#like I’ve had a fantasy or two about hookups

[king-of-the-mouseboys]

I might be demisexual lol

[chriscamopants]

MORE // MATT STURNIOLO

summery: you’ve been with your boyfriend for almost a year and although your sex life is good, you wanted more.

warnings: smut, overstimulation, fem!recieving, male!recieving, fingering, face sitting, softdom!reader, hair pulling kink…. point is it’s very smutty

You had been in an established relationship with Matt for almost a year and it’s been amazing. i mean he truly is the best boyfriend you’ve had.

he’s the most considerate person you’ve ever met, always prioritizing your happiness over anything else, and you love him for it.

Matt is also a huge romantic, writing you small notes and making it a point to have date nights weekly, kid is just obsessed with you, and if it’s not obvious enough already you feel the same about him.

which leads you to now, cuddling with him on his silky brown sheets as you do almost every night, your leg drawn out over his waist while the two of you watch batman (Matt’s idea not yours).

for whatever reason, you feel a familiar heat form in between your legs, aching to be touched. but your boyfriend looked so content and innocent watching one of his favourite movies, and you didn’t wanna interrupt him to help you out.

so your left alone with your imagination. it’s safe to say you’ve thought about these things before, in the shower mostly, with the shower head in between your legs as you work yourself through your 3rd orgasam.

you’ve thought about Matt in ways you haven’t discussed with him, mostly because you were scared.

this isn’t because the sex is bad… it definitely isn’t. but you’ve begun to want more, you’re just not entirely sure if your boyfriend is open to that.

most of the hookups you’ve engaged in, you’ve taken on a dominant role, it turned you on like crazy having a man beneath you, begging for a release.

Matt didn’t know about this though, you’re relationship has been very.. vanilla.

but you’re in love with him so it is different, more intimate than you’ve had with anyone else and much more loving. he had a way of making you feel so incredibly special and you cherished him for it.

you just can’t help but imagine Matt moaning your name as you make him cum over and over again, tears welling in his eyes as tells you it’s too much. how his body betrays his words and thrusts into your soft hands, begging for another.

most of all you imagine using him. using his face, his hands, his thighs. anything you can. not letting him touch himself as he works you through multiple orgasams. you imagine making him watch you please yourself, making him watch as you cum on your fingers, moaning his name, and there’s nothing he can do about it.

subconsciously you begin to rock your hips on his side slowly, a mental imagine in your brain of all these fantasies clouding any other thought. you fight back a moan, your pussy literally throbbing at the pure thought of having him like that, at your complete disposal.

you picture the way his legs shake as you finally touch him. the way his cum coats his length and the way his legs shake all because of you.

god it turned you on.

you rock your hips slightly more, not even paying attention to the movie at this point, too focused on chasing your high. the feeling of your clothed clit hitting his hipbone has you soaked.

“mmm” you let out a small moan before stopping entirely. what the fuck were you doing?

of course your actions hadn’t gone unnoticed, you can feel Matt’s bulge on your knee as he watches the movie.

“Matt baby” you look up to him, practically begging with your eyes. he responds by leaning in to kiss you softly, gently.

you pull away, unsure of how to get your point across. “the sex has been great, i promise you are great.” you premise as the boy beside you furrows his eye brows. “i’ve just been feeling like i need more” you state, searching for a reaction on his face, pleased to see a small smirk form.

“what do you want?” the butterflies that fill your stomach are insane, his tired voice does something to you.

you sigh as your hips continue to rock against him, your body moving without the help of your mind. “i want control” the eye contact is already driving you crazy. “i want full control of you” part of you is nervous. it’s very possible that he’ll think this is weird and that would be more upsetting than you’d like to admit.

instead he licks his lips. “okay” he puts his hands behind his head.

oh shit.

you could cum from the sight alone. this is already better than your imagination. “i need you” you start, kissing along his jaw as you climb on top of him. “to sit there and look pretty while i make myself feel good, yeah?” although it’s a demand, you don’t want him to be uncomfortable.

but by the way his breathing increases and his bulge grows, you know your okay.

you bite at his ear, eliciting a small whimper from the boy beneath you. “anything you want”

a smile immediately forms on your face as you lean back to pull your shirt off. he immediately goes to caress your chest, as he always does, but your own hands stop him. “i’ll tell you when you can touch me. just need you to be a good boy for me okay?” god you missed talking like this. you missed the way you were able to have men dumbfounded by your words, but he just nods, bringing his hands back behind his head.

He watches you very intently as you unclasp your bra, slowly taking the fabric off of your breasts. you spread his legs slightly, making yourself at home on his thigh, giving him your full weight.

you guide your hands on your stomach first, teasingly making your way to your nipples as you rock against the muscles below you.

Matt is already spent. out of breath although he’s done absolutely nothing.

you bring your hand to his lips, signalling him to open mouth. the sight of your fingers in his spit cause you to grind onto him more, a small whimper leaving your lips. “look at that pretty mouth of yours” you coo, a smirk making its way to your lips. “gonna put it to good use”

the look in his eyes sends a throb straight to your core, he looks so incredibly good begging for you. “please”

you take your now wet fingers and begin to toy with your nipples, your head rolling back in pleasure.

as much as you could do this forever, you need more, and you’d also like to see more. you lift off Matt’s shirt, exposing his chest instantly. you had to fight every urge to lick a stripe down his stomach, you were saving that one for later.

part of you wishes you brought your vibrator to use in front of him, make him hold it on your clit while you scream out for him, but you forgot.

you get off of his thigh and for a moment Matt looks like a lost puppy. “shift onto the bed fully” you demand, taking off your shorts and climbing onto the boy who’s now laying down flat. “you gonna make me feel good?” you whisper in his ear while you begin to rub small circles on your clothed clit, nothing but a thong separating you from where you want his tongue.

he just nods, a small bead of sweat dripping down his face. so worked up just for you. “i want words” you rock on his bulge slightly, giving him a glimpse into the pleasure he’ll be receiving from you later.

he gulps, clearly struggling to keep his hands to himself. “gonna make you feel so good. just wanna taste you”

you chuckle slightly at his willingness, your sight being straight out of a wet dream. “that’s what i wanna hear”

you get straight to work, placing yourself right above his face as he waits to make any movements. before you want his tongue though, you want his nose.

god doja cat was right.

you rock your hips on this nose, the tip of it grazing your clit with every roll.

“fuck Matt. doing so good for me” you lift yourself off of his face and he looks into your eyes asking for permission. as much as you could continue to tease him, it’s hard to say no to that face. you guide his hands to your hips, allowing his fingers to explore your ass while you remain staring into his eyes, now pushing your underwear to the side.

you sink into him and almost immediately he gets to work. lapping up the wetness that has accumulated and using it to lick small circles on your clit.

matt the much was a very fitting nickname.

you pull on his hair subconsciously, not that it’s something you’ve tried with him before, but based on the way he moans into you you know he’s into it.

his pace increases, flicking his tongue on your clit while you moan out his name. he uses his hands to hold you there, forcing you to stay out and you feel the pressure build up in your stomach by the way he sucks on your clit.

“fuck Matt”

you pull on his hair more, wanting to feel the vibrations of his moaning on your clit, and god does it work.

looking back momentarily to see his bulge you spot his hand, slowly palming himself. as much as you want to get mad at him, your close, shutting your eyes closed as you ride out your high, legs squeezing around the boys face.

your a moaning mess and his tongue doesn’t slow down once, your eyes squeezed shut, overstimulated but ultimately, preparing for your second orgasam of the night.

you knew you weren’t gonna last long, after the first orgasam you never did, and with Matt’s tongue?

you were hopless.

he begins tongue fucking you, and you bounce up and down as he curls his tongue inside of you, the tip of it curling exactly where you need it. “i- i’m gonna” your legs literally shake on his face as he works through your second orgasam of the night.

you can tell he could keep going but you needed a break so you pull off, the sigh better than anything you could have ever imagined, pure lust in his eyes as your cum drips down by the corner of his mouth, hair messy from being pulled.

you climb back down so you’re face to face. “you are so fucking hot like this” he shutters at the sentence and you can tell he’s in need of a release. “do you think you’ve been good enough to come?”

he nods frantically, literally high off of your pleasure. “please i need to be inside of you, wanna feel you clench around me” you kiss down his neck some more, causing him to stutter over his words.

you chuckle at his eagerness, licking down his jawline. “i don’t think you’ve deserved that yet” you glide your hand up his stomach, lightly, teasingly. “i saw you touching yourself, and as hot as it was” you pull on his hair slightly, giving you more access to his neck, more room to make a mess of marks.

“it was against the rules wasn’t it?”

the way he’s breathing it sounds like he’s gonna cry, eyes shut and eyebrows furrowed. exactly how you want him.

you reach your fingers back down on your clit, moaning instantly at the sensation. he made you so incredibly sensitive but you weren’t done. “mmm Matt, i need your fingers” you throw your head back, lost in the pleasure your hands are giving yourself as you rub small, gentle circles on your clit. right above his length that has already left a small wet spot in his pants. “can you make me cum one more time Matt? wanna feel those long finger of yours”

it’s hard to tell how he feels about it, upset wouldn’t be the right word, but he’s desperate for his own pleasure and you can tell. “just one more baby, wanna be shaking when your done with me”

“can i touch you?” there it is.

you nod and he flips you over immediately, hovering over you on the bed with his horse necklace dangling from his throat. a change in dynamic, but you weren’t opposed to it.

he takes more time now that he’s been given permission, licking small circles on your one nipple while his hand pitches the other, causing you to arch into him.

‘why have i never asked for this before’ you think. but your thoughts are clouded by the way his clothed dick rubs against you ever so slightly. based on his smile, he knows exactly what he’s doing.

“take off your pants” you demand, looking him dead in the eye. it’s clear how excited he is, but your still not allowing him what he wants most, not yet.

he moves quick, standing off the bed to drop down into just his boxers, at your full disposal. he hovers over you again, and for just a moment you let him have some control, you can’t help it, he’s Matt Sturniolo.

you feel the way his hands cherish every part of your body, taking special time with your nipples, but eventually you grow bored of this.

“Matt please”

“oh right” he shakes his head as if you had just put him in a trance momentarily.

but he gets right back to it, his hand placing pressure on your clit while he continues to kiss you, and you can’t help but twitch at the touch. he didn’t realize how much you loved overstimulation, or how much he loved having you this way, but this was definitely going to happen more often.

you grip onto the silk sheets as he continues to rub teasing circles, normally you’d be upset at this, wanting more, but your sensitivity has made the smallest touch feel like everything.

involuntarily, you buck your hips up, your body needing more, needing his fingers inside of you. “so needy baby, why can’t i take my time?” he teases, toying with your entrance as you try to form a sentence.

“Matt i-“ the tip his finger grazes your sensitive clit, causing you to shutter. “if you don’t put those fingers to better use your not cumming tonight” it’s hard to be dominating when your practically shivering under his touch.

he leans down to your collar bone, placing light kisses along your chest, now (finally) inserting his fingers into you. your mouth opens immediately, eyes squeezed shit as he teases your insides, lightly grazing over your g-spot before moving over it, exploring you.

“Matt if you don’t-“ before you can finish your sentence his pace increases drastically, his long fingers hitting you exactly where you were craving the touch.

literal tears form in your eyes, he’s never gone this fast before and by the way your continuously gripping the sheets and rocking your body into it, it’s clear you like it. “grip on my hair baby not the sheets”

once again you don’t want to take orders from him, but the proposition is too much to pass up. you switch your grasp to the brunette curls as he continues curling his fingers into you at a rapid pace.

you definitely won’t last long.

“clenching around me so good, so tight for me” he whispers into your ear and that’s enough to send you over the edge, legs squeezing shut and your head being thrown back into the pillow beneath you. “just like that, there you go. cumming all over my fingers”

dirty talk isn’t something Matt did often, but you’re more than happy that he’s using it now. you knew he had a freaky side to him, you just weren’t sure how to uncover it.

having you sweating and wet shaking on his bed like this was more than enough for him to speak to you that way, the both of you enjoying it thoroughly.

you ride out your high and his pace decreases as he places a sloppy kiss to your mouth. “are you tired baby?” he nods slightly, clearly a little embarrassed. “i’ll do all the work now don’t worry” you smile at him, somehow equally excited to give him what he’s been waiting for. he flips onto his back, and he looks done. but you certainly not, and by the looks of his bulge practically ripping through his boxers, his body isn’t either.

you climb back on top, legs still weak from the overstimulation you were just put through, but you were determined to give him an equally good time.

normally, you’d take more time with him, but it’s clear that your pleasure alone was enough to tease the fuck out of him. so you pull down his boxers in a quick motion, mouth watering at the sight of his length hitting his stomach, red and wet.

fuck.

“spit” you instruct him, your hand cupping underneath his mouth as he obliges. you waste no time reaching down as you hover over him, immediately stroking him.

he just twitches under you, so incredibly touch deprived. “love having you like this” he just moans, unable to speak at this point. “feel good baby?” your thumb grazes over his slit and his eyes just just shut at the sensation. “can you speak for me?” you take your hand off for a moment, looking at his face while you wait to the those pretty blue eyes you fell in love with.

“sorry” you continue the moment you make eye contact with him, he’s gone. “you make me feel-“ he whimpers as you continue to move your hand, at a much faster pace. “so fucking good” you smirk at this, this is the control you’ve been craving “yeah you like my hand?” he just nods as you continue. “what about my mouth” you shift down slightly, placing kisses to his chest. “you want my mouth on you?”

“mmm fuck please” you do as he says, first licking a long, slow strike down his torso, and you love the way you feel his abs flex on your tongue.

he places his hands in your hair, holding it back as you lower slightly more, face now aligned where he wants you. you lick one last stripe up his cock while looking him in the eyes and for a moment you see tears forming in his eyes.

this is your sign to get to work. and you do.

you know he’s already close by the way the pre cum coats him but you place your lips on his tip, slowly sinking down as your hands rub what your mouth can’t reach. he bucks his hips into your face and you pull back momentarily.

“didn’t tell you you could fuck my face did i?” he shakes his head and although you’d normally tease more, you begin to feel bad.

your pace on him quickens, head bobbing up and down at an impossible pace and in no time you feel a familiar warm liquid reach the back of your throat, followed by some pretty desperate moans up above.

you slow your pace, your hands milking him as he continues to twitch under your touch. but eventually you come back up to meet his face.

“you did so good baby. so good for me” he kisses you in response, fucked out of words.

so you lay that this, your case nestled in his neck while had hands rubs small circles on your back, both of you completely exhausted.

“i’m sorry i kinda sprung that on you, i was thinking about it for a while but i wasn’t sure how to go about it or anything”

he just chuckles and kisses your forehead “that was the hottest thing i have ever done, i should be thanking you” you smile at this. you knew Matt wouldn’t be the type to judge, but your glad he enjoyed it as much as did and you can’t wait for more.

oa: @gamermattsgf

[lulunothulu]

Always Second Choice

A/N: I’ve been in such a fluffy mood omg. Please enjoy a fantasy I’ve been thinking about all day.

TW: PURE FLUFF, some alcohol use, sad boi hours, sappiness, BUT HAPPY ENDING 💗

“Why can’t I be someone that a person loves first?”

You’d had a wild night of drinking with Phoenix after running into your ex. Seeing him always made you want to go all out, mainly because you wanted to forget about him and what he did to you. It’d been a year since you caught him in bed with another woman and you still freak out whenever you run into him at the grocery store.

Tonight wasn’t an exception. You had called Natasha to come drink with you—who called Bradley and Jake—because you desperately needed to take shots of tequila after you saw your ex with the girl he cheated on you with. She was pregnant.

“Why couldn’t he have loved me?” You had cried after three shots. “Why wasn’t I the one he chose? Why am I always someone’s second choice?”

After another three and a half shots, Jake told you to call it night.

That was the thing about Jake, he was one of the best friends you could ever ask for. No matter what—or who— he was doing, he dropped everything to make sure you were okay and safe. It’s part of the reason why you fell for him, and hard. He was the first person you’d fully loved with your whole heart. But given that you both worked together and he saw you strictly as a friend, you knew it wouldn’t have worked. And then there was his man-whore ways. He wouldn’t give that up to be with someone—let alone you.

You had drunkenly told an extremely inebriated Nat and Bradley a sloppy goodbye before Jake scooped you up and over his shoulder and gentle walked and placed you in his truck.

He’s carried you up the stairs of your shared two bedroom house and gently laid you on your bed. Even helping you undress and put on an oversized t-shirt with some basketball shorts.

“I’ll be right here if you need me,” he told you before kissing your forehead and smoothing your hair.

“You promise?” You asked.

“I promise, darling.”

You had woken up with a startle and began to panic before realizing you were home and in your bed. Flashes of the night popped into your mind and you groaned before remembering that Jake was on the floor of your room.

“Jake,” you whisper. You knew he’d still be there. He promised he would.

“Yeah?” He groggily whispers back. He must’ve been asleep.

“Why did you bring me home? Don’t you have people to see?”

“Kinda,” he groans as he sits up from the carpeted floor and turns to look at you with squinted eyes. “And I brought you home because you were babbling at the bar.”

“Oh, why are you still here? I thought you were on a date?” You ask.

“You remember that?” He chuckled. “You had nearly seven shots.”

“It’s all kinda popping into my mind,” you admit. “I’m sorry I kept you from her, whoever she was.”

“It’s fine. I was gonna cancel our hookup anyway.”

“Why?” You dared to ask.

“I had better things to be doing,” he says, turning those green eyes on you with so much kindness, you felt like you were melting.

You turn away abruptly and nod, feeling your hair fall around your face. You feel Jake’s fingers brush against your forehead before tucking a strand of hair behind your ear with a smile.

“Now what did you mean at the bar?” Jake asks. “You know, about being someone second choice?”

You hesitate. As much as you loved Jake, you damn sure were not going to be telling him this...at least not now.

"Nothing, I was drunk as hell," you say instead.

Jake lifts a brow before sighing and standing from the floor, looking down at you from the side of the bed. "Scoot over, the floor is hard as fuck."

You laugh but scoot over, allowing Jake to climb into bed with you with a loud sigh. His arm brushes next to your arm before settling on top, his hand squeezing yours.

"You're my first choice," he whispers.

Your heart flutters at the thought of being his first choice but then stops when you realize he probably means it in a platonic way.

"Thanks," you mutter. "At least I'm someone's first choice."

Jake shuffles to face you, a frown forming on his brow. "I mean it, Y/N. You're my first and only choice."

"Okay, Jake." You're not convinced but at least the heart was in the statement.

"Y/N," he starts, cupping your face. "Why do you think I cancelled my date?"

"To take care of my drunk ass," you chuckle.

"No," he smiles. "Because I'd hate to know Bradley's hands were the ones drying your tears, dressing you. I hate the thought of having anyone other than me taking care of you. You're my girl."

"Your girl?"

"My number one," he starts. "My day one. My ride or die. My love. Don't think I haven't noticed how annoyed you get when I'd pick up girls at Hard Deck."

Your heart was pounding in your chest. You couldn't believe Jake was telling you this, that he noticed your annoyance.

"Why are you telling me this?" you ask.

He caresses your cheek before whispering, "You know why."

"No, I don't," you whisper back.

"Then let me show you."

Before you can react, Jake is sitting up and pressing his lips onto your forehead. He peppers kisses down your cheeks and nose before hovering over your lips. He’s panting softly, smiling down at you before he fully leans in.

His soft lips brush against yours and tentatively peck at them. Only when you wrap an arm around his neck does he deepen the kiss, smothering you in the best way imaginable.

His lips are wander and explore yours like an archeologist would an Egyptian tomb. His tongue pushes past your lips, wrestling with your own the taste of alcohol mixed with something sweet lingering.

Jake snakes his hand to the back of your neck, cradling your head in his hand.

“Oh, Y/N.” He moans into your mouth. “I’ve been waiting to kiss you.”

See to him, you’ve been the girl he’s been dreaming about. The one he thinks of before he goes to bed. The one he needed to distract himself from because he didn’t feel like you had feelings for him. He’s loved you from the very moment you walked onto the tarmac and chewed his ass out for flying recklessly. He’s loved you every day, every minute, every second.

