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xzaddyzanakinx · 3 months

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Not That Kind of Guy

Part Four: Stalker!Anakin Skywalker × femme reader series

Warnings: stalking, weirdo behavior, psychotic/delusional behavior, possessive/protective, sexism/misogyny, one-sided relationship, sexual content, pervy behavior, male masturbation, panty kink, sex daydreams [eventual warning for smut; be sure to pay attention to future warnings in the series]

Info: Anakin is doing his very best, he just loves you and wants you to be comfy around him. Just let him worm his way into your heart babe [diary entries from Ani] extremely not proofread. I’m illiterate so apologies in advance MDNI 18+

Diary Entry: July 8th

Mr. Nelson’s funeral was today, it really was a beautiful ceremony as I look back on it. Even more so when my inner self smears the background enough to bring you to the front of the mental image.

You’d spoken to the man a handful of times, but I didn’t expect you to come. When I saw you accept the invite to the event on Facebook I thought surely it was a mistake. That was until you messaged Luke and asked him to accompany you, funerals make you nervous, but feeling obligated to do something and avoiding it makes you more nervous.

So your moral support was happy to attend and fight off dear old Alan’s corpse should he rise from the casket and set his sights on you.

And I though I had irrational fears, geez babydoll, how old were you when you watched Night of The Living Dead for the first time? If I had to guess it was too young. It’s alright though I get it, you know what movie traumatized me? The Mummy. Heebied my fucking Jeebies so bad I avoided the beach on family vacations.

You’re telling me there’s not a sarcophagus under all that sand? There’s at least one under there and you can’t convince me otherwise.

Solid ground for me only, please and thank you.

🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤

I had a thought that I initially considered to be a sweet reminder of my dear friend Alan. His obituary was in the newspaper and I happened to swipe one from the guest book table at the viewing as well. Have you ever scrapbooked before? I bet you’ve at least tried it.

Well I thought it would be nice to make him a page in my journal. A little celebration of life for the man who gave me an opportunity to grow and nurture my love for you.

Then I realized mid-glue stick on the newspaper clipping that the idea was something that a clinically insane person would do.

I’m not that guy. That guy’s not me.

But the glue was already on there and it felt wrong to toss Alan’s wrinkly old face into the trash so I pasted him into my journal anyway.

Crazy people don’t know that they’re crazy. I’m well aware that little idea was less than tasteful, just felt like I should mention that.

Date:

July 28th

Anakin Skywalker hadn’t been this happy since… ever. The previous record being his discovery of you, was now toppled into second place and overshadowed by ‘Move In Day’.

He could hardly contain himself. It was a dopamine high that he would ride out until he’d drained every last drop.

The movers lugged in box after box, furniture and books, until finally they dropped off the last load and thanked Anakin for the business. He eagerly shook their hand and shoved them out. He had preparations to make.

He set up his Tv, screen mirroring the live feed of the apartment building entrance to the big screen so that he could easily keep an eye out for you while he unpacked his kitchen.

He’d planned your ‘meet-cute’ meticulously, looking to your bookshelf and streaming services to gather intel on your ideal scenario. You were an odd bird, but he liked that about you. It’s part of your charm, it’s part of the challenge. You’re not as predictable in your tastes and interests as others can be.

Anakin formulated the interaction step by step, frame by frame in the storyboard of his imagination until he had the perfect scene. His box office hit that he’d replay over and over again until the next time he stood face to face with you.

It took quite some time and a load of practice. Discarded dialogue, awkward movements that made him feel stiff and less than human when he practiced them in the mirror. Endless options of clothes, shoes, and hair.

Should he get a new piercing? He wanted to. So he did, he knew you’d like it.

It’d match the one he already had on the opposite nostril. It made him feel more complete to add something so permanent to his body, he wished he could do something similar with you. He wanted you to be permanent, so maybe it’s his subconscious’s way of telling him that this was going in the right direction.

He was on the right path. His journey of life alone was coming to a close and a new trail would reveal itself. No more rocky, unsteady tread. No more sharp turns and blind spots, no more impossible inclines.

Scraped knees and bloodied hands would be distant memories. Maybe even distant enough that he could toss them into The Pit.

He would have no need for anger or sorrow anymore.

How could he feel anything but the warm embrace of love as he strolled down the flowered path ahead with you?

Who knew that you could position one box in 83 different ways and hate every single one of them? Anakin was so thankful there weren’t any actual surveillance cameras in the apartment building. It’d be really difficult to explain why he was in the hallway for an hour with his hands on his hips, scooting a box of books a centimeter or two at a time. Turning it sideways and then making sure the book on top was perfectly positioned and would effectively fall to the ground to catch your attention.

He checked his watch nonstop, stared at his Tv screen, willing you to just hurry the fuck up before he vomited from anxiety. He’d waited months for this. If he fucked it up now he’d… well he’d probably keel over on the spot.

Which would promptly traumatize you and not even his ghost would be able to peacefully haunt you. It’s hard to peacefully haunt someone if they watched you die, or at least Anakin assumed it would be difficult. He wasn’t willing to test that theory though.

So, he puffed up his chest and walked back into his apartment and rehearsed the upcoming conversation a few more times. He needed, desperately needed to ensure his facial expressions conveyed what he wanted.

Soft, trustworthy, dependable, safe, caring.

He practiced softening his eyes, knowing sometimes he stared alittle too hard. He worked on his facial fidget; chewing on the inside of his cheek was a quick tell of his nervousness. He didn’t want to be perceived as nervous, he wanted to be confident and sure of himself so that you would be confident in your soon to blossom affection for him.

His eyebrows, that’s a hard one, but he’d meticulously watched bar goers trying to flirt. The successful ones he learned, sometimes use their eyebrows in place of questions or words. A difficult concept, but one he studied until he mastered it.

Now, the other facial expressions and mannerisms… he gathered that information from your watch lists on your streaming services. For the visible examples at least, but your books were just as helpful in describing how he should approach you, speak to you, and simply exist near you.

He hadn’t realized these things were this important until now. Standing and posture was surprisingly very, very important to women. As well as hand movements and subtle glances and minuscule changes of expression.

You were worth the time and effort it took to learn all of it. He’d read and research and practice until he couldn’t stand to look at himself in the mirror any longer. He was determined to make sure you were happy with the results.

He was startled by a loud ping, someone had entered to building and holy shit it was you.

Anakin shook out his hands frantically, remembering the breathing techniques he’d learned as a child, he grounded himself quickly.

It’s okay.

‘She’s gonna love you. She’ll warm up to you quickly, you know everything you need to know about her to make her comfortable and loved.’

‘There’s no way she won’t fall head over heels.’

He smoothed out his band-tee and ran his hands through his hair quickly and headed to his door that was propped open slightly. A few boxes sat in the hall, including the most important one, the one instrumental to his plan.

The apartment hallway was ridiculously tiny, which worked in his favor in this situation.

He heard you come up the stairs, counted your steps until he knew you were almost at the door, 17 and a half steps. Then he swung open the door and bent down to grab one of the boxes.

As expected, he startled you and you dropped your keys. You always wore your backpack on one shoulder, one strap. So when you quickly went to scoop up your keys, your bag swung out of place and toppled a few books from one of the boxes.

Perfect. Absolutely perfect.

Anakin could gloat to himself about his magnificent setup later, right now he needed to woo you with his sweet words.

“Oh, sweetheart I’m sorry.” He said softly, coming over to offer you a hand up.

“It’s okay, my bad.” You laughed, taking his hand.

He managed to keep calm and collected despite his insides boiling him alive at the willing skin contact.

“No, not at all. It’s my fault for startling you like that.” He chuckled, squeezing your upper arm and using his hand already in yours to give you a small handshake. Smooth.

“I’m Anakin.” He said with a bashful smile, dropping your hand and reveling in the lingering warmth your palm left on his.

You introduced yourself in return, gesturing to his apartment door.

“So I take it that you’re my new neighbor huh?” You said, making small talk as you crouched down to pick up the books you’d knocked over.

“No I’m just a one man moving crew.” He grinned.

“Very funny.” You laughed, standing up as you looked through the titles. “Hmm, you’ve got good taste.”

“You think so?” He asked, remembering to make his eyebrows swoop up toward the middle of his forehead to give a quizzical look.

“Oh yeah, this is one of my favorites.” You said, showing him the cover of The Silmarillion by Tolkien.

“Not many people actually read that one, I’m impressed.” He smiled.

“Impressed? Yeah well I’m jealous.” You laughed.

“What?” He chuckled, holding his hands out to take the other books from you.

“This is a really nice edition, it’s similar to mine. I recently lost it.” You sighed. “I think I must’ve left it the park or maybe it fell out of my bag or something.”

“Ah, that sucks… well, I mean I’ve read that one a few times now. It’s been well loved.” He said tipping the books in his arms toward the one you were holding. “Why don’t you keep it?”

He shrugged, acting nonchalant as though this didn’t mean the entire world to him and if you said no he’d sob about it later.

“You’re serious?” You asked in surprise, he was offering you a 50$ special edition book and you’d barely known him for a minute.

“Yeah, ‘course sweetheart.” He said with a cute, crooked smile. “Think of it as a… reverse house warming gift.” He chuckled.

“Thank you, I- this means a lot to me.” You said, grinning widely. “That’s real sweet of you Anakin. I owe you one.”

“No worries.” He chuckled, “I’m sure we’ll find a way to make it even sweetheart.” His gaze flickered quickly from your eyes to your lips, and he turned to go back into his apartment after giving you an almost-missed wink.

You stepped inside your home, and went straight to the bookshelf to put your new-to-you book where it belonged. After the fact you stood there and buffered, just staring at it.

‘There’s no way, this guy has to be too good to be true.’

But he seemed… so genuine. He didn’t ogle you, he didn’t make you feel weird or like he just felt obligated to speak to you.

He seemed to actually, really be a good guy.

Rare. Few and far of those exist in this day and age. It’s uncommon to meet someone who would do something, even as simple as giving you a used book, without expecting anything in return.

But he didn’t seem to expect anything. He didn’t seem to even expect a thank you, it was like he’d already decided he would give it to you before he even offered.

What are the odds that a hot, tattooed and pierced man moves in next door and gifts you an expensive book that just so happens to be an even better replacement for the one that you just lost? That couldn’t happen twice even if you tried to make it happen again.

What kind of second dimension did you step into? The land of dreamy men?

Diary Entry: July 28th

It’s late. But I have to write to you, it can’t wait til tomorrow.

Everything went more perfectly than I could’ve imagined. Thank you so much for being you sweet girl. It made my job of curating the scenery so much easier, you clumsy little thing. I am sorry for having to spook you though, but it worked didn’t it?

Research pays off. Always.

And of course there’s the issue of your book, I hated to see your frustration and your mad scowl when you realized it was missing from your backpack. I really did.

But I’d do it every goddamn day if I knew I’d get the same reaction out of you from giving you that new copy.

Oh god you’re… you’re beautiful. You’re so beautiful. You look angelic when you sleep but you look like competition for Aphrodite when you smile at me.

You smiled, grinned. You smiled all the way up to the corners of your bright and beautiful eyes. For me.

You even laughed for me.

It was so sweet I could taste it. The honey of your voice, I could fucking bathe in it. Just the sound of you speaking, knowing you were speaking to me. Really speaking to me.

In the flesh.

It’s intoxicating. It’s emboldening, it’s dangerous. I’ve never been more worked up in my life. I’m torn all to pieces from at two minute and 6 second conversation.

I think I’ll have to fucking recover from this like a damn hangover.

But what has me so drunk you might ask? Was it your laugh at my stupid jokes? Was it your perfect smile, your radiant glow, your soulful eyes? The softness of your skin or you willingness to let me touch you?

No baby. It’s how you said my name.

I wish I could’ve stayed longer, I wish I could’ve spoken to you more. But it’s so hard to concentrate when my dick is leaking precum down my leg at a rate that should probably be concerning.

The minute you closed that door I shoved those boxes into my apartment and locked the door. Took my elated ass straight to the couch and watched you in your living room, admiring your gift from me while I fucked my fist with a pair of your dirty panties in my mouth.

I couldn’t have your honeyed lips soothing my angry red cock just yet, but I sure as hell could imagine licking your gorgeous little cunt while I tasted you.

I tugged my balls and pumped my cock for over half an hour until I was a fucking mess for you in my new living room’s floor. The cool hardwood letting the heat from my flushed skin seep away from me as I came back down to earth.

I made myself dizzy. Didn’t give myself a break, didn’t slow down, just stroked my cock like the desperate little manwhore that I am for you. The only thing missing was you being there to watch me fall apart.

I think you’d like that wouldn’t you? Watching a man like me get on his knees and beg for you?

Diary Entry: July 29th

I’ve replayed that moment in my head for hours on end. The beginning always stays the same, but the ending… that’s been subject to many changes. It started off simple, we’d chat alittle longer, I’d ask you how your day was; you’d tell me it was ‘fine, thank you’.

Or you’d ask me why I decided to move in, why I chose this side of town, this side of town, this apartment building, across from you. That one always ended questionably and I’d rather not explore that one on paper.

My favorites however were the ones where you’d laugh at a stupid pick-up line and somehow we’d end up in your bed. The bed I’ve sat and watched you sleep in. Those were the best additions.

Now, I’ve been fortunate enough that you’ve been loyal, faithful and devoted to only me since the very beginning. So I don’t really have a clue what you’d actually be like in bed.

But god it’s so fun to imagine it.

You’ve got such pretty, soft skin. You let me mar it up with my teeth and soothe it with my tongue. You let me grip the pillowy flesh of your thighs to spread you open for me. You let me pinch and roll and pull your nipples until they were raw and begging for a break. You let me caress the sensitive slick covered folds between those beautiful pussy lips, plunge my fingers in as far as they’d go.

I took you from behind, watching your perky little ass bounce off my cock while I plowed into you. Your face smushed against the couch cushions and your body folded over the arm rest for me to fuck you like the good little girl that you are.

Against the wall with your arms around my neck while I’ve got my hands holding you spread open and in place by the crook of your knees. You promised you stay real still so that I could drill up into you like you deserved.

God damn. Do you know how good you look like that? Back arched against the wall, tits jiggling in my face with every thrust. Your legs pushed up and back to the sides of your torso, to pin you in place?

It was like a pretty pink flower had bloomed and spread its buttery smooth petals just for me.

Don’t even get me started on how good you suck cock. Have you ever been told you could be mistaken for a warm, wet Hoover? No? Didn’t think so cause that would be rude as hell, but I bet someone’s thought it before.

(Me. It’s me, I thought that.)

Fuck those soft lips. Fuck that smooth snake of a tongue. Fuck that tight, hot throat that just loves to take a beating from my dick.

Can’t wait to prove my imagination right.

Speaking of, my dick has been beat. Like actually. If one didn’t know any better they’d assume it’s on life support, but I’m a freak of nature. Cumming upwards of 16 times in the span of 40ish hours would probably put a weaker man in a hospital bed. Or maybe a psych ward.

But I am not a weak man even if my dick feels raw. I’d still fuck you if you asked.

I’d be curious to know if I’d be able to stave off cumming longer from all the abuse or if I’d be so fucking sensitive that I wouldn’t make it in half an inch.

Probably the latter.

Diary Entry: August 2nd

Being so close to you is killing me. Truly it is.

You’ve sunken your claws so deeply into my very soul and you don’t even realize it. It’s torture. To you, I’m just the new guy, nice dude who gave you a book. But to me? You’re my entire world.

I’ve been told I have the personality of a guard dog. Soft and squishy on the inside, dangerous and fierce on the outside. Which I suppose could be true, but really I think it’s for a different reason. For a human, a dog is one small but very impactful blip in your life. But for the dog? You are it’s life.

Am I comparing myself to a dog right now? Yes I am.

I’ll beg for you to throw me the scraps of your affections until you finally toss me a bone.

Bark.

🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤

I’ve been trying my best to give you space. To plan accordingly and in advance. I have our next two interactions simmering on the back burner.

I know that if I go too hard, too fast, you’ll be overwhelmed. That’s the last thing I want. I never want to be the thing that causes you stress, I want to siphon it from you. So, in one week I will set out to help you with a few of your errands and plant a few seeds.

But until then, we have late night snacks and couch chats with Boogie.

I’ve also been doing- you guessed it- more research to do with helpful vitamins and medicines. You’ve responded so well to your SleepyTime tea and since I’ve started making sure your birth control packet is plainly visible in the countertop basket directly beneath that cabinet, you’ve been taking it so well.

I’m so proud of you sweetheart, that’s my girl, look at you taking care of yourself. You’ve done so well in fact, that it’s in my personal opinion that you have earned a very special reward.

Anakin sat on his couch, the live feed of your living room screen mirrored to his Tv. He was watching you cook dinner, he knew you’d be making a stir fry. He’d seen it in your planner, so he’d taken the liberty of ordering himself the same, it’d be here any minute. As would your good friend Sam.

Anakin had originally burned red hot with jealousy at the thought of you inviting a man over to your apartment, that he hadn’t vetted via social media and a quick drop-in. But he was relieved to discover that Sam was just a girl from your book club.

This wasn’t one of his well thought out plans, this was decided upon this morning after you’d returned from book club. So, he was anxious to see if his hunches served him well. Sam seemed like a punctual gal, at least from what he’d seen on social media and the text messages between the two of you from weeks/months before.

Anakin had the wonderful idea to log into your cell service providers website to pull your deleted messages from their data bank. You really should have better passwords.

The thing he was most worried about was his door dasher arriving on time. It was rare that one was too far off on arrival time, but it would be his shit luck and lack of planning that could ruin this little glimpse of you.

The minutes ticked by and he was alerted to the new motion sensors he’d placed near the LED pathway lights on the paved entrance to the apartment building. He quickly switched over to the hallway feed at the front door, seeing that it was his door dasher.

Damn you Trevor. How dare you get there before Sam.

Not to worry, he’d call for the door code and Anakin wouldn’t answer the first time. It wasn’t much but it would buy him a few seconds.

Though it seemed to be that luck was on his side as it often was when it came to you. Sam was so kind, kind enough to let the delivery guy into the building. Which is technically a security concern but Trevor didn’t seem like the type of guy who’d be able to remember a 6 digit door code.

He was too busy staring at your friends ass to pay attention to the numbers she entered anyway.

The footsteps approached your door and his, Anakin waited until he heard Sam knock on your door before he opened his. Trevor stood patiently as Anakin slowly counted out his tip in cash and thankfully you were quick to let your friend inside. After the exchange was complete Anakin gave you a smile and wave.

He could’ve had a heart attack at the response you gave him.

A flirty little finger waggle and smile.

He had to remind himself to breathe and keep his expression a happy-neutral. He’d hate for you to see his blushing cheeks this early on.

“Have a good night girls.” He said as he closed his door and to his surprise you actually answered.

“You too!”

If he weren’t confident that you were a sweet and loving soul, he’d think you were trying to kill him with the siren song of your voice.

Stir fry had never tasted so fucking good.

Diary Entry: July 8th

Grocery day baby, here I come.

I love that you’re so predictable. I love that you’re so fucking cute and always try to strong arm your groceries in one trip. I love that it takes at least two good whacks to the trunk of your shitty old Nissan to properly close it.

It’s cute to watch you struggle with it, the annoyed huffs and angry scowl.

I thought you’d combust on the spot once when your paper grocery bag of flour and sugar ripped open and sent a plume of flour up on your black jeans. The parking lot was very empty and I was very glad because I’d hate for someone to have seen the cursing contest you had with yourself as you picked up your spilled items. Very unladylike you know. But it’s you so I don’t mind, I just like to hear you talk.

It’s almost time. I’ve been sitting in my car for about 10 minutes. Gotta account for the traffic on highway 76. Do you really have to shop all the way out there just because of the Whole Foods? C’mon baby they have the same shit at Kroger.

I’ve been watching your little blue dot on my phone and you’re rounding the corner so I’ll write you later doll.

I love you.

You pulled into the parking lot and sat in your car for a moment. Giving yourself the much need quiet to decompress from your work day and the grocery trip. After you’d checked your messages and scrolled for a moment you decided it was time to head inside before your frozen foods got… not so frozen.

You popped the trunk and fumbled with the faulty latch, your fingers feeling blindly under the metal lip until it finally detached and you were able to open the trunk.

You took a deep breath and scolded yourself for buying the extra few things that could’ve waited till next time. Second trips are for wimps and you weren’t one. So you loaded up your left arm bag by bag until you heard a humored puff of air and the beep of a car locking behind you.

“Need a hand sweetheart?” Anakin grinned, shoving his keys into his front pocket.

He waltzed over and took a few bags off your hands without waiting for a response. It took you aback, not because he hadn’t waited for permission, but because of the way he exuded an odd charm that made you falter.

“Anakin, really it’s alright I can get it.” You said, eyebrows furrowed together in confusion by his kind gesture.

“Mmm no, this seems like a two man mission sweet girl.” He smiled, gathering up a few the last few bags from the trunk and shutting it with one solid push.

“You really don’t have to-“

“I know I don’t have to.” He said tilting his head toward the apartment building to encourage you to walk with him. “I want to.”

