#despite doing ‘advanced’ maths

[astral-from-afar]

Chemistry test have mercy

[sentryisbbygirl]

Born to play Spider-Man Remastered, forced to do school work (stupid school work at that, what the hell sort of math class makes people do presentations???)

[crownbeed]

I flip-flopped between "pleasure to have in class" and "needs to participate more"

I'm doing my work Mr Stevenson, i don't want to talk to people too, damn.

the “pleasure to have in class” to overly active tumblr user pipeline

[fandomfuntimem]

Dp x dc: batshit crazy driver au.

Bruce hired a new personal driver for the Wayne's. He was a nice enough guy. His grades weren't great, but he was a great driver and very patient. Like, really patient. Like, he is so unbothered by traffic, stupid drivers, and villain attacks, its kinda scary. But all the background checks came back clean. Minus his mad scientists parents, of course.

Daniel (Danny) Fenton. He could relate to any of the Wayne kids and hold an intelligent conversation with Bruce. Bruce feels that he doesn't need to be all Brucie Wayne around the young man. He doesn't know about their nightly activities yet, though. They're not quite sure if he even needs to know.

The first sign there was something more to Danny happened when Tim was sitting in the passenger seat. Tim was struggling with a math problem. It was driving him nuts. It only took a quick glance for Daniel to solve it, though, "it's thirty-six"

"What?"

"The answer is Thirty-six. You forgot to carry the three."

"Huh..."

He was right, Tim made a simple mistake, sure. But that was advanced college level math. Danny was a straight c student and never went to college. It only took him a momentary glance to solve it. Tim, though suspicious, chalked it up to a simple case of gifted kid syndrome. He related to it and began to consult with Danny on some of his math problems. Danny was more than happy to help, for a price, of course.

Then, there was a villain attack. The villain's goons ran rampant through the city, terrorizing anyone unfortunate enough to be outside at the time. But not Danny, they'll tried, oooh they tried. But those goons swiftly found themselves zip tied, in the trunk of a car, and on their way to jail. All while Danny blasted some music by a small artist named 'Ember'.

Alright. He is in Gotham, and his mother was a black belt, so maybe he was just well trained. Its good to know how to deffend yourself.

Then, Damien was kidnapped. It was so fast they barely saw, but a white van sped by and grabbed Damien as he made his way tawords the car. Initially, Damien expected the chauffeur to panic and call the police. But when shouting and cursing were heard from the front seat, and the men in the back slipped the van door open to check behind them, it was revealed Danny had followed them and he had a gun.

What could only be described as an action movie chase scene ensued. Every corner they swerved, every shortcut they took, Danny was right behind them. Driving like a bat out of hell, he shouted and fired at the wheels of the van. Knocking one out, the van swerved and was forced to come to a stop.

A kidnapper grabbed Damien by the hair and held a gun to his head, but before the threat could even leave his mouth a bullet flew through his hand. He dropped Damien and fell to the ground screaming, clutching his hand.

The kidnapper in the van already took off running but was swiftly stopped by Redhood arriving just in time to see Danny helping Damien up and checking him over, profusely apologizing for "letting this happen."

When asked why he did all of it, his simply answered, "I don't think I would get paid if I let Mr. Wayne's kid die! I can't let a kid die in general!"

Bruce, of course, gave the young man a bonus and a few days off for the stunt. Accompanied wlth a few stern words about safety. What was truly remarkable was that there was not a single scratch on the car. Untouched, meaning he never hit anything during the whole ordeal. "I just learned what not to do from my dad!" He joked, but Bruce felt that, despite the clear joking tone, there was some truth to the statement.

The family is suspicious, very suspicious. The man they previously viewed as their simple and humble driver turned out to be a monster of a fighter, and they have no idea how or why.

----------------------‐------

A/N: Feel free to add onto this in any way you would like :3

[kermdoeswriting]

The worst jobs ever lead to 0 Student debt

Have you ever been so broke that you've resorted to gigs that normally would make you seem like a minor villains goon?

Danny has.

Being practically broke, drowning in constant student debt, college student has led to some of the weirdest side gigs Danny has ever done. He can at the very least confirm that as he continues his degree in Astrophysics at MIT.

But in all honesty, he's not very picky or upset about how weird they are. Danny would rather do something strange once, then continue drowning in debt the way he was currently.

Student debt was not a joke.

And even if it were, it wasn't a very funny one, considering he himself was just scraping by on his two front teeth due to them.

Either way, the point was Danny's done practically everything in Gotham possible just to make some small bits of cash here and there. Danny only ever goes to Gotham for the sake of an extra ectoplasm boost on top of the fact it has the most jobs out of any city possible due to the crime rate.

He's been a temporary goon and a guard to several different warehouses throughout Gotham & New York City (most times there isn't even anyone or anything in them but a jobs a job). He's been in charge of covering a front temporarily for what looks like fake companies (nothing to do with drug dealing or the mob for some reason, he usually tries to stay clear of those offers).

He also was a tester for some of Mr. Nygma's traps being hired for the sheer fact that he couldn't really die and therefore could test several of Mr.Nygma's traps at once.

He took a temp job to help feed Dr.Quinzel's pet hyenas when she was in Arkham for awhile as well as pet sit. That one was his favorite honestly, Lou and Bud were sweethearts despite the carnage thing.

He recently had even been a personal insta-cart driver for a certain Penguin mob-boss strangely enough (until the guy got sent back to Arkham that is).

Danny really isn't picky when it comes to jobs unless it was just something mostly immoral and just insane, like drug dealing and/or murder & world or several life ending situations or just involved with someone like the Joker.

It's gotten to a point that the average Gotham goon usually recognizes him when he passes by during a job visit. They tended to recommend him a new job when they saw him, knowing he was just as eager as they were in this economy.

Which is how he ended up here, sitting in an empty warehouse yet again for possibly another hour before he could leave and get paid. Danny was sat on the floor doing his advanced calc homework and trying not to scream about it as he sat there.

It was something he did when the nights were slower honestly. The night was ruined quickly after that though when the glass shattered above him and scattered all over his homework and the rest of the ground.

Danny only sighed and mourned the possible money he'd be losing to that mess before shaking the glass off of him and his papers. He didn't bother looking up at his possible attacker.

"You have got to be fuckin kidding me. Not again, Kid."

Only then does Danny look up to see who broke the window. Red Hood sounds exasperated despite the mask covering all of his real voice with a mechanical voice changer. Besides him was Nightwing who seemed just as disappointed as his partner was while putting his escrima sticks behind his back.

"Can I help you Red Pill, Blue Pill?"

That made Red Hood snort while Nightwing just sighed into his hands and dragged them down his face before responding.

"Kid, what are you doing in he- Is that homework???"

Nightwing walked closer almost sounding offended as he looked down at the mess of Danny's math that he was going to have to redo before turning in tomorrow. The thought of recopying everything made him feel angry all over again.

"The one you guys wrecked by getting glass all over it? Yes," Danny leaned back into his plastic chair provided by the Goonion. "Thanks for that by the way, I'm going to have to recopy everything before class tomorrow."

"That wouldn't be a problem if you just got a normal part-time job like a normal young adult." Red Hood snorted as Nightwings slight lecture and it made Danny roll his eyes at the both of them as he sat up.

As if he hadn't tried that route already. In between his space museum internship during the day and his thousands of classes every week, he didn't exactly fit a lot of younger adult jobs schedule.

"Do you know any nearby normal adult jobs that are hiring a current university student with millions in debt and a internship schedule that only allows them to work at night?" Danny snapped back which made Red Hood start to snort and laugh again at Nightwings expression.

"Well..." Nightwing at the very least had the decency to look sheepish as if he had thought about it genuinely and couldn't think of a thing.

"Thought so." Danny slumped against the chair again, before shutting his eyes. He waved them away as he sat back, already mentally preparing himself for another all nighter for the sake of recopying his papers.

"If thats all, I'll see you next time I get a fake listing or bad job that you guys have a tendency to break into. Go away."

Nightwing only sighed again before Danny heard his grappling hook sound off back through the broken window into the night. Red Hood only chuckled one last time before ruffling his hair.

"See you, Kid. Make sure you try to sleep before class"

Danny just huffed at him and waved him off again as Red Hood shot his grappling hook off into the night and joined Nightwing. With a sigh, Danny sat up again and grabbed his nearby backpack filled with scrap paper.

Time to restart the equation all over again.

______________________________________________________________

Basically Danny needs money to keep going to MIT so he continuously decides to take up jobs for hire in Gotham (and other places but mostly Gotham), which lead to him breaking a lot of laws for another cash grab.

Meanwhile, the Batfam is very concerned that they keep meeting this meta young adult (who doesn't even live in Gotham!!) who seems to continuously be running through villain placed ad offers like water to get cash.

How desperate for cash is this guy????

[osaemu]

GOJO SATORU: HUNGRY FOR MORE

✩ ‧ ˚. serial killer!gojo x detective!reader: fucking the serial killer you're supposed to be arresting might be the best (or worst) decision you've ever made. PART 2 | NSFW

contents: fem!reader. porn with plot, dubcon, public sex (in an alley), p –> v, orgasm denial, fingering, he cums inside, unprotected sex, degradation, praise, lil' bit of dumbification, hair pulling, squirting, dirty talk, manipulation/coercion, mentions of murder (he's a serial killer what did u expect), non-sexual mentions/usage of guns, probably more. 3K words.

author's note: wrote this instead of writing my research paper and studying for my math final. if this flops i will actually become the serial killer /j. anywaysss tagging @satoruhour @screampied @satorena.. and yes, the "season 2 coming soon" in the banner means something ;)

“looks like your little killing spree’s gonna have to come to an end,” you muse, crossing your arms and cocking an eyebrow at the man across from you. he grins back at you, and it’s almost unsettling—he looks a little too smug for a killer who’s just been caught.

“i don’t think so, sweetheart,” the man responds dryly, leaning back against the alley wall, features relaxed and at ease. he—satoru gojo—has been your target for a couple weeks, and now that you’ve finally cornered him, you find yourself feeling a little… unfulfilled. usually, when you caught criminals, they begged for mercy and showed a little more emotion than what satoru’s shown so far. 

also, the criminals usually weren’t this good-looking.

you maintain eye contact with satoru while you carefully reach into your coat’s pocket, withdrawing your phone and unlocking it. unexpectedly, satoru doesn’t make any move to stop you from dialing the number to your boss, instead smiling coyly as you do so.

“so, you’re one of those guys who don’t care what happens to them?” you ask, tilting your head as you hold the phone to your ear. satoru shrugs and his grin only widens the longer your phone rings. ten seconds pass before your phone tells you that the number you dialed is currently busy, and satoru’s muffled laughter becomes unbearably suspicious. you narrow your eyes and involuntarily take a step back. “what’s with the smile?”

satoru scoffs and dips his head, pushing himself off the wall and taking a step towards you. “y’know, you’re rather brave, comin’ out to catch a serial killer all by yourself. and in the middle of the night, too.” he stops advancing when he sees you pull a gun out of your pocket and hold it up threateningly, a look of warning in your eyes. “okay, okay, relax. i’m not gonna do anything to your pretty face.”

“what did you do?” you ask suspiciously. satoru widens his eyes in mock disbelief, as if he’s completely and utterly shocked that you’d ever accuse him of anything.

“besides the fifteen separate counts of murder? not much, really.”

“i’m not an idiot,” you snap, cocking the gun and aiming it at his head. “you’re not the one in control here, satoru gojo. spit it out before i put a bullet through your skull.”

satoru laughs and holds his hands up in surrender. “fiesty, aren’t we? it’s alright, i like my girls with a little fire in them.” he tilts his head to the side and looks you up and down, eyes lingering on parts of you that suddenly make you feel naked, despite the coat covering most of your figure. “put down the gun, sweetheart, then we can talk.”

you wait a second, scanning satoru’s overly relaxed face before cautiously lowering the gun. “what are you hiding?” you ask again, eyes hardening.

“a lot of things. but i think you’re talking about what i did to your boss, right?”

“you have five seconds before i shoot you.”

satoru makes a face and then rolls his eyes dramatically. “fine, since you’re bein’ so pushy about it. i killed him, obviously. you’re a smart girl, shouldn’t you have figured that out by now?” when you don’t immediately answer, satoru sighs and shakes his head. “and here i thought that the girl who’d been tailing me for the past week would have a little sense in that pretty head of hers. looks like i was wrong.”

“shut it,” you snap again, re-dialing the number and letting your phone ring for fifteen seconds. when nobody picks up, you internally curse and think about what to do next. dialing 911 would be worth a try, but the look in satoru’s ice-blue eyes makes you think otherwise. despite the gun in your hand, something about him makes you entirely certain that he could overpower you, even if you landed a shot on him. and even if you just shot him right now, he’s been shown in the past to be able to function fine with a bullet through his chest. that’s how two of your subordinates lost their lives to him—by underestimating your city’s notorious killer.

so you decide to bide your time.

“ran out of options?” satoru asks smugly. he raises an eyebrow when you slide your phone back into your pocket and exhales a laugh. “you gonna wait for a big, strong man to rescue you? ‘cause i’m right here, honey, and i could be your savior.”

“that was actually the shittiest line i’ve ever heard,” you scoff, rolling your eyes at the self-satisfied look on his face. “are you seriously proud of that one?”

“well, it worked.”

he pushes himself off the alley wall and towards you so fast that you hardly even have time to process it, and before you know it, you’re the one pressed to a wall with a gun to the side of your head. satoru’s other hand grabs both your wrists and pins them above your head, and his face is close enough to the point where you can feel his breath—which is unexpectedly minty—on your cheeks as he grins down at you. “you really think i’d use a line as shitty as that if i didn’t know it’d make you lower your guard? tch, you really shoulda known better.”

you use every curse word you’ve ever heard in that moment and grit your teeth, rapidly thinking through all the possible ways you could get out of this situation, but nothing comes to mind. you’re quite literally stuck in between a rock and a hard place, with a gun pressed to your head and with your limbs out of commission. 

satoru clicks his tongue and widens his eyes at you, leaning in closer. his lips are uncomfortably close to your own as he traces the gun down the side of your face, cold metal brushing against your heated skin. “not gonna fight back? that’s no fun.”

“the fuck you want me to do?” you snap irritably, glaring up at him and curling your hands into fists. satoru tightens his grip on your wrists and cooes a sarcastic apology to you, taking his time looking you up and down again. if you didn’t value your life, you probably would’ve said worse, but seeing as you were the only person in this ridiculously isolated alley, it wouldn’t be worth much. 

“i dunno. didn’t that detective academy or whatever teach you anything?”

you roll your eyes again, and somewhere in the back of your mind, you consider the possibility of your eyes getting permanently stuck in the back of your head just because of him. “y’know, you’re not giving me a whole lot of options.”

satoru laughs. “if i did, that’d defeat the whole purpose, wouldn’t it?”

at this point, death would be preferable to hearing his idiot talk any longer.

“so, i’m gonna be the one asking the questions from now on,” satoru continues, clicking his tongue disapprovingly when you scowl. “if you behave, i won’t hurt you that badly, ‘kay? keep that in mind.”

“thought you liked your girls feisty.”

“oh, that’s true,” satoru muses thoughtfully. “yeah, never mind, you can be a little bratty. i need a reason to fuck you stupid anyways,” he grins after a moment of consideration.

“what the fuck?”

“you heard me, sweetheart,” satoru cooes, feeling his pants tighten as he watches your eyes widen. your “tough” demeanor drops for a split second, and satoru can’t help but want to fuck it off again when it returns. your scowl deepens and you frantically think through all your options again, but there isn’t a whole lot you can do at this point.

“if you wanna stay alive, you’ll be a good girl and you won’t scream,” satoru murmurs, leaning in closer and pressing his lips to yours. you grit your teeth and try to shove him away with your shoulder, but it doesn’t do much. satoru smiles against your lips and hums softly, pulling away with an almost affectionate look on his face. it’s so at odds with who he is and what he’s done that you drop your guard again, wanting to believe that he really will keep his promise not to hurt you.

satoru sees the shift in your features and smiles tenderly, all traces of his borderline-sadistic look gone. he studies your face for a moment and kisses the corner of your mouth, letting his lips linger for a second before he pulls away again. “i’m gonna let your hands go now, m’kay?” when he drops your wrists, they fall limply on his shoulders as you warily study him, eyes wide with confusion. it’s jarring, the way he just… changed personalities within the span of a couple seconds. “i’m not gonna hurt you, pretty,” he breathes, dropping the gun and letting it fall to the floor with a loud thwak. “this’ll be a lot more fun for me if you don’t resist, yeah?”

oh, fuck it.

“okay,” you murmur, ignoring every siren going off in your head. you don’t really have any other options, and honestly, nobody was going to walk by and get you out of this sticky situation anytime soon. and satoru was pretty attractive… and you could just arrest him afterwards, right?

as if he read your mind, satoru smiles and promises, “you can handcuff me after i’m done with you. just let me have a little fun one last time, baby.”

yeah, it’d be a stupid decision to believe the sweet-talker towering over you. there’s no way he’s just going to let you drag him off to jail, but there’s a reason he’s stayed out of the grasp of the law for so long. it’s hard to live a life as on-the-edge as being a serial killer, but the reason satoru’s survived for this long is because he knows how to use his words. he knows how to make a person go against every warning in their head, and he knows how to get what he wants.

which, for tonight, includes you.

“you have thirty—no, twenty minutes,” you mumble, knowing damn well that this would be the end of your career as a detective. whether or not you dragged satoru in after all this, you could never continue your work knowing you had sex with the biggest serial killer in the city.

satoru laughs and kisses you again, lips trailing down your face and settling on your neck. “haven’t i already made it clear that i’m the one in control here?” he muses as he slips his hands under your coat and tugs it off. it falls to the cold ground and bunches up around your feet, leaving you in a button-up shirt and flowy, dark pants. “c’mon, let’s get these clothes off you.”

within a minute, the rest of your clothes save for a black lacy pair of undergarments join your coat on the floor, and the chilly nighttime air nips at your skin. “i’m cold,” you mumble, feeling yourself involuntarily tense up everywhere but where satoru’s hands cloak your skin. satoru laughs in response and presses his knee to the spot in between your thighs, and something in you snaps at the point of contact. 

“you really are an idiot, aren’t ya,” satoru scoffs, hand sliding down to your waist. his fingers latch on the waistband of your panties and he tugs them down, exposing your already-wet pussy to the cold evening air and his eyes. “lettin’ a serial killer fuck you in a dark alley… what kind of detective does that?” satoru spits on two of his fingers and slips them inside you, instantly groaning when he feels you clench around him. “fuck, you gotta be the tightest pussy i’ve felt in a while,” he mutters, white hair falling into his eyes as he looks down shamelessly. “do you not have sex with other guys?”

