#this started of completely differently from where it is now

[keylimepie]

You know, I've thought about this a lot over the years. I started participating in fandom 25 years ago, and I do remember during the LiveJournal (LJ) and forums eras that I rarely if ever heard a fanfic writer complaining about engagement and each chapter was full of comments. Then around 2010 tumblr happened and everyone migrated from LJ to tumblr. Suddenly fanfiction writers were complaining about a lack of engagement. I think this is largely because we became so centralized and lost all sense of community. It used to be you had to sign up for a website with a forum dedicated to a very specific pairing, or you had to join a livejournal community that was very specific to your interest. And the membership might reach a little under 2k. Most of these communities were locked too, so you didn't have to worry about what you said being publicly visible to folks outside your community. You knew who you were speaking to and who could see what you were saying.

Tumblr, tiktok, and twitter are more like shouting into the void and hoping someone in the crowds of 100k people take notice of you, and that task is way easier with a pretty photo or a video than with a fic. You don't know who is going to see what you're saying, and I think most of us have either experienced or witnessed someone receiving dog-piled backlash because one person misconstrued what the OP said. So basically, not only are you struggling to get attention in a massive crowd from people with incredibly short attention spans who have no idea who you are, but if you do manage to get someone's attention they may be too scared to say anything publicly. Hell they may be too scared to DM the author because they don't know the author either and I have seen authors tear apart DMs publicly because they misconstrued something that was said and now the author's fanbase is dog-piling that person. You ever notice how so many asks to authors are anon? People are scared, and it is so much safer to just like or kudo something than put yourself out there in front of a potential firing squad.

Also just want to point out, that a lot of asks people send to creators never get addressed, either because tumblr ate it, or the creator decided to ignore it, or the creator's inbox was overflowing. And after awhile people stop sending asks to not only that creator, but other creators as well because they've been receiving negative reinforcement that their engagement is undesired.

I think I saw another one of these posts floating around where it turned out people were gushing about fics in discords but not commenting on AO3 or the author's tumblr. And this kind of makes sense to me. Discords are a lot like the forums and LJ communities of old, where it is a much smaller group and you tend to know most of the people there and you feel more comfortable speaking up.

I just don't think huge centralized hubs are of the benefit to creators. It is fine to post stuff to tumblr or AO3 or wherever, but that isn't enough. If you want engagement you need to build up or join a community and cross-post there. If you're just flinging your work into the void and expecting engagement, then it just isn't going to work. Sure people will find it, but they wont feel comfortable enough to say anything where they have no control over who sees it. 20 years ago, we didn't have tumblr or twitter or even AO3, you had to find or start a community if you wanted to share your work. We had to make our own spaces not rely on corporate spaces, and I think that is what the difference is. You need to create a space where people feel safe to engage, and tumblr has NEVER been that. Tumblr has been terrible from day 1 for engagement, just toxic and mindless so often.

TLDR: No one is engaging because the sense of community is completely gone and been stripped away over the last 15 years. I cannot stress enough for the younger folk how much fandom these days is just not what fandom was. It has been 13 years since I last felt a sense of community in any of my fandoms, and it sucks. I can't help but think we need to decentralize again and create little pocket communities in order to return fandom to what it is meant to be.

You know what’s really disturbing to me? The culture that seems to have sprung up around fanfiction. Writers spend weeks and months working on a story – I think my record is six months on A Place For Us To Dream. And so many times readers expect to just be given a chapter even if they don’t give anything to the writer in return.

I’m going to date myself a bit here, but I’ve been reading/writing fanfiction for ten years. And when I first started it was a wonderful community. There was an unspoken rule – if you read/enjoyed it, you review it. You take thirty seconds to tell an author who probably spent anywhere from three days to a week writing that chapter you just enjoyed to tell them you enjoyed it. Even if it was as simple as “Great chapter, can’t wait to see what happens next!”

Writers spend so much time on stories, and then they post it because they have this thing that they’ve invested so many hours into and they want to share it with the world. They know how they feel about the story, and they want to know how other people feel, what other people think.

And when you read it and don’t review, you know what message you’re sending that author? That they’re not worth your time, or you didn’t enjoy their story. So why should they keep posting it? Yeah they might continue working on it in their own time, for their own enjoyment, but you might never see another chapter again because you couldn’t be bothered to take thirty seconds out of your day to tell them how you feel.

I’ve written stories in eight different fandoms, ranging from very small to very big (I’ll openly admit I wrote Twilight fanfiction once. Once. It was an Alice/Jasper story and haters can hate all they want but I’m still proud of it). I took a break for a few years because I fell out of fandoms during college, and when I came back apparently it’d become the norm to just greedily consume writing without telling writers how you feel. And that is one of the saddest things in the world to me because fanfiction is where I really started getting serious about writing. It’s how I’ve honed by skills and become the writer I am today. And that was largely in part because of all the support I got when I was an itty-bitty thirteen-year-old writing crappy W.I.T.C.H. fanfiction.

Everyone keeps saying “reviews don’t matter, you should just write for yourself.” Well, you’re wrong. Reviews make or break fanfiction. Reviews tell writers whether it’s worth their time to continue posting that story online or whether they should keep it on their hard drives and never share it with the world.

Kill the attitude that reviews don’t matter. Start telling writers you like their stories. And if you don’t, if you all just continue to be invisible readers? Don’t be surprised when that writer disappears.

[misaerabl]

Pierced

CONTENT: wc…3.7k ✦ vampire reader x vampire hunter vi, vi being a good girl for reader teehee, biting, tit-sucking, a lot of sexual tension, vi calls reader a monster, reader calls vi a good girl (multiple times), vi was drinking a bit but she's still completely sober and aware, bloodsucking (not proofread at all, SORRY) SUMMARY: Vi has spent years hunting you, a vampire as beautiful as you are dangerous. She swore to put an end to your existence, yet every encounter ended the same—you taunting her, slipping through her grasp like smoke. But tonight is different?

She had been hunting you for years.

Vi didn’t know when it became an obsession—when the chase stopped being just about duty and started sinking its claws into something deeper, something darker. At first, it was simple: a vampire terrorizing the city, leaving behind bodies drained and discarded. A job for a hunter like her. But then she saw you.

Demonizingly beautiful. Unholy in the way that no creature should be. A face carved by something cruel, something that wanted to see men—and hunters—fall to their knees. Vi wasn’t weak. She told herself that every time she tracked your movements, every time she found herself too late, standing in the aftermath of your existence. She should’ve hated you. And she did.

But hate didn’t explain the way your voice haunted her long after you disappeared into the night. The way your taunts replayed in her head like a song she couldn’t shake.

“Poor Vi,” you had once cooed, perched on a rooftop above her, lips stained red. “You chase me like you don’t already belong to me.”

She almost got you that night. Almost. But you were always just out of reach.

Until now.

She was alone in her apartment, the silence pressing in as she nursed a drink and thought of ways to trap you, to finally end this sick game. But the air shifted. A prickle ran down her spine.

And then she saw it—your figure standing on her balcony, illuminated by the faint moonlight.

You had come to her.

Vi didn’t hesitate. The moment she saw you, bathed in the silver glow of the moonlight, she reached for the dagger at her belt. Silver. Blessed. The only thing she trusted against something like you.

She rose from her chair, movements fluid, controlled—only the sharp inhale of breath gave her away. She stepped outside, the night air cool against her skin, her fingers tightening around the hilt of her weapon.

And there you were.

Beautiful as ever. Too beautiful. Your crimson eyes locked onto hers, piercing, knowing, as if you could see straight through her—through the anger, the obsession, the flickering, unspoken thing that lingered beneath it all.

And you smiled. Gentle. Soft. So out of place on something as monstrous as you.

Vi’s grip tightened, but her feet felt heavier than they should.

"You’ve been thinking about me," you said, voice like a whisper, like a lullaby meant to ensnare. "I could feel it."

Vi exhaled through her nose. "Shame. I was hoping you’d feel this instead." She lifted the dagger just enough for you to see, the silver catching the moonlight.

But you didn’t flinch. Didn’t move at all.

"You won’t use it."

Her jaw clenched. "You wanna test that theory?"

You tilted your head, amusement flickering across your face. "If it helps you sleep at night."

Vi hated the way your voice slithered under her skin, the way the space between you felt unbearably small despite the distance. She had spent years trying to kill you. So why did it feel like you were the one in control?

Vi’s voice was steady, sharp as a blade. “You’re a monster.”

You didn’t react. Not at first.

“You kill,” she continued, taking a slow step forward, dagger still poised. “You prey on people—innocent people. You feed on them like they’re nothing.” Her voice turned to steel. “And you expect me to believe that smile?”

A gasp left your lips, soft and exaggerated. You pressed a hand to your chest, fingers splayed over where your heart should be beating. The movement made Vi’s eyes flick down, just for a second—just long enough to notice the dried blood beneath your nails.

“Oh, Vi,” you sighed, tilting your head. “You wound me.” Your lips curled into something almost pouty, but the amusement in your eyes was undeniable.

Vi clenched her jaw. “You don’t get to act innocent when you still have someone’s blood on your hands.”

You glanced down at your fingers, examining them as if you’d forgotten. Then, you dragged one nail against your palm, smearing the blood slightly, before meeting her gaze again.

“I was hungry,” you admitted with a shrug. “Can you really blame me?”

Vi’s breath came a little too fast, her body too tense, her grip on the dagger too tight.

God, she hated you.

Or maybe—maybe she hated whatever it was you were doing to her.

You took a step forward, slow and deliberate, your gaze never leaving hers. Vi’s fingers twitched around the hilt of her dagger, but she didn’t move.

Didn’t run. Didn’t strike.

Didn’t do a damn thing as you closed the distance between you like a shadow creeping under a door.

“I bet you taste so good,” you murmured, voice low, dripping with something too dangerous to be called teasing. Your eyes flickered down, tracing the curve of her throat, the rapid pulse beneath her skin.

Vi swallowed, her grip tightening. "Try it, and I’ll make sure it’s the last thing you ever do."

You only smiled, stepping even closer. She could smell you now—something faintly sweet, something intoxicating, something that made her head feel too light.

"You say that," you mused, tilting your head. "But your heart is racing, Vi. Just a little."

Her jaw clenched. "You don’t scare me."

"No?" You reached out, fingers ghosting over the collar of her shirt, and Vi flinched. Not because it hurt. Because it didn’t. Because your touch was light, deliberate, like you were savoring the moment. "Then why haven’t you stopped me?"

She should’ve shoved you away. Should’ve driven the dagger straight into your ribs.

Instead, she stood there, breathing too hard, letting you lean in until your lips were just barely brushing the air between you.

And then you whispered, “I wonder if you’d let me.”

You moved even closer, so close that Vi could feel the faintest shift in the air between you. Your lashes fluttered as you took a slow, deliberate inhale, letting her scent fill your lungs.

And she just stood there.

Frozen. Like she hadn’t spent years chasing you, swearing she’d kill you the second she got the chance. But here she was, dagger clutched tightly in her hand, and she wasn’t using it.

Vi exhaled sharply through her nose. “You really don’t value your life, do you?”

You let out a low hum, tilting your head. “Oh, I do. I just know you won’t take it.”

Vi let out a short, humorless laugh. “You think I won’t kill you?”

You grinned, fangs just barely peeking past your lips. “I think you’d miss me too much.”

Vi scowled, but you saw the way her throat bobbed as she swallowed. The tension crackled between you, thick and electric, coiling around her like a serpent waiting to strike.

And then, with the slow grace of something that had all the time in the world, you leaned in—your lips hovering just above her pulse.

Vi sucked in a breath, muscles locking, but she didn’t pull away.

Didn’t move.

Didn’t stop you.

Your tongue flicked out, warm and deliberate, tracing a slow, languid path along her neck.

Vi shuddered.

Her grip on the dagger faltered, just slightly.

And you—oh, you smiled against her skin.

You pulled back slightly, just enough to meet her eyes again. They were darker now, filled with something you couldn’t quite place—something she probably didn’t want to name.

“Is that what you really think of me?” you asked, voice smooth, velvety. “A monster?”

Vi’s jaw tightened. “You kill people.”

You hummed, tilting your head. “So do you.”

“That’s not the same.”

“Isn’t it?”

She didn’t answer. Couldn’t, maybe. Her breath was uneven, her pulse still hammering beneath her skin—so loud, so alive.

You leaned in again, not bothering to hide your smirk as your tongue flicked out once more, dragging along the spot you’d just teased.

Vi exhaled sharply through her nose, a muscle in her jaw twitching.

Your voice was barely a whisper against her skin.

“Funny,” you murmured. “You taste like you don’t want me to stop.”

Her entire body tensed when you leaned down, her heart skipping a beat at the feel of your nose brushing against her neck. It was embarrassing—how her skin tingled at the simple action, how her breath hitched against her will. She forced herself to look at you, to keep her head straight, when every part of her wanted to tilt—wanted to give you more access.

Your voice was a purr against her ear. “Do you think you could quench my thirst?” Your lips barely grazed her skin, your breath warm, teasing. “Darling, you just look so good…”

Vi shuddered. She hated this. Hated how her body responded, how she wasn’t pushing you away, wasn’t lifting her damn dagger to stop you.

“Stop.” Her voice came out strained, uneven. “Please… stop.”

Yet she did nothing.

And neither did you.

Your hand rested on her shoulder, your fingers curling slightly, grounding her in something that felt like both comfort and possession. And then—soft, barely there—you kissed her neck.

Vi let out a sharp exhale, her fists clenching at her sides.

God, she already tasted so good.

You hummed, inhaling deeply, savoring the scent of her—warm, alive, something utterly intoxicating.

“Stop,” she whispered again, weaker this time.

You pulled back just enough to meet her eyes. “Do you mean it?”

Silence.

Then—so quiet, you almost didn’t hear it—

“…No.”

Vi exhaled shakily. “Don’t stop.”

Your grin was slow, fangs glinting in the dim light.

You were both vulnerable, at each other’s mercy. It was almost ironic. You could tear her apart, sink your fangs into her skin, and drain her in mere seconds—and she, she could ram her dagger into your heart without hesitation. But for some reason, neither of you moved.

Everything was so messed up, yet, in a twisted way, it made perfect sense.

Vi swallowed hard, her chest rising and falling in uneven breaths. She looked up into your eyes, her own filled with something she refused to admit—something she couldn’t hide. The need. The desire.

It was all there.

"Will you let me… taste you?"

Your voice was a whisper, smooth and intoxicating, wrapping around her like a spell. Vi hesitated—just for a moment. She shouldn’t want this. She couldn’t want this.

And yet… she did.

“Yes,” she breathed.

A slow, satisfied smile spread across your lips. “Good girl.”

You leaned in, your breath warm against her skin, savoring the moment before finally sinking your fangs into her neck.

The moment your fangs pierced her skin, warmth flooded your senses—rich, intoxicating, utterly consuming. Her blood was unlike anything you’d tasted before, sweet with a hint of something electric, something alive. It burned as it slid down your throat, like the finest of wines mixed with the very essence of her—strength, defiance, and something dangerously close to surrender.

Vi’s breath hitched, her body going rigid beneath you before melting, a sharp gasp slipping from her lips. Her fingers curled into fists, nails digging into her palms as if she could fight against the way her body reacted—the way heat coiled low in her stomach, the way her pulse fluttered under your lips.

You drank slowly, savoring every drop, your tongue brushing against the wound as if soothing the sting, as if pretending this was something gentle. But it wasn’t. It was possession. It was hunger.

And God, she tasted divine.

Her head fell back, her body going limp against you, and you caught her with ease—one arm wrapping around her back, the other cradling the back of her head. You held her like something precious, like something yours.

“God…” she moaned, voice breathless, the sharp sting of your bite mixing with a pleasure she didn’t dare name.

You pulled back after a few seconds, your tongue sweeping over the fresh wound, lapping up the remnants of her blood. Some of it still dripped from your lips, warm and rich, and you swallowed it down as you stared at her.

She was panting, her chest rising and falling in uneven breaths. The look in her eyes was a tangled mess of disbelief and want, like she couldn’t comprehend how much she had needed your touch—how much she still craved it.

When you leaned in again, dragging your tongue slowly over the bite, she let out a soft, helpless whine. Her neck stung, her body ached, but none of it mattered.

You’re a monster.

The thought rang in her head, clear and sharp like the blade she still grasped in her trembling hand. She should drive it into your chest, pierce through flesh and bone, end this before she lost herself any further. It’s what you deserved. It’s what she had sworn to do.

And yet… she couldn’t.

Her grip on the dagger tightened, but her other hand—traitorous, desperate—clung to you instead. Her body burned where you had touched her, where your lips had lingered, where your fangs had torn into her. It should have made her sick. It should have filled her with rage.

But all she felt was need.

She needed more of you.

The beautiful, haunting creature before her—so utterly inhuman, yet so devastatingly real—had her wrapped in something she didn’t understand. You were terrifying in your power, in your hunger, in the way you smiled at her like you knew every thought racing through her mind.

And God, maybe you did.

Vi swallowed, her breath unsteady, her body betraying her as she leaned into your touch instead of pulling away. You were beautiful. Beautiful in a way that was wrong, that was twisted, that was broken.

And she wanted more.

Maybe it was the blood loss. Maybe it was the heat still pulsing through her veins from where your lips had been. Maybe it was the way you looked at her—head tilted, eyes glowing, licking her blood from your lips like she was the finest thing you’d ever tasted.

Oh, God, forgive her. She wasn’t thinking straight.

Her dagger still sat heavy in her grasp, her fingers curled around the hilt like it was the last thread tethering her to reason. But reason felt distant now, slipping through her like sand, replaced by something darker. Something warmer.

“You did so well for me,” you purred, your voice dripping with satisfaction, with something she couldn’t name. “Such a good girl.”

She shouldn’t have felt that shiver down her spine.

She shouldn’t have been staring at your lips, still stained with her blood.

She shouldn’t have wanted to hear more.

Her hand slipped beneath the fabric of your elegant, long dress, fingers trailing over the bare skin beneath your low-cut top, feeling the cold skin of your breasts.

You gasped, caught off guard by the sudden heat of her touch. The dagger she had held so tightly fell from her fingers, clattering to the ground, forgotten. In that moment, you knew—she was yours.

Her guard was completely shattered. She no longer cared about the blade, the danger, or the consequences. All that mattered was you.

Her hands roamed over your skin, pulling you closer, every touch telling you what words could not. She was lost, consumed by the need you had sparked in her. And you could feel it. Every tremor in her fingers, every breath she took, spoke of a desire she couldn’t fight anymore.

She was completely undone. And she didn’t want to be saved.

She pushed you gently, the sudden pressure forcing you backward. Your lower back collided with the cool railing of the balcony, the edge digging into your spine, but you hardly noticed.

Now both of her hands remained on your skin, trailing with deliberate slowness beneath the cloth of your dress, exploring, caressing. The sensation was electric, every touch setting your nerves on fire as she grew bolder, her fingers brushing over every inch of exposed flesh.

You could feel the heat radiating from her, the desperation in the way she touched you, as if she couldn't get close enough. The world around you faded, leaving only the sound of her breath and the feeling of her hands, relentless and tender at the same time.

And still, she didn't stop.

You could hear her heavy, desperate gasps, each one shaky and uneven, but she didn’t break the kiss. Not even for a second. Her lips were pressed to yours with an urgency that left no room for hesitation, no space for restraint.

Every breath she took mingled with yours, each one more desperate than the last, as if she was trying to inhale all of you, trying to drown in the very essence of you. Her hands continued their exploration, her touch frantic now, but still gentle—like she was afraid of breaking you, even as she pulled you closer.

But you could feel it—the hunger. The desire. It was raw and uncontained, and you couldn’t deny that you were just as lost in it as she was.

Her skilled fingers traced patterns on your bare skin, moving up to cup your breasts perfectly, causing a whisper of a moan to escape your lips. She broke the kiss only to trail her mouth along your jawline, nipping gently at your earlobe before moving down to your neck.

Her lips found the sensitive spot where your neck met your shoulder, soft at first, then slowly growing bolder as she began to suck, the pressure sending waves of shivers through your body. You gasped, your spine arching slightly at the sensation, every nerve on fire as she worked her way down your neck.

Her hands, relentless and sure, continued their path, moving over your chest, massaging your breasts with a delicate yet insistent pressure. Her thumbs circled over your hardened peaks, each motion slow and calculated, driving you to the edge of madness. She was so careful, so deliberate, it was as if she was savoring every second.

You could feel your heart racing beneath her lips, pounding in your chest as her kisses grew hungrier, more urgent. She nuzzled against your collarbone, breathing you in, her scent mingling with yours in the air. Then she kissed her way down your collar, open-mouthed, leaving heated trails of pleasure behind.

Her fingers tightened possessively around your breasts, and it felt as though she was claiming you, marking you as hers.

For a moment, the roles seemed reversed. She was the hungry one, the one consuming, devouring every inch of you with an intensity that made you dizzy. And you couldn’t help but let her.

Vi's hands left your breasts to tangle in your hair, holding your head still as she continued her kisses down your collar, leaving a trail of warmth against your skin. She buried her face against your chest, breathing in deeply.

Her mouth moved lower, capturing one hard peak between her lips and sucking deeply. You moaned, your fingers finding her hair and pulling slightly. She released the first breast only to capture the second one, her tongue flicking against the hardened nub before she sucked again, alternating between your breasts hungrily.

One hand remained on your other breast, pinching and rolling your nipple between her fingers as her mouth moved from one breast to the other, alternating between gentle sucking and tender biting. The sensation made you arch your back, pressing yourself further into her mouth as one hand found its way into her hair, pulling her closer.

You tossed your head back, your hair flying behind you as she continued to worship your breasts. Her free hand roamed your body, feeling your curves, your waist, before settling on your other breast, squeezing and kneading it as she sucked hard on the other, making you cry out in ecstasy.

You were panting now, your chest heaving as she continued her dual attention on your breasts. She looked up, seeing your face contorted with pleasure, your mouth open in a silent 'O' as she alternated between sucking and biting gently, her hands never stopping their kneading and squeezing.

The cool night breeze was a sharp contrast to the heat that simmered between you two. It swept across the balcony, tousling your hair, the wind grazing your skin like a tender, fleeting touch. The chill seemed to only intensify the warmth that pulsed between your bodies, an electric tension that refused to dissipate, no matter how soft the breeze was.

Suddenly, a rustling sound from just outside snapped you out of the moment. You instinctively pushed Vi back, and the look she gave you was almost childlike—a mix of confusion and disappointment, as if you had taken away her favorite toy.

"Do you hear that?" you asked, your voice low and tense.

She grunted, clearly frustrated at the interruption. "It’s probably just an animal," she muttered, but before you could respond, she quickly leaned in again, trying to close the distance between you.

You stopped her, lifting your top back up with a teasing smile, as if reminding her of the world outside the bubble you’d both created. Her eyes flashed with a mix of irritation and desire, but you could see the fight leave her as she stood there, waiting for the next move.

"God, you taste so good," Vi murmured, her voice desperate, and you smirked, enjoying the praise. "As did you," you replied smoothly, savoring the moment.

But just as you were about to lose yourself in the moment with her, a voice called from the hallway. "Vi! Are you with someone up there?"

Vi didn’t answer, her eyes still on you, but the voice repeated, "I’m coming up!" Footsteps could be heard approaching the stairs.

Her face twisted in frustration, but her desire for you was overwhelming. "It’s nothing. They’ll leave eventually." She tried to reach for you again, clearly not wanting to be interrupted.

You stood firm, cold and unyielding, watching the door as you said, "Go."

Vi hesitated, the want in her eyes clashing with her need to keep you close. But eventually, reluctantly, she left to answer the door. You could hear her barely muffled voice as she spoke to the person on the other side.

The loud knocking sounded again, followed by the unmistakable sound of someone stepping inside. And then the voice—sharply—spoke, "Is that a bite mark on your neck, Violet?"

You knew it was time to disappear.

Without another word, you slipped out of the balcony, vanishing into the night, your figure swallowed by the shadows. You didn’t look back. You never did.

Vi, however, would be left with nothing but her own confusion and desire, and you knew she would find her way back to you.

[venmondiese]

MELT AN IGLOO

-ˋˏ| summary: Summer in the south makes the temperature go high, so when your friends say that their cousin's house has a pool, you'll take the chance to refresh yourself... and maybe do more.

✧ | Pairing: Modern!Aemond Targaryen x reader

✧ | word count: 5.8k

✧ | Warnings: 18+ MINORS DNI, age gap (reader is 20, aemond is 27), P in V sex, Oral sex (F receiving), creampie, reader is a menance... aemond is a perv.

✧ | notes: based on Igloo by Kiss of Life

Summer was the time of the year where you shined. 

College in Old town was a good option, and you made tons of new friends, including Baela and Rhaena, both twins with different majors. Rhaena studied arts while Baela studied Literature. Though you studied the same thing as Baela, you and Rhaena had more in common. 

You two liked flirting, and giggled when you got a new crush. You were young, and a bit stupid. Whatever, you just turned twenty and life was barely starting with an intense feeling of juvenile freedom. 

While Rhaena settled more for relationships, you were more into casual things. You never paid in clubs as most guys would invite rounds of drinks for you and your friends, and you surely rewarded that behaviour. You got rides from men when you went to parties, and some times, you’d go out on dates. Your friends always joked that you never lacked Vitamin D.

You were from the North, and so the south provided you with more freedom, thanks to you being completely on your own and not on the judging eyes of your surroundings, no one knew you in Old Town. The restrictions previously provided felt something far away now, as your life was different. 

With that, something annoyed that came along with living in the South was the weather. You almost forgot that Old town was so near to Dorne, and the heat was unbelievable.  The hot weather every fucking day, and you couldn’t escape it. No matter what you did, it was impossible to stay away from it. 

Since Rhaena and Baela lived in the same complex of apartments (provided by the university) that you, you three got together to discuss what to do:

Go to the beach. Natural decision, since Old town has beautiful beaches and clear water, and the docks were beautiful. That’s the main issue, if you didn’t get in the right time, all of them where full. 

Install Air Conditioning in your rooms. No, too expensive. 

Go to one of the water parks. It was madly expensive for them to be full of people. }

Go to one of your friend’s apartments that had a pool for the residents. At first it was cool; you went and had a great time. But after a while, it was starting to look as if you three were taking advantage of it. 

After those infallible four ideas, and a week full of high temperatures Rhaena and Baela got an idea. Even if they were raised and bred from one of the most prestigious and rich families, their parents wouldn’t just gift them an apartment, so they rely on the one provided by the scholarship in college. And their family was miles away…

Except their cousin. 

You weren’t exactly sure of their relationship with this cousin of theirs, since they were open about other family members, always with a fond tone. The only thing you had heard is “He is our cousin who lives here in Old Town” and that’s all. 

The background information they give you is that he is twenty seven, finishing his doctorate and giving classes about Valyrian culture or Philosophy in the faculty. When you asked them why they didn’t live with him, they just shrugged and said that he was kind of a lonely dude and they weren’t that close. 

“And he is okay with us… going to his house to use the pool” you say as you three are on the uber to get to the house of this mysterious cousin of theirs.

“I meaaaan…” Rhaena says “We have the key to his place; he gave it to us in case of emergencies.”

“Valid reason. Dying of heat seems like an emergency to me” you shrugged. 

“And besides, we bring ice cream, beer and we bought him a red velvet cake to bribe him” Baela adds with a confident nod. “Just straight out to the pool, and no getting into his stuff and we’ll be okay”

“And he doesn’t have like a… girlfriend” You ask amused. “If you aren’t close, she might think we are robbing the house”

“Yeah, right” Baela chuckles, her eyebrows rising playfully “As if we would steal in our swimsuits”

“Besides he isn’t dating. He isn’t married either”

“I thought you said this dude is old” 

“Twenty six is old but not old old” Rhaena objects, almost meekly.

“We are not going over the Corwyn thing again. He is sixteen years older than you!” Baela reminds her twin

“I am with Garmund now, duh”

The conversation dies when the uber informs you that you have arrived at the sector of Houses where their cousin lives. Even if Rhaena and Baela take some time trying to figure out which key is it to open the house, after a while you were in. 

The house was as if come out of stock. It had some sober colours and one fine painting, but if your friends hadn’t told you otherwise, you would think no one lived here.

As Baela sets the food in the fridge, Rhaena moves the sliding door to the pool. “Nice… I never thought his yard would look this modern.”

“Why?” You ask, setting your thing in one of the chairs nearby as you take off your dress. 

“He is such a nerd for ancient Valyrian stuff. I figured his house had the same style.” 

At least the first hour was calm and at peace. Baela had music at a fair low volume, as you three swam and hanged around, using the floats that the twins brought along, since they were 99% sure that his cousin didn’t have anything fun, like a Bluetooth speaker, floats for the pool or ice cream. 

