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useless-lesbian-writer · 4 years

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Shock was not a strong enough word to describe the farmer's expression when Haley asked to spend a day at the farm. According to her, she wanted to know more about her girlfriend's lifestyle and nothing better than accompanying her on a work day. Farmer thought of thousands of disastrous situations that could happen on that visit, say that the brilliant idea of Haley climbing on a cow and falling magnificently was still fresh in her memory. She would deny it, that was the plan, but it didn't help when her girlfriend grabbed her arm and looked at her like a puppy.

What had taken them that moment. Haley running after a chicken that had found one of her bracelets very interesting. So interesting that he decided to stay for himself. The farmer could be considered the worst girlfriend in the world, but she had just started laughing at the situation, while the blonde ran with the chicken.

“FARMER!”

And with a furious cry, the farmer held her laughter as best she could, she bent down and grabbed the chicken as if it were the easiest thing in the world - which was for her. Haley was panting before giving the chicken a deadly look, which farmer finds particularly cute.

“I said not to wear bracelets or other accessories when dealing with animals.” Instead of returning the bracelet, she kept it in one of the pockets of her denim overalls - her floral dress would be beautiful on a picnic with Penny and the kids, but for a hen house, it will be the target of the chickens' beak. To prove her speech, Farmer pointed to a small tear in the hem of the dress. It was not very long, it was above the knees, but it was a great jumping exercise for the chicken that did that.

Haley snorted.

“Is that your way of saying that I shouldn't be here?”

"That's my way of saying that I want you here so much," Haley blushed, "that I'm teaching you the way it should be."

Haley wondered how a girl wearing denim overalls and a simple shirt underneath looked so whole when compared to her. Her dress had straw in every corner, her feet were dirty thanks to the open sandal she wore and her hair was in tatters. She had prepared herself as if it were her first meeting with the farmer, but she didn't expect the charm to last after meeting the chickens - and there were still cows and goats to check. The curiosity to know more about life on the farm was a surprise even for herself, but she wanted to know more about the reasons that led her girlfriend to leave everything in the city and come to this world.

Haley knew she was screwed when she saw her girlfriend talking to the thief like she was a child and found it terribly adorable. That girl was an idiot and, as cliché as it was, she was her idiot.

After collecting the eggs, they went to the cows that were surprisingly more peaceful than the chickens. The farmer explained that she took everyone's milk, only that the cows’ milk was sold and the goats’ milk was transformed into cheese. She didn't let Haley milk a cow, but she did demonstrate how it was done. During the milking of the last cow, she heard the click of a camera and when she looked up, she saw Haley smiling as she photographed her.

“I'm sure I'm not the best model at the moment.” Farmer smiled shyly.

“You’re joking?” The blonde bent down to kiss the top of the girlfriend's head “You are adorable ... A little dirty, but cute when dealing with your animals.”

“Right, right.” She got up from the stool she used to milk the cows “For the girl who told me that I would even be cute if it weren't for my clothes and that she said ‘eww, no' when I invited her to dance, you’re very gallant today.”

‘Awwwn, did I hurt you back then?’ Despite the mocking tone, she smiled kindly.

“Hurt? I thought: ‘now I’ll get that sick girl’. A few sunflowers later and I already brought you to the farm.” The winning smile of the farmer was irritating.

The farmer went to the barn to store the bucket she used to milk and Haley took the opportunity to take another picture of her, this time from the back. It was admirable how that skinny girl from the city, adapted so well to her new life. Now she was much stronger physically, but she still exuded femininity - even in the rags she wore. She might admit it out loud, to make the other girl bewildered, that she had already had a dream or another with that woman pressing her against a bed. They were libidinous dreams that always made her work with her hands when she woke up.

The blonde's dirty thoughts were interrupted by the first drop of rain, and then another and another came, until it became a thick and cold rain. She ran into the barn, bumping into the farmer who was just leaving. The animals soon ran for cover and the farmer closed the biggest door, locked everyone inside.

“I thought I saw yesterday that the forecast for today was a sunny day.” Haley said, while trying to dodge a goat that tried to smell her.

“I saw it, too.” The farmer peeked out the window and sighed “But it's just thickening. We better run home, before it gets worse.”

“In this rain?”

“It's the rain or Carmen!” The farmer smiled mischievously.

“Carmen?”

“Yes!” Farmer held out her hand “Carmen!”

And the goat who tried to smell Haley, immediately answered the call, going to the farmer's hand to receive affection on her thick fur. Haley couldn't help looking at that scene with a mixture of strangeness and amusement, before giving her verdict.

“Home!”

The race was short, but Haley's open sandal only made it difficult for her and although the farmer left her boot on the door before entering, the blonde's feet were as sticky as her sandals and the door mat ended up covered in mud.

“And that's why farmers wear boots!” The farmer blinked and Haley rolled her eyes “Here!”

Farmer handed her an old towel to remove the excess mud from her legs, leaving only the dry soil. Haley could not curse that day anymore, all her production had gone down the drain and what would not make it the worst day of her life, was the fact that the farmer continued to smile when looking at her. It was not a mocking smile, much less a pity, it was affectionate as if no matter how ruined the blonde was, she would continue to like what she saw. And that calmed Haley, making her smile back.

The rain was only increasing outside and when the first thunder was heard, they knew there was no chance of Haley leaving. The farmer set aside a change of clothes for hwe girlfriend and let her shower first while she prepared dinner. She had started work on the farm, only in the afternoon because of her girlfriend's unusual company and intended to accompany her home in the early evening. Thanks to the rain, they would have to sleep together, which did not cause any discomfort or embarrassment to her, but she had noticed that Haley looked a little disconcerted.

Haley refused to wear one of the farmer's sweatshirts, claiming she didn't like the thick fabric - which left the other girl completely confused by the excuse. Then, as a solution to that, the farmer offered one of her old button-down shirts. That white shirt, specifically, was the one she wore bagged, so it was a little bigger than her usual shirts and as Haley was a little shorter, the shirt got a little too wide on her. On the underwear, she had extra panties in the bag. Which, again, left the farmer completely confused, but did not question the argument that "incidents can happen on the street, especially with women".

When Haley got out of the bath, the farmer had doubts whether her face was flushed from the hot water or the look she was receiving. If it were for the second, the farmer didn't seem to care much and kept looking – devouring her with her eyes - and only stopped when, accidentally, her hand hit the hot frying pan. The embarrassment became when Haley started laughing at the scene. The pout she made was flashy enough for the blonde to approach, gently hold her burnt hand and place a chaste kiss on top of the burn, before placing another on the farmer's lips.

The farmer took a quick shower before sitting down at the table. Dinner was silent, with a few exchanged looks and Haley's compliments on the food.

“You cook better than my sister!”

The unexpected exclamation elicited a light laugh from the farmer. She wasn't going to brag about Emily just because she thought she was a good friend. Haley insisted on washing the dishes at the end of dinner, which was not denied by the farmer, she was very tired. Sometimes, Haley would look over her shoulder and watch the waiting girlfriend watching the weather through the window. Her dark, still damp hair fell long over her back and she wondered what it would be like to grab it while they ...

“Haley!” The farmer called, now facing her “The tap is on.”

All the blonde wanted at that moment was a place to bury her head, but she just smiled and turned off the tap. With the last job of the day over, they could sleep. Even if it wasn't what they both wanted ...

When they lay down on the bed, Farmer tried to keep some distance from her girlfriend, fearing that she would be uncomfortable with the approach. Lying on their backs, they stared at the ceiling without really sleeping.

“Some problem?” Haley asked after a few minutes, noting the considerable distance between them.

“No. I just don't want you to be uncomfortable.” Farmer turned her face, already noticing the blonde staring at her “You seemed embarrassed before.”

Haley blushed, but smiled, turning completely to the other. She grabbed the larger woman's arm and pulled her closer, but without letting go of her arm afterwards. The farmer tried not to focus on the breasts stuck to her arm, she didn't want to feel like a virgin teenager who felt breasts for the first time, but it was too late and the humiliation became worse when she noticed that she was starting to get wet just by the sensation.

Haley smiled victoriously as she noticed the farmer's rigidity. She had enough partners to know what that meant. She slid one hand under the thick sweatshirt - which she had nothing against, just thought she wouldn't look so attractive under those rags. The button-down shirt was a lot sexier, right?

“Can I have at least a good night kiss?” The tone almost innocent, did not hide her true intentions.

The farmer, as best she can, turned to face Haley who kissed her. It was a slow kiss, as if the blonde expected some bigger reaction, which didn't come. The bigger one felt the hand that was under her belly, being pulled and going towards the back of her neck, where Haley dug her fingers between her hair and pressed her mouth harder. The farmer subtly opened her lips, as if searching for some air, but the movement did not escape the blonde who pushed her tongue between them. Her girlfriend reacted immediately, grabbing her waist and sliding her tongue under hers. They were both on the same page, though there was still something holding the bigger one, something that she didn’t expect Haley to hold one of her hands and guide her to one of her breasts, under her shirt.

“You had more attitude when you kissed me for the first time.” Haley's mocking comment was like the spark that was missing for the flame inside the farmer to light.

The blonde's moan was tricky, when the bigger one squeezed - not so - gently her breast and pressed her nipple between the index and the thumb. Haley felt the warmth of her hand slip away when the farmer went to open the buttons on her shirt one by one. She bit her lip in anticipation, maybe she had imagined it so many times that she couldn't help feeling anxious. Everything at that moment was becoming intoxicating, the sound of rain on the wood, the weight of the biggest under her body when she finished opening her shirt and straddled her hip, the smell of wet earth, her lips on her neck while her fingers played with her breasts, the creaking of the bed with each movement, the echo of her moans through the room and the sensation of fingers taking off her panties. She was hoping the dog wouldn't be at the foot of the bed and, if he was, he should have left with all the noise.

The farmer bit the little girl's neck, then slid her tongue under the mark. It was as if she marked her and then returned it, and it seemed to please her companion, who did not seem shy about her moans. Her mouth went down to her right breast, which was being mistreated by her hand and was rewarded with some chaste kisses and hickeys.

Haley grunted when she felt the biggest move away, she already missed the other's body heat. The farmer helped her remove her shirt and took off her own sweatshirt, revealing the most beautiful breasts that the blonde had ever seen and her abdomen defined by the hours of manual labor. Before she could get any closer to that deity, Farmer got off the bed and knelt, pulling Haley by the legs until she was with her legs out of bed and with the biggest girl between them. If all of Haley's moans had been scandalous, what she did when her girlfriend slid her tongue across her pussy, sure enough, scared the house dog out into the rain outside. The farmer showed that she was not good only with manual labor. Her tongue slid between her large lips to her clitoris, where she circled and applied pressure, feeling Haley's hands grab her by the hair and push her head further against her. Her hands were firm on the girl's thighs and she tried to keep them away, as in reflex of pleasure, Haley tried to close them. Haley felt the sting in her lower abdomen and knew she was close to orgasm.