“don’t have time,” you swallow what would’ve been an embarrassingly loud moan as his fingers go deeper and deeper. how long are this man’s fucking fingers?

“aw, look at you, you’re so cute,” satoru cooes, smiling down at your scrunched up face. you look back at him through squinted eyes, hips starting to roll against his fingers. it’s true—you really haven’t had time to have sex given your already-insane schedule. it’s almost like you spent more time tracking the man who’s now knuckle-deep inside you than sleeping, but the slutty part of your head tells you that it paid off.

“‘m gonna cum,” you whine pitifully, squirming around satoru’s fingers as he curls them inwards, making you clench around him even tighter. a shiver runs over your body, starting from in between your thighs and spreading all over you as satoru’s fingers move back and forth inside your soaking wet cunt. “g-gojo—”

“call me satoru, baby, and you’re not cumming until i say you can.” with that, satoru withdraws his fingers from your pussy with a pop! and grins at the way you glare at him sullenly. he mockingly pouts and licks his drenched fingers clean, tongue lapping up your essence. “heh, don’t worry, i’ll make you cum more than you knew you could once you’re stuffed with my cock.”

although you’ve determined satoru’s “promises” to be dubious at best, he fufills this one after he’s spread your legs wide open and positioned his cock at your entrance. “this might hurt, baby, but remember, no screaming.” after you nod in acknowledgement, satoru slips his tip in and watches, amused, as you try to close your legs on reflex. “uh uh, keep ‘em nice and wide f’me,” satoru tuts disapprovingly.

and true to his word, it hurts—a dull ache spreads throughout your legs as his dick goes farther and farther inside you, reaching places you hadn’t felt in a long time. satoru’s hands settle somewhere on your waist as he pushes himself deeper, ignoring your gasps and pleas for him to slow down a little. your shaky hands move to his hair and you unwittingly pull on it, somehow eliciting a soft groan from satoru’s lips, and somewhere in the back of your mind you think that of course a serial killer has a hair pulling kink—it just makes sense. 

“s-satoru, it won’t fit,” you whisper, feeling satoru hit an especially tight spot in your cunt. even with how wet you are, it just feels like you can’t possibly take any more of him—he might as well be ten feet inside you, given the pain in your hips. but, as expected, satoru only smiles tauntingly down at you and murmurs words of encouragement as he somehow pushes past the barrier and gets all the way in amid your pained whimpers.

“yeah, that’s it, knew you could do it,” satoru says sweetly, voice coated with poisonous honey. now that he’s all the way in, the ache from your waist down starts to fade into pleasure, especially as satoru starts moving himself in and out to get you used to the feeling of his dick. “just like that, pretty girl. jus’ like that.”

soon enough, he sets an unexpectedly harsh pace that makes your back arch off the cold, brick wall behind you, and even as satoru tries to keep up his “cool serial killer” act, you can hear his quivering breaths as he gets close to cumming. “shit, i forgot how fuckin’ good it felt to fuck a cunt this tight—” he mutters through gritted teeth. “‘m gonna cum inside, ‘kay?”

you nod breathlessly, chasing your own pleasure and not actually listening to the words satoru murmurs in your ear. at this point, it didn’t matter—all your pathetic little head could think about was satoru’s dick, and somehow, you forget that he’s a killer when he cums inside you. it’s hot and thick and it almost knocks you over—when was the last time you felt this good, if ever?

the coil in your stomach snaps and you cum with him, nodding along to satoru’s praises on how well you’re taking him. you squirt all over his painfully hard dick and suck in a sharp breath as you do so, body trembling from the force of both of your orgasms.

“see, that wasn’t so bad, was it?” satoru murmurs when you both come down from your highs, stroking your hair almost tenderly. you bob your head in response, face warm and eyes unable to properly focus. he stuffs his fingers back inside your puffy cunt and scoops the cum dripping down your thighs back inside, mumbling something about not letting a single drop go to waste. “who knew the pretty detective i’d had my eye on would be this good to me?” he cooes, grinning snarkily.

satoru’s earlier promise floats through your head and you force yourself to look him in the eye. “y-you said you’d let me arrest you after,” you breathe, back still pressed to the wall as satoru surveys you amusedly.

“oh, sweetheart, you’re in no condition to be giving orders,” satoru says condescendingly, pulling up his pants and grinning at you. his cheeks are still flushed red, but whether that’s from the cold nighttime air or from the heated sex, you don’t quite know. “we should do this again sometime,” he continues conversationally as he picks up your coat for you. despite the fact that you’re still naked and trembling, satoru drapes your coat around your shoulders and helps you button it up.

“but you said—” you protest, but satoru cuts you off with a raised eyebrow.

“you didn’t seriously believe me, did you?” satoru tuts, shaking his head. “i’m a serial killer. i’m not gonna turn myself in just ‘cause of a detective’s pretty pussy, baby. you should’ve known better, doll.” satoru wraps an arm around your limp shoulders and tugs you in for a kiss, lips pressing firmly against your own for a couple seconds before he pulls away with a satisfied smile.

he leaves you with a promise to see you soon.

[etherealrin]

ᯓ★ thinking about academic-rival!rin

“you…you’re my rival!” an angry, red-faced itoshi rin had foolishly declared in second grade, after you’d scored a perfect 100 on the latest math test—he’d only received a 98.

rin hadn’t seriously meant it back then, but you took it very much personally. over the ten years which ensued, the two of you had developed an odd dynamic. it was intense, to say the least. you took the competition very seriously, taking every advanced course your school had to offer, and rin followed right alongside you. the obvious result was matching schedules; each year you’d chosen virtually identical classes. you’d decided to hate him, and your rivalry was no secret either, with your and rin’s name always occupying two of the top three spots in class rankings. despite that, he’d never done anything to suggest dislike for you. even the teachers had taken to teasing the two of you, they seemed to love pairing the two of you for group projects, watching you both struggle to outperform the other on presentation day.

“not again,” you groan as you realize that rin was your partner. rin mirrors your displeased expression from across the classroom. your english teacher smiles at you both, thoroughly entertained.

“you two will be assigned romeo and juliet,” she says, feigning indifference. you swear she’s trying not to laugh. the rest of your class inevitably snickers: of course the two who hate each other would have a blast presenting the iconic love story!

“no, no, no, no!” you find yourself telling rin as you pace around his room, pointing at his computer then back to him, anger evident in your tone. “juliet is not stupid, she’s only trying her best to save herself from never seeing romeo again, and inevitably divorcing paris,” you exhale. of course rin couldn’t be trusted with the character analysis of juliet—he was so cold that he probably couldn’t comprehend the idea of love. in your fit of annoyance, you’d walked closer to rin, fully invading his personal space. to be precise, your faces were barely inches away, but you only continue your rant. “you probably don’t even get what love is, just let me do the analysis!” you huff, arms crossing.

you’re met with his clear azure gaze, and, weirdly, he laughs, low and melodic.

“do you really think that?” rin asks, leaning in just a bit closer, breath tickling your nose. “that i’m not capable of love?”

“well-“ you falter, unsure of your answer. and why the hell was he so close to you? why did his cologne smell infuriatingly good, was it le labo santal 33?

“why do you act like you hate me?” he whispers. there’s no hint of mockery in his voice, it’s genuine.

“because i do?” your voice shakes. you’re not even confident of that—but wasn’t he supposed to be your rival?

“hmm, but i don’t think so,” he breathes. his fingers move to ghost up your face and cup your jawline. you’re hesitant to move away; honestly, you don’t want to move. the tension in the air is thick enough to slice and you can’t help but indulge in the enigma of itoshi rin—what would be his next move?

maybe it was all just a ploy to make sure you failed english?

“here, let’s pretend you’re juliet and i’m romeo,” he says suddenly, still hovering above your face. “since you think my analysis is so bad, maybe i’m a hands-on learner.” his hand trails down your waist as he speaks, his touch dizzying. you were probably malfunctioning, because you should have seen the red lights and sirens in your head. yet you’re frozen still, all you can do is stare back stupidly wide-eyed at him, letting him slot his lips against yours and you hate how perfect he feels, how he tastes faintly like the peppermint gum that you love.

it feels like sparks rushing through your veins, you feel high on something else entirely. you feel him smirking into the kiss, like he’d known all along that you would fold the second he tried something. because you had never truly hated him, not one bit.

you give into his touch, into the kiss, as rin pulls you closer, fingers skimming through your hair. rin was the smarter one, unfortunately. he’d known that your little rivalry was only a product of misplaced feelings, because how could the second grade him tell you that he liked you, admired that you were smart?

“you win, rin,” you admit once he lets go of you, gasping for air.

“…i thought so.” he replies. “is now a good time to mention that i might’ve bribed our english teacher for this project?”

“you what?”

a/n: i never forgot when lya posted ab this omg. ooc rin probably but idc! ugh i’m sorry this isn’t the best

masterlist.

[sulkenswan]

SUCKER — CHAPTER ONE, so close to what

fanart by nrmav , edited by me

vampire!dealer!ellie williams x fem!reader

↫ prologue masterlist next ↬

info: your first day goes surprisingly well, despite the unwanted attention, your mind is mostly bothered by the auburn haired girl who cant seem to stand you, despite you doing nothing. you find peace in being alone and decorating, waiting until the day you see her pale face once more, and when you do, she seems to have much more interest in you than before. MOODBOARD + PLAYLIST

cw: mention of eating disorders, underage smoking (r & e are 17, r soon to be 18), men, stalking (e), readers pretty down and empty, trying to fulfill it, shes clumsy, she wears a skirt, bella swan coded but not really, follows the plot of twilight, near death experience, ellie's a dick, still just mainly fleshing out the story, barely edited, Imk if smths missing. men and minors dni.

wc: 8.5k

note: thank you for reading & for your patience i apologise for the rush in advance x

maybe cat’s confidence isn't as comforting as you thought it would be. it seems as if all of her friends have picked up the same, fairly loud habits as her. but she was helpful, guiding you to the office and ensuring you had all the right forms and slips, including a pass you had to get signed at every class.

your first two classes went fine, thankfully. you shared both with cat, and as soon as maths finished and the lunch bell rang, her first move was to invite you to sit with her - an offer you very happily accepted, and an offer that she seemed even more thrilled that you had accepted. not like you were going to complain, surrounding yourself with people meant you didn’t look lonely, and not looking lonely meant you were not going to become a social piranha.

“hey guys! here she is, your shiny new toy,” cat jokes, introducing you to her group while she pulls you out a chair and then herself, placing her tray of cafeteria food in front of her.

you shyly wave a hand and sit down besides cat, your chair making a terrible scratching noise as you pull it back in, wincing at the sound.

everyone's heads are on you. there's four people whom you don't recognise, cat being the only familiar person at the table. thankfully, the one sitting directly in front of you takes the chance to introduce everyone.

“i’m thomas, this is jackson.”

he takes a minute to jab jackson's arm jokingly, who hits him right back smiling, thomas feigning hurt and rubbing his arm, pouting snobbily, trying (and failing) to hold back a smile. jackson has bright blonde hair and some kind of surfer vibe going for him, meanwhile jackson has dark brown hair, wearing a red flannel and skinny jeans.

“ignore them. i’m crystal,” the girl sitting diagonal to you continues.

she looks kind, soft. her blonde hair cascades down her shoulders, fresh blowout styling it perfectly. she has light shimmer on her eyelids, and you want to ask her where she managed to get such pretty pigment from, as well as where you can find a cute dress like that in a place like this.

“and that’s stevie.”

she nods her head beside her towards the final unnamed person. she smiles at you, though it doesn't quite reach her eyes. she has dyed red hair that's pin straight, dark lipstick and eyeliner suiting her perfectly, her outfit far more stylish than the others, a dark red shirt with a lace layer overtop paired with a mid length skirt and boots.

“hey, guys. thank you for letting me sit with you,” you kindly express your gratitude, smiling at them, “it's nice to meet you.”

thomas laughs at your formality, leaning forward in his seat to show you have his full attention. “don't be silly. where’d you move from?”

stevie continues looking down at her food, seemingly uninterested in welcoming a new person and it makes you feel bad - you don’t want to mess with their group dynamic. everyone else is paying attention, even if they're eating, eyes wide, looking at you expectantly.

“uh, i just moved here from seattle.”

you can tell you're self-conscious by the way you keep tugging your sleeves over your hands, trying to shield yourself from the attention. it's not only your newfound friends that are looking at you, as people keep turning towards you then murmuring to their friends. you feel like you’re going crazy.

stevie laughs sarcastically, eyes on her food. “why are you so pale then?”

your face falters, “oh, i-”

“stevie,” crystal warns, her tone stern but still somehow friendly. gentle parenting at its finest.

“sorry,” she mumbles, but it doesn't help from your face flushing with embarrassment.

she seemed cool, you wanted to get to know her better but it seemed like she would rather do anything but sit here at a table with you.

crystal sighs, but her attitude switches up quickly to try and welcome you more as best she can, hoping you don’t let the red haired girl make you feel too much like an outsider.

“so, how was seattle? i bet you’re missing the sun, huh.”

the group continues to pile on top of crystal's initial question, “why did you move here? where do you live around? is that your chevy truck out the front? who have you met so far?”

it felt like it went on and on, but thankfully they eventually let up, turning to conversation amongst each other, tom and jack going off to talk to people they hadn’t seen since the holidays started, leaving with a promise of ‘returning home to you’.

her friend group being loud in nature proved to work in your favour pretty well. you didn't have to talk too much, but you still enjoyed their presence and jokes. it gave a good balance to your life and didn't exhaust you, treating you like you had all been friends for years. stevie’s dislike bothered you, but you were sure it was only due to the attention you were being given. you were determined to get rid of it and discover a way to help flip it on her instead. she seemed like she thrived off of attention, you did not.

“there’s nothing new about the newspaper here, just another one about eating disorders,” crystal complains from beside you. her whines about the poorly written newspaper she was reading from over your shoulder that she had just given you making you laugh.

“sup chief heiress!” jackson teases, coming back towards the group and yanking the newspaper from your hands, dragging an empty chair beside yours, stealing cat’s spot.

“chief heiress?” cat blandly says.

“very new perspective, jackson. thank you.” stevie’s sarcasm slices through you, she does not seem to enjoy the attention jackson is giving you, and neither do you. mentally, you put together the pieces. you planned on staying as invisible as possible, but everybody here seems to have made it their personal mission to draw as much attention to you as possible.

“i think it suits her,” thomas runs up, “don't you think?”

he asks you before kissing you on the cheek and yanking jackson’s chair from underneath him, causing the boy to fall and drop as well as the paper as the perpetrator runs away, jack chasing after him while yelling profanities. you shake your head, eyes falling back onto the discoloured table.

“wow. they are all over you, aren't they?” stevie kids, but its clear there’s bitterness lingering behind in her voice, malice. you can tell she’s trying to sus out your non-existent intentions. both crystal and cat eye her.

you sigh, picking the newspaper from the ground, putting it back on the table and standing up from your seat.

“not my type,” you disentangle, hoping it gives some clarity to the girl, and that she’ll pass the message on to the boys. it’ll do for now, but you’ll be sure to clear up the confusion later, having no energy for enemies, especially on your first day. your plan was to breeze through school, but you were really liking your friends, and you hoped it would stay a more permanent thing. only being able to hope that stevie’s resentment would die down as well as the attention, anticipating it already.

you forgot to bring your own lunch, thanks to your haste, so you’re forced to grab a piece of fruit from the cafeteria. it looked like a safe bet as seemingly being the only edible option they provided, especially after taking a quick glance at cat and stevie’s tray. you decide on an apple that looked surprisingly juicy, a deep shade of red making it seem extra appealing to you. you rejoin your friends and slide back into silent conversation with them, taking small chunks out of your apple while you pay attention to their intense talking, chiming in every now and again but not overstepping. thomas and jackson are still nowhere to be seen, but you’re not fussed about it. you hear the cafeteria doors open, automatically turning your head to see who walked in wondering if it could be tom or jack, but you forget all about them and your heart stops once you lay your eyes on three of the most stunning people you’ve ever seen.

the couple catches your attention first, someone lingering behind them. all are unfamiliar to you, and all are fairly pale, almost sickly. they walked as if they owned the place, and it frightened you a little, their confidence sending chills up your body. within the couple, the girl had dark, thick hair pulled up into a bun that framed her face perfectly, a brown jacket, maroon v neck cut t shirt and skinny jeans causing her to look as flattering as possible, her tan like skin adorning freckles wherever you could see them. she looked impossibly kind. meanwhile the guy she was holding hands with had some kind of mullet haircut going for him, an outfit similar to hers thrown on, boots squeaking ever so slightly against the cafeteria floors. they looked incredible together. striking. nonchalant attitude plastered on. the girl behind them, however, had caught your attention too. she had dark skin, amber eyes, and hair pulled back into a ponytail, long braids running down her back with a headband at the forefront. she and the freckled girl appeared to be matching outfits. before you can even process it, you realise they aren’t immune from resisting to look at you either, or maybe they could just feel your eyes, one by one catching your stare. you have to turn your head all the way around to see them properly, yet you don't look away, don't cower in fear, too entranced by the trios magnetic energy they hold even while simply walking and sitting down. but eventually, you lose eye-contact with them as they become engrossed in their own conversation, forgetting about you immediately and unbothered by your presence. it is unbelievably refreshing.

“who are they?” you ask your new friends, cat pausing her eating and following your eyes behind her towards their table on the far side of the cafeteria.

she doesn't pay any mind to your question, going back to her food, you face her, back turned to the trio.

“the millers. the dark haired girl with the boy? that’s dina, and jesse. both really weird, both dating. the other one is riley. they mainly keep to themselves. they moved down here a couple years back, their dad is some sort of doctor slash matchmaker. i’m surprised the other one isn't with them.”

your face contorts into confusion.

“how can they be dating if they’re part of the same family? and the other one?” you question, and just like clockwork, you hear the doors behind you open once again, turning to face it, you see her walking through them.

time seems slow as you watch her walk towards her table. she’s tall, fairly lean, far more pale than the rest. auburn hair cut just above her collarbone, tied into a half up half down. some wispy bits fall from her oddly flattering side part, a silver lip ring and eyebrow piercing taking place on her also freckled face. she was dressed in converse, like you, baggy jeans, a jacket and a deep green shirt.

she seems to be the edgier of the trio, smirking to herself for no reason when passing your table, making her way to join the rest of her family. you can't take your eyes off of her.

“that's ellie miller. total heartthrob. apparently nobody here’s good enough for her. not like i care, you know…” you silently nod your head, indicating you were still following along

stevie clears her throat then continues, “dina and jesse can date since they aren’t technically related, although it's still weird. joel miller adopted the four of them ages ago, apparently after he lost his own daughter.” she continues cats logic, whispering the last part. your simple sentence from before denying attraction for the boys evidently lightening up her perspective on you, thank god.