You weren’t a big fan of beer, not like Baela was, at least. Rhaena and you liked more sweet flavours, but you weren’t going to be picky in this situation. You chat all the time, as you take sun in the reclining chair that was in the yard. Rhaena speaks about her new relationship with Garmund, about meeting his family and her dad’s reaction. Baela instead tells you about her friends of her career, who were clinically insane. 

When it was your turn to speak, the twins’ cousin comes home. 

“I believe I told you the key was for emergencies” He says in an annoyed tone as he turns off the speaker. He was wearing a suit (in this heat…) and you noticed the scar on his left eye. “And it was to keep your mother not freaking out about you two being alone in this part of the continent.”

“Aemond, we are sorry, but it is so hot! We needed somewhere to hang out” Rhaena says, standing up. She was wearing a pink swimsuit, and her hair was beautifully braided. “You wouldn’t have let us come here without an excuse”

“You are right, I wouldn’t” he says crossing his arms. He would obviously refuse. “And why is your little friend here?” He asks raising one eyebrow upon seeing you. 

“Oh, come on, she is our closest friend” Rhaena says. “We won’t trash anything. We won’t put loud music, we won’t enter the house while wet… please, cousin!”

“You are our only family here” Baela adds, not quite begging as Rhaena, but still. “We bought you beers…, and ice cream…. and red velvet… we know you like it”

You see as Aemond roll his eyes. You sit up, pulling your glasses to your head to look at him better. He was hot. Hot with bold, capital letters. He was HOT. He had the same Valyrian features than the twins, but his were sharper and much more distinctive. He wore black and white even in a day this hot and that was commitment, to which you thanked because he looked hotter in a suit and tie. 

He also looked older than you three, obviously, he was six years older than the twins, and seem more mature and serious, if anything a bit stoic and cold, but God damn you if it didn’t make him more attractive. You wanted this man. You wanted this man bad. 

“Fine. You can stay” He agrees reluctantly, a hand on his forehead as a disappointed dad would. Fuck, he is so hot “Don’t do anything stupid. No destroying my house, no destroying my pool, no getting drunk. Am I clear?”

“Yes” both twins say under their breath. 

“And control that little friend of yours” He orders before stepping back inside, leaving you three to it. 

Baela and Rhaena sit by your side, on the other chairs as they sigh. 

“You didn’t mention your cousin was hot” it’s the first thing that comes out of your mouth. 

“Ewww” Baela says scrunching her face. “It’s our cousin!” She says, low so he can’t eavesdrop. “And he is old”

“You say he wasn’t old old” 

“He isn’t that old, Baela”

“Come on, he is Aemond. The guy who used to bring his lizard pet in all family functions, I have never seen him with a girl except with that weird aunt that Jace has… still, never brought her to family functions”

“Yeah, like he is… okay, I guess, but I don’t think a pretty girl like you can take Aemond’s… personality so lightly”

“Yeah, and he looks like he has the weirdest kinks possible”

“He is still hot to me” You say playfully. “Come on. Look. Let’s say… I manage to fuck him” You start your chat, and Baela makes a disgusted sound, but you ignore it “Then he’ll let us use the pool more often. Problem solved, everyone happy”

“You think Aemond would be up for that? Not to be on Baela’s side but Aemond is a bit…” Rhaena leans to whisper the last part. “Cold. Like an igloo… or an Iceberg”

“A man that has sex with you won’t miss a chance to see you with little clothes.” You say it as if reciting wise words. “I lose nothing trying.”

“We might lose the access to this house, mind you” Rhaena says amused. 

“Come on, we’ll even invite Garmund. Isn’t he like Aemond’s cousin?” you ask her.

“Yeah”

“Well, then. I am fucking that man” 

With that, you stand, wrapping a sarong around your hip, and put on your sandals in quite a confident mood as you her Rhaena say to her sister.

“I sure hope the house have thick walls”

You give them a wink before you walk inside. You were pretty dry thanks to the sun, and you usually didn’t swim a lot. Your hair was in a messy bun, slightly wet with some messy strands. 

You want this Aemond guy. You like him. He has that aura of mystery that you like in a man. You liked cold men; they usually were the most sexually frustrated, and therefore, a great fuck, in your opinion.

“Oh, hey...” You say softly, looking at him, sitting on the couch as he held the computer on his lap, a hand resting on his mouth as he was focused on reading some work related stuff or something. “Do you mind if I have a beer…?” you ask nonchalantly. 

“Help yourself” he says dryly, not moving his gaze from the lecture on his computer. “Beer’s on the fridge”

You went to the fridge, and took two cold beers. You silently prayed to get that dick. 

“I brought you one, if you wanted…” You say softly, extending one to him pretending to be clueless.

“I don’t like beer”

“Oh…”

“I’ll have it anyways, darling’.” He says, finally moving his gaze away from the computer. 

He takes a sip, and before he can throw you out to the yard, you say. “I am sorry to… invade your home” 

“It’s fine” He murmurs, turning his eyes to observe you. You do not know what is it that his mind thinks, but you can see his eyes moving along your body, even if they are subtle. “How long have you been their friend?”

“Quite a while, now. Maybe… like two years?”

He nods softly. He isn’t chatty or open. But he doesn’t make you leave either. 

“Are you anything like them?” You look at him with a confused expression, to which he chuckles lowly. “As immature, I mean”

“I am mature for my age, I have been told”

“Oh, so you have, Hun…” He says amused, watching something on the screen of his computer. 

“But, I am like them, I guess. Me and Rhaena are twins” you say smirking proudly. You loved matching with her, clothes, music, sometimes you would make out with a dude and her with his twin. It was great.

“Let me guess, you are into pink, and men just thinks you are so pretty” He says in a mocking tone as he types some things on his computer. It seems effortless to focus at two things in the same time when you are Aemond Targaryen. 

“Well, they do. And I think I am” you say sitting slightly on the armrest of the chair, holding the still closed beer bottle in your hands.

Aemond raises an eyebrow as he types a bit more, and once he finishes, his gaze turns up to see you. He seems…intrigued. Looking at you as if you were a foreign creature on his territory, which, to be fair, you are. 

Yet there is something else on his gaze, which you can with certainty say that it’s lust. When he sees you, as if judging for himself, you think what your next step should be. You look at him with the same intensity, and also sharing the same feelings. He was hot, and totally your type. You liked serious guys, who wore suits and seem over your shit. It was hot, and it made you horny. Sometimes guys were following you around like puppies, but this… Coldness was much more exciting. 

“Well, yes. You are pretty”

“Thank you.” You say simply, seeing how he accomodates the laptop on his lap, his jaw tense. “You are handsome yourself”

“You should get back to your friends before they come inside, all soaking from the pool”

“Oh, they know I am here” you say shrugging, looking intently at him.

“Well, aren’t you a clever girl” 

There was an implication about his tone, the way his hungry gaze looks at you as he closes his laptop. Could you really have made it? You don’t believe it. 

He stands up, his beer almost empty, and he walks past you as he holds it out for you. “Finish it, if you want.”

Perhaps it was a test, as you were still holding your own cold beer bottle. Damn, you don’t even like beer that much. It is a bit bitter, and it leaves the taste on your tongue far too long for your taste. Still, you do not care for that. Whatever, fuck the taste. You grab the beer with a faint, almost too taken aback to come up with something witty or even remotely seductive. 

He goes to his kitchen, and you can see him check the window, to see Baela and Rhaena, probably, before opening his fridge. The open kitchen allowed you to see his every movements as you drink the beer, letting it past without a second  thought, the faster, the better; so the taste isn’t impregnated on your tongue. 

“You have a girlfriend?” you ask, trying to sound disinterested and innocent enough.

“Ha, now you are being cheeky” he mutters closing his fridge leaving the food on the countertop.

“I am just curious…” You say standing up, and walking towards the kitchen. He is half amused, as he scoffs. 

“I don’t.”

“Oh. Good...”

He doesn’t answer. 

You aren’t a silly girl, as most men think you are. You just like to play around, and ‘use them for evil’ as you colourfully put it. And besides, most men that were interested in you were older. You are in pubs, bars and parties. Beaches, and in the houses of your friends, enjoying the parties. You simply don’t go unnoticed, and you don’t mind that, even if men older than you, by more than ten years, approach you with a different pick up line and practically an imminent erection. 

You can’t deny the attention, of course. With Aemond is no different, but this time is you the one approaching him, trying by any way to manage to melt his icy facade, the one who lets out all of his carnal, primitive desires. It seems as his stoicism is stopping him from doing things he’d enjoy. And with that, anything could be what tips him off the edge. 

“Are you that busy?” You ask as he makes himself a cup of coffee. 

“Nothing I can’t handle, but I haven’t had a moment to myself in days”

You watch him make himself a cup of coffee, as you bit your lip softly. You are getting squirmy, not knowing how to go forward. There is something, he is interested but not quite to take a step. And you don’t know how to push it, should you simply pull the strings of your bikini top and wait for the best? Should you just get in your knees and undo his belt? 

“Look, darling’, no offense, but the last thing I need is a pretty girl hanging around me” He says as he sips his coffee, as he moves from his spot, coffee in hand, probably to go back to his laptop. 

Before he can walk past you, you say. “I think you do need a pretty girl around you”

He stops upon hearing your words, dangerously close to you. You look at him, as if the answer was obvious; and for you, it was. You were practically naked on his kitchen, throwing yourself at him and more than willing to be fucked mercilessly by him, however he wants. You wouldn’t reject it, and you think that he knows that too.

“You think so?” He asks, his gaze turning shamelessly down at your lips, and then at your face as his tone is one of pure smugness.

“Yes. And you have one right here now”

Perhaps he knows he shouldn’t. A friend of his cousins, younger than him… yet even if he thinks that, it does not stop him, not after you have been persistent, trying and following him like a puppy. 

One of his hands finds it was to her hip, pressing her closer to him as he lets himself feel you before capturing your lips in a hungry, sloppy kiss. It wasn’t delicate or gentle, but rather raw and full of need – by both parties. You longed this, and this feel like a sweet reward, your body against his as you two share quite the messy kiss, for god knows how long.

Aemond held you in his arms, a bit possessive, if anything. You liked a possessive man, and in Aemond seem like the perfect trait.  As the kiss stop, you lean to press a little kiss on his jaw, and it only serves for him to wrap one of his arms around your waist. 

You let a little moan of satisfaction as you feel his big hand move down to your ass. Your body is pressed against his, and he wastes no time when his hand starts groping your ass, his breath hits your cold shoulder as you bite your lip. 

Gods, he was so hot. You were so into older dudes, and Aemond was a perfect combination of everything you fancied on a man. 

“You really are a cheeky slut, uh?” Aemond asks his voice sultry as he gropes your ass.

“Yes, sir” you say in a sigh, and his hand moves away to spank you hard on the ass. It made you let out a whimper; it was a delicious sting that you loved. 

“Good” he mutters.

You were too horny, and followed him blindly to his room. You know this will be worth it. A good time, a free pass for his pool for you and the twins… and having a good fuck. 

He closes the door of his bedroom, and he sees you sitting on the feet of his bed. 

“You’ll be the death of me” he says, tsking as he undoes his belt, you take off your sandals quickly as well “You little brat”

You bite your lip as you see him. He is infuriated with you, and part of you wonders how it would be if you were his girlfriend. He’d fuck you in the morning, surely, and at the evening when he gets back from work too. Maybe he’d fuck you at night too. 

He’d probably plan dates just to get to fuck you long and hard afterwards, you hated when men did that. But with him? You didn’t mind.  

“Lay back, doll”

You don’t need to be told twice. When you try to take off your bikini, he stops you. 

“I said, lay back” he says again, sternly. He had that inherent scolding tone, the same he used for Baela and Rhaena when he got home. It made you so wet, it was wicked.

He takes off the sarong, and you look at him, biting your lip. “I’m really horny” you whine.

“Hmm…” he hums, moving his hand from your stomach and higher, pulling the top of your bikini up. You could easily take it off, but with clothes on and open… it was hotter. 

He gropes your tits, as he settles between your legs. He seems to enjoy the view of it as well, as he bites his lip and his breath becomes heavy with uncontrollable lust. 

“You body is perfect, princess. But you know that, hm?” He asks, meeting your gaze as you bite your lip. You nod softly, as if coy of that. “Is your pussy as perfect? Hm?” To your silence, he keeps the lustful tone “Shall we see?”

He holds your calves with one hand, and he doesn’t care about removing the panties of your bikini. He pulls it to the side with his other hand, crouching down to be at the same height of your already wet cunt. Gods, you were so wet for him, it was driving you insane. 

He murmurs something you can’t hear completely, before he leans his head closer to your puffy cunt. You feel his breath, and his tongue is what makes you sigh in delight. His tongue delves into your folds, savouring the taste of you. A little sweet, a little bitter. 

The position makes it all more cramped, yet Aemond moves both of his hands to keep your legs just like that, not so tight together, but still. A groan rumbles on his chest, as he laps consistently at your folds. It’s as if he wanted to take his time, yet he was eager for more of your taste. 

“So wet already” He murmurs, his face separating a bit as he leans back to see your pussy. 

Without missing a beat, his mouth is against your dripping sex, as he delights himself. He is making you let out moans, and some pretty embarrassing sounds. You move one of your hands to your mouth, biting your index finger as if to shush your sounds. 

As Aemond focuses his attention on your clit, it had you rolling your eyes, his mouth around it suckling the nub and his hands spreading your legs further to allow him more access. The twins lied when they pictured him like some kind of hermit, because he knew how to eat a pussy.

His tongue swirls around your clit with too much expertise for him only to have had ‘one casual girlfriend’. His thumb moves to your hole, as if stroking it gently, rubbing circles around it but not pushing it inside yet. 

“Wait...” you moan breathlessly, trying to move your legs away from his from grip. “I don’t wanna cum yet”

You definitely can’t wipe the smirk on his face, as he pulls back. His hands pull your thighs together, then to move his right hand to wipe some remnants of your wetness out of his face. 

“You were the one insinuating yourself to me, princess.”

“Just fuck me, please…” You find yourself asking for it, as you look at him. Aemond simply does not let you move your legs, but you are at his mercy in this.

“Oh, I will” He says, standing up as he runs a hand through his hair, messy from the amount of times he's been running it over it and movements of his head when eating her out. 

He pulls your body closer to his, your hips were resting above a pillow, close to the edge of the bed, and you have to re-accommodate the other pillow under your head. 

Totally a pillow princess, but you do not care. 

Aemond undoes his belt, and pulls out his cock. It’s a nice cock, and you can say that confidently, after seeing tons of different ones. His is nice, a nice girth and big as you like. He is groomed enough, he isn’t hairless, but you notice that he does take care of himself, seeing the pale bush at the base of his cock and to his pelvis. You wanted for him to take out his clothes, but since there were still the twins around, it was a better idea to do it with the clothes on. 

You can see how red the tip already is, leaking and almost asking for relief. How you’d suck that cock, starting by suckling the tip and then deep throat the rest of it, probably gagging and choking in the process. Aemond seems like type who likes a girl gagging on his cock. 

And his balls? You would not neglect them either, you’d have them in your mouth, and making sure they don’t go unattended by either your mouth or your hands. Hell, no part of him would go unattended by you at this point, no after the way he eats pussy.

“Ready, princess?” He asks, his stiff cock pressed on your hole, and you nod softly. “No witty words?”

“You are making fun of me” You say, as he moves your legs to be more pressed against your chest. You feel the head of his cock probing into your folds, teasing you.

“I am not, doll”

“Just fuck me” you say, almost impatient. You were on the edge of your orgasm when he ate you out, and you pushed it away to be able to cum in his cock like you wanted to do when you first saw him. “No need of a condom, I am on the pill since forever”

You don’t really need to pursue him any longer, as he positions himself on your entrance and pushes inside little by little.  He tries to be a gentleman, you can notice, but he is holding back still. By how his grip is more than just to keep your legs firm, is more to keep his control, which little by little he is letting it, slip away.

You know a perv man when you see one. Maybe not your most admissible type, but whatever, everyone has a dirty secret. And maybe this was Aemond’s; you know he is a pervert. You don’t know how, which category… you can’t even think when his cock is pushing inside you in such a delicious way.  You just know it.

By the way once he manages to be deep inside you, and he starts to push back to thrust inside you, and the way he mutters curses under his breath. 

“Feel how deep inside it is, darling?” He asks, his tone strained as he bites his lip. 

You can feel it, alright. And you look at him with half lidded eyes, yet you see how he keeps his groans for himself by biting his lip.

“Fuck me hard” you whisper softly. “Don’t think about it. Just do it.” You say, trying to get him just to lose himself up. 

“You have no idea what you are askin–”

“I know exactly what I am talking” you cut him, your voice strained as you feel his cock.  “You don’t think I am a fragile girl still, do you?” 

His chuckle is low, as if he was annoyed. “There it is. Atta girl”

“And” you say as he moves his hips softly, in and out. Your feet curl at the feeling of his girth sliding through your walls, feeling each movement of his cock. “I want you to cum inside me, and feel your cum dripping out of me. Make me feel you for days.”

That seems to have pushed him over the edge. At least, you hope that it did, because you are eager for it. And in your opinion, it did. 

“You are going to be the death of me” With that, his hips pounds into you like a feral animal. 

That’s what he was, feral. He leans slightly more, his face above yours but still not as intimate as missionary should be. Your legs, still held together by his hand, would be all crampy by tomorrow, and he moves them both over his shoulder. Your left calf is resting against the curve of his neck, while your right one was a bit more stubborn, moving to the pointy bone at the edge of his shoulder. His other hand was at the side of head, as his hips just fuck into you as you requested.

His pounding is brutal, and he barely lets you breathe before he pounds again.  The sound of his balls hitting your flesh is obscene, and it is consistent, yet it made you grip his other shoulder, as you let a series of high moans.

“Ah, ah. Fuck…” you moans are loud, hopefully not so much, and your brow furrows in pleasure as his cock reaches all the right spots for you. This man could turn you into his sexual doll and you aren’t quite sure if he knows it yet. “So big inside me…”

“You asked for it, princess” he reminds you, as if reminding himself as well of it. His tone is rough, and he is focused on the tad at hand, fucking you merciless. 

You feel his hips crash on your to each brutal thrust, and the way his balls also does. It was dirty, and so hot that had you whimpering and letting out little squeals. He was definitely leaving you sore, yet it was a delicious stretch from everywhere. 

Your mind is all foggy and practically numb from pleasure, yet it leaves the wicked idea of sucking his cock. The sight had left you wanting more, to choke on that dick. 

You imagine how heavy it would feel on your mouth, how it would leak on your tongue. You’d love to suck him dry with your mouth right now, as he fucks you. Having both would be paradise, yet his cock can only do one at the time.

Instead, you take the hand holding your legs, and you decide to take his thumb in your mouth. His hand cups your face instinctively, and you moan at the feeling of satiating your craving.

“Dirty minx” he mutters seeing your lewd display, yet it has him grunting more. “All of your holes need attention, hm? All of them are equally needy” 

The wet sounds from his thrusting make it all more erotic, as you nod to his words, sucking his thumb for a bit. Your moans and feeling close to your orgasm make you stop sucking it, but enjoy. 

Aemond is enjoying it too, you can see how his face is pure pleasure as he grunts, his hand moving to move you legs lower his shoulders, but he grips on them as if to gain impulse to thrust you.

“Aren’t you close, doll?” He asks, his face leaning closer to yours.

“Yes” you moan, breathlessly, you tone is pathetic, almost like a sob and a whine. “Yes sir” you say, wickedly adding the nickname. 

“That’s it, doll, just like that” he says, close as well. His balls tighten up, and he leans down to capture your lips in another sloppy, messy kiss. 

You moan into his mouth, as the kiss becomes desperate and wetter than it needed to be. Whatever, you think. He fucks you just right. 

His hand falls to spank your ass, as if urging you cum. It does it three times in total, as he doesn’t separate your mouth from his. He was consuming you, and you didn’t care.

Your orgasm is strong, it has you rolling your eyes to the back of your head and twitching your legs from how good it feels. You tried to calm down your moans, but it felt too good to be good. To be fair, when you cummed you weren’t as vocal, but you tended to lose your voice in the middle of it, as if you were lacking the proper air distribution. 

Aemond, on the contrary, when he cums, he says multiple praises “Your cunt is perfect, princess” followed by “Squeezing my cock just right” and “Filling you up, baby, all full”

And he does. You feel his cum settle inside you, and you had to bite your lip as he does so. It was a great feeling, having him cumming inside you so naturally… and raw. 

It was pure, raw feral sex. And you loved it. He was made for this intensity, and you were made to take it as he pleases. 

Even if your legs do hurt a bit, when you lay on his bed, with a blanket atop of you. 

Aemond instead, goes to wash himself a bit. After all, he still has visits, in his pool. He assured you that the house was pretty much soundproof, and your friends would have leave at the first moan they heard. 

“You seem pretty comfortable” his monotone tone says, as he walks out of the bathroom tidier. 

You felt without energy. You could do multiple rounds at a time, sure, but delaying your orgasm plus the roughness of it, plus the previous swimming exercise and the water… makes you lazy. 

“I am” 

“Your friends are waiting downstairs” he says, and now you can see how he is amused at that idea. You had said it, a wicked perv. 

“I know, but I am leaking cum” 

“Hm. Does it stop you?”

“Not much. But I am tired and sleepy”

“I have work to do” he reminds you again, as he makes sure he is all buttoned up and he applies his cologne on himself. It is strong and masculine. 

“Well, I’ll lay here” you say shrugging. To his questioning eyebrow raise, you can only add “I haven’t sucked on your dick yet. I am not leaving anytime soon, you know?” 

To your childness, he rolls his eyes, but ultimately agrees. “I am not telling my cousins a thing about this.”

“I will” you say, waving a hand dismissively. 

“And you can stay, but don’t let this think you have some kind of…”

“I won’t” you say smirking playfully, and he rolls his eyes. 

“You are prettier when you are getting fucked”

“I knoooow” 

When he leaves, you take your phone from the ground and open the text chat.

Guaranteed free pool pass ;) you are welcome bitches.

[joooooniecore]

The wrong Kim?

mingyuxfem!reader, friends to lovers, Reader as a florist, Mingyu as a businessman, idiots in love

PLOT: You never expected to come face to face with your childhood best friend and teenage crush Kim Mingyu again. But here you are, as he stands in your flower shop, trying to choose bouquets for a big wedding.

WARNINGS: smut, explicit scenes, foul language, minors dni, smut scene has been marked, skip if uncomfortable

_____________

"There is a wedding in Mr. Kim's family. His son is getting married and you are hired as the florist."

That was definitely not the first thing you wanted to hear as soon as you opened the shop early in the morning. 

Let's start from the very beginning.

You are a very expertized and famous florist, born and raised in a very middle-class family, in a small town. You picked on the art of flower arrangement at a very young age. Like every typical parent, your mother and father wanted you to pursue some big level corporate job but you were never good at those. Being more indulged in creativity, you decided to attend an arts school, and later did a course on floral arrangements. Currently, you earn an ample amount of money just by doing this exact job for various luxurious occasions all around the city and also outside of the city.

Now comes the question of Mr. Kim. Kim family is one of the oldest families of the town and even played a big role in the advancement of the town. They are very well known in this area and fall under the high-class families. Mr. Kim is the third generation in the family and he has two sons, elder Kim Minhyuk and younger, who is the same age as that of you, Kim Mingyu.

Mingyu and you used to be the best of friends since middle school. Mingyu's father has always adored you and the dedication you had for certain things. It was Mingyu's father who insisted your family to let you study whatever you want.

The trouble started when you both reached high school. Mingyu became sort of popular because of his looks and that created a rift between the two of you. Mingyu would have people flock around him and they would talk poorly about you.

You soon got caught up on every single thing everyone said and decided to distance yourself. And that was how the greatest fight between you and Mingyu happened where he wanted a reason about the distance and you were stubborn enough to not give him that. You both went on your own ways after graduation.

The only issue? Neither of your parents knew about how bad the fight was. Hence, they still think that Mingyu and you are friends.

Back to the present, you knew this day would come. You knew that if Mingyu gets married, he would hire you as the florist. You nodded your head almost in a robotic way and went inside the small office room. You have several branches of this flower shop in many neighbouring cities with employees hired that satisfy your style of decoration. You only maintain the shop in your hometown.

It's a medium sized shop at the farthest corner of a busy street. The shop sits in between a book shop, that is run by an old man and a coffee shop that has recently opened. The shop itself has two floors. The lower level is mostly the counter area and certain non-floral arrangement pieces while the upper floor is completely filled with flowers of every variety. You have a small office on the lower level where you experiment on different arrangements whenever you have no orders to attend to.

You sat on your chair as your eyes wandered to the photo on the shelf. It was an old photo, of you and Mingyu when you were in middle school. Both friends were sticking to each other, Mingyu’s hands wrapped securely around your shoulder while you could barely reach your hands around him. The smiles wide. You could almost hear the giggles through the picture. Your smile was soft, as if you were shy from all this affection while Mingyu gave his infamous lopsided smile that showed his sinful canines. 

Did you mention that you had a crush on Mingyu? No right? 

Well, that was one of the reasons you distanced yourself because you knew Mingyu would never reciprocate your feelings and that would probably ruin the friendship you both had. You were also scared of heartbreak because in your mind, Mingyu could never fall for you. That was something you have buried deep in yourself but now it seems to resurface.

The thought of Mingyu marrying is gnawing the inside of your skin. You knew this day would come and you have always imagined yourself to be fine with it. You were sure that the crush was just a stupid uproar of emotions but now hearing the news, your insides churned. You were not at all ready to watch Mingyu marry someone else. It did seem selfish because you were the one to broke the friendship but now, you can't help the feeling of anxiousness.

A knock on the door brought you out of your thoughts as you whispered a soft 'come in'. Your employee opened the door and walked in.

"Noona, Mr. Kim's son is here to discuss about the floral arrangements.", said Chan.

You stared at him wide eyed and then replied in a stammering voice, "A-Ask him to sit down. I will be out in a second."

You shooed your employee away as you drank some water and took deep breathes. You had no idea why the mere thought of coming face to face with Mingyu made you such a mess. It’s not like the former knows about your feelings but you were scared to even think about that. After a quick pep talk, you decided to open the door and walk to the storefront.

The moment you came round the corner, you saw Mingyu sitting there. Your steps halted as you took the guy in. Mingyu has no doubt grown even more taller, probably above 6 feet. He doesn't wear shabby clothes anymore. He is dressed in a shirt and pants for god's sake. And he is bulked up. Your eyes racked his entire form and you were in awe at how big and strong his arms looked as they strained against the fabric of the shirt when he pushed his hair back. The rolled sleeves made you go crazy. You gulped and proceeded forward as if nothing was bothering you.

"Hello Mingyu-ssi.", your voice came out breathier than expected.

Mingyu's head shot up to you, his eyes going wide as he widely smiled.

"I didn't know I would have the honour of meeting the CEO of ___'s bloom room.", Mingyu teased as he got up and forwarded his hand for a handshake.

You stared at his hand for a few seconds before forwarding your own ones for a handshake. The former's grip so firm that it had your head reeling. Your hands weren’t that small but still got totally engulfed in the warmth of Mingyu's palm. You quickly retracted away from the warmth, and nervously chuckled.

"It has been a while I see. What can I do for you?", you asked in a professional tone.

Mingyu smiled and replied, "Well I came here to see some of your best floral arrangements. I will click few pictures and show them to Yuna for confirmation."

The name brought you back on earth. The way Mingyu casually said the name cleared every doubt you had. You did have a small hope that it was Mingyu's brother who was getting married but guess not. Mingyu won't call his brother's fiancé by her name this casually. Hence, Mingyu was surely getting married and you were basically lusting over a married man. Ignoring the sinking feeling in your stomach, you asked Mingyu to follow you to the upper floor of the shop.

The upper floor of the shop was full of flowers of every kind. From roses of at least 40 different colours to orchids that are mostly shipped from other areas. Mingyu walked through the entire floor, observing every flower and asking questions about the meaning of each one.

"Wow you know a lot about flowers.", Mingyu commented.

You rolled your eyes and replied, "That's literally my job Kim."

Mingyu laughed at your arrogance and said, "Show me some of your arrangements."

You nod your head as you walk up to this big cabinet and bring out a thick file that has pictures of every floral arrangement you have ever made. You keep it on the table and open it to the page which has the wedding section in it. Passing it over to Mingyu for him to have a look, you stand there nervously.

Mingyu skims through the arrangements and pauses on one, "Tell me about this."

You bend over to look at the one he is pointing. It's a simple arrangement, using mostly roses and few carnations. You explain how each rose shows a different kind of affection and the red and pink carnations simply mean love and attraction. Mingyu then scans over to the more exotic sections and stops on another one. This time it has a special variety of orchid in it, along with few roses and baby's breath. You heartily explained every flower and how they were woven together to make these arrangements.

