#there’s no record of her. they believe it. at least the first few times.

[lila-kriegerin]

OMG, OP!

I was just about to suggest "Now & Then "

but I saw it in your tags.

I'm so sorry this may look like an unhinged rant no one asked for, but someone has to tell people younger than me what I know, so I spent 2 hours crafting a reply/follow-up/addendum to you post, OP. Please forgive any formatting errors. I tried to keep things simple and engaging but a few things may look a little bit odd depending on what sort of device you're viewing it on. I couldn't take the risk of making all the text too small

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=RQLVzTtt2Ws

The biggest problem trying to find similar films is that they often involve at least two of the girls having some kind of relationship to boys causing drama (I'm looking at you, "Sisterhood Of The Travelling Pants "... and others) whereas a film like "Dead Poets Society " is definitely in that pseudo-homoerotic and explicitly homoerotic range of storytelling.

Why do you think "Little Women" was popular for so long? It was the 1oth century literary equivalent with the requisite brush with death and loss so common to an era before even antibiotics existed... and loss and grief still happen today.

It's true that so few are like "Newsies " and "West Side Story ", but DON'T sleep on hits like "Annie" &

🥁 drumroll, please 🥁

Want to guess what was the first obviously gay song featured in a film from Hollywood (after the Hayes Code)?

The First Gay Anthem: Calamity Jane's 'Secret Love'

It's not "West Side Story " because it's a western frontier musical, and they skirted the lines as hard as they could to have a nice Christian young woman fancying a "tomboy": Calamity Jane (who by historical record seems to have favoured women and men).

Though based on American Western folklore, this premise clearly imitated the successful 1950 film version of Irving Berlin's Broadway musical Annie Get Your Gun, about Wild West sharpshooter Annie Oakley.

But instead of a make-over, Calamity Jane gives its tough-gal heroine a powerfully symbolic pistol; her masculine aggression plays with sexual identity through gestures enlarged to the point of farce. And then it goes deeper--into emotional confusion that grows from Jane taking on supposed male habits. Doris Day brings comic overstatement to Jane's complex repression of her own instincts. Like many a closet case, she exhibits a self-defeating willingness to fit into a male-dominated culture. Her tough mannerisms are also designed to protect her hidden, vulnerable emotions.

You have to dig.

Dig deep, and be willing to watch a film with a different spoken language and culture, but there are some parallels.

Consider the Britney Spears film, which I believe is called "Crossroad(s)" in English. [Sorry, I don't have time to look up the title.]

Now— what if there were a film that's something a bit like a lesbian equivalent?

Touch

A Chinese movie produced/sponsored by the sapphic dating app Rela. It follows three girls on a road trip. Chinese language with English subtitles.

I've never, EVER seen any website draw direct comparisons to other films that way, such as:

If you loved "She's The Man" but want it more sapphic (though ultimately thwarted by the producer), you can't miss "Bend It Like Beckham"!

The photo which was posted by OP DOES contain valid points!! (No one is going to treat you "like a man/boy" unless they truly think that's what you are, and society DOES socialise people differently, so: how would a group of teenage girls or very young adult women ever have experiences identical to those in a film like "Dead Poet's Society"?)

Nevertheless, there are some similar films that are comparable:

"Superbad" — "Booksmart".

I decided to hyperfocus trying to think up some equivalents to "Dead Poet's Society".

Here's a quick comparison I spent far too much time on:

If you’re looking for a Dead Poets Society equivalent with mostly female characters, a few films capture that same blend of deep emotional intimacy, artistic passion, and repressed desire. Here are the best contenders:

1. Mädchen in Uniform (1931 & 1958)

This is the OG queer boarding school drama. Set in a strict Prussian girls' school, it follows a young student, Manuela, who falls in love with her teacher, Fräulein von Bernburg. The film is explicitly homoerotic in a way that Dead Poets Society is only suggestive of—there’s longing glances, whispered affections, and a stifling environment that tries to crush individuality and desire. Like Neil, Manuela faces tragic consequences for daring to express herself.

Cracks (2009) — If Dead Poets Society were darker and more explicitly about queer desire, it would be Cracks. This film follows a group of girls at a remote British boarding school under the spell of their charismatic teacher, Miss G (Eva Green, in all her seductive, unhinged glory). When a new student arrives, power struggles and hidden obsessions unravel. It has all the repression, poetry, and tragic queerness you could want.

Heavenly Creatures (1994) — Peter Jackson (yes, Lord of the Rings Peter Jackson) directed this feverishly intense drama about two schoolgirls in 1950s New Zealand—Pauline and Juliet—whose bond becomes so consuming that it leads to murder. Like Dead Poets Society, it’s about breaking free from repression, but it takes a much darker turn. The homoerotic tension between the girls is undeniable, and the fantasy world they create as an escape mirrors the way the DPS boys use poetry to carve out their own space in a suffocating environment.

Picnic at Hanging Rock (1975) — This one’s all about atmosphere—a haunting, dreamlike film about a group of girls at an Australian boarding school who mysteriously vanish during a picnic. While there’s no overt romance, the film is full of lingering touches, dreamy stares, and a pervading sense of longing and repression. The rigid Victorian setting and the contrast between the natural world and societal constraints make it feel spiritually connected to DPS.

The Falling (2014) — Starring Florence Pugh and Maisie Williams, this film is weird and hypnotic. It’s set in an all-girls school in the 1960s and follows a mysterious fainting epidemic that spreads through the students. It has the same themes of teenage rebellion, deep female friendships that tip into obsession, and an oppressive institution trying to crush individual expression.

Céline and Julie Go Boating (1974) — This is a more whimsical, surreal take on female friendship and creativity. It follows two women who fall into a bizarre, looping story in a haunted house, constantly re-experiencing and altering the narrative. It has a Dead Poets Society vibe in the sense that it’s about escaping rigid reality through art and imagination, but with a queer-coded, magical twist.

If you want the closest equivalent to "Dead Poets Society"...

..."Mädchen in Uniform" or "Cracks" are your best bets, and Cracks more than Mädchen in Uniform

because the latter is so old fashioned that to further scandalise viewers they paired a teacher with a student.

If you want something more poetic and atmospheric, "Picnic at Hanging Rock" or "The Falling" will scratch that itch.

If all of that is too gay for you (gofuckyourself, tee-hee)

You really, REALLY should try

"Mona Lisa Smile".

(...and if it's not too gay for you, then go watch CRACKS right now!)

"Mona Lisa Smile" [hereafter referred to as MLS] is often called the "Dead Poets Society" [hereafter, DPS] for women, and yeah, it certainly hits a lot of the same beats—

an outsider teacher inspiring students to challenge societal norms,

a prestigious school that values obedience over individuality, and

a group of young people grappling with expectations that threaten to suffocate them.

Where DPS is about breaking free through poetry and self-expression, MLS is about that sort of thing tosome degree, but more about feminism, gender roles, and the fight for intellectual freedom in a world that wants women to be just wives and mothers.

Similarities to Dead Poets Society

The Inspirational Teacher as a Catalyst for Change

In DPS, John Keating (Robin Williams) shakes up Welton Academy’s rigid, tradition-obsessed environment with poetry and passion.

In MLS, Katherine Watson (Julia Roberts) does the same at Wellesley College, using art history to challenge her students’ pre-ordained roles as perfect housewives.

Both teachers are NOT merely instructing— they’re awakening their students, making them see the world differently, and often doing so in ways that put them at odds with their school’s administration.

The Oppressive Institution and Its Ideals

Welton Academy is a suffocating prep school that values discipline over creativity, much like Wellesley College in the 1950s. They outwardly promote academic excellence but ultimately groom women to become ideal wives. (T_T)

Both films show how these institutions uphold deeply ingrained traditions that resist change, even when it's clearly needed.

Both films show some of the human cost of trying, and giving up.

A Group of Students at a Crossroads

Just like Todd, Neil, and the rest of the DPS boys who struggle between expectation and their own desires, the young women in MLS— Joan, Betty, Giselle, and Connie—each navigate their own battles between societal pressure and personal ambition.

Joan (Julia Stiles) mirrors Todd.

Betty (Kirsten Dunst) is like a mix of Cameron and Richard from DPS.

Giselle (Maggie Gyllenhaal) is the Charlie of the group.

The Tragedy of Repression

DPS’s tragedy is clear: someone's dreams are crushed & there is a heartbreaking su*c*de [all the trigger warnings apply]. MLS doesn’t have a singular moment that tragic, but its heartbreak is quieter—seeing some brilliant young women choose societal expectations over their own ambitions because it feels like the only option... that is definitely going to haunt some people more than it may haunt white cis-hetero male viewers.

In both films, someone (one you probably like most of all, in both films) will have something horrible happen to them by their own choice, and that is very haunting.

Additionally, I dont think it's too big a spoiler to say oth films end with the teacher leaving— but to say why would spoil the endings of the films.

The last scenes mirror each other emotionally: in DPS & MLS, a quiet, bittersweet goodbye with both endings suggesting that while the teacher is gone, the ideas they planted will live on.

Key Differences

The Central Conflict

DPS is about breaking free from repression through art and poetry. It’s about passion, self-expression, and the fight for creative freedom.

MLS is about that too, though with more of a (*cough*white*cough*cough*) feminist focus on gender roles, feminism, and intellectual independence to have intellectual and self growth as an individual— and it asks whether women can truly be free when they’re still expected to conform to outdated expectations.

Homoerotic "Sub"text

[be honest: if you miss it in either film you're in denial or unobservent and that is your own journey you need to take]

DPS is filled with homoerotic tension, especially between Todd and Neil. The intimacy between the boys—the longing glances, the whispered poetry, the emotional weight of their friendships—feels deeply charged.

If you DEMAND that level of queerness, MLS ain't it.

MLS has some queer subtext, particularly with [one character], who is coded as more fluid in her sexuality, but the film doesn’t lean into that as much as DPS does because it's focused more on the pseudo-historical narrative from the book upon which it was based.

Don't forget that DPS came out to cinemas...

THEN "The Craft" did,

THEN "Cruel Intentions" did,

THEN MLS.

DPS was intentionally pushing boundaries of censors for queer story-telling when the USA was still afraid for gay people to peck each other with a little kiss on the lips on television before 10 PM.

DPS ends in a tragedy that reinforces the cost of defying the system— [spoilers redacted], and the boys are [narratively] left in a state which leaves the viewers feeling a bittersweet limbo.

MLS is perhaps a bit more hopeful; and although the school seemingly remains unchanged, things in that world have definitely shifted for the characters.

Their worlds aren't fully transformed though for MLS, it’s beginning to open up, but MLS leaves viewers with their own bittersweet limbo like DPS[-lite] with a sliver of a dash of hope.

Final Verdict:

"Mona Lisa Smile" is "Dead Poets Society" through a differing feminist lens.

It swaps poetry for art,

an all-boys school for an all-girls college, and

queer-coded male friendships for female students fighting for their intellectual freedom.

It has the same spirit—

a teacher who inspires students to think for themselves, an oppressive institution trying to maintain order, and young people wrestling with societal expectations.

However, where DPS is a tale of tragic repression, MLS leans toward quiet rebellion— not a fiery "O Captain, My Captain" moment, but a slow, steady push toward change.

just saw this on pinterest and it hit me like a truck

[hungermakesmonsters]

(It Is) What It Is

Chapter One

Plot Summary : When Billy Russo realises that there is a certain class of wealthy clients who refuse to contract with Anvil because of his playboy reputation, he decides to alter their perception of him. You’re just a down on your luck PA, just trying to get by so when Billy offers to pay you to pretend to date him, you can’t refuse. But the last thing you expect is for Billy to pull you into his secret world of lust and debauchery.

Pairing : Billy Russo x Reader

Story Rating : R 

Warnings : [This is a fic for 18+ only, minors DNI] Nothing noteworthy on this chapter. There will be smutty themes throughout the story. Please check the warnings on each chapter if you choose to follow this story. 

Word Count : 5.7k

A/N : I'm so excited to finally be able to share this one! Hope you all enjoy it!

Master List

Chapter One

Just smile and, eventually, you’ll find your reason to smile.

It was something your mother had always told you as a child, sadness filling her eyes every time a frown dared to cross your little face. You grew up believing it was a sage piece of wisdom, but the older you got, the more it started to seem like nothing more than an unhealthy coping mechanism.

But, still, you smiled.

If nothing else, you’d come to learn that it was easier to force a smile to your lips and pretend that the whole world didn’t feel like it was going to hell around you. Especially between the hours of 8am and 5pm.

Every morning was the same; you got up, got ready, and took the subway to work. You went out of your way to be a polite and conscientious commuter, taking up as little space as possible and making sure no one but you could hear the music playing through your headphones. Sure, your polite behaviour did nothing to stop you being shoved and elbowed, nor did your example to be quiet convince any of the finance-bros to stop yelling into their phones right beside you, but at least it made you feel like you weren’t an asshole.

Even on the street, on your two block walk to the office, you were mindful; never walking too fast or cutting in front of anyone, and never slowing down and inconveniencing anyone walking behind you. 

For all intents and purposes, you were just there. You existed but you were never an obstacle or cause for annoyance. A side-character, an NPC in someone else’s story, no delusions in your mind about being the main character.

God, what a sad and boring story it would be if you were the main character.

As per your usual morning routine, you stopped off at the little independent coffee shop across the street from Anvil. The Bean Grinder - a name that had earned some ridicule from your boss when you’d admitted to going there. (‘The Bean Grinder? It sounds more like a dating app’ he’d said, grinning that ridiculous grin.) But, after a few mornings of steaming hot Americanos and fresh pastries, he’d grudgingly had to admit that he was a fan.

So, it had become the norm every weekday, first thing in the morning and, again at lunch times, if you didn’t have time to pack a lunch for yourself. And, now, six months into your job with Anvil, the baristas knew you well enough to have your order ready to go - though, today, you had to inconvenience them by asking for an extra coffee.

Coffees and pastries precariously balanced in your hands, you crossed the street, shuddering at the ice cold wind and moving as fast as you dared towards the office. Once in the foyer, you began to awkwardly fumble for your keycard, when a hand appeared, relieving you of the tray of coffees.

“Thanks Carl,” you said as you rummaged through your pockets. “How are the kids?  Did Lyra’s clarinet recital go well?”

The security guard beamed, his face lighting with a genuine warmth for you. You’d  always tried to make an effort with the people you worked with, never knowing when you might need a favour - even if that favour was just someone to hold a tray of drinks while you found your keycard.

“She did amazing. I recorded the whole thing, I’ll have to show you when you’ve got a minute.”

Smiling, you told him how much you’d like that as you finally pulled out your keycard and tapped it against the reader. You stepped through the barrier and thanked Carl as he handed you the tray of drinks, and headed for the elevator.

As you stepped onto the lift, you took a breath and let your smile falter, enjoying the briefest moment of respite before  you’d have to spend the rest of the day forcing your happy, professional demeanour. 

And, as it turned out, your brief reprieve was even briefer than expected as a hand stopped the elevator doors from sliding shut and a man stepped on.

“Good morning, Mr Castle,” you said, bright and perky as always. Exactly what was expected of you.

He bristled slightly and looked about ready to remind you that he’d prefer to be called Frank but seemed to think better of it. After six months, you assumed that he’d finally started to understand that you were more comfortable referring to him as Mr Castle.

“Mornin’,” he grumbled in his usual, gruff tone.

The elevator doors slid shut and, for a few seconds, you were left thinking that the entire ride to the top floor would be spent in silence, but then you remembered the coffees in your hand.

“Oh, that one’s for you,” you said, indicating the large takeout cup at the front of the tray. “Large Americano with an extra shot, cream, but no sugar, right?”

He looked at you with a mixture of shock and confusion that had you wondering if you’d sprouted a second head for a few seconds. Unlike Mr Russo, he didn’t have a PA and he barely even bothered the secretary who was assigned to him, so he always seemed a little taken aback whenever you did anything for him.

“You got me a coffee?” He asked, taking the coffee from you and lifting it to his nose to sniff.

“I know you and Mr Russo have a meeting scheduled first thing,” you said, shrugging, ��and he won’t want to start until he’s had his morning coffee and pastry, so...”

That got a laugh from him, a rare sound that always seemed like it had sharp edges, but a laugh nonetheless, so you decided to mark it down as a win.

“Yeah, he’s never been much of a morning person.”

That was something you could agree with. Billy Russo was a man of moods and, while it had initially taken you some time to learn his routines and figure out when he tended to be more approachable, you’d learned your way around him now.

That was something you could agree with, but you’d quickly learned your way around the man and his moods, knowing what times and which days he was more approachable, and doing your best to keep your head down the rest of the time. It wasn’t difficult, even if Billy Russo was considered difficult by a lot of people who knew him.

“He have you fetchin’ coffee for him every day?” Mr Castle asked, though you couldn’t tell if he was just trying to make conversation or if he was genuinely curious. 

You offered up another shrug. “It’s part of the job. Besides, I stop off for coffee on my way in anyway, at least this way I get to put it on the corporate card.”

Fortunately, the stilted conversation was short lived and the elevator doors slid open. You gave him a look before glancing towards Mr Russo’s office door.

“I’ll go check if he’s ready for you,” you said, pausing only to put your bag down and to shrug out of your coat at your desk.

You took a second to smooth down your blouse and skirt, and to make sure your hair wasn’t in too much of a state from the wind, before grabbing his coffee and the bag of pastries. Your knock on his door was met with the usual grumbled ‘come in’ and, as you stepped into his office, you forced the smile back to his lips. 

Not that he saw your smile.

His back was to you, his eyes fixed out of the window, looking at the city - or maybe it was the weather that had his attention. You didn’t ask, figuring that it was really none of your business.

“Good morning, Mr Russo,” you said, heading towards his desk. “I’ve got your morning coffee and a couple of bear claws, and Mr Castle is waiting outside for your morning meeting.”

“Thank you,” he said, lingering at the window a moment longer before finally turning towards you. “Can you send Frank in and grab the files I asked you to prepare yesterday?”

“Of course, sir.”

You did as you were asked, sending Mr Castle in while you got the files from your desk. By the time you made it back into Mr Russo’s office, both men were perched on his desk, drinking their coffees and eating bear claws.

“However much he’s payin’ you, it’s not enough,” Mr Castle grinned at you, and that had the forced smile on your lips becoming something far more genuine.

It wasn’t so much that Mr Russo didn’t appreciate what you did for him - you knew that he did - it was more that he wasn’t particularly vocal about it. But you’d heard the horror stories of the PAs who’d come before you, the ones who’d quit mere weeks into working for him. At first you’d feared that it was him, that he was impossible to work for, but you’d quickly figured out that he wasn’t impossible, just... difficult. 

There was a lot of reading between the lines when it came to Billy Russo, and a lot of your time was spent trying to anticipate what he might want or need at any given time; when he was in a bad mood you’d found that food often helped, and frustration was usually mitigated by redirecting him towards smaller, easier to deal with tasks to distract him.

It wasn’t easy but you’d figured him out and, now, things ran pretty smoothly.

“Here you go,” you said, placing the files on his desk beside him. “I took the liberty of colour coding them; the green tabs are the ones most likely to want to engage Anvil’s services based on the research, orange means they could be convinced, and -”

“And what about red?” Mr Russo asked, pulling a file from the bottom of the stack.

The only file with a red tab.

“Red means it’s extremely unlikely that they would choose to offer Anvil a contract and that they’re probably not worth the money and resources that it might take to change their mind,” you explained, trying to sound as clinical as possible.

“And why do you think the Van Der Koy family wouldn’t be interested in contracting with Anvil?” He asked.

Immediately your cheeks started to heat as you tried to find the easiest (read: safest) way to explain it.

The Van Der Koy’s were old money, with dozens of high end resorts, hotels and casinos across North America. They were a literal goldmine for anyone who got to work with them. Landing a security contract with them would be worth millions of dollars, so it shouldn’t have come as a surprise that that was the file that Mr Russo wanted to concentrate on.

But how were you supposed to tell him that he was the reason the Van Der Koy’s would never work with Anvil?

“Well, the Van Der Koy’s have very old fashioned family values - it’s not about the money, it’s all about appearances and reputation...” you said.

“And what’s wrong with Anvil’s reputation?” Mr Russo prompted.

“It’s not Anvil...” you tried to explain, your voice turning quiet.

“Then what?” He asked, a hint of frustration creeping into his tone.

“Jesus, Bill,” Frank said through a mouthful of pastry. “She’s tryin’ to be polite.”

There was a silence for a few moments before Mr Russo finally seemed to realise what was being said.

“You’re saying that they won’t contract with Anvil because of my reputation?” He asked, and you gave the smallest of nods. “What’s wrong with my reputation?”

“Sir, I really don’t think -”

“You can’t expect her to answer that,” Frank said, speaking at the same time as you.

He looked from you to Mr Castle and back again, as if he really had no clue what you could possibly mean.

“I won’t get angry or blame you,” Mr Russo said. “I just want to know what you know.”

You didn’t want to answer, but you knew that you had to.

“Well, from what I was able to learn, it’s... it’s everything,” you said, unable to even look him in the eye as you explained. “The parties, the women - it sends a certain, uh... message...”

It felt like his gaze was burning into you as you fixed your eyes on his desk and the stack of files.

“What message?” He asked.

“She’s sayin’ the uptight, old money folks don’t like that you’re a fuck-boy who spends all his time with bimbos, Bill,” Mr Castle answered for you. “Now, could you stop makin’ her feel uncomfortable about it and let her do her damned job?”

Mr Russo’s gaze softened a fraction when he noticed your obvious discomfort, and he opted to remain silent instead of continuing with all of the questions you were certain he still had. Some part of you even dared to feel bad, almost wanting to tell him that it was okay, that he could continue to question you but that you didn’t have any answers that he might want to hear.

The truth was, while you had your opinions about his social life, when it came to his work and to his company, Billy Russo was nothing short of a consummate professional, and it felt like a shame that anyone might discount his work because of how he liked to spend his free time.

“Thank you for your input,” Billy said, finally dismissing you. “I’d like my lunch at one today, and could you forward any updates to my schedule to me?”

You gave the standard ‘yes, Mr Russo. Of course, Mr Russo’  and quickly made your exit, holding in a sigh of relief until his office door was shut behind you and you were safely back at your desk.

You opened your laptop to start your day, immediately disappointed to find that your own coffee had started to go cold while you’d been in Mr Russo’s office. It wasn’t the first time, and you were certain it wouldn’t be the last, but you’d always just found something so depressing about a lukewarm latte first thing in the morning.

At least you were fairly certain that the detailed notes you’d made on each of the files would be enough to keep him from needing to solicit your opinion again, so you should be able to get through your daily mountain of emails and adjustments to his schedule before having to think about his lunch.

And that was the best part of your job; that you could lose yourself in it. It was nice, easy for the most part, now that you’d settled into a rhythm - the only difficult part of the job was the man himself. In the past, you’d struggled with office jobs, always wanting to be everything to everyone and ending up taking on far more than you could handle. 

Not that you were a pushover - no, you didn’t like to think of yourself in those exact terms - you just liked it when everyone around you was happy and content, because god only knew you had your own problems to deal with.

But, thankfully, things were different at Anvil. The management floor was Mr Russo’s private kingdom and, most days, it was just the two of you up there. And, on good days, it was just you. And, because of that, you were separate, able to work without interruption. Oh, sure, you still spoke to people, still got to know them, like Carl in security, but you were far enough removed that no one came to you asking for help or wanting to vent their issues.

In fact, being Mr Russo’s PA made a lot of people wary about asking you for anything because they knew just how important your time was.

All in all, the only thing you really had to contend with were Mr Russo’s moods and they didn’t stress you out nearly as much as they used to. You’d even go as far as saying that, for the first time in years, you were in a job that felt secure, safe. And that was something that mattered to you far more than you’d ever dare admit out loud.

After about an hour, Mr Castle left Mr Russo’s office but, instead of heading straight for the elevator, he approached your desk, causing you to automatically sit a little straighter.

“You okay?” He asked. “Know that probably wasn’t the most comfortable for you in there.”

“Oh, it’s fine,” you quickly answered,” it’s all part of the job. I just -”

About to say something completely unadvised and unprofessional, you barely managed to stop yourself. But it was too late, he fixed you with a questioning look and it was clear he was trying to fight back a smile while he decided if you’d break under interrogation.

(And, yes, you absolutely would. There was no doubt in your mind that you’d crumple like a house of cards if you were placed under extreme questioning.)

“You what?” He prompted.

The only thing keeping you from panic was the fact that he didn’t sound angry or annoyed, just curious. He’d never heard you speak out of turn before and he seemed a little excited at the prospect.

Your cheeks started to heat and you bit your lip for a second.

“I just -” you glanced nervously towards the office door, making sure it was shut before continuing, “- well, I just always assumed that he knew how people saw him. Not that it’s my place, because I don’t -”

He cut off your attempt to - what? Apologise? Put a more professional spin on things?

“He does and he doesn’t,” he said, offering a shrug. “That’s the problem with Bill; he cares about appearances but he always forgets that sometimes he has a different idea of how a rich guy should be than people like the Van Der Koy’s.”

