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atxxzist · 2 years ago

Text

broken | c.s (09)

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pairing: choi san x reader

word count: 11.4k

warning: brief smut scene, shitty writing here & there, pls stop reading immediately if anything makes u uncomfortable!

summer isn't anything like your school experience so far, which is a good thing.

instead of sticking to your dorm room or the cafe nearby all day, you at least went out; to lotte world when both of your friends wanted some thrills and proceeded to drag you through a near hell experience where you almost fainted from a ride and stayed beside mingi to nurture him after because he's still the same 'ole scaredy cat you know him to be, who gets easily nauseous.

they also took you to your first ever bar and ordered you a cocktail drink named after something you cannot remember, but it was all super extra and too sophisticated for your taste.

you might've gotten a tad drunk; the experience not at all like you imagined, and attacked mingi with a few kisses, though you have suspicions it wasn't all your doing considering mingi had been eyeing someone across the bar all night who was giving him the same coy look back.

but if you're to ask him, he'd probably just tell you it was nothing serious; just a one night thing. and maybe not exactly sexual but a couple flirty exchanges, that's it. you know how he is.

but the first few weeks of you guys running around like bachelors not tied to anything but just having fun comes to an end when minji called, finally able to free up some time to pay a visit to her boyfriend and friends she hasn't seen in a while.

yunho was the most happy and excited you've seen him ever since stepping on seoul's soils, when minji arrived at the dormitory and ran into his arms so fast, it made you sick to the stomach at how sweet the scene was.

she had planned an entire list of her own of things to do together and was elevated to reveal the first activity on that list much to your dismay, because you guys had already done something similar a couple weeks before.

"come on, guys! it's gonna be fun!" she cheers, arms wrapped around one of yunho's and jumping on the way to the lobby as both you and mingi trail from behind just a good amount of distance because the matching shirts the two has on makes you guys not want to associate yourselves.

"i could think of a million other things to do than go to another amusement park," mingi comments; his snarky tone causing minji to stop as she pulls yunho along, her head turning and shooting lasers toward said boy.

"you didn't even have to come!" she rolls her eyes.

"well, i wouldn't want y/n over here to be third wheeling the whole time."

it's your turn to roll your eyes, not at all fazed by the banter because you know it won't be the last one of the day, just wishing it will pass soon enough so you guys can make it there before the sun sets.

"pfft," minji brushes off, tugging you by the hand and making you stumble a few steps forward until you're pulled right next to her, shoulders touching.

"we are very inclusive!" she adds, and you shoot a rather simple smile in return, knowing the minute yunho does something cute or vice versa, you will be long forgotten.

"yeah, sure, whatever," mingi dismisses, reaching out for your wrist as you're thrown back next to him like a tossed ball. "but she's gonna need me if you're going to be dragging her through those scary rides."

minji scoffs. "i think you're the one that needs her."

for a moment, it looks like mingi's about to say something back, until his eyes fleet to something else in front of him; his towering height allowing him to see over the two.

"hey, yeosang!" yunho's the one to start, his attention on the boy long before any of you caught notice.

it's the way you snap your head so fast, only able to see half of his body as yunho's figure covers the other, but you don't miss the way his gaze skips over to meet yours, conjuring up a knot in your throat as you swallow it down.

you haven't seen him since that night, whether your schedules just differs now, or that you pretty much went out of your way to avoid him, it feels weirdly nostalgic and wrong seeing him again.

"hey!" he waves a bit awkwardly, but genuine in the sense he looks happy by the coincidence.

he has a bag over one shoulder and his hair is a little disheveled; skin also glistening that tells you he just came back from a pretty tough day at work.

"you came at the perfect timing."

"looks like it." he chuckles, and oh... you hate how deep and melodic it sounds. "you guys can go ahead. i'm just gonna put my things back and i'll catch up soon."

one of your eyebrows raise immediately at that.

"oh, it's fine. we can wait."

yeosang hesitates but eventually give in. "alright then, i'll be quick."

you wait until he's out of sight to say something, eager to confirm the suspicion.

"you invited yeosang?" you don't sound hostile or aggravated, just in complete awe.

"yes, just thought you'd enjoy some company. mingi's probably going to run off on you sooner or later."

mingi's face twist, offended at the accusation. you on the other hand, is completely cornered in this situation with no other way out, knowing you're going to have to be in kang yeosang's presence for the rest of the day.

unbelievable.

it takes two rides for mingi to decide he's had enough, and another one for you to follow in his footsteps, situating yourself next to him before stealing a quick gulp from the water bottle.

"hey, want to go into one of those mirror house? whoever makes it out last has to pay for cotton candy," he proposes.

"you are so childish," you wave off, holding in a tiny giggle. "i'm sure they have a height limit for those things."

"that's so fucking whack. they should have one for adults, cause maybe then we could actually be having some fun on the ground," he says, eyeing the gigantic and quite horrific ride in front of you guys.

"weren't you the one hauling ass about going to lotte world a few weeks ago?"

"well, yes, but that was before i threw up all over my fucking shoes."

you chuckle lightly, scoffing before rolling your eyes.

"over there," you say, nodding your head off to one of the booths. "go play a game or something. win yourself a stuffed animal, and maybe you can give it to the hottie that was at the bar."

he shoots you an unamused reaction.

"bitch, i literally told you it was nothing. and those things are hella rigged."

you don't retaliate with anything; only smile to yourself as you move your focus back to watch the movements in front, gaze trained on the way it swings back and forth, erupting sounds of muffled screams that could belong to either one of the three or maybe all.

it's when you feel mingi shifting in his spot that you turn to him, but his attention already on someone else: a new arrival whose face you've never seen before.

"ayyy, man!" says the stranger, hand colliding with mingi's for some bro handshake.

"hey! didn't think i'd run into you here," mingi replies, laughing off the chance of seeing a friend from school.

"how can i not? entrance is only a dollar today!"

mingi's laughter intensifies at the comment, nodding understandably. that was also the reason minji wanted to come. the park had the special deal only once a month during summer.

"want to tag along? me and some of the guys are just gonna be walking around, checking out some stuff and whatnot." he shrugs.

"ohh..." mingi lets out loosely, neck snapping to you with a delay in his expression. "actually, i came with my friend here and a few others."

he talks like he's informing his friend about why he cannot accept the offer, but it sounds a lot more like he's trying to save face because you're right next to him.

"oh, hey!" his friend suddenly bringing a hand forward to greet, finally grasping your presence all this time and realizing you're not just some random who happens to share a seat with mingi.

"mark. mark lee," he says; your eyes roaming his boyish features that makes him look rather cute.

"y/n," you reply simply with the smallest smile.

"i'm sorry. i didn't realize he's with you." mark rubs his neck awkwardly and even bows a little as an apology.

"oh no." you shake your head. "you two go ahead."

mingi exaggerates the pout on his lips. "aww, i wouldn't want to--"

"--go," you cut him off. "i'll tell the rest when they get back."

"well, if you insist..." he mumbles, standing up and flashing you that goofy smile of his, taking the empty bottle with him. "i'll see you later then."

"yeah, see you later."

"thanks, y/n," mark's the last to speak of the two, both bidding you a goodbye before disappearing into the crowd.

you could never be mad at mingi for simply being a social butterfly, reminiscing all the times in the high school he'd go off with his other group of friends because he made them easily.

whereas you're content only being around people you're very familiar with, mingi enjoys getting to know new individuals; expand his pool beyond just the small circle he's accustomed to.

he can't always be with you and yunho. you guys are a bit boring sometimes. but at the end of the day, he will always return, and the label "best friends" is reserved for none other than you two.

the ride finally comes to a stop shortly after; people getting off at the side and you search until you recognize the three of them, minji signaling with one of her hands up until something else pulls her attention away, fast to drag yunho along to one of the stalls selling some sparkling merchandise.

yeosang is stranded, unsure who to follow, eventually settling on you when he meets your eyes, his hands in his pockets as he make his way over.

"hey," he mumbles the greeting.

"hey," you reply back as casually as possible, like you weren't just dodging him earlier like he's the plague, sticking to mingi the entire time and avoiding any scenarios that would call for an interaction.

"mind if i sit down?"

you shake your head, scooting over to make some space.

he takes the seat, a small grunt leaving his lips as he does so, and both of you don't say anything, the silence consuming for at least a moment; eyes only observing the events happening around you guys.

"so... how was it? the ride," you ask, hesitant at first but feeling like you should try at least. that would only be the right thing to do considering the progress made before.

but it seems like every time you talk to him again, it's always a little awkward at first. you don't know if it's just a quirk that comes when you go from hating each other's guts to being able to somewhat stand the other's presence, or if it's just an effect yeosang has.

"not too bad. i expected more, honestly," he answers, tone lighthearted and a bit amused; just the right direction in order to get you out of your shell again.

"tskk." you hide a tiny smile, scanning over the ride just one more time. "good to hear, i guess."

"yeah. i think you would've enjoyed it, though. too bad you gave up after the third one," he teases, eyes straight forward and all casual as if he isn't trying to poke something.

"at least i made it to the third one. mingi gave up after the second."

he shrugs. "to be fair, it was a spinning teacup."

"we were barely even steering the wheel."

"the third one was a carousel, y/n."

"it was going in circle and making me dizzy!"

he chuckles, shaking his head along.

"you two really are one and the same."

you retract momentarily, not sure how to feel about the comparison to your best friend, but as different as you two are, you're also more alike than you'd think.

"speaking of mingi, where is he?" he searches the area before his gaze falls on you; the swell in them incredibly endearing.

"he went off with some of his friends from campus... the usual."

"and you didn't want to go along?"

"well, i couldn't just leave yunho."

you both immediately shoot to yunho and minji still by the merchandise stall as minji holds up a shirt to yunho's chest for sizing before she picks up a smaller one for herself.

"i think yunho's good," yeosang states the obvious, biting back the amused tone.

you sigh, cranking your neck to admire the night sky with yeosang imitating your posture before he looks at you, a question on the tip of his tongue.

"how's summer so far?"

you pry away to level his gaze, your eyelashes fluttering in motions staring into his own to what seems like forever until you can think of what to say back.

"very good. did you know that you can get a month's supply of free drinks if you complete a rather bizarre challenge?"

he laughs, eyebrows pinched together in confusion.

"i definitely did not. which place?"

"mhmm," you hum, trying to recall the memory of when you read the sign before going in, but unable to remember anything about the place other than it looked like every generic bar you've ever seen on the web but with red lightings.

"i'd have to ask yunho or mingi again, if you're interested."

"doesn't sound like my kind of thing, but i'd be down to see someone else do it."

you smirk, pulling away to inspect the sparks decorating the nightly sky once again, muttering a simple, "we'll see."

minji and yunho have moved to a different stall--one that looks like it sells jewelries; minji catching you in the mass when she turns back to check, waving the bracelet in her hold, and you react with a thumbs up before turning to yeosang's side profile in your view.

"have you visited your parents, yet?"

he nods, eyes lingering on yours and full of confidence as he holds the eye contact as if he plans to do it all night.

"yeah. the first week of break. how about you? thinking of paying your hometown a visit?"

you shake your head in response to the question, the more you think about it, the more you just feel sad. guilty.

you would honestly love to see your hometown again, why wouldn't you? it's where you grew up; lived your whole life, met your friends, and made so many memories.

but where and who would you go back to? your aunt and uncle aren't gonna be exactly excited to see you back, and you don't want to bother mingi's or yunho's family more than you already did.

there's nothing left there for you.

this is your home now; in the comfort of your two best friends who you hope will stick around long enough because you don't have anyone else.

"not any time soon, i don't think. mingi and yunho have other ideas, and then minji has a list of her own."

"i see," he acknowledges. "there's just never a dull moment with those guys, huh?"

"well, to start it off, we haven't even been here that long and i'm already stuck with you. make of that what you will."

"is that a bad thing?" he raises his pitch, but the delivery is playful.

"not at all," you assure.

the assumption that you need someone else by your side in case your best friends run off was ridiculous at first (though not out of reach), but now seeing for yourself that's exactly what happened, it's almost like they knew that would eventually be the case.

but at least yunho was considerate enough and had you in mind when inviting his roommate.

"okay, cool. you made it sound like being with me is some sort of punishment."

you snicker lightly.

"maybe. maybe not," you tease, quick to act aloof and shift your focus to yunho and minji as they grow farther away, completely forgetting the fact they didn't come alone.

but yeosang does a good job of keeping you occupied the way he always does. small comments, a few bickering here and there, and eventually playing catchup again, pouring in your curiosities about each other.

the night starts looking optimistic again just like that; together and carrying on conversations and exchanging gestures effortlessly, you realize there's two things you have forgot.

one being how easy talking to him is, and two being you're not suppose to be talking to him or even interacting by any means.

san only came because wooyoung wouldn't shut up about the once a month deal at an amusement park they have to go to.

after annoying each and every one he considers close to him, he gets san and seonghwa to show; hongjoong too busy even during summer to spare a day to spend with his friends.

he isn't on board at first, really would rather just be home and sleeping the night away, still able to feel some symptoms of his hangover from the day before.

but once they get past the entrance, he notices just how many familiar faces there are, it seems like this summer deal went around fast and just about everyone and their mothers are here.

the guy over there sitting down at one of gaming booths with red veins decorating his forehead, san knows him from biology. and just another couple steps forward that has already taken him to a completely different scene, is the redhead he got to know from one of wooyoung's parties.

then a left turn and three or four bodies pushing past him later, is you and yeosang seated at one of the bench, a bit shielded behind the railing of a ride and the walking of people, but he knows it's you.

that long, straightened hair that falls over your shoulders nicely onto your chest, and a pretty smile on your face while you chat with the boy next to you like you've known him forever.

he sees red; heels digging into the ground and stopping to watch the scene as his knuckles curl together.

"hey, man. you good?" seonghwa's voice take his attention briefly; san's eyes fleeting to meet his and nodding.

"yeah. just looking around for a restroom. hey, look, you two go ahead. i'll call or text after i'm done."

"alright..." seonghwa complies. wooyoung is behind him and skeptical about it all but nods nonetheless, watching as san walks away and pulls out his phone promptly.

you kick the air under the seat, swaying your feet back and forth, indulging in the hot summer breeze that glides past your skin; yeosang taking note of the act and once again mimicking you until one of his feet accidentally brushes against yours that earns him a glare, but he laughs it off.

yunho and minji came back once to ask if you guys wanted to look around the shops, but you kindly turned down the offer in order to recover from the dizziness that's still mildly present.

and for yeosang, sitting down and relaxing was a lot more appealing than following behind his friend and his girlfriend.

it's only a few seconds later that you let out a silent snicker, thinking back to the dinner where you guys played footsie under the table; the dynamic you guys had then entirely something else that it brings a subtle smile onto your lips when you think about where you two stands now.

the laspe of comfortable silence is broken when a buzz goes off in the beige crossbody bag you brought along, pulling it into view and grabbing for your phone. the drop in your expression would have yeosang believing you saw a ghost; the manner in which you pale instantly and a nervous gulp travels down your throat.

🟣: hey beautiful. is it okay if i come over tonight? miss you 💕

after you were told to stay away from san, and you, well... didn't, it's just too risky keeping his name even if the chance of mingi or yunho snooping your phone is low, you're not about to test your luck.

so you changed it, to something as simple as his favorite color. quite uncreative but that's the least of your worries.

"what's wrong?" yeosang's concerned tone brings you back, your head whipping up and thrusting the phone back into your bag.

if there's one thing (among others) you're awful at, it's being discreet and not being more incriminating than you already gave away.

"nothing," you reply, faking a faint smile but it's ineffective when yeosang raises a brow in turn, his body language questioning the authencity of your answer, but then who is he to interrogate?

"alright. well, you want to go look for yunho and minji? or is there something else you have in mind?"

"we can go look for them," you tell him, in which he nods, standing up to wait for you.

he leads the way and you trail just a little behind him, trying to shake the text out of your thoughts. you're here with your friends and you're suppose to be having fun. surely, you can answer san later and tell him you were busy.

but another part of you (the one that will truly be your demise) has an itch to answer him; tell him, yes, he can come over tonight. and though you saw him just yesterday, you already miss him as well.

because actually getting out of the comfort of your dorm and bubble you're used to isn't the only thing that has made your summer experience all more different than the school semester.

san has been so good to you lately. he doesn't leave right after sex nor tries to rid of you if it's at his place. he stays and lets you sleep on his chest; listening to the sound of his heart beating--such an intimate act that isn't sexual pricks your own heart in an entirely different way.

he'd tuck you in his arms and allow your head to rest on his shoulder when you're both watching a movie picked by him because you'd always let him choose, so eager to just know more about him and the things he like.

he'd even listen to you when you'd tell him about your day with your friends, and he'd nod and hum like he's digesting each of your words, it made you feel so happy, wishing he wasn't a secret you're keeping to yourself because you two only meet when no one else is around.

seeing yeosang is busy trying to spot the two, you take the chance to rummage for your phone, thumbs pressing the letters as fast as you can and shoving it back, catching yeosang at the perfect time when he whips his head around.

"found them," he announce, and you just nod, attempting to rid the apprehension on your face and hoping he doesn't take notice.

yunho and minji sees the two of you before you fully arrive, smiling warmly and ushering their hands to welcome.

"okay, good. we were just thinking about looking for you guys," says yunho.

the trip is over a lot faster than you had expected, unsure if it was because your brain was on autopilot for the remaining duration, or the fact the carousel once again brought upon a slight headache that probably messed up your sense of time.

being the only one of the bunch to live in the other building, you walk to your room after departing from everyone else, replaying the last conversation you had with yeosang about him going in to take his things and sleeping at another classmate's room for the night since yunho has minji over.

yuna isn't around, not for the usual reasons, but because she left for jeju only a week into summer break, having told you her family's also flying out to kyoto after.

you wished her a good time and joked about getting you a souvenir, but knowing how yuna is, there's a chance she's gonna do it.

feeling dirty and sweaty from the day, you grab a towel to go wash up at the shared shower room, drying your hair once you get back and putting on a pair of shorts and an oversized t-shirt.

you busy yourself with your phone, even going back to the message you sent san, which he only hearted but didn't reply to.

y/n: you can 😊 i'm just out rn but i will be back later

you wait and wait, eyelids falling more heavy and your blanket turning softer, you almost cave into sleep until a knock at the door gets you up so fast; an adrenaline that courses your body because it can only be one person.

"hi," you greet in a soft voice, growing shy at the man before you.

the quilt stitch sweater and jeans he has on make him look so handsome. but someone like san will always look good regardless of what he wears.

even his slightly messy hair as if he just woke up from a nap can't hide that; especially when he's bareface and flushed in the cheeks.

san gets red easily, and it's something you've noticed and absolutely adore; the color painting him as more pure and innocent.

"hey," he says smoothly, walking in as you back up for some space and waits for him to shut the door behind.

he does a once-over of your current state before one of his hands caresses at your moist hair.

"already showered?"

you nod.

"and you couldn't wait until we get it over with?" he tease with a sly tone, a smirk on his lips.

"you were taking too long."

he chuckles at your answer, expression eventually dwindling down to just a smile.

"it's okay. we can do something else tonight," he says, pausing slightly to think before continuing on. "how about a movie again? you up for that?"

"anything's fine," you agree, really just glad you're able to be with him.

"cool. well, i should probably take a shower first." his eyes bat away suddenly, landing on something else behind you.

"one of those towels yours?"

you confirm with a nod, turning around to retrieve it and handing it to over, a warm smile on him when he accepts.

"okay. you can pick what to watch. i'll be back."

he places a peck to your cheek before sliding himself out the door.

you felt awful about it at first, and you still feel awful about it to an extent--seeing san behind your friends' back when they warned you about just how awful the outcome of it will be, and you even gave them your words.

but after the first week or two of sneaking around with him, some of that feeling kind of just dissipated, replaced by the fear and anxiety of getting caught because you always had trouble lying to mingi and yunho. it just isn't you.

well... it wasn't you before san came into the picture.

but this lie, if it is to ever be discovered, you will not only be risking the friendship, but it will be near impossible to ever gain their trusts again.

for now at least, it won't hurt them if they don't know; though, you're not sure how long you can keep running around like this, but you figure you might as well go the full mile until you can't anymore.

from the previous movie nights you two shared, you learned that san likes a lot of superhero movies--something you didn't expect but intrigued you greatly, you even took time to learn their names and origins so you could talk with him about it and not be in utter confusion when he'd refer to someone or something.

you want to pick something he likes; something you know he'll be into, but worrying that you'll wind up picking such an incredibly lame superhero movie since you're not that knowledgeable about the genre, you decide to choose something you're more familiar with.

and because you're a bit of a hopeless romantic, you just have to settle for a romance flick.

"so, what is this film about?" san asks, still damped from the shower, sitting next to you and smelling of soap and shampoo.

you bite the side of your lips and hum out the thinking process.

"i'm not too familiar with the plot either, but i heard it's good."

he simply nods. "let's do it, then."

the movie plays on the laptop situated on both of your laps, and you nuzzle your head on his shoulder; the movie definitely is interesting and one you'd find yourself enjoying if you weren't so tired, still managing to process what's on the screen but not what's happening.

you don't even respond to some of san's comments because they completely fly over your head, but he doesn't seem to care, rather opting to laugh at your state.

but it's not his laughter or the loud fan overworking to rid the summer heat that jolts you awake. it's when you realize a quite explicit sex scene is happening--one you have no clues or ideas of how it came to be.

just that you're flustered in the face because this is the movie you chose to watch with san, and he has noticed your reaction immediately, unable to help the smirk that crawls out.

"if you wanted to do it, you could've just asked."

you release your head from his shoulder at that and scoff it off.