The farmer continued to masturbate her with her tongue, then she noticed Haley's moans becoming more acute and her back arching. Haley came in her mouth and she licked everything like the juice of one of her fruits. Except that infinitely tastier, not even a star fruit tasted so incomparable.

The blonde was still panting when she had her body adjusted to the bed again. Her girlfriend slid her head up onto the pillow and kissed her gently. However, she still could take one more and it was her turn to feel the breast of the larger one that moaned in response and slid one hand to fuck her again. Haley put her arms around the farmer and pulled her against her, digging her nails into her shoulders when she felt two fingers slide inward. The movements were fast and strong, which caused the blonde to moan against the older woman's ear and drag her nails down her back. At some point, the farmer was sure to feel a ferocious taste in her mouth, which only gave her a buff to invest harder against Haley, who also hugged her with her legs, grabbing her completely. This orgasm came faster than the first and Haley's fingers were already under the farmer's buttocks, which had a completely scratched back.

Haley felt the emptiness when the fingers were taken out of her and relaxed on the bed, still with the weight of the larger body on top of her.

“Tomorrow I won't be able to take a pat on the back as a greeting.” Farmer joked, after throwing herself into the empty space of the bed.

“Tomorrow I won't even be able to walk.” Haley went further in the joke, which left the farmer with her mouth open “And who knew that the girl without any sense of fashion and who lives among animals, would know how to fuck so well.”

“What does one thing have to do with the other?”

“Anything. Now ...” she turned her back to the farmer “You can hug me. I really need to sleep.”

And the other day, no matter how much effort Haley put in hiding the marks on her neck, they were still noticeable. Emily was shocked when she saw her sister at home, but nothing could stop Haley's smile. And the farmer would be mocked to death by Abigail, Sam and Shane, who tried to greet her and had their attempts thwarted by her avoidance. Emily's innocent comment about her sister's arrival, together with a Friday at the Saloon, made the farmer want to jump into the river.

#stardew valley #stardew valley haley #stardew valley fanfic #stardew haley #sdv haley #Summer Rain #sdv farmer

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fadekookie · 6 years

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The Closet Game: I

Author: @fadekookie

Genre: Urban Legen!AU, thriller, romance, psychological, existentialism, horror, interdimensional? spooky?

Rating: PG-13

Pairing: Baekhyun x Reader

Warnings: imitable behavior, horror themes

Word Count: 2990

Summary: The Closet Game was something you’d only heard of once in your life. You’d only pondered, until the point a pair of red eyes gleamed with a ferocity only possibly matched by yours. And so up to this point, you’d only pondered, but now you knew this couldn’t possibly be real. Until you dared the inferno in the eyes, until you challenged the ruby glare, until you bore a stare so wild and enraged you tore your way through this inversion, to him.

A/N: CHAPTER ONE IS UP HSDJHCVSJVC YAY !!!! I CANNOT EXPRESS HOW HAPPY I AM ABOUT THIS I’VE FINALLY DEVOTED MYSELF TO SERIES AND I AM SO DETERMINED TO FINISH IT!!! If you’re reading this without reading the prologue, you may be confused. The prologue is important to the entirety of the story!! ENJOY !!!! this chapter is dedicated to @shuasent

P | I | II | III | IV | V | VI | VII | VIII | IX | X

Reality is not real. It has never been proven nor tested. Only believed to be because, well, what else would you believe?

Reality is unclear and distant, like a memory. Every moment of your life being ironically vapid. Though you felt things, it was all null and conveniently explained. Not in the scientific sense, but in the sense that things happen for a reason and you feel a particular way for a reason. The problem posed though, you will always feel something.

However, it never felt that way. It felt muted and programmed. It was a routine. Just as the one sitting in your planner or calendar. Routine work, routine play, routine love. And it was all, mute.

Colors lived in you, yes, but each moment in time was distant, fading too fast. You’d always hated how the sun set so fast. You saw colors— you felt them, heard them, smelled them, tasted them. Though, you were bereft of a sixth sense.

You spent all your life dreaming of this sixth maybe even seventh sense, but you could feel nothing louder nor brighter than now.

Now was red.

It tasted red, felt red, looked red, smelled red, and sounded red.

Red was no longer a color to you. It was a vortex. A wormhole.

Red wasn’t blood. Red did not mean stop. Red was not sensual.

Instead red was a pair of eyes, and that’s all it ever would be. A pair of eyes so rampant you were no spiral down them. A pair of eyes so hot with fire you felt the tangible melt around you until it was only this red.

Until red devoured you and set your skin ablaze as embers licked at your curves. Until red burnt to black and only eyes among a pitch black realm remained.

Eyes polarized by the dark seemed to glow brighter as time slipped by.

Your own stare frantic you searched the black for anything of contrast. You looked down to see that your limbs were not there, perhaps having been swallowed by flame or suffocated with night. You heard nothing; no muffled hum of the air conditioning or distant sliding of heavy balcony doors by your neighbors. Sounds that lived in your home like family dissolved like sugar into the space. Only your eyes and the one’s in front of you were spared by the inferno.

You thought this a dream, an unreal reality just as you did the world before. Maybe some sick form of sleep paralysis that you were bound to wake up from...

....but then you felt it.

The millions of suns gnawing at you, at your mind and soul. Incinerations penetrating your soul in a pain unknown to you and you fathomed to man himself.

Trapped in your mind, you yelled. You yelled because that’s all you could do. Screams echoing against the constraints of your conscience. The sound wasn’t there.

The ballroom was flushed with wealth. Chandeliers hung from the high ceiling with crystals dripping from them just as prodigality dripped from every person in the space. Business is all it was with august marble floors and ridiculously expensive Hors d’oeuvre. The finger foods seemed to float around you like feathers in air as staff in tailcoats made rounds about the grand marble tiles.

The sounds of Shostakovich stretched to the corners of the space as businessmen endlessly found their way to you. Events like these weren’t rare in your new life. Being among the top 30 under 30 has those perks. Though lavish living lost much of its meaning when each step you take as a competitor on the market is one that is unambiguously monitored. One scandal, one look in the wrong direction, one breath at the wrong time and empires crumble.

You recognized the figure approaching you: Zhang Yixing, founder of LaySoft. His company had started at around the same time as yours, growing and competing at the same pace. He was the competition and you calculated every movement around people like him.

“Mr. Zhang,” you smiled, champagne in hand as he came to a stop before you. His hair was slicked back to exaggerate the contours of his face. Round, silver glasses rested on his pointed nose further complementing the dimensions of his cheeks. The suit fit him well, you thought. You assumed it was part of the new Ermenegildo Zegna collection. Of course, you saw this exact three-piece on a runway in Milan only a week ago.

“Y/N, please, call me by my first name. You’re making me feel old.” He smirked revealing perfect teeth. He took a step closer, “We’re not too far apart, you know?”

“I’m well aware, Mr. Zhang,” you continued throwing him a playful wink, all part of the procedure. “I must always be on my toes around you.” Your lips stretched into a more sensuous shape. Routine, it was all routine with him and those like him. Though he did nothing wrong, he was fully capable of it. You played your cards right.

He was frustrated but amused nonetheless. Yes, of course, you played them right. People were always easy to read to you.

“All I ask, Miss (y/l/n) is that you keep me young as well.” He played the game too. “It’s not fair you’re the only one having fun.”

No use being coy anymore, next card.

“Yixing,” you succumbed, “care for a dance.” You said this with conviction as you placed the flute of bubbly on a glass table beside you.

“Would I?” he returned taking your hand in his and leading you to the dance floor. Your dress was a flowing red, flattering your youth among the entrepreneurial gods. “I must say, you’re absolutely ravishing in that color.”

“You sound old,” you completed simply as he placed a large hand on your waist beginning to waltz. The dance floor was more a battlefield than a leisure spot in situations as such.

He sighed in relieve, as if being quenched, “This is exactly what I needed.”

You only smirked continuing to sway to the waltz tempo. Card. This game continued in a flirtatious method. Him complimenting you. You retorting smoothly. He fed off this and you waited until you felt he was fed nearly to the brim to begin your full-fledged attack. It was now Carmen Suite bouncing around the ambiance as you danced.

“I heard LaySoft is closing with Angola soon,”

Your brow lowered, no longer a light and playful set, “Didn’t think you were interested in oil.”

He chuckled, “I always have to think 10 steps ahead, y/n. Though, please enlighten me on your expansion in the Middle East during the past year.”

You only smiled and met his gaze, “What can I say, I’m just that popular. They asked for me.”

“Why do I not believe that?”

“Smelt it dealt it, I assume.”

With this, he burst out in laughter. Head tipping lightly back to allow humor to pour from him in waves.

Card.

That’s the problem with you Yixing, you thought, you and I really are not too far apart.

“Alright alright, I’ll admit, oil is a fun challenge, wouldn’t you agree.” At this point, you’d stopped dancing and made your way to an oncoming busboy. Plucking a stem from the silver tray he was carrying, you offered, “The more the merrier.”

You raised your glass, flashing your signature smile.

Card. You win.

You were intoxicated when you arrived at your home. The contemporary nuances of glass walls made their way to your line of sight as the Roll’s Royce pulled into your driveway.

The house was new as was the little to offer privacy. You’d made the purchase in March, moved in late April, and now it was July.

Stepping out of the car, you took a breath of the thick summer air, enhanced by the grandeur of your house. The doors shut behind you with a conspicuous click, you thought this was lucky if anybody ever tried breaking into your house. You’d never miss it, these doors were loud. As was anything really amongst this almost comically large furnishing. You could tell the position of anyone anywhere in your home because of how sharp each sound was as it bounced off in echoes from high ceilings.

Every step you took against hard marble floors to your bedroom distilled a click until they reached the broad expanse of dark wood. The muted sound of stilettos on wood reminded you strangely of eery memories from middle school. Strange as it may seem for your brain to store and associate a memory from over a decade ago with this particular sound, its all you could process at this point. The same sound of you walking, emitting creaking here and there to top off the stripped sound of steps, had been played out for you at a seventh-grade sleepover.

You would never forget, of course, how could you? One of the most embarrassing nights of your life played out in technicolor in your head. It was a slumber party with your then group of friends when the six of you decided to experiment with urban legends. You had never debated the extent of this abstract, just simply avoided any chance interaction with the seemingly supernatural on some occasions. However, with a group of friends, it’s safe to say all six of you get invincible to the forces of the underworld, where they there.

You had tested all tricks and spooks in the book from Bloody Mary to the Candyman with no outcome. This late into the night as the group grew increasingly confident, the infamous Closet Game was last on the list. This one required the extra effort. Required the reading of a curse, lighting of a match. You followed through of course, though, didn’t expect anything. Nor did your friends. While skeptic, as can be the exhaustion, took a toll on your brain, allowing any minor sound or movement, easily explained in broad daylight, sound like a swan song, a final call before your pathetic death to an urban legend.