Only now, when he saw you crying about being chosen second, did he think to make his move.

To hell with the friendship. He wanted more.

“Jake,” you breathlessly reply when he kisses down your neck. “You can’t mean that. It’s the alcohol talking.”

He stops kissing you, looking deep into your eyes and turning serious.

“Y/N, when I tell you I’ve been waiting to kiss you, I mean it. From the moment you walked onto the tarmac two years ago, to now. Now god damnit, let me kiss you.”

So you did.

[entirelygutted]

Hey bud…Dom Velvette degredation kink when…..😇🙏🏽

Dom!Velvette x AFAB Reader — 1225 Words

First fic I’ve ever posted on Tumblr! Strap in (get it?) and enjoy this depravity.

WARNINGS/INFO: Top / Dom Velvette, restraints, humiliation, degradation, slight exhibition, mommy kink, grinding

It's been hours already.

Your muscles ache from being restrained for so long, and your legs are quivering as they struggle to keep you up straight. Your kneeling and nearly completely bare stature leaves you vulnerable to the shitty "sex room" carpet. Velvette insisted you used the disgusting place for your hookup, adamantly refusing to ruin her own bedroom’s “perfectly clean carpet.”

Unfortunately for you, that means a nasty rugburn across your knees and shins. You don't even want to think about the other shit you're probably kneeling in, either. Not to mention the budding sores you can feel itching under your restraints. You're sweating, sore, itchy... Unbearably uncomfortable.

Velvette looks like she couldn't care less about your predicament. She has her feet kicked up over your shoulder, heels digging painfully into the muscle. She's leisurely on her phone, scrolling away without saying a word.

Completely dressed, too.

The difference of clothing between you two fills you with utter shame, along with inconcealable arousal. The thick coating of slick between your thighs is betraying you, letting Velvette know just how much you're truly enjoying this.

You couldn't help but let out a needy whine, a shiver of pleasurable humiliation going through your body.

Velvette, however, seemed less than amused.

"Can you be quiet for five fuckin' seconds? I'm 'tryna watch something." Velvette kicks you in the center of your chest, driving the heel of her boot into your flesh.

You sputter, trying to catch the breath knocked right out of you while still being quiet. All the overlord does is scoff and return to her phone.

You're desperate to be good, so you shut your mouth and wait. Has it been minutes? Hours? You can't tell. All you can focus on is the undeniably gorgeous woman in front of you and the steadily flowing slick that's running down your thighs and further soiling the carpet.

Velvette seems to have finished whatever she was doing, as she sets down her phone with an exasperated sigh.

"Guess I've gotta' deal with you now." She takes her feet off of your shoulder, relocating them to prop your legs open. Conveniently enough, this left her with her legs spread wide in front of your face, and much to your pleasure, she happened to be wearing a skirt.

You could see the lacy hot-pink underwear that she had chosen for the day. They didn't look comfortable at all.

Your thoughts were flooded with the fantasy of taking them off of her and placing gentle kisses and licks on her lips, a hopefully pleasurable contrast to the seemingly scratchy fabric. When you return to reality, you find Velvette staring at you with a bemused grin and a steadily growing wet spot on her panties.

"So fuckin' incompetent. Stop staring and do something useful, you stupid whore." She sneers, spreading her legs wider and hiking up her skirt. You, ever eager to comply, make a desperate attempt to pull her garments down. To your dismay, your hands are still tied. Go figure.

"With your teeth, you brainless bitch. Are you stupid, or just that starved for pussy?" She lifts a heel, dragging it ever so slowly up your thigh. "Wouldn't be surprised if it's the latter, I can tell you don't get a lot." She cackles at your reddening expression, and lightly ghosts over your crotch with her boot.

"Ravenous, ma'am." You rasp, the first time you have spoken since starting this session. Velvette looks utterly appalled.

She slaps you clean across the face. "Did I tell you to speak? I'm starting to think you really are brain-dead."

It stings badly.

But it stings so good.

You whimper apologetically, leaning forward on your bruised knees to tenderly bite the strap of her underwear. You're overly careful not to tear or rip them, as that would, without a doubt, land you in even hotter water. Despite this being your first real hookup, not counting the times you both conveniently had to use the bathroom simultaneously while on the clock, you already wanted so much more.

You were addicted to her.

Your train of thought was suddenly cut short by a bright flash and a sadistic giggle.

"This is such a pretty picture, I couldn't help myself. Maybe I'll post this on Sinwitter and show the whole damn Pentagram your pitiful begging.”

You can't stop a needy whine from escaping your throat at the prospect.

"Oh? What, that gets you off?" Velvette cackles at this, driving her foot down to meet your crotch. You let out a startled yelp, her lace panties falling from your teeth and snapping back to her mid-thigh. She generously decides to ignore your fuck-up in favor of further degrading you.

"Shit, you really are depraved. You're clearly better fit to be one of Valentino’s whores instead of modeling." She chooses now to lightly roll her ankle, your clit finally receiving much-needed friction. You hiss, hips bucking up to meet the movement. "I should send him a clip've this. Be your little audition, yeah? Hell, who am I kidding? One look at you and anyone could tell you're for the fuckin streets."

Your mouth falls open, little gasps escaping you. You can't help but let your head drop onto her plush and perfect thighs, continuing to roll your hips against her shoe. This makes Velvette giggle, deciding this was entertaining enough to forget about her previous plans.

"Mm, on second thought, nah. I think I'll keep all this to myself." Velvette sets her phone aside, moving her hand to rest on your head. She runs her long acrylics through your hair, prompting you to look up at her with a downright pathetic expression as you quite literally humped her leg like a bitch. She seems very pleased by your big, wet eyes.

Without warning, her soft scratching turns into an unforgiving grip on the roots of your hair, sharply yanking upwards in a way that makes you downright whimper.

"Ah--!" You whine, eyes welling with tears and your hips sputtering. "V-Velvette—"

"Try again." She slaps you once more, far harder than last time. You can feel your skin prickling as a welt begins to take form.

You hum a noise of confusion, too disorientated from the hit to form words. She simply looks at you impatiently.

Oh.

Oh.

"Mm..." You whimper, trailing off into a high-pitched whine as her trip tightens. "Mommy..."

It was unbelievably embarrassing to call her that. Humiliating, even. But Velvette seemed to thrive off of your uncomfortability, along with the power trip from the name.

“There you go, that’s what mommy likes to hear.” She says with a sadistic grin, pressing her foot down harder into your crotch. You had been steadily building up your orgasm, never ceasing your hip movements even whilst Velvette spoke. This pushed you right over the edge— The pressure in your abdomen finally reaching its peak and exploding into eye-rolling pleasure.

Your hips sputter as you groan and writhe against your restraints. Velvette continues to grind her heel down onto your now over-sensitive clit, ripping moan after moan out of your throat as your orgasm drags on.

After a few moments, you collapse completely onto Velvette’s legs, utterly exhausted and dazed. She permits it for a few seconds, but soon kicks you off.

“Eww, you got my shoe all nasty, you whore. That’s fuckin disgusting.”

After saying that, she sticks out her leg to present her shoe to you. Her other leg went over your head, pushing you down to meet it.

You know what she wants, and who are you to deny her? You let yourself fall over enough to be face-to-face with her boot, immediately bringing your tongue to the tip to lap up your mess.

From the look of things, you’re going to be here a while.

[bluebayousblog]

RUMOR HAS IT (pt. 10)

(Drew Starkey one-shot)

This is not a full on story but if you want more l'll be happy to add on upon request

Plot: in which drew and isobel address a false rumor in the most abstract of ways

Setting: isobel & drew and their families attend the company business cocktail

Disclaimer: Isobel is an OC, 18+

TABLE OF CONTENTS:

PART NINE

“You should’ve seen the look on her face when she saw it was me in storage room and not you.”

Drew was doing his best to act disinterested as his younger brother Chandler rambled on about Isobel. He didn’t even have to initiate the topic of conversation, as soon as he slipped into his truck Chandler was detailing every part of the interaction he had with her earlier in the day.

He wasn’t expecting to be driving the two of them to the cocktail tonight, but internally he didn’t mind his brother’s company if it entailed Drew listening silently while he talked about the girl racing through his mind. It felt like she was running through his veins, coating the tip of his tongue, and embedding herself into his brain. For the past two weeks his mind and body had been consumed by her, and after leaving that room he swore he could see a glimpse of her each time he closed his eyes to blink.

This wasn’t the first time Drew had liked a girl, he’d experienced the first fleeting moments of a crush when all of his thoughts consisted of them, but those were physical relationships. Situations where he wasn’t looking past a hookup and women he hadn’t cared about.

Hearing that Isobel was looking forward to seeing him at some point before their impromptu meeting in her bedroom warmed his heart in way he’d only felt with her. In the same way that he felt hearing her tell him that she missed would have. He feigned for that warmth from Isobel, it was something he wanted to chase to the ends of the earth—like a drug addict trying to chase that first high from the most potent drug.

“You have my girl under a spell-“

“Your girl?” Those were the first words Drew had spoken since he put his car in drive. Now they were exiting the vehicle in the parking lot of the C&S building.

Chandler’s grin was wide as they rounded the front of the truck to step onto the sidewalk that led to the entrance of the event. He knew he shouldn’t be reacting to to an eighteen year old’s words that held absolutely no weight, he was also aware that he should probably shut the conversation down because they were literally standing a few feet outside the family business—but here he was anticipating his brother’s next words so he could crush whatever fantasy he had playing in his head.

“Yes, Drew, just because you’ve somehow convinced her to want you doesn’t erase the fact that I’ve wanted her for two years.” Chandler looked smug as he spoke making Drew’s eyes roll in annoyance at how juvenile his logic was.

He rested his arm on the hood of his truck and swallowed down the irritation in his throat, “I didn’t convince Isobel to do anything.” The look on Chandler’s face was incredulous as if hearing the words out loud made it even more unbelievable.

He still hadn’t explicitly admitted to being involved with Isobel, Chandler just assumed and they now went on as if it was an understood thing. He didn’t owe any explanation to anyone, and especially not to him. What he and Isobel had came naturally, an unexpected thing that was almost ten years in the making and knocked his world sideways.

She was a beautiful woman in ways he hadn’t found beguiling in someone he was attracted to until he saw those qualities in Isobel. Her outer beauty was captivating any man could see that, but it was what she showed him on the inside no matter how stubborn she was that made his heart pound in admiration. Isobel was sweet to people who didn’t deserve her respect, resilient in moments where most would lose control, and willing with her heart when it came to him—a man who took years to notice her.

She got her heart broken the first time she braved herself to give it to a man that took her for granted, but on that random afternoon in December she was fearless in giving a piece of herself to Drew.

“So you’re telling me after all this time she just willingly gave you of all people a chance?”

Drew smiled at the thought of it, in simple terms that had been exactly what happened between them and he wouldn’t ever take that for granted. He couldn’t shake the smile as he began to walk down the sidewalk, giving him a shrug before mumbling, “I don’t know what you’re talking about, buddy.”

Chandler jogged behind him, the sound of his leather dress shoes hitting the pavement as he caught up with him within a few steps and wrapping an arm around his shoulders. One notable attribute about men in their family was their height, and somehow his younger brother had a few inches on him. It was nothing any one loosely observing would notice, but a fact two brothers realized when he eventually surpassed him last year.

“Well, at least tell me who made the first move.” He grabbed Drew’s arm so he would stop his trek into the front doors, “Just put me out of misery so I don’t have to wonder.”

His mind reeled at his question, immediately going back to that first intimate moment with her. When his eyes drunk her in as she lounged comfortably on the sofa with her face bare of any makeup in her most natural state, and that switch went off that made him feel like he had to have her. That made him want to touch and graze every inch of her with his hands, and kiss her until the feeling of her sweet lips was imprinted into his own.

His desires felt so dire in that moment when he gave into them and stole that kiss from her mouth. Looking back he realized everything felt purely physical in that moment, it was spontaneous as they both clung to the high of a first hookup, but as he reflected he just appreciated that she could trust him enough to let him in.

Drew just kept his gaze neutral as he stared back at his brother who looked desperate for an answer that wasn’t coming, but he did offer him a look that made instant relief wash over Chandler’s face. A simple raise of his eyebrows and cock of his head was enough to satiate his curiosity, “Of course! That’s all I needed to know.”

“What’s that supposed to mean, Chandler?” Drew questioned. He was now the one stopping the other from entering the cocktail, and once again anticipating his next words.

A chuckle rumbled from Chandler’s mouth obviously finding this situation amusing more than devastating to his ego, “It means I didn’t see it at first, but after figuring this all out ever since you’ve gotten back the look on your face looks like someone who accidentally struck gold.”

Isobel’s inappropriate actions in the last hour forced her to ruin the impending outfit reveal she had in store for her mother. Lora was the only person in the household who cared enough to own a steamer, and unfortunately she had insisted to be the one to get the wrinkles out of the dress.

The dramatic gasp she let out when she saw the dress hanging on her wardrobe door wasn’t as entertaining as it would have been if she saw it on her body when she made her way down the stairwell. Isobel had always hated being the center of attention, but she couldn’t deny that she loved the moments her mother looked at her as if she was the center of her world.

Someone looking at you that way made a feeling of pressure wash over anyone to continue to be the person who deserved to be perceived that way. With a mother that type of love was unconditional, she knew Lora would gaze at her that way for the rest of her days—but with a man that wasn’t guaranteed. So when she looked at Drew whenever his blue eyes fell on her in admiration or simply just to look at her and she saw that familiar twinkle it unnerved her.

She’d been stupid enough to put someone on a pedestal like that once in her life, she knew that she was capable of feeling for someone that intensely. Her last relationship had even taught her someone could mimic that stare that made her feel whole and wanted, but she wasn’t scared of Drew deceiving her, it was that she could do something that didn’t live up to this idea of her he displayed so clearly in his eyes.

She finished doing her makeup and unrolling her hair until a mass of silky curls framed her face while her mother steamed her dress to perfection, and when she finally stepped into the event clad in the white dress that made Lora so happy with a pair of four-inch heels tapping the glossy floors each step, she felt amazing.

Her father, more formally known as Richard Cooper, approached them just as the nice attendant checked her coat, “My, my, my, my don’t my girls look beautiful tonight.”

He smoothly kissed their hands before gently grasping and lifting them up to twirl her and her mother around. Lora was wearing an elegant and dazzling, black gown that gracefully flowed down her body and showed off her bronzed shoulders. Richard always looked at Isobel with great esteem from when she was an impressionable little to girl to now as a well-rounded young adult. That look had always made her feel special and seen, it was different than how she felt with her mother. The difference wasn’t major, but it was something she took note of as she got older. She’d never met anyone else like her father and there would never be another man that could come close.

She loved the feeling of being around family, the only word to describe that feeling that would encapsulate it would be that it felt like home. It was something she could only hope to find in a lover. She knew it was out there somewhere, but she also knew that it was possible to find that feeling in the wrong places.

She stood aside when he turned to give his full attention to his wife, wrapping his big, burly arms around her as they took each other in. Isobel admired her parents for about a minute before her eyes began to wander around the crowded ballroom looking for one man in particular.

“Isobel you look stunning this evening.” The voice sounded like Drew’s but this one was deeper and well seasoned with age. She twisted around on her feet to face Charles Starkey, her father’s business partner and Drew’s father. A smile she could never seem to fight when it came to him broke onto her lips.

She said she’d never met another man that could compare to all that her father was, but Charles came pretty close, “Thank you, Chuck, that means a lot coming from the fashion police.”

When she was in high school Charles would be at the house on occasion working with her dad and whenever Isobel would go out with friends he would be sitting with her father downstairs chiming in as he taunted her about her choice of dress. Richard would never tell Isobel what she could and couldn’t wear, but always made sure to share his opinion. It became an ongoing joke between the three and even at the age of twenty-two they still acted as if they needed to give her outfits their stamp of approval.

“Hey you know I always have your best interest,” his words trailed as his attention seemed to veer off onto something behind her, when his eyes settled in one general direction he spoke again, “Remember when I used to tell you no boy would ever be good enough for you? Don’t you ever forget it.”

Charles was still looking past her until Richard called him over and he sauntered off without another word. For such a short interaction it left her feeling slightly perturbed, and when she turned to look behind her there was Drew. His face contorted in deep thought with his eyes trained on his father and Chandler standing beside him running his mouth.

His glare was cold, she felt it in the first second his gaze slid to meet her brown eyes then in a blink they warmed. The grey suit on his body did wonders for her imagination especially since he’d been clad in it when he was pressed against her. Isobel has seen Drew in a suit more times than she could remember, but now this was the best he’d ever looked—he looked like a man. His muscles bulged in his sleeves, and his slacks hugged his thighs in the most delicious way that made her want to run her hands up the expanse of them.

Just looking at him brought all there intimate moments to the forefront of her mind, making her dress feel tight on her skin.

Drew felt paralyzed as if his feet were glued to the polished floors. His father’s glare always had the ability to pin him in place from a young age, it was the sharp edge that was always there reminding Drew he was also in the know—that he could sense something was different. And even with his eyes now on the girl who made him feel invincible like he could prove he was good enough, he still fell static.

She watched him for awhile before strutting over in those heels she loved to wear, they made her legs look like they could go on forever. He quickly assessed her, noting the wrinkles he’d caused in the fabric of her dress were no longer corrupting the flow of the material—but the memory stained the dress with the little sounds she made, how she perfectly she fit against his body, and the things she always divulged whenever he touched her.

You just make me want to be bad.

Isobel’s words while they were in that compromising position went straight to his dick. He’d never wanted another woman as much as her, his body fed off her every movement and word, anticipating the moment he could get closer to her—physically and mentally.

Then the unintended implications of her statement settled as it replayed in his head. She was the good girl that they both knew he shouldn’t be touching, the guy who could break her heart again cause that’s what he did with other girls. Drew liked the forbidden aspect of the relationship, he also didn’t mind keeping it a secret between the two, but hearing her verbalize her want for him in that light unsettled him.

Because despite the secrecy, what he had with Isobel was pure and good—that’s what he wanted to remember the start of Isobel and Drew as.

“Chandler go get Isobel a drink.” Drew ordered when Isobel finally stopped in front of them with a smile, though a look of confusion consumed her features when he spoke.

Chandler’s enamored eyes moved away from Isobel’s dazzling appearance, “Dude, she’s not drinking-“

“Get her a water.” He cut his brother off already knowing the excuse he was about to give, squeezing his shoulder tightly, he’d done this as long as he could remember when he wanted Chandler to do something, and it worked for the most part.

He exhaled dramatically before rolling his eyes and walking off, grumbling profanities under his breathe. “Drew I’m not thirsty.” Isobel giggled, she’d always found their brotherly back and forth to be amusing.

“I know I’m just prepping you in case you decide to indulge.” He smiled as he got lost in her beauty, but he really just wanted a moment alone. Her nose scrunched at him poking fun at her low drinking tolerance before she let a smile form on her lips and rolled those beautiful dark eyes.

“Stop teasing me, Drew.” She chided with attitude though her cheeks were slightly pink, he loved when Isobel got shy even when they were growing up. Embarrassing and teasing her until that shy smile and blush bloomed on her face was his guilty pleasure and now it just captivated him more.

That reaction was intimate and vulnerable and he longed to see her in the ways she tried to hide from the world.

Drew made Isobel feel warm, she didn’t distinguish the feeling at first because it was overshadowed by racing hormones, but thinking back on all their moments together that consistent feeling of warmth always remained. In such little time she’d become in tune with his moods and body language—so much so that the slightest shift caught her attention—so when his eyes dimmed a fraction her body buzzed with concern.

“What were you and my dad talking about over there?” He sounded tense as if asking the question was a physical struggle.

And in his eyes, that he vividly expressed himself in despite how much he revealed when he talked, the vibrant blue muted to a duller shade. She felt strange about the brief conversation with Charles in the moment, but it hadn’t made her overthink until she saw the look on Drew’s face. “Nothing out of the usual just being the same old over protective, Chuck—Why?”

She wanted to reach out and just touch him, to place her hand on his arm to distract him from whatever was bothering him—but she couldn’t—she’d insisted on that. Drew and his father had a bumpy relationship when he got older, she’d always viewed their little spats as rudimentary, but in this moment it seemed to be so much more.

