you're fucking cumming again.

He's laughing, mocking you for doing so.

"You fucking like being treated like a bitch, don't you?" He says, fucking you through your third orgasm. You don't know how he's not tired. As you expect, he doesn't give you a fucking break. You're worn out at this point; almost numb.

"Professor, I don't know-"

"You don't know if you can keep going?" He questions. "Yeah, you can. I'll fucking make you keep going. What was that... your third orgasm? Let me see if I can double that."

"Professor..."

"I'll stop when you give me three more."

You feel like you're going to pass out; the pleasure had become too much, but you were so fucking sensitive that a fourth one had come quickly. Your pussy was so swollen and red, but he had not gotten off of you.

"You're fucking..." He brings you back to the chair and places you on top of him. "You're fucking leaking all over me, fucking hell. So wet... do you hear yourself?"

You could hear yourself. It was disgusting. It was filthy.

"Aren't you embarrassed?" He asks. He slows down his pace, and you know he's teasing you. "Embarrassed that you're whoring yourself out to me like this? To a professor that so clearly disliked you? This is what you do for my approval."

He slows his pace some more.

"Would you do this for any other professor, Y/N? Let them fuck your pussy till you have nothing left to give? Bounce on their cock the way you do for me?"

"No, professor," you shake your head, trying to bounce faster but he keeps your hips in place, restricting you. He had succeeded- made you cum drunk and fucked you stupid, but this wasn't enough. He needed more. "No, no, only you. I'd only do this for you."

You're squirming around on his dick. He's stopped moving at this point, just staying in you.

"Stop fucking moving around. Don't you want to impress me?"

"Have I not?" You begin to regain some of your strength with this somewhat of a break he was giving you. "Have I not impressed you, professor?"

You give him puppy eyes as you gain some control of the situation, his grip loosing and you bouncing on his cock at a pace you like.

"I want to impress you, professor," you say seductively. "I want to- fuck!"

You start chasing your high again, you didn't even realize that you'd ever be able to cum this many times.

"Fuck!" You repeat. Crane is letting you take control, enjoying the show of you riding his cock, using him for your pleasure. "Do you like this, professor? Do you like when I fucking bounce on your dick like this?"

You had never heard yourself like this, or ever expected to talk like this. You had never felt so confident.

"Have you imagined this professor?" You continue. He's obviously at a loss for words, not expecting this side of you. "Have you imagined fucking me? Have you imagined bending me over your desk and eating me out till I came all over your face? My tits? Putting me in my fucking place?"

His hands found your hips again and he's helping you ride his cock. He's loving the words coming from your mouth.

"God, I think you wanted this more than I did," you laugh. You're so close. You wanted him to talk, but his reactions to your words were enough for you. "Make me cum again, professor, please. I- fuck!"

He's pushing into you and bouncing you up and down quickly and you're riding out your fifth orgasm.

He pulls you off of him and lays you out on the desk again, licking up your sore pussy. He hums while doing this, telling you how you taste so good. You're so- so sensitive, though, and you can't help but cumming on his tongue again not even seconds later, letting out a string of incoherent words.

That's six.

You look at him, but he's positioning himself in you.

"You said six-"

"I say a lot of things. I want you to cum on my cock again." He says, kissing your neck. "Last time. I promise."

He pumps into you, at a softer, but still quick pace. You feel so incredibly numb, but he still manages to work you up quickly while fondling your breasts and pressing hot kisses into your neck.

"Ah- fuck." He pants, fucking himself into you. "Fuck... gonna cum in you. Want you to fucking carry me around for the rest of the fucking day."

You don't object- your hearing was probably a little impaired at this point.

"Yeah, you want that, don't you. It's like a fucking award to you."

He's holding you closer now. You both are so sweaty and sticky.

You're about to cum again, but he grabs your throat tightly.

"Fucking wait for me. Don't be impatient."

As hard as it is, you listen to him. He speeds up, becoming sloppy before he cries, "Fuck, cum! Cum all over my fucking- ahhh, yes, fuck."

He shoots hot loads into you as you clench around him, milking more out of him. He doesn't stop, continuing to fuck you until every last bit of his seed has marked you. Even after he's done, he gets a few more strokes in before he pulls out, showing the combination of you and him leaking out of your pussy. He pushes you onto the floor and presents his dick in front of him.

"Clean it."

You obey, wrapping your mouth on his cock and licking away the filth that the two of you made. He groans and pulls you off of him.

"You'll get me hard again." He says.

He puts all his clothes back on and hands you your sweater. Your nipples are hard, poking through them now.

"I look forward to your next draft of your review." Crane says calmly, as if what just happened didn't happen.

"You- um..." you stammer, brushing your fingers through your hair. "You didn't give me any notes."

"I didn't?" He questioned. You shook your head. "Well, stay again after class next session. I'll go over it, personally, with you."

"Oh." You blush. "This wasn't a one time thing?"

"Y/N..." Crane looks at the floor. "I'm your professor."

You felt awkward. Of course it was a one time thing; how could it not be?

But then he looks back up at you.

"You don't want to fail my class, do you?"

[endless-ineffabilities]

chemical override (8)

Ewan Mitchell x actress!reader

a/n : I had to cut some scenes, explained in the notes below, to be saved for a bonus chap or drabble. Also, I altered the outline, and this story isn't ending with 9 as originally intended. Happy Chem Ov release day! Enjoy 🖤

series masterlist ▪︎ main masterlist

The reader is left confused by Ewan's online stunt. If he really is content with keeping things casual, then why is he acting otherwise? Tensions reach their peak and Ewan is forced to face the consequences of the arrangement.

Day or night, Ewan will answer your call. 

Even when you seem overly irate at him, greeting him with, “Ewan, what the fuck was that picture?”

He exhales haughtily, your tone almost bringing him some twisted sense of pleasure. Like a ‘this is what you get’ type of reaction. Was he 7 or 27? He’s been labeled sensitive before, but right now, he can’t muster the energy to care.

“Hello to you too, darling,” he says, smoke billowing out of his lips as he lounges on his apartment balcony in London. He had convinced himself that his worries about you and Matt vanished the moment he reaffirmed you as his to the world. In this day and age, in your profession, that can easily be accomplished by something called a hard launch. The first image he posted was supposed to do just that, but the internet has a fickle memory. 

Several months had passed with nothing concrete circulating about you and Ewan, leading fans to readily accept the possibility that you were now dating Matt, prompted by the recent Deuxmoi feature. Granted, Ewan was spotted sneaking out of your building once, but what does that really prove?

Unfortunately, some others spun the story beyond recognition, protected by the anonymity afforded by their black mirrors. Aided with nothing but conjecture, they took it upon themselves to accuse you of infidelity. 

All in all, it had been an eventful 24 hours. His impulsive act of possessiveness quickly turned into a mutable gossip headline.

“Don’t play dumb with me,” you reply immediately. “Why would you post that? I didn’t even know you took it in the first place.”

“I was doing you a favour. Don’t you see? People are under the impression that we’re still together.”

“That doesn’t mean anything.”

“Darling, you know it matters. It’s not a good look that you were spotted with someone else, you know what people are like,” he said. 

“Oh, thank you so much for saving me from public ridicule, Ewan,” you say, tone dripping with sarcasm. “Since when do you care about what people say? You stay offline for this exact reason.”

“I know some mean things were being said about you.”

“I don’t care about any of that,” you insist, but you no longer sound sure.

“I’m doing you a favour,” he says. “If that picture remains, then it’s basically a ‘fuck you’ to all the people who accuse you cheating on me.”

“How can I cheat on you, Ewan? We’re not together.”

He bristles at that statement, the truth that sits unpleasant in the back of his mind. It hurts that you’re right. “You know what I mean,” he musters. 

He hears nothing for a while, save for some shuffling in the background. Are you screaming your frustrations into your pillow? Is your fist raised at the skies, cursing his name? Tell him you hate him, and he will crumble. The three words will come out of him unrestrained. I love you, followed by, please don’t leave me. 

But they already have spilled out of him, lost among his tearful pleas in the car. That night in September, he crumbled and he lost you anyway. What good would it do now? What difference would it make?

You finally speak, and he hears the frustration in your voice, even as it softens, “You’re so fucking infuriating.”

He can’t help but chuckle, the sound low and easy, “Hey, baby, you’re the one who called me.”

But your next words wipe the smile right off his face. “Ewan… this isn’t going to be the last of it. Sooner or later, we’ll have to make it known that we’re not as in love as everyone thinks.”

He frowns, not accepting that you’re pressing on the topic. “Why?”

“Your memory must be so twisted, Ewan,” you sigh, and he can picture you shaking your head, “Don’t you have that ironclad PR arrangement for your new film?”

His chest tightens. Leave it to you to be the bearer of harsh truths. “That… That might not happen.”

“Might not? Oh, for fuck’s sake, you didn’t quit, did you?”

“No, I didn’t quit,” he answers quickly, trying to keep his voice steady. “But can we not talk about the film? It’s not what matters right now.”

“But it does, Ewan,” you insist, the concern in your voice gnawing at him, “you’ve got this important thing, and I… what if I want out? What if I want something real?”

“Something… real.” It's like a punch to his gut, nightmare fuel, and he scrambles for a response. “Like what?”

“I don’t know… I just – ”

“This isn’t real enough for you?” There is no hiding the vulnerability in his voice now. It wouldn’t even work if he tried. “I… I’m not…”

“Ewan.”

You refuse to answer his question, and he thinks it’s for the best. He responds with his usual, “Darling.”

“What are you going to do about that picture?”

“Don’t worry, I’ll handle it,” he finally decides. 

“What?”

“I’ll get rid of it.”

“Okay. Good.” He can hear the relief in your voice, but he’s not done yet. 

“But you can’t get rid of us,” he says firmly, leaving no room for negotiation. “I won’t let you.”

You groan, “Ewan… ”

His reply is curt, daring you to disagree, “Darling.”

He’s met with a long and uncomfortable silence, the air thick with everything left unsaid. He needs to break it. He needs a diversion. “Are you home?” he asks.

“Why?”

Even over the line, he can feel you pulling away, like your tether to him is loosening. He can’t let that happen again. “Are you still angry with me?”

“Why?”

“Why don’t I come over and we can hash it out?” His voice drops into that rhythm, the one he knows you couldn’t resist. 

“You’re incorrigible.”

“Maybe so,” he admits, a small smile playing on his lips, “but I want you.”

He waits with bated breath, ready to run out the door at your word.

“I can’t believe you, Mitchell,” you sigh, your amusement at him bleeding through. It’s all he needs.

“See you soon, darling.”

All throughout the night, he doesn’t let you go. The moment he steps through your door, the tension from the call dissolves into something more primal, something neither of you can resist. Every touch feels like a desperate attempt to hold onto a love that might slip away, even if just for a moment.

Deep down, he knows, just as you do, that this can’t last. But as the night stretches on and he holds you close, he pushes that thought away, burying it in the recesses of his mind. 

This is enough, even for now. 

And so the song remains the same.

Clad in full costume, you tread the halls of the set, your posture noticeably straighter. Alyna’s attire has a way of transforming you, making each step purposeful, each glance sharp. The familiar weight of the prop weapons at your side makes you feel like a true fighter. 

The Watford studio is buzzing with energy as the Entertainment Weekly photoshoot unfolds, the set alive with activity. It is one of the actual sets used for the show, so you feel right at home - Alyna Rivers in her natural habitat. 

You weave through the crowd, careful to avoid Ewan, whose presence you can never shake off. You’ve never actually been together, in a big group setting such as this, since the beginning of the arrangement. The cast definitely knows something is going on, especially after Ewan’s last daring post on Instagram. Ewan hadn’t deleted the post – he simply deactivated his profile instead. You noticed it the next day when you tried to check, only to find his account gone.