You then decide to show him a live example of the flowers you arrange and went inside the store room to bring out a massive arrangement that you made recently for a big wedding.

"Well, this one was made by me so that I can send pictures to the other store I have in nearby city. They made a replica of it for one of our customers.", you explained.

You placed the arrangement on the table and were going to step aside when Mingyu came and stood behind you. The distance so less as Mingyu towered over your head, slightly bending a little to examine the flowers. The way Mingyu's hot breath fanned right near your right ear, caused an uproar of goosebumps all over your body.

He whispered right behind your ear, "Wow this one is beautiful.", the low timbre of his voice causing you to melt right on the spot. You had no idea how someone could affect you on this level. You really wanted to ignore the uproar of butterflies in your belly but with Mingyu being like this, it was tougher than you thought.

You cleared your throat and softly nudged Mingyu to move away as you walked to the other end of the table to pick up the file and place it back to where it was. Taking a deep breath, you walk up to Mingyu to pick up the arrangement and safely place it in its glass case.

Honestly, you had no idea why Mingyu wants to know so much about the floral arrangements. Normally when people do come to the shop, they just allow you to choose one and if the arrangement looks pretty then they go with it. At most times it is as simple as roses and few carnations. No one has ever asked you the meaning of the flowers you use.

On the other hand, you were pleased that Mingyu was asking you about the flowers. You always had a passion about knowing information related to different flowers. There was a time when you would blabber all day about different flowers that you learned from the internet. Your mother and sister would actually beg you to shut up about it. After you went through a harsh breakup just a year back, you had stopped talking so passionately about flowers. Your ex never tolerated it and would often joke about your job. You being stupid, ignored the flaws and that was your biggest mistake.

"____?", Mingyu's voice and strong grip on your shoulder brought you out of your thoughts.

"Huh? Oh, were you saying something?", you asked dumbly.

"Yeah. I was asking your permission to click pictures of the arrangements.", informed Mingyu.

You nodded and said, "Uhm you can do that or I can send you the digital copy of the ones you selected."

Mingyu's eyes sparkled at the idea and he enthusiastically nodded, "Yes that would be great!"

You took Mingyu down to your office and made him sit on a chair across your own seat. You opened the files that were separated by the types and began searching the ones Mingyu asked for.

Meanwhile Mingyu's eyes wandered around the small room in which the two of you were seated in. Mingyu has always admired the passion that you had for floral arrangements. Even when you both were in high school, you would talk all day about various flowers and it really made Mingyu smile. Your eyes would light up whenever you talked about your favourite flowers and that was what Mingyu loved the most.

When he entered the shop, he had made up his mind to not get awkward when he comes face to face with you. The fight you both had in the end of high school still lingers on his mind and he has still no idea why you distanced yourself. He knew how everyone talked shit about you but he never allowed those bad stuffs to get in between the friendship. Mingyu was lost without you.

When he waited for you to walk up to him while he was seated at the storefront, he thought he was going to be fine with it. But the moment he saw you, his knees grew weak. You looked beautiful, like you always had. In high school, you were extremely shy and would always wear baggy clothes and a messy bun. No one really looked at you in the same way that they looked at other girls. You were only included in a conversation if someone needed help with something and that always boiled Mingyu’s blood. He was somehow glad that no one had a crush on you because deep down Mingyu did nurture one.

As you walked up to him wearing a soft peach button up shirt along with white pants, he knew he was a goner. You had always had these soft curls that extended up to your waist which Mingyu adored. Your soft delicate features, big almond eyes and pink cheeks just made Mingyu go crazier.

Now sitting across you in this small office, he couldn't help but wander his eyes to the different prizes and pictures that adorn the walls. He scans through the various prizes, each signifying the excellency of your craftsmanship. His eyes paused on a frame amidst the big certificates. The frame itself is a bit old and also the picture framed in it. He squints his eyes for a better look and that's when he sees it.

"I-Is that our picture?", he asked involuntarily.

You visibly malfunction as you give a weak nod without even sparing Mingyu an eye. You really thought you were going to combust from embarrassment.  You had forgotten about the picture and now you somewhat regret it. When no response comes from Mingyu, you panic and look up to check on your guest.

Mingyu's eyes were fixated on that frame as his eyes flickered with a small feeling of want and desperation. He really hated the distance that was created between you both and now seeing that you still thought him to be important, made his heart stutter.

"I hated how we drifted apart.", Mingyu said when he sensed a worried pair of eyes on him.

You had already forwarded all the pictures to the phone number that Mingyu gave. You closed your laptop and without even thinking, move forward to hold Mingyu's hand. You have always been sensitive to Mingyu's feelings. You could easily guess when the latter was feeling vulnerable.

"Yaa Mingyu-ah, we were kids. It’s fine. We can again start again as friends.", you softly smiled.

"Hello, I am ___.", you playfully informed and waited for Mingyu to introduce himself.

Mingyu gave a wet laugh as he wiped his tears and said, "I am Kim Mingyu."

Your heart swelled as you smiled widely, "Can we be friends?"

Mingyu laughs and nods, "Yes we can be."

You both talk for a while, catching up on everything. Mingyu talks about the wedding with hearts in his eyes. He is apparently actively taking part to make sure that nothing goes wrong. You were no stranger to the passion that Mingyu emitted whenever he did something. Seeing Mingyu talk about his wedding with such utmost care made your insides churn. You mentally scolded yourself for not being happy for your best friend but deep down you hated how you lost your chance to confess what you felt anymore.

"So, ____, any relationships?", asked Mingyu as he sipped on the cold drink that you offered.

You hated how easily the nickname rolled of Mingyu's tongue and how it made you instantly blush.

"You are blushing! Who is it?", asked Mingyu feigning happiness.

"No one currently. I broke up with my ex just last year.", you informed with a sad tone.

Mingyu nodded his head and asked, "Who was it then?"

"His name was Mark.", you said, the name tasting bitter on your tongue.

"Why did you both break up?", came the next question.

This was the question you dreaded. You hated reliving the moments through the stories and so at most times you avoided the topic of your sunken relationship. Mingyu nudged you a bit as it brought you back to the present. He repeated the question just to make sure that you caught on it.

"Uhm nothing its uhm he was a bit toxic and then he cheated so I broke up.", you answered, clearly not sure why you were blabbering.

Mingyu visibly stiffened as he said through gritted teeth, "I would have his head if I meet him someday."

You could see the anger in his eyes. It made you laugh as you tried to pacify the situation. It did break your heart when you broke up with Mark but you were much happier now with your job and single life.

The conversation came to an end when Chan came in and informed about a customer waiting for you. Bidding goodbyes, you went out to see him off and Mingyu promised to visit again with the decisions that Yuna has made.

________

Two days passed by in a daze. You were mostly busy with orders and making new kinds of arrangements to put in your monthly magazine. Every month you published a digital magazine which has unique arrangements exclusively made by you. Many people from different areas buy those arrangements and it helps you boost the sale. You informed your mother about the encounter with Mingyu which made her extremely happy.

Mingyu came to the shop the next day to inform about the ones that were selected. He gave the number of orders and paid a certain amount in advance. You quickly noted down the order and the delivery date.

After small talking for a while, Mingyu asked, "When do you close?"

You didn't quite understand the reason of the question but answered nevertheless, "Around 5."

Mingyu smiled mischievously and said, "Let's go to the new restaurant that has opened in the area. My treat."

Your heart stuttered a bit. You were not sure if you should allow yourself to be this close to Mingyu. He was very kind to you and the way he talked with so much tenderness, made your heart suffer. You were trying hard to not fall more for this married man but the way Mingyu expectantly looked at you with starry eyes, made you agree to the plan.

"Fine. Let's go.", you sighed and Mingyu clapped enthusiastically.

The day went by agonizingly slow. You had to attend to a very arrogant customer who hated every flower arrangement that you showed and finally settled on not buying anything after wasting almost 2 hours. Then you had to work on Mingyu's order and while cutting the stem, your finger accidently grazed at the edge of the blade, causing a blood massacre on your desk and papers. You quickly cleaned everything up and took a quick shower in the restroom itself. You secured the wound with a band-aid and wore the outfit you had asked Chan to bring from your home. You weren’t wearing anything fancy today for your work fit so you wanted to at least look presentable for the dinner place.

Sharp at 5 pm, a car stopped in front of the shop. You were just closing everything when there was the sound of the door opening. You switched off the lights of the office room, and came out into the front area only to find Mingyu leaning against the door frame of the shop, mindlessly scrolling on his phone. He was wearing a white shirt and black dress pants. The tie loosened to give him a more laid-back fit and his hair was styled which made his face look even more sculpted.

You gulped as you controlled your desire to run your fingers all over Mingyu's body. Walking up to Mingyu, you gave him a soft tap on his arm to notify him that you were ready to go.

"Wow you clean up good, ____-ah.", complimented Mingyu to which you playfully hit him and ignored the blush that rose on your cheeks.

Mingyu's car was parked just outside the shop. It was a beautiful car with very slick design. You didn't know much about cars but this one looked expensive as hell. Mingyu walked up to it and unlocked the door, opening the passenger door to allow you to settle in.

"You have a nice car.", you said as soon as Mingyu settled on the driver's seat.

"Thanks. I love this car so much.", Mingyu glowed due to the compliment as he drove both of you to the restaurant.

Mingyu couldn't take his eyes off you the whole ride. According to him, you were looking breathtakingly beautiful. When you walked up to him after closing your shop, Mingyu had to control himself from draping his arms around your waist and pulling you close. Mingyu always knew that he had feelings for you but never really got a chance to actually ask you out. Now that he was back for good, thanks to his brother's wedding, he can take all his time to win you back.

The exterior of the restaurant seemed very calming as trees decorated the driveway. Mingyu got out of the car first after parking it and held your door for you to come out.

"Reservation under Mr. Kim?", asked Mingyu as soon as he entered the restaurant along with you. You bowed gently to the waiter as you handed your coat to him. Then you both settled on one of the tables and silently skimmed through the menu card.

After ordering some food, you both sat in silence waiting for one of you to speak. The silence wasn't uncomfortable but you felt your heart rate increase every time you looked at Mingyu. Mingyu was looking around the restaurant, trying to take it all in but all you could do was admire him.

"They successfully made a very cozy place. Isn't it ____?", asked Mingyu finally after his wandering eyes zeroed on your face.

You nodded and said, "Yes. It's very beautiful here."

After what felt like hours, the order arrived. The once empty table was now filled with delicious cuisines that smelled like heaven. Your mouth watered as you beamed. Mingyu giggled at how cute you were acting as he got up to serve you the dinner.

"Ah Mingyu-ah! I can do it myself.", you said, trying to stop him.

"What? I invited you here! How can I let you do that?", winked Mingyu as he calmly plated the food.

The food was absolutely delicious and you moaned as soon as you took a bite of the tender chicken. Your eyes closed as your head fell back trying to remember this feeling of delicious food.

Mingyu couldn't help but trace an invisible line along your lips and down your neck. The sound of your moans from the taste of the food, went straight to a part of Mingyu he can't even explain. Chugging a bit of water, he took another bite of the food but all he could think of was tasting your lips.

"Oh, before I forget!", you exclaimed as you took out a small gift-wrapped box from your purse.

"There you go.", you handed it to him with a hesitant smile.

"What is this? I didn't bring a gift for you.", Mingyu pouted.

"Oh no. This is for the wedding. A congratulatory gift?", you quickly explain, slightly embarrassed under his intense scrutiny.

"Why are you giving it to me?", a confused Mingyu asked.

You stared at him dumbfoundedly, "What do you mean?"

There was a moment of silence before Mingyu's eyes went wide and he started laughing heartily. His laugh confused you even more as all you could do was stare and wait for Mingyu to explain why he was laughing.

"My dear ____-nie, did you think that I am getting married?", teased Mingyu.

Your eyes went wide, "You are not!?"

Mingyu moved his head in a definitive no and said, "No you idiot. My brother is getting married. He is also a Kim, remember?"

"But...but you call your brother's wife's name so casually.", you pointed out.

"That's because she is my friend. We went to the same college and when my brother went to stay with me for a year for his job, he fell in love with her.", explained Mingyu.

"You didn't mention that.", you accused Mingyu as you crossed your hands over your chest and pouted.

"I thought you knew. Everyone in town knows about it.", Mingyu said as he laughed.

"Geez fine. Just give the gift to Minhyuk hyung then.", you said as you sat up straight.

Mingyu raised his hand and asked for a bill and said, "You are seriously so dumb wow."

You couldn't say anything as you grumbled. You really thought that Mingyu was getting married. A part of you felt a sense of relief as you thought that you still had a chance to confess but the other part was not ready to face the consequences of the confession.

After the bill was paid by Mingyu who skilfully didn't even let you see the amount and just said, "I invited you."

After settling in the car, you decided to tease him. The car was still in the parking area since Mingyu was still getting settled in the car after putting both of the coats in the backseat.

"It’s sad honestly. I thought that finally I would get a chance to be someone's grooms-lady at their wedding.", you teased Mingyu.

Mingyu looked at you and with stern eyes which then turned into a mischievous glint. He then abruptly came close, his face just inches apart as one of his hands went up to your waist and settled there. All the teasing and plotting that you had in your head vanished as all you could feel was the warmth of Mingyu’s hand that grazed up and down your waist.

You gulped and whispered, "Wha- What are you doing?"

"I don't know about grooms-lady but you could be my lady. How does that sound?", Mingyu thickly whispered in your ear.

You whimpered at the sensation as you managed to say, "And how are you planning to do that?"

Mingyu smirked as he could see the bravery drain out of your face inch by inch. He has noticed the way you looked at him and he really didn't want to miss the chance.

"First, I would like to kiss you. Like right now. After that if you give me permission, then I will take you back to my apartment.", Mingyu explained in a steady voice but the lust was pretty much visible in the way he eyed you up and down.

Your entire body was on fire. You squirmed under the hot gaze of Mingyu. Mingyu pulled you in for a passionate kiss. It was all hot and heavy, trying to consume the other. Your brain was fogged entirely, clouded by the smoke of fire burning between the two of you.

The kiss left your mind in shambles as you breathed heavily.

"Do you want to go back to my apartment love?", asked Mingyu in a raspy voice and all you could do was nod. Your mouth was closed shut as your mind was clouded with lust.

"Please take me Gyu.", you finally spoke, in a lust laden voice as you looked at Mingyu with eyes feigning innocence.

Mingyu tongued the inside of his cheek before sliding himself back onto the seat and roared the engine of the car back to life. Meanwhile your hands traced his forearms, skimming up his biceps and then down.

"You are so big Gyu.", you whispered almost to yourself.

The drive to the apartment was painfully long. The moment Mingyu entered the lift with you, his hands shifted up to your waist and pulled you flush to his sturdy chest. The gentle yet firm grip, pulled a breathy gasp out of you. Normally, you would be embarrassed about being so turned on by such minimal action, but not now. Not when you knew Mingyu was going to turn you into putty in his hands.

!!SMUT WARNING!!

You both entered the empty apartment and Mingyu quickly locked the door before pushing your front against the door while pressing against your ass.

Mingyu's lips grazed behind your ear as he whispered, "Don't you feel it love?"

Your eyes slipped shut and your head fell back against his shoulder while he mouthed over the sensitive spots on your neck.

"Feels good, yeah?" Mingyu said, voice low. You struggled to even nod. 

"Tell me, ____."

"Mm-mph, good, feels good," you breathed out, chest constricting and stomach turning as Mingyu's right hand made its way over your tummy and dipped lower and lower.

"Mingyu, please.", you didn't even know what you were asking for now.

Mingyu let out a cocky snort, which you would have been more irritated by had he not finally reached below your waist and grazed his palm across your achingly aroused core.

Your hips bucked instantly, already feeling sweat bead at your hairline. Working his hand up and down your clothed cunt, over the flimsy dress that you wore, at a dizzyingly slow pace, putting pressure in all the right areas, while the other hand caresses the dip in your waist.

Mingyu pulled you over to the nearby couch. He sat there on the couch and made you settle on his thighs, chests pressed against each other. You slowly moved your hips rhythmically, moaning and groaning at the feeling of the thick thighs against your clothed core.

"Feels good right?", asked Mingyu as he gripped your waist and created even more friction between the bodies.

"You are such a dirty girl ____. Coming just from my thighs. Gonna make my pants all messy right baby?", panted Mingyu as you increased your pace.

Just as you felt yourself nearly reach the peak, Mingyu lifted both of you up from the couch, leaving you whining. Before you could open your mouth to complain, Mingyu picked you up effortlessly and took you to the bedroom before throwing you on the bed gently but firmly. Pulling your legs around his waist, Mingyu pulled you in for a passionate kiss. It was all teeth and tongue as he devoured your mouth like a starving man. Familiar calloused fingers stroked your thighs, suddenly gripping them tightly.

You felt yourself get wet from the way Mingyu's big hands wrapped around you so effortlessly. You threw your arms around Mingyu's neck while the latter placed a hand on the small of your back to support you, pushing you closer in a way that made your clothed cores rub against one another, leaving you shamelessly rutting for more.

Mingyu got up and tugged his half-opened shirt out of the way. Your eyes went wide as you stared at the toned chest. Mingyu was bulked up and in all the right places. His biceps were huge and sturdy while his chest was so perfectly crafted that it made your mouth water.

"Fuck, you are so big.", you almost moaned when you felt the ripple of muscles beneath your delicate fingers as you traced a line across Mingyu's chest. Mingyu laughed as he dipped again to trail kisses down your body, leaving marks wherever he pleased. He cupped your one breast with his one palm, massaging and twisting the nipple to send delicious shocks all across your body while his mouth sucked the other one with a new found determination which left you writhing under his hot gaze.

Your brain was fogged entirely. Mingyu's hand dipped below your back to firmly grip your ass, which caused you to jerk forward with a squeak.

Mingyu broke the kiss and asked, "You want this?"

You nodded fervently, lips swollen and red, head reeling with need.

"Words, baby."

A whine, then, "Please, Gyu, need you."

Mingyu smiled into a quick kiss planted on your lips. "So good at listening, baby." Mingyu took your both wrists and held them with his one hand abruptly, riling you up even further, if that was possible at this point.

He stepped back slightly and raked his eyes over you for a moment.

"You're gorgeous."

You squirmed and reddened under his lustful gaze, a dazed smile on your face, "Click a picture. It would last longer"

Mingyu returned the crooked grin, "Can't risk anyone else seeing you like this."

You blushed at the possessiveness that Mingyu portrayed. You always liked being with someone who will have eyes only on you and seeing how Mingyu took you all in like you were a goddamn masterpiece, made you even more shy.

After pulling back and rummaging through his bedside drawer and securing a condom, Mingyu returned and kneeled in between your legs. He slowly tugged at your panties, pulling it down. You sucked in through your teeth at the chill on your feverishly hot skin. In this way, you felt incredibly vulnerable and shy all of a sudden, flinging your arms over your eyes to cover your crimson face.

The moment Mingyu realized that you were trying to hide your face, his grip on your hands were back as he looked at the squirming you firmly and said, "Don't look away. I want you to watch me while I devour you."

You gulped.

"Understood darling?", Mingyu demanded.

You nodded but Mingyu wasn't satisfied.

"Words my girl. Words."

"Yes. Yes sir.", you smirked mischievously.

All the blood from Mingyu's brain went to his dick the moment he registered what you called him.

"Keep calling me that and you will see the consequences.", Mingyu warned.

"I would love that sir.", you said again and all hell broke loose.

Mingyu teased the pussy and whispered a “so wet for me” before a slicked-up finger was pushed in through your entrance. The wind was knocked out of your lungs, quickly stolen in a kiss by Mingyu, as the finger breached.

"You, okay?"

"You're not gonna break me, Gyu.", you said, far weaker and more desperate than you had intended for it to come out.

"We will see about that.", Mingyu said with a smirk.

Huh? Before you could register, Mingyu's finger slowly pushed in and out, causing every nerve in your brain to disconnect. You couldn't even remember the last time someone made you feel this good, if ever.

Mingyu gripped the milky flesh of your thigh while sliding a second finger in beside the first one. Your hips jerked, which Mingyu moved to pin down to the soft plush of the bed.

The pace of his hand was excruciatingly slow, seemingly determined to unravel the very fibre of your flesh and bones in the most glorious way.

Your mind was covered by a haze, and after what could have been a couple minutes, or many, Mingyu slid a third finger in.

You choked out a moan, babbling Mingyu's name and begging for some merciful relief.

"So perfect for me, ____," Mingyu pressed deeper inside until he was massaging that sweet spot while simultaneously scissoring his fingers open ever so slightly. You whined loudly, back curving and hands scrambling to grab onto the well-muscled arms splitting you apart at the seams.

"Gyu, please, I need- now, please."

The hand previously holding your hip moved to your thigh, spreading you open further.

"You can come like this, yeah? You're so good, ____, so good at listening to me."

Your brain melted like wax out of your ears, skull hollowed out so all you could think about was Mingyu's voice echoing in your headspace.

"Come on, angel, don't think about it, just feel it."

With a noisy cry, you gasped out Mingyu's name before coming hard, creaming Mingyu’s fingers, legs twitching in Mingyu's grasp as you came undone.

Your climax did nothing to stop Mingyu, as he immediately lined his own cock to your cunt and slammed. Tears pricked at the corners of your eyes, shut with overwhelming pleasure and the sting of overstimulation.

"You can give me another, right angel?" Mingyu’s hips bucked forward with such sheer precision and strength that it left you in a babbling mess. You nodded weakly, now panting and gasping as you whispered Mingyu's name like some sort of holy prayer.

Mingyu gently kissed you, taking in your moans as he moved with a new found rhythm. You moaned when Mingyu hit the right spot and that did it for him. Mingyu hit the spot again and again as he made sure you were maintaining eye contact.

"You see how I ruin you angel.", Mingyu said in a hoarse voice.

Your eyes were glazed over and unfocused, lost in a hazy pleasure. You watched as Mingyu's hips rhythmically sunk into your cunt as your thighs quivered and stuttered out little moans each time he made contact.

After what felt like a lifetime, you finally felt your release coaxing again.

"You are going to cum aren't you baby?", whispered a sweaty Mingyu right in your ear.

"I can feel you squeezing my dick, baby. Fuck.", he moaned as his rhythm staggered.

You moaned because you were unable to even think about what to say. Racing your high you made sure to see Mingyu and how both of you fell apart almost at the same time as a garbled-out moan filled the space of the moan. Mingyu groaned as he released his own load and fell on you trying to catch his breath.

He brushed the hair stuck to your moist forehead out of the way before planting an intimate but delicate kiss to your wet lips.

!!SMUT ENDS!!

After resting for a few minutes, Mingyu got up to bring a cloth dipped in warm water to clean you and change the bedsheets before pulling you both under the warm embrace of a blanket.

You snuggled into Mingyu's naked chest as the warmth almost lulled you to sleep.

"____-ah.", whispered Mingyu to which all you could do was hum.

"I really like you. I am sorry I never confessed to you sooner. When you distanced yourself, I was a complete mess. I tried to contact you but every time I thought about it, I realized that it might make you feel uncomfortable. It was a relief to me when I saw that you were single. I knew I had to take the chance.", confessed Mingyu.

"I am sorry for distancing myself. It’s foolish but I have liked you since high school and that scared me. I really thought that you would hate me or reject me and so the best I could do was leave. When I thought that you were getting married, I knew I had lost my chance but then you were so sweet and kind that I almost thought that it meant something. I am glad you took the initiative.", you blushed as you confessed.

"So, still thinking about being my grooms-lady for the wedding?", teased Mingyu.

You giggled as you planted a kiss on Mingyu's lips and said, "I rather be your lady."

_______________________

Author's note: This is the longest smut I have ever written. I have been noting down inspirations from so many fanfictions and finally I was able to write this. I just feel extremely awkward when I write smut because I feel like I am not writing good so the inspirations helped a lot. Please do show it some love and I will be back with many other one-shots. Love y'all

[walmart-the-official]

oh! I use Finch. I have for a few months now and it’s definitely helped me pick up some better habits. It has a ton of different features, the main one being a list of goals and each time you complete a goal you get energy and gem stones.

The gem stones can be used to buy your “birb” new outfits or new decorations for their home, and the energy is used to send them out on adventures where they discover new things (food, shows, songs, etc.)

It also has places where you can write reflections, either free write or with a prompt, for more gems and energy. It also asks how you’re feeling from 1-5 every time you open the app and if you select 1 or 2 goals will give more energy and gems. It also has a ton more features, I would super recommend, especially if you’re trying to start healthier habits but struggling with motivation

guys. please

[00valentina-writes00]

I know literally everything is about ambessa but.. ambessa x reader who just thinks this massive, strong, intimidating woman is just the cutest thing ever??

Like for example, they just walk up to her doing anything and they just go like “awww omg you’re literally so cuteeeeee!”

✞⛧ Just too cute ✞⛧

Warnings: nothing! Just fluff

Word count: 1.5k

It’s a quiet evening in the grand Medarda estate. The usual hum of activity has quieted, the sound of soldiers training and strategizing replaced with the soft crackling of a fire in the hearth. You’re seated at one of the lavish chairs near the fire, your gaze occasionally drifting to the grand windows where the light of dusk falls, casting the room in gentle shades of orange and gold.

The only sounds in the room now are the soft shuffle of Ambessa’s boots against the marble floor and the light, rhythmic tapping of a piece of parchment against her desk as she pores over documents.

There she is. Your massive, strong, and intimidating wife. Ambessa Medarda, the commanding general, with her battle-hardened presence and sharp gaze that can bring even the fiercest warriors to their knees. To the world, she’s an indomitable force, a leader who exudes strength and fearlessness. But to you? She’s… so cute.

You can’t help but smile, watching her with that same look you’ve always given her when she’s lost in her work. You’ve been married for years now, but she still gets flustered when you pull this trick on her. She’s never truly gotten used to your admiration, no matter how much time passes.

The first time you said it, it was by accident. You’d walked into the war room, completely oblivious to the serious conversation happening around the table, only to find Ambessa sitting at the head, her posture so proud and composed (with only a bit of a pout from the conversation) that you couldn’t help but blurt out, “Awww, you’re literally so cute.”

Everyone had stopped dead in their tracks. The generals, the soldiers—each of them stared at you, blinking in confusion as though they couldn’t believe their ears. But Ambessa? She’d frozen, her eyes widening, and for the briefest of moments, her usual confidence faltered. She blinked at you, utterly flustered, before muttering, “Cute? I’m not… cute.”

The entire room had erupted in awkward silence, but you could see it in her face—Ambessa was trying so hard not to smile. Eventually, she had tried to maintain her usual stoic demeanor, but the faintest blush on her cheeks betrayed her.

And from that day forward, whenever you found her in moments of strength, focus, or even casual rest, you couldn’t help but tease her with that same endearment. After all, how could you resist? She was just so cute to you.

Tonight is no different. You rise from your seat, quietly walking over to her side. Ambessa’s focus is entirely on the documents sprawled before her—papers detailing military movements, strategies, and all the things that made her the most powerful general in the land. Her long fingers glide over the ink, scanning the information, her brow furrowed in deep concentration.

Without a second thought, you stand beside her, eyes full of affection, and softly call out, “you’re so cute, sittin all adorable in that chair”

Ambessa freezes for a moment, her gaze snapping toward you. The moment her eyes lock with yours, there’s a flash of disbelief, quickly replaced by that telltale hint of embarrassment. Her jaw clenches slightly as she tries, and fails, to keep her composure.

“You keep saying that…” Ambessa starts, her voice a mix of playful irritation and something else. You can almost hear the smile she’s trying to suppress in her words. “I’m the General Medarda, not some cute little creature.”

You tilt your head slightly, a teasing grin spreading across your face. “Nope, you’re just a giant, muscular teddy bear who happens to be very, very cute. Look at you! You’re sitting here doing paperwork, surrounded by all this power, and all I can see is how adorable you are. It’s literally impossible not to think you’re cute.”

She shakes her head, her lips twitching as though holding back a smile. It’s always the same with you, but she can never quite get used to it. The way you look at her with such pure affection, as though she is the most precious thing in the world, makes her heart ache with a tenderness she’d never known she could feel. It’s the thing that both comforts and humbles her.

Ambessa leans back in her chair, letting out a soft sigh. “If you say so,” she mutters, though she doesn’t push you away. In fact, she’s rather still, her hand pausing in its movement over the papers. She’s clearly distracted now, her focus less on the work and more on the way your eyes are fixed on her with adoration.

You take that as an invitation, moving closer and gently leaning against her desk, your hand finding a spot next to her arm. You watch as she shifts ever so slightly, clearly not used to the proximity, her body stiffening slightly before she relaxes.

