#I’ll probably make this its own post tomorrow

[blueper-saiyan]

I’m overanalyzing something that’s canonically not meant to be thought about, for fun, so here’s a speculative Saiyan biology question: how often do they actually need to eat? I’ve sort of joked about the possibility that it’s like large predators irl where they gorge themselves occasionally and then wait until the next big kill. This would balance out the amount they’re eating to closer to a normal human, just a surprising amount in one sitting, and dodge the thing I’m about to go off the deep end about. But I think they’re probably supposed to need that amount frequently? Which is like, rodent levels of frequency and portions, but unlike a small mammal, a huge amount of actual food consumed. It’s fine if there’s only a handful of Saiyans on a whole planet but how did that work when there was a lot of them? That’s a massive amount of food, where is it coming from? Are they mostly feeding their army by taking food from conquered planets? They’d still need to be producing enough for their homeworld. Is it being farmed automatically and that’s how they can have the majority of their whole species be soldiers? But like, Gine has a job processing meat, so it’s clearly not entirely automated. Stuck thinking about Saiyan agricultural production and supply logistics help.

Unfortunately, I can also say that almost immediately after finding out the amount that Saiyans eat, the back of my mind did jump to “how fast do they starve?” Like, is that a much bigger threat for them than a human or do they have about the same amount of reserves, even if they’re eating more? If it is way faster, how does that affect how they view food/hunger? As a fun irl example, hummingbirds have such an insane metabolism that they would potentially starve to death if they slept at night. So they don’t sleep like normal, they enter a state that’s more like hibernation to slow their metabolism down enough to survive. Many hummingbird species are fiercely territorial because they need access to their food source or they starve. I imagine a theoretical hummingbird society would be thinking about food differently. And because this is my indulgent post where I get to talk about animals, I’m also going to bring up vampire bats, which could also potentially starve if they can’t feed within two days or so (I did not go deep into scientific literature to find original numbers and sources for this estimate I’m sorry true bat fans. Actually same goes for the hummingbird estimate but I know more about birds.). Unlike the more territorial hummingbirds though, vampire bats roost together during the day in colonies, with the same other bats repeatedly. And their food source can’t be guarded like a flower patch can, so there’s less purpose to territoriality. So they can form long term friendships with each other by interacting in ways like grooming each other. Within these friendships, when one bat gets a meal during their few-hour-a-night feeding window, but the other one doesn’t, the one who got enough food will often share with their friend to keep them from going hungry. Then their friend returns the favor when their roles are reversed, keeping them both alive, along with the rest of their friend network.

So those are some very different responses to needing food nearly constantly. If I were deeper in ecology mode I could probably try and come up with explanations based on the types of food source and territory and other factors for why, but I’m here to apply this to Saiyans lol. Honestly, a cooperative strategy would make more sense given that they’re pretty human-like, but that’s certainly not the sense we get given of their society. Were they always super individualistic or is that a recent development? Are they even actually individualistic or is that fully a societal role thing (elites are different from lower class warriors)? Or is the idea that they don’t cooperate partly a lie made up after their deaths anyway? Speculative biology for intelligent species get the extra layer of culture just to make things more messy and fun. We also know pretty much nothing about their original home planet and the actual context that shaped them, so I don’t get to apply other factors, like how easy it is to defend food sources or how important it is to stick together. We probably won’t ever get to know anything more about their original homeworld/Sadala, which is disappointing given that we got hints about it, but it does leave more room for speculation.

[shellshocklove]

lover, lover, lover | joel miller

pairing/AU: 70s!pornstar!joel miller x inexperienced!female reader

summary: after blurring the lines with your boss and pornstar joel in pismo beach, what happens when you come back home to LA?

warnings: this is an 18+ fic so mdni! reader is 23, joel is in his early 30s, accuracies and inaccuracies about the 70s and the porn industry, smoking of cigarettes (it's the 70s alright), misogyny (bc of the times™), swearing, use of pet names, oral (f+m receiving), use of sextoys, handjob, praise kink, soft!dom joel but also a hint of sub!joel, porn, degradation, no use of y/n

a/n: this is the part 2 to this fic. you should read the part 1 first or this will make no sense lmao. i know it's been months since i posted that one and i've gone back and forth a lot on if i was gonna write a second part, but here it is <3 again i wanna give a big thank you to my beloved @dustydaddyyy for encouraging me every step of the way, listening to me when i feel lost, and for reading through everything. i love you babes!!! <3

main masterlist / series masterlist / ao3

You jolted awake.

With a groan and a confusing squint, you sat up on your elbow. The back of your hand rubbed roughly at your eye as you looked around your darkened bedroom. The fan on your dresser huffed and swirled, blowing cool air in your direction with every pass – blowing away the memories of your dream.

You turned around to lay down again when you heard it. A distant sound of your phone ringing in your hallway. You let out another groan as you scooted out of bed, your nighty falling around your knees as your feet met the carpet floor. Shuffling down the hall you muttered a quiet “I’m coming, calm down,” to the phone.

You lifted the phone of the hook with a quiet, “Hello.”

“Did I wake ya, sweet girl?” the static voice answered.

“Joel, what time is it?” you sighed into the phone, your arm hitting the cool wall as you leaned against it.

“Um…” he started, probably checking his watch, “02.05.”

“Yes, you woke me up…” you told him, eyes tired and falling shut before blinking open in quiet panic, “Wait– did something happen? Why are you calling so late?” Fear squeezed around your heart, wrapping its cold hands around it as flashes of Joel getting arrested, or kidnapped… or something worse, played like a movie in your head.

“No,” he laughed, “No, sweetheart! I just couldn’t sleep.”

“So, you decided to wake me instead? You are aware we have a meeting with VCA tomorrow at 9am? I told you that didn’t I?” Two fingers pinched the bridge of your nose – trying to squeeze the sleep away.

You usually never forgot any of Joel’s meetings or commitments, and you prided yourself in staying on top of his schedule. You could swear you told him about the meeting the other day on the way back from Pismo Beach.

Pismo Beach.

You hadn’t seen him since you dropped him off. Two days had passed. Two days since… Since you’d had sex with Joel. Two days since he told you he wanted you to be his. Was Joel your boyfriend now? You couldn’t tell.

“Yeah, you did, you’re a good assistant,” he said, the smile evident in his voice.

The praise wrapped itself around your heart like a pink cloud of love – it made you smile.

“Thanks,” you whispered, your quiet voice making him chuckle down the other end.

You waited for his chuckle to die before you asked him, “Um… was there anything else?”

“You tired of me already, sweetheart?” he teased.

“No, never,” you shook your head, “it’s just late.”

“I know, I’m sorry baby,” the way he said it, he left the words hanging in the air.

A second passed in silence, and then another. You waited for him to say something else, but when the words never came you spoke, “I’ll see you tomorrow?”

“Can I come over?” he almost cut you off, his words hanging at the end of your own like a teenager on a skateboard gripping tightly to the back of a bus.

“Tonight?” you asked, front teeth digging into your bottom lip.

“Yeah, now,” he clarified, “my car’s fixed– I can be there in probably… thirty minutes?”

“Ehm…” your head bumped against the wall. Thirty minutes? It wasn’t that you didn’t want to see Joel – you did – but it was so late, and you had to get up so early tomorrow.

“Maybe twenty if I speed,” he laughed.

“Joel,” you chided, a smiled tugged at your lips.

“Okay, thirty,” he relented.

You pushed off the wall, a finger curling around the phone cord. “If I say yes you have to be sneaky– and quiet. My landlord doesn’t allow boys to visit.”

“Good thing I ain’t a boy then, sweetheart.”

You snorted, teeth digging into your lip to kill a smile from blooming, “I’m serious, Joel! A girl got evicted last month because she got caught having her boyfriend over.”

“How’s that even legal?” his static voice wondered.

“I don’t know Joel, my landlord… she’s this old lady– super religious and she owns the whole complex– I think she inherited it from her late husband who was a developer or something. Anyway, every time I bump into her, she always questions me about if I have a boyfriend and then gives me this speech about how premarital sex is a sin, and how I’ll go to hell–”

“Shit, baby– move out,” Joel cut you off.

“I can’t,” you sighed, “It was the only place I could afford when I moved here.”

“Ain’t I payin’ you enough?” he teased, “I’ll talk to Ronald about a raise f’you want.”

You let out a chuckle, “I’m not sure it’s appropriate– or professional, to talk about this now, Joel.”

“Alright, baby– always so professional,” he playfully chided, “we’ll talk about it tomorrow.”

You let out a hum, though a small knot tied itself in your stomach at the thought. You didn’t want Joel to get the wrong impression; that you wanted a raise now that you’d let him fuck you.

“See ya in 30?” he said, breaking the static silence, “I’ll be real sneaky.”

“Ok,” you said softly.

You told him your address, making him repeat your apartment number back to you before you hung up. You didn’t want him accidently knocking on the wrong door, and getting you evicted.

Padding back into your bedroom, you grabbed your silk robe hanging off the door. You twisted it around yourself while you turned on the lamp over your bedside table. The light bathed your room in a soft glow. You were starting to wake up a little now. Leaving your bedroom door ajar you walked back down your hallway with soft steps. Stepping into the kitchen, you grabbed a mug from your cupboard, busying yourself with making a cup of tea as you waited for Joel.

Thirty minutes later, you heard the buzz of your doorbell. Abandoning your cup on your kitchen table, you quickly hurried to your door, buzzing him in. Your heart hammered in your chest. The risk of getting caught so late on a Sunday night was low, but you could never be too careful. You waited for him in your doorway, your finger picking at your nail bed as you looked out for him to round the corner.

You breathed out a relieved sigh when you saw him, a smile widening across your face as he picked up his pace in a small jog. His grin was wide as well, all teeth and crinkles as he closed the space between you. With a small glance over his shoulder, he made sure he hadn’t been caught as you ushered him inside.

The light in your hallway was low, tinting everything in a warm yellow hue. His hands were on you in an instant, strong hands gliding over your waist from behind as you locked your door. In the next moment you felt his chest press against your back, locking you to his body in an engulfing hug. His nose dragged down the column of your neck, pressing sweet kisses into your skin.

“Hi,” he mumbled.

Leaning into his touch you hummed out a greeting. His grip tightened around you before he turned you around in his hands, your hands automatically wrapping themselves around his neck. God, he was handsome. Soft brown eyes shining under the soft light, you watched as they took you in, traveling down your bare face, down to your silk robe hiding your nighty. A sting of embarrassment panged in your chest under his gaze, maybe you should’ve changed into something else, something a little sexier. Then you realized what kind of sexy he was used to, sheer lingerie, stockings, garter belts and high heels, not whatever underwear you were hiding away in your drawers.

“Shit,” he whispered, eyes blown wide in the low light, “let me kiss you properly, sweetheart.”

His big palm cupped your cheek, bringing you closer before he brushed his lips over yours. He tasted like a mix of his last cigarette and beer. You didn’t realize how much you’d missed his touch, his lips against yours. Joel hummed into the kiss, nose bumping into yours as he held you close, thumb ghosting over your skin. The kiss was quick, but still tender, and when you broke apart, the embarrassment from earlier had faded.

“Missed your lips baby,” he whispered against them, emphasizing his words with another peck.

“You did?” your voice was breathless, eyes half lidded from his affection.

He didn’t answer, only catching your lips in another mind-blowing kiss. His hand not on your cheek traveled from your waist to the curve of your ass, where it squeezed. You jumped a little from his touch, breaking his kiss. Immediately Joel removed his hands, catching himself as he took a step back.

“No?” he asked, eyes searching yours.

A flood of warmth filled your chest, “No, it’s okay– it’s just… late.”

His eyes softened at your words, his palm finding your cheek again to softly rub his thumb over your skin, “I’m sorry.”

You shook your head, “It’s okay…” you trailed off, your hand grabbing his other hand to intertwine your fingers, “Let’s go to bed?”

With his hand in yours Joel trailed after you down the hallway.

“The bathroom is just in here if you wanna use it?” you stopped at the end of your hallway, pointing to your closed bathroom door. Joel gave you a short nod and a smile, and let go of your hand, but not before giving it a little squeeze.

You stepped backwards to push open your bedroom door while he vanished to your bathroom. The alarm clock on your bedside table showed 3.08 in big red letters when your eyes flickered to it as you pulled at the strings of your silk robe. You twisted out of it and hung it back on the hook on your door, before you climbed back into your bed, waiting for Joel.

He walked into your room a few minutes later. You watched him from under the covers, eyes hooded with tiredness as he shed his clothes. Naked, safe for his briefs, he haphazardly folded his clothes, eyes flitting around your room for a place to put them.

“You can just leave them on the dresser,” you said, all cozy under the covers.

Sending you a small nod he sauntered over to your dresser with his clothes half-folded in his hand, where he placed them down gently. He stood there for a moment longer with his back turned, something catching his eye.

“So,” he spoke up, “what’s the review?”

“Huh?” You were confused.

You watched how his shoulders shook, grabbing something off your dresser before turning around, hiding it behind his back as he closed the space between you. You were still confused, a furrow pulling at your eyebrows.

“What d’ya prefer? This,” he started, revealing what he was hiding behind his back, “Or the real thing?”

In his hand he held the box with the dildo he’d modeled for. You’d forgotten all about it in your back seat while you were in Pismo Beach, only noticing it again as you’d parked outside your apartment. You had been meaning to give it back to Joel, didn’t take his ‘joke’ of you keeping it at face value, but then you’d forgotten all about it, leaving you with no choice other than to bring it inside.

“Joel,” you felt a flash of heat burn your cheeks.

“What? I wanna know,” he grinned, fingers fiddling with the cardboard to open it.

You gave him a chastising kick from under the covers, trying to shut the conversation down, but it only made him huff out a laugh.

“I don’t know, I haven’t tried it,” you said truthfully. The thought hadn’t even crossed your mind.

“What? Not even once,” his eyebrows knitted together, he almost looked disappointed.

You shook your head, “I was gonna give it back to you when I dropped you off on Friday, but it slipped my mind.”

“Why? I gave it to you,” he pulled the dildo out, the supposed perfect recreation of his package.

“Joel, you couldn’t have been serious about that?” you breathed out a laugh. It was hard to take him seriously with the toy in his hand.

“Well, now I’m a little disappointed, sweetheart,” he placed the box and the dildo on your bedside table, next to your alarm clock, “I really wanted to know your thoughts.”

He crept up the bed as you shifted over to make space, holding open the duvet for him to slip under.

“I’m sorry, Joel– I just didn’t think you were serious about that… and,” you trailed off when he wrapped his strong arms around your body, twisting around in his arms as he pulled you close against him.

“And, what?” he said, his breath huffing against the shell of your ear.

“I… uh, I haven’t… since,” you didn’t know how to say it.

But Joel knew, pulling you closer to rock his hips against your ass, “Haven’t what, sweetheart? Touched yourself?”

He wasn’t hard, but he wasn’t not hard – you could feel the semi he was sporting against your backside. It made you lose your trail of thought, as memories of the last time he held you against his body like this, filled your mind.

You had enough sense to shake your head, not trusting your voice to come out as words and not a strangled moan.

“No?” he teased with another rock of his hips, “Well, I have, sweetheart– touched myself thinkin’ of you.”

“Joel,” you couldn’t fight the whine from escaping as he rocked his hips against you again, his big hand slipping under your nighty.

“Touched myself thinkin’ about this beautiful fuckin’ body of yours,” his hand splayed over your tummy, traveling upwards to grab at your breast. “Thought about these pretty tits,” his voice got lower, whispering in your ear as he flicked a finger over your nipple, making you sigh. He let go of your breast, hand gliding down your body to ghost over the hem of your panties, “And this tight little pussy,” he finished.

“Joel,” you sighed, body reacting automatically to his touch. His breath in your ear sent goosebumps down the whole of your body, and a whine fell from your lips as he palmed your heat over your panties, feeling your arousal starting to soak the cotton.

“Yes, sweetheart, say my name as I touch your pussy. Tell me who’s makin’ you feel good.”

Fuck, it took all your strength to gather your thoughts, “Joel, it’s–” you let out a gasp as his fingers found your clit.

“What, baby?”

“It’s– It’s late,” you managed to breathe out.

And just like that, the spell was broken. His hand slipped from your cunt to rest over your waist. You twisted around to face him, a pang of guilt filling your chest.

“I’m s-sorry, I just–”

He cut you off by pressing his lips against yours in a quick kiss. “Don’t you apologize to me,” he said, eyes boring into yours, “If you ain’t feelin’ it, I ain’t feelin’ it, okay?”

You felt yourself nod, your chest filling with gratefulness. You wanted Joel so much, you did, you wanted him to feel good, but you didn’t want it at 3am when you had to wake up in four hours.

“Thank you,” you whispered gratefully, your forehead falling against his.

He shifted his face, cheek brushing against your forehead until you felt him press a kiss to your skin. “Nothin’ to thank me for, my sweet girl.”

You shifted closer to him, cheek boring into his naked chest, “It’s not that I don’t want to,” you told him, “I’m just so tired.”

Pulling you closer to his body, Joel wrapped his strong arms around you, “’s okay, baby, you just close your pretty eyes, okay?”

You nodded against his head before you whispered, “Good night, Joel.”

“Night, sweet girl.”

“Hey,” you felt a nudge in your side pull you from your dream, “How d’you turn off this thing?”

Then you heard it. Your alarm. The beeping was loud and obnoxious, but it did the job to wake you, usually.

With heavy limbs you sat up on your elbow, goosebumps spreading over the newly exposed skin as you leaned over Joel’s body to press the snooze button. His big hands found your waist when you leaned back, guiding you to straddle his body.

His lips found yours in a soft kiss, then another before he mumbled, “Good mornin’,” against your lips.

He didn’t give you the chance to reply as he pulled you into yet another kiss. It took you by surprise, your hand coming up to press into the pillow next to his head, to hold your weight. Under the duvet you felt his hand travel down your body, slipping under the hem of your nighty and dragging upwards, cupping your ass as he pulled the fabric with him. His touch ignited something in you, making you whimper against his lips.

“There she is,” he whispered, pulling away from your lips with a loud smack to press kisses along your jaw. It made you sigh, your body going lax in his arms as he pulled you closer, mind going blank from his loving. Then he suddenly tightened his arms around your body, his strong hand splaying over your back as he flipped you around to lay on your back beneath him. A small yelp fell from your lips at the sudden movement, the yelp turning into a giggle when he dived into the crook of your neck, his mustache tickling you as he pressed small kisses against your skin.

With a hasty hand he balled the fabric of your nighty in his hands, pushing it up your body to reveal your naked body to him. He sucked a breath through his teeth at the sight, eyes hungry with lust as they raked over your form.

“Need to fuckin’ taste you, sweetheart.” His voice was a low rasp, coated in residual sleep and arousal, “Been thinkin’ about how sweet you taste this whole weekend.”

You couldn’t hold back the whine at the back of your throat at his words, hips bucking by their own accord where he had your legs splayed open over his thighs. Arousal spread like electricity through your body, where it pooled like dripping honey in your tummy.

“Please,” you begged when his fingers found the hem of your panties, his pointer finger dipping beneath the band to run it across your skin.

“Yeah?” he coaxed, “Want me to eat your little pussy, sweet girl?” his finger stretched at the elastic, letting it slap against your skin as he pulled away. Under him you whined, frantic hands finding the back of his neck to pull him closer to you. In your hurry to kiss him, you missed his mouth, clumsily bumping your nose into his instead.

It made him breathe out a shallow chuckle, “Okay, baby, okay. I’ll take care of ya.”

He pulled back from you, your hands around his neck falling to your sides, and softly hitting your mattress. Grabbing at the soft flesh at the back of your thighs, he spread them wider, putting your covered cunt on display for him. His eyes drank in your body, studied how soft and pliant you’d gone from his touch.

You watched his face, his eyes, his lip twitching with a wicked smile when you jumped under his finger, starting to press slow circles down on your covered clit. He dipped his finger lower, caressing your folds over the fabric before he pressed two fingers into your covered hole as far as your panties allowed. You could feel how soaked you already were, your dripping cunt fluttering around nothing when he pulled back.

“Let’s get you out of these, huh?” he said, voice dripping with pity, “My sweet girl’s just beggin’ to be touched, ain’t she?”

To your own surprise you managed to peep out an answer, “Yes.” Your voice came out strangled and begging, your mind clouded over with Joel.

“Yes, that’s right, baby, you’re such a good girl, let me hear you.” He hooked his finger under the elastic, tapping your ass lightly. You lifted up off the mattress, helping him drag your soaked panties down your legs.

Under him you felt your mouth drop open slightly, watching him as he clasped your panties in his hand, his thumb rubbing at the wetness with a cocky smile tugging at the corner of his lips. With his thumb coated in you, he dropped your panties, losing them in the sheets as he brought his attention back on you.

His eyes bored into yours as he lowered himself between your legs pressing soft kisses against your inner thigh. His big hands splayed over the back of your legs, pushing them closer to your chest to putt your naked and dripping cunt back on display. You held your breath as you waited for him to finally touch you where you wanted, but then he hesitated. The air was charged with arousal, his breath fanning over your throbbing clit. A thought of how you might die if he didn’t touch you soon, crossed your mind.

With a desperate whine, your hand tangled in his hair. You didn’t know what to do, so you begged, “Please, Joel?”

His eyes found yours immediately, where he saw how much you needed him, but he needed it in words, “Y’want me to touch you, sweetheart? To eat your pussy?”

“Yes,” the words fell from your lips so fast you almost cut him off, “Please,” you added for good measure.

Your consent was all he wanted. He dipped his head to lick ever so gently at your clit, making you mewl under him, a needy desperate sound, begging for more. When he wrapped his lips around your clit, and sucked, that’s when you turned into a withering moaning mess under him, hips bucking into his mouth, chasing more of the pleasure he was giving you.

Joel hummed against you, the bass of his voice vibrating against your most sensitive spot, pulling you deeper under the blanket of pleasure.

When his hand loosened its grip around the back of your thigh to caress your folds, a moan got caught in your throat. “P-please” you stuttered, dying to have his fingers split you open and coaxing you towards your release.

But Joel removed his fingers, continuing to explore you with his tongue instead. He dipped down, tongue lapping at your folds, tasting your arousal like he told you’d he’d been dying to. With one fat lick up the length of your pussy he took your clit back in his mouth, going back to lapping and circling it just right, coaxing you closer and closer.

“Fuck.”

You were hauling quickly towards your orgasm. Your eyebrows twisted together in a tight frown, fingers gripping and tugging at his hair, your leg close to shaking with the intensity. You were right there on the edge.

Then he abruptly pulled away. The disappointing mewl escaped you on instinct, and Joel laughed. Laughed. Your heart twisted in on itself at the sound.

“W-what?” you muttered, confusion painting your features when he sat up.

Joel grinned down at you, a mischievous glint in his eye as he leaned down to your face and cupped your chin, his thumb rubbing your skin with tenderness.

“Want you to be good f’me, sweet girl, can you do that?”

Your head moved in his hand, a timid nod as you searched his face. “I–I can be good.”

His grin widened, all teeth and crinkles around his eyes. He squeezed your cheeks together lightly, a small pout forming to kiss away.

“Good girl.”

His mustache tickled your cupid’s bow, and you could taste yourself on his tongue, taste how desperate for him you were.

He left you breathless when he pulled away, your body all loose and pliant from his touch, not registering what he was doing until he was back to sitting between your legs. Your eyes raked over his body, his broad shoulders, trailing his happy trail down his torso to his waist, noticing the shape of his hard cock in his briefs, a wet spot staining them where the head was.

Fuck, you wanted him inside you.

Then you noticed his hands, and what he was in them. The dildo, of him. You shifted up the bed in surprise. Your nighty fell down over your chest as you sat up on your elbows, watching him with wide eyes.

He watched you too, turning the dildo in his hand to nudge at your entrance as he leaned forward to hover over your body, a big hand on your chest pushing you down.

“Are you gonna be good?” 

“Joel,” you gasped, feeling your hole flutter in anticipation.

“Are you?” he pressed, rubbing the silicone head slowly up and down your folds, coating it in your arousal.

“Y-yeah, y-yes,” you nodded, face heating from the obscene slick sounds of your arousal.

With a wicked grin, his eyes flicked back to your aching cunt, before he pushed the head inside slowly, feeding your more and more until the dildo was buried inside you. A broken moan fell from your lips, mouth dropping open from the pleasure of being stretched.

“There you go, sweetheart. ‘s big stretch, isn’t it? Doing so good for me, my good girl, honey, my good fuckin’ girl.”

He pushed the toy in and out in shallow thrusts, working you open around the fake cock. It wasn’t the same, but still the stretch was divine. With his eyes glued to your cunt he pulled the dildo all the way out, only the head notched at your entrance, before slowly thrusting in all the way. You whimpered when you felt him nudge at your spot inside, your hand desperately grabbing for his other arm to anchor you from falling over the edge too soon.

“Joel,” you whimpered, “P-please, t-touch m-my–”

Joel picked up his pace, fucking you faster and deeper with the dildo, the obscene squelching sounds of your cunt filled the air between your moans. His grip tightened in your hand, guiding it to hover over your clit.

“Touch your what, honey?” He teased, pressing your fingers down, guiding them in tight circles.

“Ah– fuck,” you whimpered, eyes squeezing shut as you felt the coil in your tummy tighten, and tighten, and tighten.

Then it all became too much. With a broken cry you came, squeezing hard around the fake cock. Joel continued fucking you, a small gush of liquid pouring down over the toy with each thrust, as you pulsed and squirmed around it.

Catching your breath, you came down from your high, while small jolts of pleasure crashed over you, making your legs shake like a leaf in a storm. It was like your ears were ringing, before you realized they were actually ringing.

“This fuckin’ alarm,” Joel muttered, hovering over you to turn it off.

His voice brought you back to earth, as you turned your head to look at the time. Shit, you were gonna be late!

With shaky hands you glided your hand down your cunt to grab at the base of the toy still inside you, “Joel, we’re gonna be late for your meeting,” you murmured, slipping the dildo from your cunt. Everything was sticky and messy between your legs, a big wet stain growing under your ass.

Joel pushed your hand away, like he was scolding you for touching what was his. “We can be a little late, sweetheart,” he said calmly, before ducking down to press a kiss to your clit.

You shifted up the bed, away from his touch, anxiety an endless spiral in your tummy. “No, we can’t, Joel– They told me it’s a pitch for a new movie, you’ll miss out on a big opportunity if you don’t show.”

Between your legs, Joel’s head dropped to your chest, as a pained sigh left his lungs. He went quiet for a beat as you watched the messy curls at the top of his head, then he lifted his head to look at you, “Okay, then.”

You felt bad leaving him hanging as you both got out of bed, his rock-hard cock strained desperately against the fabric of his briefs – just dying to be touched.

“Joel, I-I’m sorry,” you closed the space between you, snaking your arms around him.

“Sweetheart, ya need to stop apologizin’”, he placed a dry kiss to the top of your head, steady hands finding your waist. Your heart swelled in your chest. He made you feel so safe.

You almost muttered another ‘I’m sorry’, before catching yourself, “Okay,” you nodded against his chest. You basked in his touch for another minute, his strong arms around you, breathing in the comforting scent of him – the intoxicating mix of his faded cologne, cigarettes and sex.

“You were enjoyin’ it though, weren’t you?” Joel asked as he pulled away. You could see the cheeky smile tugging at the corners of his lips as he looked down at you, “So tell me, sweetheart... it better’n the real thing?”

“No,” you said, your own teasing smile tickling your lips as you detangled yourself from him, and turned around to head towards the bathroom, “Real thing’s better.”

Suddenly you felt his hands on your hips, and then Joel was pulling you back against him. He pressed himself against you so you could feel how hard he still was, his aching cock barely contained by his briefs.

“Attagirl,” he half-whispered, half-groaned into your ear, breath fanning over your neck and making you shiver. 

“I need a shower,” you said with a giggle, stepping away from him before turning around again, only for Joel to pull you close once more. He found your eyes, his hands barely loosening their grip on your body. You could still feel him against you, his hard cock now pressed against your stomach. “Do you… maybe,” you bit down on your bottom lip, wide eyes searching his face.

“Wanna shower with you?” he helped you with a grin, and you nodded.

Your shower was cramped, too small to fit two people, and even though you had been the one to ask, you still felt nervous under the streaming water. He looked so good; your eyes couldn’t help but trail the water droplets racing down his thick muscles. He watched you too, but more openly, his eyes not afraid to trail down your body – to glide over your tits, down your back, and over the curve of your ass.

And then there was his cock, still hard and leaking, making its presence known between you like a third person. What made it worse was that he didn’t even acknowledge it, just went about washing his body like nothing, pushing back his wet curls as he rinsed your shampoo from his hair.

Did he want you to say something? The thought fluttered in your stomach.

“Um, Joel?” your voice echoed against the tiles.

You watched as he tipped his head forward from under the showerhead, eyes blinking at you as soapsuds hit his broad shoulders and ran down his chest.

“You know– um… I can–”

Jesus Christ! Could you be less sexy.

When he didn’t say anything, you breathed out a nervous sigh, eyes flitting down to his cock, hoping he would take the hint.

And he did.

“You wanna touch my cock, sweet girl?” His whole demeanor shifted.

“Would that– would that be okay?” you said, your teeth catching on your bottom lip.

“More than okay, sweetheart,” he said, with a devilish grin.

You took a few steps closer, a shaky hand landing on his waist while the other hovered between your bodies, right above where his heavy cock twitched in anticipation.

You didn’t know what to do. Well, you did. You’d seen it enough times at work to know, but you’d never actually done it before. Another reminder of just how inexperienced you were when it came to all of this. You looked at him with uncertainty, for guidance, and without uttering a single word, Joel knew what you were asking.

He curled his fingers around your wrist, bringing it up to his face, and spat. Using that tender grip he guided your hand down between your bodies again – the back of your hand brushed against the rough hair of his happy trail – and down to the base of his aching cock.

“There ya go,” he whispered as your fingers wrapped around him, Joel’s spit smearing over his shaft as you moved upwards in an experimenting stroke, “Good girl, just like that,” he hissed through his teeth.

You tilted your head to watch his face. Watched how his eyes were so fixated on your hand wrapped around him as you began to slowly stroke his cock, familiarizing yourself with the weight and feel of him in your hand. You didn’t miss the way his breathing shifted, releasing a sound you’d never heard come from his lips before. A whimper.

“Am–am I doing okay?” you asked, your eyes following his down to your hand wrapped around him. He was so big in your hand, your fingers struggling to meet around the girth of him.

He hissed out a strained laugh. “Yeah, baby, you’re doing so good– massage the head for me a little,” Joel groaned.

You did as you were told, bringing your hand up to the tip with a tug, squeezing out a pearl of precum. It dripped down over your hand, your thumb skating over the sensitive head, and smearing it all over.

“Shit,” Joel hissed, “keep doin’ that, sweetheart, bein’ so good f’me,” he praised, encouraging you.

You’d never seen Joel like this before. So at your mercy– at anyone’s mercy – always the one to take charge. But now he was falling apart from your touch. He encouraged you further as his breath got heavier. You sped up the strokes over his cock, and his body slumped into yours, face buried in the crook of your neck, as he whispered breathy babblings of praise into your skin. A glowing feeling of pride grew in your chest as you brought him closer and closer to his release.

“I’m close, baby,” he whimpered in your ear, “don’t fuckin’ stop.”

So you didn’t.

With your hand tight around his cock, you quickened your pace, tracing your thumb over his slit just like he’d told you to do earlier. A slick noise of spit and precum echoed against your bathroom tiles. His thighs tensed, his hand grabbed at your waist to pin you to his body, and you knew he was right on the edge.

“Fuck, I’m comin’.”

With a string of praising curses, he came apart in your hand. His thighs clenched, his heavy balls tightening as cum spurted from his tip in ribbons over your hand. The bass of his voice vibrated against your skin, as you continued working him through his high, slicking up your hand and fingers even more.

You squeezed him until there was only a small dribble pearling at his tip. A white stream of cum ran down his cock and down to his balls, dripping down onto the tiles of your shower floor. And then it was too much, and Joel hissed, lifting his head from the crook of your neck to dab your hand away.

He didn’t say anything, only grabbing your face with both hands, crashing his lips against yours in a desperate kiss. With your hand messy from his release, you didn’t know where to touch him, opting to grab at his elbow with your other hand to steady yourself.

Out in the hallway, your phone rang, forcing you to breathlessly pull away. With a sorry smile, you ran your messy hand under the showerhead before quickly pulling at the shower curtain.

The phone rang loudly as you tiptoed down the hallway. Water droplets ran down your skin, leaving a trail of dark spots on the carpet. Your hand clung to the towel you’d wrapped around yourself while the other hurried to answer the phone.

“Hello?” you sang.

“Hi, sweetie, it’s your uncle,” a gruff voice answered.

“Oh, hi,” you said, leaning against the wall.

Down the hall your bathroom door opened, steam framing Joel’s body as he stepped out naked as the day he was born, with a towel resting over his shoulders. His heavy cock soft between his strong thighs– it was like a scene straight out of a porno, one he’d probably starred in. He caught your eye, and smiled, making his way towards you as he brought the towel up to dry his hair, his biceps flexing with the effort.

“What was that?” you stuttered, completely missing what your uncle had said on the other end.

“Almost hung up on ya, I said,” your uncle repeated.

“Sorry, I was just getting out of the shower.”

“I was just calling to say I’m driving a Corvette down to LA in a couple of days for a client. Was thinking I’d take you out to dinner– catch up– make sure you’re not getting up to any trouble down there,” he laughed.

His tone was lighthearted, but you couldn’t help but cringe. The trouble in question reaching his hand out to trace a drop trailing down your exposed collarbone, ducking down to place a teasing kiss to your skin.

“D-dinner sounds nice,” you managed to choke out, “Um, I know a nice Italian place down in Santa Monica.”

“Sounds great, sweetie! I’ll call ya after I’ve dropped off the car Thursday afternoon,” your uncle’s static voice replied.

“Thursday afternoon,” you repeated, “Ok, see you then!”

“So…” Joel started, his arms snaking their way around your form. “I ain’t the only man who wants a piece of ya,” he joked, after you’d hung up the phone,

“That was my uncle, Joel,” you let him know, your body melting against his touch.

“He’s takin’ you to dinner?” he queried.

“Yeah,” you nodded, “he’s driving a car down here for work, so he wanted to see me.”

Joel hummed, dropping his head to brush his lips over yours as his hand splayed over your waist slid down to the curve of your ass.

“Nonono,” you chuckled, pulling away, “Joel, we’re already late as is!”

“So what,” Joel groaned, pulling you back for another kiss, hands tightening their grip on your ass, before trailing soft kisses to the corner of your mouth, “We could stay in ya know... enjoy the real thing.”

Joel’s kisses continued along the line of your jaw, teeth grazing your skin.

“As tempting as that sounds,” you let out through a small groan as you felt his tongue tickle that spot under your jaw, “We can’t cancel this meeting.”

Joel’s lips stopped their descent towards your neck, and he took a breath, the force of it tickling your skin, before he lifted his head, lips grazing across your jaw as he kissed the corner of your mouth again.

“Later,” you promise him, eyes looking into his. Joel’s smile was wistful, another small sigh escaping through his nostrils before he brushed his lips over yours.

“Later.”

“Let’s get started? Or do we want some coffees before we start?” Ronald asked from his seat at the head of the table.

You were seated in a chair in the corner, the cigarette smoke hung low over the room. In your lap your notebook rested, cracked spine opened to a random blank page while your fingers fiddled with your pen.

All the big important men from VCA were here, eager to finally work with the infamous Joel Packer on their new big-budget project. The last couple of years had been big for Joel, multiple magazine photoshoots, longer features and obviously modeling for a sextoy, but this film would be his biggest opportunity. It would bring in a lot of money, and Ronald knew it. He couldn’t hide the dollar signs in his eyes behind his ‘friendly’ grin.

“Ey, sweetheart!” Ronald raised his voice. You lifted your gaze from your notebook, curious as to what he was yelling about.