The realisation left you conflicted. On one hand, it meant the picture wasn’t out there anymore. But on the other, it felt like a temporary fix, a way of avoiding the real issue rather than confronting it head-on. It was a pause, not an ending. The post still existed technically, suspended in some middle realm. 

Since the cast is not privy to the sordid details of your arrangement, you think it best to keep interactions with him at a minimum. It had been constantly nagging at you, the thought of being with him but not really. Are you even allowed to hold his hand in front of your friends? Won’t that be crossing the line, breaking the rules that he set when he promised that, you won’t be his and he won’t be yours?

Alyna would never, not in a hundred years, allow herself to be put in this position. Especially not by Aemond Targaryen, of all people.

Just as you start to relax, Matt materialises by your side, a wide grin plastered on his face.

“Well, well, if it isn’t the fiercest bastard in the realm,” Matt says, looking every bit as Daemon with his Targaryen blacks and silver-blonde wig, giving you an exaggerated once-over. “Looking for your next conquest?”

“Careful, Matthew,” you shoot back, smirking. “Alyna’s got a list, and you’re edging pretty close to the top.”

“Good to know I’m on your mind, and as a top priority, nonetheless,” he teases, nudging you playfully. “But let’s be real, you’d miss me too much.”

You laugh, the sound echoing off the stone walls. “Miss your terrible jokes, maybe.”

“You love my humour,” he insists. “I’m just saying, when you get tired of shooting arrows and swinging swords, let me know. I would like to take you out into the real world.”

You raise an eyebrow, cheeks heating up. He caught you off guard, so thank the gods for the sheer boldness that Alyna wears like skin, rubbing off on you as you stand in her shoes. “Is Daemon asking Alyna on a date, Smithy?”

“Depends,” he quips, a sly grin on his face. “Is it working?”

Before you can respond, Tom saunters over, clearly not one to miss out on the fun. “What’s this I hear? Matt finally working up the nerve to ask his on-screen sidekick out? Either I’m going mad or my five espresso shots are working.”

“Watch it, you,” you warn him playfully, unable to suppress a grin. “Alyna’s still got some arrows left. And I’m not his sidekick.”

Tom smirks. “If I didn’t know better, I’d say you’re all talk.”

“Want to test that theory?” you challenge, raising an imaginary bow. Matt lets out a dramatic gasp, clutching his chest as if struck.

“See? Deadly,” Matt says, winking at you. “So, what do you say? Coffee, next week? Somewhere far from dragons and politicking?”

You pretend to consider it, tapping your chin. “You know, that doesn’t sound half bad. As long as you promise not to reenact your last attempt at flirting.”

“Ouch,” Matt laughs, holding up his hands in surrender. “I’ll do my best.”

As the photographer calls for everyone to take their places, you catch a glimpse of Ewan watching from a distance, his jaw clenched. The amusement in Matt’s eyes tells you he’s noticed too.

“You’re playing with fire, you know,” you whisper to Matt as you walk toward the set.

He grins, lowering his voice. “I wasn’t called the Rogue Prince for no reason. Besides, I am the blood of the dragon.”

“Sure you are,” you reply, but you are unable to ignore the thrill of Ewan’s intense focus. 

The set buzzes with activity, cast members instructed to maintain their character’s demeanour for the photographs. The Greens go first, with their designated groupings, with Ewan and Gayle sharing a close-up shot. From where you stand behind the cameras, you can feel Ewan’s gaze locked on you, his presence heavy and distracting. After a while, you feel the need to step away, walking further to the side. 

He remains silent, his focus clearly split between you and Matt, who keeps up a steady stream of clever remarks that make you laugh. Each one seems to darken Ewan’s mood further. The tension becomes so palpable that the director finally calls out, “Ewan, can we get your attention over here, please? You’re off your mark.”

Liv and Phia, still awaiting their cues, scurry over to where you stand. Liv leans in with a knowing smirk on her face, whispering in your ear. “Trouble in paradise?” Of course they’ve noticed Ewan’s odd behaviour. 

“More like purgatory,” Phia quips, scrunching her nose.

“Something like that,” you murmur, eyes flicking over to Ewan, who’s now talking with Gayle and the director, looking over the shots taken, though his attention doesn’t stray far from you.

“Well, if you need an escape route, just say the word,” Liv offers, her voice full of concern.

“Do you want me to stare back at Ewan?” Matt cheekily offers, making you punch him on the shoulder. He only laughs openly, the sound free and uninhibited and just Matt. 

“Thanks, guys,” you say, grateful for their friendship. But you know there’s no easy way out of this tangled mess. Not with the way Ewan is watching you and Matt like he’s one step away from bringing The Battle Above The Gods Eye to fruition.

Not long after, it’s time for the Blacks to step onto the set. As you move into position, you can feel Ewan’s gaze practically searing into your back. You fight the urge to laugh. Or grimace. Or shoot him a questioning look. The idea of Ewan in his full Aemond costume brooding over you is something indeed. The fangirl in you would have been sent reeling, if only he wasn’t so fucking infuriating. 

You spot Liv, Tom, and Phia swooping in like a rescue squad with a mission to derail Ewan’s brooding. Phia, ever the animated theater kid, practically throws herself in front of Ewan, waving her hands like she’s recounting the world’s most thrilling tale.

“Ewan, did you catch that last shot of Helaena? Absolute perfection,” she says, grinning.

Tom saunters up, “Care to explain why you are standing here lurking like some stalker? You’re scaring the crew, mate.”

Phia gently nudges Ewan away from your line of sight. “Come on, Ewan. Let’s go for a smoke, it’s stuffy in here.”

Ewan’s clearly torn, but he’s powerless against his friends’ instigation. You bite back a laugh as you see him getting pulled in every direction. Your makeshift rescue team really needs to get their act together, but you love them anyway. The camera snaps away, and you focus on your poses. Knowing that Phia and the gang are running interference, you’re free to enjoy the moment and be Alyna as the photoshoot demands. You can save the enjoyment from watching him squirm later. 

The photoshoot wraps up in the evening and everyone begins to gather their things, preparing to leave. Cast members chat, stretch, and discuss plans for the week.

“So, coffee next week?” Matt asks again, this time with a bit more seriousness.

“Yeah,” you reply, a small smile tugging at your lips. “I’ll see what I have scheduled then I’ll give you a call.”

“Great. I’ll even let you pick the place. Well, I’ll be off, love, I’m meeting my sister.” he says. Then, as if sensing something, he leans in closer. “But I’d better give you something to remember me by.”

Before you can react, Matt pulls you into a hug, his arms wrapping around you warmly. The embrace lingers just a moment longer than necessary, and as he pulls back, he plants a soft, teasing kiss on your cheek. You catch the mischievous glint in his eyes. What is he up to?

As Matt releases you and heads out of the studio, you spot Ewan coming toward you, his presence all too familiar. He doesn’t say anything at first, and just stands there, his silence more charged than anything he could have spoken. His expression is stoic, but with the way his lips are pursed and his nostrils are flared, you would say that he’s bothered. He’s jealous.

“You seemed to be having fun,” he finally says, his tone casual, though the tension is unmistakable.

“Mmm, maybe I was,” you reply, meeting his gaze head-on. “Is there a problem?”

Ewan’s eyes narrow slightly, but he shakes his head. “Not at all. Just… nevermind. I’m sure you know, we’ve been booked for a magazine feature coming up in a few days.”

You freeze. “Yeah, I heard. What about it?”

“I’m just making sure that you’re okay with it, darling.”

“It’s work, Ewan,” you reply tersely. “We’ll deal with it.”

The tension breaks when Fabien swoops in, his flawless smile in place. “So, you’re stealing Matt away from me now?” he teases, and there’s an edge to his question. He’s still on the fence about you and Ewan, as he feels protective of his friend. But he’s aware that there’s no simple right or wrong here. You both hurt each other; that much is clear. 

“Maybe,” you quip back, shrugging with feigned innocence. “He seems to like my company.”

Fabien laughs, though there’s a hint of something serious beneath it. “I’ll allow it – this time. But don’t forget, I’ve got dibs on him for the next round of drinks.”

As Fabien’s laughter fades, Ewan’s voice cuts through the lightheartedness. “I don’t think she needs your protection, Fabien.”

You can’t help but laugh at that, rolling your eyes. “I don’t need looking after, Ewan.”

“Maybe not,” he concedes, his voice dropping to something darker. “But that doesn’t mean I’ll stop.”

There’s a challenge in his words, one that sends a thrill of anticipation through you, even as you know it’s a dangerous game you’re all playing. The fire between you smoulders, waiting for the next spark to ignite it. Is Matt that spark? No, you realise, both your actions will be enough to bring everything crashing down.

For now, you step away, leaving Ewan to stew in his misguided jealousy. 

“See you around, Fabs,” you wrap your arms around his neck, giving him a hug goodbye. “I’ll see you for our shoot, yeah?” you tell Ewan, making it clear that you’re not up for another dalliance in between. 

He gets the hint, nodding tersely. But he doesn’t just let you go, not without making his mark, the thing he ached so badly to do in front of Matt, but couldn’t. 

He briefly casts a glance around the room to make sure no one else is hovering, then presses a soft against your lips, leaving you no time to protest. 

You’re exhausted. You’re frustrated. You shouldn’t give in to this, but you do. He feels right; he feels like home. 

If home is a Motel 6 along the highway, ready to kick you out at a moment’s notice. Isn’t that just a knife in the gut?

You pull away after a second, and he smiles, his thumb lightly grazing your cheek.

Fabien shakes his head, a feeling of warmth rising within him at the sight of his two friends who clearly belong together. If only they would get their heads out of their asses.

You seem to remember his presence, pushing away from Ewan’s hold.

Fabien can only roll his eyes. 

Only two days later, and you’re back to work once more. The British Vogue photoshoot has its focus on high fashion, set against the backdrop of an American West-inspired ranch. It doesn’t dwell on you and Ewan as celebrity figures, which is why you agreed to the shoot in the first place. 

Walking onto set, you’re struck with awe at the dramatic tableau of worn wooden fences, hay bales, and lasso props. But your amazement reaches its absolute peak when Ewan emerges, in full cowboy attire. 

Fuck. You bite your lip, and you can almost hear your heart pounding. Unbeknownst to you, the crew notices your flustered state, but they think it’s just you admiring your boyfriend as expected. 

He meets your eyes from across the room, then saunters over to you, that characteristic smirk set on his lips. Your breath catches in your throat, when he tips his hat and greets, “Howdy, darling.”

“Why, hello, good sir,” you try to match his tone, giving a playful curtsy. 

“Ready to give them a show?” he asks, and you’re sure if he’s referring to the photoshoot or the possibility that the two of you might have to play at being a couple as these people expect. You opt to believe the former. 

As the shoot progresses, the tension between you and Ewan becomes almost unbearable. You’re clad in an elaborate, haute couture cowgirl outfit. A sculptural corset made of brown leather, with a tailored vest on top. A floor-length skirt with a high slit reaching your upper thigh, dyed to a rich gradient of burnt sienna. Knee-high heeled boots. A leather choker with a central silver pendant rests on your neck, dangling provocatively. 

For the first set of shots, both of you casually lean against the fence. Ewan poses beside you, watching you with an intensity that is both electrifying and maddening. His gaze is hungry, almost predatory, and you almost forget about the elaborate set around you. Thankfully, each blinding flash of the camera pulls you back into the real world. Keeping you from riding a cowboy right down on the hay bales. How does the saying go? Save a horse…

The photographer snaps you out of it, as he shouts a direction for you to pose solo with a lasso draped over your shoulder. Ewan steps out of the frame, leaning against a wooden post, his eyes locked on you as if he’s trying to memorise every detail of this look. 