“I mean it, though,” you continue, your voice soft but full of affection. “Look at how cute you are with your serious, intimidating face, and then there’s me just standing here like a lovesick fool, fawning over you.”

Ambessa lets out a small chuckle, shaking her head. “Lovesick fool, huh? You’re lucky I adore you, or I’d have you dragged away by my guards for disturbing me during my work.” She looks at you with narrowed eyes, but the way her lips curve upward betrays her. “Not that I would ever do that to you.”

You reach out, placing a hand gently on her shoulder. “Oh, I know you wouldn’t. You’re too soft for me.”

“Soft?” Ambessa scoffs, though her voice lacks the bite it normally holds. Her shoulders are visibly relaxing, her usual tension easing. “I’m the furthest thing from soft. You’re the one who’s always showering me with affection.”

You tilt your head, a mischievous glint in your eye. “And you love it.”

Her golden eyes flick to you, and for a brief moment, she lets down her usual guard. She gazes at you with a warmth that’s usually hidden beneath layers of authority. “I suppose I do,” she admits quietly. “But don’t think this means I’m actually cute. I’m fierce, remember?”

You grin at her playfully, leaning in just a little closer. “Mmmm, you’re fiercely cute, my love. Absolutely adorable in that intimidating way.”

Ambessa huffs, but you can see her lips twitching with the beginning of a smile. “You are impossible.”

You tilt your head again, eyes sparkling with amusement. “You’re literally my favorite thing in the world, and I can’t help it. I mean, come on—look at you. You’re tall, powerful, and strong. Your arms could crush me with a single movement, but you’re sitting here looking all serious and intimidating, and I just—” You pause dramatically, “—you’re just the cutest thing I’ve ever seen”

The shift in Ambessa’s demeanor is almost imperceptible, but you catch it—just the slightest shift in her posture, the faintest flush rising in her cheeks. She’s holding back a smile, but you can see it; you know it’s there.

Her voice is a little lower now, teasing but full of affection. “You should be careful, wife,” she warns, her hand reaching up to lightly touch your face. Her fingers trace the curve of your jaw, the simple touch sending a warm flutter through your chest. “One of these days, I might just show you how intimidating I can be.”

You laugh, not intimidated in the slightest. If anything, you’re emboldened by her playful warning. “Oh, I’m sure you could, General. But right now, you’re too cute to be intimidating.”

Ambessa rolls her eyes dramatically, though her lips betray her with a wide grin. “I’m going to have to find new ways to get you to take me seriously if you keep calling me ‘cute.’”

“Good luck with that,” you tease, brushing your lips gently against her cheek. “Because you’re just too adorable for me to resist.”

Ambessa sighs, her hand gently cupping your face, her thumb grazing your cheek in a rare moment of tenderness. “You really think I’m cute, don’t you?” she murmurs, her voice soft with genuine affection.

You nod enthusiastically, not even the slightest bit embarrassed by your obvious adoration. “Yes. I do. And I will continue to think you’re cute every single day for the rest of my life.”

For a moment, neither of you speaks. Ambessa just looks at you with a mixture of awe and fondness, her golden eyes softening as she takes in the sheer affection radiating from you.

Finally, she exhales slowly and pulls you closer, her lips brushing against your forehead. “Well, I suppose if I must be cute, there’s no one better to appreciate it than you.”

You smile against her chest, feeling the warmth of her arms wrap around you. “Exactly. You’re mine, and I will never stop thinking you’re the cutest, most powerful, most amazing woman in the world.”

Ambessa chuckles softly, the sound low and rich. “And you, wife, are absolutely impossible.”

But even as she says it, you feel the faintest shift in her stance—one of acceptance, of love. In that moment, you know she’s completely aware of what you see in her. And as much as she likes to deny it, she wouldn’t change a single thing.

Because to her, you’ll always be the one person who sees her, not just as the General Medarda, but as the woman she is—powerful, strong, and yes, just a little bit cute.

[reiding-writing]

𝐬𝐭𝐚𝐧𝐟𝐨𝐫𝐝’𝐬 𝐟𝐢𝐧𝐞𝐬𝐭.

a case involving female students being murdered in their dormitories brings the team to stanford university. You have more of a connection to it than you originally realise.

cold!reader ❅ 8.4k ❅ cold!reader masterlist. ❅ main masterlist.

CW | typical criminal minds violence, violence against women, detail of murder and injury, abuse of power, student-professor relationships, miscarriage and abortion, character death, manipulation, cynicism

“Three women, all doctorate students of Stanford University, have all been killed inside their dorm rooms in the last two weeks,” There’s a click of a button, and then three images flash up on the screen, headshots of the girls. “All three were found with their stomachs cut open and their reproductive organs removed,”

What a lovely way to start a Monday morning.

“So much for the best University in California,” Morgan nudges your arm with his elbow, and your roll your eyes.

“What was the medical knowledge of the unsub?”

“You tell me,” JJ clicks another button on her remote, and the smiling photos of the victims are replaced with their crime scene photos.

Hands and feet tied to their beds, a large incision at the pelvic bone that had been stretched open to leave the internal organs bare, and the uterus cut out of the body. The surface knowledge was there, but the execution was not. Messy lines and uneven incisions that left the gap left in the victims more blood and tissue than actual hole.

“So we’re not looking for a professional then,” Morgan points out the obvious with a cross of his arms, leaning back in his chair.

“They clearly know something about it though,” Spencer leans forward as Morgan leans back, squinting his eyes like it’s going to make the images clearer. “There’s several different ways to perform a hysterectomy, but for a complete hysterectomy like our unsub is doing, the most common method is to start with an incision just above the pelvic bone,”

We’ll discuss the details of hysterectomies whilst we’re on the plane,” Hotch taps both of his hands on the table as he stands. “Gather your things, wheels up in thirty,”

There’s a chorus of “Yes Sir,”s as you all follow him out of the conference room to return to your respective desks and gather your belongings for the flight, an air of fatigue still surrounding the group even through the graphic imagery you were presented with.

“Going back to your alma mater, how do you feel?” Morgan clasps his right hand into a fist and holds it out to you like an invisible microphone.

You push it away without much thought as you pack your laptop into your bag, rolling your eyes at him for what feels like the tenth time since you’d walked through the door an hour ago. “It’s been almost— no, it has been ten years since I graduated, what’s there to ‘feel’?”

“Okay robot face, damn, no lingering love for the College that gave you your career?” Morgan’s taunt is laced with that familiar air of light-heartedness that’s there to remind you that he really is just poking fun, but you’ve never been very receptive to his humour.

“No.”

He lets out a sharp laugh in a mix of amusement and surprise, opening his mouth to make another comment, but the expression on your face tells him you’re definitely done talking about the topic.

He does have some self restraint.

—

Stepping out of the San Jose International Airport almost felt like going into a time machine, spitting you right back out where you’d left that decade ago just 18 miles from your old campus.

It felt even more surreal actually reaching Stanford’s main site, walking around the place you’d dedicated four years of your life to. Not much had changed since you’d left, not that you really expected it to, but it felt almost foreign to you to walk around the campus as you were now, a properly matured adult compared to the almost naive teenager you started as.

You began where you always did, at the most recent crime scene, a college dorm room on the south-east side of the campus.

It was pretty standard, a bedroom big enough for a double bed and a desk, a built in wardrobe, and a private bathroom; Decorated how you would expect from a girl in her early twenties, covered in memories and interests that gave it a personality outside of the off-white paint on the walls.

Of course, it was mildly ruined by the fact the previously pink bedsheets were stained in a pool of oxidised blood that dripped down onto the rug adorned floor and ledger small spatters on the skirting boards, but what can you really expect when the girl had been cut open whilst she was still alive and most definitely struggling against it.

“There’s no signs of forced entry,” All Morgan could do was shrug as he examined the fire door that acted as the room’s only entrance. “The inside lock was unfastened and there’s no marks indicating it was forced open, or that it even could be without heavy grade tools,”

“So our unsub had his own key then?”

“Or,” Emily’s suggestion was side-stepped by Spencer, “He was let in,”

There’s a small hum from Hotch as he stands beside you, arms crossed and eyebrows furrowed. “Alright,” He turns his eyes onto you with a small nod, “Take Prentiss to the Mortuary and check the autopsy. Morgan, Reid, get Garcia to find a list of professors the victims shared and go and speak with them, they might’ve noticed a change in the girls’ behaviours before their deaths.”

“Will do,”

“Got it,”

There’s a series of shared nods between you as you spilt up, leaving Hotch, Rossi and JJ at the crime scene in search of any more information they could utilise.

—

Trying to catch a Professor when they’re not busy is harder than most people would think. So hard in fact that Spencer and Morgan had been left with standing inside one of the lecture rooms to endure the last twenty minutes of a forensic psychology lesson so they could get the professor between classes.

“Professor Callahan?”

“For any personal feedback on your essay please send me an email,” The professor doesn’t so much as look up from the papers he collects and organises on his desk, seemingly already in a rush even after barely two minutes of the lecture ending.

Morgan and Spencer share a glance.

“My name’s Dr Spencer Reid, and this is Agent Morgan, we’re from the FBI,”

Callahan looks up this time, rectangle glasses reflecting the two back to each other through the overhead lighting.

“We were hoping we could ask you a few questions, Sir,”

Spencer watches the Professor’s eyebrows knit in confusion before his eyes spark with a hint of realisation, and then understanding.

“Yes, of course,” He nods, collecting the pile of papers in his right arm. “Please, follow me into my office,”

His office is filled with bookshelves stacked with psychology texts and framed accolades lining the walls. Small busts of philosophers in the mpty spaces. His desk is littered with small rememberences of his former students, and lining the opposite wall is another, a small plaque reading Dr. Wittchen at it’s forefront.

“Did you notice any changes in the girls’ behaviour, or anything unusual leading up to their deaths?” Spencer’s question is cautious, if not a little bit emotionally insensitive.

Callahan’s expression shifts to one of concern. “Honestly, I hadn’t noticed anything alarming. They were all such high achievers, incredibly driven. The stress of their programs sometimes affected them, but nothing out of the ordinary.”

Spencer nods, then glances toward the accompanying desk. “What about Professor Wittchen? Does he interact with the students much?”

Callahan hesitates, his brow furrowing slightly. “Robert is highly respected, very dedicated to his work. He can be a little tough on their grades, but more often than not he’s sat in here doing one-on-one tutoring in his spare time,”

Spencer hums softly at Callahan’s assessment. “Do you know if he turoed any of the girls? He might have a better insight into any changes in their mannerisms,”

“I’m not sure I’m afraid,” Callahan shakes his head, “I leave him to his teachings most of the ime, but I can let him know you’ve asked,”

As they speak, Morgan’s gaze drifts to a nearby display shelf adorned with photographs of past students on the far wall, each one framed and labeled with a name and a date.

Etched into the wood of the shelf itself an engraving reading, “Shelf of Stars.” stood front and centre, and as Morgan’s eyes wandered the pictures, a certain label caught his attention.

Front and centre, there you sat, “2006 PhD” followed by your name, a picture of you and your Professors in what’s presuambly your first year.

“No way,” Morgan breathes out a laugh. “Reid come look at this,”

“What? What’s wrong?” Spencer and Callahan’s expressions mirror each other as they glance over at Morgan in concern, only for him to quash any need for worry as he holds up the frame in their direction.

“Look how different she looks! What happened, did she get hit by a truck when she turned 20 or what?”

There’s a flicker of recognition in Spencer’s eyes, one that almost turns to fondness as he takes in the bright smile printed behind the glass. He’s not sure he’s ever seen you smile like that since you’ve been with the team.

“You know her?” Callahan raises an eyebrow.

“Yeah, yeah, she’s on our team,” Morgan nods with a chuckle as he places the picture back where he found it, pulling out his phone to snap a photo, probably to make fun of you later.

“Really?” Professor Callahan looks more than a little surprised at the revelation. “I knew she was destined for great things, but the FBI, wow,” He breathes out a short sigh, nodding. “Robert’ll have a field day when he finds out she chose forensics over clinical,”

Spencer gives what’s almost a laugh, clearing his throat. “Well, Professor, thank you for speaking with us, we’ll contact you if we find any more information,”

“No problem at all, my door is always open,” Callahan follows Spencer and Morgan over to the office door, holding it open for them as they leave.

“Oh, Agents?” He stops them before they get too far. “If you have any time in or after your investigation, ask her to pay us a visit? It’d be nice to catch up,”

“We’ll let her know,”

—

“From what I can tell, the removal of the uterus was done antemortem, and the victims cause of death was the blood loss that resulted from it,” The Coroner lifts the muscle torn by the initial incision to give you and Emily a proper look at the damage.

“The nature of the incisions tells that they were most likely done with proper surgical instruments, a scalpel most likely, but their nature is unpracticed, see here for example,”

She points towards the left side of the victims pelvis, where the muscle had been separated from the uteral lining. “In a professional hysterectomy, this tissue here would also be removed, but in this case it’s been left attached to the surrounding tissues, and the same can be said for the others,”

“So our unsub knows the basics, is that something that would require medical training?” Emily furrows her eyebrows at the sight, and you’re much the same.

The sight is almost enough to make you feel nauseous, but you don’t need sickly thoughts clouding your judgement right now.

“Possibly, although with how the internet is, it’s possible they read an article or watched a documentary on how the procedure is done,” The coroner sways her head side to side, “I’d say that whoever did this has had some training, but not necessarily in the field,”

Emily hums, turning her gaze from the victim towards you. “Medical student maybe?”

You hum absently, eyes trained on the gaping hole left in the girl’s stomach. “Maybe, probably won’t still be a student though,”

It affects you more than it should, you think, a malingering nagging in the back of your head that won’t leave you alone but also won’t tell you why it’s there in the first place.

You sigh, “We should look at biologists too, clinical fields,”

Emily gives you an agreeing nod. “I’ll call Garcia,” She pats your shoulder deftly as she leaves the room.

“Was there anything else strange about the body?” You tear your eyes away from the girl to look up at the coroner, who only gives you a small shake of her head.

“Not that I can see,” Her gaze, though objective, flickers with small amounts of uncertainty. “It’s so upsetting, things like this, what spurs someone to do something so… primally horrific?”

“A rejection probably, a denial of a sexual relationship or children that’s projected onto other women because he can’t get to the person he really wants to hurt,” You shrug out an exhale. “More common than you’d think,”

She frowns. “it’s awful,”

“Yeah,” You purse your lips together. “But it is what it is,”

—

“Did the three girls have any clear connections?”

Garcia taps away on her keyboard, and the jingling of her earrings over the reciever suggests that she’s shaking her head. “Apart from being Stanford students, not really. Julie was doing an MsC in Pediatric Therapy, Ophelia doing an MA in History of Medicine, and Marie doing a PhD in Psychology.” She sighs. “None of them had any classes together, no mutual friends, I don’t even think they knew the others existed,”

“There has to be some overlap,” Morgan groans exasperatedly, glancing over at the mostly bare profile board that him and Spencer were trying to put together. They’d spoken to most of the girls’ professors by now, and apart from offhanded comments about stress and pressure, nothing seemed out of the ordinary.

It was frustrating, really frustrating, and for all they knew, the team was on a time limit before another girl suffered the same fate. They needed a break in the case, sooner rather than later.

“What about the students Emily asked you to look into? Spencer bends almost awkardly towards Morgan’s phone, trying to raise his voice into the speaker whilst still writing against the whiteboard.

“Nada, I’m afraid, no one who had connections to all three girls, past or present, I’ve hit a wall,”

“No kidding,” Morgan exhales heavily, pinching the bridge of his nose with the hand not holding his phone. “Thanks anyway, sweetness,”

“Of course my love, I’ll hit you back if I find anything, Penny G out,” —

“So we’ve got three dead girls, no connections, and no signature to help us track down this guy, lovely,” Emily sips on her coffee, leaning back into her chair with a sigh.

“Isn’t this like every other case we’ve ever had?” You raise an eyebrow is disinterest, stretching you arms above your head and almost hitting Morgan in the face as he and Spencer reenter the room from their lunch break.

The Psychology department had been kind enough to loan you one of their staff rooms during your investigation, and comments had already been made about Hotch’s demeanour as he walked around you like he was keeping an eye on a group of toddlers.

“There’s something we’re missing here,” Rossi pours over the whiteboard with a disgruntled sigh, his palm dragging down the side of his face. “There’s always something,”

Reid nods, tapping his pen against his notebook as he takes a seat. “Even perfectionists leave traces. It’s just a matter of understanding their logic—how they justify their actions.”

“Change of subject quickly,” Morgan holds up a hand as he walks around the table, his other hand landing on your shoulder. “Talking of leaving traces, who was going to tell us that you actually knew how to smile?”

You shrug his hand off of you with a furrow of your eyebrows. “What?”

“I’m talking little nineteen year old you beaming like you were trying to compete with the sun,” He digs his phone from his pocket, holding the screen out to face the group. “I mean look at this, look at you, its weird,”

You snatch the phone from him as soon as you recognise the picture. “Why do you have that picture?”

“We took a trip to see one of your old Professors,” Morgan wrestles the device back out of your hands before you have a chance to what he assumes will be deleting the evidence of your past sunniness. “He asked to see you at some point by the way, wants to ‘catch up’,”

“Delete that photo, Morgan.” You cross one leg over the other with a huff.

“No way, Ice Queen, I’m gonna make fun of you with this forever,”

“I hate you,”

”I love you too,” He blows an air kiss in your direction.

The shrill ring of the door opening cuts through the room, snapping everyone to attention. A mildly out of breath PD officer leaning against the doorframe.

“There’s been another one,” she says, her voice tight.

The room erupts into motion.

—

When you arrive, the scene is eerily similar to the others. The victim, a young woman in her early twenties, lies in the middle of her dorm room, fully clothed and carefully positioned. Her face is serene, as though she’s simply sleeping. The blood pooling out of her lower abdomen tells you that she’s not.

“Victim’s name is Natalie Yu. Twenty-one, Psychology major. She fits the profile—academic, driven, top of her class.” JJ fills you in easily.

You step closer, your heart sinking as you take in the meticulous staging. The unsub’s reverence for his victims is apparent in every detail. No signs of a struggle. No personal belongings out of place.

Reid crouches near the body, his eyes narrowing. “Same as the others. No physical trauma that would suggest a cause of death other than bloodloss. Removal of reproductive organs.”

Morgan stands by the door, his jaw clenched. “This guy’s escalating. Three murders in three weeks, and now this. He’s not slowing down.”

Something catches Prentiss’s eye. She kneels beside the victim and carefully lifts the edge of her blouse. Tucked neatly into the waistband of her jeans is a folded piece of paper.

“What’s this?” she murmurs, pulling on gloves before unfolding the note. The room goes still as she reads aloud:

“It was meant to be you.”

You lean over Emily’s shoulder to get a glance at the writing yourself. And then you immediately regret doing so. The handwriting is unmistakable—sharp, angular strokes that you’d recognise anywhere.

But you can’t say that. Not yet.

“‘It was meant to be you’?” Rossi repeats, stepping closer. “What the hell does that mean?”

Reid frowns. “It’s personal. Direct. He’s targeting someone specific now.”

“It could be a taunt,” JJ offers. “A way to throw us off or instill fear in the team.”

Morgan shakes his head, his expression grim. “No. This is different. This isn’t just about control anymore—this is about sending a message,”

“It’s personal,” Reid says again, his gaze sweeping the room. For a brief moment, his eyes land on you, and you feel like he can see right through you.

“Excuse me,” you manage, your voice steady despite the panic clawing at your chest.

You step outside, the crisp air hitting you like a jolt. Your hands shake as you pull out your phone, staring at the screen without really seeing it. The note wasn’t just a taunt—it was a reminder. He knew you were here. He’d known the moment you stepped onto campus.

It was meant to be you.

The words echo in your mind, a sinister promise that leaves no room for doubt.

—

“This is different from the previous victims,” Spencer says, “The note changes everything. If we assume the unsub has been fixated on someone specific all along, the other victims could have been surrogates—stand-ins for the real target.”

Prentiss looks at him sharply. “You think the unsub is escalating because the real target is now within reach?”

He nods. “Exactly. The murders were practice, perfecting the method. But now that the target is accessible, he’s shifting focus.”

“Great,” Morgan mutters. “Wonderful.”

JJ gestures to the note. “We need to figure out who he’s targeting—and fast.”

You stand by the door, your stomach twisting. You can’t let them figure it out, not like this.

“I’ll follow up on the note,” you say, forcing a calm you don’t feel. “Maybe there’s something about the phrasing or handwriting we can use to narrow down suspects.”

Morgan eyes you, his brow furrowed. “You sure you’re good? You’ve been quiet since we got here.”

You nod quickly, brushing off his concern. “I’m fine.”

He doesn’t look convinced, but he lets it go.

—

You barricade yourself in the staff room, spreading out the case files across the table. You stare at the note, the handwriting glaring up at you like a brand.

“It was meant to be you.”

You were just a kid, desperate to prove yourself. He saw that. He used it.

You grip the edge of the table, your knuckles white. You can’t let him win. Not again.

A knock at the door pulls you out of your thoughts. It’s Spencer, holding a cup of coffee.

“Thought you could use this,” he says, setting it down in front of you.

“Thank you.” You manage a display of gratitude, but his gaze lingers, sharp and questioning.

“You’ve been off since we got here,” he says softly. “Is there something you’re not telling us?”

Your heart skips a beat. Reid is too perceptive for his own good, and you know he won’t let this go.

“I’m fine,” you lie. “Just tired.”

He doesn’t look convinced, but he nods, stepping back. “If you need to talk, I’m here.”

As he leaves, you let out a shaky breath. The walls are closing in, and you don’t know how much longer you can keep this to yourself. Not if you don’t want anyone else to die because of it.

—

Spencer stands near the board, absentmindedly tapping his pen against his palm. Morgan is leaning against a table, arms crossed, while Prentiss and JJ exchange quiet remarks by the coffee pot. Rossi, as always, is seated with his chair tipped back, his eyes fixed on the board.

But it’s Hotch who breaks the silence. “This unsub’s timeline is escalating, and the note makes it clear they’re getting bolder. If we don’t figure out their connection to Stanford soon, someone else is going to die.”

Morgan sighs. “We’ve gone through the victim profiles a dozen times. There’s no overlap other than the school. No shared clubs, professors, dorms, nothing. It’s like this guy’s picking them at random.”

“Not random,” Spencer interjects, his voice sharp. “The victims are stand-ins for someone else. I’m sure of it. The note confirmed it—‘It was meant to be you.’ The unsub isn’t just killing; they’re trying to send a message to someone.”

Rossi tilts his head. “None of them bear any significant physical relation to each other,”

Reid nods. “It doesn’t have to be physical. It’s an ideal, there’s something specific that ties all of the victims together, something linked to whoever the unsub is actually after,”

JJ frowns. “But who is it? If it’s not one of the victims, how do we figure out who the unsub is fixated on?”

You tense in your chair, your hands curling into fists under the table. You can feel their eyes shifting to you, their collective attention like a spotlight burning against your skin.

Morgan raises an eyebrow. “You did go here. Maybe there’s something you’d recognise—something we’ve missed.”

You meet their gazes with forced calm, willing your voice to remain steady. “Just because I went to Stanford doesn’t mean this case has anything to do with me.”

Prentiss leans forward slightly, her tone gentle but insistent. “No one’s saying it does, but if there’s even a chance—”

“There’s not.” you cut her off, sharper than you intended. The words hang in the air, and you immediately regret your tone. It doesn’t change anything though. “We’re here because of the victims, not because I graduated from here a decade ago.”

The room falls quiet, and the tension thickens. Hotch watches you carefully, his unreadable gaze a weight you can’t escape.

“I need some air,” you say abruptly, standing before anyone can argue. “I’ll be back in a few.”

You leave the room before anyone can stop you, the sound of your boots echoing down the sterile hall.

—

Stanford’s campus feels both foreign and familiar as you wander its paths. The sprawling quads and ivy-covered buildings haven’t changed much in the years since you left, but the memories they stir feel sharp and raw.

You stop at a bench near the Psychology department, the cool breeze doing little to calm the storm inside you. Your arms wrap around yourself as if trying to hold yourself together.

“You’re not fine.”

The voice startles you, but you don’t turn around. You’d recognise that soft, observant tone anywhere. Spencer.

He sits beside you, leaving a respectful distance between you, his lanky frame folding awkwardly on the bench. “You’ve been different since we got here,” he says after a moment. “Quiet. Hesitant. That’s not like you,”

You don’t respond, staring out at the students passing by, their laughter and chatter a stark contrast to the weight in your chest.

“I know it’s not just the case,” he continues, his voice gentle but unyielding. “There’s something else. Something you’re not telling us.”

Your jaw tightens. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Yes, you do,”

His certainty grates on your already frayed nerves, and you finally turn to him, your eyes flashing. “What are you trying to say, Reid? Spit it out.”

He hesitates, his brow furrowing as he chooses his words carefully. “I think you know who the unsub is. Or at least… you suspect,”

You laugh, the sound bitter and sharp. “That’s a hell of an accusation.”

“I’m not accusing you of anything,” he says quickly. “I’m worried about you. You’re not acting like yourself, and the way you reacted to that note…” He trails off, shaking his head. “It was different. You looked like you’d seen a ghost,”

“Maybe I’m just tired,” you snap, the defensive edge in your voice sharper than you intend.

He doesn’t flinch, his gaze steady and unwavering. “It’s more than that. I can see it. You’re scared,”

The word hits you like a slap, and for a moment, you can’t breathe. He’s right, of course. You are scared. Terrified, even. But admitting that feels like surrendering, like letting him win.

“Stop it,” you say, your voice low and dangerous. “You don’t know what you’re talking about.”

Spencer leans forward, his elbows resting on his knees as he studies you. “I think I do. I think this unsub has a connection to you. And I think that’s why you’ve been avoiding us—because you don’t want us to figure it out.”

Your hands curl into fists at your sides, and you glare at him, your composure threatening to crack. “You don’t know what he did to me.”

The words slip out before you can stop them, and the moment they do, you see the understanding dawn in his eyes. “Who?” Spencer presses gently. “Who are we talking about?”

Your chest heaves as you fight back the tears threatening to spill. “One of my Professors.”

“Did he…” Spencer hesitates in pressing the subject, a mix of his usual timidness when it comes to you and the fear that he’s broaching on a very concerning topic.

“It was consensual.”

Spencer watches you closely, his eyes searching your face for a sign, some clue, as if trying to understand the puzzle that is your inner workings.

He doesn’t push, but the silence between you both is suffocating. His voice is almost a whisper when he speaks again, but it still cuts through the heavy air between you.

"You were just a kid," Spencer murmurs, his words soft but no less sharp. "He took advantage of you when you were vulnerable, when you were still figuring things out. That’s manipulation."

You flinch at the truth of it, at the way he so easily sees the pieces of your life you've tried so hard to bury. You didn’t want to think about him anymore, didn’t want to remember how he twisted every gesture, every word, until it was all about him, all about what he wanted.

You can still feel the weight of his hands, the way he made you feel like you didn’t have a choice, that this was all part of the price you had to pay to succeed, to be seen as worthy of your place in academia.

Spencer shifts slightly, his eyes never leaving yours. “He used his power over you. You were just a kid, and he was a professor. Someone you trusted.” His words are steady, but they cut deep. "You were in a position where you thought you had to do what he wanted. But it wasn’t your fault,”

“It was consensual.” you say again, more firmly this time, though it feels like you’re trying to convince yourself rather than him, the words raw and drenched in a cold calmness you didn’t really feel.

“Was it?” Spencer asks gently, his voice low. “If you were 19 and you thought you had to do it to get ahead, was it really? Was it truly your choice?”

You feel the air leave your lungs, and you want to scream at him, to deny everything, to make him stop asking these questions, because the answers are too painful, too complicated.

But he’s right. You were a child—so young, so desperate to succeed, to make a name for yourself in a field dominated by people like him. You thought you were lucky when he took you under his wing, when he offered you guidance, extra attention, time. But you weren’t.

“I had an abortion,” you finally confess, the words coming out in a broken whisper.

Spencer’s eyes widen, and for a moment, he’s silent, processing your admission. His lips part as though he wants to say something, but nothing comes. He doesn’t push, though, just watches you, his expression a mix of sympathy and concern, but there's no judgment in it. Not like you expected.

“In my shitty college dorm room,” Your voice catches, and you blink rapidly, trying to stop the sting in your eyes. “I thought I was dying. The amount of blood—” You let out a shaky breath, your hands trembling in your lap. “I didn't know how to make it stop.Sometimes I wish it didn’t.”

“Don’t say that.”

