#manhattan piercing

[plantedplanty]

btw the writing is the bee movie script <3

[sydxox]

[glosackmd]

NYC101278 by a Psychiatrist's view Via Flickr: Times Square ManHatTan Photography’s new conscience linktr.ee/GlennLosack glosack.wixsite.com/tbws

[millersfinest]

untethered | e.w

00s!ellie williams & 00s!miller!reader

wc: 7.4k

series: chapter one (you’re here!), chapter two, chapter three, chapter four, chapter five

blurb: it’s been awhile since you’ve been back home; in upstate new york where you’ve spent most of your life waking up early and tending to the animals that moo’d and meh’d. after graduation high school, and then college, the city life has stolen most of your attention. enabling you to visit only a handful of times through the years. when your lovely adoptive parents (tommy and maria miller) invite you back for a thanksgiving dinner—a troubled old flame from your childhood manages to get your attention, despite its explosive ending.

cw: lmao flip phones, some vulgar language, ellie cheating on her gf (kind of), the millers, r is a writer, elements of longing, ellie is #1 lesbian yearner in the world, some early 2000s references, thanksgiving, some physical violence, adopted kid trauma (shoutout to all the adopted kids!!), hella angst, repressed emotions, a little bit of mature content, eventual smut.

note: i have too much confidence writing for ellie. but here’s another series im starting because i realized the plot is too much for a single work on here, hence the 7 thousand words ijbol. hope you guys enjoyyy.

It was quieter upstate. Breathable and airy—you missed it more than anything. As much as you loved living in Manhattan, there was nothing like the countryside. Waking up to the sound of birds chirping and roosters crowing. Hearing the excited neighing from the horses you birthed and took care of. It was refreshing to be home again.

And, of course, you missed your parents.

They adopted you as a troubled child, and you’ve considered yourself lucky ever since. Babies and younger children were often the ones to be pulled from inconsistent foster homes, but they chose you. A pierced, attitude-ridden, thirteen-year-old who liked smoking cigarettes because they made you look cooler than you felt. And it helped you cope with the lasting effects of neglectful parents.

That trauma didn’t just disappear once Tommy and Maria entered your life. It was something that grew from nothing, and they were adamant in making your transition as comfortable as possible. You never experienced anything like it before them. Their strictness and structure did the opposite of what most would think. You went from sneaking out and smoking cigarettes to staying up late studying and finishing your favorite novels—still smoking cigarettes, though, but out your window. It was hard habit to break.

Once you realized that they could be trusted and had your best interest at heart, you gave them the right to parent you. Sure, it wasn’t easy. The three of you argued many, many times—but you respected them more than you have anyone else. Really, just for tolerating you.

The Miller’s were always very family oriented and social. Sunday nights always managed to be a grand event—Tommy grilling in the acred backyard, Maria handling the food items that could be cooked inside, and you diligently decorating and setting the table. Football Sundays were always the worst, but they were great memories to think about. That was the first time you met, basically, the love of your life at the time. Ellie Williams.

It was 1995 when you had completely fallen in love with her—only knowing her for around three years. Joel Miller wasn’t really her father, or adoptive father, he was just somebody who took care of her. He owned a guitar shop that sold, obviously, guitars and other instruments alike; as well as holding lessons for those wanted to learn how to play.

The story goes: Joel was working the register on a very slow day when Ellie showed up. There was a shiner on her eye, but she insisted that she was fine—asking for lessons with crumbled cash and dirty coins. She couldn’t afford the lessons on her own, so he gave her a job and proceeded with teaching her how to play.

She grew up similar to you; hidden under the confines of foster care. The only difference was, she was never adopted. At least not until the age of seventeen, when she’d spent so much time with Joel that she had a decorated bedroom in his house. They both had commitment issues, but after Tommy convinced him to do the paperwork… He did. Surprising her on her seventeenth birthday. However, the outcome didn’t really go to plan. Not how anyone would have expected it.

It was 1997 when she completely broke your heart… Not to be cheesy or anything.

Her seventeenth birthday was hosted at your house, on the farm. You knew her the most out of everyone, so you made it your mission to make this the best birthday ever. Decorating had become a hobby of yours after so many Sunday dinners—you spent all day stringing up lights and colorful streamers. Maria helping you out with a homemade cake that said: Happy Birthday Els! You were too anxious to write the words yourself, so you let her do it instead. You were even sure to invite the friends you shared; demanding they each brought presents to show how much they cared about her.

Joel had showed up before she did; just in time so they could all hide and jump out with big smiles on your faces when Ellie arrived. You would always remember the feeling of hearing the rumbling of her truck coming to a stop. And the shy smile on her face when everyone jumped out from behind furniture—blowing birthday kazoo’s. It was picturesque!

Dina had trotted over to her, snapping a blue paper cone birthday hat over her head. While you walked over with her birthday cake in your hands, brightened with seventeen candles. “Happy seventeenth, Ellie.” You had spoken, warmly. A bashful grin spreading onto your lips. She looked at you with such awe in that moment. Blowing out her candles and kissing your cheek, muttering a blushing ‘I fuckin’ love you’.

You knew about her surprise adoption papers before the party had started, excitement running through your veins when Joel meandered toward her—handing her an envelope of hope. Ellie took it, eyeing him, skeptically. “Open it!” You urged—that was your mistake.

Chortling, she broke open the envelope, not caring if it tore. When she pulled out the certificate, reading the words on the page, her entire face dropped. “Adoption papers?” Her eyes squinted in disgust, glaring at Joel. The smile fell from your face, lips parting in slight shock. Her olive eyes glanced around the room, seeing the fallen expressions clouding everyone’s features. Landing on your fallen face, briefly—a look exclaiming, ‘how could you’. Freckled cheeks heating up in embarrassment and… Anger. “Joel, what the fuck?” She blinked at him, shoving the papers into his chest, then storming out of the house. Hands ripping the hat from the top of head, throwing it to the ground. The screen door creaking obnoxiously as she exited. It all happened so fast.

He quickly followed her out, calling for her, desperately.

Awkwardly, you turned to the frozen people around you. “Anybody want cake? It’s german c— chocolate.” You stammered, trying to keep your composure. Looking to Maria and Tommy for some sort of consolation, you frowned, placing the cake on the counter before fleeing to the bathroom.

You clenched at the roots of your hair, pacing around the bathroom. You could hear remnants of a solo screaming match from outside the bathroom window, causing you to grit your teeth. The papers were supposed to be a good thing! Ellie had always been a hothead—easily agitated like a stray kitten is distress. There were even moments where the two of you went at it. Until one of you caved, begging for affection as an apology. Your nerves burned at the idea of her not liking the surprise—was that selfish?

Instead of remaining in the bathroom, you swung open the door with your eyes fixed on the front door. Hands clenched at your sides, you walked through the kitchen, where Tommy tried to liven up the mood by handing out pieces of cake.

He tried calling your name, but you brushed him off, pushing open the screen door with an attitude that could be felt with every step you took. The brisk autumn air hit your exposed skin, the long-sleeve striped shirt not doing much to keep you warm.

Striding around the side of the house, you seen Joel and Ellie having a stern conversation. But by the time your eyes landed on them, they were in a beat of silence. Joel shaking his head with his fingers pinching the bridge of his nose. Ellie had her arms stubbornly crossed, frowning. When her eyes found yours, he turned around to leave. “She’s all yours…” He solemnly sighed, walking back into the house. The adoption papers crumbled up in his hands.

Biting your bottom lip, you approached her with your arms crossed for warmth. “What happened, Ellie?” Your voice dragged, tiredly. There was something always wrong with her. “We just wanted to do something nice for you… Why’d you have to go and ruin it—?”

“Oh, I’m the one who ruined it?” She scoffed, a sneer resting on her lips. “I’m not the one who brought the fucking adoption papers!” Ellie exclaimed, gesturing broadly with her hands. When she was up in arms, she always gesticulated more. “Did you have anything to do with this? Because if you did—“

You interrupted her with scrutinizing glare. “So, what if I did? I thought this would make you happy, Ellie… Don’t you understand?”

“You had me open that in front of everyone knowing what was inside— and you thought that’d make me happy?” Her lips arched in disgust. “Clearly, you don’t know me at all.” Her words were venomous, lips twitching in anger.

There was nobody who understood you more than Ellie, and vice versa. You just got each other because you came from similar backgrounds—that was your glue. You don’t know me at all. That was new.

With your eyes growing warm with tears, your tongue rolled in your mouth. “I spent all day setting this up… For you. Because I love you, Ellie. I don’t know you— that’s bullshit if I ever heard it.” Your voice cracked, but you refused to let a tear run down your cheek. This was no time for tears—if she could get angry, so could you.

“I’ve known you long enough to have some semblance of understanding on why you’re upset, right now— that’s for damn sure.” You paused, averting your eyes to concentrate on keeping your rising emotions at bay. She watched you, cheeks still red with anger. “I’m gonna give you ten minutes— ten, Ellie! If you don’t get your ass back in there in next ten fucking minutes…” You lick your lips, shaking your head. “We’re over. Done!”

Giving a final glare, you turned to head back inside. “I can’t keep dealing with this shit.” You mutter, under your breath.

“So that’s what it is… Dealing with me?” Ellie voiced, a sliver of disappointment slipping in her moment of anger.

Wiping your cheeks, you peered over your shoulder. “What?”

“You got this perfect little life… Huh?” She began, approaching you intimidatingly. “The loving parents, the farmhouse— you became the perfect daughter for them… Gets the grades, does everything she can to appease them. This fuckin’ fantasy world that you chose to live in all because you wanted someone to love you… Fuckin’ pathetic.”

“Ellie…” You warned.

“Well, newsflash, little-miss-perfect— not everybody wants that! Not everybody wants to play pretend for the rest of their fucking life just to be—“

It happened before you could stop it, fists clenching at your sides as she bad mouthed you till oblivion. Your soft spot—and she knew all about that. Both of you grew up as kids who got into fights and disputes more times than anyone could count; you just decided to clean up your act. However, that troubled twelve to thirteen-year-old still resided inside of you. And, in that moment, she wasn’t your doting girlfriend—she was someone punching down on you.

Your knuckles collided with the side of her face, knocking into her cheek bone. Features scowling as if she were a stranger. Ellie stumbled, holding onto her face with surprised eyes. For a second the version of her you loved came through, but she quickly recovered. Her lips curling at the ends, taunting you. “I knew you still had it in you… You’re no better than me.”

There it was.

Not only was it the straw that broke the camels back—it was the truth. The ultimate truth. Behind all of your petty little arguments. Behind all her wild bursts of anger. She was jealous of you. Grunting behind your teeth, you charged at her. Taking the collar of her jacket as her back hit the gravelly ground. Straddling her, you didn’t hear the rushing feet hitting the porch. You could feel her hands settling loosely on your calves, only angering you more. “I did the fucking work— nobody else but me!” Tears poured down your cheeks. “I am better than you. Because I fucking try—“

Arms pulled you off her body, wrapping around your abdomen. It was Tommy, questioning you in your ear, but you weren’t listening. “Everything went to shit because of you! Remember that!” Dina and Jesse rushed to her side, but she only sat up watching you get pulled back inside. They glared at your forced retreat—they were always more friends with her than they were with you.

Tommy released you, with a disappointed sigh. Maria walking inside, shutting the door behind her, frowning. You heaved, looking at all the decorations that mocked you. Sparkling and shining against the dim lights in the room. The barely eaten cake sat on the counter in the kitchen making fun of you—it was all too much.

“What the hell has gotten into you, y/n?!” Maria pointedly, asked. Not really wanting a response.

“What’s gotten into me?! What’s gotten into her—!” You pointed to the door as if she replaced it.

The blond man leaned his elbows on the kitchen counter, bending at his hips. “Well, I don’t think it matters what’s gotten into her if you put your hands on her, Bug.” Tommy spoke, evenly. He was always the calmer of the two. “Did you… Did you put your hands on her?”

Maria stood with her hands on her hips. “What did we say about fighting—? And you don’t hit your girlfriend— you don’t hit the people that you care about!” She scolded, pointing her finger. “We raised you better than that…”

Your lips quivered, guilt setting in. “I didn’t mean to hit her! She wanted— she wanted me to… I swear!”

He glanced at his wife. “She wanted you to hit her?” Tommy deadpanned, pressing his lips into a line.

They both looked at you with separate expressions. Maria clearly overwhelmed with disappointment and utter disbelief. The same look she gave you when she caught you smoking cigarettes at the barn when you were fourteen—when you told her you quit. Tommy had an expression of pity, like he often did. That same look he gave when you had a meltdown at school when you first moved in with them.

More tears began to roll down your cheeks. “Maria… Tommy… She pushed me. Why would she do that? Why would she—“ You began to ramble, knees growing weak. Your strict mother-figure rushed to your side, catching you before you fell. “I didn’t mean to… I didn’t want to— she was just being so mean.”

Sinking to the floor with you, her hands caressed your hair. Maria looked to Tommy, mouthing for him to go check on Ellie.

Outside, Ellie was dismissing the weary questions from her friends. She’d never seen you act in such an unruly way. Every time she came over, there wasn’t a hair that was out of place on your head. She was always the one acting out, swearing like a sailor. Sure, she knew about your smoking habit, but that was nothing.

Your girlfriend was envious of how everything was panning out for you—college was around the corner. You had an acceptance letter from your dream school, and without a doubt, you were leaving for the city. Leaving her behind to rot in the country. It wasn’t fair!

That adoption letter felt like pity. She wasn’t a fan of that feeling either.

As a bruise formed on her cheek, guilt settled into the pit of her stomach. Ellie had every intention on seeing the side of you that everyone talked about with a past tense that indicated warning. She needed to prove to herself that you weren’t the perfect person she saw you to be—but all that was left behind was remorse and a sore cheek.

She watched as Joel and Tommy stepped aside to talk. Their eyes glancing back and forth between the door and Ellie, as she leaned against her rusted red truck.

“I can’t believe she would do something like that… On your birthday?” Dina shook her head, with her arms crossed.

“It’s not like her…” Jesse narrowed his eyes at the auburn-haired girl. “What’d you do?”

Dina smacked his chest. “Jessie! She’s literally the victim here— domestic abuse!”

He sucked his teeth, rolling his eyes. “I’m not saying what she did was right.” Jessie began. “I’m saying that I know Ellie Williams, and I know how she is— she’s a pusher.”

The bruised seventeen-year-old scoffed.

“Yeah, I said it.” He stood tall, a small smirk playing on his lips. “You’re a pusher. Hell, you’re a professional pusher— you push people for a fucking living.” Dina glared at him, threatening to hit him again. “I mean, there was that one time… When we went into the city for that comic convention, and you completely obliterated Joel for worrying about you—“

The dark-haired, freckled teenager pushed her boyfriend out of the way taking his place. “We don’t have to relive that…”

Ellie rolled her tongue in her mouth. “Look, I know this is my fault…”

“Ellie… You’re the one with the bruise forming on your face.” She reached up, rubbing her cheek. Her wincing under her touch.

She sighed, pinching the bridge of her nose, squeezing her red eyes. “Yeah, and if it weren’t for me— for what I said… I wouldn’t have this fuckin’ bruise.” Ellie peered at where Joel and Tommy were speaking. They were wrapping up, giving brotherly hugs. “I am a pusher… And now my girlfriend hates me.” She pouted, tears welling up in her eyes. The blond Miller waved a hand at her, giving a tight-lipped smile that screamed I’m sorry. “I gotta go…” She pulled her keys from her pocket, getting into her truck.

That was the last full conversation the two of you had. Horrible, but the last. Everything in between then and the present was short and empty. Light conversations that only strangers and acquaintances shared. Letters here and there. It was a dispute that was so nuanced, for the first year after that, Joel barely said a word to you. Which bled into his relationship with Tommy. Maria tried to play middleman, but it didn’t work.

Perhaps, that was the reason you kept your distance. You didn’t want to continue to be the wedge that formed between two brothers. While you loved your parents, they were only a phone-call away. And, in the meantime, you could focus on growing in your career. Focusing on your book writing, instead.

You just wanted to forget about what happened when you were an emotionally undeveloped seventeen-year-old, but every time you seen her face—you remembered. So, avoiding Ellie Williams was a mission within itself.

A mission you were hoping you weren’t going to have to endure this year.

“You know,” Tommy began, sipping his fresh coffee. “Joel’s coming down from Jersey for the week.”

As you looked through the fridge, you snapped your head in his direction. “Is he now…?” You slowly question. Letting the fridge door shut on its own. The blonde woman to his right, sitting at the island counter, chuckled. Flipping through the interior design magazine you brought for her.

“And he’s picking up Ellie from the city.”

“What!” You exclaim, rushing to the opposite side of the counter. Pulling the mug from his lips, a surprised squeak left your throat. “Uh, dad… You forgot to mention on the several phone calls that we had in that last month that Ellie moved to the city.”

Maria perked up, pushing a piece of her hair behind her ear. “Yeah, she’s been there for about a year now… Brooklyn, is it?” She looked to her husband for clarification. He nodded, peering up at you with a plain expression.

“A year?! And none of you told me?”

“Bug, you did say that you didn’t want us to bring her up anymore unless you asked.” Maria stood to her feet, meandering to the stove and oven. “But that does remind me… They should be here in a few hours. Wanna help with the brownies?” She preheated the oven, walking around you casually.

Your mouth fell open, glancing between the two of them. “Okay, so they get brownies, and I get the worst news of my life…” An apron with your nickname embroidered on the front, Bug, hung in your mother's hand as an offering. “Yes, I’ll help with the brownies— this is very cruel to your very successful daughter.”

Tommy waved his hand, dismissively. “C’mon, that incident happened years ago now. You’re twenty-five, I’m sure she’s gotten over it.”

Tying the string around your neck and back, you pressed your lips into a line. It wasn’t really about her—you weren’t over it. You still harbored the same guilt you felt when you settled in your room that night. A crazy mixture of resentment and remorse all rolled up into one feeling; as you settled in your reading nook, with your hand out the window holding a burning cigarette with your index and middle finger. “I’m sure she has…”

Eventually, you switched the conversation around while baking. Falling into fits of laughter from mentioning past stories of your teenagehood. Teaming up with Maria to make fun of Tommy and his aging—all of a sudden, he was beginning to have a knack for playing a checkers. Only old people enjoyed playing checkers. Then, the waiting began.

To busy yourself, you pulled out your computer and brought it to the porch. Even though, you were taking some time off at your publishing job; when it came to your book writing, you had an agent to keep flooding your inbox with emails. Telling you to do this and do that—it was obnoxious. But you did as she asked anyway.

Typing away, a puff of nicotine fled from your lips. Murmuring under your breath, the words that were populating on the screen. On your hip, your phone rang, causing you to throw your head back in slight agony. Something always interrupted you when you were flowing. Flipping open your phone, the decorative chain swinging around as you placed it against your ear. “Hello,” You spoke, stubbing out your cigarette.

It was your roommate and closest friend, Sierra, complaining about the neighbors. Her strong long island accent echoing through the phone. “Oh, my God— they’re so loud! You’d think gettin’ an apartment in a nicer building would thicken the walls.” She groaned on the other end. “Please, come back. At least to tell them to shut up, and then you could go back upstate.”