“Alright, let’s try a more dramatic pose,” the photographer instructs. “Maybe something with a bit more attitude.”

You adjust your stance, twisting slightly to emphasise the curve of your waist. As you do, you momentarily meet Ewan’s gaze. His eyes are dark with something like desire, and his lips are set in a grim line. 

“I can’t even articulate what you’re doing to me, darling,” Ewan murmurs in your ear, when the photographer calls for a 5-minute break. Set assistants run onto the scene, adding and rearranging props for the next round of shots.

You smirk, “Speak for yourself, Mitchell.”

“Mmm,” he hums, satisfied. 

The next shot calls for Ewan to stand behind you, his arms wrapped around your figure, the position as intimate as can be. Each click of the camera seems to heighten the tension.

His breath is warm against your neck, the sheer proximity electrifying, causing your entire body to heat up underneath the layers of leather and cotton. His heartbeat matches yours, quick and erratic. His voice is a mere whisper, barely audible over the camera clicks. “You’re making this incredibly difficult, you know.”

You tilt your head slightly, “Difficult how, exactly?”

“Keeping my hands off you is the hardest part of my day,” he replies, his voice husky with restrained desire. “It’s like you’re daring me to break every rule we’ve set.”

That you’ve set, you want to correct him, but you bite your tongue. A bitter chuckle escapes you, the sound a mix of frustration and amusement. “So what if I am,” you tease, bending back slightly into his embrace, feeling his body heat against yours. He welcomes your closeness, leaning into you. 

For the next few minutes, it’s a game of seduction and denial, every movement aimed at tormenting the other. The crew, blissfully unaware of the full extent of the tension, is generally pleased about the atmosphere of the shoot. In their minds, you and Ewan are simply leaning into your real-life chemistry and romance.

Nothing out of the ordinary. Little do they know.

In the brightly lit break room, the hum of distant chatter from the set fills the silence between you and Ewan. He’s seated across from you, his gaze unyielding as you check your phone.

His voice breaks the quiet, his tone deceptively casual but laced with curiosity. “Doing anything tomorrow?”

You look up, meeting his eyes, before tentatively answering. “Actually, yes.”

His brows lift, his curiosity piqued. “Care to elaborate, darling?”

You shift in your seat, trying to mask the tension in your voice. “I’m supposed to grab coffee with Matt.”

“Matt.” Ewan’s voice is low as he repeats the familiar name. “Just the two of you?”

“Yes.”

There’s a pause, his expression morphing from curiosity to something more intense. “Is it… is it a date?”

“I think that was implied,” you reply, your tone deliberately nonchalant as you try to maintain control of the conversation.

“Really.” His voice tightens, his response loaded with a mix of disbelief and frustration.

You notice the obvious shift in his demeanour, the way his jaw clenches and his eyes darken. “Why the long face?”

Ewan’s hands ball into fists on the table, his composure breaking. “Fuck, I—”

Before he can finish, you cut him off, your own frustration simmering. “Forget it. Don’t answer that.”

“No, just…” His voice falters, his emotions raw. “I don’t want you to go.”

You blink, taken aback by his admission. “Are you being serious right now, Mitchell?”

“Do I look like I’m kidding?” Ewan’s eyes lock onto yours, filled with a mix of hurt and possessiveness. A concoction borne out of circumstances of his own making. Or had it been you, last September? You can no longer keep track of whose fault reigns over everything. The truth of the matter is, you love him. Of course you do.

But nothing feels right anymore. 

“I don’t know,” you retort, your voice rising slightly, “I hope you are. Because you can’t just say that to me.”

“But I am.” His tone is resigned but unwavering. “I don’t want to watch you with someone else.”

The words hit you like a cold splash of water, freezing you in place. “Then I’m ignoring what you just said. This isn’t fair to me.”

His face falls. “You can’t just ignore it. It’s not that simple.”

You stand up abruptly, feeling the weight of his words pressing down on you. “Well, I don’t see how this conversation is going to help anything.”

He stands as well, his expression pained and conflicted. “I just – damn it. Wait a minute, darling – ”

You take a deep breath, trying to steady yourself. “Look, if you’re going to act like this, then maybe we need to rethink – ”

“No,” he interrupts, his voice desperate. “I don’t want to rethink anything. I just… I need you to understand that this isn’t easy for me.”

The room falls silent, both of you breathing heavily. The unresolved problem lingers, the weight of it all hanging heavily between you. 

You take a final look at him, feeling a mixture of anger and longing. “I’m gonna go get some air.”

Without waiting for a response, you turn and walk out of the break room, the doors closing sharply behind you. Ewan is left alone, frustration clear on his face as he stares at the empty space where you once stood.

Ewan is sprawled on his couch, a half-empty bottle of beer resting on the coffee table. The warm light of a lamp casts a muted glow over his apartment, which is littered with the remnants of his evening alone. He has seen the latest headlines about you and Matt, enjoying a date in Hyde Park.

Hyde Park Outing: Is it Love in the Air for these HBO Actors?

He tries to ignore them all, but the nagging bitterness won’t let him be. The images and headlines keep flashing in his mind. Unable to shake the frustration, he sends a quick message to Tom and Phia, inviting them over for a casual distraction.

A short while later, they arrive, carrying a six-pack and a box of takeout. Ewan greets them with a tired smile, which barely masks his despondence.

“Evening,” he says, opening the door wider to let them in. “Glad you could make it.”

Phia gives him a sympathetic look as she steps inside, setting down the food. “We came prepared. Looks like you could use a break.”

Tom follows, his eyes scanning the cluttered room. “And some beers. We figured you might need them.”

Ewan leads them to the living room, where they settle onto the couch. As they crack open the beers and start munching away, the initial wariness fades, replaced by casual conversation. His two guests are careful not to broach the topic of you, but they know it’s inevitable. Soon enough, it will be time to get down to business, which is essentially what they came for. They’re the rescue squad after all. 

“So… we have a feeling we know what’s been eating at you,” Tom says, taking a swig of his beer. “We saw the headlines, mate. Don’t even deny it. It’s gotta be rough.”

Ewan grimaces, his hand gripping the bottle a little tighter. “Yeah, the headlines. they’re , uhhhh … oh, what does it even matter?”

Phia raises an eyebrow, glancing at him. “Come on, kid. It matters. You can talk to us. We weren’t cast as siblings for no reason.”

Ewan lets out a heavy sigh, running a hand through his hair. “We have this thing, this casual thing. But seeing her with someone else... it’s like a punch to the gut.”

Tom nods sympathetically. “I get it. I’m sure it was fun at first, but – ” 

Phia’s concern wins over her, leading her to interject, “Ewan, maybe you need to bloody talk to her. Figure out where you both stand.”

Ewan shakes his head, though his expression softens, and his unmistakable vulnerability shines through. “I don’t know. I’m not sure I want to see where that leads.”

Phia reaches out, placing a reassuring hand on his arm. “Ask her why she ended things last year.”

“I know why – ”

“Just… ask her again? You might find out more than you expect.”

Tom waits a beat before butting in with a light-hearted chuckle, “It’s better than letting it fester. At least you’ll know where you stand. You owe her that much.”

Ewan huffs out a laugh, the bitterness in his voice giving way to reluctant amusement. “Maybe. I just don’t want to make things worse.”

“Mate,” Tom shakes his shoulder, “look at the state of things. How in the bloody hell can you make it even worse? I don’t think it’s possible.”

Phia just smirks at his boldness, but she agrees, nodding to Ewan, “He’s right, you know.”

Tom raises his beer in a mock toast. “To Aemond and Alyna.”

“Oh, you absolute rascal,” Phia laughs in disbelief. 

But they all clink their bottles together, the gesture a small comfort amidst the confusion. The evening winds down after an hour, and after they depart, Ewan’s mind is still consumed with thought.

Day or night, you will answer Ewan’s call.

“Hello?” your voice patches through after a few rings.

“Darling,” he says, “I think we need to talk.”

💌 next chapter

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Some notes in the margins...

I did have Matt and the reader's date written out, but I thought it seemed superfluous for this one. Maybe in a bonus chapter?

In the next one: 'THE talk', Ewan dealing with stuff for his film, whippets, interviews, MORE headlines... will they finally resolve everything?

Also, if yous want, I can give a glimpse on what would have happened if Matt got the BV shoot instead :)

The end isn't even within reach. More angst to follow. How can there be more, you ask? Let's hash it out below 😉💙

[vxnuslogy]

– love’s thesis.

pairing: alhaitham x gn!reader

premise: the most logical thing to do when you find out your pretend lover is actually your soulmate? conduct a research and fall in love in the process.

– warnings: inaccurate/unrealistic depictions of college, modern au.

– author's note: i write one long fic for alhaitham and suddenly that old project i have for him back in april is suddenly back. | ~5.9k words.

to say that alhaitham was royally fucked would be an understatement. he was behind three lectures, had a major paper he’s yet to touch, and now, with the sudden appearance of his soulmate mark, he wasn’t sure what to tackle first.

alhaitham let out a long exasperated sigh, hand coming to drag down his already tired face as he irritatedly tapped on his table. the white screen of his laptop blinded him as the clock ticked, a constant reminder that he was losing time if he didn’t type out at least a sentence to his professor–or to you. a low grumble left his lips when he closed his device and left his room to get another cup of coffee. mind swimming with how he was going to approach you, or if he was even going to say the implications of having your name written on his forearm.

when he reached the living space of his apartment, there you were, in the same position and predicament as him. you looked up from your books and gave him a weary and crooked smile. eyes sunken and hair a mess but all alhaitham could see was how the lamp light on the coffee table illuminated your features. the pounding of his heart was back and all he could offer you was nod before going to the kitchen. this was stupid, he reminded himself. how could the person he’s been fake dating for sheer convenience be his actual soulmate. you, who dreams of fairytales and happily ever after, his soulmate? alhaitham scoffed in disbelief as he waited for the coffee machine to finish his drink.

his mind was torn; alhaitham’s rationality screaming at him to just be honest and tell you now but the more curious side of him wanted to test out this soulmate thing. from the corner of his eye, he sees you stretch your arms over your head and let out a tired sigh. books and papers and devices scattered on his floor as you push your hair out of your face. up until a few hours ago, you were nothing more than a footnote in his life, but now as his eyes took another glimpse over the inking of your name, alhaitham begins to wonder if offering to be your fake boyfriend was also part of fate’s plans.

just then, when the coffee machine finished his drink, an idea popped into his mind. something that would quench his curiosity over the idea of soulmates and finish this thesis he’s yet to even start on. and it would only take 4 steps.

--

STEP 1: THE PROPOSAL

this was abnormal behavior for alhaitham. he has never felt so nervous and antsy in his life until now. alhaitham never felt his palms sweat when the panelists grilled him during his presentations or when he nearly fucked up a speech because he had 2 hours of sleep prior. he concluded that it must be the left over adrenaline from stealing kaveh’s concealer to hide your name on his forearm.

he wasn’t ashamed to have you as his soulmate, it was quite opposite now that he thinks about it. you were a proud scholar like him. the only difference was you were in vahamuna and him in harvatat. but that didn’t deter you from engaging in academic banter and debates with him. alhaitham just felt a bit unsure how to approach the topic of soulmates with you, especially when he was the first one to lay down the boundary that everything is purely for convenience and that no feelings should be involved.

“i’m very confused,” your voice cuts through his inner dilemma as you skim over his proposal paper. “is it really okay for me to assist you in this research? wouldn’t faruzan or maybe someone in harvatat be of more help?”