Spencer leans in a little, his gaze intense, but gentle. “You were just a kid,” he says softly, his words like a balm, soothing yet cutting through the guilt. “He took advantage of you. It wasn’t your fault. You didn’t deserve that.”

You want to believe him. You want so badly to hear those words and let them erase the shame that has clung to you for so long. But the voices of doubt are louder in your head. The fear that somehow, deep down, it was your fault. That maybe you could’ve said no, maybe you could’ve gotten away before it went too far.

“I didn’t tell anyone,” you say, your voice low, almost ashamed of the vulnerability. “I couldn’t tell my parents or my friends… or anyone. It was like everything I worked for, everything I had, was tied to him. If I said something, everything would’ve been ruined.”

Spencer’s brows furrow, and he lets out a soft exhale. “No one should ever have to carry that weight alone, especially not at your age.” His voice is steady, but there’s something deeply empathetic in his tone. “It’s not a burden you should’ve had to bear by yourself.”

“I lied to him too,” you whisper, the confession hanging heavily in the air. “I told him I miscarried. He was devastated. He wasn’t even angry—just sad. But I didn’t. I didn’t feel anything.”

“You…” Spencer starts, hesitating to make sure he words his response correctly. “Being in a state of shock is normal after a traumatic event,”

You shake your head. “I know what shock feels like. I was just numb. I murdered my own child and I didn’t even feel guilty about it.”

Spencer’s jaw tightens slightly, a flicker of anger flashing in his eyes, but it’s not directed at you. It’s directed at him, at the man who should’ve protected you, not preyed on you. His voice is tight, but he keeps it calm.

“You did what you had to do. That’s not your fault.”

“It was alive. Seventeen weeks. I flushed it down the fucking toilet,” You drag your palm down your face, leaning forward until your elbows are resting on your knees.

“I didn’t even want to graduate after that,” you admit, your voice raw. “I couldn’t face him. I just wanted to disappear, but I was not going to put myself through hell without getting something out of it.”

Spencer is quiet for a long moment, taking in everything you’ve said. His gaze never wavers from yours, like he’s trying to understand every piece of you, trying to reach that place where you’re still hiding, still locked away from the rest of the world.

“You don’t owe anyone an explanation for what happened. You did what you needed to survive. And you are surviving. But you don’t have to do it alone.”

You close your eyes, letting the weight of his words settle over you. The storm inside you hasn’t calmed, but for the first time in a long while, it feels like it’s not threatening to swallow you whole. The walls you’ve built around yourself feel just a little more porous, itching to crumble.

“I’m scared,” you say, the vulnerability you’ve been holding back creeping into your voice. “He’s murdering people because of me.”

Spencer doesn’t hesitate. He sits up straighter, his expression serious. “We’ll figure this out. We’ll help you, and we’ll make sure that he doesn’t hurt anyone else.”

“You can’t tell anyone what I just told you.”

He lets out a sigh of your name.

“Promise me, Spencer.”

“Okay,” He nods solemnly. “I promise.”

—

The moment you walk through the doors of the empty lecture hall, you feel it—that same nauseating mix of dread and anticipation curling in your stomach. The air is stale, thick with the weight of memories you spent years trying to forget.

He’s already there, standing at the podium like he belongs there, like nothing has changed. Like he hasn’t left a trail of bodies behind him.

“Ah,” Professor Wittchen exhales as if relieved. “There you are,”

Your fingers twitch at your sides. “I should’ve known you’d pick this place.”

His lips curve into a small smile, a smile that used to make you feel seen. Now, it makes your skin crawl. “It’s fitting, don’t you think? This is where it all began,”

He watches you with the same unwavering gaze he always had, the one that used to make you feel special—chosen. Now, it just feels predatory.

“I missed you,” he says simply, stepping closer.

You don’t move.

“You should’ve visited,” he continues, his voice warm, inviting, like this is a casual conversation and not a confrontation between a killer and his last loose end. “You were my brightest student,”

“I was your victim.” you correct, voice sharp.

His expression doesn’t falter. If anything, he looks pleased. “Victim?” he echoes, like he’s rolling the word around in his mouth, testing its weight. “That’s not how I remember it.”

You swallow hard, jaw clenched. You knew this was how he would react. Knew he would twist things, make them blurry, like he always had.

He tilts his head, studying you. “I heard you became a profiler. That’s impressive. Though I always thought you were more inclined to be a Psychiatrist.”

“You shouldn't be surprised,” you say flatly. “I learned from the best manipulators.”

A flicker of amusement crosses his face. “Now, that’s not fair,”

Your nails dig into your palms. “I know it’s you,” you say, cutting through the act. “You murdered four innocent women because you couldn’t move on.”

He exhales, almost disappointed. “That’s not quite right.”

You don’t let him continue. “Why are you doing this? Why now?”

His gaze darkens, and for the first time since you stepped into this room, the warmth fades from his expression. “It’s been ten years since you left me,” he says simply. “You never even had the decency to say goodbye. I tried to find a substitute, but they weren’t like you. No body is. You’re special.”

A shiver runs down your spine, but you force yourself to hold his stare. “I didn’t owe you anything.”

Wittchen exhales through his nose, shaking his head like you’ve disappointed him. “That’s not true. I shaped you. I made you.”

A bitter laugh escapes you. “You ruined my life.”

His eyes flicker with something unreadable, and then—slowly—he steps down from the podium, closing the distance between you. “You don’t believe that.”

Your breath catches, but you don’t move.

He stops inches from you, his voice dropping to a murmur. “I see it in your eyes. You still need me.”

You know what he’s doing. You know how his mind works, how he bends reality to his will, how he rewrites history to suit his narrative.

And for the first time, you don’t fall for it.

“You’re pathetic,” you whisper. “You think killing people will make me what? Love you? Miss you?” You shake your head. “You mean nothing to me.”

Something in his expression shifts. It’s subtle, but you catch it. The crack in his mask. The first glimpse of the monster beneath.

His fingers twitch at his sides.

There it is. The control slipping.

Good.

You see the flash of something dark behind his eyes—anger, frustration, maybe even desperation. He knows he’s losing control, and for a man like him, that’s unbearable.

You take a step forward. Not away, but closer.

“I hate you.” you say, your voice sharp, cutting through the heavy silence of the room.

Wittchen’s lips barely twitch, but you see the flicker of amusement in his eyes, like he thinks you’re still playing a game with him. Like this is another debate, another test of wills.

“No, you don’t,” he murmurs. “Not really.”

Your hands curl into fists at your sides. “Don’t tell me how I feel.”

He sighs, tilting his head like you’re disappointing him. “I did anything you didn’t ask for,” he says, like it’s a fact. “You wanted me.”

Rage burns through you, hot and all-consuming. “I was nineteen,” you spit. You knew exactly what you were doing. You took advantage of me.”

Wittchen exhales through his nose, shaking his head. “It wasn’t like that,”

“It was exactly like that,” you snap, stepping closer. “And do you want to know the worst part? I spent years telling myself it wasn’t. That maybe I did love you, that maybe I wanted to be with you. But I didn’t.”

His jaw tightens, but he doesn’t deny it.

“I don’t regret leaving you,” you continue, voice trembling with fury. “I don’t regret moving on, or never looking back. But do you know what I do regret?”

He doesn’t answer, just watches you carefully, like he’s waiting for the killing blow.

“I regret ever letting you touch me. I regret every second I spent thinking you were something special, that you cared about me. You didn’t. You only cared about what I could give you.”

Something shifts in his expression—subtle, but enough. His fingers twitch again.

You steel yourself and drive the dagger deeper.

“You think I miscarried?” you ask, voice dropping to a whisper. “That’s what I told you, right? That I lost the baby?”

His face remains eerily blank.

“I lied,” you whisper. “I had an abortion.”

His entire body stiffens.

“Because the thought of being tied to you for the rest of my life made me sick. And I would’ve rather died from sepsis than deal with you.”

The silence that follows is suffocating.

For a moment, Wittchen doesn’t react. Doesn’t breathe.

Then, without warning, he moves.

His hand goes for his waistband, and in a split second, you see the glint of a gun.

But you’re faster.

Your own weapon is already in your hands before he can fully draw his, aimed directly at his chest.

“Don’t.” you warn, your voice steel.

Wittchen hesitates, his gun halfway raised, his eyes locked onto yours.

For the first time, there’s something close to uncertainty in his expression.

—

The team is listening.

They hear every word.

Spencer’s grip on his gun is tight, knuckles white, jaw clenched so hard it aches. The rest of the team stands tense beside him, ears trained on the conversation happening just beyond the door.

They could go in. They should go in.

But they don’t.

Not yet.

Because this isn’t their battle.

Still, when they hear the shift in the conversation, the moment Wittchen reaches for his gun, every muscle in Spencer’s body tenses, ready to move.

And then—

Silence.

A long, stretching silence.

Then a single gunshot.

—

“You’re lying,” Wittchen snaps, his voice rising as his fingers curl tighter around the revolver’s grip. He pulls back the hammer with a metallic click, the sound loud in the charged silence of the lecture hall.

His arm is steady, the barrel aimed at your chest, but you don't flinch. “You miscarried. You were sick. That’s the truth. I took care of you. I was there when you needed me.”

Your lips curl into a bitter smile.

“The baby was fine,” you say, voice cold and firm. “I just didn’t want it.”

The words hang between you, heavy and raw.

For a split second, something akin to disbelief flickers in his eyes. But he recovers quickly, his jaw tightening as his grip on the gun tightens. The cold, calculating look is back.

The man who used his power over you is right here, still trying to control the situation. But he’s unraveling, and you can see it now—the cracks in his façade.

“You think you can just walk away from all this?” Wittchen growls, his voice a low threat. His eyes dart between you and the gun in your hand, calculating the distance, the time it would take to react.

“You’re going to watch me.” you reply, your voice steady despite the chaos swirling inside you. You take a step forward, gun lowered in favour of a pair of handcuffs.

He lets out a sharp breath, taking a step backwards, his arm still outstretched, but his expression is one of rage and something else—desperation.

“I gave you everything,” Wittchen sneers. “I could’ve given you more. You were a star, you were going places. But you threw it all away.”

“I didn’t throw away anything.” you say, voice sharp, anger curling in your gut. “I made my life what I wanted it to be.”

You take another step toward him. Your hand grips your gun tighter, its cold weight a reminder of how far you’ve come, how much you’ve survived.

“I was a kid,” you say, quieter now, more dangerous. “A kid who wanted to make something of herself. But you? You made sure I’d always be tied to you, that I’d never escape your reach. You took that from me. And now?”

Now, you’re not just angry. Now, you’re done.

“I don’t need you anymore,” you continue, voice quiet but lethal. “And I don’t need to live in fear of you. Not anymore. Just give up.”

Wittchen’s face hardens. His finger moves closer to the trigger, and for a moment, it feels like time stands still. His eyes are cold, calculating—he’s trying to force you to back down, to make you fear him again. But you don’t. Not anymore.

And he knows it.

The silence stretches out, suffocating. And then, without another word, he turns the gun away from you and towards himself.

For a moment, the world is frozen.

The sharp scent of gunpowder lingers in the air.

You don’t flinch.

You don’t move.

Wittchen stares at you, almost smiling.

A slow, dark red stain spreads across his chest. His gun falls from his hand, clattering uselessly to the floor.

Then, his knees buckle.

He collapses.

The impact is dull, almost anticlimactic.

His breath comes in shallow gasps, and for the first time since you walked into this room, he looks small.

Weak.

The man who once held so much power over you is nothing more than a dying, pathetic heap on the floor.

And somehow, there’s no satisfaction in it.

You watch as the light fades from his eyes, as the last breath leaves his lips.

And then—

It’s over.

—

The gunshot sends the team into action.

Spencer is the first through the door, gun raised, eyes scanning the room for threats.

But all he finds is you—standing still, gun loose in one hand, handcuffs in the other, staring blankly ahead.

Wittchen is on the floor, unmoving. Blood pools around him.

For a second, no one speaks.

Then you move.

Without looking at any of them, you turn away from the corpse.

And then, numbly, silently, you walk past them.

You don’t stop when Spencer calls your name.

You don’t stop when JJ reaches for you.

You just keep walking.

Because it’s finally over.

And yet, somehow, it doesn’t feel like a victory at all.

—

The air outside the lecture hall is thick with tension.

Your gun feels heavy in your hands, and at some point, you register someone gently taking it from you. You don’t resist.

The hallways of Stanford feel different now. The ghosts you tried so hard to forget have been exorcised, but their shadows still linger.

You reach the nearest exit and step outside, inhaling sharply as the crisp night air hits you. You brace your hands on your knees, grounding yourself.

Then you hear footsteps behind you.

You know it’s them.

You straighten, forcing yourself to meet their gazes.

Hotch stands with his arms crossed, his expression unreadable but his presence steady. JJ and Emily exchange a look, worry etched into their features. Rossi, as always, watches with quiet understanding.

Then there’s Morgan.

He looks… shaken.

Guilt lingers in his eyes, and when he steps forward, his voice is lower, softer than you’ve ever heard it.

“I’m sorry,” he says.

You blink, caught off guard.

“For what?” Your voice is hoarse, raw.

Morgan exhales sharply, rubbing a hand over his jaw with his eyes full of regret. “I didn’t know.”

You swallow hard. You don’t want to talk about it. But there’s something in his voice, in the way his usually confident demeanor falters, that makes you nod stiffly.

“I know.”

It’s the closest thing to forgiveness you can offer right now.

Morgan nods, accepting it.

Spencer is the last to approach.

He doesn’t say anything at first—just stands there, his hands shoved into his pockets. His eyes, though, say everything.

You hold his gaze for a moment before sighing. “What?”

“I don’t know what to say,” he admits. His voice is careful, but there’s an edge of something else—frustration, sadness, maybe even anger. Not at you. Never at you. But at what happened. At what Wittchen took from you.

“You don’t have to say anything,” you murmur.

—

The hum of the jet is steady and low, a constant presence that fills the silence between breaths.

You sit by the window, staring out at the clouds, your reflection barely visible against the dark glass.

You should be exhausted.

You are exhausted.

But sleep won’t come.

Your mind won’t let it.

The seat next to you shifts slightly, and you glance over to see Spencer settling beside you.

He doesn’t say anything.

Doesn’t ask if you’re okay, because he already knows you’re not.

Doesn’t try to fill the silence with empty reassurances.

He just sits.

And somehow, that’s reassurance enough.

Sleep comes a little easier after that.

[ruewritesoccasionally]

A Symphony of Sin | Terry Richmond

Pairing: Dark!Professor Terry Richmond x Dark! Black Reader

Warnings: extreme dark themes and smut (18+), stalking, obsessions, manipulation, teasing, jealousy, possessiveness, power dynamics, oral (m receiving), rough sex, choking, spitting, light slapping, hair pulling, degradation kink, praise kink, use of names (princess, slut, sweetheart) } everything is consensual but read at your own risk !

Summary: The final movement between her and Terry reveals who is really playing by the rules and who runs the game. The next moves are darker, more psychological, and with an even bigger power shift. By the end of it, she’ll know—this isn’t just her obsession anymore.

Word Count: 3.6K

a/n: this is a part 2 to 'Lessons in Obsession', one in which I initially had no intentions of writing because tbh sequels aren't my strength but @barnesnnobles comment inspired me to delve deeper so thank you bby. when i first started writing this, i didn't think it was going to be this dark but i think it's depraved in the best way 🤭...

The game had changed. She knew that. He had made sure of it.

Ever since that night—the night where her carefully constructed fantasy collided with his very real intentions—things had been different. She no longer watched from the shadows, no longer merely observed him like a scholar collecting data. No, now she felt him. Everywhere.

But the most dangerous thing?

She thought she had a handle on it.

Terry still carried himself with that same unbothered confidence, that slow, deliberate way he moved, as if every step, every glance, was calculated three moves ahead. In class, he was the same strict, enigmatic professor he had always been—sharp-minded, sharp-tongued, and completely unreadable.

And yet.

When she sat in his lecture hall, knees pressed together beneath the desk, hands folded as if she weren’t replaying the way those same hands had gripped her thighs, there were moments—fleeting, almost imperceptible—where she swore she saw something in his eyes. A flicker of amusement when she adjusted in her seat, when she bit her lip without realising, when she lingered a second too long after class.

She was under no illusions now. He was watching. He had always been watching.

And God, she loved it.

It started small.

Little things—things that no one else would think twice about, but she caught them.

“Some of you seem to be distracted today,” Terry remarked one afternoon, his voice even but laced with something dangerous. His gaze swept the lecture hall, pausing for a half-second too long when it landed on her. “If you’ve got something occupying your mind, I suggest you clear it before it gets in the way of your work.”

Her breath caught.

A warning.

He didn’t need to elaborate. She knew exactly what he meant.

The previous night was still seared into her skin—his mouth, his hands, the way he made her admit to everything. How she’d clung to him when he finally let her have what she’d been chasing for so long.

She shifted in her seat, pressing her thighs together, pulse thrumming.

And Terry? He just continued lecturing, unbothered, as if he hadn’t just sent a shockwave straight to her core with a single sentence.

Then, he started testing her.

“Read the passage out loud,” he ordered one day, flipping through the textbook. “Slowly. Every word. Let’s see if you can follow simple instructions.”

Her stomach flipped.

She swallowed, gripping the page tighter, pulse pounding as she realised exactly what he was doing.

When she hesitated, Terry arched an eyebrow. “Having trouble, sweetheart?”

The term of endearment was so casual, so devoid of its usual weight, that no one else thought twice about it.

She knew better.

Heat flooded her cheeks as she parted her lips, voice coming out steady—too steady. She would not let him shake her. Not here. Not in front of everyone.

She read. Slowly.

And he watched.

The entire time.

She liked the game. The push and pull. So she pushed back.

One day, she lingered after class—not out of necessity, but out of something else.

“You’re staying late,” he remarked, not looking up from his notes.

She shrugged, feigning innocence. “Just needed some clarification on the assignment.”

Terry hummed, unconvinced, flipping the page in front of him. “You’re a smart girl. I find it hard to believe you don’t already know the answer.”

Her stomach clenched. The way he said smart girl—like he was reminding her exactly who had the upper hand.

She exhaled through her nose, willing herself to keep her composure. “Can’t a student just want a little extra guidance?”

That made him look up.

Slowly.

She swore she saw it then—the slightest twitch at the corner of his mouth, the knowing glint in his eyes.

“You’ve got five minutes,” he said, his voice silky-smooth, as if they both didn’t know he was lying.

But then, she made a mistake.

She got too comfortable.

Too bold.

And she pushed too far.

It started as harmless flirting. A casual, easy smile to another professor in the hallway. A lingering laugh with a classmate in the library. Nothing that would have mattered before.

But now?

Now, everything mattered.

She should’ve noticed the way Terry’s eyes darkened when he caught the exchange. She should’ve registered the subtle shift in his body language when she walked into class the next day.

But she didn’t.

Not until he called on her, voice calm, smooth as glass.

“You. Come here.”

A command, not a request.

The air in the room changed. She felt it, like the drop in temperature before a storm.

She stood, swallowing hard as she walked to the front of the class, acutely aware of every pair of eyes watching her.

Terry gestured to the board. “Demonstrate the method we discussed last class.”

It wasn’t a difficult request. She knew the answer. But when she reached for the marker, her fingers trembled slightly.

She felt him behind her. Not close enough to be inappropriate, not close enough for anyone else to notice—

But she noticed.

Her heart pounded as she wrote, forcing herself to focus, to pretend she didn’t feel his presence like a second skin.

“Careful,” he murmured, low enough for only her to hear. “Your hands are shaking.”

She froze.

His voice was even, calm. But when she turned her head slightly—just enough to catch the edge of his expression—she saw it.

The warning.

The punishment brewing just beneath the surface.

She’d underestimated him.

She’d thought she had control.

But one look at Terry told her exactly what was about to happen:

She was about to learn—again—who really held the leash.

She expected him to crack. To seethe, to glower, to grip the desk and try to control himself in that careful, calculated way he always did. She wanted him to react, to burn hot, to show her that she wasn’t the only one consumed.

But when she risked a glance at Terry?

He looked... calm.

Unbothered.

Like he didn’t just watch her bat her lashes at another man. Like he wasn’t even thinking about it.

And that unsettled her more than if he had reacted.

A coil of unease settled in her stomach. She didn’t like this. The game was theirs and theirs alone, a perfectly balanced scale of control. But now?

Now it felt like she had miscalculated. Like she had poked something she shouldn’t have.

That evening, as she lay in bed, her phone buzzed.

An unknown number.

No name. No explanation. Just a location, a time.

Nothing else.

Her stomach flipped, fingers tightening around her phone.

She shouldn’t go. She knew that. Knew it the way she knew that staring into the sun would burn, that running her tongue along the blade of a knife would slice.

But of course, she went.

Because no matter how much she wanted to believe she was the one obsessed—Terry had been keeping tabs on her too.

She just hadn’t noticed.

Not until now.

The address led her to a secluded townhouse. Upscale. Cold. The kind of place that felt too pristine to be truly lived in.

Her stomach tightened as she stepped inside. The air was thick, heavy with the scent of aged whiskey and something else, something undeniably him.

And there he was.

Sitting back in a leather chair, legs spread in that lazy yet controlled way of his. A glass of amber liquid in his hand.

Waiting.

Her throat went dry.

The door clicked shut behind her, sealing her fate.

Terry’s gaze dragged over her, slow, deliberate, like he was cataloguing every inch of her. He didn’t speak right away. Just watched. Let her squirm under the weight of his silence.

Then, finally—

“Sit.”

Her breath hitched.

“Don’t speak.”

She swallowed hard, forcing herself to move.

The moment she lowered herself into the chair across from him, he hummed, swirling the glass in his hand. “This rhetoric has become a habit, you know? Thinking that you’re clever, smarter than me, even.”

She opened her mouth—

He raised a hand. Don’t speak.

She clenched her fists in her lap.

He sighed, shaking his head. “You really thought that would work?” A small chuckle, rich and amused. “Thought you’d get a rise out of me? That I’d lose control?”

A pause. Then—

“Tell me, sweetheart—was it worth it?”

Her pulse pounded in her throat.

“I—”

He cut her off with a sharp look. “Don’t lie.”

She exhaled slowly. “I wanted your attention.”

“Mm. And now you have it.” He took a slow sip of his drink, letting the moment drag out. “The real question is... do you deserve it?”

A fresh wave of heat rolled through her, pooling low in her stomach.

She clenched her thighs together.

He noticed.

Of course he did.

Terry tilted his head, studying her. “You wanted to play, huh?” He set the glass down, leaning forward just enough to make the space between them feel smaller. “You wanted to make me jealous?”

Her breath caught.

He smirked. “Tell me, then. When you batted those pretty lashes at that boy, did it make you wet?”

Her thighs pressed tighter.

Terry’s eyes darkened.

He leaned back, stretching lazily. “You’re lucky I’m feeling generous.” His fingers tapped against the arm of the chair, contemplative. “Here’s what’s going to happen.”

She swallowed hard.

“You’re going to sit there and do nothing.”

Her brows knit together.

His smirk widened. “No touching. No begging. No moving.” He let the words settle, watched the way her breath quickened. “You’re just going to sit there and take it.”

Her breath caught in her throat.

Terry reached for his drink, taking another slow sip.

Then, as if it was a passing thought, he murmured, “If you’re good, I might even let you come.”

Heat licked up her spine.

She clenched her hands in her lap, nails digging into her palms.

Terry smirked.

God, she wanted to wipe it off his face.

Or maybe she wanted him to ruin her.

Either way, she was fucked.

Terry’s eyes never left her as he rose from his seat, his movements slow, deliberate. It was almost like he was savouring the moment. He didn’t need to speak, not yet—his presence alone was suffocating. His hands undid the buttons of his shirt with a purpose, the sound of fabric pulling apart thickening the already heavy air between them. Each movement, each pull, every inch of skin exposed to her gaze was calculated, meant to drive her mad with want and frustration.

His chest was broad, his abs defined and tight. He was the perfect picture of control, yet there was something in the way his eyes darkened that spoke to an ache—a hunger that matched her own, though he’d never admit it. Not yet. He kept stripping, undressing with that same cold composure, his gaze trained on hers with intensity. Every inch of him being revealed, the heat radiating from his body, only made the ache in her chest worse. She clenched her thighs together, desperate to release the tension, but he hadn’t even touched her yet.

Terry tilted his head, watching her squirm, his lips curling into a mocking smile. "Look at you, all worked up. You thought you could control this, didn’t you?" His voice was smooth, mocking, but there was a bite under the words. "You thought you had it all figured out. Cute."

She opened her mouth to speak, to protest, but he raised a finger, stilling her. "Ah, ah, ah, princess. No talking. I didn’t tell you to speak. Remember your place." His voice was low, a command now, one she was afraid to disobey.

Her body trembled under his gaze, tears stinging the corners of her eyes as the realisation hit: She wasn’t in control. She’d never been. Every part of her wanted to push back, wanted to break free, but there was something in him—something dark—that made her feel small, insignificant. His dominance was suffocating, and she couldn’t escape it.

Terry leaned in, his breath warm against her skin. Briefly, it almost felt like he was comforting her, his hand cupping her cheek in a tender gesture. But then he whispered, low enough that only she could hear, “It’s okay, princess. Let me show you how it’s done.”

His words hit her like a punch to the gut. They weren’t soft. They weren’t comforting. It was a promise. One she was scared to face.

The words hung in the air, heavy with promise, and something primal stirred within her. Before she could brace herself, Terry’s hands were in her hair, yanking her face up to meet his gaze. His kiss was brutal—demanding, possessive, a clash of teeth and tongues, each second a battle for control. He pulled away just enough for her to gasp for air, before descending on her neck with vicious intent, his lips and teeth leaving marks as though he was claiming her.

"Come on now, Princess. You’re better than this" he murmured against her skin. "You thought you could push me. Make me jealous? Make me lose control? You really didn’t know how to play this game, did you?"

She gasped again as he pulled her forward, his hands on her throat now, his fingers light but unyielding. "I’ll show you what happens when you make me mad, sweetheart."

He didn’t wait for permission. He was already on her, his dick shoved into her mouth before she could even process the movement. She choked, the thick length stretching her jaw, her mouth forced open in a way that hurt. But it was a good hurt. A reminder of her place, of his control.

He groaned as he thrust deep, his hand holding the back of her head, guiding her to take more of him. She couldn’t even think, couldn’t breathe without his length hitting the back of her throat. He lost control in his own way—moans, growls, and guttural sounds poured freely from his parted lips, his knees bent ever so slightly, sweat trailing down every part of him that she’d been forbidden to touch. He reached down to feel the bulge in her throat, his length lodged perfectly there. The sensation nearly made him cum on the spot.

“It’s hard to talk back with your mouth full, isn’t it?” he growled. “Ugh, I wish you could see what I see right now. A fallen, over-ambitious slut too dumb to know when she’s been done.”

Her breath was shallow, her body trembling as he fucked her mouth with brutal force. She gagged, struggling to keep her composure as he forced his dick deeper, the back of her throat tightening with every thrust. She could feel him press against her, the sensation of him hitting her throat sending shocks of unwanted pleasure coursing through her.

“Such a good little toy,” he mocked, his voice dripping with both praise and contempt. “You wanted this, didn’t you? All you had to say is that you wanted me to yourself.”

She couldn’t answer. Not with her mouth full. She just moaned in response, her hands gripping the chair, nails digging into the armrests as he continued to ravage her with his thrusts.

His movements grew harder, faster, each thrust forcing her to take more of him. The ache in her jaw was almost unbearable, but the pain was secondary now. She was losing herself in the brutal rhythm of it all, in the way he made her feel so small, so insignificant, her body betraying her with each muffled moan that escaped her.

Terry pulled away from her mouth suddenly, making her gasp for air, but the moment she exhaled, he was on her again. His hands were everywhere—gripping her, tearing her clothes off, exposing her skin to his hungry touch. He worshipped her body, trailing his fingers over every curve, every stretch mark, every dip and rise of her form like it was a work of art he couldn’t get enough of. Her lingerie, the way it hugged her body, the way her skin glowed beneath it—he wanted to consume it all.

The sex itself was equally as pleasureful as it was torturous, a reminder that the moment she pushed him, she hadn’t broken his resolve—she had played into his hands once more. His actions juxtaposed his words, his touch both cruel and reverent. Her body was a canvas to him, a fragile porcelain doll not to be broken—unlike her mind. He admired every detail she put into her looks, how her lingerie complemented her dark, rich skin tone, the swell of her breasts, the stretch marks that looked almost hand-painted as they adorned the curves he had claimed. He trailed down her body, inhaling her sweet, natural scent like it was something sacred. He would kill for even just a vial of it.