“Why don’t you… I don’t know…” You shut your laptop, replacing your butt with the boxy electronic. Strolling to the far end of the porch, leaning your arms against the bannister. “Tell them yourself?” An amused smile spread on your lips.

Sierra paused. “Because that’s your job. I’m the nice one, remember?”

“Okay, well I can’t leave. I just got here, and I’m not spending another grand on taxi fare.”

“I’ll spot you.” You could hear her smile on the end.

“Sierra, I’m not coming back until Saturday. So, your only options are to either bang on their door— telling them to shut the hell up— or you suffer listening to their relentless daytime sex.” As you spoke, a truck began rolling up the driveway. Identities unclear due to the intense window tint, but you knew exactly who it was. However, there were three heads in that truck.

She groaned on the other end of the line. “Ugh! I hate you—“

“You love me!” You grinned, but it dropped right off your face when the people exited the vehicle. From the driver's seat, it was Ellie; then, it was Joel who exited, seemingly in conversation. And, finally, a girl stepped out of the vehicle. Joel noticed you leaning against the bannister on the porch, waving his hand with a smile.

Your muscles reacted, waving a fleeting hand. “Maria, Tommy! They’re here!” You yell loud enough to be heard through the screen door. You were always insecure about calling them by their parental titles in front of people—let alone new people.

“You’re yelling in my ear, hon. If you gotta go just tell me.” Sierra complained.

“I gotta go.”

Before she could say her goodbyes, you shut your phone, sliding it into your back pocket. Your parents came out of the house in high spirits; Maria clapping her hands, excitedly, embracing Ellie. Tommy giving a firm bear hug to Joel, laughing heartily—at what? You were unsure.

Awkwardly, you stood there. Smiling with your hands held in front of your body as if you were presenting a project.

Joel looked to you, approaching you with open arms. “Look at you,” He began, wrapping his arms around you, warmly. “All grown up.” He pulled back to get a better look at you, nodding proudly.

“Yeah…” You tapped his shoulder. “You, too.” A chuckle fell from your lips.

Then, you looked to your right at the freckled girl with her arm around a feminine stranger. However, you couldn’t indentify her before you did Ellie. Her auburn hair was pulled into a low bun, with pieces framing her gentle features. Her round evergreen, tinted with slivers of brown, eyes. Freckles decorating her cheeks, bridge of her nose; the beauty mark under left eye—

“Hey,” Ellie drawled out the greeting, awkwardly. Leaning in for a hug that teetered back and forth until you reciprocated.

You kept that same plastered smile on your lips, wrapping your arm under hers. “Hey, Ellie.” Pulling back, you finally looked at the girl beside her. She had tattoos and piercings and looked so much cooler than you. “Who’s this?”

Her earthy eyes widened. “Oh, this is, uhm, my girlfriend, Cat.”

The only response you could give was a nod and a half-hearted wave. It was like a dramatic record scratch in your head. But your parents took over with the rest. Guiding everyone inside to the warmth. Tommy remained outside, giving you skeptical eyes. “Help me with the bags…”

“Honey, don’t be weird about this.” He spoke, as you followed him to the truck.

“I’m not being weird.” You whined, gravel crunching under your feet. “Seriously, what’s to be weird about?” Reaching into the open trunk, you pulled out luggage’s and duffle bags. This was a lot of stuff for a week stay—they brought more than you did.

He gruffly breathed, pulling up the handle of one of the suitcases. “You’re my daughter, I know you— just sayin’…”

“Oh, my God— please!” You complained, hooking the duffle over your shoulder, pulling one of the luggage’s. Leaving him to follow you toward the porch.

Dinner had come quicker than you had hoped. If anything, if you could magically skip over the thing, and still eat, that would’ve been perfect.

All six of you sat at the dining table, forks and knives scratching at ceramic plates. Tommy and Joel had gathered in the back, last minute to cook up some steaks. And, to busy yourself, you helped Maria with the sides while Ellie and Cat got situated in the guest house.

“So, y/n, how’s the book comin’ along?” Joel wondered, putting a cut piece of steak into his mouth.

You made a surprised sound as you chewed your food, rushing to swallow. “Shit, you’re writing a book?” Ellie questioned, leaning her elbows on the table.

Taking a sip of water, you decided to respond. “Yeah, I’ve been working on it for a while.” Your eyes glanced at her, then moved on, quickly, to Joel’s. “It’s… Coming along.” A bashful laugh fell from your lips, as your hand reached for the glass of wine. It was barely touched, red hue swishing in the bulb of the glass as you took a sip. It’s fruity bitterness relishing over your tongue.

“What is it— like fiction or…?” Ellie pressed, genuinely.

“Non-fiction. A book of essay’s, really— written in different forms.” You nodded. “It sounds boring…”

Ellie shrugged, forking a piece of meat into her mouth. “Doesn’t sound boring to me.” She responded, with her mouth full.

“It’s the farthest from boring, honey.” Maria massaged your shoulder, sharing a small smile. You mirrored her in return, forking at the vegetables on your plate—perfectly steamed broccoli.

“How’s Brooklyn treating you?” You spoke up, raising your eyebrows.

Ellie lightly glared at Joel before answering, placing her utensils down. “It’s certainly treating me…” She muttered, rubbing her hands together, glancing at her girlfriend.

“It’s a great place for art, but just not Ellie’s art.” Cat chuckled, sipping from her wine glass.

“Oh, that’s what you’re doing.” You nod.

“I recall her using the words: too crowded.” Joel used air quotes to briefly describe the past conversation.

She rolled her eyes, shaking her head. “It makes me feel crowded— the city. When you say it like that, it makes me sound fucking stupid, Joel.”

“You did say crowded.”

“Well, I meant overwhelmed.”

You snickered at their bickering, leaning back in your chair. “Back to your art, I guess you’re experiencing the artistic equivalent to writers block?” Tommy inquired, still chewing on his steak, raising an eyebrow. The auburn-haired young woman nodded, chuckling to herself. “That’s why you’re stayin’ with us for a little while, huh?”

Another record scratch.

You blinked at you father, deepening your eyebrows. “Wait, what?”

Joel had set his beer on the table, leaning forward. “Yeah, Ellie’s stayin’ with your parents for a little while to get her juices flowing, again.” He explained, pressing his lips into a soft smile. Ellie cringed at his use of the words juices, taking a sip of her beer.

Tommy and Maria told you nothing unless you asked for it for almost everything now—you at least deserved to know that Ellie was staying on the farm indefinitely. After all, when they’re dead and gone, it’ll be yours; so, they could’ve at least told you without you having to ask—that’s big!

“And, I’ll help out so I won’t be sleeping the day away— because I know that I will without a proper schedule.”

“I thought you guys didn’t need a farmhand.” You glanced at your parents, with your eyebrows still deepened with confusion.

Maria chuckled, standing to her feet. “We don’t need anything, but who could say no to a helping hand?” She grabs the empty basket of biscuits from the center of the table. “Anybody want more biscuits?”

“I would love some!” Cat spoke up, holding up a tattooed finger.

“Me too, honey.” Tommy also spoke.

A dry chortle left your lips, leaning against the back of the chair. “Are you staying on the farm, too?” You peered over at the stranger—the girlfriend, with a slight accusatory tone.

Her lips parted a few times before she responded. “Oh, no, I’m going back to Brooklyn. Not much of a country girl.”

Pursing your lips, you nodded, downing the rest of your wine. This week was going to be a doozy. When Maria came back to the table, you snatched a biscuit from the basket, biting into it. There was a perfect crispy layer on the outside, mixed with the perfect gooey, soft innards of the biscuit. “These are so good.” You muttered with your mouth full with its buttery goodness.

On your hip, your phone buzzed. Cursing under your breath, you plucked the cellphone from your belt, flicking it open. It was your agent calling you at eight o’clock at night. “Excuse me, I gotta take this.” You scooted the chair back, pressing the green button. “It’s late, Isa.” You started the call, stalking out of the room like the corporate woman you are. Taking the route up the stairs to your old bedroom.

“I need that new chapter by tomorrow morning— as in, 8am.” She scolded on the other line. “I’m personally reminding you. Since you couldn’t respond to my emails.”

You sighed, shutting your bedroom door behind you. “Isa, I’ve been traveling all day on public transport, and I’ve been trying to have family time— is that not what Thanksgiving is about?”

“You’re writer, hon. You have little bit of family time, then you hermit to finish your work— now, stop giving me grief. Time is of the essence.” Her smooth voice told, chuckling after her words. “I’ll be anticipating you’re new chapter tomorrow at eight! Have a great night.”

“Have a great night…”

Slapping your phone shut, you sighed, running your other hand over your face. Being a writer was relentless—just as relentless as you and your roommate’s neighbors. But, instead of lingering in frustration, you grabbed your heavy laptop and propped yourself on the cushion beside your window—your reading nook. Not forgetting to put a Sade tape inside of your stereo for some background music, before you began to diligently work.

You typed at your computer, rapid clicking sounds filling your ears. Although, it was no surprise that you worked your hardest after the sun set—it was like you had one too many espresso shots.

Every word was coming from the heart, and coincidentally enough, the guests at your home made it easier. This chapter was definitely reflecting the feelings you felt the day of Ellie’s seventeenth birthday. You used imagery and metaphors to describe that feeling of attack—being backed into a corner, having the worst part of yourself brought into the light. And, like most of your pieces, it was dredging it all back up again; the emotions.

That feeling of losing the only person that truly understood you.

Of course, you had a few relationships since then—a few, trying to chase that same feeling you felt when your hands touched. But there wasn’t anyone who could compare to her. How pathetic was it to still be harping on a highschool sweetheart?

Hours passed under the radar. Your parents being the mile marker in your work, knocking on the door to let you know everyone was heading to bed. Too busy with outlining new ideas, you barely spared them a glance, muttering a smooth goodnight.

It was about one in the morning by the time you finished the chapter. Still, it needed some tweaking, but it was good enough to send to your agent for the editor to look at.

Shutting your laptop, you finally took in your old bedroom. Various music artists slapped against your soft pink walls, attached with tape—some corners hanging off. Catwoman figurines lining the back of your large, white, wooden dresser; with comics stacked alongside them. Stacks of old books in the corner of your room, stacked from the floor to the middle of her wall. If you were to stumble into them, they’d experience one hell of a fall.

Suddenly, curiosity struck.

Hopping from the cushioned seat under your paneled window, you looked under your bed. Reaching for an old shoebox that was filled with many, many interesting things. You slid it from under the dusty bed frame, taking it back to that plushy seat you appreciated so dearly. Plucking the top off, you released a sigh. Immediately being hit with polaroids of yourself as a teenager—mostly standing beside, laughing with, and cuddling Ellie.

They were the photos you snatched from your wall after that fight. Oh, she looked the same. Still had that uncertainty in her earthy, olive eyes. You didn’t understand it then, and you most definitely didn’t understand it now. Ellie didn’t have to feel the uncertainty she was used to in foster care. She had people who believed in her—who will always believe in her.

Sifting through, your hands hovered over a letter she wrote. It was an apology letter sent around the time of her eighteenth birthday—almost a full year since the situation. The envelope was ripped open from the day you received it; stained with salty, heartbroken tears.

If only that day never happened…

A startling knock sounded at your window. It was no more than a pebble, which was confirmed when another launched within your sights. Scrunching up your eyebrows, you unlocked it, pulling it upwards. Once you peaked your head outside into the brisk, cool weather, a small smile spread onto your lips.

“Workin’ hard or hardly workin’ up there?” Ellie called from below. “I brought a little somethin’… Thought you could use a break from writing.” She waved a tightly rolled joint in her hands—which could only be seen if you squinted.

The corners of your lips spread wider, feeling horribly nostalgic. “You’re actually a little too late on that front. I finished a few minutes ago,” You pressed your lips into a line, continuing. “But I could never turn down smoke break. I’ll be down in a second.”

Dropping the letter, you scooted off the seat to grab your jacket. Stuffing your feet into the semi-stained Uggs you wore into the ground, before fleeing your bedroom. You didn’t feel the need to sneak down the stairs, but a part of you wanted to—to relieve that feeling of adrenaline you felt in your youth.

Ellie met you at the back door, holding open the creaking screen door as you exited. “I honestly wasn’t sure you still did this.” She chuckled, looking at the ground as you both began to walk away from the house. Putting some distance so the smell wouldn’t upset the elders in the home.

“What? Smoke weed?” You perked an eyebrow. “You think because I went all corporate, I stopped being down?”

“Actually… Yeah.” She responded, nervously snickering.

The two ofyou settled in front of this white-lined shed that was illuminated by the two warm, orange-toned lights on either side of the door. “Well, you’re kind of right…” You admitted, squinting your eyes, embarrassed. It’s hard being known for your adaptability. “I try to keep the pot smoking to a minimum. In the corporate world they test you for it.”

Ellie pulled the joint from behind her ear, placing it between her lips. She shook her head in response to your words. “Says the cigarette smoker…” She joked, eyeing you, teasingly. While she flicked her lighter to burn the tip.

“Hey, they don’t give a rats ass about nicotine— I need to make up for that loss somehow. I’m a writer for christ’s sake.”

When she finally gets it to catch the fire, she took two puffs before passing it to you between her index and thumb. “Where’s Cat?” You innocently questioned, taking a hit of the joint, then looking at it, before taking another hit.

Ellie became rigid, releasing an exasperated sigh from her lips. “The guesthouse, watchin’ some movie.”

You handed her the joint. “What, is she not down?” Mocking your previous words, with amused eyes. However, her demeanor had quickly shifted.

“She gets easily frustrated after traveling all day…” She shook her head in a dismissive way, like she didn’t want any further questions to asked.

“Hm… That’s relatable.”

Silence engulfed the both of you as you passed the blunt back and forth until it was nothing more than a roach. Hearing nothing but the distant wind chimes sounding off on the porch.

Before speaking, Ellie took a deep breath, glancing over at you as if she were nervous to make eye contact. “I hope me stayin’ here for a little bit doesn’t bother you too much.”

Her words were double-take worthy, you looked over at her with expressive eyes—widening, in surprise. “Bother me? Why would it bother me?” You leaned your shoulder on the shed, kicking one leg over the other.

“You didn’t seem like the biggest fan—“

“Ellie, I was surprised. That’s all.” You waved your hand, shaking your head. “I feel like they don’t tell me shit anymore…” Shoulders shrugging, you glance toward the house standing tall in all its glory. “They didn’t tell me about you moving to Brooklyn, either. What does it look like when someone you’ve known your whole life moves to a city you’re actually familiar with and they’re not, and you don’t reach out to help them? I’m only a forty minute train ride away.” You rambled, deepening your eyebrows. “They basically made me look like an asshole.”

You weren’t entirely sure how you’d react if you knew about Ellie’s moving to the big city. Knowing your habits, you’d probably sit by the phone for hours before making the move to give her a call. But, it’s not like you were given the opportunity to figure it out for yourself. Now, it just appeared that you forgot about her—or could care less about her endeavors; which is farthest from the truth.

Her full lips cracked into a smile, chuckling. The auburn-haired woman, mirrored your position, leaning her shoulder against the wooden shed. “Always worried about what you look like…” She muttered, sucking her teeth. “If it makes you feel any better, I don’t think you’re an asshole— you just didn’t know.” Ellie shrugged. “It’s not like we talk as much as we used to…”

As much as we used to. That kind of stung.

Your eyes averted to the gravel under your boots. “Yeah…” There was an awkward beat that took its place between you. Swallowing, you shooed it away with speaking up. “What about your art? You’re living in one of the most creative cities in the world, and you can’t create?”

She puffed air from her lips, glancing in the direction of the guesthouse, priming her lips. “Okay… Confession— but only if what’s said here stays here.”

“What’s said at the shed, stays at the shed.” You affirm, holding a hand and crossing to fingers. The high from what you smoked clouding your mind, squinting your eyes and loosening your inhibitions.

“Cat and I moved in together pretty early— too early… I needed a roommate and she was the perfect option.” Ellie began, carefully. Olive eyes shifting under the dim light in thought. “I swear ever since I moved in with her… The inspiration to make anything new is fucking gone.” She ran her hand over her hair, which was actually loose without a hair tie. Dusting over her shoulders, pieces pushed behind her ears. “She, you know, hovers a lot— in a sweet way, it’s just irritating because not even her pushing me can be inspiring.”

Your heart skipped a beat; it was hopeful—you really are an asshole! “Damn… So, it’s not the city that makes you feel crowded. It’s Cat.” You hum, nodding your head, taking in your assumption. “And… You think staying here will help? Doing boring farm work?” A chuckle falls from your lips, borderline nervous, borderline humored.

She pursed her lips, raising her eyebrows. “I mean, I spent a lot of time here growin’ up…” Ellie looked at you, knowingly. “It was never boring when we did it together.”

“That’s because we were doing it together. I’m not gonna be here while you’re shoveling horse shit.” You chortled, peering at her through hazy eyes. She giggled and it sounded like music to your ears. It’s been awhile since you heard her laugh from something you said. Weed always did have a way of bringing people together.

“Well, maybe before you go, you could help me out. Jog my memory.” Ellie offered, raising her eyebrows. “It’s either you or suffering through Tommy’s jokes for hours—“

“I don’t mind, but we might have to jog each others memory.”

“Hey, you can take the girl out the country, but not the country out the girl.” She shrugged. “I have faith in you.”

You narrowed your eyes at her, a smile spread on your lips. “You’re still so corny.” Shaking your head, a laugh slips. Wrapping your arms around your body, you acknowledge the cool weather. It pricked at your exposed skin, and even through your jacket. “It’s getting late…”

She scratched the back of her neck. “Yeah, sorry.”

“Don’t apologize. I appreciate the joint— I needed it.” You pushed off the shed wall, licking your lips. In preparation to meander back toward the house, you rocked on your feet. “There’s some left over biscuits on the counter…” You drawled, but it was all right because Ellie had filled in for you.

“I’m fucking starving.”

Then, the two of you walked shoulder to shoulder back inside. Giggling at stupid jokes, surfing over any of the past debacles you had. Turns out reconvening with your childhood lover wasn’t so bad after all. For now, anyway.

[bixels]

Give it up for the New York Wonderbolts!