“huh.” you mumble, taking the final bite of your apple, still turning your head just to stare at the pale girl sitting at the table far across from you, you can really see the appeal for it now. she's busy in conversation with dina, manspreading and leaning back into her seat comfortably, hands tucked into her jacket pockets as if she owns the place, she looks extremely relaxed, and good doing it.

you get lost in thought, blanking out while you stare, the last thing you expected her to do, however, was to suddenly look up and lock eyes with you. panic coursing through you as you look away from her, praying she didn't catch you. only for a moment though, your body instinctively looking back up to see if she’s still staring.

and she is.

a confused, almost lost look having replaced her previously cocky features, leaning upright in her seat ever so slightly, analysing you. but not for long, she pauses for a moment before peeling her eyes away from you, resuming her previous position. warmth floods to your cheeks and you look around and down at your finished apple in shame.

cat, apparently having previously caught your stare, sighs. “seriously, don’t waste your time. i mean it,” disappointment held in her voice.

you shake your head gently, turning around and looking up to face the pale girl once more, hoping to see her facing you once more. she’s not. “wasn't planning on it.”

the bell rings and all of your friends go their separate ways. you shared biology with thomas, who decided to rejoin your table just as the three of you were grabbing your stuff to get to class.

your feet drag as you make your way to the labs, thomas talking to you about his extravagant lunch adventures, but you weren't fully paying attention. when you arrive, he apologized profusely to go sit with another friend of his, saying he wishes it was you but that he had made the mistake of promising them. you don't mind, waving him off with a polite smile and soft eyes to indicate it was alright. everybody else had already taken their place as you enter the class, in their own duos, leaving you little choice. you analyse the room, a fan blowing directly behind you and you can feel your hair move from it. that's when you see her, again, her eyes already on you. you hadn't even noticed her leave the cafeteria before.

but this time, when the papers fly up nearby her thanks to the fan behind you, her hand flies up to her nose while she inhales deeply, shutting her eyelids as if she’s trying to regulate herself. your face twists into confusion, instantaneously feeling self consciousness as you shyly grab your hair to smell. vanilla. nothing new. nothing disgusting to inhale, unless maybe she just really, really hated vanilla. but from the difficulty she’s finding to even breathe, you highly doubt that. she’s staring directly at you now in sheer disgust, breathing in heavily, tense as she could be as if she’s smelt something absolutely rancid ‘cause of you.

lost in thought, you don't notice your teacher talking to you, until you lose eye contact with her and he takes your slip away, signing it then handing it back with a textbook. then, he points straight to her, and that's when you realise she’s the only one without a lab partner.

regardless, you still try to make light of the situation. flashing a faint smile and taking your seat beside her, the stool out to get you as you almost fall backwards the second you try to sit, hurriedly regaining your balance and trying to play it off, dropping your book bag beside you.

she doesn't speak to you, hell she doesn't even look at you directly. her eyes wide as she keeps her head down, eyeing you from the side, hand still covering her nose and mouth.

it only worsens your paranoia, skeptically raising your sleeve to your nose to see if she's being dramatic or not, and again, you only smell like vanilla. you didn't walk through shit on your way to bio, thank god. how come ellie looked at you as if you were dead was unknown, but you still wanted to give her a chance.

you just couldn’t find it in yourself to talk to her. she's made it very clear with her piercing gaze and inability to say hi that she has zero intentions of talking to you, so there was no point to it anyways, and you didn't want to cross a line, especially with her strange gaze at lunch. you opt to pay attention for once. but it's proving to be a challenge when the stools are so uncomfortable, when ellie’s intensely staring at you, hand no longer near her mouth, inhaling deeply, like she wants more. looking at you like she wants more, not paying attention to the teacher. just you.

mr. brown’s mouth is moving, but you’ve blocked him out. ellie seems to be trying her best to make you notice her, to look at her. and its working, proving to be incredibly difficult to not give into temptation and look at the pale girl beside you, and you just about do every second you’re stuck in that classroom.

you distract yourself by counting down the seconds, imagining ellies life outside of school, how you can adjust your routine in the morning to no avail. your mind wandering back to the girl beside you each time.

the clock is ticking but nothing is changing, you think you’ll be stuck in this classroom forever.

somehow, eventually, the bell rings for everybody to go to their next class, but part of you is disappointed. you were enjoying the attention ellie was giving you, even if it set off warning bells in your head. i mean, your friends had even explicitly told you she didn't have eyes for anybody, even stevie. and you certainly are not better than stevie.

you blink and ellie's gone, dashing out of the classroom, old backpack clutched tightly in her right hand, running away from you as if her life depended on it.

you hate it, but deep down you're offended, and a little sad. someone else's opinion has never bothered you this much until now, and you have no idea even why. you convince yourself your friends got into your head about the mysterious girl. you haven't even spoken to her, yet the effect she has on you seems to be an issue, one that you hope doesn’t last.

you don't see ellie for the rest of the day and it disappoints you, that meant you only had biology with her. after a gym class that you surprisingly don't do terribly in, and another lunch break where you once again gained unwanted attention (thankfully, limited from jackson as you started a conversation between him and stevie), you make your way back to the office, marking the end of your first day.

opening one of the double doors, you’re surprised to see her right in front of you, but she does not look happy. posture tight, back straight as she leans over the counter, just like she had in biology.

“there has to be something, anything at the same time as bio that i can switch to, lady. literally, anything.”

“i’m sorry dear, but all of the classes have been filled,” she responds apologetically, holding a hand up to you to signal she’ll be with you in a moment, and you weren’t even sure if ellie could get any more rigid than she could, but her body language surely signals it, proving you wrong. turning around slowly to face you, face angry. it shocks you, but doesn’t scare you, looking directly into her dark eyes.

“i’ll just deal with it then. thank you,” she grunts, taking her backpack off of the floor and storming away from the office, less than an inch away from bumping into you, barely avoiding your touch.

bothered, but honestly more annoyed, you go through a series of emotions in a matter of seconds, trying to make excuses to how she could be so mean to you when she didn't even know you. sadness slowly turning into anger, you wanted to know what made her hate you. not even bothering to go return your slip, a flurry of emotions overtaking your being, leading you too to storm out. telling yourself you’ll confront the tall-girl tomorrow, challenge her even. if she wanted to bite you, you would bite back.

but she didn’t show.

not the next day either, or the day after that. all hope you had of confronting her slowly fading away, as well as your anger by the time the week finished, and you were left to your own devices. you would be lying if you said dismay didn’t consume your being everytime you walked into biology only to find the seat next to yours empty, often finding yourself looking at her siblings during break, you hated it, but she had made an impression on you.

you tried your best not to let it bother you. turning your focus to school and friends, but not much had changed, and you knew it was only a temporary feeling of fulfillment. half the school seemed to have taken an interest in you, asking discreet questions to see who you might have eyes on, telling them the same thing.

“nobody. i'm good on my own.”

and you really weren’t lying when you said that. sure, ellie drew you in and magnified your curiosity by far more than anybody else, but she had issues with you for some unknown reason, and you had no plans of chasing after someone, no matter how badly you wanted to. anybody who had asked you out romantically you were sure to turn down as politely as possible, because they didn't know you.

there was no difference between them and you when it came to ellie. you really didn't understand the appeal when it was about you, and you were certain it was only because you were the first new person in months.

the week finished far slower than you thought it would, each passing day adding more and more weight to your shoulders, the feeling of fulfillment fading away faster until you were alone, and it vanished completely.

weekends gave you freedom, but they also left you with too much time on your hands. you found yourself doing something, anything that would distract you and keep your mind off of the pit that had formed in your stomach.

first, saturday. you had blocked off half the day to complete schoolwork, and the other half to unpack and hang out with your dad. he didn't have the day off, but you made sure to go to the station and hang out at the diner for lunch after you had managed to complete your work in a matter of hours.

he did a good job at keeping your mind occupied, telling you all about what his duties had been involving recently. strange animal attacks being the centre of his occupation currently. all it proved to you was that jackson was boring, but at least your food was delicious, and you did meet some more familiar faces who claimed they last saw you when you couldn’t even form a conscious thought.

when you drove home, saying goodbye to your dad, the first thing you spotted were four brown moving boxes sitting on your porch waiting for you, and you knew what two of them contained. your music. something you felt like you had been missing for years.

you hurriedly moved all the boxes inside, albeit struggling while doing so, especially when trying to get everything up the stairs. but you managed, and you wasted no time, ignoring your panting breath as you ripped open all the boxes, visualising how you wanted this to go.

deciding you would go out to town and buy some new shelves and a stand to hold your record player and vinyls, you call your dad quickly to check what the best place would be, to which he recommended some vintage thrift stores around that were bound to have something similar to what you were looking for. jumping in your truck and peeling out of the driveway, deciding you would get all your furniture first before unpacking further so you didn't have any unnecessary clutter. you had gotten a pretty good feel for the town and had a general idea on where you were going, eventually finding a good spot right in the middle where you could shop, making a stop at the library to print out your resume first, a process that had been tedious, to say the least.

every store you went to, you handed out the piece of paper that had your name in bold letters at the top. you figured it would be a good idea, useful. having something to take up your days while simultaneously getting paid for it, applying mainly in the hopes of getting hired at the record store that very conveniently had a sign in bright bold letters practically screaming at you that they were hiring, and the person whom you handed your resume to had taken a liking in you, especially after seeing that you were the chiefs daughter.

it didn't stop you from having a look at their options, they had much to choose from. paramore, bon iver, and you couldn’t leave without at least one thing from there, you had been saving up and declared it a present for yourself. hoping it would decrease the emptiness within you somehow. deciding on among my swan by mazzy star, it felt only fitting, and you planned on showing your dad the correlation between the pillow and the record. it would kill two birds with one stone. he would think you felt perfectly fine, and you had something new to listen to.

you visited a couple more shops, handing in your resume at every single one, always ensuring to have a wander around, too. you were sure to not overspend tho, buying two new shirts and a skirt with some tights, some more long sleeved stuff as you were running out of outfits, small trinkets from local antique stores that you wanted to support, checking their furniture options each time. each store didn't have quite what you needed, that was until the second to last. a dark wooden shelf catching your eye instantly, it was perfect. the same type of wood as your other furniture, four squares beneath to hold the vinyls flawlessly and the perfect width on top to hold your turntable and speakers.

you bought it without a second thought, the shop attendant helping you load it out into your truck after you drove it up out front their store, them doing most of the work due to you almost dropping it from your inability to see two feet ahead of you. you decided to end your day there, satisfied with the purchases you had made, feeling a little better, you had been productive at the least and that brought some comfort to your overcrowded mind.

it was sunset by the time you arrived back home, your dad already relaxing on the couch before you interrupted his silence and begged if he could help you unload the new, heavy piece of furniture. he accepted without a second thought, bringing it up to your room effortlessly, almost tripping over the mess you had made on your floor of suitcases and boxes.

by the time you had rearranged your furniture, fatigue had overtaken your being. a lack of motivation to continue your newfound career in interior design made you instead decide to call it a night. rushing down the stairs to reheat your leftovers from the diner, eating at the kitchen bar with your father standing in front of you, it was nice to have him genuinely care about your day. this was time you two had reserved to update each other on your days, no matter how boring. telling him how you applied to a few stores and excitedly explaining how you had bought a matching vinyl to the pillow he had gifted. something that made his day a lot better than you thought it would.

washing your dishes and stacking them, you said goodnight to your dad before lazily walking back up towards your room. he calls out a reminder to call your mom and check when you can go down to see abby, you don't pay any mind to it. already having made mental plans to go down on the firefly reserve next weekend. having a quick shower and crashing on your bed, you close your eyes for a couple moments, content with the day.

the pit wasn't so overbearing anymore, you felt okay, not incredible, but good enough to not spiral. hoping to hear back from at least one of the many places you applied to.

you wonder if you would run into ellie in town someday, especially if you started working there.

groaning at yourself, you refuse to let someone like ellie steal all your thoughts, she was probably just having a bad day that didn’t have anything to do with you. i mean it was the first day back, so she was probably missing the liberty of doing whatever she wanted during the day, explaining her sudden absence.

but you were more upset at her for leaving you alone in biology. you suck at biology. and you didn't want to lose all progress you had made with stevie by asking one of the boys to tutor you since they were the only other two who also did it, just in separate classes. stevie, crystal & cat doing chemistry, a science you were somehow worse at, choosing to suffer in silence instead, asking your dad for help that didn't really help when he doubted his skills more than your own.

opening your eyes and peeking outside, you decided now was the perfect time for your typical nightly routine. opening the lace curtains then your window, grabbing the jumper beside you once the cold air hit you immediately, somehow forgetting about the cloudy breeze waiting for you outside despite the countless times you’ve done this now. before bed, or in the middle of the night when you can’t sleep. even when you got home before your dad did.

opening your pack, you come to the realisation you only have six left, you would be out in the next week or so. cat seemed like the type of person who would know who dealt, maybe even stevie, making a mental note to ask them later if they knew anybody.

taking one out, you grab your lighter from its hidden spot beside the pack underneath the pillows. assuming your regular position of your back leaning against the side wall with your legs spread straight across, you put your cigarette in between your lips and purse, cupping your hand to shield it from the wind and effectively lighting it, but burning yourself in the process, sucking in a pained breath and involuntarily dropping the hot object. you moan at the feeling for a moment clutching your finger with your other hand before assessing the damage, nothing terrible. it would fade within a day or so, focusing back on the cigarette and inhaling, content with the relief it gave.

you take the cigarette from your lips pinching it between your index and middle finger, exhaling towards the outside of your room. grabbing your phone, you dial your moms number. you haven't called her since thursday, it completely slipped your mind last night, so you wanted to make the effort to talk to her now.

one ring, then another, then another, and a few more but she doesn't answer. you give up, putting the cig back in your mouth for another inhale and throwing your phone on your bed. looking outside instead.

your heart skips a beat as you swear you see something from the treeline, standing completely still right in direct eyeliner to your house, jumping in your spot and leaning out the window further, seizing the cigarette from your lips once more and blinking a few times. it was probably just your eyes playing tricks on you, as when you open them again, nothing is there.

nobody would be able to get away that quickly, so you dumb your fears down to an illusion, but you're still shaken up from it for an odd reason, calling it an early night.

reversing your steps, and closing your window, making sure to lock it this time just in case, then your blinds and finally your curtains, you settle into bed. the warm glow from both the lamp beside you and the fairy lights granting you comfort as you lull yourself to sleep, plans on decorating at the forefront of your mind.

sunday goes by far quicker than you would like. you woke up fairly late and was focused on laying out your room the way you would like. it was the first time you had complete freedom with somebody who didn't insist on keeping you their baby forever, so you were savoring it. your mom still hadn’t called you back, you weren’t worried, chalking it down to her enjoying the company of her husband. you begin your journey of meticulously moving things around, carefully choosing what would go where and ensuring you were making it as cozy as possible.

your vinyl shelf being the first thing you set up, you put it beside your desk, stealing the spare outlets beside it for your turntable and then attaching your speakers to the record player itself. displaying them neatly on top, deciding some small figurines and crystals could also make home there.

playing the first vinyl you pulled out of your box, that being ‘all we know is falling’ by paramore, you began to arrange and organise the rest of your collection, a process that took longer than you expected it to, a couple hours at most, but you were extremely happy with the result, you still had a few cubes empty, your collection on full display.

the rest of your room thankfully went by pretty easily, it came naturally for you to decorate. cleaning out your desk, not adding too much to it as you knew your constant schoolwork would clutter it enough, your bedside table not as empty as it previously was, a lamp, book & other small trinkets making a home there. your purse lay resting on the floor beside it.

your wardrobe took the longest, the other two boxes, and two suitcases mainly occupying clothes and some miscellaneous sentimental items you wanted to bring along. spending a majority of your day folding and hanging up clothes, far more than you remembered you had. over half being clothes you wouldn't even be able to wear 90% of the year because of the weather, but you were determined to find a way you could style them while staying warm. about half way through the day, cat sent you a message wondering if you wanted to meet up with the rest of them for lunch, and although you were busy unpacking, you thought some food wasn't a bad idea, and neither was strengthening your connection with the rest. hoping to god that they were the cure to the emptiness you had been feeling, pouring all your energy into the group, just for a chance of feeling normal; content.

but they didn't. you were hoping it was just because you haven't spent enough time with them yet, but you couldn’t spend too long with them anyways, emphasizing how you had to get back to complete your unpacking duties, in a hurry to do so before monday rolled around. cat, jackson, crystal & thomas all offering to tag along and help, an offer you had to politely decline. you were good doing it alone, music playing softly in the background. enjoying it much more than you thought you would have. maybe you could call abby when you got back. saying your goodbyes and tripping on your way out of the cafe, recovering and turning back to see if any of them had noticed, they all had.

offering them an awkward smile and wave goodbye, you turned away and allowed your cheeks to burn, rushing home.

by the time you arrived back, however, your dad whisked away your car instantly and had it taken out to get new tires, explaining to you how they would be safer on the slippery roads. you being sure to thank him profusely for the surprise, comfort settling over you as to how you didn't need to be so worried about crossing the rain with your car.

the day was moving by as if the hours were seconds, and you wanted to savour every last one. you had it to yourself. no worries of the outside world or friends, lost in your own room.

you were sure to call abby that night, cigarette pursed between your lips, talking to her about your recent endeavors and how your first day back went, briefly touching on ellie, a name she seemed to know but refused to explain further, suddenly needing to go. it infuriated you. abby was supposed to comfort and maybe distract you, just a little, the discreet flirting she was giving feeling worthless now.

monday came before you knew it, your room fully decorated and cleaned out. you had developed a morning routine over the past week that didn’t leave you running and dying making your ride, calmly making your way down the stairs, hands gripping the porch railing while you calmly walked to your car, not rushing into anything that would inevitably end up with you slipping and falling flat on your ass, climbing in and turning the heater on immediately. you were wearing something more fashionable than usual for once, wanting to feel good about yourself. the new outfit you had bought yourself on the weekend, a babydoll top paired with warm tights and a simple skirt, same worn chucks as always, not bothering to change that up. you felt good.

you drove to school in silence, no radio in your car meant no music at all, giving you time to sit with your own thoughts. you didn’t know where you stood right now. you really liked your friends, but they could be a bit much sometimes, and you preferred something softer. ellie still occupied your thoughts more than you wanted to admit, although you had been distracting yourself as much as you could throughout the few days you did get to yourself, your thoughts constantly wandered back to her. wondering if she would ever come back to school at all, or if she really just couldn't stand to be around you. you doubted she would return anytime soon. your feet move on their own accord out of your truck and through the courtyard to your first class: biology. it was especially rainy and cold, and in an effort to not ruin the work you had gone through, you threw on your thick oversized jacket and mittens, hauling your bookbag hurriedly out of the open weather.

going to your locker first, you tucked away your mittens, collecting your textbook and holding it to your chest, navigating your way to class. you had grown used to the empty seat beside you, not bothering to check and hanging your jacket up on the hanger at the front of class, facing towards your seat only to see-

her.

you certainly were not expecting her to make her reappearance today. she somehow looked even more appealing than before, an oversized button up shirt with a long sleeve navy undershirt and jeans being her simple outfit, same starry freckles, same shoes, same piercings.

your heart stops as your movements stutter, now feeling very out of place and lost, far more than usual in this class. that was usually in academics and paranoia of people thinking you were a loner, now it's because the one girl you feel like you’ve been waiting centuries for to return is right in front of you, looking straight at you. no hand over her mouth, but no smile either, just curiosity.

pride swells in you, then anger. she still was rude to you, not talking, acting like you were disgusting then practically begging to switch classes away from you, but the anger subsided just as quickly as it had previously, and you made your way to your aisle seat beside her. dropping your bag to the side, almost slipping off your chair for the sixth time, and pulling it in.

after weighing your options, you decide not to speak to her unless she takes the opportunity to talk to you first. you didn't want to force her to be friends with you, she's not looking at you but shyly looking at the table in front of her, the complete opposite to last week, as if she's contemplating what to say. you cross your arms and lean on the bench, looking straight ahead.