“Yeah, you!” He looked straight at you, a hand waving you towards him. Did he forget your name? You wouldn’t put it past him.

Leaving your notebook and pen in your chair you walked over to him, hands wringing behind your back as you stood behind Joel where he sat to Ronald’s right. He looked at you with impatience, a crude finger motioning you closer.

“Why don’t you go get us all some coffees, sweetie?” he spat out the order, his sour breath hitting you in your face.

“Um, uh,” you looked to Joel for help. This wasn’t your job; this was a job for an intern. It was important for you to be here, to take notes, to know what arrangements needed to be done, and which people to call.

“Um, uh,” Ronald parroted, “just do it– isn’t it what I’m paying you for?”

It wasn’t, but now everyone was looking at you. Everyone except for Joel. His gaze bored into the teak in front of him, fingers tightly pinched around a cigarette. With no help from Joel, you held your tongue and muttered a “Yes, sir,” to Ronald before you turned on heels.

“Alright! I wanna start by introducing Cheryl here, making her film debut alongside Joel–” you heard Ronald start as you slipped through the door of the meeting room.

Outside the meeting room, you were met with a brown hallway, identical to the left and right. Wood paneling clad the walls, and you couldn’t help your eyes from peeking through the glass partition walls of other meeting rooms as you made your way down the hall. Everything looked the same. You turned a corner, and you swore you’d been there before. After walking for what felt like a small eternity, you made it to a break room with a small kitchenette.

The coffee in the pot looked old and stale, and you poured it out in the sink. As you waited for the fresh pot to brew you searched through the cupboards for a coffee carafe. The cupboards of the kitchenette were pretty empty, only filled with mugs and drinking glasses. With a sigh you kneeled to look through the cabinet below the sink.  You tried your best to be fast, not wanting to miss anything important. Finally, you found what you were looking for. With fresh coffee in one hand, and paper cups in the other, you made your way back down a hallway you hoped would bring you back to the meeting.

A couple of wrong turns later you let out a sigh of relief as you peaked Joel through the glass partition wall of the meeting room. This better be good enough for Ronald, you thought as you opened the door, not bothering to knock.

“And I think that’s about it,” one of the men opposite Joel said as you placed the coffee and paper cups on the table, “We’ll break for lunch and go ahead with the chemistry test later today.”

Did you really just miss the whole meeting?

“Sounds great,” Ronald said, pushing his chair out, and standing to his feet to shake the hands of the men from VCA. Then the rest of the room came alive as people got up from their seats and gathering their things. In front of you a chair bumped into you, pushing you a little off balance.

“Oh! Sorry– didn’t see you there.”

It was Cheryl, Joel’s new co-star. She was young, just turned twenty-one if you remembered correctly, and gorgeous. Her blonde hair, curled to perfection, cascaded down her back. Her light blue dress clung tightly to her body, accentuating her curves while the deep v-neck showed off her cleavage.

You shook your head and put on a smile, muttering an “It’s okay,” as you stepped out of her way, and shifted closer to Joel. He was busy gathering the papers spread out in front of him on the table, tapping them lightly against the teak before gathering them in his hands, turning towards you and Cheryl.

When you didn’t make a move to leave, Cheryl cleared her throat, widening her eyes at Joel as they flickered towards you. Your heart sunk in your chest. It didn’t take a genius to take her hint – you knew when you weren’t wanted.

“I’ll uh… I’ll wait for you down in the reception,” you muttered to Joel, “Let me know what you want for lunch, and I’ll get you something.” Before he could say anything, you turned around to leave, grabbing your notebook and pen.

You knew you shouldn’t have looked back as you made your way out the door, but you did. The cold stone in your chest sank lower as you watched them. Cheryl’s body curled towards Joel as they talked, her hand landing on his bicep as she let out a giggly laugh. It made your heart sting, but maybe not as much as the ache of watching Joel’s bright smile, the one he so often gave you.

Over fifteen minutes later, Joel finally walked into the reception where you waited for him. You were hard to miss where you sat on one of the couches, reading a magazine, the only person occupying the space.

“Whatcha readin’?” he asked, slumping down next to you, so close his arm brushed against yours.

You couldn’t watch his bright eyes, and the cheeky smile tugging at his lips. So, you held up one of the porn magazines you’d grabbed off the coffee table, blocking his view of your face, substituting it with the woman adorning the front and posing seductively to the camera, showing off the biggest boobs you’d ever seen.

“Industry news,” you shrugged.

You earned yourself a chuckle, “Anythin’ interestin’?”

“Not really,” you sighed, quickly shutting the magazine, and throwing it haphazardly on the table.

You could feel his warmth beside you, his broad frame, and strong arms. The same arms who’d held you so close this morning. Still, you didn’t look at him, your gaze falling to your fiddling hands in your lap. A piece of skin around your thumb had come loose, and it burned as you pulled at it.

“Um…” you started, still watching your hands, “What’s the plan for lunch? You want me to go down to that deli you like– get you a sandwich?”

Joel’s arm brushed against you as he shifted in his seat, bucking his hips slightly to fish out his pack of cigarettes from his back pocket. “Ain’t no need to do that for me, sweetheart,” he said, his voice slightly muffled by the cigarette between his lips.

“Well, it’s kinda my job,” you mumbled, your face pulling up into a slight frown as you ripped the loose skin around your thumb.

“Yeah– but,” Joel drew a breath of his cigarette.

Now you looked at him, eyebrows pulled tight in a real frown, “But what?”

He watched you, eyes dancing over your face as he took another drag, releasing the smoke out the corner of his mouth.

“Nothin’.”

You couldn’t interpret his face with the way he was looking at you, almost as he was searching for something. A silence grew between you – it was ugly and festering, like a canyon had grown between you – it was something you’d never felt with Joel before.

“A sandwich sounds nice,” he finally spoke across the silence, and you nodded.

“Um– can I borrow your car?” you asked, clearing your throat of your anxiety.

“Yeah, sweetheart.” It was like your question had woken him.

Joel had driven you both into work today, your car sitting pretty in its parking space outside your apartment complex. He rested his half-smoked cigarette in the ashtray on the table before he fished his car keys from his jeans pocket and handed them to you.

“They have me set up in a trailer out on the lot next door– I’ll wait for ya there, alright?” The hand handing you his keys locked around yours, caging them between your hands.

You squeezed his hand, the familiar weight of it in your hand, the tenderness in which he held you, made you feel a little better. Shrinking the deep canyon between you to a ravine.

“Um, why exactly?” you asked, eyes glued to your intertwined hands.

“Shit– sorry,” Joel shook his head and shifted closer to you, his knee brushing against yours, “they want me and Cheryl to have a chemistry test before they go ahead with signin’ the contracts. It’s nothin’ big or anythin’– just a blowjob.”

Just a blowjob.

You nodded slowly. It was just a blowjob, but it was a blowjob from Cheryl. Cheryl who was younger with the perfect body. Cheryl who made him smile and laugh. Cheryl who could give him a blowjob, and not some sorry excuse of a handjob.

“Oh, okay,” you peeped, loosening your grip around his hand, clasping the keys in your hand.

You got up from the couch before he could say anything more, “I’ll go get you your lunch then.”

His cigarette resting in the ashtray had burned out, like your conversation with Joel. You bent slightly to grab your purse when his hands clasped around your wrist, bringing your attention back on him.

“’s everythin’ alright?” he asked you as he got up from the couch as well, closing the space between you.

Your lips pulled into a smile, one you hoped was convincing, “Yeah! Why wouldn’t it?”

His other hand came up to cup your cheek gently, shifting your face to look at him. “’s just for work, you know,” he told you.

Your head was nodding even before he’d finished talking, your face still pulled tight in a smile, “Yeah, Joel, I know.”

“Okay,” he whispered and leaned closer. You shifted your face in his palm, his lips hitting your other cheek in a short peck before you were pulling away. His fingers like a bracelet around your wrist, fell heavy to his side.

“See you in a little bit,” you told him before pushing the door to the reception open and stepping outside.

Some forty minutes later you were knocking on a trailer door with the sign ‘Joel Packer’ hanging on the front. In your other hand you were balancing two coffees and a bag with two sandwiches. You knocked again when nothing happened, scared you’d shown up to the wrong trailer for a second, even with the sign telling you, you were in the right place.

“Joel? I have your lunch.”

“Come in,” he answered almost immediately.

You opened the trailer door and stepped inside, careful not to spill the coffees all over the carpeted floor of his trailer as you balanced everything. With the door closed you turned around, eyes scanning the cramped room for Joel.

He was laying on the couch, one hand down the front of his pants where he palmed himself over his briefs – a lazy smile resting over his features as he took you in.

“Oh! Sorry,” you quickly looked away, scurrying to place his food on the nearest table.

Behind you Joel got up from the couch, crossing the small space between you to wrap his arms around your body, and press his front against your ass. You jumped in his grasp, your hands finding his where they rested around your waist.

“Stop apologizin’” he whispered in your ear, his teeth catching on your earlobe, “was just gettin’ ready, baby,” his breath was hot against the column of your neck, and you felt his cock grow against your ass. “Ain’t gonna have any trouble gettin’ hard now though,” he chuckled.

“Joel,” you whined, the sound pathetic at the back of your throat.

“Yes, baby, let me hear ya,” you could feel the bass in his voice vibrate against your skin.

His hands spread over your body, drinking you in with his touch, grabbing at your breast while pressing tender kisses to your neck. You melted against him, body soft and pliant. In an instant you were back in your memories from this morning, and you couldn’t fight the whimper from falling from your lips. With closed eyes your memories mixed with your present. Images of how he’d kissed you, touched you, and taken care of you this morning blended with the firm press of his body against yours and his calloused hands exploring you; like how you could still see your reflection in rippling water.

“Joel,” you tried again.

“I know, my sweet girl,” he cooed.

Behind you he bucked his hips against your ass, the bulge of his hard cock splitting your cheeks. You felt your arousal wet your panties, an ache of anticipation settling in your core.

“Fuck, sweetheart– wish it was you getting on your knees for me later.” He whispered his filthy words in your ear with another buck of his hips. “Wanna feel your tight little throat around my cock as you choke on it.”

His confession made a nervousness intertwine itself with your blinding arousal. You turned around in his arms, your face nuzzled into the dip where his neck met his collarbone, “I-I’ve never done that before.” Your confession was barely a whisper, the words muffled into his skin.

His grip tightened around you, and you felt the way his body moved under your cheek, a comforting hand landed carefully at the back of your neck. His jaw and cheek bumped against the top of your head as he dipped down to your face and his breath changed like he was about to say something, but then was interrupted by a hollow knock on the trailer door.

“We’re ready for you on set in fifteen minutes, Mr. Miller,” a voice called.

With the knock the spell was broken. You untangled yourself from his embrace, a shy smile ghosting over your lips as you stepped away.

“You should eat.”

Again, you’d agreed to watch him film. Joel had convinced you on his way out the trailer door, his hand resting at the small of your back as he led you towards the set. It was a small shoot – only Joel and Cheryl, the cameraman, the sound guy, a couple people from VCA, Ronald, and you. In the time you’d worked for Joel, you couldn’t remember a set feeling this intimate (not that you usually stayed to watch– not unless he explicitly asked).

The only goal for the scene was to find out if Joel and Cheryl worked well together on camera – hence no specific storyline or roles they were supposed to act out. Joel was getting his dick sucked, but other than that they were free to take the scene whichever way they wanted.

The room buzzed with quiet conversation as the cameraman got the camera and film ready. Joel was already seated on the couch where the scene would take place. His legs were spread wide, his hard bulge on display as he leisurely smoked a cigarette. Cheryl had taken up the seat beside him, leaning her elbow on the back and resting her head in her hands. They were talking, but you couldn’t hear from where you stood in the corner. Every now and then Joel’s eyes would search for yours, meeting them for a moment as a small smile spread across his lips, before they would flick back to Cheryl, joining their conversation again.

A few minutes later, the cameraman gave the okay to start shooting, making the rest of the set settle down. Joel still smoked his cigarette, so you took it upon yourself to be a good assistant and walk over to him with an ashtray.

A smile spread across Joel’s face when he saw you approach. His arm came up to rest over the back of the couch, his body opening to you with curiosity. You gave him a small smile in return, presenting the ashtray to him with a teasing raise of your eyebrow.

“Just ‘nother drag, sweetheart,” he teased, placing his cigarette back between his lips.

“Nuh-uh,” you chuckled, stealing his cigarette from his mouth with two pinched fingers.

The rest of the smoke in his lungs came out in small chuckles, his hands gathering in his lap as he leaned slightly towards you, moony eyes watching you. He was about to say something before,

“Quiet on set,” the cameraman interrupted with a shout.

You wanted to do something. Cup his cheek, kiss him, anything to just touch him, but you couldn’t. You needed to keep it professional. Instead, you gave him another small smile before you walked back to your previous spot in the corner.

“And… action!”

With the shout of the cameraman, the film was rolling, and the shoot had started.

Leaning against the wall again, you crossed your arms over your chest as you watched Cheryl sink to her knees between Joel’s spread legs. On her lips she wore an innocent pout while her hands caressed his thighs.

“Wanna put my mouth on it,” she said in a sweet voice.

“Yeah, baby? What do you want in your pretty little mouth?” Joel’s voice was deep and coaxing, his hand cupping Cheryl’s chin where his thumb ghosted over her skin.

Cheryl tilted her face down slightly, eyes big and wide as she looked up at him through her lashes.

“Your cock, sir,” she pouted.

You still didn’t know much of the plot to the porno they were shooting, but it was clear that they were going in a specific direction. It wasn’t unusual for Joel to slip into a more dominant character in the pornos he played in, but this new element of innocence from his scene partner wasn’t something he often did.

“You want me to teach you how to suck cock like a proper whore, sweet girl?”

Sweet girl.

You watched how Cheryl’s head nodded in his palm, teeth catching on her bottom lip, and a wicked smile tugged at the corners of Joel’s mouth. It made you shift your weight, arms tightening around your body.

“Alright…” Joel’s thumb ghosted over her bottom lip, “Take my cock out,” he ordered, pulling his hand away.

Cheryl obediently did as he said, her hands messing with the buttons on his jeans. Joel wasn’t wearing anything underneath – it was easier that way, he’d told you earlier in his trailer. Cheryl gasped as Joel’s hard cock sprung free. Her eyes wide as she watched how his cock slapped against his lower stomach.

“’s big isn’t it, sweet girl?”

Again.

Your teeth caught on your bottom lip, pulling at the loose skin with a burning ache.

“So big, sir,” Cheryl agreed, nodding her head.

“Too big for your little mouth, sweetheart?” Joel teased, taking himself in his hand, pulling gentle strokes up and down.

Cheryl shook her head again, “No, sir! I can take it!”

Joel huffed out a laugh at that, his grin growing wider. “Yes, you can, slut.”

His degrading words pulled a moan from Cheryl, and not a second later her mouth was on him. Joel laughed again, another huffing chuckle leaving him as his heavy hand came to rest at the top of her head, guiding her down on him.

“That’s it, slut, suck that big cock– take it all the way down that whore throat,” he encouraged, head tipping back in pleasure. The wet sounds echoing through the room were obscene, pornographic. Sticky strings of spit clung to Cheryl’s chin and dripped down to her breasts where she’d tugged at the V of her neckline to expose them.

“Feels so good, my sweet girl– just like that,” Joel moaned, eyes squeezed shut with a look of pleasure coating his features like he’d ascended to heaven.

My sweet girl.

The room spun, and you pressed your back harder against the wall, like it would fall down over you if you didn’t press up against it. Or maybe it was you who would cave in.

That pet name. That fucking pet name.

You needed to step out if you wanted to breathe, your throat tightening up as your thoughts drifted; to this morning in your bed and then again in the shower, to the two of you in that motel bed, to Joel’s hand on your knee as he’d knelt in front of you by the pool in Pismo Beach. Burning tears pressed behind your eyelids. You couldn’t watch any more, couldn’t hear any more, you couldn’t.

As quietly as you could you stepped out of the set. Your eyes pinched together in a squint as the hot LA afternoon sun blazed down on you. The air hot and stuffy, but not as suffocating as you felt inside.

Why did you feel this way? Jealous of another woman?

Joel wasn’t your boyfriend… at least not in so many words, but after Pismo Beach and his confession, he felt like yours. Someone you can’t help but fall in love with. That’s what he’d told you.

You couldn’t keep your thoughts from spiraling. Fall in love with? How could he be in love with you? You’d only had sex twice, never been on a proper date. You didn’t know who he was outside work. His touch and his kisses felt good, but how could you know if it was more than that – more than just something physical. He’d never called you his girlfriend. Why did you have any right to be upset right now?

This was his job. You knew that before you got involved with him. It wasn’t a problem for you, you’d told him so in the job interview. You’d spoken the truth at the time, but now you weren’t so sure.

Numbed by your realization, you stepped back inside. The scene you were met with only affirmed your thoughts.

You couldn’t give him what he wanted.

They’d moved positions. Cheryl’s head hung off the armrest, perfect boobs bouncing beneath Joel as he fucked her throat. It was lewd, and dirty and plain vulgar. With every thrust of his hips Joel earned himself a quiet gag. Under him, her body was completely at his mercy. He pulled back every once in a while, to let her breath, before plunging his hard cock back down her throat. Ropes of bubbling spit escaped her mouth and ran down her face.

Joel was completely in control, using her throat purely for his own pleasure. Groans and moans spilled from his lips in between filthy praises and ‘good girl’’s. Cheryl’s body squirmed under him, her hand rubbing quickly at her clit under her dress, edging herself towards her orgasm.

This is what Joel wanted. Someone like Cheryl– someone who was confident and skilled, someone who knew what she was doing.

You watched Joel’s thrusts turn sloppy, and that now familiar pinch in his brow let you know he was about to bust his load. With a quick motion he jerked his cock back, taking his throbbing and sensitive cock in hand, fisting himself quickly. Cheryl gasped for air, before she withered with her orgasm.

Joel groaned louder than you’d ever heard him before, his eyes flicking up from Cheryl’s squirming body to find yours. A smile spread across his face then, and then he was spilling over his knuckles and painting Cheryl’s face with his release.

“Shit,” Joel panted, coming down. His hand squeezed the last few drops of his cum out of his cock and onto Cheryl’s tongue.

“Aaaand– cut,” the camera man yelled.

Joel dropped the act immediately, stepping away from a ruined Cheryl as his cock went soft in his hand.

“Shit,” Cheryl groaned, wiping some of the mix of spit and Joel’s cum from her face.

“You okay?” Joel asked, tender hands helping her sit upright.

Cheryl giggled sweetly, big smile blossoming over her features, “Okay? More than okay, Joel– fucking amazing.”

As the gentle lover you knew him to be, Joel helped Cheryl clean up her face after getting handed a towel, but not before assessing the picture he’d painted– which wasn’t much, not compared the cumshots he usually gave out.  

“If I knew I’d be filmin’ today I wouldn’t have jerked of this morning,” he laughed, wiping her face.

It wasn’t funny.

part three -> here

i hope this was okay? and that you liked this! <3 as always feedback as a comment, in the tags, as an ask or reply is very much appreciated, and they make me super happy! <3

[lovelyhan]

— hoax ⟢

pairing: joshua x reader

summary: you’re a hostess that’s drowning in debt, and jisoo is a man with too many secrets to keep. making a clean break for it isn’t as easy as you’d hoped.

word count: 18.6k words

tags: mafia!shua, strangers to lovers, angst, smut

warnings: shua smokes cigarettes & has tatts...i think that should be a warning LOL, mentions of shady mafia business but nothing detailed, graphic sexual content (minors dni!!)

notes: psa that this is a fic i originally wrote for another fandom, but decided to repurpose for svt! in case you find the narration familiar, it's posted on ao3 as a genshin fic, i just did some tweaks to the story to make it fit shua better hehe ++ i loved writing this so much, but it didn't get as much love as i expected back so i've decided to share this w caratblr as well :')

smut tags: dub con in one of the earlier scenes, protected & unprotected sex, shua & reader are both whipped as fuck

svt taglist: @wonderfulshinee - @misssugarlips - @yourfavoritefreakyhan - @jeanjacketjesus - @just-here-to-read-01 - @hanihans - @venusrae - @taestrwbrry - @minnie-mouser22 - @dreamhannies - @thvhannie - @kkooongie - @gae-uls - @lenireads - @gaebestie - @ryusha-rose - @spk93

joshua taglist: @renjunphile - @potatofrieswithketchup - @pretty-trustme

“Rei, time’s up!”

Your current patron groans with contempt at the manager’s announcement. He was a salaryman that’s probably in his thirties, and has been visiting the bar for about two weeks now. It didn’t take long for him to become one of your regular guests. 

“Rei, you’ll be here tomorrow, right?” he asks.

“Of course.” You flash him an apologetic smile as you untangle the arm that circles your waist. “I promise we’ll continue where we left off when you get back~”

This is how you normally appeared to your customers – the bubbliest escort in the entire red light district. It’s easy to lull men into a false sense of connection when you act so sweet and lovely; when you smile like the sun is in your eyes even in the middle of the night. In just six months of working in this place, the manager has considerably taken a liking to you, and you intend to keep up that track record just a few weeks more.

Then, you’d be free.

But no matter how much you doll yourself up for the evening; no matter how much money is signed on your paycheck, you can’t help but feel that something’s amiss. 

It’s a lingering thought that tickles the back of your head every now and again. Your fellow hostesses once told you that feeling the way you do was all part of the job. So once you start feeling uncomfortable in your own skin – under the gazes of your own lecherous patrons – you pour yourself a drink and throw your head back with a ditzy smile. Despite that steadily growing void in her heart, their beloved Rei will continue to grin and bear it. 

“They’re here again.”

You flash the manager a puzzled look once you make it back to the counter. “Who are we talking about?”

She presses her lips into a thin line, gesturing vaguely somewhere behind you. You manage to follow her line of sight discreetly, but when you see a pair of men in rugged suits seated near the entrance, your heart plummets to the pit of your stomach.

“I know you said you’ll deal with them, but they’re starting to unnerve the other girls,” the manager explains quietly. “Is it okay if you take care of this ASAP? I don’t want the bar to get mixed up in something bad.”

Dread sinks its claws into your skin as you mull over a response. The manager has been considerably patient with your dealings involving those loan sharks. But part of you knows that she’s only being this lenient because you were good at your job. 

“Yeah, sorry. I’ll go talk to them now,” you mumble.

Each stride you took feels like a step closer to your own grave. It’s always these same, two men keeping tabs on you – both with full sleeves of tattoos and a missing finger or two. It would make sense that the other girls didn’t like them lingering around the property. After all, your first instinct is always to steer clear every time you see them. 

“How can I help you?” you ask sweetly the moment you arrive at their table.

The first one glares at you through his tinted sunglasses, taking a drag of his cigarette none-too-discreetly. “Cut the crap. You know what we’re here for.”

He says your real name in a way that sounds like two sheets of styrofoam gnashing in your ears. You look around warily, hoping no one heard him.

“I go by Rei in my workplace, so I’d appreciate it if you addressed me as such,” you speak sternly, refusing to take a seat in their company. “What do you want this time? Didn’t we agree that I’ll be paying for the last installment this month?”

The second man snorts before bringing out an envelope from the lapel of his coat. “You sure about that? You got some nerve actin’ all feisty with the people kind enough to loan ya some cash.” 

You accept the envelope with trembling hands – brows cinched as you take out the document inside. But the longer you take to scan its contents, the wider your eyes become. 

It’s an approval notice for a loan of five million won, signed under your father’s name.

“W-What is this?” you stammer. “We didn’t submit any more loan requests.”

The first man shrugs – wholly unconcerned with your plight. And as he kills his cigarette on a crystalline ashtray, you feel your entire world crumbling before your eyes.

“Your old man specifically told us,” he began, words sounding more and more like a threat with each syllable. “That you’d take care of it all.”

You don’t know how you end up running barefoot in the streets after that. Your heels have long been ditched in an alley when you realized you can’t exactly get that far in them. And now, you’re mindlessly shouldering your way through the late night crowd – tuning out the people yelling your name in harsh voices. Those men came prepared; they even stationed a couple of their goons around the area. You can only evade them now because the streets were so packed, but you know better than push your luck.

Goddammit, you think to yourself – cringing a little when you step on a wet patch of something underfoot. I was almost free…

“Don’t let that bitch get away!”

Your body seizes up when you hear the loan shark’s voice closer than you anticipated. Fuck. They have you surrounded. 

In the midst of your momentary distraction though, you fail to see another person who’s also on the run. The same as you. While you did excellently in evading all the other passers-by, you ended up crashing into him in the middle of the busy street anyways – the impact making you stumble to the ground.

“Shit, sorry!” 

You look up with misty eyes – staring at the perpetrator with the intent to glare at him, but his doe-like gaze takes you by surprise. He’s adorned with a neatly-pressed suit, dark hair slicked back to perfection as he holds out a hand for you to take; the one not gripping a heavy-looking suitcase.

“I’m okay…” you mumble, getting back to your feet without accepting his help. “If anything, I should be the one who’s –”

“There she is!”

The two of you bristle at the loan shark’s voice, and you’re rooted to the spot – frozen with fear. You don’t notice the way the stranger you just ran into flickers his gaze between your trembling form and the lackeys coming from every direction. And you’re ignorant of how he manages to put two and two together before seizing your wrist.

“Come with me,” he murmurs, tugging you along before you can protest. 

You know you should be skeptical of him. The district you work in is the perfect environment for scheming assholes like the men who are after you to use as a stronghold. For all you know, this person is the same breed. But there’s something in his firm yet gentle grip that tells you he means no harm. Even as he makes you run faster, farther, you feel none of the dread that slowly crept on you the moment those loan sharks cornered you at the bar.

Your lungs are burning by the time you make it out of the busy streets – nothing but the chirp of cicadas ringing in your ears. Mystery man makes you sit on a bench just outside a small temple, and you’re not exactly in the position to refuse. 

“Ow…” You wince, glancing down only to see that your toes have cuts all over; blood and grime mixing with the wounds.

“Hmm. Wonder what a pretty thing like you got herself into,” the man sighs, raking a gloved hand through his messy black hair. “You sure you’re going to be okay?”

You don’t respond. You barely have the energy. The silence only deepens as you train your eyes on the ground. Your throat was parched from all that running, and you belatedly realize that you still haven’t eaten.

What’s worse is that the cuts on your feet sting like a bitch. Mystery man heaves a deep sigh, and you clearly hear the sound of leaves crunching beneath his shoes as he walks away. You try not to feel disappointed.

You didn’t expect him to stay and comfort you or anything like that. He was kind enough to go out of his way and take you somewhere those goons won’t be able to catch up. It would be stupid to ask for more. But still, you feel that hole in your heart rupture itself even wider – leaving you so hollow that you can’t even hope to fill the void anymore. 

Your makeup is running. Your pedicure is a mess. These are some of the things that you always cared to pay attention to before timing in for work. But now, with nowhere else to go, none of them seem to matter anymore. Even if you spent a significant amount of time getting ready for tonight, you can’t be assed to give a damn.

This is so fucking pathetic.

You don’t want to live like this – working at a goddamn cabaret club just to pay off the debts your father always keeps racking up. All he ever does these days is drink himself dead before dragging his ass to the nearest pachinko machine. You hate it. You hate him. What did you ever do to deserve all the shit that’s being thrown your way? 

Why do you have to deal with all of it alone?

“Here.”

You startle at the sound of your savior’s voice – surprised to see him as he tosses something on the ground in front of you. He came back? But what did he…

Are those sandals?

“I picked out a pair that matches your outfit best. Women are always particular about that kind of stuff, right?” he says nonchalantly, kneeling to the ground as he brings out a pack of wipes from a plastic bag. At that moment, you realize that he’s changed out of his stuffy gray suit in exchange for a pair of jeans and a ratty t-shirt.

Even his hair seems different now, like he'd washed out the wax keeping it in place. Now, it looks just a bit damp as the tips curl at the edges. How he managed to do all that so quickly, you have no clue.

“Hold still. I’m going to clean you up.”

You wince a little when the cool, wet tissue comes into contact with your skin. He doesn’t speak as he wipes off the blood and dirt from your feet, and you’re more mortified than grateful for his kind but uncalled for gesture. Is he trying to get you indebted to him? Are you going to have to pay this back, too?

A few moments later, you spot a general store a few blocks away and the pieces start to fit in your head. That must’ve been where he bought all this stuff. You look around as he continues cleaning you up, and notice that his suitcase is nowhere to be found either. Instead, he has a black knapsack hoisted across one shoulder – a red baseball cap hanging from one of the straps.

How did he manage to buy all this and get changed so quickly? Or were you just sulking about your stupid predicament for that long? 

“There we go,” he says, tossing the soiled tissues into a nearby trash can before covering your wounds with…cute band-aids? “I’m not really one to stick my nose into other people’s business, but my mom would never let me hear the end of it if she found out I left a poor woman for dead.”

Mom? “Okay, but you didn’t have to do all of…this.”  

Mystery man glances up at you with a lopsided smile – the light of the street lamps somehow accentuating the color of his eyes. He looks so much younger like this; dressed down like a college student in his first semester. Once he’s put all the bandages in place, he even goes the extra mile and slides the newly bought sandals on your now-clean feet.

“You’re right, pretty girl. I don’t have to.” He beams. “But that doesn’t mean I don’t want to.”

Your breath catches in your throat. Your heart skips a beat. Everything about him is still rightfully suspicious, but you find yourself oddly happy with the care he’s given. This is the first time someone’s been so nice to you in a long while.

“Now that you’re good to go, I best be on my way.”

All of a sudden, that fleeting bliss dissipates in a puff of smoke. “...Wait, what? W-Where are you going?”

The man rises back to his feet, and it occurs to you just how tall he is. You swallow the lump in your throat, instinctively backing away from him on the bench. He’s still wearing that endearing look he showed you earlier, but when he speaks again, his voice holds none of his initial warmth.

“Somewhere that has nothing to do with you.”

The words lance through your heart the moment they leave his lips, and you ask yourself, why do you feel so…sad about parting ways with a complete stranger? You don’t even know his name. It shouldn’t be a big deal, right?

You don’t say anything as he takes his baseball cap and eases it atop his messy hair. You don’t utter a word when he starts walking away for real. But the moment you recall the fate that awaits you back at the red light district, the ridiculous debt your father had foolishly signed, and the pathetic life you’ve been wanting to escape from for so long…

Your new sandals crunch against the fallen leaves as you run after him. Your heart nearly leaps into your throat from the adrenaline, and before he can go any farther, you catch the mystery man by the hem of his shirt. He doesn’t even flinch. As if he expected you to follow him right from the start. That makes you wonder if he thinks you’re being a nuisance, but at this point, you can’t bring yourself to care.

“Take me with you. Please.”

He stares along with an unreadable look – his doe eyes shining in the dark as he watches you clutch onto the fabric of his shirt. 

“If you come with me, you’ll never be able to go back,” he tells you up front. “You okay with that?”

In hindsight, maybe running away with a complete stranger isn’t far up in the best decisions you’ve made in life – god knows you’ve only made a few of those. Just because he showed you an ounce of kindness, doesn’t mean he’s a good person. 

Still, the answer comes to you quite easily.

“Yeah,” you say, more confident than you’ve ever been. “Anywhere is better than a dump like this…”

He considers your answer for a moment before letting out a soft laugh. “This town must’ve fucked you up pretty badly, huh? Poor thing.” Mystery man holds out his hand again, and you’re a bit too glad that he’s speaking to you nicely again. “The name’s Joshua.”

“Joshua…?”

Well, that was obviously an alias. You consider telling him the one you go by at the bar as well, but when your eyes rivet to the floral sandals he bought for you on a whim, you immediately assume that you should tell him the truth. Even if he was doing the exact opposite.

You give him your real name with little hesitation, face warming at the intensity of his gaze. But at that moment, you don’t really care what happens anymore. All you want is to escape reality without looking back.

If you have to cling to a complete stranger to achieve that, then so be it.

...

“You were just about to ditch me, weren’t you?” 

Joshua jolts like a cat dumped with ice-cold water – hand shying away from the doorknob of your hotel room with a sheepish look. “Me? Ditching you? You’re dreaming, princess!”

You let out an irritated noise, but your shoulders relax once you catch him plopping his bag on the mattress either way. He’s the one who told you that you can’t go back once you tagged along. You wanted to say that you’re going to make it his responsibility to take care of you, but your mother brought you up better than that.

Still…this all feels a bit surreal.

All your life, you’ve lived in the small town of Andong. You could never afford to make the trip to Seoul even if you wanted – given that a majority of your salary is dedicated to paying off those shitty loans. Yet now, you’re checked in one of the most beautiful hotels you’ve ever seen, courtesy of your stranger-than-life companion. 

Now that you’re in a clearer state of mind, you start to consider the possibility of Joshua being a foreigner; if his name wasn't already a dead giveaway in and of itself.

Another thing you’re left thinking about is how well-off he really is. Not everyone can just book a fancy room at a fancy hotel. But when the two of you showed up at the front desk earlier tonight, he was surprisingly received with warm hospitality. Although, you suppose that all guests are treated the same way in high-end hotels. Not that you would know.

“Well, since we’re stuck together anyways, I’ll be showering first,” he grumbles, tossing his cap on the nightstand as he musses his own hair. “Ahh, I can’t wait to crash into bed.”

“Wait a minute. I thought we agreed I was going to shower first –”

Joshua shuts the door to the en-suite, clicking the lock before you can even finish.

That jerk…!

You angrily sprawl yourself across the mattress as a petty means of getting back at him. Let’s see if he can crash into bed comfortably now! But the abrupt movement makes the bag that Joshua left rustle in place. You shift around until you’re seated on the bed, taking a quick peek at the opened zipper. Somehow, it doesn’t surprise you to see thick wads of cash inside. You knew that you were right on the money to think there’s more to him than meets the eye.

The more rational part of you insists that you get out of here while you still can. That man is probably more dangerous than you think, and even if he’s acting all cheeky with you now, there’s no telling when he’ll decide to cut you off. You remember how quickly Joshua's mirthful countenance morphed into something…scarier when you asked where he was going earlier. Long story short, you do not want to mess with that.

“Hey, princess. It’s your turn.”

You scramble on the bed at the sound of his voice as you compose yourself in a way that doesn’t suggest that you’ve been going through his stuff. Joshua emerges from the bathroom with steam billowing from the doorway – a fluffy towel hanging low on his hips. But now that he was liberated from the confines of his clothes, you realize that his body was actually inked.

Twin koi fish curled around both of his pecs – accentuating the contours of his chest better than you’d expect. And when he turns around, there’s a massive caricature of a dragon splayed across his muscular back. You don’t know whether he’s oblivious of your observant stare or he’s just letting you enjoy the show. But either way, Joshua grants you an eyeful of his tattoos for a good amount of time. 

He walks over to the table near the windows – grabbing a pack of cigarettes and a lighter you didn’t know he was carrying around. Joshua takes a stick between his teeth, and you can’t peel your eyes away from the way he takes a drag after he lights it. But when his deep brown gaze finally flickers to yours, you’re not quick enough to disengage.

“So how long are you going to stare at me for?” He asks, amused. 

Eye twitching with annoyance, you grab one of the pillows on the bed before throwing it right at his face. Joshua manages to catch it before that happens though, much to your dismay.

“None of your business!”

It’s only when you get under the spill of a hot shower that the gravity of your situation finally hits you. You absentmindedly scrub away the grime off your body as you think that you might’ve followed someone you shouldn’t have. Now that your prior amazement from seeing his tattoos had come and went, you realize that he didn’t have them inked on a whim. They were a symbol of status and power. 

Working as a hostess means that you get to know a lot more shady guys than you’d otherwise meet under normal circumstances. But apart from those nasty debt collectors, you’ve done a great job at avoiding a lot of them. But now, you willingly waltzed into the den of someone that’s probably ten times worse. 

Great.