Siobhan "Spitfire" Pierce-Evans, Irish immigrant. Got her start as a aeroplane mechanic's apprentice before becoming the first female pilot in WW1, flying reconnaissance for the UK. After the war, she went on to fly competitively, winning third place in the 1924 Italian Schneider Cup. After that, she immigrated to the US, where she began her baseball career with the New York Wonderbolts and quickly rose the ranks to become team captain. Pitcher, killer curveball. [Inspired by Dorothy Arzner]

Soren "Baby Face" Christensen, Scandinavian-English American. Lives in Brooklyn near the Fifth Avenue Line. Competitive pie eater. Slugger, with a 0.340 batting average. Mama's boy. Used to work on an airstrip and fly in the airmail service in the early 1920s. [Inspired by Babe Ruth, Superman, and the human form of the tanukis from Pom Poko]

Faizah "Fleetfoot" Farraj, 2nd-gen Syrian American. Lives in Little Syria, Manhattan with her family. Has been playing baseball all her life. Fastest sprinter on the team, infamous base-stealer. Despite being one of the youngest on the team, she has a head of grey hair due to a magical incident from her childhood. Speaks with a lisp. [No inspiration]

[butchdiaz]

the rush of slumber party kissing

mature, 3.2k, fluff & smut

inspired by a spotify wrapped prompt sent by @gayeddieagenda — 27. naked in manhattan by chappell roan <3

“Okay, Uh—“ he racks his brain for something else Buck has done that he hasn’t. “Never have I ever kissed a man.” Buck doesn't put his finger down, just cocks his head curiously. “Damn, six months without even a kiss, no wonder Tommy left.” Eddie mutters half under his breath. It causes Buck to snap out of his daze and give him a half-hearted middle finger. He’s still thinking, though, eyebrows scrunched together in that adorable way they used to whenever he tried to help Chris with his elementary school math homework. “What, Buck?” “Never?” Buck asks. “No?” Eddie answers. He doesn't know why it comes out as a question. Buck sits up sharply, swinging his legs over the bed and leaning forward like this is suddenly the most important conversation in the world. “Not even like…in the army?” “No, Buck.” Eddie feels his cheeks heat under his scrutiny. “Huh.” He’s staring, eyes piercing into Eddie's fucking soul. “What's that supposed to mean?”

read on ao3

[austinbutlerslovers]

Under the Mistletoe

Label Mature 18+

Summary it’s near Christmas and you’re ecstatic to indulge in the festivities especially with your handsome fiancé Patrick by your side. However as the evening wears on you begin to realize your relationship isn’t as blissful as it seems.

⚠️ Hardcore Smut ⚠️ Patrick almost having a violent psychotic break • name calling • toxic relationship dynamics •kiss it better •restraint•dirty talk •mild choking•edging• fingering •love bites•pinning •size kink• cock warming• male dominant•P in V against a wall•multiple orgasms •cream pie• mild after care 🔗MasterList

📖 Proof Reader @purejasmine 3 parts upcoming (maybe more) : 🔗 Silken Secrets •🔗 Drenched in Shadows TBA

Under The Mistletoe

The Waldorf Astoria Christmas gala is dazzling, a picture perfect scene of Manhattan excess. Everything sparkles: lights, dresses, diamonds, and you thrive in it. You’re the darling of the Upper East Side tonight, flitting between friends and admirers, your laughter bright and carefree.

Patrick watches you from across the room, leaning against the bar in his Tom Ford tuxedo, a glass of champagne in hand.

He is the epitome of perfection. Chiseled features, every muscle precisely defined under his tailored suit, and sharp, cold blue eyes that command attention.

The lights from the Christmas tree reflect off his perfectly styled hair, making him look almost ethereal. But beneath the surface, his mind churns.

—She’s exhausting. Beautiful, yes, but insufferable tonight. How much longer can I keep this up?

You’re chatting animatedly with a group of friends, oblivious to the way his gaze pierces through you. When you glance his way, you catch his sharp smirk, and your heart skips. You love that smirk—it’s confident, seductive, and just for you.

“Patrick, come here!” you call, waving him over. The group makes room for him, and he steps in smoothly, placing a possessive hand on your lower back.

Now under the mistletoe, someone teases, “Oh, Patrick, you know the rule!”

Patrick’s grin widens. “I don’t follow rules,” he quips, pulling you close to him. His lips press to yours, firm and commanding, eliciting a chorus of playful cheers. But the kiss isn’t sweet. It’s a performance, sharp and calculated, and you feel it.

Later, as the party winds down, you’re in the car heading back to Patrick’s penthouse. The silence is heavy. You’re perched in the passenger seat of his immaculate Lexus, prattling on about holiday plans, your friends vacations, and what you want for Christmas.

“And Sophie is spending New Year’s in St. Barts—ugh, can you imagine? It’s so cliche to flaunt it like that,” you chatter, oblivious to his mounting frustration.

Patrick’s jaw tightens, his cold gaze fixed on the road ahead.

—I should pull over. Quiet her. Permanently. The way she talks, her voice, that incessant laugh—it grates. But not yet. Not tonight. Keep the mask on.

“Are you even listening to me, Patrick?” you pout, crossing your arms.

He pulls into the parking garage, kills the engine, and steps out of the car without answering. You’re left fuming as he strides toward the elevator, leaving you to follow.

His penthouse is immaculate—gleaming marble floors, sleek minimalist furniture, and floor to ceiling windows overlooking the city.

Patrick removes his jacket, draping it over a chair with deliberate precision. You, still sulking, remove your fur coat and kick off your heels tossing your hand bag on the couch.

“Are you going to ignore me all night?” you demand, your voice sharp with irritation.

Patrick turns, his cold gaze locking onto you. “You’re such a spoiled brat,” he says evenly, his tone devoid of warmth.

You blink, stunned. “Excuse me?”

“You heard me,” he says, stepping closer. His presence overwhelming, and for the first time, a flicker of unease crosses your mind.

“The whining, the entitlement, the need for constant attention—it’s exhausting, darling,” he says, his tone sharp and cutting.

You open your mouth to retort, but he’s already on you, his hands gripping your arms as he pushes you against the entry wall.

His movements are firm bordering on violent as he holds you in place his face inches from yours.

“Patrick, you’re scaring me,” you whisper, your voice trembling.

“Good,” he says, his smirk cold and dangerous. “Maybe you should be scared.”

His hand moves to your jaw, tilting your face up to meet his gaze. “You walk around like the world owes you something. Do you even realize how ridiculous you sound?”

Tears brim your eyes, but your body betrays you, heat rising in your core as his grip on your jaw tightens keeping you firmly in place.

His sharp gaze flickers with something darker, more sinister, but he reins it in.

—She’s useful —break her…not entirely. You need her for connections —for appearances..to fit in

“Don’t cry,” he says soothingly, his grip loosening as he leans in closer, “You’ll ruin your makeup,” he whispers against your ear.

He pulls back, his sharp eyes locking onto yours with a detached precision, and before you can say anything, his mouth is on yours, kissing you with an intensity you’ve never known before.

His hands roam your body—firm and commanding—groping your waist, sliding up to squeeze your breasts

You pull back sharply, when his touch grows too rough, the possessiveness behind it making your heart race.

“Patrick—” you gasp, but he silences you, his hand wrapping around your throat tightly enough to make you stop.

“Quiet,” he orders, his voice low and commanding as he holds you in place. “You wanted my attention now you have it” he confirms his blue eyes locking onto yours with a sharp intensity.

A soft, involuntary sound escapes your lips as his grip tightens just enough to make your breath hitch, and your body betrays you as the slick evidence of your arousal forms between your thighs.

Patrick catches the flicker of desire in your eyes, his sharp gaze narrowing with dark satisfaction, and without hesitation he firmly presses his knee between your legs, slowly spreading them apart.

“You enjoy this, don’t you?” he observes, releasing his hold and lowering his lips down your neck, leaving a trail of sharp bites and kisses that make you gasp.

“Of course you do,” he rasps, his voice low and rough, as he yanks your head back, offering your neck for more of his mouth to mark and claim.

“A spoiled brat like you loves being put in her place,” he whispers against your neck, his hands sliding down your body, roughly pulling at your dress, bunching it up to your hips.

His fingers skim along your inner thighs, pausing just long enough to make you squirm, his eyes darkening with satisfaction at your impatience.

“So spoiled” he taunts his voice filled with lust.

His fingers press against your soaked panties, rubbing slow, teasing circles that make your hips writhe instinctively.

You can’t help but moan softly, aching for more, the tension in your body melting into pure need as he takes his time tormenting you, letting your hips roll against his hand.

“Stop that,” he orders, his hand firmly gripping between your thighs, the sudden restraint sending a surge of heat through your body. “You’ll move when I let you.”

“Patrick, please,” you whimper, your voice desperate, barely above a whisper.

He pulls your panties aside, his fingers sliding over your slick folds with maddening precision. “Please what?” he asks, his voice laced with dark seduction. “You don’t even know what you’re begging for, do you?”

His fingers slide inside you, and you gasp feeling each slow thrust hitting the perfect place within.

You moan softly as his sharp gaze remains locked on yours watching you struggle to remain still. The overwhelming sensation makes you clench helplessly around his fingers, the pleasure so intense it leaves you trembling against his hand.

“Look at you,” he whispers, his lips brushing against yours, refusing to kiss you fully. “My spoiled little brat, always getting exactly what she wants.”

You moan loudly as his thumb finds your clit, circling it with just enough pressure to make your thighs tighten against his hand.

“Don’t you dare stop Patrick …I-Im going to come” you whine softly, your voice laced with unmistakable entitlement.

“Of course you’re going to come” he mocks, his eyes gleaming with wicked satisfaction. “A spoiled brat like you always gets what she wants”

You cry out, choking back a sob as your body arches against him, the rush of release flooding through you as his fingers thrust into you relentlessly, making you orgasm with perfect precision.

He doesn’t stop as you come, his thrusts growing more intense, his fingers pushing deeper, his thumb working a devastating assault on your clit.

“One is never enough,” he says, his voice dark and commanding. “You’re going to come for me again.”

He leans in, his lips finding your neck, his mouth rough, his teeth grazing and nipping at your skin, making you clench around his fingers with each stinging bite.

Your moans grow louder, your body trembling as the pressure builds feeling him thrust impossibly faster.

Then, just as you’re on the brink, his fingers pull away abruptly, leaving you reeling, your breaths coming in short, desperate gasps without his touch.

Before you can protest, he grabs your thigh, roughly lifting it and pressing you back against the wall. The contrast of his height and unyielding strength sending a thrill through you.

“You can’t even wait for it, can you?” he taunts, his fingers moving to unbuckle his belt, his smirk deepening as he watches you squirm.

“I cant—” you confess your voice trembling hearing the sound of his zipper lowering in the silence.

Your eyes drop instinctively, your body writhing as he reveals his cock, the size and hardness making you bite down on your lip, all your thoughts blurring into one desperate need to have him inside you.

He teasingly strokes his hand along his impressive length, his sharp gaze pinning you in place. “This is exactly what you need,” he says, his tone low and dangerous as his hips align with yours. “To have me tame the spoiled little attitude right out of you until you’re begging me to let you come.”

You gasp sharply feeling the thick, blunt tip of his cock press against your wetness, the slick sound of your arousal filling the silence as he pushes in just barely.

A broken moan escapes your lips, your hips instinctively shifting toward him, desperate for more, but he pulls back just as quickly, leaving you aching.

“Please Patrick” You whimper, your eyes wide and pleading meeting his sharp gaze. His smirk deepens, a flicker of satisfaction crossing his face as he takes in your desperation.

“Already begging?” he taunts in disbelief. “You can’t even handle a second of patience without falling apart can you,” he mocks with amusement.

He smoothly pushes in again even slower, parting you inch by excruciating inch as you clutch his shoulders feeling the size of his cock.

Then he thrusts into you hard, a cry ripping from your throat as he fills you completely in one brutal motion.

The sudden fullness of his penetration has you gasping, your body pinned helplessly between him and the wall, his grip on your thigh tightening to keep you in place.

“What’s the matter?” he pauses, letting you struggle against the overwhelming size of his cock, the sharp ache radiating through you as he holds you still, refusing to move.

“Too much for my spoiled little princess?” he grins, his voice dark and cutting as his sharp gaze locks onto your flushed face, watching every tremble and gasp with satisfaction.

He holds you in place he thrusts into you with unyielding force, each drive of his hips erasing every coherent thought from your mind.

Your lips part, gasping and trembling, releasing broken breathless moans as your chest heaves with every breath.

“You’re an absolute mess for me,” he taunts, his voice uneven as he thrusts harder, his pace unrelenting as your moans grow louder, spilling freely now, your body trembling under his control.

The pressure builds impossibly fast, his cock thrusting with a relentless speed, hitting that perfect spot over and over until your thighs quake and you’re left gasping his name.

His hand grips the back of your neck, his sharp gaze locking onto your eyes now dazed in bliss, a testament to how thoroughly he’s taming you.

“Completely ruined… just like I knew you’d be,” he rasps with satisfaction, seeing your face blushing radiantly in surrender. “My perfect little fiancée, undone entirely on my cock.” He breathes, desperation lacing his voice as he loses himself in the moment.

You moan for him, lost in pleasure your hands gripping the back of his neck, your nails digging into his skin as his pace grows faster, harder, each thrust forcing a gasp from your lips as your body struggles to keep up with his brutal pace.

The sound of skin slapping against skin fills the space, drowning out your whimpers and cries, your body jerking with each unrelenting thrust.

“Patrick… please…” you manage, your words broken between desperate breaths, your chest heaving as you struggle to form a coherent thought.

Your muscles clench involuntarily, each punishing thrust drawing a raw cry from your lips, your body reacting helplessly to his relentless force.

“You act so spoiled —so untouchable —but look how easily you break for me,” he pants, his grip tightening on your thigh, yanking you closer while his other hand presses your hip firmly against the wall, pinning you in place as he pounds into you with unyielding control.

Your mind goes blank, your moans turning into incoherent cries as he dominates you.

Your orgasm tears through you, your sobs catching in your throat as your body clenches and quivers against him.

His teeth graze along your jawline as he groans in pleasure, his pace never faltering as he uses your trembling body to push his own release.

Then he tenses every muscle, and with one final thrust, he comes in you, the ferocity of his movements leaving you helpless against the force of him.

He groans, deep and broken as he thrusts into you one last time, his release pulsing through you, his satisfaction undeniable as he claims you completely.

When he finally pulls back, he glides his cock out slowly, leaving you aching and weak against the wall

He’s breathless as he tucks himself away, fastening his pants with a precision that feels almost indifferent.

You’re left stunned and incoherent, your body a mess of pleasure and exhaustion as you catch your breath.

Stepping back, he loosens his silk tie and unbuttons his dress shirt with casual ease, a smirk playing on his lips as his sharp gaze rakes over your trembling body.

—She’s so entitled, insufferable at times, yes… but look at that face. Perfect. Flawless. Even as a spoiled brat she serves her purpose.

—The satisfaction of knowing she can give me exactly what I want keeps her useful to me—but nothing lasts forever, and when her purpose runs out, so will my patience.

Patrick’s eyes remain steady on yours for a moment before the familiar sharp smirk forms on his lips—it’s confident, seductive, and entirely just for you.

“Come, darling I’ll run you a bath,” he says casually as he walks away, his tone calm and composed, as if what just happened was the most natural thing in the world.

As he disappears into the master bedroom, you remain standing there your body still stunned, unable to deny the heat still coursing through you—and how much you hated —and loved seeing him lose control.

🔪 END

🔗 Master List

🏷️ Always Tag Me List

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[kaleldobrev]

From Russia With Love

Pairing: Soldier Boy (Ben) x F. Supe!Reader

Summary: You’re the first person Ben goes to see after escaping from Russia

Word Count: 1.5k

Warnings: Cursing (5x), Fluff

Authors Note: The sequel to Memories Are All I Have | If you liked this, don’t forget to like & reblog. I really appreciate it! Feedback is always welcome ♡

Forty years. Forty Goddamn fucking years without you. Forty years of not being able to kiss you or hold you in his arms. Forty years without being able to tell you how much he loved you; or hear you saying it in return.

But there was a part of him that started to wonder if you had moved on from him because of how long it has been. There was a part of him that wouldn't have blamed you if you did, but he dreaded the thought of you being with anyone but him. You were the only person he ever dreamt of being with, settling down with. You were the first person to ever tell him, "I love you," and it wasn't just empty words — you had actually meant it.

Despite it being almost forty years without you, he still loved you just as much as he did the last time he had saw you back in 1984.

As he walked along the Manhattan streets, memories of the two of you walking along these very streets started to flood him. He could hear the sweet, sweet sounds of your laughter. He could feel the softness of your hands in his calloused ones. He could hear you faintly saying "I love you" to him in his ear.

But that very brief memory he had of you was quickly started to fade away, as he heard music playing — a song that was all too familiar to him and not in a good way. It was a Russian pop song that the scientists would often play when they would experiment on him. When they would pierce his skin with various knives and force feed him chemical mixtures.

He dropped his bag that he had slung over his shoulders onto the sidewalk; and he could faintly hear someone asking him if he was okay, but their words sounded so muffled like he was under water. Hunched over, everything went pitch black.

19 dead and 12 injured — read the news banner in big, bold, black letters across the bottom of the screen. "Holy shit," you mumbled to yourself, watching the news footage in absolute horror. One second the building in front of you was standing tall and proud; the next second, the sounds of glass shattering and floors collapsing in on itself. Scorch marks could be seen distinctly.

As you watched the news footage, a part of you wondered what Supe could have caused that immense amount of damage. But for the life of you, there was no Supe that you could think of. Homelander briefly entered your brain, but his beams wouldn't be able to cause that kind of damage. Yes, Homelander was powerful, but there was no way he would be able to do something like that, not unless Vought somehow found a way to give him more power than he already had.

"We were able to get the CCTV Footage of who could have caused this terrible tragedy. Unfortunately, due to the angle of the camera, the face could not be seen. But if you think you may know the terrorist reasonable, please contact Vought immediately," the news anchor stated; Vought's number flashing across the screen quickly.

As you watched the footage, it was grainy, black and white, and hard to tell who the terrorist could have been. But from what you could see, it just looked like some guy with an unkempt beard wearing a tracksuit that you hadn't seen since about the 1980s.

The man was standing there holding some kind of bag, and all of sudden the bag just dropped to his feet and he hunched over, kind of like he was having some kind of stomach pain, and a large beam of light just exploded from his body. "Holy shit..." you mumbled.

When Ben arrived at his — your apartment — he couldn't help but have a small sense of nervousness, like there was some kind of knot in the pit of his stomach. This kind of knot was something that he always experienced whenever he was about to get tortured by the Russians, as he never knew what kind of cruel experiments they were going to do on him.

He eyed the door and sighed, hoping that you were still living here, as this was the last known address that he had for you. It was the only place that he had hoped that you would be, as this was the only place he had pictured starting and having a family with you. It was a cozy penthouse about a few blocks away from Vought Tower; and it was a place that you and him had bought together as a home away from home away from Payback.

With a deep sigh, he knocked on the door, praying quietly to himself that you would be the one to answer the door and not someone else.

As you were in the kitchen making yourself some coffee, you heard a knock at your apartment door and raised a brow as you weren't expecting anyone or anything today; not even a package.

As the coffee started pouring into the mug, you started making your way to the front door, and yet there was another knock; but this time, the knock was quicker, almost impatient sounding. You rolled your eyes, and let out a small groan. "Christ on a Cross," you mumbled quietly to yourself. "I'm coming, I'm coming!" You called out, hoping that the impatient knocking would cease.

Ben heard the pads of your bare feet walking toward the apartment door, and he could hear you slightly groaning on the other side of the door, cursing every so often. But one of the phrases you said had caught him slightly by surprise. "Christ on a Cross," he heard you mumble; and a smirk tugged the corners of his lips.

He heard the chain come off the door, and within seconds the door was open before him, and there you were looking exactly the same way you had the last time he had seen you forty years ago. "Fuck, you haven't aged a day Sugar," he said, his voice sounding more gruff than he had expected it to sound.