“hey. i’m sorry i was unable to introduce myself last week. i’m ellie miller, and i know who you are, but i’m guessing you're tired of people telling you.”

there goes your heart again, your brain short-circuits as her velvety rough voice cuts through you, deep. you stumble over your movements, elbow falling off the table, turning your head but not your body to see her face.

“mhm.”

she gives you the faintest of smiles, breathing in deeply. she genuinely seems to be trying, despite the little she’s spoken to you, it's better than the running away.

her green-amber eyes appear to be more welcoming this time, although you could have sworn they were a dark, almost soulless shade of black the last time you saw her.

you want to ask her what her deal was last week but stop yourself, your teacher frantically running up the aisles, explaining what the practical he had planned would consist of. something about onion cells and differentiating different phases, and that whoever finished first would get a golden onion. exactly what you wanted.

she shifts the microscope over to you once mr. brown finishes explaining, “ladies first.”

internally, you freak out. while you're fine with this unit, you still have fear lingering within you that you’ll answer wrong and look stupid in front of ellie, something you really didn’t want to do.

hesitantly, you take a look into the microscope, identifying the onion root to be in a phase of mitosis after a couple seconds.

“mitosis.” you confidently answer to your lab partner.

“do you mind if i check?”

shifting the microscope over to her, you allow her to have a look for herself.

“mitosis.” she agrees, writing it down on the paper in front of her.

you don't intend on intruding, you really don’t, but your curiosity gets the better of you in a matter of moments, not thinking twice when you question her whereabouts before reality catches up to you and you regret it instantly. “you were gone. where’d you go?”

she switches out the plate, looking down, not answering you for a couple moments, murmuring an answer under her breath and writing it down before looking at you. you don't question the answer, trusting her judgment far more than your own. “i’m sorry about that… i had also meant to apologise before. there were some personal things i had to deal with. i hope everything was okay without a lab partner, though?”

a lab partner. you think. sighing dramatically, “it’s fine i guess, this is only my worst subject anyways” you attempt to joke, hoping it will lighten the mood further. she lets out a low chuckle, averting her eyes from the microscope before piercing you with her gaze once more, opening her mouth to respond before shaking her head, looking back into the microscope.

“what?” you frown “do you want me to have a look? you’ve been doing a lot of work.”

“are you sure i can trust you with getting us the golden onion?”

“hey! i'm not that terrible, i got the first one right.”

she smiles, biting her cheek to stop it from widening. even though her head is down you still see it, her pretending to take so long to identify it to not make you feel as silly.

“how have you been liking jackson weather then?”

you stare at the girl in disbelief, “you’re asking me about… the weather? here?”

her face falls as she seems to realise the uselessness of her own words, smiling at herself, not holding it back this time. “yeah, i guess i am.”

you shudder at her, “it's been okay. it's just so cold all the time, i can't help but miss the heat. the sun, at that.”

“it's supposed to be sunny thursday, i think.” she's gliding through the questions with ease, and you do feel terrible for letting her do so much work, but she doesn't seem to mind one bit. asking you more questions, questions that would be impossibly annoying if they came from anybody else, but from her, it's more personal. she’s actively listening and following up. it's a revitalizing change. “but your outfit is nice. did you get it for this weather?”

she noticed.

“yeah, actually. i got it this weekend.” you smile fondly at her, looking down at your outfit timidly. the emptiness within you is no longer as noticeable, it's not overbearing with ellie.

“how come you went into town?”

the rest of class went like that, time flying by as ellie asked you questions upon questions about your life, getting more personal as time went on. you two won the onion, leaving class side by side with it clutched tightly in your hand while you walked to your locker, questions still coming. you honestly didn't know if she would ever run out.

“so you moved here to make your moms life easier? that doesn’t sound fair on you.” she interrogates, voice slightly rougher now while she learns about your reasoning for leaving your home and coming here instead.

you don't answer her query. “you're full of questions, aren’t you?” you flip it back on her, opening your locker as she leans off to the side, head resting on the metal, looking at you.

pausing, she contemplates her next words, you don’t feel another question approaching though, wondering if she was upset at your sudden change, even though you meant it light heartedly. “i’m just trying to figure you out. you’re a very… difficult person for me to read.”

closing your locker, onion shoved inside, you look at her on instinct. her eyes catching you, pulling you in, making you drown within them.

“are your eyes a different colour?” the comfortable nature of the constant chatter you two had been having didn't make you need to second guess your words around her, but you should know better than to let your guard down.

the question seems to catch her off-guard, though. for some unknown reason. you already know you’ve blown it.

“it's… it’s the fluorescents.” she defends, staring at you for a couple moments, opening and closing her mouth to say something else but deciding against it, marching away from you, watching her back while she strides down the hallway you two just came from, a jacket clutched in her left hand.

slowly turning back towards your locker, you flop your head on it, metal clanging while you close your eyes. all the progress you had just made with ellie was lost, the hole in you reappearing.

you had cursed yourself by having biology with the girl first, the rest of the day going by at a snail's pace, the people around you becoming white noise.

when the final school bell rang, you made no effort in being quick to go, you had nowhere to be anyways. but when you got to the carpark and saw ellie already there, eyeing you as she leant against her car, talking to dina. you walked quicker. you didn't appreciate the back and forth she was giving you. the car park was at its peak population, and you were solely focused on going home.

tossing your back onto the hood of your car, you open it up to try and find your car keys, digging around for a couple seconds, and that's when you hear it, car tires screeching, really close to you. whipping your head around just in time to see jackson and his black van sliding around the carpark, out of control. right towards you.

everything moved in slow motion as you realised you were going to die.

die in this school, in front of hundreds of kids, being squashed by an out of control vehicle. there was no saving you, jacksons panicked face in the driver's seat being the only thing you saw as he frantically tried to swing his wheel away from you to no avail.

you closed your eyes hard, bracing for impact, heart palpating out of your chest as you can hear it in your head. but impact never came.

instead, somebody had taken hold of you, knocking you down to the concrete. you opened your eyes, ellie williams looking back at you, clutching your waist and looking down at you.

you feel like the wind has been knocked out of you, emotions overflowing. you were supposed to die, and she was all the way on the other side of the car park, so how could she have possibly gotten here in such a short amount of time? and how did the car not hit you? a strange dent made behind ellie on your car, and in the car ahead of you.

wordlessly, she stands up, away from you. jumping over your truck and away from the crowds that are surrounding you. people yelling over one another, crystal declaring she had an ambulance on the way while cat wildly scanned you, grabbing your face and looking around to see if you were okay, telling people to back up, it didn't help. your mind was far away, nowhere near this reality.

you have no time to bury yourself deeper into your thoughts, being whisked away into the back of an ambulance, truck abandoned in the school parking lot while more questions were being thrown at you, lights in your eyes, temperature reader in your ears, you weren't sure how much more you could handle.

but you had a few questions of your own, all of them having to do with the same person, ellie miller.

next

taglist, thank you all so much for reading i truly appreciate it beyond words ♡

@daughterofthemoons-stuff @angrybirdsmaster @st0nerlesb0 @cheriedivine

[kingkat12]

hickeys (roman godfrey x reader)

WARNINGS: 18+, mentions of sex, softcore-y smut, tw!bullying, Roman using his powers for no good, he's being so weird about virgin!reader, angsty fluff lol

summary: after having sacrificed your friendship with Letha for Roman's limited understanding of love and affection, you suddenly learn the consequences of your actions...

word count: 7,406 (you know me, not sorry anymore)

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°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･seven minutes in heaven masterlist

Roman had a hickey right on the side of his throat. Thankfully, I knew who gave him that one-- me.

It dawned on me that I had never seen him with one before. Despite how easy it was for me to get lost in the feelings of joy, finding a sense of pride at being the only one allowed to do that to him, I remembered Roman hadn't always been open to these sorts of things. He had warmed up to it gradually, with everything starting as a small incident at my place a week ago.

We had been splayed out on my bed, my face buried in his chest as I took a casual mid-day nap on top of him. It had become a habit-- Roman would come over, we'd bicker about something, then make out for about an hour until he decided to take his smoke break on my balcony. But today was different; the both of us had just finished a rather hard math test, so we were absolutely spent by the time we hit my bed. Roman didn't even have the energy to smoke, and seeing how tired he was, I decided to be bold and cuddle up to him; however, I hadn't expected us to fall asleep like this.

Weirdly enough, he didn't resist my advances. He'd usually start feeling uncomfortable as he wasn't used to affection like this, but today, Roman had his arms around me as I laid with my head on top of his chest. I had been a little embarrassed to wake up to the sight of a tiny puddle of my drool on his sweater, and I tapped the spot with my fingers as though that would make it go away.

Roman awoke, groggy. He let out a low grunt as he raised his head, trying to get a look at what I was doing. "Is that what I think it is?--"

"No," My words barely came out louder than a whisper, now covering the spot with my palm as I looked up at him with a soft smile. "Did you sleep well?"

Roman, being the stubborn asshole he was, didn't even register my question. "Did you drool on me?"

Oh God, this was mortifying. I figured he'd find out anyway; I slowly removed my hand from the spot, sliding off him. "Sorry..." As I rolled over, my back against the bed, I could only sigh. Being Roman's unofficial official girlfriend was hard, especially now that I didn't have any friends to discuss it with. 

However, there were moments where the hardships were worth it. Moments like these ones, where Roman now flipped over and unexpectedly snuggled up to me, his face hiding in the crook of my neck. "I've never been drooled on like that before," he said, his words muffled in my hair. "This is my favourite sweater."

With wary movements, I brought one hand up to his brown locks, gently stroking through them. I wasn't sure what the next sound from Roman was, but the closest thing would be a purr. "I'm sorry," I mumbled, my other hand running up and down his broad back. "Want me to buy you a new one?"

Roman huffed; "Don't be stupid. I'll just leave it in the washer here if you don't mind," 

"The washer?" My hands froze, no longer ghosting over his skin with gentle touches. "It will dry up in a second, Roman, get yourself together. And even worse, I might get the urge to wear it if you leave it here." I immediately regretted that joke the second it slipped past my lips-- in hopes of brushing over it, scared he'd climb off me and go back to being his usual self, I resumed running my fingers through his hair and up his back.

To my surprise, Roman didn't react much. The only thing I could notice was a rather shaky breath against my neck, almost as though he had just had a really tempting thought. Eventually, he spoke; "It wouldn't fit you very well,"

I did my best to shrug, although that was hard to do with someone on top of me. "That's not the premise," I huffed. "People usually wear each others' stuff when they're into one another. It's a cute thing."

"... So you'd want me to leave my sweater here?" Roman eventually propped himself up on his elbows, meeting my gaze. "Why? It's not like you'd be able to wear it anywhere."

It was in moments like these that I realized how little Roman actually knew about girls. He was supposedly very good in bed, but with feelings and affection? He was like a very aggressive puppy with gorgeous fur-- some men you simply have to train to be soft. "I'd wear it at home," I said, reaching out to brush his messed up hair away from his green eyes. "Especially when it's stormy outside and I'm doing my homework."

Something about my words seemed to be leaving small cracks in Roman's shell-- had I not been so observant, I wouldn't have noticed the way his pupils dilated or the way his features softened as he looked at me. "Would it be a one-way thing?" he asked; was I imagining things, or did he sound shy? "You get my sweater, and I get..."  Roman propped himself up further, taking a quick glance around my room. It didn't take long before his eyes landed on the plain, black hair ties on my nightstand, and he wasted no time reaching for two in one go. "I get these."

Seeing him so serious about this exchange was too funny-- I couldn't help the giggle building in my chest, suppressing a rather obnoxious laugh. "Yeah, I think that's smart," I murmured, stroking my thumb over his cheek. "Your hair is getting a little long... Would probably make your life easier."

Roman rolled his eyes, huffing. "It's not exactly like you have anything else lying around here!"

There was no way in hell I was about to tell him that my room was this clean because I had predicted he'd come over. "Okay, but it still works," I reached for his hand, taking the ties into my palm before rolling them over his fingers, watching as the rubber bands now sat comfortably at his wrist. "There you go!" I exclaimed, beaming up at a rather perplexed Roman. "Sweater, please."

It took a few seconds for him to react-- his eyes fixated on the black rubber ties around his wrist, and before I knew it, I saw slivers of pink appearing on his cheeks. I had never seen him react to anything like this before, and I had no idea why Roman was suddenly unmistakably blushing. "Fuck," he breathed. "That's cute." 

To hide his blush, he quickly wried his sweater off his body, throwing it away on a chair nearby before burying his face in the crook of my neck again, putting his whole weight back on me. "Promise to use it for dirty stuff too," he grumbled, probably to save face, before pressing a kiss to my neck. 

I was happy Roman didn't see how brightly I was smiling-- I would've been told off immediately, and he'd most likely retract right back into his shell. It was unusual for him to accept any sort of affection, and I wondered whether he had let anyone this close before. The more I got to know Roman, the more he was sleepy and babbling around me, I realized that I had to gradually ease physical kindness into his life to make our weird whatever-ship work. 

The whatever-ship I had sacrificed everything for.

And I would've spiraled deeper into thoughts about it, but the sudden pressure I felt against my neck made me snap out of it-- I realized he was giving me a rather hefty hickey, a familiar tingling sensation coursing its way through my body. I let out a satisfied sigh, my fingers burying themselves deeper into Roman's hair as he moved elsewhere on my neck to make a second one. "These will go well with the sweater," he purred against my skin.

I held back a shiver-- The hate I had once felt for him had quickly turned into whatever this was. All I knew, was that it felt good enough to distract me from the guilt that kept gnawing at me after betraying Letha the way I did. ｡ﾟ•┈୨♡୧┈• ｡ﾟ

The next day at school actually marked a month since the last time Letha and I had spoken on the bleachers. A month of staring at her longingly from afar like a kicked puppy and asking our mutual friends how she was. It didn't take long before they all heard what had happened between Roman and I, and they suddenly became Letha's friends only.

I didn't know how lonely I would be after I chose Roman, and it was slowly breaking my heart. Being blacklisted by nearly all the girls at school was tough, to say the least. 

So as I rummaged around my locker, getting ready for my next class, I didn't expect Letha to approach. There was no way I could imagine she'd do that, especially after the way she had been denying all my attempts of reconciliation. But here she was, blonde hair styled to perfection, and her green, stern eyes meeting mine the second I closed my locker door.

I stared right back, at a loss for words despite opening my mouth to speak. 

Letha cleared her throat, pressing her books tightly against her chest. "It's been a month," she tried, something about her softening with the weight of her words. "I think I might be ready to... talk."

My heart jumped up like never before, immediately thrown into a feeling of ecstatic victory. "What?" I squeaked, unable to stop my beaming look of joy. "Are you serious?" 

Letha shrugged, biting the inside of her cheek to suppress her smile. "I think it's time to try, at least?--" Her words came to a halt the second I turned to face her fully, and her green eyes immediately found my neck. 

My hair had moved to behind my shoulders as I turned around, revealing the hickeys I had tried my best to cover with setting powder and foundation. It didn't take long before Letha's softening look became one of horror as she took a step back, clearly repulsed.

I immediately went into panic, piecing it together. "No, Letha, wait!--"

There was no stopping Letha before she turned on her heel, bolting down the corridor with heavy steps. 

I turned back towards my locker, pressing my forehead against it. There was no way in hell I'd let everyone see me cry in public again. It felt as though Letha had dug her hand into my chest and ripped out my heart, now squeezing it until it finally popped. My breath hitched as I stepped away from the locker, sniffling as I felt a sob build.

Just as I was about to leave and get to class somehow, the familiar scent of cinnamon entered my system. "What did Letha want?" Roman asked, his hands tucked into his pockets as he approached. His brows were drawn together in a disapproving look as he watched Letha disappear down the hallway in unmatched hurry, and I got a good glance at him when I finally turned around to face him. How long had he been watching me from afar?

Roman's glare quickly faded away when his attention shifted and he noticed the way my eyes had glossed over. His whole tough look disappeared within a sliver of a second, and I was unsure whether he noticed it himself. "... Nothing good, I see?"

I shied away from his gaze, my eyes darting down to my shoes. "She wanted to make up all until she saw... well," To demonstrate, I turned a little, showing Roman the once blank canvas which was now covered in about six hickeys that I counted last night. It was clear to me that my attempt at hiding them had failed.

Roman could only sigh, an infuriating grin now spreading across his face. "I'm going to say sorry now, but know that I don't fully mean it because... the sight of you like this is so damn hot," He leaned down, pressing his lips against my forehead as he took my face into his hands. I couldn't help but notice that he was still wearing my two black rubber bands just as my breath hitched at the loving gesture.

Something about the kiss made my heart skip, but another part was ripping at me; Roman clearly cared more about the fact that he had marked me than how upset I was. I hummed in response, not knowing what else to say before much later; "Don't do that,"

"Do what?"

"Don't kiss me like that," I mumbled, pressing my back against my locker to make as much space between us as possible. "Just... Don't." 

Roman's first reaction was on display with a stunned expression, up until his brows drew together in what I could only read as annoyance. "Fine," he said, teeth gritted. His hands fell down at his sides, trying to save face as he took a step away from me; "I'm just trying to make you feel a little better, it's not that fucking deep." In true Godfrey fashion, he also proceeded to storm down the hallway, clearly flustered after being shut down.