His fingers slid down, finding the slickness between her legs. A low, satisfied hum vibrated from his chest as he pushed into her, slow at first, drawing out her moans, savouring the way her body clenched around him. Then faster. Harder. He swallowed each gasp, each cry, consuming her whole. She was on the edge of something—something dangerous, something that would burn her alive. But she couldn’t stop it.

Terry’s hand wrapped around her throat, squeezing just enough to steal the breath from her lungs. Her pulse throbbed beneath his fingers, her body trapped between the firm press of his palm and the unrelenting pace he set. “Open your mouth,” he murmured, his eyes dark with something almost sinister—daring her to disobey. When her lips parted, his grip tightened just slightly before he let a slow stream of spit drip onto her waiting tongue.

“Swallow,” he ordered, watching intently as she obeyed, the heat in his gaze burning straight through her.

His fingers weaved into her hair again, the motion almost tender—until he yanked, sharp and sudden, pulling her back into the moment with a quick slap across her cheek. It wasn’t meant to hurt, not really. It was a reminder. A warning. A claim. The sting barely registered against the flood of pleasure overtaking her, her body betraying her, arching into him, silently pleading for more.

The kisses were a battle, all tongue and teeth, his dominance bleeding into every movement. He took everything she had, demanded more, never relenting—never letting her forget exactly who was in control.

He practically imprinted himself onto her, searing his every being into her flesh so he could never be mistaken for anyone else, and certainly not the lesser in this dynamic. They were equals in their obsession, but one always had the upper hand—to remind the other not to get too comfortable. Someone had to know what was lurking around the corner.

He held her down, fucking her hard, relentless, until she couldn’t think anymore. Until her moans became cries, until her body was trembling beneath his weight, her mind untethered from reality. His words blurred into a haze of pleasure and pain. She was floating in it, drowning in it, lost in the brutal rhythm he set. But it felt like freedom.

He was still in control. She was still his.

And as he came, shuddering against her, his body trembling with the force of it, he pulled her close, his lips brushing against her ear, his voice a low, breathless whisper—

"You’ll never be the one in charge, sweetheart. Not now. Not ever."

Terry had barely left the room when her eyes landed on his briefcase, tucked neatly in the corner, the edge of a notebook peeking out. The sight of it sent a strange thrill through her, curiosity slithering up her spine. He had always been meticulous—calculated—but something about the way that notebook sat, slightly exposed, made it feel like an invitation.

She hesitated for a moment. Then, lightly stepping across the room, she reached for it.

The moment she flipped it open, her breath caught in her throat.

Pages and pages. Notes scrawled in sharp, precise handwriting. Her name repeated over and over. Every move she had made, every place she had been. Polaroids tucked between the pages—some she recognised, old photos she thought were buried in her past. Others… others she had never seen before. Shots of her walking home. Eating with friends. Sleeping.

Her hands trembled as she turned another page. More details. Names of her past lovers, their habits, their schedules. Addresses—previous and current. The make and model of her car, the exact date and time of her last oil change. A level of detail that made her own obsessive notes on him seem amateur, laughable.

She should have been horrified. And maybe, deep down, she was. But mostly? Mostly, she was impressed.

All this time, she thought she was the one keeping tabs, the one pulling strings, feeding her obsession in secret. But compared to this? Her work was nothing but a failed imitation of his masterpiece.

She was so enthralled, so absorbed in his twisted devotion, that she didn’t hear him return.

A quiet throat clearing made her snap the book shut, her heart hammering against her ribs. She turned, and there he was—standing in the doorway, watching her with an unreadable expression. But there was no panic, no urgency. No fear.

Because why would he be afraid? He had intended for her to see this one day. He had wanted her to know.

Terry stepped forward, slow, deliberate. A smirk pulled at the corner of his lips as he leaned down, his voice a low murmur, thick with satisfaction.

“As you can see, sweetheart,” he said, his fingers trailing along the cover of the notebook, “you were mine from the moment you stepped into my class.”

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[ch0llies]

REVIVAL | CHRISTOPHER STURNIOLO.

A story in which a messy breakup lands you in your best friend's Boston apartment a year after high school, and you find yourself face-to-face again with Christopher Sturniolo-your first love. As your paths cross again, the bitterness of how you left him still lingers, fueling every hated glance. But with your best friend dating his brother, you know is there's no escaping Chris- or the tension that refuses to die. Is this revival destined to reignite, or will it crumble under the weight of your unresolved past?

story warning: this story includes very toxic and abusive behavior. none of the actions or words in this series are justified and are written exclusively for entertainment purposes only. under no circumstances are they personally associated with chris other than just using him as the main character. read at your own discretion. now that that is cleared up, there will be filthy smut, angst, swearing, underage drinking, underage drug use, abusive behavior, morally skewed choices, toxic relationships, and overall mature themes. if any of this upsets you... don't read!

word count: 6k

CHAPTER SEVEN:

Chris drove like nothing had happened. Like he hadn’t just almost killed you both. Like he hadn’t just kissed you while you were still crying. Like he hadn’t just decided for you that you were going to his parents’ house and pretending to be his girlfriend.

The silence was deafening, but you couldn’t speak. You were still too shaken, too rattled, too fucking confused to process any of it.

Chris, on the other hand, was completely normal. One hand on the wheel, the other resting casually on your thigh, his grip firm but not forceful- like it belonged there. Like you belonged to him.

His knuckles were still bleeding from when he hit the steering wheel, the red smeared across his fingers, staining his skin. But he didn’t even seem to notice.

Your phone kept buzzing in your lap, Ava’s name lighting up the screen over and over again. You already knew what she was saying. Where the fuck are you? Why aren’t you answering? I’m about to pull up and shoot this motherfucker if you don’t text me back.

Your hands were shaking as you turned off your location for Ava and Matt.

Chris glanced at you briefly but didn’t say anything.

You swallowed hard, your voice barely steady. “Give me your phone.”

Chris’s fingers flexed slightly on your thigh before he lifted his hand and handed it over without hesitation.

Your heart pounded as you tried his old password- the one from high school. The one he had set up using number coordinates with your name.

Your fingers trembled as you typed it in.

It still worked.

Your breath caught in your throat, and you turned to look at him, but he didn’t meet your eyes.

He just kept driving.

You swallowed the lump in your throat and went straight into his settings, turning off location sharing for Matt, Nick, and anyone else who could track him down. You were about to lock the phone when something caught your eye- his messages.

There were so many.

And not just casual conversations. Not just the group chat with his brothers.

Girls.

Everywhere.

You scrolled, your stomach twisting as you opened his texts, then his DMs.

Sexting.

Nudes.

Flirty voice notes.

Your heart started pounding for a completely different reason now, your fingers gripping the phone tighter.

Chris glanced over, immediately sensing the shift in your energy. “What?”

You turned the phone toward him, your grip like iron. “Who the fuck are these sluts?”

His jaw ticked, and before you could react, he reached over to snatch the phone out of your hands.

But you were quicker. You yanked it away, holding it close to your chest. “No.” Your voice came out low and sharp. “Who are these people, Chris?”

Chris let out a humorless laugh, gripping the wheel tighter. “Don’t fucking play with me,” he warned, his voice dark. “Give me the phone.”

You ignored him, scrolling further. The messages just kept coming. So many of them. So many girls. Some messages from today.

Your stomach burned.

“You think I’m just gonna let this slide?” you said, your voice rising. “You have a fucking harem in your DMs, but I can’t even kiss someone at a party without you throwing a fucking fit?”

Chris clenched his jaw. “Y/N-”

You cut him off, reading one of his messages out loud.

“Since you want it so bad, why don’t you come and get it?” Your voice was dripping with venom. “Wow, Chris. That’s real fucking sweet. That to one of your little whores?”

Chris snapped.

His hand shot out, grabbing your wrist in a bruising grip, his other hand still gripping the wheel.

“Shut the fuck up.” His voice was dangerously low, his knuckles white from how hard he was holding onto the steering wheel now.

“Why?” you seethed, yanking your wrist back. “You can dish it, but you can’t take it? What’s wrong, Chris? You don’t like the double standard when I’m the one pointing it out?”

Chris growled, actually growled, and you could see the rage bubbling in his chest, his breathing ragged, his control slipping.

The car sped up.

Your heart lurched.

“Chris,” you said sharply. “Slow the fuck down.”

But he didn’t.

He pressed harder on the gas, his fingers gripping the wheel so tight his already-bleeding knuckles looked worse now.

“You want to talk about double standards, Y/N?” he said, his voice eerily calm despite how fast he was going. “How about the fact that you fucked off for years, ghosted me like I was nothing, and then come back acting like you’re the one with a right to be mad?”

You shook with rage. “I ALREADY APOLOGIZED FOR THAT!”

Chris laughed. “And you think that fucking fixes it?”

The car swerved, and you grabbed the dashboard, your stomach twisting in fear.

“Chris, fucking stop-”

He yanked the wheel, narrowly dodging a parked car. “Nah, let’s talk, sweetheart,” he said darkly. “Let’s fucking talk.”

“Chris, slow the fuck down!” you shouted, gripping the side of your seat as he cut through a red light, barely missing a car that honked violently behind you. Your heart pounded as he weaved recklessly through Boston traffic, taking sharp turns, slipping through lanes, barely braking in time to avoid slamming into the cars ahead.

He let out a humorless chuckle, his grip on the wheel tight as hell, his already-bleeding knuckles looking even worse. “Nah,” he said, voice smooth but full of rage. “You wanted to talk. So what the fuck do you wanna say?”

He gunned it, swerving past a truck, slipping into the narrowest opening between two cars like he was playing a video game, the tires screeching as he sped onto the highway toward Somerville.

Your stomach twisted with panic, and for a second, real fear overtook your anger. “Chris, fucking stop! You’re gonna get us killed!”

But he wasn’t listening.

He kept driving, too fast, too reckless, dodging in and out of traffic, cutting people off without a second thought. A car swerved out of the way, blaring its horn, and Chris barely reacted.

Something snapped inside you.

Fine.

Fuck it.

If he wanted to drive like a maniac, he was gonna fucking deal with the consequences.

Before he could react, you unbuckled your seatbelt, your fingers gripping the door handle. You rolled down the window and, without hesitation, leaned halfway out of the car, your upper body hanging out into the rushing wind.

“HEY, WHAT THE FUCK?!” Chris roared, reaching for you.

You turned your head, your hair whipping around your face, your voice dripping with venom. “You wanna drive like this?! Then you’ll carry the fucking responsibility when you KILL ME, YOU PIECE OF SHIT!”

Chris yanked you back into the car so fast you barely registered the motion before you were slammed back into your seat. His hand gripped your wrist bruisingly tight, his other hand gripping the wheel as he finally started to slow down, breathing ragged, jaw clenched so tight you thought his teeth might crack.

His eyes flashed wildly between the road and you. “Put your fucking seatbelt back on. Now.”

You shook your head, yanking at his grip. “Tell me who they are first.”

His jaw ticked. “Y/N, put the fucking seatbelt on. I’m not playing with you.”

You reached for the window again.

“FINE!” he snapped, yanking the wheel, pulling onto the shoulder so fast the car jerked violently. His hands shook as he slammed the car into park, the engine humming loudly between you both.

His chest heaved, his breath sharp, his fucking eyes burning into yours. “They’re just- ” He exhaled sharply, running a bloody hand through his hair. “They’re just random girls in my DMs. Some I met at parties. Some are fans. A few models who saw our videos and wanted me. That what you wanna hear?”

You seethed, rage pulsing through you like a heartbeat. Your fists trembled, your whole body heating with something you refused to name.

“FUCK YOU.”

Chris’s lips parted, his smirk flickering between real amusement and pure rage. “Excuse me?”

You laughed- a dark, humorless laugh- as you turned your body toward him. “That’s not fair,” you spat. “That’s so not fucking fair, Chris. You can have all these bitches slobbering over you, but the second I even breathe near another guy, you lose your fucking mind?”

Chris didn’t blink, didn’t move.

Just watched you.

Waiting.

Daring.

“You know what?” you said, your voice steady, your expression set. “Fuck it. You wanna act like this? Then let’s play your fucking game.”

Chris’s head tilted slightly, his tongue swiping over his bottom lip, his hands tightening on the steering wheel. “What game?”

You smirked, venom in your eyes, in your tone, in your fucking bones.

“Tomorrow, I’m going to a frat party,” you said slowly, your voice like ice. “And I’m gonna fuck every single guy in the frat house. And while they’re all cumming on me, I’m gonna record it and send it to you. Then I’ll see how you feel, you piece of shit.”

The second the words left your mouth, Chris lunged.

His hand flew to your jaw, gripping it hard, forcing your face toward him. His breath was ragged, his eyes wild, his lips parted like he wanted to say something- but couldn’t.

For a split second, the entire world stilled.

Then, in a voice so low and dangerous it sent a shiver down your spine, Chris muttered:

“I fucking dare you.”

Chris’s grip on your jaw tightened, his fingers pressing into your skin as he studied you, his blue eyes flicking between yours, searching, reading you. You didn’t move. Didn’t breathe. His anger was palpable, vibrating through every inch of his body, but it wasn’t just anger- it was something deeper, something unspoken.

For a full minute, he just held you there, his thumb brushing against the curve of your cheek, his fingers gripping your chin, forcing you to look at him like he was daring you to fight back.

Then, his lips parted, and his voice came out low, smooth, almost hypnotic.

“You look so pretty like this,” he murmured, his grip shifting just slightly, his thumb tracing over your lower lip. “So obedient. When you’re not running that fucking mouth of yours.”

A shudder ran down your spine.

Chris smirked, his gaze roaming over your face, soaking in the way you were still caught in his hold, unable to do anything but breathe him in. “No one else deserves to see you like this.”

His words sent a slow, sick twist through your stomach, and something in you snapped back into reality.

“And you do?” you whispered, your voice barely above a breath.

Chris’s smirk didn’t falter. He just tilted his head, his thumb pressing against your lip again. Then, in a voice so quiet it sent a pulse of heat through your chest, he said,

“I’ve waited my whole life for you.”

Your breath hitched, your whole body freezing.

His eyes darkened. “I deserve you more than anyone.”

Your mouth opened- then closed.

For the first time in this entire fucking war between you, he stunned you into silence.

Chris took in the way you looked at him- like you wanted to argue but couldn’t- and then, just as smoothly as he’d stopped the car, he let go of your face and shifted back into drive, pulling back onto the road.

The rest of the ride was silent.

You stared out the window, trying to process everything, trying to breathe normally again, but your pulse was still erratic, your skin burning where his hands had been.

The houses and streetlights blurred past as Chris drove, calmly now, as if nothing had happened. As if he hadn’t just said the most insane fucking thing to you.

But then your eyes flicked toward his hands, still gripping the wheel- and you noticed his knuckles.

Still bleeding.

Still raw.

Still split from when he hit the steering wheel.

Your stomach twisted.

You clenched your jaw, forcing yourself to ignore it, to not care, but before you could stop yourself, your hands moved on their own.

You reached into your glovebox, pulled out the small first-aid kit you kept there, and grabbed the antiseptic wipes and bandages.

Chris didn’t say anything as you turned toward him, grabbing his wrist roughly. He didn’t look at you. Didn’t protest.

He just let you do it.

You unwrapped the wipe and ran it over his knuckles, watching as the blood smeared before fading into the white cloth. His fingers twitched slightly under your touch, but he still didn’t say a word.

You didn’t, either.

Once the blood was cleaned, you carefully placed a bandage over the deepest cut, pressing down to make sure it stuck.

Chris let out a slow breath.

Then, before you could pull away, his hand shot out, his fingers wrapping around your wrist.

Your eyes snapped up to his face, your lips parting slightly, but before you could react, he pulled your hand to his mouth and pressed a slow, deliberate kiss to your knuckles.

The warmth of his lips sent a shiver through you.

Your breath caught in your throat.

And then, just as quickly, he let go- his hands moving back to the wheel, his eyes still trained on the road like nothing had happened.

Like he hadn’t just done that.

Like he wasn’t breaking you apart piece by fucking piece.

The car rolled to a slow stop in front of the familiar house, the driveway illuminated by the dim streetlights. Your breath was still unsteady, your body still trembling from the insanity of the last thirty minutes.

Chris shifted into park, but before you could even process that you had arrived, his hand shot out again, wrapping around the back of your head and pulling you toward him.

You gasped slightly, but he wasn’t kissing you. His fingers cupped your face, tilting it toward the dim light inside the car as his thumbs brushed under your eyes, wiping at the smudged mascara streaks that had run down your cheeks from the wind, from the tears, from him.

His touch was unnervingly gentle- almost careful, as if he were fixing something he cared about. His fingers traced your jaw, smoothing back the strands of hair that had gotten tangled from when you’d stuck your head out the window like a maniac.

You didn’t speak. You didn’t move.

You just let him do it.

Because you were so fucking tired.

Once he was satisfied with how you looked, he pulled his visor down, flipping open the mirror and adjusting his own hair, fixing the mess he’d made when he ran his bloody fingers through it earlier.

Then, he snapped the visor shut, exhaled, and turned back to you.

“You ready, my love?”

Your entire body flinched at the name, your breath hitching as your chest tightened painfully.

Chris noticed.

But he didn’t say anything about it. He just smirked faintly, reached for the door handle, and stepped out of the car like nothing had happened.

You sat there, stunned, frozen, unable to move as he started walking toward the house.

This was too much. This was whiplash.

This was fucking insane.

Chris made it halfway to the front steps before realizing you hadn’t gotten out yet. He stopped, turned back, and tilted his head, waiting.

Then, without a word, he lifted his fingers and motioned you over.

And like a fucking dog, you reached for the door handle, opened it, and stepped out, your legs shaky, your stomach twisting as you followed him up the steps.

He held the door open for you as you stepped inside, the warm scent of home-cooked meals and lavender candles immediately filling your senses, so painfully familiar it nearly made you cry.

Chris shut the door behind you, then, like nothing had happened, he called out, his voice light, normal, friendly.

“Hey, Mom!”

You blinked at him, your throat closing up.

His voice wasn’t sharp. Wasn’t mocking. Wasn’t filled with venom or manipulation or anything he usually used against you.

It was soft. It was the voice he used before- before everything, before the war between you, before the push and pull and chaos.

You nearly fucking cried right then and there.

Chris glanced at you and noticed the way your eyes immediately glossed over, and before you could even react, he reached out and wiped them again, his fingers brushing under your eyes, his touch still gentle- but this time, his voice was not.

“You better cut that shit out now,” he muttered under his breath, his tone a warning, his fingers digging into your jaw for a split second before he let go and stepped back.

Footsteps from upstairs interrupted your haze, and then-

“Hello, Chrissy!” Mary Lou’s voice was light, warm, so unbelievably kind it made you feel like you didn’t deserve to be standing here. The way she could recognize him simply from his voice made you heart hurt, because you knew that you could too. She turned the corner and nearly gasped when she saw you standing beside him.

“Y/N!” she beamed, her hands clasping together in pure joy. “How are you? It’s been so long!”

You forced a smile, nodding slightly. “Hi, Mary Lou. I- I’m good. How are you?”

“Oh, sweetheart,” she said, coming closer and reaching for your hands, holding them in hers. “Better now that you’re here! It has been years! I always wondered if you’d ever come back into our lives! We’ve all missed you!”

You swallowed thickly, unsure of what to say, your stomach twisting violently.

And then- Chris, smooth as ever, dropped the bomb.

“Yeah,” he said, wrapping an arm casually around your waist, pulling you flush against his side like this was normal. “We’ve actually been back together for a little while now.”

Your entire body went rigid.

Mary Lou gasped, genuinely elated, her eyes shining as she looked between you both. “Oh my goodness! Finally! I always thought it would be in high school, but-” She let out a soft laugh. “Good things take time, huh?”

You couldn’t breathe.

Chris’s fingers tightened slightly on your waist, a silent reminder, a command to play along.

Your mouth felt dry, your chest was aching, but somehow, you found the strength to nod.

“Yeah,” you murmured, forcing another smile. “Good things take time.”

Chris smirked, looking down at you like he knew he had you in checkmate.

“Yeah,” he echoed smoothly, “we’ve been happier than ever.”

And as Mary Lou clasped her hands in delight, gushing about how excited she was, how she knew this would happen eventually- you realized just how deep you had fallen into Chris’s world.

And you weren’t sure you were ever getting out.

The rest of the night was exhausting.

Chris played his role perfectly- so well that for a few fleeting moments, you almost believed it too.

Mary Lou had gushed over you, talking a mile a minute about how happy she was that you and Chris had finally figured things out, how she always knew you two would end up together. She asked about your life, what you’d been up to, what you planned on doing next, all while Chris sat beside you with his arm firmly around your waist, his thumb brushing absentmindedly against your hip as if it were the most natural thing in the world.

And then Jimmy came downstairs, stretching and rubbing the sleep from his eyes. The moment he saw you, he perked up, his face lighting with recognition.

“No way,” he said, shaking his head with a grin. “Y/N L/N in my house again? Hell must’ve frozen over.”

Chris laughed, squeezing your side. “Told you she’d come back eventually, Dad.”

You forced a smile, your stomach twisting as Jimmy pulled you into a quick hug, patting your back in that friendly, fatherly way that almost made you feel normal.

“Damn, kid,” Jimmy said, stepping back and shaking his head. “It’s been what, almost two years? Thought we’d lost you for good.”

Chris looked down at you, his lips tugging into a small, knowing smirk. “She found her way back.”

You wanted to scream.

Every time you tried to hold yourself together, Chris would touch you, his hands grazing over your arms, his fingers lacing with yours, his lips brushing against your hair whenever Mary Lou or Jimmy weren’t looking. And worse- his voice. The way he spoke to you, about you, was so loving, so gentle, so full of warmth that it felt real.

You almost believed it.

Almost.

But then you’d catch the glint in his eye, the one that told you he knew exactly what he was doing. The one that reminded you that this was all for his entertainment.

And you hated how easy it was for him.

After what felt like an eternity, Chris finally squeezed your hand and gave his mom a sheepish smile. “As much as we’d love to stay, I gotta drive my lady home. Her and Ava live together in an apartment in Boston, actually! I’m not sure if Matt has mentioned it but…” he said smoothly. “We used her car, so we can’t stay overnight.”

Mary Lou’s face fell. “Oh, but I was hoping we could all have breakfast in the morning! But tell Ava I said hi and that I miss her!”

Chris chuckled, pressing a soft kiss to your temple- so convincing it made your heart clench. “Another time, I promise.”

Mary Lou sighed but nodded, pulling you into another hug. “You better come back, Y/N. Don’t let this one keep you all to himself.”

You gave a weak laugh, nodding. “Of course.”

Jimmy clapped Chris on the back, giving him a knowing look. “Don’t fuck this up,” he said gruffly, his eyes flicking to you. “She’s a keeper.”

Chris smirked. “I wouldn't dream of it.”

And just like that, you were back in the car. You didn’t breathe. You didn’t move.

You just sat there, your hands curled into fists on your lap, your body stiff as Chris started the car. He threw his arm over the passenger seat as checked for people before reversing, his fingers grazing the headrest behind you, the scent of his cologne thick in the air.

A sob ripped out of your throat so suddenly that you barely registered the sound of it. Your hands flew to your face, your body curling in on itself as the weight of the entire night collapsed onto you.

As soon as the first sob ripped out of your throat, Chris’s head snapped toward you. His entire body shifted as he reached for you, his hands cupping your cheeks, pulling you toward him, his voice dropping into something soft, something gentle.

“Aww, my love,” he murmured, his thumb brushing against your damp cheek, his grip warm, steady, comforting. “I’m sorry. Don’t cry.”

His voice was so soothing, so convincing that for a second, for just a second, it worked. His touch anchored you, his fingers smoothing over your cheekbones, his thumb wiping away the tears that wouldn’t stop coming. He held you so carefully, his eyes studying you like he actually cared, like he actually felt bad for everything that had just happened.

For a fleeting, fragile moment, you let yourself believe it.

And then his lips brushed your forehead, his breath steady as he exhaled against your skin. And when he spoke again, his voice was low, cold.

“You can’t cry when you did this to yourself.”

It was like a knife straight through your chest.

You snapped. The grief, the exhaustion, the overwhelming suffocation of the night collapsed into fury.

“Fuck you!” you screamed, thrashing against the seatbelt, against him. Your hands shoved at his chest, your nails scraping at his arms, your whole body writhing with the need to hurt him back.

Chris barely moved.

Your fists collided with him again, your sobs turning into frustrated, broken gasps as you fought against the seatbelt that locked you in place.

“Fuck you, Chris! Fuck you! I hate you!”

Chris grabbed your wrists, his grip tight, unyielding.

“In front of my parents’ house?” he murmured, his voice so eerily calm that it sent a shiver down your spine. “You know better.”

The words struck something deep inside you.

You froze.

Your chest was still heaving, your entire body trembling, but you stopped.

Chris waited. His grip loosened just slightly, his eyes scanning your face like he was making sure you had finally gotten it.

Then, satisfied, he let go of you entirely and leaned back, one hand gripping the wheel as he put the car into reverse.

And then, without another word, he backed out of the driveway and started the drive back to your place.

The ride was silent.

You stared out the window, your mind spinning, your body still shaking with leftover rage and humiliation.

Chris didn’t say anything.

But the smirk on his face, the way his fingers drummed against the wheel, told you everything you needed to know. He had won. And you had let him.

The ride home was completely silent. And Chris looked… calm. Like the past hour of screaming and fighting had never even happened.

As he pulled into your apartment parking lot, he put the car in park and let out a soft exhale, like he was coming down from a long day. He turned to you, and just like that, the mask slipped into place.

“Hey, baby,” he murmured, his voice so soft, so apologetic, like he actually cared. His hand reached over, cupping your thigh gently, his thumb rubbing slow circles against your skin. “You know I don’t mean it, right? I just… I can’t help but react when you do these things.”

Your stomach twisted violently, but you stayed quiet.

Chris sighed, leaning in closer, his voice dropping lower- so gentle, so coaxing. “Let me make it better for you, okay?” His lips brushed against your temple, his breath warm against your skin. “Let me come inside with you. I’ll make it all better. I’ll stay the night and make you feel real good, baby.”

You hated how fucking good he was at this.

How well he knew you.

How easily he could pull you back in.

And you let him.

You let him guide you out of the car, let him place a hand on your lower back as you walked into the apartment together, let yourself fall for it again.

For a moment, everything felt… calm. Forced, but calm. You weren’t dumb- you knew better- but the alternative was too exhausting to face right now.

So you walked inside, fully prepared to just sneak upstairs, let the night be over, maybe breathe for a second-

But the moment you opened the door, your stomach dropped.

Ava and Matt were sitting on the couch, waiting.

Like fucking parents catching their kid sneaking a boy in after curfew.

Matt was leaned back, arms resting along the couch, completely unbothered.

But Ava?

She was too calm.

Too at peace.

And that’s when you knew.

Something was about to go down.

Chris paused beside you, his hand still on your back as he assessed the situation. You swallowed thickly, stepping forward slightly. “Chris, go up to my room,” you murmured quickly. “I’ll talk to them.”

Chris smirked slightly, pressing a slow kiss to the side of your head before stepping forward, moving to walk past Ava.

She stood up.

Casually. Quietly. Without a word.

And blocked his path.

Chris raised an eyebrow, tilting his head slightly before flashing her a smug smile. “Excuse me,” he said smoothly, like he was politely asking someone to move out of his way in a grocery store.

Ava let out a short, almost innocent laugh-

Then cranked her right hand back and sent the nastiest fucking right hook to his face.

The slap of skin on skin echoed through the apartment, so fucking loud that it made your stomach lurch.

Chris hit the floor, landing hard on his side, his hand immediately flying to his jaw as he let out a low groan.

Then, everything exploded.

“FUCK YOU!” Ava screamed, her voice shaking with rage as she towered over him. “WHAT THE FUCK MAKES YOU THINK IT’S OKAY TO TREAT HER LIKE THAT, YOU FUCKING CUNT?! WHO DO YOU THINK YOU ARE?!”

Chris rolled onto his back, groaning slightly as he blinked up at her, but Ava was already stepping forward, going off.

“YOU ARE SO FUCKING LUCKY I DON’T OWN A FUCKING GUN RIGHT NOW BECAUSE I WOULD SHOOT YOU UNTIL YOU’RE NOTHING BUT FUCKING COMPOST, YOU UGLY, WORTHLESS, WASTE OF SPACE!” She was shaking, her voice cracking, feral with rage. “HOW FUCKING DARE YOU?!”

Chris exhaled sharply, still gripping his face, but the worst part?

The smirk was still there.

Ava saw it.

And she lost it.

Without hesitation, she kicked him hard, right in the fucking balls.

Chris let out a strangled grunt, immediately curling inward, finally reacting, his body tensing in pain.

But Ava wasn’t done.

She spat on him.

And that was when the room went silent.

You stood there, frozen, still trying to process the absolute chaos of what just happened.