"Fuck, you haven't aged a day Sugar," a man that strongly resembled and sounded exactly like Ben said before you. But there was no possible way that this could of been him, as you were told by not only Payback, but by Vought and Legend that he had been killed by the Russians, and that his body was taken behind the Iron Curtain. But he had just called you Sugar; and Sugar was a nickname that Ben and Ben alone had called you, and tended to only call you when it was just the two of you alone together.

But the way he was looking at you was the exact same way Ben had always looked at you. It was the look of pure adoration and joy; the look of 'you are the most gorgeous person in the world to me.' And those eyes...those distinctive hazel-green eyes that only Ben had had were staring directly at you.

You were unsure if you were seeing a ghost or having one of your hallucinations, but you reached out your hand toward him and gently placed your hand on his cheek, feeling the caveman like beard underneath your palm. When your hand made contact with his cheek, he almost melted into your touch, and his free hand made contact with the one that was on his cheek; almost checking to see if you were real too.

When your hand touched his cheek, he had to hold back all of the feelings that he had slowly building up over the course of four decades without you; he had envisioned this reunion for so long. "Ben..." your voice was low, soft, almost slightly hesitant as if you were trying to make sure that it was actually him before you. "It's...it's really you isn't it?"

"Yeah, it's really me," he responded almost as low as your voice was.

Your hand released from his cheek, and you stared at him with such longing in your eyes; almost as if you were trying to hold back tears. Without anymore hesitation, you wrapped your arms around him, using that super strength of yours (practically squeezing him, and knocking the air slightly out of him), as your face buried a bit into his chest.

In that instant, Ben dropped the bag that was slung over his shoulder at this feet and wrapped his arms around you; giving you a similar type of embrace that you were currently giving him and rested his chin on the top of your head. "I've missed you so much," you told him; your face nuzzling even more into his chest.

He smiled into your hair and kissed the top of your head; an action that he didn't realize how much he missed doing until now. "I missed you too," he said. And for the first time in his life, he heard his voice breaking.

Tag List: @syrma-sensei @k-slla @justletmereadfanfic @deans-daydream @midorimachisenpaii @rachiem4-blog @taraswifes @zepskies @jackles010378 @mrsjenniferwinchester @globetrotter28 @deans-spinster-witch @mrlonelycat @zombie-freak @waywardlatina @crystal555 @missscarlettangel @livingordeadwhoknows @79winchester @savagemickey03 @grx-deanslovr @wirdbeimaufhebengebunden @the-achievementhunter If you’d like to be added to a tag list please follow this link

[makeyoumine69]

Flesh n' Bones | Hospital AU (INTRO)

PAIRING: Doctor!Patrick Bateman x gn!Nurse!Reader

SUMMARY: My name is Patrick Bateman. I'm 27 years old. I live in the American Gardens building on West 81st Street in New York City. I work as a surgeon at St. Pierce's Hospital—one of the most upscale medical centers in Manhattan—which happens to be owned by my father. And even though I hate my job, sometimes I can find a little bit of fun in making the experience of my patients in the hospital really unforgettable. Not to mention the dozens of missing nurses who definitely regretted crossing the threshold of St. Pierce's Hospital, but who cares—I was the best thing that ever happened to them.

CONTAINS: Swearing, medical procedures, evil plans, gaslighting, pain, blood and injury, interns & internships, power dynamics, flirting, perversion, pet names, Patrick Bateman's POV.

WORDS: 2.4k

A/N: Hello my dears! This story is based on Hospital AU by @peepoo79! Since the first day I saw her Hospital AU comic I was obsessed with this idea so I decided to write it! Since I am not a doctor myself, some things might not be that accurate to medical standards, but I am always open to critique. As always, I hope you enjoy it! Also, many thanks to @mothhmannn for the amazing Patrick art!

LINKS: [MASTERLIST]; [AO3].

October 28, 1987.

Today started so shitty that I didn't even want to go to work, but how could I? I was a fucking surgeon who was supposed to save lives, and when I finally arrived at St. Pierce's Hospital, several nurses crowded around me and started bitching about some shitty stuff I didn't even care about.

"Dr. Bateman, your intern has arrived and is waiting for you in your office," one of the nurses said, handing me a folder of papers. "They seem to be very shy, so please treat them right."

Scowling, I took the papers and nodded. "Uh…Thank you."

Without further ado, I walked past another nurse and down the long corridors, avoiding all of my coworkers as I tried to concentrate on the music blaring from my Walkman headphones. Stopping at the door to my office, I made sure my hair was neatly slicked back before opening the door and stepping inside to see a beautiful person sitting in the chair. The blue medical uniform fit them so well that I even wanted to compliment them, but I stopped myself and just offered them a handshake instead.

"Well, hello there, my name is Dr. Bateman," I smiled and continued to examine my new plaything. "It's...uh...nice to see some young blood in our hospital these days."

You were embarrassed so quickly, probably from such a warm welcome, which was more of an exception for me than a regular thing.

"Thank you, Dr. Bateman...it's an honor to be your intern," you replied politely, trying to hide your nervousness as your hands visibly shook. "This hospital is so...amazing! Literally everything I have seen so far is amazing...including this office!"

The office did look luxurious. Everything screamed wealth and prestige, including the wooden desk and a high-end clock on it, the way you looked at the white leather couch in the corner of the room probably sent shivers down your spine, and somehow I really hoped it did.

"So...when can we start?" You asked as you watched me flip through your portfolio, my face stoic, blank, and absolutely unreadable.

As I stopped flipping through the documents and frowned to add some tension between us, I looked at you stealthily out of the corners of my eyes, and when I saw you chewing on your lower lip, I smiled in wicked satisfaction, but that smile never reached my eyes.

"It's very inspiring that you're so eager to get started," I said, placing several pages on the desk, then picking up my Montblanc pen to make some notes. "I see you've been studying pretty well...considering your grades."

Another shy chuckle fell from your lips at my words. "Oh, I did my best," you replied, settling more comfortably in your chair. "Although I didn't really want to reflect on my college years."

"Why?" I asked, writing down all the personal information I could get from your file, including your address, phone number, blood type...

"It was..." your voice wavered and you paused, causing me to look up at you again. "...hard as hell."

"As it should be. Our jobs require hard work as we carry a huge responsibility on our shoulders," I grinned, closing the folder before I could see the name of the college.  "So where did you study exactly?"

Just as you were about to answer, a loud knock on the door rang through the office and I couldn't help but grumble in anger.

Can I have a break, for fuck's sake!

"Come in," I almost barked, my attention shifting away from you as I saw a nurse - one of the hottest hardbodies in our hospital - walk in. "Courtney? What happened?"

"Dr. Bateman..." She walked over to my desk, completely ignoring your presence. 

"Yes, Courtney?" My patience was about to explode if she didn't answer right away.

"I know you told us not to bother you with non-emergent cases, but other surgeons are busy," she stammered as our gazes met, her blue eyes seeming to brighten even more. "We have a girl whose hand is so full of broken glass, can you please examine her?"

I sighed before glancing quickly at you, a little impressed that you still hadn't said a word. "Does she have insurance? How old is she?"

"Uh," Courtney hiccuped, looking at the patient's medical card. "I checked her insurance, it's valid and... she's nineteen."

"Nineteen?" I replied, suddenly feeling excited. "Well, I think this can be a good start for your internship. What do you think?"

Courtney seemed to finally notice that we were not alone, her plump lips pursed back into a thin line, and I really wanted to laugh at her reaction, but I told myself to stay professional. 

"I'm ready when you are, Dr. Bateman," your suddenly confident voice sounded so challenging that it struck a chord in my chest and brought back a long forgotten feeling of thrill. "I'm sure we'd make a great team under your guidance."

How sweet.

I managed to hold back puke at such a silly, saccharine statement. It reminded me of the cliché every doctor used whenever someone asked them why they chose to work in a hospital.

'Oh, we want to save people's lives! And we're not doing it because doctors have almost the highest salaries in the country!'

I grinned insistently, reveling in my own sense of superiority.  "All right then," I stood up and put on my doctor's coat over my custom-made scrubs with my initials on them. "Courtney, give the medical card to the intern."

The woman froze in shock. "But...but I thought I would assist you..."

I rolled my eyes as I checked myself in the mirror, adjusting the collar of my scrubs and pulling up the sleeves a bit to reveal my Rolex. "I think I made it very clear that your help won't be needed this time.”

If we were alone, I would probably just boff her before doing my work and that would help me get rid of her until the next time, but hell no, now I had a pain in the ass. And why should I have to teach an intern when I didn't even ask for one?

Meanwhile, you were waiting for me at the door, holding a medical card to your chest as if Courtney or I were about to snatch it from your hands. After I was completely satisfied with my appearance, I pinned my ID badge to my chest and walked to the door, trying not to stare too much at Courtney's ass while she was doing something at my desk that I never really bothered to know.

"You know what," I stopped suddenly before leaving. "Wait for me here," the blonde nurse turned to look at me, still bent over the table. "We'll discuss your new assignment."

A few minutes later, we finally entered the Surgery Division, and since you were a newbie here, I had to guide you all the way, telling you some things from time to time, and at some point I realized that I didn't really hate it, because I could blather on about being a super professional surgeon, and this whole place being mine.

Just like the whole hospital.

"I think this is our ward," I muttered and opened the door to let you in. " C'mon, don't be shy." I pushed you forward a bit before closing the door behind you.

The patient—a young red-haired girl with big green eyes whose tight top stuck to her chest so that her nipples poked out—looked at us the moment we entered the ward. 

"Oh, finally," she mumbled in sheer annoyance, her right hand covered in blood-stained bandages. "I was beginning to think everyone had forgotten about me."

Still nervous, you cleared your throat and quickly looked down at the medical card. "Sorry for the long wait, Miss...Miss Ray," you managed to smile, even though you looked like a patient who was afraid to get treatment, but not her, "My name is (y/n) and this is Dr. Bateman, he's one of the best surgeons in this hospital."

One of the best?

Your slightly incorrect comment made me furrow my brow, but in the next second I was smiling seductively at the girl whose scrutinizing look I couldn't miss. She was pretty attractive, hell, just the fact that she wasn't wearing a bra made her attractive. 

With practiced ease, I put on medical gloves after washing my hands very meticulously. Then I glanced at the patient's medical card, not taking it in my hands, but letting you hold it for me.

"Can I take a look?" I finally asked, taking a seat next to the examination table and putting the mask on. Carefully I began to unfold the bandages, the little whimpering the girl made gave me undeniable pleasure. "Well, that doesn't look too bad," I said when I could finally see the wound, and several pieces of glass had sunk quite deep into her flesh. "How did you manage that?"

The girl blushed as I began to examine her forearm, moving higher up to her shoulder, though it wasn't really necessary. I just loved how soft her skin was, as much as I could tell by feeling it through the elastic material of my gloves.

"I...I accidentally broke the mirror." She replied, her breathing uneven and her pulse quickening as I took a moment to check her. "My name is Liza, by the way."

I chuckled charmingly before turning to look at you, as you stood behind my back, watching my work very intently. "Can you bring me forceps? And...a scalpel?"

"Scalpel?" You replied a little confused.

"Yes," I confirmed and repositioned Liza's arm for better access. "And I'll also need a suture kit."

The girl tensed at my words that I would need a scalpel. "Is it...necessary?"

"Hmm?" I hummed, asking her a silent question while you busied yourself with preparing the instruments. 

"A scalpel...are you going to make an incision?" Liza asked, giving me a pleading glare, her fear was palpable in the air and I couldn't help but savor it.

"I just want all the instruments to be close by in case I have a need for them, that's all. Now please relax." I murmured this with fake sympathy before resuming the examination, pressing down on one of the shards and making Liza whimper. "Shh, it's okay."

The redhead frowned in pain. "It hurts...doctor...it hurts so much!"

When I heard you return, I removed my fingers from the wound. "All right, no nerve damage and that's good." I smiled, obviously lying, my hand was already extended, ready to take the forceps.

"Your forceps, doctor," the way you said 'doctor' made my eyes glow with a mischievous spark. "Clean and sterilized, just like the scalpel and suture kit."

"Very well," I replied, feeling a chill in the metal in my hand. "Put them here," I tapped the spot on the examination table, wondering how you would do that. "And where's your mask?"

Confused, you stuttered. "Oh...yeah...sorry," you mumbled in embarrassment before putting on a mask. "I'm still a little nervous."

Liza knitted her eyebrows in a skeptical way that almost made me burst out laughing.

Okay, now I'm really starting to like this.

"Don't worry, my pill fairy," I watched you place a metal tray with instruments on the spot I showed you. "It's your first day in the hospital...it's...always a little nerve wracking."

As soon as I said it, you stopped in your tracks, and even though your face was covered by the mask, I was pretty sure you were so damn embarrassed that I was going to burn my finger off your cheek. You didn't make any comments though, which made me a little frustrated, but I didn't show it, I took the forceps more comfortably in my hand and began to remove the broken glass from Liza's shaky arm. The way I used the instruments was always mesmerizing - a work of art - as some nurses said, including Courtney, but today I was trying my best because I wanted to impress you. Shard by shard, I took them all out without causing any pain, something I usually couldn't find anything to be proud of.

"Done," I muttered, throwing the last piece of glass into the steel bow. "You took it so bravely."

The redhead smiled tiredly, trying not to look down at her hand. "Thank you, Doctor."

"You're welcome, sweetheart," I allowed you to clean the wound with the antiseptic and dab it with a swab. "It's my job, after all. Now, (y/n), can you please show me how you were taught to make stitches?"

"Of course, Dr. Bateman," you replied without hesitation, and this kind of obedience seemed to become my personal drug.

Standing up, I took a moment to admire how your uniform accentuated all of your curves, especially the roundness of your ass and the arch of your hips.

Shit, maybe I shouldn't have let Courtney stay in my office?

With these thoughts I leaned against the white wall and took off my mask as I suddenly felt a strong urge to smoke, luckily I still had the box of cigars my father had brought me from Cuba. I imagined inhaling the sharp scent of snuff when Liza's sudden whimper pulled me out of my trance.

"Can I have an anesthetic?" She asked, squirming in her place as she watched you prepare a suture kit.

"Just a local one," I muttered, a bit annoyed. "That will be enough. (Y/n), what should you do before using anesthesia?"

My question made you freeze. "Ask the patient about any allergies?"

"Right, but in this case you can find all the information on the medical card," I took off the gloves and took the card in my hands. "Well, I don't see anything that would prevent us from using bupivacaine."

As Liza sighed with relief and I watched you take a syringe, I had to admit that I was amazed at how carefully and attentively you worked.

Maybe you're not gonna get kicked out of the hospital as fast as I thought.

P.S. Thank you for reading until the end! I don’t have a taglist. You can follow my side blog @makeyoumineagain and turn on notifications to know when I update!

[schmoyoho]

we may see levels of woke in 2028 never before recorded. stock traders will have septum piercings. finance bros will do land acknowledgements in lower manhattan

[doyoulikethis-vocaloid-song]

🎼 FEATURED SONGS (241-280)

241. There is something terribly wrong with Yun Quan by MageP 242. MONSTER by KIRA 243. Underdog Fugue by Amenosuke 244. Goodbye Semi-Sparkling Girl by Hifumi 245. Complicity by Teniwoha and KurageP 246. Caprice Cast by Yugica 247. MANHATTAN by wotaku 248. Murder by Tousyounoeto 249. Rats Have Died by P.I.N.A 250. Hello/How are you? by Nanou 251. Episode.0 by KanimisoP 252. Machine Love by Jamie Paige 253. Queen of Hearts by Iriku Atushi and Digital Static 254. I Hear the Sound of Somone Else's Problems by AmenomurakumoP 255. Check Check Check One Two! by KurageP 256. Kinetotyche by EPSLA 257. Mary's Vat by FILEIN 258. Propose by Naisho no Pierce 259. Unrequited Love and He Who Sleeps Beneath by Steampianist 260. The Little Goldfish by Minato Itsuki 261. Collapse by 4cat 262. Makka by Yuyoyuppe 263. Indulging: Idol Syndrome by Suzumu 264. MikuFiesta by AlexTrip Sands 265. DEFECTIVE by Somari 266. A Realistic Logical Ideologist by Goboumen 267. Close and Open, Demons and the Dead by Hachi 268. I Think I Just Died by Guiano 269. Luv drama by Sodeno Arawa 270. Silver Clouds by Bakeneko 271. Finally you died by Coward Dream 272. Lost Destination by 150P 273. Paraquat by Hizumi Rei 274. Play My Sound Card by GuzyTracks 275. WILDFIRE by CircusP and CrusherP 276. DEAD-END RAIL by skyfish99 277. Record Red by Shr 278. Me to me by Haniwa 279. Get home, Take a Shower, Spaghetti by KIT 280. The Song of Luo Tianfish by StAkira And a Youtube Playlist so you can listen to them all! It'll be updated as the polls finish up! 💚

[mrs-adabarba]

so tell me - rafael barba x female!detective

character uses she/her pronouns.

warnings: none, just a bit of angst, mentions of being on the job i guess.

*gif is not mine*

The cold Manhattan air bit sharply at YN's cheeks as she hurried out of the precinct, her heart pounding in her chest. Unfortunately for her it hadn't been an uncommon feeling in the recent days, self doubt often creeping in. The weight of the latest case clung to her like a dark cloud, suffocating and relentless; every detail of the victim’s story replayed in her mind like a haunting reel she couldn’t switch off. It was suffocating.

Her steps faltered as she reached the steps outside, glancing up at the starless sky, the city lights trying and failing to pierce the smog. Wrapping her arms firmly around herself, trying to suppress the tremor that wracked through her, she let out a sigh.

Sometimes, I wish I could tell someone everything.

But who could she talk to? It wasn’t just the gruesome details of the job, no - it was the growing cracks in her somehow still intact armor. The moments of self-doubt. The sleepless nights. The way her chest tightened every time she walked into a crime scene and saw the familiar faces of families shattered. The way her heart broke when there was no justice, no matter the victim.

She exhaled sharply, shaking her head. This was the life she had chosen. No room for weakness. No room for vulnerability. She just had to move on.

---

Rafael Barba watched her from the bottom of the steps, his eyes observant.

He had come to drop off some last-minute paperwork for a case but when he saw her standing there, wrapped in her thoughts and the kind of pain he knew all too well, he froze. He wasn't used to seeing such a vulnerable side to Detective YLN, no, this was YN he was seeing - real and raw.

Rafael knew how it felt when the self doubt started creeping in, when the voices told you that you just weren't good enough. He knew how it felt for a case to get stuck in your head, it was devastating. And he, Unfortunately, knew all too well how it felt like a stab to the gut with every scumbag still left walking the streets.

"Detective," he called out softly, his voice carrying over the night.

YN startled slightly, turning to look at him with wide eyes as if she was a deer caught in the headlights. Rafael thought it was adorable. The flicker of surprise quickly vanished, as if she thought she could hide it, replaced by her usual stoic expression. “Barba.” Short and sharp. “What are you doing here?”

He raised the manila folder in his hand, expression matching her own.“Paperwork. The ever-exciting side of law enforcement.”

She huffed a humorless laugh, rubbing her arms for warmth. “Lucky you.”

Rafael climbed the steps slowly, his eyes never leaving her. Her heart beat slightly faster, not enough to startle her but just enough that she felt it and immediately regretted the effect it had on her. “You look like you’re carrying a lot more than just paperwork tonight.”