So, it was your turn to play the game, and you said the curse, lit the match and stood in the closet waiting for demons to enrapture you and swallow you whole, carrying you away into a dimension unknown. Sweat prickled at your skin and you could feel your heart beating in your fingers and toes, but you could never let your friends know. Straining to hear a whisper and a pull from a ‘demon’ as the instructions said, you felt your head becoming light. You began to feel a velvety rub against your skin, comparable to the softness of a thin stream of water from the faucet on your fingers. You hadn’t done anything yet, hadn’t moved in spite of the clear sign you should bow out the match and leave the closet. You strained for whispers.

To this day you doubt you actually heard it. The voice. It was all part of the mind tricks factoring in darkness, social pressure, and general stress. Makes sense you imagined the whisper and the touch in retrospect. Though at the moment you could not doubt how extremely and terrifyingly real this voice was.

“I found you.”

Three words broke you.

Failing to extinguish the match you broke from the hold behind closet doors to see your friends staring at you with wild eyes. Soon they beckoned you with concern. Inquiring about the demon, asking if you really felt it. You blew out your match and simply brushed it off, pride quivering as you claimed it all a game of your subconscious.

Sleeping that night you could not brush the thought of the ‘demons.’ How they touched you and talked to you. Your pubescent mind racing with hormones, stress, and fear. The sound of your heels on wood now impeccably resembled the sound you heard that night from your place on the couch.

Step, step, step, step.

You couldn’t move, but your eyes were open and you saw everything. Saw what horror your mind conjured that night. Later you’d know this feeling to be nothing more than a psychological wager of sleep paralysis. Nonetheless, you remember how the black figure, faceless, shapeless, but resembling a human simply rose from the white wall carrying a white, electric aura with it.

By means of common sense, nothing should be alarming about a dark figure with no distinguishing features. It had no gun, no knife, no scary face, but it was terrifying despite no obvious means of harm.

Shaking and not moving a muscle, screaming with no sound coming out, crying but no tears escaped. Trapped inside your mind as this figure approached you before simply fading out as if dissolving into the natural background. That’s when you woke up; when your sharp inhale caused your friend next to you on the couch to stir.

All you could do is shut your eyes and throw the now uncomfortably hot covers over you as you continued to sweat, forcing yourself to sleep. Needless to say, you woke up to uncomfortable wetness in your shorts and you knew. Your friends knew. Things like this happened.

Reminiscing now you laughed to yourself about how foolish it was to be so self-degradingly critical around your friends, around yourself and the walls in your own room.

You continued to think of that game and its grand influence on your subconscious that night, minding how crazy the human brain was. At this point in your life and in your evening, you expected nothing else to come and tempt you nor press you. Your dealings at the ball were over and your face of business and poise was officially eligible to retire until tomorrow. So, fuck it, you thought. At this point, you understood the nooks of your brain and everybody else’s brain. Knowing exactly how to approach a person and a problem through meticulous psychoanalysis. At this point, just like then, you felt invincible.

Strolling over to your walk-in closet and pulling a lighter as well as your phone from the new Prada which hung elegantly from your shoulder. Briefly looking up the curse on your phone you shut the sliding door to your closet. Flicking the steel cap of the lighter forward, a gentle flame grew from a traceless spark. You read the words, smirk plastered on your face.

“Dinanzi a me non fuor cose create

se non etterne, e io etterno duro.

Lasciate ogne speranza, voi ch’intrate’.”

You chanted the infamous words three times, becoming bored the third time around.

Silence.

Stillness.

Nothing happened. No velvety touch, no paralyzing whisper. You chuckled before snapping the lighter shut and sliding the door open. You clapped for the lights in your room to turn on. As they swelled into brightness you slipped out of your dress and placed your shoes to the side.

The shower you took wasn’t long but it felt eternal as you ran through the synopsis of your day and… your life. Existence and the sorts, the usual for showers at this time of night.

Stepping out you further scrutinized each thing you felt, each thing you did and the reason for it. Not the artificial reason as to the typical cost-benefit system, but the actual reason. Your reason for compliance with the universe in general.

You left the bathroom in search of pajamas after slipping into underwear and a black silk robe reaching down to a bit above your knees.

You expected to see nothing but clothes and an island of jewelry when you slid the door open. Rows of designer sweaters hanging in the middle above four of your favorite Hermes purses. A shoe shelf to the far left and a purse shelf to the right. Sections of various articles of clothing placed by category around the perimeter of the room.

You didn’t see this though. Rather you did, but you didn’t see the clothes, nor shoes, nor purses, nor jewelry. Everything was still there but it was no longer the spectacle of importance.

You saw eyes.

Red eyes.

Red like nothing you had seen before.

Red as only ruby orbs among a darkness which darkened to become opaque over the shoes, purses, and diamonds in your closet.

Red glowing like fire against what had no become a pitch black void.

Red like an inferno which now gnawed at the corners of your own vision. Blazes feasting on the darkness cooked explicitly for these eyes and yours.

A conflagration swallowing your line of vision and your senses.

Burning and burning and burning and burning.

You felt nothing, just watched, reactionless, or you thought you were stoic.

For all you know, you could have died, suddenly.

Or hallucinated.

Developed schizophrenia.

All the possible outcomes rushed to your head at the same time as your senses returned.

Pain blurred your line of vision with more red, as you felt the absolute fire eating you whole.

More and more red.

Red and red and red, but you still saw a sole pair of eyes.

While everything became red, the eyes remained.

Eyes remained as a remarkably different red than any other shade of blood and fire charring your sight.

They stayed there even as the fire quelled, as you continued to yell with no sound and cried tears which did not put out flames. It was blackness again, aside from eyes. They moved closer to you as you realized you were no longer in your lavish room nor lavish home. You questioned if you were still on the face of the Earth.

The eyes moved closer as a figure formed around them. As if stepping into light, features became more defined and human. The eyes became a possession and not just a color. Lips, nose, ears, hair. Torso, arms, legs, neck. A body undoubtedly human stepped into sight.

Though, he could not have been human.

Masterlist

#exo #exosnet #exo fanfic #exo ff #exo scenario #exo smut #byun baekhyun #bbh #baekhyun x reader #baekhyun x you #ff #fanfic #baekhyun smut #baekhyun scenario

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jiveammunition · 7 years

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Title: I’ve Got You in My Slice - Chapter 5 - The Reaper Comes for Your Rolls!! Pairing: Reaper76 Rating: Teen Tags: Alternate Universe - Bakery, Alternate Universe - Police, Bad Puns, Fluff, Slow Build, Slow Burn Chapter: 5/? Summary:

“Reaper?” he asked.

After 6 months of waiting, here’s an update for you all. Thank you guys for your patience! <3

Surprisingly, despite the impending barrage of holidays, not much had changed in Gabriel's day-to-day life. As usual, he made sure to go back visit his family the day after Halloween to celebrate Dia de los Muertos — bringing abuelo’s favorite brand of mezcal to drink and leave at the family altar, which he also helped with, and staying the night — as well as on Thanksgiving, when the only particular thing of interest that happened was the turkey exploding in the fryer because his brother-in-law — the husband of his oldest sister, Isabela — hadn't thawed it as completely as he originally thought. Thankfully no one had been injured, nothing had burned down, and his second-oldest sister, Carmen, had the forethought of making another turkey ‘just in case’. But nevertheless, the story was interesting and amusing enough to get a few laughs out of Jack when he told it, which made the Thanksgiving migraine worth it in the end, at least.

“What did you do for Thanksgiving? You spend it with your family too?” Gabriel asked when Jack returned to his table with a refill of coffee in his travel mug.

“Oh, no, it's too expensive and too much of a hassle for me to fly back to Indiana for Thanksgiving. Especially when I'm going to be flying back for Christmas anyway,” Jack replied, shaking his head. “I spent most of Thanksgiving at home with Reaper, before I came here to prep for the Black Friday rush.”

It made sense that Jack had the sense to prep and open the bakery to take advantage of Black Friday and all the people that were out getting their shopping on. If Gabriel remembered properly, Jack even had a sign outside the entire week before, announcing the bakery’s special hours on Thanksgiving and the day after. A part of him wondered how well it went, given the nightmare stories he'd heard from some of his fellow officers about needing to assist certain stores with crowd control — Gabriel himself was on patrol that night — and Jack had to change the store's hours to accommodate his morning rushes and allow for midday baking and restocking. How on earth did Jack manage to handle the floods of people no doubt prowling for early-morning munchies and coffee?

But as Jack hadn't looked all that much worse for the wear, and the store opened without incident the next day, Gabriel decided not to ask. He also wondered when Jack would finally get some help with the store, but also kept his mouth shut, knowing it was a rather touchy subject. As open-minded and keen experimenting with things — baking recipes and the like — Jack was surprisingly stubborn.

Instead, he raised an eyebrow and looked at Jack curiously. “Reaper?” he asked.

“Yeah! Reaper!” Jack got up to fetch his phone from behind the counter, and fiddled with it briefly before sitting back down and showing it to Gabriel. There, on the small screen, was a picture — a bathroom selfie, no less — of Jack with a rather peculiar-looking cat, all black save for white markings on its face that made Gabriel think of a bird’s skull. It was kind of spooky looking, to say the least, and though it certainly fit with Gabriel's aesthetics, for some reason the hairs on his neck stood on end and a shiver of something both strange and familiar ran up his spine.

He didn’t dwell on it for too long, and shook it off as much as he could before handing Jack back his phone. “It certainly looks the part, at least. And I should've known you'd name your cat something punny too, given how much you love your jokes. Don't tell me, it's spelled R-E-A-P-U-R-R?”

Jack merely laughed and shook his head. “As amazing as that spelling would be, no, it's not. I wasn't the one that named him.”

“Oh, you adopted him, then?”

“Something like that. You know how there are a lot of strays that like to hang out in the alley behind the store? Reaper showed up in the bunch one night — the day after Halloween, if I remember right — and just kinda… attached himself to me?” Jack shrugged. “I checked his collar to see if he had an owner, but he only had a nametag on him. I checked for a chip too, but he didn't have one of those, either.”

“Still... You sure it's such a good idea to just take in some random stray like that?” Gabriel asked, recalling some horror stories several years back about someone taking in a stray only to learn the hard way after it died suddenly that it also had rabies.

“Yeah! I took him to the vet to get a quick look at him and got him all up-to-date on shots,” Jack nodded, “Plus, Reaper is a really smart — if a little clingy — cat, he follows me to and from the store every day. Even knows how to use the toilet!”

Just as Gabriel was about to comment about how bizarre that last tidbit was, both his and Jack’s attention were drawn to the front door.

As if on cue, a loud but muffled meow was heard from outside, followed by a light scratching at one of the glass panels. Sure enough, there sat the spitting image of the cat from Jack’s picture, staring into the store as if demanding entrance. Its gaze settled onto Gabriel, and after several moments of staring without blinking — Gabriel could swear the cat was glaring at him or sizing him up — it meowed again and slapped a paw onto the glass. It turned its head towards Jack, and gave one last meow before dropping its paw and sat patiently waiting.