I had to take a long breath-- this was a lot to take in for one day. Roman being in denial about his feelings also didn't help much. I wanted to run after him, grab his hand and tell him that he could do absolutely whatever he wanted with me, that I'd love for him to kiss me like that once more, but I knew I couldn't.

It was hard to believe how badly I had fallen for a guy who could barely regulate his own feelings. Someone who insisted on making it apparent to everyone that I was his without actually wanting to put a name to it. I let out a sigh, watching Roman get further and further away. Something told me I maybe should've followed him, at least asked him whether he wanted to come to my place later and sleep next to each other, but my plans quickly fell apart when I witnessed the one thing I hated seeing most in the world.

In the midst of his angry storm-off, Roman managed to turn his head to allow for his eyes to follow a girl with an exceptionally short skirt passing him by. 

I wanted to throw up-- the hungry look in his eyes made me nauseous. Everything about Roman looking at someone in the way he usually looked at me made me want to burst into tears all over again. 

No matter what I felt for him, one thing would never change; I hated Roman Godfrey. I hated him and the way he made me feel like a stomped bug. Hated the way he'd look at me after he'd make me cum around his fingers, the way he'd stroke my hair away from my forehead with the gentlest touch as I fell asleep, and the way he'd insist on driving me everywhere just to spend some extra time together.

I hated him. I hated this feeling, and especially what it had done to me, my friendships, and my reputation.

｡ﾟ•┈୨♡୧┈• ｡ﾟ

... Thoughts of my reputation went out the window now that Roman was back in my bed. Nothing suggestive, of course-- he was currently half asleep next to me. Even more heartwarming, was the fact that he still wore my two hair ties around his wrist, and I could get a proper look at him now that he was resting. I loved this feeling; we were both wearing the items we had exchanged.

"It looks good on you," he mumbled, tugging me closer with the arm he had around me. "My sweater. I thought I would hate seeing you in it, but it's not so bad."

My body was halfway on top of his, and I couldn't help but giggle as he pressed me closer to his chest. "Why did you think you'd hate it?" I adored the feeling of being completely engulfed in Roman-- the lingering scent of his perfume stuck to the gigantic sweater I was in, and his big arms around me made all my pain feel worth it. 

All up until Roman hummed, eyes still closed as his hands raked through my hair; "You wearing my stuff makes it real... Like you're mine. I don't know whether I want that responsibility,"

I could only sigh, unsure whether I should let my heart sink just yet. Sometimes, it was best to dig around in Roman's mud of a brain before settling for the version he wanted me to believe. "So you would be okay if I was with someone else?"

Roman opened one eye, glancing down at me as he raised a brow. "Are you with someone else?"

"... No,"

"Would you want to be?"

What an odd question; one he didn't need to know the truth of. "Would you care if I did?"

Roman opened his second eye, now scouring my face to check for cracks in my facade. Something told me he wasn't buying it, but that he wasn't about to take any chances. Eventually, he scoffed, rolling his eyes before closing them again; "Fuck off,"

"Fuck off yourself," I mumbled, burying my face in the crook of his neck. I tried to dull out the fact that his arm automatically wrapped itself tighter around me before I spoke once more; "Answer the question."

"Why?" Roman shifted, pulling my whole body on top of his, letting out a satisfied sigh now that all of my weight was laid on him. "It's a stupid question. Why can't we just enjoy this moment?"

He had a point, sure-- I just didn't deem it enough. "I hope you remember that I have a lot on the line here," I placed my hands next to his head, pushing myself up to get a proper look at him. Roman eventually opened his big, green eyes, and they quickly rounded out as they met mine. Everything about looking into his eyes made me want to squeal and pepper him with kisses; this was dangerous territory. I knew had to pull myself together; "I have, like... zero friends because of this. Because I chose you. And you not wanting to take on that responsibility or whatever it was that you called it, makes me feel like crap. You make me feel like crap." 

It was clear that Roman was holding his breath without thinking about it. He stared up at me, unsure what to say; "... All the time?"

"What?"

"Do I make you feel like crap all the time?"

That was certainly a way to spin it-- taken aback, I furrowed my brows as I pondered the question. "Not... all the time, no,"

Roman hummed; he seemed content with that answer. "I know you're upset about the whole Letha thing," he said, his big hands traveling down to grab at my hips as he shifted me to sit in his lap. "I also see that I'm not exactly helping the situation, but... you can't keep blaming me for your decision."

"... Okay," His request was simple enough-- I was ready to adhere to his wishes. "But then you have to say it out loud."

"Say what?"

"That you like me,"

I watched as Roman's eyes widened, his grip on my hips tightening. His whole body tensed up, unsure whether to speak or not. It was clear that he was conflicted about how to tread forward, and I held my breath the second his plush lips parted. Roman sat up, his back now supported by my headboard. Like this, I was sat in his lap with my arms draped around his neck, and he connected our foreheads with a sigh. Roman's words eventually came out like a slow, warm whisper; "I don't know what I feel," 

It felt as though my heart had lodged itself into my throat-- what? I was about to start arguing with him, cursing him out for dragging me through the mud for nothing, all until Roman suddenly reached for my hand. He placed my palm over his heart, his eyes finding mine as he steadied his breathing. "I don't know what I feel," he echoed. "But I know that looking at you makes my heart beat faster. Feel how hard it's going?" He pressed my hand further up against his chest, something about his touch giving away the sincere nature of this gesture. I hadn't seen Roman doing anything this romantic before, and everything was practically perfect all up until he opened his dumb teenage mouth; "I'm serious. It usually only beats like this when I look at pictures of Sydney Sweeney in a swimsuit."

That's it-- I groaned and ripped my hand out of his grip. "Okay, that's enough. You need to leave, it's almost midnight," In an attempt to climb off him, I almost made it out of his lap before his hands grabbed my hips once more, forcing me back down as I yelped. My eyes widened as they met Roman's, watching his signature smirk spread across his lips. 

"Where do you think you're going in my sweater?" he purred, suppressing a chuckle. "My sweater, my rules. Give me a kiss before I leave, at least."

I huffed as I snaked my arms around his neck, feeling his hot breath against my lips. "And why should I kiss you?"

"Because you want to?" Roman didn't care to try to suppress his grin, gently nudging my nose with his as his grip on my waist tightened. His voice dropped, getting airy as he whispered against my lips; "You want to so bad."

Everything about him made the butterflies in my stomach flutter-- it didn't help that his hair was tousled in a classic heartbreaker look, along with how ridiculously soft his lips suddenly looked. 

Roman definitely noticed the reddening of my cheeks, concluding why I had gone mute. "Don't be like that," he teased, not doing a good job with hiding his amusement. "Just kiss me first, for once. Have you noticed that you never initiate anything?"

I held my breath-- "I just... don't know what I'm doing," My confession was unexpected, but it felt nice to get it off my chest. "I don't want you to think I'm clueless."

"But you are?" Roman's chuckle was one of mischief as his hands shamelessly trailed down my body, now grabbing my ass as he pushed me closer to him. "It's not a bad thing. Just means I can program you to my liking."

I didn't even act as though I wanted his hands off of me, giving in to his antics. Something about the way he was holding me made me feel awfully warm-- maybe it was time to take off the sweater? "Tell me what you like, then," I purred, putting my hands on his chest. I figured that if I had gone down this route, I'd continue my path with conviction. 

Roman's smirk only grew, letting out a breathy laugh against my lips as he gave my ass a firm squeeze. "That's my girl," he cooed. "We'll start simple." He nudged his nose against mine once more, his lips parting before his words came out in a hot whisper against mine; "Kiss me."

His words were too alluring to deny-- I leaned forward, my hands carefully laying against his broad shoulder as I kissed him. A sigh of satisfaction escaped Roman, who immediately dug his hands into the flesh of my behind to tug me closer. Everything about the way he was reacting to me reminded me of our first date, and the way he had held and kissed me in the alley when we were hiding from Letha. 

The kiss was slow, almost lazy; something about the moonlight hitting us was making it more intense. It mostly consisted of small, loving pecks, and many pauses to simply smile against one another. I wondered whether he had ever kissed anyone like this before, with a softness I didn't see in him very often. 

It was hard to believe that this was the same guy that had me running around scared for him to prick me with needles. The only thing pricking me right now was the hardening of Roman's cock beneath me. With every twitch, every time his hands dug into my hips in an attempt to grind me against him, I could only grin into the kiss. There wasn't exactly anything sexual about this kiss, but he would always get hard from the smallest little things-- I couldn't help but find pride in it. At least this was another confirmation that he wanted me.

Roman eventually grew frustrated, now trying to rut up against me just for any sort of friction. With that, I grabbed the headboard, raising myself with my knees so that he wouldn't succeed. As he groaned, I had to bite down on my growing smile; the look on his gorgeous face was too damn thrilling.

Roman's eyes were round, his chest sinking with a shaky exhale as a rosy flush lingered in his cheeks. "Anything," he breathed. "Just give me anything. I'll take it."

"Anything?" I wasn't quite sure what he was getting at; "What do you mean?"

His hands grabbed at my waist, signalizing that he wanted me to sit down on his arousal once more-- perhaps that felt like a relief in itself? Roman stared up at me through his brows, his fingers digging into my flesh. "I'm not asking you for sex. I'm being nice. So I'm saying I'll take anything you'll give me... Even the smallest thing," He leaned forward, pressing a wet kiss against my neck which had me losing my breath within seconds, now whispering against my skin; "Just touch me." Roman's needy kisses trailed up my neck, jaw, and cheeks until his breath was hot against my ear. "However you want. Don't be shy, try it out."

Something told me that Roman was secretly into me being a virgin, after all this time of making fun of me for it. However, I wasn't about to say no to the opportunity to explore with the Roman Godfrey, and I eventually sat back down on his arousal, my cheeks flushing a deeper shade of red at the sound of his muffled grunt. 

My hands went up into his soft hair, pressing a kiss against his temple as my fingers stroked through his locks. "There's one thing I might want to try..."

Roman turned to nip at my jaw, his hands traveling back down to my ass. "Go for it,"

I didn't want to give him time to change his mind; my hand in his hair tightened, pulling him away from me with an unexpected roughness. I was about to apologize until I noticed the way Roman closed his eyes, and the way his lips parted in what looked like pleasure. It suddenly dawned on me that he might be the type to like a little pain, not only cause it. However, I wasn't ready to explore that at the moment-- I had another thought to attend to. 

Roman's head lolled back against the headboard as I leaned down to kiss his neck, and it was clear to me that he was enjoying himself. It was only when his fingers dug themselves back into the flesh of my behind that I got the confidence to pull through with my original plan; I sucked down on a particular spot, hard enough to leave a mark.

I didn't need to see his face to know that Roman's eyes were wide open with the realization of what was happening. I was ready for him to push me away, tell me off, tell me to stop-- but his arms only wrapped around me, pulling me closer in a swift motion that had me grinding up against his hard cock, and Roman let out a sigh of pleasure as he let himself be marked with a blooming hickey. 

Something told me I had to be somewhat special for him to allow me to do such a thing, and it quickly dawned on me that I had never felt this happy with anyone before, despite his shortcomings. 

I liked Roman more than I had ever liked anyone before, and I had an inkling that he felt the same. Who knew something so simple could feel so incredibly good?

｡ﾟ•┈୨♡୧┈• ｡ﾟ

Knowing I had Roman wrapped around my finger, despite him not being able to properly say it out loud, had me floating around in my own little bubble. Everything concerning Letha suddenly felt irrelevant, and it wasn't taking up as much space in my mind as before. All I could think about was the way Roman had smiled at me as he passed me in the hall, the red hickey on the side of his neck peeking out past his shirt. The cherry on top of it were the two hair ties he still wore around his wrist-- he was enjoying this, wasn't he?

However, I was yanked back into the absolute shitshow I had caused for myself concerning my girlfriends later that same day.

My previous friends had never done anything more than glare at me from across the hall. Maybe the occasional overdramatic huff when they passed me, an extra eye-roll my way, and so I did my best to not pay it any mind. 

Which is why I was so shocked when the proceeding followed. 

It didn't bother me to sit alone at lunch-- not anymore, at least. I wasn't about to reach out to Roman to ask where he was and whether I could join him either; but just as I picked up my phone, ready put away my nerves and text him, my gaze was diverted from the screen and to the three girls that sat down in front of me.

I held my breath, my eyes widening with the realization that my previous best friends were staring at me with the nastiest looks I had probably ever seen.

Oh no.

Breathing deeply, I did my best to harden my gaze and keep my guard up. "What do you want, Jasmine?" I asked, putting my phone down on the table as I stared down the girl in the middle. Jasmine was the one I had liked the least in our friend group, and I wasn't surprised that she was the one to take action-- the rest of the girls always followed her like dogs, and it had always made me sick; especially now that they were sitting by her like docile animals.

Jasmine cleared her throat, leaning further over the table in an attempt to intimidate me; "We're just here to make you aware of something,"

"Which is...?"

Taken aback by my lack of reaction, Jasmine's eye twitched just slightly as the girls next to her grew more and more uncomfortable. "Letha told me what she saw on your neck. And sitting this close to you, I see it too... Do you not understand how it makes you look?"

There was no way for me to hold back my sarcasm; "How does it make me look? Do indulge, Jas," I couldn't even hold back my grimace at this point. "Why does it even matter to you?"

Jasmine's eye twitched once more, and she slammed her hands against the table with a loud thud. "What upsets Letha, upsets me! I'm just glad I found out what kind of person you truly are, and it brings me immense joy to realize everyone is starting to catch on to the truth as well!"

Despite how hard I attempted to stay neutral, unaffected, and unfazed, I couldn't do anything about the way my heart sunk. I couldn't even muster up anything to counter Jasmine's words, taken aback by the bluntness of my previous friend.

"Letha really wanted to reconcile, do you know that?" Jasmine continued, an evil snicker building in her throat. "But it's fucking disgusting that you walk around like you're proud to be fucking Roman Godfrey, especially when you know how much you've hurt her. Fucking traitor!"

Before I could protest, she reached for my phone which I had left unattended. There was barely any time to pry it out of Jasmine's hands before she stood up and smashed it into the table, the rest of her posse scurrying away from the table before the pieces of glass could hit them. I didn't have to look to know that the whole cafeteria was watching this scene play out; it was only when I heard gasps coming from around us that I truly realized the extent of what had happened.

As the glass from my phone had bounced off the table, the sharp pieces flying in every direction, I had covered my face with my hands. So, when I slowly pried them away from my eyes, turning them around to identify where the stinging of my skin was coming from, my eyes fell on the three pieces of glass lodged into the back of my hands. It wasn't too deep, not enough to scar or cause real damage, but damn-- it burned like crazy. 

With tears in my eyes, I watched as Jasmine snickered, clearly unaffected by the fact that she had caused me physical harm; "We're ready to make your life a living hell," she hissed. "That'll show you. Fucking whore."

Something inside me broke. Usually, I would've fought back, I would've said something-- but I froze. Completely. I had never felt anything like this, the mix of both physical and mental pain turning me to stone.

Fuck. Was this truly how everyone saw me? Nothing more than one of Roman's countless whores?

I knew this would haunt me for the following weeks to come, and I couldn't fight the way my mind shut down. The need to get away overcame me; with shaky steps, I got up from my table, realizing I was about to leave school despite the day not being finished. 

｡ﾟ•┈୨♡୧┈• ｡ﾟ

I had avoided Roman like the plague for the rest of the day-- I was almost as broken as my phone. I held the pieces in my hands under the dim lights of my desk in my room, nudging the glass around on the table. My phone had completely shattered, now just a heap of technology I held onto for the sake of nostalgia in a deep state of shock.

I kept glancing at my hands, my fingers ghosting over the three thin cuts that had parted my skin. They were thankfully not that grotesque to look at, and I was quite sure I could play it off as a scratch from a particularly large cat if anyone asked. 

Or... so I hoped. 

I wondered whether Letha knew about what had happened. Did she condone it? Had she been the one who ordered Jasmine and her gang to mess with me? Everything about this situation made my head spin-- Choosing Roman might've been the wrong decision. I kept thinking about an alternative universe in which I had never asked him to kiss me in the first place, or one where I had told Letha about my feelings for her cousin before it was too late.

It dawned on me that I had mostly likely made the wrong choice-- how was I supposed to deal with this?

Just as I was about to toss the remnants of my phone into the nearby bin, I heard a few knocks at my window which made me turn towards the sound. There he was, the last rays of today's sunlight making the bronze hues in his hair shine through; Roman tapped against the glass once more, eyes round with an emotion I couldn't piece together from afar.

I walked towards the window and opened it, leaning against the frame as I spoke; "What are you doing here?" My tone was sharper than expected-- seeing him didn't exactly make me feel any better.

"You haven't answered my messages," Roman didn't seem to be in a hurry about getting off my roof, making himself comfortable by sitting down by the window. "All day. Radio silence. I'm not really used to that from you, so... just checking to see whether you're having a stroke or something."

I did my best not to roll my eyes; "A stroke?"

"I don't know?" Roman shrugged, his green eyes never leaving mine. "What other explanation is there for a girl not answering me?"

I grimaced as I watched his expression. It was impossible to push down the intense feelings of frustration when I looked at him, all my love for him manifesting back to its usual hate-- I wouldn't have been in this situation if I hadn't met him. This was technically just as much his fault as mine. 

Why did he look so confused? It suddenly hit me that he was being dead serious; he didn't get it at all. He genuinely couldn't find another reason for my absence. "Oh," was what I managed to say, clearing my throat as I sat down on the window sill. "Have you not heard?" 

Roman blinked twice, clearly lost as he looked up at me. "Heard what?"

My eyes darted down to my hands, which I had covered with the sleeves of Roman's sweater without even thinking about it. "I thought everyone would be talking about it," I mumbled. "I guess that's a relief, then."

"What are you talking about?" The green of his eyes nearly swallowed me, and I found a tiny trace of genuine concern behind them, so miniscule I could barely notice it. "What happened?"

I wanted to disappear into a heap of nothing; it was so embarrassing that I had let this happen. My pride was definitely trying to choke the life out of me. "My phone broke," I breathed, automatically reaching for the hem of the sweatshirt out of nervous habit-- I felt my cheeks flush, nervous to be revisiting the moment that had haunted me all day.

Roman's brows furrowed, unsure how to react; "You made it sound like something really bad had happened. I could buy you a new one, no problem," He watched me pick at the sweatshirt, now reaching out for my hands to stop my destructive fidgeting.

I let out the breath I had been holding the second our fingers intertwined, feeling the roughness of his hands against mine. My eyes rested on the black hair ties he still wore around his wrist, a blooming warmth igniting in my chest and wading through all my anger. I was so swept up in the moment, comforted by the way he squeezed my hands twice, that I didn't catch the moment the sleeves of the sweater bunched up and revealed the cuts on the back of my hands. "You don't need to buy me a new phone, don't be ridiculous," I said, watching a single strand of his brown hair slowly fall over his eyes as he glanced down. "I'd feel bad--"

"What's this?" Roman's grip around my hands tightened, now bringing them up to his face. 