Cryptic.

Cryptic and entirely unhelpful.

Though it fit well with what you actually know about your boss. Sure, you could usually guess when he was in a bad mood and when he wanted to be left alone, but as a person he was as much of an enigma to you as anyone. Fortunately, knowing and understanding the inner workings of Billy Russo was not necessary for you to do your  job.

“‘s fine, don’t worry ‘bout it,” he continued, “either he’ll try to go for the VDK contract and end up wastin’ everyone’s time, or he’ll take your advice and focus on contracts he can actually get.”

You nodded, knowing it wasn’t really your place to voice an opinion on the matter. As Mr Castle said, you’d already done your part.

He gave you a nod before turning and starting towards the elevator, only to pause after a couple of steps and glance back.

“Those bear claws -”

“From The Bean Grinder across the street,” you answered the unasked question through the laugh that had managed to bubble up from seemingly nowhere.

“Thanks. Don’t let him work you too hard.”

Once he was gone, you returned to your work and spent the rest of the morning scheduling and rescheduling meetings for the coming month. Then it was time to order lunch and, because Mr Russo hadn’t stated a preference, it was up to you to decide for him. You weren’t sure of his mood since you hadn’t seen him since leaving his office hours before, so you decided to go for something safe, something he’d enjoy and that would improve his mood if he was still feeling sore about the Van Der Koy’s. 

Spaghetti carbonara and tiramisu for dessert. A tried and tested combination.

Less than twenty minutes later, you had his lunch in hand and were at his office door, knocking lightly and waiting to be called in.

He was at his desk, the files you’d prepared still in front of him, the VDK file with its prominent red tag right at the top of the pile.

“I’ve got your lunch,” you said brightly, quickly starting to unpack his lunch.

He watched you with a strange sort of curiosity he’d never shown you before, his lips pulling into a smile when he noticed the tiramisu.

“Trying to make up for something?” He asked.

Despite his playful tone and the way he was smiling at you, the question had a nervous sort of tension filling you. You shot him a questioning look but couldn’t quite form the words to respond.

“You always bring me dessert when you think I’m in a bad mood,” he continued.

There was no keeping the confused shock from your face, just like there was no taming the wild thumping of your heart. In all the time you’d been working for him, you’d never once stopped to consider that he knew exactly what you were doing.

“Did you think I didn’t notice?” He asked, sounding thoroughly amused.

You were speechless and, for reasons you didn’t entirely understand, all you could think about was how his spaghetti carbonara was starting to get cold. (And, from where you were standing it smelled far too delicious to waste.)

“I just -” you swallowed awkwardly, trying to get rid of the lump in your throat, “- well, it’s my job to make sure you’re happy isn’t it? Am - am I in trouble?”

Surely not. Surely he couldn’t punish you for going out of your way to try and make his life easier, right? Your forced happy facade almost dropped and gave way to the panic that was starting to claw beneath your ribs, but your face remained a hopefully unreadable mask.

“In trouble? God, no,” he shook his head. “I’m just - what I’m trying to say is that you’re clearly good at reading people. At reading me.”

“Oh.”

What else could you even say to any of that? Did he even want you to say anything? It wasn’t like you were doing anything manipulative or nefarious. All you were doing was keeping him happy so your job was easier.

You almost breathed a sigh of relief when his attention dropped to his food, and you started to hope you’d be able to go back to your desk to try and forget any of this weirdness had happened. But, as he lifted his fork, his eyes caught yours again.

“Can I ask you something?”

“Of course, Mr Russo.”

“Do you agree with what Frank said earlier?” He asked before taking a bite of his spaghetti.”Do you think the women I date send the wrong sort of message?”

“Oh, uh -” 

The shocked little noises slipped out before you could stop yourself. All you could do was stare at him for a few seconds, wondering what you’d done in a past life to deserve the uncomfortable day that you were having.

“Hmm?” He prompted through a mouthful of pasta.

“I thought -” you forced a breath, “- I just assumed that you were going to ask me something... something more related to my actual job?”

Something about your obvious discomfort seemed to tickle him.

“I’d argue that if you have insight into why Anvil might potentially lose out on a massive contract that it would fall within the scope of your job,” he countered. When you didn’t answer straight away, he continued; “so should I take your silence to mean you agree with Frank?”

“No, that’s not -” you hesitated, trying to find the most professional way to answer, “- I don’t agree with everything he said.”

“No? Care to elaborate?”

“Well, I don’t think it’s fair to call a woman a bimbo just because she likes to wear expensive clothes and go to parties,” you said flatly. “And it’s really not my job to have opinions on how you spend your evenings.”

“But you do think it gives the wrong impression to people like the Van Der Koy’s?”

“The Van Der Koy’s built the VDK chain on traditional values, they avoid controversy and anything that will tarnish the VDK name, it’s what they’re known for. It’s their professional reputation,” you explained, forcing an awkward shrug. “And you’re - well, you’re not subtle. You make a scene wherever you go, whether you want to or not. Half the society gossip blogs have stopped asking who you’re dating and only concern themselves with who you’re fucking.”

You could feel your cheeks burning hotter with every word. You didn’t want to have to say any of it and, honestly, it was making you feel awful, but you were starting to realise that he really didn’t understand how he was perceived. But, of course, he didn’t - he was rich and attractive, and while many people might want to write him off because of it, there were just as many who accepted and wanted that side of him.

It just seemed that this was the first time he was hearing a no that he couldn’t throw money at or change with his smart mouth.

“So, you’re saying I should settle down and clean up my act if I want to convince them to take me seriously and offer Anvil their security contract?”

You let slip an exhausted sigh, feeling like he was only hearing half of what you were saying to him. “I’m saying that it’s probably a waste of time to even try at this point. The other files I -”

“Thank you for your input, it’s been very informative,” he interrupted, not caring about the other files or potential clients now that he had VDK in his sights. “And, thank you for my lunch - I really do appreciate everything that you do for me.”

“Thank you, sir.”

Quickly, you started towards the door, desperate to get out of there before he could ask your opinion on anything else. You held your breath all the way back to your desk, the burning in your lungs giving you the dreadful confirmation that all of that had really just happened and you weren’t having some bizarre, anxiety induced dream.

Fortunately, for the rest of the day, you were left alone. He had a couple of brief meetings in the afternoon that had him out of the office and, when he returned, he seemed too lost in thought to cause you any more awkwardness.

Bu, as you started to pull your coat on, getting ready to leave for the day, he all but burst out of his office like a man possessed. There was a nervous sort of energy about him that you hadn’t witnessed before, and it was more than enough to set you on edge.

“Oh, good, you’re still here,” he said. “I’ve got a proposition for you.”

Proposition? Your stomach automatically started to tie itself in knots at the word.

“What kind of proposition?” You asked cautiously, already sensing that nothing good was going to come from whatever he had to say.

“I want to take you out. On a date, just -”

“What? No - no, that’s not -” the words started to clumsily fall from your lips.

A weird panic quickly took hold of you and you couldn’t rightly say why. What had inspired it? What had suddenly changed? 

You didn’t want to be one of the women he dated, you didn’t want to be on his arm one minute and then kicked to the curb the next. What had you done to make him believe that you were worth that sort of treatment?

Not to mention the fact that it was entirely unprofessional and it would make it impossible for you to keep your job. A job that you happened to like.

“No-no-no, not like that,” he said quickly, almost sounding as panicked as you felt (and that didn’t exactly help you feel better). “Not like - I don’t mean for real.”

Oh.

Suddenly, your reaction seemed very silly and your panic was quickly replaced by confusion and an odd sense of numbness.

Of course Billy Russo didn’t want to take you - plain, boring you - on a real date.

Your cheeks burned with a mixture of embarrassment and shame at how easily you’d let yourself believe something so utterly ridiculous.

“Then -” you struggled to find your voice again, “- what are you suggesting?”

“To get the VDK contract I need to make the Van Der Koy’s see me differently -”

It was like being dropped into ice cold water. Though you doubted he was actively trying to insult you, you were insulted nonetheless. He wanted to use you to rehabilitate his image because, unlike the other women in his life, you wouldn’t turn heads or cause drama. You were just you, plain and safe, average and inoffensive. 

Inconsequential.

“You mean you want to lie to them? Pretend that you’ve settled down?” You asked (emphasis on the word settled) and shook your head. “I don’t think I’m comfortable with that.”

“I’ll pay you,” he added, almost managing to sound desperate. “Five hundred thousand for six months if Anvil gets the contract.”

Your jaw almost dropped and your heart stopped beating for a few seconds.

It was a lot of money, money that you really needed. It was almost enough to make you agree. Almost.

“Okay, just - let’s go back a couple of steps,” you said, still not sure what you felt about any of it. “You want to pay me to pretend to date you for six months just so you can win a contract?”

“Well, yeah, but it sounds sleazy when you say it like that.”

“Is there a way to explain it that doesn’t sound sleazy?”

Billy paused for a moment, clearly thinking about it. “You’re my PA, just think of it as assisting me out of office hours for overtime pay?”

That did make it sound better - not by much, and not enough to soothe your bruised ego.

“So, what? We’d pretend to date and if Anvil gets the contract we just break-up and go back to normal?” You asked, as you struggled in vain to wrap your head around the absurd idea.

“I’ll admit, there are a few things I’ve not entirely thought out, but if you -”

“No,” you said suddenly, coming to your decision. “I’m sorry Mr Russo, I can’t do that. I really don’t want to have to lie to that many people.”

He looked ready to argue, to try and convince you but that look quickly faded and he shrugged.

“You’re probably right,” he conceded. “It probably wouldn’t be enough anyway.”

Again, ouch.

“Right, well, if that’s all...” you trailed off, glancing longingly towards the elevator.

“Of course, sorry for keeping you.”

He didn’t wait for a response before disappearing into his office, closing the door behind him, and you didn’t waste any time heading to the elevator and getting out of the building as quickly as possible.

The next hour passed in something of a daze, stopping off to grab some groceries on the way home and having to listen to more loud and obnoxious finance-bros on the subway before you finally made it back to your apartment building.

Given the sort of day you were having, it shouldn’t have come as a surprise that your mailbox was full of bills, but there was one in particular that caused your stomach to drop; a notice from Saint Martin’s Care Facility, informing you that their prices were going up. 

It was enough to have you reaching for a bottle of wine and pouring yourself a very large glass as you sat down and went over your finances, trying to find a way to afford your brother's care that didn’t involve having to leave your apartment for somewhere cheaper or move him to another care facility. It was the same thing year after year but, this year, the price hike seemed particularly egregious.

You spend hours going over bills, wondering if cancelling Netflix or downgrading your phone contract would help. But, of course, it wouldn’t.

Your brother’s care had been your responsibility since you turned eighteen and, little by little, you’d managed to scrape together enough to give him the life that he deserved in a place you knew that he would be well cared for. You wouldn’t let anything change that.

After your third glass of wine, you started to allow yourself to think about Mr Russo’s offer, wondering if it would really be so terrible - and, if it was terrible, would you be able to endure it long enough to get paid?

Could you really afford to turn him down when there was so much at stake?

The next day, you woke with a headache, but also with a resolute idea of what you needed to do (because it definitely was a need and not a want). Your day started the same as it always did; an uncomfortable subway ride, a stop off at The Bean Grinder, then up to Mr Russo’s office.

He was already sitting at his desk, the VDK file still on top of the stack. He barely even looked at you and you weren’t sure if it was because he was busy with something or because he felt the same level of awkwardness about yesterday as you did.

Placing his coffee down, you lingered, trying to find the words while your cheeks started to warm.

Finally, he seemed to notice you just standing there and turned his attention to you, frowning.

“Is there something you need?” He asked.

“I - I’ve reconsidered your offer,” you said, hating yourself for letting it come to this.

“Oh?”

You could tell that he wanted some sort of reason or explanation for your sudden change of heart, but you weren’t prepared to give it; your brother was none of his business. So, you simply nodded, telling him all he needed to know - that he didn’t need to know anything at all.

“That is, if the offer’s still on the table?” You added awkwardly.

“It is,” he said, his lips pulling into a wide grin. “What are you doing tonight?”

“Tonight? You want to start tonight?”

Fuck. What had you just gotten yourself into?

A/N : That doesn't count as a cliffhanger!!! 😅 I hope you all enjoy the slightly different starting dynamic between reader and Billy with this one, I wanted to have them on good professional terms to start with to make it a lot more fun later on. I've not got much else to say since all of this chapter is just set up for what's to come.

Also anyone that submitted a request for my 500 follower celebration, I'm still slowly working through them, I just had to take a couple of days to make sure this chapter was ready on time!

As always, thanks so much for reading! I should be updating this every fic every Friday around 730pm GMT.

If you'd like to be tagged, please let me know!

Tag list :

@oliviaewl @lincerad @xxxsweetcarolinexxx @benbarnesprettygurl @dreadfulxives18

@danzer8705 @snowkestrel @fireeyes-on-teller-dixon-grimes @intothesoul

[quietwingsinthesky]

millieverse john winchester has a small scar around his left ring finger because when she was three, she realized she wasn’t going back to her mom and she bit him. she cracked her tooth on his wedding ring. the first time sam and dean met her, she had a mouth full of blood. until she was seven, she only had half a tooth at the front of her smile, and after it fell out, her face never looked right to her again. at that age, she didn’t remember her mother’s name and never asked before john died.

[dcxdpdabbles]

DCxDP Fic Idea: Online Siren

Danny makes a mistake. Or maybe he struck gold. Depending on the perspective you were looking through.

It starts one night when Sam, Tucker, Danny, and Jazz get together for a private party on Tucker's birthday. Mr. and Mrs. Foley had let them have the whole house to themselves on the agreement that it would only be the four of them. They would be keeping an eye on the security camera and motion detectors around the property. At the slightest hints of Tucker having a house party, the pair would return from Mr. Foley's sister's house to shut it down.

The group of teenagers were more than happy not to invite anyone. It's not like anyone would show- at least not with good intentions. They had an entire night plan- coffee drinks based on their types, video games, boardgames ones, painting hour, karaoke, movies, and cake after presents.

They all pitched in for pizza, and Sam offered to buy everyone breakfast in the morning. The party started at four and would end at ten the following morning. The boys would sleep in Tucker's room while Sam and Jazz crashed in the guest room together.

Danny hadn't had that much fun in such a long time that he didn't even shy away from Sam's video camera while singing. The youngest Fenton has always had a fantastic singing voice, but his stage fright has stopped him from showing off his skill in front of anyone who was not close friends or family.

The following morning, while eating at Tucker's favorite breakfast restaurant, Sam checked her phone after noticing all the buzzing. Danny could catch her face turning pastly white at whatever was on her screen. She taps aggressively, nearly frantically, which gains the attention of Tucker and Jazz.

"Sam? Everything good?" Jazz asks gentely.

"I..no..I'm sorry, Danny," She whispers after staring hopelessly at her screen. "I meant to save it in our private share, not...the anonymous one."

"What?"

"I...post poetry anonymously on this voice website. It's audio recordings only." She explains, placing the phone on the table. Her voice is hesitant. "Last night....I accidentally posted the video of you singing from the Karaoke machine I saved. The one from the Realms. And some of my followers saved it and shared it. It's trending."

Danny feels his stomach drop into his legs. "What?"

"No one knows who you are!" Sam blurts as Tucker quickly pulls out his own phone. A few seconds later, Danny's voice blares out of his speaker, the melody blending well with his singing. The Karaoke has a recording option that deletes background noise, making it far more professional than four teenagers dancing around the Foley's coffee table.

"Dude, this sounds amazing," Tucker says after a moment. "I can't believe I finally have a recording of your singing. Just look at these comments!"

The song is an open domain in the Infinite Realms, telling the tell of the first King's fall. It's rather popular for its revolutionary themes and near musical lyrics that blended with the rapid flute melody, so finding a ghost willing to share a Karaoke version took nearly no effort. People online think Danny was the songwriter.

The song on Sam's page had ninty-thousand listens, with just as many downloads- each download places ten cents in her account. So far, Danny's singing has made nine thousand dollars. It's only been twelve hours!

It got so much traction because Damian Wayne had made an edit with a popular anime and posted it on his personal account. His small usage had exploded Danny's song in only a few hours.

"Take it down!" Danny hisses, slapping a hand over Tucker's screen and glancing at nearby tables. "Sam, please take your post down."

"I did! I swear! But it's too late to stop it from spreading on the WorldClip." She tells him, and Danny's heart feels like it will explode until Jazz gently speaks up.

"Sam, can Danny have those nine grand?"

His best friend blinks momently, thrown by the question before she nods, "Of course! It's his money."

"Hmm." Jazz taps her fingers under her chin before turning Danny's face towards her. It's not until her gentle pats on his back that he realizes he is hyperventilating. "You should post more on that anonymous website. Sam can write the songs, Tucker can make the music, and you can sing."

"What!?" He choked, shocked she would even ask him. Tucker and Sam are eyeing them with wide eyes, frozen in their seats. No one knew where the fear had come from, but the two knew how badly Danny reacted to the idea of performing.

Tucker first met Danny when the boy panicked in the music room. After it was announced, the students would be singing Twinkle Little Star in the first grade. It was the first time Tucker had ever called nine-one-one, too.

He was praised as a hero, while Danny was scolded for overreacting. Tucker had held his hand until the sobbing boy's parents came to pick him up and has never left his side since.

"Danny, this fear has always left you in shambles. I think it would help you. This could be a form of exposal therapy," She says, then shrugs her shoulder. "Think about it. No one will know who you are, but your music could reach thousands without you ever having to show your face. You could pay for the college you wanted to go to in Gotham this way. All of you."

Neither Danny's nor Tucker's parents could afford to send them to Gotham University despite it being their dream school. Sam's parents refused to pay for a "useless" degree such as Botany. They had been growing uneasy with the realization dreams were not always promised as the end of the senior year approached in only a few short months.

They would never ask it of him, but Danny could see the genuine hope tucked in their eyes as they waited for his response. He licked his lips, feeling his heart still beating a mile a minute under his rib cage.

He didn't like being this paralyzed by an irrational fear. He also really wanted to help them reach their dreams.

So Danny opens his mouth and whispers, "Only until we can get to Gotham to find jobs"

Jazz's smile is bright.

________________________________________________________

A few months later, Damian practically runs Tim over in his rush to connect to the game room's surround system. Jon is hot on his heels and has the decency to shout an apology as the pre-teens rush by.

"Hey! Watch it!" He still screams at their backs, irritated. "I could've dropped my croissant!"

"Sorry again Tim!"

"You're fat anyway, Drake!"

Tim rolls his eyes, adjusting his hold on his plate as Dick rounds the corner that the children had appeared from. "What's got them rushing?"

"Online Siren just dropped a new song." Dick laughs. "Dami is a bit of a fan."

"Online Siren?"

"That's right, you were in space for five months. Online Siren is this anonymous singer that everyone is going crazy over on the internet. He's an amazing singer, but because no one knows anything about him. Not even Babs."

Tim raises a brow. "He could be using autotune."

"Maybe, but Tim, I'm telling you. Listen to his music, and you'll find you can't stop. Siren is a fitting name."

"He can't be that good," Tim mutters, following his eldest brother into the game room, where Damian and Jon have blared the speakers to the loudest setting and dancing around.

Tim draws up short at the sight of Damian Wayne actually crying as he sings along to the lyrics, acting as if the singer was right there in front of him and he was a long-time fan.

Then, the music invades his ears, and Tim feels like he is ascending on a different plane. The smooth, near silk-like voice glinds into his chest, rattling his bones, and his knees shake when the man holds a soft, seductive "Oh" for a few seconds longer then necessary.

It sends shivers down his spine.

"What is this!? It's so good!" He screams at the dancing Dick, who laughs.

"I know, right!?"

"It's too good. I think this is a real siren." Tim continues, pressing his hands over his ears. His mind flashes back to the few months he spent with his team, running for a mind-controlling alien that had nearly trapped them in the third space sector. "Dick, we're in danger! Get around from the speakers! Mind control!"

Dick stops dancing with a sigh, muttering under his breath as Tim rushes to the control panel of the speaker system. As soon as he slams it off, Damian releases a screech of an angered cat and launches at him, demanding his music back. Jon flouts nervously on the side as the two youngest Waynes brothers roll on the ground, yelling insults and taking dirty shots.

"I wish I could enjoy things with my siblings without them ruining it." He mumbles, striding forward to break up the fight, only to scream when Tim pulls out pepper spray, yowling like a madman.

"Mind control! Mind control!"

"My EYES! "

"Drake, stop!"

"You'll never get me Siren! Never!"

".I'm going to go get Mr.Wayne!"

"Make haste, Jon! Bring my father to stop this baffoon-my eyes! Drake, you bastard!"

[bunnyhugs77]

Mr. Take Your Bitch

Pairing: Idol! Jungkook x Reader

Word Count: 8.2k

Content Warning: jk is a little cocky, player! jk, reader gets flustered so easily, jk is such a tease, smooth talker jk, clubbing, ft bts, interviews, reader is small (like 5'1), insults, alcohol consumption, infidelity, readers boyfriend is an asshole, mentions of smoking, impulsive jk, what happens in vegas stays in vegas, messyyy, suggestive themes, sweet gestures.

Other Content: hair pulling, manhandling, oral sex (f! receiving), squirting, missionary, jk splits reader in half, big dick! jk, doggy style, dacryphilia, praise and degradation, cream pies, minor possessive jk, unprotected sex (be better than them), recording.

"How do I look?" Sunny tosses the perfectly sculpted curls in her hair once more, pouting in the dressing room mirror, making sure that not a strand was out of place.

"For the eighth time, you look great, as always." She stands, her red off-the-shoulder top accenting her white pencil skirt and perfect figure, she really did look gorgeous. "Great isn't enough. This is the first time I'm interviewing THE BTS. I need to look perfect."

"You do. I promise." You reassure with a comforting right hand on her shoulder while you center her necklace with your left. "Y/n, we need you out here to help set up." Your manager cracks the door open to call for you briefly before leaving.

"I still cannot believe you dragged me into this coffee girl job just for you to get close to Namjoon." Sunny's full lips stretch from ear to ear showing off her million-dollar smile, "What's so wrong about me wanting you nearby for emotional support? But at least I got you a job out of it, 3 weeks ago you were on the brink of poverty.'' Her arms crossed and you had to admit, she did have a point.

"What was the whole point of this again?" You simply had to ask, remembering the midnight phone call Sunny surprised you with about a month ago when she landed the Hybe interviewer position.

"Remember the story I told you about, in Junior year, me and this boy from math camp snuck out 6 miles away with fake IDs and got shitfaced at the nearest bar then hooked up but I never got his name and he was in the middle of signing my journal we were interrupted and I never saw him again until-"

"You saw Namjoon's face on a billboard in Seoul, and you took this opportunity to get close to see if it was him or not. Yes, I remember now, it's all coming back to me." You finish her story for her.

"Exactly, and-"

"--Y/n, sometime today would be great." Your manager interrupts once again and you leave, apologizing frantically for making them wait, not wanting to lose this job. It actually paid pretty well considering all you did was make drinks.

Walking out of the dressing room, ignoring the buzz in the back pocket of your jeans as you followed your manager to the coffee cart offset. Although from here you had a perfect view of where the interview would take place.

They set it up to be very stylish and modern with BTS albums and concept photos placed strategically around the set within the camera shot. Along with a small coffee table, one chair on one side where Sunny would sit and seven on the other side.

It almost gave you chills to think about. The fact that in a few moments, the most popular boy band in the continent would be sitting right there. All seven of them, including the tempting one.

The one who makes you stumble over your words every time he comes down to the first floor to get a coffee even though there's a gazillion other places to get something to drink in the building.

Every time you see him, he's displaying a new style. Sometimes he comes down stacked with complex layers of clothing and covered in jewelry, or with nothing more than a pair of sweatpants and a t-shirt, although the latter was possibly the worst of your few interactions. He's just so handsome, it made you want to squirm.

That day he was saying all the right things, yet saying nothing at all. Asking you simple questions like when you started working here, and if you liked coffee, meanwhile all you could mutter was an embarrassing 'yes'. What exactly you were saying yes to? You may never know.

You turned your back to the set and focused on making the pre-ordered drinks the members had sent down with their manager beforehand. By the time you turned back around Sunny was sitting in her place, anxious but ready.

You've been best friends since the 6th grade. She's incredibly outgoing and sociable, a balancing contrast to your more introverted nature although you could be a little extroverted with some alcohol in your system.

She was born for this job, you're sure she'll kill the interview. She mentioned that she'd bumped into a few of the members since she started working a month ago, but not Namjoon.

She definitely underestimated how hard it would be to 'bump' into a man who is guarded by security constantly and extremely busy, not to mention rarely in the country.

Hoseok was the first one to walk in, looking sharp as ever in casual attire but he he made it look incredible. Next was Jimin, and you noticed the way Sunny's eyes nearly widened when she finally saw Namjoon walk in behind Tae.

Finally, they were all inside and all greeted Sunny with a friendly hug and you can see she enjoyed her hug with Namjoon a little too much. Somehow finding something small to laugh about with him as they pulled away.