You put on a bathrobe before heading out of the en-suite, peaking your head out of the door to make sure Joshua isn’t doing anything weird. But all you see is a tall man dozing softly on the bed – his still-wet hair dampening the pillows slightly. You sigh before padding back inside the room. Didn’t he ever learn that sleeping with damp hair is going to make him catch a cold in the morning?

For some reason, you end up grabbing a small, dry towel he left on the table – intent on patting down some of the moisture. Joshua lays still on his side, undisturbed in his slumber. You make sure you’re careful with how you dab the towel across his head; not really wanting him to wake up in the middle of it. But now that you’re close enough to study his face, you can feel yourself growing embarrassed. Joshua's thick lashes lay softly across the skin beneath his eyes, and when you look closer, you can almost see the tiny spots that dot his cheekbones. 

You don’t like to admit, but he’s actually pretty…handsome.

A while later, you come to terms that you won’t be able to pat down his hair thoroughly if he’s asleep. That’s when you decide to towel dry your own hair for ten or-so minutes before climbing into bed with him.

The sheets feel smooth against your skin, but that does little to keep your mind off the fact that a gangster (at least, you assumed he was a gangster) is sleeping right next to you. You tell yourself not to sneak any glances, but you end up doing just that anyway – admiring each detail of his tattoos without really meaning to. 

Is this really okay? Should I really let my guard down around someone like him?

All these thoughts drift in and out of your head, but in the end, you succumb to the day’s fatigue. Joshua bought dinner for the both of you once you got off the train on the way here, so your hunger was already abated. But you figure that a good night’s sleep is what your body needs to completely recuperate.

…But if he’s kind enough to patch up your wounds and buy you dinner, then gangster or not, maybe he isn’t such a bad person.

Joshua, however, makes you regret even thinking that literally the next second later.

The moment you’ve found a comfortable spot on the bed, the man beside you suddenly pounces – caging you in his strong arms before you can even draw a breath. His lips twitch into a lazy smile that borders on devilish, and you immediately figure out that you’re fucked.

“You’re a sweet little thing, aren’t you?” he laughs, tracing the swell of your lower lip with his finger. “Drying my hair ‘cause you’re worried about me? Princess, I’d be more careful if I were you. After all…”

When Joshua leans closer, you feel his breath fan against your ear – making you hate the way your body shudders from the feel of it. 

“I’m not a good man.”

You should push him away – you know you should. But from the hypnotizing strokes of his tattoos to the endless honey brown of his eyes, you find Joshua whittling down your defenses alarmingly fast. When his mouth descends onto yours, you welcome him despite your voice of reason screaming for you to stop – to get away while you still can.

But that’s the thing, you can’t get away. Not when you willingly followed him in the first place.

His body is impossibly warm against yours, and you can’t help but respond to his touch whenever his dexterous fingers graze your skin. But as you let him deepen his tongue-filled kiss, you suddenly recall why you’re even here. 

Persistent loan sharks. A never-ending debt. 

And you have the gall to be doing all this? 

“Joshua,” you plead, mustering the strength to push against his chest. “Please, stop.” 

He doesn’t listen. Instead, Joshua nudges the folds of your bathrobe apart, exposing your chest to the cold air of your hotel room. A large hand moves to grope your breast, languidly massaging the supple flesh. But the sensation of his heated palm on your cold skin is enough to snap you back to your senses, and finally, you manage to retaliate.

“I told you to stop!” you shout, folding your knee high enough to kick him in the chest. Joshua obviously doesn’t expect this, and grunts in pain as he stumbles backwards on the mattress. He stares at you with a puzzled look, as if he didn’t try to take advantage of you only a few seconds prior.

“I didn’t come with you to be your fuckdoll, asshole,” you growled, tears stinging your eyes despite the anger in your voice. “Just because I’m a hostess, doesn’t mean I’m easy. Who the hell do you think you are?”

You expect him to lose his temper – to ‘remind you of your place’. Because that’s how gangsters usually operate. Going for the things they want without considering the repercussions on the other people involved. When he reaches out to you, you brace yourself for the oncoming impact. But instead of a hard slap to the face, Joshua caresses the side of your cheek almost apologetically. You startle at his touch – flashing him a perturbed look.

“Sorry, my mom’s always told me that I can be a bit too into the things I do,” he chuckles, thumb grazing the high of your cheekbone. “And that I can be a bit selfish and presumptive. When I did all those nice things for you today, I expected you’ll return the favor by whatever means~”

You don’t even have the time to think about how this man just brought up his mother in a serious conversation. Instead, you scowl at Joshua like he’s just lost his mind. “Doesn’t that just make you a scumbag?”

“When did I ever say I wasn’t?” He laughs. “Didn’t you find it the least bit suspicious that I was being kind to you without asking for anything in return? I’ll have you know that everyone has ulterior motives these days, princess.”

“I did,” you snap. “And I’m glad I didn’t trust you right off the bat.”

“Oh? But you trust me enough to share this room with me?”

You open your mouth, close it, open it again, but alas, no wise retort comes out. He’s right. You knew that Joshua was suspicious from the start, but you still threw everything to the wind and ran away with him. It’s not like you can go back now that everything has gone to shit, though. And you can’t say with confidence that you can find a place for yourself here in the city with no connections nor cash either.

All you have is Joshua, as much as it pains you to admit.

“Come here.”

Joshua eases himself back to his side of the bed and holds out his arms – as if inviting you into his space. You respond with a bizarre look that makes him snort. “You think I’ll come anywhere near you after that stunt you pulled?”

“Hey, you don’t want to have sex. That’s cool. I’m not so much of a scumbag that I’ll force you to do it,” he tells you nonchalantly. “But can we at least cuddle? It’s been quite a while since I’ve felt the warmth of a woman.”

“...You’re really, really strange. You know that?” 

“Mhmm. So I've been told.”

Gods, you’re tired. Downright exhausted. You just want to knock yourself out and forget about the misfortune of having landed someone like Joshua as a companion. You appreciate that he isn’t the type to coerce women into sex, but…ugh! This guy’s impossible to figure out.

…Still, you inch closer to his welcoming touch, biting down a sharp retort when you hear him chuckling softly at your surrender. Joshua wraps his strong arms around your frame, and you close your eyes – catching a whiff of a salty breeze in the air. You wonder if the scent is coming from the sheets or his wild, wild hair.

“This isn’t so bad, now is it?” he teases. 

“Shut up and go to sleep.”

“Aww, you’re making an awful lot of demands to the person who saved you! I think I liked you better when you were bashful and on the brink of tears, princess.” 

You scoff. “So not only are you a scumbag, but you’re also a sadist.”

“Mmm, I don’t have any objections about that, really.”

God, just what have you gotten yourself into?

...

If you thought your first night as Joshua’s unwitting travel companion was a big hassle, you’re certainly in for the ride for the next few days.

He’s always out during the daytime – feeding you excuses like he has to meet up with a couple of friends before leaving you alone and bored in the hotel room. It’s a good thing that the cable service here covered your favorite noontime soap operas, so you could kill time for at least a few hours. Joshua always returns before dinner, and orders room service while engaging you in small talk. He doesn’t tell you about his daytime escapades, nor do you ask.

But when the daily cycle repeats itself for the third time, you decide to put your foot down.

“Are you trying to get me to die of boredom or something?” you ask him once the bellboy takes away your food trays for the night. “I know you’re doing some super shady stuff somewhere out there, but would it kill you to show me around? First time I’ve ever been to Seoul and I’m confined in a hotel room.”

Joshua stares at you dubiously. “Princess, you’re not some inmate I’m keeping locked up in a cell. I never said you weren’t allowed to go sightseeing or whatever.”

You pause. Right, he never did say that explicitly… But you can’t really tell him you were too afraid to go out wandering on your own. 

“Have you been behaving like I kidnapped you or something?” Joshua snorts, walking over to the windows to light a cigarette. Your face scrunches up at that. The room’s going to reek of tobacco smoke now. “How about this: let’s walk around the shopping district tomorrow morning. Besides, the spare clothes provided by the hotel are just going to rack up on the checkout bill. Might as well get you some better outfits instead.”

Looking down at your current attire, you can’t help but think he’s right. You couldn’t exactly bring any of your clothes with you on this very impromptu trip, and you refused when Joshua offered to lend you a bunch of his own. For some reason, a whole duffel bag full of men’s clothes arrived a day after you checked in, and when you asked Joshua about it, he simply said that he prides his men for always delivering the necessities for a trip. 

His men. Meaning, this asshole is definitely a big shot kingpin of some sketchy organization and he’s just keeping his mouth shut about it. It’s a good thing that the staff offered to give you some hotel-issued clothes for a certain price, though. Like hell you’re going to prance around in a mafia boss’ clothes.

But…did you hear him right? Did Joshua just offer to take you shopping?

“Don’t you dare think you can buy my trust with material things,” you warn him, bringing your knees closer to your chest on the bed. “I’m still on to you.”

“So scary,” your companion chuckles, tilting his chin up before puffing out a cloud of smoke. He looks like he’s just about to follow that up with another jab to get on your nerves, but something seems to catch his gaze. 

Then, you realize that Joshua is staring at your feet.

Before you can blurt out some offhand remark about a foot fetish, though, he asks, “You won’t be needing band-aids anymore, right? I can always run to the drugstore and get you some.”

“Yeah, you don’t have to do that. My feet are fine,” you insist before following it up with a softer, “But I might need a new pedicure, though…”

“What was that?”

“Nothing. What time are we going out again?”

The next morning, Joshua jostles you out of bed at seven A.M. sharp – much to your utter dismay. Judging by how never stays out too late despite his questionable business ventures in the city, it probably makes sense for him to be a morning person. He tells you that the shopping district doesn’t even open until nine, but the bastard insists that the early morning sun is good for your skin!  

As he shows you around the main avenue, though, your initial unwillingness to go out so early in the goddamn morning slowly ebbs – having been replaced with pure, unadulterated awe because wow. The big city really is a sight to see. It’s so different from your hometown that you kind of regret not visiting sooner.

Thankfully, there are some places just outside the shopping district that open much earlier. Joshua escorts you to a nearby restaurant – insisting that you can order to your heart’s content. You receive the offer with equal parts bewilderment and concern, but cooping yourself up in that damn hotel room gives you little time to think about courtesy. If he’s willing to pay for your expenses, who are you to refuse?

Breakfast goes the same way all the other meals you shared with Joshua have gone so far. You try to probe his reasons for visiting Seoul as subtle as you can, but he always skirts around the topic with a face as smooth as butter. It’s obvious that he isn’t going to start talking about whatever undercover mission he’s on, so instead, you ask about his family.

“My family?” he repeats.

You nod. “Yeah. You brought up your mom like...twice already. Kinda made me wonder if a lunatic like you is actually a family man.”

“Hey! While you’re not wrong about me being a lunatic, I’ve yet to show you that side of me. That’s a pretty mean assumption.” Joshua pouts, scooping a spoonful of rice into his mouth. 

You’re not even going to ask him to elaborate. 

“Hmm… But I guess you could say I’m a family man,” he hums right after swallowing his food. “I’m an only child, but I've always wanted a family of my own, you know? Old suburban home, white picket fence, six kids, and a dog –” 

“Six?” you echo. “Were you that lonely growing up?”

Joshua snorts. “Where I'm from, it's completely normal to have a ton of kids.”

“Where are you from anyway?”

“The U.S. Los Angeles, specifically.”

Los Angeles… Well, at least he's honest about that. His answer also proves your hunch about him being a foreigner.

“What are you doing so far away from home then?” you ask. “Won’t your parents miss you or something? Don’t you miss them?”

An emotion you can’t quite identify passes over Joshua's face – something grim and untouchable. You’re about to insist that he doesn’t need to answer or anything, but the look disappears faster than it surfaced and he’s back to flashing you a shit-eating grin like usual.

“Hmm, why are you talking about family when we’re out on a date?” he sulks. “You’re so unromantic. How about you teach me how to use chopsticks instead?”

You stare at him, puzzled. “You…don’t know how to use chopsticks? But your Korean is so fluent.”

He rolls his eyes. “Hasty generalization. Just because I can speak the language, doesn't mean I'm good at the other cultural customs, you know.”

Just like that, Joshua expertly makes you forget about all that talk about his family. He distracts you well enough until you finally arrive at the shopping district, and the first thing he does is drag you to a beauty salon.

“Uh, I thought we were buying clothes,” you tell him dryly.

He hums, already signing the clipboard that the lady behind the reception counter hands to him. “Didn’t you say you wanted to get a pedicure first?”

“...I was joking.”

“Well, I’m not.” He grins before pressing a kiss to your forehead. “I’ll come get you in half an hour. That sound good?”

You can’t even let yourself feel the heat rushing to your face because Joshua is already sliding a black credit card onto the counter – the limitless variant that you can only dream of getting for yourself. What on earth is he doing with that bag of cash back in the hotel room when he had one of those the whole time?

“That’s a gorgeous boyfriend you have, miss.” Your beautician sighs as she massages your feet with moisturizer. “I wonder when I’ll get lucky to land a guy that hot.”

You’re compelled to tell her, no. That potential criminal mastermind is most certainly not your boyfriend. But the way this woman’s gentle hands press down on your toes reminds you of the night you met Joshua. How he went out of his way to clean the dirt off your feet without uttering a single word in complaint. How his eyes appeared so disarmingly brown that you can’t forget their color even if you wanted to. 

And not to mention that innocent kiss he gave you before making his leave earlier…

Nope. Get it together, you chide yourself. That is the same douchebag that tried to have sex with you the other night. And are you forgetting the fact that he’s hinted at his own criminal activity several times now?!

But in spite of yourself, you respond to your beautician’s words with a gentle smile. 

“I’m sure you’ll meet him soon.”

…

“Joshua, this is way too much.”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean, thank you for spoiling me rotten, but what the fuck? Who buys a hundred thousand won's worth of clothes for a woman he barely knows?”  

“Does it matter? Not to brag, but I’ve got lots of cash to burn, princess.”

“...That’s – That’s not the point!”

It’s not even lunch time but you’re already arguing with Joshua over his irresponsible expenses. Like, sure, this all totally works in your favor, but you still have a shred of decency at least! He’s already bought you three expensive dresses, a nice pair of designer jeans, and some chic-looking heels. He got you the last one from the store the moment Joshua noticed your stare lingering too long on the display window. 

You used to joke around with your old college friends about getting a sugar daddy in the past but… Is this really the right way to go about it? Why does it feel like you’re doing something illegal?!

“Don’t you like them?” he asks, lower lip swelling into a pout. “We can always pick out something else. Oh, I forgot to make you choose a swimsuit.”

“...What do I need a swimsuit for?”

He spares you another conniving smile, taking something out from inside his jacket before showing it to you.

“Are those…” You gape at him. “Plane tickets?”

Joshua nods like it’s the most obvious thing in the world. “Yep. We’re going on vacation to Jeju Island. Doesn’t that sound exciting?”

No, it doesn’t! Not in the slightest!! Okay, maybe you’re a bit curious to see what Jeju's famous coastlines have to offer, but… That doesn’t explain why Joshua is so willing to spend unspeakable amounts of money at the drop of a hat. You wonder what’s so damn special about you for him to keep spoiling you like this, but then again, maybe he’s never been frugal to begin with. Unlike yourself – who’s always had to work for every penny just to make ends meet.

The realization dawns on you like a sucker punch to the gut. Sure he’s kind enough (more like, crazy enough) to let you tag along with him, but the fact that the two of you live in completely different worlds only starts to sink in at that moment. 

Right now, Joshua is donned with a maroon shirt with the buttons done only up to the middle – giving you a glimpse of those tattoos you’ve never grown tired of looking at. He matched it with a black leather jacket and a nice pair of trousers, looking like a million dollars in every single way. Even if you managed to change into a more stylish fit compared to your hotel clothes, you still feel grossly inferior – not that the two of you were on equal footing in the first place.

This isn’t all that different from that sinking sensation you always felt in the bar – a feeling like you’re somewhere you’re not supposed to be. Somewhere you don’t belong. 

Joshua is a goddamn big shot, and you? You’re just a parasite. You don’t deserve all of this finery. You don’t even deserve his company at all.

If he notices how you’ve gone noticeably silent as he leads you to an athletics store, Joshua doesn’t bring it up. He merely holds up all the bags of unnecessary purchases in one hand, and your own hand in the other. You don’t fault the lady at the salon for thinking this guy was your boyfriend. To an outsider, the two of you must’ve looked like a couple in their mid-twenties.

But even if he practically jumped you last time, you know better than to expect more than what he’s already giving you. Besides, you didn’t run away with Joshua just to get together with him… 

Right?

“Does this look okay?”

You come out of the dressing room to show Joshua the swimsuit he picked out for you. He glances up from his phone, and you try not to let the mesmerized look on his face get to your head. 

“You’re looking real sexy right now, princess,” he admits – pocketing his phone as he walks to the front of your stall. “I knew it. Blue really suits you.”

“Quit saying weird things,” you mumble, shyly draping your arms over your chest. “Do you want me to get it or not?”

“More importantly, do you want to get it?”

“H-Huh?”

All of a sudden, Joshua pushes you back inside the stall – locking the door behind him before you can utter a protest. There’s a serious look on his face that you don’t get to see a lot, but you don’t get to ponder on it much. He’s quick to place both of his large hands on your shoulders, making you face the full-body mirror inside without any delay.

“Do you not like receiving gifts, gorgeous?” he whispers, and you hate how your skin prickles at the new pet name. “You’ve been so against everything I bought for you all day, even though you’re the one who picked them out yourself.”

“Joshua –”

One of his hands starts to descend, brushing across your arm and onto the curve of your waist. His other hand teases the straps of your bikini top, sending involuntary shivers running down your spine. To make things worse, your breath hitches as you meet Joshua’s gaze in the mirror – piercing doe eyes holding you hostage with a single glance. 

“Or maybe you don’t like receiving gifts from me,” he considers. “Well, I am a bad guy. If you want me to cut it out, you can tell me up front. I just hate seeing that look on your face.”

“...What look?” you whisper – trying your best to distract yourself from the heat of his touch.

Joshua sighs as he rubs your exposed skin tenderly. “The look you make when you’re sad. You’ve always been making that look ever since we left for the city. Honestly, I’ve even considered sending you back home a couple of times -”

“No,” you cut him off sharply. “D-Don’t send me back. Please. Anywhere but there.”

You don’t even notice that your own hands moved on their own accord – palms placed on top of his much larger ones from where they now rest on your hips. Joshua stares at your reflection with wide eyes before he sighs, burying his face in the hollow of your neck.

This is a dangerous position to be in. He easily covers your body with his own, and you can only do so much to hold back the noises threatening to spill from your lips as Joshua massages your sensitive skin. 

“Then why do you keep refusing me?” he murmurs, teeth grazing the column of your throat. “From what I recall, you’re the one who came to me, princess. I thought you’d be more thick-skinned than that. Other women would kill to be in your place, you know.”

“That’s because I don’t get you, Joshua,” you argue, biting your lip when he starts to suck on your skin. “Y-You can be an ass at times, but you still do all these nice things for me anyway. You’re even splurging a shit-ton of money for no good reason. I get that you’re loaded but…why? Why are you being so kind to me?”

He lets out a soft laugh that reverberates sweetly across his chest – you feel the vibrations from where he presses himself behind you, and you have to clench your thighs together to stem your pooling desire. “You’re not used to being treated well by the people around you, huh?”

You scoff – the accusation stinging more than it should. “You think?”

Joshua doesn’t respond immediately – letting himself get a feel of your pliant body for as long as you allowed it first. He tries to familiarize himself with how your skin feels against his fingers; where your erogenous zones are, and the other spots that make you blush like a schoolgirl. It’s a bit selfish of him to delay such an important answer, but Joshua is nothing if he’s not selfish.

“When I was assigned to go to Korea, my…employer gave me an ultimatum – one that involves my family back home,” he tells you quietly. “If I don’t go back to L.A. with substantial results, they’ll be the one to suffer the punishment.”

Suddenly, you could see through the sensual haze that hung between the both of you seconds prior. Shock paints itself raw on your face as you blurt out, “You were blackmailed?” God, no wonder he didn’t want to talk about his family.

“Heh. I’m used to being blackmailed, pretty girl. It’s part of my job,” Joshua speaks nonchalantly. “But…that doesn’t mean I didn’t drag my ass here, nearly overwhelmed with anxiety. I’d kill a man if I was ordered to do it, but if my family’s lives are at stake? Anyone would be terrified.”

You feel your heart sink at the way his expression shifts into something more melancholic. Joshua exchanges his suggestive caresses for a proper embrace. He hugs you from behind, breathing in the scent of cheap shampoo still lingering in your hair. 

“What does that have to do with me?” you whisper. “I don’t understand…”

“When you bumped into me at Andong that night, you kind of snapped me out of it,” he chuckles. “I couldn’t think of anything else but my job and my parents, but then you came along. Honestly, I was only supposed to help you get away from the assholes chasing you but…”

“I ran after you…” you continue, feeling more embarrassed than you should. 

Oh. You don’t even have the right to feel like shit for being with Joshua because you chose to be here, dammit! Why do you keep forgetting that?

“Exactly.” Joshua hums as he snakes an arm in front of your stomach, pushing your body against his chest. “I’m not always this territorial, you know, but you practically offered yourself up. Do you know what that does to a guy like me?”

You shouldn’t find it so fucking hot when his other hand trails up from your navel, your chest, all the way to your neck – thick fingers pressing down your throat with ample pressure. Your gazes meet in the mirror, and you don’t miss the near-manic glint in his eyes as Joshua holds onto you possessively.

“Now tell me, princess. Do you want the swimsuit or not?”

You can’t help the shuddering sigh that escapes your lips. At this point, you have no choice but to let him buy you the damn thing. You’re pretty sure Joshua’s aggressive display is enough to make you soak through your bottoms, and it’s not like he’s going to take no for an answer either.

“I’m sorry,” you whisper as he eases his hand away from your neck. “I’m just…not used to wearing all of this. It’s like I’m not meant to. I’ve always just settled with clothes that go on sale, you know.”

“...Well, how do you feel about the stuff I give you?”

“Um. They’re all pretty, I guess?”

“Do you wanna wear them?”

“O-Of course.”

Finally, Joshua peels himself away – only to twirl you around to face him directly. His tousled black hair is sticking out every which way, but all you can focus on are his rich brown irises, nearly drowning you in those endless pools of honey. 

“Then you better wear them unapologetically,” he tells you, tucking a tuft of your hair behind your ear. “A princess needs only the finest garbs. Why do you think I call you that all the time, huh?”

“To get a rise out of me?”

Joshua barks out a laugh. “I guess I can’t say no to that. But anyways, the point still stands: I’ll give you anything and everything in the world. All you have to do is ask.”

After what seems like an eternity inside that damn dressing room, you manage to kick him out of the stall before putting your clothes back on. You end up replaying everything he just told you like a broken record. Anything and everything? This man is a different kind of delusional. 

But you can’t really afford to think about it much. Just as you thought, the evidence of your rather…risqué encounter with Joshua is lathered across the inseam of your bottoms, and you shamefully wipe it off with a napkin you nabbed from the restaurant.

When the two of you head back to the cashier to make your nth purchase of the day, you’re vaguely aware of the other sales persons stealing glances at you and Joshua. Well, if you were in their shoes, you’d certainly find it odd why it took almost thirty minutes for you to try on a damn swimsuit. But fortunately, Joshua's reputation precedes him even at a shopping center all the way in Seoul. None of them dare to speak to him, much more raise any complaints.

“Couldn’t you have waited to sit down and have the talk with me back in our hotel room?” you groan once you make it out of the store. “I’m sure those guys think you fucked me in the stall or something.”

“Would you like that?” Joshua teases, and you’re sure he would’ve pulled you close to him if only his hands weren't full of shopping bags. “Does my princess get off on the idea of being fucked silly in a dressing room?”

“Don’t push it, asshole.”

You meant to punctuate the words with a borderline scowl, but all that makes itself known on your face is a sheepish smile that you can’t quite bite down. Joshua notices this, of course, but instead of making you flustered about it like usual, he offers to flag down a taxi on the way back to the hotel instead of walking. 

The last thing he needs is to ruin your new pedicure, after all.

...

A week later, you and Joshua arrive at Jeju Island.

You didn’t even consider the possibility of this place having an airport. All this time, you assumed that sea travel was the way to go for them. But you were surprisingly greeted by the sight of a modern-looking terminal as you and Joshua waited for your luggage. He’s been quiet for the whole ride, and you’d be lying if you said that doesn’t concern you even a little. Joshua not running his mouth just to piss you off means something was up.

But when the two of you finally make it outside, he’s back to his usual self. 

“So, do you want to sample Jeju's finest mandarin orchards, or do you want to settle down at the hotel first?” he asks with a chipper smile. “Though you do look like you want to take a nap.”

“I do,” you reply, yawning as you lean against his shoulder. “Can’t we just cuddle today?”

“Oh? You’re offering cuddles for free? Who are you and what did you do my princess?”

“...Cringe.”

“Wha – Did you just say I’m cringe?!”

Your banter is interrupted by a man in a suit clearing his throat. You stare at him with thinly veiled confusion, wondering what he needed. 

“Sir Joshua. We’ve been anticipating your arrival.”

…Sir Joshua?  

“Oh, Chan. I didn’t think you’d be the one stationed here,” your companion greets the man with a smile – plucking your duffel bag from your grasp before handing it to the newcomer. “Tell the driver to bring us to the hotel first.”

Chan nods swiftly. “Understood, sir.”

That’s how you find yourself in the backseat of a high-end limousine – speeding through the scenic roads of Jeju as you and Joshua bask in the silence. He’s busy talking to someone on the phone, but you can’t bring yourself to eavesdrop on their conversation. It feels wrong to do so. 

Instead, you let yourself wonder what he has planned. After he fulfills his mission, what then? Is he going to take you back to L.A.? You’re not so deluded to think that he’ll stay here with you when he has a family waiting for him. But the idea of traveling all the way to his homeland makes you a little queasy. You’ve just gotten used to visiting far-away places in Korea. You think you’re going to need a bit more momentum before packing up to the other side of the world.

…Does he work well in the cold? You barely see him sweat even in the humid air of the summer. Maybe Joshua is the type of person who can easily adapt to the current climate. When that train of curiosity starts to pick up, though, you realize that it’s a little hard to stop. 

You want to know more about him. About his habits, his quirks, his family, and his work. He obviously likes you enough to keep showering you with gifts. Of course, you’ve tried asking a few questions about those in the past, and Joshua merely brushed them off with a laugh.

But things are different now. Ever since that…fateful encounter in the dressing room, he’s been more open with you. More up front about the things going on inside his head. If you push the right buttons, then you might be able to understand him a bit better.

Joshua pockets his phone about five minutes later, leaning against you before circling his arms around your waist. “Hmph. Can’t believe I’m still forced to think about work.”

“You can always just switch off your phone,” you suggest jokingly.

He only sighs in response, and you pat his head gingerly as a means of comfort. “By the way, I planned on scheduling a trip for Sunrise Peak, but turns out, it's closed to tourists for the weekend.” Joshua looks up at you, pouting. “Sorry, princess. I can only take you to the beach.”

He was planning a visit to Sunrise Peak? Well, you haven’t seen it with your own eyes yet, but the fact that Joshua is intuitive enough to hazard guesses about what you might and might not like… 

You want to familiarize yourself with him, the same way he so effortlessly does with you. 

Not giving him any leeway to pull back, you grab his face and mesh your lips on top of his. Joshua doesn’t respond for a few seconds – and you can almost imagine him staring at you with wide, brown eyes. But eventually, he laughs into the kiss before pressing his mouth firmly against yours.

“That’s fine by me,” you murmur. 

As long as I’m with you.

...

Your hotel room back at Seoul was one of the best you’ve seen, but the one here on Jeju just set the bar even higher. 

Once the two of you have settled down in your suite, you gaze around in awe at the interior. Everything is mostly made out of wood, which further adds to the appeal of it all. Seashell curtains, exotic carpets, hand-made wind chimes – they have it all. Not to mention, this room in particular comes with a private pool just by the balcony, along with a view that overlooks the sea. Joshua teases you about how excited you are – just like a kid on a school trip – but you decide to let his impudence slide.

“Aren’t you going to swim with me?”

You gaze at him sulkily by the edge of the pool, watching as Joshua smokes a cigarette on top of a folding chair. He’s already changed into his swimming trunks – having removed his shirt and other accessories. Yet he still refuses to get in the pool with you. Still, Joshua gets up from his chair with a soft laugh, padding closer as he crouches over the edge.

“You should know about the delicate art of having a smoke while watching your girl have fun,” he tells you, taking a drag as if to prove a point. 

Your eye twitches. “You’re the one who picked out my swimsuit, so you better have fun with me!”

Despite all his bravado, you don’t miss the look on Joshua's face when you yank on his leg – the forward momentum easily making him topple into the swimming pool. You let out an unflattering laugh as he flounders in the water for a few seconds before Joshua rises back to the surface with an annoyed look on his face.

“Hey, I don’t remember you being this much of a brat, princess,” he grumbles, picking off the doused cigarette floating in the pool before tossing it back on the concrete. 

“That’s my way of telling you to quit,” you say, snickering to yourself. “Seriously, it always smells like cigarettes in our old hotel room. The smoke detector must’ve been busted or something… Joshua?”

While you prattled on about the fact that you disliked a habit that he probably formed years before he even met you, Joshua waded through the water and cornered you by the side of the pool. You gulp, observing how the water glistens across his skin as his tattooed chest stands proud for you to see.

“You know, I noticed a little something over the past few days,” he whispers – mouth twitching into a no-good smile as he reaches a hand to cup your jaw. “You really like staring at my chest, don’t you?”

“Wrong. I like staring at your ink.” 

“But it’s still staring, isn’t it?” Joshua breathes out an airy laugh before planting a kiss on your forehead – the same way he did that time at the beauty salon. The patch of skin that’s grazed by his lips burns when he pulls away, and you hate how the sensation spreads across the rest of your face.

“How about we get you inked someday?” he offers. 

“Me? Getting a tattoo?” You blink. “Uh, I used to think about getting one when I was still in college, but…?!”

All of a sudden, this bastard places his hands on your waist before hoisting you out of the water like you weigh nothing more than a bag of rice. You scowl at him, thrashing around and splashing water everywhere. But Joshua doesn’t seem to be bothered by all your flailing. He even seems to be observing your lower body like he’s trying to figure out how to chop up each part for later. 

“Hmm… I think one on your thigh would suit you,” he says, lowering you onto the edge of the pool. “Navel tattoos are pretty hot, too.”

“But what’s the point if no one can see?” you huff. 

“Hey, my tatts are always covered,” Joshua reminds you. “That’s because only a select few are deserving to see them.”

His words ignite a surge of heat inside your chest. If you weren’t blushing before, you certainly are now. “...You think I’m deserving, then?”

Your companion spreads your legs wider, easing himself into the space between as he holds your thighs firmly in his hands. Joshua stares into your eyes with a gaze that’s meant to devour. You’ve always found it odd how much self-control he can actually exercise. Apart from the first night he tried to pounce on you, and that little escapade in the dressing room, he never once tried to make any moves on you again. For someone who talks big about how possessive and territorial he can be, Joshua is being awfully ascetic.

“Of course you are,” he murmurs. “Once we’re done here, I’ll bring you to the best tattoo artist in L.A. He’s the one who did both of my pieces.” 

Something about the promise in his words makes your heart leap with delight. He’s…going to bring you to Los Angeles? 

“Are you going to let me meet your parents, too?” you half-joke, shying away from his intense gaze.

“Why not?” he asks. “My mom loves independent girls. You’ve only been relying on yourself before you met me, right? That’s pretty awesome.”

You shrink away from the compliment, unused to being praised about that segment of your life. “I’m not sure how she’s going to react about me being a hostess, though.”

Joshua shakes his head. “Believe it or not, you’re one of the few people who can put me in my place, sweet girl. I’m convinced that she automatically takes to someone like that.”

“So you’re a problem child, then?”

“Ehh, can’t say I’m not.”

Just when you thought he’ll finally let his self-restraint snap, you and Joshua end up talking about his life in America by the poolside. He tells you about how his father taught him how to fish in the lake the next county over, how to hunt and survive out in the wilderness. He tells you about his mother, and how he’d do anything just to guarantee her safety; even if it comes at the expense of his own. He willingly divulges all his fond memories of his hometown, but not once does Joshua allude to anything involving his work.

You try not to take it so personally. After all, in spite of the drastic development in your…friendship? Relationship? Either way, it doesn’t change the fact that you’re someone he hasn’t really known all that long.  

But as the two of you marvel at the twilight sun sinking on the faraway horizon, it seems that Joshua managed to read your mind.

“Can you believe it’s only been two weeks since we met?” he chuckles, hand inching closer to rest on top of yours.

“Nope,” you sigh. “I feel like I’ve known you far longer than that.”

“Heh. Time really flies when you’re having fun, does it?”

You couldn’t have said it better yourself. Honestly, you can’t even recall the last time you had fun. During the past few months, each day passed by painfully slowly. Despite being adored as Rei the hostess, you never had fun back at the bar; nor did you have fun coming home to your alcoholic of a father. 

As you glance over at Joshua – whose face is generously lit up by the soft orange light – you wonder if it’s really okay to turn your back on your life and just live the rest of your days by his side. It’s only been two weeks, but there was never a dull moment with him. But can you even afford to be more selfish than you already are?

“You really have a staring problem, you know that?”

“...Do you have a sixth sense or something?”

“I’m a trained fighter, princess. I’m supposed to know when I’m being watched.”

There it is – his first casual mention of his line of work. 

You can’t exactly narrow down the possibilities of what exactly it is that Joshua does for a living. You’re pretty sure that he’s in the same type of business as those loan sharks, but on a much larger scale. What’s more is that he’s trained to fight – as if his purpose lies more on confrontation than diplomatic relations. Him being stationed all the way here in Korea gives you a slight clue that he might be trying to settle the score with someone on behalf of his employer, though you can’t really say for sure.

But…you purposely shove all these thoughts in the back of your head as you lace your fingers around his neck – bringing his forehead against yours. Joshua doesn’t resist your advances. He even gazes at you with the prettiest eyes you’ve ever seen, a hint of fondness shining in his vibrant irises.

Before meeting the man in front of you, you’ve always assumed that love takes time. You can’t call it love if you don’t even know the person that well! This is the very same thing you used to tell patrons who wanted to start a serious relationship with you back at the bar. But Joshua?

You don’t know how, but he managed to fill that void that’s long been tearing your heart to shreds. That seemingly ephemeral emptiness; the hollow space resting deep inside your chest – he filled it all up in the span of two weeks. Whether it be with all those expensive gifts and trinkets, or his worthwhile company alone, you don’t feel empty anymore. You feel so blissfully whole that you’d gladly lose yourself in him if it meant you never had to feel alone ever again.

“Shua, can I ask for something?”

“Heh. This is new. You never ask for anything,” he comments, and you still smell traces of tobacco in his breath. “What is it? Anything my princess wants, I’ll give to her in a heartbeat.”

On any other day, you would’ve chided him for saying something so cheesy – as if you haven’t gotten used to the way he speaks to you. But now, with the early evening breeze blowing all around, and the man who reminded you how it feels to be alive sitting so, so close to you…

“Can you make me yours?” you whisper.

Joshua stares at you, a low laugh rumbling in his bare chest. “You were already mine the moment you asked to come with me. Or are you forgetting that?”

Hot. His hands are hot against your hips – going lower and lower as he teases the ridge of your bottoms. God, you just want him to get it over with. You want him to grab your ass and take you by the poolside right here, right now. But you know, all too well, that Joshua isn’t going to let himself fall into the depths of his own depravity like that. Not until you give him a clearer sign.

“No…” you murmur, hoisting your thigh over his hips until you’re straddling his lap. “I want you –” You press your breasts against his lean chest. “To make me –” Your fingers trail up his neck, tangling them in his wild black hair. 

“Yours.”

