#I dont want to sound dismissive here

[nothorses]

As someone who doesn’t fall within the LGBT part of the acronym I’m still more uncomfortable with queer as the umbrella because it feels like the last progressively acceptable way to be exclusionary. Obvs plenty of folks still judge whether ppl are gay/trans enough. But doing that is at least explicitly not acceptable in the spaces I wanna be in. Whereas it’s accepted and sometimes encouraged to criticize or even exclude ppl for not being queer enough (in theory a political call, in practice a judgement on identity and presentation). I do still use queer to signal correctly, but it does not sit well for that reason. Wish there was a third option w/no political history, but I know we’d just do this to whatever new term we came up with too

I mean, I think "I know we’d just do this to whatever new term we came up with too" kind of hits the nail on the head here.

This isn't something that happens because of the word, it's something that happens because of the people. The word itself is not inherently exclusive; in fact, it's explicitly all-inclusive. It's for anyone who falls outside of the relevant societal expectations, by definition, and there is no list or any further defining or qualifying that needs to be done.

The issue with "LGBT", and any variation thereof, is that it's a list. It starts with the letters people consider most important to start with (hence, "GL" becoming "LG"). Even if it didn't, it requires that we name every single kind of person who's welcome, individually, which inevitably leaves people out- or tells them that they aren't welcome on the terms of their more "niche" identities, but rather only if they happen to have a more visible and accepted one alongside it. (See: "straight asexuals aren't LGBT")

People can still act exclusionary regardless of word choice, but if the words they're using do not themselves reinforce or encourage that way of thinking and behaving, it's kind of ridiculous to pin the blame for that on the words. People are going to do that with any word we use- at some point we have to decide whether the fight should be in finding a new word each time they do it, or in getting them to stop behaving that way in the first place.

Also... I'm sorry you've experienced this, and I think it needs to be addressed. But speaking personally, that experience isn't universal. When folks have gatekept who "counts", in my personal experience, they've overwhelmingly been using "LGBT" (or just "LGB"). If they use "queer" at all, it's interchangeable with that and other terms. Again, not to say that your experience doesn't matter- it does- but so do other people's.

You don't need to use "queer" for yourself if you don't want to. You also don't need to use "LGBT" or any variation. But we're not talking about personal identification, either; this is about which word is most practically useful and effective in achieving our goals of maximum inclusivity and clarity.

[galacticlamps]

ok I have A Lot of thoughts about the staircase confession (well really about Edwin's whole character arc, but all roads lead to rome) but for now I just wanna say that, yes, I was bracing myself for something to go terribly wrong when I first watched it, and yes, part of me was initially worried its placement might be an uncharacteristically foolish choice made in the name of Drama or Pacing or Making a Compelling Episode of Television but at the expense of narrative sense--

But I wanna say that having taken all that into account, and watched it play out, and sat with it - and honestly become rather transfixed by it - I really think it's a beautifully crafted moment and truly the only way that arc could've arrived at such a satisfying conclusion.

And if I had to pinpoint why I not only buy it but also have come to really treasure it, I'd have to put it down to the fact that it genuinely is a confession, and nothing else.

That moment is an announcement of what Edwin has come to understand about himself, but because it takes the form of a character admitting romantic feelings for such a close friend, I think it can be very easy, when writing that kind of thing, to imbue it with other elements like a plea or a request or even the start of a new relationship that, intentionally or not, would change the shape of the moment and can quickly overshadow what a huge deal the telling is all on its own. But that's not the case here. Since it is only a confession, unaccompanied by anything else, and since we see afterward how it was enough, evidently, to fix the strangeness that had grown between him & Charles, we're forced to understand that it was never Edwin's feelings that were actually making things difficult for him - it was not being able to tell Charles about them. 'Terrified' as he's been of this, Edwin learns that his feelings don't need to either disappear completely or be totally reciprocated in order for him to be able to return to the peace, stability, and security of the relationship with which he defines his existence - and the scale of that relief a) tells us a hell of a lot about Edwin as a character and b) totally justifies the way his declaration just bursts out of him at what would otherwise be such a poorly chosen moment, in my opinion.

Whether or not they are or ever could be reciprocated, Edwin's feelings are definitively proven not to be the problem here - only his potential choice to bottle it up - his repression - is. And where that repression had once been mainly involuntary, a product of what he'd been through, now that he's got this new awareness of himself, if he still fails to admit what he's found either to himself or to the one person he's so unambiguously close with, then that repression will be by his own choice and actions.

And he won't do that. Among other things, he's coming into this scene having just (unknowingly) absolved the soul of his own school bully and accidental killer by pointing out a fact that is every bit as central to his self-discovery as anything about his sexuality or his attraction to Charles is: the idea that "If you punish yourself, everywhere becomes Hell"

So narratively speaking, of course it makes sense that Edwin literally cannot get out of Hell until he stops punishing himself - and right now, the thing that's torturing him is something he has control over. It's not who he is or what he feels, but what he chooses to do with those feelings that's hurting him, and he's even already made the conscious choice to tell Charles about them, he was just interrupted. But now that they're back together and he's literally in the middle of an attempt to escape Hell, there is absolutely no way he can so much as stop for breath without telling Charles the truth. Even the stopping for breath is so loaded - because they're ghosts, they don't need to breathe, but also they're in Hell, so the one thing they can feel is pain, however nonsensical. And Edwin certainly is in pain. But whether he knows what he's about to do or not when he says he 'just needs a tick,' a breather is absolutely not what's gonna give him enough relief to keep climbing - it's fixing that other hurt, though, that will.

Like everything else in that scene, there's a lot of layers to him promising Charles "You don't have to feel the same way, I just needed you to know" - but I don't think that means it isn't also true on a surface level. It's the act of telling Charles that matters so much more than whatever follows it, and while that might have gone unnoticed if anything else major had happened in the same conversation, now we're forced to acknowledge its staggering and singular importance for what it is. The moment is well-earned and properly built up to, but until we see it happen in all its wonderful simplicity, and we see the aftermath (or lack thereof, even), we couldn't properly anticipate how much of a weight off Edwin's shoulders merely getting to share the truth with Charles was going to be, why he couldn't wait for a better, safer opportunity before giving in to that desire, or how badly he needed to say it and nothing else - and I really, really love the weight that act of just being honest, seen, and known is given in their story/relationship.

[bluntforcefem]

unsurprising but exhausting that people are only down to pay a fair price when it comes to visual art & not written work on pce. back when i wildly underpriced my work i was overwhelmed by orders but the minute i put the price point at something reasonable fur my time... crickets. it's still significantly below the price a lot of people pay for not-cat art (and, to be clear, a lot of those people should ALSO be pricing their work higher). and again like!! i'm not surprised!! there's a reason i had underpriced my work & a reason there's a ridiculously unbalanced art:writing shop ratio on the forums but. sighs. i want to write fur pce i have a lot of fun with it but i'm not willing to go back to underpricing my work either

[pucked-bunnie]

shameless flirt ⎜ a.matthews

pairings: auston matthews x reader prompts: "you can rest your head on me, I don't mind" + "I dont want to be alone." genre: fluff ⎜angst ⎜friends to lovers⎜ warnings: injured players ⎜auston is a little espresso depresso ⎜just auston being in love the whole time ⎜had to make tyler the bad guy, sorry ⎜ synopsis: working as a team trainer came with many ups and downs, when you pull one of toronto's super stars the downs seem to outweigh the ups - but auston is always willing to bring you back up. word count: 4.8k authors note:  this was a WIP i had already started but when doing the prompt list request I got two request that I felt tied in nicely, so I put them all together. I also love our gentle giant auston matthews. (disclaimer : none of the hockey events in this are accurate - so dont come for me.)

(unedited)

+

+

“You need to stop staring.” You can’t help the way you jump at the words, glaring at the man behind you before turning back towards the rink. 

“I’m not staring.” You huff, flicking some hair away from your face. “I’m assessing.” The large man steps forwards leaning against the barricade besides you, his eyes trailing over your face before following your gaze to the player on the ice. 

“Assessing for what?” Auston asks, his gaze watching his teammate curiously, before moving back towards you. Your frown was deepening as you watched the Swedish player move through the drills on the ice. “Is he okay?” 

Something was wrong.

What were you seeing that he couldn’t? 

“That is for me to know and for you to probably never find out.” You sigh as you push off the wall, turning towards the large man. “What’re you doing out here anyway, don’t you have an interview to do?” Auston shrugs as he turns away from the ice to look at you. 

“Is he injured?” He questions and this time you shrug in return. 

“It’s none of your business, Auston.” You begin holding up a hand before he begins to complain, “It’s a suspicion, nothing more and once it concerns you, you’ll be the first to know.” You finish, smiling as your player makes his way to the boards, unstrapping his helmet as he skates. 

“How was that, doc?” William asks, a large grin planted on his face as he nods a quick hello to his teammate. 

“Subpar.” You respond, William’s smile dropping slightly. “You seem to be favouring your left leg, I need to do a physical on you at some stage this afternoon if you manage to catch a free moment.” You continue, looking between the two players before letting out a relaxed grin. 

“I’m sure it’s nothing, Willy. But we can’t have you out there if you can’t play your best.” William nods slowly, trying to return your smile but you can see the worries running through his head quicker then he can keep up. 

He’s hiding something from you and you are determined to find out what it is. 

“Meet me in the treatment room after you shower, we'll go over my concerns then.” You say dismissing William back to the locker room before turning to Auston, glancing up at him with a sigh. 

“You need to go do your media, Auston” He opens his mouth to say something but you shake your head before you trudge down the tunnel after William. 

Working for the Toronto Maple Leafs had been nothing short of a dream for the three years you had been with the team - with one of the senior trainers leaving after last season you had been approached to step in as a full time trainer and senior member of staff - your role changing drastically and sometimes left you in the firing line when an unpopular decision had to be made. 

“He’s getting pulled isn’t he?” Auston’s voice sounds from the door of your office. William had left your office over an hour ago his eyes watering as you gave him the bad news. You had spent the hour in silence typing up the email recommendation to the coaching staff. 

“I can’t tell you anything, Auston.” You say quietly, “You know how this works.” Auston nods, taking a few steps into the room before closing the door behind him. 

“Is it bad?” 

“Auston, please.” You respond, rubbing your fingers against your forehead, a long sigh escaping you as you slowly nod your head. “It’s bad enough that he needs to focus on rehab right now.” You say, before adding “everyone’s gonna hate me for this.” This wasn’t your first time pulling one of the core four on the team - last time the boys had been more lenient as you were one of the junior staff members and the decision had your previous supervisor taking most of the heat - this time you were on your own. 

“I could never hate you.” He says softly, his chest squeezing as he watches the tiredness smooth over your expression. 

“Thanks.” You say with a bitter laugh, closing your laptop as you reach for your bag under the desk. 

“They’ll give the team an update tomorrow.” 

Auston stands with you, his hand reaching out to pull open the door waving for you to exit first. “I’m serious doc.” He says, “I’ve got your back.” 

Twenty four hours later you watch from the doorway as the coaches deliver the news to the team - the coaches waiting till after practice to announce that William would be pulled for the foreseeable future - Auston’s eyes flick to yours every now and then as the coaches refuse to divulge too deeply into the details. 

“What do you mean he’s getting pulled?” Mitch asks softly, yanking at the straps of his padding, pulling the equipment off slowly, “He seemed completely fine.” The volume is the locker room raises as the team all share their opinions of agreement.

The coach takes a moment to let the group voice their frustration before speaking.  “Our trainers are some of the best in the world.” Sheldon begins, “They have everyone's best interest at heart - she made the call to pull Willy as it was perceived that he was trying to conceal an injury and in the long run would be doing more damage. Willy agreed it was the best thing to do with hopes that with his full focus on recovery it will make him available for the playoffs.” Sheldon's words seem to quiet the group.

Auston hands pause on the laces of his skates as he glances over to you again, seeing your head fall, your hand pushing the loose hairs out of your face, as you whisper something under your breath before lifting your head again. “Anyway, let’s wish William all the best in his recovery and hope to see him back on the ice soon.” Sheldon finishes before dismissing the group, shouting out a quick morning practice time for tomorrow morning before exiting the locker room. 

The locker room is quiet after the coach leaves, Auston risking one more glance towards you, his heart jumping in his chest as he sees your eyes already locked on him with a sad smile on your face. Auston glances away quickly engaging in the ongoing conversation besides him to try and ignore you and your gaze on the side of his face.

He still notices when you turn slowly and decides to leave the room. 

+

+

“Fuck.” Sheldon swears under his breath as the end of game horn rings - the crowd of red roaring in victory as the home team groups together on the ice, patting each other on the heads. The sea of blue fans beginning to exit the stands all sending glares of anger towards your team slowly skating their way to the bench - hoping to make a quick exit. 

The game had been an intense one - the team had been so close to pulling through but continued to miss their shots, the fire power significantly decreased since you pulled one of their top scorers. You keep your head down low as you follow the last player down the tunnel, everyone making their way into the locker room - “Doc, we need to talk for a moment.” Your steps freeze as you glance ahead to the maple leafs coach waiting to the side of the locker room - his arms folded against his chest. 

“Sure, thing.” You say, plastering a smile on your face as you step away from the group - one of the players pausing by the door of the locker room, his hand making quick work of his helmet as he glances between you and his coach. 

“You have something to say, Matthews?” Auston glances at his coach, his mouth opening slightly before closing again, his gaze trailing over to you, your head moving side to side in the smallest movement he barely catches it. 

“It’s okay.” He can see you mouth the words, your head motioning for him to enter the room behind him before turning back towards his coach. 

“Don’t be too hard on her.” He says quietly into the hallway not waiting for you or Sheldon to respond before trudging into the locker room. 

“We both know that your decision to pull Nylander is one that can’t be reversed until you sign off on his physical.” Sheldon begins - the leafs had implemented a new protocol on the return of players from the injury reserve, the doctor who made the decision to pull the player had to be the one to sign them off on returning to avoid players and coaches undermining the doctors decision. 

You nod your head slowly - your smile faltering as you catch on to what the coach is hinting at. “You want me to sign him off early?” Your question almost comes out of your mouth as a scoff - your eyebrows raised as your smile officially switches to a frown. “You want me to break protocol for this?” You reiterate, your own arms crossing against your chest as you stare down the coach. 

“No, of course not.” Sheldon’s words come out with a nervous laugh - his gaze flicking over the hallways as he takes a step forwards - his voice lowers as he speaks again. “We only have one more game before the playoffs - we need our team back at full potential.” 

You nod taking in his words, giving him a second to continue, “You understand, don’t you? You know what this would mean to the team - to be able to begin the playoffs as a force to be reckoned with… we can’t do that without our core four.” You shake your head as you take a step away from the desperate coach. 

“No can do, Sheldon.” Your words are firm as you glance to the players beginning to hover at the door of the locker room. “I’m not going to risk him injuring himself permanently for the sake of playing a game.” You know your words are making the coach angry - his rage simmering as a red tint rises up his neck. “I care about our players, and I’d hope you’d share the same sentiment, coach.” The words hiss out of you as you glare at the man, not wasting anymore time in making your way into the medical bay besides the locker room - closing the door tightly behind you. 

You miss the way the rest of the team let out whistles of shock as their coach lets out a huff of displeasure.

You miss the way Auston watches you walk away, a slight grin on his face before his coach dismisses him to finish pulling off his gear. 

+

+

The team was two hours behind schedule - most of the staff already seated on the plane waiting for the players to join them so everyone could make the three hour flight back home. Slowly the players made their way onto the plane - each taking up their normal seats, most of the time the players would sit amongst each other while the staff would find their own seats towards the back of the plane - Sheldon considered it another of his many ways for the team to get closer together. 

“Auston, you gonna join us for some black jack?” Mitch’s voice carries through the airplane - his hands already shuffling a deck of cards, two of his team mates looking up at the newest arrival in anticipation. 

Auston hesitates looking between the empty seat next to you - and his best friend waiting for him to take the seat across from him. “I think I’m gonna miss out this time.” Auston says slowly walking further down the aisle - Mitch looking at his friend in disbelief. “I’m just super tired.” Auston adds as he shoves his bag in the overhead locker before dropping into the seat beside you - your eyes shooting over to him in confusion - your hand lifting to pull one of your AirPods out of your ear. 

“What are you doing?” You sneer under your breath - not missing the way some of his teammates glare over at you. “You need to move - staff and players don’t sit together, Auston.” Your hands shove at him lightly, but Auston makes himself comfortable in the seat beside you, a soft smile on his face as he ignores your pleading, clicking the seat belt at his hips and settling into the seat.

“This is ridiculous.” You huff, giving up on trying to move the large man, pressing play on the iPad screen in front of you, one AirPod still in your ear as the movie continues. “What’re you watching?” Auston asks as the flight attendants move down the plane checking everyone is buckled in and comfortable. 

You let out a long yawn as you shoot him a glare, “None of your business.” If your words were meant to stop Auston from interacting with you, they seemed to be doing quite the opposite. 

“You’re tired?” He questions as you let out another yawn, slapping a hand over your mouth to cover the movement, “You can rest your head on me.” He says softly, lowering his left shoulder, patting against the hard muscle with a grin, “I don’t mind.” He adds quickly, lowering his shoulder a little bit more. 

“Auston, I don’t think that’s a good idea.” 

“It’s probably not.” He agrees, his right hand reaching over to shuffle your iPad into the middle of your seats, before reaching over his body to gently pull your head down onto his shoulder, his left hand, grabbing for yours - your fingers lacing together as he sits your joined hands comfortably in your lap. 

“But that’s never really stopped me before.” 

Your breath gets caught in your chest as you think of all the ways people must be whispering about your position - not daring to lift your head off Auston’s shoulder to look around at the people around you - not daring to lift your head from the comfortable fabric of Auston’s fleece jumper. 

“Rest, doc.” He whispers softly, his hand squeezing yours, as he watches the movie on the screen, pulling the spare AirPod out of its case to shove in his ear. 

You’re not sure when you fall asleep but you wake to Auston’s hand squeezing yours, his head laying softly on top of yours, a jacket thrown over your torso, the movie credits playing on the screen of your iPad. 

“We’ve arrived.” The flight attendant says quietly, her gaze flicking over you and the man beside you with a knowing grin - leaving as you thank her, detaching your hand from Auston’s, the man letting out a soft groan, his hand reaching out to take yours again. 

“We’re here.” You whisper to him, slipping his jacket off of you to place back into his lap, gathering all your stuff before shoving it into your backpack - gently reaching to pull the remaining AirPod out of Auston’s ear, sliding it back into the case. “Auston?” You say softly as you shake his shoulder lightly. 

He sits up slowly, stretching his arms above his head as he glances over at you, your bag already slung over your shoulder as you wait for him to move so you can exit the plane. 

“Same time tomorrow?” He asks, undoing the belt in his lap, and stepping out into the aisle. You shake your head as you pass him, not able to stop the spreading grin on your face. 

+

+

Your head falls forwards as the end of game horn sounds for the last time in the regular season - the leafs lost again - the final game of their season they lost and they lost by two. Even though they were still guaranteed a position in the playoffs it never felt good to start the first round on a loss. 

Not to mention the news hitting the team yesterday that they would be up against Boston in the first round - the two teams notorious for having very intense games. 

No one says anything as the team makes their way back to the locker room - everyone stripping off their gear with heavy heads, most wanting nothing more than to get on the plane and head back home, you included. You can’t ignore the way people glare at you as you enter the room, some players whispering to each other under their breath in frustration. 

Some of the team still makes friendly conversation or sends you tight smiles as you help them unwrap their tape - or roll out their tight muscles, but most say nothing. Your final patient never makes his way into your medical bay - the other doctors packing up as you wait for the tall brunette to pop his head into the room, but nothing, not even a glimpse of the large player. 

“We’re going to take this stuff out to the crew, are you alright to pack up the rest?” One of your colleagues asks as he passes by you -  a few cases in his hands. 

“Yeah, I’ll be good to go in just a moment.” You say softly, letting out a quiet sigh as you turn to pack up your equipment, turning as you head a soft knock on the door. 

“Do you still have time to help me get this tape off?” His voice is quieter than usual - the player you were waiting for standing by the open door - his skin red from where he had tried to rip the strapping tape off on his own. You nod quickly, taking in his sad eyes - the skin around them redder than usual. 

“I tried to get it off myself, but you’re clearly too good at your job.” Auston says a bitter chuckle coming out as he takes a seat on the table in front of you - your hands digging through your bags for the adhesive removal spray. 

“Why didn’t you come ask for help sooner?” You ask quietly, as you behind to spray the remover on the remaining tape wincing at the rash spreading across his skin where the tape was already removed. “You could’ve gotten someone else to remove it.” You add quickly the thought that maybe he was trying to avoid you running through your head quickly. 

“Why would I do that?” His question confuses you, your eyebrows furrowing but you continue pulling off the tape. “You think I’m avoiding you?” 

“Aren’t you?” You ask bitterly, remembering the looks of the others on the team, the ones that clearly blame you for the loss. “Everyone else hates me right now, so it’s not like I blame you.” Auston just watches as you pull your bottom lip between your teeth, your chin wobbling as you try to suck in the overwhelming disappointment that’s been growing in yourself. He watches as you focus all your attention on pulling off the tape, keeping your attention on his sore skin as you rub soothing cream over the rash that he gave to himself. 

“I could never hate you.” He says softly as you twist the lid back onto the cream, standing from his spot on your bench, his hands raising to your face, lifting your head to tilt up towards him. “I told you when you first made the decision - I could never hate you, no matter what anyone else thinks - not even what you think, do you understand?” Your chin trembles as his thumb strokes against your cheeks softly, your head nodding in confirmation, his hands staying just under your jaw as he lets out a soft sigh.

“Then why are you sad? Why didn’t you come to me to help?” Your question stalls Auston’s ministrations on your skin, his thumbs stopping in their motions as he stares down at you, his jaw clenching as he tries to find his words. 

“I’m just disappointed.” 

“Disappointed?” 

“In myself.” He confirms before adding, “In the team, we let one person's absence throw us off the ball - we do this every god damn year.” His forehead drops to yours, his hands slipping away from your face, sliding over your shoulder before grazing down your arms, his fingers reaching out to lace with yours. “I thought we were going to do better this year… I thought I would do better.” 

The sound of footsteps in the locker room makes the two of you jump, your hands slipping out of his as you quickly throw the rest of your equipment into their cases, turning back to Auston with a soft smile. “You should finish getting change for the flight.” Auston nods, frowning as he glances out into the locker room seeing the other doctors hovering by the door. 

“You’ll wait for me?” He asks quickly, your head nodding before you can even register what he asked, his body slipping through the door before you can take back your agreement. 

But you do as requested, handing off your cases to the other doctors promising them you’d meet them on the plane, making excuses about Auston wanting to talk about a treatment plan for his shoulder - they both nod understandingly moving quickly to get the last of the equipment to the trucks to take to the airport. 

Auston’s surprised to see you still standing outside the locker room when he exits - his back thrown over his shoulder, a large white hooding thrown over your uniform as you turn towards him. The two of you walk to the bus in silence, neither knowing why you had stayed. 

Neither of you know why you still stayed as you sit next to each other on the bus. 

As you fall into your seats besides each other on the plane. 

Auston’s surprised again as you take hold of his hand once the flight takes off - your gaze focused on the window as the plane levels out - your headphones over your ears as you pretend your thumb isn’t rubbing gentle circles on the back of his hand. 

“What is going on with you two?” Auston’s head shoots up from the video playing on his phone, Mitch leaning over the back of the chair in front of him, his eyes lingering on the joined hands sitting in your lap. If you head Mitch you pretend not to, your chin in your hand as you keep watching the black sky pass by. 

“None of your business.” Auston replies, praying to whoever will listen that you don’t pay attention to Mitch’s interrogations, praying that you don’t take your hand out of his. “Mitch drop it.” Auston sneers as his friend's gaze drops to your joined hands again, Auston squeezing yours as he feels your fingers loosen on his. “Please.” Auston adds, Mitch’s eyebrows raising in surprise as he throws his hands up in surrender. 

The rest of the flight passes in silence, most of his teammates busy with their own unwinding processes, a lot of the staff sleeping for as much of the flight as possible. 

Neither of you two sleep. 

Neither of you acknowledge the other until the plane stops on the runway - the players and staff quickly making their way off the plane, stretching their limbs as they go. 

“Do you have a ride home?” Auston asks, his chest tightening as you finally pull your hands out of his, the warmth of your skin lingering in his palm. You shake your head softly, pulling out your phone and flashing the Uber app on your screen. “Come home with me.” Auston says wincing as the words hit him as soon as he says them. 

“Not like that - I mean I wouldn’t be against it but… I just…” 

“What do you mean then, Auston?” You interrupt, your face soft as you wait for him to respond, giving him the time to collect himself. 

“I don’t want to be alone.” He admits quietly, “I’d really like to spend some more time with you.” You don’t say anything, glancing down at the open app on your phone before glancing back up at him - handing your unlocked phone over, the arrival address waiting. 

“No way in hell you’re paying for the ride.” He hisses, pushing your phone back towards you as he pulls his own phone out of his pocket, reaching overhead to pull his backpack out of the locker, his hand reaching out for yours as he drags your off the plane behind him - the two of you bypassing the rest of the staff, Auston sneaking to grab your two suitcases before rushing you off the runway and into the airport an Uber waiting out the front. 

Auston sits comfortably in the silence, his hand warm between the two of you - his heart beating so fast he’s glad you know how to do CPR cause he might need it if you do anything else. 

Auston thanks the driver as he pulls up outside his building - pulling the bags from the trunk - your small duffle stacked on top of his suitcase - the bags dragged behind him as he also drags you behind him and into the empty lobby. 

“This place is really fancy.” You say as he scans his house fob - the elevator automatically selecting the floor for his condo. Auston doesn’t say anything, pretty sure he’d throw up if he attempted to get words out. 

“Are you okay?” You question as the elevator dings - the doors opening to the front door of his condo - the only condo on this floor. 

“Mhm.” He answers, swallowing his nerves as he shoves his key into the lock, opening the door as quickly as possible pulling you quickly into his empty apartment. 