“It’s nothing, just wondering why he always has to look like an asshole.” Drew mumbled.

Usually she would scold him for calling his father out of name, but it felt justified—especially after this mood he’d just fallen into. It was little things like this she didn’t realize would change, the internal aspects of herself—it was scary to think about the change inside of her that was happening without her knowledge.

“Isobel, I know you don’t like sparkling, so I went and got you a glass out of the kitchen.” Chandler pushed a cup of water that was sloshing around in a clear glass in her direction, his sudden appearance making the both of them jump, “Also Lora wants you to come over and meet someone.”

Drew watched in silence as Isobel’s eyes visibly lit up in appreciation, and he was instantly jealous he wasn’t the one to do that for her, “You’re such a kiss ass, Chandler.” He insulted as she walked away after giving his little brother a hug that left him swooning.

Part of him envied the way Chandler got to parade his fondness for Isobel so openly and how it was viewed in such an innocent light.

That damn dress could very well be the death of him, but in truth anything she wore could send his eyes boggling, it was her beautiful body that made every single thing she wore sin. Even seeing her in an apron had him on edge just a night ago.

The group of people she approached consisted of Lora, Catherine, and another woman with a younger man who looked to be her son from the similarities he could observe from across the room.

“That’s definitely a set up.” Chandler said smugly while also staring over in her direction as she shook the unknown woman’s hand. Drew’s words caught in his throat the next second when the man who looked about the same age as them pulled Isobel into a hug. Isobel stiffly obliged as he watched one of her arms wrap hesitantly around his torso, but his hands were anything but modest taking the opportunity to place both hands on her waist. “What do you mean?” He asked without looking away but to his relief the hug was short, with Isobel being the first to pull away.

“Come on don’t be delusional, Brother.” Chandler sighed and clasped his hand on his shoulder as if he was consoling him.

But he needed to be delusional in this moment because if he entertained the idea of anyone thinking they could have Isobel in anyway he would march over there and ruin the entire evening. It had always been hard for Drew to accept the idea of her with another man, before it may have been him being protective but the feeling was so familiar he just may have been being unknowingly possessive over her.

Now he wanted every part of her to be his even if it was just merely her attention, he wanted her mom to know that she didn’t have to set her up because she already belonged to him—he just wanted to be a fucking consideration in their heads.

His nails pierced into his palms as his left hand tightened into fists while his other squeezed the base of the glass tumbler resting in it at the sight of the guy leading Isobel over to a vacant table. Mystery man’s movements were labored and slowed like something was impairing him from moving coherently.

They talked for a while and Drew watched, staring bullet holes into the side of the man’s head so intensely he was surprised he couldn’t feel his presence. Isobel obviously did as her eyes locked on his glare like a latch, she gave him an eyebrow raise and soft smile, but it did nothing to alleviate his nerves. All he could manage to do was stare back and purse his lips, harshly clenching his jaw in discontent.

Her courter must have noticed she was no longer paying attention and his wavering eyes tried to follow her line of sight but never landed on him—then Drew’s entire body stiffened, watching him round the table and block off her entire body from him. Anxiety swarmed in his gut at not being able to see her, he was now squeezing his cup so tightly it could break into a thousand tiny shards from the pressure until there was one second Drew couldn’t see her and the next he saw her step back as she forcibly yanked her arm away from his grip.

Within his next intake of a breathe he was storming over to her, “Drew, wait!”

He heard his brother voice, but it was useless Drew was going to get to her no matter what chaos ensued. He had tunnel envision, but before he could close in on the two a hand grabbed his shoulders and held him back. He turned to see his father standing beside him, and in a blur Richard rushing over in long strides to shove the man away from his daughter with just one arm movement.

Isobel immediately attached herself herself to her father as he wrapped a protective arm around her, Drew’s body jerked to go to her at the look of distress on her face but his father’s hold restricted him. He looked over to Charles again but this glance halted any further struggling. His face held an indifferent look, but in there somewhere in those blue eyes he’d passed down to him there was pride and understanding.

And for the first time in years, in his father’s embrace, under his heavy gaze, Drew exhaled.

Table of Contents:

CHAPTER ELEVEN

[herbofgraceandpeace]

Thoughts on Dexter so far (that’s what I’ve been binging the last couple of days):

this is it, this is my trash tv show that’s so good in my head—I could write the greatest Christian redemption arc ever for this show, and I mean that not just thematically, but like literally. I want to see Dexter Morgan become a Christian. I didn’t get that with blorbos before, but now I do. I am OBSESSED (although who knows for how long, I’m not planning to watch all of this, lol)

I miss good tv so much (not you, the bear, you’re an angel, and we’re glad you’re here). It’s so well written (aside from the choices I deplore), the music and direction are great, and the acting is phenomenal, particularly from Michael C. Hall, I hope he won SO many awards for this. I keep being like, “eh he’s not that good, he’s just got an angry face,” and then Boom, suddenly he looks normal, gentle, vulnerable, and you realize how extraordinary his acting is all along!!! He portrays so much so well, and his consistency in showing his character arc (across two seasons so far) has been so excellent that I have barely even thought about it till now.

Deb Morgan is so woman, much girl. She’s such a woman written by somebody. She’s so broken and twisted and foolish and desperate and annoying and lovable. Also undoubtedly a victim of sexual liberation!!!!! That woman will hookup with a random stranger she just met and then be like why am I emotionally devastated. She is looking for love in all the wrong places. I love her sibling dynamic with Dexter, they play a convincing pair of weird and damaged siblings—plus I feel like brother-sister dynamics are pretty rare in media generally? And I’ve got brothers myself, so it’s interesting personally to see that played out.

Angel Batista, my beloved.

Sargent Doakes, my beloathed.

Lieutenant LaGuerta, I love you too, you sinner. I was so mad at her when I found out she was sleeping with her friend’s fiancé and gaslighting her about it in order to get her job back from her friend (who was not to blame for getting promoted when LaGuerta got demoted, plus they didn’t even know each other then). I was so, so angry at her for being corrupt, and then I realized—that’s it, that’s the point. There is none no one righteous, not even one. I keep looking for a righteous character who can save Dexter from his sin, his addiction, his evil choices, whatever you want to call it: and no one can do it because everyone else ALSO has evil within them!! [that’s why we need Someone set apart, Someone holy and innocent of the guilt we all share, but Someone who is among us, dwells with us and changes us by His presence. I could write a Christian arc for this show so well, but I digress.]

Rita, my beloved, you are so great, and I desperately want you to save Dexter, even though that’s not possible!!! Also, how dreadful to know your stupid arc in advance, I am so sorry for you. The women in this show are lowkey fantastic, although there are definitely some messed up elements with how sex is depicted and how that affects the women (and the men too!!) of the show. Rita’s strength is in love and forgiveness; her growth in confidence comes from her genuine healing, and it’s beautiful to see.

Lila, my beloathed, I hate you with a fiery passion even thought you have made some good points and had a few interesting interactions. However, she is an obnoxious girlboss-sex fantasy-self centered-maniac most of the time, and even the realistic parts of her character simply annoy me. I feel like this infidelity arc with her and Dexter is completely unnecessary and it makes absolutely no sense to me? Or at least, it is inconsistent with previously established aspect of Dexter’s character and arc: I myself can imagine some possible explanations and ways to spin this, but they don’t exist in the show!! So he’s just randomly both in love with Rita (even if he isn’t admitting it) and cheating on her. Which like, okay let’s talk about why he’s letting his sin conquer his love!!!! Let’s talk about how this connects to his dark secret and his past trauma!!! But noooo, all they want is weird sex scenes and girlboss monologues from this unlikeable character.

this post is too long, so I’m gonna stop, but I just want to say it’s really funny to me how my brain keeps going “Dexter is a serial killer. This is just like being a vampire, which is a metaphor for being dead in our sins. Wow, this is a Christian show” because that is DEFINITELY not what the show writers intended. But I have read too many analyses of vampire shows by the tumblr girls, I know how this works!!!

more thoughts on the show probably forthcoming in the future, but yeah, that’s what I’ve got so far

[jiminy-crickets]

Just finished listening to short n sweet, I love it!! I wish it was released like… two fucking months ago!!! It’s a summer album releasing at the mid end of August????? Anyways, here’s the song fic brainwoms I have now. Writing them down and posting them so I don’t open a new google doc.

Juno - i live me I LOVEEEEEEE me mm breeding fics that aren’t mpreg (i like mpreg but I only like breeding mpreg when the characters are hybrids, in human shaped omegaverse I like vestigial heat/rut you want to breed but it’s a futile effort) I just wanna make some hockeys look at each other with big moon eyes and go ‘tehehehe you’re so hot and nice and sexy and if you said the word id let you knock me up TONIGHTTTTT’

Bed Chem - two players who don’t run the same circles (is that even possible lmao) meet as they are leaving the ASG and it’s boom sparks, but they’re in a rush and so they can’t have a proper conversation, the fic itself would 50/50 sweet fluffy developing relationship over text, and filthy FILLLTHY fantasies and masturbation on both of their parts (no sexting because they are trying to ‘play it cool’ because they don’t want to ‘scare him off’ even though they are both down horrendous)

Slim Pickins - I love himbos, so this has GOT to be a himbo romance, okay so a sorta neurotic type a hockey who is unreasonably proud of his degree that he thinks he ‘needs’ an ‘equally smart’ Anyways, he is always whining about wanting a smart boyfriend to his himbo bestie, about how he goes on dates with people in academia and they are always rude as shit, or they don’t respect him or his job, etc etc just a bunch of bad dates. Himbo and dude become fuck buddies because they are both single and annoyed at the dating pool and don’t want to just hookup. They get into a bit of a routine of going on a date, recapping how horribly it went, then fucking. Anyways eventually dude goes on a date with a guy and it goes good and he’s like ‘oh my god this is an amazing date…… So why do I feel like something horrible had happened, this man is funny and kind and smart and the only thing that I can find at fault is that he isn’t….. my himbo best friend’ and so he goes home recaps the date (slightly embellishing to make it worse) and then they fuck, all the while dude is having a crisis because oh my god I always said I wanted like a really smart boyfriend and himbo isn’t stupid but… like…. And now I’ve been complaining about how I want a smart boyfriend for like months now and I don’t want that I want… him, but he’s looking for a girlfriend someone he can show off and I’m ME and he doesn’t want that!!! And dude is having a huge crisis, meanwhile himbo is just thinking ‘I want a girlfriend like people with A personalities and type A men are mean to me, but type A women are nice’ anyways bla bla bla eventually dude cracks and is like ‘um…. do you like maybe want to try dating me? iknowyourebissxualbutyourelookingforagirlfriendandimnotthqtbutithinkireallylikeyoulikeithinkilikeyouyounotjustyourcock and himbo is like ‘type a man who is nice to me who is my best friend who I have crazy hot sex with on the regular wants to date ME???? Fuck yeah!’ And then they ride off into the sunset.

[18shadesofmay]

Dear once-a-friend,

Were you always this way? What’s worse, watching a person you love turn into a monster and feeling helpless about it, or the revelation that they were one all along, and you were too naive to realise? 

I don’t know the whole truth, but I know enough to deduce that staying away from you is the right thing to do. It makes me sad, it really does. You’ve been my best friend. I’ve contributed so much to your life. Countless times have I “wasted” my own time and taken troubles to myself for you. I genuinely loved you, man. What happened to you?

I didn’t enjoy cutting you out of my life. It hurt me just as much as it hurt you. Maybe more, even. I was disappointed. I still am. We had a friendship that was so effortless. All you had to do was keep in touch. Is that really so hard? I wish you hadn’t done what you did, our friend group now feels like a shell of what it was when you were around.

Why all the lying and dishonesty? What could you possibly have to gain from it? Why shit on [omitted] so much? I digress, that’s none of my business. Still, that doesn’t invalidate the entire point, you weren’t completely honest with me either. 

You did all this to yourself. You may not think it a big deal yet, and I wouldn’t be surprised if you don’t take this seriously, but you’ve lost two friends that would take a flight halfway across the world if they got that one phone call, or pull two all-nighters back to back because you need help. Good friends. Rare, precious friends. And for what? You know most people in your company there in college are hollow shells of hookups and alcohol. I can’t believe you chose them over us. And you didn’t even have to choose, you could’ve had it all. But you decided that [omitted] and I shouldn’t be part of your life. And that’ll hurt me everytime I think about it. 

But no one’s to blame but you. I made efforts to fix things. A lot of times. I don’t like who you’ve become. And that may or may not matter to you. I’m writing this letter because we never got closure, and that keeps bothering me from time to time. I feel regret, not for what I did, because I know I did the right thing, but for what unfolded between us. Why couldn’t things be different, I keep grumbling. 

We, or at least I, need that last conversation. The night I told you I was shunning you out wasn’t really a two-sided discussion. I was fed up, and I "announced" that you weren’t going to be a part of my life from then on. I didn’t really give you a choice. That’s not to say I should’ve. You deserved what you got. But I need a goodbye. Because I find myself still attached to you somewhere. There’s still hope in my mind, that one day you’ll call and tell me you actively want to put in efforts for our friendship. 

That’s the entire reason it ended. I still hope you make amends and changes. But that hopeful part of me, I reject. It’s a stupid fantasy. I wouldn’t and shouldn’t be associated with a person of your ethics and morality. Our past doesn’t matter. You are not the human being I knew, and I don’t choose this version. 

Perhaps this letter is the closure. We don’t need a phone call. I don’t want to interact with you after what you did anyway. Still, I hope you find peace and happiness with the people you choose to be with. And I hope you never find another true friend. Because to have had and lost is equivalent to not having at all. And with your personality right now, you don’t deserve one. 

Yours Truly Never Again, 

Aditya

[likeadevils]

I could be completely wrong but I really don't think Wildest Dreams is about Alexander Skarsgard. In fact I don't think its about anyone in particular. Alexander was 13 years her senior. Considering how her last 10+ age difference ended I'd say she would try to stay away from that. The music video is the only hint but that mv doesn't show it as a hookup. The climax in particular implies the guy was married. They were shown to have a full on relationship in secret.

I think it was a fantasy of her. "Let's get out of this town......crowds" since public attention was what ruined her previous relationship. "Nothing lasts forever" shows her pessimistic approach during 1989 era regarding love. "He is so tall......does it so well" shows how perfect her fantasy partner is. "Say you'll remember me"> At that point she had a bad breakup with all of her exes(harry included ik they became friends later). She atleast wanted someone to remember her. The original lyrics also shows it's not a hookup for her ("live in here forever") . I think she projected everything she wanted, every fear of hers, every pessimism onto an imaginary person. That's my 2 cents.

P.s Taylor said the video was inspired by burton-Taylor romance and her hairstyle was a callout to her grandmother. So those two are not giver hint.

i think that’s very much part of it!! i’ve always seen as being more about a state of mind then a muse, but i would guess that alexander skarsgard caused her to notice she was in that state of mind.

and yeah, both of the above things can be true while it also being a giver hint (one that i think was intended for alex in a wonderstruck being a hint for adam young type way). like, she wasn’t ever gonna say “oh this was inspired by me filming the giver in africa where i wore a black wig and had a rumored romance with another actor on set” she was gonna say “oh i set this in the 50s and in africa because i was inspired by elizabeth taylor and richard burton and my grandma who had black hair”

[hellomynameisbisexual]

Archer Magazine has partnered with Melbourne Bisexual Network to amplify voices from the bi+ community. This article is part of a series to celebrate Bisexual Awareness Week, supported by the Victorian Government.

Content warning: This article discusses biphobia, homophobia and transphobia.

“Sorry, I’m looking for something serious,” was the message I got over Tinder from a woman I’d been chatting to. Up until then, I was having a relatively good time.

We’d set up a date to meet, but she cancelled the day before it was meant to happen.

To be honest, my favourite part of dating was when people cancelled, so I wasn’t bothered. But I also couldn’t work out what part of our two-day conversation about Parks and Rec warranted this sudden verdict. So, making sure not to sound too pushy or creepily invested, I asked why – and she told me that she’d only just noticed that I’d listed my sexuality as bisexual.

“I’m looking for more than a hookup,” she stated, before unmatching with me.

While I did agree that our opening chat about different fantasy books had been seething with dank erotic tension, it felt like a real leap to assume that I was purely seeking to slake my disgusting bisexual lusts.

During this period of my life – my early thirties – I’d embarked on a kind of bisexual experiment. I’d just come out of a semi-closeted 11-year relationship, so I was keen to explore what dating looked like as an out bisexual man who was no longer willing to compromise on my own queerness.

I wasn’t going to pretend I was purely ‘gay’ when dating men, and I wasn’t going to try and force my wrists into a false heterosexual rigidity and grasp at straightness when I was dating women. When I dated non-binary and gender diverse people, I’d simply enjoy the experience of dating relatively free of expectations.

I went into this period of dating with a kind of Virgo methodology – I would try to keep my dates balanced in terms of gender, and I would go on as many dates as possible. This gave me a lot of experiences to make my ultimate judgements on.

I kept some notes at the beginning, but I decided against keeping a spreadsheet, in case any of these people were murdered in the future and the police discovered it, rightly considering a spreadsheet an indication of serial killer behaviour.

I was interested in finding out what bisexual dating looked like.

While there were many people who didn’t bat a single eyelid at my queerness, I did find myself surprised at the amount of times misconceptions, weird projections, biphobia, bi-erasure and bi-superstition interfered with my dating life.

It was the gay man who felt comfortable enough telling me that “bisexuals are sexual tourists”.

It was the liberal, arty, free-love type woman who told me she would be “concerned about AIDS”.

Living so comfortably in my own enlightened bubble, I had come to assume that it was a kind of binary issue – you were either homophobic or not.

It made me realise that if I wanted bisexuality to be part of me forever, and not just for Christmas, it was something I had to fight for.

They say you don’t come out of the closet just once, but multiple times for the rest of your life.

Bisexuality reinforces this idea, because people view it as something unstable, erratic. If you don’t continue to confirm it, to aggressively hold space for it as its own concept, then people will default your sexuality into something ‘easier’ to understand – something based on their own perception.

If I don’t continue to thrash and make a scene about my sexuality, I magically become straight (or straighter) when I’m dating a woman. If I don’t continue to be annoying and cringe about my identity when I’m dating a man, the fact that I’ve dated women is considered a mistake of the past, or is erased altogether.

I learned that I had to make a fuss; I had to clear a space for myself.

Another time during my dating stint, a quite attractive man – in between buying me cocktails – kept making jokes about how I wasn’t the first “straight guy” he’d turned, despite the fact that I kept pointing out I’d dated other men too.

Bisexuality, I discovered, is awkward.

For many people, the awkwardness comes from the invisibility of it, from the way it’s like a cryptid: something people have to see to believe.

For me, the strange thing has always been that the assumption of my straightness has never truly existed – my physicality, my fashion and my flamboyance all sending gay signifiers.

To paraphrase Gandalf the Grey, I do not pass (as heterosexual).

Even when I’ve dated women, it’s assumed to be closeted behaviour – a mistake before becoming gay. When I was dating a bisexual woman, we were accused of being mutual beards by a (subsequently) former friend.

For me, other people’s lack of understanding around my bisexuality was at most an annoyance, if not just mildly sad for them. I always contextualised this ‘problem’ in a sticks-and-stones kind of formula.

Why worry about some people having outdated notions of bisexuality, when I’ve been beaten up in the middle of a busy Sydney park in broad daylight for “being a fag”, with the police openly laughing at me?

Who cares that half my matches on apps were bored straight couples looking for a threesome, when me and a previous boyfriend were once chased down King Street by some guy ranting transphobic slurs?

But it began to feel like my sexuality, in whatever way I represented it, was besieged by outside forces and their opinions. To manifest my bi-ness – which allowed me to be true to myself and made me happier than I’d ever been before – I’d have to fight against the perceptions of other people.

I had to clear a space.

Back when I used to go to music concerts, when I was younger, cooler and more keen to be sweated upon by a room full of strangers, my tactic was to get to the front row early, and aggressively make space for myself as the crowd grew thick and claustrophobic.