“my topic delves into relationships. seeing as though you are my lover,” alhaitham pauses and he didn’t fail to pick up on the blood rushing to your cheeks when he called you his lover. “you’re my best option.”

there was an amused glint in your eyes when you shook your head. you slowly packed your things and handed his proposal back to him. “this is giving me major deja vu.” the grin on your lips and playful tone also took him to memory lane when he first proposed to this fake date situation.

“i’m assuming this is a yes?” he raised a curious brow at you. the two of you falling into each other’s pace as you left the library.

“it’s a yes.” 

STEP 1: COMPLETED.

--

STEP 2: RESEARCH AND ON FIELD EXPERIMENTS.

once his paper was given the green light, he offered to start when you reached his apartment. having nothing to do, until your groupmates replied to you at least, you entered his space and sat yourself on the floor. opening your laptop while alhaitham went to the kitchen to get you something to drink and munch on, you can’t help but feel so at home. alhaitham notices this every time so he makes a mental note of your behavior for later use.

hours passed and after many coffee drinks, wingstop takeouts, 10 minute power naps, an unintended pillow fight, and blasting random songs to keep you both awake and sanity intact, you and alhaitham decided on a few experiments to conduct on his research.

STEP 2: COMPLETED.

--

STEP 2.1: EMOTIONAL SYNCHRONY UNDER EMOTIONAL EXPERIENCES.

“alhaitham, where did you get that…?”

the gray haired man looked up from his tablet and nodded towards your direction. his eyes glancing over to the heart monitors that were now present in his living room. “the local hospital.”

“you really are full of surprises,” you let out an amused chuckle. dropping your stuff beside the coffee table and sitting next to him, he hands you the many wires of the heart monitor. “how did you even get these to your apartment.”

he got up from his seat and crouched to the level of his tv, not answering your question. sorting through the many movie discs he had rented out for the both of you to watch and test the level of emotional synchrony. “what would you like to watch first?”

alhaitham had never whipped his head back faster in his life when he caught you raising your shirt. showing off your midriff as you attach the wires to your chest. he felt his temperature rise as you answered a simple anything to his question. this was ridiculous, his mind echoed, he’s seen you in a bathing suit when you and his friends went to the beach. alhaitham didn’t understand why he felt so flustered. shoving a random cd into the cd player and taking the remote, he sat back down on the couch. he just prayed that you don’t question the sudden flush on his cheeks.

one horror movie, three romcoms, one tragedy, and one thriller later, you both decided to take a break.

“any progress so far?” you ask with a tilt of your head. 

he hummed in response. “remarkable to say the least.”

alhaitham hands over the tablet to you while he detaches himself from the heart monitor. he made his way to the kitchen and took out two cups from his cupboard. “the study we found last time stated that close companions tend to copy the other’s emotional response under emotional stress.”

“and?” you take the cup he offered gingerly and took a sip. it was coffee, made just how you like it. “how did we do?”

he took a sip of his own and took the tablet back.

“almost perfectly in sync. fascinating isn’t it?”

he tried his best to not show any signs of whatever he was feeling. as remarkable this was, it was a bit scary. and alhaitham didn’t know what to make out of it. he knows that not all soulmates end up together, in fact, a study that was conducted five years ago proved that only a small margin of soulmates live long enough to meet their other half. and an even smaller margin of soulmates actually worked out. it was only the first experiment, the first trial, but alhaitham could feel the arms of inevitability and uncertainty wrap around his ribs and start breaking each bone one by one. 

just by this one experiment alone, when he offered you a tissue to wipe your tears or when you leaned on him for support because of your laughter, alhaitham felt the inevitable pull towards you. 

STEP 2.1: COMPLETED.

--

STEP 2.2: COMMUNICATION AND INTIMACY EXPERIMENT.

it was a busy day at lambad’s cafe. the establishment was housing many students who were all running on little to no sleep and coffee pumping in their veins. project month was proving to be hell on earth for the students. final research defenses and projects were usually held in this time and sometimes the following week would be their finals. it’s a brutal battle against time and insanity, those who don’t have proper time management are almost guaranteed to repeat the year if they receive a single mark that’s below the passing grade.

“geez, busy as always.” you said, scrolling through your phone. 

“i’d be more surprised if no one was busy,” he replied. “kaveh is practically living in his lecture hall.”

you let out a laugh as you put down your phone on the table, face down, as you take a bite off of your snack. “okay, my turn to ask a question.”

“shoot.”

this was today’s experiment. communication and intimacy by using the famous “36 questions to fall in love” as your starting point. in every relationship, not just soulmates, communication needs to be present or else it’ll fall apart sooner or later. conversation let’s people see parts of another they tend to hide. alhaitham wanted to scratch this experiment from the process, but after the last one, he wanted to try if there were any unpredicted outcomes.

many studies have already been conducted on this, alhaitham shouldn’t have a problem finding a supporting article for his thesis. but after just a few questions, he began to think of this experiment as an excuse to get to know you more. he’s not sure if it’s the soulmate thing playing at his mind to get to know you but he suddenly had the urge to absorb every information about you like a sponge. a painful want to know you inside and out; a need to be able to completely explain you to someone else.

“question 27: if you were going to become a close friend with your partner, please share what would be important for him or her to know.”

alhaitham mulled over the question before giving his answer.

“my indifference and wanting to keep most things private does not equate to me not caring about them.” he let his tongue roll over his lips, suddenly feeling parched with the way you were staring at him. “i have high walls, but that doesn’t mean they’re there to ward everyone off. i’m very particular with who i let in, so if they truly want to be my friend, i’d advise them to try until i welcome them in.”

a smile tugged at your lips and alhaitham felt he could finally breathe. “your turn.”

“question 33: if you were to die this evening with no opportunity to communicate with anyone, what would you most regret not having told someone? why haven’t you told them yet?”

you let out a hum and leaned back in your seat. “never telling the people i care about that i love them.”

“why haven’t you told them yet?” he asks, crossing both his arms over the table and slightly leaning forward. 

“i don’t know…” you say honestly. a foggy look in your eyes as you stare at the ceiling. “maybe i’m scared it won't sound genuine enough.”

alhaitham wanted to argue that everyone you care about knew that you love them dearly. he was one of those people after all. whatever label you have now was certainly fake, but the vulnerability and care you had for each other wasn’t, and he would die on that hill. 

“well you shouldn’t,” his voice cut through the quiet atmosphere. he hoped that it didn’t sound too harsh. “if they cared about you, they would know whether you're being genuine or not.”

if someone told alhaitham’s younger self that the walls he’d built up would crumble in just 36 questions, he wouldn’t have believed it. he still finds it hard to believe when you both exit the cafe and go your separate ways. but all he can do is accept it. through those questions, he learned more about you–your dreams, values, cherished memories, and vulnerabilities you shared with him first.

ahaitham concluded that this experiment was worth keeping. he felt more connected to you than ever.

STEP 2.2: COMPLETED.

--

STEP 2.3: RESEARCH SYMPOSIUM.

admittedly, this wasn’t in the original list of experiments you and alhaitham had planned but decided to go along with it. the akademiya regularly held a research symposium and had one or two students present preliminary research to batches of students. this year, he was asked to do it and he dragged you to be his partner because who else would he ask. certainly not kaveh.

“do your best! i’ll be backstage if you need anything.” he simply nods at your support and walks to the stage. before beginning, he takes one last glance at you. he didn’t know what urged him to do it, but after seeing you flash him a thumbs up and an encouraging grin, he let a small smile loose before looking towards the batch of students that won’t give a single shit about what he’s saying.

roughly 45 minutes later, alhaitham stepped down the podium and bowed. applause echoed throughout the hall as he made his way backstage to find you. the next batch would be listening to you after all. he stopped in his tracks when he saw you happily chatting with a student he didn't recognize. 

“you’re presentation is next, do your best!” he excitedly said. alhaitham narrowed his eyes when the unfamiliar boy rubbed the back of his nape, a flushed tint reaching his cheeks. “maybe after the day’s over we can go get some coffee?”

how strange it was. ever since your name appeared on his forearm he’d started feeling so many new emotions that he normally wouldn’t imagine feeling. it was an ugly feeling, he concluded. alhaitham didn’t like how relieved he felt when you declined the boy’s invitation and when you caught sight of him, he felt his heart beat rapidly in his ears when you skipped over to him. he already knew why he felt a sudden surge of pride take over him when you drag him further back stage to review your presentation, completely ignoring the other boy. 

it was for research, so why did his arm wrap loosely around your waist like second nature?

STEP 2.3: COMPLETED.

--

STEP 2.4: CREATIVE AND ARTISTIC COLLABORATION.

you were the one who coined this idea after a quick chat with kaveh. for once, the blonde man had an insightful opinion and offered to schedule you and alhaitham to a quick session of painting on your next day offs. now here were the three of you, inside a painting studio with other students in the art department of the akademiya, seated in front of a white canvas and a tray of colors.

from the corner of his eyes, alhaitham took notice of how you and kaveh animatedly chatted. the same ugly feeling he felt that day backstage came back in full throttle. clicking his tongue, he shifted his focus back on the instructor’s voice and followed his instructions. every once in a while, he would take a peek at you and feel something bloom inside his chest when caught a glimpse of that determined look on your face. by the time he looked back at his canvas, he felt the wind inside his lungs be stolen away when he realized he used your colors to paint. 

different shades and strokes of your favorite colors invaded his senses. his own mind playing tricks on him because he could’ve sworn you were peering over his shoulders, hands wrapped around his waist and your chin comfortably set on one of his shoulders. alhaitham felt the ghosts of your warmth and couldn’t help but crave it.

he snapped out of his daydreams when the instructor’s assistant approached him. she was the same age as you and with just one look, alhaitham concluded that she was interested in him. it took all of his will power to not roll his eyes when she complimented his work and not subtly ask for his number. thankfully, she was called back to the instructor’s side. he felt a shiver run down his spine when the girl looked over her shoulders and winked at him. he was most definitely not coming back here ever again.

when the class finished, alhaitham had successfully painted 3 canvases, all with your favorite colors and things that reminded him of you. a successful experiment if he does say so himself. 

meeting up with kaveh near the exit they both engaged in small chatter. the blonde architect complaining about how he’s burning through his concealer faster than he expected because of the lack of sleep. alhaitham made sure to just hum and nod here and there to not give himself away that he was the reason why kaveh’s makeup was running out. 

“i swear! this school wants its students six feet under before they graduate.”

he tunes out the complaints of his senior and mindlessly scrolls through his phone. tapping his foot impatiently when the assistant from earlier started making her way over to him. scoffing in annoyance he was about to drag kaveh out the door and wait for you outside but an arm tangled with his and started tugging him.

“good job today!” you grin at alhaitham with both your arms interlaced with the other. 

taking a peek over his shoulder, alhaitham caught sight of the assistant girl scoffing and rolling her eyes. he shifted his focus back on you, eyes meeting anyone and anything but his. an amused smirk was present on his face when he felt your hand tighten its hold around his bicep. 

“jealous?” he teases.

you roll your eyes and grip his arm tighter. “maybe.”

STEP 2.4: COMPLETE.

--

STEP 2.5: COOKING.

the constant ticking of the clock and the tic tac of keyboards was all alhaitham could hear. it was almost midnight and the two of you had decided to pull another all nighter together. at this point, the two of you had been working on his thesis for almost a month now, and alhaitham is still yet to come to a conclusion.

he definitely feels something for you. but there was an uncertain part of him that wonders if his feelings are truly genuine or if the idea of being soulmates was hindering his unbiased thinking. you look up from your laptop when you hear him stop typing and softly ask him if he’s alright. alhaitham wanted to answer no, he was not in the slightest bit alright. but he needn’t open his mouth to reply because you already stood up and invited him to the kitchen.