“Oh shit, Reaper!” Jack cursed slightly as he got up from his chair, “You’re not supposed to be out front like that!” He opened the door enough for himself to slip outside and not let the cat in, and picked it up when it appeared to meow at him again. It seemed to settle down in Jack’s arms, at least, and if the look on its face and swishing tail were any indication, it was likely purring like a motor as well.

As amusing as it was to watch from inside as Jack bounced slightly in place while petting the cat in his arms, and apparently scolding it, Gabriel couldn’t say no when Jack nodded at him from outside, beckoning him to go outside. Sighing, Gabriel stood up, taking his mug with him and hiding a few bills underneath the empty plate as payment for the food plus a small tip — something he resorted to doing after Jack kept refusing to accept more than half the normal price of his food due to his ‘guinea pig’ status — before going out to meet Jack’s new kinda-sorta-pet-slash-stalker.

“Reaper, say hi to my friend, Gabriel,” Jack said, turning slightly so the cat was facing him. Reaper gave Gabriel the same kind of soul-piercing stare as it did before, watching him silently until Jack gave it a nudging scratch behind the ear. It purred lowly until Jack’s coddling stopped. Almost reluctantly, it meowed in greeting at Gabriel. When Gabriel reached over to give it a pet, however, Reaper lept out of Jack’s arms and darted away, turning the corner to no doubt disappear into the alleyway.

“Guess he’s not a fan of me,” Gabriel shrugged.

“I wouldn't take it personally. He might just be a little catty around strangers,” Jack ribbed.

“You said he follows you around though, right?” Gabriel asked, pretending like Jack hadn't made any pun at all.

“Are you trying to say I'm strange?” Jack huffed, holding a hand to his chest as if Gabriel had hurt his feelings.

“I didn't say anything,” Gabriel snorted, smirking as he took a sip from his travel mug.

“You're hilarious,” Jack replied, crossing his arms. The look of amusement on his face did nothing to help sell how horribly Gabriel's barb had injured him.

“Anyway,” Gabriel began, looking at his watch, “My shift’s about to start. I'll see you tomorrow.”

He took a few steps forward before he felt a tugging on the back of his jacket.

“Sorry. Hold on a sec,” Jack said. He let go of Gabriel and began rummaging in his apron pocket before fishing out a worn, brown leather wallet and holding it out. “This belongs to Officer McCree. He left it here last night. I texted him to ask for his address so I could drop it off, but he told me to just hand it to you. He's on duty today too, right?”

“Yeah, he is,” Gabriel replied, taking the wallet, and opening it up. Sure enough, there was Jesse's ID, the grin on his portrait even goofier than how Gabriel remembered his last ID picture looked. He tucked the wallet in his breast pocket and began to walk off again before he stopped in his tracks. “Wait. Texted ? Why does McCree have your number?”

“He asked me for it?” Jack shrugged, “I told him I wasn't interested, and he's not my type, but he insisted. Said something about wanting it anyway in case I wanted another friend to hang out with that wasn't — and I quote — ‘a grump with a stick-up-his-ass.”

Gabriel tried to school his expression and keep it as neutral as possible, and surprised even himself when he somehow managed it. He let out a short, “Huh,” and took another sip of coffee to gather his thoughts. “I'll have a word with him later, then.”

Jack laughed, and waved his hand dismissively, “Don't tell him I told you he said that!”

“Oh, I'm not gonna talk to him about that,” Gabriel muttered under his breath. When Jack tilted his head in confusion, Gabriel simply shook his head. “Don't worry about it,” he said, giving Jack a quick wave before heading off to the station.

“Oh, okay…” Jack replied, still looking slightly confused as he waved back, “Have a nice day, then!”

Sure enough, when Gabriel got to the station, Jesse was at his desk, typing up something or another on his computer. Gabriel took the wallet from his pocket and tossed onto the desk in front of him, drawing Jesse's attention away from the screen when it thudded gently on the wooden surface between his forearms.

“Oh, hey! You got it! Thanks, boss!” Jesse laughed happily as he tucked the wallet back into his pocket. “Mornin’, by the way!”

“Morning,” Gabriel grunted. He folded his arms and frowned slightly. Unable to help himself, he went on to ask, “Mind telling me why you have Jack's number?”

The grin on Jesse's face grew even wider. “No reason! Just thought the guy could use another friend around these parts, what with him still being new-ish to the neighborhood and all!”

Gabriel tilted his head, expression still unimpressed and looking doubtful.

Jesse laughed, and held his hands up in surrender. “Honest ta god, boss. I was just bein’ friendly! You got nothin’ to worry ‘bout, anyhow. Said he wasn't interested when I first asked.”

Gabriel let out a quiet ‘harrumph’ before he went to his desk. Shrugging off his jacket, he draped it over the back of his chair before he sat down, still clearly displeased. He'd known Jack for several months now and he still didn't have his number. Granted, he stopped by the bakery at least three times a week — down from the four originally; didn't want to come off as a creep, after all — and there was no real need to have Jack's number when they met in person so often, but still...

He was briefly torn out of his foul mood when Lena walked over with a bridal magazine in hand, asking him what he thought about her fiancée’s, Emily’s, choice in wedding gown.

“Oxton, why the hell are you asking me?” Gabriel asked, after realizing he had spent the last several minutes looking over pictures of dresses.

“I figured you'd be able to help us narrow down what would look best with my dress, since you know fabrics and drapings and all,” Lena replied, looking at Gabriel with wide eyes as if the answer were obvious.

“Oxton, I make costumes as a hobby. I don't design dresses or work as a wedding planner! Didn't Emily hire someone to help you guys for this reason?” Gabriel frowned, gathering the various pictures strewn across his desk into a neat pile and handing it back to Lena.

“Yeah, but I also figured since you're the one that's gonna be actin’ as my dad durin’ the ceremony, it'd be nice to get your opinion, at least…” Lena answered in a quiet voice, looking slightly like a kicked puppy. Gabriel pinched the bridge of his nose and sighed. He never could stand up against that look.

Still frowning, he flipped through the stack of pictures in his hands again, reorganizing the pile after a bit of quiet deliberation, and holding it back out once again. “The top three would be the ones that flatter Emily's figure and complement your dress the best. Now get back to work before Amari catches me helping you pick out your wedding cake and yells at me for ‘slacking off’,” Gabriel turned to his computer and waved Lena off.

“Thank you!” she chirped happily. “And you don't need to worry about that! Emily and I already narrowed down what kind of cake we want.” She smiled, taking the stack of pictures, and turned to start heading back to her desk when she suddenly jolting in place.

“Oh! That reminds me! I need to text Jack and let him know what time Emily and I will be there for the taste-testing!” she exclaimed in realization, mostly to herself. With a renewed cheer, she quickly zipped off back to her desk, fishing out her phone and tapping away at it with a smile plastered to her face.

Gabriel's bad mood quickly sunk back in. Lena had Jack's number too? That was-!

He took a deep breath and shook his head. It would make sense that the Lena would have Jack’s number if he was to be the one making their wedding cake. Jack wasn't giving out his number to just anyone and everyone.

...everyone but Gabriel, that was.

Things came to a head near the end of his shift when Liao, of all people, offered to text Jack and see if he would be able to make a cake in time for the station's holiday party in two weeks. Why the heck did Liao have Jack's number?! If he recalled correctly, Liao had only ever been to Jack's bakery once, and that was with Gabriel after they had coincidentally run into each other on their day off and during their morning jog. Unless he went there again sometime after, and asked Jack for his number… which dredged up even more questions in Gabriel's already-preoccupied mind.

He left the station that night with the same contemplative frown he had that morning, internally grumbling at how it seemed everyone but him had Jack's number and struggling to figure out the best way to ask without seeming too desperate or forward. He enjoyed Jack's company, and didn't want to ruin their casual friendship just yet. Plus, if Jack were to reject him like he did with Jesse, Gabriel wasn't sure if he'd be able to set foot into For Goodness’ Cake ever again.

Surprisingly, his opportunity to get Jack's number came in a way he never would have expected. When he got home to his apartment, he was met with the sight of an all-too-familiar black-and-white cat lurking outside his window.

“Reaper?! What the heck?!” he scrambled to open the window, quickly and carefully as to not startle the cat to the point where it would fall of the rather small ledge and injure itself. With a tiny huff through its nose, the cat jumped from the opened window into his apartment and skittered off to curl up on his couch.

“Hey, Reaper, this isn't your home. Why are you even here? Why aren't you with Jack? He's gonna be worried sick about you,” Gabriel scolded, and tried to pick Reaper up. He got a hiss and furry slap across the face for his trouble — thankfully Reaper had the courtesy not to let out its claws — and quickly reeled back in shock.

“Shit!” he yelped, “What the hell, Reaper?! Did you come here just to make my day even worse?”

Reaper ignored him, and curled up the same way as it did before, closing its eyes and sleeping. Or pretending to sleep. Gabriel couldn't tell, and to be frank, he couldn't be bothered. He growled under his breath and let the cat be, huffing as he left the living room to shower, make a quick dinner, and head to bed.

To his knowledge, Reaper stayed curled up and asleep on the couch until the very next morning, when it jolted right up at the sound of the apartment door unlocking. Without any sort of prompting, it darted out of the apartment as Gabriel held the door open, and even waited at the bottom of the stairs for him to catch up.

Jack was right, Reaper was a very smart cat. It was almost unsettling how smart it was. As if keenly aware of Gabriel's usual route, it led the way to the bakery, with Gabriel trailing behind it the entire time.

When they finally reached the bakery, sure enough, Jack was outside, as usual, setting up the sign of the day's special bakes. The expression on his face was more contemplative than usual, his brows furrowed and forming a rather obvious line on his forehead. Reaper meowed loudly as it approached Jack, and almost immediately, Jack seemed to cheer up at the sight of Reaper. His expression brightened up even more when his gaze landed on Gabriel, causing Gabriel's heart to skip a beat as it usually did whenever Jack looked at him like that.

Crouching down, Jack held out his arms for Reaper to leap into, catching the clever cat, and spoiling it with affectionate pets and scratches.

“How did this happen?” Jack asked, utterly bewildered. “Reaper didn't follow me home last night or to the bakery this morning, so I was worried sick something might have happened to him!” The way Jack's hands unconsciously continued to spoil the cat with affection didn't escape Gabriel's notice, and he couldn't help the small smile that crept its way onto his face at the look of contentment on Reaper’s face.

“I don't know why or how he even got there, but I found him hanging outside my window last night. Reaper didn't want to seem to want to budge from my couch at all, and I figured since it was so late and you'd already closed and I didn't have your number, I may as well let him stay the night and bring him back here in the morning,” Gabriel shrugged. Reaper opened its eyes to stare at him, as if fully aware of his white lie, and judging him, but Gabriel ignored it in favor of maintaining eye contact with Jack.

“Thank you for doing that. I really appreciate it,” Jack said appreciatively, relief written across his face as clear as day. “Like I said, I was really worried about this little guy. My apartment felt kinda empty without him around.”

“No problem,” Gabriel replied, feeling nervous about what he wanted to say next.