This took a mixture of grit, willpower and using my bony elbows and knees to stay strong. Because I am long and tall, I was out of place in that front row, and people would try whatever they could to shift me. Great surges of bearded men and tiny girlfriends would seek to dislodge me, like some kind of seabird standing proudly on a wave-tossed rock.

But I wouldn’t move, and that’s why Julian Casablancas from The Strokes once hit me in the face with a water bottle he dropped – it was all worth it in the end.

That feeling of aggressively holding space, of determinedly standing up and refusing to move, felt most similar to my time dating as a bisexual man.

It was about stubbornness and pride and inconveniencing others. Perhaps not the most romantic attitude, but one I refused to abandon during my ‘experiment’ era.

My attitude was based on antagonism and bad experiences, like when an organiser at my university’s queer space firmly told me to “pick a side” when I was just a baby student looking to explore my sexuality for the first time.

It’s why I became someone who put my hand up to write about my experiences, to volunteer and work for the queer community, and to show up at parties, prides and events, even when people would gatekeep. I did this to consistently confirm that the B in the queer alphabet was represented.

Holding space, I realised, was exhausting. And I have to admit, sometimes my motivation was more spite against the gatekeepers than altruism.

I came to realise however, after a while of committing to this attitude, that I had made a mistake with my defiant notion of clearing space: the idea that I was doing this in opposition to other people.

Even though I have dealt with people who have specifically not wanted me to exist in the fullness of myself – as the most truthful and expansive version of myself – it was a mistake to set myself up against them. It was a way of forgetting the good parts of my sexuality, the freedoms, the glorious stupidity and the brilliant humour of it all.

It was a mistake to treat my sexuality and my personhood only as a rebellion, as a form of protest. Sometimes it is, but that can’t be everything.

Bisexuality, I’ve come to realise, is just as much about glamour and abundance as it is about rebellion. I am a ridiculous creature of lust, love and glorious inclusivity, and spending my life committed to this style of living is the joyous part of holding space as a bisexual.

Every day I get to look absurd and beautiful. And, like an ageing Hollywood starlet, I refer to the lovers of my past, and wink at my affairs of the heart and body that span people of all genders, and those with no gender at all.

When I fall in love, I am able to fiercely celebrate the fact that I’ve fallen for someone, across the wide spectrum of humanity. This is truly remarkable.

Holding space for my bisexuality is about making the commitment – in my own actions and self-identity – to never compromise on how I view myself, on living the life I want to live: in my own truth.

It’s clearing a space against my own insecurities, my own doubt and all the fucked up hangups and toxic things I’ve been taught.

Once that space is clear inside yourself, you can’t help but hold it automatically. It stops being an external battle, and simply exists as a truth.

This makes all the difference in the world – it feels liberating, honest and free. It means my relationships are now about finding someone who I love – someone who also loves every part of me. It means happiness.

You can’t diminish my sexuality if it’s held firmly inside myself. It’s no longer about furiously marking space just so that other people can’t diminish me, but rather about making room for my own authenticity.

And in that space I’ve cleared, there’s also a place for joy and acceptance, among all the other bullshit that goes into being bisexual.

Patrick Lenton is a writer and author living in Melbourne. He is the author of three books, including the recent collection of short stories Sexy Tales of Paleontology, and a freelance writer with regular bylines in The Guardian, SMH/ The Age, Junkee and more. He is the Deputy Editor of arts & culture for The Conversation.

Archer Magazine has partnered with Melbourne Bisexual Network to amplify voices from the bi+ community. This article is part of a series to celebrate Bisexual Awareness Week, supported by the Victorian Government.

[mrkis]

just a fuck

pairing: yuta x reader genre: smut, angst wc: 2.7k warning(s): explicit content, swearing, oral (giving), hair pulling, spanking unprotected sex, daddy kink, kitten kink, yuta is a asshole in this 

REQUESTED by @mireyth: ooh i’ve seen that your questions are open for nct and i wanted to ask if you could write a smut with angst for yuta? something like y/n being his mistress or y/n being in love with him but him not feeling the same way, i really love your writing <3

i went for the “y/n being in love with him but him not feeling the same way” route coz my knowledge on mistresses is whack and i didn’t wanna embarrass myself :D i hope you enjoy

yuta: i’ll be there in 10. be ready for me

The simple message sends a shiver down your spine. Your feet instinctively move around your bedroom, picking up items of clothing that were thrown carelessly on the floor and shoved them away in your dresser, tidying up the room before you rush into the bathroom to prepare yourself for what’s about to come.

Yuta has been your fuck buddy for the past year, a arrangement that was made between the two of you when you were tired of being a virgin and Yuta kindly offered himself to be the one that would take you through your sexual desires, fantasies and to let you experience new things.

Truthfully, it was supposed to be maybe a one or two time thing, but it progressed into something a lot more serious when you both realised how good it felt being with each other, how easy it was to hookup together rather than going out and finding someone different whenever you felt the urge for a release.

Also, you would definitely be lying if you said you didn’t catch feelings over the period of time you had spent together. Each moment was different after the other; more intense, more passionate, more real. You noticed from the fourth month into your hooking up that it wasn’t treated like a regular hookup anymore. 

Yuta stayed over after sex, whether it was to cuddle or to sleep. He would take you out to expensive restaurants and serenade you with music and roses. He kissed you one night in the middle of fucking you against a bathroom stall and he’s never stopped since, considering kissing wasn’t apart of the original arrangement. 

You never questioned him on the sudden affections and you weren’t complaining either. In fact, you like it. You like him. Would you ever admit it to his face? Maybe, whenever there was a right time and place to do so. But you never found that right time or place and even if you did, you’d always forget when Yuta is balls deep inside you. 

It takes you a few minutes to shower and make your body feel smooth, applying the best smelling lotions and spritzing his favourite perfume on your neck.

“Shit” You curse at yourself as you clip on your new lacy lingerie set, frowning at the tear on your bra that you see as you stand in front of the mirror. Frustrated was an understatement. You bought the lingerie set a few days ago while scrolling through a website with Yuta beside you, where he states that he finds the lacy ones the prettiest out of them all.

And of course, you bought it. 

“Fuck it. No bra” You unclip it from your body and throw it inside your dresser for the time being, making a mental note to throw it away after spending the night with Yuta. 

You sit down on the edge of your bed, leaning back on your arms and pushing out your chest as you wait for Yuta to arrive, glancing at the digital clock on your bedside table to check the time before a wide smile spread across your face as you hear your front door open.

You hear his footsteps coming up the stairs and you quickly check your appearance in the mirror before settling into a seductive position, crossing your leg over the other just in time for Yuta to open the bedroom door.

“Hey, kitten” Yuta greets you as he toes off his shoes, kicking them to the side as he shuts the door behind himself. His eyes drink in your appearance, teeth biting down on his bottom lip as he beckons you over with his finger and points to the floor in front of him.

You fight back a smile as you slide off of the bed, crawling on your hands and knees towards him at a slow and sensual pace which has him smirking, watching your every movement as you finally kneel in front of him. 

“Are you desperate for daddy’s cock, kitten?” Yuta growls as your fingers toy with the zipper on his pants and you nod, tugging his jeans down his legs with his boxers. You take his cock in your hand and massage his balls with the other, licking at his tip as you stare up at him.

Yuta’s hand rests at the back of your head and pushes you forward to take more of him into your mouth. You happily oblige, bobbing your head on him and trying to ignore the urge to gag every time his cock hits the back of your throat.

You love the noises he makes, stomach whirling with arousal as he gasps and grunts when you use your hand to massage his base while sucking and slurping his cock. His fists grips your hair as he guides your movements.

You happily let your jaw go slack as he uses you for his own personal pleasure, tears spilling down your cheeks as he continues hitting the back of your throat. You’re unable to hold back your frequent gags and chokes, breathing through your nose and looking up to meet his eyes.

“God, you’re so fucking beautiful. So fucking gorgeous, kitten” Yuta praises you, his movements slowing down as he feels he’s about to bust, caressing your tear stained cheeks with a free hand. His cock twitches on your tongue and you realise he’s close to cumming which makes you eager to go faster, to feel him spill his load in your mouth but he pulls at your hair in warning, taking you off of his dick.

“I want you to cum on my tongue, daddy” You pout as his tip bumps your top lip. “I want to please you”

“It’s not about what you want, kitten” Yuta tuts with a shake of his head. “I want to cum in the sweet little pussy I love so much… doesn’t that sound better?”

“Yes, daddy” You nod your head frantically, ignoring the stinging sensation in your scalp from the fast movement as his hand is still gripping your hair. 

Yuta smirks as he releases your hair from his grasp and reaches for your arms to pull you up from the floor. You let out a shriek as he throws you down on the bed and climbs on top of you, instantly covering your mouth with his own in a heated and sloppy kiss. 

He trails his lips across your cheek and down your neck, smothering your shoulders with wet kisses before he reaches your bare chest, squeezing your tits and rubbing your nipples with the pad of his thumb. 

You gasp as he takes one in his mouth, swirling his tongue around the hardening bud. You push your chest forward, desperate for more of his touch and he softly bites down on your nipple in warning, raising his eyes to glare at you. You cry out at the pain, fingers gripping the roots of his hair out of instinct and Yuta slaps your hands away.

“Behave” Yuta demands as he moves his attention to the other nipple, repeating his movements. You moan this time as he bites down on the flesh of your tit instead of the bud itself, focusing on his hand that moves down from your chest to your panties.

Yuta yanks the material down your legs and carelessly throws them over his shoulder. Your eyes narrow at that, feeling a little irritated that he didn’t bother to take notice in the lingerie that you bought specifically for him but it soon went away as his fingers make contact with your clit, rubbing you at a pace that has your hips twitching. 

“Daddy” You whine, closing your thighs around his hand. “Faster, please”

“Don’t be so needy, kitten” Yuta shakes his head as he forces your thighs apart. “I can’t please you the way you want to be pleased… I don’t have enough time today”

“Huh?” You make a noise of confusion, watching as Yuta pulls away from your body to grab your hips, flipping you around on the bed so your face mushes against the cushions and ass in the air. You turn your head to the side. “Do you have somewhere to be later?”

“Yeah” His answer is blunt and it made you want to question him more but the feeling of his cock rubbing against your folds makes you forget so easily, gathering your slick juices with his tip before he pushes into you without any warning.

The sound of skin slapping, swearing and moaning echoes throughout the room, your fingers tightly gripping the bed sheets in front of you as Yuta rails into you from behind. He has a tight grip on your hips, controlling your movements and squeezing your ass cheeks as it bounces against his thighs.

“God, I love seeing you like this… Dripping down my cock and moaning my name” Yuta licks at his lips, quickening his movements as he feels you clench around his pulsing length. 

You try to push your hips back to meet his thrusts, desperate noises falling from your lips as you get closer towards your orgasm. Your fingers touch your clit and it’s enough to send you over the edge, a loud cry escaping your throat as you cream all over his cock, Yuta groaning at your pussy squeezing his length.

He’s quick to throw you onto your back, his cock still remaining inside of you and he pushes your knees against your chest, reaching deeper inside you as he sends a particularly rough thrust to your core, chasing his own high eagerly. 

Your thighs burn at the new position, looking up at him and watching his expressions. He bites down hard on his bottom lip, piston his hips at a pace that has the headboard slamming against your walls and you mentally apologise to your neighbours, already knowing you’re going to get a noise complaint in the morning.

“Please cum for me, daddy” You whine in his ear, fingernails scratching at his back. “Please fill my pussy”

“You want daddy’s cum, kitten?” Yuta asks you between pants, his hips stuttering as he nears closer to his high. “You want me to fill your little pussy?”

“Please, please, please, please!!—”

“Fuck” Yuta grunts as his cum spurts into you, filling your insides white and you lay still, legs trembling as you come down from your own intense orgasm. You whine as he grinds into your throbbing pussy, milking the rest of his high and you clench around his length as the oversensitivity kicks in.

You push him as a warning to stop and Yuta chuckles, pressing his lips hard against yours while he slowly pulls himself out of you, his cum spilling out of your hole which neither of you cared about at the moment, too into each other as his lips continue to smother yours.

Yuta’s the first to break the sloppy kiss, rolling to your side and throwing an arm around your middle, resting his cheek upon your shoulder as the two of you try to calm down your erratic breathing, allowing yourself to lay in silence for the first time. 

This is it. This is your chance to let it out into the open, to be truthful about your feelings. This is your moment.

“There’s something I gotta tell you” You pause, nervously twiddling with Yuta’s fingers that rest just above your belly, twisting the rings and tracing the pretty nail polish that decorate his nails. “It’s pretty…. serious, I guess”

Yuta hums softly as he delicately kisses your shoulders. “What’s up, baby?”

“I, uh…” You hesitate, second guessing your decision on admitting your feelings and letting the multiple narratives run through your head, all with completely different outcomes that make you tense with fear. 

But Yuta is quick to comfort you as he notices your hesitation, tangling his fingers with your own and squeezing your hand tightly. This was it. This was your moment.

“I like you”

“What?” He snaps, ripping his hand from yours and shooting away from you as if you were some sort of disgusting creature or a deadly disease, putting a decent space between you both as he stares at you with wide eyes.

“I like you” You confess again, but quietly this time, afraid of the reaction he was going to give you as his current one wasn’t the reaction you had hoped for. He’s quiet now and you hesitantly reach out for him. “...Yuta?”

Yuta dodges your hand, moving completely off of the bed. “Why?”

“Because of everything that’s been happening” You give him a tight lipped smile, hopeful that your small gesture would make him ease up. “I… I thought we were closer than fuck buddies. I thought we went over that line when—“

“What are you talking about?” Yuta hisses angrily, hastily pulling up his boxers to cover himself as he stares at you in disbelief. Your smile immediately slips from your face. You felt utterly embarrassed, gripping the bed sheets beneath you to try and calm yourself, tears of frustration threatening to spill from your eyes. “Y/N, we’re fuck buddies. We agreed to fuck each other not… like each other”

“You say it like it’s a bad thing” You mutter softly.

“Because it is!!” Yuta retorts, running his fingers through his hair as he paces back and forth with a sour grimace. Your stomach twists and turns at his expression, quickly throwing yourself out of your bed to retrieve your robe from the bathroom, wrapping it around yourself to cover your nude body.

“I’m sorry” You pathetically apologise as you watch him reach for his jeans. “But… you gave me the impression that what we had was more than just a simple fuck!! You told me you liked me the other night—”

Yuta scoffs at that. “Not in the same way you like me”

“Yuta, you’ve stayed after sex multiple times to either cuddle or to sleep… you take me out and buy me things!!” You look down at the ground as you avoid his gaze, nibbling on your bottom lip as the tears build up in your eyes. “You… you’ve kissed me”

“Because that’s what we do!” Yuta exclaims, throwing his hands up in the air. “We’re comfortable enough around each other to do those kinds of things! Fuck, you knew from the start of this arrangement that I didn’t want a relationship!”

“I-I thought it would’ve changed after a year”

“Yeah, well, you obviously thought wrong” His words punch you straight in the gut. You’re mortified at what’s going on right now, struggling to calm down your erratic thoughts and heart rate. 

You’re uncertain if Yuta knows how much of an impact his words are to you or even if he knows what he’s actually saying, but you never get the chance to ask as he rushes around your room to try and find his clothes, obviously eager to get away from either you or this situation.

“I can’t believe you’ve fucked this up for us” Yuta sighs as he pulls his shirt over his head. “What we had was good and then you… fuck”

“I’m sorry” You whisper out another apology, fists clenching at your sides so tight that your nails dig into the palm of your hands. Yuta hurriedly puts on his shoes as he takes a few brief glances at you every so often, disbelief and disgust obvious in his face while makes you feel sick, wanting the ground to swallow you up so you wouldn’t have to be in this position any longer.

“This, what we had, is done” Yuta gestures between the two of you, shaking his head. “It’s over, completely. Unless you come back to your senses and get your head screwed on properly then—”

“I think it’s over for good” You cut him off, rubbing away the tears in your eyes. “I can’t be with you and act like I don’t have any feelings for you. I can’t pretend… that’s not me”

“That’s a shame” Yuta admits as he walks towards your bedroom door and yanks it open, remaining in his spot for a moment before he turns to look over his shoulder, emotionless eyes staring into yours. “Delete my phone number. Don’t contact me, ever”

“Okay” You whisper quietly, watching as he leaves out of your life forever, slamming the door shut behind him.

[interact-if]

Day 3 of interviews! Let’s hear it from the lovely Bianca :chinhands:

Bianca, author of An Elemental Existence and Exiled from Court

Latino Heritage Month Featured Author

After spending the last 18 years of your life locked away in a mansion by  your abusive mother, you’ve finally become a normal teenager.

The only problem? There’s nothing “normal” about you. You have the rare power to control all four elements.

Will you be able to learn how to live in the outside world, or will the  memories of your mother continue to haunt you in this slice of life, urban fantasy tale?

An Elemental Existence Demo | Exiled from Court Demo | Author’s Kofi | Discord | Read more about [AEE] and [EfC]

Tags: urban fantasy, historical

(INTERVIEW TRANSCRIPT UNDER THE CUT!)

Q1: So, tell us a little bit about the projects you’re working on!

Well, I currently have two personal projects: Exiled from Court, on Itch.io, and An Elemental Existence, on Tales: Choose Your Own Story.

EfC takes place in the 19th century, in Albarzia (a country heavily inspired by Brazil). You play as The Hedonist, a young, selfish noble who’s never had to worry much about the consequences of their actions, or other people in general. It’s mostly a lighthearted stoey, poking fun at the clueless, ostentatious wealth while still trying to explore the inherent weirdness and inescapability of family bonds.

An Elemental Existence, meanwhile, follows a scarred, traumatized 18-year-old with the rare power to control all four Elements recently freed from the grasp of their abusive mother. It sounds dark, but it’s actually a fun slice-of-life written to help people escape from reality and immerse themselves in a world where, at the end of the day, your friends always have your back, and, as long as you do your best and let the universe help you, a happy ending is absolutely guaranteed.

I also work as a freelance writer, mostly for Interactive Fiction! I’m a writer for Lovestruck, and I have a few things coming up I can’t talk about yet (very mysterious, I know!).

Q2: What excites you most about using interactive fiction? What are some of the biggest challenges?

I’ve always appreciated how IF readers seem to be much more emotionally invested in IF than in more linear works. I’m not sure why; I think it has to do with the fact you’re not just playing as the main character, you’re made to feel like you are the main character. People get intense about their ROs because the connection formed between the reader and the character feels so real.

As for the biggest challenges, branching is hard! I feel like people who have never written for IF don’t realize how difficult it is to write branching paths that feel fulfilling no matter which way the player goes while still adding in choices that are actually meaningful, especially towards the ending of the game.

Q3: What has been something in your project you’ve had to do a weird amount of research for?

You’d think it wouldn’t be relevant, but I’ve googled “did they have bathrooms in the 19th century” too many times now for Exiled from Court. The last time I searched it, I was describing a character’s living quarters as the MC was invited to their home for a hookup. After realizing this character, who is low-income, would most likely not have a bedroom, I decided to just quietly not mention it. I imagine mentioning a character having to do their needs outside is too much of a mood-killer!

Q4: Which of your characters is most like you? How?

Evie, The Hedonist’s little sister, is definitely similar to me! Just like her, I’ve grown accustomed to being the younger, quieter, bookish but more responsible younger sibling in contrast to the older, extroverted, partying older sibling. (Between you and me, though, I’d like to think I’m much less uptight than her!)

Q5: Does your heritage influence your characters as you create them? (How? Why or why not?)

Well, considering Exiled from Court takes place in Brazil, for sure! It’s not hard to notice the IF market is severely lacking in settings that aren’t European, or the United States. I decided it was time I let my country shine, while still trying to be honest about its shortcomings and its messier side. Also, a character in An Elemental Existence, Dani, is a Brazilian immigrant. It’s definitely interesting to explore a foreigner in an American setting trying to settle in while still feeling like an outsider.

I also have plans, in the future, to make smaller IF projects so I can write them in both English and Portuguese! Brazilians, unfortunately, don’t tend to be big readers, and you’d be surprised how many functional illiterates we have; but I do believe IF might be a good way to introduce them to lighter, more fun reading. I believe the interactive aspect is an untapped market that could certainly shape new readers.