“No Felix?” You question as you glance around, an empty crate sitting in the living room with no sign of the dog. 

“He’s at Mitch’s - Felix loves visiting Zeus when we go on roadies.” Auston finally speaks, his hand dropping yours for just a moment to set up your bags by the front door, pulling his large puffer off his shoulders and throwing it over a coat rack by the front door.   

“Make yourself at home.” Auston says as he strides into the kitchen grabbing two bottles of water from the fridge, his gaze shooting over to your body relaxing into the cushions of his oversized couch. 

“Where the hell did you get this thing?” You question as he hands you your bottle of water, slumping into the seat beside you, a grin on his face as he watches you settle in further. 

“I don’t know if my sister bought it.” He says quickly, your eyes squeezed shut as he reaches for a blanket draped over the back of the couch, throwing it over your lap. 

“Well I need the link.” You comment on bliss twisting the lid off the water as you take a sip. 

“It was almost ten thousand though.” Auston’s hand moves to pat your back as the water gets stuck in your throat - coughs racking your body as you pat your chest. 

“Never-mind then.” 

“You can use mine whenever you want.” Auston says and you scoff, falling back against the couch as you drop the evil water besides you on the couch. “I’m not kidding.” He adds. 

Auston doesn’t know what makes him change his position. 

He’s not sure why he lies down on the couch, his head gently landing in your lap. 

He’s not sure what to do when he feels your fingers thread in his hair, running softly through his messy locks - the water from his shower still making the ends of his hair wet and tangled. 

Auston’s not sure when you both fall asleep - his phone making him squint as he checks the time - the four am flashing as he throws the device to the other side of the couch. 

He drags himself off the couch slowly, careful not to wake you as he slides his arms under your body, lifting you gently with a soft grunt as he scuttles down the hallway - his room only lit by the lights of the other high building through his window, his body freezing as you let out a soft whine as he drops you onto his mattress dragging his duvet down the bed to throw over your body. 

He doesn’t know what makes him round the bed, sliding onto the mattress behind you, pulling the blanket over his body as well, his mind running so fast as you turn on the mattress, your hands reaching out to tangle in the fabric of his shirt, your body shuffling in the cold sheets to move closer to him. 

“Don’t make things awkward, Auston.” You huff, as one of your hands releases his shirt, grabbing his frozen arm to drape over your waist, a happy hum leaving you as he pulls you tighter against him, his chin resting against the top of your head. “We’re going to have to talk about this in the morning.” You say. 

“I know.” He responds. 

Neither of you know when you fall back asleep.

But neither of you complain as you wake up bundled together in the large king bed. 

[disregardandfelicity]

i was lucky enough to attend the premiere on tuesday (as the +1 of a contest winner); in case this is of interest (and, indulgently, to preserve it for my own memory), here are some tidbits from my night:

for the screening, the cast had assigned seats (jacob and delainey in the same row, sam behind jacob, eric behind sam, assad on the other side of the aisle, the same side as rolin, hannah, and mark johnson). sam and jacob were off to the side chatting during intros and never sat in theirs

delainey got applause from the audience upon her first on screen appearance, the only cast member to get one

daniel had a fair few interview beats which got laughs from the audience

afterwards, an actor from the venue came up and gave a little speech as though he was from a sister coven to the TdV in paris. then we were dismissed to the party, which was upstairs

initially post party, assad and luke were in the front larger room of the reception - sam and jacob were, i believe, already gathered in a far back corner in the second room, along with some other people. eric didn't stay for the party

the venue had a couple little 'shows' - at one point the whole cast and some other guests went up several flights of stairs to a room (delainey commented on how many flights there were as we climbed) where a version of the no pain scene from the books was reenacted by venue actors

kalyne coleman was there, i saw her chatting with jacob. i let her cut in front of me for drinks as an excuse to talk to her. there's a nod to grace in the episode and it sounded like that was a surprise to her (a pleasant one!)

my conversations with the cast were deeply unsubstantive, i was too pleased to be there to come up with anything too clever or probing to say tbh

when i spoke to jacob, i started by saying "sorry" (just reflexively) and he immediately, very warmly, was like what are you apologizing for! when i said how excited i was for the season and he said something like 'i hope it doesn't disappoint' (which i did think was surprisingly pessimistic for a premiere party lol but having seen the quote about hoping ppl still like louis by the end, maybe he is actually a tad concerned! i did obviously say i didn't think it would)

sam was the best at these meetings because he very naturally asks questions back. i told him i loved him in the newsreader as well, and he asked whether i was pirating it (i'm not exactly, i had a vpn). then we all walked off to do that no pain scene experience

after the no pain scene, we exited down some stairs which opened to the second smaller room. assad was behind me so i asked him who did it better (these actors or the show), and we joked about that. he then introduced himself to me, and when i couldn't help noting that i did in fact know who he was, he said he would never want to assume. sam came up to us and assad introduced him to me, and i got the joy of saying we'd met!

(SKIP this bullet if you don't want newsreader vibes-based spoilers) sam asked me what i liked better, iwtv or the newsreader. i said iwtv but that newsreader was great and season 2 was so sad! he said season 3 is the last of the series, and told me it's dark and bleak, worse than season 2, maybe only a second of peace/happiness at the end. so. there's that to look forward to....

he also told me about the crossover staffing between shows (emma and the DOP). i tried to ask if he was responsible for any of that but dont think i articulated it well but he said 'you want to work with the people you like'

my delainey convo was brief, i turned while we were walking up to the no pain thing and realized she was next to me, so just took the opportunity to let her know i was excited about her in next season

around 10-ish, sam and jacob left to (i believe?) go to levan's friends bar, along with hannah and others i didn't recognize. assad and luke were around for another 30-40 minutes after that, then the whole thing ended at 11. i didn't notice when or with who delainey left

delainey, as far as i noticed, did the least mingling; assad and luke did the most. generally speaking (and as expected) sam and jacob hung around together or in the same spaces. also perhaps as expected, assad and luke were hanging around together for lots of the night. at the end of the night, when it felt less burdensome to ask, i got a pic with those two. they were very cool about it, luke was sweet, we'd spoken earlier, he stuck out his tongue for one of the shots and he found me again later to chat

that photocall video i took (above) was after the 'no pain' experience.

[mins-fins]

where do we go

&&. conversations between lung destroyi— i mean, smoking cigarettes.

pairing: lee donghyuck x gn!reader

genre: some weird thing idk..

warnings: smoking, readers got some bad friends

word count: 0.9k

notes: can you believe this.. TWO POSTS IN ONE DAY!??? okay my first hyuck post today was a timestamp i posted while on the bus home but hey!! two posts in one day is crazy.. also both of them being for haechan, i don't like him guys i just had two good ideas containing smoking and he was the first idol that came to mind 😖 he's the loml fr 💗 but no no no im not a sunflower dont get it wrong 🙏 also i dont smoke, based this off shit i've read and observing all the adults in my life who smoke around me 🙁 dont crucify me for not being accurate #smokers

"you have a lighter?"

the question strikes you as odd. you snap out of your street lamp gazing and turn to the stranger beside you. you blink a few times, as if you couldn't fathom why such a question would be asked. the stranger waits patiently for your answer, mouth seemingly zipped shut after asking the question. "what?" you inquire like an idiot.

"a lighter" he reiterates, raising an inflammable joint tucked between his index and middle finger in the air. you allow for your mouth to form a small 'o', and you clear your throat, suddenly feeling flustered. he snickers lightly, and your almost afraid that he's laughing at you. "you don't smoke?"

you smile weakly, just sighing as you begin rummaging through your pockets. "no it's just.. today's not my day, i'm upset about some shit that's all" when you finally find the lighter you remember you placed into your pocket, you passed it over to him with a throw. "here".

the stranger doesn't seem to be that interested in your lighter anymore, his face coloring in concern at the sound of you being upset. you aren't sure why he even cares, there's no reason for him to. you ignore his look of concern, just rubbing your eyes. "oh? what's upsetting you so much?"

you allow for yourself to snort at the words. "it's nothing, really, i don't want to burden you with my issues" you dismiss him with a wave, watching as he lights the cigarette and takes his first drag of the joint.

"no please" he responds, blowing the smoke out through his lips. he tosses you back your lighter. "you gave me your lighter, so i'll sit here and listen to you vent your issues" he places a prideful hand on his chest, as if you were supposed to celebrate him for that or something.

"wow, should i clap for you to honor such generosity?"

"well you don't have to, but i would love if you did" oh! so this guy is a comedian, your tongue pokes through your inner cheek as you let out another silent sigh, straightening your posture in your seat. your train isn't coming for another ten minutes.

"oh lord where are my manners? lee donghyuck!" he pairs a charming smile with his introduction, and you almost laugh (key word: almost) at the allure of this stranger. he holds out his hand for you to take, presumably for a handshake, and it's not like it'll kill you or anything, so you take his hand, shaking it.

"l/n y/n" you respond, he doesn't hold your hand for long, his grip quickly slipping away from yours as he leans back in his seat sighing.

"alright then, y/n" he begins, playing with the joint in his fingers. "what's making you so upset tonight?"

"do i have to tell you?"

"would you rather sit here in silence and watch me destroy my lungs?"

the answer to that question is easy, no, when given the ultimatum, talking about your issues seems much easier than whatever else he was saying. "it's just— my friends suck! they call me overdramatic for wanting birthday gifts and then they proceed to blow up my phone with texts!"

donghyuck raises an eyebrow, blowing out more smoke. "they didn't even try to get you gifts?"

"they didn't even remember my birthday!" you shout, getting more and more irritated as you recall the incident. "i've literally gotten ignored all day, they only just remembered like two hours ago! can you believe that?"

"what a bunch of assholes.." he mumbles, a smell of burnt cigarettes in the air. "what kind of friends are those?"

"right? and now they're just expecting me to answer their calls!? they can go to hell for all i care!"

"petty" donghyuck comments absentmindedly, his smile doesn't go unnoticed by you, he has such a nice smile, you note. "i like it" he says again, playing with the joint in his fingers.

"i have every right to be petty, they don't deserve my attention.." you brush dust off your sweater, looking forward at the train tracks, your eyes cast up at the board which usually displays how long until your train comes. "you've gotta be fucking kidding me".

"what's wrong now?"

"train is delayed".

"ah" donghyuck resists the urge to laugh at your look of defeat, he doesn't want to upset you. "guess were gonna have to walk home".

you groan at the idea, but you stand up, though begrudgingly. "i don't live anywhere near this place" you shove your hands into your pockets, now annoyed by the fact that you'll have to walk home, just another horrible thing to add onto your horrible day.

"well, we could always walk together".

at donghyuck's suggestion, you give him a baffled look, and he finally does laugh at the look you share with him, taking another drag of the joint tucked between his fingers. "were still strangers, i'm not sure that's safe".

"you gave me your lighter, were basically soulmates".

the statement makes a baffled chortle escape your lips, and you click your tongue at his words. you try your best to ignore the constant buzzing of your phone. "wow, your a comedian aren't you?"

"a proud one too".

the words get another laugh out of you, and you look down at the floor, at your moving feet. "at least let me walk you out of the station, i don't want to leave you here".

"how endearing, lee donghyuck" you tease, finally looking up at him and meeting his eyes. he seems to like those words, because he allows for his lips to turn up into a grin. he drops his cigarette onto the ground and puts it out with his foot. "fine, i'll let you walk me out".

"thank you! i won't disappoint!"

[mandy-asimp]

heartache, and other aches

parings: melissa schemmenti x fem!reader

summary: working on the furthest side of Abbott meant you avoided the cameras a lot. especially when you would always have everything you need in your classroom. but the inevitable day came when you needed to journey to the teachers lounge.

warnings: language, smut, teasing, praise kink, mommy kink, fingering, cunnilings, aftercare, fluff at the end

a/n: the way i didnt know if there was just gonna be smut or more but the lawd made her path🙏 (once again if you see mispells shhh i did proof but i mightbe missed somethings)

How could you have been so careless?! You avoided that hall all year. All. Year. Now towards the end you have to find Ava for a student file to write your report.

It was her lunch time you knew that much. Which is why you expexted her to be in her office. Eating her lunch like every other time you’ve crossed her.

Carefully to not be in any camera, you made your way into the teacher’s lounge. Relieved when nobody but a few background teachers were in there.

“Oh hey y/n! Weird seeing you here,” Ava came in with a smile. “Looking for something?”

“Well I hava a report and I needed the folder from your office but couldn’t find you.” You puffed out while taking a seat. “And it’s even weirder that you’re in here without the others?”

And it was like a sixth sense, because you didn’t end your conversation you just left and just missed the camera crew. Listening to the laughter of the few teachers in there.

“One day they’ll catch her.” Jacob,laughed while walking in. “Has she ever really walked in here?”

Ava shrugged and went back to her lunch. Meanwhile Melissa and Barb walked in together.

“I’m serious Barb, even though were on the older side, we should try working out just once! There’s this nice, quiet gym not too far,” the red head was determined. “I read it was really friendly and neighborhood owned.”

“Oh I know that gym!” Ava quipped. Catching both the woman’s attention. “Yeah its really nice, a lot of the teachers around here tend to go to the more known gyms, but that one is friendly.”

“See!” Melissa beamed.

Barb contiplated the thought. Only to shake her head once more. “I’m too old to dry and lift weights,” she sighed.

Melissa scoffed. But before she could say anything Jacob spoke up. “Ya know, if you’re looking for a gym partner you could go ask y/n. She goes there daily.”

“Y/n?” Melissa became puzzled. Who were you?

Ava nodded. “Yeah, she’s really good and fit. Fine as hell too! She’s in room 216.”

“That’s on the other side of the school though?” Barbra furrowed her brows. Not understanding how there’s a teacher she’s never met.

The two shrug and left at the sound of the bell. “216 is where she can be found. No cameras though, or she’ll never let you in.”

The woman looked at each other, lost on the whole conversation. But then Barb smiled. “Seems like you have a gym buddy, which means I dont have to be!” She beamed. Taking her seat before the other teachers come in along with the camera crew.

Meanwhile, on the otherside of the school, Jacob and Ava came barging in. Disrupting your speech before you let your kids off to lunch and ‘study hall’(which was really them in the library in the furthest corner)

“Alright, now I don’t want another email from other teachers of you guys almost starting a fight. You’re the oldest ones in this building, act like it. Now go, be free for an hour. When you get back we’re gonna vote for our last book of the year.” You dismissed. Watching as they all scattered.

“You’re gonna thank us!” Jacob smiled hoping into your bean bag chair. You and Ava followed over.

“I may have found you that gym buddy you always wanted,” Ava filled you in quickly. “And she’s your type.”

Your eyes widened. “Absolutely not! I can work out if I know she’s watching me!” You shook your head. “I appreciate it but when I said I wanted a gym buddy I meant more so someone who already goes to the same gym. Like, I don’t know…”

“You needed a little push! You are never going to act on that crush hidden in this well decorated and cozy and well stocked classroom,” the two agreed. “Just give it a chance, who knows, maybe she won’t even come ask you!”

Just then there was a knock on your door. All three heads snapped to see the red head in question.

You were the first to look away. Wishing to be swallowed into a hole in the moment. “Can you two excuse us?” You whispered to them, ignoring their smiles. They nodded and scrambled away. “What can I do for you Ms. Schemmenti?”

“I’m sorry…I was just looking for Y/n?” She apologized. You only softly laughed. Making her realize, you were the one she was told about. But you look like you could barely hurt a fly. Your braids were almost perfectly done, your body fit your clothes in ways that nobody else’s could, but most of all, you didn’t look like you hit the gym everyday. “Really?”

“I was told I should be expecting you, but I didn’t think I’d get the honor so soon.” You moved to put papers around on the desk. “So, what do I owe the visit?”

“I’ve never once seen you on school grounds before.” She was still trying to process you. “I thought room 216 was Nancy’s class?”

“Mrs. Freeman left last year, Ava knew of me and gave me the spot. Said she’d keep it on the ‘DL’ for me.” You recapped the day she had texted you.

“And how close are you with Ava?”

“Close enough to be constantly invited out with her and never able to say no. She has this thing for trying to set me up with any woman who looks my way,” you could only chuckle at the antics.

Melissa lit up like a christmas tree at the mention. You? Woman? You can’t be real!

You retreated to your desk. Folding you hands and resting your head on them. A silence taking over the room. One you didn’t like. “Why’d you come here?”

She took a hesitant step closer. “I…I wanted to ask you about the gym you go to?” You nodded lightly for her to conintue. “Do you by chance want a work out buddy? Because I know I’m old but it-,”

“You’re not old?” You cut her off. Shaking you head with furrowed brows. “And I’d be more than happy to have you accompany me, but just know I go a bit late. I’ll pick you up later, how does that sound?”

Melissa was at a loss for words, so she shook her head and went on her way. Instantly coming back in to write down her number and address. A deep blush covering her face and chest.

You however, kept your face neutral. Trying to hide the overwhelming excitement that flooded your bones.

Once she was gone you could only kick your feet and silently scream.

~~~~~~~~

It was late. Almost considerably too late. You text Melissa at 7 saying be ready by 8:30. And you however, didn’t know she lived on the further side of the city. So by 9:30 you had arrived. Ringing her doorbell.

The door opened, and she didn’t look pleased with your timing. “You’re an hour late.”

“You failed to mention you lived closer to Mrs. Howard.” You frowned. She let you in, signaling for you to wait in the kitchen.

“And you know where Barbra lives? None of us have even ever seen you, so how would you know?” She raised a brow. Making a water bottle for herself.

You blushed at how you knew. “It may have been a one night stand over here. And one morning before work I saw her leaving. She leaves so early.”

Melissa scoffed. A feeing of jealousy bubbled in her. “You? A one night stand? I highly doubt it!”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” You folded your arms. Suddenly feeing agitated. “You don’t think I have it in me?”

“No! I really don’t. I mean look at you. You look like you could pass as a librarian with how small and cute you are. You hardly look like you drink.” She turned. Resting agaisnt the counter.

She was challenging you and you both knew it. But you wouldn’t back down from this. “Really? Thats what I appear to you? A fragile librarian?”

“Nothing short of one. I’m surprised you even have a gym membership.” She shurgged. “Don’t worry angel, its ok to be a librarian.”

Angel. “We’re on nicknames already?” You quirked a brow. You attempted to ignore the blush that heavily took over your face.

“I guess we are. So it seems you have to give me one. Its only fair.” She beamed. Straightening up once you started to walk forward. You had this look in your eyes that she couldn’t decipher.

Soon enough you had her between yourself and the counter she once rested on. Her breathing picked up slightly. How could you have this effect?

You leaned in close to her ear. Biting on her lobe before humming. “I’ll have to think…what about…mommy?” You smiled pulling away to look in her eyes.

They were darker than before and just as she inched closer to connect your lips, you pulled back. Pushing off her and walking towards the door.

“Gym gets empty in an hour, it’ll be perfect timing.” You acted as if nothing happened. As if you didn’t just flirt heavily with her.

“How far is the gym?” Melissa tried to recollect herself.

You beamed, “only twenty minutes away. But, you picked someone who’s been going to the same gym since freshman year.”

Her green eyes widened. “What’s that supposed to mean?!” She followed you out.

You both got in the car and you just smiled at her. Starting the drive while humming along to the music.

And the night was the start of many. But every single night after, you would go home to take the worlds coldest showers. You were always down for her. Hands always on her, and you said it was just spotting. You never went more than a fether light touch.

But your eyes had a mind of their own. They would stare at her. Her ever curve. The way her workout clothes hugged and did her justice. How her hair was tied up until she would shake it out and then flash you a smile. Throwing a wink in as well.

“Schemmenti, better be careful before I start making moves on you.” You would joke.

“And who says I don’t want you to do that? Wouldnt you like to be mommy’s?” Was always her reply. Knowing that the words made you flush.

But she never knew you would go home to your bed. Hand between your legs while you played out many fantasies with her.

Always imaging it was her fingers knuckle deep. Aways her edging you till tears. Always her praising you. Always a good girl for mommy she would whisper in your ear as she pounded into you.

Or if it was you in the cold shower with her warm body behind you. Her hand tracing tight circles in a fast pattern till you were shaking in her arms. A whisper of you’re ok, mommy’s here. I got you.

Maybe it was the one of you and her at the empty gym. You would catch her staring at you while you took off your sweatshirt. Crimson covering your face as you looked away. Her soft hand would cup your face a smirk on her face. Mommy’s pretty play thing would fall from her mouth.

Or worse. Somehow and someway she would drop by unexpectedly while you moaned her name. You wouldnt even make it to your bed. Youd be sprawled out on the couch in the sweatshirt she once gave you when some guys checked you out. Whimpers and pleads for her to come finish you. She would chuckle mommy’s dirty girl. Couldn’t even make it to your room.

“Y/n? Girl who is taking up that mind of yours?” Ava walked in your class. She had caught you staring looking so stressed out at your papers. “Is it that gym buddy?” She teased. Laughing loudly when your let your head fall and nod.

“Ava, it’s a curse I swear!” You whined. Rolling your head to watch her sit on the rolly chair and come close. “It’s literally every night at this point. I’m in heat or whatever constantly and nothing is soothing it. I even tried a one night stand with some random lady at a bar and it didn’t work! I just…she’s making me feel like there is nothing but her to fix it.”

“Ok, then have sex with her!” Ava chirped. Her smile was different though. You knew that smile. That was the smile of mischief.

You picked you head up when you registered it. “Ava what did you do?”

She snorted as there was a knock at your door. “Gave you the boost you needed.” She wiggled her brows before you looked at the door.

Melissa stood there. Smirking at everything you said. “I’m out before it gets sweaty, this lace ain’t cut out for that!”

She rushed passed mummbling something to Melissa before looking at you. She flipped her hair and walked out.

You couldnt move. The redness on your face began to infect your chest. And it wasn’t any help that you wore a cami with a cradigan today.

Melissa walked in, closing the door behind her, you missed when she locked it. “So…” Her voice was low. “Is it true?”

You couldn’t look at her. You were beyond embarrassed. You opened your mouth but shut it almost instantly.

“Look at me baby,” she hummed. You couldn’t tell if this was real or not. Your breathing was quick. You had to be in a dream. “Angel. I won’t ask again.”

On that you turned you head. Thinking the blush couldnt deepen until you felt fire. She was right there. So close.

Her index finger was under your chin, making you look up at her. “Every night?”

A quiet whimper left your throat. It was so quiet. You thought you would be safe seeing as your heart beat was louder.

“Every night.” She said again with the devil’s grin. “I’ll see you tonight for the gym angel, wear something cute ok?”

You could’ve died right there. You gave her a dazed nod. Lips parting as she walked away.

But as her hand made the lock, you couldn’t contain yourself. You moved quicker than your chair falling to the ground. The sudden noise making Melissa turn to find you already behind her.

You, with no thought behind your eyes, grabbed her face and pulled her into a kiss. It was seering for you. It was what you wanted. What you needed to further everything you’ve ever thought of.

Every dirty thought about her suddenly felt possible. It was now a maybe that you could have this woman. All you wanted was this woman.

It was what you needed to let out that needy whimper for her. The noise wasn’t even close to embarrassing you. You knew you would be a mess for her. And the noises that would come from you were what she needed.

Melissa kissed you back, maybe not as intense, but certainly telling you she wanted it too. But the moment that beautiful noise you let out made its way to her ears, she couldn’t take it. She broke away first.

Her eyes slowly opened before yours. You still were in your own world. Even while your eyes were open. She could see the fuzziness in those blown pupils.

“I’ll see you later angel, be good for me will ya’?” She pecked your cheek before leaving you.

Tears pricked at your eyes. You needed her desperately and didn’t know if you could make it till that late. But you wanted to be her good girl, so even if it made you ache, you would hold off.

That’s exactly what happened though. Your body ached and your lips longed for her. Her soft touch caressing you in ways you couldn’t think were possible. Her green eyes staring down at you as you came undone from just another kiss. How her teeth would shine when she smiles at you again. How her teeth would feel with her nibbling at your heated skin.

You couldn’t pull it together. You knew you couldn’t. You had to see her again. It’s how you found your way to her class room. You never went in though.

What if you come off too needy? What if she gets repulsed by it? How badly you need her though. Her soft touch would make you fall apart almost instantly.

Your thoughts got the better of you and you broke into a sweat. Feeling suddenly too hot to even breathe.

You knew you weren’t gonna make it. You wanted to try. You had only two hours left. How bad could that be?

~~~~~~~~~~~

Terrible. Thats how it was. Not only did you get flirtatious text every ten minutes, but your students had noticed your sudden ansy behavior. Your leg was constantly bouncing, you had hardly taught them anything, barely looked up to see what they were doing. You just couldn’t break your eyes away from the papers.

“Ms. y/l/n?” One student called. Getting a distant hum from you. “Are you ok? You lookin’ mad flushed…”

“Yeah, I’m fine. Um our book for the rest of the year. Do you guys really want to do it?” You glamced around at them all. Everyone was agreeing no. “Right, ok, so what if we didn’t then? What if I told you your last project is a presentation on whatever you want?”

They all seemed to enjoy that idea so much more. “Why the sudden change?” A girl poked.

You shrugged. “You’re not gonna learn anything from a book. So the book presentation will be changed to what you want. Just somehow connect it to what weve learned. You can start now, or the rest of the day is yours!” You had a small smile watching them move around.

That was how your day ended. A loud class and shaky legs.

The first moment they were all gone, was the same one as you locking the door and crumbling onto the ground.

The ache between your legs was excruciating. You needed a relief and you needed it soon or you might actually die.

Your hand gripped at your stomach. It felt tense. Too tense. You were so focused on trying to pull yourself together, you missed the knock on your door. Also the rattling of the door knob.

Tears began to stream down your face. How could one woman not touch you and make you feel so much?

“Y/n! Hun, are you ok?” You could hear the worried voice of Melissa next to you. Her hand delicately falling on your back. The contact made you cry out. Trying to get away from the pain. “Angel, what’s wrong?”