After a few moments, he swallowed the lump in his throat and gathered enough nerves to finally ask, “Um, in case this happens again, do you have any way for me to contact you? Like a phone number or something?” He rubbed the back of his neck nervously, terrified that Jack might jump to the conclusion he catnapped Reaper just to get the chance to ask for Jack’s number.

“Oh, yeah, sure!” Jack beamed. “Let's head inside so I can get yours too!” He crouched back down to let Reaper down, and with a quiet meow, the cat dropped from his arms and scampered away, slapping Gabriel's leg with its tail as it passed. ‘ You owe me for this,’ it almost seemed to say, and Gabriel inwardly thanked the cat for the setup.

“Sure,” Gabriel replied, trying to control the grin beginning to form on his face, and fighting the urge to pump his fist in triumph. He was going to get Jack's number, and he managed to ask without making things awkward or a fool out of himself! The urge did overtake him before he was able to make it through the front door, and with a quiet, “Yes!”, Gabriel did a small fist pump when Jack disappeared into the bathroom to wash his hands and likely dust off whatever cat hair Reaper shed on his clothes. Gabriel would later attempt to do the same to his couch when he returned home that night, only to be utterly surprised to find not a single cat hair anywhere in his apartment.

“Did you say something?” Jack asked as he exited the bathroom, tossing away the paper towel in his hands before the door swung closed behind him.

“No, nothing,” Gabriel replied, shaking his head.

Jack shot him a quick look of confused amusement before fetching his phone. He unlocked it and set it on the counter.

“I can never remember what my number is, so could you punch in yours and call yourself while I get this bread out of the oven? They're the prosciutto, cheese, and balsamic onion ones you tasted the last week and said you really liked. I figured I'd roll them out this week and see how popular they are.”

“Sure,” Gabriel answered, ignoring the pun completely. He focused his attention onto Jack’s phone, doing exactly what was asked of him as Jack disappeared behind the swinging steel door. He could almost feel his heart racing slightly when entering in his number, and when his own phone rang, it figuratively soared into the stratosphere.

Finally getting Jack's number put his spirit in such a good mood that day that he couldn't even find it in himself to get angry when he got to his desk and he discovered Jack snuck two extra rolls into his bag. Nor did he even bat an eye when Jesse approached him at his desk, and handed Gabriel $5. “Jack said you dropped this in his store yesterday. It's not like you to be so clumsy, boss,” Jesse scolded playfully before walking off.

Gabriel would just get Jack again next time.

#reaper76 #jack morrison #gabriel reyes #soldier 76 #reaper #jive writes stuff #jive fic: i've got you in my slice

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loveinthewriteway · 8 years

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Here (Chapter 9: diction & crossfaded)