“Thank you, that’s… thanks.” You smiled, a light blush creeping across your cheeks.

“Atta girl.” He chuckled, tapping in the door code and holding it open for you despite holding many more bags than you.

Something about the low tone of voice or maybe just the way he looked at you with his icey blue eyes… just sent a chill down your spine. A quick one that was gone in an instant, replaced by a warm glow in the center of your chest.

“Guess chivalry’s not dead.” You joked.

“I’m no knight.” He laughed, “but you’re sure as hell a princess.”

‘Oh that was smooth.’ You thought, trying to ignore the heat at the bottom of your stomach.

What is happening? How on earth can one man be so… everything? Kind, caring, chivalrous and gorgeous to boot.

You felt a wave of embarrassment at the squeaky giggle you let out. He had you tore up from one little comment.

True to the gentleman he seemed to be, he chose not to push it and tease you about your beet red cheeks. He just waited patiently for you as you unlocked your door.

“Do you want me to bring these in for you?” He asked, watching your movements closely.

“Oh that would be great.” You said in relief, leading him into your kitchen.

“Cute little place.” He said, looking around the kitchenette and over to the living room.

He sat down your bags on the counter and started unloading them neatly into rows.

“Oh, you-“

“Mmm mmm.” He shook his head with a smirk, “Just let me help, it’s no big deal.”

You let out a puff of air in an amused sort of amazement and pulled out your little step stool to open up the cabinets. Anakin snickered from behind you as you stepped up and started putting things away.

You shot him a glare over your shoulder and almost said something snarky until you realized he was folding your paper grocery bags in the same way that you always do.

“Huh.” You laughed. “I thought I was the only one who did that.”

“Did what?” He asked, his head cocked to the side.

“Fold the bags.” You said, turning back around to continue placing your things where they belonged.

“Oh,” he chuckled, “I dunno it’s just a habit I guess. Fits better in that stupid slot on the recycling bin this way.”

“Yeah I never really understood why they made them that way? I guess so people don’t just shove other trash in there.” You mused.

“Mmhm probably.” He agreed, stacking them neatly and gathering it in his hands. “Do you want me to take these out back for you?”

“I can do-“ You stopped yourself when Anakin raised his eyebrow and cocked his head to the side with a crooked smirk.

You sighed and gave him a downturned smile. “Yes, I would love for you to take them out back for me.”

“Good girl.” He nodded, clicking his tongue and heading for the door. “See ya princess.”

After he shut the door you let yourself breathe alittle easier, blowing out the air in a short puff through your nose. Maybe even letting a little smile cross your lips before you finished up your task.

You’d be thinking about that low rumble of his voice later. Good girl? Shit.

PART FIVE

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kedsandtubesocks · 5 months

Text

your heart, a sonnet

Author!Joel Miller x F!Reader

summary: you discover there’s more to your boyfriend than you realize

warnings/tags: 18+ ONLY MDNI, no outbreak/modern AU & Joel has both his daughters, surprise hidden identity reveal, grumpy but soft!Joel who has a secret love language of writing and love letters, mentions of unspecified age gap (reader’s age is not mentioned but Joel is older & in his 50’s), light discussion of reader and Joel’s insecurities, reader is addressed as darlin/honey/baby, a few spicy moments where Joel gets handsy

word count: 5.3k

a/n: I know, I know… this doesn’t seem like the typical Joel fic but i blame Pedro’s look at the Hollywood star walk of fame ceremony because it immediately made me think ‘oh that’s Joel’ and now here we are lol I couldn’t have done this without my forever babe @the-wild-wolves-around-you and i can’t thank her enough along with @ahauntedcowboy for always letting me scream about all my wild ideas, and now to you, if you’re reading this too I also can’t thank you enough ♡

You first met Joel at a bookstore.

The weekend after your birthday you went in to treat yourself and wandered into the records section of the store. As you flipped through the selections, the sudden sight of a Fleetwood Mac album had you inhaling sharply in surprise.

“S’good one.” That’s when the sudden smooth drawl of a southern accent floated out to you.

A few steps beside you stood an absolutely gorgeous man. The evergreen plaid button up shirt he wore flattered him as if it was made to be only worn by him. Rugged and distinguished, he seemed like a romance hero plucked straight out from one of the books among the shelves. You even blinked a few times wondering if he was real.

“If you don’t take it, might have to fight ya for it.” Even with his gruff low voice, an underlying teasing nature radiated friendly and light.

Now, many months later, a piece of you believes you might have fallen for him right then and there.

Joel is a rare beautiful soul of a man. He’s strong and a bit rough around the edges. He used to work as a contractor, even managed to build a very reputable business with his brother. His hard work remains effortlessly etched into his hands that now type editing books, his current job. He’s kind, so deeply loyal and loves fiercely.

With a yawn, you slip out of bed to pull on his cozy Texas longhorn shirt.

Heading downstairs, you walk among the clouds.

Instead of working at his office desk, Joel sits at the dining table typing away. Just seeing him wear his reading glasses sends a delicious desire trickling through you like a soft rain.

His dark earth eyes flicker up over the edge of his laptop and his gaze softens.

“Was wonderin’ when you were gonna wake up.” His wonderfully smooth as molasses voice makes you want to get caught up in its sticky sweetness.

“It’s not even that late. You’re one who woke up wanting to get work done on a Saturday.” You scoff playfully yet press your lips to his, a soft good morning greeting.

“Besides…who’s the reason I slept in so soundly, hm?” You smile against Joel’s lips that now twitch with a smirk.

His large warm hand slowly creeps up against your bare leg and rubs soft against your skin. After a few sleepy kisses, Joel’s tongue smoothly slips into your mouth trying to now consume you with a syrupy heat.

Joel pulls you down onto his lap. Your hands run up his chest to his cherub curly gray hair. His lips leave yours to start nipping at your jaw.

“What happened to working, cowboy?” You sigh softly.

“Come keep me company, darlin’.” He breathes out and any hope of maybe making breakfast is happily forgotten.

The rest of the morning unfolds at a nebulous pace you bask in.

When a late brunch is finished and you start cleaning up the kitchen, Joel’s warm solid hands map out your hips with other plans in mind. He slides behind you, a towering comfort that you lean back against.

“You’re extra handsy today Mr. Miller.” You tease.

“I can stop?” Joel offers while his scruffy beard scrapes a path against your skin. Against you, his broad shoulders, his wonderfully built frame, wraps you in his protective cover.

You hum a content no and move your hands over his now.

“Just wanna enjoy being with ya before I get busy.” Joel mutters while his hand slides down your cozy lounge shorts.

You had forgotten about his upcoming work plans.

You already want to mourn the impending weekend without him, but that can wait for another day. Especially when his thick fingers delicately, so sinfully, run up and down your underwear playfully touching you.

But then that weekend arrives and it brings a hollowness.

Lounging on the couch back at the apartment you share with your best friend, you force yourself not to text Joel again. He’s busy and you know this. So you vow to hold all your yearning and longing chained inside like a Jane Austen heroine.

“Are you done sulking?” Your best friend teases from the kitchen and you glare at her from the couch.

“I get it, being awake from your hunky handsome older boyfriend is hard. What will you ever do?” She snickers playfully. You’re tempted to throw the nearby couch pillows at her.

“What did you say his job was?” She asks.

“He used to be a contractor, but now he’s a book editor.” You answer.

“A hardworking hot Texas cowboy who reads and is a good man? Yeah, keep him locked up.” Your best snorts and you understand exactly what she means.

Fanged temptation claws at you more to text him again. Joel promised he would call you tonight and you don’t doubt him. But you didn’t realize how badly you’d missed him.

“Alright,” your best friend declares. “No more moping! I’m dragging you out with me to that book signing I’ve been talking about.”

She’s been obsessed with this apocalyptic novel series for so long. You happily tag along and even perk up when you see how excited she gets.

“And the author is finally doing a book tour! He’s kept his identity hidden this entire time so I wanna get a chance to maybe just even see him!” Your best friend gushes the entire time she drives you both to the bookstore the signing would be held.

Just so happens it’s the same bookstore where you first met Joel. A deep surge of affection swallows you whole and you float on blissful lovesick nostalgia.

Then the impressive line already waiting outside the front doors stuns you.

“I told you! It’s a big deal! Plus the series is so good.” Your best friend exclaims. She has been trying to get you into the series for a while.

The core of it focuses on two young girls who manage to survive an apocalyptic fungal zombie outbreak. The series follows the girls growing up, the journey to live with each other, and how it slowly bonds them as sisters.

“I heard they’re trying to make a Netflix series on it.” Your friend adds hopeful.

You can’t help but snag your best friend’s book copy she also hopes will get signed. Flipping through the front pages you land to the dedication page.

“To my baby girls, this will always be for you two.”

The author must have based the series on their daughters. That’s adorable.

Now curious, you flip to the first chapter.

“After seeing the end of the world, after witnessing the carnage of life consume itself, Ellie thinks she’s seen it all.”

Your best friend's sudden excited laugh pulls you out of the book. She’s talking with the other fans in line and you decide to join in.

Everyone discusses how worth the wait will be and how most of them even purchased the newest released book to make sure they reserved a slot for the signing.

“So why’s the author finally doing a face reveal?” You ask quietly not wanting to seem too out of place.

“So apparently,” your best friend begins in her hush about to spill the good gossip voice. “Some random ass moron on Twitter came out and said they were the true author. It became a whole messy issue of who it really was.”

Your best friend goes into more detail about how even a couple of online sites had articles on it.

“That’s awful.” You sympathize with the author. It must’ve been a headache trying to enjoy the peace of anonymity only for it becoming something used against them. You can only imagine how heartbreaking it was to see others steal and take credit for your work.

Like a surprise strike of lightning, an electric excitement suddenly breaks through the air.

Glancing up, you watch the line rapidly move towards the front doors. Time to go in.

Unfortunately, the main seating for the reading and q&a fills up fast. The bookstore though manages to wrangle the remainder of the crowd that can fit on the first floor towards a section where they can watch. It’s more than enough for your best friend who’s about to burst with anticipation. The buoyant commotion in the room even pulls you into its current and you get excited to see the new surprise author.

Soon a chic handsome older looking man, the moderator of the event, scurries to the front of the gathered group.

Warmly he begins the introduction to the writer.

First, writing sweet children’s books, stories for his daughters, those works became the author’s first publications. After that he navigated apocalyptic writing and his hit series has earned critical acclaim.

“Simply known as the anonymous writer J Miller. I’ve had the greatest pleasure to know this man as both his friend and now agent and I’m beyond proud to introduce him to you. Everyone please help me in welcoming J Miller!”

The thunderous applause and screams of excitement galvanize the entire room.

Then Joel walks out from the side.

Your heart instantly leaves your body.

For a moment you think your lovesick yearning heart has you slightly projecting Joel in any man you might see.

But the minute you focus, truly watch him slide into the chair, you see him.

Soft gray grown out curls, a strong beautiful nose, the patchy beard with the spots you love to kiss, and his reading glasses - the ones he’s so self conscious about because of how they make him look “so good damn old,” yet you love how they distinguish and elevate his appearance. You even remember the first time Joel wore them while he read waiting for you.

Truth makes its way into your heart.

It’s Joel.

The famous mystery author is your Joel.

“Thanks Frank.” And when he takes the mic, thanking his agent, his slick southern sunset voice melts the crowd.

“So, uh he’s gorgeous?!” Someone behind you squeals.

“Who would’ve thought he’d be this hot?!” Someone adds.

The whispers and mummers swarm like wasps buzzing all around you and you want to swat at them.

You can’t wrap your mind around this or the amount of emotions rushing through you. You feel separated from your body, floating detached from the scene and trying to gather yourself back.

Why didn’t he tell you?

Did he not trust you?

Joel suddenly laughs at something Frank says, that gruff wonderful laugh you hear after you show him a ridiculous video or his daughters tease him. It snaps you back into awareness.

“He’s about to read a section!” Your friend giddily whispers under her breath

Now you fully focus on this man, this almost stranger.

He’s so handsome it isn’t fair. He looks like a distinguished professor and your throat tightens seeing how broad his shoulders look in the dark casual suit jacket he wears.

“One of my favorite parts.” He admits quietly. “It’s when Ellie and Sarah realize they can make it outta Pittsburgh together.”

His daughters. He named his characters after them.

Joel clears his throat and begins.

He reads the passage with a magnetic cadence. The words slip from him like the smooth drink of whiskey that lingers on your tongue. When he finishes, an ache twists in your chest.

The applause he gets is shatteringly loud. The smallest bit of pride does float through you. But confusion drowns it out.

The floor now opens to quick questions. Some are about the book itself and the certain decisions made writing wise. Others are obviously about why he stayed hidden for so long.

That one perks you up quickly.

In such typical Joel fashion, he shrugs.

“Just couldn’t figure out Twitter, s’all.”

Everyone laughs at his playful reply and you do as well, but it sounds hollow and watery.

Soon enough the last question arrives.

“Do you ever see yourself writing for any other genres? I mean, we’ve seen horror and some moments of romance in the series. So I’m just curious if you’d write anything else?!” The lady asks brightly and now you simply settle your thoughts aside to listen.

Joel chuckes, a bit breathless and his gaze drops. This entire time he’s teetered between a sly southern charm that’s hypnotized you, to being guarded almost a bit nervous.

But now a boyishly hesitant grin falls over him and it’s so familiar.

”Uh, guess romance would be the next I’d maybe try.” He answers low, bashful.

The crowd erupts into fangirl like shrieks.

“Right?! I keep saying he doesn’t know the potential he has if he became a romance writer!” Frank, who has such a bright and lovely personality, adds.

Too many emotions clash in you.

You wonder if he wants to explore romance writing because of you?

Or a much harsher voice creeps out from the back of your mind whispering maybe you’re just being used for source material.

You quickly stomp those thoughts away.

The rest of the event shifts to the signing and you walk in a sort of guided daze.

“You okay?” Your best friend asks gently, noticing your slight mood change.

You don’t have the heart to tell her the truth yet. This was something she had been looking forward to and you didn’t want to ruin her excitement or experience. So you wearily just smile and tell her your head simply started hurting.

She sympathetically nods.

“Thankfully we won’t be waiting too long.” She adds and explains how the signing would be called by groups.

“We might not have gotten seats, but we did manage to sneak into group A for the signing.” She grins proud and it lifts your spirits.

The line curls against the sides of the bookshelves blocking your view of Joel. It becomes both a blessing and a curse.

Maybe you should wait in the car for his and your sake?

However, something inside you slightly bitter, raw and wanting answers, decides to stay. Besides you, your dear friend tries to keep herself calm but you can sense her bubbling nervous energy.

“I’d be calmer if he wasn’t so damn attractive.” She hisses and a jealous flare gently rises in you.

“Just think,” you reassure her. “He’s probably just as nervous as you.”

The relieved comforted grin she gives you makes staying worth it. But then all of that flies out the window the closer and closer you get to Joel.

Petrified dread claws its way in when you realize your best friend is next in line.

“He looks kinda familiar now that we’re closer.” The casual comment your friend says makes your heart sink.

“Maybe.” You mutter.

The times Joel has been to your place your roommate, your best friend, has been either at work or sleeping. You can only think of the first instant you introduce Joel to her when he picked you up on a date.

Your eyes flicker straight to Joel.

His hair seems so perfectly curled and his dark jacket highlights his wonderful grays.

Thankfully, any discussion of who he might look like gets squashed because your best friend gets called next in line. She turns to you squeaking excitedly and you beam back bright.

Joel lifts his eyes up, like a true southern gentleman wanting to give someone his full attention.

You wait on the side and watch the interaction unfold. Joel chuckles at something your best friend says and you’re glad she’s enjoying herself.

The book signing is done so fast. In a blink, it’s finished. With her newly signed book, your friend turns to you. She makes a slightly embarrassing but endearing noise of excitement that has you laughing.

That’s when your eyes flicker over to Joel and your gaze locks with his.

Instantly, Joel’s handsome face drops. His gorgeous earth eyes widen as he immediately recognizes you. His mouth falls open slightly and a flash of something close to fear fills the depths of his eyes.

He breathes out your name on a shaky exhale.

Everything seems to slow and stop. You don’t know what to say. So all you do is weakly smile.

The fleeting moment fades. The next group in line already giggles moving towards the table.

Time’s up. Turning on your heels to leave with your friend, Joel calls out to you, calls your name.

“Wait!”

You freeze.

Glancing back at him, Joel’s eyes pin you on the spot. An unspoken heaviness hangs in his deep eyes while he stares intently at you.

“It’s okay, we’ll talk later.” By some strange possession of slight bravery, or maybe delusion, you manage to speak.

But it’s all you can say and it’s all you can do before Frank, Joel’s agent, slides in to whisper something to him.

The moment again shatters.

Your best friend however grills you the rest of the day

That’s when you pull out your phone. You show her a photo you secretly took of Joel. It’s one where he’s adorably glaring at his ipad while he tried ordering take out for dinner.

Your best friend shrieks. “He’s your boyfriend?!”

He is.

Your boyfriend, Joel, is a writer, a very famous best selling author.

And that weight yanks you under a dangerous current you can’t seem to swim against.

Even after lunch, even getting back to your apartment and trying to settle your thoughts, your emotions are still so tangled.

You mindlessly scroll through your phone for the rest of the day and a blink, you notice it’s already early evening. Your plan to stay sulking is ruined when your phone starts ringing so loud.

It’s Joel.

“Hello?” You answer as composed as you can.

“Darlin?” His beautiful rich voice sounds hesitant and guarded.

“Hi.” You reply back quietly.

“Can we talk?” He asks just as low.

You agree, expecting to have the discussion on the phone. Except a knock taps on your apartment door and scares you right out of your body.

Ever proactive, ever the man who takes action, Joel stands waiting for you when you open the door.

You’re thankful more than ever that your best friend went to the gym for the evening.

“Wanna sit outside for a bit? Maybe get some air? S’really nice outside today.” He offers gentle.

He’s breaking up with you. That’s what your mind jumps to.

At least the weather is surprisingly kind this early evening.

You’ve sat out here on your apartment’s decent sized balcony with Joel before. But now the energy between you and him shifts strangely.

The sky stretches above a soft sherbet orange. A breeze comes, thankfully not too cold, but you think about maybe heading in to grab a blanket.

Joel however quickly slings off his jacket and drapes it over you. Always the gentleman.

The smell of his cologne, so comforting and masculine, wraps around you like a cloud.

You thank him with a soft small smile and Joel nods. Then he sighs and leans forward on the folding chair.

“Always loved the outdoors.” He begins, a small olive branch of a conversation to break the tension. “The girls and I love hiking the trails out by the lake. You ever been?”

You shake your head no.

“Maybe one day we can all go together.” The comment holds hope, a delicate thread of it. Yet you catch the hesitation.

Your eyes flicker to him, confused and cautious.

“Wait, you aren’t breaking up with me?” You blurt out, maybe just wanting to get it over with. You hate the way your voice cracks slightly.

Joel, with his beautiful concerned wide eyes, snaps his face to you.

“What? Honey no. Thought maybe you’d be the one maybe tryin’ to break up with me.” Joel, who Sarah jokes about how some of their neighbors question if he’s perpetually grumpy, stares at you with a tenderness that melts you to your core.

You can’t help but laugh watery.

“Why d’ya think I’d want to end things with you?” He asks patiently.

You can think of so many.

He’s a famous writer who’s about to maybe become an online sensation. He’s older than you, wiser and seasoned. He’s a full on father with young teenage daughters.

So you reveal your heart to him and all the fears that dwell in its shadows. You wipe away a few tears that manage to spill out.

Joel moves to hold your hands in his, a guarded warmth and protection keeping you stable.

With a heavy sigh, Joel’s attention fully focused on you.

“Honey…I’m so sorry for not telling you about my work, about me, sooner.” He earnestly apologizes and his words drip with comforing earnesty.

Now his gaze drops down to where your hand sits in his.

“Didn’t want it complicatin’ things with us. I knew I had to tell you eventually. But really…I was worried you’d see me differently once you knew. I know I don’t seem like the writin’ type anyway.” He mutters and you miss the hint of embarrassment coloring his tone.

You squeeze his hands.

This could never make you look at Joel in a negative light. If anything, you now feel proud knowing he’s a writer. You do explain your worries though and the ache you felt knowing he kept his from you.

“I know darlin’ and I promise,” he squeezes your hands now. “No more secrets between us.”

“You…us…means more to me than you’ll know.” He adds and you draw his hands up to your mouth.

You kiss his worn hands, his hard working beautiful hands that now move to hold your face so tenderly in their grasp. His thumb strokes your bottom lip delicately as if you’ll disappear from his sight.

“Can I kiss ya baby?”

You nod and in that same breath Joel pulls you towards him. He kisses you light, delicate enough that you feel so precious and treasured within his hold.

It seems like such a simple small kiss but it soaks into your bones.

You have so many questions. And as much as you’d like to make out with your boyfriend on the balcony, you’d like answers.

So you pull away and stand up.

Joel looks adorable as confusion paints his face.