"i didn't even know the movie had one."

because no matter how many times you sleep with him, the subject will always catch you a little offguard; and especially when you weren't even thinking about it.

it's still san and he still makes you feel like a giddy school girl.

but although he enjoys the reaction, the one thing hanging on his mind ever since he saw you back at the park still hasn't left: yeosang.

why were you talking to him again, and why did you look so happy doing so? of course, the request was in the moment; him too jealous and taking his anger out on you, but so far, you seemed to have complied.

he don't think you saw anyone else besides him but your friends, because between the trip to his house and the nights he'd spend in your room, that was all you had to talk about.

he's not cruel enough (give or take) to keep tabs on you, and you also don't come off as someone who would lie to him because he knows you're always too sweet and too easy to persuade.

"where did you go earlier?" he asks, the abrupt question throwing you off as he just switches the topic of conversation like it's his nature. as if he doesn't know where you were, but he couldn't think of any other way to bring it up.

"i was with mingi and yunho, at that amusement park that had the summer deal everyone kept talking about."

your response is surprisingly relaxed, totally unprepared for the next question that leaves his mouth because after all, you have no idea he was there himself and saw you with his own eyes.

"just them?" he tries to keep from letting the bitterness slip, the image of you and yeosang once again consuming his thoughts.

"well, and yunho's girlfriend. she came to visit."

"hmm," he hums an unsatisfied tone and nods his head, not a single words uttered after, probably because he has a feeling sooner or later, you will slip up from the guilt--which is very much sooner.

"y-yeosang was there, too," you admit, maybe feeling slightly guilty but not to an extensive point because you didn't do anything wrong. not with yeosang. "yunho invited him along."

"oh..." san almost sang, mirth dancing in his eyes.

"yeah... we just talked and stuff."

and stuff. san would've laugh if not for the pang of jealousy that runs through his system at how vague you're being. if you're quite literally trying to protect whatever you have with this guy.

"and what do you think about him?" he lets the envy talk, not sure anymore about being discreet but just that he wants to know what you and yeosang have.

the fact you actually ponder the question for longer than you should is concerning, because the truth is, you have really warmed up to him, always skeptical at first but finding out there was nothing to worry about.

you feel comfortable being with him just as you'd feel being with mingi or yunho. in short, yeosang is a friend. yeah... he's like a friend to you at this point... you think.

"mingi and yunho really likes him, and he's been pretty good to me so far," you tell san, looking up at him and trying if you can read into his reaction but he just gives you those stiff eyes before following it with faint smirk.

"you like him?" one of his eyebrows quirk up, anticipation written all over them because he finds enjoyment in how you recoil immediately before shaking your head.

"not like that," you almost hissed, flustered san even asked.

and it may have sound a bit ridiculous to you, but for someone like san who has been around, he will say he has a pretty good grasp on what exactly girls find attractive, and he can say yeosang is a good looking guy.

he's just a tinier bit bulkier than him and definitely looks a lot more approachable with his softer features and probably nerd tendencies, because san is more of a one time thing, and yeosang is likely someone you'll be tied to for life. girls love that.

well... girls like you. which is why he won't be surprise if you have some kind of hots for yeosang with the amount of times you've been spending with him.

"he looks like he definitely has a crush on you." his gaze peers into yours for a stare down, because he's willing to bet yeosang shares some of the same sentiment back.

you're just way too sweet, soft-spoken, nice, pretty--

"not true," you deny. "we didn't start on good terms and had a lot of misunderstanding. we barely just started talking to each other normally not that long ago."

"so you don't like him at all? not even in a i-kind-of-wanna-kiss-you way?"

you shake your head, this time more aggressive than the one before.

"no. why? you sound like you want me to like him."

he chuckles, the utter puzzlement on your face too cute for its own good, the jealousy and bitterness from before dissolving at that.

"just want to make sure, baby," he coos, pulling you into his arms and wrapping them around your body warmly, the side of your face hitting against his chest; the thump of his heartbeat in your ear.

"want to make sure i'm the only one on your mind," he repeats as you draw back to gawk at him, tracing the innocent smile decorating his lips.

"i'm sorry that i didn't tell you sooner about yeosang," you apologize, your eyes so pure and full of sincerity--such a contrast to his that holds a million other intentions behind them.

"it's fine. i know now," he affirms, and you're just glad it's over with, because though you can't really understand why he doesn't like yeosang (also because there's nothing to worry about when it comes to your feelings for him), you wouldn't want to upset san.

a silence sit between you two after, a stare off ensuing as you keep your gaze up and sniff the freshly showered scent from him that sneaks past your nose again.

"would you like to go on a trip?" he asks, snapping you out of the trance.

"a trip?"

he confirms with a nod.

"a trip out of the city."

the excuse you managed to come up with was that the school you're working for has a summer program and you're gonna be away for a while; the lie slipping out of your mouth so fast, it's sickening how it's almost a habit at this point.

having told them you will be gone for a week (because that's how long san said the trip is gonna be), you encouraged them to carry out the rest of the plans on minji's list without you.

it was hard to look them in the eye when they cheered you on and wished you the best because you won't be taking a cab to the school but to the boy who promised you a week of fun somewhere out of the city he still hasn't told you the name of.

he only brought a lone duffel bag, throwing it into the back of his car before helping you with your rusty suitcase that is rather light since you figured you can just recycle a few outfits. it's not like you have much to choose from.

even when you're sitting right next to him in his car, eyes sticking to his side profile as he starts driving, it still feels like a very vivid dream--being with him in a place that isn't your dorm or his apartment.

the very fact he asked you to come is mind-boggling as it is, but it's no use to linger on the thought; just be happy for the opportunity and enjoy the moment while it lasts.

he warns you ahead of time that it's going to be a long drive; no words on how long exactly, but long.

the conversation is tame, a few comments from him here and there as he passes a couple places he frequents before turning the music on. and you would be lying to yourself if you haven't thought of it before--what kind of music does choi san like and listens to?

it's not much and is very bland in comparison to the backlog of questions you wish you could ask him, but you believe someone's music taste can tell a lot about a person, their preferences, and even your compatibility.

it's not a secret you look at san through a rose-coloured glass and still do, wondering to yourself if he listens to some exquisite genre you've never heard of before just because he's choi san and anything in relation to him will always amaze you.

but after all, he's still just a guy. a really hot and attractive guy who is somehow giving you the time of his day, but knowing he doesn't listen to some hidden genre only people like him would know makes him a little more reachable, relatable; that in some ways, he's also like you.

it's a mix of trendy pop and ballad songs that you know the lyrics to if you're to sing along. but when san said it's going to be a long drive, he wasn't kidding.

you knock out halfway, the memory of mumbling the lyrics to a girl group song the last thing you remember before it goes black.

when san wakes you up later, you have no idea where you are. just that the sky is turning dark and you're parked at what looks to be a small neighborhood, able to spot about three houses down the street.

"you good?" san speaks, your head snapping to him before nodding, at the same time attempting to fight the tiredness.

he smiles at your exhausted state, unbuckling himself from the seat.

"we can start heading out and get our things," he tells you before opening the door and you follow behind shortly after, unable to help the awe that leaves you when observing the surrounding now that you're not just seeing it through the window of the car.

a clear street in the middle of a couple houses that are all white but has slight brown roofings; the style and the trees in the area makes you feel as if you've entered an enchanted forest that holds a series of cottages.

it's only when san unlocks the back that you finally pry away from the scenery, walking over to where he is to get your suitcase.

"where are we?" you ask.

"namhae," he answers with a proud smile on his face, shutting the trunk.

"namhae?" you repeat, having heard of the place before somewhere in one of your classes in high school or something. it's a coastal region, you also remember that.

"yes," he confirms as you follow behind him to the door, watching as he pulls out a few keys that's stringed together. "my dad was born here."

you twitch in interest at the revelation, following him into the inside of the house that is a bit misleading and not at all decorated like a fairytale, but in rather simple and clean white. from the walls to the marble flooring, and even the ceiling fan hanging above the big open space.

"you can put your things upstairs. the bedroom should be to the right. i'm just gonna check the back real quick."

you follow what he tells you to, trailing up the spiral staircase into the small indoor balcony overlooking the living room protected by a white railing.

the bedroom is also simple and follows a similar color scheme, two nightstands on each side and a medium-sized dresser right across the bed.

a window with curtains is the only other thing in the room, and everything looks entirely new, not a single sheet wrinkled, as if the place has never been used before. you think about how san even got the place, if it's an airbnb though you don't see a host around. but then, you've never had an experience with an airbnb so how would you know.

by the time you're done unpacking and stuffing your clothes into the dresser, you still haven't heard anything from san.

you go back down the stairs and head for the sliding glass door, a stylistic choice that is completely different from the front, taking yourself out into the air of the evening, amazement befalling you once again just at the new sight.

san is leaning on the fence overlooking the view ahead of him, and you start making way over, stepping around the pool because he seems to have already taken notice of you the second you closed the door.

once you settle next to him, your breath is taken away instantly. you can see the ocean from here; the waves hitting against each other and producing a sound surprisingly soothing to the ear. it's beautiful.

it just hits you the house is built on a hill, the way it looms over the landscape and looks at it from above.

"i haven't been here in such a long time," he says, your eyes batting to him.

"it's really beautiful," you add.

"it is."

you both admire the sight for a few seconds too long, the cool air from the ocean flowing to mix with the warmer one, creating a sea breeze that sweeps your hair away and make you shiver with how the cold pricks your skin.

"we should probably head back inside. i still have some unpacking to do."

you nod, taking note of the orange tone painting the sky along with a deeper blue as everything falls into an ambient darkness.

the first day in namhae spent settling in and familiarizing yourselves with the environment (even san because he hasn't been here in a while), wandering the interior of the house while he sorts out his things upstairs.

when finished, he urges you to wash yourself and go to bed early, informing you of the day waiting ahead tomorrow.

and after he's done following the routine as well, plopping down on the bed as you observe his movements, it comes so naturally that he sleeps facing you, a smile on his lips that makes something deep in your stomach sink.

if this is okay--being with san like this and in such a way that's different from any others--yet, you still can't help but to also feel a small amount of happiness from it all.

"goodnight," he whispers, lounging forward to set a kiss on your forehead.

"goodnight," you reply, a small smile on that dims along with the nightlight he turns off.

you're alone when you wake up; san isn't next to you and it's quiet, no other signs that he could be downstairs or in another part of the house.

the sun peeks through the blinds and hurts your eyes, having to squint the brightness away before you head with soft steps out into the small space that is barely a hallway and into the bathroom to make yourself more presentable for this fine morning.

you thought he might be out in the back but he's also not there, deciding to busy yourself with preparation for breakfast instead, but only met with disappointment when you open the fridge to nothing; a deep sigh leaving you followed by the creak of the front door.

"hey," he greets in a high-pitched voice, delighted by your figure standing in the kitchen.

"good morning," you say in a sweet tone, doing a once-over of him in his usual casual wear with dark parted hair, face bare and skin flaming that red tint that makes him so cute.

"i just went for my morning jog and talked to a couple neighbors from around the block. they seem nice."

you smile and nod.

"i see. i was just about to make breakfast but there isn't anything in the fridge, it looks like."

is it weird to assume a place you just checked into last night would have all kinds of fresh ingredients layed out for you? you have no idea.

"oh, yeah," he exclaim, "i haven't stocked up on it, yet. was planning on doing it today. we can hit the store after i change out of my clothes?"

you nod again, almost too eagerly.

"yes, we can do that."

it might just be your infatuation and lovesick mind speaking, but san even makes such a mundane task like shopping for grocery, enjoyable.

watching as he just so casually strolls into one of the aisles and pick up something from the shelves, you wonder how it's possible someone like him just walk around breathing and looking like that everyday.

"do you like rolled omelette?" he asks.

"i love rolled ommelete."

it was pretty much a staple for you back then. didn't require much and was fast and simple to make, though you did went through a period of withdrawal from it because sometimes, that would be the only thing you ate for days.

"cool."

he grabs a few other essentials but tells you if there's anything missing, you guys can just order delivery or maybe visit a nearby restaurant. it's only when he already finished paying for everything that you realize all this time, you haven't done jackshit to help him.

"how much was it? we can split the bills," you offer on the way to the car.

he chuckles, almost laughing loudly.

"my treat, y/n. don't worry about it."

but all this time, he's been doing and paying for everything, the guilt is not easy to shake off.

"but i feel bad." you frown, and he smirks at the adorable act that just comes so effortlessly to you, he don't even think you're aware of the possible hold you have on him.

"then you cook," he says with something mischievous and playful but also flirty, "i know you're probably good at it."

you take up the alternative, making yourself comfortable in the kitchen while he goes in and out of it, always spewing comments that would make your heart leap inside your chest with his flirty smiles and hands that find its way around your waist and every other parts of your body like it was made to be there.

he eats with you at the counters and won't stop gushing out compliments as if you just made the most complex dish out there and absolutely nailed it.

your reaction is a combination of rolling your eyes, telling him he's being dramatic, and battling the shy smile at his words that truly makes you feel so giddy on the inside.

you're absolutely adorable, he thinks. it's a bit crazy how long he's gone without touching you when he's had every chance to; when you're laying yourself out like this, he just wants to make you feel good the best way he knows how to.

which is why the following day, after walking around the neighborhood together and watching a couple older films, he suddenly suggests the idea of going to the pool.

"i don't know how to swim," you confess, which he just chuckles in return.

"i'll teach you. it's humid as fuck, we might as well put the thing to use."

"i didn't bring anything to wear for the occasion, though."

"what you're wearing is fine," he alludes to the crop top and shorts you have on. "unless you want to change into something even more revealing?" he smirks, not the slightest doubt that you'll look sexy as fuck in a bikini or swimsuit. but this will do, considering how hard you made him this morning just seeing your top ride up to display your stomach.

"i'm good," you say, even giggling a little before he sweeps you away by the wrist out into the back, the temperature a lot cooler due to the ocean breeze but that still doesn't mean you can't dip your toes into the pool. and that isn't going to stop san, either.

the dark hour is lit up by the hanging outdoor lights and the inground ones close to the fences.

"come on." he rips his shirt away while you gawk, jumping into the pool and making splashes, the sound of his body plunging into the pressure loud against the quiet night.

a smile tugs on your lips at the sight and you settle for sitting down on the edge instead, sinking half of your legs into the water that is surprisingly a lot warmer than you had expected.

you watch him go a few rounds across the pool before he lands right back to where he was, hair and face now wet, facing you.

"you can do more than that." he swipes a handful of hair back while saying so, proceeding to stare at your feet underwater kicking only slightly.

he's hot as fuck and his body will always amaze you no matter how many times you see it.

"i'll just watch," you say.

he pouts and tilts his head to the side, in hope you'll feel guilty enough to give in.

"it's not that deep," he adds onto the convincing.

but seeing how the water stops just short of his shoulders, there's a good chance you'll be spending your time in there choking because you're so much shorter than he is.

you're just about to say something when the sudden wetness felt on your face and drenching your clothes stop you. san is smirking as one of his hands continue to flick the water at you, and you pause momentarily before kicking the water under your feet at a much harsher speed towards him.

he's the one to laugh first and you follow after, your laughters bunching together to create a heartfelt moment that warms you unlike any other interactions you've ever had with him.

"alright alright. i'll come in," you give in, sending just one last kick of water to his face that makes him giggle.

you spring in carefully until almost your entire body is wet, and well, you were right. it comes up to just a little above your chin, treading carefully until san finally takes the initiative, both his grip on your hips and helping you withstand the possibility of swallowing a few drips.

"you good?" he asks.

"yeah," you reply, but you hold onto his shoulders just in case, checking the area around, grunting when he pulls you into his chest that gets you to blink up.

he looks unreal in this lighting that only makes his skin glow more from the pool water.

"how about now?" he whispers, that seductive and teasing color in his voice that always make you shutter in excitement.

"good," you answer all innocent eyes and with a sweet tone but you've been wanting him as much as he's been wanting you.

the days and times of being with each other, doing everyday tasks and even sleeping side by side at night, and it's now that choi san is half naked and in a pool that you think you're ready to have sex with him again.

it's a short stare off until his hands creep to the sides of your face and he takes your lips in for a deep kiss, the grip you have on his shoulders tightening along with the intimate act.

he kisses you like it's going to be the last time, like he's trying to savor the taste so he can remember it for the rest of his life.

your hands fall from his shoulders to his bare chest, your fingers drawing messy patterns on it, and he removes one hand to circle your waist in order to pull you up when he feels you faltering into the water.

he draws back after a few more seconds and looks you in the eyes.

"do you want to?" the question always foreign to his tongue, having never asked anyone but you before.

"yes."

"then i should probably head back to get a condom."

you shake your head and prevent him from going, the itch between your legs now speaking.

"you can pull out?"

ever since the first time you guys had unprotected sex, there's been two or three other similar instances--san having told you how much better it feels, but condoms is still a priority.

the topic of birth controls come and go. he didn't pressure you or anything, just subtly suggested it, but that's still just a consideration for now.

he can't help but to smirk, not at all going to resist because there's absolutely no way he will let up the offer of fucking you raw.

"you asked for it, baby," he leans to whisper into your ear, pulling back in amusement at the light tint across your cheeks, growing hard from thinking about sex in the pool--one of the places he haven't done the deed in--yet. and the rest of the night is history.

he fucks you in the pool, your hands hanging onto the edge as he takes it from behind, and he fucks you one more time in the shower when you two go to wash off the chemical.

it's by far one of the most amazing sex you've ever had with him; if not, the most amazing for sure.

by the end of the night when you're both trying to sleep away the exhaustion, a dull pain resides in the deep of your chest staring at his closed eyes and unmoved lips.

the glass of wine in your hand looks like it's on the verge of spilling from how loose you're holding onto it while laughing at something san said.

he's laughing too, but you can't see his expression well due to the darkness; the only source of lights being the two scented candles he had lit up standing on the coffee table.

there's a jazz song playing quietly in the background, and everything about the scene and situation feels like it was taken straight out of a romance film.

you're mostly just tipsy while san is probably drunk, having drank more than you and is a lot more bubbly than he usually is, recounting stories he most likely wouldn't tell you if he was sober.

"that's crazy," you comment.

"it is," he says, taking another sip from his glass.

but whether he's more drunk than you or not, the alcohol is doing a good job of loosening the both of you up; questions running rounds in your head again that you might act upon.

"hey, san..." you mumble.

"yes?"

"were you born here?"

he shakes his head.

"my parents moved to seoul before i was born."

and because san is most definitely drunk, he's also more willing to answer them.

"do you have any siblings?"

"i have an older sister, but she's now living in the states. no longer here in korea."

"oooh," you sing, afraid you might be pushing the boundaries but your tipsy mouth a lot bolder and less fearful of the consequences.

"what do you like to do? what are your passions?"

you've thought about it before, and you still do. aside from being a walking wet dream, who is choi san? what does he like to do, what are his fears, his dreams, things he likes or dislikes? what makes him the person that he is?

it's like you know him, but you also don't, since most of the things you do know are very surface level.

"i'm not sure," is all he says, a small sigh of disappointment escaping from you that goes unheard. "i wanted to major in dance and performance, but..."

"but?"

"but i can't make a living or lifestyle out of it. so i didn't."

you frown at the pessimism.

"but you should still do what you enjoy, no?"

and he just laughs, downing another sip as you stare at him, the light in your eyes slowly dying. being drunk means he's also going to be a lot more honest; blunt.

"i just don't see the point in doing so if it isn't going to be worth it. i'm not gonna spend four years only to get a useless degree, no matter how passionate i am about the hobby."

you can't help the dejection that possesses you at his words.

“even if i answer, it won’t matter.”

you wonder if this is how he views the world--brushing aside things he sees that has little importance, and not trying when the outcome isn't going to benefit him.

you can be a bit of a pessimist at times, but if there's an opportunity, you think it's always worth trying. life is so much more than running away and not taking chances, but that could also just be you clinging onto anything because you've had nothing for so long.

"don't let it bother you too much," he snaps you out of your thoughts after the sadness that pierced your eyes become overwhelming.

he puts the glass that is now empty onto the table.

"i'm gonna go wash up."

along the things you brought on the trip, you also managed to squeeze in your notebook, taking it out silently under the clothes where you have buried it when you see san is fast asleep.

you take the chance to use your phone as lighting, jotting down an entry before sliding the book back to where you got it from.

entry #7

talking with san today made me really think... is it hopeless and not worth it if you can't be sure of the result? i don't know. i was definitely scared when i finally took up on yeosang's suggestion and talked to a counselor, opting out of a major i'm no longer passionate about in order to go into creative writing. maybe that's cowardice of me to not give it another chance, but i'd like to think i'm trying, by exploring my interests and opening the door to something i might enjoy doing.

san wanted to take you out to the local market after having spent most of your time indoor.

there's many vendors all around, some kids running through the streets and parents behind shouting their names. it's very lively that it's quite pressuring because you're not sure where to start.

"we can shop for something to cook for dinner?" he asks, glancing back at your figure behind him.

"yes, we can do that."

you follow him the entire time, going from vendor to vendor and letting him do his thing since he's more familiar with the place and people--of which there's a lot, some even brushing past your shoulders due to how crowded it is (also doesn't help that the place is quite small).

san tells you it's unusually busy today although the traffic is moderate every other day.

he takes the lead as you both stroll in a straight line to a vendor all the way at the far corner because he saw something he wants to purchase. then it happens so fast.

one minute you were still right behind him, and another--you're gone. san only realizing he's lost you when he swings his head back to do a quick check and you're nowhere to be found.

a sense of panic surges through his body, his eyes batting left and right to search for you but it's nearly impossible with this many people, he's not even sure how long you've been gone exactly.

he thinks about calling you, only to curse internally when he remember that you decided to leave your phone back at the house.

turning his feet back around, he goes to search for you, no idea whose shoulders he's knocking into or which direction the curses at him are coming from. just that he needs to find you.

it takes him at least five minutes of shoving through the crowd until he spots that familiar head of hair and outfit, your body bending forward and picking at something on your leg.