It felt as though my breath had gotten lodged in my throat as I watched Roman's widening green eyes scan the surface of my hands. His brows drew together once more, thumbs swiping over the unhealed wounds. The touch made me hiss, attempting to get out of his grip, but to no avail. "It's the neighbour's cat," I tried. "I bent down to pet it, and--"

"This is not from a cat," Roman's gaze darted up to meet mine, suddenly a lot more intense than usual. "I'll ask you again, what happened?"

I tried to squirm out of his hold once more; "It's not important, Roman... Forget it, please. Actually, I'm going to have to ask you to leave--"

"Tell me,"

"No, seriously, drop it! Can't you just go?!--"

Roman's grip around my hands tightened further, almost to the point of making me wince. "Tell me," His pupils widened at an eerie rate, transfixed on mine. It felt as though his words were echoing through my head, and it didn't take long before I suddenly felt as though my inner monologue froze over.

And before I knew it, my mouth had a mind of its own; "They broke my phone,"

"Who?"

I really, really tried to fight it. Getting Roman involved in this drama was certainly not ideal, and I did my best to push away the urge to tell him; why was it so strong, all of a sudden? It almost felt as though he was controlling my mind, but it was ridiculous to even think so-- that was obviously impossible. Right? 

I eventually got around to answering; "Jasmine," 

"... Who?" Roman was beginning to sound like a really confused owl.

"Jasmine," I echoed. "Letha's friend. She brought a few girls over to my table and smashed my phone. Called me a whore."

Roman was silent for a few seconds, his face going unnaturally blank. "These cuts are from your phone?"

"Yeah,"

"And she did it because you're with me?"

"... Yeah," Did he just insinuate that we were together? I held my breath, unsure why my mouth wasn't adhering to my orders-- I so desperately wanted to point it out, but I physically couldn't. What on earth was happening?

Roman hummed, his grip around my hands loosening. "What else did she say?"

I blinked several times in an attempt to get out of the trance-like state I found myself in, but nothing seemed to be working as long as Roman's gaze was locked on me. "She said she's gonna make my life a living hell," As I sniffled, I realized tears were pooling in my eyes. I squeezed them shut, shaking my head to try to snap out of it once more. "I- It's fine, though." It dawned on me that the trick was to not look at him-- I finally started feeling like myself again. "I just need to talk to Letha and check out the options for a truce, or whatever."

As I dared to open my eyes, I watched his blank face. Something about the lack of reaction was unsettling, on the border of uncomfortable, and it almost made me want to squirm. It was in this silence that a thick, red drop of blood suddenly made its way down Roman's nose, and he didn't react when it met his lips. It was almost as though he had frozen to his place on my roof, and I couldn't remember the last time he had blinked.

My eyes widened, concern filling my body. "You're bleeding," I breathed, trying to get my hands out of his. "Let me get something for you, Roman, it's gonna run down to your shirt!--"

Abruptly, he got up with a quickness I hadn't seen in him before, still not saying a word. Suddenly, I couldn't help but notice it-- the hickey on the right side of his throat. One he wasn't even trying to cover up. Despite how much Roman kept denying wanting to be with me, here he was, getting up to do God knows what whilst quite literally baring my mark on his skin.

I watched him, my brows drawing together in complete and utter confusion. "Roman?" Calling out his name didn't seem to do anything; he let the stream of blood run down his chin, now dripping down onto his shirt. I could only look up at him, unsure why he was acting like this.

Finally, Roman spoke; "Living hell, you say?" His voice was low, threatening-- it was suddenly clear to me that he had gotten a very dark idea.

These sorts of proclamations coming from a guy who had an affinity for pricking girls with needles genuinely concerned me. I got up from the window sill, ready to climb out onto the roof to join him. "Come on, Roman, let's just talk!--"

It was as though he was on auto-control, rushing to the edge of the roof before turning around to climb down. My heart beat hard in my chest as I nearly lunged out of my window, hoping to reach him in time. "Hey, where are you going?!" 

I didn't make it-- Roman had already managed to land on the grass beneath him, his long limbs an apparent advantage, and he was now storming down my lawn towards his car. 

"Roman!" I yelled, crouching down on the edge of my roof; this was definitely not looking good. My mind kept racing as I gave up trying to catch up to him, burying my face in my hands. 

I was screwed. I was so screwed. 

(a/n: thank you for reading, more to come!!<33)

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°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･seven minutes in heaven masterlist

[jakesimfromstatefarm]

hiiii

I really love your jake and y/n drabbles and hope that you’ll always keep writing about them since they’re so cuteeeeeee

But I was wondering if maybe we could get a Drabble about jungwon and y/n since they’re still besties and I really loved their dynamic!

I know that you focus on the couple but I thought it would be really cool to read about the besties again and I don’t have something specific in mind so I’d give you freedom to write about anything

I really hope you can do it but If you don’t want to it’s also okay and you can just ignore it :))

IM SO SORRY IT TOOK ME SO LONG TO GET TO THIS ONE 😭 but yes omg i was actually thinking of doing one abt these two to begin with so you literally read my mind anon <33 hope you like itttttt. i included a little easter egg/throwback to the pretty privilege drabble i wrote too heheh & thank u for ur kind words🥺❤️

──── GROWING UP WITH CHILDHOOD BFF!JUNGWON 🤸‍♂️🍭 ↳ requested // part of the no doubt series !

Jungwon's room is the same as always.

The dim lamp glowing. The soft click-clack of his keyboard. The faint, slightly concerning scent of instant ramen still lingering in the air—despite the fact that you finished eating it two hours ago.

He said he'd throw the cups away.

Eventually.

You're starfished across his bed, head dangling slightly off the edge, aimlessly scrolling through your phone.

Jungwon's at his desk, headset on, fingers moving fast across his keyboard as he mumbles something under his breath—probably trash-talking Heeseung on League. Even though Heeseung is quite literally behind the adjacent wall right now.

"Hey," you say suddenly, voice cutting through the comfortable silence.

"Mhm?" Jungwon doesn't look away from the screen.

"Do you ever think about how we were basically forced to be friends?"

That makes him pause—just enough for his character to die.

He slams the spacebar. Takes his headset off. Swivels around in his chair to face you.

"Bro."

You grin at him upside-down, "Oops."

"Why are you here," he groans, "and not bothering Jake instead of me?"

You gasp dramatically, "Rude. I'm here because I wanted to hang out with my best friend."

"Uh huh," Jungwon's eyes narrow at you, unconvinced. "Jake's busy isn't he?"

"He's at some fancy ambassador photo shoot and they told him no guests allowed," you sigh, grumbling in your spot.

Jungwon snorts, stands up, and kicks your leg aside to make room for himself on the bed. He flops down next to you with a sigh, both of you staring up at the ceiling.

"And to answer your question—probably not," he says. "We would not be friends. You were a bully in kindergarten."

You mouth falls open and you whip your head to look at him. "Hey—what? No I wasn't!"

He side-eyes you, "You literally used to chase me around the playground threatening to hit me with that weird Hello Kitty recorder. Remember that?"

You blink. Then laugh.

"Okay—that's only because you stole my favorite multi-colored pen I bought from the book fair! The one with the sparkle grip and glitter ink!"

"You also tried to feed me dirt. You told me it was a crumbled up cookie you baked."

"Yeah—that one was kinda evil, but to be fai—"

"—you also made me eat a leaf."

"And did you die? No. You're welcome for your advanced immune system."

Jungwon laughs, crossing his arms, "If we weren't forced to be friends and have playdates practically everyday, I probably would've acted like I didn't know you in high school."

Your eyes widen as you gasp again, grabbing the pillow next to you, "Take that back right now."

He laughs, quickly blocking his face, moving to hug the pillow between his arms instead.

"Who else would've let you cheat off their math homework every week?"

"True, you did save me multiple times in the fifth grade," Jungwon shrugs, eyes glinting with nostalgia. "Who else would've made a fake email account with me just so we could prank Miss Lee about canceling the science fair?"

"Who else would've climbed onto the garage roof with me at 2AM to see if we could spot aliens?"

"Who else would've gone shot for shot with me in tequila and get trashed?"

"Jungwon, that was literally last weekend. And I woke up with the worst hangover the next morning because of you."

"My point still stands."

You both pause for a moment.

Then laughter fills the air.

"We're so dumb."

"So dumb."

no doubt m. list

tag list! pt. 1 (open)

@bluxjun @ki2rins @why-did-i-just-do-this @favoritten @lovialymisc @xylatox @vivimura @leehsngs @puma-riki @lezzleeferguson-120 @enhaprettystars @laurradoesloveu @sievenderz @somuchdard @kristynaah @hinryh @ltfirecracker @lov4hoon @taeheexx @niyzu @chunkzdeluluwife @jakeflvrz @fangirl125reader @0429jw @dreamy-carat @yuons @thestarinstarbucks @miszes @llearlert @ppeachyttae @hoomin10 @teddybeartaetae @tanisha2060 @therealmrsbahng @beomgyu-bears @ikeulove @jiyeons-closet @youngheejay @wxnderingthoughts @fuevrois @soobundle1009 @isoobie @enhypenova @zoemeltigloos @lizdevorak @deluluscenarios @bloomiize @hasuyv @ijustwannareadstuff20 @veilstqr @dreamiestay @jakeyyyjakexoxo

[womenhoops]

AAU GAME

word count: 5.2k

paige x azzi (pazzi as teenagers)

inspo: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=HKYqMjAf6nk

"Az, did you see we're playing against each other?" Paige's voice came through the phone, trying too hard to sound casual.

Azzi's grin flashed bright on screen. "I did, P... My mom was just telling me." She leaned closer, the camera distorting her face slightly. "Think we're even gonna be in the same hotel." A beat. Then that smirk - the one that made Paige's stomach do backflips. "Maybe you can sneak into my room... if you want.  We can finally watch that movie you've been begging me to watch - something Street? No, wait—"

"Mean Streets," Paige corrected automatically, while her brain blue-screened. Because Azzi - sweet, oblivious Azzi - had missed the nuclear-level double meaning entirely. The air between them crackled suddenly, thick with possibilities Paige shouldn't be considering about her best friend. Her younger-by-a-year best friend. The one she'd be alone with. In a room. With a bed. HER AND AZZI ALONE WITH A BED. 

God.

And just like that, Paige was gone - lost in a mental highlight reel of all the ways this could go catastrophically wrong or maybe right. 

The truth was, Paige didn't know what to do with these feelings Because Azzi wasn't just Azzi anymore. She was Azzi-who-bit-her-lip-when-concentrating during their hour long FaceTimes. Azzi-who-still-smelled-like-vanilla-shampoo-even-after-double-OT. Azzi-who-Paige-had-seen-grow-from-a-scrawny-freshman-into-this... this... what was she? A confused senior? A kinda influencer? 

"...Paigey? Why're you blushing?"

"I—what? I'm not—" Paige's hands flew to her cheeks like they'd betrayed her. The heat could've powered a small city. "It's just. My AC's broken. Swear."

"Uh-huh." Azzi's eyebrow arched, her grin turning wicked. "Sure. You're such a dork. You excited to see me?”

Paige wanted to die. Or kiss her. Maybe both. Because she was dying to see her. 

— 

FLASHBACK

Meanwhile, Azzi remained blissfully unaware - not from lack of interest, but because her brain processed romance like an old computer. Glitchy. With frequent crashes. VERY FREQUENT CRASHES.   Part of it was fear - she'd seen enough rom-coms to know hearts didn't break cleanly. The other part? Boys. Specifically, her complete inability to understand their appeal, despite being sixteen and surrounded by friends who'd apparently all received some secret puberty manual she'd missed. They were so advanced in everything already and she had never even kissed anyone. 

"Maybe I'm just a late bloomer," she'd tell herself while watching teammates giggle over some guy's biceps. Then she'd blink at said biceps like they were a particularly confusing math problem.

The real breakthrough came last summer during training with Paige. Paige's childhood friend Jalen had tagged along - all floppy hair and misplaced confidence - and spent two hours "helping" her by:

Calling every play wrong

"Accidentally" brushing against Azzi

Telling jokes that landed with the grace of a paraplegic giraffe

But, he was not funny at all. Yet, he was important for Paige, so Azzi, as the princess she was, did her best to laugh at all of them, which apparently made Paige even more mad. 

"Stop laughing at his shitty jokes," she'd hissed during a water break, grip white-knuckled on her bottle.

Azzi blinked. "But he's your friend?"

"That doesn't make him funny." Paige's glare could have melted steel. "Or subtle. Jesus Christ, the way he's touching you—"

The realization hit Azzi like a poorly set screen, did Paige think she was flirting him? And also, why did Paige's irritation sent an inexplicable thrill through her? The possibility lodged in Azzi's throat. She replayed the last hour: Jalen's dumb jokes (laughing had been polite, right?), his "accidental" touches (she'd sidestepped most of them), Paige's increasingly murderous glares (which, for some reason, made Azzi's stomach flutter).

Before she could untangle this, Jalen—blessedly oblivious to the thermonuclear tension—leaned against the baseline with his signature smirk. "Hey Az, since we're all hanging out..." A pause for effect. "Wanna come by my place later? We could grab dinner."

The gym went preternaturally quiet. Azzi watched, fascinated, as her best friend's face cycled through emotions like a slot machine: shock, fury, something dangerously close to betrayal—before settling on terrifying calm.

"Wow," Paige said to the ceiling. "What a great idea."

Azzi, still mentally stuck on why Paige's irritation thrilled her more than any compliment ever could, defaulted to autopilot. "Yeah, I'd love that!" She brightened. "Paige said you have sisters, right? I'm dying to meet them!" She turned to Paige, blissfully unaware of the storm clouds gathering. "What do you think? Can we go?"

Paige's smile could've frozen hell over. "Oh, we're going now?"

Jalen blinked. "I meant just Az—"

"Perfect." Paige snatched her water bottle with enough force to crack the plastic. "Text me the address, Jalen." The name came out like a curse. "Wouldn't want Azzi getting lost on the way." It was funny because she had been there multiple times already. 

As Jalen rattled off his address, Azzi watched Paige’s fingers tap out a furious rhythm against her thigh. 

END OF FLASHBACK

—

The Moment Hung Between Them - that seismic "Oh" stretching like the final second on a shot clock. Then Azzi's grin returned, brighter than a backboard's reflection, and just like that—

"Mean Streets," Azzi barreled on, all easy confidence again. "That's the Scorsese one, right? With the—"

"—walking into the bar scene set to 'Be My Baby,' yes," Paige finished automatically, relief flooding her veins. They slipped back into their rhythm like well-worn sneakers, debating whether De Niro's Johnny Boy was charismatic or just chaotic (Azzi's take: "He's literally you when the Pop-Tarts run out at breakfast").

Paige knew the truth, though. The moment she hit play, Azzi would be unconscious within twenty minutes. She always was—ever since their first sleepover when fourteen-year-old Azzi had snored through The Godfather, head lolling against Paige's shoulder, warm breath tickling her collarbone...

"Okay, itinerary time." Azzi clapped, snapping Paige back. "Two weeks out—priority one is snacks. I'm thinking—"

"—Sour Patch Kids and those weird peanut butter crackers you hoard like a squirrel," Paige interjected.

"Damn right, P. And we're smuggling in Dr Pepper even if the hotel charges eighteen dollars a can."

"Obviously. What are we, animals?"

They volleyed plans back and forth—practice schedules (sneaking in extra 1v1s), meal strategies (room service pancakes at 2am), even contingency plans for when Azzi inevitably locked herself out of her room ("Text me before calling maintenance this time, bighead’).

But beneath the familiar banter, something new thrummed between them—a charge Paige couldn't ignore. Not when Azzi bit her lip while scrolling their shared notes app, not when she laughed so hard she snorted at Paige's impression of their coach. Not when she said "Our room" instead of "My room" and neither of them corrected it.

——

Paige’s AAU team had arrived in the city two days before Azzi’s, giving her plenty of time to prepare—not just for the game, but for something far more important. She knew they had one free night before flying home, and she was determined to make it special.

Exploring the city had been fun, but her mind kept drifting back to dinner plans. She wanted to take Azzi somewhere nice, just the two of them—no teammates, no coaches, just good food and easy conversation. But first she needed to make sure she would not get Azzi in trouble with her parents. 

Paige knew how protective they were, especially when it came to Azzi. She was their princess. She didn’t want to overstep, but she also didn’t want to miss this chance. So, after pacing her hotel room for way too long, she finally picked up her phone and drafted a message to Katie, Azzi’s mom.

Her first attempt was… not great.

Hi, Ms. Fudd, this is Paige (just making sure yk ;} ), but I was talking to Azzi and she told me we have a free dinner prior to going back home and I was wondering if I could take her out.

NO. THAT IS DUMB.

Paige groaned, flopping back onto her bed. Take her out? That made it sound like a date, and it wasn’t a date. They were just friends. Best friends. Nothing more.

She deleted the message and tried again.

Hi, Ms. Fudd, this is Paige. I was wondering if me and Azzi could grab dinner after the last game?

Still not right. Too casual? Too vague? She chewed her lip, debating whether to add more or just send it before she overthought it even more.

Finally, she settled on:

Hi, Ms. Fudd! It’s Paige—just wanted to check in and see if it’d be okay for Azzi and me to get dinner together after our last game? There’s a really nice place near the hotel, and I thought it’d be fun to hang out before we head home. Of course, only if you’re comfortable with it!

She held her breath and hit send before she could second-guess herself again. A few agonizing minutes later, her phone buzzed.

Hi, Paige! Of course, I know who you are LOL. Did you forget you spent a month in my house over the summer? That sounds like a lovely idea. Just make sure Azzi has her phone on her.

The plan was already in motion.

Paige sat in the locker room, scrolling through her phone for what felt like the hundredth time. Her leg bounced impatiently—she was trying to focus, to get into game mode, but her mind kept drifting to one thing: Azzi.

Her best friend was supposed to be halfway across the country right now, buried in her own season, her own games. But if everything had gone according to plan… Azzi should be landing any minute now.

Paige bit her lip, fighting back a grin. She had to play it cool. Azzi had no idea.

Just to be sure, she shot off a quick text:

Paige: Hi Azz, just making sure you got to the airport alright… u good?

The response came almost instantly.

Azzi: Yeah, I’m good. No worries. What time is your game today?

Paige’s smirk widened. Gotcha.

Paige: Why? Gonna cheer for me? Scream my name? 

She could practically see Azzi rolling her eyes through the screen. 

Azzi: You wish, Paigey. You wish. - And to be fair, Paige mind was so excited for the dinner she planned that she did not even think about the double meaning in her words. 