You shook your head. Grabbing on the side of a desk and standing up. “N..Nothing. I’m ok!” You tried. Eyes glancing to Ava who was confused. But once she saw your eyes, she knew exactly what was wrong.

“Just text me if you need anything!” She winked before closing the door and rushing away.

Melissa stared at you as you tried to collect your bags. “Y/n?” You kept in your own world. “Y/n, please talk to me.”

You turned and looked at her. Staring in her eyes with the widest pupil’s she’s ever seen. “I…you’re…” You couldnt get any of it out. So you kissed her. Not like earlier. Not with the heat you had been feeling. No. This was more simple. Careful. Meaningful.

“Oh…” She hummed once you pulled back. “I see…”

You frowned. There was something that told you, you weren’t getting that relief so easily. It pained you again that more tears sprang from your eyes.

“Please,” you whispered out. Choking on a quiet sob. “I..I can’t handle it. I’ll be good but please Mel. It hurts,” you could only whisper these words.

She held you cheek, her thumb wiping away the tears. She kissed the top of your head. “Lets go home then? I’ll cook you dinner, how does that sound?”

You had a glisten in your eye. She said home. As if you already were her’s. You hugged her tightly, burrying you head into her neck.

“I know princess,” She had a smile in her words. “Lets go home.”

You two left hand in hand out the building. Never once letting go (except for putting your bags down).

Melissa opened the door for you, “Make yourself cozy on the couch baby, I’ll bring you over clothes to change into.”

You furrowed your brows. You didn’t leave clothes here? But when Melissa handed you the sweatshirt, and only the sweatshirt, you lit up at her.

Pulling all your clothes off right there and covering yourself in her. Hugging yourself tightly and smelling the fabric.

“Come on baby, come keep me company while I cook yeah?” She held out her hand. Beaming once you took it.

She could sense you felt better. And you were. All her attention was yours. You were glowing in it.

Melissa lifted you up onto the counter. Standing between your legs and placing a soft kiss to your lips.

You watched her cook while sipping on a glass if juice. You weren’t that big of a drinker, which came as no surprise to you fiery red head.

She had assumed so too, and last night when Ava texted her the plan, she had to go buy you apple juice (Ava mentioned it was your favorite).

Once she finished she handed you the plate and stayed between your legs. Both of you ate off of the same plate while talking.

Melissa, however, could only focus on how cute you looked. Sitting here in her sweatshirt, in her home. Most of all, it was the look in your eyes any time you got to put a fork full of pasta in her mouth. Had she fallen deeper than she thought?

“Melly?” You frowned. You had asked a question and she just stared at you. Almost smitten by something.

She leaned forward, kissing you all over your face with care. Placing a final one to your lips. “I’m sorry angel, what’d you say?”

“I asked howd you learned to cook so fast?” You cheesed. The kisses making up for the lack of undivided attention.

“I grew up with it. It’s a family thing I guess.” She answered. Her eyes falling to the plate that was empty. “Let’s get cleaned up?”

You nodded your head and hopped down the counter. Getting ready to wash the plate until you were stopped. “Baby, you’re at home, relax.”

She did it again. The home thing. You couldn’t understand it, but the feeling it was making you feel. Warm and fuzzy.

Melissa tried to push you to the couch, which was her having to lead you the entire way. She tried to leave you alone. Yet you didn’t want to be away from her. You grabbed her hand and pulled her down to you. Kissing her lips hungrily.

She tried to hide her excitement for what would happen, but she wanted to see you wait longer. “Soon pretty girl,” She said into the kiss.

You grew upset at that. “I’ve been good! I can’t wait any longer!” You fussed. “You’re not being fair.”

She laughed at that. Not a soft chuckle, a full laugh. One that actually made you feel a bit embarrassed at this childish behavior. “You are such a needy thing. But I have to clean up dinner before we do anything.” Her hand rested on your chest. Feeling the drumming of your heart.

You grabbed at her wrist. Slowly teasing yourself as you pushed it to run down you body. Letting her cup you heat. Feeling how soaked you were.

A moan leaving you as she took control and added pressure. “Please!” You damn near screamed. Your eyes glossed over. “I need you! I can’t wait!”

She kissed your neck. Once. Twice. Then sunk her teeth into your pulse point. Listening to your body as you bucked into her hand. Trying to get yourself off on it.

“Be careful baby, if I start now I don’t know if we’ll make it to school tomorrow.” She smirked at you. “Or do you want me to wreck this pretty pussy?”

You nodded your head eagerly. “Yes! God! Yes!” You shook. Was it cause you were cold? Or was it you were that in need? The answer was definitely the latter. Your body felt on fire. It was too hot in this sweatshirt but you didn’t want to take it off.

Her lips found yours. Her hand wrapping your legs around her. Where she lifted you up. The gym really did begin to pay off. “Then who am I to deny you?”

She walked you all the way to her bed. Gently setting you on the edge while she knelt at the end. Kissing in your thighs and over your waistband.

Her index fingers hooked between the band and your skin, she dreadfully slow pulled them down. Down your thighs. Down your calfs. Onto the floor.

The fabric was almost instantly replaced with her mouth. She wasn’t going to waste a single second.

“God, angel, you taste so good. And you’re so wet. All this for me?” She licked you up. Wanting ever drop you would give her.

The feeling brought you right to the edge. You’d been longing for so long. “Melly…”

“You’re so sensitive baby, go ahead.” She granted. Feeling how you hand held her close while you rode out your high. She smiled once you let up.

You were panting for her. Shaking already. “What do you want from me angel? What can-,” you pulled her close. Hugging onto her while your hips grinded against her still.

Your lips ghosted over her ear. Your warm breath sending shivers over her. “Want mommy to ruin me.” You hummed.

She never thought you would say that name in this situation. She truly thought you two were joking about the name.

When she looked into your eyes, hers turned to a forest green almost. She had to give you everything. Had to keep you.

“Get comfortable then my princess. Mommy’s gonna make sure you can’t remember anything but the feelings.” She pushed you up further on the bed.

Her jeans brushed over your naked half. Making you realize how much clothing she had on compared to you.

“Melly…” You called for her attention. Immediately getting her eyes on you, making you smile. “Your clothes.”

You pulled at her shirt. Desperate to see her supple skin. “Why don’t you do the honors then?”

No second was given before you were sitting up. Hands at the hem of her shirt. Fingers dancing under as you pushed it up. Revealing the sight you desired. Your eyes snapped up to hers. Not wanting to be disrespectful (even though she had just eaten you out).

“You’re beautiful…” You kissed her. All of the heat and need you felt was gone. This was raw emotions.

This was you.

And Melissa knew that. Its what made her falter from her spot.

How could someone as young as you think that about her? You had so many options and here you were.

She knew she had fallen in love. But she would wait to tell you that.

“Let me make you feel good,” you climbed on top of her lap. Kissing from her lips, to her jaw, and down her neck. Leaving only one bruise on her pulse point.

Her moans and airy gasp fueled you to keep going. She needed this just as much as you did.

Your hands pushed her back. Now she laid and gave you better access to her collar bone. Were you left more hickeys. She would be in sweatshirts for at least a week.

“Baby…” her breathy voice was almost begging.

You lifted up, looking in her eyes. “What do you need mommy?” You smiled that charming smile.

She bucked her hips up at the name, listening to you laugh. “I need you my pretty girl. Touch me in ways you’ve dreamt ok? Can you be my good girl and do that?”

You couldn’t lie, as much as you wanted her to take you, this was better. This was something you didn’t know you wanted.

Your left hand caressed her boob, making her arch into your touch. Giving you the chance to unclasp the bra. Freeing her chest from the restraints.

You pulled it off and connected your mouth to her right boob. Your hand playing with the other. You couldn’t help put graze your teeth over her sensitive bud.

You switched shortly after. Her moans spurring you on in ways you never knew. “Just like that baby. Such a good girl for mommy,” she moaned. Her words pulling a moan from you as well.

You began to drop your kisses lower. Taking time to acknowledge her body. Hands running around, trying to memorize everything.

You kissed along the waistband of her jeans. Your eyes looking up to hers, finding them already looking at you.

You shifted to slot a thigh between hers. Pressing it against her core hard. Watching her arch into it.

She knew you had done this before, but she never expected you to be so good at knowing where to hit.

“Your jeans mommy,” you left sensual kisses behind her ear. “They’re restricting.”

She didn’t answer, no, instead she fumbled with the buttons and zipper. Letting you assist her in getting them off and on the floor. You had her completely at you mercy. This was becoming better and better.

You met her cute pink panties. Smirking at the little bow it had. “Mommy, you’re soaked.” You eyes shined in the dim lighting. “Can I?”

Her hips bucked, “Of course princess, but hurry!”

And hurry you did. You dived right in. Your tongue working wonders on her bundle of nerves. You worked her up quickly with just one muscle. Dipping down to her hole and feeling it clenching around nothing. You teased her like you knew would have you pinned.

“Just like that baby! Mommy’s so close!” Melissa panted. Her hips snapping to meet your movement. “Right there! Fuck! Don’t stop!”

But you did. You did stop. You pulled away and waited for her response. Her head rolled to look at you. Her mouth opening to yell, scream, all because you denied her. Yet it fell open when you slammed three fingers in easily. You felt her walls flutter around you. Smirking at how you had her.

You had the Melissa Schemmenti coming undone on your fingers.

You kissed at her neck. Guiding her through the high and trying to ignore the ache you felt once again.

She sat up and pulled you into a kiss. “Mommy’s good girl.” She whispered. Listening to the whimper that left you. She hummed at the noise. “Is someone all needy again?”

You nodded with a sad face. Grabbing her hand and guiding it to where you wanted it. Gasping once she didn’t even hesitate to slipping three fingers into you. You shuddered and held onto her shoulders.

“Go on, since you wanna be the top so bad. Ride mommy’s fingers. Fuck yourself until you forget about all the woman in the past. The ones that will never fuck you like how I will.” She said against your ear. Feeling you start to bounce in her hands.

“Just like that baby. Look at you!”

“I bet you wont ever whore yourself out to anyone again.”

“You’re so perfect.”

“Mommy’s pretty girl.”

Her words hit you hard. They did things to your mind that connected to your core. “Mommy…I’m-,”

“I know you are angel. Go ahead. Mommy wants to feel you cum.” You started to become sloppy. Shaking when she curled her fingers to hit you right. Making you fall apart in her arms. Gripping onto her shoulders for some form of grounding.

You hide your burning cheeks in her neck. Giving almost non exsisting kisses to her skin.

And after a moment, she slowly pulled out her fingers. Hushing the nosies that left you. “I know, I know baby. But mommy’s not done with you yet.”

Your eyes grew at those words. What else had she planned on.

Carefully, Melissa laid you down and moved to her drawers. “Don’t move or you’ll ruin the surpirse baby.” You couldn’t see her. But you weren’t alone for long. She had you above her again. Hovering over her lap. “How are you feeling y/n?”

She could see the lost mindset you were in. Was she going to far with this? Your eyes were trained between you both.

“It’s big…” you could only swallow. “Will it hurt?”

“Only for a minute baby. We can take it slow, ok? Or we can stop here.” She gave you options.

You were silent. “What if…I don’t want to go slow? What if…I want it to be quick and painful?” You looked at her. She was clearly shocked. “Or! we can, I mean we don’t!”

You got cut of by the loudest moan of your life. She bottomed out in you in one quick movement. You felt the burn. The stretch.

She wasn’t one to let you go shy on her now. Melissa wanted to watch you loose your senses. It’s how you ended on your back as she pounded into you.

The red head showed absolutely no mercy for you. She wanted to overstimulate you.

Her thumb was added to your clit. She was moving fast. Faster than you would’ve ever thought possible. But god did it feel amazing.

Melissa seemed to know your body more than you. She brought you through several orgasms in such a quick manner. Making you loose all verbal responses and just noises.

You didn’t know bow many you were on but you felt wiped. Too sensitive. You quickly came, and as she fucked you through it, you could tell she was gonna push you for another. But you thought couldn’t take another.

You tapped on her hand, hopinf she would let up, but she didn’t. She just laughed. “One more baby. You’re doing so good for me. Such a sweet girl. Letting mommy fuck you like this. You can give me on more right? After that we’ll get you all cleaned up. Be a good girl for me and cum, princess.” She talked you through it. Staring intently as you shook under her. “That’s it pretty girl. You’re ok. Mommy’s here.”

She took the chance while you were blissed out to pull out and discard of the fake appendage. Scooping you into her arms and holding you tightly as you cried in her arms.