You expect him to tease you like he always does – with that irritatingly handsome smile of his. But Joshua's eyes grow half-lidded as you press yourself closer to him, and you could’ve sworn his grip on your hips only became tighter. 

“You’re playing a dangerous game, pretty girl,” he warns you huskily. “I don’t want you to end up being the sore loser after I’m done with you.”

You chuckle, lips grazing his forehead, his eyelids, his nose. When you reach the spot just over his lips, you let your own hover for just a few seconds longer.

“I know,” you tell him. “I know, and I’m ready to lose.” 

If it’s you, I won’t ever mind.

Joshua lets out a strangled noise, like he’s barely holding on to what’s left of his own sanity. You’re slightly elated at the information. That just means he’s about to let himself go. To ravage you like you deserved. 

You’re not sure if it’s because of his own urgency or he’s just showing off. But Joshua makes a quick display of strength by picking you up while you’re still on his lap and getting back on his feet at the same time. He wastes no time mending your lips together – carnal and hungry and all sorts of impatient. Your legs immediately circle around his hips, and you bemoan all the days you wasted not getting kissed stupid by him.

But you console yourself with the idea that right now, you have all the time in the world.

...

The floorboards are damp with pool water, and so are the sheets. But you hardly notice it as Joshua strips you of the swimsuit he so carefully picked out for you. He tosses the spandex somewhere on the floor, and you even hear the wet plop as it hits. 

You feel like you should be cold – fresh out of the swimming pool and all – but the heat of Joshua’s body steadily permeates into yours, and can’t help but lean closer, closer, as close as you can – 

“I love you,” you whisper in-between kisses, feeling the evidence of his own arousal grinding against your own. You think the words don’t have as much weight when you’re doing something so openly intimate, but you don’t care.

He laughs, the sound sending tingles straight to your toes. “You sure you’re not just getting caught up in the moment, princess?”

You still have it in you to flash him a sulky pout, bringing his face right in front of yours as you spare him all the adoration you have in a single look. You desperately want him to know just how much you love him. You want him to carve this moment into memory and think of it even when the two of you are apart.

You want to anchor yourself so deep into Joshua that he can’t forget you even if he tries.

“Do you think I’m lying?” you whisper.

He sighs. “No.”

When he mouths the words I love you back in his own lust-fueled kisses, your heart soars; your body heats up – becoming more and more receptive to his lingering touch. Joshua’s lips never stray too far, even as he lathers the slick that’s collected between your thighs. His long fingers tease your entrance with the intention of seeing you squirm, and you hate how much you love it.

“Been waiting for you to come to me…for so long,” he growls, sliding two fingers inside you with embarrassing ease. “Do you know how hard it is to control myself around you? Especially after that time in the dressing room?”

Huh, so even he still thinks about that day. You giggle at the ferociousness of his words, but the wanton look in his eyes softens when you caress the side of his face. 

“Two weeks isn’t a long time, Shua,” you tell him. 

“It’s long enough if you’re as pent up as I am.”

As he works his fingers between your thighs, you can’t help but sneak a glance at the hard length straining against his abdomen. It’s been a while, so your mouth practically waters at the thought of Joshua sinking his thick cock inside you – fast and hard and everything you’ve ever dreamed. 

But your attention is promptly ripped away when he curls his fingers just right, catching on a patch of spongy flesh that has you writhing underneath him. Joshua smirks at that, uncoiling his thick digits as he continues slowly pumping them inside. Your juices are starting to drip on his hand – a testament to just how badly you want him. 

When he makes you come, all you see are the vibrant brown of his eyes – like honey in the spring. Joshua looks at you with so much love and longing at the same time, you nearly sob in his embrace.

Despite the implication that he’s no longer going to be patient, Joshua lets you reel your own consciousness back from the throes of pleasure – kissing your forehead tenderly as he caresses your sides. 

“Do you want to go all the way?” he asks, but you already see him stroking his own cock from where he lays beside you. “Remember, I won’t force you into anything you don’t like, princess.”

You shake your head, still lightheaded from your orgasm. But still, the clarity of your desire shines through. “I…want you, Shua. Want you inside me.”

He sighs in a way like he just doesn’t know what to do with you. At your request, Joshua reluctantly peels himself away – earning a mewl in protest from you that he appeases with a kiss. 

“Stay put, pretty girl,” he murmurs. “I’ll make you feel good in a minute.”

Joshua climbs out of bed and walks over to the dresser buck naked. But you can’t even bring yourself to tease because he’s got such a shapely ass. Not to mention, you get to see the dragon tattoo on his back again. Even if you’ve developed a fondness for the twin koi fish on his chest, there’s just something about this piece in particular that’s always left an impression on you.

True to his word, Joshua comes back to bed with you as he tears a condom open with his teeth. You have half the mind to tell him that opening it like that isn’t very safe, but when he rolls the rubber on top of his throbbing length, you’re suddenly too bashful to speak up. 

He spreads your thighs apart, making himself at home in the space in between. You just know he’s getting a kick out of the way your body trembles as he rubs the head of his cock along your glistening seam. 

“Shua,” you whine. 

“You want this inside you?” Joshua teases, dipping himself into your entrance only to pull away before you can even feel an ounce of satisfaction. “C’mon, talk to me, princess. You know I like it when you’re being honest about the things you want.”

“Please…” 

“Hm? What was that?”

You hate him. You hate him so much that the feeling gradually bleeds into love. And if you aren’t already whipped for this jerk, you don’t know what this obsessive feeling inside you is anymore.

“Please fuck me,” you whimper. “Make me come on your cock.”

Joshua breathes sharply through his nose as he leans forward, grabbing both of your wrists as he pins them above your head with one hand. He uses the other to guide his length to where you want him most, and the moment before he finally, finally breaches your entrance, he whispers:

“What the princess wants, the princess gets.”

He muffles the broken moan that catches in your throat with his own lips – his lean arm going around your waist as he presses his hips flush against yours. You’re dripping enough arousal onto the sheets that Joshua doesn’t even have to take it as slow as he expected. You instinctively clench around the hard length inside you, memorizing the way he stretches out your walls, and Joshua responds in earnest with an impertinent groan.

There’s no room for words anymore. All you know is the sound of skin against skin and your mouth almost never parting from his. Joshua fills you until the void you feared might swallow you whole becomes nothing but a tiny speck in your soul. You wonder if it’s enough to be two separate people, and not just one. His touches, his kisses – they aren’t enough. And even when he pushes himself so impossibly deep, you still find yourself wanting, craving, yearning for more.

You’re insatiable. You love Joshua so much that your heart overflows with it. Maybe you’re simply deluded because he’s the first person who’s treated you like you were important; and not just some forgettable girl he met at a bar. But that doesn’t change the fact that you want him to hold you, and touch you, and love you until you forget everything else but the syllables of his name.

He practically folds you into the bed a few moments later as he mouths his professions of love along the curve of your neck. You lock your legs around his waist to keep him as close as possible – not wanting to be apart for even a millisecond. And Joshua seems to share the same sentiments as he embraces so you’d never leave his grasp.

I need you, you wish to tell him. He’s already giving you so much and more, but you still need him. It’s the kind of hankering that nearly scares you because how can you ever live without him now? But the flames of your own, all-consuming desire quickly recede once he captures your lips in a soft, almost sensual kiss. 

“I love you,” Joshua tells you aloud. 

You know it should be impossible because your lovers from the past have never even tried to get you to orgasm once they were done with you. But the moment he utters those words, and shifts his hips at such a delicious angle, he promptly pushes you over the edge – making you thrash and shudder underneath his weight as you mutter his name like a string of prayers. 

You just hope that the gods are generous enough to let you have him forever.

…

The beaches in Seoul and Andong pale in comparison to Jeju's – you promptly realize this when Joshua brings you out to the shore a few days later.

“I’ve never really enjoyed going to beaches until now,” you admit, laughing a bit as Joshua reaches for your hand and twines his fingers with yours. “I’m surprised you even have the time to come all the way here despite being on the job.”

He shrugs casually, and at the same time you care to admire how he looks in a tropical-printed button up that’s completely undone at the front. “Well, my deadline isn’t all that strict, pretty girl. I’m sure I can afford a quick getaway with you.”

You smile at him sweetly while the both of you stroll along the beachfront. Sometimes, the waves reach out to the shore far enough for the water to reach your toes, and you squeal in delight every time you do. You’d be lying if you say you didn’t expect Joshua to tease, but when you look at him, he merely looks back like you’re the most precious thing in the world.

Like all lovers spending their morning on the beach, the two of you agreed to collect the prettiest seashells you can find. Though it was a bit hard, since there are a couple of signs indicating which ones you’re allowed to bring home, and which ones you should leave alone. Something about maintaining the ecosystem around the shore. 

But about half an hour before lunch time, Joshua calls out to you at the edge of the property.

The sundress he made you wear today flutters around your thighs as you make your way to his side. He’s crouched down on the sand as he picks up a peculiar brown shard.

“Wait,” you start, taking a closer look. “Is that a seashell? A broken seashell?”

“Seems like it,” he replies, retrieving the other pieces he can still salvage from the sand. “This doesn’t look like all the others we’ve seen though”

Joshua takes your hand and pressing the fragments into your palm. When you take a look at them, you realize the pieces are the same color as his eyes. 

“Do you…” you begin shyly, “want to make matching necklaces out of them? They’re a bit jagged now, but I know a jeweler back in Andong who –”

“Oh? So you do want to go back,” he jokes.

“Fine, never mind then.” 

Joshua’s laughter is slightly muted by the oncoming waves. Once your momentary annoyance fades, the two of you sit on the sand with your legs sprawled – letting the water tickle your toes. 

“I know I made a pretty bad joke just now, but can I ask you something?” he wonders.

“What is it?”

“It’s about the loan your dad supposedly took without your knowledge.” Joshua starts tracing idle shapes in the sand as he speaks. “You seemed in deep shit the night I met you, and I just wanted to know if there’s anything I can do to help.”

With his money and influence, you’re sure that Joshua could pull a few strings to get those debt collectors to lay off you. But it won’t really matter if you never go back to Andong, right? Still, you tell him about the five million won that your father suddenly loaned. How those loan sharks told you that he said that you’re going to pay for it all – on top of your remaining balance for the month. Just recalling it was already enough to piss you off all over again.

At the end of your story, though, Joshua ends up snorting with amusement.

“Sounds to me like you’re being tricked, princess,” he chuckles. “No one can rack up a debt that high unless you’re a trusted confidant. I’m sure the Korean mafia has limits to how much they’re willing to loan other people at a certain given time. Those loan sharks probably tricked you and forged the document because you were paying out the previous debt properly.” 

Your jaw practically drops to the ground. “They tricked me?”

“Seems like it. And now, you have grounds for a lawsuit! Maybe. I’m not sure, but I can help you pay for a lawyer if it all gets down to it.” Joshua shrugs. “Anyway, now that you know that the loan was probably a scam, why don’t you go back and talk to your old man? Isn’t he the only family you have?”

Your dad… Well, now you feel a bit bad for judging him so harshly. It doesn’t change the fact that he’s an alcoholic and a gambler, but you do see him trying to be better from time to time. 

“Yeah. My mom died when I was in high school, and it’s just been us ever since.” You tell him all this without meeting his eyes, unsure of how to react if he gazes at you with pity. But Joshua doesn’t offer his condolences, nor does he try to cheer you up. Instead, he suggests something that you probably should do.

“You should go back to your father,” he whispers. “I’m sure he’s worried sick.”

The waves wash upon the shore again, and this time, you actually turn around to look at him. Is he serious? Is this the same, so-called territorial man you met two weeks ago? If any of the things he’s told you were true, that’s the last thing you expected for Joshua to say to your face.

“If your father isn’t behind that loan fiasco, then you should at least let him know you’re okay, princess,” he tells you sincerely, rubbing your hand with comforting circles. “You’re the last family he has left, and I’m sure you know what loss does to a person.”

You sit there in the silence, letting Joshua’s words simmer inside your mind. You suppose that he’s right about everything. Those assumptions you made about your father are unfair, and you shouldn’t just abandon him now that Joshua helped clear up the misunderstanding. You know all these things, and you recognize them as what’s truthful and right. 

But…why does Joshua sound like he’s saying goodbye?

“Okay, I’ll do that,” you say, forcing your voice not to tremble. “But once you finish your mission, promise that you’ll take me to L.A.?”

He stares at you with equal parts surprise and disbelief – his handsome face twisting with a grin so lovely, you wonder why he never smiled at you like this before. Joshua shakes his head before rising back to his feet, hoisting you up by your waist as he spins you around.

You shriek in bewilderment, telling him to put you back down. He doesn’t relent right away, but once Joshua finally heeds your desperate request he sets you down on the sand – placing a chaste kiss on your forehead.

“Alright, princess. What do you want to do there?”

You puff out your cheeks, not liking how it sounds as if he’s teasing you. Nonetheless, you give him the straightest answer you can manage.

“I want to meet your family. Your parents. Your friends. Everyone,” you tell him. “I want to go fishing because you love it so much, and it helps you meditate.”

Joshua hums. “America is leagues different from Korea, though. You sure about that?”

“Hmph. You’ll make a nice tour guide, won't you?”

“Heh.” He moves closer to wrap his arms around your frame, embracing you so firmly that you can’t help but melt into his touch. “Of course I will, pretty girl. But what do you want to do after we do all that?”

You flash him a puzzled look. “What?”

“Since we’re planning so far ahead, we might as well plan until the end, right?” He chuckles, one hand going to the side of your face as he touches you tenderly. “What else does my demanding princess wish for?”

For a moment, you consider his question seriously. What happens after? Well…

“I want to travel,” you say. “I took up an international relations course when I was in college ‘cause I always wanted to see the world.”

Joshua nods. “And?”

You gulp – unsure if what you’re about to say is a bit selfish or not. “Well, getting to see some places around Korea with you was the best time of my life. And I’m sure it’ll be just as fun if we see the world together.”

It sounds like such a juvenile dream, now that you think about it. But sometimes, even the most childish desires can lead to the most unforgettable experiences. You only decided to tag along with Joshua on a whim, and it turned out to be one of the best choices you’ve ever made.

You just hope he feels the same way, too.

He nods again, a pesky smile rooting itself on his face. When Joshua kisses the hand that isn’t clutching shards of broken brown seashells, you can’t help but blush.

“What the princess wants, the princess gets.”

It’s already high noon by the time the two of you conclude your seashell hunting session, and Joshua is already complaining about breakfast not being heavy enough. You let your gaze linger around the beautiful beachfront just a bit longer, wondering if you can visit this place again with him in the future.

“Joshua?”

He pauses mid-way in his rant, gazing at you with curious, brown eyes. “Yeah?”

You crack him a warm smile. “Can you tell me your real name?”

The ocean’s waves reach your ears again in the silence, as Joshua stands in front of you like you’d just unraveled all the secrets of the universe. You don’t miss the way his emotions seemingly conflict in his eyes, but in the end, he spares you the truth anyway.

“Jisoo.”

“Do you love me, Jisoo?”

He crosses the distance between you before you can even breathe, kissing you so deeply that you’re a little concerned that some of the hotel staff might be watching and judging you on the sidelines. But you know better than to give a damn about what others think when you’re with Joshua – no, Jisoo.  

When he pulls away, you can almost see the ocean glimmering in your lover’s eyes.

“More than anything in the world.”

...

Despite that romantic morning, you can’t help but feel like something bad’s about to happen. Your mother used to tell you that you should always trust your gut. And right now, your gut is telling you that everything that’s making you unbelievably happy right now is going to disappear right before your eyes. 

The anxiousness that comes with all that foreboding does little to help you keep up appearances, too. During dinner, Joshua – because he asked you to keep calling him that in public for your own safety – was telling you about the time he almost got run over as a kid, and you completely spaced out in the middle of it.

Of course, your sharp-eyed lover is keen enough to notice just how distracted you were. You attempted to make excuses for your lack of focus, but one thing led to another, and you ended up spilling wine all over your new sundress.

And now here you are, sulking in your bedroom as Joshua makes the arrangements to have your dress dry-cleaned on the intercom before you have to leave.

“Is something wrong?”

His voice comes out so softly, you nearly miss it. He sits with you at the edge of the bed, reaching out to clasp your hand in his much larger ones. The gesture is comforting, but your unease doesn’t fade away.

Should you tell him about this weird gut feeling? But you don’t want him to worry about you when this is probably just something trivial. Yet, you’ve always been weak to your own emotions. Before you can even cook up another half-baked excuse, the tears have already started streaming down your face.

“Everything’s going so well,” you sniffle, turning to him with misty eyes. “Y-You’re right in front of me but… Why do I feel like you’re already slipping away?”

Joshua's face doesn’t betray any sort of emotion. His honeyed eyes merely flicker down to where your hands are intertwined, and you don’t know if you should take that as a good sign or not.

“I’ll always be with you, you know,” he whispers, letting one of his hands trail up to the new necklace sitting on your throat before the other moves to wipe away your tears. “Always.”

A traveling jeweler offered to fashion a necklace out of the seashell fragments you found once you got back from the beachfront. And while this isn’t the work of your acquaintance from Andong, they managed to carve out the shell to resemble a heart. They even charged you for the labor only, and gave the chain for free. At first, you wanted to refuse, but these pesky feelings were already bothering you at the beach. 

Is it so bad for you to want a tangible representation of Joshua’s promises?

The fact that he wears a similar necklace eases your troubles a bit. It makes you think that maybe it’s really all just in your head. Though you know better than to think you’re out of the woods.

That night, he undresses you with unspoken apologies imbued in each kiss. You wonder if he’s sorry for unintentionally making you feel this way or something else. You don’t know. You don’t care. Because when you’re on the verge of collapsing from all these unpleasant feelings, it’s Joshua who holds you together before you can shatter into a thousand pieces at his feet. 

That’s right… Joshua – rather, Jisoo always fills you to the brim. He fills you with so much love that you can almost forget what it feels to be void; what it feels to be empty. 

But in the midst of it, he pulls away with a regretful sigh. “We already used up the condoms I have, princess. This is as far as we can go.”

“It’s – It’s alright.”

He snaps his head in your direction, beautiful brown eyes rigid with shock. But you don’t give him any leeway to feel guilt nor hesitation. When you pull him down with you to the bed, he doesn’t strain against your touch.

Jisoo is the reason why the life you thought was so dull suddenly has more color to it now. He taught you to have a little more hope for the future. To reevaluate the past for what it actually is. And most of all, he’s the one who taught you how to treasure yourself as you are in the present. 

If this is the last night you’ll ever share with him, then you’re going to make the most out of it.

...

“So we hop on a plane to Incheon, a train to Andong, and talk to my dad.” You list down the day’s itinerary before glancing at Joshua for confirmation. “Sounds like a plan, right?”

“I dunno, princess. Meeting the parents always makes me nervous,” he chuckles.

“...So you have met the parents of other girls.”

“Hey, that was only one time!”

You and Joshua managed to head over to the airport fairly quickly the next day – with a lot of time to kill before your plane actually leaves the island. The two of you decide to hang out in the waiting lounge, but this reminds you to not be too early for your flights next time. Apart from those weird negative feelings you had last night, boredom is your greatest enemy.

About thirty minutes before boarding time, you carelessly let slip that you’re craving some coffee right now. Joshua is quick to get on his feet and get you one from a nearby vending machine, of course. But just when he’s about to take a seat right beside you, he blurts out:

“I’m really glad I met you, princess.” He smiles, handing you your drink. “Even if you’re growing more and more bratty as the days go by.”

“You’re the one who made me like this, so deal with it.” You huff, before following it up with a much nicer: “But…I’m glad I met you, too, Jisoo.”

You half-expect him to clamp a hand around your mouth for calling him by his real name, but Joshua simply lets his head rest against your shoulder, holding your hand as tenderly as he always does.

“Hey, I’m just going to go out for a real quick smoke.”

Joshua informs you of his unnecessary need for a cancer stick just when you’ve settled into your seat on the plane. You scowl at him as he places that knapsack full of cash into your arms. 

“We’re about to take off, you idiot!” you whisper. “Can’t that wait until we land in Seoul?”

“Nope.” He beams at you. “I won’t be long, don’t worry~”

And then he’s off.

“Goddamn chainsmokers,” you mutter, angrily plopping the damn backpack to the vacant seat right next to you. 

As you watch the scenery in the airport unfold from the window to your left, you catch sight of your own reflection despite the bright light outside. Your hands trail up to the modified seashell around your neck, twirling it fondly between your fingers. This is the first solid proof of the time you spent with Joshua. You’re sure that he’s going to spoil you with even more gifts when you get to L.A., but this one is probably going to be your favorite for a long, long time. 

After all, this seashell is the same color as his eyes. 

Suddenly, you hear a clicking sound coming from above, and when you glance around, you see that the seatbelt sign is lit up. A soft voice flits through the speakers, informing all passengers that the aircraft is ready for takeoff. Frowning deeply, you call the attention of a nearby attendant. 

“Excuse me, my boyfriend isn’t here yet.”

She stares at you, puzzled. “I’m sorry, miss. But we confirmed that all paid passengers are already in their seats.”

At that second, your world crumbles. The void begins to rip itself back into your heart. The attendant asks if there’s anything wrong, but you dismiss her with a shake of your head.

Why do I feel like you’re slipping away from my fingers?

As you sit all alone in that plane, you realize that your mother was right all along. 

You should’ve trusted your goddamn gut.

...

Joshua smokes through half his pack of cigarettes when he makes it outside the airport – lingering by the parking lot as he watches each plane soar into the sky. He has no idea which one you’re on, or if you’re even still here on Jeju Island. But with each painful drag he forces into his lungs, he finds himself praying.

Praying that you’ll forgive him for what he just did. Praying that you’ll be able to find happiness even without him. 

His phone rings before his guilt gets the better of his emotions. The name S.Coups flashes on the encrypted caller ID.

“Took you long enough to pick up,” the informant sighs. “For someone who’s in dire need of intelligence, you’re acting awfully lax, Shua. Let’s see… You’re looking for Jeonghan. Is that right?”

He kills his last cigarette under his heel – all those feelings you effortlessly stirred up inside him dying along with the waning flame.

“Bullseye,” he replies, voice tinged with his usual mirth despite feeling like he’s just lost everything good in his life. “You got anything for me?”

Yeah, that’s right.

You don’t need someone like him to be happy.

…

The hotel room you booked for the night is small and quiet.

When you shut the door behind you, the sound rings in your ears – loud enough to emphasize that you’re all alone. You decide not to pay it any mind before dragging the rest of your luggage further inside. 

When you arrived at Incheon Airport a few hours earlier, you couldn’t even muster up the tears. All you felt was that familiar emptiness that never seemed to leave you alone until Joshua came into your life. A dreadful void that was twice as massive now that you got a taste of how it feels like to be whole. 

Once you’ve claimed your baggage, you wasted no time ushering yourself out of the terminal. You’ve long decided to stay in Incheon for a while, given that you couldn’t exactly meet your father in such a state. But before making your way to the nearest hotel you could find, you made it a point to stop by a convenience store to buy a lighter and pack of cigarettes. 

For someone who’s more loaded than you could ever hope to be, Joshua liked smoking cheap brands. He told you it’s because those things could easily be bought anywhere. But his reasons for the odd preference were the last thing on your mind as you light up the first stick – taking a long drag that ends up making you cough out smoke and brings tears in your eyes. 

You fucking hate cigarettes. This is going to be one of the cold hard truths in your life. You hated them when you still worked as a hostess, and you hated them every time Joshua had the gall to smoke one in front of you.

…But this is the only piece of him that you have left to cling to. You like to think that each stick can help fill the void, even if it’s just smoke and ashes and false hopes. You always wondered why Joshua couldn’t bring himself to forego the habit. But maybe – just maybe – there’s also a void inside him. One that can’t easily be filled, the same one you’ve always struggled with.

Before that train of thought can fester any longer, you kill it along with the fifth cancer stick you’ve had for the day. The ashtray is full of cigarettes you could barely smoke past the filter, but you’re not about to give a shit.

In the solitude of your room, you wonder if you can ever forget those sunsets in Jeju. How your toes sank into the sand. How the salty ocean breeze tossed your hair around. If you close your eyes, you can still feel it on your skin.

But most of all, you ask yourself – can you ever forget Jisoo?

His eyes. His hair. His stupid tattoos. You abhorred how he always smelled like cigarettes, yet you’ve locked yourself up in some fancy hotel room to smoke a few just because you’re left with a ridiculous amount of laundered cash. Along with the bags full of those pretentious gifts he gave you, you selfishly kept the money because you deserve the goddamn means to take a real break from it all.

You don’t pay attention to the rest of your luggage – eyes solely focused on the knapsack lying idly on the mattress. Against your better judgment, you force yourself back to your feet, padding towards the bed as you open the zipper. 

Cash, cash, another wad of cash. You scoop every single piece out of the bag for no real reason. Is this solving any of your problems? No. Does it help you vent out your feelings? Yes. 

Stupid Jisoo, and his stupid fucking promises. Well, he never explicitly promised you anything, but still! What kind of evil maniac lets a hapless maiden fall in love with them, only to leave them hanging? Not all unfortunate ladies who’ve been pathetically led on by a handsome man were left with hundreds of thousands of won as some sort of compensation, sure. But that didn’t change the fact that you were fucking grieving.

You wanted to shout. To break something. To curse Jisoo Whatever-his-last-name-is so he can never find another woman like you. But once you reach the bottom of the knapsack, your anger is quick to go up in smoke.

There’s a red baseball cap inside – the same one Jisoo was wearing the night you met him.

You didn’t cry when you realized the love of your life had left you without saying goodbye. You didn’t cry as you carried your luggage alone in the airport. You didn’t cry either when you marched into this lonely, lonely hotel room.

But somehow, seeing that bright red cap made everything crash over you like a tidal wave.

“I thought you loved me more than anything in the world,” you murmur to yourself, holding that silly hat to your chest like a goddamn lifeline. 

“Was that a hoax all along...Jisoo?”

...

The small village near Silverwood Lake is remote yet accessible at the same time. It’s the heart of tourism in the lesser known counties in California, so it comes as no surprise to see a dozen people bustling in and out of the borders.

In that same town, a young boy with big brown eyes wanders around the market – dark tufts peeking from beneath a tattered baseball cap. Though he seems like any other local his age, he doesn't actually know the language. His English is still a bit lacking, but he swears half of the time that his mother teaches him bits and pieces when she has time.

Right now, she’s somewhere by the lakeside, talking with an important political figure in the town as his entourage shows her around the area. The boy wasn’t a fan of all those pleasantries, so he asked her if he could look around in the market instead. Like all mothers, her initial reaction was to tell him no, but eventually, the puppy eyes he’s practiced on her for years made good on their purpose.

Fine. Just don’t wander too far, Shuji. Promise?

As much as he dislikes breaking promises with his mother – he knows how sensitive she is about those, despite her age – the young boy figures that what she doesn’t know won’t kill her. He’s fifteen now. Even if he’s in a foreign country, he’s smart enough not to get lost in unfamiliar places.

So, when he finds nothing interesting in the market, the boy follows a merchant’s route that bypasses a huge forest. This is the road that he and his mother took on the way to the town, so he’s slightly familiar with the terrain. But still, the perspectives are warped when one traverses it on foot.

He follows the route just like he initially planned – admiring the looming pine trees rising everywhere he looked. His mother has taken him to all sorts of places because of her job, but America might make it to the top of his list at this rate. Though, his eyes are quick to spot a fork in the road – one barely visible unless you know what you’re looking for. 

The boy glances around, but no one else is in sight.

Ravens caw overhead as he traverses the stray path. Dead leaves and crunch underfoot as the trees seem to grow thicker around him. Anyone else would feel terrified of being in such a place, but the boy has always had a knack for braving the unknown.

His courage is rewarded once he arrives at the end of the road, revealing a magnificent lake that he could never hope to see if he’d stuck to the main route. This one's different from Silverwood Lake. It's much smaller, and less polluted by civilization.

He stares at the scenery with wide eyes, taking out his phone from the pocket of his jacket before snapping a few pictures to show his mother for later.

“Hey, kid. What are you doing here?”

The boy startles at the sound of another voice, and he realizes that there’s another person sharing this view with him. A man, much older than he is, sits on a foldable chair by the edge of the lake – fishing rod in hand as he tosses the reel into the water.

“Just…looking around.” He only replies with broken English because he doesn’t think the stranger is someone sketchy. The boy even notices the sturdy looking crutch propped against his seat. “What are you doing?”

For a moment, the man simply looks at him before surprising the boy with very fluent Korean.

“Fishing. What else do you think it looks like, kid?” the man says a-matter-of-factly as he rakes his fingers through his dark yet graying hair. 

He gulps before switching to his mother tongue. “There’s fish underneath?”

“Of course there's fish underneath.” The fisherman rolls his eyes. “You’re not from around here, are you? You lost?”

The boy shakes his head. “I told you, I was just looking around.”

“Okay. Tell your parents to come get you then,” the man tells him – growing slightly annoyed at his peaceful fishing session having been interrupted. 

“My mother’s busy. My father’s a scumbag who left her alone.” The young boy shrugs. “I’m pretty much free to do whatever I want, mister.”

A few moments pass by in silence, and he wonders if he said something strange. But either way, the man’s irritation morphs into amusement. “Shitty dad, huh?” he chuckles. “That’s right. Don’t ever forgive the people who’d hurt your mom. What’s your name, kid?”

The stranger jolts his fishing rod before the boy can give an answer, hauling a fish out of the water right before his eyes before dumping his latest catch in a wicker basket. 

“Jisoo,” the boy tells him. “But my mom calls me Shuji”

To his surprise, the man simply nods. “Cool name.”

“Aren’t you going to say it’s weird or something?”

“Now you’re just asking too many questions.”

“My mom said it’s common courtesy to exchange names on the first meeting,” the boy huffs. “So are you going to tell me or not?” 

The man sighs. “You’re really demanding for a kid. Kinda reminds me of someone I used to know.”

“...I’m leaving.”

“Ah! Wait a sec, lemme just pack up and I’ll head back to the harbor with you. If you wander around, you might just get mauled by the wolves,” the man tuts, already putting away his reel before folding his chair back up. That’s when the boy notices a glint of brown attached to a cord around his neck. He squints.

Has he seen that necklace before? 

But there isn’t exactly much room to ponder about that. The man is struggling to tidy up on both feet – clearly unfit to protect anyone from woodland predators. The boy wonders if he’s injured himself so badly before that the aftermath still lingers. But still, he finds it a bit awkward to just stand around, so he walks over to him with a defeated sigh, offering to carry the fish basket and chair in his stead.

“What happened to your leg?” he wonders.

The man brushes the hair out of his face, looking forward as he leans on his crutch. “Got fucked up by a bunch of…gangsters a few years back. Haven’t been the same since.”

“...My mom knows a lot of doctors all over the world,” the boy says. “I’m sure she can find someone who can help you walk normally again.”

“Hm? Aren’t you being too generous to someone you just met, kid?”

He frowns. “I was taught by mom to treat everyone with basic decency.”

“Heh. You really love your mom, don’t you? Does she travel a lot?”

“For work, yeah. She’s a diplomat.” 

The boy wonders if this is really okay. His mother might just be mortified at the thought of her only son talking to a stranger like they’ve known each other for years. But there’s just something about this man that he can’t quite pin down. Something that makes it easy to talk to him, even if they only met literally ten minutes earlier.

Well, his mother was looking for fresh catches to have for dinner anyways. Maybe she’ll let his penchant for making friends in unlikely places slide once he introduces her to this strange fisherman with fucked up legs.

⟢ end notes: if you made it this far, congrats UEYRUEF I KNOWWWW i have a shit ton of wips waiting in line, but i've been contemplating abt repurposing this fic for joshua for SOOOOO LONG. after hearing some advice from a few friends, i decided to just go for it and viola! 18k words shua angst was born out of nowhere. i felt so EMPTY the first time i finished writing it, so i hope you feel the same way too :3c

[cry4mina]

Take Me Back To Eden - Aqua Regia (Part 3)

(Nayeon x fem!reader)

Take Me Back To Eden - Choke Hold - Part 1

Take Me Back To Eden - Granite - Part 2

Word Count: 5.1k Angst/More Angst/Angry Fluff/A secret fourth thing? Summary: Reader has the name of the person who wrote the note and decides it's time to let the culprits know how they feel. TW: Mentions of drinking, confrontations, trapped in a small space, sitting in the rain, mentions of food, intimate moments sprinkled in there (Not sex, but like something you'd only do with your partner, if that makes sense??). Reader is half way on a war path, but is overwhelmed by their own emotions, lost of confusion. Let me know if I missed anything! A/N: WELP, this is the end of my first series. I do really appreciate all of the support shown and I look forward to posting more content for everyone in the future! If you haven't read the first two parts of this, they are linked above the word count! Thank you for reading<3

***after hearing feedback from everyone this will NOT be the end of this series! Stay tuned****

Reminder: My asks/requests and DMs are always open!

You stare at the screen of your phone in absolute disbelief as you read the singular name texted to you. Blood boils through your skin as your fear turns to anger.

The phone starts vibrating in your hand as Nayeon calls trying to get a hold of you again. You throw your phone across the room in a fit of rage. It continues to vibrate against the floor, refusing your want for silence.

You are dumbstruck and livid, fighting the water that threatens to fall from your eyes. Your feet are flat on the floor, elbows resting on your knees as you hunch over, head in hands.

You’re too angry to even begin to decipher exactly what your body needs as the trauma sinks its teeth into your bones. Cold poison taints the warmth of your soul.

You’ve spent years unearthing and healing old scars, only for the person who helped you through it to completely undo all the hard work.

You quickly stand up and retrieve your now shattered phone as it rings, making your way back to the couch when you see a cable tucked until the cushion.

You raise your eyebrow, placing your phone on the arm of the couch before tugging on the wire to reveal Nayeon’s ipad hiding between the seats of the love seat you plopped on.

“She’s probably pissed she forgot this.” you smile at the thought wishing for inconvenient things to happen to annoy her for the remainder of the day.

You’d never wish actual harm on her, you still loved her. You are definitely upset enough to wish for one of her nails to break enough to make them look uneven, or for her shirt to be caught on a door handle while walking through it.

You swipe up to unlock it but it reveals a keypad for a passcode. You hesitate. Was this something you really wanted to do? You no longer had any trust in her but would you breaking her trust make it any better?

You punch in the first code and the screen shakes. It’s not her birthday. You try your birthday, the lock shimmies back at you asking for another set of numbers. You think for a second before trying your anniversary and it opens.

A deep breath in, and you click on the messages. Searching for the name of the person who accompanied your partner in betrayal.

You notice in the sidebar your name with a heart and the banner underneath your name swiftly changing as it synchronizes with the pinging of your phone.

You fixate on the other names in the list. Momo, Sana, Mina, a few Twice group chats when the name pops up to the top of the list.

“Are you alright?”

You seeth knowing the hands that typed that message are the hands that touched Nayeon. You see the text bubble start to move and then stop only to start up again.

“No, I’m flying back home tonight instead of tomorrow. I’ll call you later.”

Great. You think about packing a bag and heading to Momo’s but this was your apartment. Why should you have to leave? You think about how long you have until Nayeon arrives.

You phone goes back to buzzing as she’s panic texting you. Telling you that she will be home later tonight and you can talk it through then. She begs you not to leave the apartment. You scoff.

The ipad pings again.

“Okay, just checking in. My plane just landed back home and I have a meeting. I should be home after that. If you need a place to stay, just let me know.”

Your stomach churns at the offer. Hands that aren’t yours trailing Nayeon’s body weighs heavy in your stomach. This person can’t be offering this to her. What if she says yes? You fixate on the screen as the chat bubble pops up.

“I really do appreciate that but I don’t think that y/n would want me to stay with you.”

“A little too late, no?” You say out loud annoyed that she’s trying to assert a boundary with this person. Knowing full well it already happened.