Paige laughed under her breath, shaking her head as she read Azzi’s latest text. Oh, just you wait.

Meanwhile, at the Airport…

Azzi adjusted her hoodie, keeping her head low as she weaved through the terminal. Her phone buzzed again—another message from Paige. She bit her lip to stifle a grin. This was gonna be good.

Her flight had landed early, and now she was just waiting for her ride. The plan was simple: sneak into the arena, blend into the crowd, and then—BAM—surprise Paige mid-game.

Her phone lit up again.

Paige: So you’re definitely NOT coming to my game, right?

Azzi smirked, typing back with exaggerated casualness.

Azzi: Nope. Super busy. Got my own stuff to worry about.

Paige: Cool, cool. Just checking.

Azzi could practically hear the skepticism dripping from Paige’s words. Good. The more Paige doubted, the sweeter the surprise would be.

She slipped onto the team bus, heart pounding like it was the fourth quarter of a tied game.

Paige stepped onto the court, her eyes flicking to the stands out of habit. No sign of Azzi.

Yet.

She forced herself to lock in. First quarter was strong—she drained a three from the wing, then threaded a no-look pass to her teammate for an easy layup. The crowd erupted, but her mind was elsewhere.

Where was she? She was suppose to be here because her flight had arrived (Paige of course was tracking that!) 

Then, midway through the second quarter, she saw it.

A familiar face in the third row, half-hidden under a snapback, grinning like she’d just pulled off the heist of the century.

Azzi.

Paige froze mid-dribble, nearly losing the ball. No. Way.

Azzi waved, her smirk widening as Paige’s jaw practically hit the court.

Game on.

Paige recovered just in time, firing a laser pass to the corner for another three. But her focus was shot. Every time she sprinted down the court, she caught Azzi’s eye—mocking, triumphant, alive. By the fourth quarter, Paige’s team had sealed the win, but all she could think about was the showdown waiting for her off the court.

Her best friend that she had not seen in a couple of months. 

——————

Paige pushed through the locker room doors, still buzzing with adrenaline, and there she was—leaning against the wall like she owned the place.

“You’re dead.” 

Azzi pushed off the wall, grinning. “Had to see the look on your face.”

Paige rolled her eyes but couldn’t fight her own smile. “You almost made me turn it over.”

“Almost?” Azzi raised an eyebrow. “I saw that fumble.”

Paige shoved her shoulder, laughing. “Whatever. You just wanted an excuse to watch me dominate.”

Azzi’s grin turned sharp. “Nah. I’m scouting.” She leaned in, voice dropping to a challenge. “Because when my team wins tomorrow—which we will—you’re gonna see me across the court. And you’re guarding me.”

Paige’s eyes flashed. “Oh, it’s like that?”

“It’s exactly like that. We all know that I am just the better player”

Paige held her stare for a beat, then broke into a slow smile. “Bet.”

Azzi mirrored it. “Bet.”

And then, Paige broke the distance.

She yanked Azzi into a hug so tight, the air rushed from Azzi’s lungs in a startled oof. For a second, Azzi just stood there, stiff—before melting into it, her laughter muffled against Paige’s shoulder.

Paige squeezed harder. “You’re such a liar.”

Azzi wheezed, patting her back. “Okay, okay—dying—”. But she did not pull back at all. 

Paige finally let go, but only far enough to grip Azzi’s shoulders, her eyes blazing. “You knew I’d see you.”

Azzi smirked. “And you knew I’d come.”

Paige rolled her eyes, but her grin gave her away. “Whatever. You just wanted to psych me out.”

“Did it work?”

Paige scoffed, but the flush on her cheeks was answer enough.

Azzi’s smirk softened, just for a second. “Good game, by the way.”

Paige tilted her head. “You saying that before yours tomorrow? Bold.”

Azzi shrugged. “I’m not worried.”

“Oh?” Paige stepped back, crossing her arms. “So when you win—”

“When,” Azzi confirmed.

“—you really think you can guard me?”

Azzi matched her stance. “I know I can. It is you that should be worried about that, Paigey”

The air between them crackled—half challenge, half something neither would name.

Paige’s smile turned dangerous. “Guess we’ll find out.”

Azzi held her stare. “Guess we will.”

——————

The next day, Paige was at Azzi’s game.

She sat in the stands, hood pulled low, but her eyes never left the court. Azzi was dominating—slicing through defenses, pulling up from stupid range, and making it look effortless. If Azzi asked why Paige was staring so hard, she’d say she was scouting.

But the truth? Azzi was mesmerizing.

To start, she was clearly the best player on her team—by miles. Her teammates were all borderline 18, and Azzi had just turned sixteen. By halftime, she’d have had 25 assists if they could actually finish her passes. Paige remembered how easy it was playing with her at Team USA—the chemistry, the unspoken reads, the way Azzi always knew where she’d pass her the ball. They were the best backcourt in the nation. 

Now, watching Azzi’s teammates fumble her perfect feeds? How they did not see THE AZZI FUDD wide open on the wing? It made her low-key furious. 

They didn’t deserve her.

But to be fair, Paige wasn’t even looking at the other players. Just Azzi.

And, to be even fairer—so was everyone else.

A group of guys in front of her kept leaning forward, whispering loud enough for Paige to catch every word:

“Her shot is unreal.”

“Look at her handles—how is she that quick?”

“Those dimples, man…”

Paige’s grip tightened on her water bottle. That was her best friend, and those guys seemed like dirty or something. 

Then the comments took a turn.

“I heard she’s single.”

“No way. She is legit so hot. Have you seen her ass” 

“You think she’d say yes if—”

“She’d say no.”

The words were out before Paige could stop them. The guys twisted around, blinking at her.

One smirked. “You know her or something?”

Paige held his gaze, voice icy. “Yeah. I do.”

One of the guys smirked, twisting fully in his seat to face Paige. "Oh cool, you think you could give her my number? Or, y’know… give me hers?"

The air around Paige went cold.

She leaned forward, her voice dropping to something low and dangerous. "Yeah. Not happening."

The guy blinked. "Damn, okay—"

"Ever." Paige cut in, her stare unwavering.

Something in her tone—the razor-edge protectiveness, the claim in it—must’ve registered. The guys exchanged glances, then slowly turned back around, muttering under their breaths.

But as Paige slumped back in her seat, a sudden wave of confusion hit her. Why had she reacted like that?

Azzi wasn’t hers to protect. Not like that. They were best friends—teammates, rivals, partners in crime. That was all.

Right?

On the court, the whistle blew. Azzi caught the inbound pass, took two dribbles, and launched from three steps behind the arc.

Swish.

The crowd erupted. Azzi backpedaled, her grin lighting up the arena—and then, like she knew, her eyes locked onto Paige’s section. A smirk curled at the corner of her mouth.

Just for her.

Paige’s stomach flipped. Her chest tightened. That look—the way Azzi’s eyes sparkled when they met hers, the way her smile softened just for Paige—it sent a jolt through her that she couldn’t explain.

Damn it.

Because that wasn’t just pride in her best friend. That wasn’t just admiration for a fellow player.

That was something else entirely.

And that? That was terrifying.

————————

Paige waited until the arena cleared out, until she and her teammates had grab dinner, until she was sure no one else would be around to witness this.

Then she knocked on Azzi’s hotel room door.

It swung open, revealing Azzi in sweats, her hair still damp from the shower. She blinked. “Paige?”

Paige strode past her into the room, arms crossed. “Those guys in the front row were trying to ask you out.”

Azzi’s brows shot up. She shut the door slowly. “...Okay?”

“You didn’t notice?”

“I mean, I don’t really pay attention to—”

“They were leaning over the railing,” Paige cut in, pacing now. “Talking about your dimples. And about your ass.”

Azzi’s lips twitched. “You memorized their commentary?”

Paige whirled on her. “I was right behind them, Azzi. They were being gross.”

Azzi tilted her head, studying Paige’s face—the tight jaw, the way her fingers kept flexing like she was itching to steal a ball. A slow smirk spread across her face.

“Wait.” She took a step closer. “Are you mad?”

Paige scoffed. “I’m not mad—”

“You’re definitely mad.”

“I’m annoyed,” Paige corrected, jabbing a finger at her. “Because you were out there dropping 40 on a bunch of high schoolers like it’s nothing, and meanwhile, randos are treating you like—like—”

“Like what?” Azzi challenged, stepping even closer.

Paige’s breath hitched. Azzi smelled like her stupid vanilla shampoo, and her eyes were all lit up with that I-know-something-you-don’t gleam.

Damn it.

“Like you’re not the best goddamn player in the gym,” Paige muttered.

Azzi blinked. Then she burst out laughing.

“Oh my God.” She wiped her eyes. “You’re jealous.”

“I’m not—”

“You are.” Azzi grinned, poking Paige’s chest. “You didn’t like them looking at me.”

Paige swatted her hand away. “I didn’t like them wasting your time.”

“Mhmm.” Azzi’s voice dropped, teasing. “So if I had said yes to one of them…?”

Paige’s eyes flashed. “You wouldn’t.”

Azzi held her gaze, the air between them suddenly charged. “Why not?”

Paige opened her mouth—to say what?—when Azzi’s phone buzzed on the nightstand.

They both glanced at it.

A text notification lit up the screen:

Unknown Number: Hey, it’s Jason from the game. Wanna grab food?

Paige’s entire body went rigid.

Azzi bit her lip, she had given Jason her number because she seemed nice. “I forgot to tell you about that”

Paige snatched the phone, thumbs flying as she typed:

Azzi’s Phone: Nah. I only let real shooters take me out.

She hit send and tossed the phone onto the bed.

Azzi gasped, laughing. “You did not just—”

“Problem solved,” Paige said, smug.

Azzi shook her head, but her cheeks were pink. “You’re insane. Get out”

Azzi was actually mad. Paige could go around kissing girls and all, but she could not have one date with a nice guy? 

Paige went still.

Shit. Was Azzi actually mad? 

The playful glint in Paige’s eyes flickered, replaced by something uncertain. “You… gave him your number?”

Azzi folded her arms, suddenly defensive. “Yeah. And? You go around kissing girls at parties like it’s nothing, but I can’t have one date?”

Paige’s expression shuttered. “That’s different.”

“How?”

“Because—” Paige cut herself off, frustration flashing across her face. “You know what? Forget it.” She turned toward the door.

Azzi’s chest tightened. This wasn’t how she wanted this to go. “Paige—”

But the door clicked shut behind her.

Silence.

Azzi stared at her hands, guilt twisting inside her. She hadn’t meant to snap. But Paige had this way of pushing her buttons—of making everything feel like a game Azzi didn’t know the rules to.

A knock.

The door creaked open before she could respond, and Paige stepped back in, shoulders tense. “Okay. I’m sorry.” The words came out rough, like she wasn’t used to saying them. 

Azzi blinked. An apology? From Paige Bueckers?

“But,” Paige continued, dragging a hand through her hair, “you’re right. It’s hypocritical. I just—” She exhaled sharply. “Jason’s a scrub. You deserve better.”

Azzi snorted despite herself. “That’s your apology? ‘Jason’s a scrub’?”

Paige’s lips quirked. “I’m workshopping it.”

The tension between them eased, but Azzi’s chest still felt tight. She picked at the hem of her shirt. “It’s not even about him. It’s just… you make it look so easy. The flirting, the kissing, all of it.”

Paige tilted her head. “Wait. Are you saying you’ve never…?”

Azzi’s face burned. “I’m a sophomore, Paige. And my whole team is, like, stupidly experienced. Maya’s had three boyfriends, and Liv’s already you know—” She cut herself off, mortified. “God, forget it.”

Paige sat down beside her, close enough that their knees brushed. “Hey. That’s nothing to be embarrassed about.”

“Easy for you to say,” Azzi muttered. “You’ve probably kissed so many girls and like everyone loves you.”

Paige laughed, but it was softer now. “It’s not a competition, Az. And most of those ‘kisses’ were dumb dares or people trying to prove something. And like even tough I have kissed some girls like it never got serious” She hesitated, then nudged Azzi’s shoulder. “First times are supposed to be… I dunno. Not like that. I have not had mine either if it makes you feel better”

Azzi peeked at her. “Then what are they supposed to be like?”

Paige held her gaze, and for once, there was no smirk, no teasing—just something quiet and real. “With someone who actually matters.”

The air between them shifted.

Azzi’s breath caught. Paige was close, and her mind was going a million time for hour. 

Then Paige leaned back, breaking the moment with a grin. “But seriously, if your first kiss is with this Jason guy, I’m disowning you.”

Azzi shoved her, laughing. “You’re the worst.”

“And yet,” Paige said, bumping their shoulders together again, “you keep me around.”

“But I mean it az, your first kiss should be special. Actually, scratch that, you are so special, so everything you do should be special” 

“You are only saying that because you are my best friend” Azzi said, rolling her eyes—but her heart thumped unevenly when Paige didn’t laugh.

Paige’s smirk faded into something quieter. “Nah. I’m saying it ‘cause it’s true.” She flopped onto Azzi’s bed, staring at the ceiling. “And ‘cause my first kiss was so not special, I’m basically an expert on what not to do.”

Azzi’s curiosity flared. Paige never talked about this stuff seriously. She crawled onto the bed beside her, propping herself up on one elbow. “…Okay, now you have to tell me.”

Paige groaned. “Ugh, fine. But you cannot laugh.”

“Zero promises, Paigey”

Paige flicked her forehead. “Eight grade. Skate park behind the 7-Eleven. This guy, Derek Pelinski—”

“Derek Pelinski?” Azzi wheezed. Not sure if the. Fact that it was a guy or the fact that that was the funniest name ever. 

“I said don’t laugh!” Paige shoved her, but she was grinning now. “Anyway, he dared me to kiss him while his friends watched. Tasted like nacho cheese and bad decisions.”

Azzi wrinkled her nose. “That’s… tragically unromantic.”

“Right?” Paige sighed dramatically. “And then he immediately tried to feel me up, so I kneed him in the—”

“Paige!” Azzi gasped, equal parts horrified and delighted.

“What?” Paige shrugged, unrepentant. “Dude learned a valuable lesson about consent.” Her voice softened. “Point is… you deserve better.”

Azzi swallowed. Paige was looking at her like—like she was precious. It made her skin feel too tight. “So, what? I should just… wait for some magical moment?”

Paige’s gaze dropped to Azzi’s mouth, just for a second. “Nah. Just someone who actually sees you.” She cleared her throat and sat up abruptly. “Anyway. Now that you’ve heard my trauma, you owe me ice cream.”

Azzi’s pulse hadn’t slowed. “You’re such a dork,” she muttered, but she let Paige drag her up, their fingers tangled just a beat too long before pulling apart.

"That doesn’t count," Azzi said, swatting Paige’s arm. "You were, like, twelve. And also—" She hesitated, then smirked. "You’re gay, Paige. A boy kissing you at a skate park is not your real first kiss."

Paige’s eyebrows shot up. "Excuse you, I was bi-curious in seventh grade—"

“Sure, P.” Azzi rolled onto her stomach, grinning. 

Paige groaned, throwing an arm over her face. "Ugh, fine. But my actual first kiss with a girl wasn’t much better."

Azzi's breath caught. This was uncharted territory—Paige never volunteered these stories. She nudged her knee gently, voice softening. "You've actually never told me about it. You sure you want to now?"

The care in Azzi's question made Paige's chest tighten. She peeked out from under her arm, the usual mischief in her eyes tempered by something warmer. "Why? You taking notes for your big moment?"

"Shut up," Azzi muttered, cheeks flushing. She tugged at a loose thread on Paige's comforter. "Just... if you want to tell me."

Paige sat up, the mattress dipping between them. "Fine. Softomre year. Party at Jess Marino's house." She picked at her nail. "Taylor Nguyen—"

"Taylor?" Azzi's head snapped up. "As in, soccer varsity captain Taylor? The one who—" Her voice caught. The mental image flashed unbidden: Taylor with her confident smile and toned arms, the way she'd dominated every game with effortless grace. Azzi suddenly became hyper-aware of her own knobby knees and the baby fat still rounding her cheeks.

"The very one," Paige said, a hint of that old pride in her voice that made Azzi's stomach twist. "Anyway, we kissed, and she assumed I was... experienced." A dry laugh. "Pulled me into a bedroom, kept moving my hands to you know and she wanted to go all the way“ 

Azzi's hands balled into fists, her nails biting into her palms. "That's bullshit." Her voice dropped to something dangerous. "Did she even ask if you were comfortable with that? Did she force herself?”

Paige blinked, thrown by the venom in Azzi's tone. Since when did shy, sweet Azzi get like this? "I—"

"Because if she didn't," Azzi barreled on, eyes blazing like lit coals, "then she didn't deserve to touch you at all." The words tore out of her with a violence that shocked them both, raw and fierce like a gut-punch confession.

The silence that followed was deafening.

Paige's lips parted slightly, her usual arsenal of witty comebacks failing her for the first time since Azzi had known her. Azzi was close now—dangerously close—close enough that Paige could see the faint scar above her eyebrow from that childhood bike accident, could track the frantic jump of her pulse in the delicate hollow of her throat. The air between them hummed with electricity, thick with the promise of summer lightning.

Azzi's breath caught when she realized Paige's knee had slotted between hers, that her own fingers had somehow tangled in the hem of Paige's tank top. The pad of Paige's thumb drew slow circles on her inner wrist, each touch sending sparks up her arm.

Then Paige's smirk returned, that infuriating armor clicking into place. "Careful, Az." Her voice dropped to that low register that always made Azzi's stomach flip—smoke and honey and something distinctly Paige. "Starting to think you've got a vested interest here."

The spell shattered. Azzi shoved at her shoulders, but her traitorous hands fisted in the fabric of Paige's shirt instead of pushing away. "I'm serious," she whispered, voice cracking. "You're..." Her throat worked around the sudden tightness. "You're Paige. You should've gotten slow dances in gymnasiums and stupid poetry tucked in your locker and—" Her breath hitched. "—and someone who came undone just brushing your fingers."

The words hung between them, too honest, too vulnerable, hanging in the charged air like the last note of a love song.

Paige went statue-still. When she finally spoke, her voice was barely more than a whisper. "Yeah?" Her fingers traced the delicate bones of Azzi's wrist like she was memorizing them. "And what should you get, Azzi Fudd?"

The way she said it—like a sacred vow wrapped in teasing—sent liquid heat pooling in Azzi's stomach. Their noses brushed. Azzi could taste the spearmint gum Paige always chewed, could smell the coconut shampoo she'd borrowed last week still lingering in her hair. Some distant, rational part of her brain screamed that this was the point of no return—close enough to count eyelashes, to feel shared breath, to—

HONK!

A car alarm shattered the moment, sending them springing apart like they'd been burned.