“Don’t worry I’m just getting us a blanket.” You grin at him as you sling on his jacket claiming it as your own.

Blanket in hand you now curl up with him in the lawn chair, thankful for its sturdiness and cozy size. Your heart soars at how quickly Joel pulls you into his arms and basically onto his lap.

It feels like it’s been months since you’ve last been with him, or maybe that’s just how exhausting today was.

Joel sighs content and pleased once you fully rest against him. Hesitantly you ask if it’s okay if you can talk about him, about his work.

“Ask away honey. I’ll tell ya everything n’ anything.” He says firm.

You grin and your thumb starts stroking the back of his hand.

“So what made you decide to reveal yourself now? I heard there was an issue about someone saying they were you?” You ask, thinking of the discussions earlier with your best friend.

“Yeah..” Joel now sighs tired with an ancient weariness that settles over his handsome face.

“Sarah was the one who saw it first on Twitter or wherever it was.” He adds with a grumble.

Your heart aches knowing one of the girls saw it first.

“Didn’t help either that I ain’t online. So it became a whole fuckin’ mess we had to deal with it a couple months back.”

A light bulb goes off inside your brain.

“Was that when you said you had to visit a family friend out of town?” You connect the dots.

“Yup.” Joel nods. “Went to visit Frank, my agent, to try and figure this shit out. Could’ve let it all maybe die down but… ya know.” He huffs and you understand completely.

Joel is too stubborn, a bit too prideful. You almost snort amused just over the thought of him trying to let the situation blow over.

“Frank wants to meet ya by the way.” Now his voice dips with a bashful tone while his hands begin softly stroking your thighs.

“I’d love to meet him too.” You truthfully tell Joel.

“So, are you going to be online now? Should I start making secret accounts to follow you?” You now tease and Joel barks a beautiful amused laugh.

“Baby, I’m over 50. The only apps I need on my phone are candy crush and ESPN. Ain’t got the time or patience for social medias.”

Now you’re the one laughing.

It feels freeing, blissful, like this is the first moment you’re spending time with him all over again. Yet, there’s a deeper sacred connection that settles.

You can’t help but kiss him again and Joel eagerly welcomes you on his lips.

Now his lips move fervently, almost possessively, against yours, licking and trying to consume you. A small moan squeaks out of you.

“Come on baby,” he mutters, shifting you against his lap so that you fully feel his hardness straining against his pants. “Wanna taste ya.”

You’re thankful you manage to drag him back inside because you can’t imagine getting intimate with Joel on the balcony. Well, at least not yet. But that was a thought for another day.

Now in the afterglow’s soft relaxing peace you wish for more time with him.

But Joel must sense that ache too.

“S’late honey. Come back home with me. Even if it’s just for the night.” He mutters against your lips and you can’t deny him. You don’t want to deny him or the aching tug pulling you to him.

That night you fully embrace every inch of the man Joel Miller is and let a dizzying adoration for him swallow you whole.

The next morning, in the soft early still dark shade of his room, Joel wakes you with a tender kiss to your forehead.

“Gotta go meet with Frank for the day. I’ll see ya later, honey.” He mutters against your cozy heated skin.

You hum a soft agreement and sleepily wish him a goodbye before falling back to sleep. After that, you wake up later to a colder and empty bed.

Tugging on another one of Joel’s shirts you head downstairs already missing his presence.

And when you get downstairs, there on the table sits the most gorgeous floral arrangement. Its beautiful vibrant blooms make your heart flutter so fast against its cage.

A folded paper sits beside the flowers. Your name is written on the front in Joel’s slightly chicken scratch like handwriting.

You scramble fast to grab it.

A letter, he’s written you a letter.

“Honey,

I know I’ve already apologized and you’ve forgiven my old undeserving ass.”

You snort at that line but continue on.

“But I just wanted to fully apologize to you again. Might take me a while until I stop, but just be patient with my old bones yeah?”

You would. Your heart would and will always wait for him.

“Doesn’t seem like it but, I aint that good at talking about things, about my feelings. Shocker right?”

You smirk. You know he isn’t good with words - that’s why it almost feels ironic and a bit unreal that he’s an author.

You’ve discovered Joel shows his affection through his actions.

He spent an entire day rearranging a business scheduling conflict just so that Tommy didn’t have to worry about it. Joel never missed a single one of Ellie’s basketball games. Sarah only prefers a certain type of orange juice and Joel never fails to only get that one.

The first few weeks you started dating Joel you got sick with a nasty cold. He dropped off a whole bag of various items like tissues and cough drops. It was then you knew his heart shines through his actions.

He sometimes surprises you with an order from your favorite take out spot. He never lets you touch a door, always opening them for you instead. He’s the most generous lover and never fails to remind you of how tender, how consuming, his passion can be.

Joel does grumble, sometimes even seems grouchy, but he loves fiercely.

And now here he is showing you this side of him, this form of himself as a writer.

So you return to reading his letter.

“I got into writing because it helped me process all my emotions, my thoughts, the good and bad days - everything. And sharing my writing with others, especially with someone as important as you, still makes me feel so vulnerable. Funny how that worked out though huh? Guess fate wanted to drag my ass and make me face my fears and vulnerability and whatnot.”

Someone as important as you - The line makes your heart flutter.

“I know I told you the reasons why I didn’t tell you. But another reason was because I was afraid.

I was afraid of how much you mean to me. Telling you about this part of me would be taking a bigger step. And it scared me shitless. Cause darlin’ I haven’t felt this way in a very long time. Like, as Ellie loves to say, in such a long time that ‘dinosaurs weren’t even fossils.’

That makes you laugh a bit watery but you let his words carry you again.

“You make my damn heart race when you smile. I get so worked up just seeing you walk around my house as if you were always meant to be here. And I didn't want to lose that either. I still don’t.

You feel like a bright future, like waking up after a cloudy week and the sun greets you so nicely. And I just wanna stay in that warmth, your warmth.

Yeah sorry, that line might be too romance novel writer for my league…but like I said I’m thinking about it. And it’s because of you.

We said no more secrets yeah?

So I’m not lying when I say you’ve become so god damn important to me. And I wanna see more days with you, as many as you’ll have with me.

Fuck. This damn letter already feels too long and I hate my old ass for rambling and maybe not making sense. But I adore you honey. Plain in simple.

And I’m just gonna leave it at that.

Don’t miss me too much and I’ll see you soon.

P.S I picked that bookstore as the tour’s first stop here because it’s where I met you… and I’ll always be grateful for that

-Joel”

You now fight back an absolute ocean’s worth of adoration for this man.

Tears clog your throat and you try not letting them flood your vision, but it’s so hard. So hard when you’re this head over heels.

You don’t want to say it yet, and you don’t know if he’s even ready to say it, but the emotion filling you like a newborn star feels like love.

You barely manage to send out a text thanking him and hoping you’ll get to talk to him soon.

Joel, ever the endearing man he is, replies back with a simple heart emoji and you laugh.

You really might love this man.

And you hope, you so brightly hope, that he maybe loves you too.

You think of his book series, of how he became a writer simply wanting to tell his daughters stories. Those stories grew out of his love for them and now he gets to crystallize that among his pages.

You realize how writing truly is its own form of love.

After all, what better way for a writer to show their love, their heart, than to capture you in their words?

You think that’s where writers must live now, in the heart. Or maybe - your maybe gruff handsome one just does. And you happily welcome Joel’s place in yours and hope he resides there forever like a love poem etched into your very soul.

#hello hi if you read this know me and author Joel are writing you a love letter #Joel miller x reader #joel miller x f!reader #author!joel miller #Joel miller fic #Joel 🤎

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revehae · 4 months

Text

all the rage

pairing ↠ nerd!mark x (f) reader

genre .. warnings ↠ smut, dubcon, nerd!mark, virgin!mark, coercion/blackmail, unprotected sex, nonconsented recording, oral, implied bimbo!reader

summary ↠ mark is sick and tired of being ignored by you and only being worthful when you need to get your homework done. meanwhile, you don’t hesitate to flash your body to any stupid jock. so, he cooks up the perfect plan - blackmail.

wc ↠ 4.5k

a/n ↠ part 3/5 of the college-capades series!

don’t like it, don’t read.

it was never difficult for mark, or any other student, to conclude whether or not you’d walked into a room. either there would be a crude cacophony of whistles from boys or none too subtle whispers from girls that wrenched their faces in contempt.

mark wanted to give them all, man or woman, a very large, unforgiving piece of his mind. the men that sat there, laughing and smirking amongst themselves, lusting over what should’ve only been his. the women that rolled their eyes and blatantly disrespected you to obscure their own insecurities.

still, you never paid those girls even half the mind they were indebted to you, parading over to a popular athlete it was no secret most girls would sell an arm and a leg for and sitting squarely on his lap. like clockwork, the chosen boys would drape you in a blanket of attention, and you’d do something adjacent to giggling and leaning flush against their chests. whereas mark was left in the corner of the room to sulk and brood, never afforded more than a cute smile and a compliment. the sight of you with other men filled him with unadulterated jealousy and rage.

this week, it was jung jaehyun you were after like a pack of hyenas, the captain of the basketball team. only a couple of weeks before, it was lee jeno, the star player of the hockey team.

it felt as if you were deliberately spreading your legs for anyone that wasn’t mark, making it a point to remind him that he was just a tool in your pocket. he beat his brain out trying to decipher why it was that you’d yet to have given yourself to him. he knew it was not because you were apparently friends. you had fucked anyone from your friends to even your eng lit professsor.

it wasn’t like your qualifications extended only to athletes, and even if they did, mark was literally a member of the basketball team. maybe it was because he was something of a nerd, never not found with his nose in a book, but mark had proven himself more useful to you than any of the undeserving boys you’d given chances to. when he tutored you and let you borrow his notes, all he received was a thank you and a grateful kiss to the cheek. but had anyone else lent you a favor - or even looked at you a certain way - your mouth would fall much, much lower.

today, you’d been clinging to jaehyun, laughing at seemingly every little thing he said. the sight of you together, your bodies so close and jaehyun’s hand at your very exposed thigh, ignited white hot rage within mark, though he willed himself to remain calm. he was clever and that was his advantage. you’d never see his plan coming, and then you would have no choice but to be his.

unbeknownst to you, mark had overheard your conversation with professor kim doyoung the other day, not failing to note that he had a special meeting scheduled with you. you were so busy, like one dick would never be enough for you. as soon as mark knew, he hid a camera in the office, and there was only a matter of time before you fell desperately into his clutches.

that was why when he saw jaehyun in the locker room that day, and overheard his teammates talking about you, mark breathed with more ease and less ire, for the most part tuning out their conversation.

johnny pulled out his phone and called his teammates around to take a look. “look at this fucking bimbo.”

one of them, haechan, grinned mischievously and nudged jaehyun in the side. “yo, you tap that yet, jay?”

jaehyun chuckled, replying, “nah, but she gave me top in the back of my car. took that shit like a champ. she said she’ll let me hit if we win tonight, though.”

jaemin snorted and said, “pfft. i bet she’d fuck you even if we lose. but i know one thing - a slut like that is getting it from somewhere else if she’s waiting that long.”

when mark saw that picture of you on johnny’s phone, everything else became white noise. he was trying not to grow hard at the sight of you, though judging from their dialogue, his fellow teammates were obviously a hell of a lot more shameless. he shoved the thought of jaehyun fucking you out of his brain, only tantalized by thoughts of him and you.

that night, they won.

you were walking around with a limp to your steps the following day, giddy and carefree. mark could only guess why, but he refused to think of you with anyone that wasn’t him. he was a man on a mission.

when mark approached you, you blinked in surprise, johnny, though shot him an inviting smile. more often than not, you tended to forget he was even there. he was always in his own little world. you greeted, “hi, markie. can i help you?”

mark cleared his throat and realized that he probably should have planned what he was going to say in advance. being so close to you never failed to make his brain slam on the brakes. “i, um, have to show you something.”

you cocked a brow. “like what?”

“it’s a secret,” mark insisted, sheepishly rubbing the back of his neck. “will you come with me?”

you shrugged. “sure.” as far as you were concerned, you’d gauged mark to be relatively harmless.

mark gave you a bashful little smile, and you grabbed your bag before leaving, letting him lead the way. whatever he had in store for you, you were none the wiser.

mark was fighting a sly little grin. so far, so good. if all went smoothly, it would only be the two of you at the dorms for a while, meaning mark could do as he pleased. sure, a college dorm wasn’t the ideal place to hook up with you for a number of reasons, but he knew that he would have you nice and controlled in a matter of moments.

in the corridor, you clung to mark’s side, resting your head against his body, and broke the silence to remark, “you smell good.”

mark, flushed, stammered, “thank you.”

you stifled a snicker. it was no secret that mark had something of a crush on you (as many boys did), and you enjoyed stirring reactions out of him every once in a while. he had always been shy, but whenever you came into the equation, it was like his whole system shut down. needless to say, you found it cute.

though inside mark’s head, none of it was ever enough for him. he didn’t see it as you innocently flirting with him. he took it as you toying with him, poking fun at him. like you were trying to ridicule him by shoving his reactions in his face and tell him that that was why you never gave him the time of day. he was just a pawn in an even bigger game, but not anymore. all of that came to an end today.

mark unlocked the door and took you to his room. you took a couple of glances around the place as you walked through the hallway. it was empty.

sitting your bag down on his bed, you asked sweetly, “so, what did you have to show me?”

you were a little surprised, and confused, when mark pulled out his phone of all things. he simply shoved it in your face and his tiny smile dropped when he asked expressionlessly, “is this you?”

your eyes flickered. to your horror, it was a video of you getting railed by doyoung in his office. you remembered feeling inexplicably watched, but doyoung had taken no risks when it came to getting caught, because he had a career at stake. your face was very clear in the video, lips parted while you moaned your professor’s name, and to make matters worse, his voice was audible, doyoung growling, “keep clenching around my dick like that and you’ll never fail another test.”

mark chuckled at the sight of the blood draining from your face, the realization settling in, and he asked, “wouldn’t it be funny if the whole school got this video?”

you reached out, trying to grab the phone, but mark lifted it over your head.

“ah, ah, ah,” he sang, taunting. “this is mine.”

you cried out, “mark, you can’t show this to anyone!”

“well, no, actually. i think i can,” mark hummed, pretending to ponder his options. “there’s many different ways. i could post it on a website, you know. title it ‘young whore gets railed by her own professor.’ or i could send it in the team group chat and let them do all the heavy lifting.”

you fell down to your knees, tears in your eyes as you crouched before him and begged, “mark, please. i just wanted to get a good grade. i’ll do whatever you want, just please don’t show anyone. this will ruin me.”

that piqued mark’s interest. “whatever i want?”

you bobbed your head, wiping tears from your face with the back of your hand, and traveled your hand up his leg as you realized he was already pathetically hard. “is there anything i can… help you with?”

mark sat at the edge of his bed, grunting, “take a wild guess.”

you knew what that meant, lifting your hands to remove his pants. mark helped you take off his underwear, bundling at his ankles with the rest of his clothes. his hard cock stood thick against his stomach, desperately angry too, just like the rest of him.

mark watched you lick a stripe down your hand before grabbing his cock in your fist, stroking him up and down. after imagining this moment for a thousand days and a thousand nights, his bare cock in your skilled hands, his dreams were finally becoming a reality. there were many times in the months that mark had been silently aching for you that he fisted his own cock, pretending it was you.

“fuck,” mark groaned, eyes closing.

part of him was in disbelief. this whole time, all it took was a little blackmail to get you on your knees for him? had he known that, mark would’ve done this a hell of a lot sooner.

then, you darted your tongue around his slit, bringing it down to lick at his shaft and tongue his balls. mark grabbed a fistful of your hair and locked it in place behind your head, not only to keep it out of your face, but to have something to anchor himself with when he felt as if he was going under.

and with your experience, that would happen a lot of times.

it was almost like you were pulling out all of the stops to convince him not to circulate that video of you, and judging from the desperate look in your eyes, mark pieced together that it may have not been too far from the truth. he wondered how many other guys had seen you truly desperate, not just the little shows you put on to get your way. you treated men like toys and the world like your personal playground, where boys were your subjects to bend and twist however you pleased, because you took your power from making them need you.

but mark was certain that he was the first to have the upper hand over you, something you didn’t have leverage over. everybody knew of your sexcapades with boy after boy, but only because they were always verbally spread. never had anyone seen physical proof of these little trysts, other than your little limps when you got fucked too hard.

mark wanted that. he didn’t want anyone to see your body so exposed, but he wanted everyone to know that he’d finally conquered you, and he wanted you to be unable to deny it. he wanted to fuck you so vigorously that you wouldn’t even be able to walk for the next couple of days.

you could keep a secret if you really wanted to. given the amount of times he had tutored you for a number of different courses, he was certain that doyoung couldn’t have been the only professor you fucked. having a brain just wasn’t something little whores like you were good at. mark would take good care of you if you kept pleasing him like this, and only him. you would never need another man as long as you had him to do your bidding.

there was a lewd, wet sound when you finally sucked mark’s cock into your mouth, followed by a shaky exhale of your name coming from his end. he yanked at your hair just a little, met with a muffled noise against his cock. “fuck, you’re so good at this,” mark hissed.

you only hummed because there was nothing that you could say with the tip of his dick hitting the very back of your throat. your mouth was so warm, so wet, mark couldn’t help but utter a string of profanities, stammering, “fuck,” over and over again. when you were in the picture, his genius brain couldn’t function, especially not enough for a broad vocabulary.

while one hand was tangled in your hair, mark kept his other hand bunched at his sheets, gripping them for dear life. yours were at his thighs, supporting you while you bobbed your head up and down his shaft, your pretty lips tight around his cock. his roommate wasn’t supposed to be back for a few hours and mark hoped it stayed that way, because he planned on taking his time with you.

too many months had been spent pining lostly for you, amounting to nothing in your life and hardly even being spared a glance in his general direction. for a few hours at the very least, he had you all to himself, and he was going to make sure that when you left, you would never forget him.

after he was done collecting his long overdue, much-needed apology in the form of your mouth bringing him to climax. and it wouldn’t be long before you finished him, because mark could feel himself inching closer and closer to climax the longer you warmed his size.

he started to rock his cock into the back of your throat, ruining the careful pace you’d set and grabbing a hold of the reins, fucking your mouth however he liked. you took it eagerly, struggling, but eager nonetheless.

your grip on his thighs tightened, as if you would slip away from the force of his erratic thrusts against your poor mouth. you knew your throat was going to be so hoarse by the end of it all and mark would fold the second he heard your weak voice.

the chants of your name and deep curses got louder, more repetitive as mark continued to use your mouth to get off. you started to gag, but the feeling, combined with the misty look in your eyes, did nothing but encourage mark’s movements and spur him on.

his pace got rougher. the clasp on your hair was unrelenting. his thrusts lost all rhythm, sporadic as they could ever be, until you heard the anticipated prolonged stretch of, “shit,” and all his movements came to a complete standstill. his cum painted the back of your tongue and you made your best effort to swallow it all, gulping it back as quickly as it came. literally.

when he released your hair, you pulled back, your chest heaving while you watched mark try to blink the dazed look out of his eyes. you were the first girl to give him head and it enraged him to think that jaehyun had a similar experience in the back of his car, because though you were the first mark ever had, he was also certain that you would be the best.

your eyes were widened and you played coy, asking demurely, “did i do okay?”

“fuck,” was all that mark could say, back dropping against the mattress. you’d officially sucked the soul of him.

that was answer enough. you wiped some remaining drops of semen from your mouth with the back of your hand and rose from your knees. mark had your entire future at the palm of his hands right now and you were completely at his mercy, so you figured it was in your best interest to be meek. “is there anything else i can do, markie?”

mark scanned you with his eyes, observing you from head to toe. your voice was definitely a little raspy from how far he had shoved himself down your throat and he loved every second of it. all the proof that you’d taken him.

you gasped out when mark grabbed you by the throat and whipped you onto the mattress, hovering over you. you got whiplash from how jarring it was. you were accustomed to the shy, reticent mark that couldn’t even look you in the face for too long without spluttering. “you’ve done enough,” mark said. “just lie here and stay still.”

you bobbed your head, in no position to complain. he could ruin your life and your professor’s in just a few clicks, and that was enough to terrify you into compliance, although you didn’t express how genuinely fearful you were.

mark released your throat, crawling between your legs. you were wearing this tiny fucking miniskirt and it made him so horny he got sick. the audacity of you to walk around like this, turning heads and turning people on. you instinctively spread your thighs for him, a gesture that made mark scoff, and he hardened again at the sight of your damp thong.

fuck, you must’ve really wanted him, too. just sucking dick got you aroused like that? of course, it did. you were the biggest fucking slut the campus’s ever known.

“shit,” mark whispered, touching you through your panties. you were his fantasy.

mark slipped your thong to the side, just wanting to stop and marvel at the sight of your pussy before he stuffed you full of his cock and went to town. your panties, damp as they were, kept clinging to your skin. your folds were wet and he couldn’t help but want a little taste, basking in the noise you let out when he started to lick at your pussy.

all he could hear was your airy breathing and the sound of him tonguing your cunt while your thighs tried to squash his head. he even didn’t mind it. the only thing mark cared about in that moment was savoring the taste of you.