With an empty cup in your hand, you watched the most handsome group of men you've ever seen, file into the room and take a seat. "Go set these down before cameras start rolling." You feel a tap on your shoulder from another worker.

Did you zone out?

You placed a firm hand on your chest, taking a deep breath before placing a sturdy grip on the handles of the cart and bringing their beverages over. 'One foot in front of the other' you remind yourself, doing your best to ignore the feeling of their gazes turning to you as you got closer.

Unable to look any of them in the eyes as you set down their drinks on the table saying the name of each one so they know which one is theirs.

You could feel his gaze on you whilst Sunny got to witness it first hand from where she sat. The way his jaw slowly clenches with each passing moment, watching you with dark, intense eyes. In that moment, the world around him blurred, and all that remained was the captivating image of you.

It was while you were placing down the final cup that you felt bold enough to finally look up from the table, glancing at Jimin who was talking to Hoseok on his right. Slowly your line of sight inches up and over his head to Jungkook who was sitting on a taller chair behind him.

He was looking right at you.

And that was more than enough for you to return to the cart and retreat to your station. The boys reached for their cups as the countdown to the interview began.

You watched with engaged eyes from the sidelines as the interview began, going through basic introductions and standard questions, you were listening along to the jokes made along the way.

It seemed they were having a great time out there, but you couldn't focus on all of them for too long. You wouldn't be doing your duties as Sunny's best friend if you didn't watch Namjoon's every move; including how he seemed to be the first one to answer almost any of her questions.

The questions were flying by and the discussion was so entertaining to watch but it was over before you even registered it. Sure, cameras had stopped rolling but they were all still talking.

You felt another buzz in your pocket, finally deciding to check.

 Daehyun: Are you still��mad? It's been 2 days, you're being dramatic. 12:02 pm

 Daehyun: Why aren't you answering my texts? 1:12 pm

 Daehyun: Fine. Keep ignoring me. Real mature, Y/n. 1:13 pm

You scoff at the messages.

Unbelievable.

Your boyfriend has left you astonished. Again!

You put your phone back on silent, secretly wishing you'd never checked it in the first place. Muttering under your breath about what a jerk he's been to you lately but you stop yourself. Because he's still your boyfriend, and sure, he fucked up a few times, bad. It doesn't change the fact that you're in a relationship with him.

If you could even call it that.

You've slept together twice. Well- 1.5 times if you wanted to get specific. The second time was so bad that you simply had to stop it altogether and make up some excuse so that you didn't hurt his feelings.

Shaking him out of your head and focusing back on your task at hand which was collecting the empty mugs from the table. Repeating the same process as before, avoiding all eye contact, but this time you didn't look up.

You didn't bother because you already knew he was watching you.

You were intimidated but you weren't oblivious.

-

"Y/n! Y/n! Y/n!" You hear her from around the corner before you see her running towards you at your coffee station on the first floor. Sunny was practically bursting. You would think that she had captured the sun between her hands but it was something that would take your life for a spin, but you didn't know that yet.

"You're interview went so well!" You slip in your comment first knowing that once she says whatever she has to say, it'll go on for years.

"I know right! After you left to pack up, I was still talking to the guys and they really seemed to like me so they invited me and any +1 I want to invite on their weekend in Vegas trip tomorrow night! All expenses paid for!" Jaw-dropping wasn't the word. Knee buckling may be a better fit as you had quite literally stumbled and dropped a mug, thankfully it didn't break.

"No. No no no." You say, backing up and her entire demeanour deflated like a devastated puppy. "Why not?" You lean in close, whispering, "Because Jungkook is gonna be there--" She interrupts you, practically exploding with emotions. "Oh my god, he wants you so bad. Did you see the way he was looking at you?!" She whisper shouts.

"I know!" you plain shout out, realizing your volume needed adjusting and leaning forward onto the counter. "But he's Jeon Jungkook and I have Daehyun-" The most disgusted look runs across Sunny's face.

"I cannot believe you are even comparing the two right now. You said it yourself, one is Jeon Jungkook, and the other is Daehyun, a man you should've left in the dust months ago." Here we go again, you sigh.

"C'mon Y/n. He's an asshole, he's childish, he's bad in bed and honestly, the list should end there but no, he humiliated you in front of your family and he was caught in your sister's dm's on Christmas!!"

"It's May for god's sake and he's still stressing you out, and seeing you stressed makes me stressed. So why don't you come tomorrow, I'll keep you away from Jungkook if it comes to that, but please, you need to let loose a little and forget about him for just the weekend." She begs.

She could see you were starting to consider it.

"Please?" She pouts, giving you those same puppy eyes that convinced you to work here in the first place. "Please don't look at me like that, stop." You try to avoid her sorrowful gaze but It's like it intensifies to a point where you just can't look away, nor can you deny.

"Fine, fine. Okay, I'll go."

--

Considering you only just found out you were leaving the country yesterday, you think you did pretty good packing light but efficiently.

That's what you were thinking as you stepped behind Sunny onto the empty private jet. She'd already made arrangements to sit beside Namjoon.

She was crazy but you had to give the girl credit, she worked fast.

You weren't taking in a single thing, part of you was still in disbelief you had even seen the boys up close and personal yesterday.

This would all sink in for you in 5 years and then you'll be hit with a numbing regret of not doing things differently.

Or maybe it'll sink in for you right now, Jimin's full head of brown wavy hair is the first one you see to pop up on the plane and he flashes you a kind smile, taking a seat beside you.

He introduces himself as if you and half the world don't already know him but you engage anyway, giving him your name and the rest is history.

The flight was 11 hours so there was a lot of ground to cover between the two of you for the first 6 hours. Jimin was just such an easy person to open up with, any time you said something crazy you felt like he would have an even crazier story of his own to share.

He'd told you all about his first impressions of the guys to his first scandal that the label somehow managed to cover up because even you were in shock. It would have been over for him.

Then it was your turn, telling him about your exhausting boyfriend since it all started seven months ago.

"On Christmas?!" He shouts, "Why are you with him again?" You groan, "God you sound just like Sunny!"

The two of you were clearly enjoying your conversation while Sunny worked on getting Namjoon to talk a little bit about his past, trying to see if he really was the boy from all those years ago, but he seemed occupied reading his book and she wasn't going to interrupt him any longer. She sighs softly, looking out the window, watching the clouds fly by like art.

Meanwhile, at the front of the jet, Jungkook typed away on his laptop, sometimes blurbing some possible lyrics, but mostly keeping himself busy with a thousand rounds of Tetris. He tuned out the sound of your angelic laughter with his headphones, but it couldn't stop him from glancing to the back of the plane where you sat with Jimin every so often.

Only about an hour left before you landed and you really needed to pee but Jimin was in the way and fast asleep. You looked around, it seemed that everyone was fast asleep, but you really had to go.

Lightly tapping Jimin and asking him to let you through, he moves, half awake, just giving you enough time to pass before going back to his original position.

You exited the bathroom, nearly falling to the ground in horror when you came face to face with the man you'd nearly forgotten was on the jet. He smiles that classic bunny smile that the fans go crazy over.

"I'm sorry, I didn't mean to scare you." He says it so sweetly, and in this hushed tone due to the late hour of the night it was making your head think things. Things that you should not be thinking about.

"You okay?" Checking in, seeing that you seemed to have zoned out mid-conversation. Shit. You were doing it again. "Y-yeah." You hated speaking to him it made you feel like you couldn't speak at all. He was just so tall, and his eyes were so big and endearing and-

"Really? Cause it looks like you've got something on your mind." It comes out in such a way that brings heat to your face, suddenly hyper-aware that everyone is asleep, and the two of you are out of sight in the narrow hall of the bathroom.

"Yeah, just excited for tomorrow." You lie, you felt sick to your stomach. He made you sick to your stomach. He gets a little closer, now close enough for you to be able to smell the soft cologne on his clothes. "What's got you so excited?"

It felt like you were watching yourself fall from the sky, it was slow but graceful, but you knew once you hit the bottom, things would get ugly. So you grew wings. "My boyfriend. We're planning on Facetiming tomorrow." It was like a repellant, the way he stepped back.

"Oh, that's nice." He mumbles and you take this opportunity to run back to your seat, hopping over Jimin and strapping yourself back in your seat, shaking your head over and over again.

This was a bad idea. You should not have come on this trip.

-

"She has a fucking boyfriend." Is the first thing Jungkook says to Yoongi and Jimin while the three sit in the back of the taxi that is en route to the hotel. Yoongi wasn't listening, still half asleep after only waking up 30 minutes ago. He would need a repeat of it all tomorrow.

"Pfft. Barely." Jimin mumbles. Triggering quite possibly the fasted head turn known to mankind, Jungkook looks at him with intrigue, "What do you mean by that."

"He's an asshole. Like a literal piece of shit, but she's still with him for whatever reason. It's gotta be Stockholm syndrome." Jimin shrugs. "But you can't tell her I told you this, I think she's pretty cool, so before you get your dick wet, think with your head first."

Yoongi hums in agreement with that one statement. He may be asleep but he knows a good statement when he hears one.

-

Jungkook did think. He thought about you all night. From the cab to the hotel, until he fell asleep and again when he woke up. Sure, you had a boyfriend, but it sounds like you shouldn't be with him, or at least deserved someone better.

The morning sun seeps through the curtains, casting a warm glow on the lavish surroundings. You and Sunny share a glance, a silent acknowledgment of the incredible experience that awaits. Or at least that's what Sunny thinks.

Instead, you retreat under the covers of your bed with an unpleasant sound. "How could I let you bring me here." Your voice is muffled and scratchy from it being the morning still. "Because you love me." She runs from her bed and jumps onto yours.

"Should we get room service?" She proposes and you slowly pull the covers down, revealing an interested expression. "Who's paying?" You ask. "Who cares! It's not us." She springs up and bounces for the phone.

By the late afternoon, you'd gotten an invite from Jimin, inviting you guys down to the pool, it was reserved just for them. "We're going, this isn't up for debate, Y/n. You said you would relax on this trip, so it's my job to make sure you do!" She pulls out the violet two-piece you'd packed in your luggage and shoves you into the bathroom, throwing the clothes in there with you after and shutting the door.

"I hate you y'know," you say from the other side of the door.

"You'll thank me one day, Y/n. One day."

-

There was a roar of cheers from the guys as the two of you walked into sight, the sun was beaming down on you and you were glad you brought your sunscreen.

Jungkook tried to be respectful to the sham of a relationship you were in but what was he supposed to do? You looked so hot in your bathing suit, you were so small but you still had curves in all the right places.

He just wanted to break you in half. Pin you down and-

A splash of water hits him in the face, "Stop eye fucking her and act like you've been neutered for once." Yoongi warns, swimming away before Jungkook could retaliate.

Jin calls Sunny into the water, and she just about jumped in while you were working on unwrapping your new bottle of sunscreen. Jungkook uses this as an opportunity. Looking down at the white shirt that was now soaked through, sticking to his abs he slowly steps out of the water.

Looking you right in the eyes as you shook the bottle. Now you were staring but you didn't care. You were looking at the son of Adonis, or maybe the god himself.

In the warm glow of the poolside sun, Jungkook emerged from the sparkling water, droplets cascading down his glistening skin. The pool's rippling surface bore witness to his athletic grace as he approached the pool chair where you reclined, still shaking the bottle.

His steps were confident, each one leaving a trail of water on the tiles beneath his feet. As he neared, he held your gaze with an intense, playful glint in his eyes. The air between you became charged with a magnetic energy, and a sly smile played on his lips.

With deliberate movements, Jungkook reached down to the hem of his white shirt, clinging to his sculpted physique. The fabric peeled away, revealing the contours of his toned abs. Beads of water followed the curves of his body, accentuating every defined muscle.

As the shirt came off, the sunlight caught on the droplets clinging to his skin, creating an ethereal effect. The sensual eye contact between the two of you intensified, creating a moment suspended in time. The poolside ambiance seemed to hush, allowing the connection between them to take center stage.

Your fist clenched, the sunscreen blurted out of the bottle, some landing on the smooth skin of your thigh but most hit the chair.

Jungkook's expression hinted at a playful confidence, acknowledging the allure of the moment. Your little accident told him all he needed to know. You wanted him.

Even if you didn't know it yet.

Wiping desperately at the sunscreen that had landed on you, a bigger hand comes to help. Gently rubbing the soft flesh of your thigh, Jungkook was crouched to your level with nothing more than a sincere smile as he helped you with your sunscreen.

Your mouth gaped like a fish out of water as you watched him from beside yourself. Unable to believe what was happening. You could feel your heart beating in your ears, and other places but you shook your head.

"Wh-what-" Jungkook looks up to you, moving his hand away. "My bad. I didn't mean to overstep, I just noticed that you'd spilt some of your sunscreen," He inches just a little closer so that you looked down at him from where you sat on your chair. "I'd hate for it to go to waste."

That mischievous tongue of his makes an appearance briefly as it swipes over his bottom lip before retreating; leaving behind glossy plump lips. It's not what he says, but how he says it.

Almost as though he wanted you to break.

You hated how he made you feel without saying anything out of the ordinary.

"You have to be shitting me," Yoongi curses to no one in particular as he watches Jungkook lean up towards you from where he was floating in the pool on the flamingo inflatable.

"You've gotta admit, the boy's determined." Jin adds while Hoseok shakes his head, "He just doesn't know when to give up."

--

Opening your hotel room door to see Jimin leaning against the wall waiting for you. He looked incredible in his black button-up with the sleeves rolled to the elbows. His hair swooped to perfection.

"About time." He kicks himself off the wall as you scoff, "Don't blame me, blame the dress." Your freshly manicured nail points to the red, velvet dress that left your chest exposed before it went under the halter neckline.

There was so much skin offered to anyone that looked at you. You looked absolutely stunning. The way the dress clung tightly to your curves was almost ungodly but made you seem even more angelic.

Twirling on your toes slowly to showcase the full rotation of your outfit and Jimin failed to suppress his gasp. The back- Your back was completely exposed safe for where the halter crossed behind your neck.

"You look hot, and I'm not just saying that." You grin, leading the way to the elevator and waiting for it to come up.

While you were watching the elevator screen, Jimin was watching you. Not lustfully or anything since he really did see the two of you becoming close friends in the future but his gaze was full of.. fear?

Jungkook was going to eat you alive tonight, and he was willing to put money on it.

The man has been able to show limited amounts of self-control since the trip began, and his little shirtless stunt at the pool earlier that day was proof.

The elevator dings and the doors open.

You step in, hearing your phone vibrating from within your maroon chain side bag. Digging through your various lipsticks, mini perfumes and hair pins you finally grab your buzzing device.

 Daehyun: When did you go to Vegas?? and how did you get there? 4:33 pm

 Daehyun: Baby, I'm sorry. I mean it. Stop Ignoring me. (now) 8:12 pm

You sigh, scrolling through your messages sadly. "Am I being too hard on him?" Jimin leans over to look at the messages, his face turning sour at Daehyun's messages. "I bet you he doesn't even know what he's apologizing for."

The elevator doors close, and Jimin presses the star symbol for the nightclub on the first floor where you would meet the others.

Shaking your head repeatedly, "No. That's impossible. He knows, Jimin. Trust me." He doesn't seem convinced in the slightest,

"Okay. Since you're so sure-" He snatched your phone from your grasp, his fingers moving at the speed of light and you panicked, reaching for the device but he held it high. "Jimin No-!"

"I said 'What are you apologizing for'. I won't send it if you don't want me to. But It seems like he's only apologizing because he knows he's in the wrong, but doesn't know what for."

The elevator dings, going down floor by floor, the silence slowly creeping up on you, "Send it." You say, and his thumb hits send.

The doors open.

You and Jimin step out into the club. Before you sprawled a vast expanse of vibrant colours. Neon lights adorned the walls, casting a kaleidoscope of hues that danced in rhythm with the music.

The dance floor, surrounded by elevated platforms and VIP booths, was the epicentre of the vibrant spectacle. Mirrored ceilings multiplied the dazzling display, creating a sense of endless sin.

"Do you know where they are?" You ask while Jimin leads the way into the crowd of hot bodies and blasting music, he glances down to the text from Tae, "Tae said they're in section 9." Maneuvering your way through the swarm of people until you meet up with the others.

Jimin walked up the steps first, the group's cheers blending in with the roars coursing throughout the rest of the club as he joined them with you closely behind, the cheers continuing for you with whistles once you reached the platform.

"Oh shit!" Sunny curses, rushing to your side to shower you with compliments. "I guess being 30 minutes late pays off, you look great." Tae welcomes you with a side hug and an invitation to sit beside him.

"You need to cool it." Jin pulls Jungkook in by the collar so that he could hear him over the music. Jungkook finally pulls his hungry gaze off of you and looks to his elder.

"You're making it way obvious, and obvious is not what you want. She has a boyfriend. There are hundreds of other girls here, find someone else." He lets him go and Jungkook shakes his head.

How Jin even found out that you had a boyfriend didn't phase him. The seven of them were as close as brothers, it was hard for him and Jimin to keep anything to themselves.

Hundreds of girls but they weren't you. He couldn't just switch it on and off. This wasn't as fun and playful as it once was before, he was starting to get addicted to the thought of you.

"You have any pre-rolls on you?" Jungkook leans over to Namjoon who was deep into a conversation with Sunny. Namjoon reaches inside the pocket of his blazer, "Never leave home without them."

"Great. I need a smoke." Jungkook huffs, standing, purposefully avoiding your gaze. God you looked so fucking fine in that dress, it made him crazy, sick to his stomach.

He's Jeon Jungkook for god's sake.

The concept of want is so unfamiliar to him. Any girl he wants could easily be in his bed the same day, but you-- he shakes his head bitterly-- you were giving him a hard time, all over what? some lame-ass boyfriend.

"Namjoon you comin' ?" He looks over his shoulder to see both him and Sunny standing, "Mind if I join?" She asks, "The more the merrier."

You watched as the three of them disappeared into the bustling crowd vanishing out of sight. "Where did they go?"

Tae leans forward looking at where the trio had just walked through. "Probably went to go ball up." Tae shrugs, "Which means it's time to really get this night started. First round on me."

It wasn't until three shots later when Jungkook had finally come back, this was the first time you really got a good look at him. He was wearing nothing but a black jacket that had the most delicate body chains striping across his abdomen, giving you a clear view of his sculpted abs and-

Your phone buzzes.

 You: Why are you apologizing? 8:13 pm

 Daehyun: Because you're upset. (now) 9:27 pm

God, Jimin might be right. He doesn't have a clue.

 You: Do you even know why I'm mad? 9:27 pm

 Daehyun: Is it because of the nudes I sent Soo-Min? I was drunk, I promise. It was a mistake. 9:28 pm

You gasp. You had no idea what he was talking about. You were referring to him standing you up when you told all your family that he would be coming. You never knew this had even happened.

 You: What the fuck are you talking about? 9:29 pm

 You: I cannot believe you right now. 9:29 pm

 You: Stop fucking texting me. 9:30 pm

You weren't even sad or disappointed. You were used to him letting you down constantly. "Looks like you need another shot." You look up from the screen in your lap, making eye contact with ringed fingers wrapped around a shot glass with your name on it.

You take the shot in your own grasp, looking Jungkook in the eyes as you down it. Your face wincing a little at the burn in the back of your throat but you were beginning to feel that exciting warmth in your chest.

The strobe lights turn red as Chris Brown's Take You Down begins to play through the loud speakers all around the club. "Wanna dance?" He offered you his hand, your brain was a little hazy and your cheeks were flushed but Jungkook was too hot to resist.

"Love to."

The two of you walk off to the dance floor with the rest of the crowd.

Taehyung looks to Jin who looks to Hoseok who looks to Yoongi.

Yoongi sighs, shaking his head slowly taking another shot. "It's out of my control. Once they step on that floor, their fate is sealed."

It's true, the moment Jungkook's hands were on your hips that swayed to the music you knew you were screwed. You had every right to be apprehensive about going on this stupid trip in the first place, but deep down you knew it was inevitable.

This very moment was destined from the start.

"You look fucking perfect tonight." He whispers in your ear from behind you, subconsciously pushing your hips back on him and Jungkook could swear he's never wanted someone as badly as he wanted you at this very moment.

"Says you," You spin in his hold, now face to face.

His grip on your hips tighten, body unable to maintain its façade for much longer. Your hair was up in a bun tonight, showing off the industrial piercing he never even knew you had.

There were so many things he wanted to know about you, and not just physically. He wanted to be able to sit with you over a cup of coffee and talk about everything and anything.

His tight hold on you prompted a breathless whine to escape your lips but he heard it. "Stop it." He says and your eyebrows scrunch, genuinely confused. "Stop what?"

"Stop tempting me. I'm trying to be respectful." Astonishment wipes over your features. "You're telling me to stop? It's been you all along, making me trip over my words, and being so shirtless and hot all the time, making me forget I have a boyfriend." He chuckles.

"So you admit it. You think about me too?"

You step back.

"Yes, Jungkook. I cannot stop thinking about you and that's my problem. I need to get you out of my head." Your mouth was saying one thing, but with the way he was looking at you, your heart wanted him between your legs.

The almost forgotten feeling of lust finally coursed through your veins. It'd been so long since you'd gotten any action, you needed this.

But you couldn't.

He steps towards you, even closer than before. You could feel his firm body crowding against your own. The way he towered over you made you feel dizzy. He leaned down, ensuring that you could feel his warm breath on the shell of your ear when he spoke "Tell me you don't want me and I'll walk away."

You don't want him. you lie to yourself.

Trying to put these thoughts into words, your mouth opens.

"I need you, Jungkook." Finally admitting it.

There was no going back now, his lips crashed against yours with nothing less than an animalistic desire. It was fast-paced and messy but you loved it.

The dam finally broke.

You kissed with more than your lips, his hands on your waist, squeezing tight as he rolled his hips into you with the rhythm of the music.

This was so so wrong, but it felt so right.

The way his tongue rolled over your bottom lip with such skill made your thighs clench, you could only imagine the things he could do with it--

"Y/n!" Sunny screams your name from behind you, not even processing what you and Jungkook had just been doing while Namjoon was busy enjoying the music behind her.

You turned around, a little breathless and bothered after being disrupted but you were immediately occupied with analyzing Sunny's appearance. For starters her hair was ruffled and looked like it'd been put through the wringer, her lipstick (what was left of it) was fading and a little smudged.

And last that you checked she was wearing lashes when the night began but they were nowhere to be found. "Sunny where did you go-- Oh my god- Did you and Namjoon-" Her non-stop nodding causes you to clasp your hand over your mouth.

"It's him! He remembers me!" The two of you have your moment, squealing before Jungkook whispers in your ear. "Meet me at the elevator in 5." Sunny actually does catch on this time.

"Oh my god!? Are you gonna-"

You think about it, "I don't know!! Should I?! Daehyun just voluntarily admitted to sending nudes to Soo-Min god knows when and-" Sunny groans. "Leave him, for the love of god y/n stand up!" She yells.

"I can't just leave him he's my boyfriend, and it wouldn't make me any better than him." Sunny's eyes roll. "It won't be cheating if you plan on breaking up with his ass tonight. Just hurry up and decide, Jungkook's waiting for you." She winks and it gives you butterflies.

He was waiting for you.

The moment you turned the corner of the hallway, you saw Jungkook waiting outside the elevator as he said he would be, finally pressing the button. "I was afraid you wouldn't come," he laughs internally to himself at the double entendre, knowing Jungkook's track record, this has never been an issue for him.

The two of you step inside the elevator, it would be a long ride up to the 21st floor, the two of you did your best to stay to your respective sides of the elevator until there was a crowd of people that entered as well, pushing you into him.

Completely oblivious to the way your ass was pressed flush against his crotch, he looks up to the ceiling, wondering what he'd done in his past life to deserve this kind of punishment.

A beautiful girl pressed up against him but he couldn't do anything. As the crowd moved, so did you he hisses and your body stills, finally aware of what you were doing.

On the 13th floor the elevator empties completely, leaving just the two of you and you try to move away from him but his grip holds you in place. "Didn't think you'd be running from me so soon." You'd never heard his voice like this. It was deeper, bass full of wants and desires,

He spins you around, he had you cornered.

Looking up to him with that doe gaze of yours. His index finger gently rests under your chin, your gaze was practically begging him to kiss you, but in case he was hesitating you nodded just a little, permitting him to open your lips with his.

This kiss was a lot slower and deeper than the one before. It was soft and sweet, but slowly turned into a full-blown make-out session by the time the elevator made it to the 21st floor.

He leads the way to his room at the end of the hall, beside Hoseok's room.

Jungkook worked on unlocking the door while you chewed on the tip of your acrylic. Were you really about to do this?

"I'm going in my room, and you don't have to follow, but I'm leaving the door unlocked." He says, disappearing behind the door. Looking over your shoulder, your room was 4 doors down.

You could still back out now, it wasn't too late.

All you would need to do is have a long talk with Daehyun.

You scoff, even his name irritated you. Your heart knew things weren't going to work out between the two of you once you got back home, regardless of whether you slept with Jungkook or not.