“let’s cook something to eat. we’ve been ordering too much takeout lately.” there was a sheepish grin on your lips as you opened his fridge and took out some ingredients. “what do you say?”

alhaitham didn’t really have a choice when you’re already started preparing. and even if he wanted to, he wouldn’t be able to say no. when it came to you, he always found it hard to decline your invitations and advances. so now here he was, helping you cook buttered noodles at 11:57 p.m. with your playlist softly playing in the background.

he’s read a study about how cooking tends to deepen relationships between people. alhaitham wonders if this will also happen with what you and him have now. he didn’t really have think too much of it because once he hears you hiss from accidentally touching the pot with boiling water, he’s already by your side. a gentle hand guiding yours under the faucet running with cold water as he lectures you about being careful. you only laugh and say he’s worrying too much. patting him on the arm, a silent message to release your hand, alhaitham lets you continue your duty of cooking the pasta as he grates the cheese and prepares plates.

something about this fragile moment has alhaitham’s mind swimming with possibilities for the future. all he could think about is how nice it would to come home to you after a long day of work (he already does this, he just won’t admit it). crashing into your arms without care as he prattles about his day, his head on your chest while your hand gently strokes over his hair. listening intently to whatever he had to say because you loved listening to his voice.

“haitham can you help me drain the water?” before you could even turn around to face him, he's already behind you. his larger hands held your smaller ones and helped you guide the pot to the sink. alhaitham doesn’t miss the burning of your ears and he’s overcome with the urge to tease.

“why so quiet?” he asks with a playful lilt to his voice. “are you that tired?”

he hears you scoff and grumble. that fuzzy feeling swimming inside his chest again as you duck under his arms and sit yourself on his dining table. he raises a brow at you but you only raise the hand that touched the boiling pot. 

“my hand is hurting again?”

“are you serious?”

“deadly serious.”

alhaitham knew you were horsing around but he only chuckled with a shake of his head. in the end, by the time it reached 12:12, the two of you were eating happily. no small talk or conversation was present but neither of you minded. all you cared about was being in his presence and alhaitham would give it to you even if you hadn’t asked for it. he looks up from his plate when he hears you chuckle and sees you tiredly swirling the food on your fork. 

“we’re not getting any sleep tonight aren’t we?” there was something dreamy about the way you looked right now. evidently tired, hair a mess and flying in any and every direction, and your eyes were droopy. you looked so at home -at peace- and alhaitham wonders if it’s because you two were spending time together.

“you ask that as if it’s the first time we’ve done this.” you laugh at his reply and look at him. a certain emotion in them that he can only recognize as fondness.

alhaitham concludes from this unscripted experiment that he wouldn’t mind cooking with you every night.

STEP 2.5: COMPLETED.

--

STEP 2.6: VULNERABILITY AND TRUST.

today marked the last week and final experiment of alhaitham’s thesis. the both of you decided to leave the “scariest” experiment for last so you wouldn’t feel too uncomfortable. after all, being blindfolded and led to some unknown place wasn’t something normal couples would do on a daily basis. yet here you were, trusting him completely with your safety as he holds your hand leading you somewhere.

“you doing okay there, haitham?”

this was dangerous. alhaitham shouldn’t be walking backwards. but he couldn’t snuff out his desire of seeing you under the setting sun. he could bump into something and fall, compromising this experiment, but just this once, alhaitham let himself cheat. disobey his own rules. he’s already broken multiple ones so what’s one more?

“i should be asking you that,” he pauses when he hears you chuckle. “i’m not the one blindfolded here.”

“aww don’t worry haitham. i trust you won’t kill me.”

“you don’t know that.”

“do you even know how to hide a body?” alhaitham was about to reply when you cut him off. “nevermind you probably do.”

alhaitham didn’t bother to stifle a laugh at your sudden confession. and you laugh with him. when his back bumps into a metal pole, he takes it as a sign to finally turn around and walk the correct way. it hasn’t been a minute yet he’s already missing the sight of your smiling face.

“tell me a secret, haitham.”

“why?”

“this is a vulnerability and trust experiment. tell me something you haven’t told anyone.”

he takes a minute to reply. after much contemplation, alhaitham thinks it’s time to tell you.

“i’m scared of my soulmate.”

“why are you scared?” your voice turned quiet. it sounded more like an inaudible murmur.

“you already know i’m not one for relationships,” he hears you hum. “but recently their name appeared on my forearm. it was unexpected, in fact, i didn’t even think it was possible.”

“why would you think that?” you sound almost hurt. alhaitham didn’t like it.

“soulmates are too unreliable. you’ve certainly seen the multiple studies on them right? most soulmates don’t even get the chance to meet their other half.”

“and yet here we are,” he chuckled and intertwined your fingers. “doing a study on soulmates and testing the potential emotional synergy they might have.”

“i have a strict framework for my life. i built it with facts and logic. soulmates simply don’t fit into that framework. the idea of someone having such a profound impact on my life, someone i didn’t choose– it feels like i’m losing a battle against fate.”

“you can’t fight fate, haitham.”

“and who said i was fighting it?”

alhaitham sighs, running a hand through his hair. “i’m scared that they’ll grow tired of this logical thinking of mine. what if they no longer want to understand me? what if we mix like oil and water?”

“you’ll never know unless you try,” you squeeze his hand in reassurance. “sometimes, you need a little unpredictability in your life. so what if they don’t understand you immediately, most soulmates don’t even get together when they first meet. relationships take time and effort.”

alhaitham turns to look at you again, studying your expression. there’s softness in his eyes, he can just tell. “what about you? what are you afraid of?”

you stop walking entirely but not once did your hand slip away from his. “i’ve been afraid of soulmates too. what if my soulmate isn’t a good person? what would happen to my dreams of getting married and that happily ever after?”

alhaitham feels his heart beating inside his ears when you tug off the blindfold. when you meet his eyes with such a lovesick expression, he feels weak in the knees and throat drying up faster than the sands in the desert.

“but what if your soulmate is better than you imagined?” there was a smirk on his lips when he takes a step forward. “what if he’s standing right in front of you as we speak, telling you that he’s willing to give the happily ever after you’ve always wanted? all you needed to do was wait a bit longer.”

you let out a laugh and tug him closer. chest to chest, hand still holding each other. “do you think so?”

“i know so.”

“will he finally tell me what he’s planning with these experiments?” you lean forward and alhaitham feels his heart lurch forward. 

he presses your foreheads together. closing his eyes to stop himself from laughing at the sight of you on your toes to reach him. “i can’t say. it’s hard to put into words.”

you pout and hit him on the chest. “and why not?”

“i’ve never felt such deep affection for someone until you.”

STEP 2.6: COMPLETED.

--

STEP 3: WRITING.

it took a shit ton of self control to stay away from you after his confession. he locked himself in his apartment, leaving you and kaveh to sleepover at tighnari’s since he wouldn’t the door for anyone (this is a lie, he always opens the door for you when you bring him food).

now he’s around 75% done with his paper, and it’s taking longer than expected. his idea of locking his phone in the closet on do not disturb was going well. 

the days continued to drag on and alhaitham scowled at himself for feeling so much yearning for a person he’s going to see tonight or in the following week. he missed the sound of your laughter and comforting presence as you both chased deadlines. but he was determined to finish this thesis tonight or tomorrow afternoon if he accidentally fell asleep. 

as he expected, there was a knock on his front door. he frowned at how quickly he stood up. with a sigh, he went to the door and leaned on one of the walls with both his hands crossed over his chest. 

“haitham, i know you’re in there!” you shout, voice muffled by the door. “you can’t keep hiding there forever! that’s kaveh’s job.”

alhaitham let out a snort as his hand hovered over the doorknob. “i’m working.”

“then work with me. i bought us takeout,” you said, tone teasing. “and i’m not leaving until you open the door.”

with a sigh he relented. knowing deep down that you were deadly serious and he didn’t want to be the cause for a potential cold. when he unlocked the door there you were, your tote bag hanging on your shoulder while your arms held plastic bags of food. the mere sight of you has his mood brightening but he tried his best to keep it neutral.

“it’s late.” he said, trying to sound stern but failing miserably when you wrap a single arm on his waist.

“and yet here i am,” you didn’t even wait for him to tell you to come in. you’re already dropping your things on his couch and sitting down on the floor. “you’re place is a mess.”

he rolls his eyes and sat next to you. “thank you, i’m trying to copy kaveh’s workspace.”

a laugh rippled through the space as you handed him his portion. “don’t be mean to him! he’s trying his best.”

you let alhaitham take a few bites before you leaned your head on his shoulder. eyes soft when you smile at him. “i missed you.”

“i missed you too,” he admits, wrapping one arm around your waist and pulling you impossibly closer. “but i need to finish the paper.”

“oh fuck you!”

you scowl at him and let out an annoyed huff as you take a bite of your own food. you don’t get to savor it when a firm hand takes hold of your chin and pulls your face to alhaitham’s. your lips meet briefly before he’s nestling back on his seat. a cheeky grin on his face when you feel your cheeks burning.

“forgive me?”

STEP 3: (KINDA) COMPLETED.

--

STEP 4: CONCLUSION.

alhaitham let out a sigh of relief as he left the presentation room, loosening his too-tight tie. the sun was high, indicating that it was around afternoon now. the defense took longer than expected due to the panelists’ questions, and the knowing looks of headmaster nahida and rukkhadevata. he shivered when he recalled how he barely escaped miss nahida’s clutches.

he speedwalked down the corridors of the akademiya, keeping a firm grip of the extra copy of his thesis. those countless hours spent trying to perfect it was finally over and it proved to be worth all the effort. he had no doubts in his mind that he got a good mark. but now, he had one final thing he needed to do.

a warm breeze greeted him when he stepped outside. he closed his eyes for a moment, letting the warm afternoon sun ease his nerves already knowing where to go next. he needed to find you.

and find you he did. the moment he opened lambad’s cafe doors, his eyes by habit, searched for you in your usual seat by the window. half of your face hidden by your laptop screen and a coffee cup in your hand. the sight brought a smile to his lips, and for a moment, he didn’t move and let the scene in front of him be printed into his mind.

taking a deep breath, he walked over to you. “mind if i join you?”

you looked up, not surprised but still happy to see him. “how did it go?”

“well,” he said, sitting down across from you. “a lot more intense than i thought, but i did alright.”

“alright seems like an understatement,” you say in amusement, closing your laptop as your eyes flicked over to the papers he held.

alhaitham was struck with the feeling of deja vu. this scene in front of him mirrored the time where he first proposed the idea of partnering up for his thesis. now, here you both were, sitting across from each other with his finished thesis.

you raised a knowing brow at him. “what’s this?”

“the final version of my thesis,” he said, trying to keep his voice steady. “i wanted you to have look.”

“i’m honored.” you say with a big smile.

he nodded and took a deep breath. “there’s something i’ve been meaning to tell you.”

you hum to signal him to continue as you flip through the papers and skim over his hard work.

“during my presentation, i talked a lot about the impact of relationships. how it affects someone’s behavior, both consciously and subconsciously. i talked about you.”

you suddenly look up, eyes wide. “what did you say?”