“mark-ie,” you moaned, threading your hands through his hair.

the sound of you calling out his name, that fucking nickname you loved to taunt him with, made his cock throb and twitch against the side of his bed. you were just so enticing.

“gonna fuck you now,” mark announced, separating from your cunt.

you whined, “hurry.”

you were raising your hips, impatiently waiting to feel his touch on your skin again. mark was quick to line himself up at your entrance, steering his hard cock deep inside your cunt with one thrust. you cried out that stupid fucking nickname again while he watched with fascination how you swallowed him whole.

your pussy felt just as warm as your mouth, but tighter. mark couldn’t wrap his head around how you squeezed him, kneading his cock, wet little noises coming from your cunt with every motion of his hips. you were better than anything he could have ever imagined and this was just the beginning.

“you’re so much bigger than i thought,” you whispered, intending to keep the little confession to yourself, but it was out before you could put a lid on it.

that was conflicting to mark. on the one hand, it enraged him to a capacity beyond being fathomable. you thought he was small? but on the other, it confirmed that you did think about him, and it gave him such an ego boost to know that you thought he was big.

mark couldn’t help but ask, “am i bigger than professor kim?”

“thicker,” you exhaled, breathless.

mark would take it. he wanted so badly to be unforgettable. you never returned to your little playthings after you’d had your fun with them. he wanted to be the one you couldn’t resist crawling back to, the one that made you feel so much ecstasy that you couldn’t find anything like him anywhere else.

it was over once mark found his pace, fucking into you with a steady rhythm. his hands had a borderline bruising grip at your thick hips, fingers finding purchase there. his airy whines were so cute and his breathy grunts were so deep, both of which had you tightening uncontrollably.

it drove mark past the threshold of insanity. he was so angry that you hadn’t given yourself to him sooner, that he was only now getting a slice of what should’ve been his eons ago.

as soon as tomorrow, you would probably be on another dick, moaning another man’s name, and he couldn’t stand the fucking mental picture he got. his only option was to take out all his pent-up frustrations on you. given that you were the root of them, the direct cause of the ache and rage broiling inside his chest, it was only reasonable and fair.

“gonna make you mine,” mark said, the pleasure spreading through him so badly that he couldn’t help but stammer.

you didn’t miss a beat. “i’m already yours.”

mark howled, feeling as if he started to sweat harder just from you uttering those three words. it was pathetic how effortlessly you could wreck him, and you were so aware of your power, so cocky. he would allow it. as long as he got what was his, all else failed to matter.

matter of fact, mark failed to think of anything that wasn’t in regard to you. he had a thousand different problems in his life and all of them melted to the warmth of your touch, succumbing to the pressure pulsing around his cock. loans didn’t matter. his stupid fucking roommate didn’t matter. none of his assignments mattered. when it came to you, mark got tunnel vision.

there was pleasure etched across your face and mark loved every inch of it. he loved that he was making you feel as good as he felt. you couldn’t even deny it. you were the opposite of still, the one thing he told you to do, but again, he would allow it.

mark was so deep inside that it was probably mind-numbing. “markie,” you whimpered out, gasping for air.

“mark,” he corrected with a growl, snapping the band of your thong against your skin. he was tired of that nickname. it felt infantilizing. he doubted that you called jaehyun jaehyunie.

you choked out, “mark.”

that was much better, but the damage was already done. mark was pissed. he’d been dreaming of how exactly he would fuck you ever since he watched that video of you and doyoung (of course, he couldn’t not watch you get railed into oblivion, no matter how much it irked him) and now that he was balls deep inside you, you were still finding ways to get on his nerves.

mark grabbed you by the throat again, making your eyes widen. his grip wasn’t crushing, he cared about you too much to really hurt you, but it was tight enough. “i don’t understand you,” he hissed. “you fuck a new guy almost every fucking day, whether it be for fun or because you owe them a favor, but ignore me. you ignore me, after everything i’ve done to help you.”

“i’m sorry, mark,” you rasped, grinding your hips against his.

“no the fuck you’re not,” mark snapped. “you know how i know you’re not? because you don’t care about anything but having that dumb pussy fucked. you’d rather die than have to use that brain.”

mark didn’t miss the way you whimpered and clenched around his dick, and if anything, it made him shake his head. he was fucking you brutally and yet you couldn’t help but get off like the little whore everybody knew that you were.

he lifted up your the tight tee you wearing, the one he could see your nipples through (mark tried to ignore this for both of your sake), and sucked your breast into his mouth. you moaned, placing a hand comfortably on his head while he sucked at your nipples.

and things stayed like that for a while, almost sweet, depending on who you asked. but the heat building to a peak in your stomach was only festering and you couldn’t control the whines that frequently escaped you.

“mark,” you called out. he didn’t budge, didn’t move from your chest. “mark, i’m so close.”

mark lifted his head at that, dragging, “shit.”

you needed to cum so badly. if he wanted you to beg, you would if that was what it took. “please make me cum, mark. please, make me cum…”

all mark did was curse and swear, and your eyes were on his face, watching every word part his delicate lips. you’d seen his face tense with pleasure and fell in love with the sight, like that itself was getting you there.

and it did.

there was a final, loud cry of mark’s name when you climaxed, your eyes rolling back with pleasure and your fingers digging into the sheets. mark had sat here so many times on this very bad, jacking off to the thought of you, and now he was getting you off.

it was something straight out of his dreams. he couldn’t help but cum, grinding to a halt and unleashing his load inside of your pussy. he couldn’t stop himself from whining your name, grabbing onto your hips while you bled him dry of all of his cum for a second time. he always had more than enough for you.

for a moment or two, the two of you only stayed there. neither of you moved. his head rested against your chest, hearing and feeling your ragged breaths. when you finally remembered why you’d agree to all of this in the first place, you asked softly, “you aren’t going to show anyone, right?”

mark shook his head, murmuring into your neck, “your secret’s safe with me.” for now.

you released a little breath, which felt easier now, despite the weight on your chest.

when mark at last pulled out, he slipped your panties back in place, preventing his cum from leaking out of your cunt where he patted you with two fingers. “keep it there,” he said, stern.

you blinked, but the gaze in his eyes said that he was purely serious. maybe someone would see you leaving his dorm with his cum drizzling down your legs.

and they would know who you belonged to. mark was getting hard again just thinking about staking his claim to you. she’s all the rage, he thought. and she’s all mine.

#tw: dubcon #tw: coercion #mark lee smut #nct dream smut #nct 127 smut #mark smut #nct dream hard hours #nct smut #nct 127 hard hours #nct hard hours #revehae fics

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mostlysignssomeportents · 3 months

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Conspiratorialism and the epistemological crisis

I'm on tour with my new, nationally bestselling novel The Bezzle! Catch me next weekend (Mar 30/31) in ANAHEIM at WONDERCON, then in Boston with Randall "XKCD" Munroe! (Apr 11), then Providence (Apr 12), and beyond!

Last year, Ed Pierson was supposed to fly from Seattle to New Jersey on Alaska Airlines. He boarded his flight, but then he had an urgent discussion with the flight attendant, explaining that as a former senior Boeing engineer, he'd specifically requested that flight because the aircraft wasn't a 737 Max:

https://www.cnn.com/travel/boeing-737-max-passenger-boycott/index.html

But for operational reasons, Alaska had switched out the equipment on the flight and there he was on a 737 Max, about to travel cross-continent, and he didn't feel safe doing so. He demanded to be let off the flight. His bags were offloaded and he walked back up the jetbridge after telling the spooked flight attendant, "I can’t go into detail right now, but I wasn’t planning on flying the Max, and I want to get off the plane."

Boeing, of course, is a flying disaster that was years in the making. Its planes have been falling out of the sky since 2019. Floods of whistleblowers have come forward to say its aircraft are unsafe. Pierson's not the only Boeing employee to state – both on and off the record – that he wouldn't fly on a specific model of Boeing aircraft, or, in some cases any recent Boeing aircraft:

https://pluralistic.net/2024/01/22/anything-that-cant-go-on-forever/#will-eventually-stop

And yet, for years, Boeing's regulators have allowed the company to keep turning out planes that keep turning out lemons. This is a pretty frightening situation, to say the least. I'm not an aerospace engineer, I'm not an aircraft safety inspector, but every time I book a flight, I have to make a decision about whether to trust Boeing's assurances that I can safely board one of its planes without dying.

In an ideal world, I wouldn't even have to think about this. I'd be able to trust that publicly accountable regulators were on the job, making sure that airplanes were airworthy. "Caveat emptor" is no way to run a civilian aviation system.

But even though I don't have the specialized expertise needed to assess the airworthiness of Boeing planes, I do have the much more general expertise needed to assess the trustworthiness of Boeing's regulator. The FAA has spent years deferring to Boeing, allowing it to self-certify that its aircraft were safe. Even when these assurances led to the death of hundreds of people, the FAA continued to allow Boeing to mark its own homework:

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Q8oCilY4szc

What's more, the FAA boss who presided over those hundreds of deaths was an ex-Boeing lobbyist, whom Trump subsequently appointed to run Boeing's oversight. He's not the only ex-insider who ended up a regulator, and there's plenty of ex-regulators now on Boeing's payroll:

https://therevolvingdoorproject.org/boeing-debacle-shows-need-to-investigate-trump-era-corruption/

You don't have to be an aviation expert to understand that companies have conflicts of interest when it comes to certifying their own products. "Market forces" aren't going to keep Boeing from shipping defective products, because the company's top brass are more worried about cashing out with this quarter's massive stock buybacks than they are about their successors' ability to manage the PR storm or Congressional hearings after their greed kills hundreds and hundreds of people.

You also don't have to be an aviation expert to understand that these conflicts persist even when a Boeing insider leaves the company to work for its regulators, or vice-versa. A regulator who anticipates a giant signing bonus from Boeing after their term in office, or a an ex-Boeing exec who holds millions in Boeing stock has an irreconcilable conflict of interest that will make it very hard – perhaps impossible – for them to hold the company to account when it trades safety for profit.

It's not just Boeing customers who feel justifiably anxious about trusting a system with such obvious conflicts of interest: Boeing's own executives, lobbyists and lawyers also refuse to participate in similarly flawed systems of oversight and conflict resolution. If Boeing was sued by its shareholders and the judge was also a pissed off Boeing shareholder, they would demand a recusal. If Boeing was looking for outside counsel to represent it in a liability suit brought by the family of one of its murder victims, they wouldn't hire the firm that was suing them – not even if that firm promised to be fair. If a Boeing executive's spouse sued for divorce, that exec wouldn't use the same lawyer as their soon-to-be-ex.

Sure, it takes specialized knowledge and training to be a lawyer, a judge, or an aircraft safety inspector. But anyone can look at the system those experts work in and spot its glaring defects. In other words, while acquiring expertise is hard, it's much easier to spot weaknesses in the process by which that expertise affects the world around us.

And therein lies the problem: aviation isn't the only technically complex, potentially lethal, and utterly, obviously untrustworthy system we all have to navigate. How about the building safety codes that governed the structure you're in right now? Plenty of people have blithely assumed that structural engineers carefully designed those standards, and that these standards were diligently upheld, only to discover in tragic, ghastly ways that this was wrong:

https://www.bbc.com/news/64568826

There are dozens – hundreds! – of life-or-death, highly technical questions you have to resolve every day just to survive. Should you trust the antilock braking firmware in your car? How about the food hygiene rules in the factories that produced the food in your shopping cart? Or the kitchen that made the pizza that was just delivered? Is your kid's school teaching them well, or will they grow up to be ignoramuses and thus economic roadkill?

Hell, even if I never get into another Boeing aircraft, I live in the approach path for Burbank airport, where Southwest lands 50+ Boeing flights every day. How can I be sure that the next Boeing 737 Max that falls out of the sky won't land on my roof?

This is the epistemological crisis we're living through today. Epistemology is the process by which we know things. The whole point of a transparent, democratically accountable process for expert technical deliberation is to resolve the epistemological challenge of making good choices about all of these life-or-death questions. Even the smartest person among us can't learn to evaluate all those questions, but we can all look at the process by which these questions are answered and draw conclusions about its soundness.

Is the process public? Are the people in charge of it forthright? Do they have conflicts of interest, and, if so, do they sit out any decision that gives even the appearance of impropriety? If new evidence comes to light – like, say, a horrific disaster – is there a way to re-open the process and change the rules?

The actual technical details might be a black box for us, opaque and indecipherable. But the box itself can be easily observed: is it made of sturdy material? Does it have sharp corners and clean lines? Or is it flimsy, irregular and torn? We don't have to know anything about the box's contents to conclude that we don't trust the box.

For example: we may not be experts in chemical engineering or water safety, but we can tell when a regulator is on the ball on these issues. Back in 2019, the West Virginia Department of Environmental Protection sought comment on its water safety regs. Dow Chemical – the largest corporation in the state's largest industry – filed comments arguing that WV should have lower standards for chemical contamination in its drinking water.

Now, I'm perfectly prepared to believe that there are safe levels of chemical runoff in the water supply. There's a lot of water in the water supply, after all, and "the dose makes the poison." What's more, I use the products whose manufacture results in that chemical waste. I want them to be made safely, but I do want them to be made – for one thing, the next time I have surgery, I want the anesthesiologist to start an IV with fresh, sterile plastic tubing.

And I'm not a chemist, let alone a water chemist. Neither am I a toxicologist. There are aspects of this debate I am totally unqualified to assess. Nevertheless, I think the WV process was a bad one, and here's why:

https://www.wvma.com/press/wvma-news/4244-wvma-statement-on-human-health-criteria-development

That's Dow's comment to the regulator (as proffered by its mouthpiece, the WV Manufacturers' Association, which it dominates). In that comment, Dow argues that West Virginians safely can absorb more poison than other Americans, because the people of West Virginia are fatter than other Americans, and so they have more tissue and thus a better ratio of poison to person than the typical American. But they don't stop there! They also say that West Virginians don't drink as much water as their out-of-state cousins, preferring to drink beer instead, so even if their water is more toxic, they'll be drinking less of it:

https://washingtonmonthly.com/2019/03/14/the-real-elitists-looking-down-on-trump-voters/

Even without any expertise in toxicology or water chemistry, I can tell that these are bullshit answers. The fact that the WV regulator accepted these comments tells me that they're not a good regulator. I was in WV last year to give a talk, and I didn't drink the tap water.

It's totally reasonable for non-experts to reject the conclusions of experts when the process by which those experts resolve their disagreements is obviously corrupt and irredeemably flawed. But some refusals carry higher costs – both for the refuseniks and the people around them – than my switching to bottled water when I was in Charleston.

Take vaccine denial (or "hesitancy"). Many people greeted the advent of an extremely rapid, high-tech covid vaccine with dread and mistrust. They argued that the pharma industry was dominated by corrupt, greedy corporations that routinely put their profits ahead of the public's safety, and that regulators, in Big Pharma's pocket, let them get away with mass murder.

The thing is, all that is true. Look, I've had five covid vaccinations, but not because I trust the pharma industry. I've had direct experience of how pharma sacrifices safety on greed's altar, and narrowly avoided harm myself. I have had chronic pain problems my whole life, and they've gotten worse every year. When my daughter was on the way, I decided this was going to get in the way of my ability to parent – I wanted to be able to carry her for long stretches! – and so I started aggressively pursuing the pain treatments I'd given up on many years before.

My journey led me to many specialists – physios, dieticians, rehab specialists, neurologists, surgeons – and I tried many, many therapies. Luckily, my wife had private insurance – we were in the UK then – and I could go to just about any doctor that seemed promising. That's how I found myself in the offices of a Harley Street quack, a prominent pain specialist, who had great news for me: it turned out that opioids were way safer than had previously been thought, and I could just take opioids every day and night for the rest of my life without any serious risk of addiction. It would be fine.

This sounded wrong to me. I'd lost several friends to overdoses, and watched others spiral into miserable lives as they struggled with addiction. So I "did my own research." Despite not having a background in chemistry, biology, neurology or pharmacology, I struggled through papers and read commentary and came to the conclusion that opioids weren't safe at all. Rather, corrupt billionaire pharma owners like the Sackler family had colluded with their regulators to risk the lives of millions by pushing falsified research that was finding publication in some of the most respected, peer-reviewed journals in the world.

I became an opioid denier, in other words.

I decided, based on my own research, that the experts were wrong, and that they were wrong for corrupt reasons, and that I couldn't trust their advice.

When anti-vaxxers decried the covid vaccines, they said things that were – in form at least – indistinguishable from the things I'd been saying 15 years earlier, when I decided to ignore my doctor's advice and throw away my medication on the grounds that it would probably harm me.

For me, faith in vaccines didn't come from a broad, newfound trust in the pharmaceutical system: rather, I judged that there was so much scrutiny on these new medications that it would overwhelm even pharma's ability to corruptly continue to sell a medication that they secretly knew to be harmful, as they'd done so many times before:

https://www.npr.org/2007/11/10/5470430/timeline-the-rise-and-fall-of-vioxx

But many of my peers had a different take on anti-vaxxers: for these friends and colleagues, anti-vaxxers were being foolish. Surprisingly, these people I'd long felt myself in broad agreement with began to defend the pharmaceutical system and its regulators. Once they saw that anti-vaxx was a wedge issue championed by right-wing culture war shitheads, they became not just pro-vaccine, but pro-pharma.

There's a name for this phenomenon: "schismogenesis." That's when you decide how you feel about an issue based on who supports it. Think of self-described "progressives" who became cheerleaders for the America's cruel, ruthless and lawless "intelligence community" when it seemed that US spooks were bent on Trump's ouster:

https://pluralistic.net/2021/12/18/schizmogenesis/

The fact that the FBI didn't like Trump didn't make them allies of progressive causes. This was and is the same entity that (among other things) tried to blackmail Martin Luther King, Jr into killing himself:

https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/FBI%E2%80%93King_suicide_letter

But schismogenesis isn't merely a reactionary way of flip-flopping on issues based on reflexive enmity. It's actually a reasonable epistemological tactic: in a world where there are more issues you need to be clear on than you can possibly inform yourself about, you need some shortcuts. One shortcut – a shortcut that's failing – is to say, "Well, I'll provisionally believe whatever the expert system tells me is true." Another shortcut is, "I will provisionally disbelieve in whatever the people I know to act in bad faith are saying is true." That is, "schismogenesis."

Schismogenesis isn't a great tactic. It would be far better if we had a set of institutions we could all largely trust – if the black boxes where expert debate took place were sturdy, rectilinear and sharp-cornered.

But they're not. They're just not. Our regulatory process sucks. Corporate concentration makes it trivial for cartels to capture their regulators and steer them to conclusions that benefit corporate shareholders even if that means visiting enormous harm – even mass death – on the public:

https://pluralistic.net/2022/06/05/regulatory-capture/

No one hates Big Tech more than I do, but many of my co-belligerents in the war on Big Tech believe that the rise of conspiratorialism can be laid at tech platforms' feet. They say that Big Tech boasts of how good they are at algorithmically manipulating our beliefs, and attribute Qanons, flat earthers, and other outlandish conspiratorial cults to the misuse off those algorithms.

"We built a Big Data mind-control ray" is one of those extraordinary claims that requires extraordinary evidence. But the evidence for Big Tech's persuasion machines is very poor: mostly, it consists of tech platforms' own boasts to potential investors and customers for their advertising products. "We can change peoples' minds" has long been the boast of advertising companies, and it's clear that they can change the minds of customers for advertising.

Think of department store mogul John Wanamaker, who famously said "Half the money I spend on advertising is wasted; the trouble is I don't know which half." Today – thanks to commercial surveillance – we know that the true proportion of wasted advertising spending is more like 99.9%. Advertising agencies may be really good at convincing John Wanamaker and his successors, through prolonged, personal, intense selling – but that doesn't mean they're able to sell so efficiently to the rest of us with mass banner ads or spambots:

http://pluralistic.net/HowToDestroySurveillanceCapitalism

In other words, the fact that Facebook claims it is really good at persuasion doesn't mean that it's true. Just like the AI companies who claim their chatbots can do your job: they are much better at convincing your boss (who is insatiably horny for firing workers) than they are at actually producing an algorithm that can replace you. What's more, their profitability relies far more on convincing a rich, credulous business executive that their product works than it does on actually delivering a working product.

Now, I do think that Facebook and other tech giants play an important role in the rise of conspiratorial beliefs. However, that role isn't using algorithms to persuade people to mistrust our institutions. Rather Big Tech – like other corporate cartels – has so corrupted our regulatory system that they make trusting our institutions irrational.