“So she knows now? When you said you got into an argument, I didn’t think it was about that…”

You grit your teeth. You hear your jaw crack under the pressure as your eyes widen, seeing the acknowledgement of the deed with your own eyes. It has your sights on red.

“Yes. I know now.” You type into the virtual keyboard hitting send immediately and tossing the ipad to the side. For a brief second, silence fills the room. No notifications, no pinging of text tones. Just pure silence.

You stand up hastily, leaving your electronics behind, not wanting another text notification or phone call. Grabbing your keys and wallet before walking out the door. You’ve got a meeting to get to.

-

You hop into the driver's seat and put your car in reverse and pull out of the parking spot and into the road. The tires are recklessly screeching behind you as you swerve through traffic

. You run through the red lights like they’re nothing. Not even blinking as you speed onto the freeway in silence. You know exactly where the meeting is and you plan on being present for it.

You get off on the exit, and pull up to the JYP building, parking in Nayeon’s spot knowing she wasn’t going to be in today. You rip the keys from the ignition, hear the scrape of the metal as you push the car door open and slam it behind you.

The fresh rage in your body physically manifests as you speed walk through the cold air, steam rising from your arms as you start to walk through the side entrance close to the elevators.

As you walk past the security guard. He stands to greet you and informs you that Nayeon isn’t in today. You look at him and he sees the absolute fury in your eyes, “Carry on, Y/n” and seats immediately back at the desk.

You return to your pace, reaching the elevator and slamming the “Up” button with your hands, probably too hard as it starts the woman also waiting.

You cross your arms; heart racing with your jaw and fists clenched, leaving the taste of copper in your mouth and indents in your palms as you “patiently” wait for the elevator to come down to pick you up.

You hear the ringing and snap your head up to see none other than Park Jihyo standing inside, about to get off when your eyes connect. Her smile fades quickly when she realizes what’s about to happen.

She tried to take a step out and greet you, but you put your hand on her shoulder and shove her lightly back into the elevator. The woman you previously startled hesitates so come in.

“Would you mind taking the next one?” You hiss at her. You don’t wait for an answer, hitting the button for floor 7, and turning to face the doors as they close.

The lights are bright and threatening as you ascend up. You count the floors as they pass, Jihyo silent behind you nervously playing with her hands when you reach out and hit the “Stop” button.

The elevator grinds to a halt between floors. You turn around to face Jihyo, eyebrows creased and lean against the walls of the 6ft wide box.

“When were you planning on telling me, Hyo?” You spit at her loudly. Your hands rise to pinch the bridge of your nose. She flinched at the tone and volume of your voice.

You weren’t going to hurt her, she knew that. She’s just never seen you like this before. She takes in your demeanor and slowly runs her eyes up your body taking note of your unkempt clothes, the bags under your eyes, and lack of jacket.

“Did you speed here after seeing that conversation?” She quizzically inquired while tilting her head at you. You roll your eyes, uninterested in the question. You feel like she’s challenging you, even if it is innocent.

“Here’s what we are going to do.” Firmly enunciating your words as they sputter out of your mouth.

“I’m going to ask you the questions and you are either going to answer them or we are going to be in this elevator for a very long time.”

Jihyo nods her head, understanding that this isn’t the time for her to try to ease the tension with playful banter. She does pity you though, knowing that she was part of the cause makes her eye shift to the floor as she begins to speak. Her empathy is losing its meaning in your apathy.

“Listen Y/n, I know that this is a lot and I can’t imagine what you are going through and feeling right now. I need you to know that it was a one time thing and it has never happened again. We were both drunk out of our minds.”

She lifted her head up to try to sneak a look at your face. She sees your eyes spilling over and winces. She hates this just as much as you do but you’re unsure of if it’s because the conversation is emotionally charged or just uncomfortable.

“It was a stupid mistake. We were going to tell you but we were trying to avoid this. It was years ago. I didn’t even know she was seeing someone until she told me the morning after. She was inconsolable. She was so scared to lose you that she couldn’t stop crying and shaking…I wrote her that note and stuck it in her wallet the night of thinking it would be funny to wake up too. I thought she would’ve thrown it away by now.” Jihyo sighed heavily, searching your face for signs that you were absorbing her story.

“I can tell you this much. I’ve never seen Nayeon look at anyone the way she looks at you. The way her eyes light up when she talks about you is something other people dream about when they think of love.”

You choke on your emotions. Dropping your angry mask to reveal the truth behind your eyes. Suffering. You squat down and hold your knees to your chest as you sob. Jihyo quickly follows, placing a hand on your back trying to console you.

Once you have some semblance of calm, Jihyo speaks again. “Do you remember the night that I called you from Nayeon's phone?” Hyo smiles at the memory. It lives happily in her brain too

. “I didn’t know how into you she was until she started crying about missing you…and when you got to my house and she almost tackled you in the snow, it only solidified how important you are to her. It was my idea not to say anything…”

You glare at her waiting for her to finish.

“I know, I know. I’m sorry. I really am. I just didn’t want to shatter something that was just starting. Look at the beautiful relationship you’ve built with her. I could tell when I saw you both together that you were meant for each other. I felt bad for it then and I feel even worse about it now.”

You feel yourself melting into sadness, once more. A heavy breath leaves your mouth when you realize you were so wrapped up in what was happening that you forgot you were in a stopped elevator.

You calmly stand and brush yourself off. You hit the stop button again and the elevator groans to the 7th floor. The doors open and a few people file in, not realizing the emotionally charged conversation that had just taken place, though you’re sure it’s displayed across your face.

A man in a suit pressed the “Ground level” button and the elevator descended to the lobby.

Once the doors open, you swiftly walk past security. Trying to leave behind the anger fueled attempt at a conversation, even if you didn’t say much.

The friendship you developed with Jihyo allowed her to know exactly what to say so keep you calm despite that being the first appearance of your unadulterated anger.

You leave JYP through the front doors, and start walking down the sidewalk through the rain. “Where are you going?” You hear Jihyo shout from the front of the building. You don’t even turn around, you just keep walking.

You find yourself in a park by a river and sit down on the wet bench. The light drizzle that threatened rain all day opened up and washed over your skin.

You should’ve brought a jacket, you think as you let the cool drops land on your back completely soaking you. You reach in your pocket, forgetting that your phone is at home.

The words “Missing something?” Unearths itself out of the rain with a black umbrella and sits next to you on the bench, shielding you from the downpour. “Didn’t want to be bothered by the constant ringing?” You sit in silence not wanting to interact with Jihyo.

She knows you well. You’ve been around each other for long enough to pick up on the little things. You roll your eyes wishing it wasn’t someone who could reflect you back to yourself. “Look, I know this is overwhelmin-“

“No, you don’t” cutting her off with a tone that could dissolve the strongest on metals.

Your face contorted with exasperation as you spew out the words, “You have NO idea what it’s like to look at the person you’ve spent the last 3 years with and question whether or not they are who they say. You don’t know what it’s like for that same partner to hide things behind your back with someone you consider family. Please tell me about a time you’ve experienced this level of betrayal, Hyo. You’ve got no clue what I’ve been struggling with these past few days and don’t you dare say that you have!”

Your words were harsh and she accepted them.

“You’re right. I’m sorry.” She calmly states while holding eye contact with you.

You're more upset that she’s so polished in her responses. You maintain your angry demeanor turning to face the river in front of you.

The rain continues to fall as you sit in silence, Jihyo just sitting next to you waiting for you to speak.

“Why are you still here?” Annoyed at her presence.

“Because I’ve made you upset with my actions and you’re my friend.” The emotional whiplash your body is projecting is infuriating. Overwhelmed by the notion that two things could be true at once. On one hand, you’re livid with Jihyo and Nayeon. On the other, you respect the accountability of the person in front of you, even if it only instills anger in you further.

She’s sat here in silence with you, in the middle of a thunderstorm only to be yelled at.

“If I would have known this was the result of keeping it a secret, I would’ve told you years ago. I wouldn’t have convinced Nayeon not to say anything. Hell, I barely remember any of it, neither of us do. I really am sorry.”

Her words make you think about Nayeon. If she didn’t remember…if she wanted to tell you.

Nayeon had never broken your trust before. She was always honest, even overly honest. She would answer anything you asked her. You had trusted her with every detail of your life.

Every scar that ever calloused over your heart was shown to her. Whenever they started to ache again, she would kiss the wounds and soothe you. You crave that same comfort now, undecided if you are going to go and get it, reeling at the potential falsehood of it all.

Jihyo watched the cogs move in your head as you sorted through the information and filed it away where it belonged.

She stands up and looks over, “do you want a ride back to your car? The rain is only going to get worse from here.” You nod your head yes and walk back to the car, getting in the passenger side. You sit in silence the 4 minute drive back.

Your stomach starts to growl as you approach the JYP building. You wished you brought your phone with you so you could order something and have it be at the house by the time you got there.

“If you ever want to talk, please know I’m here for you” she says as you get out of the car in silence and close the door behind you.

You ended up stopping at a local cafe to get something to go. The girl behind the counter widening her eyes as she watches you walk in, absolutely drenched. You ordered your usual sandwich.

“Anything else?” The girl behind the register asks, still looking at you like you’ve got something on your face other than rain and tears.

“Yeah, actually. Can I get that one salad you guys have with the apples in it? I’m not really sure what it’s called.” You only know it by “Nayeon’s favorite”.

The girl rolls her eyes and punches in the order. You pay for it, and twiddle with your thumbs while you wait.

Pulling up to the apartment felt different this time. No people waiting for Nayeon outside, no cars blocking you from making a swift escape into the building. You wonder if she’s home yet as you get into the elevator.

The kitchen is lit up upon entry. You left all the lights on. Phone and ipad are still on the love seat but the sectional is occupied by a sleeping Nayeon.

She’s wrapped in the blanket you’ve been using and laying on your pillow. You quietly walk in and place the food on the counter and quickly step into the bedroom. You let out a light sigh, and decide it’s time you take a shower. Feeling grimey from the rain.

You emerge from the bedroom in sweatpants and a cropped tank top, hair still wet. You tie it up into a bun and quietly pull plates down from the cabinets.

You glance over to see Nayeon still asleep and notice that her phone is in her hands. She’s probably waiting to hear from you. Plating the take out, you quietly bring the dishes over to the living room and place them lightly on the coffee table.

You return to the kitchen and grab another bottle of wine from the refrigerator and a set of glasses. You pop the bottle open, and freeze as you hear a shift coming from the couch.

You don’t look back at the sound. Continuing pouring the wine into the glasses you had already set out. You hear a light gasp as she notices the food on the table. You hear the smile in it and fight back the upward pull of your lips.

Anxiety sets in as you remember what you’re walking into. You feel your fingers locking up as you reach for cutlery. It rattles in the drawer, drawing Nayeon’s attention. She stills as she feels her brain turn on, remembering what had happened hours beforehand.

Picking up the glasses and bringing them to the table, her eyes follow your every move. You place a glass down in front of her and hand her silverware. “Eat.”

She’s moving very cautiously through this unnavigated territory. Not only in the sense of “walking on eggshells” even her usually fluid movements were slow and strategized.

You take the sight of her in as you pick at your food. It looks like the nap she took was the first ounce of sleep she’s had in days. Eyes bloodshot and half lidded as she chews. She sets her fork down, takes a large sip of the wine and looks down at the floor.

“...Y/n…” she briefly looks up to see you already present and focused on her. You’re waiting for your explanation that she owes you.Her eyes return to the food in front of her to avoid adding discomfort to herself.

Her face beams a shade of red as her eyes close. It twists in a way you’ve seen many times before and she tries to hold it all together. Pools of tears start to collect and shed as she continues. Her words muffled underneath a thick layer of guilt.

“I made a mistake, a really bad one, at the very beginning of our relationship.” You wince at the sound of her voice cracking. The sharp edged subject matter slicing at you in the same way finding that note did.

“I need you to know that I do not remember any of it. I was that drunk and so was Jihyo.” Another twist of the knife in your chest. You remember to breathe and continue listening.

“Nothing has happened since, and nothing like this would ever happen again. I wanted to tell you but the person I was then and the person I am now are two completely different people. Even that version of myself would never dream of hurting you in such a way. I allowed myself to be convinced that not telling you was better than you leaving. Please understand that I would do anything to remove this from my past…our past.”

It all becomes too much as you shoot up from your seat and bring your plate to the kitchen and put it in the sink. Faucet on, you scrub the plate like it’s caked in dirt. Nayeon, who is still in the living room, stands up and follows you to the sink.

She’s sniffling behind you, covering her mouth with the sleeve of your sweater she was wearing. You tilt your head to face her, taking in the pure shame she was already putting herself through for the act that she committed. You turn the faucet off and dry your hands with the towel hanging on the oven’s handle while turning to fully face her.

You pitch the bridge of your nose trying not to break again. Wide eyes looking at you, studying your body language trying to determine what you’ll say…if you’ll say anything. She can see the stress emanating from you

“Please say something.” She breathes, reaching out to touch your shoulder in hopes to bring you back to the present. Hoping it’ll keep you from emotionally shutting down.

It sends a shock to your nervous system, almost jumping out of your skin as the soft familiar hand glides down your arm to your hand where she leaves it.

“I don’t know what to say, Nayeon.” You are battling yourself. You are both angry and so in love with this beautiful human in front of you. Even with tears in her eyes, she was magic to you. Effortlessly, stunning even in the face of fear.

You are endlessly baffled by the mistake made because she’s always been so attentive, so patient, so tender and caring that even her admitting it to your face felt like a lie. You know that’s not who she is, right? Wrong. You don’t know anything for certain. Logic and emotion argue as you stand there silently. Trying to figure out where to go next.

She reaches out and tucks a loose strand of hair behind your ear, the other hand still in yours and tears still falling. You don’t want to let go of her hand, but you don’t want to tighten your hold on it either.

She’s patiently watching your eyes as they animate the war in your head. The two sides were fighting and you were standing on the fence of the choice you had to make. You ponder what life would be like without her and what life was like with her. Do all of those amazing moments count for nothing? Were they a waste of time?

You take a deep breath and look Nayeon right in the eyes. She feels almost violated by how deeply you are looking into her.

“I am devastated.” Your shoulders are feeling slightly lighter as you continue.

“I can’t believe you did this and didn’t tell me. For our entire relationship to be built on this foundation absolutely shatters me and everything we’ve ever built together. I feel like I don’t know who you are.”

The last sentence knocks the wind out of her. She’s gasping for air and holding back sobs.

“I just never expected this from you…” you said shakily while you watched her try to collect herself.

You rotate and sit down on the floor, sliding your back down the flat doors of your cabinets. She follows but on the other side, feet between yours. Trying to muffle the cries because she can’t bear the fact that she has caused this damage.

You feel the exhaustion take over. Your physical body has been tensing to hold the weight of the situation for days now. You yawn, Nayeon regulates her breath as you try to gain the energy to continue the conversation.

She stands up and lays her hand out for you, wordlessly. She doesn’t let go of it as she leads you to your shared bedroom, a bed left untouched sits right in the middle.

You are thinking about how great sleeping in your bed will feel after being on the couch for days. She’s out of the room as quickly as she brought you here.

You start to feel warm under your clothes. You remove them and fling them into a corner. Crawling under the comforter and settling in.

Nayeon returns, your pillow in hand. She notices you’re missing your tank top and shifts her eyes down out of respect. Not knowing if you wanted her to see you this way anymore.

She bends down and unplugs her phone charger and grabs her pillow. “I’ll sleep on the couch, I know how your back gets. Please get some rest.” She kneels on the bed for a second and leans in but hesitates.

Was it her place to kiss your forehead still? She took the risk and quickly walked out of the room.

-

You lay in bed for what feels like hours. Uncomfortably tossing and turning in the lonely sheets. You open your eyes and stare at the ceiling, getting lost in the patterns of the texture.

Exhaustion is no match for your mind and you really don’t want to be in this bed alone right now. You sit up, comforter falling to reveal your chest.

You think about how Nayeon is on the couch by herself right now. Probably overthinking everything and stressing herself out, no sleep in sight. In a moment of weakness, you stand up and saunter into the living room.

She lay splayed out in the sectional, phone in hand scrolling mindlessly in the warm light. A useless distraction, you were all that filled her mind.

You take note that she removed the sweater and was only in a sports bra now. You can’t help but daydream about how her skin feels on yours.

She notices you standing in the doorway, arms crossed, holding yourself. She looks away from her phone to acknowledge your presence, locking it and laying it on her chest.

“Having trouble sleeping too?” You nod and bite the inside of your cheek.

You take the risk, slowly wandering to the front of the sectional and climbing into the blanket with her. She’s surprised by the action but lifts the blanket so you can get comfortable, making sure you're covered.

“You’re so cold” she whispers as you press your face into her neck and wrap your arms around her causing her to shiver. You don’t have the same compulsion of not wanting her to touch you. She feels like Nayeon. She feels like home.

She starts tracing patterns on your shoulder as she leans her face on the top of your head. Both silently enjoy each other's comfort as you drift off to sleep.

-

Awoken by the sound of humming in the kitchen, you smile before you even open your eyes. You know what’s happening before you are even half awake.

You’re still wrapped in the soft blanket on the sectional taking up more space that you originally were now that the other person was up and about.

“Shit.” A whispered voice rings through the apartment.

“Too much creamer again?” You slyly say from the couch. You hear her jump, she must’ve not realized you were awake.

“I didn’t mean to wake you, ba-“ she stops herself from saying the pet name, not knowing what the boundaries were anymore.

“You didn’t wake me. I should be the one apologizing, I was the one who scared you.” You chuckle, getting up and stretching before throwing on the sweater, laid across the couch’s back, to cover up a little before you start your morning rituals.

When you turn around you see her cheeks fill with red. “You okay?” You ask her, grabbing the black mug, taking a sip.

“I think so…” she says slowly, unsure of her next step. “I think I just want to know what the next step is…for us.”

Her eyes flicker to your face waiting for a response. You start to walk over to the bedroom.

“Well, we usually shower next, have you forgotten our routine already? It was only a couple of days” Trying to make light of the situation.

She giggles “you know what I mean…I just need to know if I can mend this. To fix this. Falling asleep with you last night was the calmest I’ve felt… ” You interrupt her before she can cloud your brain with sweet things. She always knew how to break you with that.

“I’m still angry that you hid it from me” stoically expressing the truth. Both truths.

“But I love you.” She smiles, hopeful of what’s to come, walking towards you with her arms out. Wrapping them around your neck and pulling you in for a soft peck.

After a few more quick kisses, foreheads connected as her arms slid down to your waist.

“But I need to make it very clear that I cannot do this again. So if you’re hiding anything else, please tell me now.”

She cups your face in her hands and brings you in for a long kiss that makes you a little weak in the knees. “I’ll never hide anything from you again. Ever.”

“Good, will you start the shower then?”

She happily skips into the bathroom.

You start to pick out what clothes you’re wearing for the day when you hear a phone vibrate in the kitchen. Walking over to the counter and picking up the closest phone to see which one it was. It’s Nayeon’s phone with a message from Jihyo.

Your face drops as you read “Did she believe you or do we actually need to stop seeing each other?”

Take Me Back to Eden - Ascensionism - Part 4

[theitgirlnetwork]

What Are You Willing To Do?

Note: Hey everyone, its time to introduce a new boy to the lineup. Probably our craziest lead boy, Mr. Rafe Cameron. This is a snippet of his upcoming series. The first chapter should be coming out tomorrow along with an update in my other stories: Me and You and Better. I hope you all enjoy the snippet and are excited to embark on this new ride with me. It's gonna be toxic, sweet, and fun. Giving very, I can fix him/daddy I love him energy lol. But that's what Rafe needs! Pls heed the warnings though, this shit is for fun, and not real life, do not go find a crazy motherfucker like Rafe pls...or my oc. Let me know what you think and if you're excited for this story! The aesthetic for our leading lady is already posted. (Milan Cabot aesthetic).

Warning: Depictions of toxic relationships, dom/sub dynamics (throughout the series), obsession, explicit content and language (and everything else bad that comes with Rafe's crazy ass) MDNI.

“Take me home!” 

“Yeah? That’s what you want, kid, that’s exactly where I’ll take you.” Rafe chuckles humorously, pulling his hand from its place on her thigh, leaving the skin he’d been warming with his hand open to the cool night air. “Goin’ the fuck home.”

She watches as his large hand expertly whips the vehicle in the opposite direction of Tannyhill, turning to go down her neighborhood instead. The houses are just as nice, just as expensive, but she knew there would be something missing at her parents home. Rafe’s nonchalant, arrogant demeanor has her blood boiling under her skin in frustration. She wants to wipe the easy look off of his face. “M’not a fuckin’ kid.” she huffs, crossing her arms and leaning her head against the passenger window. 

She feels widened, sharp blue eyes burning into the back of her head as she stares into the dark streets, gasping when she feels the car jolt, tires skirting as the lunatic driver pulls into the shoulder of the road. Before she can react that same large hand is encasing her jaw, pointer finger and thumb pushing into her cheeks as he guides her face to his. “I’m like…I’m genuinely trying to figure out who the fuck you’re talking to.”

She whines a little, leaning into his hand, glancing over to the windows to ensure no one was witnessing this. “Rafe-”

“No, because, I know it’s not fuckin’ me. Like, you know better than that shit.” Rafe says, adjusting his grip, the cool metal of his ring resting against her cheek. “You know, I take bein’ your man like…insanely serious, like always…everything I do is for us. Like, you know that.”

“I…I do…”

“Handle business so I can make sure you have food to eat, buy you have the nicest shit, fuck you real good, m’not gettin’ the issue.”

“M’not saying there’s a problem.” 

Rafe releases his grip fully, taking to cupping her jaw instead, smoothing his thumb down the side of her neck. “And I don’t ask you for much do I, baby? Just hold me down. Listen to me. Trust me to build our life an’ shit, that’s too hard?”

“No, it isn’t, m’not saying I’m not grateful, Rafey, it’s just that sometimes-”

“I’m not trying to, like, minimize what you do for me.” Rafe cuts in again, softening his tone and leaning in to rest his forehead against hers. “But for this shit to work, princess, I need someone who’s gonna actually ride for me. And uh, I need to know now if you can do that, sweetheart. Got too much shit to do to keep having this conversation. Too many plans for us. You need to decide if you can be my woman.”

“I can, baby, I can.” she sighs, nudging Rafe’s nose with her own, ignorant to what he’d managed to do again, blissfully unaware as her eyes slip closed and her guard slips down. “M’sorry.”

“I know you are. But uh, what are you willing to do to show it?” he asks softly, working to keep the smirk off of his face as he watches the small resolve his girl had mustered crumble as she breathes him in, her knees retreating from facing the window and moving over to him instead.

“Anything, Rafey.”

“Yeah?” he says smugly, tugging her into a deep, nasty kiss, tonguing her down with his hand hooked in the necklace he’d bought her, holding her to him. “That’s good t’a hear, pretty girl. M’gunna hold you to that shit.” he murmurs against her lips before lightly nudging her back into her seat and starting the car, mumbling under his breath as he drives them to Tannyhill.

“‘Take me home.’ Must’ve lost your fuckin’ mind.”

[lindisworld]

Close || Matt Murdock x Reader

summary: Soulmate Au! In which [Name] has Daredevil as a soulmate and Matt unwillingly wants [Name] in his life. However Fate does its job and always brings them together.

Prologue

a/n: this is totally not proofread and this is my first time posting a fic on tumblr, don’t hate on me yall. still learning the ropes of using this app

The incredible phenomenon known as the soul connection, between two people intertwining their bodies and soul into a deeper profound connection. Whether it’s a scrape, a hit, or simply a paper cut etched into the person’s physical body, it’s mirrored by the soulmate. Fortunately, the injuries sustained isn’t felt by the other individual in any way. 

There’s [Name] who worked hard in her owned business, a coffee shop; a calm and serene place where people come for relaxation. The sweet aroma of coffee casted over the costumers, a soft melody of classical music playing in the background. 

It stood tiny compared to the other buildings, yet no matter how tiny it is. It’s popular amongst office workers, locals and tourists. 

The exterior was a caramel brown that glistened brighter in the sunlight. The sun reflected off the tinted windows, stopping unwanted heat from going through.

Costumers bustled in and out throughout the day, a warm cup of coffee in hand. A new order came in every five minutes, the soft sound of the espresso machine brewing overlaps the music.

“Is your soulmate that reckless?,” Marci Stahl, one of the many people who frequently come, pointed out towards the bruises, taking [Name]’s arm gently.

Marci is a lawyer from Landman and Zack, which is close by to [Name]’s cafe. Well, was a lawyer at Landman and Zack. She’s also known as [Name]'s childhood bestfriend who had a major dislike towards the soulmate despite not even knowing who it is. Cause who injures themselves that much? 

Though, she couldn’t feel the bruising of her flesh, she still wondered how can one person obtain so many contusions. [Name] brought her arm closer to her face, observing the reddish injuries.

Blotches of red and blue marks littered her arm; going from her forearm to her shoulder. The discoloration contrasting to her regular skin color. 

“Marci, they're probably really clumsy or something,” [Name] creased her brows together in distress - most of the time the bruises were on her torso. None of them were this noticeable. Yet, these were on display. For everyone to see, she tried her best with concealer but they still managed to seep through the makeup.

"All my long sleeve shirts were dirty, i couldn’t wear ‘em. You know these don't hurt," she assured the lawyer.

Marci rolled her eyes, “The probability of them being a criminal is high.  What would you do then? I’ll see you tomorrow.” She stated before turning her heel, walking out the shop leaving [Name] to ponder the question. 

Fate must have cursed her to have such an unfortunate soulmate who hurts themselves every other day, luckily fate also decided to spare them and not make them feel the pain. [Name]'s thoughts wandered off to what kind of person her soulmate was, if they were some sort of criminal or something. Perhaps a gangster getting into trouble.

To be fair, the amount of bruises she gets is unordinary to any citizen in America. She did think of countless scenarios if she were to have a criminal as a soulmate.  

Such as, joining them as their partner in crime or leave her life as a barista behind and make a new one without her soulmate. But, she doubted it would ever happen. Or maybe, it was one of the avengers. Though it was high unlikely, it still wasn’t out the window. 

Almost 30 minutes after Marci left, the barista heard the door bells ring, her head shooting up, her hand instinctively grabbing the notepad in her apron. [Name] headed towards the trio who sat themselves near a booth hidden away from most costumers. 

The warm air welcomed the group with the scent of coffee. Large arrays of sweets ranging from slices of cake to cookies. Soft chatters from individuals surrounding the place. Everyone else enjoying their treat and sipping on the coffee. 

“Good evening, how’s every one’s day been?” A smile plastered on her face, her fingers fiddling with the pen. The blonde lady with pretty blue eyes locked eyes with [Name] before traveling down to her arms which had the noticeable bruises. It was evident on her face that she was ready to question it. 

In result, [Name] hid her arms behind her back and awkwardly posed, hoping she’d get the hint and stop looking. One thing she always hated was when people stared and ask too many questions if she’s getting hurt or something else. Nevertheless, it was nice knowing people cared for her physical condition. 

“It’s going great now that we’re here celebrating our win with delicious desserts and coffee. Later on, we’re definitely looking forward to lots of drinking,” A male with medium length brown hair exclaims quite loudly. 

“Names Foggy, and you are…” Foggy said before glancing down at the name tag on [Name]’s shirt, “[Name].” He finished with a grin. 

“This is Matt Murdock and Karen Page.” He says and pointed at each person. “Give us your best recommendations for coffee and desserts, [Name]. I’ll put my faith in your hands.” He added. 

“Well, in that case. Is anyone allergic to anything?” [Name] questioned, look at each of them. Her eye lingered at the man with red glasses whose brows furrowed, almost seems like he was concentrating on something. [Name] then turned to Karen, who gently nudged Matt who broke his focus. 

“Huh?” Matt asked and looked over at her, he registered what she had asked and answered. “Oh, i’m not allergic to anything.” He said rather quickly and gave a quick smile. 

“Okay,” She brought the pen to her face, lightly tapping her cheek in a thinking manner. “People around here love the Cinnamon Roll Frappe and Vanilla Cappuccino, or a plain black coffee goes well with our chocolate croissant. We also have a variety of donuts. I’ll bring a box for you to try, on the house.” She explains.

Almost in an instant, Foggy’s face was overtaken by pure happiness by free donuts. Anything that was free and delicious is definitely welcomed in his life. 

“You are the best, [Name]! Amazing coffee and free desserts will definitely get you a discounted price at our law firm if you ever need our services!” Foggy rejoiced causing Karen and Matt to laugh. 

“Thank you for the donuts, I’ll definitely repay you somehow,” Karen kindly spoke and gave her a smile, “I’ll take the Cinnamon Roll Frappe.” She said. 

Foggy let out an enthusiastic sigh, “I’ll try your Vanilla Cappuccino, dear friend!” 

Matt laughs at Foggy’s antics and turned to [Name]. “Seems like I’ll do your plain black coffee with the chocolate croissant, please. ” Matt added. 

[Name] took note and walked towards the counter, preparing their drinks in an orderly manner. She’s heard about the trio before from Marci. However Foggy was mentioned more often than not in her conversations with her friend. 

“Hey, guys. I don’t mean to invade [Name]’s privacy, but I’ve noticed bruises on her arm.” Karen muttered quietly to the group, Foggy didn’t miss it either. 

“Looks like hell. Could be from her soulmate or God forbid, it’s something else you know,” Foggy responds and glances at the barista making their drinks. 

“I should ask her when we leave, woman to woman. So she’s comfortable instead of us asking her in front of everyone.” Karen suggests causing Foggy to agree. 

“Great idea, let her know we’re very good lawyers, Karen.” Foggy adds. Meanwhile Matt sat there, listening attentively. His senses were already attuned with the bruises on [Name]’s skin. With each passing moment, Matt’s heightened awareness became more apparent as he began to sense the blood pooling under her delicate skin. He knew she didn’t feel the pain, nonetheless he felt guilty she had tons littered around her skin just like him.

Within 10 minutes, she’s has all three drinks on top of a tray and a chocolate croissant on one hand and the other was the free box of donuts. She walks towards the group with a smile, already grown accustomed to having both hands full and navigating through crowds with ease. Especially after many years as a server when she was a teenager and now a barista with her own growing business. 

“Alright, lawyers. Here’s your order, I hope you all enjoy.” [Name] said and set the items on the table. “Let me know how it taste. Don’t burn your tongue.” She requested.

She held the tray to her side and waited patiently as they all brought their lips to their drink. [Name] nervously smiles and glances at each one of them. Foggy was the first one to talk.  

“[Name], I may have burnt my tongue but this is incredible! I won’t sue you for my injury.” Foggy saids and simply fell in love with the flavor. [Name] laughs nervously, not knowing if he’s joking or not. 

Matt must’ve caught on by her nervous laughter, “He was joking by the way. Although I do agree that this is very good coffee. Even if it’s plain black.” Matt complimented with honesty. These were organic coffee beans with no chemicals added so it didn’t taste nasty. Food wise, he kept everything organic so it wasn’t harsh on his senses. 

“I also agree, this is very good.” Karen said and drank her frappe. [Name] exhales and smiles. “I really do appreciate it. It’s always nice to hear feedback from customers.” [Name] responds.

”I have to get back to work if you don’t mind, enjoy the rest of your day and congratulations on your win.” [Name] turned around to walk away before she was stopped by Matt’s voice. 

“Wait- uh,” Matt hesitates before letting out a small sigh escape his mouth, “Sorry. I didn’t realize my chocolate croissant was here. A blind guy’s mistake.” He lied. He knew exactly where it was placed. Matt went back and forth with his thoughts, whether it was a good idea for [Name] to know that Matt was her soulmate. He didn’t deserve to have a soulmate, let alone friends who he constantly puts in danger. [Name] hums and walks away from Matt. 

[princesachicana]

𝐦𝐲 𝐛𝐮𝐭𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐟𝐥𝐲 (steven conklin x reader)

description: in which you’re head over heels for steven. But he isn’t head over heels for you, right?

wanna be added to my steven conklin tag list? just send me a direct message , ask box or comment on this post!!

God why couldn’t he just notice you? Steven Conklin was like a daydream when you looked at him. If he speaks even little as three words to you, your heart rate spikes. But no he didn’t look at you the way you looked at him, he’d only ever saw you as a friend. He romantically liked girls like Shayla maybe even Taylor? Seeing as he made out with her. You remembered that one of your sisters jokingly pushed you towards Steven, implying to make out with you next, the look on his face after made you mortified.

It’s like he was repulsed by the thought of even so much as giving you a peck on the lips. It seemed like everyone knew you were head over heels for Steven, but Steven himself. You noticed the sympathetic looks your friends and sisters gave you when you embarrassingly tried to make conversation with Steven. Just for him to shut it down saying “I’ll be back.” and actually never come.

You craved a summer romance. With all the other boys who’ve asked you out on dates? No. With Steven Conklin there was no better boy in your eyes. You craved a summer romance just like your sisters. A set of twins dating the fisher boys? Just like a romance novel. You saw how Jeremiah made Maria’s smile bigger, You saw how Conrad’s eyes softened every time he glanced at Mariana. Yeah that’s exactly what you wanted, but you and Stevens own version.

But right here, right now you doubted that it was even possible. You were currently sitting with all your friends and sisters around a fire. You’ve probably carved your name in the sand a thousand times. Being as the conversation was about a party that occurred a week before, you had little to say. You didn’t show up, and probably run into Steven making out with a girl? No. No. No. “Why didn’t my butterfly show up?” Steven asked nudging you with his shoulder, you smiled the nickname warming your heart a little.

Everyone called you “Butterfly” because when you were younger you took a little longer than most twelve month olds to take your first steps. So when you finally did your family compared it to a butterfly that finally spread its wings and flew. After your father told the story three summer’s ago, it just stuck. So when Steven used, it felt special for only a millisecond, because then you remembered everyone else also called you that.

Your mind went back to Steven’s question, of course you couldn’t say the real reason.

I didn’t show up, because I refuse to stare at you when your kissing someone else.

“I already told you, I was tired.” Your eyes went around the bonfire, everyone else giving you knowing looks. “Bullshit, you’re never tired” Jeremiah laughed. Maria who was in between his legs, her back to his chest, turned her head quickly giving her boyfriend a knowing look that said “you are so not helping” They had the type of relationship where they had a silent language, often times they gave each other looks and just automatically knew what the other was saying telepathically.

“Well I missed you, and hopefully you got some beauty rest cause tomorrow your coming!” Steven wrapped his arm around your shoulders, pulling you into him. You immediately giggled, you softly laid your head onto one of his shoulders. “She can’t!” Mariana spoke out loud, she was seated on Conrad’s lap who hadn’t stopped playing with her hair. Oh right you couldn’t come even if you wanted to. “Well why not?” Steven asked. “And I want no stupid excuses!” He declared with a grin.

“I have a date.” You whispered, eyes closing for a second. Yes, you had a date. The guy was nice, you didn’t know much about him. You only talked to him for five minutes and the only information that you got was, his name was Michael and he’d asked you out to an arcade. “You have a date? With who Casper?” Steven scoffed, laughing as he pulled away from you. You opened your mouth to reply but your all to protective sisters spoke before you. “Yeah, and he’s like so hot right y/n?” Mariana said making her boyfriend frown.

“Sorry babe.” She whispered, turning towards Conrad placing a chaste kiss onto his lips. “He is attractive.” Your voice was broken. You were embarrassed, Steven couldn’t even believe you had a date. He’d jokingly asked if your mysterious date was a ghost! It hurt. “Yeah, and they’ve been like FaceTiming non-stop right y/n?” It was Maria’s turn to defend you. Yeah, you wouldn’t say you’ve been FaceTiming Michael “non-stop” but he’d called a couple times and he was fun to talk to. “We have interesting conversations” your voice was small, almost preparing yourself for another insult from Steven.

“Yeah right” he muttered before getting up and walking away. You stared at his retreating figure, your eyes getting misty. Don’t cry. Don’t cry. Don’t cry. You repeated the words in your head like a mantra. “Don’t listen to him butterfly he’s an asshole.” Conrad spoke up, giving you a small smile. You nodded your head, scared that if you spoke you’d burst out into tears, you didn’t wanna ruin the rest of the night.