Chris was still on the ground, his body tense, his head tilted slightly like he was waiting for the next hit, his jaw clenched so fucking tight you swore you could hear his teeth grinding.

Ava turned to you.

Her face was dead fucking serious.

“We’ll talk tomorrow,” she said coldly. “Go to fuck to bed.”

You swallowed thickly, your throat dry.

Then, she turned to Chris, her eyes burning with a warning, before she motioned to Matt.

Matt finally moved, standing up slowly, raising his eyebrows at you in a look that said you knew better than this.

Then, without another word, he followed Ava up the stairs, leaving you standing there, your ears ringing, your heart pounding-

And Chris, still on the floor, letting out a slow, uneven breath.

You didn’t move.

Not until you heard Ava’s door slam upstairs.

Only then did something click inside you. Only then did your body unfreeze, your legs moving on instinct as you stepped forward and crouched down beside Chris, your hands hovering slightly over his arms like you weren’t sure what you were even doing.

“Are you… okay?” you asked, your voice softer than you expected.

Chris let out a breath, then- laughed. A small, breathy chuckle that made your stomach twist in a way it shouldn’t.

“For someone who’s, what, five-three?” he muttered, groaning as he pressed a hand against his jaw. “She sure has a pretty lethal punch.”

Despite everything, you laughed too.

“Yeah,” you muttered, shaking your head. “She’s fucking crazy.”

Chris sat up slowly, cupping both his balls and his jaw at the same time, groaning again. “Yeah, I can see that.”

You exhaled, running a hand through your hair before standing. “Come on,” you murmured, holding out a hand. “Let me get you some ice.”

Chris hesitated, blinking up at you. Then, with a smirk just barely tugging at his lips, he took your hand. You helped him up, his movements slow, stiff, still clearly in pain.

You led him to the kitchen, grabbing a bag of frozen peas from the freezer and pressing it firmly against the side of his jaw.

Chris let out a soft hiss before exhaling. “You know,” he murmured, his tone dipping into something suggestive, “it’d feel better if you grabbed something else that got hurt…”

You glared at him.

Chris grinned. “Okay, okay, okay,” he muttered, holding up a hand in surrender. But when he shifted again, he groaned, his jaw tensing as he clenched his teeth.

You rolled your eyes. “Jesus Christ,” you muttered, shaking your head.

Without thinking, you lifted yourself onto the counter, your knees parting slightly to make space as you reached up to properly press the peas against his jaw.

Chris stepped forward, pushing between your legs- not sexually, not even intentionally, just fitting himself there like it was second nature.

The space between you felt small, your body instinctively reacting to his presence in a way you hated, in a way that made your stomach twist and your heart pound.

And then, for a moment- just a moment- you caught a glimpse of him from before.

Before the fighting, before the resentment, before the anger that had turned him into this twisted version of himself.

Chris was just… there.

Standing between your legs, his breath still uneven, his body still stiff from Ava’s hits, his hands resting lightly on your thighs. His face was soft, his eyes scanning yours, searching for something.

You didn’t know what.

Then, without warning, he leaned forward and rested his forehead against your shoulder.

You froze.

Your hand, still holding the bag of frozen peas against his jaw, stilled.

His fingers curled slightly against your thighs, his breath shaky, his body leaning into you in a way that made your chest ache.

And then, just as your mind started spinning with what the fuck is happening right now, he dropped the fucking bomb.

“You know I love you, right?”

Your breath hitched.

Your body locked up.

Your heart stopped beating.

The words hit like a slow-motion car crash, your entire world flipping upside down, your stomach lurching in ways that made you want to run, to scream, to cry-

And yet.

Despite everything.

Despite every fucking thing he had done.

Despite all the pain, all the manipulation, all the shit-

You still let yourself fall for it.

“I know.”

MASTERLIST

tags: @mattsobvimyfav @ilovejohnnieguilbertsblog @mattsturnii @starstrucktyrantinfluencer @watercolorskyy @strangecatpeach @katie1002 @1ovesiick @slut4christopherr @mattgirl4eva @mayalovesturn @chriss-slutt @violetstxrniolo777 @urfungi @jxst-Ixving-bxt-wxerd @chrispycremedonut @ranwaOy @princesspinkkk23 @madisonnxtdoor22 @sturniolohohoho @theboredknightcat-blog @hi-people-who-are-alive @middlepartmatt

[isamerceds]

you get it completely! dora was such a whirlwind—equal parts thrilling and terrifying. stepping into a role that people already had such a strong connection to? yeah, no pressure at all. but you’re right, it shaped everything that came after. it taught me to take risks, trust myself, and just go for it. and now, looking back, it’s wild to think that’s where it all started. it’s like a little time capsule moment—who would’ve thought dora would lead to superman and the last of us? life’s funny that way. yes, pushing yourself with every project—that’s exactly it. growth isn’t just about the next big thing; it’s about what you take from it. i see you doing that, always challenging yourself, and it’s just so inspiring. we’re both just getting started, and i can’t wait to see where it takes us. you’re making me all emotional again! and now you’ve got me nervous—i might have to warm up my vocal cords before you listen. but honestly, music has been such a different kind of creative outlet for me, and i love getting to explore that side too. what if i told you i’m not back at work? i’ve been spending all of my free time with friends and family and it’s been fun. think i’m gonna cry when i go back to work.

That's brilliant! Dora the Explorer enjoyed immense success, and I bet stepping into a role already so intimately known by the public might have been both thrilling and somewhat intimidating for you. But I guess it's always worth it, whatever paved everything else that came afterward. You just took that confidence and ran with it, and lo and behold, here you are, playing parts as diverse as you are now. I mean, Superman and The Last of Us… That's some serious range, if I do say so. Do you ever look back at Dora and think, "Wow, that's where it all started?" That means a lot, babe. I just try to push myself with every project, not just for the audience, but for myself too. I think that's the best way to grow, don't you agree? You were trying to make me tear up all along, so, I had to do the same. That honestly means so much. It's been amazing to watch you build this for you! I've got no doubt there's still so much more ahead for both of us. That was surprising in a good kind of way. I'll have to listen to that voice of yours soon! Are you back at work already?

[peterm4rker]

from the rooftops || m.l

twenty seven. the date (written)

🕸🕷✮⋆˙ wc. 2.5k w. curse words, a little kissing ! ᶻ 𝗓 𐰁 .ᐟ

nothing could’ve ever prepared you for a date with mark.

you had hung out with him multiple times, of course, alone more than not. but this was different, because it was a date, and you knew he liked you just as much.

also because it was the first time you hung out after finding out about his secret identity, but that wasn’t important at the moment.

what was important was trying to get your hands to stop sweating and let you hide how incredibly nervous you were for the encounter as you stood in front of your apartment building, where days before mark had saved you from a really bad time.

you sucked in a breath as you saw his car pull up to the driveway, starting to walk towards him as he got out of the car, meeting him halfway.

“hi” he smiled, as softly as you had ever seen him while he extended a bouquet of flowers towards you.

“hi” you smiled back, doing the exact same thing with your own bouquet. 

“you got me flowers?” he asked, the tone of his voice betraying how moved he felt at the gesture.

“pretty boys deserve pretty flowers as well” you answered and swapped the flowers, holding your own close to your chest. “thank you, they’re beautiful.”

he looked at you so fondly that if you hadn’t already been convinced he liked you, that would’ve done the trick. “you’re beautiful.” he breathed out, and the color on your cheeks made itself present for the first time that day.

“let’s go before i explode,” you chuckled softly, thanking him when he opened the door for you and getting in your seat.

the drive was filled with chatter as you approached the restaurant you had agreed to eat at, just both of you enjoying each other's company like you always did.

mark made sure to open both the car door and the restaurant one, making you smile at his gentlemanly behaviour. 

“i’d fuck with pizza right now” you said once you were sitting down looking at the menu.

“me too, actually” he nodded, leading you to agree on which one you wanted and get that one.

“so, i have a question,” you commented after a couple of seconds of silence, watching him arch his brow in curiosity. “what made you want to ask me out all of the sudden?”

you knew the answer, but he didn’t know you knew, and you wanted to see what he would say. 

“well, it wasn’t really all of the sudden,” he commented, scratching the back of his neck softly. “i’ve liked you for a long time now, i even had a crush on you before we became close.” the way his cheeks dusted with pink as he confessed he liked you outloud for the first time made your heart flutter. it was funny to think about all the time you had spent yearning for him when apparently he had done the same, but you wouldn’t change a single thing about it.

“i had a crush on you before too,” you smiled, picking at your fingernails as a sign of nervousness. mark noticed and took your hand in his, avoiding that you hurt yourself and well, just because he wanted to hold your hand. the gesture made butterflies erupt on your stomach, completely endeared by it.

“really?” he asked, an incredulous look on his face as he absentmindedly caressed the skin of your hand with his thumb.

“mhm, why do you think i took the bio chem article at the beginning of the year?” you asked, a teasing smile on your face as you squeezed his hand. “

“i thought you said it was interesting!” he whined, feigning betrayal.

“i'm sure it was for people that actually understood it…” you tried to defend quickly. 

“i explained it to you,” he chuckled, amused.

“i wasn’t listening, you’re too pretty,” you smiled, looking at him with adoring eyes.

mark groaned and covered his face with his free hand, trying to hide the blush that made its way onto his face. “so i took all of that time to explain for nothing?” 

“well i wouldn’t say so, we ended up on a date almost eight months later,” you chuckled, watching him with amusement.

“true, it was worth it” he smiled once he had calmed down, squeezing your hand lightly “and right after that you were there with that one rando with the sound waves.”

oh! the one you caught within minutes?

“yeah, i remember. spiderman came in clutch though,” you smiled “he keeps saving me time on time again, he’s awesome.”

if you hadn’t been looking so intently you would’ve missed the way his expression turned proud for a moment before he cleared his throat and got a grip again.

“he’s pretty awesome” he nodded, a small smile on his face.

“the awesomest” you smiled.

…

“that was crazy,” he sighed as he leaned on the back of his chair, completely satisfied with the food you two had shared.

“insanely good, we should come here again” you nodded, causing mark to smile at the prospect of another date. he shouldn’t have been surprised considering you had confessed your undying crush to him without even knowing it, but it was a pleasant feeling to hear you say it to his face.

“we definitely should,” he agreed, “but now i really want ice cream.”

this was your opportunity.

“we could go to that ice cream parlor i told you about the other day.” you said, trying to sound as casual as you could. “the one near han river.”

you saw a flicker of doubt cross his eyes before he ultimately nodded, standing up and extending his hands towards you. “lead the way then.”

you smiled and took his hand, intertwining your fingers with his. “we still need to pay, markie.”

“nope, i paid when i went to the bathroom” he smiled smugly as he moved his arm to rest around your shoulders, holding you closer to him.

“we said i would pay half!” you whined, and he shrugged. “i’ll pay next time”

“nope, you won’t” he smiled as he ruffled your hair before beginning to walk away, leading you to do the same with his side hug.

you both thanked the workers as you headed out, deciding to walk to the ice cream parlor since it was closer than you had initially thought.

the boy didn’t let go of your hand at any point, holding you as close as he could without making you both trip on each other's feet. he still couldn’t believe that he had you with him now, that he was allowed to touch you that way and you didn’t mind it a single bit. 

“what flavour do you want?” you asked after a long discussion on who would pay for ice cream where you ultimately came out victorious. 

“uhm, i think chocolate please” he asked, and a smirk took place on your lips.

of course he wanted chocolate.

“here you go” you handed the cup to him, paying quickly for both and thanking the worker before getting back to his side.

“thank you” he smiled, taking a lick of his ice cream and letting out a small groan.

“fire?” you asked, a smug smile on your lips.

“flames” he nodded innocently. only two seconds passed before his eyes widened and his face went pale as he turned quickly to look at you.

click.

“you know” he muttered, and you felt slightly bad for making him realize. he looked so scared, terrified even.

“i do know” you nodded, voice soft as you reached a bench and took a seat on it, waiting for him to do the same.

“since when?” he asked as he sat down, his voice small.

“i’ve known for about two months,” you said, keeping your tone soft and your eyes trained on his face. “that’s why i told him, you, about you, i thought that would give me an answer about if you liked me or not.”

mark stayed silent, and fear began to arise on your body. had you fucked up? had you completely crossed a line he never wanted to cross? you shouldn’t have said anything, it was not your place to discover it.

“i’m sorry,” he spoke quickly, beating you to say the words that were about to come out of your lips.

“why are you sorry? i should be saying sorry, it wasn’t my place to pry like that” you spoke, feeling remorse harboring in your stomach.

“no, don’t be sorry,” he said, giving you a soft smile as he left his ice cream cup at his side on the bench. his hands moved tenderly to your face, which he held with so much care someone would think you were made of porcelain. “i wanted to tell you, and i was going to, i promise. it’s just not easy, it could put us both in danger.”

your eyes were fighting to keep the tears away as you looked at him. you didn’t even know why you were crying, but the loving, concerned tone in mark’s voice was too much for your poor heart to handle.

“i promise i would never say anything to anyone” you assured quickly, leaving your own cup to the side. “i would rather die than put you in danger.”

mark immediately shook his head. “you will never have to choose between those options. but if you’re ever put in that situation and i'm not there to save you, you tell whoever wants to know, okay? i don’t want to be the cause of any harm done to you.”

you couldn’t help but embrace him in your arms, hugging him tight to your body as he held you just the same.

“nothing will happen, i’m sure” you assured, your voice muffled by his chest. 

“i won’t let anything happen.” he assured, his hand caressing your hair softly.

…

“thank you for coming with me,” mark said as you stood at the entrance of your building.

“thank you for asking me” you smiled, your hand playing with his fingers softly.

you both stared at each other in silence for a couple of seconds before mark’s eyes travelled down to your lips, his tongue darting out to lick his own. he was dying to kiss you, and by the sight of how you wet your lips just then, you wanted the same thing.

“you could, uhm, come upstairs if you want” you commented, and mark had never agreed to something faster in his life.

you entered your apartment and turned on the lights, moving aside to let mark in and close the door behind him. the boy was nervous, his hands fumbling with his rings. he was familiar with the apartment, but he had never been there with you alone.

“i’m gonna put the flowers in a vase, wait for me for a second, okay?” you asked, waiting until he nodded to leave him alone in the room.

mark looked around, unsure of what to do until you came back. he didn’t have to wait long though, it didn't even take two minutes for you to be back in front of him.

the tension was high as you stood in front of him, your eyes trained on each other once again. mark’s hand moved slowly to take a strand of your hair behind your ear, his heart fluttering when you nuzzled softly against his palm. he took the chance to cup your jaw and tilt your head upwards, just until it was angled right for him to press his lips onto yours.

when he did, everything he had ever known fell apart. every fear, every worry, every girl he had ever kissed before simply disappeared as your lips began moving against his.

kissing mark was like nothing you had ever done before. his lips were soft and he knew how to move them a little too well. his hands felt just right as he held your jaw and your waist, pulling you closer to him as the kiss grew deeper.

you didn’t know if it had been seconds or minutes when you parted for air, but the dazed look in his eyes leaned you to the latter.

“you don’t understand how long i’ve been waiting to do that” he muttered, and the low tone of his voice made you shudder.

“believe me, i understand” you smiled before connecting your lips again. 

minutes passed before you broke away again, and you suddenly found yourself pressed up against a wall with his leg dangerously placed between yours.

“mark?” you asked softly as he parted from you again. he hummed as a small smile placed itself on your lips. “i want to try something,” you commented, making him look at you curiously.

“what is it?” he asked, his thumb drawing circles on the skin of your waist.

“you can stick to walls, right?” 

…

“i can’t believe you’re making me do this,” mark chuckled as you took a small step away from him.

“come on, don’t be a meanie” you encouraged, and he could never say no to the beautiful smile on your lips. he let out an exaggerated sigh and you cheered, knowing he had caved.

you watched him as he shot a spiderweb straight from his wrist and pushed himself up, making sure to hang upside down. he couldn’t help the giant smile on his lips as he watched you look at him with wonder filled eyes. “so? come on, i still get dizzy sometimes.”

you let out a small giggle before going up to him, holding his face on your hands and pressing your lips together in a kiss. it wasn't a long one, just a long peck followed by many little ones before he moved back into a standing position, shaking his head softly to get rid of the dizziness.

“happy?”

“so happy” you smiled, looking at him with loving eyes. “thank you for doing that, i know it's silly.”

“maybe, but you looked cute upside down,” he smiled. “i have a favor i want to ask you too.”

“what is it?” you asked, tilting your head in curiosity.

“would you maybe want to come with me to the new years party?” he asked, now feeling a little shy.

“of course i would” you smiled, shoving his shoulder lightly. “you think i would let another girl kiss you at twelve? i’m not that dumb.”

mark chuckled happily and hugged your waist, bringing you closer to him and leaving a peck on your forehead. “i wouldn’t want to kiss another girl anyways.”

“good” you smiled, hugging his shoulders and pecking his lips. “now, what other funny things can you do?”

“am i a clown to you, woman?”

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© peterm4rker, 2024

[aciddrattboyy]

Cαɳ Iƚ Bҽ Oɳҽ Nιɠԋƚ

┆ꜱʏɴᴏᴘꜱɪꜱ - "megumi knew he needed to stay away from you. you came from two very different worlds. but god, he was having a real hard time staying away."

ᴍᴏᴠɪᴇ ꜱᴛᴀᴛꜱ: ★ Starring: Megumi F. x F! Reader ★ Guest Stars: Satoru G. Itadori Y. ★ Run Time: 4.9k ★ Genre/Warnings: [Rated R: Drama/Rom] angst, comfort, canon typical violence ★ 01 . 02. [COMPLETED]

▶▶

it took about 20 unanswered calls, 50 unseen messages, and what seemed like a million crying spells for you to finally come to terms with the fact that megumi had left you. he basically broke up with you, came to your doorstep bloodied and injured, slept with you, confessed his love for you multiple times, and still left you. as if it were some typical one night stand. 

you were in shock when you first realized he was gone. shock and denial were the only things you felt while opening your phone with shaky hands. your phone did ring, which offered some sort of solace before his voicemail rang through. 

you didn’t end up leaving your apartment at all that day, trying to come to terms with what really happened. you allowed yourself that one day to mourn the loss of a relationship you at the very least thought was blooming.

but, for better or for worse, time does still go on no matter how heartbroken a person may be. 

the sky was a dusty pink as the sun began to set behind the clouds. walking home from running a couple errands, you sung your favorite song in your head, mind partially occupied with trying to figure out what you would be eating for dinner. you were pulled from your thoughts when you heard the voice of what sounded like a child calling for help. 

you immediately whipped your head towards the sound, heart dropping when your eyes were met with the abandoned building that always gave you a bad feeling. there was a child standing on the sidewalk in front of it, frantically waving his hands. and with only a moment of contemplation, you crossed the street to ask him what was wrong. 

the child was crying and you were quick to ask if he had any injuries. but he only shook his head, explaining that the stray cat he always played with had wandered inside and he was too scared to get her. you slowly turned your gaze to the building, a shiver running down your spine as stared into the dark entrance. 

you knew you could call the cops, wait for them with the kid, and leave as soon as they got here so they could get him home. but seeing this kid hysterical over his missing cat made you feel enough pity to temporarily cloud your judgment. 

you reassured him that you’d go and get his cat before you could even think about it. but now that you were standing in the entrance way of this unnerving building, you were starting to regret everything. glancing back at the boy, you saw him smile at you and all you could do was smile back before walking in.

you immediately turned your phone’s flashlight on, head whipping back and forth as if you were trying to catch the boogeyman before he was able to pounce on you. feeling your whole body shaking and heart beat rapidly, you soon realized this was a very bad idea. 

“here kitty…” your voice was shaky and barely even audible. you knew that if you were a cat you certainly wouldn’t feel comfortable enough to greet your own voice. there was a loud bang and your whole body jerked towards the noise. your flashlight only revealing trash and graffiti. 

you felt yourself calm for only a second before a noise so inhumane rang through your ears. it sounded like garbled speech of a language unknown to you and your legs were frozen as you heard what you thought were footsteps grow closer. your eyes were wide as your head and torso turned slowly in the direction on the noise. and when your flashlight finally revealed what was before you, you were sure you had already been sent to hell as soon as you walked in.

“holy shi-”

-

“so where are we going?”

“another abandoned building. megumi exorcized a curse from inside there before but it seems that another low level one had made its home in there. in all honesty yuji you really didn’t need to come. it’s a grade 2 at most,”

“nah it’s all good, what kinda friend would i be if i passed up an opportunity to hang out with megumi,” yuji nudged megumi’s shoulder then, laughing quietly when he saw megumi’s annoyed expression. 

megumi rested his head against the window, looking outside but not really paying attention as he thought mostly of going back home and sleeping. that’s what he did now most days. go on missions, eat, sleep, repeat except for when yuji and nobara were able to pull him out of his apartment. 

they knew something was up with megumi with him seeming more quiet than usual. along with the fact that he was home a lot more often than in the previous months. they never knew where he was going. but they knew he was going out at the very least.

“woah that place is packed,” yuji exclaimed, tugging on megumi’s sleeve to get his attention. “we should go eat here after we’re done. the food’s gotta be good if there’s so many people,” in the midst of shooting yuji a glare for grabbing onto him, megumi caught a glimpse outside of yuji’s window. his heart immediately sank when he noticed yuji was pointing at the diner you worked at. megumi’s eyebrows furrowed before he quickly looked away, jerking his arm from yuji’s grasp.

“i’m going home after we’re done,” megumi deadpanned as he leaned his head against the window again. it was an attempt to look indifferent to his surroundings even though he was trying to silently will ijichi to take the next turn out of the area. megumi only caught the end of yuji’s grumbling, heart pounding in his ears as ijichi seemed to ignore megumi’s silent pleas and drive around the area. 

to his utter dismay, ijichi did indeed park at the side of the building.

“megumi c’mon,” yuji called from outside the car, sticking his head in a little only to see megumi looking forward at particularly nothing wide bug eyes. “are you okay?” the worry in yuji’s voice is what pulled him back to reality and without looking back at his friend, megumi got out the car. 

yuji watched silently as megumi stalked towards the building, nodding absentmindedly at whatever ijichi was saying before following after him. megumi looked more tense than usual. this confused yuji, not entirely sure why megumi would be so stressed over a low grade curse. after thinking it over, yuji decided that something else was bothering megumi and he would bug him about it after they're done here.

megumi muttered under his breath, summoning one of his divine dogs. he knew based on the amount of cursed energy in the building, he probably didn’t need it. but he was tired. he wanted to go home, sleep, and rid himself of all thoughts of you as if that was ever going to be possible. 

yuji, who was driving himself crazy not knowing what was wrong with his best friend was just about to say something before an ear piercing scream rang out through the building. with one quick look at each other, megumi, his divine dog and yuji ran further into the dark building and towards the sound. 

you were terrified, eyes blurry with tears and head dizzy at the loss of blood as you ran blindly, your only goal being to get away from that thing that was clearly playing with you. you shrieked when you collided with something, almost falling back before a pair of hands grabbed onto your arms and shoved you behind them. 

your eyes opened wide then, a small yelp leaving your licks as you stumbled backwards. despite the darkness of the building, you were able to make out two people standing in front of you in some sort of fighting stance along with what seemed to be a wolf. you were confused to say the least, but your fear overruled that. you tried to pivot, getting ready to sprint towards the exit when your legs buckled beneath you. 

you cried out when your knees hit the concrete flooring, your face turning to desperately look at who you thought were you saviors. that’s when you were able to make out an intense gaze you would recognize anywhere. 

“megumi?!” you scrambled to stand up, tripping over your own feet again before another person gently gripped onto your arms to keep you upright. you looked over at the mystery person, seeing glints of pink hair and equally wide eyes. 

yuji’s eyes flicked between you and megumi only a couple times before he was able to feel your blood now sticking to him. cursing under his breath, he looked back at megumi. 

“she’s bleeding a lot-,” despite the shaky breath, his voice was calm, a stark contrast to how any of you felt. your eyes were glued onto megumi as you watched him nod. 

“get her out of here,” his voice was cold and before you could even comprehend what he said, yuji was apologizing as he picked you up, trying to get you into as much of a comfortable position before he broke into a run. 

“no no no wait- you cant just leave him-,” you thrashed in yuji’s hold, begging and pleading with him to go back and save megumi, desperately trying to warn them that there was something heinous lurking in the depths of those walls. but yuji ignored you, spriting out of the dark structure and down a couple blocks from the premises. 

you wanted to keep fighting, to keep banging your fists and screaming. but your adrenaline rush was coming to an end, and the loss of blood was starting to get to you. soon enough you found yourself falling unconscious in a strangers arms. 

-

you woke up in a hospital you knew wasn’t even remotely close to your city, silently freaking out in the room as we watched the iv pump fluids into your arm. your head was hurting and the change of scenery from what you last remembered was disorienting to say the least.

you had a ton of questions that you were ready to bombard the nurses with just as the door opened. but instead of a kind face and a pair of scrubs, you were met with a tall man with snow white hair and dark sunglasses. you sat up slowly when he greeted you, watching him with wary eyes as he walked to the end of your bed and stopped just in front of it. 

“hi y/n!” he sounded awfully cheerful, the exact opposite of what you were feeling. you just blinked up at him, not sure what to say. “you might still be in shock but that’s okay,” still no response from you. “you were given an emergency blood transfusion by the way,” it remained quiet, yet this didn’t seem to bother the man at all. “the nurses say you should be ready to go home in a couple of days,” you could feel him staring at you through the tinted lenses of his sunglasses, and even though you couldnt see his eyes, his gaze felt intense. “you might need to go to physical therapy for a bit because of your knees but that shouldn’t be too bad… im gojo by the w-”

“where’s megumi,” you cut him off, not missing the way his smile seemed to grow more mischievous at the mention of megumi’s name. 

“megumi’s fine, he can handle himself,” you weren’t entirely sure what this man meant by that, but you found yourself nodding along anyway. 

“and the little boy?”

“safe and sound at home,” gojo was lying through his teeth. based off of megumi’s report of the incident, the little boy you had seen was simply a decoy the curse was using to lure people in. but you didn’t need to know that right now. 

“and the pink haired guy?”

“yuji is also fine,” gojo smiled at you, cocking his head while he watched you. “you dont at all seem concerned with your own condition,”

“you said i was going to be okay,” 

“you believe everyone who tells you that?” gojo watched as your eyes widened, letting out a short laugh. “i’m just kidding, you’ll be okay. i just wanted to check up on you… but is there anything you wanted to talk about?” he waited patiently, wanting to see if you’d bring up what you saw. just like he thought, you kept quiet, your hands gripping the hospital, as your head bowed down. “well that’s alright. rest easy y/n,” you stayed frozen until you heard the door open and close once more, letting out a breath you didn’t even know you were holding. 

with a groan, you let your head fall back against the semi-comfortable pillows, looking up at the tile ceiling as you tried to calm your thoughts. turning your head towards the window, you looked out at the light blue sky, wondering exactly how much time had passed. there was a soft knock at the door and for a second you thought it mightve been the man with the white hair again before realizing that if he didn’t bother knocking the first time he probably wouldn’t the second time either. so, thinking it was a nurse, you sat back up.

“it’s unlocked,” instead of a doctor with a clipboard, there was megumi standing awkwardly at the entranceway. your whole body went stiff when you saw him. a mix of relief, anger, sadness, and hurt swirling through your mind in a very confusing way. 

“can i come in,” his expression was somber, only allowing his eyes to look at you once before forcing them back onto the aluminum floor. you could see eyebags forming on his lower eyelids, he seemed almost out fo it completely. 

“yeah, yeah you can come in,” you couldnt force a small smile this time, watching quietly as he made his way inside the room. neither of you said anything as he slowly rounded the bed. you only opened your mouth to speak when he stood at the side of your bed, only to be startled into silence as he sunk to his knees. 

in a blur of movements, he had taken your hand into both of his as his body began to shake. he leaned his head against the edge of the bed as he spoke, his eyes screwed shut. 

“y/n i am so sorry this happened to you- its all my fault- all my fucking fault- im so sorry- you didnt deserve any of this- im so glad youre okay-” you didn’t know what to do, having megumi sink to his knees next you and rattle on a string of apologies was shocking to say the least. hearing the absolute pain and desperation in his voice almost brought you to tears and despite wanting to be mad at him for leaving you, you couldn’t.

“megumi look at me,” your voice was barely a whisper, but megumi was able to catch it. your breath got caught in your throat when you saw his teary, bloodshot eyes. you brought your free hand to cup his cheek, offering megumi a weary smile as you wiped a stray tear with your thumb. “it’s okay,” you brightened your smile just a bit in an attempt at reassurance. 

with a shaky nod, megumi placed a chaste kiss to your knuckles before standing back up. wiping his eyes with the backs of his hands he looked at you once more. 