YN stiffened. “I’m fine.” Of course she wasn't fine but if she was anything she was not a burden.

“Of course you are,” he said dryly, his sharp gaze narrowing. YN was sure she saw a small eye roll, her eyes narrowing. “You’re always fine, aren’t you, Detective?” His fiery eyes met her cold ones, a perfect match as they glared almost lovingly into one another's eyes; both blind enough to not see it.

Her jaw clenched, heart beating a slight bit faster once more. “Don’t start, Barba.”

“Start what?” He took another step closer, lowering his voice. Her heart began even faster, a heat surging through her for a moment and she was truly embarrassed by the effect he had on her. “Start caring? Start noticing when someone is about to snap under the pressure?”

“Back off,” she said tightly, turning away. She couldn't let him see the blush that spread across her cheeks far too willingly nor did she want him to see the hurt that had begun to linger in her eyes.

She should have known better, Rafael wasn’t one to back off easily - especially not when he could see through the cracks in her armor. “You know, you could talk to someone.”

She froze at his words, her back still to him. Her hands curled into fists at her sides, shoulders slightly hunched as she muttered just loud enough for him to hear. “Sometimes I wish I could tell someone everything.”

“So tell me.”

His words hung in the air between them, soft but commanding. They were unexpected and she had to take a moment to process them.

YN turned to face him, slowly, her eyes burning with unshed tears and frustration. It was obvious to Rafael that she needed to get it off her chest but he also knew how stubborn she could be. “You’re not just someone, Rafael.” Her voice came out softer than she'd expected it to.

The use of his first name caught him off guard, but not as much as the raw emotion in her voice nor how much he enjoyed hearing YN say his name in such a soft voice. “And what’s wrong with that?” he asked, his tone gentler to match hers now.

“Everything,” she whispered. “Because if I start talking to you, if I let you in…” Barba was sure her voice broke but he couldn't have been sure. She gently cleared her throat. “If I let you in, don't think I’ll be able to stop.”

Rafael took another step closer, his expression softening, a side to him YN hadn't seen before. “Maybe you don’t have to stop.”

Her breath hitched and, for a moment, she let herself imagine it. Letting someone see her, really see her. But the fear of losing control, of becoming vulnerable, loomed large. She shook her head. “I can’t.” Her voice was barely a whisper now.

He tilted his head, studying her. “Can’t, or won’t?” He wasn't angry, there was a softening of his voice but he was frustrated.

“Both,” she said, her voice barely audible. Her eyes fluttered shut for a moment, her teeth had a loose grip on her bottom lip for just a moment but it was long enough for Barba to catch it.

A long silence stretched between them. The bustling noise of the city seemed to fade away, leaving just the two of them standing on the precinct steps. Her heart now pounded in her chest, enough to concern her - maybe it was a heart attack. Well, at least YN wished it was because if it wasn't she would have to face reality.

Rafael finally sighed, running a hand through his hair. “YN, you’re not alone in this. You don’t have to carry it all by yourself.”

Her lips quivered up into a bitter smile, it was now or never. “Is this your way of flirting with me, Counselor?”

Rafael smirked, the tension breaking just a fraction and he was pleased. “If it is, am I doing a terrible job?”

She let out a soft laugh, shaking her head. Tension had seemed to ease, YN feeling ever so slightly better - okay, maybe a lot better. “You’re insufferable.” Her smile was no longer hidden or pushed down.

“Only for you, Detective.” His voice held a teasing lilt, but his eyes remained earnest. “Think about it. If you ever need someone to listen... I’m here.”

YN studied him for a moment, her defenses wavering, she'd let him in ever so slightly and it was terrifying. She nodded once, the tiniest crack in her walls beginning to widen again. “Thanks, Rafael.”

And there it was again, the way she spoke his name and the effect that it had on him. He wanted to quiver and the mere sound of it but he didn't want to give up in this game; it was exciting.

“Anytime,” he replied, his tone sincere though it was hard to hide the real tone wanting to burst out. As she turned to walk away, her shoulders ever so slightly un-hunched, he called after her. “And YN?”

She glanced back over her shoulder, eyebrow raised in questioning.

“You’re not just someone either.”

For the first time that night, a genuine smile tugged at her lips. “Goodnight, Barba.”

He watched her go, watching her stand even more slightly taller, his own heart feeling a little lighter. Maybe, just maybe, they both had found a glimmer of solace in the darkness.

---

AN; thank you so much if you've read this far! Let me know if you've enjoyed it please! 🫶

[kathlare]

city of reflections

Lando Norris x Amelie Dayman

Summary: In the heart of New York City, Lando navigates the overwhelming energy of the metropolis while grappling with memories of a past love that seems inescapable.

Wordcount: 1.4 k

Warnings: just fluff

full masterlist // request over here!

June 12th, 2023 - New York City, NY

The streets of New York buzzed with an energy that Lando Norris had never experienced before. It was his first time in the city, and everything about it was overwhelming—the towering skyscrapers, the symphony of car horns, the chaotic dance of pedestrians navigating the crowded sidewalks. Even for someone used to the adrenaline of a Formula 1 race, the intensity of New York was a lot to take in.

He had arrived a couple of days earlier for a campaign shoot with Tumi. The brand’s sleek travel bags had always been a favorite of his, and the opportunity to work with them in the heart of Manhattan felt like a milestone. But today was a rare free day on his packed schedule, and he was determined to make the most of it.

—Ready to hit the town, mate?— Martin Garrix’s voice broke through Lando’s thoughts as they stepped out of their hotel. The Dutch DJ had been in the city for a gig and decided to join Lando for some sightseeing. They were an unlikely pair in many ways, but their friendship had become one of the few constants in Lando’s unpredictable life.

—Let’s do it,— Lando replied, adjusting his cap as they hailed a cab to Times Square.

As they approached the iconic hub, the sheer magnitude of it hit him like a punch to the gut. Neon lights flashed everywhere, billboards stretched high into the sky, and the air was filled with a cacophony of voices and music. But what struck Lando most wasn’t the scale of Times Square—it was the face staring down at him from nearly every corner.

Amelie.

Her image was everywhere. On a massive screen promoting her new tour. On a billboard for a luxury perfume ad. On a digital poster for the upcoming trailer of Wicked. It was as if the city itself was reminding him of what he had lost.

—Holy shit,— Martin said, nudging Lando. —She’s really killing it, huh?—

Lando forced a smile, his chest tightening. —Yeah. She always does.—

They walked through the bustling square, Martin chattering about the city’s energy, but Lando couldn’t focus. All he could see was Amelie—her face, her smile, her unmistakable presence. He remembered how she used to talk about New York, how much she loved the city and its chaos. She’d always said it felt like anything was possible here.

And now, she was everywhere, larger than life, while he felt impossibly small.

—You good?— Martin asked as they stopped to take a selfie with the billboards in the background.

—Yeah, just... thinking,— Lando replied, slipping his hands into his pockets. He didn’t elaborate, and Martin didn’t press him.

The two continued walking, weaving through the throngs of tourists and locals, but Lando couldn’t shake the hollow feeling in his chest. Every step he took, every turn of his head, Amelie was there. Her face seemed to follow him, her gaze piercing through him from glossy posters and digital screens. It wasn’t just her physical presence that haunted him—it was the memories that came rushing back with every glance.

He remembered late-night phone calls where she’d talk about her dreams, the way her eyes lit up when she talked about performing, and how she’d laughed when he joked about being her groupie one day. He’d always thought their paths would run parallel forever, somehow intertwined no matter where life took them. But now, it felt like their worlds couldn’t be farther apart.

—Alright, next stop, Empire State Building,— Martin announced, pulling Lando out of his thoughts.

They hopped in another cab and made their way to the towering landmark. As they climbed to the observation deck, the city sprawled out beneath them like a living, breathing organism. The wind whipped around them as Martin leaned against the railing, taking in the view.

—So, what’s up with you and Magui?— Martin asked suddenly, cutting through the silence. His tone was casual, but the question landed like a sucker punch.

Lando exhaled sharply, leaning forward and gripping the cold metal railing. —There’s nothing up with me and Magui. We’re not... It’s not like that.—

Martin raised an eyebrow, turning to face him. —Come on, man. You’ve been seen with her enough times for people to start talking. She seems cool. Isn’t she, like... your type?—

Lando let out a bitter laugh, shaking his head. —No, she’s not. Not really. She’s fun, and she’s nice, but... it’s not serious. It’ll never be serious.— He paused, his voice dropping as he stared out over the city. —Not if it’s not with her.—

Martin frowned, catching the shift in Lando’s tone. —Her?— he asked carefully, though he already had a good idea who Lando was talking about.

Lando didn’t answer right away. He just gazed out at the endless horizon, the city lights twinkling like stars. Finally, he sighed, the weight of his regret bleeding into his words. —Amelie. It’s always her.—

Martin stayed quiet for a moment, letting Lando’s confession hang in the air. —I thought you two... I mean, I know you had a thing, but it’s been a while, hasn’t it? She’s with someone else now, right? Rodrigo?—

—Yeah,— Lando muttered, the name tasting bitter on his tongue. —She’s with him. And I’m... whatever this is. Floating. Distracting myself. Pretending I don’t care when I do. Pretending I don’t miss her when I can’t fucking stop thinking about her.—

Martin studied his friend, his usual lighthearted demeanor replaced by something more serious. —So why don’t you do something about it?—

Lando scoffed, running a hand through his hair. —It’s not that simple, mate. We ended badly. Really badly. She doesn’t even talk to me anymore. I don’t think she’d want to hear from me, let alone give me another chance.—

—You sure about that?— Martin asked, his tone almost challenging. —Because from the way you’re talking, it sounds like you’re still hung up on her. And if she meant that much to you, maybe it’s worth trying. Worst she can do is tell you to fuck off, right?—

Lando chuckled humorlessly. —Yeah, that’s probably exactly what she’d do. And honestly, I’d deserve it.—

Martin shook his head, his voice firm. —You don’t know that. Look, man, I’m not saying you should go storming into her life uninvited, but if you still feel this strongly about her after all this time, maybe that says something. Maybe it’s not over.—

Lando wanted to believe that, but the doubt clung to him like a shadow. —I hurt her, Martin. I didn’t fight for her when I should have, and I let her down when she needed me. She’s better off without me.—

—You don’t know that either,— Martin countered. —People fuck up. It happens. But if you’re still standing here, thinking about her while her face is on every billboard, maybe it’s because deep down, you know she’s not just another chapter in your life. Maybe she’s the whole damn book.—

Lando swallowed hard, his chest tightening at the thought. He wanted to believe there was still a chance, that he hadn’t completely lost her. But the weight of his mistakes felt insurmountable, and the idea of reaching out to her—of facing her and her pain—was terrifying.

They stood in silence for a while, the city stretching out endlessly below them. Finally, Martin clapped Lando on the back, his voice lighter now. —Come on, mate. Let’s get a drink. You look like you need one.—

Lando nodded, forcing a small smile as they turned to leave the observation deck. But as they descended the Empire State Building and rejoined the chaos of the city below, he couldn’t shake the image of Amelie’s face, larger than life, staring down at him from every corner.

Maybe Martin was right. Maybe it wasn’t over.

Or maybe it was, and he just couldn’t bring himself to let go.

[miss-soph-star]

Calex x Reader x Amanda Rollins (New Neighbour)

☾ ⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ☾ ⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ☾ ⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ☾ ⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ☾ ⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ☾ ⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ☾ ⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ☾

SMUT: Mommy/ Daddy kink, Dom/ Sub dynamics, Strap, Oral, Virgin Reader, Cockwarming, Praise kink, Squirting

☾ ⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ☾ ⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ☾ ⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ☾ ⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ☾ ⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ☾ ⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ☾ ⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ☾

As move in day approached, you packed all of your things into neat boxes, placing them into the removal van before driving towards your new appartement. With it being so close you looked forward to the new environment but where glad of the safety net you had created being alone. After your promotion you were starting a new job at the Manhattan DA’s office, looking forward to meeting your new colleagues and getting out of the homicide department.

Arriving at your new apartment, you unloaded the boxes, stacking them in the elevator and walking them through the marble hallways, alone as usual. After a tiresome few hours, you decided to take a break, walking out onto the shared rooftop of your new home, hoping to meet some of the buildings tenants. Stepping out and admiring the beautiful views of the city, you noticed three gorgeous women drinking champagne from sophisticated flutes with strawberries on the rim. Their outfits screamed elegance and refinement, specifically the blonde you spotted, glasses perched on her nose as she laughed with the other blonde and redhead. Feeling newly self-conscious of your messy hair, wide-leg joggers, and red sports bra, you decided on going back inside to change, quickly lighting a cigarette before you did.

As you were sat finishing your cigarette, the smoking releasing and rising from your glossy lips, the younger blonde approached, catching you off guard. “Hey, you must be our new neighbour, I’m Amanda.” She seemed genuine, offering you a sweet smile, her slight southern twang eliciting her lips as you made general chit chat. Soon the ladies she was with approached. There were definitely more dominate, they exuded confidence, and you were entranced by their flawless features. “These are my partners, Alex and Casey.” Amanda stated looking up at them with a smirk. The redhead stood over you both, “What’s a pretty little thing like you doing lifting all these boxes alone?” She asked curious, but you could tell they had an ulterior motive. “Oh, I don’t have anyone else, just me. I’m y/n by the way, its lovely to meet you all.” You said with feigned confidence as the two older women looked at you, grins on their lips.

Since you and Amanda seemed to have already built a repour you could tell she was eager to please, “It’s lovely to meet you too y/n. Would you like a hand? My partners and I don’t mind, if it means getting to know you a little better.” She winked as a blush covered your pale cheeks. “Are you sure I really wouldn’t want to be of any trouble or stop you from your plans.” You questioned sincerely, not wanting to seem ingenuine to your new neighbours. Alex stepped forwards placing a hand on your back, making you shudder at the contact, she smiled, “Of course honey, can’t have you lifting these all on your own, wouldn’t want you to get hurt now, would we?” You blushed shyly at her commanding nature as Casey stepped in, “Well, I mean...” she smirked raising her eyebrows and Alex chuckled and Amanda gasped, Casey holding tightly onto her arm. Amanda shot you a look blushing, as you did too. The dominance of such beautiful women had you clenching your thighs already, and unable to meet their piercing gaze. Amanda stuttered out as Casey firmly gripped her arm, “Umm I guess we should make a start on these boxes then?” You nodded eagerly wanting the moving process to be over with. Once they were moved inside, you finally could start to unpack. “Okay honey, Casey is making us dinner later if you would like to come and eat with us? You’ve been busy moving, which is stressful, how about you let us alleviate some of that and help you relax.” Alex asked, but you could tell it was more of a command. “Are you sure, I don’t want to intrude?” She nodded and both Amanda and Casey seemed overjoyed at the invitation. “Well thank you then, that would be lovely.”

With that the two older ladies ushered Amanda out of the door and across to their apartment, Alex placed a playful slap to Amanda’s ass as Casey kept her strong grip on her arm, guiding her possessively across the hallway. There was something about their dynamic that enthralled you, and something about their dominance that pulled you closer to them. As time passed, you quickly showered, slipping into a red matching set, and pulled on a black satin dress, as the weather was warm. You felt a little overdressed, but you knew they had their own specific dress senses, and you wanted to show off yours. Once it was time to go, you pulled on your docs and laced them up before knocking gently at their apartment. Amanda came to the door greeting you, “Hey y/n, I’m so glad you came.” Amanda said pulling you into a hug. She was also in a dress, though hers was floral, you felt suddenly less overdressed and ready for the occasion.

Casey noticed your attire straight away, “Aww y/n you look nice, doesn’t she Alex.” Alex offered you a smile as Casey continued, her eyes noticeably darkening, “You remind us of our Amanda, so willing to please, trying so hard to behave.” You laughed nervously as a blush covered your cheeks again. Alex spoke confidently, “Yes you do look adorable, and those wide innocent eyes are just so gorgeous. You’re really something you know that y/n.” You thanked them for their kindness and hospitality, as you were guided over to the table. “Lets have some of the food that Casey prepared for us and then we can get to know each other better.” Amanda asked looking between her partners and you. “I’d like that.” You said a little hesitant, but it seemed to pull smiles from those around the table as you ate. Hours passed and the wine flowed, the conversation became more suggestive, but you like that about them. “Since its late y/n would you like to spend the night? We love to see more of you.” Casey winked suggestively. “I’d like that too, Casey.” At the mention of her name her eyes darkened again, a glint forming as Amanda began squirming in her seat. Alex placed a hand over yours squeezing it slightly before commanding, “Well than Amanda will show you want to do. I want you both upstairs, lying across the bed by the time we get there.” As you both got up she stopped you, “Oh and leave you underwear on, I’d like to see how ruined they are when we get there.” Alex did not flinch once and neither did Casey who sat across the table sipping her wine. “Now Amanda make mommy proud, and show y/n how to be a good girl for us.” Alex winked finally as Amanda grabbed your hand tugging you to the bedroom.

Once you made it to the bedroom Amanda and you entwined yourself, her lips connecting to yours as you stripped each other of your clothes and lay on the bed, splayed out and breathless. Your nerves were getting the better of you realising you had never done this before and Amanda could sense that. “It’s okay I promise, I’ll tell them, and they’ll be soft with you.” Amanda reassured, and the pressure you felt was alleviated partially. As Alex and Casey emerged through the door, wearing only lingerie you breath hitched in your throat, taking in the sight as Amanda spoke, “Mommy?” Alex nodded, “Yes sweetie?” before Amanda was allowed to continue, “It’s y/n’s first time, so she’s a little nervous.” Casey nodded reassuringly, “That’s okay sweetheart, we’ll take it easy I promise and if you need to stop, say ‘red,’ that will bring an immediate stop, and we’ll make sure your okay.” You nodded a response, but Casey reached over grabbing your chin, “Use your words please, baby.” You squirmed at her dominance wanting desperately to please. “Yes...Casey?” She nodded, “It’s daddy to you, my good girl.”

Soon Alex crawled up the bed, towering over you, mirroring Casey’s movements over Amanda. Alex’s strap was pressed firmly against your core, rubbing between your thighs, as your eyes widened at the size, yet your hips betrayed you, bucking against her. You desperately wanted her to fill you up and fuck you, but you were also nervous. Alex spoke, “What is it my baby? Is mommy’s cock too big for you, are you going to let me stretch you out and fuck you like the good girl you are?” Taking all your courage to respond you finally spoke, “I need it mommy, I need you to fill me up and fuck me, hard please.” You pleaded with her eager to submit to her kinks, and you clearly did something right as Alex and Casey exchanged glances, while Amanda elicited a needy whine from her throat. Alex bit her lip as Amanda looked over at you. Soon Alex sheathed herself into you slowly, allowing you to adjust to her size. Her pace eventually quickened, her thrusts getting harder and hitting the at the perfect angle. As she began pounding into you, you could feel the knot in your stomach tightening, as an overwhelming tingling sensation racked through your body, your arms thrashed, but Alex simple grasped both wrists pushing them above your head onto the bed as her other hand remained tightly on your hip, her thrusts fucking into your hole as you moaned, unable to control your volume.