He's broken your trust far too many times, and besides, Sunny was right, he is an asshole.

You walk into Jungkook's room and make sure to lock the door behind you.

"That's my girl," He purrs as he steps towards you, taking your face in his hands before gracing you with a heated kiss, the kind of kiss that made you stumble as he walked you back to the door.

"Hope you put that phone on dnd." He whispers, kissing down your neck, skillfully managing to take your hair down at the same time. You looked like the epitome of sin, hair falling over your shoulders as if it fell from grace while your neck was littered with hickeys, your plump bottom lip tugged between those perfect teeth of yours.

Your dress was the first thing to go, he loved it on you, but it served its purpose, and it did it well. Soon his jacket was finally off revealing his muscular build that you'd seen in the fan cams but it couldn't compare to the real thing.

You kissed him back desperately as your legs were wrapped around his waist while he made his way to the bed, dropping you down to your back watching the way you bounced.

Your perfect tits are the first victim of his passionate affection. Leaving tender kisses on the soft flesh, "Jungkook-" you gasp feeling him wrap his lips around your nipples, tongue working hard to push you towards that edge that you'd been inching closer to since you got in here.

He groans as he feels your hands roam over his back, anticipating the feeling of your nails scratching his skin. Finally moving down from your breasts once they were covered with his kisses and hickeys.

You could feel yourself practically soaking through your under, not to mention the way it was sticking to you. "Looks like someone's worked up," he teases, slowly peeling you out of your ruined underwear.

"What's got you so hot and bothered, is it your boyfriend?" You sit up so fast almost getting a head rush and he laughs. "Jungkook." You say and he gives you a look of lust. "What? Say it baby, use your words. Tell me who makes you this wet. Is it me or him?"

You press your legs together, unable to believe that this was turning you on more. "He couldn't turn me on." He looks up to you with wide eyes. "Is that so?" Nodding your head slowly, letting Jungkook gently push you back down to the bed.

On his knees he takes a deep breath at your core, a guttural sound rumbling in his chest as he was face to face with your dripping core. "So you're saying it's me?" he asks, letting his tongue run a flat stripe against your soaked folds.

"YES! It's you Jungkook please, stop teasing, please I can't take it. I'm already so close." You beg, body thrashing around enough for him to pin your legs over his shoulder and to keep you still.

You were stroking his ego, telling you you were already so close and he's barely touched you. Your boyfriend must've been shit in bed, and he was determined to make it up to you. He was going to show you what you've been missing.

Finally eating you out to his heart's content, ignoring the way your feet continued to move frantically over his shoulders he lapped up at your core, flicking his tongue over your clit until your body spasmed uncontrollably. "I'm-" Unable to even finish the sentence before you were blinded by an earth-shattering orgasm.

It ripped through you like a storm and came squirting out of you just like one too. "You've got to fucking kidding me," Jungkook murmurs to himself and you froze. Was he mad?

He stands up, "Of course the hottest girl I've ever seen squirts on my tongue. Good fucking hell, Y/n. It's like you want me obsessed with you." Who was he kidding, he was already obsessed.

He picked you up so carelessly, bringing you to the balcony where it overlooked the Las Vegas strip. You could see the hotel's illuminated pool and all the car lights as they zoomed on the highway far in the distance.

"Hope you're not scared of heights."

Your stomach twisted at the thought of being so high up, but it was all forgotten once your leg was propped up and you felt your folds being prodded open by the fat head of Jungkook's cock.

"No- fuck! Wait." you cursed feeling him push in just the tip, the sweet burn of his size nearly causing you to fall but he held you steady against the railing, bulging biceps on either side of your body, caging you in safely.

Jungkook knew better, this should be the last place he should be doing something like this but with your pretty ass right in front of him it was such a beautiful sight, and the scenery was cool too.

"It's too much," you pant, arms bracing yourself on the fence that kept you from falling 200 feet below. "It's only the tip baby, you sure you can take the whole thing?" You pause in thought, you needed him, all of him. "I can take it. keep going." You say and he pushes in slowly, feeling his cock fill up every nook and cranny of your womb.

It felt like he was in your lungs, you were knocked breathless, and he didn't move. Your body went limp in his arms, exactly what he feared would happen. He quite literally split you open, but you were determined to take it.

You clawed at the railing desperately, looking for any kind of relief from what you were feeling. "Deep breaths baby, I'll go slow." You nod, eyes squeezed shut as his hips slowly roll back pulling out about halfway before rocking back in.

"Oo-oh. fuck. Jungkook, keep going." you moan, head falling onto your hands; feeling what was once pain morphs into an addicting, sweet pleasure, over time his pace picks up until he was fucking into you with no remorse.

Even if no one could see you from this high up, they sure as hell could hear you. The way you cried out his name like a prayer over and over while Jungkook's brain was short-circuiting with the sight of you creaming on his dick and the obscene sounds it created.

"Does your boyfriend fuck you like this, huh?" He angles his hips, resuming his brutal pace even though you've already come twice now. Your body jolts with each snap of his hips.

You shake your head, but that isn't enough for him, flipping you around so that you're facing him, he pushes himself back in, your eyes fluttering shut almost immediately.

"Use your words Y/n. You're my smart girl, look me in the eyes and tell me that your boyfriend could never fuck you like I do." Your eyes snap open, "He c-could never fuck-!" Jungkook slowed down his thrusts to something so much deeper, your eyes rolled and Jungkook nearly came just at the sight.

"Shit, I'm gonna come." He pants, and with a few more erratic thrusts you feel his warm cum fill you up. He slowly lets you stand but your legs fail you immediately. Scooping you up in his arms effortlessly he brings you to the bed, clearly not done with you.

That's how you found yourself on the brink of your third orgasm while Jungkook plowed into you from behind, obsessed with how his cum seeped out of you and around his cock.

Your arms had given out long ago hence why your cheek was smushed into the sheets of the bed while you whimpered like a whore. "God you should look at yourself," He laughs almost maniacally from behind you.

Feeling himself approach his climax, "Jungkook- please!" you cried out, the friction only adding to the stimulation, "m' gonna-" you try to get back up on your arms but you couldn't move.

"I wonder what your boyfriend would say if he saw you like this,'' A wicked smile spreads across his lips as he reaches for your phone that was forgotten somewhere on the bed, hitting record.

Pulling you up onto your arms, tugging your hair by a makeshift ponytail, the flash highlights the various bruises all over your body left by yours truly. The audio was picking up his soft groans and your pathetic whimpers, and if the room was quiet enough you could probably hear the welt squelch of your cunt sucking in his length with each push.

"Shit, shit, shit!" You cry out, coming once more and your body goes limp, Jungkook ends the recording and tosses the phone to the side while he chases his own high finishing soon after you.

He pulls out slowly, "Y/n, baby? Are you with me?" He taps your cheek gently, and your eyes barely open, "I think you fucked the soul out of me," He dares to flash you a nervous smile as if he hadn't just fucked you dumb.

"Come, let's get you cleaned up."

-

"That was one hell of a trip." You mumble to Sunny on the phone as you wheel your suitcase down the hall to the door of your apartment where there was a big bouquet of flowers.

"Oh my god," You say, crouching down, wincing a little as you did to read the card. "What?" Sunny asks and you explain what you were seeing.

"Do you think they're from Daehyun?" You scoff, "Fat chance."

You open the envelope to read the card aloud,

'To the hottest girl. We should get donuts sometime, I heard you like them cream-filled ;) Text me sometime xxx-xxx-xxx. -J.K'

Sunny squealed in your ear.

"I'll call you back." You say, dialling Jungkook's number.

"Hello?" He answers.

"You got me flowers?" You couldn't stop the smile from spreading across your face, and he could hear it. He closed his fridge and leaned on the counter, "You like 'em?"

Holding the vase in your hand you take a deep sniff, "I love them."

He shakes his head. "This is so sad. You're too easy to impress. Let me treat you better than that jerk, Y/n." Your mouth falls open-

"How- What?"

"Jimin mentioned the details to me but don't get mad at him; it doesn't change the fact that the guy is an asshole." You sigh.

"I know."

"So?" Jungkook starts, waiting for you to say something.

"I think you mentioned something about cream-filled donuts. When and where?"

He smiles.

[casualhedonists]

✩ it don’t need your loving, it just needs attention ✩ (chapter two)

pairing: Coriolanus Snow x reader

chapter: 2/?

MASTERLIST

warnings: NSFW (18+), snow being snow, themes of sex work (not the reader), cuckolding, eventual smut, fake relationship, unprotected sex, themes of voyeurism & mild exhibitionism, murder mention (but no actual murder) (not yet at least?), MAJOR manipulation/gross power dynamics + generally darkish themes, some power play, oral sex, thigh riding, eventual piv, i’m new to full on smut bear with me here (and pls tell me if i forgot anything!)

i do not give permission for my work to be reposted/translated anywhere, under any circumstances.

a/n: first off, THANK YOU for the love on chapter 1. wasn’t sure how I’d fare since I’ve done a lot of writing in my life but little to no smut. with that said! longer chapter incoming. also I just know he’d give insane head okay i just do,the guy looks like he fucks and he definitely does

You weren't sure exactly how you slipped away from Snow’s room that night, but you could somewhat piece it together in flashes. First a head rush, then the fire in the pit of your stomach practically having gasoline thrown on it.

You remembered a quiet gasp escaping your lips, then panic, a flash of white, and suddenly you were stumbling away, head spinning as you tried to catch your breath, pacing unevenly down the hallway, any chance of a stealthy escape long thrown out the window.

Back in your room, once the door was bolted and your back was against it, making sure nobody could get in if they tried, you had your first shot at clear-headedness since you’d heard heels scuffing the hardwood.

You’d soaked your panties through and were dripping down your thighs, but you’d be damned if you could get into the headspace to take care of it. Panic flooded your veins, ice-hot as you tried to catch your breath. you slid down the door and sat there, legs numb against the cold wooden planks.

Who was she? A million questions filled your head all at once. Was she from the Capitol? Could she be one of Snow’s friends, one of your friends? The thought made you sick. What if you’d dined with her before? Talked to her? How long had this been happening? Who knew about it? Were you being played?

Had he seen you watching him?

Unable to help yourself, your one-track mind took you back to the way he’d groaned your name, though you were half sure that had been a fever dream of some kind. Still, you kept replaying it. Over and over, like a broken record.

It didn’t make any sense, you were so fucking confused. All this time you’d been hoping he would make a move, you’d practically begged him to. Why hadn’t he? When you were clearly on his mind, and yet he made you believe he didn’t think of you that way at all. Was he just respecting your agreement?

You fiddled with the lace on the hem of your slip as you mulled it over. You stayed sat like this for almost an hour, trying unsuccessfully to wrap your head around it. When you ended up right back where you started, and you were sure enough time had passed that if someone was coming to get you, they would’ve already, you finally stood up. Your caution led you to drag a chair from across the room, propping it up by the door to jam the handle. That left you with the sliver of peace of mind you required to shower off this cold sweat you’d formed.

The next morning, you dreaded breakfast. But you knew you had to face him, as well as the fact that this could very well be your last meal. You should at least try to eat well.

You made your way downstairs, a few minutes later than usual, enough for Coriolanus to already be sipping coffee, a few pages through his newspaper. You’d not got fully dressed yet, not wanting the contrast to be too obvious, but you’d wrapped a silk dressing gown around you so you were a little more covered up. You knew one thing for certain, you wouldn’t be trying any more of your tricks until you knew just what you were dealing with.

He didn’t look over at you, which you took as a good sign. The urge to hide from him, from what you’d seen and what you now knew, overwhelmed you. You didn’t say a word, and picked silently at your breakfast, but despite your best efforts, not managing to keep more than a few bites down.

“You’re quiet today.” He muttered, and you started.

“Um.”

He lowered his paper.

“Something wrong?”

How about everything?

“Oh, no, I’m okay. Just uh…” you glanced up at him, and met his sharp gaze. Fuck. You’d hoped you’d go unnoticed. You felt like a deer in headlights, like he could read your mind.

“Well?” He prompted, gaze unwavering. You blinked.

“Headache.” You managed to breathe, faking a small, pitiful smile.

He brought his paper back up in front of him, crisply turning the page. You both thanked the new barrier between you for cutting off his stare, and resented it as you looked at the tiny printed words you couldn’t make out from where you were sitting.

“I’ll have Lucille bring you up something.”

“Thank you.” you said quickly, almost too quickly, and you feared he might lower his paper again to watch you as you stumbled over another excuse. But you fell lucky this time.

The week seemed to pass in a blur, Monday’s gala being one of the only times you really left your room when Snow was around, other than meal times, which you spent in a similar state as that first breakfast. You cursed yourself for throwing out your longer dresses, and settled for the least suggestive of them, the white one you’d been thinking of pitching to Snow as a backup plan in your panicked state outside his bedroom. That all felt worlds away now. What you’d seen had shifted the tides, marking a solid, definitive line in your head between the before and after.

The gala went as well as it could given the circumstances. You danced, Snow was charming to you in front of the guests, but held your gaze no longer than usual. It was simultaneously terrifying and thrilling to feel his hands on your waist, knowing what you knew. It felt like you’d been tapped with a cattle prod and had to hide it every time his hand brushed yours on top of the dinner table, as unsuspecting guests smiled at you, the happy couple.

If only they knew that in the same breath, you were scanning the crowd, wondering who the blonde could’ve been, how close she was to Snow, if at all, and hating the way every touch he placed on your hands and waist served as a reminder that he’d been touching her instead of you.

Your stupid brain had formed a highlight reel of what you’d witnessed behind Snow’s door, and it tortured you with every passing moment. To know he was thinking of you. To think that maybe, he wanted you there instead. It put a strange sense of possessive pride into you, that weaved between your jealousy. Because yes, you’d seen another girl on her knees with her mouth around him, but you hadn’t heard any name other than your own while it happened.

You carried this strange hope, dwindling to start off, and then building each day that you were left un-hanged and very much alive, slowly chipping away at your fear of the worst. And yet, you knew the game, unbeknownst to Snow, had been fundamentally changed. You’d stopped your antics altogether, now barely meeting his eye as you passed each other in the hallway, covering up more at breakfast, and only talking just enough to avoid another interrogation. Avoiding touch, and conversation, and all-around keeping yourself away from him.

You were quieter still at night in your room. After a few days, you’d finally felt safe enough to move the chair away and sleep with the door locked as you normally would. But while your games had stopped, your want for him had only been amplified. Fuelled by jealousy and frustration, you had to bite down on your hand so that not even the slightest noise made its way out as you pictured him, not as you used to in your fantasies, but as you’d seen him that night, undone with your name on his lips. It was much easier, in your head, to picture yourself as the one on your knees. Any other fantasy just failed to make the cut now you’d seen the real thing.

Thursday rolled around and you’d made a new habit of pacing the downstairs library when Coriolanus was out of the house. That way, if he got home and stepped inside, you could pretend to be lost in a book. But the hours seemed to stretch out and you became bored, and with no Snow in sight, you decided to head down to the servants’ quarters.

This wasn’t a common occurrence, but it wasn’t unheard of. You were known for your gentleness among the house staff, less harsh than Snow, but firm nonetheless. It had led you to a respectful friendliness with the maids and servants, and once every so often you’d check in on them.

Today’s objectives, however, were purely self-motivated. You found Lucille, who dressed you, at the kitchen table, chopping vegetables.

She stood upon seeing you, and curtseyed (Snow was rather old fashioned that way). You nodded, then took a seat at the foot of the table.

“Do you need any help with that?” You glanced at the cutting board.

Lucille’s eyes widened. “I wouldn’t dream of it, Ma’am.”

You laughed. Lucille chopped and diced, and you asked questions. At first, they were after her family, her brother was sick and despite your offers, she wouldn’t accept help. So instead you listened, and slowly but surely, your questions got a little more directed toward the object of your interest.

You were good at playing the long game, so you started by asking about the company he kept. What she thought of them, with the promise that it would stay between the two of you, cross your heart.

She wouldn’t say much but she knew a little more than you; Snow kept very similar company as you did, and rarely went out for social visits. Any trips were strictly work-related, and when you eased into the topic of his past, Lucille mentioned, in very polite terms, that he had left a small trail of women heartbroken after a short period of time. That not all of them had been pleasant, and that she was pleased you seemed to have a positive effect on him.

She knew about your arrangement, practically the whole staff did, but they were kept on a very tight leash and were thoroughly reminded to not say a word acknowledging it, not even to you. It was with a knowing glance that Lucille told you she was happy you’d stayed around.

You smiled. Knowing that was likely all you were going to get for now, you let her be. By then, it was late enough to have gone dark, and you headed up to bed.

You awoke to creaking outside your door, and the shadow of footsteps from underneath it. You’d been tossing and turning for the last - you checked your watch - two hours. Excellent. You rolled onto your back wondering who it was, and then you heard it again. At first you wondered if it was just a sleep-deprived hallucination, or a sense of deja-vu, but then you focused, and there it was. The sound of heels. Again.

You sat up in bed, pushing your hair out of your face. You were enraged the first time, but if this was becoming a Thursday night tradition, it would be a serious problem. You were tired, you reasoned, you could just try to go back to sleep. Ignore it. Not let him have this power over you, a power that he didn’t even know he had. All the more reason to ignore it, and make it tomorrow’s problem.

But you just couldn’t let sleeping dogs lie, no matter how hard you tried. Your mother used to say it was a problem, always sticking your nose in places it didn’t belong. But it had got you this far, hadn't it?

You knew you were going to follow her to Snow’s room again, it was just a matter of time. You had to at least pretend you had an ounce of self-control, whereas really your head was thrumming and you knew it would take getting hit by a high-speed train to send you back to sleep now.

So you held off. Five minutes passed. Then ten. You had to know, at least, what they were doing. Maybe you could get a look at her face, see who it was, and answer some of the questions you had.

So you went. With a purpose this time, knowing full well what and who you’d end up seeing, trying to take steady breaths and focus on your plan. Check who it was, then leave.

You’d never been that great at execution. Call it hedonism, call it a morbid fascination, or living vicariously, but when you walked up to the door - which was ajar again, strangely even more than last time, by at least an inch or two - you looked inside, and your feet planted. The last shred of your self-control allowed you to take in the room first, the desk and chair that was right within your sight, and as you tucked yourself into the room, half hidden behind the door, you finally looked back at the bed where you’d seen Snow with his blonde girl last time.

Neither of them were sitting now.

Thirty seconds ago, you would’ve believed the hottest thing you’d ever seen was what played out in this room last week. But that was before you saw Snow turned away from you, still fully dressed with his sleeves rolled up, stomach on the bed and face between the blonde’s thighs, eating her out like he was on death row and she was his last meal.

You’d gotten head before. You knew it felt good, but the boys you’d slept with before your arrangement with Snow were selfish and inattentive. They would try, but they were far more interested in getting their dicks wet than showing you a good time. But Snow - you’d never seen anything like it. You didn’t know it could feel that good, or at least, not as good as the blonde girl - who you noted in the back of your mind, wasn’t anyone you recognised - was making it look. Her hips were bucking so hard he was having to pin her down with both hands around her waist.

She was just moving so much, wriggling and crying out and gasping and - you didn’t think you’d ever truly known jealousy until that moment. You couldn’t look away, knees weak and hands shaking, letting yourself get sucked into this headspace again, losing all trace of rationality. You’d think she was playing it up for him, but you knew what that sounded like. You’d faked enough orgasms to know if she was, but this? This was real. As she got close, grinding into him, writhing, running a shaky hand through his hair then getting louder, you managed to snap out of your trance.

In a flash, you ran back down the hallway.

If you thought you were avoiding Snow before, this week was about to give you a run for your money. You took breakfast in your room, and kept only to the parts of the house you knew he never entered. You only touched yourself in the shower, silent cries washed away by the water and steam, paranoia backing you into a corner.

You feigned illness the one time Snow sent a maid to inquire after you. Nothing too major, but enough to put him off. When he left the house, you snuck into the library to smuggle books back to your room, a pile forming as you tried ceaselessly to distract yourself.

You wrote home, you studied art and history. You attempted a few terrible sketches. You tore apart your room, then put it back together.

Before you knew it, Thursday rolled around again. On longer days like this, when Snow had been away working for hours at a time, you’d doubled down on your efforts to get information, and after chipping away for just long enough, you finally managed to squeeze some tidbits out of Lucille. Namely that there was a certain gentleman’s club in the city that he used to frequent before his election as President. Snow’s old driver might know its name, she said.

“But that was long before he met you, ma’am, rest assured.” She added hurriedly.

“Of course. Thank you, Lucille. I think I’ve kept you for long enough. Goodnight.”

Snow had been gone for the whole day, and you weren’t sure if he’d come home yet, so as you headed up to your room, you quietly wandered a little further down the hallway, to check if there was any light beneath his door. There wasn’t. Good. You were glad he wouldn’t be continuing this routine of his. Maybe this Thursday night, you could sleep peacefully.

With a sigh, and mulling over what you’d learned today, you returned to your room, poured a drink, then collapsed into bed.

This night was as sleepless as the rest, and you’d been drifting - not uncomfortably - in and out. A storm was brewing outside, and the sounds of howling wind began to keep you alert. You rolled onto your back and stared at the ceiling, then glanced towards your door. Snow must’ve come home at some point, and very late at that, because dim lights had been turned on in the hallway. Paranoia crept into your mind, slowly poisoning your thoughts and turning you inside out.

It didn’t take long before the feeling pushed you to roll out of bed, slide on a dressing gown, and crack open your door. This time, you couldn’t hear footsteps, or anything that might arise suspicion. You closed the door again. Waited. Then looked around your room, at the messy sheets and the half finished glass of liquor on the nightstand. You rarely drank alone, but these past few weeks had been getting to you, fucking with your head. Coriolanus Snow had driven you to this.

The wind got louder, and you knew you were too wired to sleep, so you stood by your window and finished the glass.

You’d never been good with mysteries. You wanted to know everything, all the time. Know who had power over you, know precisely how to take it away. Know exactly what was happening around you at any given moment. But most of all, you didn’t like being played for a fool.

And sure, the ethics of it had never been discussed between the two of you. Your business was strictly professional, but when you weren’t allowed to sleep around, why could he?

In fact, how dare he?

You poured another glass, straight whiskey. Downed it, pacing your room, back and forth between the door and the window, running your fingers along the ridges of the crystal glass. You thought about him, comfortably in his room, not a care in the world.

How dare he.

You weren’t sure if it was the drink or the buildup of your situation that had your blood boiling, but it didn’t matter. You were incensed. His behaviour was an insult to your name, to your family’s name. Sure, this relationship was a sham, but all the more reason for him to act with basic fucking respect. Sleeping with - and very obviously, at that - a whore, who had a bad habit of leaving the door cracked open, was unacceptable.

You were running hot, and if you knew one thing for certain, it was that when Snow met with fire, he was going to melt. You’d make sure of it.

Your feet took you into the hallway, with the decidedness that this would be the last time.

You rushed down the corridor with a tightly bottled rage that was about to burst, words hot on your tongue and demanding to be spoken, until you turned the corner and saw Snow’s door half open. You stopped in your tracks. Reassessed, then stepped closer, slowly, steadily. Remembering what you were there for.

Then, as you got close enough to see inside - right there, without you even having to step past the threshold, were the two of them, lit by a table lamp, Snow sat on the desk chair as the girl rode him to high heaven, obscene noises getting louder. As you approached you saw Snow’s face again, eyes shut, breath laboured, and you couldn’t believe that anyone just walking by would be able to see this. They were fucking like animals, out in the open. You didn’t know how or why you drew closer still, closing in on them. The girl’s head was dropped down to his shoulder, back facing you, and couldn’t see you unless she turned, but Snow? He was practically facing the door, almost as if he’d been…

No. It couldn’t be. Could it?

But you didn’t have time to think it through, because Snow’s eyes blinked open, and you knew. He was looking right at you, blue eyes piercing into yours, sharp and dangerous like he was going in for the kill. You stood there, jaw dropped, unable to look away. In what world could you walk in on someone like this, and feel like they held all the cards, and you none? That was how he looked at you; like you’d been there watching the whole time, and this was all a show, playing out exactly as he’d planned it. Like somehow, despite all your best efforts, he’d landed on top.

It was like he read your mind, because he wet his lips, unblinking as the blonde writhed on his lap, and fucking smirked.

a/n: can’t wait for them to hate fuck after this (oh sorry forgot i’m the author for a sec) thanks for reading <3

taglist: @superchatnoir07 @itsrainingreid @nycweb-slinger @lookclosernow @etfrin @resibunn @serving-targaryen-realness @harmfulb1tch @demonsnangels @superb-icarus @julesandro @gracieroxzy @slyhersophia @shadowsepiphany @ben-has-arrived @unclecrunkle @zerotwo-sciencequeen @itsleniiilosers @thesiriusmap @ooooglymoooogly @darkqweenn @going-through-shit @loverw1tch @stinkii-boii

if you’d like to be tagged, please leave a comment on the masterlist!! 💌

[tinycoffeeroom]

thank god for bikes | arthurtv

inspired by @mrstelevision 🤍

face claim: steph bohrer ♡

request: here !