“that emotional synergy doesn’t only apply to soulmates. it’s for everyone. even before your name appeared on my forearm, you and i already shared a connection that felt deeper than most soulmates had. from pretend to the profound truth; you’re my soulmate.”

you blinked at him, trying to process everything he’s said. “you really talked me?”

alhaitham nods, a small smile on his lips when he leans over and flips you to where his experiments come into play. “i did. i talked about our relationship, even when it started as pretend and for convenience, had impacted my life significantly. how i always seem more relaxed and focused when you’re by my side. i couldn’t imagine my life without having you in it the more time we spent together.”

he paused, taking another deep breath. “when i first saw your name on my forearm, i couldn’t believe it. it complicated things severely. but the truth is, you’ve always been my soulmate, even before the mark appeared.”

you take his hand in your and intertwine your fingers. and alhaitham couldn’t help but feel his heart quicken when he sees his name written on your wrist. “you scared me for a while, you know?”

he leaned forward, cupping your face in his free hand. “you don’t have to feel scared anymore. it’s real, even without the marks, it’s always been real. i want to spend the rest of my life with you.”

you let out a shaky breath and smile. “i love you.”

“i love you too,” he murmured, thumbs brushing against your tears to wipe away the stray tears that fell. “more than words can express. i have never known anything else but loving you.”

STEP 4: COMPLETED.

--

BONUS:

© vxnuslogy 2024. do not plagiarize, repost, or translate any of my works without my knowledge or consent in other platforms or websites.

[baby-yongbok]

Ex : Part II

Hwang Hyunjin x Fem!Reader

⇝ Genre: Angst then Smut then angst again. Dirty Drama.

⇝ Summary: There's only one thing on your mind after 'welcoming' Hyunjin back into your life.

⇝ Warnings: Themes of Cheating, Arguing, Oral sex, Hyunjin is toxic - the manipulative type - and he seriously thinks he did nothing wrong. (I think that's all, let me know if I missed anything!)

⇝ Word Count: 3.2k

⇝ A/N: SO MANY of you wanted a part 2 to this so I tried my best + reader is depicted as chubby/plus size and is a POC ♡ I hope that you enjoy the drama! 💕

✧ Part One ✧ Masterlist ✧

It took you a week. A week of crying and screaming, a week of avoiding your friends, a week of him ignoring your calls for you to realize that Hyunjin has you fucked up if he thinks that you’re going to let him get away with what he put you through. At first you just wanted to talk to him, you thought that maybe you could convince him to cut Yara off. You thought that you could change him - how cliche. You called him for three days and when you got sick of getting his voicemail you called his best friend, Jeongin. He was surprised to hear from you but he was even more surprised when you told him everything that happened. 

“Are you fucking serious?” For the first time since Hyunjin left you crying on your bedroom floor you let it all out. You told Jeongin every dirty detail of the encounter. You cried and he was there for you, he did what Hyunjin hasn’t done for months. “Is there anything that I can do? Anything you need?” 

The line fell silent as you processed his question. Your brain is telling you one thing while your heart is telling you another. You sigh as the two battle for dominance over what comes out of your mouth next. You’ve let your heart make all of the moves for the past three days. You’ve cried and you’ve screamed all in favor of lifting the crushing pain off of your chest for an hour or two. Now it’s your brain's turn to decide and it only wants one thing. 

“Ya know there is something that you can help me with.” Your heart pleads for you to choose something less drastic, less dramatic but your brain yells for it to shut up. Why should we let Hyunjin have all the fun? “Anything, you name it.”

“Revenge.”

Hyunjin came to your place four days after you spoke to Jeongin. He had cherry red roses in his hand and an apology plastered on his face. His eyes were pleading with you before he could even open his mouth but to his surprise you hugged him. You held him tight and smiled, taking the flowers and making a home for them in your favorite vase. He was stunned to say the least but he didn’t comment. He needed you. His ex did exactly what you knew she would, she took all that she wanted from him and the second that she started to get attention from somewhere else she acted like he didn’t exist. 

He tried to be the boyfriend that you’ve been wanting him to be over the next couple of weeks but he couldn’t seem to get a hold of you. Each and every time that he’d plan a date or show up to surprise you, you were already out or you were leaving to meet with your friends. You barely answered his texts and he’s more than positive that you’ve been sending him to voicemail for the past week. It’s been a month of him putting up with you blowing him off and he’s sick of it.

He decided to show up at your place two hours before your plans to talk to you, maybe he can get you to stay home and spend some time with him tonight. He misses you more than you could even imagine and he thought that you’ve been missing him too. Shouldn’t you be dying to spend time with him? 

His face drops when he gets to your front door and his key doesn’t fit into the lock, did you change it? He rings the bell, tapping his foot anxiously as he waits for you to open the door. His eyes meet yours when it swings open and you smile at him, welcoming him in. 

“My key didn’t work.” He comments as he kicks his shoes off.

“Really? That’s odd.” You shrug as you make your way to your bathroom. “I’m gonna shower.” You call to him as the bathroom door closes behind you. The click of the lock draws a sigh from Hyunjin. Not even a kiss or a hug? Just a friendly hello like you’re not even dating. He drags himself to your bedroom and throws himself on your perfectly made bed. His thoughts project onto the ceiling as he stares at it. He feels like he’s going crazy, why are you acting so weird? No affection, barely talking, barely hanging out and you’re always on… Oh no. He sits up quickly, his eyes dart around the room until it finally lands on what he’s looking for on your bedside table.

Your Phone.

He glances over at your bedroom door before grabbing it. The screen lights up and a picture of you and your friends presents itself to him. That’s funny, wasn’t your wallpaper that picture of you two from when you went to the aquarium for your second date. You always said that that was your favorite picture. When did you change it?

He glances towards the door again and swipes your screen, his brain is busy thinking of possible password combinations but there is no password. His brows pinch together in confusion, you always have a pin on your phone. He decides to worry about that later and quickly starts searching all of your apps. He goes from your instagram to your snapchat but there’s nothing. Just a bunch of reels being sent between you and Jeongin, the last person you sent a picture to on snapchat was also Jeongin. How can his best friend have time to talk to you but he doesn’t have time to text him back? He’s called him an unimaginable amount of times over the past month but he hasn’t heard a single thing back. His finger hovers over your text messages for a second too long. What if he doesn’t like what he finds? What if you’re cheating on him? How could he handle a betrayal like that? With one more quick glance towards the door he taps the app and it opens up to a conversation. Hyunjin’s heart drops when he reads the name at the top. 

“What?” An incredulous sigh escapes him as he starts scrolling to the top of the conversation. Pet names are being thrown left and right, plans are being made every single day and there are back to back facetime calls in the dark hours of the night. 

Hyunjin’s heart is pounding in his ears and his fingers are moving so fast that he didn’t even realize that he went into your shared media. He freezes and his heart drops to his ass as he takes it all in. Nudes, videos, everything that he could imagine, all of you and his best friend. All of you and Jeongin. He opens a video and his mouth goes dry at the lewd sounds that fill the room. He’s fucking you from behind with a fist full of your hair to keep your head up. You’re drooling and moaning and Jeongin is smiling, he’s fucking smiling at the camera. His shirt - wait a minute - that’s not his. Hyunjin’s eyes go wide as he studies the fabric, his best friend is wearing his clothes while he fucks his girlfriend? Unbelievable, this can’t be real.

He quickly exits the video and scrolls through your pictures. You and Jeongin in the car, in your bedroom, your living, you on your knees and him on his. Hyunjin doesn’t even bother to look at the door to make sure you aren’t coming. He can’t hear anything but the thoughts racing through his head. His finger slips and another video opens. The sound of skin against skin echoes through his ears as the video plays. Jeongin is shirtless, fucking you in front of your bathroom mirror. Actually, he’s naked, did you two shower together? Hyunjin balls a fist in the blanket under him as he watches the video.

“Say it again, baby, say it to the camera.” A broken moan escapes you as you try to follow Jeongin’s order. “Y-you’re so much better than him, fuck me so good, Innie.” Hyunjin swears that his heart broke at the sound of you. Why would you say that? You don’t mean it do you? What did he do to deserve this?

He pauses the video and drops your phone against the mattress, your texts stare back at him and he can’t help but to scroll. “That’s not yours.” He jumps at the sound of your voice and you laugh. You wander over to lazily flip through your closet with a towel wrapped around your hair and your rob loosely tied around your body.

“What the fuck is all of this?” His voice is small, much smaller than he meant for it to be but you can hear the heartbreak laced in it. You almost feel bad for him. But that’s your heart speaking, she’s not in control right now. “You’re fucking Jeongin?”

You pick out a dress and move to your mirror, you tilt your head as you hold it against your body. “Think this is too much for a dinner date?” Hyunjin scoffs, moving to stand from your bed.

“Answer me, tell me that everything that I just found is fake. Tell me that you didn’t betray me.” He has some nerve talking about betrayal. You face him, staring back at him with faux sympathy. “I was lonely when you left, what was I supposed to do?” 

“Wait for me to get back.” You turn your attention back to your closet but he calls your name before you can pick out another dress. “You haven’t been going out with your friends have you? You’ve been with him. What in your right mind possessed you to fuck my best friend?”

“Do you really care, Hyunjin? Do you really want me to tell you? Cause I’ll tell you everything but that’s not what you want to hear, is it?” He watches as you slowly step towards him, like a vixen with her eyes set on a prize. “You wanna hear me say that I love you. You want me to say that I’ll stop seeing him because I need you.” 

He’s stuck in place as he watches you, heavy breaths passing his parted lips as you read him like a book. That’s exactly what he wants, he wants you, that’s all he’s wanted for the past month. “Is that what you want?”

“Yes.” His voice is a mere whisper once you reach him, like he’d scare you away if he talks too loudly. “That’s what I want.” He shudders when you bring your hand up to cup his cheek. 

“Are you touch starved, baby?” His soft gaze pours into yours but he doesn’t recognize the look in your eyes. It’s not what he wants but he’ll gladly take it. At least you’re looking at him. “Didn’t your ex touch you while you were away?”

His heart sinks and a smile creeps onto your lips. “She - she did but -” You tsk, cutting him off before he could stumble over his words further. 

“She didn’t make you feel like I do, did she?” He shakes his head, guilty eyes staring back into yours as you reach down to palm him over his sweats. “Is that why you’re back? She didn’t take care of my Hyune?”

“She’s not you.” His breath is heavy and his eyes roll back as he answers with a thick groan. You run your fingers over him with expert precision. You’ve always known what to do to get him going. “I want you, not her. Always you.”

“Untie my robe.” You whisper and he quickly obeys, fumbling with the loose knot until the fuzzy fabric falls open and reveals your naked body to him. “Wanna show me how much you want me?” He leans forward to catch your lips in a kiss but you dodge him before he can. A disapproving whimper escapes him and you puff out your lip in a fake pout. 

“Gotta be patient, my baby. Can you do that?” He nods, whimpering out a pathetic ‘yes’. His eyes follow your frame as you sit on the edge of your bed. Your eyes wander from his down to the floor in front of you and back up again. He quickly follows your unspoken instruction, falling to his knees in front of you and drooling when you part your legs before him. “Show me.”

Hyunjin latches onto your core like a desperate puppy. His tongue wastes no time exploring every inch of you that he’s missed. Hums and moans vibrate through him as he tastes you and you match each sound with your head thrown back and your fingers laced in his hair. At least he remembers how to eat your pussy the way that you like it, though you must admit that you’ve gotten used to Jeongin’s mouth on you. 

Your bed creaks as his hips buck against it in a desperate attempt to feel half as good as you do. “Fuck, come on, Hyune. Don’t tell me your best friend eats my pussy better than you.” He groans in protest, hooking his arms around your thighs to keep you open while he works against you. You gasp in pleasure, so he’s competitive? He swirls his tongue in imaginary patterns, sliding it between your folds as he takes turns sucking on your clit and fucking your pulsing hole. His hips grind restlessly against the edge of your mattress and desperate grunts fill the air once they vibrate through your core. 