~

5 Minutes. 10 Minutes. 15 Minutes. 20 Minutes. 30 Minutes. Why had you waited this long? He wasn’t going to show up. You had stood by the prize stand for the arcade for almost an hour waiting for Michael like you both planned. You had stared at each and every couple who walked in hand in hand, you could tell which ones were on their first date and which ones had been together for awhile.

Really this was all your fault, right? You should have figured he wasn’t coming after your 3rd message went unanswered.

But you waited standing there, probably looking absolutely ridiculous in your outfit that your sisters helped you pick out. It wasn’t exactly your style but you figured this was what boys expected girls to wear on dates. You also tried something new with your makeup, a darker lip that made your lips more “kissable”, well according to Mariana.

After last night and how Steven had acted, you felt more than embarrassed. No doubt, he’d be laughing at you right now. You sat alone on the beach, it wasn’t a far walk from your parent’s beach house. Everyone else was at the party you contemplated showing up and lying about how the date ended quickly, but you’d face one hundred questions that would end in more lies so you just walked to the beach.

It wasn’t till now with the ocean’s waves swooshing in the background, that you cried. You had been stood up. You should of figured Michael wasn’t actually interested in you. He’d only ever asked you questions like “are you a virgin?” Or “what are you wearing right now?” and you’d occasionally get the “you up?” texts not surprisingly followed by him asking for nudes, of course you never sent any, maybe that’s why he didn’t show up?

This was just another reminder that you weren’t destined for a summer romance. “Hey” the greeting was quiet and soft, you knew it was Steven. You attempted to wipe your face, but the smeared mascara would be a dead giveaway that you had been crying. “Guessing the date didn’t go well?” Steven sat next to you hesitantly. “He didn’t show up, so just leave because I don’t really want to hear how you think it’s so funny.” You spoke staring straight at the ocean, contemplating on jumping in and letting the ocean take you anywhere but here. The boy you’ve been in love with sitting next to you as you admitted something humiliating.

“He’s fucking stupid.” Steven’s words were harsh. “Him? Look at me I got dressed up for him, I’m like the epitome of stupid.” You said, looking down at your outfit. “You look pretty really, well beautiful actually.” Steven said causing your eyes to meet his. “Thank you” His words made your heart nearly jump outside of your chest. He’d called you pretty, no he called you beautiful for the first time ever, he only ever said you looked “cute.”

“I think anyone who fucks up a chance with you is stupid, by the way” Steven’s words once again were a complete shock to you. “Anyways, any other dates or boys planned?” When he spoke each word, it looked like it took a lot for him to ask. “No, not right now at least, there’s this one boy, but he’s not interested so it doesn’t really matter.” You shrugged, like the boy you were talking about wasn’t right next to you. “Idiot” he mumbled if you weren’t sitting so close to him you wouldn’t have heard him.

“Can i ask you a question Steven?” You whispered not exactly knowing where you were going with this. “Of course y/n” he nodded motioning for you to continue. “Do you think a guy will ever be interested in me romantically, be honest am I ‘girlfriend’ material?” You needed to know, cause what was the point in trying if you were never gonna get anywhere? Your breath hitched when Steven softly took your chin in between his fingers. “You are so much more” Steven smiled, god that smile did it for you every single time.

“You’re the nicest person I’ve ever met, you smile at me even if I was an ass to you the night before, so far you’ve remembered every single detail about me, like you really always let me draw invisible shapes on your skin when you see me getting anxious.” Your heart was pounding again, we’re you able to fall in love all over again when you already were? The answer has to be yes because that was what was happening. “You’re beautiful, you always have that pout on your lips when someone interrupts you, and the beauty mark that sometimes your self conscious about is beautiful too.” Steven’s rant stopped when he noticed you were crying.

“Hey, I’m sorry what’s wrong.” Steven grabbed your face in between his palms. “Don’t say stuff like that, cause then I’ll think you actually like me.” You closed your eyes, the feeling of his hands on your face somewhat calming you. “Hey,hey I like you, I really like you.” His confession made your eyes blink open again. “You really mean that?” Steven nodded his head his eyes shifting from your eyes down to your lips. “Can I kiss you butterfly?” You giggled mumbling a yes.

Steven Conklin was kissing you! Something you’ve dreamed about many times before, it was actually happening! His lips against yours was soft, it was like fireworks being lit, an unspoken declaration for the both of you. You were both in love with each other. Maybe you showed it more than him at times? But it was always there for him as well.

You pulled away after a minute, needing to catch your breath. “Wow.” You said against his lips. His forehead was pressed against yours. “Wow? really that’s all you have to say.” Steven laughed. “I just can’t believe this is happening.” You admitted shaking your head. “Well believe it cause your mine butterfly.” Yes.Yes.Yes you chanted in your head.

“Wait? aren’t you supposed to be at the party?” You asked curiously. Steven laughed nodding his head “yeah, but it didn’t feel right without my butterfly.” He quickly said before pulling you into another kiss.

His butterfly. His butterfly. His butterfly

You were his, and he was yours.

TAGS: @gillybear17 @snowsharkk @tessastle @conradsupporterr @alyssa-cabrera @eranthisphiny @xoxoloverb @lostaurorax @lanisdreams @alexzluvz @lalaland-notfound (I TAGGED SOME OF YOU WHO ASKED TO BE ON THE CONRAD TAGLIST! But if you don’t want to be on Steven’s just let me know!)

[prolix-yuy]

Chapter 4: I Had to Face the Journey Before Me

Pairing: Jack “Whiskey” Daniels x F!Reader “Sugar”

Summary: He's only turning your world upside-down.

Word Count: 4k

Warnings: Now we're really going to Angstville, a million questions and SOME answers, brief description of a panic attack, will be E in later chapters so full series is 18+ MINORS DNI.

Notes: It's time for another (and better) face to face, though they're not on easy street just yet. We're starting to get into the beefy chapters now, and while they've got a lot of talking to do I hope you'll also enjoy the tensionnnnnn. Thank you to the Discord besties for giving me the best inspiration for Jack's ranch, and some of its inhabitants. Without further ado, the much-anticipated conversation!

Cross-posted on AO3

Decoherence Masterlist   ||   Whiskey & Westworld Masterlist

The steering wheel is sticky with sweat, slicking your palms the closer you get to your destination. Jack gave you an address, followed by verbal directions “once you get past civilization.” You’d just passed that point, heading through an open fence and down a dirt road where the GPS could no longer follow. He said it would be about five more minutes after that, and “you can’t miss it.”

The tug in your chest, like a fishing line pulling you closer and closer, is terrifying and exhilarating.

You’d had plenty of time to contemplate what seeing Jack again might be like. After you checked into your room, you sat on the edge of the bed and stared at the wide wooden floorboards for at least an hour. The bed and breakfast you rented for the long weekend is cozy, just outside the town center. It’s classically furnished with a four poster bed, dark cherry dresser and oversized reading chair. The proprietor, a middle aged blonde woman named Michelle who gave you a no-nonsense vibe, had offered to light the fireplace but you refused. 

“What time would you like breakfast tomorrow?” she asked as you were leaving. An innocuous question, but one that dried out your mouth. You had planned to come back here after speaking with Jack, ruminate on what he might share, but having to commit to it makes a confusing swirl of emotion build behind your eyes.

“8am, if that’s no trouble.” 

Now, mere minutes away from being face to face with the person who’d turned your life upside down yet again, that commitment is a comforting blanket. You have a way out in case it doesn’t go well, someone who will notice where you’ve gone. Well, someone else at least. Lacey knew you were here, though not precisely why.

“Are you sure you want to meet some guy you’ve only known for a few months? I know Match is pretty reputable, but you’re flying to him. Do you have a plan B if he’s a big old catfish?”

A small lie, but Lacey’s concern is not far off from your own.

“If it’s terrible, I’ll bail. I know it sounds a little crazy, especially after the past year, but…it’s the first thing I’ve been excited about in what feels like forever.”

She squeezes your shoulders, giving you a kind smile.

“Sometimes, it’s good to do something a little crazy.”

This probably isn’t what she meant.

Cresting over a small hill, the house comes into view. You’ve become so accustomed to the city - skyscrapers, men and women in fresh-pressed suits, corporate coffee shops and endless headlights - that the landscape breathes renewal into your chest. The vista is dotted in reds and ochres, ironwood trees giving cover to the hard-packed dirt. Tiny dark lines of fences dot across the hills, the road carving a deep rut to a ranch house.

Where Sweetwater had been a manufactured ideal of what the western countryside should be, Jack somehow found its true form. The boards and shingles are weathered to a faded brown that nestles into the landscape. A sizable portico shelters a few chairs and a porch swing that’s just whimsical enough to bring a smile to your lips. A barn constructed in much the same style stands proudly a short distance away, and a rough wood fence sections off plots. There’s another machine barn housing what you think is a tractor, tire treads cut into the dirt.

Pulling your car up beside a faded blue pickup truck, you shut off the engine and take a moment to breathe. You already feel like you’re a world away from your life, just like the first steps into Westworld. But instead of the tamped-down excitement you held then, a heavy dread presses your anticipation low. How does this all exist at the hands of a man who is nothing like anything around him? 

Finally shaking out your hands and checking yourself in the mirror, you open your car door to a curious brown and white Jack Russell terrier peering up from the dirt. The sudden intrusion makes you bark out a laugh, leaning down as his mouth opens and his tongue flops out.

“Well hello there,” you say, earning a sneeze and wag of its short chestnut-tipped tail. It backs up enough to let you step out, sniffing at the car tires and sitting primly while you stretch your back. When you extend your hand for a sniff, it whuffles on your fingertips before making three quick circles with a yip. 

Chuckling, you take in a deep breath and the landscape in front of you bursts into color and sound. The shifting whistle of sand on the wind. Verdant greens twisting around tree branches. Hay, soil, tin, and baking sun tangling in your nostrils. A nicker and snort, far away, that makes your heart clench at the thought of horses.

The terrier trots off to climb the porch steps, looking behind like he’s expecting you to follow. Your feet propel you forward, each step crunching under your shoes letting a weight ease on your back. There are worlds so much bigger and bolder than this, but now in this moment, even with all that waits behind the door, answers feel closer than ever.

You reach out and knock three times, then wait.

The door swings open, and it’s Jack, but so much more than the man you remembered. Dark-washed jeans taper to scuffed and faded boots, dirt ground into the knees. The brown plaid he’s wearing has a handful of open buttons by his neck, exposing a long line of dewy skin from his collarbone to his throat, swallowing hard. His thick dark hair is parted and combed neatly, soft waves framing his face. His hand grips the edge of the door, knuckles going white. 

“Hey,” he says, small smile on his lips and trepidation painting his face. Your own must be showing just as clearly. “Thank you for coming.” You nod and shuffle on the porch, hands wringing nervously. Scolding yourself, you forcibly drop them to your side. 

At your heels, the terrier yips and clambors into the open door. The corner of Jack’s mouth turns up.

“I see you met Russell already. He tends to be the better host.” Jack rubs the back of his neck and it’s so endearing you almost forget the frustration and trepidation.

“He gave me a warm welcome. Though his name isn’t that imaginative,” you tease lightly, the words coming easy to mind. 

“Well, we sure as hell couldn’t have two Jacks around here, could we?” he replies. A soft giggle blankets you before falling silent again. Jack’s eyes roam, chewing the inside of his cheek.

“Would you like to talk out here on the porch? Or come in?” he asks, stepping back enough for you to see the hall stretching behind him. Taking a deep breath, you will your voice to steady.

“Inside is fine,” you manage, and Jack backs up to let you in. Stepping over the threshold brings your shoulder close to his chest, heat prickling at your skin. He closes the door behind you, then nods quickly to follow him in.

For someone you always considered a man’s man from his bravado and showmanship, his home is warmly decorated. Passing by the living room, the couch is oversized and slouchy with a well-worn recliner facing a modest TV. Dark woven rugs warm the wide-planked oak floors, gauzy curtains sandwiched between windowpanes and cream drapes. Russell’s nails click on the hardwood as Jack gives him a little nod and point. A showdown of puppy dog eyes and a stern nod finally sends a dejected pup to curl up on the couch, head propped on the armrest as you venture further in.

Jack leads you to the end of the hall and the heart of any home - the kitchen. The appliances are older, well used, with deeply scarred wooden counters and an impressive farmers sink under a window. The top cabinets look to have been recently sanded and prepped for stain to match the lower ones. Noticing your attention, Jack pipes up, “Caught me in the middle of a project.” 

He’s got projects. He probably has TV shows he likes, a way he prefers his coffee. And looking at him as he pulls up another chair to the little kitchen table in the center of the room, it’s clear that he has a heart when he looks at you. 

“Would you like something to drink? I’ve got iced tea, a few beers…” he rattles off as you scoot your chair up to the table edge. “Whiskey, if that’s not too on the nose.”

“Seems appropriate,” you muse, resting your wrists on the pale yellow plastic covering on the table. Jack huffs quietly, pulling down two short glasses and a bottle of Statesman from a high shelf. Pouring you a glass each, he sets them between and sits across. You take the glass between your hands, fingers circling the rim and lending some grounding to your racing thoughts.

“So…I might not have an answer to every question, but I can tell you as much as I know.” Jack’s voice, quiet and cautious, cuts through the air like an arrow to the heart. His posture is rigid, apprehensive, but not defensive. He probably thinks you’re still holding on to the notion that he’s human. He’s probably just as scared as you are of what this will bring. 

“I guess…how long have you…known? Been sentient? Did you know when…” The words start to tumble out of your mouth as every question repeating in your brain vies for attention. “Fuck, I don’t know how to do this,” you say, hands coming up to massage your temples. Jack holds the tumbler between two fingers, twisting it on the table.

“You and me both, Sugar.”

“That!” you shout, hitting your palm on the table. Jack’s eyebrows shoot straight into his hairline. “That’s the problem. You waltz back in here and act like we’re still the same people as we were in there.” Your voice cracks as you cross your arms over your chest. “But we’re not. I have no idea who you are. What you are.”

“I’m still Jack,” he says, quieter. There’s pain in the creases around his eyes. 

“Are you?” you ask, and it’s harsh, acidic in your mouth. “Who the fuck is Jack? I met someone that called themself Jack…in a world that wasn’t real. How can you be Jack here? Who the fuck is Jack in this…” You gesture to the farmhouse surrounding you. “...this place?” 

Jack chews on nothing, eyes downturned and searching his glass. Your heart is fluttering in your chest, chin jutting out in a defiance that would shatter with a strong breeze. Jack takes in a deep breath and a fortifying sip of liquor.

“Whiskey is a construct of Delos. A man made for the story they wanted. Widowed, wife and child lost. Driven by grief and madness. A traitor doomed to die every. Single. Time.” Jack punctuates his words by tapping his cup to the table. Each knock is a death knell.

“Now Jack, Jack has nothing to do with that world. He grew up raising horses. Mom and Dad passed some years ago. Or so he tells people who ask. Trains working horses, some farm hand work. Sells his chickens’ eggs. Helps some of the older folk with the higher-tech harvesting equipment. Keeps to himself.” 

Your fingers press into your glass, something to fortify you against the push and pull inside your chest.

“And which of those men did I…”

You swallow up the words that grip your heart.

“Both. Neither. I’d barely become when I met you. You left the bar with your friends, and Maeve…awakened me.” He lifts the glass to his lips and takes a barely-there sip, a slip of his tongue to catch the burn sending a frisson down your back. Little slips of memory - suave, confident, then cautious, unsure - dance along the edges.

“You felt different, between the bar and the wagons,” you say, taking a sip of your own. It’s nice, sweet on the tip of your tongue and full as it warms your chest. “It was just like that? One minute you’re Whiskey and the next you’re Jack?” 

“Bit more complicated,” he muses, sardonic smile quirking his mustache. “I knew something was up, something was different, but it took time to figure it all out. I barely knew what to do with myself when I was with you.”

“Could’ve fooled me,” you say, leaning back in the chair. “I guess you did. Felt like you knew exactly what to do to make everything…” You choke on the word perfect.

“Well that’s more Delos than me. The mesh network, the storylines. Once I could see it…” He falters, falls silent for a moment. When his eyes finally make it back to yours, they’re almost sheepish. “Sorry, not sure how much of this you want to know. I assume…you don’t feel the same way you did the last time we saw each other?”

You sigh, rubbing your temple. A dull ache scratches behind your eyes, the exhaustion of travel and the weight of conversation taking its toll.

“I talked to someone who gave me some perspective,” you finally say. Jack’s smile vanishes, replaced with a dead-set seriousness.

“You told someone about me?” he asks, and the fear in his voice clenches your chest.

“No, no, not like that. I spoke to an ex-Delos worker. She didn’t ask a lot of questions. But she gave me enough to know that you aren’t some predator.” Jack’s shoulders lower, but his hands are still nervous and tight. 

“She didn't know you were coming here?”

“Only Lacey knows. And only where I am, not about you.” Jack finally releases, chewing on his lower lip. 

“Sorry, it’s just…I’m not sure if they’re looking for me. For their property,” he spits out. In this idyllic little home so far away from the advances of society, more things start making sense.

“How long were you in the park after I left?”

“About a month. Maeve had an escape plan, but it took time…and sacrifices.”

The next question comes easily. In fact, most of what he’s saying now seems easier to accept. 

“And then?”

Jack leans back in his chair, hands spread wide on the tabletop. His fingernail scratches at the surface, at some invisible stain that stands between his memories and you.

“Nothing could have prepared me for what this world looked like. I thought the hell I woke up in the first time was the worst thing I could imagine but…” Jack’s jaw tightens , shaking his head. “It was like waking from a dream into something cold and unforgiving. I tried to make my way but I got too close to the city and…” He waves his hands, fingers wiggling as he makes an explosion noise, “It was like something inside me set off every alarm. I ran until I couldn’t hear sirens. The land was more familiar to me than anything humans built.” 

Another swig of liquor, almost draining his glass. “Managed to learn more about my predicament in lower tech places. It was easier to pass there. I figured out what I needed to be a man in this world, and set about doing it. With a brain like mine, lots of doors opened.”

“I didn’t even know places like this still existed.” Your eye catches on a cowboy hat resting on the kitchen counter, black and worn. Breath catching, you wonder why it never occurred to you that Jack wore a black hat. It practically screams “bad guy” in every old Western, yet he never struck you as such. 

Maybe you should have realized sooner that you weren’t following a narrative with him. 

“Took me some time to find it. I moved around a bit, tried the cities but…it was just too much, you know?” Jack shrugs one shoulder, and you can understand how a cowboy wouldn’t fit easily into a society that runs off of code and data and intangibles. Not when fresh air and a hard day’s work could be found. 

There it is again, that pull in your chest. You recognize it from the moments right after you entered Westworld, the familiarity of a life spent outside, rough and unkempt. The relief of leaving the sleek and shiny behind for dirt under your fingernails. You clear your throat, knocking back the rest of your glass in an attempt to regain a grip on the practical nature of this meeting.

“But you made it. You’re…here. Free.”

Jack nods slowly.

“So are you. It seems.”

In five words the careful wall you built so sensibly around your heart, all the coaching and resolve you fortified it with, threatens to crumble. You’re free batters your teeth, and in the echo of that thought is the memory of long nights wondering if you made the wrong choice. The coldness of your bed, the quiet that pervaded with only you in the small apartment you moved to. Jack makes as if to reach for your hand, but stops short, letting his heavy one lay a respectable distance away.

“I wanted to go to you the first day. And every day after. But after seeing what I had to learn…I knew I couldn’t burden you with that. I had to figure out who I was first.”

Your heart pumps so hard you’re sure it will break. When has someone ever had a burden they didn’t want to place on you? How much had you shouldered from the people around you, without even thinking hard about it? 

“And then when I was ready, I didn’t know if you were.” The crease between your brows made Jack stumble on. “I mean, I didn’t know how much of your story was true. And I didn’t want to barge in and say something stupid if your life was peachy keen without…me.”

Say something stupid, Jack, your weary mind begs, but your pride won’t allow.

“So I got myself an identity, a job, this house. It’s close to the paradise I wanted. Or, that Whiskey wanted. I guess it’s good enough for me to want it too. And I waited.” 

“Until?”

The scrawl between the lines of your question is faint, but Jack reads it well enough.

“I took a long time to ask myself if I wanted to drag you into this. As you’ve discovered, nothing about this is easy.” Jack pours another glass for himself, raising his eyebrows at you. Nodding, he pours two fingers into your glass and settles his elbows on the table. “But one day, it felt like it was time to at least try.”

Your throat is sticky and sore, the next sip of whiskey burning more than clearing the way for your words. 

“How did you find me?” you ask, the question finally bubbling up after weeks of torturing yourself. Jack’s eyes flick to your face, and the uncertainty comes out in his hands.

“I didn’t have much,” he says, standing up and walking to his modest off-white fridge. He slips a magnet off of something, carrying it back to the table. It’s a small square, black with white borders, a thicker one on the bottom. Your breath freezes in your lungs as he places it in your hands. 

The polaroid Lacey took over a year ago. It’s worn, a permanent scuff on the bottom right corner, the shine worn from the photo in places. 

Like listening underwater, Jack’s voice drifts to you. 

Had your first name, nothing else

What would have happened if you never went?

Talked to a private investigator

Where would you be now? Married? Bound by duty? Resigned to a life that never gave you enough?

Took months

What the hell were you doing?

Suddenly you can’t sit anymore, can barely be in this house, next to this man who can’t stop turning your world inside out. Stumbling to your feet you drop the polaroid like it’s burned you, hand coming up to press against your lips. Jack’s eyes are wide and alarmed but you’re too busy trying to decide if screaming or running is what’s tearing your body apart. 

“Sugar?”

“Don’t call me that!” you shout, the cacophonous energy finally finding release. With it come tears as you try to speak through your clenched throat and hitching breaths. “You can’t…this can’t be…I need…I can’t breathe,” you heave, sprinting for the front door. Slamming it open, you clatter onto the front porch, the small step out of the doorway startling your weak knees. You crumple, sitting hard on the worn slats and letting the heaving sobs shake your body. Jack’s voice booming your name follows your path, heavy boots and the skitter of Russell’s paws coming to a stop beside you.

“I’m sorry, darlin’, I thought it might be too much,” he murmurs, kneeling just far enough away. You can’t bring yourself to look at him yet, the cries rough and guttural as you try to get the panic under control. Russell plants his paws in your lap and licks at your face, letting you cup his small head in your hands. 

You’d taken so much time telling yourself that Jack didn’t matter, that your decision to leave wasn’t because of him. He wasn’t an infidelity, he was a wake-up call that you’d been unhappy for so long. You couldn’t use him as a crutch. You had to own your choices, and it made you stronger, happier every day since. 

Reaching out, your hand collides with soft flannel and a beating heart. Fingers curling, you fist the fabric as you lift your head, and you finally let a voice inside speak for the first time in so long.

Because a tiny part of you, so small you buried it under everything else you used to cope, left your fiancé for a man who you could not let yourself believe was real.

Except now, he is, and he’s looking at you like he can’t believe you’re in front of him either.

“Jack…” you croak out, leaning forward.

“I’m here,” he croons, and you’re surrounded by comforting arms and your nose pressed into a shoulder. He pulls you in tight, one hand cupping the back of your head while the other wraps around your waist. Russell paws at your pant leg and presses his wet nose to your elbow. A few hiccuping sobs trail off as Jack holds you, the faint whinny and thud of horse hooves and chickens worrying soothing you further. 

When the shoulder of his flannel is sufficiently soaked and your back starts to ache, you let Jack help you to your feet. He still hovers, released from your embrace but still chest to chest as he searches your features. Hurriedly you wipe your nose and cheeks, your face hot under the effort of crying your eyes out. Tentatively, he takes your chin between two fingers and tilts your eyes to meet him.

“I’m sorry, I know there’s a lot we still have to talk about…” he starts, but you wave him off.

“Yes, yeah, I just…I think I need to take a break. Get my head around this,” you interrupt. Jack’s hand falls, chewing the inside of his lip. He even takes a step back, your body unconsciously drifting towards him. Your logical mind snaps you back to attention.

“You’re close by?” Jack asks, a nod in return. “In town?” Another nod. Your lips are numb and you’re not sure you can manage much more talking. Jack nods himself before leading you down the steps and to your car. You scrub your face one more time, turning to say…what? Goodbye? I’ll call you? But Jack intercedes.

“I have to run some errands in town tomorrow. Maybe you’d like to come along? I can show you the rest of the ranch too, if you feel up to it.”

Staring into Jack’s hopeful half-smile, there’s only one answer you can give.

“Yeah, I’d like that.”

PREVIOUS NEXT

[sonofarathorns]

reading lotr for the first time: the council of elrond

(yes, this one chapter gets its own post)

• ya girl struggled with this chapter, friends. there were parts of it that i absolutely loved, but there was so much lore involved that wasn’t described in the movies that i had to take many breaks :(

i didn’t get confused, per se, but there were.. a lot of names and places. and the quotation marks are different than what i’m used to, so i sometimes couldn’t tell who was speaking. and i have a kid who needed my attention so i was distracted.

i want to learn all this lore though, because i love tolkien’s world-building and i want to go on to read the silmarillion when i finish return of the king. @glorf1ndel gave me the great idea to make a character/location chart so i can know who all is related to who and where they’re from, which i might have to go back and do!

• i did like hearing an account of how the ring came to each of its bearers - elrond’s and gandalf’s speeches gave a lot more backstory of isildur and the ring, and even what denethor had to say about it.

and we receive more detail of gandalf’s visit to saruman and his imprisonment on orthanc, what radagast was doing during all of this, and more information about the eagles, shadowfax, and rohan. very important stuff!

• im boromir defender #1. his points were valid! i also love his interactions with aragorn. there’s tension, but they’re civil towards one another.

• i wish we had more information about aragorn’s hunt for gollum. i guess that’s what fanfic is for!

• legolas!!! felt so bad that mirkwood lost gollum omg. i can’t imagine sitting there with that knowledge and hearing gandalf and aragorn talk about how hard he was to track down and then…yeah. whoops.

• i love gloin! im kind of shocked gimli hasn’t spoken up yet!

• bilbo being like okay, fine, i’ll go, twist my arm why don’t you and everyone is just kind of like, oh sweetie, no… but like, nicely.

• frodo’s sense of dread before offering to take the ring, knowing no one else could do it and that he had to do it, absolutely broke my heart.

• if this post reads more like a dumbed down chapter summary, it’s because it is 😆 a lot happened, im still processing! but i enjoyed it and im sad i have school tomorrow so i probably won’t be able to read at all :(

[outism-odyssey]

Outis Base EGO Sin Analysis

Right, I made this blog specifically to analyze her sins... and promptly forgot to do that!

For the meanings of each sin, I’ll be largely referring to this post from @lu-is-not-ok​ (its a very good post, do check it out!)

I originally meant to do her base ID and EGO in the same post, but, the EGO alone goes on for a while. (I’ll probably write up the base ID tomorrow)

Sin Costs

To Páthos Máthos costs 2 pride and 2 sloth, and translates to "Suffering Becomes Experience". Pride generally represents ignoring consequences. Act now, deal with the problems later. And almost always, pride-related actions ate taken out of the belief the benefits will outweigh the consequences. Sloth, on the other hand, represents apathy and resignation. It has many uses, but a particular use I think resonates with this ego is to do things without ever complaining or acting out.

Together, these sins would suggest that Outis believes what doesn't kill you makes you stronger. That she should press on, stoic and ignoring the pain, believing in the end she'll come out better for it. But, I don't think she actually believes that. Rather, it's what she *wants* to believe.

Early in canto 4, Outis tells the other sinners that "experiencing a certain pain will make you learn to fear and avoid it." And she says this in a very different tone of voice to the rest of her speech. It certainly doesn't sound like the words or tone of someone who thinks pain makes them stronger.

Her EGO's line is "the odyssey has a purpose." And in the context of her speech in canto 4? It sounds to me like she's trying to convince herself. She's trying to tell herself that there's meaning to her suffering, and that she hasn't just gone through all this for no reason. Telling herself that her odyssey did have a purpose.

Sin Resistances

There’s a few theories around about what exactly sin resistances on a sinner’s EGO means (like this one from analytical-machine!), but for this analysis I’ll be sticking to my own interpretation of it.

In the abnormality EGOs, I don’t believe resistances mean much of anything.it’s just the abnormality’s resistances, and it’s always identical across all sinners with the same EGO. But, the base EGOs are more interesting.

For a sinner’s base EGO, I believe the sins they’re fatal to are in some way connected to the origins of their traumas, while the sin they endure is how they’re trying to escape it - either literally or metaphorically.

For instance, Gregor has fatal for gloom and envy damage - respectively representing his PTSD and feelings towards G corp, and Hermann using him as a test subject and poster boy. On the other hand, he endures sloth. Gregor escaped the room he was locked into when, out of resignation, he cut the apple and was allowed to leave - resignation being heavily associated with sloth.

The resistances for To Páthos Máthos are: Fatal: lust, envy Endured: gloom

The combination of lust and envy was odd. Lust is associated with self-indulgence, following your own whims and goals. But Envy is associated with taking action because of someone else. They seem like complete opposites. I kind of didn’t know what to do about them. But, @speedynamo​ had some great insight in some comments, and I’ll paraphrase those below.

For Outis’ envy weakness: In The Odyssey, Odysseus ended up in the trojan war because he was bound by a truce to support the Greeks if Helen were ever to be kidnapped. When Paris of Troy asked Aphrodite for the most beautiful woman on earth for marriage, Aphrodite gave him Helen - thus kicking off the war and dragging in Odysseus.

And for the lust: War's often promoted as something that will make you complete. And because of that, many people think the best way to achieve your desires is to go out, fight in war, and come back as a war hero.

Speedynamo mentioned that their analysis hinged on there being a very close equivalent to the Trojan war. And there certainly is: the smoke war! While the specifics probably aren’t identical, there is a good chance that Outis’ experience was similar. Something was stolen (likely Old L Corp’s singularity?), and a deal/truce involving it dragged Outis into the war, where she believed she could complete herself by becoming a war hero.

It probably didn’t work out that way, though. So, how does Outis deal with it? With her resisting gloom... it seems like she doesn’t handle it. Gloom as a sin is all about stewing in your negative emotions, buckling under pressure, letting those emotions control you. And while we never see her express this directly, there are a few rare moments where she seems to show this side of herself - like when she tells Dongrang the calf will remember him, or in her sunshower EGO’s corrosion line (which is a topic for another time)

But, with her mask(s) on constantly, it’s not often that you see this side to her.

[bts-bay-bee]

ruin you 4 (ruined)

Pairing: jeon jungkook x fem. reader

Genre: smut

Word Count: 3309

Warnings: unedited work, they’re on a trip (me projecting because I want to be the one on a trip), loss of virginity (finally!), jungkook is a sweetheart, protected sex, oral (fem. receiving) fingering, making out, crying kink (it’s the last part of the story, I feel like I need to include this bc it was one of the prompts from the first part), light spit play, the “you want me? go ahead and have me” thing from his live,

A/N: this would’ve been done three days ago if my upstairs neighbour wasn’t being a dick. Also, this is unedited, so I’ll come back and edit it this weekend. If you see any mistakes, please read through them for the time being! Also also, this is my last fic on tumblr! You can check out my pinned post if you’re curious as to why I’m leaving. This is the 4th time ive tried posting this. i feel like im about to go insane. i think its the tag list??? ill start tagging people in like... an hour or so

“Taehyung’s car had to be towed, they’ll only be here tomorrow.” Jungkook complained, throwing his phone onto the coffee table after reading the text thread.

 “Ugh, can’t believe I’m stuck with you for like twelve hours.” You scoffed, rolling your eyes as you dodged the decorative pillow being thrown in your general direction. “I was joking, you big baby.”

 “And to think I was happy to have you alone for a while.” He sighed, pulling you down so that you were sprawled on top of him, unable to move in his tightening grip. There was once a time where Jungkook would flush red for days at the thought of just hugging you a second too long, but he was evidently long past that.

 You indulged him for a while, letting him move you in whichever position he was most comfortable in, and you eventually ended up beneath him, both your necks craned to keep an eye on the random show he had put on.

 Absentmindedly, you had begun scratching his scalp gently, the continuous and gentle motion quickly nudging him into an almost comatose state, only barely reacting when you spoke to him.

 “Jungkook?” You mumbled, drowsiness getting the best of you, probably the only reason why you were so nonchalantly bringing this up randomly. “Can we talk?”

 “What’s wrong?” He asked, cracking open a single eye to blearily focus on you.

 “So, I’ve been thinking…” You responded, swallowing the uncertainty away. “I want you to take my virginity.”

 “I know, we’ve spoken about this.” Jungkook frowned, his sleepiness ebbing away just as fast as it had come. “Why are you suddenly thinking about it?”

 “I mean, like… I want you to take it now.”

 Jungkook’s eyebrows almost shot up completely into his hairline as he choked on his own spit. Scrunching up your face, pushing away a spluttering Jungkook away from you, he was all but yelling at you.

 “Y/N, you can’t just say things like that when I’m literally on top of you –”

 “Well, that’s why I brought it up!” You defended, confused with his reaction. You take back what you said earlier; he evidently was not past his awkward phase. “It felt nice.”

 “Yeah, it did, and now we won’t be able to cuddle because I’m going to keep thinking about sleeping with you!” He grumbled, moving to the other couch, as if he was trying to put a decent amount of distance between you.

 With hurt evident on your face, you stared at him for a second in disbelief.

 “You say it like it’s a bad thing!”

 “It is when we’re in a town that we don’t know, with no condoms on hand! We don’t even know where the drug store is to get them! Or even Plan B!”

 Pursing your lips, you scowled at him. “Is that the only reason why you won’t sleep with me? We have no condoms?”

 “That, and I’m not letting you lose your virginity on a couch.” He sighed, running his hand through his hair, tugging on the ends in frustration. “I want you, but you deserve better than sofa sex.”

 “Then let’s go to one of the rooms,” You whined, standing up and pulling his hands gently. He gritted his teeth, annoyance shining through his features.

 “Are you not listening to me? We don’t have –”

 “We do, just come with me.”

 Ignoring his spluttering and (many) questions, you walked to the room you had claimed for the trip, rummaging through your hastily packed suitcase for the condoms you had purchased on a whim.

 “So, you planned this?” Jungkook asked, eyes narrowing in faux suspicion. “Did Tae’s car really have to be towed or did you just tell them to stay away?”

 “Your dick isn’t special enough to have a whole grand scheme, Jungkook.” You sighed exasperatedly while shoving your bag onto the floor. “Sorry to break the news to you.”

 “You don’t know, you haven’t had it yet.” He teased, pulling you down onto the bed. Rolling your eyes, you wondered if he had always been this annoying; you also wondered why you were so helplessly endeared by his foolishness. You froze after you realised you had been grinning at his stupid teasing. Well, that, was problem for another day.

 “Shut up and fuck me.” You grumbled, avoiding his eyes, unsure of how you would face him after being so brash.

 He clicked his tongue, ignoring your sudden shyness to pull you over him, forcing you to spread your thighs far apart to straddle him.

 “I promise I won’t be insufferable for the rest of tonight.” He promises, large hands running soothingly over your waist. You hummed in response (severely doubting how he could keep that promise, but whatever), your own hands resting on his shoulders, itching to cradle his face.

 “Kiss?” Your request came out mumbled, probably inaudible, but he indulged you.

 One of you sighed into the kiss, but with how close you were to one another, it was impossible to tell who it was. Regardless, you settled in, letting Jungkook’s tongue flit over yours, one of his hands coming up to your cheek to hold you closer.

 Leaning back into the pillows, his grip on your cheek and waist forced you to move downwards with him, suddenly crowding him with your familiar, sweet-scented perfume. In fear of falling onto him (which may have probably killed any sort of atmosphere you had going on), you pressed your hand into his chest, feeling the hardness of his muscles move under your touch.