“i’m glad you’re okay y/n,” he spoke with the most level voice he could muster despite just crying at your bedside. 

“i’m glad youre okay too i was so scared knowing you were in there only with-,” you stopped yourself short, not entirely sure if you wanted to keep talking. you were certain there was a perfectly logical, scientific explanation for what happened and there wasn’t just a monster lurking in the shadows of the building.

“we can talk about it if you want,” his voice was comforting now, as if completely putting his own feelings and problems on the back burner because you were the priority. “but we don’t have to, not right now,” he was quick to add that to the end, not wanting to force into talking about the moment your world was quite literally turned upside down. you nodded. inhaling deeply and letting your eyes shut for a second.

“i don’t know if you’ll believe this- or what you saw… but i was attacked by a um…” you trailed off, suddenly feeling incredibly stupid at thought of saying monster. for a moment the thought of tricking yourself into thinking you made the whole thing up. 

“a curse,”

“what?” your eyebrows furrowed when megumi finished your sentence for you. he sighed softly, as if he was trying to come to terms with the fact that he was actually telling you about this when this very thing was the reason he left in the first place. 

“a curse, an accumulation of cursed energy coming from people’s negative emotions. just like how you felt uneasy about that building there must’ve been other people who felt the same too. those negative emotions associated with the building is what gave birth to the curse,” megumi was worried that he just laid too much information on you and when he saw you laugh nervously he knew for a fact he did. 

“i dont know what happened in there but we must be having a shared delusion or something,” you shook your head, a small laugh bubbling from your lips despite finding absolutely nothing funny. you averted megumi’s gaze, not wanting to look at his straight face and come to terms that theres things like that just roaming around the earth you live on. 

“so how do you know all of that,” you asked as you squeezed your eyes shut, not really wanting to know the answer but asking anyways,

“im a jujutsu sorcerer, it’s my job to exorcize curses,” his voice remaining monotone was tripping you out; making it harder to pretend this is all just some sick joke- maybe even just a social experiment gone too far. but then you felt a pang of hurt, if it really was a social experiment then why had megumi sunk to his knees and cried against your hand. you quickly glanced at him just to make sure he was in fact even real. his eyes were puffy and red and you knew his cries were definitely were real.

“why don’t more people know about this,” you countered as if a part of your brain was still trying to catch megumi in a lie.

“well for the most part the jujutsu world works in secret… and most regular people can’t even see curses unless in a life or death situation,”

“how fucking convenient,” you scoffed, shaking your head again in disbelief.

“i know this is a lot,” megumi started, a look of worry and concern on his face. “like i said earlier, we don’t have to talk about it right now- or ever for that matter. you can get better and go back home. they’re going to start demolishing the building soon so you won’t have to worry about it anymore,” 

“why didn’t you tell me about all of this sooner,” your tongue poked your the inside of your cheek as you waited for his response, keeping your eyes on your sheets. 

“i wasn’t planning on telling you ever,” his answer was blunt and although you knew he didn’t mean it in a malicious way, his words still stung a bit. 

“why not?”

“because i didn’t want to bring you into this world-”

“look where the fuck i am now megumi,” you snapped your head towards him, tears welling in your eyes as you finally let yourself feel all the emotions you were keeping at bay since you woke up. “i almost fucking died and i spent my last moments awake thinking that you were going to die,” the tears were flowing down your cheeks in a nonstop stream now, snot dripping down your nose before you burried your face in your hands. “you dont get to decide which world i live in just because you think its best-”

megumi was effectively rendered motionless, everything he was trying to keep from happening unfolding right in front of his very eyes. he began to wonder what wouldve happened if he had stayed that night and spilled his guts to you instead of leaving. he felt like a coward in that moment while listening to your sobs echo through the room. 

“i…” his voice trailed off, he himself not even sure what to say. instead he sat on the very edge of the bed next to you, wrapping his arm around your back and pulling you into an embrace as you continued to weep. “i’m sorry,” he whispered as you melted into his arms, your iv was pressing against your arm in a slightly uncomfortable manner. but the feeling of being held was keeping you distracted.

you weren’t sure how long the two of you stayed like that, but the room was starting to darken along with the sky outside when you finally lifted your head. you sniffled quietly as you wiped at your eyes. you took your time, not entirely ready to look at megumi feeling as embarrassed as you were. 

you shivered when you felt megumi’s hand smooth up your arm and he immediately paused. you could feel him looking at you and finally found the courage to look back at him. it seemed like a thousand unspoken words were communicated between the two of you just from looking into each others eyes.

the moment you caught megumi’s eyes flick to your lips, you pressed your mouth against his, squeezing your eyes shut tightly while you poured all of your emotions into the kiss. 

megumi was quick to card his hands in your hard, kissing you just as deeply. you held onto him tightly, hands shaking slightly as if you were scared he was going to evaporate right then and there. 

“you cant leave again,” you broke the kiss solely to say this. you looked up at him with desperate eyes. “megumi you cant leave me again,” you repeated, feeling tears well in your eyes once more at the thought of him taking off again. seeing the tears collecting at your eyelashes, megumi couldn’t help but place one more firm kiss to your lips. 

“never,” his gaze was  intense as he let his hands drop from your hair, one hand squeezing your arm reassuringly. “i’m never leaving again,” seeing the smile on your face cause one to spread on his as well, laughing lightly when he heard you giggle. 

“i’m holding you to that,” you cocked an eyebrow only for him to pepper your face with kisses until you were laughing squirming against him. he pressed one final kiss to your cheek, opening his mouth to say something before the door knocked. with one last glance at you, megumi got up to open the door. 

megumi was greeted with a profusely blushing yuji on the other side when he opened the door. his eyes widened when he saw yuji’s sheepish grin. 

“sorry i didn’t know when it would be a good time to knock,” he whispered behind his hand, eyes flicking over to you. once the two of you made eye contact your face lit up slightly. 

“yuji i swear to god if you say anything-”

“pink hair guy!” you exclaimed, pointing to yuji from your bed. yuji taking this perfect opportunity to get megumi off his back, waved to you. “come in- oh wait- megumi,” you made a face at megumi, hoping you’d understand your question.

“yes he knows, he’s a sorcerer too,” megumi nodded, seeming displeased with this whole situation. but seeing you smile made him go soft all over again. 

“oh okay good! come in come in!” you motioned for yuji to come in the room, desperately wanting to thank him and apologize for the night before. yuji glanced at megumi as if he was scared to pass through without his permission. but when megumi nodded, yuji smiled softly.

“ah gojo said he wanted to talk to you, that’s why i came,” yuji’s smile only faltered for a second, a second you weren’t able to catch. you did however, not miss megumi walking out the door.

“hey wait megumi where’re you going?” your eyes grew wide with alarm and megumi felt a pang of guilt for being the one to cause that. 

“i just have to go talk to someone, i’ll be back. i promise,” he offered you one last smile before walking out and closing the door behind him. once the door had closed, you and yuji made eye contact for only a second before you were spewing apologies and gratitude. 

“i am so sorry for hitting you when you were trying to save me- also thank you so much for that genuinely,” you had a light smile on your face and yuji was glad to see it considering it was a complete contrast to the bloody, crying, screaming mess you were about twenty-four hours ago. 

“no need to apologize it’s completely okay!” he smiled back at you and for a moment it seemed innocent until he started wiggling his eyebrows at you. “so what’s goin’ on with you and megumi?”

-

“megumi there you are!” gojo smacked a hand onto his chest as he pretended to be relieved to see him once more. megumi rolled his eyes, walking over to gojo with his hands in his pockets. 

“what did you want to talk about?”

“your girlfriend!” megumi felt his eye twitch, not entirely sure where this was going. instead of giving into gojo’s teasing, he silently waited for him to continue. “i take it you told her about the jujutsu world,”

“something like that,”

“m’kay,” gojo’s smile never faltered. “you’re gonna have to tell her everything eventually, no one would be satisfied with only knowing bits and pieces of an unknown world. obviously not today while she’s still processing. but you’ll have to eventually,”

“i already know that,” megumi did in fact already know he’d have to explain even the ugliest parts to you, having know you long enough to know you wouldn’t be satisfied withh half ass answers. but he didn’t have to worry about it. 

“okay good,” gojo paused for a second and megumi thought maybe he was done talking. he was wrong. “also don’t mess this up considering this might be the first and last woman who would want to put up with your brooding,” gojo laughed at his own teasing, is laughing growing even louder when megumi flipped him off before walking away.

“go home youre disturbing the other patients,” he didn’t wait for gojo’s response, speed walking down the hall with his only goal being to be back with you. there was a certain weight lifted off of his shoulders now that you had knowledge on his world, albeit limited, but still. you knew enough for now and he was content. 

he could hear you and yuji giggling about something from down the hall. he could feel his heart warm up at the sound of your laughs. opening the door, he saw yuji sitting on a chair that was placed against the window and you leaning forward on your elbows as you talked. but when you saw megumi enter the room you immediately sat up, your smile growing. 

“yay youre back! yuji was just telling me about human earthworm 4!” you and yuji were laughing again and he couldnt help but smile as he sat back down on the edge of your bed next to you. you immediately leaned your head against his shoulder, pressing a small kiss on his jaw. megumi immediately started to blush but from where you were positioned, you couldnt see him throw daggers at yuji with his eyes, silently daring him to laugh. 

“this is all he talks about by the way,” megumi murmured, smiling when he heard you laugh. 

“well this is the first time i’m hearing about it so yuji finish explaining it to me,”

“can do! so then theyre in this cabin,”

-

“okay so its organized by grades?”

“yes they are,”

“four being the weakest and special grade being the strongest,”

“yep thats how it works,” you cocked an eyebrow at megumi as the two of you sat on your couch eating takeout. he wasn’t sure what you were going to ask next but he was prepared to answer to the best of his ability.

“so what grade was the curse that attacked me?”

“a grade two at most,” he answered quicky before bringing his drink to his mouth.

“oh my god wait what grade are you,” you leaned forward slightly, eyes widening as you anticipated his answer. he placed his drink down before responding, eyes seemingly fixated on his food.

“special grade,”

“woah youre so strong!! i bet the curse in the abandoned building was easy to exorcize huh?!” megumi felt his face heat up at your praise. ears, cheeks, and neck growing red while you continued to ramble about how strong he must be. “aw megumi you’re all red are you embarrassed,” you poked his nose, giggled when he scrunched it. 

“eat your food,” was all he responded with, pointing his fork at your food before going back to eating his. you sighed dramatically before shoving a fork full in your mouth. 

“okay okay no more questions i promise,” you raised your hand as if you were reciting a pledge, laughing when you saw megumi roll his eyes.

“lets put on a movie then,”

“can we watch human earthworm 4?!”

“oh my god,”

i hope you enjoyed !! reblogs/comments are very appreciated <3 ʟᴏʙʙʏ ﹕ꜰɪʟᴍᴏɢʀᴀᴘʜʏ 𝄃𝄃𝄂𝄀𝄁𝄃𝄂𝄂𝄃

[tallerthantale]

Yes, the "curse of knowledge" very good example. The neurotypical autopilot filters primarily on what a typical person they would typically interact with would typically know/think/believe. The "curse of knowledge" is at its worst when the speaker mostly interacts with peers and occasionally lectures.

In a lot of ways the autistic version of theory of mind makes it easier to break out of that curse, because consciously modeling what a person in a different situation would know is something we generally have to learn how to do to survive. It just won't show up instinctively if we aren't putting focus onto that work in that moment. A lot of neurotypicals don't ever learn how to do that conscious modeling because they usually don't need to.

The version of neurotypical systemic "theory of mind" errors I run into most is in political discussions. When people are in ideological bubbles they tend to accumulate a large pile of assumptions and premises about demographics, policies, events, party platforms, ect... that become "facts" within that bubble. From there those all get processed into the 'assumed universal shared reality' folder in their brain.

Unfortunately, that process happens with little regard to primary sources. If everyone around us treats something as fact, it unconsciously becomes neurologically a fact that is so assumed it wouldn't occur to us to fact check it. Autistic people can be resistant to this, but we are not immune.

When people leave their bubble and try to have debates with people who have a completely different 'assumed universal shared reality' folder they end up talking passed each other, and almost never check if they are starting from the same premises because they aren't consciously aware that an assumption was made. They will have heated flame wars over a policy, without realising that they have two completely different understandings of what the policy actually is.

I think a lot of online discourse would be a lot more productive if people leaned harder into asking questions about where others are coming from. What do you think happened in the underlying event? When you use this term, what do you mean by that? What is your understanding of this policy, and what effects to you expect it will have? What do you think is happening now?

A fairly straight forward example of this is with income/wealth inequality. Most people are a few good infographics away from 'eat the rich,' (if you can get them to trust the data) because they have no idea how bad wealth inequality currently is. When you ask people how they think wealth ought to be divided, people are broadly pretty reasonable about it. The problem is a looooot of people think that the reasonable distribution is what we basically have now. (That perception is a broad centrist thing, not a right wing thing, btw.) So when they hear 'eat the rich' they think people want to guillotine the doctor with the nice house down the road and react accordingly. And then the people on the 'eat the rich' side think those taking the message badly are all wannabe billionaires who think the poor deserve to die in the street.

I think most of the time the differences are in our premises not in our values. Not all the time though. Sometimes people really do just have shit values, but it's often worth checking first.

Raising my kid (who is autistic) has made me realise as an autistic person that a surprising amount of communication failure in, at least these, autistic people is forgetting that other people are like separate people who don't share a hive mind with you

Some examples:

- not bothering to give verbal signals of what you're doing when others can't see your actions in a conversation: ie nodding when they have their back to you instead of saying yes or saying "coming" instead of "coming right after I shut down the computer" when you're called into another room

- assuming everyone thinks the same way as you do about a particular aspect of life and being repeatedly shocked, over and over in your life, to find that's not the case

- getting frustrated that you have to actually explain your thoughts processes and context of what you're trying to explain when they should just understand

And I do understand that everyone is a separate person living their own unique lives with many different ways of looking at and experiencing the world...

but also what do you mean you don't understand things that I haven't explained!?!? We share a psyche! What do you mean romance isn't a bit!?!

It's like we have a bit of programming that lets us connect to the hive mind but there is no actual hive mind and we're a little bit disgruntled by that

Now there are probably going to be autistic people who disagree but the people I know personally who are autistic understand these moments. I knew I did it but I didn't contextualise it in my issues with communication until I was a parent and had a kid doing the same shit to me

[so-i-did-this-thing]

i‘m struggling with a decision and dont have many trans friends who have transitioned or been out very long and would appreciate your thoughts on it - I haven’t changed my gender marker yet, and was planning to try to push it through on my social security before they start enforcing not changing it (not sure if this will be successful). However, with all the concerns regarding trans people and lack of protections, I‘m starting to wonder if thats a good idea. I pass physically and live entirely as a guy now (on T for 2.5 years and have had top surgery), and I live in a big city in a trans friendly neighborhood and state. But if that gender change is on record, I wonder if that could cause more problems than not changing it, or if it‘s kind of bad either way. My chosen name is gender neutral, so it won‘t inherently out me on paperwork either way. I‘d appreciate your thoughts (even if its just ‚consult a lawyer‘ haha)

I would suggest getting your driver's license changed to match the gender you pass as. It is what you show at traffic stops, domestic travel, and for most job onboarding, so should give you a measure of protection from police violence and job discrimination. (All bets are off if you are arrested, but that is a case where you are fucked regardless of what your paperwork says.)

But not knowing what state you live in makes it difficult to advise, because in places like Florida, you cannot change the marker anymore and at this point might even get your license revoked trying to change it.

For Social Security, since the marker is not on the card, I cannot say who actually will see it. It always felt to me like a completionist thing.

What will likely out a trans person on a bog-standard background check is if you don't pass as your birth name. For folks who have a completely gender neutral first and middle name, it may not be worth changing it, because folks do raise their eyebrows at name changes outside of marriage.

If you pursue jobs that have more extensive background searches, you are fucked either way. I am a (soon to be ex) federal contractor and my having "M" on my IDs but no Selective Service signup meant my background check got flagged for further investigation.

Tldr; If you have medically transitioned, you are always vulnerable to discrimination and violence, so it's really up to you what kind of risk you wish to take on regarding your paperwork. Me, I am leaving federal service because I will always be outed via the background checks those jobs require.

There are likely those who will have different advice and at the end of the day, it's up to you to decide what is best. Good luck.

[xfgpng]

kiss my lungs…

— [ nsfw ] :: unprotected sex, a little rough? maybe.

— wc :: 1.1k

she leans against the doorframe, watching him as he leans over the balcony. it’s way too hot and their ac only does so much against the humidity.

he’s shirtless, like he always is at home and his back looks so good. his eyes are closed as if he’s pretending he’s anywhere else but here, where it’s so hot his pants feel like it’s a second skin.

“smoking kills” she grins and he huffs, looking back over his shoulder at her. she’s pretty everyday but especially like this where she looks flushed and irritated because of the weather.

her top is loose, an old raggedy volleyball jersey from his high school days at nekomata. she refuses to get rid of anything from that time and he’s more than okay with it. it’s happy memories, his carefree days where all he had to worry about was exams and volleyball and kenma.

he still cares about volleyball, his career is perfect the way it is but it’s not as carefree as he’d like it to be and he’s not getting any younger.

kuroo doesn’t know when he started smoking, it’s a shitty habit and he works out 4 days a week to keep his body in check so he knows smoking is so pointless and it makes him a hypocrite because he’s always lecturing kenma about good eating habits and staying healthy.

he kills it and turns towards her. it’s too hot but he pulls her against his body anyway and she complains, pushing him away but it’s half hearted.

“it’s too hot for this” she huffs, “you’re clammy”

“and you’re sexy” he teases, his voice low and he wants to kiss her but he wonders if she might punch him in the jaw. he’d deserve it, for smelling like cigarettes.

“how cheesy” she scoffs but she’s smiling and it’s his favourite type of smile. the one that makes her eyes disappear and it’s the smile she reserves only for him.

“is it too hot to hold you?” he pouts and she rolls her eyes. she knows him too well and knows exactly what he means especially when his hand his sliding underneath the old volleyball jersey and his planting kisses down her jaw towards her neck.

she feels sticky and uncomfortable from the heat but it’s weird how his kisses bring a whole different kind of heat, one that makes her knees weak.

“just a little?” he whispers, biting her earlobe and she hides her smile, tilting her head to give him better access to her neck.

“are you always this desperate?” she asks

“for you? everyday baby” he laughs, pulling back to look into her eyes. he could write poems about them but he’s trying not to be too corny, she’ll make fun of him for it and cry like the adorable little shit she is. he loves her.. he wants to marry her.

“pervert” she scoffs, shaking her head in disbelief but she wraps her arms around his neck when he does lean in and she’s the one that kisses him, giving him a pass for the cigarettes and he knows he’s not touching another box ever again after this.

they don’t need to go too far, their couch is close and he doesn’t think he can make it down the hallway to their bedroom. he doesn’t want to.


he bends her over the couch, lifting the old jersey up but keeping it on. he won’t deny that he’s a pervert.


sue him.

he slaps her ass playfully but when she moans, he smirks and does it a few more times, much harder.

“tetsu!” she gasps, grabbing a cushion and it’s cute that she thinks that’ll save her. his grin is menacing as he slips his hand between her thighs, sliding his long finger through her messy folds. she gets wet easily and he loves it.

kuroo loves how her body responds to his touches. he loves how she trusts him completely to make her feel good. her toes curl when he whispers in her ear, his finger slipping inside her.

“just like that baby” he kisses the spot below her ear, “what a good girl”


she tries to hide her moan by biting her lip. it’s too early to be loud like this but his so skilled with his fingers and his other hand kneads her ass cheek. she thinks she might pass out anytime now and it won’t be from overheating.

he teases his cock against her entrance. it’s so slippery and he moans, loud and unashamed. he paid for an expensive penthouse so they could be as loud as they want.

“fuck” he groans, pushing just the tip in before pulling back out. he’s teasing both of them but he can’t help it. it feels better every time they do this.

he likes to think he’s a hopeless romantic on most days but he also does enjoy fucking her over the couch like he’s about to do like they’re just horny college students all over again.

she grips the cushion hard as he slams forward, his own toes curl. it’s soft and velvety inside her and if he could, he’d stay like this forever.

“more” she moans, “please”


and how can he deny that? when the love of his life is begging him to fuck het while she’s wearing his old volleyball jersey? that would be cruel.

he grips her waist hard enough to hurt, to remind her where he was days from now. he’s going to repeat this same process tonight and again tomorrow so she always feels him.

his big too and he smirks at how eager she is despite the tight fit. she likes that it hurts, enjoys feeling him when she sits or bathes or when she’s walking.

he thrusts hard but not fast, it’s his favourite way to have sex. it drives her crazy, makes her beg so prettily but he never gives it, not yet at least.

“oh baby but you’re being so good” kuroo teases, sounding breathless, “you take it so well, don’t you?”

“yes!” she nods eagerly, her pretty lips swollen from their kisses but also the way she bites it when she thinks she’s hiding her moans.

he grips the back of her neck and uses the other hand on her hip to keep her in place and he picks up the pace. he’s deep and he knows it by the way she whimpers and she always complains the next day that it hurts but she cries out for more that he can’t bring himself to feel that bad.

“good girl” he praises, “there you go”

she nods, agreeing with him in her delirious state. her eyes are blown wide and her mouth hangs out now. she paints a filthy picture and he wishes he could take a picture but he doesn’t want to stop now just to grab his phone.


he’ll remember for another time.

“my girl” he bites his lip, his head tossed back, “all mine”


and kuroo loses himself in her, completely forgetting about the heatwave and his box of cigarettes laying on the table outside.

[butlervibesonly]

hi!! I love ur writing and I had this idea if you could please write it!? It could be Austin x actress reader, they are dating and made a movie together and now they are at some kind of interview, but they are both distracted by each others pressence 🤭 maybe like the tension between them growing visibly and it could end with some funny comments from fans? Thank you in advance! 🌼

𝑈𝑛𝑑𝑒𝑛𝑖𝑎𝑏𝑙𝑒 𝑑𝑒𝑠𝑖𝑟𝑒 || Austin Butler

• Pairing: Austin Butler x actress! reader

• Warnings: Austin and reader can’t take their eyes off of each other, flirting, desire,…?

• Note: HIII! What an absolutely amazing idea! You can’t imagine how I enjoyed writing this!! ( @eternal-love could tell… 😝) also! picture used at the end is fictional; created with app called TwiNote! AND YES, I HAD TO ADD THIS SONG.

You and Austin have been dating for a long time now. You both met thanks to the same industry you two work at and that nothing less than your beloved acting. Now that Hollywood has given you the opportunity, both of you were casted in a movie where you played love interests.

That was of course very easy for you, since the love you guys feel for each other is truly unconditional. When it comes to making movies there are a lot of duties to promote the movie by any kind of a way. One of them is interviews. Austin and you are on a press tour, promoting the movie you guys made and today… there is something in the air…

The bright studio lights cast a warm glow over the set, highlighting the two stars seated side by side in chairs. And that is of course you and Austin. The interviewer has barely finished the introduction before the oddly satisfying energy filled the room.

Even tho that the two of you have been together for nearly over a two years now, sitting next to each other like this, all dressed up for the press tour, makes it feel like you are back on set, falling for each other all over again.

You look absolutely breathtaking in a formal black dress in Austin’s eyes. Austin is wearing his grey shirt and black pants – so damn handsome. There are some glances between the two of you from the beginning of this interview. Something so unspoken but still so obvious.

“So,” the interviewer started, bringing you from your own thoughts. “Austin, Y/n… It’s nice to have you here today.” Both you and Austin smile warmly. “Thanks for having us.” Austin says, his voice low and deep - just like the way you love it.

“You two have worked together before, but this was your first time playing romantic opposite each other. Did that make things easier or harder?”

Austin opens his mouth to answer, but then you shift beside him, tucking a loose strand of hair behind your ear, and he gets completely lost in thoughts. His gaze flickers to you, and you only, caught in the way your lips curl so slightly at the edges, because you know exactly what you’re doing to him.

You raise an eyebrow, noticing his hesitation. “Easier,” you answer smoothly, tilting your head toward him after breaking the uncomfortable silence. “Definitely easier.”

Austin clears his throat, attempting to focus on the interview that’s being recorded. “Yeah, I mean, when you already have a connection, it helps.” He finally manages to say, though his words came out slower than he wanted, as if his brain is struggling to catch up with the sight of you beside him.

“I see. So you slid into the characters pretty easily, didn’t you?” Austin chuckles, wanting to answer the question with confidence, but then your fingers brushes his to hold his hand. Just for a second, just enough to send a spark up his arm. Austin of course looses the thoughts again. You can see he is out of his straight thinking, and take over the question again.

“Mhm, yes. The characters we got to play are actually not so different from us, so it was really easy to bring those characters alive.” you smile warmly. The interviewer grins, clearly noticing the interaction of you and Austin. “You both look like you’re still in characters.”

Austin rubs his tight as he always does, his other hand rubbing his lips - as he always does. “Are we?” he smirks, letting out a laugh to ease the atmosphere in the air.

What Austin actually does is that he unbuttons the few buttons of his shirt on his chest. You peripherally see his chest glistening in the studio lights, the lust in your eyes growing stronger. Okay. Focus. Just answer the questions… goes through your head.

The interviewer is speaking about the movie, but neither you and him registers the words. You shift beside him again, crossing your leg over the other. You just look so stunning for Austin to keep his eyes off of you. Too stunning. How is he supposed to form sense able sentences when you’re sitting this close?

Little does he know that you are now kinda doing it on purpose. Austin hears his name being mentioned, knowing he needs to get back to reality from his fantasizing about you. Say something, Austin. Anything.

“So, Austin, what was your favorite scene to film?” the interviewer asks. His favorite scene? He blinks, hesitating. Right. The movie. The reason you’re both here.

His brain is stubborn, refusing to pull up any scene except for that one; The one where your hands roamed around his body, the way you whispered his name like it belonged to you. The way it never felt like acting.

“Um…” He starts searching for a savory answer. “I really liked the one that actually director decided to remove… But it was some kind of scene where Y/n and I run through the rain on a beach.”

You smirk, knowing he is lying and tries to hide his real intentions. It’s actually no longer after when you are the one being questioned, and suddenly know how it felt for Austin when you are being seduced by the sight. He’s staring.

You can feel the weight of Austin’s gaze without even looking at him. It’s been happening since you walked onto the set of this interview of course, but now it’s getting way harder to ignore. Every time you move, his eyes follow. Every time you smile, his lips twitch like he’s fighting the urge to do the same.

It’s distracting. So unfairly distracting. You tuck a strand of hair behind your ear, again, pretending not to notice the way his hands flex slightly, like he wants to reach out and just touch you.

As the interviewer continues to say something, you risk a glance at Austin, and sure enough, he’s already looking at you with that expression of his. His blue eyes are squinted due to his eyebrows furrowing, more intense, almost as if he has forgotten you’re supposed to be acting professional.

You notice the way his jaw clenches when he’s thinking. His fingers drumming against his knee when he’s trying to focus. The way his unbuttoned shirt opens just right, and how his cologne still lingers.

“…undeniable desire,” the interviewer says. “I mean, come on, do you two even realize how you look at each other?”

Austin finally tears his eyes from you, shaking his head with a breathy chuckle. You cross your arms, biting back a smirk. Damn yes you do. And so does everyone else.

Interviewer leans back in his chair, watching both of you being barely present. You and Austin are both trying to stay focused, you really do, but at this point, it’s a lost cause already. Every glance, every half-smirk, every moment or hesitation before answering a question. Too much to handle at this point.

The interview ends the moment, thanking you both for coming - even tho you did absolutely nothing at the interview - and with a quick glance behind the camera at his producer he grins. Yeah, this definitely going viral.

With a teasing smile the interviewer calls it a day and shakes both of your hands. “Well, I think that’s all the proof we need.” Austin’s furrows his brow. “Proof?”

You are equally confused as Austin. “Of what?”

The interview chuckles, standing up. “That the two of you are terrible at pretending you’re not totally into each other.”

Austin lets out a breathy laugh, shaking his head and you groan, covering your face with one hand. “Yeah, it’s just hard not to keep eyes off of her,” Austin’s hand lands on the small of your back and you shiver at his touch.

You two walk off the set, heading into the backstage. As soon as you both arrive at the changing room, Austin smashes the door to close them. You gasp surprisingly and he leans you against the door.

“You will be the death of me, Y/l/n.” he whispers into your ears, his lips then capturing yours. He grips your hips, pulling you close enough to him as he savor the fact he can finally kiss you. Only a fool wouldn’t know how you spent the rest of the night after arriving at the hotel.