They were happy tears. “I know, I’m sorry baby. You did so well. So incredibly well. I can’t even believe the feelings you feel right now. You’re mommy’s good girl. Her sweet girl. Her princess. Imma move is to the bathroom ok? We’ll take a nice warm bubble bath.”

~~~~~~~

That morning you woke up in someone else’s bed. You rolled to look at the side clock. It was well into the day now. You missed work, andnit would’ve made you worried if there wasn’t a certain woman walking in with a bag of food.

“Good morning sunshine,” She was quiet. Last night rushed back to you in a flash. “How do you feel?”

You sat up and could only smile with sleep. “Did you call Ava?” Was your first question.

“She was the one who had the subs covered the moment we left yesterday. I brought you your favorite.” She held up the bag.

You furrowed your brows. “But that’s all the way across thw city?”

“I know, but my special girl deserved it.” She sat down with you and started placing the food on the covers.

“Wait! The sheets are covered in…” You were worried. You weren’t one to let good food be touched like that.

“I changed them last night. You fell asleep in the tub and I took it as a chance. I promise they’re all clean.” She winked at you.

You looked at her with a blank stare. She was about to ask you ‘what’ but you brought her close and kissed her with care.

“Thank you Melly,” you whispered out.

She hummed. “Of course angel, you’re at home, you might as well be treated like a queen.”

“You did it again.”

“What?”

“Home?”

“Yeah?”

“You keep saying this is my home?”

“Cause it is?”

“No, this is yours?”

“Y/n, have you not gotten it yet?”

“Gotten what?”

“I’ll explain it simply for you ok? I, a older woman whose been through divorce, know what I want. Now you, a younger woman who still has so much to learn, have not been through divorce. But, I, the older woman, am going to keep you for as long as you let me. You’re my good girl, and no matter what, you always will have this place to be home.”

Tears pricked you eyes. Nobody has ever done such a thing for you. Even if she was right, you didn’t know what you wanted. But you wanted her. You wanted a future with her.

You kissed her hard with emotion. Soon hugging her and burrying your head into her neck. “Thank you Melly.”

“Of course, angel. Now eat before your food gets cold.” She detangled you from her.

Both if you smiled at each other. You knew you were in love with this woman, it’s just a matter of time.

[badbtssmut]

reader with two members (you can choose whoever you want) with dirty talk, squirting, public humiliation, object insertion. like op getting humiliated and fucked in front of everyone (if you dont like one of these suggestions you can leave it) I hope this is filthy🤗🤫

Note: left out object insertion, chose Jimin and Taehyung

-

“You love cock so much, don’t you, pretty little slut? Love getting your pussy stuffed, isn’t that right?” Taehyung cooed against your ear, while his hand gripped onto your throat. He fucked up into you with force, and you bounced on his lap, feeling the fullness of him in your cunt.

Taehyung had a way of making you feel like his little whore, and you loved it. He always talked so filthy, and his deep voice always made your legs shake.

You nodded your head frantically, feeling tears well up in your eyes, as he slammed into you. It felt amazing. Your cunt throbbed around his thick length, and you could feel the heat coil in your stomach.

You were in the middle of a mall, on a bench, sitting on Taehyung’s lap with your legs spread, the bottom of your feet on his knees. Your hands held onto his arm that wrapped around your chest. People passed by and you knew that anyone could walk up and see what was going on.

Anyone could see you impaled on his thick cock, with your skirt hiked up and panties around your ankles. They could see how wet you were, and how his cock disappeared into you over and over again. They could hear how wet his dick was every time it pumped into you. They could hear how filthy your mouth was, and they could see how flushed your cheeks were.

“Are you going to squirt in front of all these people?” he asked, and you shook your head no, but it wasn't convincing.

You were going to squirt, and you were going to be loud about it.

“Oh yes you will. You love being a good little fucktoy, especially in front of people like this.” Taehyung dismissed your comment.

Your thighs quivered, as his hand snaked down your body. You felt the heat from his fingers, before they were pressed against your clit. Your body jerked at the sudden contact, and you whined, high-pitched and needy.

Taehyung knew how to play with your pussy, and his fingers rubbed you with just enough pressure to make your body shudder.

Your head rolled back and landed on his shoulder. You looked up at him with tear-filled eyes. His dark gaze made your stomach twist.

He was so handsome, and he was fucking you like a slut, right out in the open.

It was hot.

It was filthy.

And it made you feel so dirty.

His fingers circled your swollen clit, and his dick slammed up into you, hitting all the right spots. The tension was building in your stomach and the pleasure was making your mind go blank.

Your eyes were rolling, and you could barely breathe. You felt a gush of liquid leave your pussy, and then you were squirting all over his lap.

The warm liquid coated his dick and dripped down your thighs. You were screaming his name, as you came.

People were staring at the spectacle, and you panted, trying to catch your breath.

Taehyung spread your legs further by grabbing your thighs. “Show everyone how swollen that pussy looks.” he growled, and you let him spread your legs, showing off the way your pussy throbbed and dripped onto the ground.

He continued to fuck you, and the sloppy sounds filled the air, along with the lewd, squelching noises from your pussy.

“Started without me?” A familiar voice sounded, and you glanced over at Jimin.

“She was soaking wet the minute we got here. I couldn’t help myself.” Taehyung chuckled.

“Are you going to suck this cock? Show off to everyone?” Jimin pulled down his track suit, just enough to reveal his cock to you.

You leaned over, and stuck your tongue out, and he slapped it against your lips, before guiding his cock into your mouth.

Jimin and Taehyung worked together to fuck your holes, and you could hear the comments that other people were making.

It was shameful, and it only made the fire in your core grow more.

“Everyone’s looking at you, they’re all seeing how much of a dirty slut you are for cocks. Do your family and friends know how dirty you really are?” Jimin laughed, placing his hands on your shoulders and massaging them. “Come on, suck that cock harder, baby. Make me hard so I can stuff that pussy more.”

Your lips were wrapped tightly around his shaft, and your tongue pressed flat against his cock. Jimin then reached out to your shirt and pulled it over your head, revealing your naked body to everyone passing by.

People were stopping to watch, and it made you moan around the thick meat in your mouth.

Someone was snapping photos, others were gasping, others were drooling at the sight.

Taehyung leaned his head against your back, and he grunted as he fucked up into you harder.

Jimin pulled out, and leaned down, resting his hands on the bench behind you and Taehyung. “Let’s show everyone how crazy you go for two cocks, hm?” He smirked, lining up to your entrance with the tip of his cock.

“A-ah!” Your muscles tightened and you squirted, causing both men to chuckle.

“I am not even in yet and you’re already this slutty for that extra cock, isn’t that right?” Jimin asked as he cupped your left breast. “You love two cocks inside of you even more than one, huh?”

You nodded, whispering a ‘Yes Jimin.’

You moaned, and closed your eyes, and felt both of their dicks start to fill you. It was a tight fit, but it felt so good. Your toes curled, and you whimpered.

The feeling of both their cocks inside of you made your eyes roll back. Your pussy stretched to the limit, and you felt fuller than ever.

The sound of slapping skin, the feeling of their dicks rubbing against each other, and the feeling of both men fucking you had your body tensing and shuddering.

Jimin held onto your face, his thumb pressed against your lips.

You opened your mouth and he slipped his finger in, pressing down on your tongue.

You could hear people talking, and it made the situation even more exciting.

You squirted again and again at the sensation, your body never running out as you started to melt at the sensation.

“Just look at her, Jimin.” Taehyung groaned, biting onto your shoulder.

Your body was shaking uncontrollably, and you couldn't breathe.

Everything was a blur, and your eyes were rolling.

All you could do was whimper and moan.

It was too much, but it was just right.

”Such a needy slut, I bet there’s nothing but these cocks on her mind right now.” Jimin chuckled and then leaned down, and his tongue licked around the corner of your mouth, and you turned to kiss him, letting him swallow all your moans.

Taehyung and Jimin started fucking you harder, and your eyes were rolling. Your pussy was leaking and gushing, and the bench was a wet mess beneath you.

You came so many times, you couldn’t even tell how many.

“Yes… yes, oh yes!” you cried out, as the feeling of them stuffing you had your whole body trembling.

Their grunts and moans had you going wild.

The way they whispered such nasty things to you made you squirt and shake.

Their hands were all over your body, touching and grabbing and groping.

Your head was spinning, and it was like a dream.

Your mind was hazy and everything felt hot and sensitive.

You were going to come again, and you were going to squirt all over them.

Taehyung grabbed onto your hips and pulled you down onto his dick, as he came inside of you. In turn, Jimin started to fuck you harder, his fingers pinching your nipples and his mouth kissing and sucking on your neck.

His hands moved to your waist and he started pounding into you, and it was so rough.

You felt him cum inside of you, and you squirted again.l You came harder than ever, and you slumped over, falling forward.

All three of you took a moment before Jimin pulled out, stepping aside to show the crowd how their cum was dripping out of you.

Your chest was rising and falling, and you could barely breathe.

Both of the boys fixed themselves and got dressed, helping you with your clothes as well.

They helped you off the bench, and Jimin had to carry you because you could barely walk.

You really were their dirty slut.

[luna0713hunter]

Hellooo~

I just found your blog rn and I immediately fell in love with your works(especially sukuna ffs).

I love the way you write sukuna and reader's relationship.

And if ur ok with it, may I request a sukuna x reader angst? Maybe where reader is a sorcerer and she got badly injured and got into a almost death situation during a fight and sukuna is smh guilty for it??

You can ignore this if u want to<3

-🍪

Author's note : Hi hi ( ꈍᴗꈍ)oh my gosh im so happy to hear that!!!thank you so much darling!it makes me super happy

Mhm,i love the smell of fresh angst with happy ending in the midnight lmao. I'll gladly write it!! Hope you enjoy this,Cookie-chan!

Warnings : Sukuna Sorcerer au!,angst,injury and blood,happy ending!

*.✧∘˚˳°*.✧∘˚˳°*.✧∘˚˳°*.✧∘˚˳°*.✧∘˚˳°*.✧∘˚˳°*.✧∘˚˳°*.✧∘

You knew this would happen,and you were happy to rub it in your idiot boyfriend's face with a big "i told you so."

That is,if you make it out alive.

The curse before you lets out a loud noise, something akin to cackle,as it watches you with it's multiple eyes. You glare,but even you know it's lost all heat;with blood oozing out of each part of your body,you can barely even keep your eyes open. Your body feels weak,and all of your joints hurt like hell. Your eyes drift to where you broken phone is laying and you just hope that your help signal has gone through before it was damage for good.

"ah," you mumble as you spit a mouthful of blood on the ground below; watching as it drips down on your hands, "today sucks. Its all Ryo's fault."

Your hazy eyes turn up and you watch as the curse dances around;each one of it's disgusting eye spinning around wildly as it looks at you with glee.

The son of a bitch is having fun killing you.

"you're lucky, y'know," you giggle slightly from how slurred your words sound; the blood lose making you lightheaded, "If Ryo was here,he would've torn you to pieces. But, he's an idiot."

Because he really was; starting that morning with the message from the higher ups about your new mission, you had told Sukuna that it would end badly. You had told him more than twice that something smelled fishy;that the higher ups were out to get you. But Sukuna,had dismissed your worry,and with a small scoff had said you're paranoid. At least,now with you dead,he would be proven wrong.

You grin maniacally at the thought;serves him right.

Leaning your back against the tree,you watch with bleary eyes as the curse steps closer;you dont even care. You're too tired to fight back. So you just sit there, thinking about all the things you'll miss;your friends and family,that one bakery with those delicious coconut buns,your boyfriend Sukuna,and most of all-

"i never got the chance to hear him say i love you..."

Maybe out of everything, you'll regret not dating your boyfriend sooner.

You're so lost in your thoughts,that you dont notice the sound of the curse has been faded away. And when you hear a small shriek,and hurried footsteps running your way,you just close your eyes and drop your head. You're fully expecting the curse to rip out your heart,when gentle,but frantic hands,take hold of your bloody cheeks and raise your head slightly. With a pained groan,you open your eyes just enough to see a heap of pink,and a familiar pair of red eyes.

"Ryo...?"

"yeah,yeah babe. Its me," his voice is steady,like always,but you can hear a small undertone of worry and it brings a smile to your lips.

"told ya..."

The hands on your cheeks rub at the corner of your lips to wipe away the blood.

"yeah,i know. And I'm an ass for not believing you." You feel yourself shift,and with foggy mind, realize he has lifted you up in his arms, "I'll make it up to you. Promise."

You giggle and rub your head against his chest;his scent already soothing your mind.

"can i have those sweet buns then?with hot chocolate?"

"whatever you want. First, let's get you fixed up yeah?"

You mumble your agreement and close your eyes. And when you wake up the next time,its to a tray full of your favorite sweet buns and a warm mug of hot chocolate.

Your boyfriend embraces you tightly,and kisses your forehead.

"i love you."

And maybe getting almost killed,was worth it after all.

*.✧∘˚˳°*.✧∘˚˳°*.✧∘˚˳°*.✧∘˚˳°*.✧∘˚˳°*.✧∘˚˳°*.✧∘˚˳°*.✧∘

P.S : I love coconut buns and im currently craving some so i had to add them lmao.

[honkytonk-hangman]

How It's Done (1/2)

Jake 'Hangman' Seresin x Aviator!Reader

Summary: “Like me? I didn’t even think you wanted me as a squadmate, let alone–” you stop speaking, but only because Hangman cuts his eyes sharply away from you to glare out at the ocean. “Well, I do.” He says kind of indignantly, all things considered, and eyes you almost sourly. “You can just say no if you don’t–” “–No, I do!” you quickly cut him off, because at the end of it all, you’re a little too much of a hopeless romantic to let this moment pass you by.

Warnings: erm maybe just some references to sex? jake being jake? language? minions. big warning for minions xD

Notes: This is part one of a two-parter, the next will be mostly smut lmao. Thank you for reading! I would love any feedback or comments and dont forget to reblog if you feel so inclined!!!

Masterlist

“Well, I’ll be damned…”

You pinch your eyes shut and steel yourself at the sound of the all too familiar Texan drawl, hanging on to the hope that perhaps he isn’t talking to you. You’re out of luck though, and moments later Jake ‘Hangman’ Seresin slides into the open space next to you at the bar, already posed in a casual lean as he looks you up and down appraisingly.

It makes your teeth grind.

It makes your face hot.

“If it isn’t Mirage. Would have invited you to play with us if I’d known you were here earlier…” Hangman cocks his head, and his lips tip up in an infuriatingly perfect smile. “But one can never really be sure if you’re around or not… and that's before you get in a cockpit,” he grins, but when you meet his eye at last, he looks away from you, toward Penny who seems to approach in the nick of time, saving you from needing to respond.

You blink down at your drink, and finish it quickly, unnerved by what you think might have just been a compliment of sorts from Hangman. You’d been stationed together previously, though you weren’t friends, so you’d been expecting something a little more acidic in nature. You’d heard him interact with other aviators, knew he liked to push and poke them, usually got away with it too. For some reason though, he’d never really gone there with you and frankly you’ve always just chalked it up to not being worth his time. In fact, you’re pretty sure the only times you’d ever actually spoken had been in the sky. To be completely honest, you’re more than a little surprised that he remembers you at all.

You didn’t exactly go out of your way to stand out…

You were naturally quiet, which wasn’t helped by your social anxiety, resulting in most people describing you as extremely shy. They wouldn’t be wrong, you suppose, you did tend to keep to yourself, the idea of having too many eyes on you all but unbearable to you. But if you’d thought a roomful of people singing happy birthday to you was bad, somehow being under the unwavering stare of Hangman is approximately one thousand times worse.

“Penny, my dear… I’ll have,” he stops to glance pointedly down at your now finished beer, adjusts his stance to lean even more and unwittingly makes the muscles in his bicep bulge.

“Five more on the Old Timer,” Hangman says, nodding to the man who sits on the other side of the bar.

Internally you blanch, but externally, you say nothing and give even less away, feeling a little ping of satisfaction that apparently, you know something Hangman doesn’t. Before he’d come along, you’d been carefully watching the interaction between Penny and Captain Mitchell. You’d never met the man before, but you knew how to read military insignia, which at this point, was more than you could say for Hangman, who dismisses him quickly.

You wonder if Monday morning you’ll be able to work up the nerve to tease him about it.

You’re distracted from your thoughts when Penny returns with the requested drinks. You had no real intentions of going and hanging out with Hangman and the others, but before you can excuse yourself, your empty beer is smoothly plucked from your hands, replaced quickly with a brand new one.

“Help me carry these back?” Hangman asks then, jerking his head in the vague direction of the pool table. You frown when he immediately takes off walking, not actually letting you help him at all, all four beers still slotted between his fingers. You find yourself following him anyway, as if he’d placed some kind of spell over you.

Hangman stops ahead of you at the ancient jukebox, looking back over his shoulder at you, nodding in a pleased manner when he sees you trailing behind. He waits for you, gaze never leaving your form, even as he nods to the space next to him. You awkwardly step up to the spot opposite to him, and look past the glass and at the selection inside. Hangman, once more, takes up a lean, this time against the rickety machine.

“Would you be so kind as to select track number…” he trails off as he checks the list of songs, but quickly flicks his gaze back to you, and smiles bright, tauntingly, again. “Eighty-Six?” he asks, but it's barely a question. You nod, and swallow, shifting from holding your beer with two hands to holding it with just one. You carefully tap the chunky ‘eight’ and ‘six’ keys as he watches. The machine’s little analogue screen confirms that your song is next up, and nervously, you look back up at Hangman, horrified to find he’s just been staring at your face for the past however long.

“S’been a while, Mirage.” He drawls, making you blink rapidly and look away.

“Has it?” Is all you can manage meekly in reply, surprised when he lets out a genuine sounding laugh. He hums warmly, and you practically feel it in your chest.

“And yet,” he lifts hand, two beers held expertly between his fingers, but he extends it to tap your nose, almost making you almost flinch.

“You haven’t changed at all.” Hangman grins Cheshire-like down at you, before his eyes narrow ever so slightly, and he leans in even closer while flicking his eyes up and down your form again.

“I don’t bite you know,” he tells you, his voice sounding serious, but his somberness lasts mere seconds.

“Well, not unless you ask me to first, sweetheart,” he winks and his smile grows large as your eyes grow wide and you splutter, flustered.

Your face grows hot with slight embarrassment, a wave of inner resentment at his teasing washing through you.

Hangman laughs, seemingly bored with you now, and he turns to walk back toward the pool tables. Without even looking, he beckons you to follow with one finger on his still occupied hands. For a moment your pique prevents you from doing so, certain that if you were to dip into the crowd now, he’d not care enough to seek you out again, let alone notice you were missing.

You know he didn’t mean it, you know his flirting is just to get a rise, but you also know that he’d never do it to Phoenix, or Halo, and a little bit of you hates yourself for being such a marked pushover. You make the decision now that you won’t let him do it again, if you can help it.

Your eyes travel past Hangman then, towards the pool tables where you can now see another figure has joined the other gathered aviators, and for the first time all evening, you don’t feel nervous to go join them.

You follow after Hangman, but quickly diverge from his path, cutting around a gathered group of Navy personnel to get there faster. As you approach, you take a moment to shake off any lingering anxiety, before gently laying a hand on the faded Hawaiian shirt in front of you, doing your best to keep yourself from bouncing on your heels.

Rooster half looks ready to wave off whoever is trying to get his attention, but when his shaded eyes land on you, he spins his whole body to face you, grinning widely in unguarded excitement as he gathers you up in his arms.

“Miri!” he exclaims warmly, and you can’t help the laughter that bubbles out of you when he briefly lifts you off the ground.

“I was just about to ask Phoenix if she’d seen you yet.” Rooster informs you. 

“Seen who?” Phoenix steps around him, frowning as she quickly glances you over, though it disappears quickly.

“Yeah, that about tracks…” Rooster mutters mostly to himself.

“Nat, this is Mirage, you know her right?” Rooster introduces the two of you, and while neither of you make to shake hands, you only feel friendly energy radiate off the other woman, even as she openly looks you over now, nodding at Rooster’s words.

“Right, I have heard about you… I guess there's no real mystery behind your callsign… I didn’t even realise you were here… Sorry,” she tells you bluntly, but you appreciate her straightforwardness.

“They said ‘Wallflower’ was too long.” You joke lightly, and the other woman smiles. A moment passes between you, and you get the distinct feeling that Phoenix has become determined to never let you go unnoticed in her presence again.

You aren’t sure just yet if you appreciate that, but you are sure that you’ve just made a friend.

“Mirage?” Another voice joins then and you look to your left, smiling again when you see another familiar face.

“Bob!” you move to embrace him too, not seeing the look shared between Phoenix and Payback who watch you in surprise.

“Huh. Figures.”

---

Neither you or Hangman have moved since Rooster and Mav went down. The rest of Dagger had returned an hour ago, mission complete. There was no reason for either of you to be on standby.

And yet.

When the call came through that Dagger Two had been hit, both you and Hangman had separately requested to be launched, to help, but you’d been denied.

As a rule, you made yourself easy to work with, even if those around you were less compliant, and you’d experienced plenty of that, flying alongside Hangman the past few weeks. Whether it was him leaving you to get shot down in training, or refusing to fly as a team during simulations. And yet, despite his habit of ‘hanging you out to dry’ being the reason behind his callsign, deep down, you’ve never once doubted flying alongside him in the real thing like the others seemed to.

You’re glad for that lack of hesitation now, glad that it only takes a single moment of eye contact from across the tarmac for the two of you to understand one another perfectly. Glad that when you got word that somehow, Rooster was supersonic again, you already know his answer before you even ask.

“Hangman? Hondo’s cleared us for take off with the ground crew, against orders. You with me?” you ask quietly, looking over at your wingman, knowing that when you return you’ll most certainly be court marshalled, but unable to sit and do nothing any longer.

“To hell and back, Mirage,” comes his immediate reply.

You see him move in sync with you, both of your canopy’s lowering at the same time.

You ignore the panicked voices ordering you to stand down, long enough for Hondo and the others to get you on the catapult, and by then it’s too late.

In two seconds you’re propelled from zero to over a hundred and sixty, and in your ears you hear Hangman right behind you.

---

“Do you want to get a coffee with me?” The question makes you jump, your drink almost sloshing everywhere. The sudden voice, as well as the person it belonged to, takes you completely by surprise, but you’re thankful he doesn’t draw attention to your startling.

Up until moments ago, you’d been peacefully watching the ocean toss and turn, burying your feet in the damp sand and thinking about what you were going to do with your upcoming two weeks of post-mission leave.

Most of Dagger were a little further up the shore, a bonfire crackling away, although you weren’t the only one to have splintered off. Mav and Rooster were currently standing in the shallows talking, and you think Halo and Phoenix have moved to sit apart from the others as well. You had managed to sneak away easily enough, content to just sit on your own for a while, though your efforts appear to have been mostly in vain, if the man now plopped in the sand beside you is any indicator.

You blink at each other.

“What?!” you blurt out dumbly, not completely certain you really understood what he’d said. Hangman’s lips press into a thin line, and he looks away from you, linking his hands together around his knees, and staring out at the rolling waves.

“Coffee. Would you like to get one with me?” He repeats, sounding only a smidge impatient, but it still doesn't clear up much for you.

“I… No, I heard you the first time… I… I just don’t understand… why?”

Over the past three weeks you’ve been forced more out of your shell than you ever have before. It was torture. It was wonderful.

Part of you pats yourself on the back for being able to ask him so starightly, but another part of you slaps yourself in the face for questioning him.

Hangman turns to look at you apprehensively.

“Are you asking why coffee or why am I asking you?” He speaks slowly and carefully, his face blank and devoid of any hint he was teasing, though you think he might be anyway.

“Why… Why are you asking me?” You push, shuffling your feet in the sand, drawing his attention for a moment. He looks back at your face and frowns slightly, cocking his head.

“Because I like you? And that is usually what somebody does when they like someone. Ask them.” He answers, and this time you definitely get the impression he’s politely trying not to laugh, but for once, you don’t feel like you’re on the outside of the joke.

Still, you find yourself taken somewhat aback at his confession, admitted so easily and freely, as if it shouldn’t come as a surprise to you, which confuses you.

“Like me? I didn’t even think you wanted me as a squadmate, let alone–” you stop speaking, but only because Hangman cuts his eyes sharply away from you to glare out at the ocean.

“Well, I do.” He says kind of indignantly, all things considered, and eyes you almost sourly. “You can just say no if you don’t–”

“–No, I do!” you quickly cut him off, because at the end of it all, you’re a little too much of a hopeless romantic to let this moment pass you by. Especially when for the past three weeks you haven't been able to get rid of the odd heart skips you got whenever Hangman acknowledged your presence at all.

And besides, you weren’t blind.

Hangman was ridiculously pretty, and not anywhere near as much of an asshole as he wanted people to believe.

He looks at you blankly for a moment, processing your words, before his face breaks out in a smile. It isn’t one of his usual smirks or tauntingly pearly grins, though. It’s softer, sweeter, and you stare mesmerised as he looks away from you again quickly, and down at his linked hands, nodding.

Two days pass, and even when you’re sitting across from him in a small, niche little coffee shop you had no idea existed, you feel like you’re in a dream.

You’ve never seen Hangman out of uniform, you realise, and it’s a whole new experience you’re forced quickly to process when he stands to go get your drinks.

Dark jeans, white shirt, casual jacket. It’s a simple outfit, but goddamn does he make it look good. Nervously you have to wonder if your white and blue sundress, sneakers and bomber jacket were having the same effect on him, though you highly doubt it.

He returns quickly, attentively, placing both your coffees down, before folding himself into his chair once more. You both look at each other awkwardly before you distract yourself by taking a sip of your coffee. Hangman seems to do the same, but instead of drinking, he begins tearing into several little sugar packets, and emptying them into his coffee foam.

You huff out a tiny laugh before you can stop yourself, and his eyes quickly snap to you.

“What?” he asks defensively, but the corners of his mouth twitch.

“I just… I guess I never figured you for a sweet coffee kinda guy…”

“Oh, and why is that?” his twitching lips turn into a full smirk, but it isn’t his usual Hangman smirk. You chew on the inside of your lip, and sip your coffee once more before answering.

“I’m not sure. I guess you just don’t seem like the type of guy who…” you trail off, unsure of what exactly you’re trying to say and even more; how to say it.

“Listen, I may have rippling, glistening abdominals, but I have a sweet tooth,” he says, putting on the defensiveness now, leaning toward you and pointing at himself. You pinch your brows together and purse your lips, nodding vehemently.

“I know how to have fun,” he tells you, tipping a third sugar into his coffee.

“Of that I don’t really doubt, Hangman,” you say, but his gaze snaps back to you again, almost sharply this time.

“Jake.” he corrects you.

You pause.

Of course, you knew his first name, but you’re fairly certain you’ve never once used it. Hangman has just always been, well, Hangman. But you weren’t in a cockpit right now, he’d asked you out, this wasn’t the time and place for callsigns. He wasn’t Hangman, and you weren’t Mirage.

“Jake,” you say slowly, carefully, as if he’ll tell you any moment he’s just kidding around. But he doesn’t.

“Miri,” he replies, slow like you, but softer, and it’s silly, but it sounds so nice coming from him. You shake your head and swallow.

“Jake, if you don’t like coffee, why did you ask me out for one?” you ask him, watching as he blinks slowly at you, before his gaze slowly drops to the latte in front of him.

“If I asked you for a drink, you might’ve got the wrong idea,” he starts, speaking carefully. “If I asked you for dinner, it could be too formal, too awkward–”

“–It’s already awkward,” you point out, making him grimace slightly, so you shrug.

“Coffee just seemed like– I just wanted to–” he cuts himself off and drops both hands to the table.

“Look– I just didn’t want there to be any misunderstanding about what this was. I like you. I know you like coffee.” Jake admits all in a flurry, his voice quiet, and his eyes flickering around as he speaks.

For as long as you’ve known him, you’ve never seen Jake unable to maintain eye contact, actually it seemed to be something he took immense pride in, and it always made you slightly uncomfortable, but right now he appears completely incapable, and it's not a side of Hangman you’ve ever seen before. You realise you might be meeting Jake properly for the first time.

You decide to let him off easy, with all the newfound courage Dagger had been feeding into you the past few weeks, and you change the subject.

“You know, when you came up to me at the Hard Deck that first night, I was kinda surprised you remembered me at all,” you say slowly, sipping your coffee and eying him evenly. Jake frowns then, but it smooths out into a cool grin, and he leans back in his chair, cocking his head.

“Are you kidding? I’m always clocking possible threats.” he tells you, making you cough lightly.

“How am I a threat to you?!” you ask in disbelief.

“Oh, I could name a few,” Jake teases, nodding at you, but flicking his eyes away, almost making a show of clocking an incoming group of customers behind you.

You weren’t clueless, you knew you were a part of Dagger for a reason. You were damn good at your job, but still, Jake was Hangman, not only was he an aviator you respected, he was an aviator with very high personal standards, and for him to see you as comparable to him… well truthfully, you find yourself rather humbled.

And then flustered, at his clear unabashed flirting.

“I always thought you flirting was just you messing with me,” you admit, and he grins wider.

“Can’t it be both?” he asks, leaning forward again, and clasping his hands together. He seems to have no problem maintaining eye contact now, you note. When you cold-stare him, he simply shrugs.

“You’re cute when you get all flustered and nervous, what can I say?”

“Literally anything else.” You grumble back.

You finish your coffee and push the cup to the side, crossing your arms on the table and leaning forward like he was. Jake mimics you, pushing his own coffee away, clearly with no intention to start, let alone finish it. You aren’t as good as him with eye contact though, no matter how much you’d come out of your shell, so you take the opportunity to glance sideways out the window, only for your gaze to catch on something.

Your heart thumps loudly for a moment in your ears, and you wonder briefly if you should act on the thoughts popping around your brain right now, or if you should just stay put.

You lean forward even more, and flick your eyes back to Jake who is staring at you curiously.

“Hey, I have an idea…” you start, chewing on the inside of your lip, before standing up. You only hesitate a little before offering your hand.

“You with me?” you ask without thinking, the words the same as the ones you ask time and again to your wingmen while in flight manoeuvres. Jake stares up at you for a moment, before he too stands, your heart skipping when he takes your hand. With a tiny squeeze you almost don’t notice, Jake grins, and nods.

—

“Oh, hey! Stop! That’s not fair!” You elbow Jake in the side, but it’s already too late. The hand he’d shot out to block your light gun had done its job, and where you’d previously been neck in neck for score on the dual Time Crisis cabinet, Jake’s character was now cheering in victory, while your screen was asking you to insert more coins and try again.

Jake chortles and you both slot your plastic guns back into their plastic holsters at the front of the machine.

“We never agreed to no interference,” he says proudly, and you sock him in the arm only half as hard as you can.

“I didn’t think it needed to be said!” you exclaim pointedly. Jake grins down at you, and collects his tickets.

“Quit complaining, all these are gonna go towards whatever stuffed bear or whatever the hell you want anyway.” He rolls his eyes, and gestures to the shoddy ‘rewards’ counter of the arcade you’d spotted from the coffee shop.

“I want the Minion.” You state firmly after glancing at the redemption counter for three seconds, and spotting the big ugly yellow creature on the top shelf. Jake sighs in a put-upon manner and shakes his head.

“See, this is how you know I really like you. I’m willing to ignore that,” he says, and you actually think he might be serious this time. You grin up at him as he takes your elbow, and begins leading you toward the back of the room.

“What are you going to cheat me out of kicking your ass at this time?” you glance around you, goosebumps trailing up and down your arm as Jake lets his hand slide from around your elbow, down your forearm and into your hand, which he squeezes as if in warning.

“I didn’t cheat, I simply used black ops tactics,” he says, narrowing his eyes at you. You purse your lips at him and narrow your own eyes back.

“Cheat.” you say again, pronouncing each syllable deliberately.

You come to a stop then, and you look up at the old photo booth machine. Jake pulls out a fistfull of tickets, squinting his eyes at the label with instructions, before looking back over at the redemption counter. He seems to run some numbers before he looks back down at you with a grin, and waves the strings of crumpled tickets.

“My cheating means we can use the booth, and still have enough for a Kevin plush, so I don’t wanna hear no more complaining outta you,” he waggles a finger in front of your nose, and you blink up at him sheepishly.

“Jake– I don’t really want the Minion…” you say, before your voice turns suspicious. “Anyway, how do you know which one is Kevin?!” you lift an eyebrow, only for Jake to roll his eyes and push you into the curtained booth.

You orient yourself in the tiny enclosed space, looking around you as Jake takes a moment to feed several lines of win-tickets into the machine before he follows you. He’s forced to duck down real low, making the space even smaller, and you both stare for a moment at the small seat barely big enough for one person, let alone two.

“Well, either you can sit on my lap, or I can sit on yours, darlin’, but I know which one I’d prefer.” Jake intones lowly, and for the first time in an hour or so, you feel yourself get all flustered again. Honestly, you’d kind of forgotten about the explicitly romantic tone of this meeting until now, and more than that, your stomach begins to flip and flop like the first time you’d gotten in a jet when he eases past you and drops himself onto the bench before patting his thighs.

“Jake, maybe if you just move over a litt–”

“No can do, honey,” and he’s not even trying to tease you, he demonstrates the spread of his legs, and the tight fit into the booth, before looking back up at you expectantly again.

“Okay… Okay…” you say more for your own sanity than anything else, and turn, quickly perching yourself on his leg before you can really think too hard about what you're doing.

Your efforts are for naught though, because the moment you’re sat down, Jake’s hands are tugging you against him further, sitting you more comfortably on the thick expanse of his thigh, and you barely repress the noise that nearly escapes you at the feeling of his fingers digging into your hips.

“There we go, sweetheart,” he says softly, almost to himself, and moves his hands to wrap around you completely. If he notices your little noise, which by his self satisfied smirk he definitely has, he thankfully chooses not to say anything. Your face grows warm, not only at the hold he has on you but at the pet name too.

“Did you just call me ‘sweetheart’?” you ask, sounding half bewildered, half incredulous, forgetting for a moment where exactly you were and why. As you look over your shoulder at the man behind you, Jake stares back, his smirk still in place even as his eyes seem to search your face, his own expression mostly unreadable.

“Would you prefer ‘honey’?” he almost purrs, his voice distinctly amused, but you notice that he doesn’t back down, doesn’t apologise or step back.

It makes your stomach twist up in knots. It makes your heartbeat skip like a record.

You turn away from him, shake your head.

“It’s fine,” you tell him bashfully, wanting to grumble slightly when against your back you sense what you think is him puffing his chest a little. Quickly, you add: “Not at work, though…”