"y/n!" he shouts, grabbing your attention as you pick your head up to look at him, your eyes swelling with hope.

but his face twists instead when he sees what you were picking at. a fresh bruise on your right knee that's starting to bleed, he runs to you so fast until he's only inches away, anxiety all over his face.

"what happened?" he asks, volume high like he wants the answer right this instant.

"i was looking for you and i just fell. that's it."

he sighs and shake his head.

"can you walk?"

you try by taking just a step forward, only to whimper in pain.

he seizes the bag you were holding and turns his back to face you, lowering his height and ushering you to get on.

you're hesitant at first but you don't think you can win san, so you hop on and circle your arms around his neck as he moves through the tight open spaces to an area near the entrance where there's less people, setting you down on the edge of an old fountain.

he places the bags on the side of you and gets down on his knees to get a better look at the injury.

"it looks bad," he says, looking up at you. "we can return to the house. i can treat you there."

"you sure you don't want to buy anything else?"

"i'm good. it's too packed here anyways."

the drive back to the house is quiet, you have never seen san so serious like this before. it's only when you're almost there that he finally speaks.

"i'm sorry. i should've held your hand or something. or even let you walk first."

"it's fine, san. we both wouldn't have been able to see it coming."

he piggyback you inside the house again, completely forgetting about the bags still inside the car.

settling you gently onto the couch, you watch as he speeds upstairs into the bathroom before coming back with a first aid kit, bending in front of you.

"just letting you know ahead of time, i've never used this thing before."

you chuckle and assure him it's okay, staying still so obediently while he dabs some of the blood off and wraps the bruised area with elastic bandages.

"your friends are going to kill me once they find out not only did i take you somewhere four hours away, but i also hurt you during the process."

you chuckle again at the comment, though a lot quieter this time, staring down at him with a question that's been hanging at the edge of your lips ever since he brought you here.

"san," you call out sweetly, making him pull away from the injury and to your eyes instead.

"may i ask why you decided to bring me?" out of eveyone else.

your question must've snapped him back pretty hard; from how the tiny smile on his lips falter and he just stares at you dumbfoundedly, because even he's not sure about a definite answer.

it could be that he likes being with you since you're so sweet and nice, or that he's selfish and wanted you all to himself--away from your friends, and especially away from yeosang.

"because i'm comfortable around you," he simply says, a lazy answer that he knows you're most definitely not convinced by although you're smiling in return.

"i-uh... i gotta go back to get the bags inside the car." he awkwardly points behind him to the door, and you just nod, so conflicted by what just happened.

choi san being so tender and caring is dangerous and not good. especially when you live in your head so much--detaching yourself from reality and dreaming of another one where things go how you want.

you can blame yuna's stupidly good arts that watches you through the nights more often than not; that painting of love displayed in front of a castle feeding ridiculous ideas into your head. but it's how you deal with all the traumas and hurts in your life.

by detaching, distracting, and hoping.

hoping that the look in san's eyes that were filled with concerns and worries mean he's starting to feel something because that's the way you see it.

the past couple of days being tucked in his arms and spoken to with sweet words even though you know it shouldn't be taken seriously, you can't help the story that builds itself in your mind--especially when he says one thing and then does another.

san's been trying to sleep for hours now, but he's unable to, the image of you so haunting whenever you'd look at him in a way he doesn't like at all.

even right now--your arms that are wrapped around his waist, he wants to pull them off--and your face that is in his chest, he wants to push you away; distance himself--because he's starting to get used to your touch.

to how natural you fit in his arms and how easy everything is with you; the passion to learn more about him irritating his nerves to no end but also warms his heart in a weird way.

he had slipped up earlier when you got hurt, he must've looked so insane because even he caught himself offguard with how worried he was.

one more day alone with you is already too many; these past couple of nights already overstayed their welcome, and so he does the only thing he knows how to: he runs away.

the sun is blinding the curtains when you're awake, getting up to lean against the headboard but groaning out when the pain from your leg reminds you of yesterday's event.

everything about san's appearance in front of you brings another series of questions.

he's properly dressed so early in the morning, folding his clothes and packing them into his bag.

"hey," you greet, unsure if he knows you've already woke up.

"hey."

"going somewhere?"

there's a quick silence that gauges the air before he answers you.

"we're going to be returning back to seoul."

"oh?" you raise an eyebrow. "i thought we still have two more days left, no?"

he tries to think of a lie, the first thing to pop in his mind is the one to leave his mouth.

"just got an emergency family call and they need me there by today."

"oh, okay." you just lightly nod. "i'll start packing too, then."

"yeah."

because one more day alone with you is already too many.

next // series m.list

taglist: @sorryimananti-romantic @revehosh @cookiechristie @avantalem @atiny68 @belletiny @shibera @mochibabycakes @justineasian @eastleighsblog @baguette-atiny @crimson-mia @yeosxxx @m4rsluv @sleepychimm @atz-diary @diorwoo @naiify @becauseiloveyunho @damagelove @softie00 @s-nsanshine @atinytinaa @moonseonghwa @lemontreefantasy @wooyoung4eva @yeosangsbiceps @likexaxdaydream @knucklesdeepmingi @barbielibra @tmtxtf @brown88 @harusoraa @frankenstein852 @yujispinkhair @mermaid17venus @nolxverlikeme @writersun @kkayfan @wooyoungjpg

#rushed the shit out of proofreading #so #ateez angst #ateez x reader #san x reader #yeosang x reader #choi san x reader #san angst #ateez series #fic: broken

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dwollsadventures · 1 year ago

Text

Magnus Chase Project Idea

The next thing for my list of projects is something a little closer to home and achievable, but also perhaps less anticipated.

Percy Jackson was the first series of novels that I ever read of my own volition. It instilled a love of reading and appreciation of mythology that continues to this very day. When I heard that Riordan was going to be writing a series based on Norse mythology in 2014, I was ecstatic. Unlike before, I had a basis of knowledge to draw from to prepare for the books. When the books were released and I read them though, I felt a little disappointed. I actually have a large document that I wrote back in 2017 detailing all of my criticisms, but I’ll summarize them here:

Magnus Chase as the protagonist goes through a very well defined and meaningful character arc in the first book. It’s probably one of the only things that make him stand out from Percy Jackson, who he can sometimes read as a carbon copy of. In the subsequent two books, however, he loses everything that made him special. His identity as a peacemaker and healer, and his choice to not use Jack the sword as a weapon are all forgotten about.

Rick Riordan’s passion for Greek and Roman history oozes out of everything he wrote for his previous books. And while he did make an attempt, the mythology presented in Magnus Chase and the Gods of Asgard is one of its greatest flaws. The gods of the stories are shallow, one-joke cut-outs compared to the complex parents and power players in PJO. Heimdall is the worst example. Rather than echoing themes and remixing myths, oftentimes the characters play out recreations of Norse myths word for word during the course of the story. Norse mythology has a lot of large gaps in its content, meaning that an author will almost certainly have to bridge them with their own creations at some point. Riordan chooses to do this by mixing in modern culture and folklore from the 1800’s of Scandinavia.

This book was not the first to feature cross-overs from other Riordan books, but it is the one that leaned the most heavily on them. Annabeth’s inclusion in the first book was appropriate, but it seemed like pandering to include Percy in the last one. When reading reviews to refresh myself for writing this, a good percentage of them cried out about their insufficient screen time.

Slavery. The mythology point above makes me the most peeved, but this one baffled me as I read the books. One of the first einherjar characters introduced is Hunding, from the Volsung Saga. In the Saga, another of the characters, Helgi, kills Hunding, and his reward for the victory is that Hunding becomes his slave in Valhalla, commanded to “of every hero / Wash the feet, | and kindle the fire, / Tie up dogs, | and tend the horses, / And feed the swine | ere to sleep thou goest”. This is present in the books, but couched in PG13 language, so that Hunding is Helgi’s “servant”. One of the main cast of characters is Thomas Jefferson (TJ) Jr., a runaway slave that died fighting in the Civil war. In the third book, one of the other main characters replays a scene from mythology where she gets a bunch of jotunn slaves to accidentally kill each other. This character then apologizes to TJ for killing the slaves and they make up off-screen. Hunding is never rescued from eternal slavery, the existence of slavery in Valhalla is never acknowledged, the end.

So what? Why did I list all of my gripes with the series and put it under the future projects title? Well, after I wrote my laundry list in 2017, I capped it off with a “what I would do” section. I’ve never been able to get into the realm of fan fiction. But what about fan rewrites? Rewriting the book chapter by chapter with my own changes?

The reason I haven’t done this is because, again, I don’t have a foot in the fan fiction world, and for most of my time I’ve thought that spending so much time and effort working on something like that would be a waste of my time when I could be working on my own stuff. But recently I’ve been rethinking that. Finding the motivation to work on my own Acronym Pending series is conflicting with my anxiety about perfecting it so that I don’t tear it down a month afterwards. What if working on fan fiction doesn’t trigger this response? After all, the hard work’s already been done. If I end up doing this, it will be because I can’t bring myself to work on the TDG, which is bad, but it would mean something is still getting done, even if it’s something I cannot claim as 100% my own.

What would I do differently? Here’s a few examples:

Magnus is not a demigod. Demigods are not a big thing in Norse sagas or myths, and it links the series too much to the previous ones.

Samirah would not be a valkyrie, but another of the einherjar.

Valhalla and the Norse elements would not be modernized, at all.

Hearthstone’s father would be Volundr.

Overall, the story would be closer to a runaway tale rather than a hero’s journey. The overarching mythological theme would be focused on breaking the cycle.

#magnus chase #magnus chase and the gods of asgard #mcga #magnus chase spoilers #rick riordan #writing #writing idea #fan fiction idea

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miraclewoozi · 1 year ago

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GENERAL BYF ;

if you are under the age of eighteen, do not interact with me or any of my posts. i'm so serious. i'm an adult. i'm twenty six years old. i don't care how 'mature' you are for your age: you're a minor, and i do not want minors reading my content. you do not have my consent to read my work.

also, don't lie about your age to try and slip through the blocking net. it's beyond disrespectful. i literally do not want you here.

anyone under the age of 18 and blogs that are blank (unpersonalised/no profile picture/no bio/no reblogs) WILL be blocked.

likewise, if your age, or at minimum an indicator of being 18+, is not displayed in an easy to find place on your blog, you WILL blocked.

if you've been blocked and you think you shouldn't have been/you've since put your age on your blog and want to be unblocked, send me an ask to my main (/vcrnons) and i'll check it out!

equally important as the above: bigots, go away. if you are racist, ablest, against ANY part of the lgbtq+ community, or otherwise an asshole, the door is shaped like a little cross at the end of the browser tab.

this blog WILL contain nsfw content, either written by myself or reblogged from other writers as recs! content warnings will be tagged appropriately at the start of each post. anything i foresee to be significantly triggering will be tagged cw trigger and tw trigger. please always let me know if i've missed anything.

i work full time ! as much as i'd love to be, i can't be here 24/7. i can't write 24/7. some things might take me awhile to get to. please be patient with me -- i haven't forgotten, i'm probably just busy.

ultimately, this is a hobby for me! it's just for fun! we're all just grown-ups ignoring our real-life struggles by consuming fiction on the internet! please, just have fun. be a good person. i'll try to be one, too.

WHAT I'LL WRITE / WHAT I WON'T ;

all works will be written with a fem bodied/female reader, as that is where my experience lies. i will try to make anything that doesn't contain descriptions of body parts as gender-neutral as possible.

i will write a range of stuff, inclusive of fluff, angst, hurt-comfort, smut, fantasy (i ran out of examples but you get the idea). there are very few concepts that i'm not open to exploring.

i will not write: non-con, incest, piss/shit/vomit kinks, illegal age-gaps, underage content, infantilisation, a/b/o (nothing against it, i just don't know enough about it), member x member ship fics.

REQUESTS ;

at this time, my requests are CLOSED.

please check the list of things i won't write before sending a request. the list may not be exhaustive: there are no doubt things i've forgotten, and is subject to change as things come up.

i accept thoughts/thots/thirsts/spirals in my ask at all times, so even if my requests aren't open, please feel free to send other things! hard or soft, it's fair game.

#guidelines.#j talks.

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revlyncox · 6 months ago

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Beyond Welcome: Hospitality, Inclusion, and Inherent Worth

This sermon contains a little bit of "insider baseball," discussing some insights and some work specific to The Unitarian Society in East Brunswick. They are a great congregation! And every group of human beings needs a gentle nudge sometimes. This sermon builds on the anthology of essays Beyond Welcome: Building Communities of Love, edited by Linnea Nelson. In particular, the sermon draws from the essay “Built Through Trust,” by Rev. Manish Mishra-Marzetti. In our communities, we work toward an ethic of hospitality and inclusion that truly reflects a deep commitment to the inherent worth and dignity of every person. This sermon was presented on May 19, 2024, by Rev. Lyn Cox.

The first time I attempted to attend a Unitarian Universalist congregation on Sunday morning, I picked the one that was closest to where I was living at the time. This was early in my young adult life, when one partner and I were barely getting by in a two-room apartment while doing odd jobs and office temping. We had a car borrowed from my partner’s parents that often worked, though not for much longer.

I knew about the Unitarian Universalist congregation because some older friends had gotten married there, and I was so impressed with the way the minister had woven earth-honoring traditions into the ceremony, and the way the brochures in the lobby referred to ancient history as “Before the Common Era” rather than “Before Christ.” Little things that members had probably forgotten about made an impression on me as I was hanging around before the service at my friends’ wedding. There were inclusive banners, windows that looked out on beautiful trees, and comfortable chairs instead of pews. I had another friend who had grown up UU. She had told me all about incorporating the Interdependent Web into the faith. But my friend was at school in another city, so I tried to make the Sunday morning visit on my own.

For context, I should say that this was around 1996. The internet existed, sort of. I had used web browsers, and had worked during college at an Internet startup where we helped people get connected to dial-up and sign up for their first email address ever. There were no smartphones. But this was just on the cusp of the era before congregations started building websites, and we certainly didn’t have internet access at home or in our odd jobs. So there was not an easy way to check the details about the congregation. They had their service time listed on a wooden sign in front of the building, but too small to read while driving past and keeping up with traffic. I supposed that 10:00am was a logical time for a Sunday morning service, so that’s what I aimed for.

I pulled into the parking lot, and was finally able to get a good look at the sign. It said there were services at 9:30 and 11:00. So I could come in conspicuously late, or hang around awkwardly in the parking lot, or come back later. My anxiety got the better of me, and I turned the car around and left. Then we were busy with figuring out our lives and getting ready to move, and I didn’t visit that congregation again until years later as a guest preacher.

My second attempt at visiting a UU congregation on a Sunday morning came the following year on an opposite coast. The partner I lived with had started graduate school, and we were staying in grad housing. I had another temp job, but this one was a steady, long term temp with internet access and a computer at my desk. And we were in Silicon Valley, where congregations were seizing the moment with building web pages. By the end of November, we had scraped enough money together to buy a car. So, with more reliable information, more reliable transportation, and a little bit more stability in my life, this time I successfully entered the doors of the building in time for the service.

I had an advantage over some other seekers who visit UU communities, which is that I had grown up in a liberal congregation that wasn’t UU, but had a lot in common culturally. My family had been active at our church growing up, and I had considered ministry in high school, but decided I was too much of a heretic. My congregational upbringing helped me figure out that I should enter on the social hall side of the building, where I came upon friendly folks hanging around before the service, instead of entering directly into the sanctuary, which was very quiet until shortly before the service. I didn’t worry too much about what to wear, because I could rely on my past experience. I was prepared to be the only person in my twenties, and was almost correct. The Director of Religious Education was a similar age to me, and he and I are still friends. I knew that a small congregation would be about making connections and joining activities, not about passively absorbing sermons, as much as I liked the sermons. I came in with the skills I needed to gather up the ingredients of belonging. I joined at the first opportunity, and have always been glad that I did. I figured out pretty quickly that heretics could, in fact, be ministers, but it took me another couple of years to follow that thought, and that’s another story.

Every Unitarian Universalist who attends a congregation makes a choice. Sometimes that’s the choice of a lifelong UU to keep attending during a time of great personal change, or to try a new congregation when they move. Sometimes that’s the choice to tune in online, even if in-person attendance isn’t possible. Sometimes that’s the choice to add Unitarian Universalism to a complex, spiritually pluralistic life. Sometimes the choice to become a Unitarian Universalist means leaving behind a different faith that no longer supports your thriving, even if that’s painful in terms of friendships or family. Sometimes exploring Unitarian Universalism is a choice to try something a little more organized, when life up to that point has been spiritual but not religious, and the customs and skills of being in a faith community are entirely new. We all make choices.

For those of us who have been Unitarian Universalists for more than a minute, we make choices, too. And those choices go beyond simply coming in the door or clicking “join” on the Zoom. Every community that is composed of human beings will break your heart at some point, and then we have a choice about what to do when our relationships and our covenants have been disrupted. For those of us with one or more marginalized identities, our beloveds are not going to be skillful about our tender places 100% of the time and we have a choice whether we’re ready for that risk on any particular day. For those of us who hold aspects of privilege, knowing that perfection is not possible, we have a choice to turn toward repair and connection instead of shame when we make a mistake. Unitarian Universalism is a faith that calls us to make choices every day.

Not only do we make choices for our own participation, we make choices about how to proactively include others. We make choices, intentionally or not, about how to maintain or dismantle barriers like racism, classism, and ableism that can get in the way of our neighbor’s sense of belonging, and certainly get in the way of the congregation living into its mission and values. Each one of us made a choice to put ourselves out there at some point, and it’s easy to overgeneralize about our own experience, but I hope every established friend and member of the congregation can remember that feeling of vulnerability, that question of belonging. Let us remain curious so that we can open our minds and hearts to ever new ways of welcome and inclusion.

This brings me to the text we’re drawing from today, Beyond Welcome: Building Communities of Love, edited by Linnea Nelson. This is an anthology of essays by nineteen different authors published by the Unitarian Universalist Association’s Skinner House Books @skinnerhousebooks designed to help congregations to build compassionate, authentic, and equitable communities. As the editor says in the introduction, the book Beyond Welcome “explores liberation through personal and collective reflections on belonging. These heart-felt essays explore the essence of what it means to each author to be in Unitarian Universalist Community.”

The authors of the essays in Beyond Welcome explore different aspects of inclusion, and they illustrate with personal stories. Each essay begins with a question for individuals to reflect on and journal about, and each essay concludes with a discussion question about applying another facet of welcoming and belonging to the reader’s own community. Some aspects of inclusion covered in the essays, like race, are topics that we have discussed before and will discuss again, because we are always learning. Some, like disability access and Transgender inclusion, are topics we have touched on and could use more focus. Social class is a topic that would be helpful and evocative for us to learn about together. All of the essays are interesting and personal, and worth some group study with your favorite TUS committee or affinity group, especially as we enter the coming year of working on this congregation’s Mission.

There are people in the world who would benefit by having a religious community that is warm, accepting, covenantal, anti-oppressive, non creedal, and spiritually grounded. We want there to be as few obstacles as possible for the people who need this community to find it, and to find a sense of belonging and shared mission once they arrive. We need to be open and curious about that, because, while each of us can sympathize with that feeling of vulnerability, the obstacles that new people face may not be the same as the ones we faced. We cannot assume that the solutions that helped us to arrive and to stay are the solutions that will work for everyone.

When I was a newcomer, I needed help with information. Members of the congregation I visited, not staff, did the work of being on the cutting edge of communication so that the information was available. Part of how I found a sense of belonging was in shared work for a common project, but some new people prefer reflection groups or social groups or one-on-one mentoring to find that sense of belonging. If there had been information on the website to help me figure out public transportation, I might have been able to get there sooner, and it remains an obstacle that so many UU congregations are not accessible without a car. The congregation I joined had done work in advance that helped lower barriers to inclusion, such as reflecting on multigenerational community and going through the certification as a Welcoming Congregation for LGBTQ inclusion. When congregations work on dismantling racism, classism, ableism, and other legacies of oppression, more people are able to find their spiritual home. That’s part of what the book Beyond Welcome is trying to help congregations to do.

In addition to the essays that deeply explore one aspect of identity and belonging, there are essays that weave all of those threads of diversity, equity, and inclusion together in a larger tapestry, a vision of beloved community with some ideas about how we might live into it more fully. The essay that we heard an excerpt from earlier in the service, “Built Through Trust,” by Rev. Manish Mishra-Marzetti, is one of the big-picture articles in the anthology.

Rev. Manish contrasts a dominant culture version of belonging, “a form of social currency that can be owned and bestowed,” with a form of belonging that he has observed in Indigenous cultures, where people understand coexistence as intertwined, and where community is grounded in “mutuality and multiplicity.”

Even in Unitarian Universalist communities faithfully and persistently on the journey toward justice and wholeness, the cultural water we swim in is salty with characteristics of dominance and control, and sometimes this affects the way we talk about belonging and membership in our congregations. Rev. Manish writes:

In our Unitarian Universalist circles, we might encounter, at times, questions related to the financial sustainability of a community. Invariably, at that juncture, outreach strategies and newcomers are invoked … Or, perhaps, the same cadre of congregational leaders is tired from having led the same programs and activities for so long. Here too, invariably, the conversation turns to newer people in the community: how do we get new people to lead the activities and programs that have been beloved, in the same way that familiar leaders have? In both of these scenarios, newer members are framed, explicitly or implicitly, as a commodity — a commodity that has utility for those who already belong. In his conceptualization of the ‘categorical imperative,’ the philosopher Immanuel Kant spoke vociferously against treating other human beings as a means to an end. We are not actually honoring the humanity of others when we do so.