“Mommy, ugh I need, I need to cum, please let me cum for you.” Alex hummed as you could see Casey fucking Amanda, as they both looked at your body shaking. “Cum for mommy, its your rewards for being such a good girl.” With her permission she held you down, fucking you through your orgasm as you came over her, squirting from the angle. “Oh fuck, thank you.” You whined as Alex pulled out of you, the feeling of emptiness not lasting long as Casey thrust into you. “Mhm ahh too much daddy I can’t...fuck.” You moaned at the overstimulation, your body spent from the orgasm Alex had given you. But Casey kept pounding into you, “Fuck honey you’re so tight, daddy can feel your pussy clamping down on my cock.” Casey groaned out, nearing her own peak. Soon cuming from the strap rubbing against her clit. “Fuck, such a good girl for us baby.” Casey pulled out, instructing Amanda straight away to help you, “Amanda baby come here and be a good girl. Clean up y/n please.” Amanda reached over, trailing her head between your legs, looking up at you as she ran her tongue through your slit. You moaned out at the feeling, “ugh feels so good,’ you moaned as you tangled your hand in her hair, pushing her closer as she whined, causing a tingling sensation to rack through your body. Amanda pulled away when she was satisfied, and Casey pulled her into her lap, kissing her forehead and praising her. You watched as Casey pulled her into a kiss, moaning at your taste on her tongue, “Fuck y/n you taste so good.”

Alex sat propped up against the headboard watching as they kissed, her stap still clearly on under her satin chemise, she motioned for you come and cuddle into her and you decided to take your chance, winking at Amanda before raising your hips and sliding her cock back into you before resting against her chest. “Mhm needed to feel you inside me mommy.” Alex placed soft kisses across your forehead making her way down to your earlobe nipping it, “Mommy’s little cockwarmer, such a good girl y/n.” You hips bucked at her praise as the words shot straight to your core. “Mmm Casey looks like someone still needs fucked.” She winked at your neediness for her as she bucked her hips up slightly, “Such a needy girl.”

☾ ⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ☾ ⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ☾ ⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ☾ ⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ☾ ⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ☾ ⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ☾ ⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ☾

Tag List: @olderwomenenthusiast @m-1234-5

[a-aexotic]

𝐛𝐮𝐛𝐛𝐥𝐞𝐠𝐮𝐦 𝐛𝐢𝐭𝐜𝐡, original characters!

➜ missing out on updates? ❪ series masterlist. ❫

Rumors of new royalty is circulating the Upper East Side. Could this mean a power shift in the social hierarchy? Only time will tell, but one thing's for sure: the gossip mill is buzzing with anticipation. XOXO, Gossip Girl.

CHARLENE ROUX ❝ BOMBSHELL ! ❞ tv girl, the blonde

" Looks like there's a new face stirring up the Upper East Side social scene. Charlene, the stepsister of our very own Y/N. With her elegance and charm, she's already turning heads and raising eyebrows among Manhattan's elite. But beneath her polished exterior lies a world of secrets waiting to be uncovered. Will she rise to claim her throne in this high-stakes game of power and privilege? Keep your eyes peeled, Upper East Siders, because with Charlene in the mix, things are about to get even more interesting.

You know you love me. XOXO, Gossip Girl. "

NICK KINGSTON ❝ NEW-BOY ! ❞ taylor swift, getaway car

" A mysterious figure has emerged on the Upper East Side, catching the attention of all those in his wake. Enter "New Boy," he exudes an aura of intrigue and allure that has tongues wagging and hearts racing. With his brooding gaze and enigmatic smile, he's like a riddle waiting to be solved, a puzzle begging to be unraveled. But who is he, and what secrets does he hide behind those piercing eyes? Is he a knight in shining armor or a dark prince with a hidden agenda? One thing's for sure: in a world where everyone wears a mask, "New Boy" knows how to keep his true intentions hidden. Stay vigilant, Upper East Siders, for when it comes to matters of the heart, things are never quite as they seem.

You know you love me. XOXO, Gossip Girl. "

more to come...

[minkieater]

one dream, one city, two boys, endless possibilities ✮

ONE ➺ the city masterlist | next as a junior at NYU, you just landed your dream internship. you didn't think a shot at your career would come with secrets, mistakes, and drama... at what age do you really start to grow up?

it's that time - my series is here!! my babies!! my friends!! hope everyone enjoys, all of our friends from luck, carousel, and three fates are here!

w. alcohol consumption, relationship issues, a bunch of fucked up college kids doing fucked up college kid shit MDNI 18+ wc. ~12k

♩— the city, the 1975  “yeah, you wanna find love then you know where the city is.”

after five long hours of drowning in some sort of painful claustrophobia you finally peeled your headphones off your ears, immediately taking a hand up to your ear to soothe your cartilage piercings that still haven’t healed after years of having them. 

past eleven, it was far later than when you should’ve left. you told yourself you’d only spend an hour in the studio tonight, but that thought was long gone after the first hour of being in the leather chair, especially after the first frustrating ten listens of your most recent project. with a tch you rip your hard drive out of the system and pack up, with all intentions of heading out to catch the train back to your apartment across manhattan.

11:21 pm wooyo: come out of your cave and come to prince wooyo: its friday

you yawn, rubbing your eyes vigorously — you need to invest in a pair of blue light glasses. pulling your bag over your shoulder, you respond with a quick ‘be there in 20’.

as you turn to pull the door open, someone else opens it from the other side, “oh shit, my bad.”

a small sound of shock left your lips, feet nearly leaving the ground in panic. your eyes cross the possible perpetrator, the man is massive and his voice is deep. you froze for a moment, arm still held out in front of you to open the door, stuck somewhere between fight or flight. you snap it back to join your other hand in holding the strap that hugged your shoulder. 

“i didn’t mean to scare you,” he chuckles, ring-clad fingers jutting out in apology, “i didn’t think anyone else would be here this late.” you almost shudder at the deep rasp to his voice, eyes shifting to his oversized hoodie, baseball cap tucked under the hood, paired with baggy jeans that overflowed his seemingly new sneakers. 

“i was just leaving anyway,” you try to sound nonchalant but your voice gives you away, sounding quiet, small and embarrassed. your whole face feels hot as you maneuver around him and out the door, basically running down the dimly lit hallway. 

as you stepped out of the double doors of your school’s recording studios, you gave yourself a moment, head dropping backward. staring into the starless sky, you take a deep, controlled breath. you let the air fill your lungs, let it slow your heart rate, panic gradually leaving you with every exhale. when you needed an escape, a moment to yourself, something to ground you when your mind felt too much to handle, you could always count on staring up at new york city’s perpetually void sky. 

you shouldn’t find comfort in decades of pollution masking the stars, something you missed so much from home, maybe the thing you missed most. but that could be the comfort in it, something so different, still feeling so new after living in the city for two years. change is what you craved, what you needed, it’s why you chose to go to NYU in the first place. coming from a small town in the midwest, you knew early that your dream of being a music producer couldn’t happen there. you’ve known that since you were fifteen, when you made the plan to move to the city of dreams in the first place. 

but yet in times like these, when you need a moment of staring up at the sky, you miss the stars staring back down at you. 

you shake your head and get to walking — the walk would be more like 25 rather than 20, but knowing wooyoung, he wouldn’t see your text for another 15 anyhow. you pulled your bag a bit tighter on your shoulders and kept the headphones off for your walk, giving your ears a much needed break. 

“there she is!” wooyoung’s voice is booming, louder than the heavy music the bar is playing, and yunho waves over to you from beside him. he hands you a beer as you sit with the two, hoping to take the edge off the last five hours, but all you can think of is the project you left unfinished. 

“…you’re working on your senior thesis already?” wooyoung’s eyebrows are raised, gaping at yunho, “the semester’s barely started!” 

“do you know how long it’ll take me to research?” yunho responds, bringing his bottle up to his lips, “i’m studying how the internet has changed the music industry, i need to start now.”

“you both are so dedicated,” wooyoung’s words spill out in a whine as his hands cover his face, “i still don’t even know if i really want to major in film.” 

“you have plenty of time to figure your shit out, woo,” you smile, patting his shoulder. you swear wooyoung has been the same carefree, partying college boy since he walked into his dorm on the first day. like yunho, he’s been dragging you out of your books and your projects to live a little since you met freshman year.

“what had you trapped all night?” yunho turns his attention to you. the bar stool is uncomfortable under you, making you shift your legs up to the higher bar, “another project?” 

you huff out a sigh, “for my EMP class.” 

“ah, EMP,” yunho nods and flips his phone face up, checking his notifications, “oh shit, joong and mingi are stopping by.”

you raise an eyebrow and wooyoung smiles, “damn, i haven’t seen them since that one night at jeongin’s!” 

“who are these people again?” you question, fingers mindlessly peeling at the label on your beer bottle, watching the tattoos littering your fingers stretch under the movement. 

“they’ve only been on the roof a few times i think, they know chan,” wooyoung nods like you should know this already. you typically did know almost everyone who came to your boyfriend’s infamous rooftop parties, but it makes sense for one or two people to slip past you every now and then. they usually end up being friends of your boyfriend’s three roommates, chan, felix, and seungmin.

“they’re both in the same major as you. i would’ve thought that you’ve had classes together, but they’re older than you, i guess,” yunho shrugs.

“you’re older than me,” you counter with a look to prove it, bringing your beer to your lips.

the three of you met in your freshman year, taking the same film scoring sound design class, where somehow your degrees overlapped. where you went to study music technology, wooyoung, a junior like you, studied film production, and yunho, a senior, studied music history. 

minutes later wooyoung is waving over two guys you’ve never seen before, a tall one and another shorter one. your eyes squint in focus before they nearly burst out of your head in shock. realization hits you and your body burns in embarrassment, your heart becoming alarmingly loud in your chest. 

they stop at the bar and you quickly explain your situation with the tall one to your friends. wooyoung’s head leans back as a fit of laughter consumes him and yunho’s signature smile that only appears at someone else’s expense comes into view.

“that’s right,” yunho nods in remembrance, “you both are always cooped up in that damn studio, you sure you’ve never met him before?” 

you quickly shake your head as you notice them approaching, pushing your discomfort to the back of your head, trying to seem like you haven’t noticed their arrival.

“god, this place never changes,” the smaller one is shaking his head as the two of them stand around the table, setting his drink down on the stained wood.

“that’s it’s charm,” yunho responds as he raises his hand, “how you been joong?” 

they all take turns dapping each other up as you sit quietly, observing, until the two pairs of eyes turn to you. the taller one introduces himself as mingi, the smaller one hongjoong. 

“hey, didn’t i just see you?” mingi’s eyebrows furrow as if his eyes were tricking him, “you go to NYU right?” his finger points to you, one of his eyebrows lifting in question. wooyoung and yunho immediately turn to you, amusement written all over their faces.

you could feel the heat from the tips of your ears as you nod, “ki, i’m a junior, music tech major.” 

“no way! we’re tech majors too,” he smiles, pulling his beer to his lips and turning back to yunho, “yun, how’s the thesis been?” 

the rest of the night was spent with you mainly being quiet, observing and listening to them converse. you’d only asked a few questions, added input when you felt necessary, and laughed when the situation called for it. your discomfort from earlier eased to some degree by the end of the night, but you felt like the majority of your time at prince was spent on auto-pilot.

mingi and hongjoong shared little about themselves, but you picked up on a few things throughout the night. they’re both seniors at NYU, studying music technology like you. they’ve also been interning for the same record label since the end of their junior year, both hoping to land a permanent position at the label before the end of their senior year. 

yunho and mingi have been friends since they were young, both attending the same high school and moving to new york city just after they graduated. hongjoong is born and raised in new york, you could tell as much from his accent, but met mingi his freshman year in one of their classes and they’ve been close since. 

where mingi was more quiet and reserved, hongjoong was talkative, easily dominating the conversation. he was loud about it, too. with eyeliner, a shaggy mullet and multiple ear piercings, hongjoong seemed anything but sweet off first glance. but the second he smiled paired with the sweet, melodious laugh that left his lips, you knew his appearance had nothing to do with his personality. something you should know by now in the creative department of NYU.

by the end of the night your social battery was below zero. your goodbyes to your new and old friends were quick, exhausted from your hours spent in the studio and the beers did nothing but tire you more. by the time you were back in your apartment, another 20 minute walk from prince, you’d hoped and prayed your roommate was sound asleep. you couldn’t bear another word out of your mouth.

in the shower you were playing the night back in your head like a movie, and you swore the weight of uneasiness didn’t fully leave you until you were settled in bed. trying to distract yourself by turning on the tv, your mind drifts once more, but instead of your project it was your new acquaintances, your seniors, two people you could learn so much from… it didn’t take long for your brain to empty itself and sleep to consume you.

⋆.ೃ࿔*:･

“are you coming this friday?” your boyfriend asks, and you can hear the impatience in his voice, no doubt he’s feeling neglected after your busy week. 

“i don’t think so, i still have so much to do on this fucking song. it’s missing something still and i can’t figure it out,” you huff, running a hand through your hair. 

“that’s okay, i understand, what about tonight? you gonna be there late?” 

“i think so, i’m sorry, i’m so stressed i think i’m just gonna go home and crash.” 

“please, baby? every night this week you’ve been there and you’re always too tired to come over after,” he’s whining over the phone now, and your eye literally twitches as he speaks.

“jeongin, i need to get this done, i don’t know what else to tell you,” you snap as your fingers come up to the bridge of your nose, placing your elbow on the desk, “you have a key to my place, use it.” 

“is riley home? i don’t want to just show up unannounced, what if san’s there?”

you sigh, “we’ve been together for two years innie, and she’s known you longer than i have. i’m sure she’ll be happy to see you even if san is there. i’m almost done, i’ll be home soon, okay?” you lean back in the chair, eyes closing, bringing your free hand to rub at your mascara-less eyes. 

“okay! i’ll pick us up something to eat, what do you want?” your eyebrows furrow in frustration and you open your eyes to look down at the monitor again. all you can see is unfinished work, and your stress level goes through the roof. 

you take the phone off your ear and let a breath of frustration out before answering, “whatever you want. i’ll see you soon, love you,” you waited for him to say it back before you hung up the phone. you set it face down on the desk, bringing your headphones back over your ears, planning to finish up some last tweaks before you went back home for the night. 

the first day of your freshman year you walked into your cramped dorm room and were met with the human embodiment of new york. she was the perfect introduction to the city, the smallest yet loudest bundle of sunshine you’d ever encountered, a born and raised city girl. riley was a few inches over five feet, kind pale eyes and long dark waves framing her pretty face. lucky for you, she came with a built in friend group. 

jeongin, felix, chan, and seungmin, four guys who had moved to the city right after they graduated high school. the four of them had met riley randomly at a rock concert over the summer,  enamored by the fact that she’s a local and also majoring in theatre at NYU in the fall. they were quick to friendship, riley and the four boys, until you were introduced. 

from the first conversation you had with the four, your friendship fell right into place. it felt like you had known them your whole life. all four of them were funny, kind, accepting, and the best of all, gorgeous. the first time you saw jeongin you could attest that love at first sight is a real phenomenon. it didn’t take long after you guys had met for you to start dating, he was something out of your dreams. kind, respectful, funny, doting, he checked off every box on your 18 year old list. 

for being together nearly two years, at this point he is a true extension of you. you lived at his place half the time, you were always out in the city together, in the middle of washington square park on picnic dates, your relationship was movie-esque. everyone who knew you, knew jeongin, and vice versa. 

you didn’t hear anyone come in, and you sure as hell didn’t expect anyone to interrupt your focus as you felt a small tap on your shoulder. ripping your headphones off isn’t an understatement as you shriek, terror and surprise rushing through you like electricity. 

he can’t help but engulf himself in a fit of laughter while your eyebrows disappear into your hairline, your mouth agape as you clutch your thrashing heart over your hoodie. 

“mingi! jesus christ, are you gonna scare the shit out of me every time you’re here?” you bark out, breath heavy and unstable, irritation clear in your voice.

“i’m sorry, i’m sorry, i knocked but you didn’t hear. didn’t know how else to interrupt,” he counters, still smiling, waving his hands in apology.

“did you not see the red light for in use outside the door?” you ignore the amused smile across his face, still clutching your heart as if it’d burst out of your chest if you didn’t. 

“i did, i took a peek to see if you’d be in here again,” he shrugs, “it’s late and you’re in the same room as the other day, i was curious.”

your expression softens, and you ignore the sweat that was quick to form in your palms. “oh,” you mutter, so quiet it was almost inaudible, “well here i am.” 

a small smile sits on his face as he moves closer, peering over your shoulder to look at the monitor, “what’s this?”

“a project for my EMP class, did you take it?” you shift your focus to your monitor again, joining him in overlooking your project.

he nods and turns to pull up another chair from beside the desk, “last year, what professor?” 

you curse your cheeks as they heat up on their own, “lee.” 

he makes a disappointed face, his lips thinning into a line, “that’s unfortunate.” he nods his chin to the monitor, “let me hear what you’ve got.” 

“it’s not even close to being finished,” you argue, the familiar heat at the tips of your ears joining your cheeks in competition of which can expose your embarrassment first. 

he shakes his head, “don’t care.” not even entertaining your argument, he reaches for the headphones that are placed around your neck. 

you clutch onto them quickly and he halts his movement, looking up at you, startled at your reflex. “damn, give me a second,” you say with a quick laugh, pulling the headphones from around your neck and handing them to him.

you press play and his head nods to the beat as he listens, his eyebrows furrowed again, this time in focus. you take a moment to really take in his appearance — full lips, short, black and blonde ruffled up hair, a perfectly straight nose… you pull your bottom lip between your teeth. 

he takes the headphones off as the song finishes, snapping you back to reality. “it still needs some tweaks but it’s good, you’re probably at a B minus right now.”

your jaw drops, “tweaks? a B minus?”

he laughs, “i thought you said it wasn’t even close to being done yet? here, let me help,” he places a headphone up to his ear opposite of the side you’re sitting on, pressing buttons on the keyboard. “i like the synths, very atmospheric, but you’re missing depth,” he sucks a breath in through his teeth, “a deeper bass line, it needs to be more intense.” 

he plays with your song for some time, listening and nodding his head to the beat. you stare at him in his element with damn near stars in your eyes— your eyebrows are raised, mouth hung slightly open, you’re nothing short of in awe at this essentially random man, your senior who interns at a record label, helping you with your project. 

he makes a finishing nod as he hands your headphones back to you, ushering you to listen. his small tweaks changed your song entirely, no shot you weren’t getting an A now.

“lee is big on emotion, layering and harmonies and all that,” he says as you pull the headphone off your ear. 

you start, “mingi, i-“

he leans back, arms folded behind his head with a cocky smile, “i know, i know, you can’t thank me enough, i’m really good at what i do, thank you very much,” he’s joking when he cuts you off, but it’s so true it’s nauseating. he did in 20 minutes what would’ve taken you 2 days, the raw talent exuding off of him only makes you more curious.

you can appreciate the love he has for his craft, the craft you share. he seems to love it enough that he can pick apart your creation and put it back together better than you did in the first place. it makes you want to pick his brain, find out why he’s here, why he loves music, what he grew up listening to. 

“i was actually going to say undo everything you just did because it sounds like dog shit,” you deadpan, wiping the cocky smile right off his face, making the corners of your mouth lift up in amusement.