Q6: What is something you love to see in interactive fiction?

Main characters who aren’t blank slates! I personally think IF is much more fun when you’re able to play as someone completely different, with a strong personality that naturally clashes with the other characters as the story goes on. Too many IFs, in my opinion, excel in writing interesting, complex side characters, while accidentally letting the MC be out-shined in a story that’s supposed to be theirs.

Q7: Any advice to give?

Write for yourself first! There is no point in following trends if your heart is not set on what you’re writing; you may think otherwise, but trust me, people can notice when you’re doing something out of passion, and when you’re only doing so because you feel like you have to. Remember your value as a writer is not on numbers, or followers, or likes – as long as you’re still having fun, then it’s all worth it. Of course it’s great to have your talent be recognized (and I’m sure it will be!), but remember why you started writing in the first place. It wasn’t to please other people, right?

Also: get in touch with other IF writers! There’s a wonderful, funny, helpful community just waiting for you to trade tips, give advice and let out frustration when needed. And, of course, I’m always available to talk! :-)

[literallydontlook]

The Unexpected (2/4)

You’re just not that interested in dating military men, nor have you ever been with an alien lover. But a chance Ascension Week encounter awakens something you didn’t know was inside. Chapter 2 of 4.

Pairing: Thrawn x f!reader

Rating: 18+

TW/CW: none (or if I’m missing something, please let me know!)

Tags: sexual tension, romance, slow burn, civilian reader, sexual fantasy, m@sturbation

Word count: 2k+

A/N: I know I said the whole thing is written, but I got sort of unhappy with it and thought I’d rewrite some. My Thrawn crush has sort of cooled so I couldn’t find the energy to do it. But! I am a woman of my word! Here’s part II, unedited, no beta we die like chiss. 

<-- Part 1 - The Trap

Part 2 - Friends

Dajmita had returned in the morning wearing last night’s gown, her makeup smudged from a night of sexual activity. Removing her shoes, she found you curled up in a blanket on the sofa. Your makeup from the previous evening in a similar state of disrepair.

“What happened to you?” she asked, putting her hands on her hips.

“I tried to take someone home,” you groaned pulling the blanket over your head.  She smiled impishly and then faltered, “Wait - What do you mean tried?”

“How do you do it? I took him to my studio for a ‘tour’,” your hands motioned in air quotes, “and he bought a piece of art and left.”

Dajmita was torn between laughter and pity. She sat down beside you and stroked your hair, pulling tangled pins out as she tried to sooth you, “Only you could miscommunicate a hookup.”

Your data pad pinged and you grabbed for it blindly from under the blanket. You groaned, “Aaa ugh it’s already noon?” You threw your legs over the side of the couch and dragged your feet to the refresher.

“Do you have to be somewhere?” Dajmita called from the other room. You washed your face and pulled the remaining pins from your head, then pulled your hair up into a messy half bun. You sighed.

“I promised to meet a friend for lunch,” you breathed out tiredly as you brushed your teeth.

“You could just cancel,” she pointed out.

There was only the sound of scrubbing as you considered this. Spitting out the foam and rinsing your mouth you decided you shouldn’t flake.

“No...I should go,” you sighed again, pulling off your gown and rummaging through your dresser for something comfortable to wear. Dajmita gave you a concerned look.

“Well, I guess you must be pretty comfortable with this person if you’re going out like that.” You looked in the mirror and shrugged. You grabbed a cloak and pulled the hood over your head, “It’s not like anyone wants to hook up with me when I’m dressed up anyway!” you cried out over-dramatically.

Dajmita crossed her arms, “Don’t say that.”

“Just let me wallow for one day,” you complained, dragging your feet out the front door, “I’ll be back later.”

She laughed, “Fine but you’re being ridiculous! We’re doing something fun when you get back!” she called after you.

“Fiiine!” you called back.

——-

Eli had already found a table at Dex’s Diner when you arrived.

“What’s with the cloak? Did you have a uh...rough night?” he teased, wiggling his eyebrows. You glared at him.

“Whoa sorry we don’t need to go into detail,” he raised his hands defensively. You buried your head in your arms, “Nothing happened.” Your voice was muffled.

He realized you were serious as you sat back up to give the waitdroid your order. “What do you mean nothing happened?” he asked incredulously.

You took a deep breath, your cheeks burning with embarrassment, “Stars I can’t be talking to you about this!” you cried out.

“Hey I’m not a little kid anymore,” Eli shot back. “You can talk to me,” he offered kindly.

“I mean, what more can I say? We went to my studio and he bought a painting and then left.” Now that some time had passed, you could laugh a little. Then a thought occurred to you.

“Is he married or something? Or anti-inter-species?” Eli’s face twisted in thought, “He’s definitely not married, but to be honest I didn’t realize he had a sexuality.”

“Oh.” you considered this, not sure if you should feel better with this new information. The waitdroid returned with your orders - the smell of grease inviting you to indulge.

“Well he wants me to install the painting he bought on his ship,” you said, jabbing at the mush on your plate. You received his transmitted instructions earlier that morning which only reminded you of your failure.

Eli stopped mid-bite. “He wants you to come to the Chimaera? ...In person? He didn’t ask you to hand it off to a stormtrooper at the landing dock?”

“Is that unusual?”

“I’ve never seen a civilian aboard a Star Destroyer. I don’t think you’re allowed...but then again, it’s his ship, so I guess he can sort of do what he wants,” Eli conceded.

“I’ll send him a message to confirm,” You said, your heart beginning to race again. Why do I feel so...excited? You push away the thought.

“Enough about Thrawn. What’s up with you? What are you doing here? Last my parents told me you were training to be a supply officer in the Expansion Region.”

Eli sat back and sighed, not sure where to begin.

—-

“You cannot get hung up on a random guy you don’t even want to date!” Dajmita spelled out loudly as she shook you by the shoulders.

“Please don’t yell at me.”

“I’m not yelling! I’m just making sure you hear me,” she huffed. “You’re so desperate for a fuck. This isn’t some failure you need to overcome. You said yourself this guy might be ace.”

“Well why would he ask me to install the art on his ship then? Civilians aren’t normally allowed,” you countered.

“Maybe he’s just really into art and wants to maintain the artist’s original intent- I don’t know!” Dajmita threw up her arms in frustration, “Why do you even care? You don’t even like military men. If you need someone to fuck, just ask Endel. He’d definitely do it!”

“You know I can’t lead someone on like that! I think he still has feelings for me!” you turned back to the mirror to finish applying makeup, “Ok does this look like I’m not trying too hard? I want to be taken seriously as a professional but like, a hot professional.” You stepped out of the refresher clad in workers clothes.

“I mean, if that’s what you’re going for...Like a carpenter from a pornographic holo vid,” she assured you. You looked down at your top, “Is it too tight?” You tried stretching your arms up to see how much of your mid drift would be exposed. You tried bending over, too.

“Oh yeah - just do that a lot,” Dajmita purred suggestively.

——-

The Chimaera was much bigger than you had ever imagined. Several Lambda-class shuttles were docked in the landing bay where hundreds of stormtroopers and Imperial officers buzzed about their business in an orderly rhythm.

You suddenly felt very self-conscious. Your civilian clothes drew more attention than you were used to and even the officer who scanned your security clearance regarded you suspiciously as he read your destination from his data pad.

“You have an appointment with…Admiral Thrawn?” He asked incredulously.

“That’s right. I’m installing a painting in his office.” This seemed to make sense to him, but he reached for his comm for confirmation.

“Sir - There’s a...female civilian here to install a painting?”

Thrawn’s voice came through the comm, “Yes, please send her up with an escort.” Still somewhat suspiciously, the officer signaled a stormtrooper to meet you and he wordlessly lead you to a turbo lift.

You were fascinated by the cold design of the starship’s hallways. Every surface was immaculate, each crew member walking with purpose. There was almost complete silence, only the sound of murmured conversations and footsteps hung in the air. The path itself was dizzying - turn after turn after turn - you weren’t sure if you could find your way back.

Just as you began to wonder what was behind all of these sealed doors, your escort stopped at one guarded by another trooper.

“Code cylinders,” he demanded. Your guide handed him a pen-looking object and clarified, “This is only for her.” The object was inserted into a keyhole, opening the door behind him. “Go on in.”

Your escort turned and walked away, leaving you to enter Thrawn’s office alone.

The sound of clashing metal and of exertion filled the entryway. As you pushed the repulsorlift cart into the antechamber, you saw a door opened to a bright sparring room where Thrawn was combatting two large sentry droids. He expertly dodged each attack, countering with his own. You couldn’t help the warm feeling rising in your core again as you noticed his muscular arms for the first time. You imagined them pinning you to the floor as he pounded into you, a strong hand pulling your hair back.

Just as you caught yourself mid-fantasy, Thrawn noticed you and commanded the override code. The droids returned to their stations and powered down as the door hissed shut. You weren’t sure what to do next, but the door soon re-opened with a hiss and Thrawn emerged wearing his uniform jacket.

“I apologize - I thought I would have a few more moments before you arrived,” he said, fastening the cuffs on his sleeves. “Please, come in.” He ushered you through another door leading to his office. A large desk was situated in the center of the room, two reptilian sculptures flanking the display shelf behind it.

Thrawn led you through his office to an adjoining living space. “I’d like the painting to hang here. Please let me know if you need anything.”

“Th-thank you,” You shivered, realizing it was significantly colder here than in the hallway. Thrawn noticed your nipples had hardened in the cold, their outlines visible even through the layers of your shirt and bra. It was going to be difficult to concentrate today. He excused himself as you unloaded your work and began dismantling the piece’s wooden transport casing. After almost half an hour, you were able to carefully free the painting, only to realize it was too unwieldy for one person to lift.

You found Thrawn in his office, carefully studying star charts at his desk. Another fantasy intruded and clouded your vision: sitting at the edge of his desk, the holos of planets splashed against your skin, your legs spread wide as he drank in your cunt. He tweaked your nipples as you moaned in pleasure, the danger of being discovered only heightening your arousal. You breathed in deeply to ward away the thoughts.

You cleared your throat and he looked toward you.

“Could I have some help?” you asked, expecting him to call another officer or trooper to assist.

“I’m at your service,” he said to your surprise. He followed you back into the other room.

“I just need a hand lifting this onto the mounting brackets,” you explained. Thrawn situated himself on one side of the canvas and you heaved it up together, guiding its hanging wire in place. Just as it was lining up, he stole another glimpse of you. Your shirt rode up slightly as you worked and his eyes lingered on the small sliver of mid drift that was becoming more and more exposed in your exertion. With a deep breath, he fought back his primal urge to lunge.

You both stepped back to evaluate the painting’s placement. There was a long silence.

“…Is it…to your liking?”

“Yes…” he mused quietly, “Thank you…I believe I still owe you…payment.” His last word was almost a purr and you flushed as you fantasized a another meaning. Did he notice?

You followed him into his office, where he unlocked a desk drawer and pulled out a bundle of credits. He handed them to you, your fingers accidentally brushing against each other in the exchange. He saw your jaw tighten.

“I’ll be stationed on Coruscant for the next few months. There’s an exhibit on Mandalorian folk art that I think would be…educational. Would you care to join me?”

So he wasn’t going to bend you over his desk and have his way with you. Perhaps he really was only looking for a companion to discuss art with - he obviously wasn’t getting that kind of engagement from his peers. You were disappointed but not heartbroken. After all, it wasn’t like you had romantic feelings towards him. You accepted this invitation to friendship.

“I’ve been looking forward to that exhibition myself. When do you want to go?”

[whereisten]

Porcelain

A Yangyang fic that’s part of our Halloween Series! 

Summary: After a falling out with your friends, you wander into a forest and find a mysterious mansion with an even more mysterious inhabitant, Yangyang. 

Pairing: rich boy!Yangyang x female reader 

Genre: romance, fluff, fantasy, mystery, suspense, drama

Word Count: 7k

Warnings: Violence

(A/N): hey y’all! So the timing for posting this story worked out so well because it’s Yangyang’s birthday (in America!) :D Anyway, this is our second story for our Halloween Series for NCT 2020 and we hope you enjoy!  I’m so excited to be writing for one of my biases. I know my writing needs a lot of work but I hope you guys enjoy it. Yangyang is precious. Stan Yangyang, y’all. Shoutout to Krys for inspiring me everyday and for proofreading my story! You are my rock!

_______

It was October 10, the day in which your small town came together for a big bonfire to celebrate the fall season. Your town of Celestial was known for celebrating something every week but the atmosphere was always special at this time of the year. Classes ended for the week and your friends were excited to go to a party in the woods.

Unfortunately for you, you were abandoned off the side of the road after having a falling out with your friends Dowoon and Sana for blowing off the mayor’s son’s party. You’d recently been rebuffed by him in the senior hallway. Your rejection was followed by your classmates mocking you all day long. You wouldn’t be caught dead at Peter’s party. And you were especially in no mood to put up with your friends’ preference for a good party over their recently spurned friend’s feelings.

You said screw them but they would probably end up screwing each other anyway. They were platonic but their drunken hookups always said otherwise. So sometimes you felt like a third wheel. Which was also why you didn’t want to go. You wanted a new experience this spooky season. And you were probably getting one now that you were 2 miles outside of town. Damn your pride. Dowoon and Sana insisted you get back in the car but the driver, the school quarterback, quickly drove them off. What a sense of community, you thought.

It was freezing in Celestial at this time of year so you were layered up, saving your pair of ruby red mittens for last. The overcast sky appeared to promise snowfall. If not for tonight, the snow would surely fall tomorrow

You knew this area well enough to walk back into town but as you took a few steps forward, you noticed smoke in the distance. Like it was coming from a chimney.

That was odd, you thought. Who lived on this side of town?

As you walked in the direction of the smoke, you moved past the dense evergreen trees and before you knew it, you stumbled upon a mansion out of an old-time movie. Dating back to at most the 1800s. The mansion was a Renaissance chateau, big and domineering. Something that could’ve made Celestial a tourist destination like Asheville had with the Biltmore Estate.

How was it possible that anyone could live here, you thought. Surely, this would be the talk of the town if anyone knew. And if it was off-limits, it would’ve certainly kept the town on their toes.

The mansion was quiet and there was no trace of movement or inhabitants. Then again, it was large so you could be incorrect. The chateau’s main entrance was big and made of the most pristine marble. The only thing missing was a moat. There were several fountains in the entrance. The water froze due to the colder weather. You didn’t understand how you could keep moving forward. You didn’t know this place. You didn’t know who could be inside. But you found yourself taking steps up to the massive double doors. Your hand moved to the doorknob and turned it over. The door creaked open and without a second thought, you walked in.

The door slammed shut behind you but you weren’t afraid. In fact, you were mesmerized by the atmosphere of the mansion. From the outside the mansion looked preserved like a fine piece of art in a high-surveillance museum: cold and unwelcoming and way out of your price range. But on the inside, it felt...warm and bright. It felt like home. It smelled of cinnamon and freshly baked bread.

You walked through the entryway and found everything illuminated by candle light. There was no indication of light from the outside. It was almost as if the real goings-on were hidden from the outside world.  

There were shoes at the entrance. You took your boots off to not track dirt into the residence. Winter coats were hung up on the coat rack. You hang your coat up as well. There was a half-full cup of tea that was beside the sofa of the sitting room. You admired the interior: the expansive first floor library, the dining room table that sat seven, the pristine kitchen area, the music room...

As you stood in the doorway of the music room, you heard the sounds of a violin playing a somber but sweet melody. Rather than grow alarmed, you longed to find the source, thinking that whatever it was could only bring you joy.

The music room was massive, with a skylight in the shape of a spade on the ceiling. The sunset colors of the sky never looked more stunning than they did at that moment.  A grand piano lay at the center. You longed to touch it but something inside you warned you against it. Instruments of all kinds were splayed across the area. But there was no violin in sight.

When you turned around to continue exploring the mansion, that was when you found the source of the music.

A boy about your age stood before you with his violin rested against his collarbone. He continued to play as he smiled knowingly at you. He had straight brown hair that nearly fell into his warm brown eyes. He donned a black tuxedo that was more regal than modern. His eyes crinkled as he watched you, delighted to meet such a beautiful stranger.

You nearly jumped at his presence. “Who…are you?”

Quirking an eyebrow, he replied as he continued playing, “I should be asking you that. You’ve broken into our home.”

“Our?” You asked.

He shook his head. “What brings you here, miss?”

You knew you’d been caught doing something you weren’t supposed to  but you couldn’t help it. This place called out to you and you’d hoped you could stay longer. But it looked like your time was up. You lamely said, “I…need to borrow your phone.”

He shook his head. “I’m afraid I don’t know what you’re referring to. What’s this ‘phone’ you speak of?” His refined voice was not like that of the locals. He sounded well-traveled, worldly. But definitely from a long time ago. 

The more you spoke to this young man, the more you realized that he didn’t sound like he lived in the same century as you.

You frowned. “You don’t know what a phone is? Come on, you’re kidding, aren’t you?”

He halted from playing and gave you a look. “Tell me. What is a phone?”

“…It’s a device that lets you speak to someone who isn’t with you…” You attempted an explanation that was as eloquent as possible, thinking that if you spoke in a more refined tone, he would get what you were saying. Where on earth could this boy have been from to not know what a phone is? He really sounded like someone from a century past.

“Like a medium?” He asked as he set his violin down in its case. He put his hands in his pockets as he walked slowly back to you. Your breathing stalled as his face was mere inches from yours. He was indeed very handsome. His high cheekbones. His glorious tan skin. A pearly white set of teeth. His legs were dangerously long as he faced you.

Your face warmed up and you hoped he couldn’t tell. You backed away as you locked your eyes on the piano instead. “No…It’s like if I were two miles away from here and you needed to get a hold of me, you could use a phone to contact me on another phone. It’s an electronic device.”

He nodded. “Oh, I’ve heard of those…My family and I could not acquire them, unfortunately.” His expression became sad, longing.

Hearing his defeated voice, you turned to him. “Oh, I’m sorry. Why is that?”

He looked at you, defeated. “I’d rather not say, miss…”

“Y/n,” you answered.

“Y/n,” he replied, liking the sound of your name.

“It’s okay,” you replied, “I should probably go…I’ve overstayed my welcome, sir….Your name?”

“Yangyang,” he answered, anticipating the sound of his name off of your lips.

“Yangyang…Would it be possible to get a ride back into town? I can pay you for your trouble.”

He smiled apologetically. “My sincerest apologies but I’ve no means to take you.”

“Oh…” It was all you could say.

You felt a small pang of worry at the pit of your stomach, especially now that night had fallen. Perhaps, you could make your way back into town if Yangyang offered you a torch. He would have that much, at the very least.

“It’s dangerous to go out on your own at this time of night, y/n…” He said, quietly. It was a little eerie that he read your mind at that moment.

“I know. I’m such a fool…I couldn’t borrow my father’s phone for the night so I have no way of calling anyone…I…just couldn’t help myself when I walked in here…” You said as you looked around the music room. “It was like…”

“Something pulled you in,” he finished.

“Yes, exactly.”

Yangyang began, “I know it’s out of turn for me to say this but I can offer you a room to stay in for the night…Then, you can make your way back into town in the morning.”

You were beyond lucky your parents weren’t home for the weekend. Otherwise, they’d be worried sick. But even so…How could you say yes to a total stranger? Even if you were only a few miles out of town, you didn’t know Yangyang. You didn’t know what his intentions could be.

Another part of you told you to trust him. Because what would you do in the woods at night? You couldn’t account for the wolves or the other creatures of the night. You didn’t know who else could linger in the woods.

As far as you could tell, Yangyang was an odd but attractive guy. And if he was offering a separate space for you to sleep in, then you should take it.

_______

There was a snowstorm in a matter of minutes when Yangyang escorted you upstairs. How odd for it to be snowing in early October, you thought. You rejoiced over how your jerk of a crush's party was a bust. You wondered if Sana and Dowoon made it home safely. You wondered if they worried about you now. After they left you in the middle of the road.