───────── ౨ৎ ─────────

📍 london

liked by gkbarry, max_balegde, and 98,302 others

y/nsworld about last night ˚ʚ♡ɞ˚

view all 3,392 comments

user1 i'm in love with you

gkbarry cant believe i didn't even get photo creds ↳ y/nsworld please forgive my sins oh great gkbarry

user2 y/n!! i think the guys u mentioned on ur twt was george clarke and arthurtv!! arthur posted on twt about george getting hit by a bike on a wall!! ↳ y/nsworld !! let me check his twt <3

liked by y/nsworld, wroetoshaw and 29,492 others

arthurtv first pic taken moments before disaster (at least this one won't leave a scar)

georgeclarkeey don't know what was worse, the bike ptsd or you dribbling down your shirt ↳ arthurtv your mum doesn't mind my dribbling ↳ y/nsworld the dribbling was funnier to watch tbh ↳ georgeclarkeey take that mr television

gkbarry i didn't even notice it was you guys hiding in the corner ↳ georgeclarkeey just wanted some alone time with my boyfriend x ↳ arthurtv stop telling people i'm your boyfriend!!

👤 max_balegde liked by max_balegde, arthurtv and 38,028 others

y/nsworld wine in coffee cups and classic literature in a park, my idea of heaven ꕤ

max_balegde got home off my head and now andrews mad i've ruined dinner plans ↳ y/nsworld andrew baby im so sorry :( ↳ andrew_spanndy could never blame you xx ↳ max_balegde god just date her already wooooow

gkbarry regret introducing the two of you, my poor ears will never recover from this ↳ y/nsworld thats your fault for putting two professional yappers together xx

arthurtv pretty sure that's bride you're reading... wouldn't call werewolf smut classic literature ↳ y/nsworld and how do YOU know what's in the book? 🤨

👤 arthur_tv, max_balegde liked by y/nsworld, arthurnfhill and 30,395 others

georgeclarkeey totally normal photo to promote the newest useless hotline ep x

max_balegde rip my purple crocs... can't believe y/n stole them right off my feet... ↳ user2 !!! y/n at the arthurtv podcast recording?? my y/ntv senses are tingling ↳ user3 i'm pretty sure she was there bc her and max are friends... ♥️ y/nsworld ↳ user2 they've never randomly had their friends at recordings, dw you'll join the y/ntv cult soon

📍 ibiza

👤 georgeclarkeey, chrismd, arthurnfhill liked by arthurnfhill, y/nsworld and 45,028 others

arthurtv thank you spotify for inviting us out! (photo cred: y/nsworld)

user2 i am going to scream from the rooftops, y/ntv'ers unite!!

y/nsworld should receive compensation for having to look at george's bare grippers the entire weekend ↳ arthurtv will bring round some wine this weekend ↳ y/nsworld good boy ↳ user2 ... y'all are fucking with me atp

📍 ibiza

liked by arthurtv, gkbarry and 83,028 others

y/nsworld beach bum 𓇼

gkbarry happiness looks so good on you ↳ y/nsworld i love the bones of you

user2 !! WHO TOOK THE PHOTO I FEEL INSANE ↳ y/nsworld my friend! :)

📍 ibiza

liked by y/nsworld, georgeclarkeey and 49,204 others

arthurtv decided to stay in the sunshine a few more days :)

user3 user2 i fear you may be onto something ↳ user2 i'm gonna eat glass. like i am actually putting shards in my mouth rn ↳ y/nsworld omg pls don't

y/nsworld looking good mr television ↳ arthurtv why thank you miss world

liked by arthurtv, max_balegde and 83,028 others

y/nsworld use code ynsworld for 15% off ⋆⭒˚｡⋆

max_balegde leaving my bf for you rn. ↳ andrew_spanndy not if i leave you first ↳ y/nsworld i can date both of you at the same time xx

arthurtv djsidjief djg ↳ y/nsworld you ok mr television?

y/nsworld didn't even think about what i was wearing when i went to go see mr hill sing about cold coffee, sorry guys you got the wrong arthur xx

POST DELETED

👤 y/nsworld liked by y/nsworld, arthurnfhill and 93,294 others

arthurtv someone forgot to change over to their finsta so i guess it's hard launch time... somehow got the most gorgeous girl on earth to agree to date me, must be my fantastic sense of humour

y/nsworld lbr most of them already knew, we weren't exactly subtle ↳ arthurtv speak for yourself xx

theburntchip it's the big ol' hog you got in them trousers ♥️ y/nsworld ↳ arthurtv ah yes forgot about that

max_balegde take care of her or me and andrew are snatching her real quick ↳ y/nsworld ... i may have to do some rethinking

user2 i can't believe i was right... VINDICATION ♥️ arthurtv, y/nsworld

👤 arthur_tv liked by arthurtv, gkbarry and 104,845 others

y/nsworld told him i forgot to change to finsta but really i just wanted to show that i bagged a hottie ✮⋆˙

georgeclarkeey still can't believe you snatched him from right under my nose ↳ y/nsworld we're still in the honeymoon phase so i may give him back x ↳ arthurtv what the fuck

gkbarry crying into a pint of ice cream thanks xx ↳ y/nsworld you know you're the love of my life xx

y/nsworld also user2 sorry for gaslighting you xx ↳ user2 i have never been so happy to be gaslighted could do a happy lil cry ↳ y/nsworld our fave y/ntv'er we love you ♡

[qqueenofhades]

So I keep seeing people play the "Harris is a Cop, so I'm not voting for her because ACAB" card, and not even pointing out that she was a DA/Prosecutor rather than an actual cop seems to change their minds - as far as they're concerned, working with cops in any capacity makes you a cop. Do you happen to have anything that'd make for a good counterpoint to this argument (or, at the very least, something to make those of us who still plan on voting for her despite our dim views on Law Enforcement not feel so bad about it)?

....Not feel so bad about it?

First of all: these are laughably, incredibly unbelievably unserious people, and frankly, my first advice would be NOT to bother trying to engage with them at all, because there is nothing whatsoever they will ever accept in the way of logical proof to change their minds. First it was "you can't ask me to vote for Biden specifically because of [insert issue here.]" This changed a lot, from Roe getting overturned by the corrupt SCOTUS, to the train strike (hey anyone remember that?) to student loan forgiveness and then had settled firmly on Gaza. So now, lo and behold, they're given exactly what they asked for: a new younger candidate who is not Biden and explicitly more progressive on the Gaza issue (Harris was the first member of the administration to openly call for a ceasefire). So they turn their noses up, rush to their favorite 2020 disinformation founts that were first spouted when they were trying to sabotage her in favor of Bernie (who endorsed Biden pretty strongly before he dropped out), flirt with Jill "Actual Agent of Putin" Stein, and other equally expected and equally bullshit maneuvers. Lololololololol online leftists. Never change, or something.

That said: because their minds are so set that they will never vote for any Democrat ever, you can't really give them any logical information to separate them from this conclusion. I don't have the links on hand, but etc Google and Wikipedia are free: Harris's tenure as district attorney and California AG was progressive even by modern standards, and it was happening in the early 2000s: she refused to prosecute for low-level weed offenses, pushed for harder sentences for assault weapons, performed gay marriages LONG before it was legal even in San Freaking Francisco, refused to seek the death penalty, worked with restorative justice programs, etc. This was after she was a first-generation American child of brown immigrants who took advantage of equal-opportunity education programs to go to law school, and her parents were already high-achieving academics (one a cancer researcher from India and one an economics professor from Jamaica). Sure sure, she definitely seems exactly like Derek Chauvin to me. Critical thinking is great! #VoteJillStein! A literal puppet of Putin and unabashed Assad fangirl is definitely the pro-peace morally correct option here!*

In other words, the morons do not give a single shit about factual reflections of Kamala's record. They do not care about whether her time as a district attorney was progressive (it was) and whether she was actually a cop (she wasn't). They're so wedded at the hip to their braindead disinformation propaganda that now we're going to see the excuses change at lightspeed from why they can't vote for Biden specifically to why they can't vote for Harris specifically. None of it will be remotely tethered to reality and all of it will be in extreme and obvious bad faith. As I said, there are plenty of persuadable voters elsewhere who HAVE been energized by her elevation to candidacy. If you are indeed interested in winning voters to her side (as opposed to having to find reasons to justify yourself to the All Voting Is Evil crowd who will never listen to or believe you anyway), I suspect your time would be better spent elsewhere, and outside the echo-chamber leftist social media space in general.

Aside from that, I have gotten a few hand-wringy asks about Kamala and the election overall, and I gotta say, I am not going to waste my time and effort replying to them. We have about 100 days to win this election or become a fascist dictatorship. We are already in uncharted territory, but the replacement of Biden with Harris went UNIMAGINABLY smoothly, far, far more than anyone (including me) ever expected. It reminds me of the presto-chango that the French center, left, and center-left parties pulled off to replace candidates, IN FIVE DAYS, to better position themselves to defeat the fascists. Compared to that, three and a half months is a cakewalk, but we still absolutely do not, DO NOT, have time to sit around worrying and hand-wringing about this or that hypothetical Bad Thing. It deeply unsurprises me to hear that US Online Leftists are still throwing snits and pitching their toys out of the pram rather than getting on board, but the rest of us don't have any time to waste and need to apply our energy to where it will be best put to use. So yes.

*extreme, extreme sarcasm alert

[midnightsslut]

religion is one of the most prominent recurring themes on the album, and it has been present in some capacity for quite a few records now. taylor previously compared love to religion: her saving grace, her belief system, and a fated divine intervention (false god, cornelia street, and cruel summer are the best examples of this). ‘sacred new beginnings that became my religion’ and ‘we’d still worship this love even if it’s a false god’ are two of the defining statements about her philosophy on the lover album.

taylor doesn’t want to leave all of that behind on ttpd, at least not at the beginning. the first supernatural force she mentions is the spaceship on down bad, which she compares to a skylight of freedom in the epilogue. *something* has finally come to save her from her life of suffering. she doesn’t care if it’s a force of good at first; if anything, she’s just fine being taken away by aliens. she views this man as her destiny. it isn’t until guilty as sin? that taylor starts to ponder the moral implications of what she’s doing. is she guilty as sin for wanting to leave her previous religion and relationship behind? she comes to the conclusion that, even if she rolls the stone away and gets resurrected/redeemed, she cannot avoid the fallout. she is okay with the thought of having to wait, as long as both lovers vow to be together forever, just as she once did with someone else in false god. ‘I choose you and me religiously’ finishes the bridge of the song in a direct callback to cornelia street.

the next mention of religion has murkier imagery. she claims that she does not need the Lord’s help to save this man. she sees the halo that he has, and she can fix him herself. now that she feels free of her prior cage, she isn’t looking for divine intervention anymore. she wants control. she is their route to salvation.

when the relationship falls apart, she retreats back into the position of a believer rather than a divine figure. she compares him to a Holy Ghost who promised to save her and take her to heaven. instead, she is in hell in every sense of the word: she’s down bad and feels guilty for digging up the grave. he was a jehovah’s witness who promised that she could break free of the cage imposed by love without changing her religion altogether; she would’ve just had to switch denominations. she could still have a marriage and kids! she could still have a blue tortured poet! the man was different, but not the dreams they had together. the story of the first part of the album ends here. her faith has been broken, and she has only found any semblance of sanity by refusing to mention these belief systems altogether.

side b/the anthology blends the christian imagery of side a with goddesses, sorcerers, and prophecies. she bargains with these powers to let her have the future she wants (the prophecy). she doesn’t sound like someone believing in salvation. if anything, she feels cursed. she decides that the concept of divinely ordained timing will never work in certain relationships (‘the goddess of timing once found us beguiling / she said she was trying / peter, was she lying?’). this disdain extends onto her perception of other people’s faith (‘bet they never spared a prayer for my soul’). she does position herself as a prophet in cassandra, but even then, she admits that the role has hurt her. perhaps the pain in thank you aimee was meant to be, or perhaps she was just strong enough to build a legacy in spite of it, boulder by boulder. is she a martyr? does she want to be? or did she save herself?

the only real love song on this half of the album makes no mention of fate or any divine forces. it wasn’t meant to be. it’s not a supernatural invisible string or lightning in a bottle. she is just in love.

the album ends with the manuscript, which revisits an old story of a defining, formative heartbreak. as she sings ‘at last, she knew what the agony had been for’ while describing the legacy of her writing, she seems to revert to thinking about the purpose of trauma. the only exception is that, in this case, she is the one who found meaning in her pain by turning it into a manuscript. writing is her belief system now, and she proselytizes by telling her stories and thus giving up the manuscript.

ultimately, her belief in destiny has chewed her up and spat her out. she so desperately clung to her existing belief systems that she was fooled by a conman, which left her feeling cursed. religion is supposed to be with someone even in their darkest moments, but the album explains that taylor often felt abandoned. the only constant in her life was, well, herself. she’ll be okay, but her pen will be her saving grace.

[hotvintagepoll]

Propaganda

Judy Garland (Meet Me In St. Louis, A Star is Born, Summer Stock)— Judy is the GOAT when it comes to classic movie musicals. The voice of an angel who deserved so much better than she got. She can sing she can dance she can act she's a triple threat. Though she had a turbulent personal life (her treatment as a child star by the studio system makes me mad as hell like Louis b Mayer fight me ((she was made to believe that she was physically unattractive by the constant criticism of film executives who made her feel ugly and who manipulated her onscreen appearance by capping her teeth and using discs in her nose to change its shape and Mayer called her "my little hunchback" like imagine hearing that as a child and not having damage)) she always goddamn delivered on screen and in any performance she gave. She began in vaudeville performing with her sisters and was signed to MGM at 13. Starting out in supporting parts especially paired with mickey Rooney in a bunch of films (she's the best part tbh) she eventually transferred to the lead role. She is best known for her starring role in movie musicals like the iconic Wizard of Oz (somewhere over the rainbow still hits hard and is ranked the top film song of all time), meet me in St. Louis (Judy singing have your self a merry little Christmas brings tears to the eyes she is that powerful), the Harvey girls (she looks like a technicolor dream and sings a catchy af song about trains), Easter parade ( dancing and singing with Fred Astaire), for me and my gal, the pirate, and summer stock ( with pal Gene Kelly who she helped when he was starting out and he helped her when she was struggling). But she also does non- singing just as well like the clock ( her first movie where she sings no songs and is an underrated ww2 era romance), her Oscar nominated a star is born ( like the man that got away she put her whole soul in that and I have beef with the fact she lost to grace kelly ((whom I love but like still not even her best work)), and judgement at Nuremberg (a courtroom drama about the nazi war criminal trials). Outside of film she made concert appearances to record-breaking audiences, released 8 studio albums, and had her own Emmy-nominated tv series. She was the youngest (39) and first female recipient of the Cecil B DeMille award for lifetime achievement in the film industry. Girl was a lifelong democrat and was a financial and moral supporter of many causes including the civil rights movement (she was at the March on Washington and held a press conference to protest the 16th street Baptist church bombings). She was a friend of the Kennedy family and would call jfk weekly often ending the calls by singing the first few lines of somewhere over the rainbow (she thought of them as Gemini twins).She was a member of the committee for the first amendment which was formed in response to the HUAC investigations. Though she died far too young and tragically she remains an icon for her work and her life. As a girl who didn't feel like i was as pretty as everyone else I have always felt a connection to Judy and I just really love her.

Natalie Wood (West Side Story, The Great Race)—She went through so much shit which I know can be said for all these women but Natalie really was a star and her death often overshadows her career and life. She could make you cry, but she also had the capacity to be incredibly funny which I think is lost on people.

This is round 4 of the tournament. All other polls in this bracket can be found here. Please reblog with further support of your beloved hot sexy vintage woman.

[additional propaganda submitted under the cut.]

Natalie Wood:

Judy Garland:

Judy's voice alone qualifies her for at least top ten hottest HOT VINTAGE MOVIE WOMEN. She was a truly incredible swing singer, with a stunning voice on top of her technique. Her short dark hair looked incredible in just about any style. Have I mentioned her swagger? I can’t do it justice with words. She had swagger. She was funny as hell, and clever too. Incredibly charming and cool. I adore her.

Her eyes, her voice have bewitched me

I mean how can you beat the one and only Judy? She's beautiful, her smile is contagious, the way she sings with her whole body. You can't help but love her.

Beautiful woman, love her singing voice. And she can do everything between happy or silly and angry or heartbroken

[j2hoes]

Let Me Help You. (Steve Harrington x Reader)

Word Count: 6.2K

Steve's got a crush on the girl next door. Though not everything is as it seems.

Warning: Mature language, domestic violence, cheating (kind of, maybe?), smut, p in v sex

Steve knew he was in trouble the moment the moving van pulled to a halt at the house next door. He was never one to make an effort with people, at best he would reluctantly greet any new neighbors with his parents after his mother’s persistence. It’s not like he was being nosy, he just so happened to glance out of one of his bedroom windows as the family exited the van. They looked nice, friendly, nothing too out of the ordinary, just a very all-American couple. Or so he thought.

He continued to watch as they waved for a third person to climb out the vehicle and admire their new home. Steve wasn’t one to believe in love at first sight, however, upon seeing her, perhaps he felt differently. She was anything but ordinary, a ray of sunshine in the boring old town of Hawkins. Dressed in a short red dress with a thin white cardigan draped over top, he took note of the way she wrapped the thin material tighter around her body. As though she felt too exposed. Steve admired everything about the mysterious girl, from the dazzling smile on her face, to the way her hair was tied back in an adorable white bow. Heart pounding at an alarming rate, he knew deep down that this girl may very well be the death of him.

In the months that followed, despite Steve’s hope to get to know the girl next door, she seemed to pay no interest in him. They’d exchanged pleasantries, come to learn one another’s names and briefly made small talk if they passed each other outside of their homes. Steve couldn’t understand what he had done wrong, sure, he knew that following his graduation from Hawkins High, he had lost his King Steve ways. Yet, he thought he at least had the same charm, not to mention she hadn’t once seen him in his Scoops Ahoy uniform, so he couldn’t pretend that that’s what had turned her off.

He’d come to understand her routine by now, knowing that she often climbed out of her bedroom window, shimmying down the drainpipe in the dead of night when she thinks nobody will see her. Only to return a few hours later, creeping back into her house before the first crack of dawn, ensuring that her parents didn’t know of her nighttime activities. Sometimes, she gets dropped off by a mysterious white chevy camaro, and whilst Steve never caught sight of the driver, he assumed it was a boy. Heart sinking to his stomach everytime the car would pull into their driveway, knowing that it wasn’t him that she was spending the night with.

He swore he wasn’t obsessed, insisting to Robin that he was just ensuring that she returned home safely after she caught him gazing out of the window one too many times. It’s not like she had no idea who the fascinating girl was, Steve spoke about her often, disguising the very obvious crush as nothing more than an interest in her wellbeing. Robin wasn’t stupid. Knowing her best friend like the back of her hand and it was obvious that he was head over heels in love with this girl that he hardly knew.

Which leads us to present day, Steve was sitting in the alcove of his window, curtains open slightly, blowing gently with the light summer breeze. Fleetwood Mac played softly from the record player beside him, though he wasn’t focused on the music. Eyes drifting between the magazine in his hand to the house next door, awaiting his neighbor’s return. He watched the hands on his watch ominously creep forward and he couldn’t help but feel a pit of worry begin to form within his gut. 04:37AM. She’s normally back by now. Usually climbing back through her bedroom window at around 4AM. 

Deep down, Steve knew that it had nothing to do with him, what she chose to do in her spare time. The pair weren’t even friends, if she wanted to stay out all night then he couldn’t stop her. However, he knew this wasn’t like her. Not wanting to feel like a creep for watching the girl so intently, he did his best to quash the nerves bubbling inside him. Forcing himself to stay awake, no matter how tired he felt or how much his eyelids were desperate for the sweet relief of sleep.

5:49AM. Sometime between now and him previously checking the time, Steve must have drifted into an uneasy slumber. The sound of a car door slamming before revving the engine and flying off down the street is what pulls him back to consciousness. Startling him as he eagerly pulls the curtain back gently so as not to draw attention to himself. Though, when he takes in the sight of the girl, all his excitement at the few seconds he is granted to observe her, vanishes instantly when he notices her appearance. 

Even in the dim orange light, he is clearly able to make out the violent bruise beneath her left eye, swollen to the point she is almost unable to open it at all. Evidently recent, her skin is already beginning to turn a deep mauve. Her lips are no better, mahogany brown lipstick smeared across her face as though a child has scrawled it on. There’s a deep, gaping cut directly through her bottom lip, dried blood in a dirty shade of red cracks in the corner of her mouth. While fresh scarlet liquid continues to fall and drip from the wound, stained across her chin as she shakily brings a hand to her face, attempting to wipe it the best she can.

For the first time in his life, Steve doesn’t know what to do. He’s tempted to sprint down there, offer her any assistance she may need but he’s afraid that it may scare her away. So instead, he watches with a racing heart as she struggles to pull herself through her bedroom window. Clearly having lost any strength she may have had previously. His heart is broken for her and he wants nothing more than to hold her in his arms and tell her that everything will be okay.

Lost in his thoughts, he is completely unaware that the girl has seen him watching. Hastily snapping her curtains closed as she allows the tears to fall freely without prying eyes following her every move. She’s embarrassed that Steve saw her in such a state, oblivious to the fact that he still thought she was the most breathtaking being to ever walk the planet, in spite of her injuries.

—----------------------------------------------------------------------------

It had been a week and a half since Steve had caught me returning home, bloody and bruised. Ever since, I’ve been avoiding the boy as much as physically possible. Checking that he isn’t in his window before I make my escape from the house. It’s not like we talk much, Luke made sure of that the second he laid eyes on my neighbor, however, I don’t want him to think any less of me. I was always cautious around Steve, putting on my best display of a pretty, confident girl, even if I felt anything but. That was how I wanted him to perceive me. I certainly didn’t want him to view me as weak, or judge me for what has happened.

Steve caught my eye the minute he entered my family’s house warming party, every lady in the vicinity flocking over to him. Vying for a slither of his attention, yet, I couldn’t help but notice how his eyes kept wandering to mine. Friendly smiles shared between the two of us before a proper introduction from our parents. It wasn’t hard to see why the ladies adored him. He was charming, polite and ever so funny, and despite only talking for a matter of minutes, I found myself entranced by him. Wanting to learn every little detail and explore every inch of his body.

I shouldn’t have thought about him this way, not when I have a boyfriend. However, I simply just couldn’t help myself. Luke has never been a good guy, I knew that when I began dating him, often finding himself in trouble with the police, unafraid to drag me down with him. Though, he was always good to me, at least until I met Steve. For whatever reason, Luke became overwhelmed with rage, something about knowing his reputation and what he was like at school. The night of the party was when Luke laid a hand on me for the first time, a swift smack to the cheek after I mentioned Steve’s name in conversation. Each time it happened, he would continue on as though nothing had taken place. Silently handing me flowers or another small gift the next day, an apology without actually saying the words ‘I’m sorry’. I tell myself that I will leave and never see him again but I continue to run back. Fearful that if I do leave, I won’t find love again.

After checking to find no sign of Steve, I carefully begin my descent down the drainpipe, hopping on to the grass below me when I’m only a few meters above the ground. Brushing my hands to rid myself of any dirt that may have come from the pipe, I turn to begin the walk to the end of the road where I meet Luke and his friends, only to find Steve standing mere feet away. Hands in the pockets of his Levi’s, leaning against the side of his house, having been waiting for me. How did I not see him when he was standing right there?

“I saw you the other night, and I needed to know that you’re okay.” He speaks softly, almost as if he’s scared that I’m going to take off running. His eyes are scanning my face, studying me, attempting to see how bad my wounds were. Unfortunately, my face is plastered in makeup, hiding the unsightly damage.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” I’m unable to look the boy in the eyes as I lie to his face. Focusing instead on the scuffed converse glued to my feet, trying to think of a thousand different ways to get myself out of this situation.

Steve sighs, pushing himself away from the wall and walking towards me slowly, and whilst doing my best to keep my distance, I find myself with my back pressed to my own house. Almost identical to his positioning only moments ago.

He’s closer now, standing directly in front of me and I can only pray that my makeup combined with the barely there moonlight, truly hides what Luke did to me. With shaking hands, he nervously takes my jaw between his fingers, my breath catching in my throat as he does so. Gently moving my head from side to side in order to truly examine my features. Judging by the look of concern that flashes across his face and the way he takes a deep breath as he lowers his hand, I know he knows the truth.

“You don’t have to lie to me.” He whispers, coffee brown eyes gazing directly into mine, asserting that his words are truthful. “What happened to you?”

Something about him has me hanging on to his every word, believing that I am truly safe with him. Assuring me that perhaps Steve could be my way out, the reason I don’t return. He has such a warm presence, it’s inviting and I just want to spill my guts to him.