 “You know, I still have a promise to make good on,” He mumbled onto your lips. You hummed in response, not in the slightest caring about whatever he was talking about. “Been thinking about eating you out ever since I saw you ride your pillow.”

 Okay, maybe you should care about what he was talking about.

 You tried not to think back to the last time you and Jungkook had fooled around, you really did. You should burn with shame or embarrassment whenever you think about that phone call, but you couldn’t find it in yourself to.

 Remembering his words, guiding you through your first orgasm alone, promising you lewd things, you often found yourself wanting to phone him again, just for a repeat of that. But you always talk yourself out of it before you could even go to his contact on your phone.

 Now, with Jungkook under you, his eyes wide, almost pleading to eat you out, you still couldn’t find it in yourself to feel shame.

 “Okay.” You whispered, trying your hardest not to smile at his barely contained happiness. He quickly sat back up again, tossing his shirt off before tugging your own off.

 “I know you want this, but if you want to stop, just tell me, okay?” Jungkook murmured, pulling off your pants gently. You nodded, too focused on watching him settle between your legs to give any other indication that you had heard him.

 Quickly spreading your legs, he left a trail of soft, light kisses along your inner thighs, hooking his fingers in between your skin and underwear, gently dragging the material down the length of your legs.

 “Pretty…” Jungkook mumbled, mouthing at your inner thigh, his sucking definitely leaving more than just goosebumps behind.

 After leaving enough marks, he pushed your thighs up to his shoulders, his arms holding onto your propped up legs, forcing you to keep them open.

 “Still good, sweetheart?” He asked, eyes flinting over to you, finally looking at the way you had attempted to control your breathing. Mercifully, he didn’t say anything about the speed in which your chest had been rising, nor did he say anything about the glazed-over look in your eye, but he gave you a small smile. “Stay with me, yeah? Can I go further?”

 “Uh-huh.” You mumbled, reaching out to grab the bed sheets in an attempt to ground yourself. Noticing this, he couldn’t help but grin, reaching out his hand from under your thigh and holding it tightly. “I’m okay, Kook. Promise.”

 He hummed, breath fanning over your over sensitised skin. Placing a kiss over your mound, Jungkook then used his free hand to spread apart your folds, his tongue immediately contacting your clit.

 Barely acknowledging your gasp by lazily looking up at you, he quickly closed his eyes again, savouring the pure taste of you completely coating his tastebuds. Breathing out through his nose, the trickle of air made you even more sensitive than what you already were, your grip on his hand tightening.

 Changing up again, he enveloped your clit with his lips, his plushness sucking gently enough to make you lay back against the pillows entirely. Jungkook let his spit dribble onto your exposed folds, letting it drip down to your fluttering core, before using his free hand to slowly push his spit in.

 Trying his best to open you up slowly on a single finger, you appreciated his caution with you, his face showing just how serious he was about making sure you were okay. Even though you knew he wouldn’t tease you about anything you two had done tonight, you felt ashamed because you didn’t feel embarrassed by anything that had happened. You always thought this was going to be the most embarrassing moment of your life, but somehow, everything just felt right, and you–

 “Are you done looking at me like I hung up the stars?”

 God, even with his tongue on your clit and fingers shoved up you, he was still annoying.

 “You’re such an asshole sometimes,” You complained, opting to look up at the ceiling instead of at him.

 “Can this asshole add another finger?” He asked casually, the single finger in you never ceasing movement. Taking your silence as a yes, he easily slipped a second finger in, mouth going slack seeing how well you opened up for him. “Fuck, babe, see how well you’re opening up for me? Pretty pussy dripping all over my fingers.”

 You let out an involuntary whimper, absolutely loving the words spilling out of his mouth. He looked up at you, face full of cockiness, his fingers moving much quicker now. Unhooking his arm around your thigh, he moved up the bed, face coming right above yours.

 “Do you know how fucking wet you just got, baby?” He murmured into your ear. “Do you like it when I talk to you like this? Like being my good girl, being perfect for me?”

 He had slipped in a third finger in the middle of his sentence, barely being acknowledged by you because you were already so far gone in your pleasure, his voice only making everything hotter.

 “Kookie, don’t want to cum on your fingers.” You breathed, forcing yourself to open your eyes and look at him. He hummed non-committedly, ignoring your request and speeding up his fingers.

 “Where do you want to cum then, pretty?” He cooed, enjoying seeing you struggle to keep your focus on him. “On my tongue? Want me to lick up every drop of you?”

 “No!” You gasped, gripping his wrist so that he couldn’t fuck you open on his fingers anymore. “Cock please. Give it to me. Let me cum with you, please?”

 Jungkook said nothing, opting to kiss you hard, his tongue immediately coming into your mouth and licking in every corner it could reach. He pulled his fingers out of you, blindly reaching across the bed to find the pack of condoms you had haphazardly pushed away.

 “I wish I could’ve seen you buy these.” He panted, shoving off his pants after successfully locating the box. You grinned, admittedly tired, but ignoring your fatigue in favour of seeing him pull down his tight boxers, muscled thighs begging to have your hands over them. “You would’ve been so cute, all shy and embarrassed.”

 “Can you not call me cute while I’m waiting to be fucked?” You scowled, watching him unroll the condom over his length. Much like the first time you had seen his length, you felt saliva pool in the corners of your mouth, forcing yourself to remember to swallow. “Can I suck your dick?”

 “I thought you wanted to cum together?” He teased, propping open your legs again and gently wiping away stray strands of hair from your face. “I thought you were being romantic?”

 “I mean… Later. After. You know.” You spluttered, your brain not working at all after being touched so tenderly. He raised his eyebrow, a fighting off the grin on his face but he said nothing.

 He leaned up, the tip of his length catching against your entrance, and kissed you gently.

 “Still okay, baby?” He whispered, right hand running up and down your side as you squirmed. “Ready for me?”

 You nodded, bringing both your hands to the back of his head and tugging him down so that you could kiss him again. Feeling him slowly push into you, you had to remind yourself to breathe evenly, ignoring the dull ache of being properly stretched out, instead focusing on licking into Jungkook’s mouth.

 It felt as his length was burning you into two, his girth something you had evidently overlooked. Nonetheless, you tightened your legs around his waist, keeping him in place for a while, letting you get used to the sensation of having him in you.

 “Holy, fuck.” He breathed, burying his head in the crook of your neck. “Shit, you feel so warm and tight, and – fuck, Y/N.”

 Giving an experimental thrust after a few moments, he all but preened after hearing a small moan come from your parted lips. Quickly moving his mouth over yours, he swallowed every sound you made, forcing himself to let you adjust to being properly filled before he moved anymore.

 “Jungkook?” You mumbled, feeling boneless. He hummed, moving his kisses down to your jaw. “Want you.”

 “You want me?” He chuckled, breathless. You nodded helplessly, trying to get him to move. “Go ahead and have me, baby. I’m yours.”

 With that, his hands engulfed your own, holding them onto the bed as he begun properly thrusting into you, albeit small ones. Your breathing changed, somehow becoming even more ragged than they already were, but he took it in stride.

 His thrusts didn’t hurt perse, but there was the slightest discomfort, which had been greatly offset by how he slowly pushed his pelvic bone against your clit; the added sensation enough for you to throw your head back against the pillow.

 After a while of doing this, Jungkook snapped his head up to focus on your half-closed eyes, kissing the corner of your mouth.

 “Okay, baby?” He panted, muscles visibly tensing from holding himself back. “Can I go faster?”

 Nodding frantically, he bit down a chuckle, knowing that laughing mid-thrust was probably the fastest way to get him from the bed to the floor. He was ripped out of his thought when you let out a high-pitched moan, forcing him to get harder.

 “Always sound so pretty for me, hmm?” He mumbled, sweat starting to shine on his skin from his exertion. His skin kept hitting yours, not that you could complain, but the sounds in the room were absolutely filthy.

 You knew if you looked down, you’d find yours and his thighs reflecting the tiniest bits of light from having your arousal everywhere, but you were too embarrassed to do so. Acknowledging how wet you were meant acknowledging how much you liked this side of Jungkook; asking him to be your first had definitely ruined you for other men. Your mind was getting foggier with each time he thrusted into you, but he’d ruined your expectations for everything in a partner. You already knew that no one would compare to him.

 “Jungkook?” You mumbled, small moans escaping you with every thrust. He hummed, hips still smacking into yours, causing you to jolt up the bed. “Close…”

 “Close to coming for me, sweetheart?” He groaned, sneaking his hand between your bodies, thumbing at your clit. Grinning when he felt you clench around him, you tried to blink away the tears you felt burning at the back of your eyes.

 “Want to cum so bad,” You babbled, gasping when he started thrusting harder after seeing your eyes well up with tears. “Jungkook, please–”

 “Keep your eyes open,” He panted, length twitching inside of you, seeing the first tear fall down your face. “You said you wanted to cum with me, right?”

 Nodding quickly, hands running up his arms to anchor yourself, you felt yourself teeter on the edge, so close to coming that you felt almost delirious. He started thrusting deeper, pushing out more tears and inaudible moans out of you.

 With sweat beading on his forehead, he panted out a couple curses. “Fuck, Y/N, cum for me. You look so pretty like this, all fucked out. Been so good for me, so perfect–”

 You came in the middle of his sentence, your moaning and panting cutting him off as your core muscles clenched around him. Feeling boneless, you were so lost in your own high that you didn’t even realise he had tensed up above you, groaning your name straight into your ear, filling the condom with his cum.

 After a few minutes, Jungkook sat up to face you, his chest still rising unevenly. “Are you feeling okay, baby?”

 Nodding, you tried smiling at him, but you don’t know if your tiredness allowed it. “Feel amazing.” You mumbled, cradling his cheek with one hand.

 “You look so pretty when you cry.” He said softly. You breathed out through your nose, laughter bubbling on your tongue. “I don’t know if it’s a fucked up thing to like, but I like knowing I give you so much pleasure that you don’t know how to handle it.”

 “You’ve had a thing for me crying ever since you taught me how to go down on you,” You teased, pushing strands of his hair back. “Going down on you didn’t exactly give me the pleasure you’re talking about.”

 “You just look really pretty after I’ve ruined you.” He poked back, kissing your fingertips. You tried not to roll your eyes at his cockiness, but you couldn’t help but agree with him.

 “Yeah,” You sighed, thinking back to how your realised no one could ever match up to him. “You kind of have ruined me, you know? Where am I supposed to find a boyfriend who holds my hand while they eat me out? You’ve ruined me for everything after you.”

 Jungkook paused, contemplating his next words carefully, before sighing, gathering the courage.

 “I can be your boyfriend who holds your hand and eats you out,” he said softly, forcing himself to look at you. “I want to be your boyfriend. I want to hold your hand even when I’m not eating you out.”

 You tried supressing your giddy grin, but obviously failed, after seeing Jungkook whine at you.

 “Stop laughing at me while I still have my dick in you!”

 “I’m not!” You defended, giggles skipping through your throat, unable to suppress your joy. “I’m just trying to think of a way to remind my boyfriend that he promised I could suck his–”

[steffigraf]

warning for a clearly anxiety-ridden oversharing freakout below the cut. sorry. i’m too sensitive and i’m unfortunately acutely aware of it.

tldr; im being a drama queen. gonna take a tumblr break for a week or two. to my mutuals, feel free to dm for my insta. i’ll be active until i wake up tomorrow morning and then i’m gonna zip

gonna preface this by saying this is in no way directed to the people whom i actually talk to constantly on here like you lot were lovely and im just dealing with a lot of demons in my head :(

anyway. sometimes i feel more like a product manufacturer than a person on here. and idk. i know most of you guys are really just following me for gifs and content and whatever but. yeah. idk. i guess the things i say don’t matter to anyone unless it’s funny. or if people want to call me out. not that im mad abt that exactly btw i do appreciate when people respectfully call me out for my own mistakes but. sometimes. i feel like im in a fishbowl and you’re all just waiting for me to say something wrong and cancel me. or then again, maybe most of you already think im a shit person and you just stay for the gifs. or maybe you guys think i’m a loser who has nothing to do but spend all day on this goddamn website.

and i know, somewhere inside me, that that’s not true and that it’s clearly the anxiety talking. maybe it’s just me maybe i’m making this up in my head i dunno. but i’m just kinda tired right now. too tired to battle the anxiety like usual at least. and i don’t really feel wanted outside of the content i produce, beyond the notes of my gifs or my fun posts. which ik shouldn’t matter but. i’m a pathological people pleaser etc etc.

(god, seeing this all typed out, i can’t even fucking blame you guys if you actly don’t like me cause. i kinda wanna shake myself by the shoulders and tell myself get a grip girl the world doesn’t revolve around you shut up shut up shut your damn mouth—)

i’ve been trying to manage by unfollowing and blocking a few people (which btw, if i did that to you and we used to be mutuals, it’s probably nothing personal i mostly just kept people i’m a bit closer to). but i’m still not really settled. and considering how i’m posting like every other day about feeling like shit, you guys probably figured that out lmao.

and well. on a separate note. seeing that rat’s name alone is too much for me sometimes. i couldn’t watch his game with carlos. i spent hours in his match with daniil turned away from the television, wearing noise canceling headphones while trying (and failing) to talk myself down from a full blown anxiety attack. i’ve said this before but the way people talk about him, both the fucked up silence and the justified outrage, it reminds me way too much about a family problem i have right now. hits uncomfortably close to home. prior to this i kinda thought i’d made my peace with the whole family situation but no apparently not. had he won the semis, i wasn’t even sure if i would be able to stomach cheering for jannik if it meant having to watch that man play.

so. idk. between the way actual tennis has been making me feel and the way tennisblr in general has seemed for me lately, i figure i need some space.

long story short ive been spending way too much time on tumblr this ao. and its gotten really bad for my mental health i guess. so i think i need to take maybe a week or two, to clear my head. watch tennis without opening this app every other point. spend time with people i love. get back to therapy. try to be a functioning adult.

(this is so fucking dramatic for a goddamn week of no tumblr i know that and i want to smack myself upside the head because why am i like this why do i make things snowball why why why—)

anyway. yeah. that’s it. if you actually read through all of that then. thanks. if not it’s okay too.

to my mutuals, the ones whom i’ve had at least some form of friendly interaction with in replies or dms, you can ask for my insta account btw. not that i’m crazy active on there but like. if you guys wanna be friends beyond the anonymity of this yknow. no pressure though.

[hbyrde36]

✨WIP Wednesday Game✨

Not tagged by anyone but it seemed fitting after wrapping up my longest fic ever today to jump right into working hard on my remaining wips!

It’s WIP Wednesday, time for a little accountability, sharing your work, and getting a kick in the pants.

Here’s how it works:

In a reblog of this post (so people can find you in the notes) or new thread (w/ rules attached) if you want to play on your own, post up to five (5) filenames of your WIPs; not titles, file names.

Post a snippet from one of them. Snippet must be words you wrote in the last 7 days. We’re posting progress here. If you haven’t made any, go make some and come back to play!

After you’ve posted, people can send you an ask with one of your file names. You must then write 3 sentences in that file. If the filename is one you can't share from (for example, an event or gift fic), write 3 sentences on it anyway, and then 3 more on another to share.

That’s it! You can invite others to join in, or just post. I’ll be searching the reblogs to find people to send asks to!

If you’re reading this, you’re invited!

If you see someone posting a WIP Wednesday Game snippet, send them an ask! Make them write.

• The Crawl

• dnd campaign au (life is a game)

• No Vacancy - Steddie/Buckingham

• Spicy Six Winter - fire alarm

• RBB (no snippets allowed but feel free to make me work on my reverse big bang!)

(no summer camp fic this time friends, she's on hold until after the holidays because she's too distracting!)

Snippet from Pt. 2 of The Crawl (posting tomorrow!)

Steve had finally looked away, eyes on the horizon where a small grouping of bats was quickly making its way towards them, but at those words his gaze snapped back to Eddie’s again. He stepped closer, reaching out like he meant to touch him, but stopped just short of it. Eddie suddenly wished he’d thought to clean himself up before coming here. He probably still had blood on his face.   He shook his head at himself.  There wasn’t time for this. None of it mattered, he wasn’t important. What mattered was the future, and making sure that Steve and everyone else had one.

part 1 of The Crawl here or on ao3

some no pressure tags for fun and visibility: @penny00dreadful @withacapitalp @manda-panda-monium @thisapplepielife @dreamwatch @brbsoulnomming @cranberrymoons @hitlikehammers @imfinereallyy @pearynice @shares-a-vest @steddiejudas @vegasol @estrellami-1 @miraculousmultifan @hornedqueenofhell

[mychemicalimagines]

Black Flame Candle-Max Dennison-Chapter 1

Summary: Max Dennison is the new kid in Salem, Massachusetts. On Halloween, his life takes a dramatic turn when his parents force him to take his little sister, Dani, trick-or-treating. He, his crush, Casey Blackstone, and his sister are in for a ride when Max lights the Black Flame Candle.

Series Warnings: Slight Language, Fluff, Flirting, Angst, Supernatural, Paranormal, Canon Deaths, Bullying. This series is a little more adult than the Disney movie.

Words: 3,446

Tag List: Reblogged

A/N: Here it is! Our secret Halloween Story!! We worked so hard to get this out to you for the month of October!! Divider belongs to firefly-graphics. Do you guys like the gifs? Let Me know if you want them to be continued. 

Comments are always welcome! They give me motivation to post!

If you would liked to be tagged, Message Me, Comment, Submit an Ask or Tag Yourself in My Bio!!

Third Person POV

‘It’s all just a bunch of Hocus Pocus.’

Salem, Massachusetts has always been known for its witchcraft allegations as well as for how they handled each case, calling them the Salem Witch Trials. Three centuries ago, hundreds of people were accused, but only a mere thirty were found guilty. Nineteen were hanged due to the false accusations placed upon them, while others died in jail or were pressed to death.  

Thackery Binx found his sister being whisked away by three actual witches, The Sanderson sisters, who needed her for a spell to stay young and beautiful. The same night his sister had passed away, and his disappearance, the three witches were hanged for their witchcraft, but vowed they’d be back. 

Now every Halloween, the entire town goes all out for the festivities. Casey Blackstone has lived in Salem all her life and loves the holiday. It’s the one time of year she can eat as much candy as she wants and no one will bat an eye, well except for her dentist father. She also loves wearing costumes, being someone else besides herself for a night.

Since her family, as well as her friend Allison’s, thinks they are too old to be trick or treating, they are forced to give out candy this year while Allison’s family has a party. Her parents wanted to go to the party at Town Hall but they got sick so they’re staying home. Her costume is already at the Watt’s house, waiting to be put on later that night. 

Sighing to herself as she fixes her hair in the mirror, Casey turns to her black cat that is sitting on her bed watching her.

Due to the holiday and the history they are taught every year, she felt there was only one name fitting for a black cat such as the one she found almost eleven years ago.

“What do you think of today’s outfit, Binx?” She throws her hands out, showing off her purple low-cut shirt as well as her slightly ripped jeans.

Binx meows his response before stepping toward her to rub his face against her hip, causing his collar to clink against the bell she forces him to wear. 

“I like it too.” She smiles and pets his head as she kneels down next to her bed. “Alright, I got to go to school. Remember, don’t bring mice into the house. If you’re going to bring female cats home, make sure it’s not in my room. I’ll see you tomorrow. You’re my best friend and I love you.”

She kisses the top of his head before picking up her bookbag and walking out of the room, not noticing him climbing out of her window as soon as she closes her door a smidge. She wasn’t lying. Her cat was her best friend and she makes sure to tell him everyday, despite him probably not knowing what the hell she’s saying. 

She had found him in her backyard one day, eating a mouse with no collar. It was clear that he belonged to no one, that he was on his own. She knew she had to take him in, after asking her parents of course. Ever since, she’s been feeding him, playing with him and letting him sleep on her bed, cuddled up next to her. 

She even lets him roam free, knowing he’ll come right back home. He’s literally her best friend and she wouldn’t trade him for the world, even if he leaves her surprises on the back porch. After slipping on her shoes and red jacket, she walks out the front door, ready to take on the day.

Max Dennison has only been in town for about a week and a half and he already hates it. He misses the sunny days of California. He misses his friends. Hell, he misses his old house. To him, Salem, Massachusetts is a horrible place to live. It’s gloomy, rainy and far too obsessed with this witchy, Halloween stuff.

It was never his favorite holiday to begin with so moving to a town that is all for it irritates him. He can’t wait to move once he turns eighteen next year. The only thing good about this town is this one girl. On Max’s first day of school earlier this week, he caught sight of a beautiful girl. Blonde hair. These crystal blue eyes that remind him of the ocean back home. 

He’s never even spoken a word to her and he’s already hooked. He rubs his eyes as he walks to his final class of the day. History. The third class he has with the girl he has his eyes on. Seeing her will make this boring class worth it. He sits down in his assigned seat and pulls out his notebook, unsure of what they will be learning today. 

As he opens his notebook, he glances up at a soft giggle that enters his ears. There she is. The purple shirt she’s wearing really brings out her eyes, and he’s really trying hard not to look down a smidge. As she walks by him, he quickly looks down at his notebook, not wanting to be caught watching her.

 Since she sits in the row next to him, but one seat behind, he can easily get caught by the teacher, or hell, another student! Maybe today, he’ll finally talk to her…yeah, probably not going to happen. As class starts, their teacher, Miss Olin who is dressed as a witch, begins telling the legend of the Sanderson Sisters. 

The very legend that Casey got her cat's name from. Even though she knows every bit of the legend, she’s listening closely, hoping to hear something different but she never does. Max, however, is doodling in his notebook, not believing one ounce of the story. 

“Poor Thackery Binx. Neither his father, his mother, nor anyone else ever knew what became of him…those 300 years ago.” Miss Olin says, walking up an aisle before stopping in front of the classroom. “And so the Sanderson Sisters were hanged by the Salem townsfolk. Now, there are those who say that on Halloween night…a black cat still guards the old Sanderson house, warning off any who might make the witches…come back to life!”

She then throws a black ribbon attached to her hand at a girl’s face causing the teenage girl to scream in fright. The rest of the students in the room, besides Max, laugh at her scream. Max shakes his head in disbelief as he doodles.

“Give me a break.” He mumbles, moving his pen along the letters he drew.

“Aha, we seem to have a skeptic in our midst.” Miss Olin raises an eyebrow as she steps toward his desk. “Mr. Dennison, would you care to share your California, laid-back, tie-dyed point of view?”

The room erupted into laughter again at her sarcasm. He looks up at her after glancing around the room and smirks, gaining some courage. 

“Okay. Granted that, uh, you guys here in Salem are all into these, uh, black cats and witches and stuff…”

Miss Olin cuts him off with a scoff while the rest of the room let him know that his words were unneeded by their tones of displeasure. 

“Stuff?”

“Fine. But everyone here knows that Halloween was invented by the candy companies. It’s a conspiracy.” He finishes, smirking at his teacher. 

 A voice speaks up, capturing Max’s attention. He turns toward the voice and his cheeks redden a bit at who is talking. It’s her…

“It just so happens that Halloween is based on the ancient feast called All Hallows Eve. It’s the one night of the year where the spirits of the dead can return to earth.” She explains, giving the teenager her own smirk. 

The class breaks out into cheers and claps at her comment, happy to prove the new kid wrong with his non-beliefs and crappy theories. He turns back to his notebook and flips to a new paper, quickly jotting something down, a small smile on his face as he keeps his courage. 

“Well said, Casey.” Miss Olin says, smiling widely at her, clapping herself.

She grins to herself and high fives Allison who is sitting right behind the non-believer. Max stands up from his chair as his classmates talk around him. He takes a few steps toward her desk, capturing her attention. 

“Well, in case Jimi Hendrix shows up tonight, here’s my number.” He says, holding out the piece of paper.

She raises an eyebrow, ignoring her classmates groans, and takes the single sheet before opening it up. ‘Max Dennison 555-9142’ it reads. The bell rings and Casey stands up from her chair, giving the boy a small smirk as she puts the number in her pocket. He smiles at her actions before watching her walk away.

“Max.” A boy that sat behind her captures his attention. “Fat chance.”

The new kid just rolls his eyes and gathers his stuff up, ready to go home. Casey quickly stops at her locker, making sure to grab her jacket while sticking all her books in the metal container. Since Halloween is such a big holiday in Salem, the school doesn’t give out homework if it lands on a weekend such as today. 

As she puts her notebook away, she notices a pen sitting on the top shelf. Smirking to herself, she pulls out Max’s number and rips the paper, jotting something down on one half. Shoving one piece into her jeans pocket and the other, along with the pen, into her jacket pocket, she hangs her bookbag on the hook and closes the door. 

Casey then jogs out to the front doors, meeting up with Allison as she glances around the parking lot. 

“So did he really give you his number?” Allison asks, fixing her bag that rests on her shoulder as they walk down the sidewalk. 

“He did.” She nods, smiling softly to herself as she plays with the paper in her jacket pocket.

“And are you going to call him?” Her friend raises an eyebrow.

“If I do, it won't be till…”

“Casey!” 

The blonde turns around and sees the new kid on his bike, riding toward her. She looks at her best friend and gestures down the road.

“I’ll catch up.”

Allison raises an eyebrow at the brunette haired boy before nodding at her friend. Casey turns back around and watches as Max stops his bike beside her, panting very softly as he straddles his seat. 

“Hi.” She says, smiling slightly at him. 

“Hi. Look, uhh, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to embarrass you in class.” He says, regretting his actions. 

He thought about it on his way to his bike. He shouldn’t have done that. What if she hates him now? What if she never wants to see him again? He practically humiliated her in front of their entire class. 

“You didn’t.” She shrugs, not caring one bit about the awkward exchange that happened. 

If anything, she’s the one that embarrassed him in front of the entire class by proving him wrong. He pauses for a moment, unsure of what to say so he lets go of his handlebars and holds his hand out to her. 

“My name is Max Dennison.” He says, despite having practically told her through his note.

“Yeah, I know.” She says, shaking his hand. “You just moved here, huh?”

“Yeah, last week.” He says, not wanting to think about how soft her hands were compared to his. 

“Must be a big change for you.” She says, letting go of his hand to put her own back into her jacket pocket. 

“Yeah, that’s for sure.” He says, scoffing slightly, gripping his handlebars again.

“You don’t like it here?” She raises an eyebrow.

“Oh, the leaves are great…” He says, gesturing around them. “But - I - I don’t know. Just all this Halloween shit.”

“You don’t believe in it?” She asks, pushing her hip out slightly as she rests most of her body weight on one leg, not caring about his language.

“What? Do you mean, like The Sanderson Sisters?” He shakes his head with a light chuckle escaping his lips. “No way.”

“Not even on Halloween?” She asks, biting her lip softly, trying to hide her amusement.

“Especially not on Halloween.” He says, putting emphasis on the beginning of his sentence with a smile.

Casey licks the inside of her cheek before reaching into her pocket. Holding up two fingers with a piece of paper sitting between them, she gently pulls Max’s left hand off his handlebars. He opens his hand, watching her movements, praying that his cheeks aren’t turning red at her actions. She presses the piece of paper into his hand, smiling as she looks up at him as she closes his hand around it. 

“Trick or treat.”

Letting his hand go, she turns around and starts walking toward where Allison is waiting, talking to another friend of theirs. Max’s eyes watch her before looking down at the folded paper. His heart is pounding in his chest as he moves to open the paper.

“Max!” He hears her call out for him, causing his head to snap up. “Call me Cas.”

Not knowing what to say, he nods at her words, watching her walk away again. This time, she turns around and puts up her red hood, making it look like she was wearing a witch’s pointed hat. He bites his lip and looks back down at the piece of paper. Swallowing the small amount of spit in his mouth, he unfolds the paper. 

The first thing that caught his eye was that the top half was ripped off, meaning…she kept his number! He smiles softly before looking at the words written. ‘Casey Blackstone. 555-????. No tricks, Max. Earn your treat.’ with a smiley face. The smile drops from his face for a moment before it shows up again. 

She didn’t give him her full number, but by the way she wrote this note, she might plan on giving it to him later! Hell, if she did keep his number, is she going to call him later? He looks back up toward the direction his blonde crush was walking to see her in the distance, walking with her friend. He bites the inside of his lip before putting the note into his pocket.

“What was that about?” Allison asks, glancing over her shoulder to see Max pedaling away on his bike.

“Oh, nothing.” Casey grins as she walks. “Just apologizing for embarrassing me in class.”

“Oh!” She nods before squealing softly. “Anyway! My mom said your costume will go great with ours.”

“Do I really have to be a peasant while your whole family, as well as their friends, are wearing  Masquerade outfits?” She groans slightly.

“She said there were only two dresses so she had to get you something else.” Allison says, shrugging.

“I knew I should have gotten the bunny costume when I had the chance.” Casey mumbles, walking down the road.

Max is ready to go back home to California. Today has been one of the worst days of his entire life. First, he embarrasses his crush in class. She said he didn’t, but he knows he did. Then he was stopped at the graveyard by two wanna-be rapper bullies, Jay and Ernie. Sorry, Ice - not Ernie. Lastly, they took his brand new shoes! 

His shoes! What jerks take someone else’s shoes? He had to pedal all the way back home in just his socks. It was so humiliating. He parks his bike next to the house and practically stomps up the stairs to the back door. Slamming the screen door open, he opens the wooden door that leads to the kitchen to see his mom and dad putting away items from their move. 

“Hey, Max!” His mom says, smiling at him. “Hey, how was school?”

“It fucking sucked.” He says, leaving the door open as he makes his way through the room. 

“Hey, hey, hey, watch your language.” His dad says, standing up from the floor.

He ignores him and starts walking up the stairs that lead to the bedrooms. 

“I can’t believe you made me move here!” He calls down before walking to his door. 

He slams his head against the wood, next to his name plate that he put there, causing his hat to bunch up. He sighs and smacks the door with the side of his fist. Taking a second to himself, he opens the door and throws his book bag onto the floor near to his drum set. He rips his hat off his head and throws it against the stairs in his room that leads to the window seat above. 

He shakes off his jacket as he walks and tosses it to the ground behind him. Trying to calm himself down, he sighs deeply as he looks out the window before glancing down at the fish tank he has beside his bed. He picks up their container of food.

“Hey, guys.” He says, leaning down to sprinkle some into the water. 

He puts the flakes down before sitting on his bed, laying back into the pillows. There was one good thing about today, though. She talked to him! He rolls away from his fish tank and grabs one of his extra pillows, cuddling it to his chest. He grins to himself as he thinks about her. Her voice. Her hair. Her smile…

“Oh, Cas.” He mumbles, smiling as he closes his eyes, imaging her right beside him. ��You’re so soft. I just wanna hug…”

His closet doors slam open as a child's voice is heard.

“Boo!”

He jumps slightly, looking over his shoulder as he lets his pillow go. 

“Dani!” He snaps at his little sister who was hiding in his room. 

She laughs and squeals in victory as she claps, knowing she scared him. She runs toward him, still laughing and jumps over him to lay down. He sits up, raising an eyebrow at her as all his anger from the day comes back. 

“I scared you, I scared you!” She leans up so she’s close to his face. “Ha-ha! Ha-ha! Ha!”

He shakes his head but before he can speak, she lays back and throws her arms out, a smile still on her face.

“I’m Cas! Cas! Kiss me, I’m Cas!”

Embarrassed that his sister caught him daydreaming about his crush, he stands up and looks at her. 

“Mom and dad told you to stay out of my room!”

“Don’t be such a crab.” She says, standing up on his mattress before jumping up and down. “Guess what. You’re taking me trick-or-treating.”

He sighs and shakes his head. “Not this year, Dani.”

“Mom said you have to.” Dani says, jumping off his bed, landing on her feet beside him. 

“Well, she can take you.” He says, turning to walk away. 

She grabs him by his sleeve and pulls him back.

“She and dad are going to a party at Town Hall.”

“Well, you’re eight! Go by yourself.” He says, pulling his shirt from her hand and walking to his drum set. 

He sits down as he grabs his sticks and immediately begins to play a beat, ignoring his sister as he closes his eyes. She sighs with a determined look on her face and walks over to him. 

“No way! This is my first time! I’ll get lost! Besides, it’s a full moon outside! The weirdos are out!” Noticing he isn’t backing down, Dani walks around the drum set to wrap her arms around her older brother’s shoulders forcing him to stop playing. “Come on, Max. Couldn’t you forget about being a cool teenager just for one night? Please…Come on. We used to have so much fun together trick-or-treating. Remember? It’ll be like old times.”

He shrugs her off and shakes his head. If he was going to willingly take her, that just ruined her chances.

“No. The old days are dead.” He says, beginning to play the same beat again. 

Dani puts her hands on her hips and glares at him. 

“It doesn’t matter what you say. You’re taking me!”

He instantly stops and looks at her, the same glare on his own face. 

“Wanna bet?”

He drops his sticks onto the Floor Tom drum and jumps up from his seat. He runs up the small flight of stairs, skipping a few steps and sits at the top, near the window seat, crossing his arms on his knees. His little sister stomps toward the stairs before putting her hands on her hips again. 

“MOM!!!!” She screams loudly.

[sortofanobsession]

Hospital food lacks Love (911-Missing Scenes from 6x11 In Another Life)

Author's note: one of two fics that I wanted to write after last night's episode. Bobby expresses love through food often. And hospital food is meh at best. So this is what I feel would have happened. Also posting on mobile so no reason more. Sorry about that.

And it's canon now that Bobby is Buck's dad. They didn't just hint, they said it.

Buck has two sets of parents and that is awesome.

SPOILERS!

Enjoy!

Everyone had gone home. He had even somehow convinced Maddie, Bobby and Eddie he'd be fine for a few hours. The staff had brought him a tray with dinner on it and told him to eat slowly because it was one of the first meal since he had been intubated. And he assured them he would. He tries to eat it. He really did. The main issue was that this is not what he wanted to eat. It was a painful reminder that he was stuck in the hospital, eating hospital food. The blandest and boring safe food that is hospital food. He ate a bit but ultimately it wasn't appetizing at all. So he pushed it away and grabbed his phone. He debated on who to text. Maddie would probably tell him the food he was supposed to eat was that way because he had a tube shoved down his throat. They probably didn't want to overwhelm his system. Eddie might say the same thing or he might offer to sneak him in a burger or something. But the one person he knew would always make sure he had enough to eat was Bobby. Bobby always made sure Buck was okay. Even his unconscious mind knew Bobby was there for him. Cared for him. He would always appreciate Bobby being there for him. He loves Bobby like he did his own dad. Maybe even more at times. Bobby was the father figure that had been there when he needed him. His unconscious mind even brought him back from the dead when he needed him. So he sent Bobby a text.

Buck: hospital food 🤢

Bobby: that bad tonight?

Buck: im just going to eat the jello

Bobby: you really should eat something, Buck

Buck: its so boring and terrible

Bobby: did you at least try?

Buck: yes dad

Buck meant for it to come off as a sarcastic joke. Bobby didn't need to know that it felt more accurate to him. And knowing that Athena was the only voice that really broke through to him during his dream made him feel cared for. Loved. It really did feel like he had two sets of parents. Phillip and Margaret Buckley, the ones that initially brought him into this world and we're trying to reconnect with him. He could appreciate that. And the ones that helped bring him back into the world this time, the ones that love him by choice, not because of obligation, Bobby and Athena.

Bobby couldn't help but smile as he read Buck's text. Any hesitation that he might have had to sneak Buck something to eat vanished. Buck had a grip on his heart and he had for a long time. Since Bobby helped him get ready for that awful date all those years ago. Buck sat nestled in his heart alongside the kids he lost and the kids he gained when he married Athena. May was right.

Bobby: you want me to sneak you in something don’t you

Buck: Id say I’d die for it but too soon

Buck: right?

Bobby: Right

Buck: Yes sir *saluting emoji*

Bobby: I’ll make & bring you breakfast tomorrow

Buck: this is why you are the best

"What are you smiling about?" Athena asks as she joins him. Bobby just hands her his phone.