Maybe you should stop being friends with them. You felt like you were more disappointed in them with each passing week. You wondered when they would do something for you. It always seemed to fall on you to pick them up from parties and cover for them when their parents called your house when they went to a 21+ club. You just wanted a simple night in to watch a movie and share ghost stories. Maybe they didn’t want to do those things anymore.

You wouldn’t say they grew up but maybe...the three of you just grew apart.

You pushed thoughts of them to the back of your mind as Yangyang stood in front of an ornate door, decorated with flower engravings, painted in several colors. The initials at the bottom were “W.T.”.

Yangyang pulled a set of keys out of his pocket and unlocked the door for you. He handed the set of golden keys to you. “These are yours for the duration of your stay. You can trust no one will come in...Unless it be your wish, y/n.”

He dropped the keys into your hands. “Thank you,” you whispered.

Yangyang smiled. “You are welcome. Supper will be ready in an hour. I’ll come for you when it is time.”

You couldn’t look at him for too long without your eyes burning. He was too radiant. Too beautiful. Almost otherworldly. You looked down at your socks as you entered the room. You shut it gently behind you.

You locked the door from the inside, trusting that Yangyang gave you the only set. You took a sigh of relief as you took in the bedroom.

This had to be a mistake, you thought.

This had to be the master room. It felt like you were in a 19th century penthouse suite, if such a thing had existed. Your room for the night started with a fireplace and a sitting area. When you walked past it, you entered the study area that was bigger than the first floor of your house. You had a massive walk-in closet filled with gowns and shoes of every color. You even had a room full of fine jewelry on display, including tiaras studded with diamonds. Your mouth remained open as you walked through the “bedroom”.

You shouldn’t have access to any of these things. For they must have belonged to someone. Why would Yangyang let you sleep in here?

Lastly, as your heart couldn’t take anymore, the bedroom was plush and luxurious. The carpet embraced the soles of your feet. After resisting the urge to touch everything else in the bedroom, you allowed yourself to sit on the king-sized bed.

Sleeping in this bed would’ve compensated for all of the all-nighters you’ve pulled in your life. It was a shame you wouldn’t be able to sleep that night, though.

You were many things. Naive, innocent, studious, and quite impulsive at times. But you weren’t about to fall asleep in a stranger’s home.

Half an hour passed as you washed up and warmed up by the fireplace.

Yangyang knocked at your door. You thought it odd that he would be escorting you down himself. Shouldn’t he have servants, living in a place like this?

You opened the door and Yangyang stared at you in shock.

“What?” You frowned. You looked exactly the same as you did when you first met him, he realized.

“Were none of the gowns to your liking?” Yangyang asked, genuinely confused.

You did a double take. “What? Oh, no, I couldn’t possibly...Those aren’t mine. I don’t want to take advantage of your hospitality. No more than I already have.”

Yangyang was stunned at your decision. He thought you would have tried on all of the dresses in the past half hour and don the diamond tiara with golden accents...But no...The suite he’d given you was relatively untouched. You were certainly a woman of your word. You would’ve looked stunning in the red sleeveless dress, he thought. He snapped out of it and said, “No matter. You had the option...That’s why I gave you this room. Everything within these mansion walls is at your disposal.”

You laughed. “You’ve done more than enough for me so don’t worry. Now...can we go eat? I really can’t turn down a meal.” You hadn’t eaten since breakfast.

Yangyang laughed at your candor. “Of course.”

As you walked down the grand wooden staircase, you could hear more people in the house. You heard chairs being pulled, laughter, clinking of glasses, and the piano being played.

You turned to Yangyang. “Who...”

Yangyang replied, “My brothers will be joining us for supper.”

“Oh,” you said, surprised. When you entered, you were shocked enough that Yangyang was there. Who knew more people resided here? Up until now, it was so quiet that you could probably hear a pin drop.

That, and Yangyang’s violin. Which you longed to hear again.

You felt quite underdressed upon meeting Yangyang’s brothers in the dining room, which boasted a lot of paintings and miniature statues to the men who stood before you. There was another grand piano in the dining area, where one of Yangyang’s brothers sat and played a lively piece. Three of the brothers were laughing about an anecdote that the tallest of the group told. The final two men sat as...to your surprise, servants finished setting the dining table, lighting the flames of the candles in the center. The servants’ dresses had turned up collars with plain neckties. Yangyang’s brothers all donned suits of dark reds, blues, and grays. They looked like members of a royal family.

At the sight of you, the music stopped and all of the men started moving towards you and Yangyang.

“Yangyang, an introduction is in order,” the pianist asked as he got up from his seat.

“Brothers, this is y/n. She is staying with us before she returns to town in the morning,” Yangyang said, the humor in his voice when he spoke with you vanished. He moved closer to you, you noticed.

The pianist asked for your hand and kissed it. “Enchanted to meet you, y/n. I am Wei Kun, the oldest of the Wei children.”

You coughed, a little shocked at how forward Kun was. It was a culture shock to you. Most boys thought they were too damn special to ever make eye contact with you.

You shook hands with the other brothers. They were all very happy to see you. But you couldn’t quite place what kind of joy it was so you remained on your toes.

“Please, sit,” Winwin said as he led you to the seat right next to the head of the table. Kun sat down at the head of the table and smiled at you. The rest of the brothers joined you.

The servants began to bring out the drinks and the first course. Ten was about to sit next to you when Yangyang immediately claimed the seat.

“Calm down, brother,” Ten said, “It won’t do you harm to let her sit beside someone other than you.”

Yangyang remained in his seat. “She is my guest.”

Ten chuckled as he sat across from you. “So y/n, what brings you to this neck of the woods?”

A servant poured a glass of water for you. “Thank you,” you replied and tried to meet her eyes.

The servant quickly turned away and headed to the kitchen, you assumed. That was odd.

“Well,” you continued, “My friends and I were going to a party in the woods. We got into a fight and I got out of the car that was on the road not too far from here…”

“A car?” Xiaojun frowned, his bold eyebrows furrowed. He took a bite of his salad.

So these men didn’t know phones or cars... “Oh...Well, they’re these machines that can transport people from place to place…”

“Like a carriage?” Yangyang offered.

“Ah.” The rest of the boys said in realization.

You nodded as you drank your water, “Yes, but it runs on gasoline.”

The boys were amazed at your tales about modern technology. You went into as much detail as you could about phones and cars. The boys were an odd bunch. It was almost as if they never left this house.

Although it seemed like that, they told you tales of their travels to Asia, South America, and Europe. They told you about their cultural expeditions and their visits to the natural wonders of the world. Ten, the painter of the family, motioned to the paintings you’d seen earlier. They were paintings of places like Machu Picchu, the Colosseum, and the Parthenon. They were paintings of the places they visited. They were so vivid and lifelike. Ten was an incredible painter. Talent ran in the family, that was a sure thing. You were as much in awe of their tales. You were thankful the spotlight wasn’t on you like you’d expected, being the sole stranger of this household.

You enjoyed the salad, the tomato soup, the roasted duck, and the dessert, which happened to be your favorite: strawberry shortcake.

“Would you care for another slice?” Yangyang asked in a whisper as the other boys talked. He noticed your face come alive at the first bite of the cake.

You nearly choked on the last bite of your slice. You must have looked gluttonous to him. You should’ve eaten slower, you thought. You must have not been very ladylike at that moment. You shook your head. “That’s alright. Thank you. Everything was delicious.”

Yangyang looked at you once again in confusion. You clearly wanted another slice so why weren’t you asking for it, he asked himself. “Very well…” He murmured.

Lucas got up from the table. “Well, Yangyang, the boys and I will retire early...Although we wish you would let us be in y/n’s company…”

Yangyang quickly replied, “Good evening, brothers.”

They all pouted but wished you a good evening.

You laughed. “Your brothers are a lot of fun.”

Yangyang scoffed. “That’s one word for them. The minute they caught wind that I had a visitor, they insisted on joining us for dinner. I am so sorry, y/n. You must have been overwhelmed.”

You shook your head. “It’s nice to know that it isn’t just you in this house.”

Yangyang was stunned at your words. You were so...kind. Thinking of others, always. Thinking of him, basically a total stranger. You were as kind as you were trusting. It made his heart ache.

He pulled your seat back for you. He offered his arm. “Are you tired?”

Exhausted, actually. But once again, you were in a stranger’s house. And now that you knew he wasn’t alone, you wanted to be more on guard.

“Nope...I am wide awake.” You smiled as you took his arm. He was warm to the touch. The electricity ran between both of you.

Yangyang laughed. “What would you like to do, y/n?”

“I’d like to hear you play,” you said.

He was shocked at your honesty. He liked when you expressed yourself honestly most of all.

It was the truth, you thought. Frankly, it was part of your ruse to stay up as late as possible but if Yangyang could keep you entertained, it would certainly help a lot.

And truly, you could listen to his violin for hours.

_______

Back in the music room, you sat on the couch, serving as Yangyang’s audience. He loosened his tie and took off his jacket, setting it aside on a chair. He rolled up the sleeves of his dress shirt.

He warmed up his hands and fingers for a few minutes before he tuned the strings of his violin. His fingers were so elegant and slender. The veins of his arms protruded as he flexed his hands. He looked so focused and determined and just unbelievably beautiful. The violin was an extension of his heavenly hands. This was the most attractive he’d ever been. You bit your lip.

You told yourself to calm down, for he was a complete stranger.

Sure, up until this point, he gave you the bedroom of your dreams. A dinner that nearly brought you to tears from the flavor and comfort it gave you. And he was playing his beloved instrument for you...But you couldn’t get attached so quickly.

He couldn’t meet your gaze because the look in your eyes made him feel something he wasn’t prepared to acknowledge. Time had slipped quickly and his heart was deceiving him when it shouldn’t have.

“So...what will you be playing first?” You asked. How many songs could you get out of him before you both retired to your rooms?

Yangyang grinned excitedly. “An original I’ve been working on...I finished composing it today.”

“Really? Today?” You asked.

He gave you the knowing smile he had the moment you met him. “You helped me finish it.”

“Is that so? Well, I’m ready when you are.” You smiled, about to kick your legs up like an overly excited schoolgirl.

“The piece is called ‘Found’,” Yangyang said as he positioned his bow against the strings and began.

Yangyang was truly an otherworldly being, especially under the skylight. The snowstorm was long gone and only the moonlight shone down on him. His skin illuminated like porcelain. His sculpted face tilted as he immersed himself in his song.

You realized the song was the piece he played when you entered the music room the first time. The song was somber at first. The notes were low and left you feeling down. Yangyang’s face was so melancholic at the start of the song. However, as he continued, the notes became lighter and freer, picking up towards the end, signifying hope. Your heart swayed with each three-note chord he played.

You weren’t entirely sure of the story behind the song but meeting you must not have been a low point of his day.

You clapped for Yangyang. “I loved it! It’s...too beautiful to be called merely beautiful...You are so talented.”

Yangyang’s cheeks were now a rosy pink. He bowed for you. “Thank you.”

You laughed giddily. You wished you could’ve recorded this performance, you longed to keep it with you for the rest of your life.

Yangyang continued playing his original pieces. He was truly gifted in his craft. His compositions were nothing to sneeze at. He should be a world-famous musician with all of the work he’d done.

As he played, he would meet your eyes and give you a little smile. You could watch him for hours. He could play for you for hours.

You two were in this perfect little bubble, then. Reality didn’t take effect. It was divine.

Yangyang’s hands grew tired and after his last song, he sat beside you.

“You look sleepy, y/n,” he noted, “Did my performance actually bore you?” He mocked taking offense.

You fought a yawn but couldn’t let it escape you so turned away from him. You lifted a finger and told him to wait.

You let out a yawn, trying not to be noisy. Yes, you were tired. A long day at school, a falling out with your friends, and an evening at the Wei Mansion did its number on you.

You faced Yangyang again. “I’m wide awake.”

Yangyang lifted an eyebrow in skepticism. “Perhaps you would like  something to drink?”

You nodded. “Something warm...Would hot cocoa be possible?”

“Absolutely. It’s a staple at this household this time of year,” he said.

He offered his hand to you and you took it. Both of you were taken aback by how immediate you were to hold hands but neither of you let go as Yangyang led you into the kitchen.

In the kitchen, he tended to you. The servants were nowhere in sight. The mansion felt like it had when you first came in: empty.

It felt like you two were the only people in this house, a world in itself.

He poured you a cup of cocoa he made and you were in love. The cocoa tasted amazing. You drank it slowly, savoring every sip.

You shivered a little from the cold that creeped into the mansion. Yangyang left for a moment and returned with a blanket. He wrapped it around you.

It was plush and made of the softest material you could ever imagine. If you snuggled too much against it, you would fall asleep right then and there.

But your energy started picking up again...It must have been the cocoa.

“We can go into the library...I’ll start up the fire.” Yangyang offered as he drank his cup of cocoa.

It seemed Yangyang was eager to stay awake with you, you thought.

“Aren’t you tired?” You asked.

He looked up from his cup. “What?”

“You don’t have to force yourself to stay up with me. I’m the one who can’t sleep.”

Yangyang knew you were keeping yourself awake on purpose. He knew you didn’t completely trust him or this house. Slowly, however, you opened yourself up to him and he was quite fond of you. He wanted to be by your side for the night. He didn’t know why exactly but he just did.

He met your gaze. “I hope it is not too forward of me to say this...But I want to remain at your side.”

You looked down, flattered at his words. Then, you mustered your courage and met his unwavering stare. “Okay.”

The truth was, you felt safer with Yangyang. And you couldn’t lie to yourself: you liked him. He was kind, attentive, charming, and a wonderful musician. The moment you met him made you forget all of your troubles...if only for a moment.

You two walked into the dome-shaped library. It was bigger than any commercial bookstore. You wondered how old the family’s collection was.

Yangyang started the fire at the fireplace by the reading couches. He motioned for you to take a seat.

You sat down and nearly sank into the couch. It was so comfortable. You were living in the lap of luxury.

“Y/n, are you alright?” Yangyang asked.

You laughed. “Yeah...why?”

“Your eyes rolled to the back of your head,” he said, smiling confusedly.

You laughed again. “It’s because this couch is the most comfortable thing I’ve ever sat on.”

Yangyang smiled and shook his head. “The simplest things please you.”

“Nothing about this house is simple,” you said.

He shook his head, smiling at you and picked up a book off of the shelf. He scanned the title and the summary. “What do you like to read, y/n?”

You answered, “Horror.”

Yangyang’s eyes widened. “Really?”

You nodded. “Yes. I like the suspense and the kinds of creatures the writers come up with.”

Yangyang was wrong to assume you were a romance kind of girl. He’d hoped to woo you with some Shakespeare. He took it in stride and put the book he had back on the shelf. He took a rolling step ladder and positioned it farther away from you. He got up on the steps and picked up another book off the shelf.

“It’s called ‘The Mysterious Mansion’,” he said, biting back a laugh.

“How fitting,” you said, laughing.

You and Yangyang shared a couch as you took turns reading to each other. The story was dark and twisted but got your heart racing.

Well, maybe Yangyang’s being so close to you may have had something to do with it.

The hours pass and you finish off the last page. Yangyang leaned against the other end of the couch and simply watched you. He loved the sound of your voice and the way it cracked.

He gave you a glass of water to relax your voice. He loved how your eyes scanned word for word. The crease between your eyes as you interpreted the author’s words. But you kept on reading aloud. He’d read “The Mysterious Mansion’ several times but this time was his favorite reread.

You could hear Yangyang talk forever when you heard him read the passages. His voice was soothing and full of wonder. The grin on his face right before he read a twist to the story. The crinkle of his nose when he laughed at your reactions. He’d become a friend.

A friend you wanted to kiss.

This was the most fun you’d ever had. This cold October night with this enchanting young man. You kinda wished it would never end but you were still resolved to...Stay...awake…

Your eyes grew heavy and you curled yourself against the couch. You pulled the blanket tighter around you.

Yangyang realized you were drifting. He quickly moved over to you and shook you awake.

You two had stayed up all night and it was nearing daybreak. And he had to move fast.

“Y/n!” He yelled to wake you up.

You grumbled. “What?”

“Please wake up. You need to leave right now,” Yangyang demanded.

You rubbed your eyes and snapped out of it. How the hell did you almost fall asleep, you fool, you thought to yourself. The alarm in Yangyang’s voice also was a cause for concern. “What’s wrong?” You asked.

He shook his head rampantly. “There’s no time to explain. Do you have everything?”

You nodded. “I have to get my coat and boots at the entrance.”

Yangyang grabbed your hand and you both ran towards the entrance. You put your coat and boots on. Yangyang did the same and he nearly dragged you out the door. You quickly moved down the staircase and set foot on the dewy grass. Yangyang kept his foot on the last step of the staircase.

The sky overhead was mostly black but shades of oranges, pinks, and red were breathing through. Dawn was imminent.

That was when you realized you had no mittens. You’d left them in the bedroom.

Yangyang noticed your bare hands. He pulled off his royal blue mittens and slipped them onto your hands.

“You don’t have to-“ You started.

“I want you to have them. A fair trade. Yours for mine?” He smiled.

He squeezed your hands before he let them go.

“Thank you...for tonight, Yangyang,” you said. Even though it was through the weather and the night that you had no other choice, you had a magical night with a boy who was so wonderful, he must’ve been out of a classic novel. He’d treated you like a friend and listened to you: about what you wanted to do and what you liked. You’d wished you could’ve gotten to know him more but you appreciated that he listened to you attentively.

You were sad the night had ended but you’d succeeded in staying up nearly the whole night at least. You were meant to leave now. You’d overstayed your welcome and you needed to get home. That was the most important thing.

Yangyang moved closer to you and moved some hair away from your face. He touched your cheek with the back of his hand. Once again, you both did something with no thought.

You got up on the staircase and kissed him. He pulled you in to deepen the kiss. He picked you up off the ground as he continuously took your breath away.

But as quickly as this piece of utter bliss started, it quickly ended.

He let you go and set you down on the grass. “Goodbye, y/n.”

“Goodbye, Yangyang.” As you walked into the forest, you turned back once more and watched as Yangyang stood there, his face unreadable.

You waved at him and his expression softened as he waved back.

You laughed as you turned back now and kept on moving. The path to the main road took a little longer than expected because it was still dark. However, the sun rose before you knew it and you were able to see the main road again.

And you were shocked to find several people on the main road. Cop cars were parked off the side of the road. A news reporter for Channel 23 News could be heard saying.

“It is Day 8 into the search for y/n y/l/n. She was last seen on this road, Road 116 by her friends and has not returned home. If you have seen y/n or have any information that can help our police force find her, please call the number on the screen: 1-800-RES-CUES. Again, that’s 1-800-RES-CUES.”

Dowoon and Sana were being interviewed by another news station.

Dowoon was on the brink of tears, his eyes stained red. “This is all our fault.”

Choking on her tear, Sana continued, “We shouldn’t have left her on the road...We thought she went home...We were so stupid…”

What the hell was going on?

You walked into the road and several people turn to you in shock. They gasped and screamed your name.

Your parents broke out of the crowd of people that has accumulated. “Y/n!” They both yell.

They run up to you and wrap their arms around you, weeping hysterically.

Your mom yelled, “Y/n, where have you been? My baby!”

Your dad held your face in his hands, “What happened to you? Are you alright?”

You were shocked at their reaction. “What are you guys doing here? I thought you guys were in New York until tomorrow.”

Your parents, not letting you go, gave each other a meaningful look.

Your mom’s eyebrows furrowed. “Tomorrow? Y/n, we came back a week ago.”

You laughed in disbelief. “No, you guys left Friday morning, yesterday morning.”

Your dad shook his head. “Y/n, you’ve been missing for a week now.”

You laughed again. “No...You guys are messing with me.”

But then you looked around at all of the worried looks on the people’s faces. The police officers came right over. You even saw Dowoon and Sana sobbing not too far from Sana’s car.

“You guys...I stayed in a mansion not too far from here for the night because of the snow…”

“What mansion? What snow?” Your parents asked in unison.

You darted your eyes to everyone else and whispered to them. “Come with me.”

“Y/n, we need to get you home…” Your mom pleaded.

You shook your head. “I need to show you where I was and that I wasn’t in danger.”

“Y/n, we should tell the police-” Your father offered.