Here at The Unitarian Society, my assessment is that specific new people are honored for their interests and needs and gifts. At the same time, in wishing for a return to a fuller sanctuary, fuller classrooms, fewer leadership vacancies, and the camaraderie and relevance that comes with having members from a diverse range of backgrounds and life stages, I do hear comments about longing for theoretical, not-yet-arrived newcomers who will come and help make things easier without making any major structural changes. I would like to challenge the idea that an advertising strategy will restore the congregation to a previous status quo. Outreach is still important, because there are people out there whose thriving would be enhanced if they could find their way here; it’s about their inherent worth, not about the organization’s needs.

If you are a visitor or a newcomer or a prospective member, it is my sincere belief that the members of this congregation warmly welcome you just as you are, and that they want you to find your calling in the congregation in a way that supports the unfolding of your own soul. Members want you to find connections and activities that help you to make friends and to feel empowered as part of the body of the congregation. I believe that is true, and I also know that sometimes we are less skillful or considerate than we might be when we discuss reaching out to potential visitors and members.

I believe that there are great possibilities ahead that do not depend on theoretical people. The future is interdependent. Focus on being ready to change and grow as we practice reciprocity and care. Get ready to meet the spiritual needs of all who journey together under this congregation’s covenant, equipping yourselves and each other to live out Unitarian Universalist values collectively and effectively. Start with the purpose that burns in your core as a spiritual community, not on outcomes like numbers or programs. This may require creative thinking and major structural change. It may require letting go of some things that feel like touchstones of stability. Focusing on purpose requires courage. Without that courage, maintaining the things we don’t need and can’t let go of becomes our unspoken purpose, at the expense of fully living into our mission and values.

Rev. Manish offers an alternative to the idea of belonging as social currency, and that’s “belonging as an unconditional facet of existence.” He points out that “we Unitarian Universalists are already–today–the most diverse we have ever been.” He invites us to rest in and operate out of truth, with all of the mutuality, reciprocity, curiosity, and multiplicity that infuses our commitment to the interdependent web of existence and to the inherent worth of every person.

To be the people we are meant to be, we must live into the fullness of who we are right now, not waiting for some other people to come and revive us to who we once were, but to care for each other in the here and now. Let us listen to all of the gifts and limits and creativity that are already among us in our multigenerational communities. Let us open the doors and the windows wide so that all who are called can enter and find themselves at home.

So be it. Blessed be. Amen.

#unitarian universalism #uu #skinner house books

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stonewallsposts · 2 years ago

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Music I Love: 1973

Continuing the Music I Love: the 70's series, here are some songs from 1973.

Being somewhat of a music late-bloomer, these were my first years of pop music consciousness. And I was already 11. Unlike many of you that grew up in later generations, my parents were not lovers of the pop music of the day. They liked watching the Lawrence Welk show, which was an old variety show that featured out of date entertainment that was probably popular in the 30's and 40's. They didn't care for any kind of rock and roll as far as I could tell, and as far as they were in charge of what we watched and listened to as kids, it was NOT going to be anything cool. So it wasn't until 5th or 6th grade and having my own transistor radio that I started actually seeking out my own music. Even so, not all of the music in these lists are things I remember from right when they came out. It probably wasn't too long after, but I certainly wasn't on the cutting edge of what was happening in the music scene. I mean I was 11.....

But even among 11 year olds, I wasn't in the cool kids group.

Anyway... here are the songs from 1973 that I have listed.

Shambala- Three Dog Night A bunch of the songs I have in these lists are songs that nearly everyone knows, even kids from later generations. This one... maybe not as much. But it's still a song I love.

Dance With Me- Orleans Orleans has two hits on my list, this is my second favorite, but it's still worthy of inclusion.

China Grove- Doobie Brothers This song has a killer bass line and great groove.

Takin' Care of Business- BTO I swear I think everyone knows this song, and for good reason too... it's just a super catchy and fun song.

Gimme Three Steps- Lynyrd Skynyrd Southern rock at its finest. This is a catchy song, with story lyrics that are easy to sing along too and it's really funny too.

Midnight Train to Georgia- Gladys Knight and the Pips OK, THIS is one I remember trolling the radio for- I love this song. And the Pips counterpoint lyrics are a hoot too.

Dream On- Aerosmith Aerosmith had a lot of great songs, but this one might be my favorite. I mean, Walk This Way and Sweet Emotion are up there too, but Dream On...

Drift Away- Dobie Gray Weeeelllll, gimme the beat boys to free my soul, oh I wanna get lost in your rock and rooooooll and drift away....

Bennie and the Jets- Elton John

Desperado- The Eagles I can't believe I forgot this song on the original post, because this is one that I truly LOVE. I've learned this (and forgotten it) on the piano, and I think I love nearly everything about this song.

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danremon1 · 2 years ago

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Setting High Performance Goals for Success

How to Set High Performance Goals for Success

Having been in the self development and health industry for more than twenty years, I have learned a few essential elements to success that are missing in the goal setting and achievement process. So I’m going share with you a few questions you can ask yourself, that might just be the missing link in previous attempts to achieve certain goals. They can be any goal at all, and specific to health, fitness, weight loss.

There is a lot more to goal setting than just picking a goal and moving forward. While that is important, it’s also important to ensure that you are setting the right goals at the right time so that you can truly be successful. In order to ensure that you are setting the right goals for yourself, answer the following questions:

Are You Setting Specific and Realistic Goals?

It takes a little research to ensure that a goal is realistic. If you’re not sure if something is actually achievable then you’ve not done enough research. Once you’ve set a goal that is indeed realistic, then you need to be specific enough in your description of it so that it’s also easy to take the goal, and work backwards to create a schedule of actions needed to succeed.

Are Your Goals Multifaceted?

Focusing on only one part of your life is a bad idea. People live multifaceted lives and need to make goals for all areas of their lives in order to feel successful. If you have a wonderful business and career but your personal life suffers, then no matter how successful you are, you will not feel successful. Something will always feel as if it’s missing from your life if your goals aren’t inclusive. Therefore, make sure your goals include something from each aspect of your life.

Is Your Scheduling Representative of Real Need?

Once you create the schedule for yourself to reach each goal that you’ve set, you need to consider how realistic and appropriate it is. Say your goal is to be healthy and reduce your cholesterol by 10 percent in six months. However, you haven’t set aside the time needed to exercise and eat right. If you don’t schedule in the time needed, you won’t succeed because something will always be in your way taking time away from you.

For instance, if you are going to exercise 30 minutes per day, setting aside only 30 minutes isn’t going to be realistic. You’ll probably need to set aside an hour to account for getting ready as well as cooling down or getting cleaned up to go back to work.

Are You Learning from Experience?

Many times when setting goals and schedules, instead of learning from failure, people give up. Using the example above, once you implement your schedule to reach the goals that you have set, when you notice there are things you’ve forgotten to take into account, don’t give up. Learn from the failure and change the schedule to be more realistic.

You might find that in practice you have to rewrite all your goals and your schedule, but this is perfectly acceptable. Many people believe failure is something negative, but the truth is, if you don’t fail sometimes you’re not going to learn much and it’s likely your goals are too easy.

Do Your Goals Represent Your Needs and Wants or Someone Else’s?

A lot of people set goals that represent what someone else wants instead of what they want. This can really cause a lot of bad feelings and resentment which can derail the best laid plans. As you set your goals for your life, ask yourself if they’re really what you want for yourself or what someone else wants for you. Ask yourself if you’re okay with any goal you make being for someone else before you embark on your journey.

It’s okay to do things because of someone else, but it’s important that you are honest about that and make some goals for yourself too that don’t involve anyone else’s needs or wants.

Are You Checking in Often to Stay on Track?

Schedules are very important to the success of reaching any goal in life. To do lists pale in comparison to a well laid out calendar of tasks and activities that get you from point “A” to point “B”. Ensure that you look at your schedule every morning and every night and note when you succeed on sticking to your schedule and where you don’t.

Noticing a pattern of activity can be helpful in fixing a poorly written schedule as well as staying realistic about whether or not you’re sticking to the plan.

Are Your Goals Focused Positively?

When writing a goal it’s important to write them in a positive way, or at least a way that feels positive to you. In the quest to improve your life, try writing down a goal and then changing the words to sound more positive to see if it isn’t more motivating. For instance, “losing weight” seems like a good goal, but for some people it might signify deprivation. So instead, the person might frame the goal as “improving my BMI by 10 points” or “improving my cholesterol by 10 percent.”

Do You Have Too Many Goals Set at One Time?

Just as setting too few goals can be a problem, so can setting too many. Everyone has a personal life and a career life and points in between. If you have set goals in too many areas of life at once, you might tire yourself out and get overwhelmed. Instead pick one personal goal, and one other type of goal to focus on until you reach them, and then you can add more goals as time goes on. You don’t need to do everything today. Slow and steady wins the race is a good motto to hang on to.

Setting the right goals for yourself takes some thought and consideration. Don’t try to set all your goals in one day – instead, set some goals in different stages and in different areas of your life and give a lot of thought to why you’re making the goal in the first place.

Changing your lifestyle. Achieving any goal or simply aspiring to improve in any area of your life is a process. You must apply a conscious application to any endeavor, desire or objective. It’s simply won’t just happen on its own or with the magic of the law of attraction. So before embarking on the goals themselves and implementing your specific goal setting strategy, work through these initial questions and set the foundation for successful goal achievement!

Remember this final message.

Setting goals and desired outcomes is essential. However once set… they are irrelevant.

Regardless of the goal….

The process is critical. And without accountability, none of it matters.

Dive into your past evidence and seek the patterns that either service you and move you forward, or just hold you back building patterns of non-achievement.

And if you’re looking for the SMARTer goal setting and achieve systems with powerful circle of influence and accountability… Mastermind might be exactly what is going to help take you towards your future self and success faster than anything else you ever thought possible.

Check it out the Evolve Mastermind here. Next group of inner circle members is open for enrollment.

Dan.

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thatgirlonstage · 1 year ago

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I so badly want to know what the thought process behind putting together this guest list was. Like. Who are all these characters that we’ve never met before and who barely get mentioned ever again. Why did Ciel invite them. What was the scheme. As far as I can tell the guest list was:

Siemens (guest of ‘honor’, reason for this whole thing, required)

Charles Grey (Charles)

Lau & Ran-Mao (people who are loosely Ciel’s allies and might be useful but whom he doesn’t mind putting in danger)

Arthur (for flirting and entertainment)

four NPCs that Ciel can use to take the fall for the inevitable shitshow/doesn’t mind seeing get killed as collateral damage

I feel like the Doylist (heh) reason for Lau and Ran-Mao’s inclusion in the party may have just been Yana wanting to have at least a couple familiar faces in the mix—and it’s a good chance to develop them a little bit more—but from a Watsonian perspective I’m really not sure if Ciel invited them bc he would be equally okay with pinning the murder/whatever else happened on them if the opportunity presented itself, or if they were there as allies who know that some shit is likely to go down and Ciel can trust to be chill about being involved in shady business. Possibly/probably both? I mean, I think there’s a lot of reasons he didn’t invite the Midfords or Soma, people he actually wouldn’t want to see accused of murder. But—and I’d need to actually reread the manga to be sure I haven’t forgotten some small exchange that the anime left out or whatever—but it seems like Lau and Ran-Mao are the only ones who actually know Ciel at all prior to the party? So I feel like he had them there partially as a more, hmm, if not friendly at least known quantity.

And for the rest of them — we know Woodley was a piece of shit and that Ciel set him up to take the fall because of that. Then there’s Phelps, whom we know? Almost nothing about? But Sebastian gives negative zero fucks about him dying on the floor, which, fine, it’s Sebastian, if Ciel hasn’t told him to do something it’s Technically Not His Problem and this IS the arc where his and Ciel’s fucking with one another is just dialed up to 11, howEVER I don’t think Sebastian would have left just left the dude to die if he wasn’t confident Ciel would be chill with that outcome, and Ciel clearly isn’t torn up about it, which I feel like implies that Phelps is possibly also a piece of shit who would have been an equally viable candidate to be set up for the murder if he hadn’t died first.

Which then leaves Irene and Grimsby, who get to walk away from all this scot free, but that seriously raises the question of whether Ciel just invited some random schmucks to fill out the numbers or if both of them also suck and they just don’t suck enough for Ciel to kill or get them landed in prison about it. Or maybe, like Arthur, they’re more like witnesses—but while Arthur is allowed to witness the whole truth, they’re just allowed to witness the truth that Ciel would want circulated in society: that the Queen’s Watchdog is working, that he is seeing justice done to criminals, that he is powerful and influential enough to summon all these people to a party, and that he won’t be easily caught.

Idk I just know they would’ve had to think carefully about who is on the murder party guest list and I want to know what the in-universe logic behind the choices was

It’s a rewatching Book of Murder for comfort and fun night

#black butler

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buckybarnesdiaries · 4 years ago

Text

a piece of cake

bucky barnes x reader. ⎢ masterlist.

Something happens at Shuri's birthday party that leads to a heated fight.

word count: 3k words. (fuck, it worth every damn word)

warnings/tags: nsfw, +18!!! angry jealous sex, let's start there. unprotected sex, oral sex (face fucking and ridding), fingering, brief daddy!kink, brief praise!kink, language, cursing, handcuffing, mention of bodily fluids, and probably i'm forgetting something else, i just lost my mind. bucky being the cutest and loving man on earth at the end.

author notes: none of my stories contain reader’s body descriptions to be inclusive.

join the tag list here.

You had never been so quiet, but you knew that opening your mouth only could cause a storm inside the car, on your way back home. Believing you could have a pinch of luck, Bucky wouldn't notice that something was raving you mad since the moment you watched him letting another woman give him a spoon of cake. Straight to his mouth. You almost choked on your drink, talking to Shuri about how excited she was to celebrate her birthday in New York, when you witnessed the scene hearing their laughs and watching how they dared to touch his metal arm constantly. Your boyfriend was talking with some of his old friends from Wakanda, not even knowing he made friends there. He never said a word about it. Even so, they didn't have the right to flirt with him. Unless he didn't say anything about you.

But Bucky wasn't stupid. Or at least, not like you thought. Gazing you by the corners of his blue eyes, he was conscious that something was going wrong. He licked his upper lip briefly, slowly. He tasted the waters putting a hand on your thigh, which was your favorite gesture while he was driving, deriving with your fingers laced and him placing kisses on the back of your hand. But you didn't move an inch, still staring through the copilot's window with your elbow nailed there and your chin resting on your knuckles.

“What's wrong?”

“Nothing”.

Your passive tone and the lie as a response caused him to frown, pulling over the car to focus on you. He turned on his seat and placed a hand behind the headrest of yours.

“Spit it”.

You couldn't help but raise an eyebrow ironically, looking at him for a second. If he had to ask it was because he wasn't really seeing the dilemma there.

“I'm just tired and I wanna go home, James. That's all”.

James. James. You did it unconsciously, but he didn't take it as an innocent manner of calling him. Unexpressive, the soldier joined the highway driving faster than he used to. You had pissed him off, but it wasn't your problem. He had hurt your feelings with something he didn't give any importance to. The only thing you wanted was to take a shower, put on your comfier pajamas and go to sleep, probably you'd see tomorrow that situation differently than today and you could move on from your insecurities and the jealousy running through your veins.

You arrived at your apartment in record time, keeping the car inside the parking under the building. You removed the seat belt to wear your leather jacket and grab your purse on your feet, stepping out when you were ready. But Bucky stayed inside, just turning off the engine. He didn't have any intention of leaving it, maintaining his hands tightly gripped around the wheel. You ignored him as soon as you couldn't pretend you were just tired anymore. It was the first time something like that happened and you were having a strong desire to throw your guts up.

Three minutes later you were under the warm water with your forehead resting against the cold wall and your eyes closed. Maybe you were overreacting and the rational, mature behavior would be to go to talk with him, tell your boyfriend what made you feel upset. Sighing as you nodded two times, determined to put the cards on the table, you shut off the faucet and walked out of the bathroom wrapped in a towel.

“Oh, fucking hell!” You growled because of the scare of your life when you found Bucky already in your shared room.

He had his back supported on the wall, a leg flexed, and his hands behind himself. No expression on his face, but expecting an explanation from you. You were hoping for something from him too, maybe I don't know what I've done to make you feel like that, can you give me a clue? He just stared at you in silence, drying the pearls of water decorating your body before wearing a pair of black panties and your forgotten pajamas instead of one of his t-shirts impregnated on his scent.

“Com'ere”. Bucky whispered, stretching his flesh hand on air when you were about to go to sleep.

“No”.

Well, that wasn't the proper way to talk like grown adults. You crossed both arms on your chest, standing next to your side of the bed.

“What'd you say?” He squinted incredulous, slowly standing from the wall, pretending you hadn't uttered that word.

“I said no, you fucking punk”.

“The hell d'you think you're talking to, darling?”

“To the cretin who let other women flirt and touch him”. You replied with evident annoyance. “Why don't you go to show them your daddy's skills, uh? Sure I can find someone who respects me in the meantime”.

Suddenly, a grimace you hadn't seen before on him appeared like a thunderbolt. You weren't sure if you just made him feel more furious or if you just broke his heart. But before you could figure it out, Bucky shorted the distance between both in two fast strides and his hands gripped your throat and the back of your neck respectively, pinning you to the closest wall and tossing the lamp on your nightstand to the floor. You complained slightly —with his tongue wildly invading your mouth— because of the strength he used to put you against the wall.

You tried to push him away, to not fall into his charmings, but he made your mind blank when his fingers were firmly nailed in your ass and his body was accommodated between your legs. Your fiery provoked a bulge under his pants so painful that in every rock against your core he wasn't sure if it hurt or if it was some kind of pleasure he couldn't handle. Out of breath, Bucky attacked your neck, digging his teeth in your neck with so much passion that you screamed delighted his full name while pulling his hair. That gesture drove him insane, losing the less sanity he had at that point. With just a push, your boyfriend ripped off your shirt to strip you, in anticipation of your panties suffering the same fate.

Bucky threw you to the mattress on your abdomen, perfectly positioned to what was about to happen. He was so eager, so desperate for showing you what he was feeling that he didn't lose time taking off his clothes, just undoing his belt and unzipping his jeans to pull them down to his ankles along his boxers. You heard him spitting in his hand to use it as lube, although you were sufficiently soaked and ready for your Buck that neither of you needed his saliva. He rammed his dolorous erection into your cunt, crashing his pelvis and pressing it against your ass with all his strength, causing you to drown a loud cry in the sheets.

Tangling his fingers with yours and lacing your arms around your neck, putting all his weight onto your back, Bucky pounded you with an insanely quick rhythm, not giving you any chance to mold your throbbing walls around his length. Your pleased vocals echoed inside your room in total sync with the hits to your g-spot. Your body received with every one of them soft cramps mixed with pain and pleasure, making you roll your eyes and tear your throat.

“'S that wh— what you wanted, uh?” Bucky snarled against the back of your neck, totally gone, not giving you a break or showing any mercy.

“Fuck, no…” You replied, challenging him.

He swallowed a rough moan, wrapping his cold fingers around your throat while using the other to pull back your hair and arch your body. “Don' fucking… lie to me, doll… You wan— wanted your daddy to make you… feel desired over tho— those women”.

And yes, he was right. More or less. But you didn't expect him to react like that. Bucky was rabidly fucking you, moving the bed from its position with every angry thrust into your pussy. You knew you weren't going to last for too long if he continued impaling you against the mattress, just like that. But you both had to recognize that it was the best session of sex of your life.

“You were… fucking mad watch— watching 'em touch my arm… your arm, right?”

You whined at the brutality he used to push his hard cock beyond your limits, holding it there as he tilted your head to crash his lips on yours. Bucky devoured them until they were shiny, swollen, slightly ached because of the bit he left on your bottom one.

“If you don't tell me… the truth… I swear I'm not gonna let you come”. The whisper fell into your ear with such a raspy tone of voice, conscious of him being very capable.

“It was… your fucking fault, James. Not… Not mine”. You grunted, feeling him going a little deeper. “I di— didn't let anybody flirt with me… as if you didn't exist”.

That was the truth, but the wrong answer for him. Suddenly, Bucky pulled out his dick covered in your arousal, freeing you from any grip. A pause that only lasted the time he took to grab the handcuffs from your nightstand to place them in your wrists and secure them around the headboard. Now you were under his total control, defying him by strongly closing your legs and frowning at him, panting and sweating.

“Lemme tell you something”. Your boyfriend said, dangerously crawling over the bed till reaching your knees and forcing them to be separated, wide spread for him. “If you think I was flirting, but you didn't see… how uncomfortable I was… This situation is not my fault”.

The tables were turned as he finished his sentence, settling himself between your legs yet kneeling to raise your ass above his lap. “Not so mouthy now, are you, doll?”

You wanted to speak back, to say something after having a second to reconsider the reason why you were so angrier at him when Bucky pushed you down and rammed his dick back to the place it belonged. You forced unconsciously your hands gripped, wanting to put them on him —wherever—. As soon as he handcuffed you, your desire for touching him used to be suffocating. But you were the one who played from the start, instead of telling him how you were feeling about that situation at Shuri's party.

Bucky didn't even let you kiss him, stabilizing you on top with an arm around your waist and his cold hand holding the back of your head. His hips rocked straight to your g-spot once and once, making you lose any kind of control over your body as your boyfriend didn't have any compassion, needing to find relief to his sorrowful erection by cumming inside your clenching walls. You were driving him crazy, maintaining your eye contact at all moments and almost drinking your delighted, obscene crying, aware that only him could cause you to be so dirty.