Opening my mouth to speak, I’m forced to remain silent as the familiar sound of a car engine grinds to a halt on my driveway. Whether I was going to tell Steve everything or simply deny everything, I’m unsure, but the moment that car appears, my mouth remains shut. Glancing over to the driver’s seat, I can just about see Luke over the beams of his headlights. Fear begins to flood my body as I can see the deep scowl set upon his face.

“I have to go.”

Pushing past Steve, I force myself to muster up a smile, not wanting to give Luke another reason to be upset with me. I mean, I can’t blame him for being mad at me tonight, he warned me to stay away from Steve and yet, he’s caught me red handed clearly disobeying the one thing he asked of me. It definitely doesn’t help that Steve grabs hold of my wrist as I begin to walk away, causing me to snap my head back to look at him. Brows furrowed in annoyance, I know he is just trying to help, to be a good person but he is only going to make things worse for me.

“Please. Don’t go.” His voice breaks, and for a split second I allow my eyes to soften, shaking my arm out of his grasp. Attempting to reassure him with the tiniest of smiles before silently hurrying over to the car.

Luke doesn’t even acknowledge me as I slide in beside him, possessively grabbing my thigh, a display of dominance. He has an eerie smirk on his face, not once taking his eyes off Steve, who stands in the same spot defeated, claiming his ownership over me. As much as it pains me, I keep my head down, sinking further into the seat, wanting to disappear off the face of the earth entirely.

For the rest of the night, my mind is plagued with thoughts of Steve. The hurt in his eyes as I walked away. I can’t bring myself to engage in any conversation that takes place, not like Luke wants me to anyway. He’s icing me out. Clearly upset about the situation he found me in, his friends must also sense the tension as they make no effort to include me.

Beers continue to flow throughout the night, hands shaking every time I place another can into Luke’s hand. He’s driving us home, though shows no sign of stopping despite being on what must be his eighth carlsberg in the span of only a few hours. It doesn’t help that his pals encourage him, egging him on to drink as much as I can, laughing at the idea of recklessly driving through the streets of Hawkins. To them, it’s a game. Let’s see how much we can drink and still make it home, to me it’s a life or death situation. Afraid that in his intoxicated state, we actually won’t make it home in one piece.

—----------------------------------------------------------------------------

“Listen Robin, she needs help.” Steve sighs into the receiver, eyes never leaving the window, not wanting to miss the girl’s return. Hoping that maybe, just maybe, she will allow him to help her.

“Steve, as nice as it is that you care, it’s none of our business. Besides, you don’t even know what happened, for all we know she could be in some elusive fight club and the good girl act she has going on is nothing more than that.” Robin twirls the cord of the phone around her finger, she’s never met the mystery girl that her best friend seems to be hypnotized by, worried that he is possibly getting in over his head, if what he is saying is true.

“He hits her Robin! I know it, she won’t admit it but I know he does.” His voice is strained, sounding as though he could burst into tears at any moment and Robin can’t help but feel sorry for him. She’s never seen him care this much about a girl, especially  one that is practically a stranger. Sure, he loved Nancy, but this seemed different. In a way that she couldn’t quite put a finger on. “God, I’d love to know who the bastard is that’s doing this.”

“I’m gonna stop you right there Steve, let’s say for argument’s sake, you’re right. Her boyfriend is a piece of shit and is getting physical with her, in which case she does need help. Question one, what are you gonna do exactly to help her? Question two, what do you actually think you’re gonna do to the asshole boyfriend because last time I checked, you’ve lost every fight you’ve ever been in. And number three, why do you care so much about this mystery girl? I mean, from what I’ve gathered, you know nothing about her other than her name.”

Robin’s words, although intended to help him, hit Steve like a ton of bricks. What was he actually going to do to help her? He hadn’t thought that far ahead, possibly because somewhere deep down he believed that she would continue to refuse any support from him. Nor did he know why he cared so much. It was like there was some magnetic force tugging his heart towards her anytime she was nearby. A pull so strong that he was unable to deny it, not that he wanted to. 

“Fuck, I don’t know Rob, I don’t have a plan okay. I just can’t let her get hurt anymore-” Before Steve can say anything else, he hears the very faint sound of footsteps dragging down the sidewalk outside. Immediately dropping the phone, he’s bolting towards the window, Robin’s voice calling for him distantly. Not even his worst nightmares could’ve prepared him for what he witnessed.

He thought he’d seen her at her worst, nothing surpassing the extent of her previous injuries, he couldn’t have been more wrong. Deep and gaping slash across her forehead, a bright crimson red that cuts off just below her eyebrow. The cut on her lip reopened, once again pouring with blood. All of the makeup that she had left the house in was nowhere to be seen, violet bruises litter her jaw, matching the black eye she is no longer able to hide.

Tears prick at the corner of Steve’s eyes, watching as she carefully limps towards their houses. Struggling to walk, no doubt from the physical pain she is enduring, one arm clutching her side the entire time. Informing him that the wounds on her face aren’t the only ones she has obtained. 

Incapable of holding himself back, Steve is sprinting out of his bedroom and down the large oak staircase. Thanking the heavens that his parents are away on yet another work trip so he doesn’t have to explain everything to them. They wouldn’t understand his need to help, insisting that whatever she was going through was a personal matter and that he shouldn’t be meddling in other people’s private lives.

He yanks the door open with so much force that it thumps against the wall, he’s only two steps outside his house when he realizes that she is standing in front of him. Half expecting to find her attempting to climb the drainpipe, he can’t hide the shock on his face as she stands gripping one of the posts at the bottom of the stairs leading to his porch. She wheezes, breath rattling each time she takes a gasp for air and he knows that’s not a good sign. 

Standing beneath him under the lights from his house, he is able to see more clearly just how bad her injuries truly were. Red marks wrap around her neck, an indication of strangulation and he has to stop himself from breaking down right then and there. Wanting nothing more than to wrap her in his arms and never let go.

“I couldn’t go home.” She chokes out, lifting the hand that clutches her side, hand stained red. Raising his eyes to her stomach, he spots the wet patch on her t-shirt and releases a shaky gasp. Before he can even think about his actions, he is striding over to her, strong arms embracing her smaller figure to aid her into his house.

It’s with great difficulty that they reach the porch, her knees ready to give out at any moment. Though she’d been fighting for this long, she finally loses the last of her energy after completing the stairs. Caught off guard by her sudden fall, Steve almost drops the girl, catching her at the last second and easing her to the wood beneath their feet. He couldn’t lie and say that he isn’t panicked because he is. Completely out of his depth in this situation, he has no idea what to do. Watching her face drain slowly of its color, he knows he’s losing time and yet his mind is blank. Lost on what he needs to do.

Eyelids flickering shut, he sees whatever light she had left in them fading away more and more each time her eyes close. Hands gripping her face gently, his thumbs push loose strands of hair out of her face as he gazes down at her, heart shattering at the thought of losing her entirely.

“Don’t close your eyes, please don’t close your eyes!” Steve sees the slight smile on her face as she listens to his voice, it’s the first time he’s seen her smile in a long time and he thinks to himself that she is still the most perfect girl he has ever laid eyes on. Even if his hands have left bloodied handprints all over her cheeks as he cradles her face.

“It’s gonna be okay, I’ve got you. You’re gonna be okay.”

—----------------------------------------------------------------------------

Soft melodies flutter quietly from down the hallway, the sun beaming through the open windows makes it hard for my eyes to adjust as I prop myself up in bed. Stomach aching harshly as I do so, a tightness making it hard for me to move properly. Lifting the unfamiliar yellow sweater, I find the entirety of my torso wrapped up in a neat, white bandage. Pinned carefully so as not to poke my skin. I struggle to place the bedroom I’m in, it’s unknown to me and still I find myself comforted in this new environment.

My feet follow the sound of the new Queen album, Freddie Mercury’s powerful vocals leading me to the large, open plan kitchen. The distinct smell of grilled tomatoes drifts over to me, a homely scent. Eyes rising from the hardwood floor, it’s only then that I see him, a loose red sweater hanging from his broad shoulder, paired with loose black pajama bottoms that hang low on his hips. He hasn’t noticed me yet, too engrossed in whatever he is cooking up to sense my presence, lips mouthing the words to whichever song is playing. The corners of my lips quirk up in a shy smile, imagining a life in another reality where this was how I woke up everything morning.

“Good morning.”

My voice is quiet as I lean against the doorframe, careful not to rest any of my side against the wall. Steve jumps, mouth falling open slightly in surprise as his eyes find mine. My smile grows wider as he drops the wooden spoon he previously held, not caring as it hits the floor with a clatter. He pads over to me eagerly, throwing his arms around my shoulder and tugging me into his chest. I can tell by the way that he’s holding me, he’s scared of hurting me. His touch light, not daring to hold me too tight. However, I do catch the way his grip tightens on the sweater when my arms slide around his waist, allowing my head to rest against his chest. Hearing the steady beat of his heart releases all the tension and stress I had built up within me and I relax entirely.

Much to my dismay, Steve releases me from the embrace after a few short minutes, keeping his hands on my shoulders firmly, worry evident in the browns of his eyes as he makes a mental note of every little cut and bruise on my face. I feel him delicately brush the backs of his fingers down the side of my face, tracing over what I assume is  another bandage of some sort as I no longer feel his touch on my skin when he reaches my forehead. He’s trying his best to hide the frown on his face, but I’m studying him so intently that I don’t miss it.

“I’m okay Steve, I promise.”

“Let me help you.” He whispers, pressing the lightest of kisses to the top of my head as he pulls me in for a second hug, resting his chin on the same part of me that he just kissed. “You’re breaking my heart Y/N, please, just tell me what’s going on.”

With a small sigh, I reluctantly pull myself away from the taller boy. Playing with the hem of the sweater that just about covers me, as I wander over to the kitchen island, taking a seat on one of the many stools. I sit opposite Steve, who stands with his elbows resting against the counter top. Tomatoes sizzling away, completely forgotten about by the both of us.

I have to swallow the lump in my throat, realizing that I am in fact about to confess possibly the most shameful and embarrassing secret of my life to the boy that I have fantasized about since the day we first met. It’s impossible to describe the effect he has on me, only Steve Harrington could be the one to coax my deep dark secrets out after keeping them hidden for months. Only Steve Harrington would be the one person to care enough.

“I don’t really know what to say, Luke was a nice boyfriend at first, he drank too much and got into trouble a lot but he was nice. When I moved next door to you though, he became crazily jealous, he’d lash out at me if I even so much as mentioned your name. Something about a bad past between the two of you. He never used to get physical, it only started a few months back, he would just get so unbelievably angry. It didn’t matter what I did, the littlest thing could set him off and he’d just see red.” Steve has his hands to his mouth as I speak, almost like he can’t believe what I’m saying. His expression is one of pain and I can’t hide the sadness I feel as I tell him the truth. “Last night was the worst. Luke, he drank far too much, a lot more than he should’ve since he was driving. I think he was just trying to scare me by going so fast but we got into an argument and he took his eyes off the road for literally like ten seconds. We almost went headfirst into a huge brick wall but I grabbed the wheel and instead we spun off the road, down into a ditch and hit a tree. I think that’s where I got all the cuts from, the windows shattered and glass was everywhere. I mean, the car is totaled completely. 

Then Luke lost it. He was screaming at me, that it was my fault we crashed. I just remember him pulling me out of the car and wrapping his hands around my throat. Steve, I thought I was going to die.”

I’m staring over at him with such vulnerability that his own gaze softens. Reaching over the counter to wipe away the tears that slide down my cheeks. Movements cautious and tender.

“I think I must’ve kept blacking out because everything after that is a bit of a blur. I remember him being on top of me, punching me and how I struggled to breathe. The next thing I know, I’m on your doorstep, I didn’t know where else to go. My parents can’t know about this, they’d be devastated and well, I feel safe with you.”

Steve’s round the island the second I stop talking, nudging himself between my thighs and taking my hands in his. Thumbs lightly rubbing over the tops of my knuckles. I know in my heart that he is a good man, that he isn’t judging me for what I have been through. Yet, the longer he remains silent, the more I feel the worry gnawing at me. Terrified that he is going to shame me for what I confessed.

“Promise me, you’ll never go back.” Steve speaks firmly, piercing eyes focused solely on my own. Even if I was afraid to leave before, I don’t think I physically can say no to that handsome face of his.

“I promise.”

“Stay with me, for as long as you want. I’ll take care of you, I swear it. I won’t let anybody hurt you ever again.”

The determination on Steve’s face and in his voice has me smiling like a child on christmas. Things would’ve been so much simpler had I met him before Luke. I wouldn’t have endured all of the trauma of the past few months. Though, gazing up at him right now, with nothing but love and care in his eyes, I can’t help but wonder if this is how things were supposed to happen.

“Only if you want to stay here, if you want me that is?” His gaze falters for the first time since I entered the kitchen, fearful he may have overstepped. I know he’s not asking me to be his girlfriend, or for anything serious at all. The question, however, has me feeling slightly dizzy, understanding that he’s asking if I want him to be around. To be by my side and help me through all of this.

“I do want this.”

—----------------------------------------------------------------------------

After taking a much needed shower, and pulling the yellow sweater back over my body, I feel content laid in Steve’s bed, aimlessly flipping through one of his magazines as I await his return. The boy was hesitant to tell me where he was going, insisting he just had to run a few errands and that he would be back shortly. He’s only been gone two hours at best and I still find myself missing his warm presence already.

When I hear the faint sound of the main door clicking, my head perks up, moving to sit upright so that I can greet him the second he walks through the threshold of his bedroom. Opening the bedroom door slowly, I notice he keeps his head down, not wanting to look at me. A sharp tinge of hurt flows through me as I watch him silently shrug off his coat, back turned so he’s still facing away from me.

“Steve?”

I hear the sigh escape from his mouth, he reluctantly turns to face me. Head still turned towards the floor but I don’t miss the bloody graze just above his eyebrow. Gasping softly, I scramble to the edge of the bed, raised on my knees in order to take his head in my hands. Accepting that it’s my turn to inspect his injury.

“What happened?”

His hands hold my wrists, finally meeting my gaze as I look at him with curiosity. What sort of errands leave you with a bloody face? I have my suspicions about where he truly was, however, I want him to admit the truth to me, rather than throwing out false accusations.

“I’m sorry Y/N. I just couldn’t let him get away with what he did to you.” His voice is tainted with humiliation, embarrassed by his actions. Though, I couldn’t be more attracted to him than I am right now.

Sliding my hands to the back of his neck, I’m pulling him down to my face before he can even react to what is happening. My lips are on his, kissing him firmly even if it does cause the cut on my lip to sting. His mouth moves against my own, hands settling comfortably on my waist, still careful not to apply any pressure to the bandaged area. I play with the hair at the nape of his neck and can’t contain the soft whine that leaves my mouth when his tongue flicks over mine with ease.

“Please tell me he looks worse than you.” I ask desperately, chest heaving as I regain some air following the kiss. He nods with a chuckle, a shiver running down his spine as I continue to twirl the hair between my fingers.

“Don’t worry, I took care of him.” He tells me, tentatively pushing my body against the bed, crawling on top of me as though he’s done it one thousand times before. “Now the question is, are you going to let me take care of you?”

Nodding my head eagerly, a bright smile settles on my face as he presses tender kisses to my neck, agonizingly slowly making his way down my chest. As best he can with the sweater still covering my body. One hand tightly holds my hip, the other traces my thigh ever so softly. 

My own hands rest in his brown locks, gripping harder when he sucks or nips at my skin. The feeling arouses me even more so and I’m embarrassed to admit just how much I want Steve.

“Take it off.” I whisper as his hands hesitantly play with the hem of his yellow sweater. Before carefully pulling it over my body, displaying my bandaged and bruised body, though he pays no attention to this. Eyes wide, fixated on my chest and the lack of a bra to cover my breasts. If it wasn’t for the look of lust in his eyes, I’d be covering myself up, self conscious of my appearance.

Steve wastes no time, wrapping his lips around one of my nipples, licking delicately while using a hand to palm the other one softly. A breathy moan escapes my lips and in the brief moment we make eye contact, I feel as though I could cum right then and there. 

As his mouth and one of his hands focus on my breasts, his spare hand reaches my panties. Dragging his fingers over the thin material, teasing, he rubs circles, touch barely there though I’m sure he can feel the growing wet patch. I can feel his hips grinding down onto the bed between my legs, attempting to provide himself with some sort of relief.

Cautiously I push on his shoulders, to which he instantly pulls himself away from me. Fearing he may have done something wrong or that I’ve changed my mind. However, when I push him back against the bed and rid him of his clothes, I don’t miss the boyish grin plastered on his face.

Straddling his hips, I begin to grind myself over his erection, lips catching his in a desperate kiss. It’s messy and wet, neither focused on anything more than the pleasure experienced from our movements. He pants and whines softly, hands toying with my nipples, making me breathless. I can feel my side aching at the movement, yet I don’t care to stop, accepting the pain as a result of my need for the boy beneath me.

“Do you have a condom?” I ask through a string of deep breaths, gazing down at Steve with nothing but passion.

He doesn’t even take his eyes off me as he pulls his bedside drawer open before reaching in and handing me a silver packet. I remove myself from his lap momentarily, yanking my panties down my legs faster than I ever have before. When his boxers are removed, I rip open the little packet, rolling the latex down his length. Before dragging my hand up and down it delicately, resulting in a shaky exhale from Steve.

As I position myself above him, tip grazing over my clit gently, he grabs my wrists, eyes locked on mine. “Are you sure this is okay?”

“It’s more than okay.” I reassure him, grabbing his member and ever so carefully lowering myself onto him.

Gasp slipping from my lips as I take all of him inside of me, never having felt so full in my life. Steve’s fingers are stroking my hips, staring at me with an encouraging smile as I work up the nerve to move slightly. A hesitant lift of my hips before pushing myself back down. As I take more and more, I find myself shocked by how easily he slides in and out of me. Bounces easy and indescribably pleasurable.

Pressing my hands to his chest, I find the perfect rhythm, a combination of bouncing on his length, whilst rocking forwards just a little in order to hit the spot deep inside of me that evokes the most toe curling feeling within me. 

Steve’s eyes are closed, deep groans emitting from his throat as his hands knead my ass softly. Hair stuck to his forehead from the sweat and cheeks flushed a deep red, yet he’s still the most beautiful man I have ever seen.

Mere seconds later I find myself reaching the boiling point, gripping Steve’s shoulders tightly as I rock myself through quite possibly the most intense orgasm of my life. Collapsing onto his chest with heavy breaths, his weight shifts under me and he begins to thrust up into me. Chasing his own high. The sensitivity becomes too much and I find myself seeing stars as he releases into the condom with a string of obscenities.

Rolling off him reluctantly, I watch as he rids himself of the latex, launching it into the bin at the otherside of the room. Turning to me, he opens his arms, wrapping me in them gently.

“I will never let anybody hurt you, not again.” He mutters into my hair and I’m unsure whether he’s telling me or himself.

“I know Stevie, I trust you.”

[nattikay]

wooooo they have proper refsheets

massive lore dump under the cut

Might as well start with Neynari. Probably the most striking thing about her visually is that she has a condition called leucism, which causes an underproduction of pigment. In Neynari's case, her leucism is a random mutation that resulted in the malfunction of her pigment-producing cells, rather than a genetic trait inherited from her family. Needless to say the clan was quite surprised when she was born hrh

Speaking of which, Neynari was born in the Aranahe clan to a couple by the names of Seylana and Vontxu. She was an only child and has an especially close relationship with her mother. Her father, Vontxu, was very quiet and reserved; he rarely spoke and was difficult to get to know. Seylana found his soft demeanor charming, but while Neynari loves her father and knows he loves her too, his personality made it harder for her to bond with him, so she was never quite as close to him as she was to her mother.

Her pale skin makes her a poor hunter--prey can see her coming from a mile away--but she more than makes up for her lack of hunting ability with excellent craftsmanship. Growing up in the Aranahe clan she is of course well versed in weaving and dyeing, but her true passion is beading. She absolutely loves making beads of all varieties and incorporating them into her weaving projects. Vontxu is actually the one who first taught her how to make them, and it was one of the few activities she felt she and her father could bond over. She used to sit for hours in the weaver's den with him, not speaking, just carving beads to their hearts' content.

One day a group of Aranahe artisans, Neynari among them, set off on a trading route to visit the Anurai clan. Neynari knew the Anurai clan also had a reputation as skilled artisans and was keen to compare their crafts. It was on this trip that she met Se'txelu...

(rewinds tape recorder) alright let's talk about Se'txelu now hrh. I mentioned how Neynari has a condition called leucism. Well, Se'txelu has the opposite: melanism (or I guess for a Na'vi it would be called cyanism). So while Neynari's body underproduces pigment, Se'txelu's overproduces it. Unlike Neynari whose condition was a random mutation, Se'txelu's is one that I headcanon as a rare but established recessive trait among his clan, the Anurai (actually google tells me that irl melanism is dominant but shhhhhh this is imaginary alien version I can do what I want with it lol). This Pandoran version of the condition, in my headcanon, requires just the right combo of genes to show up in the phenotype, so while several of the Anurai are carriers of the gene(s), it's very rare to have more than two or three indivduals who actually display it living in the clan at the same time, and sometimes there are none at all. At the time of this "story" there are only two: Se'txelu himself, and the current tsahìk, Awlun (who happens to be his great-aunt.) Before them, the most recent person to have it was Se'txelu's great-grandfather. 

The Anurai don't use human terms like melanism or cyanism of course; they refer to this condition as txonleng (shortened from txonä ta'leng, meaning "skin of night"), and because the dark color resembles the hide of the mighty palulukan which the Anurai canonically revere, it is generally believed that individuals born with txonleng are blessed by Eywa and destined to be legendary hunters, especially nocturnal hunters...which there may be a sliver of truth to, since they are naturally better at blending into the shadows.

In Se'txelu's case, though....well, he is good at camouflage, but alas, he's also kinda clumsy, which kinda cancels out any stealth bonus granted by his condition 😅 Despite his clumsiness, he is still a decent hunter at least, albeit a long ways off from "legendary" status (uh oh, potential source of angst for this usually happy-go-lucky dork).

When the Aranahe artisans visited his clan to trade, Neynari immediately caught Se'txelu's attention. He'd never seen anyone who looked like her before, and on top of that, she was quite beautiful. He was infatuated immediately. Lucky for him, she took notice of him too (they both kinda stand out in a crowd lol). Now, while Se'txelu had never seen anyone with leucism like Neynari, he had met two other people with his own condition, txonleng—his great-grandfather (although his memories of him are hazy since he was quite young when he died (of old age)), and Awlun (who of course is still alive and kicking)—so though his condition was rare he had never really felt alone because of it. Neynari, on the other hand, had never seen another Na'vi who wasn't standard blue, so meeting someone else who stood out like that was shocking and intriguing. 

The Aranahe trading party stayed with the Anurai for about a week. Se'txelu tried to work up the nerve to actually talk to Neynari. One day, she noticed him up in a tree and waved at him. Remember when I said Se'txelu was clumsy? Well, he tried to wave back...but in doing so let go of the branch he was gripping and fell out of the tree. Onto his face. And lost a tooth in the process. 

Neynari felt awful because she felt like the accident was her fault, and she came to check on Se'txelu once his bloody mouth had been cleaned up. But despite the initial awkward guilt, with that incident the ice, much like Se'txelu's face, was broken lol. They ended up talking for a long time after that, and clicked pretty hard. Neynari even gave him the joking nickname Sre'tìkelu ("tooth-lack") in reference to the now permanent gap in his smile. They continued to bond over the next few days, and when it came time for the Aranahe party to return home, Neynari found herself not wanting to join them...

Neynari's closest friend back home had always been her mother, Seylana. But tragically, Seylana had passed away of sickness about two years prior to Neynari's trip to the Anurai. With the loss of her mother back home, but the promise of a potential future with Se'txelu here, Neynari was wondering if she should stay and ask to join the Anurai clan...but would that be fair to her ancestors, and to the clan who had raised and loved her?

The night before the Aranahe were meant to leave, Neynari asked Se'txelu to take her to the nearest spirit tree. She connected to Eywa and spoke with Seylana's spirit, pouring her heart out to the memory of her mother and explaining her dilemma. Seylana comforted her daughter and encouraged her to stay with the Anurai. She wanted her daughter to have a bright and happy future and if she found that in another clan, so be it. 

Now with her mother's blessing, Neynari spoke with Awlun, the Anurai tsahìk, as well as with the leader of the Aranahe trading party, and explained the whole situation. She was allowed to join the Anurai, and she and Se'txelu began courting officially, and became mates not long after.

But wait! All these words and we haven't even mentioned Rolukx yet! Rolukx is Se'txelu's older brother, by roughly five or six years. When the boys were young, their father, Tanu, was involved in a hunting accident and almost died. He survived and is fine now, save a few scars, but there was a period of time where his condition was critical and his survival unclear. Se'txelu doesn't really remember this incident because he was too young, but Rolukx does, and it really affected him. Up until that point, he, like many young children, thought of his dad as invincible...this brush with death shattered that innocent belief for poor Rolukx; he became a lot more nervous and paranoid about safety and, well, mortality. One way he dealt with this trauma was becoming very protective of his little brother, even after they became adults (and to be fair, his worries over Se'txelu's safety aren't entirely unfounded because, again, clumsy dork lol). 