Story Index | 1DFF Louis didn’t show up to class today. This shouldn’t concern me as much as it does, but he hasn’t missed a class since school started. After Professor McGonagall (yes, I know her name, but... I’m petty) nearly cut his head off for being late on the first day, he hasn’t even been tardy. I texted him in the middle of lecture, which definitely isn’t like me, but I wanted to know where he was. I still haven’t gotten a reply, which is also out of character for him. I’ve noticed that he’s usually quick to respond to me in particular (but then again, he’s on his phone 24/7). Professor McGonagall’s mouth is moving but her words aren’t processing at all. Louis’ absence is enough of a distraction for me during class, but once my mind wanders to what I have planned tonight… well. I may as well have missed class like he did. Although I already agreed to having a threesome with Niall and Carmen tonight, I know it’s not too late for me to back out. Of course it would be best for me to be honest with them about my conflicted feelings, but knowing me, I would probably just say I started my period. That would buy me some time to rethink my decision. At the same time though, I can’t deny my desire with participating in something so… forbidden. It’s honestly quite exciting, and simply imagining the possibilities makes me clench my thighs closer together. The fact that they’re interested in me to do something like this with them is already a big deal. I’ve accepted my attraction for Carmen, and again, I can’t deny that Niall has made me feel some sort of way too. Reading about sexual fluidity for my Gender Studies class has me more confused than ever. I can’t stand not knowing the answer to something so important, so maybe something like this will help me figure it out. *** My first day at work is the perfect distraction that I desperately needed. This morning, I thought I was set on doin’ the nasty with Niall and Carmen. But all it took was me struggling for half an hour trying to find a somewhat sexy outfit, and I second guessed my decision. Do they actually find me attractive? Or am I just a perfect candidate to fulfill one of their fantasies? These thoughts legitimately made my head ache, so I took a nap before my shift. It kind of helped (despite my odd dream about Niall sitting in a cardboard box and continuously saying, “Just chillin’ out me box.”) Now I’m just here in the library, twiddling my thumbs and waiting because I’m here a lot earlier than necessary. Finally, I’m approached by an older man, “Hello. You must be…” He adjusts his glasses while squinting at his clipboard, “Ariana. I’m your manager, Boris.” I try to not cringe at my mispronunciation of my name as “air-ee-anne-nuh” and not “are-ee-on-uh,” and the fact that my manager’s name is legitimately Boris. I know I should’ve politely corrected my name, but I missed the chance when he carried on with going over my work responsibilities. His voice is monotone and dry, so I have to put in extra effort to actively listen to him. I didn’t think I would ever say this, but I’ve never been so happy to see Harry in my life when I spotted his notably tall figure. Boris says, “Ah, there’s one of your shift leads. Hello Harry, so nice to see you.” Is it? Is it really nice to see him, Boris? “This is Ariana, she’s new.” “You mean Ariana, Boris,” Harry politely corrects, while maintaining his charm with an easy chuckle. Must be nice. “We’re met before. In fact, we actually studied together yesterday.” He has a friendly grin when he hugs me, while I’m caught off guard at the sudden gesture. Harry tells our manager that a student is waiting to be helped, so I’m finally free of Boris’ dullness. Okay, maybe I’m being a little mean since he’s probably a nice guy. I’m close to falling asleep standing up though, and that wouldn’t set the best impression. “Um… sorry no other English tutor is free right now. From what I know, it’s nothing too hard,” Harry attempts to assure, even though I feel like I’m having a heart attack from my lack of direction. It’s my first job and I have no idea what I’m doing. Awesome. “Just answer the student’s questions, and make sure you stay in your time frame. Your student has half an hour.” I open my mouth to ask a question (read: or ten), but Harry leaves to help his significantly longer line of students needing help with math. Letting out a deep sigh, I nervously open the door to the reserved room with a student waiting. It certainly helps that this girl student is likely a first year, who looks just as shy as I am. I clear my throat and project my best impression of “confidence (whatever the hell that is),” “Hi there! My name is Ariana, what do you need help with?” My voice is a lot louder than I intended, so it makes her jump. “I… um. Do you mind revising my essay?” she asks in a small voice before hastily adding, “Oh and… some feedback with my ideas too?” I easily nod and throw (what I hope is) a comforting smile. Proofreading has always come naturally to me, which is why I usually don’t mind when my friends ask me to revise their essays. To be honest, I’m guilty of choosing to help them in order to put off my own homework; it just doesn’t feel like work to me. After getting through the first page of this essay about African American writer and civil rights activist Audre Lorde, my phone starts to vibrate in my pocket. I don’t allow it to break my concentration, until the sporadic buzzing becomes more audible. Although I can easily get away with checking it since no supervisor is with me, I want to stay focused on helping this student since we’re tight on time. But damn, whoever is texting me must need me to bail them out of jail or is in labor. Maybe even both. (Or it’s probably just my group chat with Liam, Zayn, and Monique. Sometimes, they have stupid ass meme battles I never partake in. I view the text thread just so to get rid of the notification of 37 texts.) “You can answer that, if you want,” the first year speaks up first. “No no, I’m working. Sorry about that,” I apologize, my ears flaming in embarrassment. Running my hands through my mess of curls, I manage to tune out the vibrations and continue revising. All of my friends tend to have the same horrified reaction when they see how much I’ve scribbled on their paper. I guess I can’t blame them. Each essay I’ve revised is splattered with red ink everywhere, as though all their hard work is nothing but a messy war zone. This is definitely the same case with this student. “Don’t worry, it’s not a bad paper. I’m just a tough grader so you can be prepared for your professor,” I reassure, but this doesn’t really change her bewildered expression. While I explain my revisions so far and provide constructive criticism, in the corner of my eye, I see frantic movement through the glass of my office. I glance over and my eyes bulge out of their sockets when I see Louis Tomlinson, obnoxiously waving his arms. What in the world?! I can’t hear anything he’s babbling, so it’s like watching the Pokemon Mr. Mime on a silent film. Although it’s hard to resist my amused grin, I try to decipher what the hell he’s saying. My tilted head and wrinkled brows in confusion clearly shows that I’m failing, so Louis rolls his eyes and points to his phone. I huff in annoyance, holding my hand up so he can just hold the fuck up. This boy’s impatience will be the death of me. “I’m so sorry about that, um… what was I saying?” She squeaks, “It’s fine. I don’t mind waiting here until you’re done talking to your boyfriend.” My lips purse, because why do people always have to assume that a boy a girl is talking to is her boyfriend? And God, why do people assume everyone is heterosexual? Zayn crosses my mind for a moment because the same thing happened with us. Wow, we still haven’t talked since then… this may have been the longest we’ve gone without talking. I quickly shake my head and insist, “He’s not my -” “You know when your phone buzzes, it means I’m trying to talk to you, right?” My eyes narrow at the very rude interruption that decided to just burst into my work, like he owns the damn place. Although, it is a relief to know that he’s alive and kickin’ despite missing his first class without telling me. A growl erupts from my lips. “You know when I don’t answer, it means that I’m busy, right?” Louis simply shrugs while cracking an amused smile. “I’ll just wait here till you’re done then.” I roll my eyes and don’t argue, because I’ve already wasted enough time. As I attempt to divert my attention back to the essay, I overhear Louis trying to start conversation with the timid student. It’s kind of sweet that he’s really trying, despite her not-so-good social skills, and how it doesn’t take long for her to ease into talking with Louis. For a second, my pen freezes with correcting grammar because I realize that that’s Louis and me in a nutshell. But clearly, he’s just an outgoing guy to everyone. I’m not anything special. My heart sinks a bit. I carry on with revising, until I hear him call out, “Grande?” Lifting my head, I simply raise my eyebrows in acknowledgement. He blinks a couple times before licking his lips and looking down on his lap. “I’ll tell you later. Sorry.” “I’m…” I begin, feeling a little bad because he did go out of his way to see me. “I’m almost done, okay? Let me just finish this up, Lou.” His face lights up and I try my hardest to not smile - his happiness is so damn infectious. I hate it sometimes. When I resume giving my feedback to the student, who looks more out of place than ever, I feel Louis’ eyes on me the entire time. This makes my cheeks redden and my words to stumble out of my mouth clumsily. It’s no secret that Louis makes me nervous, but why is the simple action of him looking at me making me feel this way? “Any questions?” I manage, despite my anxiety starting to go haywire with everything running through my mind. She shakes her head and thanks me before rushing out the door. Listen girl, I feel you. But at least you can run away, unlike me. Before Louis can say anything, I blurt out, “Why weren’t you in class today? And why didn’t you text me back?” His bright blue eyes widen a bit, shocked at my outburst. But then he grins, crossing his arms and leaning back in his chair. “You worried about me, Grande?” “N-no, I just…” I hastily defend before huffing out in frustration when his amused expression doesn’t falter, “You should’ve told me. We’re partners.” In our project, I mean. Not like, sexual or anything… Oh my goodness, anyway. Louis’ tone softens, “I know, I’m sorry. I pulled an all nighter working on my essay. Not even sure what time it was when I knocked out, but I slept throughout our class.” My eyes fall to my feet, feeling a bit guilty for assuming the worst. I should’ve remembered how stressed he was yesterday at the library. But of course I didn’t, Niall was too damn distracting. Oh God, that just reminded me that I’m having a damn threesome in a couple hours. “And for the record, I did text back,” Louis adds before puffing his lips out into a pout, “You’re the one who’s been ignoring me.” I roll my eyes, ignoring how adorable that kind of was, “I’m working, Louis. Literally, as we speak.” “Yeah yeah, whatever,” he waves me off nonchalantly, “I just wanna know what I missed today.” I hand him my notebook from my backpack. While he takes pictures of my notes, I let my pride down for a second and mumble, “Are you… are you okay? From staying up? Do you want me to look over your essay or anything?” Louis’ movements halt for a beat before he looks up at me, his cheeks spread in a beam, “I’m okay, thanks Grande. I already turned it in, but can I take you up on that offer next time?” “Meh. Maybe,” I shrug, but he knows that I probably will. “All right, I should really get back to work. It’s my first day, I really don’t wanna mess this up.” “You? Never.” *** “Pen for your thoughts?” I blink, my deep thoughts interrupted by Harry walking into the break room. He legitimately hands me a pen (UCLA branded, of course), which makes me snort at his (somewhat impressive) pun. When he takes the seat in front of me, Harry takes a sip of his tea - looking a lot like one of my aunts who lives for drama. Nervously looking around as though this empty room is filled with people, I hesitate before finally giving in, “I’m… I’m a little stuck with something.” A second opinion shouldn’t hurt, right? Harry seems like a nice guy. “Do tell,” he murmurs against his mug as he sips again, leaning in closer in interest. At first I snicker, but then my face falls. How can I forget that - hello - Harry is Louis’ best friend and Niall’s frat brother. I can’t tell him about how I’m nervous about my fucking threesome with Niall and Carmen! Shit. “I-I don’t know if I should, uh...” I stutter a bit, but Harry waits patiently, his chin resting on his palm. He really does look like one of my gossiping aunties. “take… swing dance classes. Tonight.” Oh Jesus Christ, that is what I come up with? I guess it’ll do (even though I would never, ever take any sort of dance class - let alone for fucking swing). Harry blinks, seemingly disappointed at the anti-climatic tea I spilled, “Oh. That’s it?” “Like, okay. I want to try it, don’t get me wrong,” I begin to vent easily, my conflicted thoughts spilling out of me, “It sounds fun and exciting but… what if I’m not ready to do something like that?” Harry’s brows furrow as he slowly nods, “I take it you’re not that much of a dancer?” “No. Definitely not. I’ve only, uh, taken Zumba classes,” I attempt, really trying to get some genuine advice from him, “I’m comfortable with Zumba, I’ve never tried… any other dance classes.” I’m surprised how well I’ve been keeping this up. “Hm. Well, you shouldn’t have to do anything you don’t want to. Even if it might be too late to cancel,” he advises while casually drinking more of his tea, “But then again, you never know if you’ll like swing dancing until you try.” My shoulders relax a bit, impressed by how his feedback actually applies to my situation. Even though his thoughts aren’t really anything new, hearing it from an outside perspective is enough affirmation for me. Harry continues, “Are you going with a friend or?” I pause for a moment. “Um. Yes?” I mean, I guess Niall and Carmen are my friends. “That’s good. If you’ll be with people you trust, they’ll help you have a good time if you’re nervous.” I can’t help but snort at the relevance. “You’ll be fine. Just make sure you stretch and be prepared to move your body in ways you didn’t think it could.” I bust up laughing at the innuendo he is completely clueless about, and receive a strange look from Harry in response. “We’re still talking about swing dancing, right?” *** I’ve been standing in front of Carmen’s dorm for ten minutes, my hand hovering over the door in hesitance. My nerves are taking a toll on me, to the point that I’ve lost track over how many times I’ve rubbed my sweaty palms on my jeans. I can only hope that this shirt doesn’t show my sweat circles under my armpits. (I know, so sexy.) Although it took my entire closet exploding in my dorm, I was able to find a pretty good outfit. The best I can do, at least. I’m wearing a white over the shoulder, long sleeved crop top with a matching choker (which was probably on sale when I bought it years ago, but whatever). Monique sent me the 100 emoji when I Snapchatted her, so that’s got to mean something. Because I have no matching sets of lingerie, I figured that the next best thing would be to match colors. Although this strapless nude bra is uncomfortable and probably a cup too small (Victoria’s Secret employees would have my head, I know), I believe it’s pretty hot! Same with my nude panties (that may or may not be a couple shades off). Does it really matter though? It’s coming