“You missed me didn’t you?” You pull him back with your fist in his hair, his swollen lips glisten in the low lamp light and his eyes are glazed with fuckout desperation. “Yeah, missed you.”  He’s too deep into the brain fog to hear just how pathetic he sounds but you’re more than happy to take it all in for him. A strangled moan escapes you as Hyunjin's tongue explores deeper. You grip his hair tighter as he laps up your juices, and you arch your back to meet him. 

His thrusts against your mattress become more desperate as laps at you, The mess of your drooling cunt makes a mess all over his chin as he works desperately to get you to the edge but that’s not the part that gets you close. It’s the thought of him hoping and praying that hi tongue is fucking you better than Jeongin ever did and as you get closer to coming undone you find yourself clenching at the thought that his best friend does it better. “Shit, Jeongin, I’m gonna cum.” 

 Your orgasm rips through you with a loud moan and your body shudders in pleasure. You hold Hyunjin's head in place against your core as his tongue continues to work diligently in an attempt to help you ride out your orgasm. Once you’ve come down from your high he pulls back slowly, a single string of spit still connecting him to your cunt.

“What did you call me?” He mumbles, not even bothering to wipe his mouth clean. You stare down at him with not an ounce of care in your eyes. 

“Don’t remember.” You pull your robe closed and slide from in front of him to pull yourself up to your feet. “And I don’t care.” Hyunjin’s heart dissolves as he watches you shrug and wander back over to your closet.

“What are you doing?” He mumbles and you scoff.

“Will you stop with the pitiful tone?” He scrambles up from his knees quickly, a surge of anger running through him. 

“Come on.” He stalks over and wraps his arms around you, leaning in to kiss your neck but you push him away before he can. “What the fuck is your problem?”

“I have a date to get ready for.” You flip through your clothes and it’s only now that he notices the empty space in your closet. “Where are my clothes?” 

“I told you to take all of your shit last month.” You shrug, pulling out a dress and holding it against your body in the mirror. “You didn’t take it so I gave most of it to Jeongin. Thought about burning the rest but I donated it instead.”

He watches you silently, jaw hung slack in a frozen state of disbelief. “Are there fucking cameras in here?” He looks around, half desperate for that to be the case. “Is this a joke?”

“The only joke here is you. Did you think that you could come back here and I’d act like nothing happened?” A venomous laugh erupts from your chest. “Be fucking forreal.”

“But we just fucked, I just ate you out why would you let that happen if you’re still going to see Jeongin?” 

“You got a phone call last time. You owe me, remember?” Hyunjin can’t decide if he should be livid or desperate. He wants to yell and curse you out for being so ridiculous but at the same time he wants to drop to his knees and beg for forgiveness. He had hoped that you understood what happened a month ago. He thought that he could count on you to see that he only did what he had to do. Yeah he cheated but if you really loved him you could move past that. 

“You’re excused. I need to get ready.” You push past him, bumping your shoulder with his but he grabs you by the waist before you can get too far, pulling you against his chest. “Don’t be like that, angel.”

 His hands run smoothly up your side, taking in every curve of you. “I know I upset you but you can’t act like you don’t want me. What happened to you forgiving me?”

His lips brush over yours slowly as he whispers. “I want you so badly, I wanna be with you tonight. Stay here with me.” You smile against him as the towel containing your hair slips off of your head and your damp curls curtain around the two of you. You run your hands up his chest, taking in each and every toned dip before you whisper back. “Get out.” You peck his lips and push him away from you with a smile.

“You’re making a mistake.” He pleads with wide eyes blown with anguish. “He doesn’t make you feel like I do, you know that.” Your ringtone bounces off of the walls before you get a chance to answer him. You reach across your mattress and smile when you see Jeongin’s name.

“You’re right.” You shrug, swiping to answer the call. “He makes me feel so much better.” Hyunjin’s jaw clenches as you press the phone to your ear with a smile. You greet his best friend with a sweet tone that used to be exclusively for him. Hyunjin is practically invisible to you as you buzz around your room grabbing accessories and planning your outfit. It isn’t until he grabs your wrist on your way to your vanity that you look at him again.

“Please don’t do this.” Jeongin’s voice is heard from the receiver before you can answer the man in front of you.

“Who’s that, baby?” He asks, and you smile as Hyunjin deflates.

 “No one.” You shrug off Hyunjin’s hold and he deflates as you passively wave him away. “That’s no one.”

Tag List: @dessianna1, @foxytoxxic, @snxfall (If you asked to be tagged and you weren't it's because you did not have your age in your bio. You MUST have your age in your bio to be tagged )

[solarsturniolo]

𝖂𝖊’𝖗𝖊 𝕵𝖚𝖘𝖙 𝕱𝖗𝖎𝖊𝖓𝖉𝖘 // 𝕸.𝕾. // 𝔗𝔴𝔬

𝔖𝔲𝔪𝔪��𝔯𝔶: Matt is so 'sweet best friend that secretly jerks off to your pictures' coded (idea credit to @heartstreet )

𝔚𝔞𝔯𝔫𝔦𝔫𝔤𝔰: SMUT!!! / masturbation / voyeurism / post nut clarity / self-deprecation / intentional lowercase

𝔇𝔦𝔰𝔠𝔩𝔞𝔦𝔪𝔢𝔯: these stories are fictional :)

𝔚𝔬𝔯𝔡 ℭ𝔬𝔲𝔫𝔱: 3030

It slowly became a habit. It started small, one time a day if even that. But what started as a habit grew into an addiction. Every little thing set him off, and the only thing to satisfy the desire in him was her. He needed her in ways that he couldn’t even describe. He hungered for her. 

It began with pictures, just her regular little posts on Instagram and Snapchat that had no hidden undertone to them, but every single one would have Matt beating his dick until his arm was sore. She had Pavloved him. The second he got the notification that his best friend posted, his cock stiffened and his ears got red and hot just thinking about what could be waiting for him. It didn’t matter where he was or what he was doing, he’d drop everything, all of his attention would be on her in an instant. Today was no different; he had already beat off three times in the few hours he had been awake.

As the day moved forward, and he found the inner strength to keep his dick in his pants, Matt remembered telling her that he’d look for the charger she had left when she stayed over a few nights ago. He spent a solid hour that afternoon searching the house up and down for her phone charger; his room, the living room, the kitchen, Nick’s room, hell, he even checked Chris’s room (despite Chris’s many protests followed by a shoe being launched at Matt’s shin), though he still came up empty handed. 

Matt went back to his bedroom, shutting the door behind him. He took a seat in his desk chair, rolling himself close enough to his desk to click his monitor on, grabbing the controller that had been set aside on his desk to charge. He turned his gaming console on, the sound of it whirring to life filling the silence in the room. He reached into his pocket, taking his phone out to send her a quick text.

‘i may have lost it’

‘your mind?’

‘no’

‘your keys?’

‘no’

‘OMG’

‘?’

‘YOUR V CARD?????’

‘WHAT NO’

‘omg matty who is she 🤭🤭🤭🤭’

‘I DID NOT’

‘then i fear i do not know what you could be talking about, for i am not a mind reader’

‘your weird’

‘you’re*’

‘i actually hate you.’

‘stfu you love me. now what are u talking abt’

‘you’re charger’

‘your*’

‘you know what 😀’

‘LMAOOOO don’t blow a fuse, it’s a $10 charger i’ll just get another one. thank u for letting me know tho’

‘ofc’

He stared at the screen, his heart beating faster when he saw the read receipt pop up under his message. He waited, taking his bottom lip between his teeth as she began to type. A smile tugged at his lips as the typing message bubble disappeared, waiting for the message to pop up on his screen.

A minute passed. Then two. Still nothing. Matt’s smile faltered a little.

‘?’

‘oh shit i didn’t know you were still here’

‘what we’re you typing?’

‘were*’

‘😀 nevermind i don’t care’

‘noooo matty come back 😂’

‘i’ll get it right one day’

‘i have full faith in you, matthew. until then, im gonna be up your ass about it’

‘so…?’

‘so what?’

‘what were you typing?’

Matt could hardly sit still. His leg bounced anxiously, he bit his nails impatiently. She had been typing for a while, was it something bad? Shit, have i fucked up recently and just didn’t notice?

‘nothing 😇’

‘you’re a dirty liar’

‘😜’

‘cmon, i’m youre best friend tell meeeee’

‘your*’

‘GET A NEW BEST FRIEND’

‘okay okay i’m done 😂 you’re so easy to tease’

‘Ayo 🤨’

‘not like that 🙄

‘well, you probably are pretty easy to tease like that too”

Matt choked on his own saliva. Did I read that right? He read it again, the blood rushing from his cheeks to his cock. His brain short circuited. Any possible responses that he could’ve came up with dissolved into nothingness. He spent two minutes trying to type a witty comeback or some sort of smooth flirtatious reply, but when push came to shove, all he could build the courage to send was-

‘what?’

She started typing, and as the speech bubble floated in the corner of his screen, Matt palmed at the bulge in his sweats. His mind raced with thoughts, all wondering what she could have possibly been thinking about. Fuck, does she think about doing things with me? Does she want to tease me? How would she even-

The speech bubble disappeared. Matt slipped his hand under the waistband of his sweatpants and his boxers, taking his hard cock in his fist. He stroked his shaft slowly, his eyes fluttering shut while he pursed his lips to hold back a moan. He waited for her response to pop up. One minute…then two…then five. He furrowed his eyebrows, his strokes slowly coming to a stop as he eyed their text messages. Why isn’t she responding? Did I make her uncomfortable? Is she weirded out?

His heart nearly dropped out of his ass when the facetime notification illuminated his screen. Without thinking to take his hand out of his pants, Matt quickly answered the call.

It took a moment for the call to connect, but when it finally did, Matt felt almost frozen in place. His heart skipped a beat, his face grew flushed with a warm rosy heat. She smiled at him and his breath caught in his throat.

“Hey!”

Matt smiled. “Hey, what’s up.”

“What, I can’t call my best friend out of the blue just to hang out?” She laughed softly. “What are you up to?” She asked.

“Just, yknow…” he trailed off, shrugging his shoulders a bit. “Was playing fortnite for a bit-“

She tilted her head to the side a little, furrowing her eyebrows. “I didn’t see you online. I would’ve joined you if I knew,” she grinned. “Can’t believe you played without me,” she playfully rolled her eyes.

Matt swallowed. Her eyes looked so pretty rolled back into her head like that, I could watch her do that for hours. Matt slowly stroked his cock, pursing his lips tightly to keep himself quiet. ‘Can’t believe you played without me’ replayed in his head like a broken record. His mind wandered off, thinking about the beautiful girl on his screen sitting on his bed. Her clothes discarded onto the floor mindlessly, seated on his bare thighs. Matt bit the inside of his cheek, pre-cum drooling from the tip of his cock as he imagined her pretty manicured fingers circling her clit, her eyes hooded and full of lust as lewd sounds spilled from her parted lips. His dick ached at the thought of her running her fingers through her wet folds, playing with herself in front of him, on full display just for him. ‘Can’t believe you played without me,’ her voice repeated in his head again, his mouth going dry as he thought of her looking at him with a pout while saying this, her pretty doe eyes staring at him with nothing but desire hidden behind their gaze.

He kept his strokes slow and controlled. This is so fucking wrong, he thought. If she knew…he couldn’t even think of the possibilities. She’d be disgusted, she’d be so upset. Matt would never be able to show his face in a public setting again.

“How was your day?” Matt asked in a soft voice, afraid that if he spoke any louder, his own voice would betray him. He watched as the smile on her face grew and he felt his heart twinge. This is so wrong. What the fuck is wrong with me.