Jake chortles, but as you peek over your shoulder to look at him again, he’s relenting, his smirk gone and replaced with a far softer smile as he nods.

“Not at work, though.” he repeats lowly in confirmation, almost making you jump when he shifts one hand to steady you around the waist, his other reaching out to begin fiddling with the controls on the lit up screen in front of you.

“Alright, let's get this show on the road shall we?”

By the time you’re exiting the tiny cubicle, Jake’s hands still attached to your hips as he follows you out, you’re both laughing quietly to yourselves. You’re amazed to find just how much Jake can affect you, either setting you at complete ease or sending you into a tizzy, depending on what he’s said or done. Usually you wouldn’t be surprised by other people’s effects on you, you were jumpy and anxious by nature, but it was rare that somebody who put you on edge as much as Jake did, could also give you such comfort.

When he detaches his hands from your sides at last to survey the sheets of photos spat out by the booth, you marvel at how much you start to miss the contact. With all the subtlety you can muster, you inch closer to him, under the guise of getting a look at the photos as well, though really, you’re only hoping that you might prompt him into reaching out for you again.

Jake chortles and points at a set of two pictures. In one, you’re both grinning madly, pulling silly faces, and in the other, you’re wearing softer smiles, and you notice now, that Jake had pushed his face a little closer to yours. It makes heat rise in your cheeks, not just at the seeming intimacy of the photo, but truthfully, of how much you like seeing the two of you like that.

“You won’t mind if I keep these, will ya?” Jake asks, looking over at you. You simply shake your head, and he grins a little wider, carefully tearing off the two pictures before pulling out his wallet and tucking them inside, for sake keeping, you assume.

Jake lets you keep the rest, and absently, you fold them into the zipper in your purse, too distracted by the fact that he does indeed take your hand again, before quickly releasing it to instead wrap his arm over your shoulder. You can’t stop yourself from smiling a little as you blink dumbly up at him, and he grins down at you, ducking his face even closer to yours.

“Now sweetheart, I believe I was instructed to win you a minion plush.”

---

Jake’s appearance in the women’s locker room should startle you more than it does. As it stands, you barely even bat an eyelash when you spot him all of a sudden in the mirror behind you, like he was enacting some sort of horror movie jumpscare. It doesn’t really have that effect on you though, his presence nowadays is both common enough and exciting enough that he holds your rapt attention whenever he’s around.

In the mirror behind you, he stands at a casual lean against the row of locker doors, making sure to face you, but also making sure he has the opportunity to rifle through your locker, get a good look at the things you kept in there.

“What are you doing?” you ask, sounding less scolding and more genuinely curious, which is a point against you as far as you’re concerned. You turn from the mirror and move back toward your locker, replacing the small toiletries bag you kept with you inside. Jake doesn’t move a muscle, standing exactly in the same position, which meant that now he was practically leaning over you, crowding your space in that way he did sometimes just to make you flustered.

You were long past the point of it really working though, now you revelled in it just as much as he seemed to, eager for any small moment where you had an excuse to be so close to him. Especially at work.

You blink up at him doe-ishly, finding his gaze exactly where you expected it to be, which is trained on your face. His signature smirk grows slightly as he meets your eye, and your stomach explodes in a flurry of butterflies and fireworks at the way he seems to either consciously or subconsciously lean even further in toward you, completely dwarfing you now. It makes you feel small in the best way possible, and you have to actively work to put aside the thoughts of his big hands at your waist, and other such things that make your legs go all wobbly.

“Say, you don’t happen to have any plans for the fourteenth, do you?” Jake ignores your question entirely, but you’re not bothered by it, too caught up now on his own query.

“The fourteenth?” you ask, a little dumbly, racking your mind for something you may have forgotten, which you know is the correct course of action thanks to the amusement currently playing out on his very handsome features.

“Valentine’s Day?” Jake supplies for you eventually, putting you out of one misery and into another.

“You want to do something on Valentine’s Day?” you’re not sure which part of his suggestion you’re not getting, but you do know that something isn’t quite clicking. Jake’s features soften only slightly, and he bends his face even closer to yours, his eyes flickering down to your lips briefly before back to your eyes.

“Mhmm. If my girlfriend is alright with that?” Jake practically purrs the words, and they reverberate down your spine, making you blink rapidly.

You don’t think you’ll ever get over hearing him call you that, although you do note that he definitely shouldn't be doing it at work, considering none of your friends and colleagues know about the two of you yet.

“Y-yes, she is fine with that…” you reply, doing your best not to sound as lovesick as you felt. Jake lifts an eyebrow and turns his body in toward you even more, almost bringing your chests to touch now.

“Just ‘fine’? Sweetheart, I am hoping to get more of a reaction than that,” he again makes a show of trailing his eyes up and down your face, and you feel yourself swallow thickly.

“After all,” Jake continues, lifting an arm now to rest against the locker above your head, actually crowding your space now. “I believe we had a discussion about exactly how Valentine’s Day would play out, around… four weeks ago?” Jake makes a humming noise, as if he himself didn’t remember clearly, despite everything else about his delivery saying otherwise.

Your lips part ever so slightly as you recall the conversation he’s referring to, a heat crackling over your skin when you realise that, despite you not remembering it until now, this had clearly been something Jake was looking forward to.

You definitely were too, now.

“Thank you, Jake… tonight was really great,” you cringe a little at how scripted the words sound, but when you look up at where Jake stands just behind you, waiting for you to slot your key into your door, he’s only gazing down at you in a way that makes you immediately drop them. The sound makes you jump and turn away, but before you can clumsily begin apologising and scooping them up, Jake takes a slight step forward, never breaking your eye contact even as he swipes your fallen keys from your feet.

He’s right in front of you now, still slightly bowed over so that his face hovers right in front of yours as if by accident, though you know it's anything but. You can’t even bring yourself to move, as much as these dates had you a little off-kilter still, you couldn't deny the fact that your feelings for the man in front of you had been increasing exponentially, in a way that was becoming harder and harder to physically hold back from.

You don’t even mean to, but your eyes drop to his lips for several beats, transfixed until you force yourself to look away again. You part your own lips, getting ready to say something, anything, but Jake sees your wandering gaze for what it is, and doesn’t let you ruin the moment.

Instead, Jake surges forward, the hand not holding your keys moving to cup the side of your face, and at the same time, stands to his full height once more, the space previously still left between you now completely nonexistent as you find yourself pushed up against your door.

You’ve had relationships in the past, but you had never, ever, been kissed like this before, all heat and fire and what you can only describe as desire. However, as that thought sets in, you find that oddly, it doesn’t fluster you like you think it should, or would have. In fact, for the first time in a really long time, you don't feel any of your normal anxieties or nerves. Everything is replaced by the knowledge that Jake ‘Hangman’ Seresin is currently pressing his body against yours, his hands carefully starting to roam a little and how much you want everything that that strong grip of his promises.

Unfortunately, that's when the one useful anxiety you have left returns to you, and just as always, you can’t bring yourself to ignore it like you so badly wish you could.

It takes only a slight push against Jake’s chest for him to pull away from you, though it's as though he can’t bring himself to go far at all. He stares down at you, lips kiss-swollen and his face so close still that you swear if he blinks, you’ll feel his lashes brush your cheek.

“What’s wrong?” Jake’s voice is incredibly gravely and rough and the sound of it alone is almost enough to push you back in toward him.

“I’m sorry– I just–” the rising panic in your voice makes Jake shift again, though he still doesn’t detach himself from you entirely, he does move his hands to rest on your shoulders.

“We– We work together, and I don’t do this often–ever, actually, and I just don’t want to get into something where we can’t come back from, because I’m actually really starting to like you, a lot, and I know this is a thing normal people totally do all the time– sleep together I mean– but you’re just so– and I’m– and I–”

“Hey, it’s alright, calm down,” Jake’s stern ‘work’ voice startles you a bit, but just like always, he seems to know exactly what it is you need. You blink up at him, realising you’re clinging tightly to his forearms, and he’s looking down at you with so much concern and care you could almost just start crying.

“It’s alright, Miri,” Jake continues after a moment, lifting one hand from your shoulder to cup your cheek again. You stare at him, your brows furrowing into a frown.

“Alright? You’re not– you don’t mind that I don’t want to sleep with you?”

Jake’s lips quirk, and he rolls his eyes a little.

“Miri, the only thing I want more than to take you inside and continue this with far less clothing, is for you to want that too. So, no, I don’t mind.”

You keep staring up at him, unsure of how to proceed now, but once again, Jake swoops in.

“You want to give it time?” he asks, earning a nod from you, but you suddenly feel the need to reassure him of your own affections.

“Just to be clear, this isn’t me not wanting to have sex with you!” you state quickly, earning a somewhat confused frown from the man still cupping your cheek. “I mean, I do, that’s not an issue, my problem is specifically just… rushing into this, when we work together. Our jobs are so high-stress as it is, I just think it would be better to… I’m not sure, ease into it I guess…”

You’re glad you made a point of explaining yourself, because Jake’s face flashes with brief understanding, and his approach seems to switch tact.

“Well…” he clears his throat. “That’s still alright, but it does make it a whole lot harder to resist, I have to tell you,” you know he’s only half serious, but the way he looks at you in the dim lighting of your porch sends your insides twisting and curling.

“So… when do you think it will stop being ‘too soon’?” Jake asks lightly, but you do think it’s an entirely fair question given that you are asking him to wait for you.

“A few weeks? I’m not sure, I just…” you trail off, but watch as Jake appears to do some mental maths, and then his face lights up, his grin pulling his lips in a rather distracting way.

“Valentine's Day?” he asks, wiggling his eyebrows playfully.

Before you can verbally agree, his mood seems to shift, and he’s leaning in a little closer again, lowering his voice. “I’ll take you out, real fancy, suit and tie dress code, you’ll get to wear something slinky and I’ll pretend the way I keep touching you is an accident all night.”

Your breath catches in your throat as Jake crowds in closer to you as he speaks, looking over you as if the things he’s describing were visible to him right now.

“Then, I’ll take you back to mine, maybe I’ll be presumptuous and buy you some lacy little underthings to wear for me, and–” He seems to snap out of the intensity all of a sudden, smirking down at you and cocking his head at your dazed and almost drooling expression.

“Well, the rest is a secret, but for now, let's just pencil all that in, hmn?”

“S-so, what did you have planned?” you bite your lip a little and reach past him to grab a scrunchie from your locker, but before you can slip it onto your wrist, Jake takes it off of your and begins combing your hair back himself. You stand and watch him dumbly as he does, already blanking out when his fingers seem to tighten ever so slightly as he gathers a ponytail at the base of your neck, and tugs.

You almost let out a pitiful little sound at the feeling, but unfortunately you aren’t able to control the fluttering of your eyes the same way. Jake smirks above you as he slips the scrunchie off his wrist and secures your hair into a somewhat regulation bun, all the while still grinning down at you. You want to tell him to screw valentines day and screw you now, but you manage to keep your mouth shut long enough for him to answer your question.

“I’ve already told you too much. Just be ready by seven. Wear something slinky for me, yeah?” he murmurs, letting his hands fall from the back of your head to your waist where he pulls you in.

“Alright,” you confirm, mind already wandering to what on earth you had in your closet right now that would fit the bill of ‘slinky’ and deciding that you were probably going to have to go shopping.

“Don’t worry about the lacy things,” Jake says softly, lips now ghosting over yours as he speaks, though he hasn’t broken your eye contact once yet. “I’ve already got that covered.” He says, making you go blank again.

The thought, no, the mere idea that Jake has bought you lingerie to wear, and that he wanted to see you in it, makes you want to vibrate right out of the room, and possibly several times around the planet, but you manage to resist, and instead just swallow heavily, and nod.

Jake grins wide, no longer smirking cheekily, his smile is nothing but warmth now, and you can’t help but mirror it.

“Great,” he says, giving your waist a squeeze, and you a tiny peck on the lips before he pulls away. “Now, I gotta get outta here before I get court-martialed.”

You snort as he spins on his heel and heads toward the door, but turns back and gives you a lazy salute and wink before he leaves.

When you’re certain that he’s gone, you let out a sigh and fall back against your locker, your heart thumping wildly along in your chest as you mull over your upcoming plans. The thought of shopping enters your mind once again, and you hum to yourself. Reaching for your throne, you shoot off a text to your group chat with Phoenix and Halo, and hope they won’t ask too many questions about your Valentine’s plans.

[mysticalmallard]

Jealousy and Violence

Description: The party is in full swing when she arrives with her roommate. The night ends with Opie pissed and looking for violence.

Word Count: 3,035

Warnings: normal SoA warnings, and mentions of attempted SA nothing graphic or detailed

SoA Taglist: @arkytiorlecter @aimkatsz @ravennaortiz @darqchilddaydreamz @mischiefnevermanaged89-blog @hatersaremymotivators @theshynerdsworld @thefrogytimes @youngadult9016

♥︎ If you wish to be added or removed from this taglist comment or message me ♥︎

Parts

1 • 2 • 3 • 4 • 5 • 6 •

SoA Masterlist ♥︎ Main Masterlist ♥︎ Series Masterlist

Opie stands near the entrance of the clubhouse, his mind a swarm of different emotions. He's nervous, excited, and a bit worried about how the night is going to go.

As he waits he sees a car pull up, and his heart skips a beat as he sees Jessica stepping out. His excitement quickly turns to a wave of disappointment as he notices she has a guy with her.

He watches as she talks to the guy, clearly having a conversation with him. Opie scowls at the sight of them together, the guy's hand on her shoulder. He can't hear what they're saying, but the sight of Jessica with another man bothers him more than he cares to admit.

He clenches his fists as they make his way over to him, feeling a pang of jealousy. He's already mentally preparing himself to play nice, even if he's less than thrilled about this new development.

As they approach, Opie tries to school his expression into something more neutral. He gives them a fake smile, his eyes lingering on the guy's hand still on her shoulder.

"Hey, you made it," he greets them casually, stuffing his hands into his pockets to hide his clenched fists.

Jessica smiles back at him, oblivious to his inner turmoil. "Yeah, we almost got lost trying to find this place," she says with a laugh, gesturing at the guy beside her. The tall, muscular guy standing next to her smiles as well, his eyes running over Opie.

"Yeah, it's a bit tucked away," Opie mutters, his gaze flitting between the guy and Jessica. "So this is your roommate?" he asks her, trying to sound nonchalant. In the back of his mind, he can't quell the flicker of jealousy.

"Yeah, this is Michael," Jessica introduces them, gesturing at the guy standing beside her.

The guy gives Opie a friendly smile, extending his hand. "Hey, nice to meet you, I've heard a lot about you."

Opie eyes the guy warily, taking his hand in a firm handshake. "Yeah, same here," he mutters, trying to keep the irritation out of his voice. He glances at Jessica, hoping she hasn’t noticed his unfriendly demeanor.

Jessica, being her sweet self, doesn't seem to pick up on the tension. She smiles at both of them, oblivious to the undercurrents.

"C'mon, let's head inside," Opie suggests, trying to break the awkward tension. "It's a bit rowdy inside, but it'll be fun." he mutters, holding the door open for them.

"Good, this one could really use a drink, with the day she had" Michael sighed, walking Jessica inside.

Opie raises an eyebrow at Michael's comment. "A bad day, huh?" he asks, trying not to sound too eager for details. He follows them inside, his mind still fixated on the fact that she has a guy with her.

Jessica groans, her shoulders dropping. "Ugh, yeah. The places I went didn't have any positions available, and the interview I had this afternoon..." She pauses, shaking her head. "Ugh, total disaster...but i dont wanna talk about all that right now" she sighs waving her hand dismissively.

The mention of the interview piques Opie's interest. He glances at her, intrigued. "What happened at the interview?" he asks, genuine concern in his voice.

Michael grumbles upset beside her at Opies question. She lightly swats him to shut him up "..I'd really rather not talk about it" she answers Opie while giving Michael a look.

Opie's curiosity is heightened by her vague response. He can tell there's more to the story, and he wants to know what happened. But he can also see that she's not keen on discussing it further, and he doesn't want to push her.

He shoots a curious glance at Michael, wondering what he knows that he doesn't.Micheal makes another disapproving noise making Jessica glare at him.

"Welp...since I'm not wanted in conversation here I'm gonna head to the pool table...I just got paid and I'm feeling lucky" Michael mutters ruffling Jessica's head, messing up her hair and making her swat at him again laughing.

"Hey, not the hair!" she protests, trying to fix her messy hair. Opie watches their playful interaction with a mix of emotions. He can't help but feel slightly annoyed, noticing the ease and familiarity between the two.

Michael chuckles at her protest, his hand moving to ruffle her hair once more. Opie clenches his jaw, having to forcibly resist the urge to pull her away from him. He's never felt this possessive over anyone before and it's unnerving.

Michael heads off towards the pool table, leaving Opie and Jessica alone. Opie glances at her, watching her smooth down her hair. "You two seem close" he says, unable to keep the hint of jealousy out of his voice.

Jessica finishes fixing her hair, oblivious to the edge in Opie’s voice. "Yeah, Michael’s my best friend," she replies with a fond smile that causes a pang in Opie’s chest.

"Best friend, huh?" Opie mutters, the word feeling bitter on his tongue. He knows he's being ridiculous. Jealous over a simple friendship. But he can't help the feeling of resentment towards this Michael guy.

Jessica hums thoughtfully "Yeah, he and I have been best friends for as long as I can remember, basically grew up together" she replies not seeing why he's so interested.

She glances at him, noticing his scowl. "What’s with that face?"

Opie realizes he's scowling and quickly changes his expression. "Nothing," he grunts, not wanting to admit the truth. He knows he has no right to feel this protective over her, but he can't shake off the jealousy.

Jessica doesn't buy it, but she doesn't press him. Instead, she glances around the room, her eyes resting on the dancing people and the crowd. "Is it always like this?" she asks, watching the chaos.

Opie follows her gaze, taking in the rowdy atmosphere of the party. "Yeah, pretty much," he mutters, "This is a regular SAMCRO party. Things can get a little wild."

She hums as she takes in her surroundings, her eyes still scanning the room.

Opie watches her, studying her face. He wonders what she's thinking, if she's enjoying this chaos or if she's overwhelmed. He hesitates for a moment before finally speaking. "You, uh, want something to drink?" he asks, shoving his hands into his pockets awkwardly.

Jessica nods, her eyes finally focusing back on him. "Yeah, I could use a drink," she replies. "Nothing strong though...I guess im driving tonight." she says gesturing over to Michael taking multiple shots surrounded by a crowd of people cheering feeling quite comfortable in his surroundings.

Opie nods in understanding, his eyes flickering to Michael and the crowd around him. He feels another pang of jealousy, seeing the ease with which the man is fitting in. He swallows it back though, focusing on Jessica. "Alright, I'll get you something light." he says, leading her over to the bar.

The bar is packed with bikers and women, and they have to squeeze their way through the crowd. Opie keeps his hand on the small of Jessica's back, guiding her through the crowd of people. He can feel the heat from her body, and he has to resist the urge to pull her closer.

When they got to the bar he place an arm either side next to her on the bar, effectively creating a cage around stopping anyone from bumping into her while also not touching her himself.

The closeness of her body, the way she fits perfectly in the space he’s made for her, it’s almost too much for him. He can smell her perfume, a light floral scent, and it’s taking all his willpower not to bury his face into her hair.

He signals to the bartender, a pretty brunette in a tight top, who looks like part of the “entertainment” that Jax arranged earlier. The bartender gives him a sultry smile, her eyes lingering on him for a moment longer than necessary. Opie grits his teeth, feeling uncomfortable under her gaze, but he pushes it aside and orders two beers.

The bartender turns to look at Jessica, giving her a not so subtle once-over. Opie bristles at the way the woman glances at Jessica, taking in her pretty face and flattering outfit. He can see the bartender mentally comparing herself to Jessica and finding herself lacking.

The bartender hands them their beers, her gaze flickering back to Opie. She leans over closer to him, showing an ample amount of cleavage. "If you need anything else, you let me know, okay?" she purrs, her voice dripping with suggestive undertones.

Opie thanks the bartender, gritting his teeth at her blatant flirting. He can feel Jessica tense up in front of him. He quickly grabs the beers, steering Jessica away from the bar.

They find a small table in a quieter corner and sit down. The music is still loud, but they can at least hear each other talk. Opie watches as Jessica takes a sip of her beer. Her fingers around the glass are slender and delicate, and for a moment he imagines what they would feel like on his skin. He chases away the thought and takes a gulp of his own beer.

The silence between them is awkward. Opie doesn't know what to say. He's not a conversationalist on a normal day, and right now he's too busy trying to keep his jealousy in check.

Jessica breaks the silence. "So...how long have you been part of the club?" she asks, taking another sip of her beer.

Opie shrugs, fiddling with the label on his beer bottle. "Since high school. Jax and I have been friends forever. Both of our dads were founding members, so i guess we always have been apart of it in some way....we became prospects at the same time." He glances at Jessica, noting the curiosity on her face.

She hums in understanding, her gaze drifting over the room before returning to Opie. "So, it's like a family thing then?" she inquires, genuinely interested. Despite the noisy and rowdy atmosphere, Opie feels himself relaxing a bit, his shoulders untensing.

"Yeah, you could say that," he replies, the corner of his lips twitching into a smile. "It's more than just a club. It's our brotherhood. Each and every member looks out for one another. It's...it's hard to explain." He takes another sip of his beer, watching her intently.

The hours fly by as they talk. Opie finds himself opening up more than he usually does. There's something about Jessica that makes it easy to talk to her, she listens intently and doesn't judge, offering advice and witty comments that make him chuckle. It's easy, comfortable and Opie finds himself growing more fond of her with each passing minute.

The longer they talk, the more Opie forgets about the party happening around them. The chaos, the music, the shouting, even the other members fade into the background. He's too fixated on her, her smile, her laugh, the way she tilts her head to the side when she's listening. He's drawn to her in a way he's never experienced before.

The two of them are in a comfortable bubble, immersed in conversation, when suddenly they are interrupted by Michael stumbling back to the table, swaying slightly. He slings an arm around Jessica's shoulders and grins at Opie.

"There you are!" he exclaims, his voice slightly slurred. His face is rosy, and he's obviously had a few drinks. He grins at Opie, then turns to Jessica. "I've been looking all over for you, Jessssiee...do you still feel upset that the guy tried to make you blow him for a job??."

Jessica's face flushes with embarrassment, her expression immediately going from relaxed to mortified in seconds. She shoves at Michael's chest, trying to push him away. "Michael!!" she hisses in a voice between a whisper and a yell, "Shut up!!"

Michael cackles, clearly enjoying himself. He turns to Opie and leers, a dopey grin plastered on his face. "Yeah, she was not happy about that, man...not at all."

Opie's eyes narrow at Michael's words. "What the hell are you going on about, man?" he snaps, feeling his irritation rising.

"Ignore him...It's nothing really, just a sleezy guy at the job interview I had" Jessica says, shrugging, pulling out a bottle of water from her purse handing it to Michael.

The mention of a sleazy guy makes Opie's blood boil a bit. He clenches his jaw, his protective instincts kicking in. "What do you mean 'sleazy'? What the hell did he do?" he asks, fixing his gaze on Jessica, his eyes suddenly intense.

Jessica avoids Opie's gaze, busying herself by fussing with the hem of her top. "He just made some inappropriate comments, that's all" she replies, her voice nonchalant.

Michael scoffs, opening the water bottle and chugging it. "Yeah right he told you that you would only get the job if you blew him then he tried to stop you from leaving....that's a little more than inappropriate Jessie" Michael pouts up at her still pissed that she wouldn't let him do anything about it when he first found out.

Opie feels a surge of anger at Michael's words. Someone had made a pass at her, tried to manipulate her into something like that? He feels a possessive need to protect her, to make sure no one ever puts her in that position again. "Who the hell was this guy?" he growls, his voice dangerously low.

Michael shrugs "she wouldn't tell me who but I know the bar....Real dodgy looking shack on the outside of Charming heading north.." Michael mumbles ignoring the look Jessica was giving him.

Opie absorbs the information, immediately recognizing the bar Michael is talking about. He's been there before, on club business, and it's definitely a seedy place. Thinking about Jessica being in that environment, being propositioned like that, makes his blood boil.

"I know that place," he mutters, still clenched jaw. He turns his gaze back to Jessica, his expression stormy. "You're not going back there, understood?" he says firmly. It's not a request.

Opie marches away from the table, his mind churning. He spots a group of members near the pool table and heads over to them. They greet him with nods and smiles, but he's not interested in pleasantries right now. "Jax, need to talk to you," he says gruffly, his tone making it clear it's important. Jax, sensing the seriousness in Opie's voice, straightens up. "What's up, brother?" he asks.

Opie leans in, his voice low so only Jax can hear. "Jessica had an incident at a bar downtown," he starts, "Some sleazeball tried to make her blow him for a job and would let her leave."

Jax's brows furrow, his protective instincts kicking in as well. "Who was it?" he asks, already starting to feel angry for Jessica's sake.

"Don't know yet," Opie replies, frustration seeping into his voice. "But we're gonna find out....do you think some of the guys are sober enough for some shit kicking?"

Jax chuckles at that, a dangerous smile forming on his face. "Oh, there's at least a few of us left who can still walk without stumbling over our own two feet." He glances around the room, sizing up a few of the other members who seemed relatively sober.

Jax grins, slapping Opie on the shoulder. He turns to the other members, yelling for their attention. "Hey, we got a situation needs taking care of, who's sober enough to ride?"

A few of the members perk up at that, the excitement of a possible confrontation overriding their inebriation. They stumble over to Jax and Opie, some more steadier on their feet than others.

"Alright," Jax barks, "We gotta go teach some bastard a lesson about treating women with respect. You in?"

The members nod, eager to get on their bikes and cause some damage. They all love a good fight.

"Then let's get moving," Jax says, turning to Opie. "Lead the way, man." Opie nods, already heading for the door.

Jessica watches as they all storm pass her heading outside "Opie...what's going on?" She asks him as he stomps by.

He stops, looking at her for a moment before answering. "stay here I'll be back in awhile," he says bluntly.

His tone is gruff and dismissive, but there's a hint of worry in his eyes. Before she can say anything else, he's out the door, leaving her standing there worried and confused.

As Opie steps out into the night, flanked by Jax and the rest of the MC, his mind is already focused on the task at hand. They mount their bikes, the engines roaring to life. The adrenaline is pumping through their veins, fueling their anger and determination. They know they're about to do something illegal, something that could have consequences, but at this moment they don't care. This is about protecting one of their own, about sending a message to any dirt bag who thinks it's okay to treat women with disrespect.

Jessica walks outside followed by Michael still trying to figure out what is going on.

As they step outside, Opie's eyes immediately catch sight of Jessica and Michael. He curses under his breath, not wanting them to be involved in what he's about to do. He glares at both of them, his eyes hardening.

Her eyes widen as she sees the raw anger etched on his face. She tries to call out to him, but the roar of the motorcycles drowns out her voice.

Michael has a neutral look on his face. He understands whats happening and why. he knows its not something the club would stand for.

Glancing from the group of bikers to Jessica he sighs.

"Come on lets go inside and wait for them to come back" he says calmly putting an arm around her to guide her back inside. He looks over his shoulder locking eyes with Opie giving him a short nod.

Opie acknowledges the short nod from Michael with a slight dip of his head. He knows that Michael will look after Jessica while he's gone and it eases his mind a bit.

[gyuvision]

going, going, gone! -> [back to masterlist?]

wc ; 1.4k - pairing ; 1b hong seunghan x team manager fem reader

summary ; seunghan is benched for an argument between another player, but even though hes feeling down he convinces you to stay with him after hours.

contains -> swearing, fluff, comfort, angst

note - i love myungjae please know its just for the plot 😞

“but coach, its not fair! i dont understand what it is that i did wrong.” seunghan pleaded, quickly pulling his sweaty jersey off and changing into a clean tee as he begged the coach to let him play.

“seunghan please. you know i wouldnt bench my star player without a reason. even if its nationals, what you did was beyond unacceptable.” coach myung gestured to his nephew who was sitting on a bench with an ice pack to his swollen cheek.

myung jaehyun may have been a good player, but he wouldn’t have made it on the team if his uncle hadn’t been the coach. in doing so, he got away with almost anything with little to no consequences making him one of the most feared players in comparison to seunghan, who was the most respected.

“he yelled profanities at me and hit on our manager, y/n! not to mention how he came at me first?” seunghan defended himself, pointing to his bruised eye.

“hong seunghan that is more than enough! i’ve had it with you. you’re benched for the rest of the season. i don’t care who started what but i will not tolerate this behavior. not on my team. when you come back here tomorrow i’d expect you best have your attitude straightened up. everyone is dismissed.” the coach announced with not another word as he left the locker room, with the rest of the team following behind.

“damn it!” seunghan yelled, punching his locker in anger and disappointment.

“you really thought he’d let you play after that?” jaehyun scoffed. “you need a reality check, hong.”

“you’re still here?.. get out.”

“like my parents aren’t the ones who own the place? besides. the only reason you’re still here is because you’re dating the manager. i would’ve had a better chance anyway”

“i said get the fuck out. unless you want me to fuck up your other cheek too.”

“some nerve.” he muttered before walking through the door.

seunghan sighed, grabbing his jersey to go and sit in the dugout up until he saw you getting ready to leave.

“thought you left already.” seunghan whispered, knowing you heard everything. he didn’t want to disappoint you any further.

“oh seunghan..” you sighed, leaving your bag to go up to him and fix his messy bangs.

“i would try to-” “just please stay.” he begged as he wrapped his arms around your waist, hiding his face in your hair.

“seunghan..”

“..please?”

“…okay.” you nodded, letting him lead you to the field and to their dugout.

“whats on your mind?”

“i just dont get it.” seunghan spoke, looking into the pink horizon before turning to meet your eyes.

“get what?”

“why such jerks like myung jaehyun think theyre so much better than everyone else because theyre born into nepotism. it defeats everything ive worked so hard for.”

“he thinks hes better because hes privileged. but it doesnt mean that he actually is, babe.”

“i guess.”

“what if i talk to coach myung to let you play tomorrow? i know he wont let you play for the rest of the season but maybe tomorrow at least, hopefully.”

“you dont have to.”

“i know how happy baseball makes you. i couldnt just sit and watch you be so disappointed while you deserve to be out there. its worth a try.” you reassure him.

“i dont deserve you.” he muttered.

“this team doesnt deserve you. they mistreat you. thats why i wanted you to come with me to play varsity in the states, where i’d be the new manager.”

“that doesn’t sound too bad. maybe i’ll just finish off this season first.”

“it’s your choice, but there’s a better opportunity there than however little the myungs have to offer.”

after a few moments you both left the dugout to walk the stadium, passing under the bleachers and beyond the closed food stands before finding a seat with a good view of the field, and the sunset.

you stayed there at the stadium with him for a little while longer before you get up, telling him you have to go.

“i know they have no chance of advancing without you. he has to let you play. you’ll hit me a homerun won’t you?”

“always.” he chuckled. “it’ll be going, going, gone.”

[kuni-is-daddy]

Hii!! Could u make a scaramouche x reader smut, but the reader has a breeding kink? i would love dom reader but its completely up to you 🤭

(i finally got the courage to ask...)

Bottom! Scaramouche X Top Female Reader

Ft: Degrading, bondage/cuffing, grinding, riding.

word count 1.2k

CW: MINORS DO NOT INTERACT PAST THE CUT! THIS IS A NSFW POST.

ScaraMasterlist | Subby cat scara | Sub wanderer

Scara coming out of the shower with his shorts halfway on and his hair still dripping wet with a towel wrapped around his hair. He walks into his room while you catch him off guard and pull him into a sloppy kiss against the wall. At first he's dismissive about it but when he realizes it's you, when he feels your cleavage against his chest. He couldnt help but moan as you sandwich his body against the wall and trail your hands down to his half put on boxers. "S-shit~ I see your eager arent you? Ive only been gone for a week and this is how you act?" he pulled the towel off his hair and tossed it onto the floor.

"Hah- Like a little pet. Couldnt wait for me to finish getting dressed?" you shake your head and sigh into his shoulder. "Want you so bad scara~ please, I want to make you feel good~" Scara smirked, then guided your hand on his stomach; Abs slightly defined on his flat stomach while he had plenty of scars and markings rubbing along your fingertips. "Hm- Then I should entertain you since you've begged so well." Your eyes filled with lust as he slowly descended your hand to his V line and giving you a peak at his hard length. "Give it to me...Show your master how good he should feel pet."

You spared no time bringing scara onto his bed. Quickly sitting ontop of him and against his clothed cock as he gasped at how aggressive you we're; How hungry he was to feel you. You grinded on his clothed length, slowly stripping off your oversized shirt with your bare chest on display. Scara looked aroused and intently at you, He didnt notice until now that you barely had anything on. Just one of his shirts and silky underwear he bought for you. Pale fingertips itched up to your hips, he Squeezed and rubbed your body in motion with your grinding. "Shit..Thats it pet, Dont stop. Love how much you want me~" He dug his free hand through his hair, pushing his bangs out the way to watch you speed up your pace. 'Fuck~ Wanna flip you over right now and cum inside you. Dont stop y/n, Dont stop..' In a daze scara began bucking his hips up down. You lost a bit of balance and leaned on his body for support. "Scara~" you teased, but your words went through one mechanical ear and out the other. "Does it feel good?" 'Ah~ You~ mnn~' Stuck in his trance all he could do was grab tighter on your hips. You pouted at the lack of attention and looked down onto his shorts. His boxers we're barely hiding his hard on through his pants and poked at your wet slit. 'Was he close?' you slowed down and he sucked his teeth in irritation, and you swore you saw his eyes glow. "Fuh-.. i- W-why'd you stop?!" He hissed. "Because scara~ I want it... here.." you pointed down to your stomach and He immediately blushed "O-oh?... Is that what you want, pet?" you pressed his hands over his head, leaning down to his face close enough your noses touched. You pecked his lips and pulled away from him then got off the bed, walking to your room. "I'll be quick okay~! keep your hands like that for me." 'over... my head?' he sucked his teeth and turned his head towards the ceiling, just wondering what you had planned for him.