“Feels good, uh…? You like it?” Your boyfriend brushed your lips with his, depriving you of his kisses or any other touch. “Bec— 'cause you take your daddy... so damn good, baby girl… So tight… so tight you could kill me”.

“Yes, da— daddy”. You whimpered nodding your head. “Only you… can fuck me li— like that… Only you”.

“That's it… that's it, oh, fuck… fuck, doll”.

You saw him roll that pair of beautiful blue eyes to the back of his head, feeling Bucky's thighs tensing under your legs. You didn't want anything else than making him cum, after overthinking about how he felt, and not about what you witnessed. He was right, more or less. He was still being so innocent in those kinds of situations that he used to feel like a scared kid.

You suddenly fell back to reality when the emptiness sensation invaded you. Bucky pulled out his length from you again, causing you to beg in silence for not denying you the orgasm you were about to reach. But he warned you. Bucky asked you to tell him the truth and you chose to challenge him. Letting you sit on the mattress, he flexed a leg to guide his twitching cock to your mouth, not needing to tell you what he wanted you to do. You just parted your lips, receiving him without protesting, curling your fingers when he forced your limits, and positioned both hands on your head. Twirling your tongue around his base as you could, with your cavity completely invaded, Bucky provoked you a strong gag. A gesture that led to his warm seed being spilled down your throat.

“Fuck my life, baby girl!” He couldn't help but howl driven by the pleasure as you coughed and made vibrate his sensitive skin.

Just holding his dick trapped by your lips for a second, he freed your mouth, taking his time to admire you swallowing his cum and showing afterward your tongue. God, you looked so beautiful disheveled, with teary eyes and swollen lips because of the effort.

“Want me to tell you something else?” Bucky asked while cleaning the sweat in his forehead with the back of his arm, taking the small key to liberating you with his free hand.

You didn't reply, not needing to, as he rubbed your wrists to comfort your skin before lying by your side.

“Com'ere”. He whispered, yet trying to recover your breathings. Bucky wrapped you with his flesh arm, rubbing his iron fingers up and down your tense belly, creating a contrast that caused you goosebumps. “'M so sorry for making you feel like that”.

He kissed you. Slowly, passionate, tasting his own juices mixed with your saliva. Caressing your tongue with the tip of his, and no rush. You felt his digits touring down your skin, till finding your throbbing and needed clit. You weren't able to hold back a sweet moan when he circled his fingertip over your sensible pearl, gladly drinking your vocals.

“When I wanted to react… she was putting that damn spoon into my mouth. It felt horrible, doll, I promise”. He murmured, venturing his long cold finger to part your folds and sink it inside you —moaning at the fulfill sensation—. “You always save me from those awkward situations… but you were having fun with Shuri and I didn't want to interrupt you”.

You were feeling like shit, looking at him through your eyelids as he curved a second finger into your cunt and increased the pace of the pounds with his hand made of vibranium. Bucky spread some gentle kisses all around your face, ending with a tender bite to your lips.

“When you told me you wanted to go home, I felt a huge relief… 'Cause that was everything I wanted. Go home with you. Maybe watch a movie… cuddle… fall asleep on the sofa”.

“Oh, God, Bucky”. You wept onto his mouth, as soon as a third finger filled you, nailing his hand in the perfect position to be moved up and down. “I'm so— sorry, Buck… I'm sorry”.

“Fuck, no”. He let out, thrusting you harder, faster, creating a melody of filthy sloppy sounds while your moans were louder and louder. “I should stop 'em, I didn't… I didn't. But I respect you more than anything, doll… I love you with all my heart. I care 'bout you, 'bout your feelings… Can you forgive me? Can you… Can you cum for me?”

You nodded your head running out of words, seeing your boyfriend snaking his body down the bed to between your shaky legs, yet having his fingers knuckles deep inside you. “Keep 'em open for your man”.

The blow to your abused cunt provoked you a lash up to your backbone, landing your hands on his head as Bucky sank his face straight to your center. His digits fucked you savagely, while his tongue took control of your swollen pearl —sucking, licking, kissing, pulling it back—. He wasn't going to deny that pleasure to you, quite the opposite. You pressed unconsciously his face a little closer to your pussy, swinging your hips and riding his mouth when his caresses and his pushes became too much for you.

Bucky made you cum harder than ever, crying his name till you didn't have any strength and you were just a sack of bones under his expert mouth, devouring you and drinking your juices as if it was the elixir of life. And when he was satiated, you glanced at him using the tip of his tongue to trail a path up crossing your abdomen, the gap between your breasts, your throat, until kissing you again getting comfortable on top of you. It was a kiss full of love, and guiltiness, and necessity, and pure devotion for you.

“Did I hurt you with what I said?” You murmured, still enraptured by the fireworks fluttering within your belly.

“This isn't 'bout me”. Bucky clicked his tongue, hiding his face into your sweaty neck. “This is 'bout what I let happen”.

“That doesn't answer my question, Buck… I'm sorry about what I said. I was just… I feel insecure". You confessed stroking his scalp and back with your hands, lacing your legs together. “I didn't mean it. I would never try to… find someone who respects me more than you do. That's impossible. And not talking about how much you love me”.

“I love you with every inch of myself”. He swore, he promised, raising his face to look straight at your eyes. “I can't imagine a life without you”.

“Me either… Your love makes me feel alive”.

Bucky left one last tender kiss on your lips before suddenly standing up and holding you onto his arms to carry you to the bathroom and take a shower together —wash your hair, worship your body again as if it was the last thing he was going to do—.

feedback is appreciated, please, leave a comment to let me know if you liked it.

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#bucky barnes #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x y/n #bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky barnes smut #sebastian stan smut #sebastian stan x reader #bucky barnes imagine #bucky x reader

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jedifarmerr · 2 years ago

Text

50 Shades Of Marcus

Pairing: Marcus Pike x F!Reader(she/her pronouns but no name or physical descriptions)

Summary: The 50 Shades of Gray trailer leads to an interesting conversation which sets off an unexpected chain of events.

Word Count: over 10k (seriously this is mostly porn 70% at least)

Rating/Warnings: E for Explicit (18+ seriously). Smut, Dom!reader (Pretty soft dom), sub!Marcus, language, ambiguous age gap, lingerie (while SavagexFenty wasn't around I take most my inspiration from there since it is inclusive), yearning. Again don't wanna give too much away But this is decently tame for a Dom/sub and if you have any questions or want a full list, you can either message me or check this on AO3.

I'm still new to writing this dynamic so please let me know if I got anything wrong.

A/N: Thank you everyone for the support on the first part, seriously never expected it!

Read Part 1 - here

Part 2: A Darker Shade

Marcus stood outside her door, a Redbox movie tucked under his arm and a to-go bag of Thai in hand. Glancing at the golden knob, a rush of butterflies hit him.

Would it feel different?

Was everything going to change?

Safe to say it was new territory for him. Always more of a relationship guy, the closest thing Marcus had to a friend with benefits – or whatever this was called – was in middle school when his neighbor Allie suggested they be the other’s first kiss.

It was like comparing apples to oranges. Or in this case a peck to a mind-blowing…handjob.

Obviously he’d talked to her in the past few days. A few texts here and there, mostly planning for tonight.

But, seeing her? That was a different story. Aside from Saturday – for the half-hour breakfast/run down – he’d seen her once, the other morning on the landing but the smile and wave as a proclaimed art connoisseur barked in his ear which barely counted.

Marcus wasn’t worried, per se, to see her, more anxious for the unknown. A tad nervous about how the new dynamic might bleed into what was already so great.

Well, there was no time like the present to find out.

Marcus took a deep breath then opened the door. At the sound of it, she jumped up from the couch.

“There you are.” She smiled, wide and warm. His mouth opened but nothing came out, his brilliant mind was suddenly replaced by a blank piece of scratch paper. The little voice in his head called through the void, screaming to say something – a simple hi or maybe a how’s it going would do.

But no.

In a dash of panic, the room filling with the pad of her feet as she drew nearer, he slapped a dorky smile on his face and lifted the to-go bag like a proud fisherman showing off his prized catch. The forgotten DVD slid from his armpit, crashing at his feet and all he wanted was to reverse just twenty seconds, a real life Click moment.

Marcus shook his head at himself and slung the sack on the table, before bending down to snatch up the case. “Sorry ‘bout that.”

She dismissed the ordeal with a wave of her hand and a shrug. “No need to apologize, happens to the best of us,” she said nonchalantly and plucked the DVD from his hand. “Let’s see what ya got – the Equalizer, huh? Ya know, I’ve heard good things.”

He let out a small breath of relief after spending ten minutes swiping through the movie selection; if not for the woman and her children waiting patiently, he probably would’ve been there all night.

“Ya know, Eric actually recommended it so I wasn’t too sure, but just thought ya know - why not?” Marcus tugged at the knot on the bag a few times until it finally loosened. She glided past him into the kitchen while he pulled out two entrees and an order of her favorite, spring rolls to share.

“Maybe Eric will be right this time.” He chuckled at her teasing of the co-worker he’d told her so much about. “Want anything to drink?”

She stopped at the fridge, twirling to face him and he swore – for just a moment – her eyes flickered across his shoulders and slim waist, hugged by his tight t-shirt. If so she didn’t have any shame about it, settling back on his face with a waiting tilt of her head.

“Water,” he croaked out, promptly clearing his throat while sinking down in the chair. “Please,” he politely added.

The fridge groaned to life, ice crashing in the glass cup. “Thanks again, by the way,” she said as the water hissed against the cubes. “For picking this up for us. Got a receipt? I think mine’s usually 12 dollars?”

He dismissed her offer like it was a gnat, but knew she had the persistency and stubbornness of a fly. She went to debate, but he beat her to it. “I insist.” Her lips pursed, studying him and he cocked his brow in defense. “Besides, I owe you for the pizza - and don’t forget Rocco’s.”

“Please, that was nothing.” She shook her head, handing him the glass.

“Yeah? Well, neither was this.” His voice and cocky grin left no room for argument.

She huffed, sliding into the chair opposite of him. “Well I got dibs on next time.”

“Hmmmm, I think I can live with that.” He smirked, plucking up a spring roll and taking a bite – a few pieces of cilantro falling from his lips to the container.

She popped open the lid, “Oooof, now this looks amazing.” She stabbed the noodles, twirling them around her fork then blowing off the steam before taking a cautious bite.

“Sorry it took so long. My meeting ran late and I wanted to chan-” His explanation trailed into silence as her finger shot up, swallowing.

“I swear, I’m gonna kick you out if you apologize again.” Her laugh was light, an empty threat.

“Sor - ah, won’t happen again,” he said, raising a hand in surrender. She nodded, giving her best serious face. The sound of chewing surrounded the table for just a few moments, Marcus sipped on his water. “Alright,” he set the glass down. “I gotta ask. How was that yoga class?” An annoyed, almost pissed off look flashed across her face. “That bad?” He asked.

She patted the sides of her mouth with a napkin. “Worse.”

Little did Marcus know he’d opened up a can of worms.

The yoga class she’d gone to with some co-workers for team bonding (not her idea) after breakfast on Saturday ended up being a fast-paced, hot yoga class instead of something calm and tranquil like advertised. By the end of the hour her mat was surrounded by a puddle and the coffee and croissant from earlier were dangerously close to making a reappearance. The only brightside seemed to be the prospect of a new friend.

Once she was done ranting, she spent the rest of the dinner focused on him. Asking him about his caseload, listening intently to his stories and almost falling out of her chair laughing at Eric’s countless shenanigans.

Both full and satisfied, Marcus popped in the movie and plopped on his end of the couch with her following soon after. Watching it with continuous commentary as if nothing had happened.

“So,” she said, turning to him as the ending scene panned out, “Come on. Whaddya think?”

“It was -” he shrugged, “Pretty good, yeah – entertaining, interesting enough.”

“Oh, here we go,” she teased with a playful roll of her eyes. “What was it this time? No wait, let me guess. Was it the fact that it wasn’t made before you were born? No - no, because it wasn’t on the classics list on google? Wait - I got it, it wasn’t black and white?”

He clicked his tongue, “I show you one black and white movie –”

“Nononono – don’t even. Don’t down play it, we both know it’s more than that.” He smashed his lips together and twirled his head from side to side. “Alright, there was – It’s A Wonderful Life -”

“Oh come on. That’s a holiday classic.”

“Pfft. Doesn’t change the fact it’s black and white.” She snorted and a smile broke through his lips. He motioned his hand in a circle for her to continue. “Then there was…Citizen Kane and oh - Casablanca.”

“Now, you liked Casablanca,” he said and she wagged her head back and forth.

“You’re completely missing the point. Look. Just admit it, old movies you give a pass to, but new movies – suddenly you turn into the biggest critic.”

Marcus crossed his arms against his chest. “What can I say? They don’t make ‘em like they used to.” Her laugh was soft, warm on her lips.

Shaking her head, she bounced to her feet and twisted from side to side to pop her back. “You’re impossible,” she said, then sauntered over to the TV.

Marcus cruised over her simple long-sleeve and black leggings. A nothing special outfit, yet it never failed to stop him short.

Honestly, he didn’t know what she looked better in. Marcus found her stunning in everything.

He loved seeing her so casual, bare face and cozy, but damn if he didn’t lose his breath anytime he saw her in those satin blouses tucked into power pants. Then that leather outfit, don’t even get him started – that actually ruined him; all week he wondered what else she had hidden away.

Always one to be respectful, he hated those guys who gawked and ogled women like fresh meat. But he found himself in a moment of weakness, unable to tear himself away as she bent over to hit the eject button. Those black leggings latching onto her thighs and the swell of her ass – not for the first time, he found himself jealous of an inanimate object.

Too distracted with the lower half, he missed that she was peering over her shoulder. “Like what you see?” She teased with a questioning brow.

His guilt-wide eyes shot to her and she giggled at the pink of his cheeks. Marcus scrubbed a hand down his face, “Fuck,” he mumbled, dissapointed in his lapse and feeling a tad creepy. How long had she been watching him, watch her?

“It’s alright.” Her words fell delicate, an innocent sounding whisper wrapped in a sultry coat.

She slinked back to him, and his gaze held to hers. He couldn’t believe this was happening, moments ago it was like nothing had changed but now, she was fitting herself between his thighs; his heart booming in his chest like a speaker blaring at a concert, loud enough he swore she could hear.

“I like when you look.” It dripped from her lips like water through a colander. As if she had no clue that such a simple sentence made his mind spin like a windmill in a tornado. He gulped, surprised and innocent.

Her hand reached into the space between, “Come on,” she said, tilting her head to the front door. Helped to his feet, a step behind as he followed her, the sentence wisping through his mind like a hypnotic spell.

Opening the door, she cradled the side of it as he stepped out into the landing. Inhaling the thin and untainted air in hopes to clear the fog threatening to take over his frontal lobe.

She handed him the DVD, “Make sure you return that.”

He slapped the case against his palm with a firm nod. “Will do,” he teetered back and forth on the balls of his feet. “Well, I had fun.”

“Yeah? Me too.” She smiled and damn it made him never want to leave. “Marcus, I know it’s been a few days but I um - just wanted to check and see if you’re still feeling alright about everything? I would’ve asked earlier, but since it was our first time hanging out I kinda wanted to keep it separate, if that makes sense.”

Marcus couldn’t help but wonder if she’d dealt with a situation like this in the past, but judging by the sound of her voice it seemed like this was relatively new territory and he wasn’t alone in feeling a tad anxious about tonight. However she did a much better job of hiding it or handling it.

“I get it.” Honestly, he did and appreciated her want and effort to maintain the friendship. “And to answer your question - yes. Uh - I still feel good, uh - really good.” His voice was sincere – earnest to a fault.

“Good,” she gave a single nod, then peered up through her lashes. “Then, are you still interested in –”

“Yes,” he blurted, his jaw clamping together immediately as her eyebrows shot to her hairline. “Sorry,” his head dipped to the side. Lucky for him, she appeared to enjoy his eagerness, as the shock faded and her lips upturned on the sides.

“ ‘s okay,” she assured and to his surprise, inched closer. Brushing up against him, every hair on his body stood at attention as his breathing picked up into a steady pant in his ear. The effect she had on him was dizzying, nothing like he’d ever experienced with Teresa or – hell even Angela. “Do you have any plans on Friday?”

His head shook back and forth with a squeaked out ‘no.’ In the moment he couldn’t care less about playing it cool or acting like he needed a second to think, just to make it seem he had a semblance of a personal life.

“Alright, well.” Her finger brushed against his tummy, up his cotton-covered chest. “Would you wanna come over?” At her bare whisper, Marcus turned to putty in her hands – malleable.

“Mh-hmm.” His head moved like a flicked bobblehead.

“Good,” she said in a husky voice, eyes flickering to his lips while licking her own. “It’s getting late, I think it’s time we call it a night.” He whimpered as her finger trailed to his neck, across his bobbing Adam's apple. Making his body scream for more – of what, he wasn’t sure but knew he would’ve taken anything and everything she would’ve given, even the smallest crumb.

When she stepped away and into her apartment, he choked down a whiny gasp of air. “Sweet dreams, Marcus. Oh – and you should probably take care of that.”

His eyes dropped to the tent in his sweats. “Oh - shit - damn it.”

She shot him a self-satisfied grin and winked. “I’ll text you,” and with that, she closed the door.

Marcus stared at the dark wood for a solid minute, then muttered out a curse, palming his cock as he fumbled with his keys.

He was in deep deep trouble.

---

Jovial laughter and easy conversations broke through the glass pane walls of the usually stoic and serious conference room. They were celebrating a major bust in a decades-long case. Marcus was basking in the high spirits of his fellow agents. Everyone had really let their hair down, hanging their blazers over the rolly chairs and bunching up their sleeves.

Leaning against the wooden table, Marcus smiled at the agents coming over to check the empty pizza boxes and refill their cups from an array of two-liters. Turning back to politely nod along, using every bit of cognitive strength to focus on Shannon’s prattling.

Twirling a strand of auburn hair around her finger, Marcus peaked over at the clock above the door – once again. The hand ticking closer and closer to the time she told him to be over. He still needed to shower and change, but every effort to leave the conversation was thwarted by her refusal or inability to catch his subtle and polite hints.

“Hey guys.” Marcus’s eyes lit up at the Baltimore twang; Eric slung his arm around his shoulder. “How’s it goin’ over here?” Eric asked with a dopey wide grin.

“Fine,” Shannon said with a tight smile, the red solo cup popping under her perfectly french manicured vice.

Eric raised his brows, catching her hint. “Well, I won’t keep ya too long. Listen, most of us are gonna hit up Barney’s after this and from there, well. We’ll see where the night takes us. You down?” He pointed at Shannon first.

“I’m in.” Her bright green eyes stared hopefully at Marcus.

“Boss?” Eric raised his brows and the conversation dwindled around them as the other agents listened for his answer.

“Ahh, can’t tonight.” The group groaned in unison. “I swear another time and actually-” he flicked his wrist out, checking his watch. “Oooh, in fact - I need to get goin’ soon. It was great talking to you Shan, hope your cat gets to feelin better.”

A ghost of a smile played on Shannon’s lips as she shuffled over to another group in the corner. Needing to clean up, Marcus stacked the unused red solo cups. “Anyone want a refill?” He pointed to the two-liters.

Eric pounced into his line of sight, “What are you doing tonight?” Marcus glanced around the room and the agents prying eyes scattered to all four corners.

“Nothin really,” he tilted his head with a nonchalant shrug, “Just hanging out with a - friend.” His nose wrinkled at the word like it wreaked of sour milk.

“A friend, huh?” Eric twisted his lips to the side, hand flourishing in the air. “And how’d you meet this friend?”

If Eric was trying to be sly it was a piss poor attempt and Marcus scoffed. “She’s my neighbor.”

“Oooooh.” Marcus immediately realized his mistake. Eric leaned in, his voice low “That’s kinky.” He wiggled his brows and Marcus couldn’t help but chuckle, little did he know. “And is this neighbor, well - does she happen to be…attractive?”

It wasn’t like Marcus was against sharing aspects of his personal life with his colleagues. Hell, his poor secretary had to listen to him pour over his whole life – or at least the trail of failed relationships – at lunch for the first two months. Don’t worry, he bought her something nice for Christmas.

But with her it was…different. For one, he’d never talk about sex and especially not his kinks. Secondly, he didn’t want anyone to get the wrong idea or more so…for him to feed into it.

Ignoring the question, Marcus turned to the room. “Last call before it’s going in the fridge.” At the shake of heads, he gathered up as many bottles as he could carry and headed for the break room next door. Eric grabbed the rest and followed right on his heels.

“You’re not very slick, I see what you did there.”

Marcus shook his head, turning the corner. He knew he was a lousy liar and felt it best to not even attempt.

“Ya know,” Eric opened the fridge for him, “Avoidance is a form of admittance,” he said with full, plumped out lips as he packed the bottles in.

“Is that so?” Marcus nodded, then turned his lips down. Offering nothing further before heading back to the conference room.

“Yeah, so you might as well just admit it,” Eric spit near his ear. “Come on. Ya know I’m not gonna give -”

“Fine,” Marcus mumbled, cutting him off before he got a headache. Popping his hip, he smacked his jaw together as Eric beamed like an overexcited child, body jittering and eyes wide – full of hope. “Yes, she’s…attractive.”

Eric let out a gleeful gasp, “Now, was that so hard?” Marcus chuckled at the young agent, the youngest on the team. While some found him exhausting, Marcus found his energy and hopeful attitude refreshing – unless he was the object of his badgering.