Think of federal privacy law. The last time the US got a new federal consumer privacy law was in 1988, when Congress passed the Video Privacy Protection Act, a law that prohibits video store clerks from leaking your VHS rental history:

https://www.eff.org/deeplinks/2008/07/why-vppa-protects-youtube-and-viacom-employees

It's been a minute. There are very obvious privacy concerns haunting Americans, related to those tech giants, and yet the closest Congress can come to doing something about it is to attempt the forced sale of the sole Chinese tech giant with a US footprint to a US company, to ensure that its rampant privacy violations are conducted by our fellow Americans, and to force Chinese spies to buy their surveillance data on millions of Americans in the lawless, reckless swamp of US data-brokerages:

https://www.npr.org/2024/03/14/1238435508/tiktok-ban-bill-congress-china

For millions of Americans – especially younger Americans – the failure to pass (or even introduce!) a federal privacy law proves that our institutions can't be trusted. They're right:

https://www.tiktok.com/@pearlmania500/video/7345961470548512043

Occam's Razor cautions us to seek the simplest explanation for the phenomena we see in the world around us. There's a much simpler explanation for why people believe conspiracy theories they encounter online than the idea that the one time Facebook is telling the truth is when they're boasting about how well their products work – especially given the undeniable fact that everyone else who ever claimed to have perfected mind-control was a fantasist or a liar, from Rasputin to MK-ULTRA to pick-up artists.

Maybe people believe in conspiracy theories because they have hundreds of life-or-death decisions to make every day, and the institutions that are supposed to make that possible keep proving that they can't be trusted. Nevertheless, those decisions have to be made, and so something needs to fill the epistemological void left by the manifest unsoundness of the black box where the decisions get made.

For many people – millions – the thing that fills the black box is conspiracy fantasies. It's true that tech makes finding these conspiracy fantasies easier than ever, and it's true that tech makes forming communities of conspiratorial belief easier, too. But the vulnerability to conspiratorialism that algorithms identify and target people based on isn't a function of Big Data. It's a function of corruption – of life in a world in which real conspiracies (to steal your wages, or let rich people escape the consequences of their crimes, or sacrifice your safety to protect large firms' profits) are everywhere.

Progressives – which is to say, the coalition of liberals and leftists, in which liberals are the senior partners and spokespeople who control the Overton Window – used to identify and decry these conspiracies. But as right wing "populists" declared their opposition to these conspiracies – when Trump damned free trade and the mainstream media as tools of the ruling class – progressives leaned into schismogenesis and declared their vocal support for these old enemies of progress.

This is the crux of Naomi Klein's brilliant 2023 book Doppelganger: that as the progressive coalition started supporting these unworthy and broken institutions, the right spun up "mirror world" versions of their critique, distorted versions that focus on scapegoating vulnerable groups rather than fighting unworthy institutions:

https://pluralistic.net/2023/09/05/not-that-naomi/#if-the-naomi-be-klein-youre-doing-just-fine

This is a long tradition in politics: hundreds of years ago, some leftists branded antisemitism "the socialism of fools." Rather than condemning the system's embrace of the finance sector and its wealthy beneficiaries, anti-semites blame a disfavored group of people – people who are just as likely as anyone to suffer under the system:

https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Antisemitism_is_the_socialism_of_fools

It's an ugly, shallow, cartoon version of socialism's measured and comprehensive analysis of how the class system actually works and why it's so harmful to everyone except a tiny elite. Literally cartoonish: the shadow-world version of socialism co-opts and simplifies the iconography of class struggle. And schismogenesis – "if the right likes this, I don't" – sends "progressive" scolds after anyone who dares to criticize finance as the crux of our world's problems as popularizing "antisemetic dog-whistles."

This is the problem with "horseshoe theory" – the idea that the far right and the far left bend all the way around to meet each other:

https://pluralistic.net/2024/02/26/horsehoe-crab/#substantive-disagreement

When the right criticizes pharma companies, they tell us to "do our own research" (e.g. ignore the systemic problems of people being forced to work under dangerous conditions during a pandemic while individually assessing conflicting claims about vaccine safety, ideally landing on buying "supplements" from a grifter). When the left criticizes pharma, it's to argue for universal access to medicine and vigorous public oversight of pharma companies. These aren't the same thing:

https://pluralistic.net/2021/05/25/the-other-shoe-drops/#quid-pro-quo

Long before opportunistic right wing politicians realized they could get mileage out of pointing at the terrifying epistemological crisis of trying to make good choices in an age of institutions that can't be trusted, the left was sounding the alarm. Conspiratorialism – the fracturing of our shared reality – is a serious problem, weakening our ability to respond effectively to endless disasters of the polycrisis.

But by blaming the problem of conspiratorialism on the credulity of believers (rather than the deserved disrepute of the institutions they have lost faith in) we adopt the logic of the right: "conspiratorialism is a problem of individuals believing wrong things," rather than "a system that makes wrong explanations credible – and a schismogenic insistence that these institutions are sound and trustworthy."

If you'd like an essay-formatted version of this post to read or share, here's a link to it on pluralistic.net, my surveillance-free, ad-free, tracker-free blog:

https://pluralistic.net/2024/03/25/black-boxes/#when-you-know-you-know

Image: Nuclear Regulatory Commission (modified) https://www.flickr.com/photos/nrcgov/15993154185/

meanwell-packaging.co.uk https://www.flickr.com/photos/195311218@N08/52159853896

CC BY 2.0 https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by/2.0/

#pluralistic #conspiratorialism #epistemology #epistemological crisis #mind control rays #opioid denial #vaccine denial #regulatory capture #boeing #corruption #inequality #monopoly #apple #dma #eu

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ctinalk · 4 months

Text

Is Crowley already the new Supreme Archangel?

A few oversights made millennia ago, and suddenly we have a demon archangel on our hands.

Caution: I came up with and wrote this in the last few hours so potentially crackpot theory ahead. Apologies if this has been proposed before, it’s not one I’ve seen. And I’ve seen A LOT.

So supposedly the miracle Aziraphale and Crowley performed together was something only the mightiest of archangels could have done. Everyone assumes it was Crowley because they think he was a high ranking Angel formerly. Or that it was the two of them together. Or that Jimbriel amplified it. But what if…

“There is always a supreme archangel”

Michael says this in S2E1 when talking with Uriel about who is in charge now that Gabriel was missing. Gabriel was removed from office in the trial we hear, he’s no longer Supreme Archangel. If so, Michael’s statement would imply that as soon as Gabriel’s removal happened, a new archangel already existed. Now obviously the Metatron is making a show of choosing Aziraphale as the new Supreme Archangel. But is that within his power to do so? Or is he suggesting working with Crowley for a different reason, possibly unknown even to him?

“I am the only first-order archangel in the room, or you know, the universe”

During the “2nd Armageddon-that-wasn’t” discussion, Gabriel says these words. As he says them, it cuts (ominously isn’t the right word here, pointedly maybe?) to Crowley leaning against the desk, and lingers there just a bit too long.

“How do you know it wasn’t me?”

Another clue to the powerful angel Crowley was. It was clearly said in a teasing manner throw Shax off. But much like the barrel of red herring in the intro, is it a red herring to something else?

“Can you send lightning bolts and get them to report back to you?”

The only other time we see someone calling lightning or using it is, you guessed it: Gabriel in S1 on the airbase to port in and out. I’ve read the theory that Angel!Crowley was the lord of lightning, which I’m not opposed to, but to me this is another link.

“Never change their passwords”

We have one HUGE instance of Heaven being sloppy in their record keeping (passwords), and lax in their security protocol (Crowley bopping about with Muriel). Whereas Hell is meticulous in their record keeping, as shown by the bills, admissions process, and S1 contract.

So what if: when Gabriel was stripped of the title, a new Supreme Archangel was automatically appointed. Except instead of someone else, because heaven neglected to double-check their logs after The Fall, Crowley was still on the books as next in line? This would absolutely play into “God playing games with the universe” and “just think what would have happened if we’d been at all competent” themes running through both seasons. It would also follow the theory that people noticed Aziraphale and Crowley were on the “wrong” side for much of the season. It would also explain a few continuity errors along the way (how did Crowley know Muriel’s rank? He knows it through the knowledge automatically given to the Supreme Archangel).

“Funny ol’ world, isn’t it?”

Caveats and potential weaknesses:

I have no idea how this fits into the fact that S3 will be the actual continuation the Neil and Terry planned, as to my knowledge S2 was essentially a “Neil’s chaotic angsty ineffable husbands fanfic”. But clearly S2 has to play well into the plan for S3. I also kind of hate my theory because Crowley specifically declined to be an angel again, and his hand has been forced too often already.

Now I am a staunch advocate of the body-swap theory, and I’m not sure how this would play into that. Does Metatron know? Does he think he has the power to appoint? Does he think the title went to Aziraphale because of the miracle? Does he try to get Crowley to come back with Aziraphale to exploit his power? Does he know about the body swap in S1 and if so, was he trying to trigger another one to get the right “soul” to heaven?

There are a few other things I haven’t figured out how to incorporate into this post yet. I’ll try to put them into coherent thoughts in the next few days, but thought I’d throw this to the wolves universe for the time being.

Thought 1: “How have your lot managed to stay in charge all this time?” “I’m not so sure we have.”

Thought 2: I need to do (another) rewatch before I nail this one down (such a sacrifice I tell you), but does Crowley have a visceral reaction like he does in S1 to being called “good” in the current, post Gabriel-removal timeset? Obv in Edinburgh/Job, but that’s in the past. He denies it, sure (with Jim), but he straight up flashes a smile and thanks Mrs. Sandwich when she says “You’re a good lad” (after the denial).

2.1: No one calls him “good” in present day except these two instances. Vast difference in the visceral reactions of season 1 and flashbacks.

Thought 3: Crowley is the only one who can trigger Jimbriel’s recall memory.

#good omens #good omens theories #good omens season 2 #good omens s3 #good omens meta #crowley #angel!crowley #supreme archangel Crowley

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johnbassplayercutie · 3 months

Text

Man-U-Lip-U-Lator

Warnings: 18+, manipulation, fem!reader x stephen glass

Word count: 1.6k

Summary: You work with Stephen, and after a few times of hearing his stories at weekly meetings, you grow suspicious of him. You stay late one day at work when it's just you and him there after everyone's left. Your plan is to interrogate him or at least figure out if he's really telling the truth. You notice he gets up to print some stuff in the printing room and decide on snooping through his things in his office. Once finding incriminating evidence that suggests he's faking everything, he comes back catching you sifting through his stuff (aka his little black book from the movie with all his "info" in it lmao).

part one ♡

— — — —

Stephen finishes up collecting his printed copies and walks back to his office. He's too preoccupied to notice that you’re missing from your own.

Stephen enters, gripping his copies tightly and stands frozen in shock at you leaning over his messy desk of papers.

"What are you doing?!" He whines loudly, noticing you holding his little planner, open to a random page.

You whip your head to the office door and almost yelp out at his sudden appearance. It's too late now to back out.

"You've been lying, haven't you?" You state matter-of-factly rather than a simple question.

"What are you talking about?" Stephen questions as he feigns ignorance to the topic, "Give me back my planner, that's important for my sources!"

"Yeah, yeah. Your sources." You rolled your eyes and finger quoted sarcastically.

"Look, if this is about if Dave ever picked up from the Hackers Organization, I already gave Chuck the correct phone number. I got it confused with another one of my sources." Stephen tried to derail the topic.

"Stephen, I know you’ve been lying. And that goes for the Hackers Organization, too." You state, crossing your arms and holding his planner close.

You know he would try to snatch it at any chance if it means saving his ass from being fired. There was no way you'd let him get the satisfaction.

"Are you mad at me?! Did I do something wrong?" Stephen questions worriedly, "I swear I just made a few mistakes with the details, but I gave Chuck all the correct information!" He babbles on with an anxious tone and demeanor.

His attitude begins to make you falter. Maybe it's all just in your head and you're jealous of his success. You almost feel bad for him, he's practically about to beg on his knees.

No, no, no, snap out of it! You were sure of it.

Stephen steps closer to you, obviously trying to get his planner back. You distance yourself from him but back up into his computer, knocking over his pencil holder on the desk, the contents spilling all over the floor.

"Y/N, watch where you're going! You could've deleted the files on my computer, they’re important!” He whines out like usual. You scramble to the floor, attempting to pick up the scattered pencils whilst placing his planner down beside you.

Stephen eyes his planner down beside you but keeps up with the manipulation tactics. He’s hoping he will dissuade you from what he knows is the truth. He kneels down, helping you pick up the pencils off the floor and returning them into the holder. Stephen stares at you intently before speaking, sure of himself that this lie will work.

"Look, if you really don't believe me, you could always come over to my apartment," You meet his eyes, confused as to how that could even be a solution. He continues on and notices you're not buying it before quickly conjuring up more lies with ease, "I have the cassette tape recordings of my sessions with the Hackers Organization. I could play it for you if you don't believe me. I even have tapes from other editorials I did."

You ponder if he could be really telling you the truth. It wouldn't really hurt to try and hear him out. You still have his planner and you could use it against him as blackmail if all proves false.

"Okay....but if you're lying about this, then I'm going to report you to Chuck. I have this to prove otherwise,"

You reach to grab the planner but notice that it's not where you placed it. You panic internally but try to act calm, then noticing Stephen is grasping the planner for his dear life. You flicker to his hands and his knuckles are white and veins strained.

His eyes meet yours and you can almost see him smirk. Almost.

Damn it.

"Look, I really don't like the way you're treating me. I feel really attacked!" Stephen states, getting suddenly defensive and angry.

"I'm not– I-I just want what's best for our readers and everyone working here." You say softly, feeling put on the spot as he scolds you.

"You're one of my editors! You're supposed to support me, but you're taking Chuck's side over mine!" He raises his voice again, visibly upset, chest rising and falling in agony.

He looks sad, tears forming in his eyes, but something is off. He quickly falters, and you can see him forming a shy smile.

"If you really don't believe me, you can come listen to the cassette tapes..." He says softly and shamefully, like someone denied him of something meaningful. He completely avoids the fact that he just took the notes, spoiling your plans of questioning him.

You have no choice but to do as he says. Your only solution from this disaster was that note planner.

"Alright, fine. Let's go before it's too late. I have more important things to do than deal with this all night." You say exasperated, urging him to grab his things and get this over and done with. The sooner you can hear or not hear these tapes, the closer you are to deciding Stephen's fate.

Stephen takes the planner and stuffs it into his leather briefcase, zipping it up. He can't risk you snatching it away from him again.

He returns to his usual chirpy self, babbling on about random facts, talking about things in his office or his apartment. It's like whatever outburst he had a few minutes ago never happened.

He glances over at you, keeping a close eye on you as he puts his arms through his suit jacket. His gaze is intense and you feel the butterflies in your stomach. The urge to look away is becoming strong but his eyes lure you in. You flush red in the face and suddenly you’re squeezing your thighs together. Only a look from him and you’re already wet.

Stephen’s eyes flicker down, noticing your tension before he looks back to your face, biting his lip knowingly.

You have to admit Stephen was always handsome. You've always kept a watchful eye on him at work, only solidifying the fact. There's no denying that you may have a crush on obsession with him. How else would you suspect he was lying when all you do is eavesdrop and watch him?

Stephen gives a small smile as he adjusts his collar, walking up to you. You feel your heart begin to race at his closeness. He leans in closer, reaching an arm around you. You can hear your heart stop for a second.

A second later, the click of the mouse awakens you from a daze. You can hear his slow breathing next to your ear as he's against you, trapping you against the desk. He whispers softly in your ear, "Just have to save my work and turn off the computer before we go." You can hear him grin before clicking the power button and moving back to face you.

You're in shock at the proximity between the two of you. Your mind is misfiring, confused as to where the shy and boyish Stephen had run off to. No, he was right in front of you...right?

"Stephen, I–" You're about to speak but no words come to mind. You sigh quietly as his hand grazes against your hip, steadying you against his desk.

He quirks a brow, urging you on to continue. He's pleased, his smile coming through as he resists doing so.

"Uh—nevermind." You falter before looking anywhere but at him. His face is so close you could kiss him.

"Okay," He pulls away and shrugs. He's smiling now, flickering his eyes away playfully before turning toward the door. "You should probably grab your coat." Stephen walks over to the chair and grabs his briefcase and coat, waiting for you by the door. His finger rests on the light switch, ready for you to exit his office first.

You're blushing and it's clearly obvious now that he's got you in his trap. You turn to him before walking out his door, "I'll be right back."

You grab your coat and purse and quickly flick off your office lights, closing the door behind you. Stephen's waiting for you by the elevator at the end of the room. As you slip into your coat, Stephen is facing the elevator before turning to you as you approach his side.

"You, first." He states as the door slides open, his gaze holding yours with intensity.

taglist: @nananooti @haydensbbg

#stephen glass x reader #stephen glass smut #stephen glass x you #stephen glass fic #hayden christensen smut #hayden christensen x you #hayden christensen x reader #hayden christensen x fem!reader #part 1 #hayden christensen #shattered glass

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the-ace-with-spades · 11 months

Text

When Ice and Mav actually moved in together for the first time (after dodging it for about five years) when Mav had to take in Bradley, Ice found pretty soon that Bradley and Mav had no sense of safety --- would always forget to lock the door, either while leaving the house for the day or retiring for the night.

So he installed locks that would lock automatically as soon as the door shut.

Of course, Mav and Bradley didn't remember to lock the doors because they didn't remember to take the keys with them. One can imagine this becomes a problem.

After the twentieth time Bradley biked from school only to wait three hours for Mav, and then another two to wait for Ice because Mav also forgot his keys, Bradley decides to do something about it.

He's very much Mav's kid so instead of doing the normal thing and making key copies and putting them in some secret spots/his locker room, he decides he's just going to learn to pick locks.

It's the nineties so he basically just goes to a locksmith and asks if he can buy some tools off him and the guy is so fascinated by this scrawny thirteen-year-old who wants to learn to pick locks to break into his own house, he not only teachs him basics but also gives him lock picking mags and a book.

So Bradley learns on old locks and bike chains and then one day, he forgets the keys and breaks into their own house. It happens again and again.

Mav finds out when he picks Bradley up from the principal's office one day and arrives at the house to promptly realize he didn't take his keys in the morning. He asks Bradley if he has the keys, he doesn't, and Mav just gets fed up because there's no way they're waiting six hours until Ice comes back so he has to go back to base.

Bradley makes a deal with him. "If I get us inside, you won't ground me."

Obviously, Mav agrees. And Bradley picks the lock.

And like, Mav probably shouldn't indulge this, but it also means he doesn't have to worry about carrying keys again so, yeah, he buys Bradley a new lockpicking mini tool belt. And Bradley gets even better at it.

One day, Ice is supposed to be at home the whole day, brought a suitcase full of confidential documents with himself, the type that has both a lock and a code, and tells Bradley to tell Mav he's only going to be at the office fifteen minutes tops, he'll be home the whole day, please don't blow a gasket Mav. Bradley asks why, Ice explains he forgot the goddamn key for the suitcase and Bradley is like, "If I can open it, can you buy me that keyboard before my birthday?" and for funnsies, Ice agrees.

Before he finishes saying, "This is government property, kid, no way you'll be able to open it with some funny screwdriver," Bradley is reading the top secret mission plans out loud.

He gets that keyboard. Ice is the man of his word.

One time, Slider arrives on base in his new fancy BMW, showing it off and boasting so much he locks the key in by accident.

Ice is like, "Don't call the locksmith, I got it," and calls home and asks Bradley to check if he can open it and Bradley's answer is, "Only if Uncle Slider agrees to teach me to drive in it." Slider, obviously, agrees because there's no way --- he doesn't know what Ice is playing at but Baby Goose is not going to open his car.

Bradley opens the brand new BMW with about twenty Navy guys cheering him on in the parking lot.

Now, when Bradley is all alone at college, it's very tempting to use it for bad stuff --- to steal cars or rob shops, especially when money gets tough --- but the worst he does is breaking into the cafeteria and stealing sandwiches and bags of chips. He knows having a record would kick him out of NROTC, fast, so the lockpicking becomes a bit useless --- he does charge people from his dorms (which all have the same automatic lock on the doors) ten bucks to open them and avoid calling the RA.

Next time it has any significant impact on his life, Jake Seresin just forgot his key to his locker. He's got his flight suit but his boots and a space to leave his bag is behind the closed door.

Bradley only says, "You're not going to ask questions and you're going to owe me one."

He takes out a pin he always has attached to his car keys and within minutes, Seresin's locker is open.

He doesn't know it but Jake stares at him, not because he's wondering how much shit he's stolen (that too, a little bit) but also because apparently he finds lock picking really hot.

Now, Bradley goes about his life and soon enough finds out that Seresin's definition of 'owe you one' meant taking Bradley out on a date. Which, honestly, Bradley isn't that opposed to even if he puts on a face, Seresin is nice to look at and it's hard to find a guy to fuck when you're training six days a week in flight school.

They have a little routine of Jake calling with, "Hey, I locked myself out, can you get your ass here?" and Bradley lockpicking his door and then pinning him to said door as soon as they're inside. He's pretty sure he's seen Jake's keys in his back pocket a few times it happened.

This continues but Bradley keeps on staying longer and longer at Jake's place, more of his already small collection of things makes its way there, to the point that it's more like he's living there too and just breaking in every time, like back at the house in San Diego.