“that hurt my feelings,” he pouts, crossing his arms over his chest instead.

you giggle, “can’t let you get too cocky.”

he chuckles, patting his thighs before he stands, “you still have to work on your use of effects, create more of a sense of urgency in the bridge. i’d say now you’re at an A minus though, couple more tweaks and you’re golden.” 

you nod, sitting up a bit straighter, “thank you, that was actually a huge help. i’ve been at this for almost a week now.” 

he heads toward the door and your brain is scrambling trying to figure out a way to get him to stay, or at least come back again soon. 

“you coming to chan’s this friday?” he beats you to it as he opens the door, peeking at you over his shoulder. 

you snap your head up at that, “uh, yeah, i’ll be there.”

the corners of his mouth turn up in a wide smile, “sweet, ill see you there then.” 

“thanks again!” heat rises to your cheeks as soon as the door shuts —  your palm slaps your forehead. at least jeongin will be happy that you’re coming friday. 

shit, jeongin! you already forgot about dinner. you quickly stood and yanked your hard drive out, quickly packing up your backpack to run to the subway station. you felt lighter right now than you had in a week, a newfound optimism taking over. 

you felt closer to finishing your project instead of being in the middle of it, you’re on more of a friendly basis with someone whom you share your craft, plus he’s more talented and experienced than you in it … it’s unknown territory for you since you didn’t have many friends in your major. 

your leg bounced the entire train ride home with a silly smile on your face, high off the adrenaline rush from the breakthrough. the train was surprisingly not packed, only a couple of people sharing the same car as you. it’s not usual for any subway car to be somewhat unoccupied, let alone peaceful in new york city. 

the adrenaline died down a fair amount in your walk from the station to your apartment, replaced with the comfort of your boyfriend and best friend waiting for you upstairs. 

the scent of oregano and fresh bread met you in the staircase, meaning pizza was waiting for you in the kitchen. as you made your way inside your apartment you found riley, san and jeongin standing around the counter in the midst of conversation. you set your backpack down on the table to signal your arrival and the three turn their attention to you. 

“you’re finally home! what’s got you cheesing so hard?” riley asks, handing you a plate as you turn the corner to grab a piece of pizza. 

jeongin kisses your cheek twice as you open the box, “feeling better about the song?” 

“yeah, i had a major breakthrough, actually,” that same silly smile is still plastered across your face as you pull a piece out onto your plate. 

riley’s eyes thin, shooting you a questioning look as she takes a bite of her slice. she’s always been able to see through you, read between the lines, hear what you weren’t saying, see the mask you wore when you were hiding your feelings like it was physically there.

“then the pizza is celebratory, i just so happened to get your favorite kind from your favorite place,” jeongin smiles, bumping his hip with yours as you take a huge bite of the thankfully still hot pizza. pepperoni has always been your favorite, but the first time you had any pizza in new york your life changed for the better. everything in new york is better than it is at home.

you thank him the best you can with your mouth full, then give him a close lipped smile, hiding the food in your mouth. 

“we were just talking about the roof on friday,” riley starts, leaning against san’s sturdy build that impressed you every time you saw it, “you feel like going?” 

you pause for a moment remembering your promise to mingi, “i actually can now that i’m pretty much done with the song.”

“yes!” jeongin’s fists shoot for the sky, wide smile on his face, “it’s supposed to be a big one, chan got the whole soccer club to come.”

“just the club? not the violets?” san perked up, eyebrows raised in question.

“the violets are probably all busy, soccer season and football season already started,” riley waves her hand, “the clubs aren’t that serious.” 

“i think they’d be offended if they heard you say their season isn’t serious, baby,” san’s gaze turned downward to riley, a sparkle in his eyes that was too bright for two people just sleeping with each other. you made a mental note to unpack that, just as you had to discuss the night you had. 

“maybe if they didn’t get hammered on a random rooftop mid-season i'd be more likely to consider them serious,” riley’s hands lifted to her shoulders, eyebrows lifted in an oh well expression. 

“touché,” san responded through a yawn, voice sounding breathy and relaxed. riley immediately yawned after him, a somnolent sound paired with stretching her arms. 

riley and san shared a mirrored look, seeming to read each other’s minds without verbally saying a thing. 

“we’re gonna head to bed, goodnight,” riley announces and turns for the hallway without a second glance, san bids you a small wave goodnight behind her. 

you and jeongin both call goodnight after them and he turns to you, moving a stray hair off of your face, “i’ve missed you.” 

“missed you too,” you sigh, “‘m sorry i snapped at you earlier,” you set your plate down and lean into his front, laying your head on his shoulder with your eyes closed. exhaustion hits you as soon as your eyelids shut, you could fall asleep on his shoulder if you needed to. his hands immediately find purchase on your hips, giving them a squeeze.

“don’t apologize baby, you’ve been so stressed and working so hard,” he kissed the side of your head, pulling up a hand to scratch at your scalp, “gonna be the best producer in all of new york.” you groan in appreciation. you should’ve had him here days ago. that’s always been his thing — the magic touch. 

where riley could see through you, practically hear your thoughts and feelings exactly for what they were, jeongin could feel them. with a hand in your hair or kiss to the cheek, he could feel what you were feeling. it was your favorite thing about him, his ability to know what you needed and help you through it without you having to ask. 

“you tired?” he asks, and you lift your head to look at him, then shook your head quickly. he smiles at your sleepy eyes, and like always, he knew what you wanted. he brought his hands to your hips again to twist your back against the counter, kissing you softly at first. he slipped his tongue into your mouth, exploring until you brought your hands to his hair and tugged, silently begging for more. he swiftly slid the pizza box across the counter and picked you up by the backs of your thighs, placing you on the countertop without breaking the kiss. 

“mm, maybe i am tired, we should head to bed,” you say between kisses, arms placed around his neck. 

he groans into his words, “yeah, lots of sleeping, we should do that,” you’re both smiling into the kiss, and you squeal as his hands scoop under your ass, picking you up to bring you to your room. sleep could come later, right now you just wanted him.

⋆.ೃ࿔*:･

friday comes faster than you thought it would. your classes breezed by, your song finally finished and turned in, and you were impatiently waiting for tonight. normally you aren’t as excited for the rooftop parties your boyfriend and his roommates threw, they were a dime a dozen, but the anticipation for tonight has been at the front of your mind all week. 

“you dressed up? i thought we were dressing cozy like we always do!” riley stands at your doorway, hands at her sides with her eyebrows furrowed. she had on ripped jeans, an oversized hoodie, and a pair of white sneakers. her hair was tied up in a bun, glasses sitting on her nose. 

you looked down at your bodysuit, jeans and sandals, and then looked back up to her, “this is somewhat cozy!”

“i’m putting on a different shirt and doing my hair,” she states and leaves your room in a hurry, and you look in the mirror at your side. you did your hair and makeup, something you only do once in a while for jeongin’s parties. you’d usually be in a different version of riley’s exact outfit. 

“i guess i did dress up,” you mumble to yourself and shrug, your small smile returning on your lips. you were in a good mood, actually having enough energy to put effort into getting ready, so your appearance reflected that. 

you made your way to the kitchen to pour a couple shots for you and your roommate, getting the pregame started. music blasted throughout your apartment, thanks to the surround sound stereo system you installed with the help of riley and jeongin. 

more so you got frustrated trying to install them yourself and made jeongin do most of it while riley watched anxiously.

you took the first shot back quick, needing to start easing your nerves before heading out for the night. jeongin’s parties were famously never small, with the help of his three roommates they were friends with half of NYU’s campus. from the arts department to the finance bros, they knew everyone, and everyone knew them. even the wealthiest students that attended NYU knew at least one out of the four. living in a huge apartment in soho, thanks to seungmin’s father paying half their rent each month, they had the luxury of their own private rooftop.

some of your best memories of the past two years have been on that rooftop… huge parties, small get-togethers, nights between you and jeongin only. you would prefer that to a random frat party any day. even in the winter time, with tents and heaters, you’d still be on that rooftop until all hours of the night. but as you’ve grown older, classes have become harder, your workload more intense, nights on that rooftop have become less of a common occurrence. you think that’s why your stomach is bubbling up with tension, you don’t have the comfort of knowing you were there just the other day. it’s been long enough to where you feel like just someone showing up rather than the host’s girlfriend of two years walking around the rooftop like she owns it.

“okay, i’m ready now — oh no, you poured shots?” riley pouts, setting her hands down on the counter.  now she wore a black bodysuit, her dark hair in soft curls around her face. you know by now that her resolve is weak despite her complaints, so you slide the two shot glasses toward her. 

“to riley getting laid tonight!” you yell as you lift up your shot glass, and she lets out a quick laugh before clicking her glass with yours and shooting it back. 

“why tonight? i’ve been fucking san for months,” she says, her face scrunching up in disgust from the taste of the vodka. 

“by chan, ri,” you announce in a tone that this information was obvious, smiling like a maniac at your roommate. this makes her eyes roll, heat rising to her cheeks. “come on, it’s been years of mutual pining between the two of you, i don’t understand why it’s not happening when it’s clearly meant to!” 

“please,” she waves a hand and picks up her phone, “he literally has a girlfriend, ki. we keep having the same conversation, it’ll happen when it’s meant to.” 

you tap your second shot glass on the table to alert her to take her second shot as well. she grabs onto the top of the glass and pauses for a second, “maybe i really should stop sleeping with san.” 

“to riley discontinuing her meaningless sex relationship and pursuing true love!” you raise your shot glass again and she clinks hers with yours, an emotion you can’t read in her eyes before she takes it back. 

“meaningless sex is crazy,” she lets out a breath of air after the shot, “you know it’s more than that, we just talked about this.” 

you grab your phone off the charger and slip it into your purse, “i also know you’re in love with chan, we just talked about that, too. no more meaningless sex, but instead sex with love behind it.”

she’s smiling as she lifts up her phone again, “and what about you, huh? you’re about to see your new boyfriend at your actual boyfriend’s party.” 

your eyes snap up, jaw immediately dropping with a gasp. you filled her in on what happened in the studio the other night, she hasn't let you rest for a minute because of it. “don’t even joke like that, it’s not like that and you know it.” 

“just like it’s not just meaningless sex with san and i,” she sings, “i’m kidding, but i can’t help but connect the dots and i do feel like maybe you’re a little excited to see him again,” she puts her fingers up in a pinch, squinting an eye. 

you respond with your lips pursed, your eyes lowered to slits. 

“in a completely platonic and innocent way!” her hands go up in defense instead. 

“am i excited for the chance to talk to someone older than me with more experience in my major, who’s really talented and can hopefully give me tips to get me further in my career? yes, of course i am,” you run a hand through your hair with a huff of air, “it just so happens that he’s a man.” 

“who’s six feet tall and probably sexy.”

“riley!”

“i’m sorry! let’s go, uber’s here.”

the rooftop is just how you left it. a mass of bodies standing, talking, drinking, maybe even dancing to the song playing through the speakers. fairy lights still hang over the roof, intertwined in a way that looks intentional, but you still aren’t sure if it is. the bar is in the same place, they got a dj, nothing has changed at all and it helps to put you at ease. along with the vodka you drank before you left. 

“no way! riley and kiki!?” you hear him before you see him, a slightly taller sunshine maneuvering his way towards you and your smaller sunshine. 

“lixie!” riley exclaims, throwing her arms around his neck in a hug as he approaches you, “i’ve missed you! how’s the foot?”

“honestly better now, just waiting on clearance from the doctor before i can start performing again,” he smiles as he sticks his leg out, lifting his pant leg and twisting his ankle around to show you it’s mobility. the smile on his face is infectious, it immediately makes you smile, too. 

“there she is,” you feel hands around your waist and a pair of plump lips pressed to your cheek, “you look so fucking beautiful and i haven’t even seen your face yet.” 

you turn around and press your lips to jeongin’s, smiling into it, “i felt like dressing up.” 

“and i feel like taking it off of you,” he whispers into your ear, making a hand go over your mouth as you choke out a giggle. his messy curls lay wispy across his forehead, the familiar copper flips peeking out from the nape of his neck. he was in a big t-shirt, baggy jeans and sneakers, your favorite look on him after just plain sweats. 

“at least get me a drink first,” you licked your lips, tasting the cheap beer from when you kissed him. it was usually like this between you two, flirting like you had just started dating yesterday, the off days where you were stressed and short tempered were few and far between. 

“you’re coming with me, i want you to meet some people,” he grabs your hand and starts for the crowd of people. you give riley and felix a wave behind you, jeongin not giving you any time for small talk as he starts pulling you towards the bar.

you passed faces you recognized, giving small waves and ‘hey!’s as you followed behind him. you’ll get to socializing with everyone you know later. 

at the back end of the rooftop was a stand up bar, one seungmin’s dad gifted to them without a doubt. everyone had the option to bring their own alcohol, which a lot of people did, but seungmin loved the classy feeling of having an almost full bar at his parties. it was mainly his name that was passed around for the legendary parties, so he had to live up to expectations. 

“hey jinnie,” you smile as you approach the bar, completely ignoring the line that was formed in front of it. still hand in hand with jeongin, no one batted an eye. it’s one thing to have a bar at a college party, but to have a bartender comfortable serving alcohol without showing ID? impossible to find. hyunjin, on the other hand, has never minded for a moment — he actually offered. with compensation, of course. 

“hey keeks! haven’t seen you in a hot minute, how’ve you been?” his smile is wide when he notices you, still shaking the drink he was currently making. 

“busy as hell, what about you? how’s the portfolio?” you unlace your hand with jeongin’s and lean on the side of the bar, trying not to let his actions sway your easily distracted mind. 

“i’ve been really good! super busy too, still working on it,” he hands the finished drink to the girl standing at the bar, and she hands him a 20 while batting her eyelashes. he winks back and then turns to you, “you want a beer or a cocktail?” 

“cocktail please, something tequila. i’m in the mood to chat,” you smile and it makes him laugh, already pulling the casamigos from the rack. 

“whatever you say, princess,” this has always been the relationship between you and hyunjin since before you and jeongin had started dating. the shameless flirting, the easy conversation, the nicknames, you’ve thanked god jeongin isn’t the jealous type plenty of times. your drink is handed to you in moments, jeongin passing his friend a bill you couldn’t see. you thanked hyunjin for the drink and jeongin for tipping him, and your boyfriend pulled you by the wrist once more.

“where are we going?” you ask, keeping your drink level as you make your way through the crowd. you try to manage a sip, your face scrunching up from the sour taste. tequila and sour mix was an odd one of your favorites, but the first sip is always the worst before it gets better. 

“i just met a couple of chan’s friends, i was talking with them right before you got here, they’re cool. they’re in the same major as you,” he yells over the loud music now that you’re back in the crowd, and you nod despite him not being able to see you.

you make your way over to the smoking corner, one of the cozier areas that you friend group seemed to naturally go towards every time you were here. the music was still loud but it seemed somewhat quieter in the corner, maybe because it was next to the edge of the rooftop and there was nothing but the city around and beneath, you could hear traffic and the business of new york, making it seem less deafening. there were couches, cushioned chairs, tiki torches, it made the space the most inviting spot on the rooftop.

“hey keeks!” chan stood up to hug you, wrapping his huge arms around your back, “feels like i haven’t seen you in ages, you haven’t been by the loft. what’s up?” 

“i know, i’ve been busy as shit,” you chuckle as he lets go, sitting back down, “how about you?”

“the same, really. but hey, nothing new is nothing bad, right?” his hands go up, his eyebrows raised in amusement. you glance down to the couch, han was sitting with one leg over minho’s, fully relaxed into the cushions. you gave them a smile in greeting, they were close friends of the four roommates, close friends of yours. you give chan a nod and the rest a wave before jeongin grabs your hand again. 

“ki, this is who i wanted you to meet!” you turned away from chan, and before your boyfriend were two people you had definitely met before, “mingi and hongjoong.”

“oh shit, hey guys,” your cheeks immediately heat up as you give them a small wave, mouth twisting to a tight lipped smile. 

“i thought your name sounded familiar!” hongjoong’s finger points, his eyebrows perked up in surprise. his mullet was messy, his piercings shining under the moonlight. he had on an oversized distressed sweater, a long pair of denim shorts, paired with some old boots. does he just permanently look like a rockstar?

“sick, you know each other already?” jeongin asks, a bright smile on his face. 

“yeah, we met last week at prince when i was out with wooyo and yunho,” you nod, playing with the straw in your drink. 

“how’d the song come out, ki? you add in what i told you to?” mingi asks, and you gave him a one over. he wore a tight black tee paired with white and black jeans, a black baseball cap and plenty of jewelry. 

you nod, “got an A plus, thank you very much!” you sip your drink, pretending you didn’t feel the sweat forming in your palms, telling yourself it’s just the condensation from your glass. 

jeongin looks at you with an eyebrow raised, clearly missing a key point from the conversation, “the night i had the breakthrough, mingi listened to my song and told me what i needed to fix. he’s why i finished it so quickly.” 

“ah,” is all he said with a slow nod, and you couldn’t fight the uncomfortable feeling creeping up your spine. 

“even if i didn’t, you still would’ve gotten a good grade, you didn’t need my help,” he shakes his hand at you, “i’ve actually been talking to joong about it, next time you’re in the studio you have to let us come by and listen to it.” 

“seriously? i mean- yeah, but why?” your eyebrows furrow and you shift your weight to one leg. 

“it’s been stuck in my head, i was thinking it’d be even better with vocals over it,” he shrugs, taking a swig of his beer. 

“i catch him humming to it all the time. during class, at work, at the bar,” hongjoong laughs before he sniffs, running the back of his hand over his nostrils, “i feel like i need to hear it so i can get it out of my head.” 

you laugh along with him, “you can definitely come by, i’ll probably be in there tomorrow working on my own stuff. same studio,” you tip your chin up at mingi and he nods back in understanding. 

jeongin’s hand makes its way to your waist, “i’m gonna go find felix and ri, i’ll be back.” you nod and give him a quick kiss, and he goes right back into the crowd. 

“i didn’t know you and jeongin were together,” mingi starts, his eyes that were following jeongin disappear into the crowd come back to meet yours.

“almost two years now,” you say with a smile, then take another sip of your drink. the words feel sour coming out of your mouth, like you didn’t want to tell him that. 

“two yea- aren’t you a junior?” hongjoong interrupted, pointing your way again, looking nothing short of flabbergasted.

“we met our freshman year, been together since,” you confirmed with an uncomfortable chuckle, taking another sip of your drink. you hated that you selfishly wanted to change the subject. 

“cute,” mingi mutters before his beer touches his lips again, eyes boring holes into yours. 

“ki!” you hear over your shoulder, making you whip around to yunho approaching you from behind, his girlfriend close behind him. you’d never been more grateful for anything in your life. 

“hey guys,” you smile and hug them both quickly, giving yunho a moment to greet everyone in the corner before he takes the spot next to you. 

“what’d i miss? i just saw felix and riley back there,” his hands are in his pockets, a soft close-mouthed smile sitting on his face.

“nothing at all, we were waiting for you to get the party started,” you scrunch your nose at your own joke and yunho replies with a belly laugh, shaking his head.

“yun, can we get drinks?” ivy asked, tugging on yunho’s sleeve. blonde and blue eyed, small girl, she was always dressed so pretty. always in a dress or a skirt, you don’t know if you’ve ever seen her in a pair of pants, not even when you all went out for a night of bowling in brooklyn.

they’d been together for longer than yourself and jeongin, the four of you often went out on double dates when you first became friends with yunho. their relationships mirrored your own, a match made in heaven, two people born to be with each other.