Though he spends a lot of his time keeping an eye on his brother, Rolukx is actually a musician and instrument maker by trade, and he's very good at it. The knife he carries is not (usually) used for hunting or cooking, but rather for whittling bone (and other materials, but Anurai clan so mostly bone lol) into intricate flutes and whistles. He plays them beautifully as well, but unfortunately suffers from stage fright and dislikes playing in front of others. The only person he'll consistently play for is his mother Lunaya, who was always very encouraging of his talents (he's a bit of a mama's boy).

Rolukx was a little wary of Neynari at first, as he felt like Se'txelu was rushing into this relationship with some random girl from another clan way too fast. But Se'txelu seemed happy, and when Neynari showed genuine interest in Rolukx's whittling skills, offering to teach him some Aranahe beading and weaving tips in exchange for some whittling and music ones, he warmed up to her and they wound up being pretty good friends, so Rolukx approves of his brother's relationship. 

Lunaya, the boys' mother, happens to also love beaded accessories and hit it off with Neynari right away. Neynari appreciates having her around because she reminds her of her own mother, even if Lunaya is much more extroverted and eccentric than Seylana was. 

(deep breath) sooooooooooo.....I think that covers most of it. those are my dumb dumbs, enjoy

[maevebabyy]

CHANGE OF PERSPECTIVE

sophia laforteza x fem reader

a/n - first fic whoo!!!! sophia’s a performing arts teacher and reader is a basketball coach. i wrote this half asleep pls 😭😭

wc - 3.7k

the air in dream academy was full of tension as the school year kicked off with principal son announcing the reallocation of the school year’s budget in favour of the basketball team.

ms. sophia laforteza, the young but fiercely dedicated performing arts teacher, was known for her passionate commitment to the arts, having already won quite a few high-school performing arts awards despite her short time teaching at dream academy. so it was understandable why she had gotten frustrated when she first heard about the budget cuts.

while you, the varsity girls basketball coach and one of the phys-ed teachers, were all about winning games and boosting school spirit. you had built up and maintained the team’s impressive win-loss record during your time as head coach – winning state championships two years in a row now, making dream academy a distinguished school when it came to women’s basketball.

the two of you had been at odds for as long as anyone could remember, each believing their program deserved more funding and recognition for their efforts. at least, that’s what you thought it looked like on the outside. daniela, your baby sister, was the only one who you told about your (obvious) crush on the drama teacher.

-

it was unusual to say the least, sophia usually gave off a very cool and calm demeanour around her students, wanting to set a good example. but right now, sophia was livid. waving her hands around like she usually does when she’s worked up or excited, this time, it was the former. her students could only watch amusedly as they stretched out their muscles.

“this is ridiculous! how can they prioritize a sport over the arts?” she fumed to her students in the theater.

one of her students, lara – a high-school senior and daniela’s best friend, starts giggling at how worked up her performing arts teacher had gotten.

“damn, coach really does get you worked up, doesn’t she?”

a few other students giggle at lara’s observation. this, alongside many others, were one of the many perks of being a young teacher. sophia’s students felt like they were learning from an older sister, rather than a teacher. it made sense though, sophia was only 22 and leading a bunch of high-schoolers into the world of performing arts.

sophia huffed lightly, bringing her hands to her forehead as she rubbed it, “well, yes, lara, how does coach y/n deserve more funding? we killed it last year with our plays!”

lara stops a giggle from escaping, snorting in the process, “it’s not even a whole lot. dani told me they only received a little more to afford those new team backpacks they’ve been whining about. wait, shh though! It’s supposed to be a secret!”

the drama teacher rolls her eyes again, of course you’d spend the extra money on flashy new team backpacks. if it had been her it would have gone towards something more useful like new mic packs, or better props.

“a little goes a long way, lara.” sophia remarks, shaking her head.

another student voices out their opinion, a teasing grin on her face. “coach y/n seriously has a lot of influence on you, teach”

it was the highschool junior, megan, she was both a cheerleader and a part of the school’s performing arts club. a wider teasing grin appears on the redhead’s face, “sooo, enemies to-”

before the junior is able to finish her sentence, sophia quickly cuts her off, clapping her hands together.

“alright! enough stretching, run your lines for rehearsals!” a bright and wide smile on the drama teacher’s face as she purposefully ignores the tease she was about to receive.

-

meanwhile, you reveled in the news with your team, sharing the good news with your players. your focus solely on the upcoming season.

you gather your team around at the end of practice, your players keeping eye contact with you as you rounded everybody up. making eye contact with your baby sister, you tell her with your weird sibling telepathy not to pull anything funny to ruin the surprise.

“okay girls, that was a great practice! especially you yoonchae. you’re improving quickly” you grin widely, praising the korean girl. “in fact, all of you girls have been working really hard for this upcoming season.”

you gesture for one of your players, manon, the team captain, and the only other person to know about the surprise aside from daniela to come up and stand beside you.

with a wide grin of her own, manon reveals the new team bags you had hidden behind you in a box. “ta-da! coach actually got us those new team bags we’ve been talking about!”

you grin widely as the girls excitedly rushed forward to grab their own bag which donned their school colours and sported their number and last name on the bag. watching them try on the bag for themselves and count out how many pockets the spacious bag had.

“i assume you all like it then?” you chuckle, crossing your arms as you watch your team nod, shouting out their thank you’s.

“let’s have a good season this year, girls.” you grin.

-

a week had passed since then, and principal son had called in the both of you into his office. you sat across from sophia who was on her phone as you both waited for the principal to finish talking on the phone. the secretary in the middle of the lobby typing away on his computer, completing desk work.

waiting in the lobby with sophia was suffocating– but in a good way. sure, she might’ve sent you some weird questioning looks, but damn she’s pretty. her jet-black straight hair framing her sharp features perfectly, her perfect posture even when sitting down, the way her soft smile immediately warmed up the room when she found something funny on her phone. before you could keep studying her face, your attention is brought away from the drama teacher as you hear principal son’s voice who had just opened his door. “come in.”

walking behind sophia, you take the seat beside her as principal son sat in his office chair behind his desk in front of you two.

“i’ve got a special opportunity for you two.” he grins, eyeing the both of you before continuing. “we want to host a community workshop day for the younger kids in our high school’s area who may potentially end up enrolling in dream academy.”

principal son pauses to gauge our reactions, chuckling to himself as he sees the confused looks. “since you two run our two biggest programs, i want you two to work together on this. it will primarily revolve around the arts and sports, though primarily basketball in terms of sports since we do the best in that one.”

sophia speaks up from the chair beside you, “when exactly does this community day happen?”

“you two will have about a month to prepare.”

both of you immediately shot up your eyebrows in surprise. “a month?” you ask, eyes widened.

“you heard me clearly coach.” son chuckles to himself, “i’ll check in every once in a while.”

just as quickly as you and sophia were in that room, you suddenly find yourself back out in the lobby. you face sophia slowly, “so… a month?”

sophia groans, “don’t start-”

“we kinda have to…”

sophia silently curses, you were right. the two of you desperately needed to start brainstorming soon if she wanted a community day she could be proud of. “fine, swing by the mpr as soon as the bell rings at the end of the day.”

“but-”

“you don’t have basketball practice today do you?” sophia cuts in, leaving no room for argument.

you shake your head no weakly.

“okay, i’ll see you then.”

before you’re able to respond, sophia quickly walks away from you and towards the mpr. 

you hear a soft whistle behind you, coming from the secretary. “really got a thing for the feisty ones?”

you flush lightly, stuttering, “it’s not like that, sohey.” you take a moment to regain your composure, “besides, i think… self confident would be the more correct term here.”

-

eventually, the bell rings exactly at 3:30 and you find yourself already by the mpr doors, hesitating to go in for whatever reason.

“you got this y/n, c’mon, don’t be weird- it’s just a quick meeting, yep, with just the two of you-“

“what’re you doing n/n?”

you let out a quiet yelp as you are surprised by your baby sister who snuck behind you.

“nothing dani…”

daniela quirks an eyebrow, a smirk forming on her lips. “mhm… sure… just waiting by ms sophia’s door right?”

“dani? i don’t like that smirk-“

“you’ll thank me for this later!” in an instant, daniela pushes you into the mpr, giggling.

you stumble into the mpr, almost tripping. as you regain your balance you’re met with sophia’s questioning stare. feeling nervous under it, you feel the need to explain yourself.

clearing your throat, you reply. “didn’t wanna be late is all.”

“mhm. what was that scream outside? it sounded serious.” sophia raises an eyebrow, a small smile threatening to lift up.

“ah….” you’re silent for a moment. “there must’ve been a fight, totally.”

“and, as a phys-ed teacher, shouldn’t you stop them?”

“nah, where’s the character development in that?”

sophia huffs lightly, disgusing her small giggle before returning to that cold demeanor she’s used to keeping around you. “alright, come here, i’ve drafted some ideas for the community day.”

that afterschool evening had gone on for longer than the two of you expected. sophia surprisingly tolerating your presence for more than two hours. 

after tweaking and modifying the initial plan sophia came up with, you both finally agreed on something.

“this’ll work.” you grin warmly, unintentionally making eye contact with sophia, who was reciprocating your smile and gaze, but only for a moment before returning back to her stern self around you.

but wow— even if it was just for a moment you could’ve sworn your heart stopped beating momentarily there, the butterflies going berserk in your stomach. 

“better not mess this up, y/n” sophia scoffs.

admittedly, sophia was still hesitant to work together with you, but seeing as she had no choice, she accepted.

-

as the days rolled on, the community workshop day loomed ever closer. the tension between you and sophia had shifted; while you still had your disagreements, there was a sense of camaraderie slowly forming. you were finding common ground in your shared goal of making the event a success, even if you couldn’t quite shake the competitive edge.

one evening, as you helped out during a rehearsal, you caught yourself watching sophia again. she was guiding her students through a scene, her passion shining through every gesture. it was hard not to admire her—her energy, her dedication, the way she inspired those kids to be their best. you couldn’t help but think about how different she was from the cool, collected teacher everyone else saw. here, she was vibrant and alive, and it struck a chord deep within you.

“seriously, n/n,” daniela nudged you, breaking your train of thought. “you’re staring again.”

your little sister had started accompanying you to these rehearsals, wanting to get a ride home from you instead of taking the bus home.

you turned to her, feigning nonchalance. “i’m just observing.”

“observing? right. you’re practically drooling,” she teased, her voice light but full of mischief.

you groaned, brushing off her comments. “i’m not. and could you be quiet about it?”

“oh, please. everyone can see it, dear sister, you’re not subtle. just ask her out already,” dani insisted, a grin plastered across her face.

“not happening,” you shot back, though the thought had crossed your mind more than once. “she’s too focused on her students, and i’m… well, i’m the basketball coach.”

dani rolled her eyes. “you’re both teachers. just because you’re rivals doesn’t mean you can’t also be… whatever else.”

as you tried to come up with a witty retort, the rehearsal wrapped up, and the students began to disperse. sophia caught your eye, giving you a nod of acknowledgment.

“see? she’s looking at you,” your baby sister whispered, elbowing you in the side.

“shut up,” you replied, trying to suppress a smile.

“y/n! can you help me with this?” sophia called, gesturing toward a stack of props.

you obliged, walking over with a bit of hesitance. as you helped her carry them into a storage room and sort through the items, the atmosphere shifted again. “thanks for helping out,” she said, her tone warmer than usual. “it’s been nice having you around.”

“yeah, well, i figured it’d be good to lend a hand,” you replied, trying to keep your voice casual. “we’re in this together after all.”

sophia looked thoughtful for a moment, her gaze piercing yet soft. “i know we have our differences, but i appreciate your effort. i just want to make sure our students get a memorable experience.”

“i get that. i want the same for my team,” you said, hoping your sincerity showed. “maybe we can find ways to highlight both programs.”

a brief silence hung between you, the tension from earlier fading into something more comfortable. “that’s the plan,” she said, a hint of a smile creeping onto her lips. “we’re a team, after all.”

just then, the door swung open, and daniela reentered, eyes gleaming with mischief. “hey, i just had a thought—why don’t we mix things up at the community day? like a mini talent show where the basketball girls have to perform something artsy? we could host it in between the different workshops.”

sophia’s eyes lit up at the idea, while you felt your stomach drop. “what? no way—”

daniela cut you off, grinning. “think about it! a fun way to bridge the gap between your two programs! i know my big sister here would be more than willing to do whatever you want miss sophia!”

sophia seemed intrigued, leaning forward. “it could be a great way to showcase teamwork. and we could have them work together on the performances!”

“absolutely not,” you interjected, feeling the heat rise to your cheeks. “i’m not getting on stage.”

“come on, n/n! it would be hilarious! and i’m sure the other girls wouldn't mind” daniela insisted, nudging you playfully.

sophia chuckled softly, her eyes sparkling with amusement. “i think it sounds like a great idea.”

“yeah, well, you’re not the one who has to perform,” you muttered, crossing your arms defensively.

sophia’s laughter echoed through the room, making your heart race. “don’t worry, we can make it fun. besides, it’ll be great for school spirit!”

“fine, but only if i can do a slam dunk in the middle of my performance,” you shot back, joking.

“deal,” sophia replied, smirking.

-

with the date approaching in less than a week, the two of you began meeting more frequently. it was strange how much time you two spent together, and despite your initial hesitations, sophia found herself looking forward to those moments. each planning session revealed more layers to you—your humor, your dedication, and that rare softness that broke through your brash exterior.

one afternoon, while going over logistics for the event, you couldn’t help but ask, “so what’s your favorite part of teaching?” it felt like a risk to the two, stepping out of the bounds of your usual playful bickering.

sophia paused, her expression thoughtful. “honestly? it’s seeing the kids transform. watching them come out of their shells during a performance or find confidence in themselves. it’s like a light bulb goes off.”

you nodded, impressed. “that’s really cool. i can see how much they look up to you.”

sophia’s cheeks flushed slightly, and she brushed off the compliment. “thanks. but enough about me—what about you? what drives you as a coach?”

you shrugged, feeling a wave of sincerity wash over you. “winning is great, but it’s more about seeing the girls grow, too. watching them realize their potential, support each other, and build a team—that’s what i love the most.”

sophia smiles softly to herself, though it goes unnoticed by you. maybe there as more in common between you two than she thought.

-

on the eve of the event, you and sophia decided to meet one last time to finalize the schedule and make sure everything was ready for tomorrow. you both settled into the mpr, the tension between you now more comfortable, laced with a sense of friendliness.

“i can’t believe it’s finally happening tomorrow,” you said, looking around the room filled with props and equipment. “feels weird.”

“yeah, i just hope it all goes smoothly,” she replied, biting her lip, her brows furrowing in concern.

“you’ve worked hard. the kids love you, and the performances will be amazing. trust yourself,” you encouraged, your tone sincere.

sophia glanced at you, her expression softening. “thanks, y/n. that means a lot coming from you.”

just then, a loud crash echoed from the back of the mpr as a student accidentally knocked over a stack of props, causing both of you to jump.

“great! just what we need before a big event,” you said, rushing over to help.

as you both started picking up the scattered items, your hands brushed against each other. the moment lingered, and you both froze for a heartbeat before quickly pulling away, a rush of heat spreading across your cheeks.

“uh… sorry,” you muttered, clearing your throat. “guess we’re a bit clumsy tonight.”

“yeah, clumsy,” she echoed, though a soft smile tugged at her lips. “just a lot on our minds.”

you chuckled, relieved at the lightness returning to the moment. “right. what’s our first activity again?”

sophia reached for the clipboard, flipping through the schedule. “we start with some icebreaker games before splitting into workshops. your girls will lead a few drills, and then we’ll have the mini talent show later.”

“can’t wait to see my team actually do this,” you chuckle.

“don’t sell them short. you might be surprised,” she replied, a teasing glint in her eye. “they might just steal the show.”

“or bring it crashing down,” you countered with a laugh.

-

the day of the community workshop finally arrived, buzzing with excitement and nerves. the gym was transformed into a vibrant hub, with colourful decorations and stations set up for various activities. you could hear the chatter and laughter of kids filling the space, making it hard to believe that just a month ago, you and sophia had been at odds over budget cuts.

as the event kicked off, you looked over at sophia, who was in her element, directing her students with a flair that made you admire her even more. the icebreaker games were a hit, with kids mingling and having fun, but the real challenge loomed ahead—the mini talent show.

the talent show began, and the kids showcased their various talents—singing, dancing, and acting, each performance more impressive than the last. sophia cheered enthusiastically for each act, her passion evident.

when it was finally your team’s turn, you could feel the weight of expectation. you had arranged for a fun skit that would highlight teamwork, incorporating elements of basketball with a comedic twist. you could see the nervousness in your players' eyes as they shuffled onto the makeshift stage, but you also saw the determination flicker behind them.

“okay, girls! remember what we practiced” you chuckle lightheartedly, hoping to boost their spirits.

the skit started off a bit shaky, but as your players found their rhythm, the laughter from the audience built. you caught a glimpse of sophia’s delighted expression, her laughter ringing out above the crowd. it made your heart race—she was enjoying this, and you wanted to keep that smile on her face.

-

eventually, the night came to a close as parents and their children began filing out of the gym after a successful event. you and sophia found yourselves amidst the remnants of the community workshop. the atmosphere buzzed with the afterglow of laughter and excitement, but now it was just the two of you, surrounded by colourful props and decorations.

“alright, everyone, you can head home! great job today!” you called out, shooing away the last few lingering students. “seriously, don’t worry about the cleanup. we’ve got it covered.”

sophia smiled, watching the students file out, their faces still glowing from the event. once the doors swung shut, a comfortable silence settled over the gym. you glanced over at her, taking in the way she brushed a stray hair behind her ear, a hint of relief in her expression.

“looks like we’re officially on cleanup duty,” you said, picking up a few scattered props.

“yeah, but it was worth it,” she replied, her eyes sparkling with the remnants of excitement. “everyone really had a great time.”

you hear sophia giggle softly, pausing her clean up duties. “you know, i really thought we wouldn’t be able to pull this off. i practically hated your guts a month ago.”

you chuckled lightheartedly in response, “i was a bit nervous at first, too. you were so closed off before this workshop thing.” you pause, picking up a few more props. “I’m glad we moved past it though.”

she rolled her eyes, but there was a soft smile on her lips. “well, i guess you’ve seen a different side of me. and maybe i’ve seen a different side of you too.”

as you both continued cleaning up, the atmosphere shifted. it felt lighter, charged with a new kind of understanding. “so, what do you think we should do next?” you asked, trying to sound casual while your heart raced.

sophia looked thoughtful. “maybe we could plan another event? we could make it a tradition.”

“sounds great,” you agreed, your mind racing with possibilities. then, gathering your courage, you added, “or… we could hang out outside of school. grab a bite to eat together sometime?”

her eyes widened slightly, and you could see the gears turning in her head. “are you asking me out, coach?”

“maybe i am,” you said, stepping a little closer, feeling a mix of excitement and nervousness.

a slow smile spread across her face, illuminating her features. “i’d like that. i’ll take you up on that offer, y/n.”

a/n - i got lazy at the end sorry LOL

[senditcolton]

Can I please request some soft smut with William Nylander? I know you don’t write for him that much, but I love your writing so much!!

Finally, Finally, Finally

a/n: my dear anon!! thank you for requesting this because it is true, I don't write much for William but I do love him. so this is a wonderful push for me to write some more Willy Styles content. (I know I do at least have one other fic planned out with him, courtesy of my Mamma Mia series [gotta have the Swedes represented for obvious reasons]).

Word Count: 3.4k Warnings: smut! heavy makeout session, fingering, handjob, unprotected penetrative sex. but very sweet and loving smut, as requested!!

You gaze, peaceful, from your spot on the couch at your boyfriend William across the living room. The beer bottle in your hands still cool to touch as you watch him move around your space, vinyl record in his hand. It’s a simple beautiful moment to observe; how he carefully removes the pressing from its sleeve and places it on the turn table. His elegant fingers drop the needle precisely and the small scratch of static hits your ears before the sound of mellow guitars fills the air.

There was a part of you that still didn’t believe this was your life. You certainly didn’t expect it a year ago.

One year to the date, you were sitting in this same living room, playing guitar and trying to take your mind off of the fact that you were alone. Again. Another breakup, another night of wallowing in self-pity. That is, until your friend Stephanie called, inviting you to a local bar with her, Mitch, and a few of their friends. You almost said no. Now, you’re glad you didn’t. Because that was where you met William.

He was charming, sweet, kind. A night you had originally thought would include one or two drinks in one or two hours ended up lasting until last call. That night Will pulled you out to the makeshift dancefloor, spun you in time with the music from the jukebox. He ran through the streets with you in the rain to get to his car. He drove you home and you left him with a kiss on the cheek and your number in his pocket.  

A year. An entire year since that first night and even back then, both of you knew that you shared some special connection, as if the universe planned for you all to meet in that specific moment at that specific place. That’s why earlier tonight, you went to that same bar for the anniversary of the night you met – the night things changed.

Those memories fill you with happiness and contentment, a gentle smile playing at your lips as you watch William turn back to you, a similar expression on his face. He doesn’t say anything, choosing instead to walk over to you sprawled out on the couch before coming to a stop in front of you.

Your head tilts in a silent question, one that is answered by Will holding out his hand to you, upturned palm warm and inviting.

“Dance with me?”

The answer is an obvious one, so blatant that you don’t bother giving a verbal reply. You simply take a final sip of your beer and place it on the coffee table before reaching out to him. Your hand slips into his, your skin brushing against the callouses and William’s fingers tighten around you. He helps lift you up onto your feet before guiding you to the empty space of your living room.

Everything about being with William is easy, so it’s no surprise how easy it is to fall into his hold, your arms lifting up to rest on his shoulders as his wrap around your waist. Your eyes take in the sight of him; his bright blue irises, his blonde hair even more golden in the low lamplight of the room, the gentle rise and fall of his chest.

“What are you thinking about?” he whispers, slowly swaying you as the music continues.

“Nothing really,” you reply with a gentle shrug. “Just thinking about how lucky I am. How handsome you are. The usual things.”

Your gentle joke pulls a chuckle from William’s chest, his body moving closer to you. You let yourself sink deeper into his hold, your head coming to rest on his chest, breathing in the scent of his cologne, matching your heartbeat to his.

“We are pretty lucky,” he muses, the sound of his voice vibrating through his chest. “I sometimes still can’t believe I was lucky enough to meet you. And that you took an interest in me.”

His statement causes you to pull your head back, looking at him with a confused expression on your face. It sounded odd, coming from his mouth: the doubt. William sees your bewilderment, offering a gentle smile before he continues.

“Steph told me that you had recently broke up with your ex. That you might not show up. That you weren’t really looking for anything serious. Imagine how it felt, starting the night with that information. Imagine my bewilderment with how the night ended.”

He grins at you, those memories running through his head with the same crystal-clear vision that they had been playing in yours. You return his smile, your hand coming up to cradle his jawline, your thumb gently brushing over the stubble on his cheek.

“It was hard to resist you. Even if I wanted to.”

Your quiet confession dances through the air, mixing with the acoustic guitar still pouring from the speakers. The sound of it hits William’s eardrums and the look he directs your way tells you that it’s the sweetest melody that he has ever heard.

There is no stopping it, the way the two of you lean into each other, your lips meeting in a gentle kiss.

Even though you had shared many kisses in the year you had been dating, you knew that you would never get tired of kissing William. He tasted like summer; like green apples and the promise of something more.

Will’s hands tighten around your body, pulling you impossibly closer to him. Your mouth opens in a sigh and he takes the initiative to kiss you deeper, his tongue dancing against yours. It was always impossible to stop the gravity of him, to resist the temptation of falling into his orbit. Not that you ever wanted to.

It is almost blind, the way that William and you stumble back to the couch, lips and bodies still pressed against one another. You only separate when the back of his calves hit the couch cushions, his body sinking onto the sofa while you remain standing. His eyes look up at you, staring at you like you were the most exquisite human in the world. Which, to him, was the truth.

You offer him a slightly mischievous smirk as your hands drop to the hem of your shirt, slowly peeling the fabric from your frame, exposing more of your skin to him. He keeps his gaze locked onto you, the only evident indication of his desire being the way his irises darken when you throw your shirt to the side. You are tempted to kiss him again; to climb into his lap and have him hold you close but you push against that need for a moment. Instead of your hands falling to William like you want them to, they find the button of your jeans, undoing the clasp and zipper before you push them down your thighs.

Finally, you lean forward, your hands resting on Will’s shoulders as you step completely out of your jeans. Will steadies you, his strong hands holding onto your hips, preventing you from tripping on the discarded fabric until you are completely settled in his lap, your legs resting on the outside of his thighs, knees digging into the couch cushions. You smile at him again, your hands drifting up to gently play with the long strands of his hair.