off anyway. Before I can consider (for the thousandth time) to retreat back to my dorm and hide under my covers for the rest of my life, my fist finally knocks on the door. It opens painstakingly slow, and I’m welcomed by a slow drawl, “Hiiii Ariiiii…” My jaw drops a bit when I take in Carmen’s appearance. Don’t get me wrong, I believe this beauty is one of those people who can look stunning no matter what. I just wasn’t expecting her to look so… comfortable? Her hair is pulled up in a messy bun, strands of hair freely falling and baby hairs curling up at her temples. She’s rocking an oversized shirt and basketball shorts, which makes me feel terribly overdressed. This look isn’t a bad thing at all; I just wish I got the memo, damn it. “Hey Carmen,” I begin, until I notice her bloodshot eyes. “Um… you okay?” A lazy smile spreads across her cheeks while she nods her head, her bun cutely bopping along with her movements. Things make a lot more sense when the strong stench of marijuana fills my nostrils once I walk in. “Ariana!” I almost fall over in surprise when Niall practically tackles me into a hug. He’s also dressed rather comfortably, which is irritating because he also looks damn good with no effort. Stupid snapback hat, shirt with cut off sleeves, and gray joggers. Niall sounds a lot more friendly and enthusiastic than usual, but his voice trails off when his eyes wander my form, “Wow… you look…” “Hot as hell,” Carmen whispers in my ear from behind me, making me almost fall over again. When she places her hands on my tense, bare shoulders, she asks if I’m all right. “Um… yeah…” I don’t sound too convincing. Niall chuckles before suggesting, “Maybe you need to relax a bit?” My eyes widen when he casually pulls out a joint, as though I asked for some damn sugar. It’s not my first time seeing weed or anything, I’ve just never smoked in my life. In fact, I’ve never been interested in trying despite the fact that all my friends do. “Yes, you definitely should!” Carmen encourages while wrapping her arm around me, “Honestly, I feel so good right now. It’s good quality shit too, so you’ll have a good ass high.” I blink a couple times, before shaking my head and declining, “I’m good, but thank you.” Awkwardly taking a seat on her bed (that’s definitely bigger than mine since she doesn’t have a dorm mate), Carmen pouts while Niall shrugs and lights his joint. I try to keep myself busy by looking at my phone, but my gaze keeps returning to Niall. Fuck, he just looks so… cool. I know. I sound like a damn freshman in high school admiring the popular senior. In a way, that’s exactly how I feel right now - an inexperienced, naive, and small outcast who is somehow hanging out with the cool kids. I’ve never been pressured to do drugs - verbally, at least. But you see, peer pressure is typically depicted in movies like this: the popular antagonist pushes the goody-two-shoes into trying something bad, the good guy is resistant at first, and they eventually give in when the bad guy calls them a chicken or something. Movies never really address how peer pressure can occur without harmful intentions. Someone can compromise their prior beliefs simply because they are outnumbered, not necessarily for the sake of “looking cool” - more so, to at least feel like they belong there. This is why I find myself asking quietly, “Niall? Uh, may I-” Despite the clouds of smoke that he exhales, his blue eyes still shine in arrogance - as though he knew I was going to ask. He uses his index and middle finger to gesture me to sit with him by the desk (which really shouldn’t be making me feel some type of way). “Yaaasss, Ari!” Carmen cheers, shamelessly sticking her tongue out. “While you do that, I’mma get some snacks. Be right back.” Before I can say a word, she hurries out the door and closes it shut behind her. I’ve never been alone with just Niall before, so my stomach is churning a bit. Even though I know he’ll probably be easygoing and flirty like yesterday, I’m still anxious over how I’m going to act towards him. Maybe I really do need to get high… hell, getting crossfaded doesn’t sound like a bad idea either. I knew I shouldn’t taken a shot before I came here. “Is it your first time?” Niall nonchalantly asks, while I’m a bit stunned at his forwardness. When he catches the look on my face, he smirks while clarifying, “Smoking. Is it your first time smoking?” “Oh!” I nervously laugh because, my God, I thought he was straight up asking if it was my first time having sex. Y’all can’t blame my mind being in the gutter; I’m about to have a threesome, okay? “Uh, yeah.” My cheeks redden a bit in embarrassment, and I expect Niall to look at me like I’m some sort of prude. Instead, he easily grins and offers, “I can help ya out if you want.” “How so?” My tone comes off as more suggestive than I intended, and Niall seems to interpret it as flirting. I’m not mad about it though. His tongue briefly runs over his bottom lip, keeping his gaze on me, “Open your mouth.” Normally I would’ve questioned this sudden command, but his husky voice and dominance proves to be persuasive when my mouth opens obediently. Niall lights another joint before bringing it to his lips, taking his time to inhale the drug. His hooded lids open to meet my curious orbs. Niall gestures me to come closer again, his magnetic pull drawing me closer. Although I haven’t even taken a hit yet, the ounce of confidence I have pushes me to sit on his lap. He’s surprised at first, but he doesn’t seem to mind when his hands hold my frame. My plump lips, still ajar, are centimeters away from his when he slowly breathes into me. His whisper simultaneously blows with the smoke, “Take it in. Slowly.” Fuck. I do what I’m told once more. My eyelids flutter to close while I instinctively adjust myself, trying to relieve the aching desire to some extent. Niall groans, which makes me realize that I unintentionally grinded on him. Again, I’m definitely not mad about it. Within moments, a rush of relaxation conquers my nerves. My tense muscles are now loose, and this new feeling of liberation has me on cloud nine. I definitely understand why people smoke weed now, I honestly feel… amazing. After vaguely hear Niall say something, I mutter not very coherently, “Huh?” His chuckle makes me laugh too, for whatever reason. “I said, you want another hit?” Niall has this crooked grin that is also very convincing, so I energetically nod like a damn bobblehead (again, who cares though). With his guidance, I take a couple hits with our shared joint. Every puff I take in seems to level up my self-esteem, especially sexually, which is what I’ve desperately needed. I’m ready to ask Niall to shotgun me again, but I perk up when Carmen walks back in. Hopping off of his lap, I gush, “Caaaarmen. You’re right, I feel so fucking good.” She beams, before finishing the last of her Snickers bar. I wish she bought me one too, it smells so fucking good. “So are we gonna get started or what?” Niall puts out the joint on the ashtray and stands up, casually placing his hands behind his head. “Can’t wait any longer, babe.” I’m sure he’s addressing his girlfriend, but my face heats up anyway. “Ariana,” Carmen turns towards me, giving me her undivided attention, “Are you sure you wanna do this?” I don’t even bother to hide my eagerness. “Yes.” Fuck reconsidering this for the thousandth time. I’m with Niall - let’s get this started already. I want Carmen, I want Niall, and I want them both at the same time. After a stare-off of what feels like ten minutes, she finally nods, “I want this too. Babe, what about you?” “Are ya kidding?” Niall stands up and wraps each of his arms around us, “Do you really have to ask? Fuck yeah.” Of course we have to ask, consent is important! We’re standing there for a couple seconds, not really knowing what to do. Carmen makes the first move and stands in front of me. My face flushes when her hands cradle my cheeks, mumbling, “I’ve never kissed a girl before.” I’m stunned in silence as she inches closer to me. The pace is too slow for me, so I decide boldly close the gap between us. Her lips are soft and full - perfect, really. I’m not sure what tastes sweeter, her or the chocolate. I run my fingers through her hair, enjoying her gasp when I tug on her bun. Her hands find their way to my hips briefly, but it’s not long before they make their way lower. My quiet moan vibrates between our mouths when she squeezes my ass. A louder moan escapes when Niall caresses my breasts from behind, while his mouth begins to eagerly kiss the back of my neck. He sucks harder before lightly tugging with his teeth, no doubt leaving a love bite as a reminder of tonight. When Carmen and I separate to catch our breath, I’m captivated by her swollen lips and pink cheeks. I’m not given much time to appreciate it because Niall hastily turns me around to face him, “I love this shirt, but you won’t need it anymore.” (I try to not think about if he intended to quote Bruno Mars’ song, “Versace on the Floor.”) His fingers sneak under my top, and it amazes me how my skin tingles at his simple touch. Niall attempts to hastily pull my shirt off, but that fails because the tight sleeves get stuck in my arms. We all laugh it off, especially when it takes a lot longer than expected to remove it. Once both my top and choker drop to the ground, Niall’s breath hitches in his throat. “Damn. Wow.” Carmen stands next to him and bites her lip, “You’re so hot.” It doesn’t take very long for everyone else’s clothes to join mine on the floor, but I’m last to strip completely. Although my high is still at its prime, I’m still a bit self-conscious since I haven’t been nude in front of someone for a long time. Carmen seems to sense my hesitance since her lips meet mine again, which easily comforts me. She wraps her arms around my chest and unhooks my bra without looking (something I’m sure Niall definitely can’t do). Shivers are sent down my spine once I’m completely exposed, especially when Niall pulls off my panties. I wonder why Carmen whines in my mouth at that moment. My question is answered once fingers brush against my throbbing center, causing me to curse. “Good thing I’m left handed and right handed, huh?” Niall teases. This cheeky remark doesn’t really fully process in my clouded mind, because my smart ass definitely would’ve corrected him. It’s called ambidextrous. “I’m sorry this is forward but um,” Carmen abruptly says, halting our touching, “I’ve always wanted to try scissoring.” Oh Jesus. I can’t say I’m surprised, this is one of the most popular ~lesbian sex positions~. In case you don’t know what it is, here’s my most simple explanation: make a peace sign with both hands and close them in together. The gap between your index and middle finger on each hand should be touching the other - like scissors (hence the name). Now... imagine your fingers are women’s legs. Know what I mean, jellybean? A bit overrated, in my opinion. “Um…” I trail off, trying to not be as blunt, “it feels good, but it’s not the most comfortable?” “Can you both just give it a try?” Niall groans close to my ear while stroking Carmen’s back, “God, it would be sooo sexy.” I make a face, hoping that he’s not expecting us to reenact some porn video. Those are incredibly exaggerated and should not be the expectation of true sex. “Mm… all right,” I decide, only because I haven’t done that position in a long time. I’ve always been on top, which I’m okay with, but I get tired easily. Since it’s Carmen’s first time, I’m assuming I’ll be doing all the work (read: won’t orgasm). Nothing new, I guess. We all move to the bed, Niall stroking himself as Carmen and I get into the position. Carmen’s mirror is close to the bed, so I see our reflection and… wow. I definitely don’t blame Niall - the sight of me hovering over Carmen’s beautiful naked form is incredibly arousing. My eyes drift down to her already staring at me, her brown eyes significantly darker as she takes me in. My dripping center meets hers, and already, her eyes are rolling back in bliss. I grind slowly at first, but I can’t help but quickening my pace. I’m normally rather quiet, but this pleasure has me letting out noises without a second thought. This doesn’t very last too long unfortunately, because my fucking leg falls asleep. I try to ignore it at first, but once it starts to affect my grinding, I speak up, “Ugh, shit. I’m sorry, my leg is asleep.” While I’m kind of embarrassed about this, I feel that communication is necessary. Also, this is probably a reality check for Niall that we’re humans - not porn stars. “It’s… it’s okay,” Carmen assures, a little out of breath. “Let’s try a different position.” I’m relieved when I finally have the chance to lie down. Geez, I need to go to the gym. “Okay, let’s plan this,” Niall speaks like he’s our damn coach or something, despite having a (quite impressive) boner (but then again, this is the first dick I’ve seen in person so I don’t have much to compare it to). “Babe, can you suck my dick?” “Yeah sure. Ari, do you mind eating me out though?” It’s getting difficult for me to stifle my laughter when we talk so casually about this, but again, communication is important. I appreciate us planning this. I stroke my chin thoughtfully, “How the hell are we gonna do that?” We lie in silence, contemplating for a couple moments. When a raunchy idea comes to mind, I’m quick to suggest it, “Carmen, you can sit on my face while you suck Niall’s dick.” Jesus. I didn’t mean to be so… crude. I surprise myself. Niall agrees within a millisecond, “I’m down. Yup. Let’s do it.” “Damn… didn’t think you got down like that, Ari,” Carmen muses slyly going on her knees, while I nonchalantly shrug. “Niall, how about you get off the bed and stand up? I’ll blow you on the edge of the bed?” He doesn’t even bother hiding his clear excitement when he hurriedly obliges. It takes awhile for us to get the hang of our placement, but we manage. A couple pillows are placed under my head to provide elevation for Carmen’s mouth to reach Niall’s length. She also has to arch her body a bit (which will probably strain her back after awhile, but she doesn’t seem to mind), while Niall holds onto her weight so she doesn’t fall over. At least it works, I think. I immediately know when Carmen starts Niall’s blowjob because, well, he’s loud as hell. It’s not a bad thing I guess, but my mind starts to wander about the neighboring students. I feel sorry for them, Carmen and Niall are probably sexually active. But anyway, back to what’s really important. Carmen was kind enough to ask if she needed to do anything, but my only response was, “Enjoy.” I truly enjoy this position (my ex definitely took full advantage of that, which is why I’m confident in my skills - lots of practice). I can tell Carmen trying hard to not place her entire weight on me, so I wrap my arms around her thighs so she can relax her muscles. My tongue circles around her clit, and I’m satisfied when I hear Carmen stop sucking Niall off just to moan my name out loud. When I begin to use my lips to suck hers, she begins swiveling her hips against me. One of the hardest things of this position is breathing, but it’s all about control. “Come for me, babygirl.” I pause for a moment, shocked that Niall is able to turn me on again. He wasn’t even talking to me! And with dirty talk? That isn’t usually my forte, but when Niall does it… My center is aching, and I’m desperate to fill my need to be touched. Still, I continue eating out Carmen; truthfully, I’m used to giving rather than receiving. Her thighs begin to quiver, and she reaches her orgasm almost instantly. “Ari baby, when can I taste you?” Fuck. When Carmen gets off of me, Niall lies down next to me. His hand rubs my inner thigh before slowly grazing my swollen