“Aww Matty, you do care!” She teased. Matt let out a breathy chuckle, hoping she couldn’t hear the rasp in his voice. She began to list off the many side quests she endured on her day off from work, and Matt listened to every single thing she had to say. His eyes focused on her lips as she spoke to him. Her lips are so pretty. Fuck, I wanna kiss her so bad. I wanna feel her lips on mine. She’d look so fucking pretty with my dick in her mouth. I wonder how much she’d be able to take. Would I have to fuck her throat to make it all fit? Would she drool on my cock while I fuck her pretty mouth?

“Matt?”

He tugged at his cock, letting out a soft exhale when he heard her voice. Please say my name again. Say my name again. It sounds so pretty coming from you, I’ve never liked my name more than when it’s being said by you. His mind wandered off once more. What positions does she like? Would she prefer missionary? She’d look so pretty under me while I fuck her, her tits would bounce so nicely with every thrust I make. Or would she want something more intense? Would she want me to take her from behind? Would she want to be in charge? What turns her on? Does she wear lingerie?

“Matt…?”

Matt grunted softly under his breath, the speed of his strokes increasing just barely enough to tell. He focused his attention back on the call. “H-Huh?”

“I asked what you did today,” she repeated. “Did you have a good day?”

It took a moment for her words to register in his brain, his mind foggy with lust and desire, his cock dripping with arousal. He gave his shaft a gentle squeeze, a low growl forming at the back of his throat. “It’s much better now,” he admitted, earning a giggle from her in return. He smiled. He loved being able to make her laugh. It was something that most people couldn’t do, but Matt did it so effortlessly. He took pride in it; even his brothers couldn’t make her laugh nearly as easily as Matt could. “Didn’t do much, just-“ he stopped, trying to think of something to say other than ‘i sat around beating off to your pictures all day’. He cleared his throat, a moan threatening to escape as the warmth in the pit of his tummy grew. “Just stayed in bed all day.”

She rolled her eyes again, and Matt felt his balls grow heavy with arousal, his thumb rubbing at his tip with each slow stroke he made. Matt’s lips parted; he wanted to moan so bad. He wanted her to see what she does to him. He wanted her to know just how badly he wanted her. His eyes became glossy as he lost himself in a daze, staring at her through the screen.

“Are you okay? You’re acting weird.”

Matt nodded, still not taking his hand out of his pants. This is so fucking wrong. Why am I doing this? I’m risking our entire friendship. “Hey, I uh- I gotta go,” Matt stated abruptly. He didn’t want to go. He never wanted to go a minute without her, but if he didn’t leave the call soon, he’d end up in a world of trouble for sure.

“Oh…okay, well call me ba-“

Click.

Matt dropped his phone down onto his desk and leaned back in his desk chair, his shaggy hair falling in front of his eyes, strands of his hair sticking to his forehead as a thin layer of sweat began to form at his brow. He pushed his sweats and boxers down just enough to free his cock, a moan escaping him. He tugged the bottom of his sweatshirt and t-shirt up so as to not ruin it, a ritual that had become engraved into his brain from the regular reoccurrence of it. He grunted softly, tugging at his shaft desperately, his eyes screwing shut.

I need her. I need to have her, all of her. I need to feel her and taste her. I want to be between her legs, I want to taste how sweet she is, I want to watch her fall apart from just my tongue. I want to feel her squirm and run her fingers through my hair. I want to hear her whine and beg for more. Matt fisted at his cock, his strokes much faster than before. His breathing was uneven and heavy, almost panting like an animal. He needed her, he hungered for her, he craved her. Something about it was so primal. Every time he saw her or heard her, he had a full body reaction, one that he couldn’t control even if he wanted to.

Although, he really didn’t want to.

“Fuck, baby,” he groaned. As if on cue, his phone vibrated on his desk. His eyes fluttered open, a lustful dazed look glazing over his irises. He picked up his phone, a notification from snapchat flashing on his screen. Never ceasing his strokes, Matt opened the app and clicked on the new snap from her. His jaw went slack, pumping his cock in his fist even faster than before. He stared at her photo for much longer than he should have, but how could he not? She had her head tilted a bit, a confused look on her face with the words ‘not even a goodbye? so mean, matty’ printed across the photo.

“Fuck me,” he whimpered. She looks so cute when she’s confused. Fuck, the things I would do to paint her face with my cum while she looks at me like that…I’d probably get put on the FBI watchlist. He knew he needed to reply back soon, not wanting her to assume he was ignoring her. He just couldn’t bring himself to tap out of the photo. His cock ached, the desire building up inside of him. “Fuck, p-please,” he breathed out. Matt threw his head back, his strokes getting impossibly faster with each passing moment. Pre-cum oozed from his tip, his fist slick with his arousal.

Another snapchat notification from her came through and Matt inhaled sharply, tapping out of the photo and clicking on the new one. Matt choked out a whine, the muscles in his bicep tightening as he began to reach his high. “Fuck-“ he grunted. His breath caught in his throat as his mind went blank, pleasure coursing through his veins. It was like a drug to him. He couldn’t get enough of the feeling; It didn’t take long for him to get addicted to it, and soon enough once a day turned into twice a day, which turned into three times a day, which turned into too many fucking times to count.

He groaned, a string of vowels passing his lips, his jaw hanging low as he watched his cum spurt from his tip. He breathed in short heavy pants, slowing his strokes to ride out his orgasm. Five ribbons of white hot cum painted his lower stomach. His dick throbbed from the intensity of his orgasm and his body shivered as he slowly came down from his high.

It took a handful of minutes for Matt to realign his senses. His chest rose and fell with even breaths, his dick rested in the puddle of cum on his abdomen. He looked at his hand, his mess coating his fingers and his palm. I wonder if she’d lick my hand clean. Would she suck on my fingers? Would she look up at me with her infamous puppy dog eyes while she does it?

His eyes darted back to his phone, his heart racing as he quickly remembered that he still hadn’t replied to her. He groaned softly upon seeing her pretty face on his screen, her previous snap still on full display for him. He took another moment to admire her before tapping out of the photo. Matt quickly fixed his hair with his clean hand, wiping the sweat from his forehead with the back of his forearm. He picked his phone back up and quickly snapped a photo of himself. He typed a response before sending it to her.

'Relax I'm here.'

'You costed me my battle royale.'

Matt waited for a response, not caring about the mess that still hadn’t been attended to. The nerves in his brain lit up like a Christmas tree as she opened his snap, the endorphins filling him with dopamine as she sent back another photo. He was quick to open it, not caring if she caught on to his eagerness.

'lol you're stupid. call me back when you're done :)'

He tucked his cock back into his boxers, pulling them back up along with his sweats. He stood up, holding the bottom seam of his shirt up, quickly making his way to the bathroom to clean himself up. He peeked out into the hallway, making sure Nick and Chris weren’t anywhere near before slipping into the bathroom, shutting the door behind him.

Matt cringed at the sticky feeling on his hand, quickly turning on the faucet at the sink, running his hand under the water to rinse most of his mess down the drain. He dried his hand, then grabbed a handful of tissues, cleaning up the rest of his cum before discarding the used tissues into the waste bin. He let his shirt fall down to cover his torso, his eyes landing on his reflection in the mirror. His gaze darted away, disgusted with what he saw.

You’re a terrible friend. If she ever found out, you’d be lucky to not have a restraining order against you. What the fuck is wrong with you. How can you even call yourself her best friend. You don’t deserve her.

He left the bathroom in a hurry, slipping back into his room, gently kicking the door shut behind him. He sat back down at his desk, picking up his phone once again.

Without a second thought, he opened his facetime app, clicking on her contact. The phone only rang twice before she answered, her pretty face illuminating the screen after the call connected. Matt offered her a warm smile, propping his phone up on his desk. “Sorry I hung up on you before,” he mumbled softly, scratching the back of his neck as his gaze landed on her. He picked his headset up off of his desk, holding it for her to see. “Wanna run duos with me?”

𝔄𝔲𝔱𝔥𝔬𝔯'𝔰 ����𝔬𝔱𝔢: omg guys, what do we think is gonna happen?

𝔗𝔞𝔤𝔰:

[brenwritesss]

Talent part 3

Paige Bueckers x reader

Summary: You continue texting Paige after she sends you flowers.

a/n: we are getting to them meeting, slowly but surely. Short chapter but I promise part 4 will be longer. Trust.

The flowers were sitting on your coffee table in front of your couch and every time you looked at them, your heart beat sped up and your face grew hot. It took you weeks of constant begging just to get your ex-girlfriend to give you a simple, small bouquet of tulips. Yet here you were, staring at your favorite flowers looking beautiful on your coffee table, given to you by someone you had just met a few hours ago. But there was a part of you that knew not to fall too deep too fast. Because this was exactly how it happened last time, and you didn’t know if you could recover from getting hurt by another girl again.

The smart thing to do would just be to give Paige a simple ‘thanks’. However, what you wanted to do was buy a plane ticket and pounce on her the second you see her. You chose the smart option. You pull your phone off your charger, finding Paige’s instagram account and sending her a quick message, “thanks for the flowers.”

About twenty minutes later, you heard a notification ping off your phone and you knew exactly who it was which caused the butterflies in your stomach to multiply instantly. 

“You like them?”

“Yes.”

“Good.”

Okay, so this is the part where you play smart and leave her on read. We’re leaving Paige on read. You place your phone on the coffee table by the flowers. And even though you knew that you shouldn’t continue the conversation, everything in you itched with hope that she would text you again.

And your prayers were answered.

“You can’t leave me on read after I just bought you flowers.”

You were fucked. Absolutely fucked.

“You’re right.”

“There we go, that's a start.”

“You can’t just get me flowers after only talking for a few hours.”

“Why?”

“How’d you get my address?” This question hadn’t popped into your brain until you realized that you had indeed just met her on a livestream not even twenty four hours ago.

“I got a confession to make.”

“Oh god what.” Was this gonna be the part where she confesses to secretly stalking you for years? You honestly didn’t know.

“Your best friend, Madison, we close.” Your jaw dropped a little. Madison, your best friend who you had met at an award show years ago, had never mentioned being close with a girl who was exactly your type. What a friend.

“You know Madison?”

“Yeah we met at some event a while back and I texted her asking for your address and she gave it to me.”

Very interesting.

“You were that committed? To sending me flowers?”

“Damn fucking right.”

This is so fucking dangerous. Y/n, you know better. What the hell are you doing? Put the damn phone down and go shower, eat, watch a movie. Or go back to sleep. But she’s so damn cute. And sweet. And flirty, And…no don’t even go there.

“You didn’t have to do that.”

You saw those three little dots appear and then disappear. Finally, they reappeared a few seconds later. “I told you I’d show you how beautiful you are and I’ll send you flowers everyday to prove it.”

“Please don’t do that.”

“Did I make you uncomfortable? I really hope I didn’t.”

“No, it doesn't make me uncomfortable at all. I just don’t understand why you’re so dedicated when we just met.”

“Honestly? I’m trying to figure it out bc it’s not a fucking secret that you’re my celebrity crush and I fucking like you.”

“Definitely not a secret.”

“And I can tell you’re like trying to push me away.”

“You make it really hard to do that.”

“Don’t push me away. You’re like the first girl I’ve been this invested in this quickly.”

Your body practically shuddered at her words and those familiar feelings of butterflies began to stir deep within you. Everything about Paige seemed to be too perfect, as if something was gonna go wrong or she was gonna say something wrong. Before you had the chance to respond, Paige texts you again.

“I wanna see you, princess.”

“See me?”

“Are you sure that’s a good idea?” Of course you were nervous about meeting her in person. Who wouldn’t be?

Paige’s text came back within two seconds. “Scared you’re gonna like me?”

“Never said that.”

“I’ll see you in Hartford, princess.”