Scara turned his attention back to the door over the faint sound of jingling. Watching as you emerged completely naked into the room with a pair of handcuffs around your finger. "Hah So you want to be cuffed up too, slut?" he chucked as you walked towards the headboard. "No scara, this is for you~"

In a matter of seconds scara's hands we're both restrained against the headboard. You climbed onto his body once more like a cat, Pulling down his pants to reveal his aching shaft. Scara tugged against the handcuffs as you moved closer to his erection leaking pre. He wanted to put you in your place so bad, how dare you starve him of his release then cuff him up as if he was the pet. You took a deep breath before sinking yourself onto his length, your walls squeezing against his thick cock. Your body shivered and he moaned in response. "Hah..mnh y/n, Your so warm- Oh god...yes~" you leaned your hands against his body for support. Slowly bouncing up and down "fuck~ ah...You want it that bad baby? Wanna be a- ah~ mommy?" he instinctively went to touch your hips but was jerked back by the cuffs. He tugged again then groaned. God it was too much, scara wanted to touch you so bad. You began panting heavily at his sudden submission. He could just break the handcuffs, couldn't he? you gripped tighter onto his sleeveless shirt as your pace grew messy to make sure he always hit your sweet spot. "mnh~ yes scara! I want it.. Want it so bad please, please inside~ ah! please!" your body bounced faster, sloshing up and down his length "ah~ mommy~ j-just like that~! im close~ S-so fucking close. im gonna~!" He bawled his hands in a fist-

Click!

sticking out his tongue slightly while he felt his orgasm wash over him. You quickly came after, coating him with your juices as his warm seed filled your pussy and clamped down on him.

You we're a bit exhausted and collapsed onto his chest, sliding off his cock while his seed gushed out and onto your folds. He let out a deep sigh after you pulled out and was oddly silent. "scara..I-mm!" Suddenly you felt his hot hand cover your mouth. Wait..Cover your mouth? Your heart skipped a beat and looked up at him. His eyes we're glowing, With a cocky smirk planted on his face. He couldnt take it anymore. The 'pathetic' little cuffs you put on him we're dangling; broken on the headboard. Before you could process it any further, the puppet flipped you over on the side of the bed on your back. He caged you under his own body and softly bit his lip at your now 'innocent' glare. "You call yourself wanting to please me but only for one round? How pathetic." He chuckled while you looked away flustered. He noticed your shyness and shifted his hand on your throat. "Your mine. Do you understand that pet? Dont you dare stop." He moved his hand off your throat while you choked for air "B-but scara- I already-c- AH!" You pleaded and he slapped your thigh, teasing you with a spark of electro. "Isnt that what you wanted? Wanted to be a mommy?" Your eyes widened a bit, And you drooled at his words. He made a thin smile at your reaction and took off his shirt. "Good pet..I let you have your fun..now your gonna take this like a good girl yeah?" He hoisted your legs over his shoulders and lined himself up, Slowly fisting his length again.

He couldnt wait to see you bare his children.

[rqbossman]

Hello Mr Bossman! (and possibly anyone else who reads this)

Its an honour to be here, I have a few questions. First i appologise for the long paragraph, you may dismiss it for the questions at the bottom. For context, i am here after finishing TMA and being up to date with TMAP, i then went over and listened to RQG, and have just finished listening to Epilogue 3 and might i just say, good sir I am grateful for your podcasts. I am currently just a few months away from my final exams of High School, and as someone who even just 1 year ago was very lost, struggling with school and being just overwhelmed. TMA isnt exactly comforting, but the characters and plot managed to serve as a good form of escapism while sorting myself out. I found my self engaging more in creative things that i had originally put aside in favour of maths and science (which i hated but thought i needed to do). I started drawing again, even if just fanart. and i found things going well. By finding podcasts, story telling and these communities have helped me in my own understanding of what i want in life. I got an ADHD diagnosis earlier this year, and almost directly after started RQG and as my first hyperfixation (that i was aware of as an hyperfixation) gosh dang it hit hard. (in a good way). Ive been able to do so much more creative writing and drawings, and got re-involved with a small dnd group with some friends who i played one game with almost 4 years ago now. So overall, inspirational sounds cringe, but it was. Im doing my best with the upcoming exams, but trying to get in to Medicine is not my only prority, and the fact ive been re-introduced to my first love (Literature and story telling), im planning to go do an Arts degree and i know i wouldnt have been able to confidently make this decision, or even have survived this long in the school system without the work you and your coworkers do. Now the sap is out of the way, Question time! (if you could answer even just one of these questions it would be so cool)(they go in order of RQ relevant to random stuff)(dont feel pressured to answer all/any. i know i wrote alot): 1. what would you say is the best way to draft out a long-form story. (with "Erasing the Line" as an example) Did you start at the end, with the links to the overarching plot.

2. When working with the players (in a form of TTRPG), what did you do to make sure you didnt miss relevant timing of plot points/ avoid creating spoilers while still giving enough detail?

3. What are good places to start with making a job out of storytelling/voice acting/audio etc. In the case of RQ, how is this a job and where do i sign up please! /j (what i mean is, how is best way/how did you find all the people involved and was there a common path that you were all on before getting to where you are now?) 4. Do you have recommendations for Terry Pratchett Books, i may be an literary-leaning student, but it seems i have never actually properly read any of his books. so where is best place to start?/What did you read first?

5. Similar authors or similar inspirations? Did you have a favourite podcast you listen to in your free time that you havnt had a hand in producing/directing/working on. 6. Favourite song/album/artist. And more specifically, what you like listening to in background when doing either writing or (for ttrpg) character research/game planing. 7. Since the olympics are on at the moment, what has been your favourite sport to watch, if you have been watching at all. Thank you for your time :)

Thankyou for all the kind words. Knowing our work is helping people really keeps our engines fired up. Let's see if I can't answer your questions: 1. I "sandbox" which is where I just shove everything I can think of into an unorganised bullet point list. Characters, setting, plot, all of it in one big mess. Then I decide what type of story you want to tell, copy and paste to a new document and then start to organise the thoughts (with the sandbox on standby if new stuff comes in I don't know what to do with). I think of it like scultping, you cut away bits and reshape until something comes out the other end that is story shaped. Only then do I attempt to build the sandcastle and put something coherant together like a synopsis or scratch draft etc.

2. Very tricky. I did a complete review and update of all notes after each recording session and don't forget the audio eas edited. I made lots of gaffs that you never heard as audience.

3. I contacted anyone I could convince to take part and just proved I was serious by overworking. I don't reccomend that route. Unfortunately it really is "who" you know. That doesn't mean chase established professionals as much as it means you need to get out there and associate with other up-and-comers who match your vibe. For me the route was long and windy and not a particularly good example. 4. I normally recommend people do not read his books in publication order. Don't get me wrong, its wonderful watching his craft grow from one title to the next but I would recommend new readers tip their toe into his later works to see if they like where he ended up before committing the time. I often recommend 'Monstrous Regiment' as people's first one. My favourite though is 'Thief of Time.'

5. I don't get much time to listen to podcasts in the last couple of years. I used to listen to a lot of non fiction. 'Stuff you Should Know' and that ilk. I also read a fair amount of classic YA fiction to unwind (Windinsger trilogy, Bartimeous, stuff like that.) 6. Paul Simon's Graceland but when working I assemble a playlist for each seperate project that is tonally appropriate. If I really need to focus I listen to Classical Minimalism. Or the Old School Runescape soundtrack. I'm allowed to be ecclectic. 7. I am actually in an incredibly busy work crunch at the moment so haven't seen any of it!

[scriptnoir]

SOMEWHERE IN BETWEEN.

you develop a strange friendship with the pretty college girl who visits your library.

pairing. olivia hayes (jessica alexander) × female reader

length. 12.9k words

themes. smut, uni student!olivia, librarian!reader, legal age gap, praise kink, pet names (princess, ma'am), fluff, angst

warnings. homophobic and blackmailing antagonist, age gap, smoking, get even spoilers, maybe ooc olivia but NO ONE GETS HER LIKE I DO DON'T @ ME

author's note. HAPPY PRIDE MONTH!!!! yall dont know how special this fic is to me. i started this in september, continued writing it in february (!!!) after being down bad for jess then, after watching get even, revised it to be for my baby olivia hayes :) also my first fic on this blog ! olivia hayes and get even in general are pretty niché in fics, but i hope you'll give this a chance </3 also, i will be writing for more female celebs so stay tuned !!

There was a library - a nice, wide place located in the smaller parts of the university. It’s where the students seldom went to study for their exams, perhaps find a little reprieve from all the youthful stress that curled around them. They’d lounge on the sofas with a textbook in their laps, or hide behind an aisle of novels to make out. That didn’t matter to you - what you cared about was that your second home was a safe space for them, just like it was to you, where nothing else was out to get them but the smell of new books.

That’s where it all started.

It was all supposed to go so normally, but then she came in. 

Suddenly you weren’t so safe anymore.

Oh, but could she do any naught? You heard and dismissed rumors, but she was just a schoolgirl - well, the better and more guiltless term was perhaps college student. Still, you're a handful of years older than her with a degree she's using the end of her teens to fight for. She was young. Innocent too, with those bright, casual eyes that passed around the library fascinatedly. But it was far from easy to remember that when those long legs strode confidently in your vicinity, underneath that short skirt which ought to get her in trouble with the dress code. But why? It was standard uniform - it wasn’t her fault she was beautiful. Ah, and one couldn’t forget the socks, simple white ones yet looked painfully beautiful on her with how they wrapped around her thighs like a present. 

When she looked at you and smiled, it was a cut straight to the bone. No remedy here. Stitches couldn’t save you.

In the second minute since she arrived here, you realized that she was familiar. That was the kind of face you never forgot - engendered into the ripples of your brain forever, a flame of memory kept alive. Because she was just a college student - many years your junior - but she was so goddamned beautiful that it ached your tongue and left it numb.

“Hi,” she said softly. From one word you could tell that curled preppy accent - something that teetered between an heiress’s and a sweet friend - was natural. From one word you were left breathless.

“Olivia Hayes.” You mentioned her name without thinking and with too much a realization, and now it sounded as if you didn’t know her, and oh, how rude that was. How dare you be rude to a girl like her, known and adored by everyone, a princess? You wanted to say you just recognized her, that you knew her already - which wasn’t false - but she’s already smiling.

Her smile, sweet with tender full lips and her eyelids reaching for their other halves, was something you could swim in forever. Oh, you’d drink from her, too - she was a saltless sea that tasted of nectar instead.

“That’s me,” said Olivia, beaming. “I’m the president of the student council. I think that’s where you remember me?”

Of course. She was the pretty face that always led a group of giggling schoolgirls to the hallway; the pretty voice that spoke at auditoriums for the school’s events; the pretty body that flexed as it twisted to send a ball that’s just as small as her head over the net. While you weren’t a professor by any means (you had tried to be, but that dream was whisked away quickly), you were a frequent presence for the student activities. The one who always, always stood out to you was her.

You suddenly found it very, very hard to gulp down another rough bout. She was beautiful in a way that was impossible to perceive without falling for her. When she had that relatively tall yet slender form all compact and tight in her uniform, with lips that became her brand - (because the other girls would always gossip and say how they wanted lips that full, and maybe you were jealous too) - and had their glossed signature, it forged a path that only led to wanting her.

“Yes, you’re right.” You collected yourself. “Anything I can help you with Ms. Hayes?”

“Do you have anything about Greek mythology?” 

That was the lilt of tone she used with her close circle of friends, fondly. Were you a friend to her now? Oh, but you had just met. Not just, perhaps, but this was the first time you actually talked to her lengthily. But she knew you - she’d said your name, and she, with the allowance of you basking in her sweet voice, considered you as someone trustworthy.

But you were far from that. A trustworthy individual did not reach desperately after a kempt schoolgirl like her, or fantasize about doing away with that skirt and scheme to watch all that royal composure dissolve from the princess that she was.

It was only now that you came to the realization that you had always, after all this time, wanted Olivia Hayes.

“Ma’am?” she asked, and all you could think was, oh, it’s the end. It was the beginning of the end the moment she was a polite girl and called you a name that was as innocent as her. It was of no ill intent when she called you that - she was merely asking for your help - but your fist curled up and your throat was tight.

“Yes. Yes, of course.” 

You had to act before you did anything stupid, like make her use those perfect lips on you, put them to good use; get your hand all up in that golden-brown hair. Instead of acting upon all those sinful fantasies, you placed a book she might like, the one you recommended for her only, and brushed the old crumbs of bookshelf dust from its cover. Because you’d hate to see those long, pretty fingers get stained. 

As you handed her the book, which she accepted with a smile, you asked, “You read a lot I presume?”

She giggled. “I try to,” she said. “Haven’t got time for it lately. But I have to.”

“Doesn’t matter. You’re excellent,” you told her, not being able to help yourself. It wasn’t like it was a lie - Olivia Hayes had a lot of potential in her. A great leader, having watched her create the rules to keep the students in line; a great actress, having seen her perform at the theater with emotions that shook you to the core; a great person in general.

“Oh.” Olivia’s cheeks filled with pink. And you found out that when she got shy, her ears flushed too. You ought to smile. “You think so?”

And this was the kind of schoolgirl sweet you pictured her as. She found everywhere but your eyes to look at, and her legs began to sway to and fro, shifting her weight from here to there to stabilize herself. Olivia Hayes - president of various important clubs, prom queen and honor student - could also be . . . adorable?

The rumor mill claimed she wasn’t such a sweetheart. A real fucking snob, a boy claimed after leaving her classroom with tears on his face. Stuck-up bitch. Too arrogant for her own pretty good. 

You never believed them. You . . . .did, perhaps? But it was not a belief you held to defame her. 

You actually found the roll of her eyes, the snide of her scoffs and checking of her perfect nails a little hot. 

But the pink on her face was how you realized that she’s the type of girl who’d melt if called anything remotely complimenting. It’s what she was used to; what revolved her world. 

“I know so.”

“Ah,” she mumbled, nodding thoughtfully as she looked down at her black Mary Jane shoes. “Thank you.”

Quietness settled into your humble library. It was what you insisted upon hearing, but there was something about Olivia - how she rolled her words, giggled when she was nervous, spoke softly but easily - that made you want to break your own rules. And several others.

“You have a library card?” 

“I don’t.” You envied how she managed to recollect herself before she melted more. You could never say the same thing about yourself. Suddenly her chin was up again, and a small smile played on her lips. “Is it alright if I read here for a while Ma’am?”

What else could your answer be?

The day became night, the moon stark in the sky from behind your library windows. All the students had filed out. It was time to close.

You looked at your log book. Plenty of people came in today. You were happy about that. As a librarian (you taught too if that meant anything), you were naturally passionate about books. Having a job related to them was a dream right from the start. When you were young, you wanted to be a librarian. When you entered high school, you wanted to be a librarian. When you finished college, you became one. The pay was nothing close to meager which was enough for you. You wanted this job and not one day passed that had you upset about it.

Mostly, people came here to hang out or hide. That didn’t matter to you, but what struck you was Olivia. Ever since dismissal time, she was in that corner reading. A pile of books sat on the table with her. All of them were about mythology, whether novels or retellings or anecdotes. 

You pretended not to notice her as you rearranged books and disposed of unattended belongings. It kept you busy. Sometimes nobody cared about the system you ordered your books in, or the tidiness overall of your little place. So it took a while, one you were pleased about, until you walked over to Olivia.

She was on the four-hundredth page of the novel. Her thumb pressed above the high number on the foot of the page. Didn’t she just start that? And she was still going. 

“You’re a fast reader,” you remarked, fascinated. 

She looked up in surprise. A sense of calm passed over her features when she realized it was you. “Y-yes I am. Other days I finish books in like a year, but I guess this isn’t one of those days.”

“Same here.” You liked how you had that in common with her. She was pretty already, but a voracious reader? That was the key to your heart. 

You picked up her bag beside her chair and placed it on the table. She returned to scanning the book, the pages crisp between her manicured nails and eyes bright and thoughtful. In her lap was a notepad. Her writing was tidy and smooth. Small letters spelled details about Odysseus, gods, and fables.

“You have a quiz about Greek mythology?” 

“Oh no.” She shook her head. “I’m doing research since I got the part in a play about this stuff.”

“Let me guess: Aphrodite?”

It was a basic line - so easy, actually, so obvious. But it fit so well and her ears started to color again. She covered her mouth to giggle, then sat up straighter. The form of her back was like a duchess's: composed, slant, smooth. But she wasn’t a duchess. No - perfect lips, eyes shimmering; she was something more. Something else.

Olivia pursed her lips before smiling softly. “If I were naïve Ma’am” - there was that word again, sweet and faultless but making you pent up, as she considered you with a serious gaze - “I’d think you’re trying to flirt with me.”

“Too quick for that, don’t you think?” you backtracked. You had to be appropriate. Yet you reeled forward again: “But you’re a beautiful girl, fitting for the part.”

You normally didn’t go for the model-in-the-making girls, much less ones who were younger than you. But she had this different aura about her. She was quiet, sweet, and incredibly polite while maintaining her popularity and schoolwork. She was each one of those but people still chose to put her down. You wondered how she dealt with everything. What was behind that pretty, pretty face?

“Unfortunately, being pretty doesn’t free you from my rules.” You pointed at the clock. Regret filled your heart as you informed her. “It’s 7 PM. According to school regulations, I was supposed to close twenty minutes ago.”

“Why didn’t you close then?” A smile creased the corners of her eyes and emphasized her lips. “I thought being beautiful didn’t exempt me?”

There it was. She knew how to reply, how to send back a maimed question with a bigger bullet. This was why people liked to deem her an intimidation.

She was smart, cunningly sweet. You never doubted Olivia’s intelligence but it still surprised you. She looked at you knowingly while you flustered. You searched for an answer when all you searched for was the hike of her skirt up her thighs. She knew your game, and she was not afraid to play it.

Olivia was a tactful, patient pupil. She sat with her hands folded in her lap - like a good fucking girl - and waited for your response. You mustered nothing. It felt stupid to stand there and wordlessly admit you got cornered by a nineteen-year-old.

“It . . . does now.”

“Yes, Ma’am.”

Fuck.

“You know you can take these books back to your dorm? All you need is a library card.”

“Oh!” Delighted, she stood up and beamed with a light that always was with her, even in the night. “When can I get one?”

“Here tomorrow. Like I said, library hours are done.” 

Olivia didn’t take your sternness to heart. She picked up her bag and slung it on her shoulders. She began to leave. 

She was simply following orders but you hated to see her go. You were already yearning for her. You would have wanted to like her in a purely pure way, but you weren’t a good woman. You yearned for the slip of her stockings down her knees, the prop of her neck, the flight of her hair as the wind pushed past her.

She turned to you at the doorway. Did she read your thoughts? Did she forget something?

“Well,” she said, “if here’s where you want me to be.” 

Then, in a low voice and the final smile of the day, “Ma’am.”

Plenty of students came in after her. They were either the ones who didn’t have friends to eat lunch with (you didn’t enforce the no food rule for them) and the ones who were rowdy, using your sanctuary as a place to yell and make jokes (you tapped the silence rule taped to your desk.) Everyone signed their names in your log book, but the words flew past your notice. All those days gone and your eyes still remained on Olivia.

Everyday she sat on the loveseat with her legs crossed. She didn’t speak one word. Olivia simply read and read and read, occasionally pausing to rest and take notes. Her nose was buried in the book, but you could see her brilliant eyes above its edges. They disseminated, observed, analyzed. The rest of her face was covered and you still found her beautiful. 

“Ma’am,” spoke a student nearing your desk, “can I get a library card?”

The background blurred. You looked at the student and realized you were staring at Olivia for too many an hour. You had to focus. Ogling at a student was inappropriate, and not what the private university paid you for.

Also, the title didn’t sound as nice as it did if it came from someone who wasn’t Olivia Hayes.

“Of course.” You rose from your chair as you took his ID. 

“It’s free, right?”

“Yes, no charge.”

You typed in his name. It wasn’t long or a unique one but you had to read it several times over to ensure its correctness. Typical procedure. Ronny. Soon, his library card was laminated and printed. You placed it on your desk for him to take.

Thanking you, Ronny picked behind his ear. “I couldn’t help but notice,” he began, “you were looking at Olivia for a bit there.” 

You swallowed. Were you that obvious? You hated to think so. The last thing you wanted was your ogling at the girl to be something controversial. (It was.) You were doing it for days, ever since her initial visit. 

What did you say to him? What did you do?

“Oh, uh. No. I just space out a lot.”

He saw through your lie. His easy grin made you uncomfortable. Why? He was just making conversation. “I mean, I understand. She’s really pretty and popular, but she doesn’t have many friends.” 

You turned to look at Olivia. She was still reading. The whole time she was quiet and preserved, not taking time to speak to others. She liked to keep to herself for a girl who was the talk of the campus.

“Doesn’t she?”

“She needs someone to talk to,” he told you. His words were overly friendly, like he was lulling you into a drunken false sense of security. “I think you’d be perfect. She’s just getting into reading.”

“I-I’ll keep that in mind. Thank you.”

He gave you a smirk of knowledge and left. Shit. Why did you have to be so indiscreet? You quickly collected yourself and returned to your book. You had to forget about it.

The characters in your book fought against dragons and fell in love and fell apart and passed on. Chapters became nothing like the minutes. There were rare moments when you had to look up and assist someone, but aside from that, the day was relatively uneventful. 

Night arrived, slowly like it always did. You were a dedicated reader, but the story was uninteresting compared to the pretty girl lounging across you. She was the only one there now. 

Before you could return your eyes to the book and stop watching at how she flicked her hair back and checked her phone, she caught you. Her attractive smile was full of awareness of your plight. You quickly looked down at the pages. It was too late.

School shoes tapped a rhythm on the floor as she approached you. She leaned down on your desk. You tried to ignore her and pretend she wasn’t there. But Olivia had a face people would never forget. She was most likely someone’s first love, who, even when along came a girl who filled their life, was not erased from memory. No, she was too precious to let go.

“You know,” stated Olivia, her tongue curved upwards at the side of her lips, “you could just talk to me. I’m not scary, am I?”

You lowered the story. She was so good to look at. Her hair was tossed over the side and she wore a carefree smile that invited you to close the book.

Was she scary? Yeah - her exclusiveness, tight-knit friendships and beautiful wit - you’d call that scary. 

But the fear always turned into a yearning - please notice me when I walk past; please say my name again; please ruin me- let me ruin you-

“Sure.” You gave in. “What do you wanna talk about?”

She thought for a while. “Anything that’ll make us friends. I like you. It’s gonna be easy.”

Being friends didn’t sound dangerous. What could happen? It’s not as if the moment you bonded you would suddenly grab the small of her back and let your lips meet.

“Wanna get out of here?’’ She framed her cheek with her fingers. “I’ll put on a jacket. Nobody will know.”

You’d love nothing more. But was it alright? There were lines being crossed here: the relationship between a student and a mentor; the rules; the propriety.

She looked you up and down, taking note of everything, then cocked an eyebrow. Oh, it was a challenge. Would you give in?

You found yourself buttoning your coat and walking out with her. The library had to close early. She grinned and looped an arm through yours. You made an excuse that your sudden freezing up was due to the night air.

Well, it was chilly. The breeze puffed Olivia’s hair into the night. She always made herself look like a femme fatale from a fan favorite watch - red lips; smoky eyes; and a tendency to make anyone want her. Ah, not a tendency - she was a natural heartstealer. She broke it even if you weren’t a thing when you saw her with boys, with girls, with anyone looking to tear her uniform down in pieces when you felt the exact same thing.

The school looked more serene in the darkness. It was so grand but looked just like home. Old bricks built themselves up into pillars that resembled castles. Dim light illuminated from dorm windows. 

“It’s nice to get out of that place for once,” Olivia said. She tilted her head to the school and sighed humorously. But the smoke of air that left her mouth shook a little too. “It’s kind of suffocating in there, honestly.”

The branches reached for her hair. Your shoes were torn by growing roots. But through everything, you kept walking. You wanted to know: what was more to this forest? What was more to her?

“Let me guess,” you said. “It’s the popularity contests? Friends? Math?”

She rolled her eyes, a confirmation. “Ugh, math.” 

“You’ll get through it,” you assured her. It was cliché to say, but everything would eventually come to pass. You were on a planet in a galaxy in a galaxy in a galaxy, or whatever. It didn’t matter. “I mean, I did. If anyone could do it, it’s you.”

“I was gonna say you did excellent getting through it, but I don’t know you that well.”

“So get to know me.”

You talked, and Olivia was surprisingly easy to connect with. She listened with attentively creased brows and an occasional laugh. You narrated the basics: “read” was your first word. You did your classmates’ homework in exchange for candies. Reading was your foundation. If you had to go without it, you died.  

You thought that she would make a joke about the cheesiness, or worse, laugh at you. But she didn’t. She kept listening. She sometimes threw you a few interesting questions that kept the drain of conversation going. The thoughtful, caring energy in her face was solid and you felt undeserving to bask in it.

“What I like to say is I’m a reader before a woman,” you told her anyway. The depths of the forest came up and for some reason you weren’t scared. It was the rumor mill for ghosts and hookups, but you were with Olivia. Why would you be scared? “That’s how I wound up here in a uni, letting them read what I have.”

Olivia nodded, hands on opposite elbows. The trees towered over you and made horrific shadows on the dust. Fear didn’t get to you. “Do they pay you well?”

“They do.”

“Must be fun.” She bit on the inside of her cheek, making the soft skin hollow. “Doing something you love.”

There was a wistfulness in her voice. Her expression was dreamy as she thoughtfully stepped over the roots and twigs. 

“Well,” you began, carefully, “what do you love?”

Olivia smiled self-assuredly. “Me.”

She told her story. She was born rich, lived rich, and would die rich. Her mother was an heiress whose love was a businessman, and the wealth would go on for the next ten or more generations. She wanted to be an active and proper student, behaving well enough so as not to take advantage of her father buying her out of any situation. She participated in many clubs and, according to this year’s paper, was the school’s Actress of The Year.

You didn’t think you had too much coffee today but you thought that it wasn’t illusion she had inched closer. Olivia’s knee was beside yours, and she was speaking and chuckling like you weren’t close to being insane about how smooth her skin felt. 

Was this the “bitch” who supposedly broke hearts and ruined lives? She flipped her hair and giggled like she had all the time in the world. She didn’t seem so terrifying.

“I try not to be so stuck up. I want people to leave me alone, but only when I need them to.”

You shrugged. “That explains why . . . ”

“Yeah?” She was not going to let that obvious halt pass.

You blinked. “Oh, I didn’t mean-” 

“It’s fine,” she dismissed, continuing the path down the forest. Olivia studied her fingernails. “It’s not like I don’t know people think I’m a bitch.”

So she knew. She had that admirable composure steadying her, but how did she deal with the falsehood? There was everything to cope with - the pressure of her parents; school; and friends who expected a lot from her. What was her method?

“For the record, I don’t think you’re a . . . ”

“Say it.” Olivia’s eyes flicked up from her nails and shot you with a cheekiness that made you feel lightheaded. “Call me a bitch.”

She slipped her hand in yours. The textures of your skin were vastly different. Hers was as soft as a baby’s cheek. Smooth and blemishless too. 

“Actually,” she added coyly, “call me whatever you want . . . Ma’am.”

You stared back at her. What did you just start? She winked at you then continued talking like she didn’t almost cause a heart attack.

The moon was stark and sent bursts of wind whipping you around. Sometimes you felt her grip tighten around the slots of your fingers to keep her balance. You hoped your palm wasn’t sweaty.

“They’re right though.” She giggled, fixing the blazer of her uniform. “I need a little redefining. So I’m doing some self-improvement, working on my habit of rolling my eyes.” 

“You’re a perfect student,” you joked, but you meant it. Every word was genuine. “You’re intelligent, pretty, studious, and committed. Who do I have to fight to be you?”

As expected, she rolled her eyes with a stifled simper. You both burst out laughing and for a few seconds it was all you knew. The lines of her smile, the shrink of her eyes as she chuckled - it was all so beautiful. 

“Seriously! You’re a beautiful girl. And that hair is lethally gorgeous.”

“Thank you. It’s smooth too. I guess combing like ninety times a day helps.” She scooted closer, as if close weren’t close enough, and turned her head. Golden-brown locks showed themselves to you. “See for yourself.”

Was she bold or just friendly? You gingerly ran your fingers through them. No knots blocked your way. Each thread was silky and clean. This was the kind of soft you’d feel on pillows in hotels you couldn’t afford. You were pretty sure she had well-paid, adoring women who attended to her for this.

It felt intimate. Too intimate. There was hesitance as she observed you, like she wanted to do something but had to think twice. You were getting so comfortable in the familiarity of her features that you had to remember she was a student and you were . . . you. This was like busting yourself out of the closet and getting yourself a case of being improper with a student, although she wasn’t a child by any means.

You put your hand back down. “What color is it?” you asked.

“I dunno.” She shrugged. “Brown? Blonde? Somewhere in between?”

Whatever it was, it looked good on her. Everything looked good on her. She was the only student you saw who never looked stuffy in the hot uniform. The British air was hot in the morning but not one drop of sweat stuck to her skin. Her mane of somewhere-in-between was articulately brushed and straightened.

Footprints of athletes still were visible on the ground. You stamped your foot over a mark of a rubber one. She followed suit. With that, you left a sign you were here. It might be the only sign that you ever lived. 

Books and shelves faded over time, but the earth would always remember your mark. It was sort of sentimental. This would be the first and only time you live, and you were glad to spend it enjoying a night with a girl you liked and getting to know quickly. Maybe you knew her all along. 

“If you really think I’m all that,” Olivia said, toying with the zipper of her jacket, “you should come to the play. I’ll prove my worth. It’s next week.” 

“I’ll be there,” you instantly replied.

You’d love to see her act again. Plays weren’t your thing but it would be good to see Olivia onstage, reciting her lines with deep emotion and twirling from prop to prop. You knew she wouldn’t disappoint. 

Her eyes lit up, and that response told you, without overassumption, of a mother who was too busy to come to her activities, of a father who wasn’t there. Never was. “You promise?” 

She was holding you to it, you could tell. It was a promise you were willing to keep. You’d never break it if the circumstances tested you.

“If that’s where you want me to be.”

“That’s my line,” she objected. She pulled the end of her skirt down to her knees. The waistband sank and unveiled modest skin. It was so devoid of ill intention that it was just right to make you feel guilty for looking. “If you use it, you need to have a nickname for me too.”

She turned to you. The crescent moon refracted in her pupils. Olivia was dead serious. You stopped in your tracks and tried to think. But she was there - so gorgeous, so put together and so lovely - that it made your thoughts go static.

Right from the start, you yearned. You thought it began when she visited your library for the first time. But now you thought that it dated back to watching her act, watching her and her group of friends, watching her be herself in a midst of elites. You wanted her since the moment she stepped in the university and it was difficult to deal with.

Why? Because you wanted to call her a lot of things. Each would be sweet or sour, whichever she chose, as she sank between your legs and/or sat in your lap and/or just kept being the tantalizingly beautiful thing she was.

“What’s something people call you?” you offered weakly. 

“Uh. Ollie and um, Hayes-Are-For-Horses” - you laughed and she had to explain it was back in primary, when she used to be bullied by the people who desired her now - “Liv, Livvie, Livia, Princess-”

“Princess?”

She looked down, a little embarrassed. “My friends call me that. It’s my code name.”

She was a princess, truly. Olivia was everything a princess should be. That’s why her peers loved her. That’s why her peers hated her. She was royalty, and people didn’t know if they wanted to lust for her or reject her just to say they had the opportunity to.

You nodded approvingly. “Very fitting.”

“That’s it then,” she said, satisfied. “You’re Ma’am, and I’m Princess.”

Saying the name felt like sinning - you realized this when you thought it over. But she was smiling again, so of course you’d do it without penance.

The play was beautiful. The props were crafted diligently and all actors quoted with diction and importance. You sat at the front as staff should and kept searching for your favorite student. She came in a white dress and hair styled in endless curls, and delivered a performance deserving of whatever Oscar there was for college plays. She was an excellent actress. All bias melted when you believed she was the best out of the whole drama club. Even her fellow actors said so.

While Olivia performed her nuances, she looked at the crowd, as if willing them to come onstage and save her. The fourth wall was broken through. You were too. She saw you at the front, went out of character with a smile, and got away with it. Her slip-up was so unnoticeable that at the end of the play, you thought you would have signed up for drama club if you were a student. She made it all look so easy. 

“You came!” she said, bouncing off the stage stairs and wrapping you in an unexpected hug. 

You fought back your giddiness. She was just being friendly. You returned the embrace like a good friend should. “Of course.”

The purple dress swayed around her like water, the little details and seams the seashells that fit the siren that she was, born from foam. You saw it hug her waist and flow around her legs and - despite everything: your promises to remain professional, a good senior, a good friend - you couldn’t deny she looked insanely good.

She ushered you backstage as the curtains closed. The cheers erupted for her, and you could picture her making it really big out there. She was gorgeous, talented, and excessively charming - a director would ditch screenplays to cast her. The coach was sure to die if they watched her rehearse. And anyone’s going to fall in love with her, really.

“Beautiful,” you remarked, and it could mean either way: the performance or the pretty little thing in front of you.

“You liked the yelp I did when Paris dragged me?” asked Olivia. Her eyes contained all the stars in the galaxy. She made a wish to each of them, asking for an eager attendee to her play. “I strained my voice, but I did good, right?”