“But don’t get too excited,” Marcus said, towering the empty boxes. “We’re just friends.” Marcus dreaded saying the words that acted as a pin, popping Eric’s boastful bubble and deflating him on the spot. Checking the time once more, Marcus went to grab his jacket.

Eric placed his hand on his chest, stopping him. “Now, slow down. Just answer me this, if she’s just a friend. Why don’t you reschedule, huh? I mean, she’s your neighbor - come on, you gotta see her all the time.”

Not nearly enough, Marcus thought but breathed out an easy laugh at Eric’s resilience. He quickly snatched his jacket and coat from the chair.

“And I don’t see you lot enough?” Eric rolled his eyes as Marcus bundled up. “Look, give me a date and I’ll be there. Promise.”

Eric cracked a smile, “Alright, but I’m gonna hold you to that.”

“Trust me, I know.” Marcus slung his briefcase over his shoulder and patted Eric on the back. “Have a good time and don’t get too wild.”

“I can’t make any promises there. Oh - don’t worry about those, we’ll get ‘em. Just go, don’t wanna keep your ‘friend’ waiting.” Marcus dropped the boxes back on the table, then said a quick goodbye to the other agents before rushing out the door.

---

It was a good thing Marcus was such a planner, leaving with enough time to shower and change along with an added extra ten minutes just in case. Of course, like usual all his best laid plans fell apart when two blocks in a fender bender put him at a standstill. Only to be followed up by a detour full of red lights.

By the time he threw his car into park, it was five minutes past and he bolted inside, up the stairs. Coming to an abrupt halt outside her door.

Marcus messed with his hair then cupped a hand over his mouth to check his breath. Pizza and Sprite shot into his nostrils and he cursed, swinging his briefcase around to fumble out a thing of tic-tacs, shaking a few into his hand.

Munching down on them like a beaver, he swallowed. A mint ice coated his throat, making him sputter out a cough as he headed inside.

“I’m here.” His voice was strained, sounding like he just smoked four packs in the car. He cleared his throat, locking the door. “I’m here. Sorry I’m late, there was-” His briefcase thudded to the ground, echoing in the empty room.

“In here,” she called from the bedroom.

“I’m comin’, be right there.” He ripped off his coat and toed off his shoes. “I’m so sorry, it was insane getting here.”

Balmed by the frenzy of traffic, a sudden spike of anticipation hit him along with the scent of vanilla as he walked down the hall. “Did you get all my tex-” The pointless ramblings fizzled on his tongue. “Wow.” He rubbed his hand across his mouth, down his jaw.

There she was, waiting for him on the bed with legs crossed, a languid sway of her foot.

His eyes ping ponged around her. From her thigh high stockings which clipped into a hidden clasp somewhere in the high cut, high neck faux leather leotard; a metal harness wrapped around her neck like a choker, then ran down the center of her slightly puffed out chest to outline her breasts and hide the easy access zippers there; the third zipper wasn’t so hidden, running from just below her navel to somewhere he couldn’t see just yet, but with his deductive reasoning skills had a pretty good idea.

Pursing her glossy stained lips and tilting her head, she pushed up with her hands and the shiny black pumps clicked on the floor. “You were saying?”

“I - uh - I.” The dreamy fog was already starting to creep from the back of his neck to the front of his cortex, he shook his head to try and clear it for just a moment. “Sorry.”

She hummed, “I know you are. It’s a shame though, really.” Her fingers clasped to the zippers at her breasts, a teasing sliver of skin left exposed. “I had these unzipped for you. Just waiting, nothing covering here.” The zippers growled completely shut and he whimpered at the excruciating sound. “But I don’t like to be kept waiting.”

His adrenal gland ignited at the sternness that trickled into her sultry tone. A tingle of suspension creeped across his spine, making his cock harden in his slacks. “Consider this, your first warning.” For some reason he found himself on the verge of willingly falling to his knees.

“I promise,” he rushed out, “It’ll never happen again. I’m so -”

She pressed a finger to his lips, “Oh baby, it’s alright. All is forgiven for now.” She worked at the knot of his red striped tie. “Do you remember the stop light system?” The tie slid from his neck, fast as a whip and the polyester glided around her hands, feeling it in her palms before dropping it on the dresser behind him.

“Yes, I remember.”

“Good.” She craned her neck back to take in his tailor-fit navy suit jacket with matching slacks, paired with a crisp white button up. “Mhmm, I’ve always liked seeing you dressed up like this. Look so handsome.” The compliment burned his cheeks. “So powerful,” she said while untucking his shirt and toying open the buttons. “So assertive. So…Dominant.”

She ripped it wide open and he gasped, only to swallow it back in as her nails grazed his newly exposed chest.

“But, we both know that’s not the case. Don’t we?” The look in her eyes from under her lashes and the power in her stature had his knees nearly buckling, hands shooting to steady himself on the dresser. “Tell me, Marcus. Who’s in charge?”

He gulped down the air in the room, tasting his own desperation on his lips and letting the word, “You,” slip with the breath he took. “You’re in charge.”

She hummed, low and pleasing and he inhaled it, like it was an aphrodisiac, smelling of dark chocolate and red wine. “That’s right. I’m in charge here.” Her knuckles glided along the sparse hairs at his navel and he keened. “But don’t worry, I’m gonna take such good care of you. That’s what you want, right?”

“Please, yes. God, yes,” he said, the neediness of it gleaming in his wide-brown eyes.

“That’s what I thought, now let’s get you out of these clothes.”

Desperation thrummed in her fingers, pushing off his shirt and jacket into a pool at his feet. The idea that she was eager to see him naked, that she desired his body made his cock pulse, begging for attention that she avoided while undoing his belt and tossing it to the side.

Suddenly, out of nowhere she was crouching (refusing to kneel) and his body went taut. She peered up at him, slowly licking her lips then eyeing his cock. Burying her nose at the apex of his clothed thigh, his knuckles burned as his palms dug into the wood, fighting the buck of his hips.

With a taunting hum, she pulled back and flicked open the button, carefully unzipping his slacks. Tugging them down, joined by his black briefs soon after. His cock nearly whacked her in the face as it sprung free.

“Much better.” She popped back up, and looked him up and down. “How ‘bout you get comfortable.”

Marcus’s brows pulled tight when she stepped to the side. He hadn’t realized when coming in – obviously distracted by much more pressing things – but her beed had been transformed into a relatively flat surface, no pillows and only the comforter and fitted sheet remained.

She motioned to the bed and he stepped out of his clothes, leaving them in a heap to sit at the edge. A box on the vanity caught the corner of his eyes – black velvet and no bigger than one for shoes. Following his line of sight, she smirked. “Oh, I see you found your present.”

His smile betrayed him, “You got something for me?”

“Mh-mmm.” A naughty grin quirked her lips as she tipped back the lid and pulled out a red rope that made him squirm. “You liked being tied up last time?” Aside from the small inflection and the waiting look in her eyes, her matter-of-fact tone hardly posed a question.

“Yes,” he squeaked out and she gave a short nod.

“Yeah? You looked so good tied up. Did so good for me. But I think you can handle a little more, don’t you?”

Suspense wracked his body as she gingerly put the red rope to the side and pulled out two separate restraints. Similar to the ones she used last time, a cuff at one end and a belt enclosure on the other, but these were connected by a short silver chain. She glanced down at his feet and he realized they were meant for his ankles.

His eyes shined at the idea, cock twitching for her to see. “I think - I think I can take it. I wanna try.”

“Baby, I’m so proud of you. You’re doing so good using your words.” She beamed and his neck went flush like a teacher’s pet. “Okay, go on lay back for me.” He obeyed her order without conviction. Laying flat on his back and taking each directive as she positioned him exactly where she wanted.

Her footboard looked like a golden halfpipe, a dip in the middle perfect for easy crawling access with a curve that led into a solid pole at each end – perfect for ankle restraints. It fit her needs to a tee and left him wondering just how long it took her to find it.

Propping up on his elbow to watch, she secured his ankles to the bedpost, tugging at her request and assuring her it wasn’t too much. As she snatched up the red rope, Marcus laid back and stared up at the ceiling. The mattress dipped under her weight and the scent of her rich perfume wafted over.

His breath hitched and he looked over, finding himself mere inches from the strip of satin running down the center of her thighs. His tongue darted out, imagining tracing it up the crease and further to her warm wet cunt. The memory of how she tasted tingled his tongue, and he groaned – ravenous for more.

“Clasp your hands together.” Her voice knocked him from his thoughts and he followed her model. “Just like that, now above your head.” The rope was surprisingly soft, made of cotton with an easy slip ring that had his hands bound in seconds.

His biceps flexed as she looped the rope over the headboard. Pulling, his muscles stung and he groaned at the feeling – but shockingly not in pain, but in pleasure. “Too tight?” She asked.

He gnawed on his cheek, confused by how his cock throbbed at the dull discomfort and he shook his head.

“Oh, did you like that?” She asked – a mix of shock and intrigue. A shy smile plumped his flush cheeks and she offered him another small tug – only a mere bit, but still had his head lulling back with a low moan; she rumbled out a sound of approval and slotted the information away for later.

With him securely knotted to the headboard, she stepped back to appraise her work like an artist finally seeing her muse on display. Actually, how she examined him made him feel like he was art, studying all the tiny details: the subtle twitch of his strained muscles, beads of sweat just beginning to drip down his browline, the weight of each heavy draw of his chest.

“So beautiful,” she said, as her eyes lingered particularly long on what being at her complete mercy inflicted upon him, cock red and pulsing for her.

Gaining a wicked gratification from it, a grin teased her lips. “Tug,” she ordered. He complied and a thrill ran down his spine as the restraints had him basically nailed to the mattress. Grabbing a small pillow and a thin, folded up blanket from under the bed, she put one to support his lower back and the other under his neck for both comfort and watching purposes.

He stared up at the ceiling, trying and failing to control his breathing as her heels clicked around the room. He’d expected her to crawl between his thighs but, instead she crawled in next to him. Pulling her legs up tight and stacking her knees, heels teetering off the edge.

“You’re so handsome, Marcus.” The raw honesty in her voice and the vulnerability of the moment left a salty taste in the back of his throat. Which was momentarily forgotten as her focus zeroed in on the parts she previously neglected; fingertips dancing along the pulsing vein of his neck to his Adam’s apple. “Did you take care of your problem once you left the other night?”

The realization of how utterly exposed he was stabbed at him like a splinter, a tinge of embarrassment crawling into his skin. He fought through his years of conditioning, of holding back. “Uh-huh,” his eyes rolled skyward. “I had to.” She frowned at the ounce of residual shame that wrapped itself around his hoarse voice like a cobra.

She caressed his jaw, “Did it feel good?”

“Yes,” he licked his dry lips. “Of course.”

“Then there’s no shame about it.” He let out a single breathy laugh at how her easy response seemed to ease the worry between his brows. He knew she wasn’t being flippant, but instead trying to show him there was no shame or judgment here, in her room. “Now tell me, did you think of me?”

“Always,” he choked out, “I always think of you.”

“Good,” she said, her hand went back and forth over his collarbone. “I want you to only think of me when you touch yourself.” The slight possessiveness in her comment made his cock twitch. “You wanna know a secret, Marcus?”

“Yeah” he whimpered.

She leaned in, a breath – then another against the shell of his ear. “I fucked myself thinking of you.”

A jolt of arousal shot down his spine at the thought of her in this very bed with her fingers deep inside her and his name on her lips. A helpless whine escaped him as his hips tried to surge upwards.

“I imagined you just like this,” her hand grazed up and down the center of his chest and the desire in the pit of his belly ignited in a blazing fire. “All tied up for me. With your cock buried inside of me as I barely rocked my hips, just keeping you right there. So hard and pulsing. God, it got me so wet, just thinking of you on edge, those sweet little sounds you make as you beg for release.”

The erotic words played like a porno in his mind and his eyes shut for just a moment to watch the fantasy. But suddenly her fingertips brushed his nipple and everything – the rustle of the comforter, the faint traffic floating in and his pathetic mewl – turned to radio static in his ears.

“Oh, you like that?” She repeated the motion on the other side and it shocked him how he keened, so sensitive. “Has no one ever touched you there?”

She continued her teasing ministrations, every word that reached his slumped open mouth turned into a soft gasp. “No,” he finally got the word out, shaking his head. “More - please. More.” The plea seemed to tumble out, unexpecting and unsure of exactly what he even meant.

Of course she did. With her fingers in a V-shape she teased around the colored flesh, every so often closing the gap to lightly pinch the skin – an uninhibited moan and a shameless bead of precum converging with each one.

He gulped for air, catching his breath as she maneuvered around him for a better angle. Strong thighs caging in one of his, clothed mound hovering just above his bare skin. She made a show of plunging her fingers into her mouth, sucking them down like it was a popsicle on a hot day. With a lewd pop, a dribble of saliva clinging to the edge of her lips. Spit-soaked digits coming to circle the area, his head slammed against the pillow as she leaned in, blowing on it to bump the skin.

“I bet that feels so good. Doesn’t it?”

“Yes,” he gasped.

“What about this?” She experimentally flicked her tongue across the flesh and his back arched for more.

“Fu- yes. Yes.”

She hummed into his heated skin, stroking it with her tongue over and over again. Switching sides, letting his broken off noises guide her. Her teeth grazed over the plumped flesh then sucked it into her mouth.

His body felt like it was vibrating, pleasure coursing through his veins. Gurgled noises clawed themselves from the depths of his chest, hips desperately bucking in a useless search for her barely out of reach thigh.

As she lavished his tender skin with her tongue, her hand came to work on the other – pinching and teasing the puffing flesh. The nip of pain and simultaneous pleasure had his body zinging with sharp, raw desire.

Desperately panting, gasping her name she kissed the purpled skin. Moving her tongue up into the divot of his neck. Licking the lines of sweat and across his collarbone until he was just a puddle – all dewy skin and sticky belly.

A need for her lips elsewhere bloomed in his chest like a weed. “Please,” he gasped. “Kiss me.”

Blown-wide pupils, doused in lust, met him. Her hand brushed across his cheek, diving into his hair. “Since you asked so nicely,” she hushed a breath apart. Her spit-swollen lips met his, perfectly slotting together in a deep and slow kiss that made the ache in his cock momentarily subside. Only to climb to new heights as it turned more heated – passionate.

Pliant under her, she tugged on his hair. A moan echoed around her mouth and her eager tongue swooped inside. Docile, his lips barely managed to move – hardly kissing her back as she ruined him for anyone else.

The hand in his hair wandered to his taut and stretched biceps, caressing the pulled muscles before dipping down to his cheek, throat and further to the top of his abdomen. The hidden muscles there flexed. “Please,” he groaned into her mouth and she flicked her tongue against his. “Oh God! It feels – so much. Please.”

“Always so polite,” she said, then nipped at his jaw and curled back into his side. The bedposts trembled as her fingernails scratched down his tummy. “Doing so well, baby,” she praised, hand stopping short of his cock to swirl her fingertips around the pearly mess.

“Fuck, look at you.” She showed him her glistening fingers, and his cheeks went scarlet as she spread them, the light shining on the drips slipping through the dips and down to her knuckles. “I love how messy you get for me, it’s so fucking hot.”

Honestly he had no idea his body was capable of making so much cum it actually bordered on concering. Where was it coming from? It was as if the years of repression had stored it all away in a bank, waiting until the day she finally came around.

“I’ve - I’ve never,” his sentence faltered into a high-pitched whine as her slicked up fingertips curled the fat head of his cock. A cry, nearing a shout of her name echoed around the room as she toyed with his slit, dragging her thumb across it – spreading it open.

“What were you saying?” She continued to tease the angry tip, somehow pulling more and more precum from him. “Come on baby. Tell me.”

His glazed brown eyes blinked up at her. “It’s - it’s all for you.” A satisfyingly wicked grin broke through her lips and she rewarded him.

Steady and slick, unhurried. Her fingertips dusted across his balls and skimmed the weeping tip with each long, drawn out stroke of her warm hand. “So pretty like this,” she said in a husky voice. Glancing at his pulsing cock in her loose fist and the wrecked expression on his face – lips broken apart, quivering and the lines of his forehead curled from his weighted brow.

Marcus wanted to memorize this moment, savor it forever. Greed hazed eyes drinking in the inky black outfit, painted to every dip and curve of her skin; her chest heaved, tight puffs of air showing him she wasn’t unaffected by it all.

The need to cum thrummed through him, balls drawing tighter and tighter as it threatened to swallow him whole. But the second he looked down at her tensing thighs and remembered her promise, a new desire roared to life.

“Fuck - please. Let me - taste you.” She bit down on her lip to trap a small moan. “Please. Wanna make you - feel good. Oh - shit, like you make me - Mhm - so good.”

Her hand slowed to a halt, “Is that what you want?” She asked, the piercing and primal look in her eyes sending a shiver down his spine. The loss of friction making him whine. Her hand traveling upwards. “You want me to sit right here?” She tapped his lips.

His tongue darted out, tasting and licking her skin like a reflex. “Fuck - baby, look at you. So needy for it,” she said and he muttered a soft, please, into the pad of her fingers. He whimpered as she ripped her hand away, eying for a moment to check and make sure to which he eagerly nodded.

“You did ask so nicely, baby,” her heels tumbled, one by one to the ground and his heart pounded in his chest like an animal trying to break free of its cage. Finally - so many nights spent fantasizing about this moment and here it was.

“You’ve been so very good so if that’s what you want, then that’s what you’ll get.”

She propped up on her knees, “So patient,” she cooed while unzipping the track from her lower belly all the way to the top of her ass cheeks. “And so sweet.” She spread it open, tucking the track inward.

Grabbing the headboard, she looped one leg around him so her pussy was inches away from his watering mouth. Just out of reach, but close enough to catch a whiff of her intoxicating musky scent.

“Fuck,” He growled, “Smell so good.” Ready to devour her, he wet his lips.

The groan he let out as her nails ran along his scalp, tugging to angle him right where she wanted, was sinfully deep, like it was siphoned through gravel.

He was fully surrounded by her, thighs pressing into his stretched out triceps, glossy and swollen slit just waiting for his tongue – he could spend his life between her legs and be perfectly content.

“Beautiful.” The rasp of breath hit her cunt and she shivered. “Prettiest pussy I’ve ever seen.”

Her lips twitched at his praise, “You gonna make me feel good?”

“Mh-hmm, I promise. I will.”

“Okay, hold on, be patient,” she said and he whined. He’d been patient, as patient as he could be – he was growing restless, throbbing and desperate for it. “If you need to stop, blink really really fast five times.”

“Got it,” he rushed out. She held herself there for a moment, then with a single nod carefully descended.

The moment her hot cunt dragged against his lips was indescribable. Tongue graced by her tangy arousal, he moaned, eyes fluttering shut for a moment to let it consume his senses.

She braced her hands on the headboard and started to slowly rock her hips against his tongue. Delirious from it, like a drug that shot liquid lust into his veins, the world around him blurred until a soft gasp of his name brought him back to reality.

Her heated gaze penetrated the mist in his eyes, he looked drunk – dopey eyed and tongue sticking out. There was a want to wrap his arms around her thighs, smash his face into her cunt until he was absolutely drowning in it. He’d fantasized about that very scenario, but being powerless – pinned down by her weight and the restraints was the most blissful torture he’d ever experienced and he basked in the small sounds she took for herself, lapping up the wetness of her already soaked cunt.

“You like me using you?” The sharp intake of breath between her words made his chest swell with pride and cock stir, a fresh bead of precum dripping from the tip. He grunted with a helpless bob of his head – his nose bumping her clit.

Her head dropped back with a moan and the sight of her in the throws of please was the prettiest thing he’d ever seen. When she snapped back there was a glint of untamed want in her eyes. The pace started to pick up, extending the slide of her hips so her clit bumped the tip of his nose again and again.

“Fuck - you take it so well. Mhmm - feels - oh. So good. Fuckin’ amazing. Marcus.”

If he was supposed to close his eyes, he didn’t care. There was no way he was tearing himself away from her. Transfixed on how she moved like she was dancing through water; babbling praise and pretty moans dripping from her smeared gloss lips.

“More,” he groaned into her pussy. Her hooded eyes bore into him, waiting and watching for his signal as she took more and more – the bed squeaking as she fucked his face.

The feeling of her wet pussy took over and his brain melted away; he could barely register his own name, let alone the growing ache in his balls nor the small rock of his hips as his cock seeked out a single touch.

“Marcus, fuck. Fuck me with your tongue - yes! Just like that.”

Not needing to be told twice, his tongue dove in and out with surprising dexterity and stamina. Clit grinding against his nose, the musky scent of her arousal enveloped him. A sheen of sweat coated her skin, tinging the taste of her on his tongue.

Wetness dripped down his chin, shimmering just like his petal-pink lips. She was soaked, spit and slick and he knew he’d found heaven on earth and it was between her thighs with his wide, wet tongue sliding in and out of her pulsing walls.

The sounds of pleasure he pulled from her strained his flushed and angry cock, but he remained painfully oblivious.

Grunting and groaning, feral noises vibrated against her folds and made her thighs tense and muscles constrict.

“That’s it baby. Make me cum, come on.” Her words fell out frantic and messy and he whined into her pussy then shook his head back and forth to stimulate her clit further. As she edged closer and closer, the knot in his only belly pulled tighter and tighter.

Her cunt clenched around his tongue. “Marcus!”

A gush of slick hit his tongue and he gasped – the wind knocked from his lungs as his own climax smacked into him. His body curling along with hers.

Piercing and sharp, like nothing he’d ever felt before. Jolts of pleasure were coursing through his body. Cock weeping for friction, desperate and searching as his hips undulate in the air. His eardrums rumbled from tightly clutching his eyes shut, blocking out her face as his cum shot onto his belly and her leather clad back.