“You’re absolutely gorgeous,” he whispers, his eyes still staring into yours. You weren’t planning on stopping the smile that appears on your face at his words, but even if you were, it would have been in vain. This is the way William loved you; he always stated it as a fact. The sky is blue, the earth is round, you are beautiful, and he loves you.

It was just a list of undeniable truths.

“You’re pretty stunning yourself,” you giggle, leaning in to kiss him again, relishing the way you could feel his smile through the kiss.

The hands that were on your hips start to wander, first moving down to trace over the curve of your ass and down your thighs before retracing their path and continuing upwards. His thumbs caress the cut of your ribcage, the curve of the bone guiding his touch up to your breasts. You can’t help but whimper into the kiss when he traces the outline of your bra, each new edge his fingertips encounter pulling him in a different direction. It’s the most exquisite form of torture, his hands all over your body but never truly touching you.

His fingers move towards your back, tracing up and down your spine once – twice – before he finally grips your bra and effortlessly unclasps it, the fabric loosening. The two of you break away just long enough for you to let the garment fall away. William doesn’t hesitate to lean in, kissing you only once before his lips descend down the column of your throat, across your collarbones and decolletage. You sigh, leaning your head back as he slowly marks you, claiming you as his; a fact that you had never refuted.

One of your hands tangles deeper in his hair, keeping him close to you while the other descends, crossing the planes of his back, gliding over the ridges of his shoulder blades and the cut of his muscles. It’s when Will takes one of your nipples into his mouth that your fingers twist into the fabric of his shirt, a soft whisper of a moan escaping you.

Through the haze of your pleasure, it slowly dawns on you at how unfair the current situation is: you, sitting on William’s lap with your underwear being the only thing preventing you from being completely naked while he was still fully clothed. You start to tug at the fabric of his shirt, slowly inching it up his back until he eventually registers your movements and tears his mouth away from your body. He grins at you, one of his eyebrows raised in a teasing silent question.

“You’re wearing too many clothes,” you pout, continuing to pull at his t-shirt. Will simply chuckles at your words before his hands fall from yours and grip the cotton, pulling his shirt off his body.

“Better?”

“Much,” you reply, capturing his lips in a kiss again as your hands now dance across the newly exposed skin. William’s own hands come to rest at your hips, content to switch roles and let you explore his body, which you gladly do.

Your fingers trace his chest, pausing briefly to play with the golden chains still hanging from his neck, before dropping down. The kisses you give move from his lips to his neck as your hands continue to dip lower, nails gently tracing over his abs, his stomach tightening in response. It isn’t long until your fingers find the waistband of his own jeans, tracing over the edge before gliding over the bulge of him, palming the stiff outline of his cock through the denim. You can feel the vibrations of a groan that rises from his chest as you continue your movements, your own hips rolling in response.

“Baby… älskling… please.”

The gentle whines that escape from William’s throat are enough for you to return to the waistline of his jeans, your fingers deftly undoing the button and the zipper. You slip you hand underneath the fabric covering him, finally contacting his silken skin. Another moan emulates from his chest, his own grip tightening against your hips as you curl your fingers around his length, gently stroking him.

“Fuck, you feel so good,” he praises, the words just making the fire inside you roar even brighter. You continue your languid movements against his cock, your lips retracing up the curve of his throat before hovering against the shell of his ear.

“I feel even better wrapped around you.”

You pull your face away, your sultry whisper still lingering in his ears as your eyes connect with his, a playful spark in your irises. William is simply staring at you as if he couldn’t believe you were real – a statement that he had said to you, multiple times before. You grin, your hand stroking him once again. It’s as if that sensation brings him back to the moment, his head falling against the couch cushions briefly before his eyes reconnect with yours, your grin now reflected on his lips.

“Show me,” he dares and that’s all it takes for you to lean in and kiss him once more. William’s hands rest gently on your thighs while your hands move away from his skin to grip at the waistband of his jeans and underwear, tugging both downward.

Underneath your body, you feel his hips lift, his hands and lips falling from you as he assists you in removing the remaining material from him. You busy yourself by reattaching your own lips to his neck, gently sucking and nipping at the skin, impatiently waiting for him to kick away the denim and cotton. Your actions partially distract Will but also spur him on and it isn’t long before his hands find your waist once more, holding you tight and guiding your hips down to meet his.

A mutual groan escapes both of you at the feeling of him pressed against your hot core, one of his hands lifting to cradle your head and pull you back to his lips. His other hand, still steady on your waist, gently tugs you forward and you oblige is silent request, rolling your hips against his. Every gasp and moan you utter is swallowed by him as you continue to gently rock back and forth on his lap, the fabric of your now soaked underwear creating a beautiful friction.

“I can feel how wet you are älskling,” Will whispers against your lips, his statement as staccato as your breathing, his need clearly as powerful as yours. “Already ruined, always so needy.”

“It’s all because of you,” you whine, your forehead pressed against his as your hips continue to move. “Always make me feel so good.”

“Wanna make you feel better,” he groans, his hands tightening to still your movements. You whimper at the loss of sensation but William doesn’t leave you hanging long as he lifts your hips off of his.

One of his hands glides down your leg before curling around to the inside of your thigh, tracing upwards before connecting with your core. You gasp, your eyes flying open to connect to his when you feel his fingers hook around the damp fabric, pulling it sharply to the side and exposing your slit to the cool air. Will just shoots you a grin as his fingers move again, the rough calloused skin finally connecting to your soaked folds.

You can’t stop the way your eyelids flutter shut as his fingers glide over you, meeting no resistance as they move up before connecting with your clit. You whine, your hands tightening on his shoulders as he rubs his fingertips against the bundle of nerves, every movement making your cunt pulse with need.

“William, please – I want you. Wanna feel you, please,” you beg, every ministration of his hand pulling you closer to that edge but never quite far enough. The sound of his quiet hum hits your ears before his hand falls away from your core. You open your eyes and lock gaze with him, seeing that pure admiration in his own pupils – admiration that would normally have you melting right then and there if you weren’t already so high-strung.

“Anything for you, min käraste,” he replies, the hand still on your body gently urging you to sink down onto him.

It is all encompassing, the feeling of him pressing into you, filling you up. Your mouth drops in a silent moan at the sensation. The sound that falls from William is more audible but just as satisfied as his grip tightens around you, the heat of his breath fanning across your cheekbones. You blindly chase his lips, capturing his mouth in yours and swallowing his moans, your hands tangling in his hair.

You feel his fingers flex against your skin – a silent demand that you are all too willing to obey – and you start to move your hips, slowing finding a gentle rhythm. Each roll of your body shoots another blaze of fire up your spine as you and Will messily kiss, the pleasure almost too overwhelming for you both.

A gasp falls from you as Will moves his hips up to meet yours, grazing that damnable spot within you that has you seeing stars. There is no stopping how your head falls back, lifting up towards the ceiling. Never deterred, William reattaches his lips to your collarbones, shoulders, and breasts as you two continue to move against each other.

It’s intoxicating: how he makes you feel, every movement of him inside you, every touch of his hands, every kiss he presses against your skin. That delectable pleasure builds within you, your movements faltering as Will continues to bring you to that peak.

“Let go, älskling. Let me feel you,” he whispers, the sentence punctuated by his hand slipping back between your thighs, pressing against your clit once more. The sensation has your head snapping back to look down at him, your chest and face surely flushed, your eyes filled with desire and pleasure and absolute love for the man in front of you.

It is a perfectly timed thrust combined with a skilled stroke of his fingers against you that has you coming undone, your body stilling as your orgasm thrums through you. Your head falls further down, burying itself into the juncture of his neck and shoulder, your teeth gently grazing the strong muscle there as William continues to move, prolonging your release.

He soon stills, always the attentive lover, letting you recover even though you can still feel him painfully hard within you. You sigh into his skin, kissing his neck before your hips roll again. A sharp gasp falls from him in response to your movements, the pleasurable sensation of you warm and wet around him somehow ratcheted up even more after you’ve come.

“Please, William,” you purr into his ear as your hips continue to roll, albeit less steady than before, your muscles feeling weak thanks to your prior motions and resulting orgasm. You mouth soft kisses against his jawline, your hands still tangled in his blond hair, nails gently scraping against his scalp. “I want to feel you come inside me. Please, min kärlek.”

The sound of those syllables, the sound of you speaking his native tongue, especially when coupled with your gentle pleas has his body stiffening beneath you, his own orgasm crashing into him. You moan at the sensation of him spilling within you, a newer feeling but one you knew you would never tire of as William wraps his arms around you, holding you close, his own moans hot against your ear.

The two of you stay there for a moment in the afterglow, bodies pressed against one another. You can feel Will’s fingers gently tracing up and down your spine while your own fiddle with the hair at the nape of his neck. You slowly lift yourself up, a small smile tugging at the corner of your mouth when you spy the darkening love bites scattered across his skin, William shooting a similar smirk, no doubt at the matching evidence on your decolletage.

Your hand falls from his hair to cup his jaw, thumb gently running over his cheek as you take in the sight of him, practically golden and glowing beneath you.

“I love you,” you whisper.

“I love you too, min käraste,” Will replies, bringing his own hand up to gently grasp your chin, pulling your lips to his in a tender kiss.

While the vocalization of those words may have been somewhat recent, it felt as if you and William had exchanged them long ago: before this moment, before the first time you said them to each other, even before the two of you became exclusive. Those words sang their truth from both of your hearts on that very first night you met.

You knew you would be forever thankful for the universe for sending him to you a year ago. He was everything you wanted – everything you never knew you needed. But now, one thing was for certain; you had finally found that one person that made it safe for you to fall.

tagging: @thewintersoldierdisaster because I know you are in your Nylander era and @laurenairay who signed up with my new taglist... which you can SIGN UP FOR HERE!!

[hemmingsleclerc]

Omg 🥹

ur writing for dad max is soooo cute

Can u make one where Olivia is graduating pre-k or something from school and the whole family attending the mini graduation and being so proud of her 🥹🥹❤️❤️

yes yes yessss 💗💗 thank u sm!!!!

Preschool Graduation┃MV1

It was a beautiful morning and Max was dressed in an elegant tailored suit. He stood proudly next to his wife Y/N as they attended their little daughter Olivia's preschool graduation. The air was filled with excitement as families gathered in the hall, adorned with beautiful decorations and colorful balloons emblazoned with the phrase ''Class of 2023.''

Max's heart swelled with pride as Olivia, in her tiny cap and gown, joined her classmates on stage. The little graduates were beaming with joy, and Max couldn't help but feel nostalgic about how quickly time had passed since Olivia's first day at preschool. He still remembered when he had cried that morning with his daughter in arms trying to convince his wife to stay home that morning and not send her to school because he still couldn't believe that the day had arrived.

Y/N, with a proud smile, squeezed Max's hand as they took their seats. Both families, the Verstappens and the Y/L/N, were there to celebrate this special moment. Max's parents were sitting nearby and exchanging proud glances with Y/N's parents.

The ceremony began with the children entering, holding hands and laughing. Max tried to maintain his composure, but every time he caught a glimpse of Olivia's radiant smile, his eyes filled with tears. He dried them discreetly, hoping his wife wouldn't notice.

When Olivia's name was called, Max couldn't contain his emotions. He let out a proud cheer that echoed throughout the room. He jumped to his feet, camera in hand, and started taking pictures madly. "That's my daughter!" he yelled, not caring that it elicited some amused looks from the other parents. Although his wife was not far behind, she also stopped to record from the moment her little girl got up from her seat until she turned to see her parents and waved with a huge smile full of joy from stage. Both families burst into applause and shouts when the little girl received her diploma. And to Olivia's surprise, all of her uncles were there too. Charles, Carlos, Lando, Daniel, George, Alex and even Checo with his family were there, all applauding excitedly and some crying.

Max's eyes shone with tears of joy and he wiped them away with the back of his hand, laughing at his lack of self-control, but he didn't care in the least.

To the amusement of the other parents, he snorted and pulled a handkerchief from his suit pocket, declaring, "It's very emotional, okey?"

When the ceremony concluded, Max took Olivia in his arms and spun her around as she laughed with joy. Both met with the whole family along with the other drivers.

"Congratulations, my little champion!" Max exclaimed, his eyes shining with pride. Olivia smiled at her father, a miniature version of Max's infectious smile on her face.

The day continued with a celebration at Verstappen's house. Max and Y/N had organized a small gathering with family and close friends to honor Olivia's achievement. The backyard was adorned with decorations and a special cake.

While guests enjoyed the festivities, Max found himself reflecting on his journey into fatherhood. He had always been passionate about racing, but watching Olivia grow up gave him a different kind of satisfaction.

During the celebration, Max and his wife took a moment to share a few words for her little girl, expressing admiration for her determination and enthusiasm for her life. They talked about the joy she brought to their world and how her accomplishments, no matter how small, filled them with an immense sense of pride.

Many might know Max as the beast he was when he got into his F1 car and raced on the circuits, or others as the triple champion, but despite that, he was the best father to a beautiful little recent graduate named Olivia and he best husband for his beloved.

[reidmoony-toast]

Orange Juice. ౨ৎ

"Feels like I've been ready for you to come home for so long"

Spencer x fem singer!reader

The two times they miss each other, and the one time they don't

content: no use of y/n, so much fluff, pining

cw: literally nothing!! <3

wc: 2.6k

an: This has taken me SO LONG and I'm not very proud of it 😭 Anyways hope you enjoy, ily xx

| pt.1 | pt.2 | pt.3 | series masterlist ౨ৎ

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She was dreaming of him when she woke up. She groaned, burying her face into the crisp white mass of her hotel pillow. Sun filtered through the large windows, dust motes dancing in between the rays of light.

The sky was a vibrant blue, only a select few clouds scattered across its expanse. The trees on the opposite side of the street swayed in a gentle breeze, looking content and greener than ever.

For Virginia, it was beautiful weather. A perfect day. Usually, on a day like today, she would be bounding out of bed to start her morning bright and early. But, she had been dreaming of him, and that wasn't something she wanted to wake up from.

She was back in Virginia to record a few songs for her new album—it was, apparently, filled with a few too many sad songs, mostly about her previous breakup.

Her producer had told her to ‘go away and write some more upbeat songs’ to give the album more variety, and to make it more like her last album.

She cringed just thinking about it. What the hell was she supposed to write about? No immediate inspiration had struck, and she was starting to think that she wasn't cut out for happy songs anymore. And that was a depressing thought.

She gave up on going back to sleep, instead getting up slowly, with another groan, as her limbs protested from the sudden movement. She stretched, yawning, as she tried to recall her dream.

It had been good, she remembered that, but the details were fuzzy, becoming less and less clear the more time she spent awake. Curse her and her weak memory recall—it was especially bad when it came to dreams.

Another thing that didn't help with her little obsession, was a multitude of videos that were making the rounds of her and the ‘mystery man’, as her fans had dubbed him.

The comments were filled with theories and speculation, wondering if she had a new boyfriend, and so many more itching to know his identity.

As much as she wanted that information herself, she was glad his face was hidden in shadow from every camera angle. She didn't want his privacy invaded by hordes of her craziest fans.

She sighed and headed to the bathroom to shower and make herself at least a bit presentable for the cameras that were likely to appear in the most unexpected of places.

~☆~

She would say that when it came to her performance in her line of work so far, it was beyond satisfactory. One might even go on to say she was the peak of professionalism.

She loved her fans; interacting with them during concerts, as well as meeting them in her day-to-day life always made her feel better, but she remained detached to a certain extent to maintain a healthy relationship with her fans.

Fans. She had those now. The very idea was improbable to her. She still couldn't believe all of her dreams had come true. The bright and glittering sheen of success and fame had not even dimmed a bit, and she felt like she had almost everything she could possibly want in life. Until, she saw him.

She didn't believe in love at first sight—but a tangible connection had been instantly formed when their eyes had locked. She felt sparks shoot through her very soul, the golden thread between them snapping taught, dragging her towards him like a moth to a flame. Maybe that was why she did what she did.

She had interacted with so many crowds in so many different cities; seen so many handsome guys–who were most definitely into her by where their lines of sight were—but she had never once willingly touched a fan at a show. Not like she had with him.

She was mad at herself for letting it get so far, as she always prided herself for her unwavering rules and restraint. Professionalism.

He was just… different.

Even a month later, she couldn't stop thinking about the mystery man at the concert—brown eyes, big and wide, staring into hers with awe, messy hair slicked back and tucked behind his ears, the perfectly pressed shirt that she took pride in rumpling and the most kissable lips known to man.

It was unfair, really, how gorgeous he was.

He didn't even know the lyrics to any of her songs, but instead of finding it bothersome, she had found it oddly indearing.

He plagued her waking hours, as well as the ones she was asleep for. Many a dream, not just the one from that morning, consisted of him; frequently enough that it made her question her sanity on more than one occasion.

The elevator ride down from her hotel was quiet, her manager staying silent as they descended the levels.

She was glad—she had hardly gotten a wink of sleep the night before, due to being up half the night writing a song she had been working on for a few days now, ever since she was told to write about ‘happier’ things.

She had gotten the instrumentals down, but she couldn't figure out the lyrics. It was downright impossible.

This frustration kept her up into the early hours of the morning—she kept trying different approaches, but none of them worked. This was partly to blame for her less-than-stellar mood today.

They stepped out into the foyer, only to be met with the sight of paparazzi outside the hotel entrance door. She outwardly cringed. The paparazzi were her least favourite bit about this lifestyle. She knew she would never get used to them, no matter how long her stardom lasted.

She put on a brave face, a smile too wide for her at such a young hour of the morning, especially with her mood. See? Professionalism.

The glass doors were propped open for her as she walked through, and she gave the men holding them a nod and a thank you. She stuck close to her manager as they headed for the tinted SUV that would take her to the airport.

Camera shutters went wild as she waved and flashed them a bright grin. Questions were thrown at her from the crowd, although she didn't answer any. The curb neared as the car door was opened for her.

At that moment, she felt a prickle on the side of her neck, coupled with the profound urge to turn and look to her left. She swivelled as she reached her destination, scanning the street for something. Something important.

There, walking down the main road, satchel slung across his body, coffee in one hand, was the man of her dreams. Literally. His hair was tucked behind his ears and he wore a simple button up and dress pants, but a pair of worn converse sat on his feet; not matching with the rest of his business attire whatsoever.

Her dreams had not done him justice—he looked even better than she remembered.

Her eyes widened comically at the utterly creepy coincidence. She squeezed them shut before quickly reopening them, assuming she had finally gone insane, and that he was a mere figment of her imagination.

When she looked again, though, he was still exactly where he was a moment ago.

She was completely frozen, mouth falling open in surprise, and unhearing of the loud shouts of the paparazzi right in front of her. He glanced up from the ground at the disruption in the otherwise quiet early-morning street and her heart leapt clean out of her chest.

Those sweet eyes flicked from the mass of cameras, to the car, to her. His sure steps faltered at the clashing of their gazes, wide eyes stared back into her own shocked ones.

He was still a few yards away, but she could make out his rapidly rising chest, and his hand as it tightened on the flimsy coffee cup.

She opened her mouth to say something, but nothing came out, all of her words stayed firmly lodged at the back of her throat. She stumbled forward a few steps, intending to just go over to him, but the swarm around her had other ideas.

They moved in tighter, and her manager swiftly grabbed her forearm, guiding her into the back seat of the black car before she was squished between the hordes of paparazzi and their oversized cameras.

She protested, her view of him was obscured, but she was unceremoniously shoved into the SUV nonetheless, her objection unheard in the fray.

The door was shut in her face when she made to get back out, and soon enough, her manager joined her in the back, buckling his seatbelt as they pulled away from the hotel.

She tried to get another glimpse, but all was obscured by the paparazzi. Another of many reasons for her to hate their guts, she supposed.

Her stomach sank in disappointment. Her second chance, ripped out of her grasp—there would never be another opportunity to see him again.

It was foolish to even think such a thing. Twice was a stretch, but three times? She knew that was almost mathematically impossible. Probability was a bitch.

She sighed, and sunk further into her plush seat, staring glumly out the window at the passing street.

~☆~

When she arrived home, her first thought was to write. Music and lyrics were swirling in her head and she needed to write it down before they disappeared completely.

She closed the front door quickly, kicking off her shoes haphazardly, and raced to her studio. She plopped herself down, picked up her guitar, and sang.

The words flowed immediately like never before, and she grinned to herself as she finished the song that had been plaguing her all day and night. It was exactly as she imagined, and exactly what she felt in those moments.

Next to that car, surrounded by paparazzi, and on stage, surrounded by her fans. Those moments where all she could focus on was him. All other distractions, other thoughts, other feelings faded into static—background noise—when they had locked eyes.

It was perfectly pathetic of her to write such a sappy song about a man she had never properly met, but pathetic seemed to be her brand these last few weeks— and the song was good, there was no denying that.

She hit record on her phone, intending to send the audio clip to her producer for approval. She knew the song would go across well with her team. From when she had first sung it, it felt right. Like it had been bubbling under the surface for some time now, waiting patiently to be let out.

“Your eyes whispered, "Have we met?"

'Cross the room your silhouette

Starts to make its way to me…”

~☆~

She finished a song, and cheers rippled toward her from every angle, surrounding the stage. She tipped her head back, basking in the warmth flooding her body as she beamed in exhilaration. This feeling. This was why she did what she did.

To know that her and hundreds of thousands, maybe even millions, of people were all connected by one thing. Music. Her music, that she had written about her own life, hoping that others could relate, too.

Hoping others would enjoy listening to it as much as she enjoyed writing it. She was incredibly blessed to have this job, and she couldn’t think of something better, more fulfilling, than this.

The crowd was especially loud at this point, because they knew what was next. She would play a song that wasn’t on the setlist—one of hers, or sometimes, a song from another popular artist. Her fans dubbed them as ‘surprise songs’, and it had become somewhat of a novelty.

She waited for them to quiet down a bit, before she spoke. “So… I have something a little different for you tonight.”

The room went wild. She laughed, before waiting once more to speak. “It’s an unreleased song that I wrote a few days ago.” Screams of excitement bounced from floor to ceiling.

“And, if you guys like it enough, I might just release it as a single, how does that sound?” She grinned cheekily at the deafening cheers. “So… how about I sing it for you?”

She slung her guitar strap over her shoulder, from where a stage hand had conveniently placed it, and stepped up to the mic, ready and waiting to start.

“Now, I wrote this song about a very special someone.” Again, the crowd whooped, clearly ecstatic at the mere thought of romance.

“And I hope they hear this song, and-” She strummed the first chord. “Well- understand how I feel.”

The venue went berserk, and she smiled out at them, amused. And then, she sang.

“There I was again tonight

Forcing laughter, faking smiles

Same old tired, lonely place...”

The music flowed over her, before seeping into her very bones, filling her with reverence. With peace.

“Walls of insincerity, shifting eyes and vacancy

Vanished when I saw your face

All I can say is, it was enchanting to meet you…”

Her eyes stayed closed throughout the whole song, fingers finding the strings with practised ease. In the inside of her eyelids, she saw an imprint of him.

That man, the one that consumed her dreams, the one who hijacked her songs. The one with the soft, kind eyes—that really looked at her, into her, like he saw all of her fears, aspirations, and every waking thought.

Those two encounters, as brief as they were, somehow etched themselves right into her brain. As pathetic as it sounded, she couldn’t think of anything else, and it was eating her from the inside out.

She begged to whatever deities existed to put them back into each other's path once again, no matter how improbable that was.

“Please don't be in love with someone else

Please don't have somebody waiting on you.”

The last chord faded, and she broke from her reverie, shaking herself out of her stupor. Was she really begging to meet that guy again? That was seriously next level. She didn't know his name, had never even said a proper word to him, and she was fawning like a schoolgirl.

She stifled a groan. She had definitely lost the plot.

She plastered a smile back on her face, and continued her show without a hitch, pointedly choosing to not think about the mystery man, and instead focus on her music.

It was more important. Always and forever. She couldn’t afford to pine over a man she had only seen twice. No. Her music was the most significant factor in her life, not silly things like love and romance. She had tried that, and it never ended well.

Her most recent ex was a perfect example of why relationships aren’t worth it. She threw away three years of her life to that lying, cheating scumbag.

For now, she was sticking to perfecting her craft, and nothing would distract her from that. She would just have to force herself to forget about the mystery man. Erase him from her brain.

Pretend he never existed in the first place. It's not like she would ever see him again, anyways, no matter what higher beings she tried to appease.

~☆~

By the time she returned to her hotel, ‘Enchanted’ was available for streaming as her newest single. So far, it was a hit, but there was an overwhelming amount of speculation about who the song was about. She was, honestly, wondering the same thing.

She had told herself that she would completely forget about him, but he was still there, in the very back of her mind, intruding in her thoughts. She couldn’t make him leave, no matter what she tried.

She fell onto the bed, took one of the crisp, white hotel pillows, and pressed it into her face, before letting out a shrill scream.

Yeah, she was most definitely going insane.

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Thank you for reading, feedback is appriciated x

Tags: @reidology13 @reidmania @navs-bhat @iheartshopping @dreamsarebig <3 - Comment to be added!

Masterlist ౨ৎ