Never did you ask about the black wig, or the smoky makeup, or the way she was almost in tears - almost like she never expected you to come. Or anyone for that matter. 

All you said, squeezing her forearm where you could feel the beat of her excitement, was: “The Princess was more than great.”

She never got that library card. Olivia chose to stay in your library for hours at a time rather than take them back to her dorm. The play was done but she began reading for fun instead of necessity. You recommended her thrillers and romance. Your heart grew bigger. She was actually very easy to be fond of. 

Now she took a seat near your desk where she occasionally asked questions - what does this word mean? what language is this? have you read this? - and left you biscuits in your lunch break. You enjoyed her company. You were insecure about a lot of things but one: she did back.

“Coffee.” Olivia brought a cup of steam to your desk. She pulled a chair to your desk and sat on it, crossing her legs. “Nobody’s here. The rules don’t exist.”

Your heart did a little offbeat thump. She was a generous girl. You forgot to thank her upon seeing that her strawberry blonde hair was tucked into a bun on her head. The strong curve of her jaw and her swan’s neck were just out there.

Olivia’s full lips closed on the straw of her iced coffee. You couldn’t stop watching her. You could help her out with her lessons - there’s her opened textbook, her reviewers - but you had eyes only for her. What a cliché. But you’re a reader. You liked your fair share of clichés. You could give this one a pass.

“Thanks Princess,” you said. You took the coffee and blew its smoke out. “You’re really kind.”

She was the kindest girl you ever met. These past few months, she did nothing but keep you company and spoil you. Olivia was a generous princess - she stepped out to meet the populace, give them food worthy of a royal, and kept them company. That was why you liked her. 

You stopped there. You didn’t want things to go too far. Not yet. These feelings you had for Olivia were inappropriate and deserved hindering. But she was just so beautiful and lovable that blocking the thoughts from your head felt like torture.

“It’s no problem.” 

She was smiling again. You really wondered how her peers carved her out to be an alleged pain. She was so thoughtful that you were beginning to think if anyone had chosen to befriend you this way. Were you even deserving?

“What are you studying?” you asked her. You had to make conversation before you slipped up again.

Olivia’s simper melted. “Math.”

You looked over at the formulas, fractions and calculations. It already made your head hurt. “Can’t help you with that,” you said regretfully. “It’s either I don’t know it or I forgot that thing a long time ago.”

“Can you help me with something else?”

After you nodded, she began to speak. Well, tried to. She trailed off, looking blankly at her textbook. Her face wore a blue little look that was a break of character from the serious one she always had. Olivia Hayes, as far as you knew, was not once lonesome.

“It’s been . . . really hard these days. I’m sorry, I know it’s completely out of topic but-”

“You can tell me anything.”

Hope crossed her features. She didn’t really have anyone to trust with her feelings. Her mother was too busy. Her friends would use them against her. The guidance counselor would just tell her to pray. Would you listen to her without bias?

“I don’t know if I’m hanging with the right people. I don’t know if I’m even that good. I don’t know if I-” Olivia stopped and made complicated gestures with her hands. A defeated sigh sounded from her slim throat. “-am.”

Self-doubt. It was your accurate diagnosis. You were surprised that a girl like her would experience it, but even the most confident people went through that. It would be easy to assume from the way she walked, talked, and acted that she had all the assurance for herself.

Olivia sighed at her textbook and shut it. Her shoulders were trembling. Was she sulking? Nearly crying? You couldn’t bear to see it. 

“I don’t think I know myself at all.” She swallowed, then without looking at you, asked, “Do you ever feel that way Ma’am?”

She was too young and too pretty to be going through this dilemma. You couldn’t say you didn’t go through the exact same thing yourself in the younger years of your life. But seeing the look of pride and strength disappear from her face was a death to your own self-pity. 

You looked at your hand close to her. The pins you gifted for her bag. The jacket you let her borrow after she lost it. Foolish to think, but maybe you finally found someone you could care about more than you did yourself.

“Every day of my life,” you said quietly.

“Oh,” she whispered, nodding. She said nothing more. Olivia’s view was focused on the cover of her textbook, which boasted happy students reading from it. It wasn’t the case for her. Revising this subject, being in this school? It didn’t make her happy.

Well, one thing did.

It hurt to see her like this. Had anyone ever considered what she felt? Or did she put up a front, being pretty and kind? 

“I just feel like I’m wasting borrowed time,” Olivia muttered. Each fragment of her broken sentences grew heavier.  “I want- I need-”

Before she could burst into tears, you tilted her face up. The water in her eyes remained there. What held them back besides your gentle hand was the tight frown of her lips. She was trying very, very hard not to break down.

“Hey. Chin up Princess,” you told her. You offered her an encouraging smile. “I know you. You’re a strong girl, aren’t you?”

Her eyelids were still puffy in their fight to keep her tears back. She didn’t quite believe that. But you would make her.

“Look at you. You’re smart, studious and sensitive. Nothing would make me think otherwise.”

Her gaze lingered on you, thoughtful. Did you really think that? Were you this sweet to anyone else? She chuckled and looked down shyly. “Alliteration.”

Smart girl. “That’s right,” you said. “I’m rubbing off on you.” 

“I guess that makes me okay.”

“You’re doing great. I promise.”

Light coffee stained the end of her mouth. You wiped it away with your thumb. A bit of her lipstick smudged your skin. An indirect kiss? 

When you retracted your touch, you thought the coffee was doing something to your head again. You could have sworn that Olivia leaned in.

And just when you thought lines couldn’t be crossed further:

People like to believe in things that they can see. Why trust in ideas that aren’t visible to the naked eye - it’s a lie for sure, right? Thus, the concept of atheism. Thus, the need for eye witnesses in court, primary sources, the like. Thus, the school not believing that the odor of cigarettes from behind the library could possibly be from you.

Well, they’d be damned.

Gray floated from your mouth like a lost dream. Vices aged along with your soul. See, you weren’t a bad kid. You stayed in school, did your homework, only tried a few prohibitions. But the smoking stuck to you - it reminded you of a more youthful time. It also made you feel a little light on your feet.

The thing was: the school couldn’t know. So you sank into the wall of the back of your library, fingers twined between a cigarette. You may not know yourself but you weren’t depressed or anything - it’s just a thing you do, like drinking coffee in the morning and writing. People often got that wrong.

The forest was just close by. Naturally you mistook the crunches of leaves for the usual PE class. Then they grew louder, and when you turned your head, there was-

“Ma’am? Oh!” Olivia stopped in her tracks and gasped sharply. It was a sound only an actress could make - sweet, tiny. “I’m sorry, am I-”

You waved your wrist. “Not at all,” you said. If there was anyone in the school you trusted with this secret, it was her. “It’s just smoking. I’m not committing a felony.”

She nodded. Her eyes remained doe-wide. 

“Correct me if I’m wrong, but isn’t it time for your classes?” you asked.

It was the middle of the afternoon. She should be having English at this hour. Would they be surprised to find out that the top student was absent? The reason being . . . you?

Olivia swept her hair back. Time slowed down and made permanent the flight of her mane and the pride that stayed. “I’m cutting. I know, I’m a very bad girl.”

She was skipping classes for you. You didn’t want to assume, but was your friendship really that strong? It felt like you knew everything about her. She knew you too, like a book. She read you from cover to cover and annotated your pages. Olivia was a significant part of your life now.

“Oh, what have I done to you.” You played into it as if you were an actress as good as her. What she didn’t know was that you were enjoying it. 

Her nose wrinkled at the smell of your cigar. Still, she stepped closer, albeit cautiously. “Can I-”

“Leave?” You nodded. “Sure. Secondhand smoke’s cancerous.”

Yet if there’s anything you would hate, it would be for her to go.

Olivia shook her head. “I-I’d like to try, Ma’am.”

Your brows were furrowed. You took one look at your cigar then at the student. She was looking down shyly, her side fringes hanging from her face. It was obvious she was trying to prove something. But what else did she have to make worthy to you?

“I don’t think that would be appropriate.” 

“Please?” she said, a pout stretching on her pretty mouth.

“Princess.”

Your sharp tone didn’t hold her back. It seemed to drill her on. Olivia slipped beside you with a look in her eyes that you didn’t know if you liked. Her lashes sat low and her smile - god help me. Like that wasn’t enough, she wore a low ponytail with a few specks of hair left untied. She was too beautiful, and you weren’t strong enough to handle it.

She let a finger twist through the smoke. “It’s just smoking,” Olivia echoed. “I’m not committing a felony.”

Her character was hard to read sometimes. She could be sweet and innocent to you then switch to being a coy serpent that told you to do all the wrong things. Her breath next to your ear didn’t help your hypocritical case. The fight in you yelled to be the bigger person, to tell her it wasn’t right. It was anything but easy when she had a face that you’d die to hold.

“I don’t have more on me,” you excused. It was the truth - your pockets were empty, this was the only one you got.

“Wouldn’t mind using yours.” Olivia was almost whining at this point. The desperate look on her face was one you chased after, and you wanted to make her beg more. She sounded pretty that way. “I’m not a child, am I?”

She had a point. It wasn’t like you were giving away and teaching vices to an impressionable little girl. It didn’t feel right.

“Please, Ma’am?” 

You found yourself giving it to her - not only this, but your everything. Your future, your job, your morals.

Your main takeaway from that moment wasn’t to never do that again, or remind yourself that you could easily say no to a pretty girl (you couldn’t.) It was this: 

Olivia Hayes’s lips looked gorgeous wrapped around a cigarette.

She was made for the part. Her mouth fluttered around it while her stare was distant, piecing something together. She lowered it down and blew a ring of smoke in the air, just like in the movies. Olivia was an old Hollywood actress - a blonde bombshell; the main lead.

“It feels . . . ” She struggled for a word. “Good.”

You took the cigar away from her. “Don’t get attached,” you said. It was genuine advice. “We all know how that ends.”

She was smiling. You were too. 

She rested her head on the brick wall, facing you. Not quite - her gaze was fixated on your lips. “You look beautiful today Ma’am.”

You leaned forward. It was a dare for her to be audacious enough to prove it right. “Really now?”

The bump of her neck bobbed. You realized that your faces were too close to each other. Her lips were so full that it would take a small stumble to accidentally kiss her, to accidentally pin her to the rusty wall of this building. Those wide, princess eyes stared back at you in fear.

It was your signal to back up. This wasn’t right. No matter how beautiful she was or how close you were, flirting with a girl years younger than you wasn’t right.

Even in the silence that carried guilt, the universe didn’t take kindly to your offense. It brought about a punishment you would remember: the snap of a camera flash. 

You jolted. Who was that? 

Privy to your conversation, there was the man who asked for a library card. He was smirking. You knew and tried to avoid him because it was an open secret: he was bad news. He blackmailed, lied, used-

Ronny Kent was his name, and he was not a good person. 

There was Mika, whose reputation was solidly ruined after he leaked a picture of her. The rumors were too loud to keep secret. Then the janitor who only wanted a private moment with his partner. Ronny turned everyone inside out and it wasn’t pretty.

“Chainsmoker and a slut,” he said to Olivia, lowering the camera. “You play every game, even your friends. Gotta respect you for it.”

“Shut up,” said Olivia. Her jaw was tight. She spoke very softly that the insult bore no real bullet. “Please.”

But she meant this one. You hadn’t seen her this uncomfortable. There was real fire in her eyes but a downness in them too. This was not the first time Ronny had seized her dignity and smashed it beneath his feet. You could tell from the sudden rigidness of her body, the loss of her stability.

You couldn’t speak. He was so close to her, and you were afraid you would shove him if he came closer. Maybe you should.

“I don’t think so.” Ronny’s mouth sat next to Olivia’s ear. She cringed in spite of trying to remain nonchalant. Hot odored breath huffed on her face. “Get out of my way.” 

Olivia stared down at her socks. Nothing else existed to her. She felt cornered, afraid and humiliated. 

“Mr. Kent.” Your authoritative voice was no match to a teenage rebel. You glared at him and crossed your arms, but he took none of the signs. “It’s not your place. I’ll kindly ask-”

“When I told you to be her friend,” he said, completely ignoring you as he stroked the camera lens, “I didn’t mean to try hooking up with her. What would her boyfriend think?”

Boyfriend?

Olivia lifted her head with a short-lived defiance. “He broke up with me, Ronny.”

“Of course, because he found out she kissed me.” He was proud of it too. “She took me on a date. Ice cream and coffee.”

Olivia had just cut things loose with Donté. She never told you why. But this couldn’t be true. That wasn’t the girl you held close to your heart. Anger was clear in her face but she didn’t move. She took each word to heart as tears welled up. 

You had never seen Olivia Hayes cry before. This might be the first time.

“Everyone knows what you did to Mika,” she said, slowly and sourly. The end of her sleeve brushed at her eyelid. “You can’t hurt people anymore.”

“Oh, you don’t know that, Princess.” Ronny squeezed her shoulder. Each move he made stenched of bad luck. “I guess you’ll have to wait and see.”

Olivia was trembling so bad you had to step forward to hold her. You had to defend her and set a boundary with Ronny, who had crossed anything you could have made. To your shock, she left before you could speak up. Her shoes clicked angrily to her exit. 

And there was Ronny’s cruel smile that told you nothing good was going to come out of this.

And there was her somewhere-in-between hair: soaring in the wind, like a closing curtain.

You finished several good reads and Olivia was still not visiting you. She hadn’t been for the past three days. It was beginning to concern you. 

You watched the campus from outside of your library. It was full of rushing, bustling students, but you couldn’t spot Olivia. Your heart ached. She was a face you could spot in a crowd miles away but she wasn’t showing up in one or alone.

Was that her friend? A pretty girl with hooded eyes and an atmosphere around her that reminded you of Olivia. “Excuse me?” you asked. “Amber, right?”

She looked almost irritated to entertain you. She always wore that bored expression anyway. “Yes?”

“Have you seen Olivia? Olivia Hayes?”

“She’s probably here. Or there.” Amber lifted her shoulders. “I don’t know.”

“Well, if you see her, please tell-”

“I don’t want you looking for her,” interrupted Amber seriously. The little once-over she did told you that she knew something, and everyone did too. She wasn’t afraid to be upfront about it. “If what they say about you is true, you shouldn’t be allowed near her.”

She left without another word. That was the end of it. 

Now you knew why less and less pupils logged in. Ronny had done the job: spread the rumor, took the reins, rendered you completely of your power. 

It was your fault. If he had crossed a line, you crossed thousands with Olivia. From your thoughts to your gestures to the bond you had - none of it was supposed to happen. None of it.

You brought this upon yourself.

You didn’t want to seem suspicious by asking around. Anyone who visited your library knew you and Olivia were close. You didn’t want to ruin the girl’s reputation.

Maybe someone already did.

The days felt empty without her. No biscuits, no fun conversations, no Olivia. You missed her coquettish laugh and lean posture and thoughtful little gestures. The desk across yours was devoid of a girl who became important to you. Everytime someone entered, you hoped it was her tall and pretty self coming to check in on you. Much to your dismay, faceless pupils were the only people logging in. 

It hurt. You didn’t want to make this about you. But it hurt. 

You had to quit being selfish. She probably needed space. Space? She wasn’t your girlfriend. She couldn’t be. 

You were finishing up for the night. The screen of your computer was bright. It reflected in your tired eyes an Excel sheet. It was a record of late fees and damage compensation. Someone had missed their return date and as much as you didn’t want to charge anything, you had to. Generosity wasn’t a skill they hired you for.

Calculus. It was exam season; you expected that.

What you didn't expect was the loud banging on your door. 

“Jesus-” You flung out of your seat, clutching your chest. The clock said it was past 7 PM. Didn’t they have a watch? Elite heirs usually had watches whose prices skyrocketed past your salary. So who was it?

You ignored it, sitting back down. It wasn’t your fault they couldn’t read the rules.

The rummage of the knocks grew louder than the typing sounds. Along with the darkness and otherwise complete silence, it was beginning to terrify you. Words didn’t make sense for the first time ever. You had to tell them to cut it out.

You stood, paced to the entrance and opened the door. 

“Ma’am?”

It was Olivia. 

She was crying.

Tears streaked her face. Sniffling, she threw her arms around you. Her back rose and rested to the tempo of her sobs, an unwelcome rhythm. The redness in her eyes and the desperation in them - full of need to be comforted, to be held - you ached seeing it.

Something was wrong. You closed the door and hugged her. She was shaking like she had escaped a rainstorm. The only rainstorm here was the flood of sobs that stained her cheeks. Now they spotted your collar.

“Ma’am,” she murmured. Her lips were on your neck, vibrating her cries into your skin. Oh, if you could, you’d take that with her pain. “I thought I lost you. Ma’am-”

Olivia’s voice was broken. She said your nickname not only to call you, but almost like a reminder that you were here. She had nobody else. 

You held her tight and let her cry it out. It was alright, you told her. You were here. Your hours were done but you had and would add more if it was for her.

“I’m here. Hi Princess.”

Your Princess.

Olivia didn’t let go. She was suffocating you with her arms knotted behind you, and a mouth that muffled her pain into your shirt. The pain that bubbled in her chest killed you. but you’d die a thousand times if it were for her. 

Olivia shivered when you let go. You led her behind your desk, her safe place. She leaned against it and tried to control the tears dropping from her red eyes. But the rainstorm was inevitable. The whole day poured down on her ruthlessly.

The familiarity of everything seemed to calm her down a bit. Hands on her hips, you gently pushed her down her usual box. She didn’t sit alone. You were there for her this time.

“Hey,” you repeated. 

You wanted to call her your girl, your baby, your Princess - anything that would comfort her. You wanted to take care of her. You’d wrap a blanket around her and take her out to eat. You’d kiss her and tell her you were here. You’d say: hey little dove, you don’t have to soar all the time. You could just sit here with me.

All you could do was hold her waist and try to control the shudders. “What’s wrong?”

She whined and placed her face into her hands. “I’m sorry.”

What was she apologizing for? She did nothing wrong. She couldn’t do anything wrong. She was so frail and weak as she supported herself at the end of your table that you wrapped her in an embrace again. You knew she needed it.

“Sorry for what?” 

Her words trembled, regretful too. “He . . . he leaked the photos . . . ” Olivia stammered.

Your heart dropped. You didn’t need to ask to know what photos or who did it. Ronny’s visit was a revelation of the end. “Oh baby-”

It was one of a girl’s worst nightmares. There came a deceptive boy whose threats held bite to them, who deceived and lied and manipulated. Nothing could ever be given to them without the fear of the tables turning. 

That was why you couldn’t find her like you always did. That was why she didn’t visit. The world was against her, and she couldn’t keep her resilience anymore.

Her breaths kept tying around her neck and choking her. You kept a hand on her back so she could at least catch them. Her shaking was knives to your chest.

“I was looking for you. I thought they . . . they took you away.” The thought got to her and she looked at you with begging written all over her face. Her frowned lips uttered the words you didn’t think would hurt you this way: “Ma’am, please don’t go away, please don’t go away-”

You pulled her close. Her hair stuck to her cheek, glued with teardrops. 

“I’m not going anywhere Princess,” you told her. 

She didn’t quite believe that. Sniffling, she pushed you off.

“I lied to you Ma’am,” she laughed sourly. Her thumb soothed a teardrop at the end of her mouth as she stood up. “All this time. Did you know that?”

What was she talking about? Was Ronny right? You denied it with all your heart.

Olivia looked villainous. The rage was new. She’d contained it all these years, keeping it together, keeping pretty. But this was the end of it. 

“He’s spreading it around too so I think you know already. I’m not an heiress. Fuck, I’m not even rich. My dad’s been gone for years. My mom would rather die than go to my shit. But I thought that everyone would love me if I was just like them.”

“Olivia-”

“I’m sorry for lying to you!” She broke down again. She was the victim and the villain - crying, laughing; hurting, hitting. She was hysterical, hands together as she pleaded for your forgiveness. “You like me so much and I like you so much but you won’t trust me ever again. So I’m sorry-”

“Olivia.”

She beat her wrist on the counter in frustration. “What?” 

Her scream deafened you. The feedback ringing was so high yet it didn’t cut out her frantic crying. It couldn’t save you from the pain of hearing her tear herself down.

You took the red trunk of her wrist and held it close. She wasn’t going to hurt herself. Not when you were around. “Olivia,” you repeated, “I don’t care if you’re rich or not. I want you anyway.”

She tossed her head back, trying to keep the water in her eyes. It pooled and overflowed. Olivia couldn’t hide anything anymore.

You squeezed her forearm. “I still wait for your gifts.”

She glanced down at your touch enveloping her. Slowly, there was a realization that sank into her. 

She swallowed. “I still look if they have your favorite on the menu,” Olivia said softly.

“I still read the notes you leave.”

“I still want you to call me Princess to get through the day.”

You pulled her in. It was an unconscious decision but you didn’t regret it. Her skirt swished against your legs. You were chest to chest and stomach to stomach. No boundaries. Just her skin against your skin. Her eyes connecting with yours. 

“I still pray you never get a library card,” you confessed softly, “so you can read with me everyday.”

Olivia was silent. Her glimmering eyes pierced through your soul and saw what you didn’t need to say. Actually, she would have said something herself, had she not chosen to kiss you.

She was whimpering as she devoured your lips. She held your cheek and let the passion infect you too. It was like in these little kisses, these little touches, she found a promise that it would all be okay. 

(It would be - in all due time.)

You closed your eyes. Shock melted into passion, passion melted into the need to carry her to the edge of your table. Everything about her was perfect. You believed that until now.

It never stopped. Your fingers laced into her golden brown hair to lead her face closer. You would burn if she left you. Your mouth trailed hotly down her neck anyway. Even here, in the little space where her skin flexed and sweat, she was delicious.

You noticed her ragged breathing and stopped. Was it alright if you tore away the line that put you apart? 

You couldn’t say anything. Were you really doing this? To a student? To a girl that you adored?

Olivia’s legs were spread open. Her chin below yours, she blinked up at you. “Ma’am?”

Your thighs squirmed together. The word eternally had this meaning, this double-edged sword that killed you. “Yes?” you asked.

“Wh-What do you think of me?” Olivia asked weakly. The vulnerability in her question was painfully sweet.

You kissed down her chest and opened her blouse. Little gasps coming from her pulsing throat sounded like heaven. Her pretty bra cupped her breasts and she was just singing these tiny moans - begging you to take it off, begging you get your hand all up under her skirt; make the lines of her mouth twist with shock and pleasure; change the color of her face to red. Oh, she needed you to do a lot of things to her - you knew you wanted to do each one of those when you saw her walk in through that door.

Your tongue played with her stiff nipple. She began to move around, afraid to moan yet afraid to leave you hanging. 

“I think,” you said, before giving a final peck to the sensitive chest that came up to your mouth, “you’re the most beautiful girl I’ve ever seen.”

Pretty face, pretty soul. Eyes as big as the heart everyone thought was ice cold. Lashes as long as her patience, her understanding. The beat of her heart matching the loudness of her need to feel good, just for one night.

“Oh.” She sighed. A familiar pink settled over her cheeks. “I really like hearing that from you.”

“Want me to keep talking to you?” It was impossible how every scape of her flesh was appetizing. You licked behind her ear, where she could hear every word. “Want me to tell you how pretty my Princess is, what a good girl she is for me?”

Her thighs clamping around you was enough answer. She was nodding and nodding, the desperate little thing. She was just coming undone. The student, who was so confident and collected, sat on your desk with her uniform tor and lips swollen from kissing.

Her lips. 

You pressed a kiss to your fingertips before tracing them to her mouth. Olivia’s lips were cushiony soft. When you slipped your digits past them, she rolled her eyes back.

Your fingers were the source where she drank and drank. Small moans fought their way out of her. She was enjoying this too much. The angry heat left in her body changed to one she enjoyed. This one made her feel giddy, made the little hairs on her skin rise. And Olivia had to voice it out in tiny sighs which provoked something in you. 

It wasn’t right, but weren’t you entitled to a little sin?

You freed her mouth and instead imprisoned her chin with your hand, letting them float around her face. “You know where these are going Princess?” 

Olivia shook her head. Behind that innocent look, you had a feeling she knew. 

A path forged down to her skirt. It was unfair that the uniform fit her so perfectly. Under the blazer, the blouse, the curve of her body slanted beneath your touch. There came the hourglass line of her waist then the flare of her hips, full around your palms.

Olivia was getting an idea now. No sound needed to leave her mouth when it could all be read from her face. The puppy dog eyes, the quiver of her lips, the red of her cheeks.

“These are slipping right under this skirt,” you continued. You did as you said. Her slim thigh was held by a long, white stocking. It would stay on. “Right between your legs, through this pretty white underwear. You’d like that, wouldn’t you?”

“Yes. Oh god.” She shut her eyes. “Take it off, take it off-”

Olivia gasped sharply as you touched her. You weren’t in her - not yet. But she was already this sensitive. She squirmed around at how you cupped her core, felt how she was cleanly trimmed through the thin undershorts, how the heat was unbearable. You had to do something about it.

Not yet. You clicked your tongue, continuing to feel her. You would take your sweet time with this princess, make her feel good, make her remember this night. 

“You can’t boss me around, Sweetheart.” Sweet talk never truly left your conversations despite the scolding. Punishing a poor little girl who keened and sighed to your touches was cruel enough. It was like wielding an upside-down cross to an angel. “Play nice. What do you say when you want something?”

Olivia kept shimmying her hips into your palm. Her fingers struggled on the desk to keep her stable, and her mind struggled as well to do the same. 

“P-Please.”

“Yes?”

“Please . . . ” Olivia breathed, “please fuck me, Ma’am.”

Shit.

You wasted no time. She was true to being a princess - her panties were lace, frilled and white, a bow on the top. Perhaps it was simply you admiring Olivia like you always had, but it was making you so pent up: seeing her with her skirt lifted, the front of her blouse unbuttoned, her long legs embroiled in a fight not to close.

Olivia whined in response to your thumb caressing her clit over the fabric. The rhythm had her chest tightening while her breathing abruptly lost itself. She was done with the teasing. 

So were you.

You hooked on the sides of the fabric and gently pulled them down. And God - if her panties were pretty, her pussy was even more so. Her wetness glistened, as if telling you it would look better coating your fingers. Filling your mouth. Sheening your thigh.

You pushed first, not pulled. 

“Oh . . . oh.” Olivia lowered her head with her eyes squeezed shut. She was throbbing like crazy. She lifted her head and you could see the gratification written (no, scrawled) all over her face. “Ma’am, I- oh . . . ”

You let yourself curl inside her for a moment. The texture of her walls slid over your skin and the wetness satiated your thirst. Slowly, she took over you. And it was the same on your end - you slid yourself deeper and felt for her sensitivity. It was everywhere, taking from the whines she let out and the frown on her lips.

“Princess,” you said. ”You are so fucking tight.” 

You couldn’t even start thrusting. What if you hurt her? 

“Just clenching around me, yeah?” You caressed her nub in slow circles. “So damned wet too. Fuck-”

One hand on the small of her back, you buried yourself inside her. Her gasps were shorter and blunter as you fixed yourself inside her. The only thing that made it easier was her wetness, sticking to you and allowing faster movements.

You smoothed her hair as she threw her head back. Her collarbone stood out from beneath the fabric. You pressed your lips there with a nibble gentle enough to increase the sensitivity that set her skin on fire. As her jawline grazed your mouth, you felt her moans vibrate below it. You wondered if she knew how pretty she sounded. 

She lost everything once you sucked on that spot. Olivia sounded prettier.

“Ma’am, Ma’am, please-” Olivia thrashed around as if she were a wild animal. What if she were? And not the royal she made herself out to be? She rode your fingers with a fury that beat the angriest of hearts, but she was whimpering - lips pursed; sweet little sounds barely escaping their soft prison. No, this girl was too angelic, too fragile to be feral - but the ferocity of her hips and the grip she had on your wrist said otherwise.

Maybe it was fate that she took you so well. All the little conversations, all that twisted yearning pinned the thread right to this moment wherein you got lost immediately upon sinking inside her cunt. She was so tight, almost too tight, but her wetness let you finger her without having to be careful. You had a feeling she didn’t want you to be careful at all.

And the thing between you and this pretty girl you had literally wrapped around your fingers? The intuition was always right. 

Yes, she wanted you to nip at her beautiful shoulder so she moaned louder. Yes, she wanted you to keep a hand firm around her ass so she wouldn’t collapse against the wood. Yes, she wanted all of this - and it’s not in you to say no.

Neither was it in Olivia. The pitiable girl was tearful. Turns out it wasn’t the cigarettes that would eat away at her cleverness, the breath leaving her weak lungs - it was the pleasure. “Yes yes, oh my God, I need them, I need it, need you to ruin me-”

Her words were an invitation to add another finger, and perhaps fuck her harder on this desk. No one had to know. Not the school, not the students - it was just you and Olivia, in your own world, kissing and touching.

It was, too, an invitation you accepted.

Her chin tipped back. “M-mmm, oh!” Olivia cried. Those long lashes carried big tears that fell down her cheeks, as if she were a mystical saint, the monarch of monarchs, a girl worth worshiping. Saint Olivia Hayes, martyred by a want that blossomed in her chest for far too long. Drink from the nectar between her legs and she’d grant a miracle as good as an orgasm. “It’s just- it’s- oh-”

You thumbed at her clit fast. It was so easy to get her moaning and whining but you still felt that you had to work hard. You had to make love to her in a way that she’d forget everything. You had to drive yourself in her like you were trying to start the engine of her insanity. Oh, come on - whose approval were you trying to gain? Olivia’s? 

Plausible. Because the ache of your wrist you would trade over and over  for the shiver of her body and those big blue eyes staring at you with this subtext that said if you give it to her harder, she might just be yours. 

“More.” You felt her twitch around you, your fingers wrapped by the heavenly feel of her pussy. “Oh fuck me now, faster. I deserve it, I’ve been so good.”

“Of course you have.” You lifted her face and looked at her with the gaze of a doting teacher, almost making this moment justifiable. You were only taking care of her. This was nothing out of the ordinary, teacher and student. “You deserve everything, Princess. Oh, you don’t even have to ask for anything. I’ll give it all to you, baby, I promise.”

And this was around the time, or perhaps exactly when, Olivia melted. Her cheeks flushed and her pout ran deeper. As queen bee and campus celebrity, she carried herself as if she didn’t need anything, not even a compliment. But the need throbbed and screamed inside her. This was the true Olivia, wanting to be petted and praised and kissed. You were the one to satiate it.

You rubbed the tips of your fingers along her weak spots while thrusting quickly. The marriage of your eyes obligating her to meet them, the curl of your fingers, the thumb at her chin - it was too much. She was pushed to the edge and she could fall at any moment.

“Don’t-” Olivia shook her head. Tears ran freely. She didn’t know what she was feeling anymore. The lust was overwhelming and there were too many things she wanted you to do to her. “Fuck… oh God, please!”

Your thumb worked on her swollen clit; meanwhile, you’d spread her legs and instantly slid your tongue through her slit. It’s fucking crazy - when her flavor pooled in your mouth and you drank her freely, she tasted like a memory. You’re already missing her. She was a habit you wouldn’t think to kill off and she’d grow within you and become part of you.

And you would lose her. Just like that.

But you would never, ever, forget her.

You lapped her up. You savored her because the repercussions would catch up and you had to save every last bit of her until you could. Oh, she was screaming, loud and raw - you heard her despite her soft thighs clamping around your head. You kept them there. You wanted to stay in her forever.

“Too much,” Olivia implored, but not for you to stop. She had a fist around your scalp and another around your heart. “Ma’am please, you’re going too fast!”

This was the first time in her life she liked being overwhelmed. Her novel plot of an expression twisted and turned - (it would end like this: beautifully, yet not the way you wanted.) She pouted, she smiled in spite of, she gaped. She did everything and showed you how good you were being to her. But nothing quite prepared her for the feel of your lips tight around her clit.

Her river flowed and flowed. She arched her back and screamed for what all of it was worth. She fell in love with you and you let her dance on the tip of your tongue. You fell in love with her and she let you quench your thirst with her taste. You - two women, from two different lives - fell in love with each other, and you weren’t quite sure how to end that.

You secured her clit in your mouth and sucked as hard as you can. She burst into tears, trying and crying and swearing that she couldn’t handle more but she’d chew off more than what she can stomach, for when the orgasm bubbled in the pit of her stomach, she knew that it was going to be difficult.

“Ma’am, please, I don’t think I can handle it.” 

You were sure you were going to suffocate. The hold of her thighs around your neck was deadly. 

“No, please make me cum, it’s too much!” She sobbed and rode you harder. “I can’t I can’t I can’t, Ma’am, Mommy-”

And there it ended. With the sudden drumming of your heart you didn’t know how to do it. But it finished itself with your Princess finishing on your face, static shock running through her blood and looking quite lost in her own world. 

It happened. The expectation of it did not make it easier. Ronny’s photos reached the school authorities and the students. Every detail was out there in the spotlight. It included how you met, how you admired her from afar, how you were caught smoking suspiciously alone with her.

You were brought in and quietly dismissed. Nobody wanted attention brought to the school already gained by the murders happening. It was an unsafe place, for both your heart and soul. It was just right to leave.

You didn’t get to have a last conversation with Olivia. Afterwards, she simply sat there on the desk with her eyes closed and exhausted. Her head rested on your heart. You could still feel it now, as you sat at home, looking for another job. There was no use tearing up about it. It was wrong from the start and it was wrong now.

A few tears did end up on the black and white ink of the classifieds.

Not a day went by that you didn’t think of Olivia. How was she doing? Was your Princess coping? To be outed like that to what she saw as her world, to be named a slut and villain by her peers . . . it couldn’t be easy. You wanted to apologize to her in some sort of way. It would be to pay back all the good things she’d done for you. She was a good listener, a good student, a good girl. She deserved to be okay.

But how?

The answer came to you one day in the form of an email, from an unknown address but a familiar name:

We broke the rules. How about we and some good friends of mine break more to get even?

You in? ;)

Yours, 

Princess

[cloudcountry]

proper compensation

Genre/Tropes: No notable ones!!

Summary: Leona and Jamil went chasing Grim around Styx and got him back to you safely. It's only fair you offer them proper compensation.

Author's Comments: this was inspired by a dialogue part between leona and jamil during the phantom node searching in chapter 67 sector eight. i was so inspired that i wrote a four page oneshot for it for some reason. this might have made me a jamil stan. i dont know how all this ends because i havent finished it yet so this might be canon divergent (it probably is) so dont kill me please OKAY THANK YOU