“No!” You snapped. “Please trust me. He didn’t do anything to me. He’s my friend.”

At the mention of “he”, your parents were up in arms and motioned for the police to come over.

“We will go with you, y/n…” Your mom said.

She meant that they’ll go with you if you have a police escort.

You shook your head and led the party to the mansion. You couldn’t believe this. Missing for seven days? That was impossible. You’d only been gone for the night. How could anyone have known you’d been gone? Your parents were away.

Once you got out of the forest to the Wei mansion, you saw that there was no mansion. Only an abandoned cabin.

What?

“Is this where you were detained, y/n?” Police Officer A asked.

“I was not detained. This isn’t the mansion I-”

“A mansion?” Everyone looked at you skeptically.

You entered the cabin, knowing that everything you believed in was slipping through your fingers. Tears quickly ran down your cheeks. The cabin was shabby, the furniture inside covered in dust. It had been unlived in for quite some time.

“Y/n!” Your parents yelled.

The police rushed in after you and Police Officer B held you back. “Let me go!” You demanded.

“It’s dangerous.”

The police officers searched the entire cabin three times over and came up with nothing. “There is no trace of anyone having been here for years,” Police Officer A said.

Well, of course not, this wasn’t the mansion that you stayed at.

Clearly, the more time passed, the more concerned everyone looked. It was possible you heard the words “rehab” and “therapy” and “mental break” thrown around.

You had to calm down. You knew you weren’t crazy. You knew it because you wore Yangyang’s gloves.

Yangyang.

Where is he? Where were his brothers? Where was the Wei mansion?

Police Officer B released you and you browsed the area. Your parents trailed behind you. You entered one of the bedrooms, encased in dust. You sneezed and found a chest with a lock on it. The chest was engraved with the letter “W” at the center. 

You recognized the engraving. It was the same handwriting from the bedroom door in the Wei Mansion. Your bedroom door...The keys.

You remembered you still had them in your pocket. It was a long shot but you pulled them out. You placed the key inside of the lock and opened the chest.

You found seven porcelain dolls. The dolls were more sophisticated than any doll sold at the local stores. They were almost lifelike. The way their eyes and lips were drawn. Each doll bared a striking resemblance to the Wei brothers. You could see them all: Kun, Ten, Winwin, Lucas, Xiaojun, Hendery, and…

Yangyang.

The last doll was definitely Yangyang. The doll held a toy violin and wore…

Your ruby red mittens.

Fin.

_______

Epilogue.

Yangyang sat in the music room alone, holding on tightly to your red mittens.

Hendery charged into the room. His brothers trailed behind. “You fool! Why did you let her go?”

Yangyang shrugged. “I’ve had it.”

“What are you talking about?” Xiaojun demanded. “You were smitten with her. She was clearly enamored with you.”

Kun laughed. “It’s because he’s in love with her.”

All of the boys looked at their oldest brother, confused. Yangyang avoided their stares.

“You changed your mind,” Kun murmured.

Yangyang sighed, “She was not like-”

Winwin rolled his eyes. “Please do not give us the story of ‘she was not like other girls’. She seduced you and you let her go. You fell for her game. She outsmarted you.”

Yangyang snapped. “Do not test me, brother.”

Ten interjected. “Okay, okay, everyone needs to calm down...We are just curious...Why? She could have stayed here with us forever...With you forever.”

Yangyang didn’t want to speak to them. Every moment that passed, he missed you more. “She did not wear the jewels or the dresses...She left everything untouched. She did not come to us because she sought material possessions. She wanted a friend…”

Lucas laughed. “How pathetic.”

Yangyang groaned. “You lot would not understand…”

“Do not act like you are better than us, little brother,” Kun began condescendingly.

“I am not-”

“You think you’re better than us because you let a prisoner go this time, do you not? Well, let me bring you back to reality. Our spirits are confined into those tacky porcelain dolls...So what do we do to ease ourselves? We bring people into this realm to reside with us. Materialistic, selfish, and vain people. Y/n is no different from the rest of them.”

“Shut up,” Yangyang muttered.

The rest of the boys were stunned to silence but Kun heard him clearly. “Repeat that, Yangyang. You know the consequences.”

Yangyang got up and shoved your mittens in his pockets. “Shut up, Kun.”

Kun smiled and laughed. The other boys faked laughter so as not to upset Kun even more. His smile quickly faded as he punched Yangyang to the ground.

Kun gave Yangyang a harsh beating and the rest of the brothers watched. No one dared to step in and upset Kun even further. Yangyang couldn’t blame his brothers. Besides, he wanted this. He wanted to feel a pain other than the pain of missing you. 

He may have been damned for the rest of eternity but he was thankful to have met you. You proved to him that not everyone could be consumed by the deadly sins, as he and his brothers had. You were an angel that gave you a moment of compassion, of affection. And for that he would always be thankful.

_______

Come back tomorrow the third installment in our Halloween Series! :) 

[nugnthopkns]

don’t say you miss me

word count: 5.5k

warnings: explicit!fem reader, references to sex but nothing explicit, cursing, recreational drug use (marijuana), alcohol consumption, there is no happy ending

recommended listening: overnight | maggie rogers

series masterpost: here

a/n: second installment of hiiapl! little overnight inspired ditty that i’m actually pretty proud of. i’m having so much fun with this it’s insane

You had never meant to get attached.

It was a lot easier said than done – especially with Kevin. He was loud and obnoxious, sure, but it was part of his charm. When you first met him, outside a club in downtown Winnipeg, you were blown away by his duality. He had been so loud with his group but quietly brought you a bottle of water after you puked on the sidewalk. After insisting you take his number so you could let him know you got home safely, Kevin convinced you to go to dinner with him. One meal turned into several and before you knew it you were engaged in a casual fling with the Winnipeg Jets’ newest centre. It was mostly sex, with the ocasional interaction outside of the bedroom, but something about Kevin made it feel like more than just a hookup. Over the few months you slept together your feelings shifted, and you began to harbour a rather large crush.

Just when you were going to take the leap and talk to Kevin about getting serious fate reared its ugly head. After only being in Winnipeg for six months, electing to not return to Massechusettes right away after the Jets playoff run finished, Kevin was traded out of the city. The news split your heart in two – there was no way the two of you could become a couple. Though long distance could have been an option, you weren’t going to ask him to commit to that. Being a professional athlete is tough as is, and having a girlfriend a six hour flight away was extra stress you refused to put on Kevin. 

The last night you spent with Kevin was emotional. Lots of tears were shed, mostly from you. You knew he was compartmentalizing it all and trying to not let you know how much the trade was affecting him. Whenever the two of you had talked about hockey, Kevin was always quick to mention how much he loved Winnipeg and how much he wanted to stay. Neither of you talked much, too focussed on wallowing in sadness and committing each other’s bodies to memory. He left the next morning, and there was a silent agreement that whatever the two of you had was over. It was fun while it lasted but now you both have to be adults and get on with life. 

☼☼☼☼

Nearly six months later you consider yourself to be getting on with life just fine. You’ve got a better paying job, a new apartment, and enthusiastically throw yourself into any project that’s presented. To others, however, you’re barely hanging on. Any time you get a text notification, you hold your breath until a name flashes that isn’t Kevin’s. A notification from Instagram saying he viewed your story makes your heart beat three times as fast. You constantly check for updates on how he’s playing, and watch as many Flyers games media blackouts will allow just to catch a glimpse of his face. No matter how hard you try, you just can’t shake Kevin Hayes. 

“They’ll be in town this weekend,” your best friend Rachel says. “Are you gonna reach out to him?”

You nearly drop the carton of chinese food you’re eating on the floor. “I didn’t know that,” you stammer, trying to make your surprise believable. Kevin will be back in Winnipeg for the first time since being traded. You knew this already, of course, because you have the Flyers scheduled imprinted in your memory.

She narrows her eyes at you. “Don’t fucking lie to me. You knew they were coming to town. The NHL app stays open on your phone at all times.”

Caught in your lie, you can do nothing but duck your head. You’ve thought a lot about what you’re going to do. Should you send him a text, let him know you’re available after the game? Or should you ignore him completely and make it seem as though you’re doing much better than you are?

“I don’t know Rach. I’ve never had a sort of ex come back to the city he left me in.”

“He didn’t necessarily want to leave you,” Rachel points out. “He got traded. If you want my two cents, I don’t think you should give him a call. You need to move on, not stay stuck in the past.”

Your friend is right, and you know that’s what you should do. Moving on from Kevin would be easier if you didn’t try to contact him. He hasn’t reached out to you so you assume you’re the only one in the relationship still struggling to come to terms with his departure. You struggle with the decision until puck drop, but ultimately decide against texting him. It simply wouldn’t be beneficial for your fragile heart. 

A small group of friends has gathered at Rachel’s to watch the game. You’re lucky, or unlucky, to run with a crowd of die-hard Jets fans who get together any time they play, whether it’s at someone’s house or a sports bar around the corner from the arena. Though you tried your best to get out of it tonight, making up any excuse you can think of to stay at home and sob quietly into a pillow, Rachel knows better than to let you be alone and forces you to be in attendance. 

It’s a pretty quiet game with the Jets dominating the first two periods. The Flyers are sluggish, not connecting passes and taking far too many penalties. You’re pretty sure Winnipeg has it in the bag when the puck drops for the final twenty minutes of play, so you turn your attention away from the television, picking up a conversation with Christina, the girl your friend Tyler brought along. 

Some choice words must have been said to the Flyers in the intermission because they come out swinging. Before you can comprehend what’s happening, they’ve tied the game. The period is full of contact, with multiple players from each team spending time in the penalty box. Your attention is once again returned to the large screen for the final few minutes, and your jaw drops as you watch Kevin dangle through the Jets defence to sink the puck into the back of the net. It turns out to be the game winning goal, and you sit in silence as your friends pay up the money they lost in bets and check their updated fantasy pool standings. Maybe you should text him. 

“Don’t fucking do it,” you hear Rachel whisper in your ear. Your other friends know of your past with Kevin, they were around and spent some time with him, but they don’t know how much you were still holding on. Everyone besides Rachel assumes you’re alright – that Kevin is just a blip in your past. 

You roll your eyes and sigh, but tuck your phone back into the pocket of your jeans. It stays there – out of sight, out of mind – until it buzzes some time later. Expecting it to be your mother hounding you for not calling in a while, you pull it out. A message from Kevin flashes and you go whiter than a ghost. 

Taking the boys out celebrating the big win. You in? 

The words, so casual, feel like a punch to the stomach. Why the months of radio silence just to ask to see him like you’re friends? Making sure that no one is paying attention to you, you quickly type out a reply. 

That’s not a good idea and you know it Kevin. 

You send the message and immediately turn off your phone. This way you won’t have to deal with the aftermath until much later. You allow other things to hold your attention and don’t head home until you’re so tired that it will be impossible for you to think about Kevin’s text. 

When you power your phone back up in the morning, you’re shocked to find that Kevin never responded. He obviously didn’t care too much about your absence, and part of you wonders if he was just being polite. It doesn’t make sense, but instead of letting your brain overthink the lack of response you throw yourself headfirst into cleaning your apartment. Hours later it’s spotless, and you slump onto the couch in a pile of exhaustion. You check your social media notifications, a few mentions from your friends about the shenanigans you all got up to the night before and your sister tagging you in a post letting you know she’d like to visit a specific beach the next time she comes to visit. Kevin’s profile photo sits at the top of your instagram feed, and before you can stop yourself you click to view his story. 

It’s a snapshot of his teammates with bright smiles on their faces. Each of them is holding a can of beer, and a few look as though they shared a joint before entering the establishment. The photo is captioned ‘glad to be back in winterpeg’ and is accompanied by a couple of snowflake emojis. Your heart clenches inside your chest – it hurts more than you thought it would to see him enjoying himself as though he has no bittersweet feelings about being back. It would be beneficial to unfollow Kevin, but you can’t force yourself to pull the metaphorical trigger and completely cut him from your life. 

Kevin leaves the next day for Vancouver. You know this because you watch his story yet again, and curse yourself for grasping at straws. Why must he have such a strong hold on you after so long? A call to Rachel has her driving to your place in minutes, ready to hold you while you cry and distract you from the pain that still lingers from his first departure.

☼☼☼☼

It’s easier to forget Kevin without him being in the city – you do your best, and eventually it sort of sticks.

He no longer crosses your mind every few days. You go weeks, sometimes a month or two, without thinking about him. It’s nice to no longer get sad when you enter a bar you frequented with him or wince when someone mentions how he’s playing. It also helps that he never returns to Winnipeg. 

There’s no reason for him to. The Flyers don’t play another away game against the Jets the rest of season, and as far as you know he doesn’t frequently talk to his old teammates. Your life fades into a quiet routine you come to love dearly. The world feels balanced for the first time since Kevin left and you’re nothing but thankful. 

Life moves on, and you find yourself succeeding in your career – so much so that you’re quickly offered a promotion. The change increases your workload and doesn’t leave you much of a life outside of work, but it doesn’t matter much to you. It’s a welcome distraction and keeps thoughts of Kevin out of your mind. No one comments on your genuine improvement, but you know they can see it. Rachel is proud, and she’s told you exactly once. It’s all you’ll get out of her so you take it and roll with it. The rest of the regular season passes without you so much as knowing, or caring, and before you know it there’s a notification for an article saying the Flyers were eliminated in the second round. For the first time you find it really hard to care.

☼☼☼☼

Summers in Winnipeg are your favourite. The city is warm for the first time all year and the flowers look beautiful in full bloom. With the promotion you’re afforded more vacation time, which you plan to take full advantage. There’s nothing you love more than hanging with friends in the sun, soaking up the rays, and casually drinking. 

The days bleed into one another in the way that all good summers should, and before you realize it it’s your last day at work for a week. It will be nice to be free from workplace constraints for a while, and your friends have the time off as well. The group of you are heading to a cabin on Falcon Lake where you’re sure lots of partying will take place. You suggested getting farther away, but settled on the area in case Tyler’s sister goes into labour. He’s a very family oriented person and offered to watch his nephew when the time comes. 

Four o’clock comes faster than you ever could have imagined, and you cheerfully wave goodbye to your co-workers. Some complain of your ability to leave during the busiest season of the year, but most of them wish you well. You put an immense amount of work into your job regardless of the quarter and know you deserve the break. If you don’t stop at the grocery store on your way you’ll be in trouble since you’re in charge of all the breakfasts and you currently only have a half-eaten loaf of bread that could go stale any day. 

You’re in the cereal aisle, deciding whether or not you really need Honey Nut Cheerios for the trip, when you hear his unforgettable voice. It’s loud and booming and brings back so many feelings that you’ve learned to repress that you turn on your heel and head to the nearest self checkout despite only gathering half the items on your list.

Back in your car, you dial Rachel’s number and try to regulate your breathing. 

“Hello?”

You don’t bother with any formalities. “Kevin is here.”

“In Winnipeg?” she asks, more than a tad confused. “Why would he be in Winnipeg?”

The interior of the Ford Escape you drive feels too small, so you crack a window and peel out of the parking space. Rachel’s voice reverberates throughout the car thanks to the bluetooth system. “I don’t fucking know, but he’s here.”

“I don’t think that’s possible Y/N,” Rachel says, always the realist. “He lives in Boston. What would he be doing in Winnipeg in the middle of July?”

You aren’t sure, and make sure to tell her so. “But it was him,” you swear. “He was in the grocery store.” You stop at a red light, placing your blinker on and checking both ways before turning right. A few more minutes and you’d be safely tucked away in your apartment, away from the world and the possibility of running into Kevin.

“There’s like a hundred tall gingers in the city babe, you didn’t see him.”

“You’re right, I didn’t see him,” you agree. “I heard him. How many tall gingers are there in Winnipeg with Boston accents?”

“Oh fuck. I’m coming over.” With that, Rachel hangs up, and you pull into the parking garage. You sit in silence for a minute or two before deciding your shaking legs can hold you upright. Perhaps you weren’t as over Kevin as you thought. 

Rachel spends the rest of the afternoon and evening with you, ensuring you don’t do anything stupid and letting you spew all your feelings, both good and bad. More than one bottle of wine is consumed, but you have more than enough time to nurse a hangover. If you play your cards right through the week this won’t be the only time you do it either. 

You wake up on top of your pristine sheets, Rachel grumbling beside you – she’s never been as good at holding her alcohol.

“What time is it?”

The alarm clock on your bedside table flashes a few numbers and you have to stare at them for a minute before you comprehend them. “Just after eight,” you say, sitting up. Surprisingly, you feel fine. Maybe the crippling weight of your feelings for Kevin cancels out the hangover you most definitely should be feeling. 

“We need to get going. Gotta pack the car and hit the road. I’m the one who needs to get the keys so we have to be there before everyone else,” she sighs, grumbling something else under her breath as her feet hit the floor. 

You just laugh at her and head into the kitchen. While Rachel showers you make coffee and pack the food into the ancient cooler your father gave you when you moved out many moons ago. It has served its purpose on several trips like this – you’ll be sad to see it go eventually. You switch places with Rachel, and once you’re feeling refreshed the two of you stuff your trunk and hit the road. 

The drive is rather uneventful, with the both of you sitting in silence, and it doesn’t take you long to approach your destination. Rachel is a poor navigator so you’re tasked with figuring out where you’re going and making sure you get there, but it could be worse. You have a general sense of where you’re going. Getting the keys is painless and you get to work unpacking your overloaded SUV.

“Do you think there will be other people around we can party with?” Rachel asks as you close the trunk for the last time. 

You shrug. “Don’t know Rach. It doesn’t look like it.”

She drops it, agreeing with you, and you separate to unpack your personal belongings. The cabin is large enough that no one has to share a room, which you’re grateful for. Though you love your friends dearly, they don’t always know what personal space is. At some point in the afternoon the rest of the group trickles in, and by dinner you’ve all settled and are ready to party. 

Tyler figures out how to use the ancient barbeque and sets to work cooking the burgers. Everyone else gets side dishes ready or sets the table, with Christine starting a bonfire. You don’t know her well, only having met her a few times, but your friend seems to be infatuated with her. She fits in great with the group so you aren’t worried about any awkward tension. Dinner passes in a fit of giggles and shouts, and once the dishes are done you can relax fully. 

The beer you grab from the fridge on your way out the door makes your insides fuzzy in the best way possible. By the fire, surrounded by those who care about you the most, you feel at peace. You’re yet to think about the sudden reappearance of Kevin in Winnipeg, and you’d like to keep it that way. Someone grabs the beat up acoustic guitar you found in the living room and thrusts it in your direction. You’d taught yourself to play in college, and it comes in handy for times like this. 

“I refuse to play Wonderwall,” you laugh, shooting pointed looks at each and every person sitting around you. 

“Come on Y/N,” Rachel groans. “Just once?”

“Fuck off.”

You don’t mean it, of course, and strum the opening chords with a grimace on your face. Tyler counts everyone in and they sing for you, which is appreciated. You might be decent at playing, but your singing voice is one that shouldn’t see the light of day if it can be helped. It’s more fun than you imagined it could be so one song turns into three, and before you know it your makeshift jamboree attracts the attention of the neighbours you didn’t know existed. 

Applause erupts from behind you, and you flush enough that your cheeks warm significantly. “You guys are so good I hate to disrupt the rhythm,” a deep voice says, “But do you mind if a buddy and I join you? We’re a little lonely by ourselves next door.”

Tyler’s out of his seat in a heartbeat, jumping up to pat the man on the back. “Of course man, come on over! I’m Tyler, and that’s Rachel, Christine, Marshall, and Y/N.”

You all wave politely, and the mystery guest introduces himself. “Nice you meet you guys. I’m Nolan.”

It’s then you get a good look at who you’re speaking to. He seems to be a few years younger than you, maybe early twenties, and he has a face you just can’t place. Maybe you’ve seen him around Winnipeg – the city is small enough that you can often spot the same faces in a crowd. “I’ll just yell at him to come over and we can get the party started,” Nolan explains, “Kev, bud, come on over! And bring a couple beers.”