Once the waves of pleasure subsided and reality set in, his body burned in utter humiliation. A feeling of shame prickling the edges of his screwed shut eyes.

“Marcus, baby. Marcus.” Her voice sounded like he was underwater. His head insistently shook, unconscious of the movement as she called for him again and again – a soft whisper wrapped with worry as she undid the knot.

Still, he remained frozen, shocked and unmoving, hopeful it would all somehow go away.

“Baby.” Her light caress of his cheek burned like a hot coal.

Why? Why? Why?

Why did that happen? How? He’d never cum untouched. It would’ve been one thing at 15, but at his age? He’d never felt so embarrassed.

“Marcus, please look at me. Baby, look at me.”

After a few seconds and the initial shocked waned, he peeked out. Peeling one eye open to check if the coast was clear before slowly opening the other. Her shoulders relaxed a hair, a soft smile coming to her lips with a gaze full of concern and a dash of regret? – no remorse.

“I - I,” he couldn’t breathe. “I never - I didn’t mean to-”

“No - hey. Marcus.”

“I’m sorry.” He closed his eyes with a deep sigh, wondering why it had to be him?

“Marcus, look at me. Baby.” She gently coaxed his eyes away from the ceiling and to her. “There’s nothing to apologize for.” How could she say that when he could practically hear his cum dripping down her back? “Marcus, it’s okay. There’s nothing to be ashamed of.”

He shot her a look that said, you can’t be serious.

She looped her leg back around to settle at his side like before. His elbows slackened, but his arms remained above his head, the rope loose around his wrists. Refusing to look down and see it, he instead looked at her and found some solace. “You might think it’s embarrassing.” He snorted, she could say that again. “But I think it’s sexy.”

His brows shot to a cinch. “Really?”

She bit her lip and nodded, “Marcus, I love how reactive you are to my touch. That you get so turned on by me – by bringing me pleasure.” Her eyes and fingers glided down his heaving chest, to the evidence of his untouched climax.

“You have no idea what it does to me, hearing the noises you make. How you shiver at just the smallest touch. You’re so good for me and I haven’t had an orgasm like that in - fuck. I don’t even know.” His breathing came hard and fast and he whimpered as she wiped her finger though his cum then sucked it off with the most lewd moan. “Mh-mmm, taste so good.”

“You do too,” he shyly admitted and she giggled, short and sweet.

“Marcus.” This time, she said his name with a serious tone. “I’m sorry for pushing you too far.” He opened his mouth to protest but she stopped him by placing a finger to his lips. “I may’ve not meant to, but I did. And I never want you to feel embarrassed or anything like that. I just wanna make you feel good -”

“You do,” he rushed out, then blushed. “Obviously.”

“But - I also want you to feel comfortable - safe.” She nuzzled into his neck and he let out a dreamy sigh. “I’m still learning and for this to work, we gotta communicate. Just like we are now.”

“Usually, I’m pretty good at that,” he said. Communication had always been a strong suit of Marcus’s – just not when it came to sex, but surely that would come in time. “I just - shit. I didn’t even realize. That’s never happened to me before.” She smiled against his neck then pulled back to look at him.

“Well, did it feel good?”

He let out an airy laugh and she couldn’t help but smile at the noise. “Yeah. Different, but good. Real good.”

“Good.” She looked down at his soft cock and he could tell she was contemplating by the way her lips shifted from side to side. “Ya know, I had planned on you finishing in my mouth.” His breath caught at how relaxed she sounded, and she peered up at him with a sparkle of mischief. “If you’re interested. I think you could get hard again, what do you think?”

“I am - but I don’t - I don’t know, I’ve never…” he trailed off and she looked shocked, and honestly a little offended.

“Don’t tell me no one has ever made you cum twice in one night.” He nibbled on his bottom lip and shook his head. “One day?” He shook his head again, and she tsked. “Oh Marcus, we gotta change that, do you think you can get it up again? Do you want to? It’s okay if not, it’s entirely up to you.”

“I’d like to try.” He nodded and her fingers swept across his chest, brushing his nipples and his mind and stomach swirled.

“That’s all I ask, baby. And I’m gonna give you the choice if you wanna be tied up or not. However, if I undo you, you gotta be good and not touch without permission.”

“I can’t promise that,” he said light-heartedly, clasping his hands together.

She shuffled off the bed, “I promise, you’ll learn,” she said, closing the easy slip ring around his wrists and tying the rope into a loose knot over the headboard. Honestly, Marcus didn’t really care if he ever learned – he loved being tied up and at her mercy.

After changing out the pillow for one with a little more cushion, making it easier for him to watch, she sauntered to the end of the bed and crawled between his thighs. His cock twitched, and his nose wrinkled from oversensitivity.

“So good, baby,” she whispered and leaned in to clean the mess on his belly. His gasp turned into a moan as she licked across his heated skin. Mumbling praises into his tummy with each swipe of her tongue until all that was left was a glisten of her spit.

She peered up through her lashes and licked her lips, then flicked her tongue over the tip of his cock. It was so precise – intense – an addicting edge that made him keen, unsure if he wanted more or for it to stop entirely.

“More.” His mouth answered for him, and she swiped her tongue against his tip a few more times, each one met by an intense shudder of his body.

Giving his cock a little more time to recover, she turned her attention to his thighs. “So pretty,” she cooed, kissing and brushing her lips along his sticky skin. Teeth grazing over the meaty flesh, sinking her teeth in and sucking a mark high on his thigh.

She repeated the action to the other, and a warmth bloomed in his chest at the secret marks of which only she and him would know of.

By the time she was crawling her way up, lavishing his chest and neck in sweet kisses, his cock was almost fully hard again. “You’re so handsome,” she kissed his cheek, “So amazing,” she kissed the other, “so perfect.” She kissed the edge of his mouth, then lingered her lips above his. “I want you to remember that.”

He shut his eyes – overloaded by emotions – and her lips met his in a tender kiss. Sinking into the feeling, he moaned at the flick of her tongue over the seam, parting to let her map his mouth in slow strokes.

After what felt like a lifetime, but still too short she tugged his bottom lip between her teeth. He growled at the tinge of pain and she released it with a grin. Quick to soothe it with a light suck while reaching down to palm his cock.

“See,” she said, “I knew you could do it.” He smiled through her chaste kiss. She moved downward with soft pecks, ravishing him in the attention he desired and adored.

“Such a gorgeous cock,” she flashed him a lippy smile, “Do you want me to put my mouth on it?”

He bobbed his head, “Please, need your mouth. Need to feel it.” Not wanting to make him beg too much, she licked from the base to tip, swirling her tongue then flattening it over the slit.

“Fuck,” he muttered from his clenched jaw as she traced the thick vein all the way down. “Shitshitshit.” Eyes locked on his, she went lower and his eyes nearly popped out of his head as she took one of his balls into her mouth and sucked.

The feeling was a foreign euphoria and his legs quivered at it. When she released it with a loud pop, he immediately missed it but luckily not for long as she took the other in her warm mouth.

Most women Marcus dated weren’t into giving oral, and he wasn’t the kinda guy to ask for it or pressure it – he liked his partners willing and eager. So it wasn’t shocking that no one had ever sucked on his balls. Actually, he wasn’t sure anyone but himself had ever really touched them without it being a slip of their fingers.

Her lips curled up at the side as she wiggled her tongue along his sack. A pearly blob of precum dribbled onto his belly as she mouthed her way back up, his hips grounding into the mattress as she licked it up, like it was precious and couldn’t be wasted.

“So perfect and all mine,” she praised and he responded with a whimper. “Does it feel good?” She curled her lips inward and took him into her mouth.

He moaned, a low rumble at the hot and wet feeling. Her eyes were magnetic, pooling with lust and his mind began to drift back into that place of blissful oblivion. “Feel - feels - oh so good. Fuh- fuck.”

She sunk lower and lower, but didn’t suck. Going as far down as she could until her throat constricted, then pulled away to take a deep breath before slowly working her way back down.

He’d never seen anything like it, she was working her throat open for him, repeating the action over and over again – each time going deeper than the last. By the time her nose brushed the coarse hairs at the base of his cock, he was a babbling mess. Singing her praise an octave higher, telling her how good it felt and how good she looked.

He had no idea what he did to deserve this, but he wasn’t going to question it.

As she took him fully in her mouth, his body trembled, using every bit of strength not to fuck up into it – not that he’d get very far but it was the principle of it. She sucked and his fingers and toes curled. “You’re amazing,” he groaned. “So - damn - talented.” Each word sounded as if it was punched from his gut.

She choked on a laugh at the compliment. Pulling off his cock, a string of drool connecting her glossy lips to the fat head. “Oh baby, you haven’t seen nothing yet.”

“God. I don’t know if I can handle it.” His smile was lopsided, dizzy with desire which turned to full on vertigo at her smug smirk.

“I know you can baby,” she cooed, kissing the junction of his thigh. “I’ll show you.”

He squeaked, “okay.”

She wrapped her hands around his cock, a firm grip at his base while the other moved the velvety skin across her lips and cheeks, smearing his precum before bringing him into her eager and waiting mouth. Taking him to the hilt in one swoop.

The air was punched from his lungs.

Her free hand came to rest on his hip, rubbing soothing circles as the other kept him from cumming. She swayed her head back and forth and his cock bounced around the back walls of her throat. Judging by the way her moans vibrated against him, she seemed to enjoy the heavy weight of him on her tongue, the salty taste steadily leaking from his purpling tip.

As she bobbed up and down, slow to drag her tongue along his taut length, swirling at the tip before sinking down till her chin hit her hand. His skin was glazed, sweat dripping down his back and collecting in his mussed up hair.

“Fuck, that - oh - feels so good,” he panted. The delicious pressure once again starting to build in his lower belly.

She took him in hand, slowly stroking as she took a few deep breaths. “Baby, I want you to try not to cum. Okay? Just hold out as long as you can, can you do that?”

“Mh-mmm,” he nodded. Both hands on his hips, she pressed to hold in place then wrapped her swollen slips around his cock.

His body and mind disconnected as she began to fuck his cock with her mouth, switching between shallow and deep thrusts. Expertely taking him apart with the most lewd sucking and slurping noises, it was like a porno in real life.

When she needed a breather, she slapped his cock against her tongue. He quivered, holding back. The bed shaking as he cried her name – like he was calling out for his savior which only spurred her on.

Tears pricked his eyes, falling onto his cheeks. He’d just cum, what was it an hour ago? Thirty minutes? Even less? He had no idea, time was relative in her room. The climax seemed to build from the other and coupled with the delayed gratification, the knot in his belly was twisting, unbearably tight.

“I’m - I’m close - I don’t think I can -”

She responded with a moan, glassy eyes telling him it was alright as she continued her brutally divine pace.

It was everything. Every cell and nerve in his body roused – electrified by the tight clasp of her warm mouth. White blobs spotted the blurry outline of her bobbing head, the hitch of her ass in the air. And finally, the tight wire in his belly snapped and utter ecstasy washed him as his vision went black.

The feeling of his cock pulsing, rope after rope of his salty cum surging into the back of her mouth made him gasp. Whimpering her name as she drank it down, sucking every last drop from him until his body twitched, plopping into a satisfied heap. A delirious and lazy smile curled on his lips.

“Oh baby, you did so good. So perfect, amazing.” She continued to praise him, quickly unfastening his ankles and releasing his hands. He couldn’t open his eyes and reached out for her and just like he hoped, she fell into his arms and on the bed. He immediately nuzzled into her chest, dragging his lips over her neck.

“See, I knew you could handle it. You did so good, Marcus.” He hummed at her praise. “Always so good for me – so perfect.” She kissed his forehead and the top of his sweat soaked hair as her nails massaged into it, down to the back of his neck.

The longer he laid there, listening to her praise, the heavier the blanket of sleep became. “You sleepy?” She finally asked and he hummed in response.

“Can I sleep here?” He mumbled into her embrace. She slightly leaned back and lifted his chin to bring his mouth a breath away from hers.

“You don’t ever have to ask.”

She cupped his cheek then tilted her head, going in for a quick kiss – similar to the one he shared at 13, experimental, just testing the waters. Her eyes flickered to his then back to his lips and she kissed him again.

It felt different, so unlike the previous kisses which were always shared in the heat of the moment. Even when those started soft, they always became desperate and filled his chest with something molten and needy.

But this was somehow better. Her lips just lingering on his and the action felt intimate –

No. Stop.

He couldn’t go down that road, don’t read into it, he told himself, just enjoy. He pushed away the flutter in his stomach, ignoring the warm and fuzzy feeling in his chest and melted into her touch.

The kiss was over much too soon and he fought the urge to touch his lips, feel where he missed her most since he’d been in this bed last.

She kissed the tip of his nose and brought him back to burrow into her chest.

He never wanted to leave.

#pedro pascal fanfiction #marcus pike #marcus pike x reader #marcus pike fanfiction #marcus pike x f! reader #the mentalist

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adorethedistance · 4 years ago

Text

Party Hard - Owen Joyner x Reader

JATP masterlist

Warnings: drinking, partying, intoxication, non sexual stripping, swearing probably,

Words: 6343 (which, if you know me, is a FUCK ton)

Summary: Going from tipsy to full on drunk is a terrible idea, but especially when you’ve got a secret to hide that could mean the difference between preserving and ruining your relationship with your best friend.

A/N: A couple items before we get started: I think I’m back on my bullshit? I mean I wrote this fic and it’s three times the length of my normal fics. Also I wrote this headassery as a literal self insert me(ace) x someone and so there are a couple flaws here and there that make this something I’m not 100% proud of. Owen picks the reader up a few times and I’m aware this kind of thing can really effect someone’s experience with this fic so I do apologize for the lack of inclusivity in regards to body type/ableism. I’m falling really behind on school work because I just can’t find the motivation which either means y’all will be seeing a lot more of me soon or absolutely nothing at all. Not sure which yet.

“You’ve got it so bad.” Charlie rests his left arm on his best friend’s shoulder, tipping back the half-full angry orchard bottle he’d been nursing for the better half of an hour. Owen’s stare is immediately broken and he crosses his arms defensively.

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

“Sure you don’t.” Turning to meet his friend’s smug stare, Owen shoots Charlie a glare of annoyance before returning his attention to the girl on the dance floor. Surrounded by a gaggle of her closest friends, Y/n is dancing and singing her heart out to Fergalicious with Chelsea, Leila, Savannah, and Carolynn. The bunch of them share in sporadic laughs as they exchange ridiculous dance moves just to add to the fleeting moment’s laughter. An assortment of screeches and squawks blend together as they all prepare to sing the rap section of the song. Observing the level of excitement the girls have over the verse, Owen can’t help but laugh at the spectacle.

“Why don’t you just ask her out already?” Charlie inquires between sips of his cold drink.

“What?”

“Y/n. Why have you not asked her out.”

“We’re just friends.”

“Yeah. Because you haven’t asked her out.” Owen rolls his eyes before turning 90 degrees to fully face the smug guitarist. He turns about-face to prove a point, but another symphony of squeals at the next song choice drags his attention back to his other best friend on the dance floor. “You’re so whipped.”

“Am not.”

“Are too! Look, if you don’t ask her out tonight, I will.”

“You’re not even into her,” Owen protests unceremoniously. Setting the molasses colored bottle on the counter next to Owen, Charlie steps back and copies his position of crossed arms and a relaxed stance.

“You’re right, I’m not. But you are, and if that’s what it takes to light the fire under your ass then I’ll do it.”

“She wouldn’t say yes.”

“Are you sure? I mean, the only way to know for sure is to ask.” And with that, Charlie is off, speeding toward Y/n at a pace that launches Owen into an impulsive chase. To prevent his friend from doing something stupid, Owen shoves him in the opposite direction from the group of girls on the dance floor. What he hadn’t anticipated was Charlie moving so far so fast. Owen has longer legs, he’s supposed to be the faster one, not Charlie. That’s why he hadn’t anticipated turning away from his musical friend to come face to face with a very flushed Y/n. Her lip-gloss coated lips are parted as she catches her breath from all the dancing. They look so soft and inviting that Owen can’t help but stare, and doesn’t realize the several looks of confusion among the girls around him.

“Everything okay, Owen?” Snapping out of his hyper focused stare, Owen blinks a few times, trying to generate a reason for coming over.

“You’ve been dancing for a while.”

“...Yeah?”

“Let me fix you a drink?” His statement comes out as more of a question but the breathless girl agrees nonetheless. Owen extends his hand to her which she gladly accepts but not without a quick word to her friends.

“I’ll be right back, I’m getting a drink.”

Her friends aren’t stupid, quite the opposite actually. And they see right through Owen’s facade of fixing her a drink because she’d been ‘dancing a while’. Please. As if they didn’t know a desperate attempt at flirting when they saw it.

The pounding music from the backyard begins to fade and muffle once the pair step into the Shada’s beautiful kitchen space. Owen leads her to the kitchen island where he has her take a seat on one of the barstools in front of the high countertop. Stepping around the fixture, Owen busies himself with whipping up a drink for Y/n at the makeshift bar on the island. He doesn’t even have to ask what it is she wants. Ice, pink whitney, club soda, and a splash of lime juice mixed together in a red solo cup Owen had considerately written her name on before going all mixologist-mode.

“Your usual.”

“Thank you, sir. You know, I’ve only had a handful of barbecue chips since I got here, and I’m already tipsy, so this actually might get me completely drunk.” Taking a sip, Y/n hums out of pleasure, “Why do you make my favorite drink better than I make my favorite drink?”

“So you have a reason to keep me around.” At the sound of Y/n’s laugh, Owen cracks a smile in time with his favorite sound in the world. The blonde haired man leans forward to rest his weight on his left forearm. He stares at her with adoration seeping from his gaze, before lifting his own cup to drink with her.

“What is that?” she asks, sitting up taller to try and see into Owen’s cup over the island.

“Jack Daniels.”

“I want some.”

“No,” Owen answers swiftly albeit softly. Y/n, however, is not feeling as conciliatory.

“No?”

“Have you ever tried whiskey before?”

“Well, no-”

“You’re drinking a fruit flavored cocktail that’s like 30% nonalcoholic. A sip of this would knock you off your little ass.” Y/n frowns at his words and employs a fake pout of anger to guilt her now laughing friend. Despite her smile, she whines,

“You suck.” Owen merely shrugs unapologetically before sipping and wincing at his drink of choice. “So… how did your date go- with Amy?” And there it is. The question that’s been at the forefront of Y/n’s mind for the last 24 hours.

Owen met this girl Amy at a more professional house party type of event and they hit it off right away. They spent the night invested in conversation, sharing in a cacophony of laughter. Y/n had no right to be upset, but she was. Amy was drop dead gorgeous in that Mini length red, velvet dress that hugged her curves in all the right places. Her figure was snatched to the gods, and she was about 5’3”; a seemingly irrelevant thing to notice, but Y/n knew that was the height Owen loved in a partner. At least, based on all his previous flings. And not to mention, her beautiful golden blonde hair that extended all the way down her toned back. Amy was perfect to all standards including that of any straight man with eyes and undoubtedly Owen’s. They spent the entire night together, Y/n long forgotten despite having been Owen’s plus one.

Y/n on the other hand didn’t exactly view herself as the drop-dead gorgeous supermodel type. Seeing how Owen took an interest in her at that event, it was no wonder Y/n was jealous. In fact, she had been so jealous that she allowed their flirting to ruin her entire evening.

She had been invited platonically as Owen’s guest, but Owen didn’t feel guilty about leaving her alone once he saw Charlie was by her side the whole night. Little did he know Charlie was only there for her because Owen wasn’t. It was pity company. Pity company that she was grateful to have as she cried into a few gin and tonics. Y/n avoided telling Charlie about her feelings for the adorable drummer, but with the way events transpired, he had figured out what it was that had upset her.

Charlie so badly wanted to give Owen the guilt trip of a lifetime. And he did once he and Owen were alone, heading home in Charlie’s orange hatchback car. He did so by telling Owen about how his best friend had spent the entire evening crying into gin and tonics. ‘Y/n doesn’t even like gin and tonic’ was all Owen could come up with.

When he inquired about why his best friend was crying, Charlie said he didn’t know, but it may have had something to do with the fact that the person who invited her spent the whole night ignoring her; he left it at that, leaving Owen to connect the dots, sort of. Owen had come to the realization that Y/n must have been crying over him, but why? Unable to comprehend a reason, he pushed the situation to the back of his mind. So far back that when Amy texted him that same night, he immediately responded and eventually set up a date for them to get dinner alone Friday evening.

The date was fine. Objectively there was nothing wrong with it. But every time Amy took a sip of the gin and tonic she had ordered, he couldn’t help being reminded of Y/n that night. It took Owen a solid thirty minutes to finally conclude that maybe Y/n was... jealous? Of what? Of Amy? Quickly reviewing a long list of qualities, identical to the one that Y/n had thoroughly checked through when she first saw the blonde, Owen realized she was indeed jealous of Amy. But why? What did Amy have that Y/n didn’t?

Oh.

His initial conclusion in the car with Charlie had to be right. Y/n was crying over him, and seemingly jealous of Amy, all because Amy had his attention. Why was that a problem?

Oh… no. No, Y/n does not have feelings for him. Y/n is... well, Y/n. His best friend, his partner in crime, his confidant, there’s no way she’s in love with him. There’s a different reason as to why she’d been crying into drinks she didn’t like. And that different reason is why her text replies have been short and cold when he had asked for date night conversation pointers. And that different reason is why her smile kept faltering on FaceTime when he was asking for fashion advice for his date.

Y/n is not in love with her best friend.