Obviously, he gets spooked, badly, when Jake finally says that when they move to Lemoore after they finish training, he's giving Bradley an actual key. The last time he shared a key with someone, he's been told he isn't enough and isn't ready and had all his dreams shattered --- like hell he's letting Jake chew out his heart, again.

So he requests change of target stations and doesn't say shit until the winging ceremony.

Next time he picks a lock, it's Nat's car in the NAS Oceans parking lot. He doesn't say she owes him one but she offers him a drink at the nearby bar as a thank you. He says no, just not to risk it again.

Nat sticks but nothing like with Jake happens.

Years go on and the second time around Bradley is at Top Gun, with Mav hovering over him like a goddamn shadow, with Nat's judgemental eyes and with Jake's big pretty mouth not knowing what he's saying, he gets a text.

I locked myself out. Can you get your ass here? with a base house location pinned in the next message.

Maybe he's naive but he goes.

"I really did lock myself out," Jake tells him straight away. "Don't think this means anything."

They haven't talked since he took out Bradley's dirty laundry in front of everyone in the debriefing room. Bradley opens his front door and is about to leave when Jake asks, "You wanna step inside?"

It doesn't solve anything. He doesn't know if Jake actually locked himself out or not.

When he and Mav are discharged, waiting to leave the base again, and Mav swears and mutters, "I forgot my goddamn keys," and Bradley knows Ice is currently in Hawaii, Bradley asks, "You got some paper clips on you?"

It doesn't solve anything but he breaks into Mav and Ice's house.

It doesn't solve anything but it's a start.

#icemav #mavdad and icepops get tricked #this was a silly idea #hangster #bradley rooster bradshaw #tgm #op #charlie writes

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gh0stsp1d3r · 6 months

Note

i absolutely LOVED what you wrote for my criminology major req. just thought of this..

AU where reader notices Williams strange behavior about the major and does some digging and ends up finding out everything but doesn’t give him up / doesn’t leave him. i’m not sure how to word it but i just thought of it and am obsessed !!

ahh love this. I did pretty good for my finals I’m proud, anyways, I can start writing again now yippee

True love

You noticed the way he acted, the way he spoke, and the way his eyes looked like they had a million secrets.

Of course you had no clue what you were getting yourself into when you started dating Steve. He was attractive, smart, sweet, and he was a gentleman.

And you noticed the way he changed when he heard you were starting criminology. His face dropped for a moment upon hearing, then a fake smile visible on his face. His office door became locked, along with the garage door now.

You sat down in your bed with a bottle of coffee as you scrolled through your work. Reading some article and writing down notes.

Once finished, Steve still wasn’t home. You closed your laptop, hopping off the bed and heading out to the living room. You glanced at the door leading to the garage for a moment.

It was odd, how he never went in. How it was locked every time you tried to open it now. It wasn’t like that before.

Was he cheating on you or something? Is that why his office and the garage are locked now? What was he hiding?

The thoughts ran through your head, and you did something that you never thought you would do to him.

Pulling your computer up again, you typed the words “Steve Raglan”

Of course you saw his work, a few more links leading to the website. Then you started to see obituaries for people with the same name.

You then saw a public record, an order for a name change.

“My complete present name is William Afton. I request that my name be changed to Steve Raglan.”

Your eyebrows furrowed. What? It can’t be the same person. You scrolled through the rest of his profile, seeing his job and even address. Under relatives was his daughter, whom you’ve met once.

What the hell? You quickly closed it and typed in William Afton.

“Owner of Freddy Fazbears pizzeria facing charges of murder.” The title read. A picture of a young man, who did look a lot like Ste- William was underneath. You looked closer at the photo, and the background.

The man had a goofy smile, holding a thumbs up at the person taking the picture. He had blue eyes, light brown hair. It was Steve. You knew it was. You could tell by the smile, the way his eyes twinkled with wonder and joy were the same.

And as horrible as it was, you continued to read through. Once the article finished you stared at the computer, already knowing what you had to do.

You got up quickly, stumbling slightly to the drawer. You rummaged through the files and objects; you then noticed a key hidden deep down.

You tried it to the garage door first, but it didn’t work. Then you tried it on his office one.

His office was clean, boxes in the corner, books neatly stacked, no mess or sign of anything out of the ordinary.

You sat down in front of the computer and turned it on. Your leg bounced as you thought of a password.

After a few tries, you finally guessed it. You opened up a file titled "Work" first, not expecting to find much. Just names of clients, background info. You closed it out and went into another titled "Plans."

In the folder, there were multiple sketches of animatronics, pictures of broken-down ones, and exoskeletons of ones. You then went further down into it, sketches of a dentist-like chair, blades on the animatronics head. Then pictures of bloodied blades, blood from God knows what.

Your eyes widened as you continued through the folder, it got worse as you scrolled. You quickly found out that the animatronics had bodies stuffed in them- children's bodies.

The worst part? Your feelings to William didn't change. You were a criminology student- you should hate him right now! You thought, quickly closing out of the folder and getting off the seat when you heard the car pull into the driveway.

You quickly went out the room. locking the door and making your way to the door where he would enter any second.

You, as always, were there to greet him with a kiss and a smile on your face, asking him how his day was.

#william afton x reader #fnaf x reader #fnaf #matthew lillard!william afton x reader #matthew lillard x reader #william afton x reader smut #william afton #fnaf x y/n #fnaf movie

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cazzyf1 · 1 month

Text

Some facts and stories about Roland Ratzenberger

• When he was seven years old his grandmother took him to a local hill climb race at Gaisberg.

• His first word was 'car'

• He was nine years old when year the family home the Salzburg ring opened. He was get through the gates to go watch the cars drive.

• He had a poster of Jochen Rindt on his wall as a kid.

• When he started karting at sixteen years old he had to get a secondary job at a bakery to fund it.

• In the winter of 1991 he married the former partner of another driver, becoming the stepfather of her son, however they were divorced in early 1992.

• While in the UK, he briefly gained some fame for having a similar name to the TV puppet 'Roland Rat'. ITV invited film to film a segment with the puppet for national breakfast television. He raced against the rat (who was in a car dubbed 'Ratmobile') the Rat Puppet ended up winning the race down to cheating.

• F1 author David Tremayne son's who was three years old insisted on calling Roland Ratzenburg-and-chips-and-beans to his face. Roland found it hilarious and became that young boy's hero.

• Described as 'gentle, always unfailingly polite, tall, good-looking, and with a ready smile'

• Journalist Adam Cooper went out drinking with Roland in Japan and at the end of the night they had decided he should come stay in Japan for a year or two to cover the local racing scene. When he turned up and realised the hotel was more expensive than he had planned Roland let him stay in the spare twin bed he had in his room. He was happy to have company.

• One of his unusual goals was to try to enjoy female company in the team motorhome between stints in 24 hour races. Adam Cooper reccounts ' I think the last time we discussed it he’d managed the feat twice at Le Mans, and once at the Nurburgring.'

• One time he used his deep Austrain accent to record a Terminator style 'I'll be back' answer machine message for rival Jeff Krosnoff

• He kept a black book full of 'ladies' numbers

• One time his friend Anthony Reid had an accident in a F3000 race, and had a lot of blood streaming down his face. Roland had to take charge of the scene as the marshals freaked out. He made sure his journalist friend wrote about the shortcomings of safety in a Japanese magazine afterwards.

• At a Formula Ford festival his team either ran out of funds or walked out and Roland was left with just his car and a toolbox. Because he was so well liked mechanics and personnel from other teams helped him prepare his car. He won that festival.

• On one occasion, Heinz-Harald Frentzen and Ratzenberger entered a nightclub. There was a confrontation between Frentzen and another guy which saw a knife pulled on either Frentzen or a random female bystander. Either way, Ratzenberger selflessly stepped in and wrestled the knife away from the man.

• A documentary has been put out on YouTube about Roland by Levay film production, detailing all about his life. A recommended watch.

• Bernie Ecclestone personally delivered the confirmation of Ratzenburg's death to the Simtek team

• Ayton Senna commandeered an offical car to hurry to the medical center where he learnt of Roland's fate from his friend, Dr Sid Watkins

• Only five drivers attended his funeral

#30 years today #rip #classic f1 #f1 #formula one #formula 1 #roland ratzenberger

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borathae · 9 months

Text

"Sometimes being with each other is all that you need to be happy."

Pairing: Vampire!Yoongi x Witch!Reader

Genre: established relationship!AU, domestic Fluff

Warnings: they are so in love <3, Boongie is a lil sad at the beginning but cheers up because of her, he makes her food <3, they share kisses hehehe, hinted polyamory

Wordcount: 2.6k

a/n: i don't even know what to say anymore. i just love them so much :( i want them to be happy always <3

The lights in your room are off, only the candles are burning. You don’t need much more. They provide enough light and give the room a cozy feeling.

As of recently, the room you currently find yourself in was one of the many unused rooms in the estate, destined to a dark and dusty fate. Until Yoongi surprised you with it as your new and freshly renovated witch office. He fixed up the fireplace so you could hang your cauldron and rewired all the electricity so you could actually use the lights. He dusted the room, fixed the rotten floor, painted the walls, installed better insulated windows and then filled the room with renovated furniture and so many books. It earned him a million kisses and a billion hugs and you spent a good amount of it crying in his arms because you were so happy.

Since then, you made this place your own. The room was divided into three spaces. The first space was your potion kitchen, consisting of a hip-high work counter, a white metal sink in front of the window and the fireplace with the cauldron. The next section was your work desk, located in front of the second window. You do your magic homework there, take notes from your books or stare outside to watch the rain. And the last space was your reading area consisting of a spacious sofa with lots of cushions and blankets, a small side table on which a floral lamp gifts light and another side table for mandatory tea cup holding. From the ceiling hooks, bundles of herbs and flowers are drying and little trinkets and crystals are presented wherever a free spot offered itself. The wooden floors are covered in antique rugs and candles keep the space illuminated. Taehyung also gave you one of his record players, which earned him as just many kisses and just as many hugs. You placed it on yet another small table by your work desk.

Said record player is currently serenading you with your current favourite album. A faint knock at the door cuts through the melodies.

“It’s open!”

Yoongi steps inside and closes the door behind him. He shrugged off his riding coat and gloves, but kept the sweater on. A black turtleneck, tugged neatly into black riding pants. He doesn’t wear shoes – courtesy of your no shoes in your rooms policy – which results in his already silent steps to be noiseless on the floor.

“You got wet”, you gasp, “oh, love what happened?”

“Nothing, I just got rained on”, he assures you and walks to you in hasty steps.

“It started to rain?” you look outside, “it did. I didn’t even notice that it did.”

“Yeah, it started ten minutes ago.”

You are currently in your kitchen, tying camomile into bundles. Yoongi places himself behind you and wraps his arms around you, nuzzling his nose into the crook of your neck.

You giggle because it tickles, fleeing him with minimal effort. His lips and nose feel cold from outside. His wet hair rubs against your skin and sends shivers through you. He kisses your favourite spot, ending it with a small purr.

“Hey”, he whispers sweetly.

“Hey there. Your face is cold.”

“The wind’s strong. It’s why I got so wet”, he says.

“And it’s not because you’ve been riding in the rain for so long?”

He chuckles and nibbles on your jawline, “probably.”

You laugh softly, relaxing in his arms as you return to your task. You plan on using the herbs for teas and sleepy cushions. Taehyung especially loves those cushions and he already has a collection of five with plans of growing them. You love making them for him, because he gets so happy when you gift them to him.

Yoongi keeps hugging you as you work, stealing neck and shoulder kisses whenever he can.

“Tea or pillows?” he asks.

“Both, but mostly tea. It’s getting colder again, so we’ll need to restock.”

“Mhm, can’t wait. Your teas are very good”, he says, making you smile.

“Thank you, my love.”

“Mhm.”

Emma and Seokjin asked you if you wanted to have a small section in their perfume shop where you could sell your teas and creams. You instantly said yes. Jimin has been helping with packaging. He finds lots of purpose doing something which might seem so insignificant to others, but to him it feels very important. Something where he can be careful and tender, where he can go slow and where he knows that he won’t be punished even if he messes up. You think that it helps heal a few wounds in his heart, because whenever you watch him fill the packages of tea with a concentrate pout on his lips or the jars of cream with furrowed brows, a sense of tranquillity surrounds him.

You are currently drying camomile for a new patch of your very delicious tea mixture against colds and sniffles.

“How did it go with him?” you ask him, placing a finished bundle aside to start work on a new one.

“Good, I guess. He’s still the same.”

“Yeah? Well, at least that’s positive news. The spell worked without side effects.”

“Yeah”, Yoongi says and rests his chin on your shoulder, “he refused to talk. Again. Like always.”

“Mhm, I see. That’s not that good of news. Does he eat and drink at least?”

“Yes, but…I don’t know what to do anymore. Nothing I try helps. It’s like he’s, he’s”, Yoongi stops talking and sighs instead, “it doesn’t matter.”

“No, it does matter”, you turn in his arms, placing your hands on his chest, “I can hear that it upsets you.”

“It doesn’t upset me.”

“Yoongi…” you warn.

Yoongi lowers his eyes, “it makes me sad”, he whispers.

“Gosh my love”, you cup his right cheek.

He leans into it instantly.

“I understand your pain. You are trying so hard, but nothing helps. It must be so painful to watch him rot away like this.”

He nods his head, “I keep wondering if we did the right thing. If, if we never should have turned him human. I wanted to heal him and, and now he is just a shell of-”, he stops again and looks into your eyes, “I’m sorry”, he whispers.

“For what, my love?”

“I almost cried, but I don’t want to.”

“It’s okay, let it all out. You’ll feel so much better afterwards.”

“No”, he shakes his head, “I can’t do that. I want a hug.”

“Com’ere.”

Yoongi falls into your arms, hugging you back with grateful tenderness.

“It’s okay to cry, my love.”

“No, I don’t want to.”

“Okay, but if you need to, don’t hold back, yeah?”

“Yeah.”

You hold him for the duration of one song, swaying him to the melody and caressing the nape of his neck. He doesn’t cry, but it is still clear that the hug has the same effect on him as crying would have. Once he steps back, the weight on his shoulders seems to have lifted and he gives you an honest smile.

“Thank you”, he says.

“Don’t. You know that you can always come to me.”

“Yeah”, he nods his head, “thanks. You can always come to me too.”

“I know, love. Thank you.”

He smiles and nods his head once.

“And we’ll get through this together, yeah? You don’t have to go through this alone.”

“I know, thank you”, he says and looks to the side shyly, “I cherish you so much”, he whispers with his fingers touching his own hair.

“I cherish you too, my beloved.”

Yoongi hums and touches his own tummy.

“Uhm. I’ll dry up now. My nipples are coming through the shirt because I’m so cold”, he says, cracking you up.

Yep, he definitely feels better again.

You glance at his chest and the very prominent nipples poking through the fabric.

“They do. Oh dear, look at them”, you say, touching them softly.

He swats your hands away, “don’t. They’re sensitive”, he whines.

“Sorry”, you apologise with a mischievous twinkle in your eyes.

“You’re not”, he says and steps back to leave, “I’ll dry up.”

“Yeah, okay. Have fun, love.”

“Mhm.”

He leaves the room, but returns soon. The vinyl already finished quite some time ago. Now the pitter-patter of rain against the windows is keeping you audible company. You are by your bookcases, cleaning up the books you had to use lately. You like sorting them back into your shelves in alphabetical order once you are done using them.

Yoongi knocks on your door again. By the sound of it, he used his elbow for it.

“Come in!”

“I need help.”

“Oh dear. What’s wrong?” you gasp, hurrying to the door to open it for him.

Nothing is wrong. He is merely carrying a big tray filled with tea and lots of little snacks. Biscuits, sandwiches cut into triangles, sliced fruit and a can of cinnamon tea with some milk. He clearly couldn’t twist the doorknob like this.

“Oh wow Boongie, what's all of that?” you gasp.

“I thought that you were probably hungry”, he says, carrying the tray to your work desk.

“I am. Thank you”, you tell him as you trail behind him. You hug him from behind, rubbing his tummy as he prepares the tea for you. He prepares himself a cup as well.

“There you go.”

“Thank. You”, you say sweetly and giggle, circling him so you could clink mugs with him.

You and he share silence as you try the tea. It tastes rich in spices and leaves behind a comfortable warmth in your tummy.

“This is so yummy. You make the best tea, my love”, you gush and pick up one of the sandwiches, “now what’s that?”

“Just some burrata with tomatoes and pesto and prosciutto and stuff. Yeah, I thought it could be good.”

“Mhhm it is good, wow Boongie this tastes amazing.”

The sandwich is perfectly grilled to be crunchy outside but still soft inside and the flavours of the fillings harmonize together perfectly. You feel your mouth water even as you are munching on it.

He looks to the side, smiling to himself.

“Yeah, eat a lot”, he says, nodding his head.

“I definitely will. Thank you, my love”, you say and pick up the plate, “do you wanna sit on the couch and talk while we eat?”

“Yeah”, he says and follows you with the tea cups.

You sit down in a way so that you can rest your bend legs on his lap and he can run his hand up and down your thigh. He drinks his tea while you eat the delicious sandwich. He asks you if you had a nice day until now and you tell him that you did. Then you ask him if he feels better now that he is dry and he tells you that he does. Afterwards you guide the sandwich to his lips, offering him a bite which he accepts with a faux frown on his face. In the end, he goes in for one more bite and says that the sandwich was good.

Once you finished your sandwich – and you told him all about the caterpillar you saw in the garden – you share the plate of biscuits and another cup of tea each. You busy yourself with your books as you do, while Yoongi relaxes on the couch with his phone.

You share silence like this, coexisting in the same space. You love doing this with him. To be alone, but not lonely. To know that you can partake in your favourite things, but if you wanted to, you would just have to turn and see your favourite person. To know that he is there and that you could just go over there and kiss his lips makes time feel so meaningful and precious.

You place the book aside and give in to the voices. You go to him and place yourself in front of him. Yoongi lifts his head, running his eyes over your face in silent curiosity. Wordlessly, you lean down and cup his cheeks to pull him into a loving kiss.

“Hm”, Yoongi lets out and drops his phone for the sake of holding you. He feels dizzy instantly. Oh, how much he loves to kiss you.

It breaks way too soon for his liking. You even straighten up again, looking down at him with warm eyes.

“Why did you do that?” he asks breathily and with his sparkly eyes racing between yours.

“I just felt like it”, you answer him, caressing his lips gently.

He chases your touch with a tilt of his head and a breathy, “oh” slipping from his pouty lips.

“Why? Is that a problem?”

He shakes his head, fluttering his lashes at you.

“That’s what I thought”, you say and gift him a fond smile, “you’re so handsome, my love”, you say and step back again to return to your books.

Yoongi lowers his head shyly, touching his own lips. Your surprise kisses won’t ever lose their spark. Yoongi swears he discovers new colours whenever you kiss him that way. He is so giddy when he is with you. You make him feel so good. You really do. He watches you work for a little while. You are almost finished with the books, taking tea and biscuit breaks every now and then.

Yoongi switches his eyes to the guitar next to the work desk. It’s from his collection. It was made out of black wood with pearl engravings on the guitar neck and produced a beautiful sound. It has a permanent home in this room, just like a few of your plants have a permanent home in his wing these days. It happened naturally that you trickled into each other’s spaces with the intent to stay. It doesn’t feel out of place, as a matter of fact, your spaces wouldn’t feel complete if the little hints of the other weren’t present.

Yoongi gets up from the sofa, “do you mind if I play the guitar?” he asks.

“No, of course not. I was already thinking how quiet the room is”, you allow him with your nose lost in one of your books, “woah, that’s interesting. Why did I wanna put this away? I gotta take notes on this”, you murmur and turn to hurry to the desk.

You meet Yoongi there. He is carrying the guitar by its neck, smiling at you with curious eyes.

“What did you discover?” he asks.

“Look”, you show him the pages in the book.

Yoongi looks at them with great interest. They present knowledge to a spell you are currently practicing under his guidance.

“That’s the spell we practiced yesterday. I didn’t even see those pages yet.”

“Mhm, they seem helpful. It’s a good idea to take notes about them”, he tells you and glances at your face.

You notice, meeting his gaze.

“Can I have another kiss?” he asks.

You nod your head and close the distance between you and him to kiss his lips. Yoongi deepens it with his hand on the side of your neck and his thumb caressing your cheek. By the time he finally breaks it, your heart is racing just a little. He gives you a smile.

“That was nice”, he says.

“Yeah”, you agree, nudging his chest, “you’re so sweet.”

“Mhm”, he hums and steps back to get comfortable on the couch, “do you have any song wishes?”

“Not really. Just play whatever you wanna play”, you tell him and sit down by your desk.

“Okay”, he says and seconds later the melodies of his guitar fills the air.

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wynnyfryd · 1 year

Text

UPDATE: FINISHED IT!!

you can read the full fic here:

preview of my new fic Monsoon Season (in which i saw this tweet and immediately took it so, so personally)

“Harrington, are you fucking kidding me?” Eddie asks as he slams a magazine down in front of Steve, rattling the coffee cup perched on the edge of the little round table.