~~~~~

There’s a knock on Ramshackle’s front door in the late hours of the afternoon. After everything that happened at Styx, you refused to let Grim out of your sight, and that includes leaving him to answer the door. He’s been unusually tired, content to accept your affection and sleep in your arms, happy and safe with the person he trusts. You hold him gently as you stand up, walking towards the door. You manage to stoop over just enough to get it open, and you’re met with the sight of two familiar people.

“Can I help you?” you ask, raising a confused brow. You don’t normally see Jamil and Leona together like this, much less together here.

“We got you back your furball.” Leona grunts, waving dismissively at the cat monster curled up in your arms, “It’s perfectly reasonable to compensate us for the return.”

“Indeed.” Jamil smiles, but there’s something so ingenuine about it that you can’t help but shiver.

“I…don’t have any money.” you fumble, trying to think up something to give them, “I can…do chores? Or something?”

You doubt they would accept your dusty furniture, and if there’s one thing you’ve learned from people at NRC, it's that everything comes with a price, and you best pay it in full if you don’t want to get screwed over.

“Nah. I got Ruggie. I don’t need another errand runner.” Leona shakes his head, looking more and more like a predator as the seconds pass.

“I can handle my chores myself. Make no mistake, I’m used to taking care of Kalim.” Jamil steps closer, reaching out to touch your hand, “Come on now, Prefect. You’re smart. You’ll figure it out.”

You’re pretty sure you have figured it out, even if it seems like you haven’t. Because if they don’t want to exploit you like Azul did, they probably want what Ace usually begs for when he does something right (although he detests the word beg.)

“I…think I have an idea.” you confess, gnawing at your lower lip, “Just…let me put down Grim. He fell asleep in my arms and-”

“Oh, please. Allow me.” Jamil swoops his arms under Grim and plucks him out of your arms as easily as yanking a flower out of the grass. You yelp and gape at the boy as he waltzes into Ramshackle without a care in the world.

Like he owns the place.

Sneaky.

“What’s your idea then, herbivore?” Leona snickers, leaning against the doorframe like he also owns the place, “I would love to hear it.”

“Um…would you guys accept kisses as compensation?” you say, wrinkling your nose at just how stupid it sounds when you say it out loud.

Leona lets out a barking laugh, throwing his head back and all. You feel even more embarrassed now, taking his amusement as rejection.

“Oh, you’re smarter than you look.” he huffs, voice thick with amusement, “You nailed it, herbivore. Now are you going to pay up or not?”

You can feel your face growing warm as he leans in, eyes staring straight into your soul as if this doesn’t affect him one bit. Was he so used to teasing and moments like this that they didn’t even phase him anymore? Or were you just a flustered fool, dancing in the palm of his hand?

You ultimately decide that if it means receiving affection from him, you don’t care.

And so you allow him to brush his nose over your cheek, and you allow his breath to fan over your lips as you shut your eyes in anticipation. He laughs at that, too, his hot breath only making you more and more anxious.

“Are you going to kiss me or not?” you grumble, furrowing your brow with your eyes still clamped shut.

“Aww, do you want a kiss?” Leona teases, and you’re about to yell at him when he follows up with a quiet, “Well, fine then.”

And then he’s kissing you.

Your back is pressed against the doorframe as he cradles you against him. His hands are placed securely at your waist as he tilts his head, pushing against you as he searches for more, more. Your head is spinning with it all, and you’re certain if Leona wasn’t holding you up you’d be crumpled over on your doorstep right now. There’s a clear smugness in his movements, especially when he hooks a hand under your thigh and pulls it up. Your face could not be any warmer than it is right now, especially when he squeezes the flesh gently and his claws rake against your skin.

He breaks away and you gasp, the sound soft and bewildered. You brush your fingers along your lower lip, and even though it feels like it's burning it doesn’t burn.

Leona gazes at you, his expression so smug you have half a mind to wipe it off his stupidly handsome face, but then he turns on his heel and starts walking away,

“Well, that’s enough for me.” he yawns as if he didn’t just kiss you breathless (like a satisfied predator), “See ya around, herbivore. Thanks for the compensation.”

You manage to call out a shaky goodbye to him in your shock, mind still reeling and unorganized from the kiss. Why can’t anyone on this campus be predictable?! Never in a million years did you think Leona and-

Wait, Jamil. He didn’t leave.

You were so distracted by Leona that you forgot about Jamil and the fact that he basically shouldered his way into your dorm.

He’s still around here somewhere (unless he’s jumped out of a window, which is too much of a Kalim thing to do so you dispel the thought with a giggle.)

Great Seven, you’re not even close to being recovered from what just happened, but there’s no use delaying the inevitable. You make your way to you and Grim’s bedroom, hoping Jamil didn’t just dump him somewhere. Surely he’s responsible enough to not do that, right?

You discover that he does know where Grim’s bed is. Grim is still fast asleep, tucked away in his bed. You laugh again to yourself as you realize that Jamil probably still has the layout of Ramshackle memorized from when he stayed over during SDC.

“Yes, he’s fine. I made sure he didn’t wake up.” Jamil says from behind you, and you jump at the unexpected noise. Spinning around to glare at him (though the expression holds no malice), you jolt backward when you see just how close he is. He rolls his eyes at your mock annoyance and jerks his head to the left. He’s holding a tray of tea and snacks in his hands, and while the gesture would be nice from almost anyone else, you figure he’s going to use this against you later.

You enter your bedroom anyway. Jamil follows you silently and sets the tray of treats on your nightstand.

“Do you want the same thing as Leona?” you ask, sitting at the edge of the bed.

Jamil makes a quiet huffing sound under his breath but doesn’t answer your question. You let him pour the tea and hand you a teacup, and watch him as he pours a cup of tea for himself. You don’t want to push too hard, but he was the one that came to you in the first place.

“Jamil.” you say softly, reaching out and cupping his cheek, “You said you wanted compensation but all you’ve done is help me out. I need to pay you back, right?”

His eyes flicker toward you, and he sighs.

“I don’t want what Leona wants, Prefect. I was just teasing you earlier.” he mumbles, shutting his eyes as if he’s exhausted (which he probably is), “I would like to rest here with you. That’s all.”

Your mouth forms an o shape as you realize that no, the tea and snacks were not to trap you in yet another favor, but were meant to be part of your favor to him. There’s a stab of guilt in your stomach, and you swallow it uncomfortably.

“I thought the tea and snacks were for another favor you wanted paid back.” you confess, fisting your hands in your lap, “I’m sorry.”

“Oh, don’t be.” his tired expression turns wicked in a split second, his eyes gleaming with mischief, “I plan to take up more of your time than Leona did. This is me paying you back.”

“That’s too many transactions.” you murmur, placing a gentle hand on his upper arm, “Just come here. “

Jamil follows your lead and clambers into bed, the springs squeaking under the extra weight. You’ve done well to keep your voice low for Grim, so much so that Jamil’s heavy sigh is the loudest sound that's been made in the room by either of you this afternoon. He slumps over against your shoulder, the top of his head bumping against your chin as his shoulders sag. You feel your heart twinge in your chest as you wrap a steady arm around him and rest your head on him, too.

You certainly wouldn’t mind if either of them wanted to do this again.