“you guys are empty too?,” mingi asks, asking the three of you but keeping his gaze focused on your empty glass, gaining your attention. “let’s go get another.” 

he starts for the crowd with you following close behind until it starts to get dense, people naturally clinging closer to one another the closer they got to the dj. changbin always insists he runs the music at these parties, there’s nothing he loves more than riling up a crowd with the remixes he and han make. he also couldn’t complain about the girls that hang around the booth. mingi turns his head around and notices you lagging behind, offering a hand so you don't get lost in the crowd. 

you took it, and the first thing you noticed was how small your hand is in comparison to his. it fit so nicely in his palm, fingers wrapped around the top of his hand. you blame the tequila for the heat that spread into your chest. 

as you neared the line for the bar you chose to not use your friendship with hyunjin to get you up to the front, opting to take your time at the back of the line instead. you noticed yunho and ivy didn’t make it to the line behind you and you couldn’t help but be happy about it.

“so,” he starts and a pause follows, making you both giggle, “i assume you’re at all of these parties, right?” 

his question makes you tilt your head, “i’m 95% sure that question was a slightly different version of ‘you come here often?’”

he turns around in embarrassment, a hand covering his mouth, pretending he didn’t know who you were. he turns back around, a silly smile sitting on those pretty lips of his and you swear there’s a pink hue to his cheeks, “it might’ve been.” 

“then to that, i’ll say i used to come a lot more, but with school getting so crazy i haven’t been as much,” you shrug and he nods, pulling his bottom lip between his teeth. 

you make small talk as the line moves closer and you swear there’s tension between the two of you. it could be the buzz you’re nursing because the small talk flows, but it feels like there’s something that both of you want to say and neither of you are saying it. 

“you’re cheating on me with someone else now too?” hyunjin pouts as you finally approach the bar.

“i’m sorry baby, i didn’t mean to break it to you like this,” you reach for his hand over the bar and he pulls it away, looking at you with disappointment. 

“is it because he’s taller than me? i swear 2 or 3 inches isn’t that much,” he says with a fake sadness, already pulling the casamigos from the rack. 

“jinnie baby, 2 or 3 inches is a lot where it counts,” you put your hand over your heart, “i hope you can forgive me.” 

“i’ll think about it, princess,” he puts your drink on the bar, looking up to mingi who is confused yet amused, “miller right?” 

mingi nods and hyunjin cracks a can, mingi slipping him a bill during the transaction. they both do that guy nod at each other in thanks and hyunjin looks at you with fake sadness again, making you giggle. 

“what the hell?” is all mingi says as you walk back towards the crowd, both walking a lot slower. 

“that’s hyunjin, one of my friends. we always play like that,” you shrug, “what, you thought he was serious?” 

“at first, well for a second there yeah,” he admits, making you laugh, “i don’t know what to expect with you. here i thought i met a really pretty girl who shares the same interests as me, has the same humor as me, then i find out she’s been in a two year long relationship. i guess i don’t really know that much about you.” 

you stop in your tracks and look up to him in surprise, eyes wide and lips parted. you blink a couple times, scrambling to find something to say.

“you think i’m pretty?” you ask, a serious look on your face before your lips twitch upward. he nudges your shoulder with a shut up making you giggle. 

“what do you want to know?” you ask, and you’re both standing still, nursing your drinks. 

“i want to know a lot of things, but unfortunately i think our time is up,” his eyes look past you and you turn around, jeongin approaching.

“hey guys,” he kisses your cheek and tilts his head up to nod at mingi, “i caught riley and chan flirting!” 

you gasp, “no shot, san is here.” 

he nods again, success written all over his face, “i think san was in our corner while they were talking.” 

you dapped up your boyfriend, “i consider that a step forward, i’ll stay here if she takes him home tonight.” 

“you’re staying here anyway,” he looks at you like you should know that already then leans closer to your ear, “i didn’t forget about what i said earlier.” 

you shush him, your cheeks burning, from what he said or the fact that he said it with the other man standing behind you, you weren’t sure.  

“i’m gonna head back over to where we were,” mingi says from behind you, and you turn around to give him a smile and a nod. jeongin gives him a cheesy thumbs up and you can’t help but want to pull his hand back down to his side, second-hand embarrassment forcing heat to rise to your cheeks again. you’d usually find that funny, maybe even a bit endearing.

“we should go too,” you murmur, this time you grabbed his wrist to follow mingi through the crowd. 

when you get back, all the seats are taken except for the spots san and minho left open, they had gone to get more drinks just as you got there. mingi and hongjoong still choose to stand, deep in conversation with yunho. you and jeongin sit apart, opposite sides of the area, and you try your hardest to listen to the conversation everyone was already in the midst of. you kept replaying the past half hour in your head while everyone around you was engulfed in discussion, burning the conversation with mingi into your memory so your buzzed brain didn’t forget it. as curious as you were about him he seemed to be the same towards you, which only made you more restless about getting to know him better. you caught yourself staring at him a few times throughout the night until he inevitably caught you, shooting a sly smirk your way. 

your eyes shoot to jeongin who was already looking at you, he’d noticed you’ve been lost in your thoughts for awhile now. he stood abruptly, straightening out his shirt.

“i’m tired,” he says nonchalantly, still looking to you. you couldn’t read him, did he catch that? the looks? is he actually tired? everyone looks up at him, surprised at his sudden revelation, “i’m gonna head to bed.”

“it’s only midnight, innie,” chan looks up from his lock screen, no doubt checking the time, “why so early?”

he shrugs, “i’m tired.” 

he waves goodnight to everyone and you sit stuck in your chair, unsure of where his head is at. do you follow him? do you stay here with everyone and enjoy the rest of the party? you hadn’t even said hi to the soccer club yet. 

as he starts to walk away, he doesn’t look back at you nor does he kiss you goodnight, and you have your answer. you stood up, swinging your purse over your shoulder and chug the rest of your drink. you needed the rest of the watered down tequila to ease your nerves, especially with not knowing where his head is. he may not be the jealous type, but he’s not stupid, either. 

“you’re going in, too?” riley asks, eyebrows furrowed with a pout on her lips.

“following my boyfriend into an empty house? absolutely,” you say jokingly, trying to play it off as something you two had planned. 

but as she always does, she lifts a brow, sensing your uneasiness despite your words. her eyes quickly darted to mingi and back to you so fast it was almost unnoticeable, and your lips tightened. she nods. 

“we on for wednesday?” yunho asks as you turn away, giving you a quick hug goodbye. 

“depends on my assignments for the week,” you say, scratching the back of your neck. 

“wooyoung will be pissed if you don’t,” he sings teasingly and you roll your eyes, turning your attention to mingi and hongjoong.

“good to see you guys again,” you smile, waving to them both. 

“we’ll see you tomorrow?” hongjoong asks, eyebrows raised. 

“i think so,” you nod, purposefully not confirming, then turn on your heel to walk through the crowd once more. 

you greet about twenty more people along the way, getting stuck in a few conversations before you finally stand before the door to the staircase. you take in a deep breath, not knowing what’s waiting for you on the other side. 

⋆.ೃ࿔*:･

you nodded your head along to the beat, fingers tapping against the desk, mimicking every sound in the current project you had displayed across the monitor. you paused it, tweaking a harmony’s pitch, then pressed play again. 

you sighed as you sat back, taking off your headphones in the middle of the song, and stared up at the ceiling of the studio. you hadn’t seen him since friday, and he’s been occupying half of your mind since. it’s so wrong, you shouldn’t wish he’d walk through the door behind you, but you do. 

you couldn’t stop thinking about his necklaces, his rings, the hat he wore and the short waves peeking out of it, his nose, his lips… the list can go on and on. it’s so fucking wrong. your boyfriend was at his apartment, waiting for you to be done so you could join him. you spent the remainder of the weekend with him, half because you wanted to and half because you needed to. you needed mingi out of your head, and the only way to do that was to fill it with jeongin. 

you stare back at the screen, and your eyes squint. you can’t help but wonder what he’d think of the song, what input he’d have to improve it. you rubbed your eyes and groaned.

a knock at the door has your eyes wide and a gasp leaving your throat, your neck snapping behind you to catch who’s entering your studio space. the man of the hour waltzes inside so casually, as if he didn’t owe you rent for living in your mind the past 96 hours. 

“look who it is,” your smile is wide, bright eyes looking up at him as he makes his way in. 

“at least i didn’t scare you this time,” he’s already smiling too, excitement leaking out of both of you, “i finally caught you, you didn’t show on saturday.”

you take your headphones off, placing them on the desk, “my bad, i didn’t feel good all weekend. this is the first time i’ve been here in a few days,” a lie.

“all better now i hope?” he stands with the back of his legs against the desk, staring down at you, so aloof you can't read him. 

“for the most part,” you lean back in your chair, playing with your own rings, “i was hoping i’d see you, actually. i’m working on something else that i want your opinion on.” 

“hoping you’d see me? that doesn’t sound good,” that smirk you couldn’t stop thinking about finds its way to his face again, “don’t get yourself in trouble now.” 

you roll your eyes, “did your ears stop working or are you so narcissistic that that’s all you heard?” 

he chuckles to himself, pulling the chair that he sat in last time back over to the desk, “go for it.” 

you unplug your headphones this time, letting the song play out loud. you both nod your head, and you couldn’t help feeling vulnerable as your own personal project plays through the small studio. he pulls his bottom lip between his teeth, and you couldn’t read his expression. it seemed like focus, but you couldn’t pinpoint any pleasure or dislike. 

he pauses the song, looking dead at you, and you feel two feet tall in the leather chair, “have you applied anywhere for an internship?” 

you blink twice, not expecting the sudden question, “i was planning to look into it later this year.” 

“you need to start looking, you’re good at this shit,” he takes a breath, pressing play to finish the song. your whole body is hot, there’s no way you could pay attention to the rest of the song now. despite the discomfort from the sudden compliment, a surge of confidence rushes through you, twisting the vulnerability into a feeling of pride. 

you realized you haven't even heard anything he’s produced yet, and wonder why his opinion means so much to you. is it just because he’s older? more experienced? because he’s already working with a record label?

“i really fucking like this, ki. we need to get joong in here,” his voice rips you out of your thoughts, realizing he’s already looking at you, “do you mind if i text him to stop by?” 

you quickly shook your head, “not at all, no, tell him to come by,” you tuck your hair behind your ears, “thank you, but there’s nothing you want to add? no constructive criticism?” 

“well it’s not like this is for a class, right?” he asks and you quickly shake your head again, “the art you create is a reflection of you, it represents who you are. your talent, your passion, your personality. i can’t give criticism on something so personal.” 

you both blink at each other before he cracks a small smile, “that was corny, wasn’t it?” 

“no! it wasn’t corny at all, i just wasn’t expecting something so… poetic?” you untuck your hair, nervously fidgeting now, “i guess there’s a lot i don’t know about you either.” 

“well what do you want to know?” he asks, mimicking your words from the last time you two spoke. 

“everything,” you took a breath, “i want to know everything.” 

the next few hours were spent with the two of you talking about every thought that popped into both of your brains. each story you told reminded him of a similar one he had, which reminded you of a similar story you had, and the cycle went on and on.

he told you about his childhood, moving to another country with yunho in tow and nothing else to his name. yunho’s version you’ve already heard, but hearing the second telling of the story left a different impact. mingi talked about yunho with stars in his eyes, he spoke of him so highly, yunho is someone he held close to his heart. 

he talked about coming to new york, his dream of becoming a successful music producer, the dream you both shared. you reveled in your shared dream for a bit, how you wanted to succeed, what genres you preferred, tips and tricks of the trade. he showed you a couple songs on his phone, and you were right to hold your opinion of him so high, his style is unlike anything you’ve ever heard. 

he grew up listening to a plethora of genres, his favorite being rock, he went to as many concerts as he could for as many different genres as he could, and spent plenty of nights by himself writing music. he’s a rapper as well as a producer, most of his music has his vocals and rap lines over it, all written by himself. his knowledge and experience shows through his music, his art, it’s motivating more than anything. it gives you a clearer goal, an objective for your own future. 

“what the fuck is fix on?”

“my tag, like an ad-lib.” 

“like karate kid? wax on, wax off.” 

that made him laugh, and laugh loud, “it’s for like, determination, i guess. like to be fixed on a goal or a target.” 

“i like it, mister miyagi.”

mingi and hongjoong got close when they met their freshman year, and became inseparable. they share the same values, have the same dream, and are both extremely talented individuals. when put together, they’re truly special. he showed you one or two tracks hongjoong had a hand in and it blew you away. their style was so unique, a mixture of genres that bled into one sound, but it worked. it worked so fucking well. you knew in your heart they were going to run the industry one day, and you’d be their number one competitor.

you got into your childhood, you shared the feeling of moving somewhere new with nothing to your name. his was a lot greater, you’d just hopped a couple states over. but the two of you could relate to one another, on a deeper level than either of you thought you would. there are too many things that the two of you shared… it scared you and excited you. 

somewhere in those hours you moved from the leather chairs to the couch, you sat facing him with your knees bent up right beside his torso. your shoes had come off, his hoodie that smelled so deliciously like him had swallowed you over your jumpsuit. his arm stretched across the couch behind you, touching your shoulder every now and then, reminding you of that uncomfortable feeling which kept itself seated at the pit of your stomach. 

“we have more in common than i initially thought, i think,” you leaned your head to the side, facing him still, the top of your head hitting the back of the couch. 

“i had a feeling we would get along. you’re too bright eyed to be a local, too talented to be boring,” he answered, his arm stretched behind your head bent up to pat your head. 

“did hongjoong ever answer you?” you asked, realizing he never showed up. you played with the sleeves of his hoodie mindlessly, looking up at him.

“can i be honest?” a rhetorical question, his eyes looking down at your sleeves, “i never texted him.” 

both of you giggled like little kids, his chest rising and lowering with each laugh. this comfort, this ease you both clearly feel, you didn’t want it to stop. it was so easy to talk to him, your conversation had a constant flow from the time he walked into the room. 

you let out a tsk, “you’re gatekeeping me, song mingi, and that’s no fun.” 

“if anyone‘s gatekeeping you, it’s jeongin,” his snap is quick, like he was waiting to bring up jeongin. your jaw drops before a laugh erupts from your throat. 

you sit up and smack his shoulder playfully, “you’re fucked up!” 

he shrugs, “it’s true.” he isn’t laughing, there’s no smile on his face. he’s dead serious. you should get up, you should leave, you should at least tell him not to say things like that. but you don’t.

your laughter dies and you’re both staring at each other, a stillness overtaking the room. it’s deafening, the close proximity in which you’re sitting now feels incriminating. your sock covered foot touching his thigh feels like it’s on fire. 

“mingi,” your voice is so low it’s almost a whisper, that pit feeling in your stomach you pushed down only growing.

“tell me there’s nothing between us, that there isn’t this thing that would’ve started last week if you didn’t have him,” his face is blank, you couldn’t read him. every feature is perfectly in place as he looks at you, no dishonesty in his eyes — just veracity. 

“why?” is all you ask, voice small. you didn’t dare move an inch, you didn’t break contact, fear breaking out across your skin. fear for what, you couldn’t place. 

“i want to kiss you, i know i shouldn’t, but i’m starting to not give a fuck anymore. i need you to tell me no,” his voice is also low, raspy but still laced with confidence. he sits forward a bit, head turning to face you more. your eyes drift from his own to his lips, those lips you’d been seeing in your dreams. bottom lip red from how often he pulls it between his teeth, both wet from how many times he’s licked them to soothe them over. they were inviting, you wondered what they tasted like, what they’d feel like pressed against your own. 

“ki, if you don’t answer i’m going to assume it’s a yes. say no,” he repeats, whispering the last part, and you look back up to his eyes. every ounce of your body that was feeling fear a moment ago is replaced with need, a demand so great that it’s pulsing through you, a desperation you haven’t felt in a long time. there was no other thought in your brain other than what he felt like. you needed to know, fuck the consequences. 

with a speed you’ve only experienced with one other person, his lips are pressed to yours. you couldn’t think, you couldn’t process, you couldn’t think of anything other than him and how much you wanted him.

his lips tasted so entirely like him, wet and messy and sweet. his hands confidently wrapped around your head like they were made for this purpose, his lips fitting so perfectly between your own you can’t imagine anyone else’s being there again. it was fascinating, one kiss changing everything you knew about yourself. 

you had one boyfriend back at home. you started dating when you were seventeen, a junior in high school, he was your first everything. you were so wrapped around his finger you thought you’d be married by twenty. you could see it: the two of you living in new york city together, in a big penthouse, a fat diamond on your finger. he was lanky, a tall boy with pretty white teeth and shaggy brown hair, he was everything you thought you wanted in a partner. he was funny, quiet but he knew when to use his voice, he was insistent on what was best for you and your future. 

then the time came for you to graduate, and around that time you were a fucking mess. as much as you needed to leave home to go to a big city with big opportunities, of course, leaving everyone you’ve ever known destroyed you. the day you graduated high school you broke it off with him. you told him it was because you were leaving and there was no way a long distance relationship would work, but you knew if you truly loved him you would've made it work. you knew when you came to the city of dreams you’d meet someone who swept you off your feet. 

as mingi scooped you off your spot on the couch and onto his lap, you knew you were right. you’ve always been loyal to jeongin, you’d barely ever looked in anyone else’s direction. you were fully convinced jeongin was the one you’d be in that penthouse with, and he’d be the one to get on one knee and put that diamond around your finger. 

jeongin has never once treated you this way, and god does it feel good. you’d never once felt this level of greed, this level of desperation. like you’re the last sip of water in a desert and mingi hasn’t had a drop in days. your thighs wrapped around mingi’s hips and his hands found your waist, tongues in a battle to see who wanted the other more. you were both out of breath, the kiss never once breaking, and your brain was on a carousel. all you could think was how good this feels, how good he feels and that you wanted more on repeat. until the one person’s face who should not be in your head right now popped in to remind you what the fuck you were doing. 

you broke away, wide eyed, with a hushed fuck.

a muttered fuck fuck fuck left your lips as you got off his lap, quickly backing up two steps away from him.

“i’m sorry,” he blurts out, pulling his shirt over what you were just happily grinding yourself against, “ki, i’m so sorry.”

“shut up,” you snap, with your hands out in front of you, eyes shut, “let me think.”

this is okay, you can get away with this. no one needs to know what just happened. it was once, you needed to get it out of your system. you’ll never do it again. it’s okay. no one can know, though. not a single person in the world can find out what just happened, you and mingi both need to take it to the grave. as long as no one finds out, you’ll be safe. you and jeongin will be happy. it’ll work out. this is okay. it’s okay.

“you tell no one,” you say shakily, your voice low, “not yunho, not hongjoong, not any of your other friends. no one.”

he hurriedly nods, “i won’t tell a soul, please don’t freak out. i’m sorry ki.”

you gathered your backpack, throwing your headphones and all the other shit you had sprawled across the desk into it. you threw it over your shoulders, heading for the door.

“ki?” he calls from the couch, and you pause, turning your head to look at him.

“my hoodie.”