sex, making me hiss. “Wanna sit on my face? Let me take care of you.” “Please.” I don’t recognize my own whimper that comes out of my mouth on its own accord. I’m pretty impressed with Niall’s idea of Carmen riding him while he does this (probably an idea from porn). Some of my confidence simmers a bit since this is the first time I’m the one receiving in this position. And my thighs are definitely thicker than Carmen’s. What if I kill Niall?! I shake my head at my ridiculous thoughts. While Niall grabs a condom (an entire pack is conveniently placed on the nearest desk - they’re definitely prepared), I clean my face a bit before smoking another joint. Although my mind gets more foggy than my first high, my body is more at ease and I feel better already. I needed that. Niall’s “come hither” gestures shouldn’t turn me on as they do, but they really do. I’m practically crawling towards him, my mouth watering at the sight of him lying on his back stroking himself. Unlike before, I’m swiftly on my knees and ready to straddle his face. My body is facing Carmen as she readies herself to ride Niall. He wraps his arms around my thighs like I did earlier, but he roughly brings me down on him. I’m caught off guard, but very turned on. Niall’s mouth is working wonders in a hurried pace, which brings overwhelming sensations everywhere. Is it the drugs that’s making me high out of my mind, or is it his fucking tongue? Niall is like a drug I can’t get enough of. He makes me want to be selfish and demand to receive, not give. Carmen’s moans aren’t even registering in my head because I’m so caught up in this boy underneath me, determined to send me over the edge. It’s not until she calls my name, in which I lazily recognize by simply opening my eyes to meet hers. My heart stops when I finally take her in. Her breasts are bouncing with every thrust while her brows are furrowed in concentration, desperate for her and Niall’s release. I whimper, short of breath, “Fuck.” “I’m close -” Carmen manages to say despite her panting, and I shamelessly watch the way her mouth opens wider and wider until she cries out. Her movements begin to slow down as her orgasm hits her, so Niall rapidly thrusts into her. His prior rhythm with eating me out gets sloppy as he reaches his high, but unfortunately I can’t say the same. Deep down, I feel like another reason Katy dumped me was because of how hard it can be to make me come. It’s shitty because I just can’t help it sometimes, and it’s actually pretty normal. Once Niall finishes, I get off of him and lie on my back. I’m a bit disappointed, but mostly relieved that I can stretch my legs (listen, this is the most cardio I’ve done in like, months). Carmen and Niall are probably that fit couple who go to the gym together to not only be healthy, but to also have bomb ass sex. Can’t relate. “You didn’t come, huh? Fuck, I’m sorry about that,” Niall genuinely apologizes before offering, “Carmen, maybe you can blow me so I can get hard, and then Ari and I can -” “No, it’s fine,” I insist, interrupting before he can finish his sentence. I think I know where he was going with it. “I’m good. You both came, and I’m okay with that.” “No!” Carmen and Niall object simultaneously. As crazy as the night has been going, this brings a sincere smile to my face because they actually care about me finishing. I’m grateful that they’re the people I’m experiencing this with. It doesn’t take long for me to give in. Sue me, I’m still pretty horny and I want my orgasm. Or five. “All right. Just… um, do you mind just fingering me, Niall?” His face falls, but he nods anyway. “Turn around for me,” Niall gently commands, which I follow despite being a bit confused over him wanting us to spoon. He begins to rub my skin slowly, sensually… almost romantically. We’re interrupted by Carmen, who I almost forgot was there for a second. “What about me?” She doesn’t sound angry at all, more so eager about the next thrilling position we’re going to try. At this point, I’m ready to literally Google the best threesome positions on my phone because I’m out of ideas. Niall sighs against my skin, almost disappointed when he proposes, “How about you lie next to me and give me a handjob while I finger Ari?” Although I’m worried about being an inconvenience to the couple, Carmen’s excitement doesn’t falter when she joins us on the bed. He resumes with his sensual touches, until he murmurs against my ear, “May I kiss you?” My arms are erupted with goosebumps, and I’m not sure if it’s his tickling breath or his request. My head turns to face Niall, who is giving me an intrigued stare. I look over at Carmen, who surprises me with a nod in approval - looking positively enthralled. “Yes,” I quietly utter, still feeling a bit ashamed about how badly I want Niall’s lips on mine. Not only is he dating one of my friends, but... he’s also a guy. Until recently, I was so sure I only liked girls. Now, I have no idea. Unlike Carmen, I don’t want to tell him that he’s the first boy I’m kissing. I don’t realize I’m spacing out until Niall lifts my chin to meet his darker blue eyes. I’m completely still, unable to kiss him first like I did with Carmen. When he closes the gap between us, my breath hitches in my throat in anticipation. His lips are rougher than Carmen’s, as well as Katy’s. He’s more eager, nibbling on my bottom lip and exploring my mouth with his tongue. Although I’m kissing back, I’m still trying to figure out if I like the way his mouth works against mine. He pulls away unexpectedly, “Carmen, babe. I’m sorry, but this position is kind of uncomfortable. Do you mind just… jacking me off after Ari comes?” The entire mood changes. Instead of sexual tension, it’s pure tension now. I feel like I just crossed a very blurry line. “Oh um… okay,” Carmen awkwardly says, “I’ll just touch myself, I guess.” “Honestly, I’m fine,” I’m quick to assert, “This isn’t even necessary -” Although Niall opens his mouth, Carmen is first to insist, “No Ari, you deserve it. You agreed to doing this with us, okay?” When I don’t respond, Niall asks, “You good? Or do you wanna stop?” I turn to Carmen, still unsure, but she smiles and nods. Well, if she’s okay with it then so am I. “I don’t want to stop,” I finally say, going back into my position. I catch the same cocky look in Niall’s eyes, the one when he knows that I’m going to give in anyway. It annoys me, mostly because he’s been right each time. His hand travels from hip up to my breasts, my nipples immediately perking at his touch. While they’re not too impressive, I appreciate that Niall is still giving my chest attention. When he wanders past my belly button, my hips impulsively jolt towards him. “Eager, are we?” His arrogant remark should piss me off, but it turns me on more than anything. He slowly brushes his fingers around my sex, his tantalizing amplifying my desire for him. I’m squirming when I groan, “Niall…” “Yes?” Niall breathes in my ear, acting like he has no idea what he’s doing to me. But he does - oh, he definitely does. “What do you want, baby?” If he thinks I’m going to participate in his dirty talk, he’s going to be disappointed. When I only mewl at his brief flick against my clit, he growls, “Tell me what you want.” In all honesty, dirty talk does turn me on. I’ve never been with anyone who talks like that though, so I’m just not sure if I’m good enough to try. “Come on Ariana,” Niall purrs, the way his name rolls of his tongue makes me lean closer into him, “I know you want it, just tell me…” My mind is moving slowly, to the point that I don’t even realize words are coming out of my mouth, “Come. I wanna come.” At that moment, Niall finally applies pressure on my aching center and I let out my loudest moan. My hips writhe until my legs spread out completely; I don’t even care that my back is basically on top of Niall. He pushes his middle finger inside of me before adding his index finger, confidently curving it to hit that spot. I’m helplessly melting into him, again, not realizing what I’m even saying, “Yes… right there, please.” He doesn’t need me saying that though - Niall is so sure of himself. When he uses his other hand to rub my clit while pumping faster, my thighs start shaking. “You like it when I get aggressive?” I’m really glad he can’t see my face in this angle, because it completely drops. Cue the sound of the record scratching and stopping. Did he mean to quote Drake’s song, “Controlla?” Or does he not think I would pick up on it? “Who’s gonna make you come, babygirl?” Because honestly, I probably wouldn’t have noticed. I never listen to the radio. In fact, I only know that song because of - “Lou-” Oh my God! Did I really just... “y-you. You. You are gonna make me come.” God bless my up to par skills of thinking on my toes and under pressure. Even though I’m about to go under cardiac arrest. Jesus Christ, how did I almost do the cliche of saying someone else’s name during sex? Louis’ name, of all people. Why does this type of thing always happen to me?! Niall is quiet for second, so paranoia hits me like a truck. I mean, Lou rhymes with you. He could’ve easily “misheard,” right? Or maybe I’m just fucked. Should I move transfer schools? Move out of the country? You know, moving back to Italy doesn’t sound like a bad idea. My plans for the future are interrupted when Niall asks in a gruff voice, “You close, Ariana?” If he did hear me say Lou, at least he’s not mentioning it right now. But I think he mistakened my heavy breathing as approaching my orgasm. Well, this is awkward - Niall, that was just my anxiety. Louis comes to my mind again, but in a different way. My heart is pounding when I think about the way he looks at me, like I’m the most important person in the room. How his eyes tend to travel around my entire face, settling on my lips a beat longer before meeting my gaze. How his face lights up when I call him Lou, because he feels special enough to be called a nickname. Just like how he calls me Grande. But on the other hand, the few times when he has a serious and tense expression. Whether it be when he’s talking about something serious, or when he’s focused on just listening… fuck. “Yes, I’m close.” My mouth is moving on its own again, but at least it’s honest this time - only because I’m thinking of someone else. My mind is all over the place, but all I know is that Louis is the only one running through it right now. I start to think about how his skin would feel against mine, how he would make me feel good - When the fingers rub me a lot more frantically, I’m reminded that the person touching me isn’t Louis - it’s Niall. Someone who doesn’t know me nearly as well as Louis, and apparently, not about how “being close” doesn’t always mean “go faster.” Just keep up what you’re currently doing, damn! Despite being under the influence, I can still recognize that I’m not close to finishing anymore. Knowing Niall, he’s not going to give up until I come - but it doesn’t seem likely tonight. I’m a bit disappointed, but mostly exhausted. So, I do the second worst (this may actually be worse) thing during sex: I fake it. My performance isn’t too shabby, but I’m not too proud of the fact that it’s because I’ve done it often in the past. I feel like I’ve let Nicki Minaj down by not demanding my orgasm, but again, I’m tired. And hungry. Maybe I’ll get a Snickers too. Niall is the first to speak up, “Wow. This was all so… damn. Craziest shit I’ve ever done.” I nod in agreement, because honestly, I can’t argue with that. I lay there in silence, trying to wrap my head around everything that just happened. Everything is still moving slowly though, and all I want to do is sleep. “Well, I’m gonna clean up.” I jump, almost forgetting that Carmen was there for like, the tenth time. When I catch the weird look on her face, my body abruptly sits up. Shit, what if she heard me say Lou? I know she wouldn’t tell him but… I do not want Louis ever finding out that this happened. There’s no way he’ll ever find out that I was thinking about him, so at least I can keep that a secret. But I don’t even want to tell him about the fact that I just had a threesome with Carmen and Niall. Why though? Asking myself that simple question makes my heart stop. What scares me the most is that I might know the answer. --- (Beyonce voice) GOD DAMN GOD DAMN GOD DAMN That happened. Told y’all it was gonna be wild. I know it’s pretty graphic, and trust me, it’s intentional. While I wanted to express how ~sexy~ it is, I also wanted to describe some realistic scenarios as well. (Tee, you probably wanna kill me for making the threesome happen. Don’t worry, Ari learns her lesson and things kinda go downhill from here lmao) Sorry this took so long! It’s been awhile since I’ve written smut, so I definitely struggled. Hopefully this is decent! I would greatly appreciate any sort of feedback: -about the smut (read: ~swing dancing~) as a whole -Niall being a horny shit (can’t blame him, he’s doin’ the nasty with Alessia Cara and Diane Guerrero like...) and stealing lines from songs (lmao pls don’t hate me but it’s kinda funny) and “just chillin’ out me box” -Ariana becoming a ~dangerous woman~ when she’s high and almost saying Louis’ name lmao bye -Harry as the auntie who lives for drama and spilling the tea -Louis visiting Ari at work -Niall’s natural brown hair and unseasoned chicken -how your day is going, the Golden Globes (can I just mention that I fucking typed Golden GLOVES at first? I’m crying), anything! Okay. Ready for the rest of my long ass author’s note regarding Here getting featured? (You don’t have to read this, but it would mean a lot if you did!) I’m gonna get hella simpy because, well, that’s me (even though I definitely screamed/cried in all caps in a Tumblr post). I am so incredibly honored that Here is December’s featured fic! Holy hell, it still blows my mind. I didn’t think I would ever get that kind of recognition, and this fic is one of the few featured fics with less than 100 reviews. I don’t have a problem with that of course; I write because it’s my passion, that’s all. But damn. That’s why I’m so damn shook lmao! Most importantly, this is one of the few featured fics that has a woman of color as the main character (not just as a face claim either - Ariana’s Italian-American culture is a component to her character). This is the main reason I’m so emotional about all of this and why it’s a huge deal. While representation in fanfiction may not be equivalent to Hollywood, I find it to still be a prominent issue. When I first got into 1DFF, I was pretty much conditioned to accepting that every main character is going to be a white, heterosexual, cis gendered, thin, able-bodied girl. But honestly? I was and still am tired of it. Since writing is an awesome platform that provides countless opportunities, I try my best to be inclusive and have diversity in my cast (especially since OT4 are white, hetereosexual, cis gendered, able-bodied, and fit the beauty standard already). In this case, I wanted to focus on a woman of color’s questioning her sexuality and bisexuality as a whole. With that said, I am grateful that not only my writing is getting exposure - but the fact that my fic with diversity is. The issues I address, the different cultures… It means so much that I’m gaining readers who (hopefully) absorb the messages, as well as women of color readers who reach out too. Thank you all so much. - Angel

#hello this is almost 8K of pure craziness #idk what this is #pls send help #i hope y'all enjoy it took me 5 million years and i'm not even satisfied with it #i'm just gonna go in a box like Niall #just chillin out me box #here #1dff #one direction #one direction fanfiction #louis tomlinson #niall horan #1d woc #woc fic

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