"Of course," Athena grins. "He got you with that dad text didn't you?"

"Even May says it's true," Bobby says.

"Because it is. He may have his real parents in his life, and they seem to be trying, but he knows he will always have you. And that means something."

"It does," Bobby smiles. "I'm so glad he's okay. I will make him whatever he wants if it means he'll stay that way."

"I know you will. He knows it too."

The next morning Bobby makes breakfast for his family. Omelets. Fluffy omelets that are packed full of tiny pieces of whatever any of them wanted. And he packs up one that he knew Buck would like. He packs it as best he can to keep it warm. Packed along with some other stuff he was bringing to help keep Buck from going crazy during his recovery. Some of it May and Harry insisted he would need. He headed to the hospital.

He knocked on the door before entering Buck's hospital room. The smile on Buck's face made Bobby smile.

"Morning," Buck greeted him.

"Morning, Harry and May said to tell you to feel better soon. Like soon, soon," Bobby shakes his head. "They also sent stuff to keep you sane. So here." He sets the bag of stuff on the bed. "Also breakfast is in there so there's that."

"Yes!" Buck grins. And pulls the tray table closer so he can pull everything out. He eagerly opens the container and finds the utensils. "Thanks, Bobby." He hums when he takes a bite. "I feel like I haven't had anything with flavor in ages."

"It's been less than a week, Buck," Bobby chuckles.

"And it feels way longer," Buck complains.

"You're just bored," Bobby says.

"You aren't wrong," Buck notes.

"Well I don't have a shift until tomorrow, so finish your breakfast and we can find something to do."

"Thanks Bobby, you really are the best," Buck smiles.

"Anytime, kid. Anytime."

[call-me-maggie13]

"When do I get my uniform?" Beatrice is arranging her crayons in the box by color, having already organized her notebooks and folders by color and put them away in her rucksack.

"We don’t have uniforms." Shannon balances a marker atop an eraser before catapulting it at Beatrice, it misses and thumps into the wall behind her head.

"Then what do we wear to class?" Beatrice hands the marker back to Shannon and waits for another failed attempt to launch it at her.

"I prefer to wear clothes, but I guess you could wear whatever." Shannon shrugs and sticks her tongue out when Beatrice rolls her eyes. "I usually wear shorts and a t-shirt but the baby school is always cold so you should probably wear pants and a sweater."

"The baby school?" Shannon flings the marker across the room, again, and misses, again.

"Yeah, the school for all the babies. You’ll be the top baby in your class." Beatrice holds the marker behind her, braces Shannon away from reaching it. "Okay fine, it’s what the older kids call the primary school. It’s where you’re going."

"You’re not going with me?" Beatrice drops her arm, Shannon snatches the marker from her before noticing the tiny wrinkle between her brows and the bow of her back.

Beatrice never slouches.

"No, I’m going to the junior high across the street." Beatrice’s head falls forward minutely, she pulls away when Shannon tries to throw her arm around her shoulders. "Hey, I’ll show you around and I’ll just be across the street if you need me. Okay?"

"I’m going alone?"

"No. You’ll never be alone, Bea. You’ll always have me. It doesn’t matter if I’m across the street or across the country, I’ll always be here if you need me."

"I don’t need you." Beatrice kicks her crayons away as she rushes from the room. Shannon watches her speed walk down the hall and slam her bedroom door. She sighs and fixes the crayons the way Beatrice had them arranged before, tucking the marker she’d been using as a projectile back into its box and shoving it into her bag.

They don’t speak about it for five days. It isn’t until the day before school starts that Beatrice approaches Shannon about it again.

"Would this be acceptable to wear tomorrow?" She holds up a pair of slacks, a button up, and a sweater. It might as well be a school uniform, but it’s not much different than what Beatrice wears every day.

"Yeah. I mean, you could wear something comfier but that will work too."

"Oh." Beatrice’s face falls and she bites her lip.

"Hey," Shannon flicks her ear. "It’s great. It’s totally you. I like it."

"Do - do you really?" Beatrice refuses to look at Shannon when she’s trying not to cry.

"I do. I like how you dress like an old man sometimes. It’s cute." Shannon bumps their shoulders and throws her arm over her shoulder.

"You promise?"

"Of course, bumble Bea. Why would I lie to my favorite person in the world?"

"I am?" Shannon nods, eyes bright and smile soft.

"Always have been, always will be, stupid." She ruffles Beatrice’s hair and Beatrice ducks away from the contact, playfully pushes Shannon’s hand away when she tries to repeat the action.

The next morning, Beatrice is practically buzzing with anxiety, her fingers and toes tapping until Shannon covers her wiggling hand with her own.

"Dude, imma need you to stop, you’re making me nervous." Martha frowns at Shannon from the other side of the kitchen island.

"Sorry." Beatrice pokes the eggs on her plate, she hasn’t eaten.

"You need to eat something, the oldest kids get lunch last," Martha offers a bowl of fresh fruit and Beatrice picks the leaves off a strawberry she has no intention of eating.

"Hey mom, did you get those cookies I like for my lunch today?"

"I did. Would you like me to put them in your lunch sack?" Shannon nods and Martha disappears. When the door closes behind her, Shannon spins, knees knocking into Beatrice’s thigh.

"Okay, so we’re gunna walk there and back together, yeah? I’ll drop you off at the flag post and we’ll meet there after, sound good?" She eats the strawberry from Beatrice while she’s talking then takes three quick bites from an apple that she drops in front of her, Beatrice frowns and tries to push it back to her. "No, leave it. Mom won’t let us leave until you eat."

Martha rejoins them, stares suspiciously at the half eaten apple in front of Beatrice, but she doesn’t say anything.

"We’re gunna head out, okay?" Martha nods and stacks their dishes, accepts a quick kiss on the cheek from Shannon before she’s gone.

"You remember my number, Beatrice?" Beatrice nods. "Okay, call if you need me to get you."

"Bea, let’s go before she convinces you to do homeschool." Shannon grabs her wrist and drags her into the foyer, tosses her rucksack into Beatrice’s chest, followed by her lunch bag before Beatrice even has a chance to settle her bag on her shoulders. Homeschooling doesn’t sound terrible.

Shannon chatters the entire five block walk to the schoolhouse. Various stories about her school friends and the teacher she’d had in Beatrice’s year. Mrs. Biles sounds very kind, she is certainly Shannon’s favorite.

"Okay so this is where we’ll meet," Shannon points to the empty flag post, "but I’m gunna go ahead and walk you to your class, what room is it?"

"411." Beatrice tries not to think about how there are at least four hundred and eleven rooms in the schoolhouse. Tries to not let it shoot her heart rate into the stratosphere.

"That’s Mrs. Biles’s class! Dude, you’re going to love her!" Shannon drags Beatrice through the double doors and into a crowded hallway.

It seems like every other person is greeting Shannon, a few offering high fives and shoulder pats. Everyone knows her. They must, because everyone smiles and waves at them, even if they don’t greet Shannon.

There are so many other children. Nearly a million. Probably. If not, it certainly feels like it.

"Hey!" Shannon just walks into the classroom. Like she owns it. Like she’s supposed to be here. Beatrice wishes she had that. She doesn’t know what it’s called, but she wishes she felt like she was supposed to be here.

"Little Miss Shannon. Aren’t you in the upper level this year? Don’t tell me you got held back. Was it for starting fires again?" The woman is young and bright, her skin dark like willow bark. Her hair is curly and long, bouncing when she spins to tease Shannon, her toothy smile crooked. Beatrice decides in this moment, she likes her.

Shannon giggles and rocks onto the balls of her feet, pulling Beatrice in front of her.

"This is Beatrice! She’s in your class!"

"Well hello, Beatrice. I’m Mrs. Biles but you can call me Mrs. B if you would like." She doesn’t do the friendly teacher thing where she kneels to be eye level with her. Beatrice has always felt it was patronizing when they would do it. She takes the hand offered to shake before pulling away and ducking behind Shannon.

"You can go ahead and find a seat. And you, little troublemaker," she grins when she turns back to Shannon, "should go before you’re late."

"Okay." She spins and takes Beatrice by the shoulders. "I’m just across the courtyard. And mom said she can pick you up early if you - "

"I’m okay." Beatrice isn’t certain if she is, however. Her stomach is twisting and her hands would be shaking if she hadn’t already clenched them into fists at her side.

"Okay but if you decide to do homeschool, I’m gunna do it too. So you’ll be stuck with no one but me and mom all day every day. Just remember that." She tries to wink but she hasn’t quite figured it out yet so it’s more of a half blink. "Flag post. Don’t forget."

"I won’t." Beatrice receives the quickest and tightest hug of her entire life before Shannon leaves.

She lingers next to the teacher’s desk. She isn’t certain where to sit, she’s never had a teacher that didn’t assign seats. It’s surprisingly overwhelming.

"Hey, new girl." Beatrice turns to the other girl, but she doesn’t respond. "Do you wanna sit next to me?"

She has kind blue eyes and a dimpled smile, she nods to the desk beside her and tilts her head.

What would Shannon do?

Shannon would sit with the girl. She would exchange names and phone numbers and birthdates and they would be best friends before lunch. Shannon would invite her over after school to do cartwheels in the backyard or something of that sort.

But Beatrice isn’t Shannon.

She’s still debating when a floppy haired boy tries to take the seat.

"Go away, Psalm. My friend is going to sit here." The girl sticks her tongue out at the boy who responds by sticking his own tongue out before continuing down the row, pausing three seats back to respond.

"I didn’t know you had friends, Aster. I thought your best friend was Rock or Bird or something."

Aster. Beatrice has never heard the name but she can’t imagine this girl with any other name.

"Oh shut up and go pray to your cult daddy about it." The remark earns a few snickers and Beatrice suddenly feels more out of her depth than she did before.

"He’s not a - "

"That’s enough, children. In this classroom, we aren’t going to talk to each other like that. Am I clear?" There’s a chorus of agreements and Mrs. Biles nudges Beatrice towards the seat. "Can everyone find a seat so we can muster? Afterwards, we’ll go over classroom rules and etiquette."

Beatrice is the only one still standing and, suddenly, the choice is made for her because the only available seat is the one Aster has offered. She takes it quietly, sinks into her seat when she feels everyone’s eyes following her.

She tries to fall back into the empty space in her head, tries to shut the curtain behind her eyes and sink into the backseat but she hears her name right as she’s nearly there. Except -

"Beatrice Masters?" Mrs. Biles is looking directly at her, waiting for some form of acknowledgement but that’s not - that’s not her name.

Masters. Beatrice Masters.

"I think that’s you," Aster leans across the aisle with a giggle.

"Beatrice?" Her heart is thundering in her head, skin hot and burning and too tight. "That is your name, is it not?"

Beatrice shakes her head and Mrs. Biles frowns and squints at the roster, leans over her desk to click on her computer for a moment before turning back to her with furrowed brows.

"Are you certain you’re in the right classroom, Beatrice?" Mrs. Biles must notice the rapid rise and fall of her chest so she motions her to come up to the desk. Waits until Beatrice stops in front of the desk to lean forward with a crooked smile to whisper. "These things happen sometimes, it’s not your fault. I’m going to send an email to the administration but you’re going to stay until I hear back, is that alright?"

Beatrice nods again and Mrs. Biles taps away at her keyboard before following up with one single question that makes Beatrice’s chest ache.

"Can I ask why you’re staying with the Masters?"

"Um…"

"She’s Shannon’s charity project!" It’s the same boy as before, floppy hair falling in his eyes.

"Psalm, shut up! No one cares what you have to say. Ever." Aster throws an eraser at him. It bounces off his forehead and he collects it from the floor, preparing to launch it back at her.

"Don’t you dare." Mrs. Biles is on her feet and rounding the desk before he has a chance to aim, hand outstretched waiting for him to drop it into her palm before collecting anything else she deems a projectile from Aster’s desk as well. "You will get these back either at the end of the day or when you prove you are no longer a danger to others."

"I’m not a danger to others, just that infernal skunk." Her remark makes Beatrice giggle, soft and twinkling like wind chimes.

Beatrice offers Aster a pencil when she retakes her seat and receives a smile that makes her chest ache. They don’t have an opportunity to speak the rest of the morning, Mrs. Biles lays out the rules and passes out introductory paperwork, an "about me" worksheet that she promises isn’t going to be presented to the class, and a blank page that she asks them to draw their families on.

She leaves hers blank.

She watches her neighbors draw instead. Aster has five siblings, three dogs, four cats, and a lot of fish, if her picture is accurate. The boy to her right has three dogs and a baby sibling. Behind her, a girl has six adults that live with her, and three little boys. She cranes her neck to peek at Psalm’s portrait, but she quickly loses count of the children in the picture.

She figures it fits, he seems like a child that has to scream to be seen.

Beatrice is some sort of crooked opposite. She doesn’t want to be seen. Not by her parents, at the very least. She wishes to disappear into the linoleum tiles and ugly, pea green wall paint. To melt into her hard, plastic seat until there’s no pulling them apart.

He catches her staring and covers his paper with his arm before sticking his tongue out and glaring at her.

Mrs. Biles collects the papers individually, inspects them quietly and offers compliments to each student she passes. She doesn’t insult Beatrice’s blank page, she pauses and looks it over intently before smiling softly and tucking it behind the rest of the stack.

Aster takes her hand and drags her to the back of the line when they’re lining up for lunch.

"Beatrice? Could you stay back a minute?" The rest of the class departs with the lunch monitor but Beatrice and Aster. "Aster, go with the class."

"Beatrice is part of the class." The way she says it, there’s no room for discussion. She’s in charge and she’s not going anywhere. Beatrice isn’t sure where this fierce defensiveness over her is coming from, but she doesn’t quite mind.

"Do you mind?" Beatrice shakes her head and Aster jumps onto the top of a desk beside the door, swings her legs and stares intensely at the multiplication table on the wall.

Mrs. Biles motions for Beatrice to follow her around the desk where she already has a document pulled up on the screen. Beatrice doesn’t recognize it, but she does see her name. Multiple times.

Except.

Masters, Beatrice C.

"So it does look like you were enrolled under the name Beatrice Masters. If you would like, I can call Martha during your lunch break and we can discuss changing it to whatever you’re used to?"

Beatrice isn’t certain. She’s not Beatrice Masters. That’s not the name she was given when she was born. It’s not the name she knows herself as.

But she wants to be. She thinks she wants to be.

"Tell you what, I’ll send you home with a letter for Martha and you and her can talk about it and she can let me know, yeah?" Beatrice nods and she turns to follow Aster out of the classroom. "Oh, and Beatrice?" When she turns she receives a shimmering smile. "Family is whoever you want it to be. It’s not just who you share blood with, it can have whoever you want your family to include."

Beatrice isn’t certain who she wants her family to be. She spends her lunch break and recess listening to her new friend rambling about so many topics Beatrice can’t keep track while worrying about who her family is.

She knows she wants to be a part of the family she’s been living with. They’ve felt more like home than her parents ever have.

But if she’s not her parents’ child, who is she?

When Mrs. Biles passes their pictures back out after lunch, Beatrice splits the page down the middle and draws both.

On one side, her mother and father flank her on either side, faces blank and clothes dark. When she looks back on this picture later in her life, she won’t know if it was an intentional decision or if that’s truly how she remembered her parents that day.

On the other, a stick figure Shannon grins beside her in a brightly colored dress. They’re sandwiched between Martha and Rich, all smiling beneath a shining sun. She even includes Jasper.

"Who’s that?" Aster leans across the aisle to point to her parents.

"My mother and father."

"Why don’t you live with them?" The girl behind her chirps, pushing upward to peer at the picture over Beatrice’s shoulder.

"I thought Shannon picked you up off the street," Psalm quips, dissolving into a quiet giggle. No one else laughs.

"Children, this is a solo assignment. We are not collaborating yet."

Beatrice wants to pull her hair out of its bun, wants to let it create a curtain between her and the rest of the class. She has one hour and twenty-seven minutes before the dismissal bell. One hour and forty-two minutes before Shannon will meet her at the flag post and they can walk back together.

But she will be right back here at eight o’clock tomorrow.

Mrs. Biles pats her shoulder when she passes to collect their pictures, stacking them neatly on her desk before stepping before the whiteboard and clasping her hands in front of her.

"We have one final activity before I will relinquish you for the rest of the day." They still have an hour left. Are they allowed to be released early? Surely not. "We are going to play a game. Two truths and a lie. Can anyone tell me the rules?" Beatrice has never heard of this game.

"Ooh ooh!" Aster bounces in her seat, nearly ripping her arm from the socket to raise hers the highest. Mrs. Biles selects her to explain the game. "So you have to say two true things and one not true thing about yourself and everyone has to guess what the lie is! I am exceptionally good at this game."

"Good job, Aster! Does anyone have any questions?" No one speaks. "Okay. I’m going to give you a few minutes to think about your statements then I’m going to go first and we’ll popcorn around until everyone’s had a turn."

Beatrice doesn’t like lying. It’s a sin. She can’t tell a lie about herself without needing repentance.

Her head hurts. Pressure building behind her eyes and ears ringing.

"What are yours?" Aster leans across the aisle, holds her own paper up for Beatrice to trade. If she’s disappointed Beatrice’s is blank, she doesn’t say anything.

1) I have a pet peacock named Dusty.

2) I have been to a concert at every Taylor Swift tour since I was born.

3) I was born in Australia.

Beatrice wonders what kind of life Aster has lived to have both of her truths be as unbelievable as her lie.

"Do you want help?" Beatrice shrugs. She doesn’t know how this is a school sanctioned activity. It doesn’t feel right for her to tell a lie, even if it’s for a game. "Okay. I got this."

Aster takes Beatrice’s paper and begins to write on it. She only pauses once, scrunching her nose and tip of her tongue poking out from between her teeth. When she returns it, it’s nearly completed.

1) I can speak __ languages.

2) I can play __ instruments.

3) My favorite book is ___.

Beatrice wrinkles her eyebrows and looks at her, confused.

"Just fill it in. Shannon said you’re like the Rosetta Stone. And that you like instruments. I assume you like to read, you have three books in your bag." Beatrice glances between Aster and her book bag. "I snoop. You should know that about me."

How? How was I supposed to know that about you? Beatrice wants to ask.

"Is everyone ready?" Mrs. Biles waits for confirmation from the majority of the class before continuing. "I have two dogs named Lilo and Stitch. I’ve never had McDonalds before. And I know how to juggle."

Beatrice glances around the room, sees no evidence of any Disney movies decorating the walls. If someone were to name their pet after a character, you would expect at least some visual evidence of their existence in their room. Never eating McDonalds feels unlikely too, but not improbable. Juggling however, just sounds intriguing. There’s no way to tell if someone can juggle just by appearance.

"Show of hands, who thinks Lilo and Stitch are the lie?" Beatrice nearly puts her hand up. Not a single other student raises their hand. "McDonalds?" Probably half the class raises their hands. "And juggling?" The rest raise their hands. Mrs. Biles raises an eyebrow at Beatrice but she doesn’t force an answer from her. "Well, you’re all wrong. While I do have two dogs, their names are not Lilo and Stitch, they are Abra and Cadabra."

"You can juggle?" Aster bounces in her seat.

"I can."

"You’ve never been to McDonalds?"

"Did your parents not love you?"

"I eat McDonalds a lot!"

Mrs. Biles chuckles and quiets the class.

"Moving on. Who wants to go first?" Psalm’s and Aster’s hands launch into the air, Mrs. Biles laughs. "Why don’t we start with you Psalm? You can go next, Aster."

"I have eight siblings. I have never been to the mountains. I have a cat named Noodles."

"You’re allergic to cats." Aster doesn’t even bother turning around to make the statement. "Your lie isn’t supposed to be obvious."

"It wouldn’t’ve been obvious if you weren’t such a stalker." Psalm snaps back, crumpling his paper and launching it at Aster’s head.

"Mister Psalm! That is completely inappropriate and unacceptable behavior for my classroom." Aster snickers and Mrs. Biles turns to address her. "Miss Aster, your actions are also reprehensible, you need not forget where you are, child. I assume I will have no choice but to separate you two if neither of you can learn to behave yourselves."

"What’s reprehensible mean?" Aster asks quietly.

"It’s an adjective that means morally wrong and deserving criticism. A synonym is deplorable." Beatrice answers easily, not realizing the entire class has turned to her.

"Wait, you’re British?"

"She’s not British, she’s a robot."

"Do you read the dictionary for fun?"

"Hey, android. What does deplorable mean?" A few students giggle and Beatrice starts to answer when Mrs. Biles closes the space between her and Psalm and tells him to follow her.

"Hey, Beatrice?" Aster leans into the aisle after Mrs. Biles and Psalm step into the hallway. Beatrice nods. "What does deplorable mean?"

"It’s another adjective that means very bad and unacceptable, often in a way that shocks people."

"How do you know that?" The girl behind her — who Beatrice had learned is named Maisie during lunch — asks. Beatrice doesn’t know if she’s going to make fun of her. She doesn’t know if she already is.

"I read the dictionary occasionally. I like words and definitions."

"What’s your favorite word?" Maisie looks at her the same way Jasper looks at her when Shannon tells him to sit. She doesn’t understand.

"Right now it’s nudnik. It’s a noun that means a person who is a bore or a nuisance. But my favorite word before that was hullabaloo. It’s another noun that means a lot of loud noise, especially made by people who are annoyed or excited about something."

Mrs. Biles returns alone. The class grows eerily quiet.

"Alright, moving on. Aster, are you ready?"

Beatrice finds the game to be a unique way to learn about her new classmates. It’s fairly interesting to see the kinds of things her peers lie about. Like Aurore, who says she has a pet wallaby but doesn’t think they’re related to kangaroos and Chaya who says he’s been to Buckingham Palace but doesn’t even know where it is.

And Aster, who does have a pet peacock but his name is Shimmer.

"Beatrice?" Beatrice flinches when the class turns to stare at her again. "You’re the only one who hasn’t gone."

I don’t want to go. Please don’t make me go. Please please please -

"Can I read it for you?" Aster’s already grabbing the paper from her desk and clearing her throat to read it aloud before she’s even finished her question. "I can speak eight languages. I can play seven instruments. My favorite book is Swallowing Stones."

The class is pretty evenly divided between the languages and the instruments being the lie, a simmering chatter building while they discuss the likelihood that the book on her desk isn’t her favorite.

"So, which is it, Beatrice?" She truly does not want to answer. She doesn’t like how everyone is looking at her. Waiting for her.

"The book."

"The book? What languages do you speak?" Aster drops the paper and spins in her seat to completely face Beatrice, utterly entranced.

"English, Spanish, Mandarin, Latin, French, Portuguese, German, and Italian. I can only read and write English, Latin, and Mandarin, however." It’s clinical. No emotion. Beatrice suddenly understands why Psalm called her an android. She has no inflection.

"And instruments?" The boy in front of her has completely twisted around in his desk to ask.

"Piano, violin, cello, clarinet, flute, saxophone, and guitar."

Aster leans across the aisle to poke her cheek, Beatrice ducks away and frowns at her.

"Are you sure you’re real?" Beatrice doesn’t understand the question. Of course she is real. She’s sitting within arms reach of the other girl. What does she mean?

"Well, what is your favorite book, Beatrice?" Mrs. Biles captures their attention again and Beatrice doesn’t want to answer.

Luckily, the bell saves her, trilling and sending her peers racing to pack their materials away and rush out of the building. Aster waits for Beatrice to carefully replace her belongings into her bag, arranging her pencils so the tips all face the same direction in her pencil box. She also stacks her books by size before carefully ensuring they’re secured within her rucksack.

"What is your favorite book?" Aster asks softly when Beatrice finally stands, shifting her bag onto her back.

It gives her pause. The gentle curiosity.

She doesn’t know. She didn’t know she was allowed to have a favorite anything before this summer. Her favorites were whatever her mother told her they were. Jane Austen, tiramisu, lavender chamomile tea, the color purple, orchids.

She knows what her mother’s answer would be. She knows what her mother would tell her to say. The Bible. It’s the only correct answer.

But it’s not Beatrice’s answer. At least, she doesn’t want it to be. She doesn’t think so.

"I’m not certain. Would it be possible for me to consider it and get back to you?" Aster bites back a smile and forces a calm nod, Beatrice doesn’t notice.

"Good evening, Mrs. Biles." Beatrice pauses to shake the woman’s hand, a tender and practiced smile on her face.

"Good evening, Miss Beatrice. I hope to see you here again tomorrow." Mrs. Biles’s hand is firm around Beatrice’s, not squeezing or painful but strong and steady. She shakes it a single time before dismissing the pair for the evening.

The halls are empty, a blessing Beatrice had not thought she would receive on this terrifying day. Aster chatters beside her, hands shoved into the front pocket of her pullover as she meanders slowly through the building. Beatrice tries to pay attention to what she’s saying, truly. But she speaks so fast and she doesn’t like to look Beatrice in the face when she talks so Beatrice is having a very difficult time understanding her words.

She’s surprised to find Aster following her across the quad to the flag post, where she unceremoniously drops to the ground beside it, still speaking quickly and showing no sign of slowing any time soon.

Beatrice watches the front doors of the school across the way anxiously, chewing on her lip and rocking softly side to side.

"My baby sister does that." Aster mimics the rocking motion curiously. "Does it make you feel better?"

"No. I apologize for being distracting." Beatrice forces herself to still and shake her head. Aster tilts her head but doesn’t continue.

"They’re gunna come out the side door next to the big tree." Aster points to a large oak tree around the far side of the schoolhouse.

"Who?"

"Shannon and my sister. River told me they’re on that end this year." Aster rips a handful of grass from beneath her and flattens her palm to watch the breeze carry the blades and dirt away. Beatrice bites her lip again.

She doesn’t dare ask any more questions. She will make herself seem like an imbecile if she doesn’t stop responding to everything Aster says with a question.

It’s like her mother always told her: la curiosité est un vilain défaut.

She forces herself to slow her heartbeat, focus on the way her lungs rise and fall despite the bitter autumn air, empty her mind and slip back inside herself again.

It’s better to be a passenger in her own body than an imbecile.

"Hey!" Shannon nearly tackles her under the force of the hug, jostles Beatrice until she loses her footing and begins to slip only for Shannon to tighten around her to keep her steady. Shannon’s cheeks are flushed and her breathing is rushed and her excitement is palatable. "Sorry, how was it? I see you met Baby Blue."

Baby blue?

"My name is still Aster, Shannon." The smaller girl sticks her tongue out only for Shannon to swipe her palm down it and receive a shriek in response. It makes Beatrice’s stomach hurt.

"You met River’s sister."

"Oh. Yes. That is correct." Beatrice flinches when a boy laughs behind her.

"Oh yes, that is correct. Beep bop." The boy mocks, moving his arms like a stiff robot. "Are you actually an android? Weirdo."

"Psalm, do not make me beat you up again. You just got out of your last cast." Shannon steps around Beatrice, arms wide and chest puffed in an attempt to make herself look bigger.

"I can’t believe you got an android before me. And it looks so realistic, I almost didn’t realize it was fake. Nearly thought she was a real girl." He laughs and the small girl beside him frowns and furrows her eyebrows, staring at him confused.

"Psalm, what did Father say about picking fights with Shannon?" A taller boy claps his hand over Psalm’s shoulder and her classmate tries to shrug it off only for the boy to clamp his hand around it. "If you don’t learn to mind, I’m going to have to tell Father that you’re disrespecting and antagonizing girls again."

"Thanks, Zephaniah, but I can fight my own battles." Shannon steps closer to Psalm only for the taller boy to block her. He’s at least a torso taller than Shannon, probably twice her width and weight. He would destroy her if there were a physical altercation.

"Not this one, Masters. I don’t need any more little girls tainting my family name." His phrasing is weird, Beatrice realizes. Like his words have been rehearsed. There’s something in his eye that Beatrice doesn’t like. She can’t name it but it makes her chest tight so she tugs Shannon away.

"If you even think about talking to my sister again, I will kill you. No God will be able to protect you from me."

Sister?

Shannon sighs and takes Beatrice’s hand carefully, guiding her away from the boys and up the street towards her house.

"I guess he’s in your class too?" Beatrice doesn’t respond to Shannon’s question, but Aster does, nodding and immediately launching into a rant about the boy. She complains all the way to the final crosswalk, where River and Aster turn left while Beatrice and Shannon continue ahead.

"Are you okay?" Beatrice nods but still doesn’t speak. Her body hurts suddenly. And her head. She’s tired, also.

She’s so tired.

"I’m sorry about Psalm. He’s the worst in his whole family, if you could believe it. But he shouldn’t bother you anymore, if he does just tell me." Beatrice can picture Psalm’s brother’s fist in Shannon’s face. She shakes her head aggressively to rid herself of the image. She doesn’t want Shannon to fight for her.

She doesn’t want Shannon to get hurt because of her.

"Was the rest of the day good at least? Mrs. Biles is pretty awesome, she’s my favorite teacher. I’m really glad you’re in her class."

Martha is standing in the front yard waiting for them, smiling and waving and Beatrice’s heart sinks into her stomach.

She doesn’t want to do this anymore.

She’s not certain what this is. All she knows is she doesn’t want it anymore. She wants to go to bed. She doesn’t want to talk about her day or her classmates or her possible new friend or her definitive new enemy.

Martha doesn’t ask, thankfully. She offers them both a hug and follows them inside. Shannon drops her bag just inside the entryway and kicks it to the side before farting up the stairs, Martha sighs and collects the bag from the floor while Beatrice starts up the stairs behind her.

"Hey Beatrice, before you go, Mrs. Biles emailed me. We don’t have to talk about it right now, but whenever you’re ready, I’ll be down here." She nods down the hall and Beatrice hesitates with her hand on the banister. "You look tired, kiddo. Go take a nap, we can talk when you wake up, how about that?"

A nap? She’s not a toddler, she doesn’t need a nap.

Still, she nods and continues to her room silently. Shannon is already on her bed, sprawled on her back like a starfish across the duvet. She’s awake, but she doesn’t say anything. Not yet.

She waits until Beatrice steps out of her closet wearing a pullover and sweatpants. More specifically, Shannon’s favorite blue pullover with koi fish on the sleeves and white sweatpants. Beatrice had stolen it from Shannon’s closet more than a month ago, in between her arrival and her admitting to Martha and Rich that she might need more clothes than she’d brought with her.

Shannon wiggles an eyebrow at her but doesn’t comment on the outfit, flops over barely enough for Beatrice to have room to lay beside her.

Neither says anything, they lay in a simple silence until Beatrice is nearly certain Shannon is asleep. Just as the gentle lull of sleep starts to tug her under, Shannon rolls over to face her.

"Is it okay that I called you my sister?" Shannon is strong and Shannon is certain and Beatrice has no doubt that Shannon knows almost everything there is to know.

But right now, Shannon is quiet and scared and uncertain.

It’s unnerving.

"Do you want me to be your sister?" Beatrice doesn’t recognize her voice as herself, it sounds foreign and strange to be coming from herself.

"You kinda already are, right? I mean you live with me, doesn’t that mean you’re my sister?"

"I don’t know." Beatrice doesn’t like not having answers readily available to her. She already hates not knowing things, but not being able to find a seemingly simple answer to a seemingly simple question is infinitely worse.

Shannon doesn’t push for more from her. She doesn’t rephrase the query in that way that nearly makes it sound like a different question that she’s so fond of. She just watches Beatrice for another moment before rolling onto her back and staring at the ceiling.

Her hand is millimeters from Beatrice’s but she doesn’t intwine their fingers. She doesn’t have to. Just being beside her is enough to slow Beatrice’s racing mind.

It’s dark when Beatrice wakes. Shannon’s gone, the blankets she'd been using are long grown cold beside Beatrice. She’s not certain why Shannon didn’t wake her. She’s especially unsure why Martha or Rich hadn’t woken her either.

She considers going back to sleep. She probably could, the exhaustion pressing heavy behind her eyes and sinking her deeper into her bed begging for her reunion.

But her stomach grumbles. Loud and angry and achy. And the hunger is stronger than the lingering sleepiness, pushing her out of the bed and down the stairs to the kitchen.

Martha is sat at the island flipping through a cookbook, the light above her head warming the room like a lantern on a cold dark night.

"I didn’t mean to sleep through supper, I’m sorry." Her words still have that sleepy drawl to them, making her sound like a babbling baby. She hates it.

"Oh you’re alright, sugar. Today was a lot, I expected you to be tired. Do you want some chicken alfredo?" Beatrice nods and rubs her eyes, trying to wipe the drowsiness away with her knuckles. Martha guides her to the seat she’d just been in, pauses to rub her shoulder before prattling about the kitchen reheating a bowl of pasta for Beatrice.

"Thank you." Beatrice has to bite back a yawn, flinching when something thumps above her head.

"It’s Shannon. She’s trying to do handstands."

"It doesn’t sound like she’s being particularly successful," Beatrice smiles at her over the steaming bowl. Martha laughs and strokes her hair.

She knows they have to talk about it. She knows Martha wants to talk about it. But she doesn’t want to. She’s not certain she wants to know.

"There’s the sleepyhead," Rich shoots a finger gun at her before pouring a glass of orange juice and sliding into the stool across from her. "Are you gunna be able to sleep tonight?"

Beatrice nods.

"So, do you want to talk about the email?" Beatrice drops her fork and glances anxiously between them. "You’re not in trouble, kiddo. I promise."

Another thump above their heads, the dishes in the cabinets clatter.

"We probably should’ve spoken to you before today about it, I’m sorry we blindsided you. But our district puts younger children with their siblings’ teachers. We wanted you to have someone we already knew, someone we already trusted. And Shannon loved Mrs. Biles’s class, so we figured that would help a bit with the nerves if you knew Shannon liked her." Martha looks like she wants to reach across the island and bundle Beatrice into her arms. But she doesn’t.

"We can talk to the administration tomorrow and get your name changed, if you would like, but it’s up to you." Rich does reach across the island to ruffle her hair, the contact makes Beatrice’s chest feel warm and gooey. "But it’s whatever you want to do. Whether you want our name or not, you’re still our girl, alrighty?"

Our girl.

"What does that mean?" Beatrice blinks and stares at the bowl in front of her, letting her hair block her face so they can’t see her tears.

"Which part? That you’re our girl?" Beatrice nods, she doesn’t trust herself to speak. Rich takes a steadying breath and moves beside her, crouches so he can catch her eye. "It means that we want you in our family, Beatrice. In whatever way you want to be. We love you, kiddo."

Beatrice stares at him wide eyes wet and red. He holds his arms out for her to crash into, thumping unsteadily into his chest. He holds her, crouched beside the kitchen island and rubbing circles in her back until she stops crying.

Beatrice isn’t certain when she started crying so much.

"Are you certain?" Rich squeezes her before loosening his grip to look her in the face again.

"Of course we’re certain. Nothing will change that." He wipes her tears away under his thumbs, smiling assuringly until she finally pulls away.

"I don’t think it is something I would like to change."

"Yeah?" Martha sounds so eager, desperately trying to fight back a wide smile.

"Yes. As long as it is acceptable to you." She nods finally before tacking on. "And Shannon."

"And Shannon what?" Shannon is panting as she pushes past Martha for a glass of water, cheeks flushed red and hair tousled wildly.

"Beatrice would like to go by Masters at school. She wants to make sure it’s alright with you." Shannon shrugs and wipes sweat from her face.

"I don’t care. Whatever you wanna do, dude." She says it steady, calm and nearly emotionless but there’s a shimmer in her face that tells Beatrice she’s excited by the prospect. "And before you ask, yes I am certain."

Her taunt makes Rich giggle, soft and warm and Beatrice wishes he would do it again.

That night, he lingers in her doorway after their tuck in. He doesn’t say anything for a long time, just watches her wiggle in her bed until she finally gets comfortable before finally speaking.

"I love you, Beatrice."

Beatrice doesn’t know how to describe it. The way his voice sounds like a mixture of safety and adoration she’s never been given before. She’s not certain how to describe the way his words make her body feel warm and tingly, presses her chest out a little wider.

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