Monsoon Season, the headline reads. Just who is the man behind America’s hottest new book series?

Steve’s eyes are far too full of mirth for Eddie’s liking. “They think it’s you, don’t they?”

“Of course they think it’s me, you jackass.” Eddie snatches the magazine back, sniffing indignantly as Steve openly laughs at him.

Eddie doesn’t have a workplace nemesis — does his best not to participate in all the petty office politics that go on in the publishing world, thank you very much — but ohhh, boy. If he did. If he did have one, it would be this fucking guy.

Steve fucking Harrington. Former King of Hawkins High, Current Pain in Eddie’s Ass, and not even in the fun way.

See, three years ago Eddie finally got his first big break — topped charts, stole hearts, and broke records with his swashbuckling adventure series aimed at the 10-13 year old crowd. He hadn’t ever really planned to become a children’s author, but hey, turns out he’s great at spinning a tale that a fifth grader can’t put down. Kids love him, parents love him, and now—

Well, now, parents hate him. Are two seconds away from calling for his fucking head. And that’s the whole problem, isn’t it?

One group of ravenous mommy blogger watchdogs becomes unwaveringly convinced that beloved children’s author Eddie Munson is secretly writing filthy gay erotica under the pen name Freddie Monsoon, and now his whole career is in jeopardy.

It’s not even a good pen name.

“A source close to Munson assures us this scorching erotica can’t be his doing,” the article in Eddie’s claw-like grip reads. “‘He’s stupid,’ our source tells us with a bright laugh and a wink, ‘but not that stupid.’”

You know who is that fucking stupid, though?

“You’re still here?” Steve asks mildly while Eddie glares some more.

He knows the pen name belongs to Steve, because one, Chrissy’s a gossip and told him the second she found out, and two, King Shithead himself told Eddie to his face. Gloated about it in this very coffee shop, actually; smirked over the lip of a chai latte while angry mothers protested with homemade signs on the sidewalk outside of the building.

“Yes, I’m still here! Why the hell are you doing this to me, man?”

Does he know how many angry emails Eddie’s gotten in the last hour alone? Seriously, what the fuck?

Steve slides another glance his way — sideways through hooded lids, some sadistic delight gleaming just below the veneer. “Because I like it when you’re flustered,” he smirks, and then he stands to collect his things. “See you tomorrow, Munson.”

#steddie #steddie fic #modern au #crack treated seriously #steve harrington #eddie munson #feral little shit 4 feral little shit #the spiritual successor to TITS! magazine #like #cannot express how stupid this fic is gonna be i can’t wait #(if you saw me promise to focus on more chapters of stardust au no tf you didn’t 😂)#my writing #my fics

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unrequitedloveletter · 1 year

Note

Hi! Hope you’re having a good day!

I was wondering if I could request a Kaz x moon summoner!reader?

I’ve liked the idea of a moon summoner atm my main idea would be that they can do the same kind of thing as Alina with summoning light but it’s not as bright,they can also heal but on a higher level than a normal healer if that makes sense?

for the actual request just something with the reader making shapes out of light/messing around with it while Kaz works or something and it gets his attention

if not that’s perfectly fine too! :] -🍒Anon

Moon- K.B x gn! moon summoner! reader

cherry anon, thank you so much for sending this in! You and your requests always get my creative head going when I feel like I'm stuck and my creativity does not want to cooperate with me, and this request kind of got me out of a bit of funk!

Fic type- this is entirely fluff

Warnings- mentions of injuries/canon typical injuries mentioned

Your small science was so rare that the only other representations of it were present in myth. Myth that was right when it came down to your capabilities as a moon summoner but largely wrong in most other capacities.

Some tales stated that you had light as dim as bone-lights, some stated that you couldn't summon the light at all, only dim pieces of blue that were barely reminiscent of the night sky.

Others said you could heal yourself and others, though a lot slower than a healer; others made no mention of your potential to heal others or yourself at all.

You could summon light, though. It was a light that was as bright as the moon, which happened to be brighter than a bone light but not nearly so bright and blinding as the sun.

You could heal yourself and others more efficiently, too. You were quicker than a healer and it didn't take much out of you to do it, so it was an ability that came in handy.

You found yourself on Kaz's windowsil, the book you'd been reading somewhat forgotten as you held it open in your lap and had beams of moonlight dancing across the pages rather than illuminating the words as they'd been beforehand.

You looked up to meet Kaz's gaze in the same breath as he looked up to meet yours, grinning at his appearance as you did.

He looked as he usually did when it was just the two of you in his office, you reading a book and helping him with his plans while he alternated between planning a heist and keeping track of everything in the books so as to keep a track of legitimate records for the businesses he owned and operated.

His tie had been undone, resting on either of his shoulders, his gloves secure on his hands, his hair a bit of a mess from running his hands through it. The bags beneath his eyes had grown a bit prominent, and he was drinking coffee number three of the day.

"I always forget you can summon moonbeams," he said. "You heal people more often than you summon."

"Healing is just something that needs doing more often," you said with a grin. "I only summon when it's night and I'm trying to read, or when I get bored. It makes for quite the entertaining distraction."

Kaz nodded. "You're in for the job tomorrow?"

"Sixty thousand kruge. Not even with the advisement of the saints themselves would I refuse."

Kaz grinned, and the two of you fell back into that same, easy way of things that you always had. No conversation necessary, just the two of you existing in the same space, the love you felt for one of another making the silence an incredible comfort.

#kaz brekker #kaz brekker x reader #six of crows #shadow and bone

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miizuzu · 1 month

Text

here is another one i did a while ago before the Xavier one... it got a bit... long haha.. n_n;;

“So, do you want to?”Tara asked hoping you would say yes.

“I’m not sure that’s a good idea…” you reply to Tara.

“Come on! It will be fun! Besides, it would be so lonely spending Valentine’s Day at home all by yourself… Gasp! I’m sorry! I didn’t mean it… it just slipped out!” Tara was trying to find every excuse she could to try and get you to go out with her. She didn’t mean to bring back any sad memories.

“You know what? You’re right. Let's go and have fun this weekend.” you answered as you gently petted her head, knowing she didn’t mean what she said.

It is the first Valentine’s day you are spending alone. You would go to your grandma’s house and spend the day with her and Caleb, but now that they are gone… Tara wanted to make sure you are not by yourself and recall sad memories.

“Really?!?! Hurray!! Since Valentine’s is on a Saturday, do you think we could have a girls night, so we could both leave together?” she asks as her eyes are full of excitement.

“Sure, let’s do that.” Still unsure of how this would even turn out. You have never been to a pub during Special events like these. What would you wear? Do you even have clothes that would fit the occasion? No point thinking about that now, since you’ve already agreed Tara you would go with her.

“I can’t wait till the weekend! Since we are off work now, would you like to go eat some dinner together?” Tara asked as she packed her things, ready to leave work.

“Sorry! I have a doctor’s appointment, I’ve already missed the last two appointments… if I miss the appointment today…” You don't even want to think of the consequences that would follow.

“Oh yeah… I guess Dr. Zayne would nag your ear off!” Tara says jokingly. We know that is exactly what would happen. “I guess I will just get a few things ready for Saturday then!”

Tara waves goodbye and you leave the Hunters Association HQ for your doctor’s appointment.

At Asko Hospital, you checked in with the nurse at the front and they called Dr. Zayne to let him know you’ve arrived. “The doctor will see you now.” You gave her a nod of acknowledgment and started walking towards Zayne’s office.

You knocked on the door, “come in” Zayne answered. You pushed the door open and entered. His eyes were still glued to his laptop while he tells you, “You actually showed up to your appointment this time, come have a seat.”

“Sorry Zayne, I got caught up in a few messy missions the last few times.” You try to be apologetic. “I’ve tried to book the earliest appointment they could give me to make up for it. Forgive me, please?”

You tried to act cute while being playful, winking and smiling with your tongue sticking out.

Zayne lets out a sigh, “No injuries, I presume?” He asked as he closed his eyes and pinched the bridge of his nose.

“Nope! Not a single scratch!” You declared confidently. You told Zayne stories about some of your missions as he went through your medical records.

“Everything seems normal enough.” Zayne informs you. “I guess you did pay more attention to your health after all.”

“Of course! Who dares to defy Doctor’s Orders.”

Zayne looks at you with one of his eyebrows lifted slightly. He lets out another sigh. He tries to change the topic as he asks “ Do you have any plans for Saturday?” As your childhood friend and your Doctor and someone who has a secret crush on you, he knows who you used to spend your past Valentine's. He also seemed worried that you would be alone this year.

Not understanding what he was trying to hint at, you answered “As a matter of fact, I do have plans, going to hang out with my friend that day.”

Zayne’s heart sank a little after hearing your answer, he asked with a serious voice “A friend?”

“Yup, Tara, from the Hunters Association.” Zayne had a small sigh of relief “She said she wants us to go to the Valentine's event they are hosting at the new pub in Azure Square.” Zayne's eyes twitched as he finished listening to what you told him. He didn't like the idea of other desperate men hovering around you, but he didn't tell you how he really felt.

“Feel free to call me if you need a ride home. I do not have work that day.” What Zayne secretly means is that he doesn't want little pests to take you anywhere, away from him.

“Does this mean our good looking Dr. Zayne didn't get a date for Valentine's Day?” You said jokingly. Zayne’s expression froze, you thought you got in trouble for hitting a nerve for making fun of him being single. “Wow, would you look at the time! It's time for me to head out and let your next patient in!” You quickly ran out of Zayne's office thinking he would be upset with you, little did you know what was actually going through the back of his mind. Good looking Dr. Zayne was pretty much all he focused on. He let out a small grin to escape from his emotions and ears were a bit pink from blushing. “I guess I would have to go and be her pest repellent after all.” he said quietly to himself.

Leaving the hospital, you pulled your phone out just to notice that you had a few missed calls, all from the same person, Rafayel. Thinking it might be something important, you pressed the call back button. He picked up so quickly as if he knew you were going to call him right that second.

“Did something happen? I just got out of my doctor’s appointment.” You can feel his incoming complaints and you were right.

“I’ve called you a thousand times, you are supposed to be my bodyguard but I can never get in hold of you! What if I got kidnapped???” Rafayel exaggerated his response, “I don't care, you have to make it up to me.” He demands. “You have to hang out with me this Saturday.”

“Sorry, Can't. I already have plans.” You replied. You can actually hear him huffing and puffing on the other side of the call.

“WHAT?” You had to pull the phone away from your ear since he actually yelled into his phone, “No! You can't. I won't allow it!”

“Well too bad,” you answered, placing the phone on your other ear as the side of him screamed into still rings. “We are going to hang out at my place after work Friday and heading out together Saturday.”

Rafayel was raging at this point, “You guys are even going to hang out at home??” He's so full of jealousy since HE himself has not been invited to your place before.

Somehow you weren't able to tell that he's actually being jealous, you said “Well yeah, Tara said she wants to hang out. I didn't really have the heart to tell her no… Besides, we will just be going to the pub in Azure Square, I'm sure she wouldn't mind if you show up. That is, being how you are technically a celebrity in Linkon, I'm not sure if that would be a good idea after all.”

After hearing confirmation from you that the person you will be hanging out with is not a male, and even asked him to join you, his angry temper has just dissipated into thin air. “Oh? Are you asking me out?”

You paused, it was just a slip of your tongue when you said that he could just ‘show up’, “... On second thought, don't come. I don't want to work on a Saturday.”

“Too late and no backsies! I’ll see you Saturday, Miss bodyguard!” Rafayel hangs up before you can even put in another word. He is now very excited and humming to himself while trying to online shop for an outfit to stand out for Saturday.

You on the other hand, still left with your mouth open trying to process how in the world did it turn out like this. It's much too late to regret now, you will just have to stick to it.

Finally arriving home, you face planted yourself into the bed, still trying to figure out how things seem to have derailed. You sat up thinking to yourself, do I even have an outfit for this occasion? You don't normally go to events like these and the only other time you would go to the pub is with your co-workers after a long day's work. You walked over to your closet, trying to see if there was anything you could wear. You see a cute white dress. But then you thought it would be easier to just wear your Hunters uniform instead.

Fast forward to Friday, just as we are about to leave work and head back to my place, Xavier comes walking towards your desk. “Hey, Y/N, do you want to walk home together?” He asked with a gentle smile on his face, “I’ve bought some of the snacks which we tried together, would you like me to give you some?”

Tara, who was witnessing all that is going on, can see the plans going in Xavier’s mind. Actually, everyone in the headquarters knows he has feelings for you, but for some reason you never seem to catch the most subtle hints. HE is the reason why no one has tried to make a move on you. Both of you don’t know this, but Tara secretly roots for the both of you to be hitched. “Only if there are enough snacks for me as well! I will be spending the night with Y/N tonight and going to the pub tomorrow. You should really come along!”

“I would love to come along, and don't worry, I've got enough snacks to last us all a few days.” He smiles so ever sweetly at Tara for suggesting that. You, on the other hand, felt a pinch on your heart, you somehow thought Tara and Xavier were interested in each other not knowing Tara was actually trying to set you up.

“Great! Let's get going shall we?” Tara asked with a big grin on her face. “Xavier can help hold our stuff!” She says as she hooks her arm around yours and starts dragging you out the door.

“You sure brought a lot of things with you today, Tara. You even brought a suitcase… How many days are you planning to stay at my place?” You jokingly asked.

“You never know what you are going to need! I even brought extra for you!” She winks. “Come on, let's get moving! Times a wastin!”

The 3 of you starting to walk home with Xavier following close behind while carrying everything. He said he wouldn't mind. You let your mind run wild for a bit while Tara and Xavier chats and giggles. You know you have some feelings for him but you are way too shy and do not ever want to ruin your friendship right now. You thought it would be enough to just be around him. Well, there were also other reasons too… he is not the only one you have feelings for right now. You liked Zayne for a long time but never got the courage to tell him. You also have feelings for Rafayel, even though he drives you mad most times.

While you were spacing out, Tara and Xavier kept whispering to each other. Tara was hinting to Xavier that he should really make his moves more clear for you, since you are so dense and doesn't seem like you would understand unless he says it straight to your face. Xavier also thought it was about time to ask you out and with Tara’s help, there is no better opportunity.

You finally arrive at the apartment and Xavier helps drop everything inside. “I will go get changed and bring the snacks down in a bit.” he says as he walks out the door and goes back to his own apartment above yours.

Tara thought he was just being nice and walking you 2 back but he actually lives upstairs. She pulls her suitcase close to the sofa and unleashes the contents around the area. “Y/N! Come take a look at what I brought over!”

You were in the bathroom getting changed and came out and saw she had laid out a bunch of different outfits, make up and accessories around the place. It was actually difficult to navigate around with how much stuff she has laying there. “Did you invite more people to come with us?” You tilted your head and asked dumbfounded. There were at least 10 different outfits just for the 2 of you.

“No, I kinda lost control while shopping… all these dresses are sooooooo cute! I couldn't just not get them!” You could almost see glitters in her eyes as she adores the cute dresses she got. “I bet all of these would look beautiful on you.”

“Wait… don't tell me you got all these for me to choose from??” You widened your eyes and looked at Tara. “Yessss I did~ knowing you, I would swear you thought wearing your Hunters uniform would be a good idea.” She says while staring coldly at you. You turned your head away from her gaze as that idea DID come across your mind. “No, I won't allow it.” she proclaims. “I will do everything in my power to make you be the spotlight tomorrow!”

Now you’ve done it, you unleashed something in Tara that should really be locked up. It's not like she will let you back out now, everything has been set on motion according to her plans.

Knock knock knock, you hear the door. It must be Xavier coming back with the snacks, you tried clearing out a path to get to the door. Once you got there and opened the door, you see Xavier also changed into his casual clothes and carrying an enormous bag of snacks.

“Come in, be careful where you step, Tara is just trying to claim my place as her own by covering my house with her things.” You jest. Xavier comes in and makes his way to the kitchen, he walks past all the cute dresses Tara had laying out.

An idea strikes Tara, she asks Xavier, “Hey Xavier, which dress do you think Y/N should wear tomorrow? She has a hard time deciding so help us out!”

He stood up and walked closer to the outfits lay about, he took a very serious look and thought to himself. He was so serious that at one point he had his head tilted and he had a finger pointing at his totem. There was this one outfit that Tara sees his eyes keep backtracking to, and sees that his ears got a little pink while looking at it. Yes, he was picturing you wearing the dress already and you look absolutely dazzling. Tara took the hint and pulled that one dress out and said “Ok, it's been decided, you are wearing this piece tomorrow!” She winks at Xavier but you didn't see it. Xavier gave her a nod of approval.

We cleaned up the place a bit and ate the snacks and chatted about work for a while. It was starting to get late as we lost track of time chatting away. Xavier stood up and said “it's getting late, I better get going. I’ll see you tomorrow?” It was like he wanted to make sure it was truly invited and not just Tara saying it at the heat of the moment.

“See you tomorrow.” You said to him. “I’ll get the door.” You also get up from your seat and walk Xavier to the door. “Well then, good night Xavier.” You said with a sweet smile on your face as you opened the door to let him out. “Good night, Y/N.” He smiles back as he waits for you to close the door.

He was getting very tired but he claps both his hands onto his cheeks and walks quickly back up to his own apartment, goes through his own closet to try and match one with the one he picked for you to wear tomorrow. He lays his choice on his sofa and plops on his bed and drifts into dreamland in a matter of seconds. He knows he would have a wonderful dream tonight since he got to hear you say good night.

Back at your apartment, Tara pulls out her trusty tarot cards and wants to see tomorrow's fortune for you before heading to bed. You told her you would go to the bathroom and get ready for bed. She starts doing her fortune telling. She flips card after card as her eyes get wider and wider, full of excitement. It would no doubt be an eventful day tomorrow. She doesn't tell you the results of what she was told, she just wants you to find out tomorrow.

Laying in bed, with Tara already fast asleep beside you, you let your mind wonder. Is Rafayel actually going to come out tomorrow? He really hates crowded places. But he is always willing to go wherever you tell him to go. After whining about it for at least an hour. He is very adorable sometimes and looks gorgeous. You also wondered if Zayne would really come pick you up, since he always has a busy schedule even on his days off. You like how he always takes care of you, even though he looks cold, you know he is a very caring person. You also thought of Xavier, who has a lot of common hobbies with you, taking care of you when the two of you go out on missions, making your safety the first priority at all times. You can't help but always feel safe when he is around. You also drifted into dreamland while reminiscing from his last smile while telling you good night.

You wake up to Tara's humming, a gentle melody that you swear you have heard somewhere before, but can't seem to remember where. “Oh, sorry Y/N, did I wake you?” She asked as she sorted out the dresses again, this time for herself.

“No” you sit up and stretch, one hand trying to rub the sleepy out of your eyes. “It was about time I should get up anyways.” you looked at the clock and it's already 10:30am, you got out of bed and headed to the bathroom to brush up. “What should we do about lunch?” You asked Tara right before you entered the bathroom.

“Can we order some delivery? I want to stay here and get ready for tonight. If that's ok with you?” She looks at you, head tilted to the side and hands locked, fingers intertwined, as if she was begging if you could take home an abandoned puppy. “How can I say no to that face?” You let out a playful sigh as you answered. “Alright then! I’ll find us something delish to eat, my treat of course!” She excitedly grabs her phone to look for some food delivery apps. There was a message, her eyes widened, she squealed with uncontrollable excitement. She cannot hold her giggles in. You tried to pop your head out of the room and see what is actually going on, you see her texting. Never have you seen someone typed that fast on a phone's keyboard. You were actually afraid to ask what had just happened, you slowly entered the room as she didn't even notice you checking on her.

Tara orders the food and it gets delivered here. We both ate and enjoyed the food. Now that our bellies were filled, I offered Tara to go shower and wash up first while I cleaned up the table. She took up the offer and hopped her way into the bathroom and into the showers.

After putting everything away, you walked over to the sofa, staring down on the dress that you’re about to wear for this evening. You do admit that the dress is super cute, but never have you worn something this style before, you wouldn't. You like to move around freely and sometimes your gestures get out of control. The dress is strapless and has heavy padding where a bra is not needed, almost as if your chest can pop out from just small movements. You got embarrassed and told yourself you better calm yourself tonight.

Tara gets out of the bath and told you it was your turn, she asks you for the hair dryer and goes to get herself dressed. By the short 10 minutes time of your shower, Tara has already finished with her look for tonight. She looks so gorgeous, her hair is curled and looks wavy. Her makeup makes her look so cute and adorable that even your heart skipped a beat when you saw her.

She tells you to change into your dress as well, you were a bit nervous, since you've never changed in front of anyone before, even if they were female, you felt a little uncomfortable. You sucked it up anyways and started getting dressed. Tara stops you. “Huh? What?” You question, Tara had this look on her face like you've committed a crime. “Take those off, you are NOT wearing those.” She demands. She was talking about your panties, they were just some plain panties you randomly picked from your drawer since you really didn't think about it. Tara goes through your drawers and finds you another pair. “You have to at least wear something like this!” she hands you the only laced panties you owned. “This actually matches the dress too!” She explains. “It shouldn't really matter since no nobody would look up my dress…” you sigh. “You will never know~” Tara whispers to herself.