Owen had spent the past year pushing down his feelings for the girl that threatened to bubble over the top. If Y/n was truly into him, he would’ve acted on them. But she isn’t, so he didn’t. At least, that’s what Owen told himself…

“It was alright,” he offers lamely as a reply to her inquiry. Y/n simply nods and takes another swig of her drink to dull the ache in the center of her chest.

“Just alright?”

“Okay, it was better than alright. She was great.” There’s a hole burning in the center of her heart, and against her better judgment, she expands the deficit by asking for more information.

“What does that mean- that she was ‘great’?”

“You know…” Owen trails off in search of the right words, some words, any words, but nothing comes to him. To sell her nonchalant demeanor, the hopelessly devoted girl is staring down into her cup as if it’s the most interesting thing in the room. She didn’t expect Owen’s eyes to be boring into hers when she looked back up, so she quickly musters a polite smile. Maybe the average onlooker couldn’t tell it was fake, but Owen knows something is off. He just knows. Because he knows her.

“How did those conversation pointers pan out?” She’s deflecting, he thinks.

“One of them worked.” I’m just feeding into it, he thinks.

“Only one of them?” He’s holding back something, she thinks.

“Well, yeah. We didn’t really do much talking if you get what I mean.” I don’t think I can handle this, she thinks.

“I see…” The pair stands together in a silence so tense they felt like strangers. It’s awful. Y/n and Owen hate every second of it, but what could they do? In a moment blinded by upset, Y/n reaches across the island to grab the newly opened bottle of grey goose and pours what must’ve been no less than three shots of liquid into her cup. No club soda or lemonade this time, she chugs down the rest of her drink in a flash; Owen stares at her in disbelief and shock.

Y/n hates being drunk, she likes being the designated driver, she’s never had straight up liquor in her life, and she’s a lightweight, that’s for damn sure. Owen knows all of these things and is even more surprised to see her reaching for an almost empty bottle of gin.

“Hey. Maybe you should take it easy, you’re gonna hurt yourself.”

“I’m fine.”

“You’re a lightweight and you know it. Put the cup down.” When Y/n shakes her head no, something in Owen snaps and his desire to be gentle is long forgotten. “Y/n. Put the drink down.”

“Why do you care, Owen?” In taking time to respond, Owen sees the opportunity and goes for it, taking the cup from her loose grasp and splashing it down the drain of the vegetable sink. “What the fuck?!”

“I think you’ve had enough to drink. Come on.” It’s only a matter of time until Y/n becomes an incoherent human being that’s impossible to wrangle, so Owen is very aware he’s on the clock. Snagging two Arrowhead water bottles in one hand, he takes Y/n’s hand in the other and brings her into the Shada’s den. There are only a few other people in the room, one is a couple and the other a pair of pining idiots, to which Owen becomes slightly wary. Not that the dynamic would change much. He and Y/n are practically a couple according to everyone around them.

Chelsea and Charlie are sitting fairly close together for just friends, on the chocolate brown loveseat facing the couch that Owen has plopped his increasingly intoxicated friend onto; Leila is sitting in a single armchair that a very tipsy Taylor is hanging over the back of to hug her shoulders. Upon seeing Y/n’s pouting expression Chelsea seeks more information,

“You good, fam?”

“He threw it down the sink!” She’s fading faster than Owen had hoped.

“I did. I poured what would’ve been her fifth and sixth shots down the sink.”

“Jesus, Y/n, are you trying to kill yourself?”

“What are you, a cop?” Even tipsy she’s still sharp as a tack. If Owen wasn’t frustrated with her at the moment, he would’ve probably laughed. But he is, so he didn’t. Slipping back into caretaker mode, he hands her one of the water bottles he snagged from the cooler on the way out. In her typical stubborn and petulant fashion, Y/n weakly throws the unopened bottle onto the couch cushion next to her. All their friends laugh but Owen isn’t having it.

“Y/n.” And it only takes a firm call of her name for the slumped over lightweight to glare at him but oblige. She retrieves the bottle and sticks her arm out straight toward Owen’s still standing figure.

“I can’t open it.”

“I don’t think I’ve ever seen you this fucked up,” Leila comments.

“I don’t think I’ve seen you fucked up period,” Chelsea adds on. Charlie laughs lightly before resuming whatever conversation the four of them had going pre-Owen and Y/n’s entrance.

Satisfied with the small sips she’s taking of her water, Owen relaxes and takes a seat next to her on the couch. The temporary break in her temper tantrum allows Owen to save his breath; he opens his own water bottle, taking a few drinks which ended up being half the bottle. He’s given her a good bit of room on the couch but it isn’t good enough for Y/n. It takes her a few failed attempts to screw on the cap of her water but once it’s properly sealed, she moves closer to her best friend. The water has acted like some magical temperament cure as Y/n’s previously permanent pout has disappeared.

Owen knows he and Y/n are close enough to where cuddling wasn’t anything out of the ordinary. But the way she’s burrowed into his side, picking up his seemingly ‘heavy’ arm to place it around her own inebriated frame, laying her head high up on his chest, and unintentionally resting her hand on his lower abdomen, something feels off. Her hand isn’t dangerously low, but low enough that the side of her limp palm has met the waistband of his jeans. Owen can’t help but feel his skin tingle and burn under her touch. Why is he so affected by her touch all of a sudden?

Owen is pulled from his snowballing thoughts by the sound of Y/n’s muffled voice against his chest. He leans down as far as he can which places his head on top of hers gently.

“Hmm?”

“I’m sorry.”

“Hey, you don’t need to be sorry,” he whispers just loud enough for her to hear. A tiny drop of warmth on his shirt under her head triggers Owen’s memory: Y/n’s an emotional drunk. She doesn’t get drunk often but when she does, she goes all in and becomes somewhat manic as a result. That accounts for her previous anger. Now it’s sadness, so in about ten minutes, she’ll be easily excitable and bouncing off the walls.

Y/n had carpooled with Leila and Chelsea to the party, and though Owen was upset about her not picking him up like they’d briefly talked about at first, he’s suddenly thankful for the arrangement.

“Let’s get you home, yeah?”

“Unhhh.” The lack of a coherent response is enough for Owen, and after finishing the rest of his water, he sits up on the couch.

“Where’s your house key? Hm?” The prospect of losing her key is absolutely devastating to Y/n as she begins to weep. Her imminent distress in response to Owen’s question has all their friends laughing once more; Leila speaks up,

“Check the left chest pocket of her jacket.”

Owen nods, noting the directions, and gently rolls his friend over on her back. Deciding against using her strength, Y/n flops over onto her other side which still allows Owen access to her pocket. His long fingers dwarf the button fastener on her jacket that she often struggles to open, and sure enough her sky blue house key is in her pocket just as Leila said.

“Thanks,” he acknowledges Leila before taking Y/n’s cold hands in his own larger ones to help her stand. It’s a bit of a struggle to stand and as a result, the fading girl leans a bit of her weight into Owen’s side. “You gonna say bye to our friends?”

Y/n nods a goodbye to each person in the room, moving from left to right naming Leila, Taylor, Chelsea, and then Charlie. Upon saying bye to Charlie the small girl starts to cry again, harder this time, much to everyone’s confusion.

“What’s wrong?”

“Charlie looked a-at me like he didn’t l-like me.” The entire room bursts out laughing, Owen included this time, but she’s still crying. “It’s no-not funny.”

“I know. You’re right, it’s not funny.” Owen’s exaggerated sympathy goes undetected by the very emotional Y/n as she presses her face into his grey long sleeve shirt. She reaches up to hug her arms around Owen’s neck for stability as she adds more tears to the tiny spot from before. “Can you walk?” He asks genuinely as more of her weight leans into him. The only response Owen gets is a few soft sobs, and in reaction to her messy state, lets out a subtle eye roll. He shakes his head before bending down to place one arm under her knees and the other behind her shoulder blades, sweeping her off the ground before she can protest.

“Would you guys tell Jer thanks and that I had to take her home?” A symphony of affirmations and goodbyes usher him out of the house, and once outside Y/n’s crying diminuendos into short sniffles and the occasional sigh.

“Here, be careful,” Owen panics as his friend nearly bangs the front of her head against the roof of his car. Once he cautiously places all her limbs in the passenger side, Owen shuts the door and hurries over to the driver’s side as if Y/n could hurt herself in the next five seconds. He places the key in the ignition but before he even touches the gear shift, he turns and looks quizzically at his best friend. The sniffling and sighs coming from her puffy face have lulled her into an almost unconscious state; Owen puffs out a frustrated sigh as he reaches across the entire car to grab Y/n’s seatbelt for her.

Another thing about drunk Y/n is that her emotional state makes her more likely to give in to physical impulses. So after she registers Owen leaning across her lap for the seatbelt, she grabs his shoulder so he doesn’t move away. The action surprises Owen and he turns his face to look into her half-lidded eyes. He’s trying to make sense of the action but his trailing thoughts are interrupted when the girl in the passenger’s seat leans forward slightly to put her face against Owen’s neck.

“I like your smell.” Owen tries so hard not to laugh in fear of upsetting her again, but he can’t conceal the smile growing on his face. He then gently pulls away from her grasp in order to actually start driving,

“Okay. Thank you.”

The car ride is composed of mostly comfortable silence with the occasional inebriated comment or nonsensical sound from the girl in the passenger seat; Owen had been so captivated by Y/n’s uncharacteristically relaxed state, he’d been driving on autopilot and instead of turning left to get on the highway that runs south to where her apartment is, he’d gone north to go to his own place. No big deal, Owen didn’t plan on leaving her intoxicated and alone, and she’s stayed the night plenty of times before now. What’s one more night? It isn’t until he puts the car in park and helps her out of the vehicle that Y/n clocks her surroundings.

“I don’t live here.”

“You don’t, no, but I do,” Owen replies simply before he slides out of the car. Y/n stays in the car as if Owen told her not to move, and looks up at him confusedly when he opens her door. In her tipsy state, she is able to recognize what Owen is doing and smugly places her hand over the buckle of her seatbelt. With her tiny palm over the red button, she begins giggling maniacally.

“What are you doing?” Owen asks with a frustrated sigh although he can’t help the small smile overtaking his features at the sound of her growing laughter. He doesn’t get a response, just more giggling which lets him know he’s going to have to do things the hard way now that she’s in a lifted mood. “Kid, you have to get out of the car.”

“You can’t make me.”

Owen takes a step back from the open door to reevaluate. Y/n always tells him to work smarter, not harder. Another one of her many bouts of wisdom is that you can keep the attention of children and adults alike with a vastly dynamic change in volume. The question is will she notice Owen using this tactic on her in her drunken state?

“Hey, Y/n/n,” his speech drops to a low whisper. “I’m sad, can you hold my hand?” The change in volume works exactly as described; completely convinced by the sincerity of his whispering, Y/n gives him her right hand. “Can I have the other one?”

When she nods a small ‘yes’ and gives him both of her hands, Owen finds himself fighting the urge to laugh at how easy that was. He takes both of her cool hands in his larger left one to reach across her body and release her seatbelt with a swift CLICK.

Luckily Y/n didn’t tangle herself up in the seatbelt, but she had other ideas for causing trouble. Owen helped her out of the car but once she was standing on her own two feet, she began running away from him. With a slam of the car door and a string of breathy curses later, he chases after his best friend before she can hurt herself on literally anything in the parking garage. The sound of Y/n’s laughter carries through the vacant space, and despite all her best efforts, Owen quickly catches up to her. Her giddy intoxication allowed for the suspension of disbelief that she could outrun the much taller Owen Joyner, but she’s sorely mistaken when his strong arms wrap around her waist and lift her feet off the ground. Y/n’s bouts of laughter are contagious; Owen finds himself laughing alongside his best friend. Setting her feet back on the ground he asks,

“Are you going to run away again if I let go of you?”

“Yeah,” she chokes out through the tail end of her laughing fit. The candidness of her reply prompts Owen to throw his head back, shaking it as if in disagreement with the universe itself,

“I appreciate your honesty.” And with that, Y/n screeches in glee as her best friend maneuvers her body in his grip to lift her over his right shoulder.

“Owen!”

“You did this to yourself, kid.”

The silent elevator ride up to his flat is comfortable relative to the current position they’re in. Y/n’s no longer fighting being carried but instead entertains herself by tapping out an intricate beat on the surface of Owen’s back.

“Guess what song this is.”

The beat she’s playing is close to incoherent and Owen tries to stifle his full laugh in fear of making her cry again. He’s been successful so far, but now having Y/n over his shoulder, she can feel the movement of his abdomen that was unintelligible by sight alone.

“Your favorite song,” he guesses insincerely.

“No, my favorite song doesn’t sound like that. It was sicko mode.”

“That was not sicko mode.”

“Owen, how come you don’t wear a badge?”

“What?”

“Because you’re the song police?” Owen can’t help but snort out a laugh even though the comment was made at his expense. Still sharp as a tack.

Once the pair reach the front door of Owen’s ‘bachelorette pad’ as Y/n liked to call it, he sets her back on the ground albeit reluctantly as he recalls why he was carrying her in the first place. Thinking quickly on his feet, Owen forms a plan that’s more likely than not foolproof.

“Hey, Y/n/n?”

“Yeah?” Her voice is still right behind him thankfully.

“Can I have a hug?” After a few seconds of silence in the hall, Owen begins to doubt his plan until he feels the weight of his best friend leaning on his toned back. With her cheek pressed against the middle of his spine, Y/n brings her arms around his waist, clasping her hands tightly together. Her semi-public display of affection allows Owen some time to unlock his front door. Once he props the door open, Owen realizes that Y/n probably isn’t going to let go any time soon and opts to waddle through the threshold with her still attached to him. He’s able to turn around and lock them back in for the night which makes the girl begin to laugh.

“Was this your plan all along? To get me drunk so you could lock me in your apartment and hold me prisoner for the rest of my life?”

“And I would’ve gotten away with it, too...”

“If it weren’t for those meddling kids and their dog.”

True to his imagination that Y/n wasn’t letting go any time soon, Owen swivels her around his torso so that he could hold her to his side rather than support her with his back. He now has his right arm over both of her shoulders as she continues to hug her best friend. The way she leans her head onto his chest makes Owen’s heartbeat the tiniest bit faster. ‘She’s drunk, she doesn’t know what this does to you’ is the mantra blaring through Owen’s subconscious. Shaking any and all sort of romantic thoughts out of his head, he begins to lead her back to his bedroom.

Flicking the lights on proves to be a mistake once Y/n starts groaning miserably, and Owen decides the floor lamp is a better option than the overheads. Much to Owen’s surprise and relief, Y/n moves to sit on the edge of his bed on her own volition. She’s not upright for long as she collapses into the sheets of his unmade bed that contemplated neatening before leaving the house; hindsight is 20/20.

“Hmm. I like your smell,” Y/n parrots despite already bringing up the topic on the ride home.

“This is the same cologne I always use.”

“No. I like your natural smell.”

“What?”

“I was reading up about pheromones the other day. And there was this thing that said when couples like each others’ scent, it’s like a primal way of seeing if you’re immuno-compatible with someone so your offspring have the best chance for survival. It’s an evolutionary thing for the survival of our species. Ants have pheromones, too.”

Sometimes she has trouble remembering to feed herself, but leave it to Y/n to remember extensive information about pheromones whilst intoxicated. The concept is intriguing to Owen, so he proceeds to ask questions, ignoring the tug on his heart he felt after hearing her say the word ‘couples’.

“So, if I like your scent, we’re immuno-?”

“Compatible, yeah. But it’s mostly me because you can sniff out my period.”

“I can what?”

“I read that men can tell when a woman is at her most fertile because that’s when they like her smell the best. They did a study where a bunch of men were introduced to a few different scents, and without fail, the one they liked the most or would describe as ‘sexy’ or ‘attractive’ was the scent they took from the woman who was ovulating.”

Y/n continues talking about what she learned about pheromones as Owen picks up a bit of the mess around his room. She returns to the topic of ant pheromones as he digs through his surprisingly large closet for something for his friend to sleep in. His temporarily bubbly best friend also notes that he should ‘sniff her now because she’s ovulating and he would like that’ which makes him laugh into the drawers of his waist-height dresser. Returning to find her still slumped over on the bed, he pats her leg and beckons her to sit up. After Y/n’s upright again, Owen hands her his classic black ‘BEANS’ t-shirt and a pair of briefs that won’t properly fit her but will fit better than a pair of his actual pants.

“Can you put these on for me?”

“Yeah.” Owen’s conflicted with both wanting to respect Y/n’s privacy by leaving the room, and prioritizing her safety, and not leaving her unattended at any moment. He comes to a compromise which is staying by her side but turning a full 180 to face the wall of his bedroom. A couple of moments pass until Y/n begins whining frustratedly.

“Owen.”

“Huh?”

“I can’t ubns-” her words become incomprehensible as she begins to cry again and Owen turns around to find her struggling with the buttons on her shirt, her jacket long discarded on the bedroom floor. This shirt: her white, cap-sleeve crop top with a peter pan collar that she wore for anything mildly significant, this was her favorite. Owen remembers her fussing about how she ruined it only to find that she just forgot to steam it one day. So with a little heat and water, Owen had fixed the shirt like nothing ever happened, and he’d do it a million times over again if it meant he got to relive seeing the smile that graced her face for the first time again.

“What’s wrong?”

“I can’t do the buttons.” She runs the back of her right hand against her tired eyes to wipe away her tears and Owen internally curses himself for the way the small action makes his heart flutter.

“Do you need help?”

“Yeah.”

“Listen to me, you are okay,” he sinks to kneel in front of Y/n as she sits tiredly on the edge of the bed. Owen doesn’t miss the slight tremble of his hands as he reaches up to unbutton her shirt, but he prays that she will. Through tiny sniffles and teary eyes, she watches his hands effortlessly work down the length of her shirt, each button modestly dancing between his fingertips. Once the short top is fully unbuttoned, Owen returns to his normal standing height and Y/n attempts to shrug the fabric off her body. She struggles lightly and knowing her frustration is imminent, Owen reaches down to gingerly push the sleeves off her shoulders. The light graze of his rough, calloused skin against her own skin sends electric-like shocks through the both of them; yet neither of them believed the other felt it too.

Owen hastily withdraws his hands and, without warning, Y/n quickly removes the bralette she was wearing. Owen’s eyes widen slightly at her lack of inhibition. He does his best to be a gentleman and swiftly redirects his gaze to the white ceiling fan that has all of a sudden become the most intriguing object in the universe. His lower peripheral vision indicates that she’s finally slipped the black tee over her head, but she begins sniffling more fiercely as she struggles with taking off her jeans. Owen sighs and drops to his knees once more in spite of himself, and aids his best friend in slipping the material over the length of her calves and off the tips of her toes. Hoping to speed up the process, he grabs the briefs he had brought her and unfolds them in preparation for helping her into them. His efforts are all for naught as Y/n forgoes the need for any more clothing and slides under the covers of his unmade bed. Owen then turns to leave the bedroom, opting to set up on the couch for the night before Y/n’s small voice is cutting through the comfortable silence.

“Where are you going?” He sighs,

“I’ll be right back, okay? I’ll get you some water and Advil for when you wake up tomorrow.” Y/n then nods acceptingly and allows her eyes to flutter closed as he leaves the room. Despite how tired she feels, Y/n won’t quite yet let herself sleep--not ‘til Owen is beside her. When he returns he sets the ibuprofen bottle on the nightstand before uncapping the Kirkland brand water bottle he had in the fridge. He coaxes her into sitting up just one more time so she can drink some of the water before falling asleep. She sits and rubs her tired eyes as she drinks and Owen has to physically force himself to look away from the adorable sight. He just wants to take care of her forever but things have always been strictly platonic between them.

The risk of making their friendship weird or awkward was just too great.

“Goodnight kid, I’ll be right outside if you need me.” Owen leaves without awaiting a response and lets out an annoyed sigh before setting himself up on the couch in his living room. He was so focused on getting Y/n to bed safely that he forgot to grab clothes for himself. Not a big deal. He simply strips down to just his underwear and climbs underneath the thick Pottery Barn throw blanket Y/n had gifted him as a housewarming gift. That and a fire extinguisher because ‘you don’t notice its absence until you need it’ she claimed. The memory makes Owen smile and he allows his eyes to close after a long day.

A long day that was about to get longer. Owen finds himself sinking further and further into sleep until he hears the padding of footsteps that are now in his living room. He’s too tired to open his eyes, and it’s not like he doesn’t already know who it is. What does surprise him, however, is the feeling of the familiar weight squeezing between the couch and his turned back.

“What are you doing?” He half mumbles into the night.

“You’re warm.”

“That was not the question, Y/n/n.” After not receiving a reply, Owen turns as best as he can to look at his friend who’s nestling her way into his sleeping arrangement for the night. “Kid-”

“I just wanna be with you.”

“Alright,” Owen sighs out of irritation, exhaustion, and a sliver of adoration before sitting up on the couch, “Come on.”

He stands up, fully expecting to have to drag her back to the bedroom, but finds relief in seeing her struggle her way off the couch. Slipping her tired hand into his unexpecting, larger one, Y/n allows her friend to lead her into the bedroom for the second time that night.

Owen considerately lifts the covers for her to climb back into before getting into the other side of the bed.

“Owen.”

“Hm?”

“Guess what.”

“What?”

“I love you.”

“Love you, too, kid.”

“No,” Y/n speaks in a casual tone as if she’s not divulging into her biggest emotional trepidation to date. “I love you, Owen.”

Owen can’t help the way his heart seemingly stops. The way the butterflies in his stomach are going wild. The way he wants to smile like he’s the biggest lovestruck idiot on planet Earth.

She’s drunk. She doesn’t know what she’s saying. She won’t remember this tomorrow.

“I’m in love with you, Y/n.”

She won’t remember that tomorrow.

***

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