All the blood rushes from your fingers at the name. You shake them intensely, willing your circulatory system to function properly again. If you had to hazard a guess there’s probably a million people in Manitoba named Kevin. There’s no reason for it to be Kevin Hayes. You’re most certainly still spooked from your near encounter with him yesterday. 

“Fuck Patty, you couldn’t come back and grab your own?” the emerging figure grumbles in the vocal stylings you’ll have imprinted on your heart until your dying day. Kevin is here, and if you don’t leave in the next few seconds you’ll be face to face with him for the first time in over a year. 

You stand abruptly, not stopping to explain your hasty exit to anyone, and practically run into the house. The door slams behind you and you do your best to make your heart rate return to normal. Tyler shouts something you can’t quite comprehend, but you know it’s probably some sort of reconnection greeting. He’d met Kevin a couple of times while the two of you were together and had gotten along with him well. 

“Hey,” Rachel whispers, “You good?”

You hadn’t heard her come in. “Not really,” you admit. “I mean like I knew he was in town but never in a million years did I think he’d crash my fucking vacation.”

She nods in agreement. “What do you want to do?”

“Stay in here forever?” An eye roll is sent your way but you choose to ignore it. “I’m serious Rach, I can’t go back out there, at least not tonight. Every time I think I’m over him he finds a way to make me realize I’m just faking.”

“I know,” Rachel says simply. She really does – as your best friend she’s privy to your every thought on the matter. After making sure that you'll be okay she heads back outside, armed with an excuse for your early departure. 

You spend the rest of the night tucked under the covers, listening to the laughter of your friends outside, no doubt in your mind that Kevin is the source for most of it. He’s always been good at commanding an audience. Thoughts swim freely in your brain, most of them occupied by Kevin in some capacity. Was tonight just a one off? Will you have to eventually face him? What will you say? Eventually sleep comes, though it’s fitful and fleeting. 

☼☼☼☼

You do your best to avoid Kevin, and it works for a day or two. Tyler has stricken up a friendship with the athlete, and spends more time with him and Nolan than your group. You don’t mind all that much because they typically are out on Nolan’s boat or lounging in their cabin, but every night the group reconvenes at your firepit. The excuses are starting to run out – there’s only so many times you can say you have heat exhaustion before someone stops believing you.

“Y/N, Kevin hasn’t even mentioned you,” Tyler whines one night after dinner. “It won’t be awkward. We only have a few days left, please spend time with us?”

“I’m spending plenty of time with you,” you grumble. “You promise he won’t say anything?”

Tyler shoots you a smile that lets you know he knows that he’s broken down your resolve. “Why would he? If he was going to do it he would have already.”

You aren’t sure if that makes you feel better or worse. You’re glad he’s faring better than you, but on the other hand you wish he’d at least make an effort to inquire into your well-being. Maybe it was simply proof that you were still holding onto something that didn’t mean much of anything. Eventually you’d have to face the music, whether it be with Kevin or someone in the future, so you make the decision to try and at least get used to seeing former flames in social settings. 

“You’re rolling my joints tonight asshole,” you grumble, shoving your sock clad feet into a pair of worn out sandals. 

There’s a small commotion, mostly in excitement at your begrudging agreement, and you roll your eyes as you grab what is destined to be your first of many beers from the fridge. Rachel slides up beside you on the way out the door and squeezes your hand, letting you know she’s ready to support you no matter what happens. It’s comforting, and the nerves in your stomach settle a small amount. 

Marshall is already outside, helping Nolan start the fire. They seem to be extremely similar and you’re glad they can seek each other out when the rest of the group gets too rambunctious. The rest of your party filters out of the house and takes up residence in the adirondack chairs. Kevin doesn’t appear to be around, so you allow yourself to speak freely, loud and unabashed. 

“No I’m telling you,” you insist, trying to convince Nolan your stance on Jack Antonoff is correct. “Jack is literally responsible for reinventing pop production.”

He laughs at how into the conversation you are. “Why the fuck should I care?”

“Because you fucking listen to Lorde!” 

Someone else is laughing along with you and it nearly stops you in your tracks. At some point Kevin had joined the party, but you hadn’t noticed. Knowing that he was listening makes you suddenly self conscious, and you wrap your sweater tighter around your shoulders. Nolan can tell you’re uncomfortable and does his best to relieve the tension. 

“Kev, do you wanna run back and grab the weed?” he asks. 

The auburn haired man pulls a baggie out of his hoodie pocket. “Got it right here baby cat,” he grins. “And it’s ready to go. You got a light?”

Nolan tosses him the lighter and Kevin expertly puts the joint between his parted lips. He lets the smoke fill his lungs before exhaling, and you watch him more intently than you should. You’re thrown back to the memories of Kevin’s apartment downtown, where you’d smoke in content silence after a night of passionate sex. The scenes flash in your mind and you’re overcome with melancholia. You had been so happy in the moment, and now you’re in a similar situation but feel nothing. Other than sharing in your laughter, Kevin is yet to say anything to you. 

You must have been lost in your thoughts, because Kevin is staring at you with a quizzical expression. “Y/N? Do you want a hit?”

It takes you a second to snap out of your daze, but to cautiously take the lit joint from his hand. “Thank you Kevin,” you say, voice timid. It’s the first time you’ve spoken to him since he left Winnipeg for the first time. 

He shoots you a dazzling smile and your insides threaten to turn to mush. No matter how hard you’ve tried to convince yourself you over him, that you’ve moved on from Kevin, you know you’re wrong. Kevin Hayes will have some sort of hold on you until you die. To distract yourself from the overwhelming amount of emotion you inhale deeply, hoping that the buzz smoking will bring can clear your mind. You really don’t want to think about what you lost when he’s right in front of you. 

The three of you sit in silence, passing the joint in a circle, and listen to the conversation your friends are engaged in. Marshall ropes Nolan into a game of cornhole and he goes begrudgingly. As he stands he sends you a sympathetic look, and you know that he’s familiar with your history with Kevin. It doesn’t surprise you – Kevin isn’t exactly one to keep secrets. 

“So,” Kevin says once it’s just the two of you, “How have you been?”

You do your best to swallow the lump in your throat. “I’ve been good. Work has been crazy lately, so this break has been really nice.”

He presses, and you indulge him in a conversation about your new job, though it can barely be considered that now. Everything is surface level – you’re afraid of letting Kevin in too much. Though your fling may have been brief, it didn’t make his departure or the lack of contact any easier. He tells you about his life in Philadelphia and how much he loves it there. Before you can stop yourself, you ask him a loaded question. 

“Do you like it more than Winnipeg?”

Kevin falters. It takes both of you a moment to process what you said. Not one to lie, he answers truthfully. “Yeah.” It comes out in a sort of deflated sigh. “But I miss –”

“Don’t say it,” you rush, trying hard to keep your voice down. “You don’t mean it.”

An embittered huff comes from him, and you watch carefully as he peels the worn ball cap off his head and tugs on his curls. “I do,” he insists. “I absolutely miss you.”

You no longer care who can hear you. “If you missed me, you would have texted. Called. Anything,” you say cooly. Everyone else has clued in to the fact that something is going on between you and Kevin, and have migrated inside in an attempt to give you privacy.

“I did. You’re the one who said it wasn’t a good idea to see each other again.”

“Because it had been over half a year!” you shriek. “And it had been radio silence before then. You left Kevin, and I’m not blaming you. I know it’s your job. But you left and it was so fucking hard, and it stung because you didn’t even try. So when you hit me up after that game I knew I had to say no. Because no matter how much I try to convince myself otherwise, I’m still so in love with you that if you asked I’d uproot my life and follow you to Philly. I don’t want to be that girl.”

The outburst leaves you gasping for breath. Never before had you spilled heartache so fast – with a sort of reckless abandon. Anytime you’ve had these types of conversations you’ve been calm and collected. You’re currently the farthest thing from it. 

Kevin’s expression softens, and a sadness fills his eyes. “I was scared,” he begins, “Because for the first time in my life I was with someone I could see spending the rest of my life with. Sure, we weren’t serious, but I was going to take it there. Then I got traded and the plans I had went to shit and I was too scared to do anything about it. So I let you slip away.”

Silence fills the space between you. You don’t know what to say, so you focus on unraveling the loose thread from the hem of your cardigan. Kevin shuffles in his seat awkwardly. “Where do we, uh, go from here?”

The question shocks you. To the best of your understanding, you had made it perfectly clear where your relationship was headed. “Nowhere,” you breathe. “You head back to Philly, meet another girl, and fall in love. I stay here, do my job, and learn to be content with myself.”

“There’s no room for us in your little plan?”

“We’ve run our course Kev. As much as I still love you, will always love you, we’re too fundamentally different for us both to really be happy in a relationship. You have to know that.”

He nods. “I do.” With that, Kevin rises from the chair, gives you a sad smile, and leaves. You assume he’s calling it a night, and you wish to do the same. Finally having that conversation was exhausting and all you want to do is sleep for the next twelve hours. 

☼☼☼☼

The rest of the trip passes without you seeing Kevin again. He and Nolan left early the morning after your conversation, and you do your best to enjoy yourself. Part of your brain makes you believe you’re the reason they left, though Tyler tells you otherwise. No one asks about what happened between you two, not even Rachel, and you return to the city determined to start anew. Eventually you break the cycle of obsessing over Kevin’s stats, and take it upon yourself to unfollow him on social media. Life goes on. 

Things never really get easier. You still find yourself grieving the loss of Kevin, late at night when you can’t sleep, but are confident in your decision to say goodbye for good. Time heals everything, and eventually you’ll be okay. 

☼☼☼☼

taglist: @jamiedrysdales​ @kiedhara​ @tortito​ @boqvistsbabe​ @iwantahockeyhimbo​ if you want to be added just shoot me an ask :)

[2am-theswifthour]

The 8 Theory-Folklore’s Commentary on Youth

Yesterday, I took note of @taylorswift​ and her careful attention to the number 8.

“Not a lot going on at the moment” had 8 words. The 8th track is “august,” which is also the 8th month in the year. She has 8 deluxe editions of her album. Many attributed this to Folklore being Taylor’s 8th album. I thought it meant either a.) we needed to pay very close attention to track #8 or b.) that 8 references infinity, a.k.a “forever and ever.”

To my surprise, I was actually selling Taylor Swift short.

When listening to the album, there’s a lot of back and forth in emotion and circumstance. I was confused about the order, especially when the strikingly sobering “hoax” followed the self-aware almost-tranquility of “peace.” Then it hit me. There are two schools of thought going on.

There are 16 tracks on Folklore (excluding the bonus track none of us have heard). 16/2=8. This means there are 2 equal emotional song threads on the album. In other words, you can get two drastically different lessons listening to each group of 8.

When you separate the even numbered tracks from the odd numbered tracks you get the following:

Odd

the 1

the last great american dynasty

my tears ricochet

seven

this is me trying

invisible string

epiphany

peace

Even

cardigan

exile

mirrorball

august

illicit affairs

mad woman

betty

hoax

Odd Interpretation:

Starting with “the 1” and “the last great american dynasty,” the lyrics are very upfront in showing that the protagonists are making fully intentioned mistakes. “the 1” says, “in my defense, I have none for never leaving well enough alone” (I see you “ME!” reference). In “the last great American dynasty” it says, “she had a marvelous time ruining everything.” These characters’ folly is their youth-induced selfishness. They’re casual in the harm they cause because they distance themselves from it. They’re fine with what they don’t look at closely. When you’re young, you make a mess of things in service of YOUR need. Your need for companionship. Your need for the thrill of danger. Your need to make your mark, to be somebody, to leave something behind. The marvel of the excitement and the chase and the very vitality of teens to 20-somethings’ shenanigans blinds us to the scale of our destruction…

…until you have no choice but to face the consequences of your recklessness.

The next track, “my tears ricochet” is not your average track 5. It functions as a pivoting point. Now our narrator is the hurt party, the one baring the brunt of callous treatment. Fickle mistreatment is no longer so casual. Now it’s a torment, and the tormentor learns the scale of their damage. So much so, that they get burned too. They learned their lesson at a terrible price, but what’s most important is that they learned.

“seven” is a long-overlooked memory revisited. In this picture of naïve innocence, the narrator tells of their childish belief in the impossible. Through magic and play pretend and fantasy they are invincible. They have all the control in the world to control the world they live in. Obviously, this is a flawed perspective that everyone eventually grows out of. Fairy tales don’t solve real problems. The point is that their sense of self-importance is in service of a stronger moral compass than the first two songs. If we accept our responsibility to others, to do what we can to ensure their welfare, are we not better and more satisfied people for it?

“this is me trying” hears that lesson and attempts to walk the walk. Part of being responsible to your fellow human is taking accountability when you fumble. The narrator doesn’t know what to say or how to make it right. What they do know is that they’re here, they’ve put the bottle down, and that they’re willing to try what’s necessary to heal what they’ve hurt.

“invisible string” gives us the reward we’ve been waiting for. The narrator says, “cold was the steel of my axe to grind for the boys who broke my heart, now I send their babies presents.” This is someone who has gone from lashing out in anger at a partner from a burned relationship to genuinely wishing them well in their next stage in life. It’s a powerful testament when you can recognize that youth drives us all to make hurtful decisions and that no one is immune to change if they truly want to change. When you let the anger and lies go, the strings that tied you to them fade away. All that’s left is the string you want to hold onto. The string tied to the one who matters, because you’ve made the conscious decision to deduce that their worth as a person should equal yours. It’s a painful path to traverse through, but when you do it’s all worthwhile. That’s why the narrator can say with confidence “hell was the journey but it brought me to heaven.”

In any other album, a song like “invisible string” would be the quintessential emotional payoff for this story arc. However, because this album is a masterpiece, we have a different payoff point in “epiphany.” “epiphany” takes us out of the world of a romantic relationship. We hear descriptions of war and nurses dealing with the despair of this international pandemic. This point in this emotional thread is that it powerfully declares it’s not enough to do no harm nor is it enough to just empathize with your romantic partner. You MUST show your responsibility to your fellow man. Stand beside them. Empathize with them. See them as whole human beings. Do good by them. In other words, it is our duty to do right by everyone, for everyone bleeds, loves, and dies.

The 8-song selection ends with “peace.” The song begins by saying that their, “coming-of-age” has come and gone.” I believe this (along with “invisible string”) to be the most overtly “Taylor Swift” track in perspective. This is her speaking as herself. She lets us know that she’s grown through taking her mistakes, and the mistakes she learned through folklore, into account. She is overly aware of her flaws and feels she pales in comparison to her partner. Rather than allow those insecurities to manifest in unchecked rage or resentment, she takes it as a challenge for herself to do better. She knows she can never give him complete peace (due to inside and outside factors), but she can make the choice to give him unselfish promises and embrace the entirety of her partner’s life. This is a person who has learned the value of selflessness in love and life, which makes this whole thread worth everything.

Even Interpretation:

“cardigan” foreshadows the eventual failure of the even path. The odd interpretation I just described culminated in the narrator finding their place with “the one” because they’ve left everything petty and casually cruel behind. In “cardigan” it says “chase two girls, lose the one.” On top of this directly referencing the first track, it also implies the partner’s self-destruction. By toying with two girls, James is losing “the one.” I don’t think losing “the one” means that you keep one of the two of them. I think it means that engaging in that kind of behavior makes you into a person that isn’t ready, or worthy, of “the one” that they are meant to be with forever. Meeting and keeping “the one” has to require each partner to love themselves and their partner wholly, truly, and selflessly. They can’t be a cardigan you pick up and only wear on the weekends. They must be a wholehearted commitment.

“exile” shows the blowout from “cardigan.” The two couldn’t stay together, and Bon Iver’s (character’s) toxicity comes out full force. He thinks her new man is lesser than him. He’s prepared to throw punches despite being at fault over a hundred times. He’s seen the film before, and he didn’t like the ending because it didn’t work out for him. He wants her under his thumb, not having learned from his prior relationships that that just can’t work. They leave out the side doors, neither fully ready to confront the problems head on.

“mirrorball” is daring in its shift of focus. While all of the tracks I’ve mentioned thus far have dealt, in some way, with the problems that result from a young person’s selfishness, this song doesn’t do that. This song illustrates an extreme that young people participate in at the opposite end of the spectrum; radical selflessness. To be selfless means that you should never allow something that harms someone else to happen just because it benefits you. Young people, girls in particular, are often groomed to interpret selflessness differently. Their definition is synonymous with accommodation. Change your looks, change your personality, don’t object, and embody what your partner wants so that they’re happy. That’s why the symbol is the mirrorball in the song. It reflects everything in the room but itself. By explicitly not factoring in their own sense of self-respect in a relationship, they are unknowingly and tragically enabling their partner’s mistreatment. To be clear, that doesn’t mean abuse is their fault if they have low self-esteem. It’s not, even remotely. But not having the capacity to defend your self-worth is what keeps so many drawn into toxic relationships there for so long. This radical selflessness manifests itself in the other woman too. In “august” it explicitly says that she was living on the, “hope of it all” and that she would cancel plans in the name of a potential hookup with someone who was never hers. The idea of radical selflessness culminates in “illicit affairs” when one of the women deals with their addictive compulsion toward someone who treats them like a cheap lay. Their relationship is a secret that leaves her feeling used in parking lots and as though any trace of her is gone. These three songs have taken the desperate hopelessness of “Abigail gave everything she had to a boy who changed his mind” to the extreme.

Many have speculated that “mad woman” is a commentary on the Taylor/Scooter conflict and I’m inclined to agree. However, if I were to assign an interpretation that goes with my theory, I would say that “mad woman” details the unforeseen consequences of a tormentor’s abuse. When a toxic partner performs bad behavior, their expectation is that they will always be found in the right. After all, Taylor noted on her previous album that for men, “everyone believes [them].” So in the face of lies about her character that everyone believes, she gets rightfully angry. Her anger is their affirmation. For many, a woman being angry on her own behalf is “crazy” and “irrational.” What kind of a society have we set up? A society that promotes women to lack self-worth and, should they find it, they’ll meet a whole other exile.

“betty” is our complete look into James’ perspective. On its own, it sounds like a big romantic gesture to get behind. However, this path is very clear to put “cardigan” first. “cardigan” says, “I knew you’d miss me once the thrill expired and you’d be standin’ in my front porch light.” Lo and behold, in “betty” he shows up to her party when she doesn’t want to see him and asks if she would, “kiss [him] on the porch in front of all [her] stupid friends.” It’s an absolute punch in the gut. Betty knows in “cardigan” that he would come back after he had his fun with another girl, but that she would take him back when he saw momentary value in her again. James in “betty” claims he didn’t know anything, but that’s just an excuse. He knew what he was doing, he knew that he would be able to pick up her broken pieces with ease, he knew he could isolate her from her friends, and he knew that he could capture the imperfect “comfort” of that cardigan again.

This path ends in the final even-numbered song, “hoax.” In the odd numbers, “peace” shows a lesson learned. This even path shows what happens when we don’t learn. The seeds of youth-driven mistakes have led us here. The narrator wants nothing outside the pain of this faithless love. Without learning what it means to be selfless, the traumas of these young relationships create a never-ending cycle. The narrator knows that the “love” is a “hoax” but doesn’t care because that’s all they have. There’s no point to wanting anything else. Without the perspective of age, of truly going beyond that, they’re stuck in a truly dark place.

Final Thoughts:

Taylor Swift is an exceptional artist for a lot of reasons. No one makes albums this good this far into their career. Most artists teeter off after two or three because they retread. Their audience inevitably gets bored of them e same thing time and again. Repeating themselves is something that a lot of artists do because they want to go with the formula of what works. With Folklore, Taylor has done what few artists have dared to do. She’s allowed her discography as a place to uncompromisingly expand her worldview and challenge her listeners. She’s not reiterating previous lessons to make another quick sale. Instead, every album prior has been a steppingstone. As she said at the Time 100 Gala, she has truly turned her lessons into her legacy. From a variety of narrators, she has brought what I decree to be her best album to date. This wouldn’t happen for anyone else 8 albums into their career, but she’s done it by devoutly embracing age’s wisdom.

Learn from the highs and lows presented in these paths. As all good folklore does, it teaches us how to live better. It is our duty to live selflessly and with self-assured dignity. These writings, I have no doubt, will become integral to the legend that is Taylor Alison Swift.