Now that she is satisfied with what you are wearing, she sat you down on the couch to help you with makeup. You don't really use a lot of makeup normally and usually only apply lipstick if needed. But tonight she is going all out. Applying eyeliner and a shiny eyeshadow to make your beautiful eyes stand out even more. She spritz a very sweet strawberry scent perfume onto your neck and wrist, applying some shiny pink lip gloss to your lips. She tied your hair up in a bun, leaving just 2 long strands by your ears.

She is finished with her masterpiece. You were perfect. Not a single guy can retain themselves after glancing at you, even for a second. You looked in the mirror, even you blushed after staring at your reflection. Tara has, without a doubt, outdone herself just to make you the most irresistible.

You both hear a similar knocking at the door, it was Xavier right on cue to take you girls to the pub. Tara opens the door while you sit at the edge of the couch. Xavier, wearing his white jacket with the black lined pockets with a black shirt inside and his white slacks, you’ve seen him wear this before but something looks different. He looks hot. You tried to turn your face away so you could hide your blushing face. Xavier on the other hand, was stunned by how beautiful you looked and you could tell his face was bright red. He tried to look away to calm down but his eyes disobeyed him and just couldn't stop staring and running his eyes from your hair to your toes.

You unintentionally put your hand in the middle of your chest, trying to cover yourself from his burning gaze. Xavier finally turns his head and takes deep breaths to try and calm down. With your hand close to where your collar bone is, you feel kind of bare and though a necklace would help make it feel less exposed. Just as you start searching your accessories box, Tara nugs Xavier. He was nervous but walked towards you.

“If you don't mind, I would like you to have this.” He is holding on to a box that looks like it contains jewelry. He opens the box and inside was a necklace, 2 stars overlapping, one white and one light yellow, the same color or the dress you are wearing. The yellow star has a light glow almost as if he infused some of his Evol into it.

“That looks really pretty, it also looks expensive, I can't accept it.” He made a sad pout, “It’s actually not expensive, I won it at the arcade when they had an event going, I always thought it would match you.” almost as if he was trying to brainstorm a scenario so I would accept.

“It's perfect! Just what we need, just accept it Y/N!” Demands Tara.

“... Fine, thank you Xaiver, for the thoughtful gift.” you answered as you could feel burns on your face from blushing. Just as you reach out for the box, Tara suggests “Xavier you should help her put it on!” she has this grin on her face and you glare her down as if you were throwing daggers at her.

“Please turn around.” Xavier said as he pulled the necklace out of its container. “Hold still.” you turned with your back facing him and stared into the mirror. You could see his hands being a little shaky from nervousness, his face was red. His pinky accidentally grazed your shoulder and you let out a tiniest moan. Shocked by the sound that came out of my mouth, you quickly covered your mouth with both hands hoping that, somehow, Xavier who was directly behind you did not hear you. But oh he heard you alright, as he finished hooking the necklace together he also quickly covered his mouth and tried to direct his gaze somewhere, anywhere to cool off.

Tara, reading the situation in the room, “well since we are all ready, let's get going!” She says as she grabs our purse and puts her heels on. You shot yourself up from your seat and raced to the door, Xavier let out a quiet giggle and followed after you.

You slipped on one of your heels and as you attempted to do the same for the second, you lost your balance when Xavier lent you his forearm and you grabbed him to balance yourself. Through the arm of his jacket, you both can feel each other's body temperature raising. You quickly let go and head out the door. Xaiver is no longer blushing. He walks out and helps you shut your door shut and is just observing you, almost as if he made it his mission to watch and catch you if you stumble again.

The 3 of you venture in the direction of the pub, Xaiver who would normally follow behind you and Tara, decide to take the spot beside you instead. There was literally no room for anyone to walk past your company if they were to speed past on the sidewalk. Seeing this, Tara took a few quicker steps to lead in front of you and Xavier, letting him have all the space he needs. Even with Tara leaving you more space, Xaiver kept himself close to you. His hand had grazed yours a few times already from how close he was to you, your heart would skip a beat but you did not move away, almost as if you're trying to ask for more, or even hope he would do more than just accidentally brush your hand.

Arriving at the pub, the 3 of you entered the door, for a split second, all eyes were on you. You tried to follow Tara, Xavier inches behind you, as if he was ready to fend off all the predators any given second. You 3 managed to find a table, Tara and you sat down on one side and Xavier across from you. “I didn't think there would be this many people here!” Tara said, surprised. It seems like everyone who is single in Linkon city has gathered together here. Xavier, feeling uncomfortable about the idea of stepping away even for a second, asked if the 2 of you would like to get something to drink. “Just get us a bunch of candy shots!” Tara answered, he moves slowly as if he still doesn't want to leave your side as Tara shoos him away. As he walked towards the bar, you could hear girls squalling from different areas of the pub. Some from them eyeing Xavier, some from the person who just walked in the door.

You were chatting with Tara while waiting for Xavier's return when you heard a familiar voice, “So this is where you’re hiding!” You tilt your head and look up, it was Rafayel. This explains the screaming earlier, you thought to yourself. Rafayel, dressed in one of his many fancy suits, looks down and examines your attire for this evening. He couldn't help but feel flushed and had to sit down beside you right away and cross his legs as if he was scared someone would notice something growing in his pants.

Tara couldn't even register what happened as he sat down so quickly, she glanced over and saw that he's the famous artist Rafayel. Her expression was a mix of confusion and excitement, she wanted to ask how the 2 of you know each other but no words can come out of her mouth. “You must be Tara, my name is Rafayel, it's nice to finally meet you. Miss bodyguard here talks about you a lot.” Rafayel reached his hand out for a hand shake. Tara nervously complied.

Rafayel sits back and gives his attention back to you, “You look so beautiful I had a hard time recognizing you.” He runs his hand through the strand of hair that was left hanging by your ear. “That's a cute necklace.” His hand was about to reach for it but was grabbed in the forearm by Xavier, who just happens to return from getting the drinks, which he carried on his other hand. “I gave that to her. You shouldn't get too close.” Xavier warned Rafayel. The two of them glared at each other, you could almost see the sparks fly as they were having a duel just from staring at each other so intensely. Tara interrupts and says, “Here, hand me the drinks.”

Xavier sat back down across from you, but keeping a close eye on Rafayel and twitches at every motion Rafayel makes no matter how small it may be.

Rafayel, annoyed by the thought that he gave you the necklace first, pulls out the one he also had prepared for you. “Well there's enough room for this.” Not even confirming if you would accept it or not, he took the choker and wrapped it around your neck.

Unlike the guys who have the two accessories, they actually complemented each other. The stars that Xavier gave hangs a little above your chest and the black choker, which had a fine silver chain, with a small purple fish, hangs just above your collarbone. Rafayel gives a satisfied smirk to Xavier, as if he was taunting him that they are both on the same level.

You sighed and accepted the fact that you will not be able to remove any of the necklaces without offending either of them. You look defeated and just when you thought the conflict was over, you see a blue snowflake, attached to a long chain, hanging in front of your eyes as the chain slowly lowers and rests on top of your cleavage. You jolted your head to confirm if it was who you suspected to be.

You were correct, Zayne stands towering over you, he placed the necklace down so gently and made sure your hair would not get caught in it. “A lively party you have going on here, mind if I join in?” He asks but sits himself down beside Xavier before an answer is even given.

“The more the merrier I guess!” Tara says, very much overwhelmed by the fact that every single person in the club has eyes on your table. The best looking guys and gals are all gathered here. The death glares from the other ladies feels so sharp as if you were getting pierced. “You must be Dr. Zayne, is it a crazy coincidence to see you here?” Zayne turned his head to you and smiled. “Y/N mentioned that you 2 would be here, so I decided to come along since I got some free time.”

There is this look on Tara's face, like has already seen all the events unfold. The. You remembered. Her fortune reading from last night that refused to tell you. You tried to confront her but she just smiles and smirks at you. She stands up, “I think we need more shots! I’ll be right back~” You secretly scream ‘don’t leave me!’ but she already vanished into the crowd.

The 3 beautiful men sitting with you, all knew of each other's existence but had never met face to face. They started to eye each other down from head to toe. All thought they were superior compared to the other 2.

You sat there awkwardly, looking down at your hands and twirled your thumbs as you waited for Tara to come back. You can feel the guys looking at you, like they can see through everything. You felt bare though you were naked and was just there for them to watch. You said “Fuck it” then grabbed a shot and swallowed it in one big gulp. You grabbed another and another, by the time Zayne grabs your hand to stop you, you jump as he grabs you and notices that you have drunk 5 of them.

“You need to slow down, pace yourself.” He has a serious look on his face, you put the shot down and try to pull your hand away but it won't budge. He will not let go unless you acknowledge what he just said. You gave him a nod “Use your words.” He demands. “I will…” He finally lets go, almost unwillingly. “They are just candy shots anyways, even a kid can't get drunk on those.” You said as you gave him a pout. Looking at how childish you just act, he scoffs. “Behave.”

Feeling a bit angry at Zayne’s remark, you started looking for Tara. “What is taking Tara so long… I better go help her.” You shot up from your seat, so quick that you got a little light headed and was about to collapse back down, Rafayel caught you and you ended up sitting on his lap. Xaiver grits his teeth and Zayne's tongue clicks. Both of their brows are so squashed together they could kill a fly. Rafayel took this opportunity to boost as he put his arms around your waist and gave you a hug, “Carefully now princess, you won't want to get yourself hurt.” As he smirks, the other two men glare at him to let go of you. “I'm perfectly fine!” As you try to get up and Rafayel lets you go as if he's won.

Trying to change the topic, you encouraged the 3 of them to take a shot each. “Why am I the only one drinking? You guys should try some too!” You picked up a shot as if you were about to feed Rafayel. Rafayel sitting with his hands clutching onto the seat beside his legs, opens his mouth slightly as if he wants you to feed him. You were complying and as the glass gets closer to Rafayel’s lips, a hand grabs yours and pulls you over as he sips the glass, his lips touching your finger, “It does taste like candy, very sweet.” Xavier licked his lips and smiled as he celebrated his small victory. Rafayel was furious, you could see flames in his eyes as if his Evol was activated. “Stop.” A cold stern voice called out and made all 3 of you freeze. Zayne shocked all of you. The area almost felt like it got colder all of a sudden. Everyone sad back down nicely like well behaved children.

He reached and distributed a shot to Rafayel and one to Xaiver. He held a glass for himself, raised it in the middle as if he was waiting for the other 2 to meet his glass. “Here's to Y/N, may she find someone she deserves.” Rafayel and Xavier took it as a challenge and clinged his glass. They all took the shot together. You were starting to get a light buzz so you were kind of out of it and didn't understand what they were doing. “Hey, I want to drink too!” You grabbed the last glass on the table and gobbled it down.

It's clear that you are getting drunk. Out of the 10 shots ordered, you downed 6. Of course you were drunk. “I think it's time for you to go home.” Zayne said. “But how about Tara?” You asked. Zayne then points to a corner, you see Tara hitting it off with a cute looking guy, so into him that she's already forgotten you guys were waiting for her. You were about to walk over to her to let her know you are about to leave as you feel a light tug on your arm, “Read the room, won't you? She clearly doesn't want to be bothered right now.” says Rafayel.

“I could just give her a text and let her know we will be leaving soon?” Xavier suggests. The 2 others nod of approval, he pulls his phone out and starts texting. “Done. Shall we get going then?” Xavier extended his hand to help you get up from your seat. “Wait a damn minute.” Rafayel interrupts and yanks your hand away from him. “I was planning to walk her home.”

Xavier looks coldly at Rafayel, he just lets out a grunt.

“In any case, let's just get out of here first” Zayne suggests, “She is starting to attract unwanted attention.” Rafayel and Xaiver did not notice you while they were arguing… You are feeling warm from all the alcohol you drank, and start to fan yourself. Your hand clutches the dress, almost as if you were about to pull on it a bit so you could get some cold air inside your dress. Zayne takes off his coat and plops it on you to shield you from the unwelcome gaze.

Rafayel and Xaiver stand up, Zayne is now in front of you, pulls you up and turns you facing the door, holding onto one of your hands and the other resting on your waist. The ladies all glared in jealousy as if it looked like you were a princess, and your knights were escorting you to where you needed to be. You were too out of it to notice how much attention the lot of you were attracting.

Once you got outside, Zayne was walking you to his car, opened the door and was about to get you inside the passenger seat when Rafayel slammed the door shut. “Excuse me, where do you think you are taking her?” he asked furiously. “I’m taking her home. Now move aside.” Zayne answered. “Are you serious? You had alcohol! I wont allow her to be in your car if you're under the influence.” It was obviously an dumb excuse just to have you not go with Zayne. “Fine, I guess you have a point.” Zayne actually agreed with Rafayel, he would not be able to live with himself if anything were to happen to you, even if there was a slight chance of putting you in danger, he will avoid it. “I will just walk her home. You two can leave.” he demands. “Oh Hell no. I’m coming with, who knows what you would do to her while she is drunk.” Rafayal argued.

“I’m not drunk,” you interrupt, “And Zayne is not that type of person.” Zayne looks at you with such a gentle smile, if you weren’t so drunk, you would have melted by the sight of that. “He will never do anything to me.” Zayne twitched for a second, as if he felt guilty like he had indecent thoughts on his mind. “Can we please get going? I want to change out of this dress…” you start tugging the top again. Zayne covers you up and turns his head away from you so you could not see him blush.

“Let's get going then.” Zayne was trying to walk you to the direction of your place. “Hey, don’t leave me here!” Rafayel whines and follows closely on your other side. Xavier was quiet but he followed behind. “Stop following us.” as Rafayel demands Xavier. “... I live in the same building, this is how I get home.” “Tsk” Rafayel was annoyed how close the two of you live, he is jealous of Xavier that he always gets to see you, anytime he wants.

The 4 of you all walked together, Zayne on your left and Rafayel to your right and Xavier following closely behind. You thought the best way to break the long silence is for you to hum a song, you're not sure what song it was but you were able to put a gentle smile on all their faces. They all enjoyed the sweet melody as the group got closer and closer to their destination.

As you're arriving, Xavier speeds up from behind to get the door open. And to help you inside. Zayne and Rafayel are still following as everyone follows you and Xavier back to your apartment. You got to your door, tried grabbing the door handle as you stumbled around, Xavier took your hand and helped guide your thumb to the fingerprint scanner to get the door unlocked.

Rafayel rushes inside and explores your apartment, Zayne follows after him and sits himself down at the couch. Xaiver didn't want to leave the two of them alone with you and decided to invite himself in as well. You were too drunk to argue so you just let all of them inside. Rafayel thought your place was neat and tidy and liked that you've placed the plushies that he won for you on your bed. Looking at how dazed you look, while being in your beautiful dress and make up, he pulled his phone out and snapped a few pictures of you. Zayne saw him and decided that was actually a good idea, he doesn't get to see you dressed up often and wants to freeze this moment. Xavier also pulled his phone out to take pictures of you, you looking a bit confused but didn't have enough energy to fight back, you just let them do their thing. It was like a photoshoot just for you, they would ask you to do certain poses and you would just comply.

They had fun and were able to take a lot of good shots of you. They have enough material to do whatever they need. With everyone finished taking photos of you, Rafayel changed to a more serious tone. “Do you guys mind leaving? There is something I've been wanting to tell her, Alone.” “Well you are not the only one.” Zayne said calmly. “We all know, no one will back down from this matter.” Xavier agrees.

Rafayel grabs you by your shoulder, and asks you wholeheartedly, “Y/N, do you like me?” You, still in your drunken state, put one hand on his beautiful face, look him in the eyes and nodded. Rafayel was overwhelmed with happiness and turned to Zayne and Xavier, “See! She likes me too, now please leave us. I want to spend time alone with my darling.” Zayne disagreed, he took your hand and asked “Well then, Y/N, do you like me?” you looked at Zayne, and you nodded your head again. “And how about Xavier over there, do you like him too?” Zayne asks. You look over to the direction of where Xavier is standing and give him a sweet smile and nod your head once again.

You are slowly sobering up and realize that you have just confessed to all three of them. You feel so embarrassed, you tried to hide behind your arms and was wishing that this is all just a dream. Tears started rolling down your eyes, as you felt you have betrayed their love for you and you cannot decide who you like the most. You started sobbing. The lads' hearts were aching from watching you cry, you thought you did the one thing you said you would never do. Ruin the current relationships with all three of them. And you felt you did exactly that.

You said quietly under your breath, “please leave.” They all weren't sure who you were referring to and told each other to leave so they, themselves, could stay and watch over you. “All of you.” They are now frozen to their spot. All staring at you. All wanting to cheer you up. You looked up with a painful smile on your face and said, “I'm sorry, I've ruined everything, please leave me. I don't know how I should face the 3 of you.”

You were trying to reject your feelings for all 3 of them. Since you thought it unfair for them to have feelings for you while you can't even decide who you loved most. You know if the situation were too flip, you would not be happy with them not being able to tell which girl they love more.

“What if we said we didn't care who you love more, as long as you don't push me away, I would rather share you than not have you at all…” Xavier said Sadly as he walked over and grabbed your hand and put it to his cheeks. “I… I can't do that! That is not fair for you guys!” You claimed. “Xavier is right, I cannot imagine my life without you. Not anymore. I need you and if I have to share you then so be it.” Rafayel said it very seriously. His deep voice was the confirmation. “But it is not right!” Zayne tries to Sheesh you. “As long as we know that we are in your heart and that is enough. Or is the idea of not being able to see us anymore fine for you?” You flinched, staring at them with a half blanked face, your tears started to burst out uncontrollably. “No! I don't ever want that!” You yelled.

The 3 men surround you, trying to calm you down. Seeing you cry like this breaks their hearts. They are used to you being happy all the time, make silly faces, laugh at the most silly jokes. Not like this, they don't know what to do.

Unable to control his own emotions anymore, Xavier pulled you into his chest, both arms wrapped tightly around you. For a second you felt peaceful. In one swift movement he had your head up and landed a deep passionate kiss on your lips. The others could only watch as they could not have predicted what he was about to do. Xavier, still holding you tightly and kissing you, you let out a soft moan as you were feeling dazed and trying to catch your breath. When he finally gets his senses back, he slowly lets go of you. He used the back of his hand to wipe the drool that slipped out the corner of his mouth. “You taste much sweeter than the candy shot just now.”

You turned your head away from him after hearing such embarrassed words and the exchange of your kiss. You felt flushed and tried to hide your face in your arms. “Th-that was my first kiss!” You claimed. Rafayel is now looking down at your semi concealed face, as when you turned away from Xaiver, you are now facing him. “I guess second is better than none at all.” He scoffs and grabs your wrist and pulls your arms away from your face and leans in to give you a kiss on your lips.

You tried to push yourself away from him, but with his hands pulling you back and whispering without leaving your lips. “Don’t resist.” His blue-pink eyes stare so wantonly into yours’, you twitched and stopped resisting. Once he felt you were no longer pulling away, he tried something more daring. He slowly slips his tongue into your mouth. The weird sensation shocked you and you opened your eyes wide. You are flustered but you did not pull away, you even respond to Rafayel with your tongue swirling harmoniously with his. He releases your wrists and puts his hands on your cheeks, and slowly pushes you away. You almost didn't want him to stop. He looked straight into your dreamy eyes and said. “Now that's a good girl.”

You've been kissed twice the same night, not to mention from different men. But you can't feel but want more. As if something lustful was released from within you without your knowing. Zayne sees this, he walks behind you, puts his one hand on your shoulder and the other on your neck, slowly raising to tilt your chin up. He doesn't say or do anything, other than moving his thumb up and down gently as if he was waiting for you to tell him what he should do next.

You were panting lightly and called out, “Zayne……” he looks down at your wanting eyes and replies “Yes princess? If you need something, you have to tell me.” “I wa-want you to kiss me…” you felt so embarrassed asking Zayne when you've been passionately kissing other guys just now. You feel your eyes getting teary, overflowing as the tears roll out the corner of your eyes. “As you wish, my love.” He bends down, his palm is now resting on your cheek and his long fingers still under your chin. He plants his lips onto yours, his nose brushing your chin, he bites your lower lip gently then sucks with enough pressure to get moaning and panting.

You were sitting but could feel your legs giving in. When Zayne's lips finally left you, you felt fulfilled, satisfied. You fall to your side and Xavier catches you in his arms. Everything feels hazy and you feel the sleepiness catching up to you. You want to open your eyes but you just can't no matter how hard you try. Xavier carried you to your bed. You have already drifted into dreamland while the 3 of them sit close by and just watched you sleep peacefully, they could see you smiling. Maybe you are having a good dream with them being by your side as well. The 3 of them each find a comfortable spot close to you and to spend the night. Rafayel lay in front of you and whispered, “Good night my princess, we have a long road ahead of us. You better be prepared.” As he closed his eyes and fell asleep.

#love and deepspace fanfiction #qi yu #shen xinghui #xavier lads #rafayel x reader #zayne x reader #xavier x reader #li shen

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