Paige practically vaulted to the other side of the bed, suddenly engrossed in examining a loose thread on Azzi's comforter as if it held the secrets of the universe. "So." She cleared her throat twice, voice unnaturally high. "Ice cream?"

Azzi pressed her burning face into her hands, her lips tingling with the ghost of something that hadn't happened. "Yeah," she mumbled through her fingers, voice thick. "Ice cream."

But neither moved. Neither breathed.

Hours later, after they grabbed their ice cream which Azzi insisted on paying, Paige lay staring at her ceiling, her stomach in knots. The memory of Azzi's fierce protectiveness played on loop behind her eyelids—how her eyes had darkened with something primal when talking about Taylor, how her hands had trembled against Paige's skin. She pressed her palms to her burning face. Christ, Azzi was so... Azzi. All wide-eyed innocence and unexpected fire, with no idea what she did to Paige. And that kiss—her first kiss—it should be perfect. Soft and sweet and everything Paige would die to give her.

As best friends, obviously.

Just best friends wanting other best friends to have nice things.

Totally normal best friend behavior.

Across the hall, Azzi paced her room like a caged animal, her phone glowing with Taylor Nguyen's Instagram profile. She zoomed in on a picture of Taylor laughing with her new college teammates, her perfect white teeth gleaming. A growl rose unbidden in Azzi's throat. How dare she? How dare she treat Paige like some experiment, like she wasn't the most brilliant, infuriating, beautiful person Azzi had ever—

She threw her phone across the room.

Tomorrow, she'd be normal. Tomorrow, they'd go back to easy banter and stolen energy drinks.

But tonight—tonight she'd let herself imagine Taylor's perfect face meeting her fist.

[callmearcturus]

beginner tips for Balatro

ppl will not shut up about their weird poker game so wtf is going on

BASICALLY:

It's Roguelike Poker.

A LITTLE LESS BASICALLY:

You want to play hands to gain enough Chips to reach enough Chips to beat the level (called "Blind"). You can play things like Full House, Three of a Kind, Flush, etc.

The hook of the game is the Jokers. After every Blind, you can visit a shop to buy Jokers. These Jokers affect your hand in weird ways. You can carry 5 Jokers at a time. Mixing and matching these will unlock useful and sometimes hilarious combinations.

The ultimate goal is to reach the boss of the 8th Ante. An Ante is a Small Blind, Large Blind, and Boss Blind. The chip requirement will grow over time.

It's extremely addictive, has a lot of both vertical and horizontal progression curves, and despite how it looks and sounds, Balatro is a one-time purchase single-player game with no microtransactions or ads.

here's a fast list of things I wish I understood when I first started playing Balatro:

+chips < +mult < X-MULT is the way usefulness works. +chips will add chips to the left, blue side of the score calculation. +mult will add to the red, right hand side of the score calculation. X-MULT will take the final score and then multiply the WHOLE thing by it. So basically the formula is (+chips x +mult) x XMULT. The game does not explain this very well but it's vital.

You can always play 5 cards. Even if the scoring hand you are playing is less than 5 cards, you can use the rest as a free discard. For example, if I play Ace, Ace, 6, 3, 2, I will play a Pair of Aces, and the 6, 3, 2 will be discarded.

Money is king in this game because money gets you access to the Jokers. The easiest way to control the money game is to get to 25$ as soon as possible, then try to avoid going under that. 25$ will get you the maximum interest every round. When at the shop, feel free to spend down to 22-25$ish.

However if you need to bankrupt yourself because you see Card Sharp or Flashback or another extremely-high value joker, don't think, just do it.

If it says +1 hand in yellow, that means draw an extra card in your hand. If it says +1 hand in blue, you get a full extra hand to play in the round. Yes, it's confusing.

YOU CAN MOVE YOUR JOKERS AROUND. (This is a little Advanced but if you want to know the optimal Joker order, it's like the card usefulness: Jokers that add chips go to the left. Jokers that add XMULT go to the right. Effects Jokers, like Four Fingers (allows you to play Flushes and Straights with 4 cards instead of 5) can go anywhere.)

YOU CAN ALSO MOVE CARDS IN YOUR HAND. Playing a Straight as Jack-Ten-King-Queen-Ace is still a straight. If you have a Glass card, put it to the rightmost side of the hand.

DO NOT DO THE MATH. Or, until you get to very very high level play, do not check your math. There will be times when you have a single hand left on the boss blind of the 8th Ante and you will google the Balatro Score Calculator, we've all been there. But you need to believe in the heart of the cards and the vibes of the jokers.

You will unlock decks as you beat the 8th Ante boss with the last deck you unlocked. Red, Blue, Yellow, Green, and Black are the basic decks. After you have those, you have to use any deck to beat the stakes. Raising the stake will add weird conditions to the game to try to make reaching the 8th Ante harder. For example, I am currently on the Orange Stake on Abandoned and Plasma Decks. Red, Blue, and Yellow Decks are easiest for tackling the stakes. Black Deck is the fucking devil.

When you walked in the sand and saw the footprints behind you, that was Flashback as they carried you.

[h-sleepingirl]

Essay: Hypnosis is Irrational

For PSYCHOSPIRITUAL: A Spirituality/Hypnokink Essay Jam

This is an essay about bonfires, Quaker meetings, Judaism, and the entirely transcendent nature of hypnosis. I'm sorry in advance to philosophers and scientists. Don't come for me until you've seen God in the ceiling through your fluttering lashes!

--

Rationality is a core value of modern western society. Materialism and objective, evidence-based science are seen as the gold standard for how to view the world around us. It’s easy to see why -- this approach has catapulted humanity forward over a relatively short period of time, technologically and philosophically. Finding the truths of the universe through hard evidence and math is extremely compelling and much more logical than basing our views off of conjecture or old religious texts.

Hypnosis entered public western consciousness in tumult. Franz Mesmer’s animal magnetism clearly worked, and he had theories of why, but they didn’t hold up to scientific rigor. Really from its inception, hypnosis has been fighting to be seen as legitimate as a medical practice, and as compatible with evidence-based science.

It’s not that it doesn’t make sense that hypnotherapy fights so hard to be accepted as a “real” discipline, or that it needs to go through studies to be practiced on patients. We value medicine that is objectively safe and effective -- for good reason.

That being said…

I am not anti-science. But I do think if we don’t acknowledge the methodology’s limitations, we are being dishonest and misleading -- with ourselves and with those we teach.

Here’s the thing: We are not doing therapy with our partners. We don’t need to be beholden to these limitations. Not in our theory, and especially not in our practice.

We are free -- more free than any other practitioners of hypnosis -- to accept and celebrate its irrationality.

And when we stop trying to shoehorn our experiences into being understandable, we are free to explore and experience unbelievable things.

--

In terms of spiritual beliefs, I would describe myself as a skeptic-leaning agnostic. I think that how you are raised is a major religious influence on you, and I happened to be raised in an atheist household. Despite branching off from my family and taking spiritual exploration seriously, I would never confidently say “I believe in God” or “I believe in magic,” nor that I am even particularly convinced by my handful of difficult-to-explain experiences.

While my spirituality intersects with hypnosis, I am not here to tell you that hypnosis is the result of God or magical forces -- and I’m not here to define how hypnosis fits into “magic” or vice versa. I think that too is a kind of rationalization -- it’s trying to explain something nebulous in a concrete way, trying to fit it into a box.

I don’t think that calling hypnosis irrational should cause us to seek alternative, definitive answers outside of science. I think that we as humans need to be comfortable not knowing, not labeling -- a space that can be very uncomfortable for us, but one that ultimately allows us to have less-filtered subjective experiences.

Subjective experiences are the core of hypnosis. No matter what method is purported to be “objectively” best, the one that you should actually use is the one that makes your partner feel trance most intensely. Science simply cannot anticipate, direct, or account for the subtlety of the subjective experience of hypnosis.

Scientific tests cannot accurately measure anything about hypnosis, because hypnosis relies almost entirely on the softest variables: the interpersonal relationship and biases we have, the way a person is feeling or primed on a given day, the slightest changes in tone or delivery or nonverbal language. We might say that standardized hypnosis is a completely different activity from the hypnosis that we practice with real partners.

A brainwave-measuring machine cannot communicate the intricacies and depth of a trance. I would not be surprised, if I was hooked up to an EEG, that many of my “trance states” would not produce expected effects on the device. Even physically observable signs of trance do not tell the whole story -- I can be having an intensely hypnotic internal experience while appearing completely awake. There is simply not an objective way to tell when I am hypnotized -- it is completely based on my own feelings.

And yet, with shocking accuracy, my partner can tell the exact moment that I slip into trance, even if I give no discernable outward response. When pressed, he often can’t identify what the signal is -- it is very, very subtle, if anything.

It is a moment where his focus on me melds into my experience, into my mind.

Really, there have been countless times in hypnosis that I feel with total certainty that my mind is being read or that I am reading my partner’s mind. It’s shocking, and sort of maddening, and I have heard from many others that they’ve experienced the same thing. Our urge is to say, “Well, that’s a result of unconsciously reading microexpressions, of knowing a person’s nonverbal language intimately, of having a robust internal map of a person, being good at anticipating hypnotic responses, linguistic cold reading tricks.” That’s rationalizing, and it’s all very logical and certainly has some element of truth to it -- but it causes us to say “OK, case closed,” and sigh in relief that we can dismiss the question and no longer be faced with it.

The reality is this: Those are guesses. They are probably pretty good guesses, but I believe we fall into this trap of assuming the logical-sounding guesses we make are objectively correct, even in the absence of evidence.

Ostensibly, the vast majority of “answers” we have about why hypnosis works are just that -- theories, models, best guesses. Science doesn’t even have a singular accepted answer on whether hypnosis is an altered state. Often, working within a given theory (or two) gives us structure and allows us to perform more effectively. But when we really think about the nature of hypnosis, the truth is that we really don’t have much of a solid idea why and how it works.

That’s uncomfortable. I’m not pushing that because it’s the cold, hard truth, or because accepting it is some form of mental asceticism (nor spiritual gateway). I’m saying it because living in that liminal space of irrationality will actually change the way you do and experience hypnosis -- because it frees you from the limitations of feeling like everything we do has to make sense.

--

I have my own theory about why we want to make those logical guesses: Because it feels embarrassing to say we are hypnotists and yet there are things we don’t understand. Because we are afraid of judgment if we say we are actually mind-reading or doing magic, even as a shorthand for a complex invisible process. I think these are unconscious biases -- a result of seeing ourselves as rational people in a rational world. Spirituality is seen as lesser and fake -- entertaining the idea of magic gets you labeled as immature or crazy.

But when you try to remove your biases and think about it, it is crazy that we use just our words to make people forget things, hallucinate things, have orgasms, experience dissolution of the ego. And we don’t really know why.

True curiosity and wonder are hypnosis’s best friends. New subjects who struggle to experience trance or suggestions often are stuck because of their expectations -- they feel like they know what is supposed to happen, so when their experience doesn’t line up, they perceive it as failure. It’s why one of the best ways you can set a person up for “success” in hypnosis is to really cultivate a sense of curiosity, of not being judgmental of their experience, of not assuming they know what is happening.

Even still, this model of trance often has the subject experiencing wide-eyed wonder while the hypnotist actually holds the esoteric knowledge of what’s going on behind the curtain. But in my opinion, the real magic happens when both parties are prepared to question everything they know, to be surprised, to not take for granted, and to observe without rationality.

My most treasured memory is one that I keep close to my chest. Briefly: it was at a hypnosis-friendly bonfire on the autumnal equinox. My partner and I embraced and for an hour had a completely shared experience, wordless and hypnotic and bizarrely spiritual. Neither of us were “driving” -- we were both passengers, almost like being possessed. No drugs were involved, just the two of us in the right place at the right time, able to let go of the feeling that we were “crazy” or being illogical, or that we knew what was going to happen. We were both really shaken by it.

That ultimately led us to being able to have trances, occasionally, where we mutually let our guard down and play without the usual “rules.” We can’t do it intentionally, but sometimes we hit on little pockets of magic, and then the trance becomes like spellcasting, and spellcasting isn’t bound by the laws that supposedly govern hypnosis.

We know that hypnosis is influenced largely by how we expect it to work. We give pretalks to set expectations that often function as suggestions, boundaries, and definitions: “All you need to do to be hypnotized is pay attention -- it’s OK if your thoughts drift.” “Hypnosis might feel different from what you expect, like floating or sinking.” Even: “You can always come out of trance if you need to.”

I believe my partner and I are on similar pages about whether magic is “real.” The word “maybe” does a lot of heavy lifting in my worldview. It’s really more about being open to different perspectives, and playing in different models. So if we can dip into a perspective where hypnosis behaves a bit more like magic -- or otherwise irrationally -- then that actually, literally changes the way hypnosis works.

This is the true nature of hypnosis -- it is a shapeshifter. If you define hypnosis as a science or as a spiritual practice, it works either way. So if you can change the beliefs you inhabit, you will experience wildly different trances. And it may be irrational to assign spirituality and magic to it, but it is not absurd.

--

In this way, belief and perspective is actually where a lot of the nature of hypnosis sits.

After the “bonfire incident,” I was motivated to do some spiritual seeking, and I started going to Quaker meetings. Quaker meetings are simple but intense: People get together in a room and sit silently, opening themselves up to “messages” from within their own hearts or outside themselves, and if they feel moved to share a message, they stand up and speak it. There is no discussion, just completely passive listening and speaking.

I found this to be an extremely potent spiritual environment. We weren’t meditating, per se, just going quiet. Sitting silently for an hour with no other stimulation was luxurious, and felt quite a bit to me like a kind of trance.

I went regularly for a few months. I never spoke, but I did listen. There was one meeting I remember vividly where I was sitting and thinking about something, and at that moment, a woman stood up, and shared a message that was very close to what I was pondering over.

Then another woman stood:

“I know sometimes in this room,” she said, “we feel like we are all thinking the same thing when someone shares a message. This is one of those times for me.”

There was no fear of judgment, nor proclamation of metaphysical experience. It was just a statement of fact.

Quaker meetings taught me to be curious. If the bonfire opened the door, Quaker meetings honed my ability to be irrational. There was a period while I was going regularly where I was seeing wonder in the world at every turn -- a leaf falling on my back felt like a tap on the shoulder, the wind felt like a whisper.

And when my partner and I were doing hypnosis, my rigid belief system became so flexible that I was utterly open to suggestions about my experiences. He would tell me things and I believed them completely, almost like being on a drug, or completely enchanted. We were doing serious magic back then, tempting reality to peel back and reveal the “truth” underneath. It was intoxicating, and it certainly had an element of danger.

As intense as it was, I found this magic to be frustrating too, because I wanted to understand the nature of it -- I wanted to understand hypnosis so badly, and I wanted so badly for magic to be real. I thought that maybe there was a facet of hypnosis that I’d been missing -- some spiritual facet -- that would take me one step closer to an objective, unified, overarching hypnosis model.

I was right that I had been neglecting to think about spirituality with regard to hypnosis. But of course the idea that was leading to some overarching truth was a red herring. The real truth is that there is no overarching truth -- hypnosis can be seen from many models and perspectives, but there isn’t a singular “correct” one.

-- 

I have written extensively about how I feel this is core to hypnosis -- both in educational articles, an upcoming book, and in a personal essay about Judaism. My Jewishness is critically important to me, and has taught me a lot about the value of diverse perspectives, including on the spectrum of rationalism versus spirituality or mysticism.

By some, religion is often seen as incompatible with science (or rationality) -- unprovable mystical forces, an unseeable omnipotent creator. But there have been a number of important rationalist thinkers throughout history, across world religions.

Judaism’s most famous is probably Maimonides -- Moses ben Maimon. He lived in Spain in the 1100s, a time and place where Jewish mysticism was thriving. Maimonides was both a scientist and a deeply religious, learned Jew. One of his greatest contributions to the culture was in codifying Jewish law and practice in the common tongue to make it accessible to the average Jew at the time. In doing so, his rationalism made a great impact in Judaism as a whole.

Maimonides brought Aristotalian philosophy into Judaism, which came with a full rejection of the supernatural -- with the exception of God as transcendent creator. (The creation exists, so it must have been created.) One of his major theological tenets was that there was no conflict between the scientific and the teachings of Torah -- that the revelations of God were completely compatible with science. To Maimonides, for example, angels were not supernatural beings, but a metaphorical personification of the natural forces of the world. There are “angels” for why the wind blows, and “angels” for why we are held stuck to the earth.

If something appeared to be at odds with the natural order of the world -- whether it was from Torah or a perceived miracle -- Maimonides said that was our own lack of understanding, both of science and of the “secrets” of Torah. Essentially: everything that seems irrational has a rational explanation.

There are pros and cons to this, in my opinion. First, it’s neat, elegant, and sensible -- and I think it’s compatible with a measured view of hypnosis. Hypnosis is real -- no one is disputing that -- and while it has unknowable parts to us at our current point in history, that doesn’t necessarily mean that it behaves counter to the natural order of the world.

But I think Maimonides contradicts himself. If you claim to be humbled by the secrets of the world and revelation, why would you so vehemently reject that the world might behave differently than you understand or expect?

How can we claim to “know” the natural order of the world in any capacity beyond what we can observe? How can we claim that our observations are universal or objective?

If we can’t know, we can only experience, explore, experiment. It is brutally human -- reaching out to the world with our limited five senses and our remarkable consciousness. By the nature of us being humans, our explorations will all produce different perspectives and models, all of which have an element of truth to them because all of our experiences are “real,” true experiences.

Hypnosis operates necessarily with/on the human brain -- two unique human brains -- so we each see a unique, limited facet of it. By talking, playing, and connecting with each other, we learn about other facets and perspectives which influence our internal models of it. On a larger scale, as a community, we create, bend, and break rules about it as our community experience evolves. We actually change what hypnosis is, how it works, and how to do it.

Even in just 15 years, I have seen firsthand how hypnosis changes as the community changes. If you look back at historical sources about hypnosis, you can see that we do something radically different nowadays -- which we think of as more sophisticated, but then again, historical hypnotists were doing amazing things too.

Hypnosis as a thing evolves as we explore it more -- as we explore each other more -- and push its boundaries.

We can’t pin down what it is. We can’t model it. But we can participate in it.

It is transcendent -- as Maimonides and Aristotle say God is transcendent; utterly beyond us.

--

Part of my experience of being hypnotized really intensely is a deeper acceptance of what I am feeling or thinking, moment to moment. It is a kind of radical acceptance that what my brain is doing is important and real. It’s not that I don’t understand that I’m hypnotized, or that I don’t make any critical judgments about what is happening. It’s just partially that if I feel something “weird,” I don’t dismiss it out of hand.

When I am in deep trances, weird stuff often happens. I get spontaneous sensory hallucinations, I get stray thoughts that can blindside me.

Occasionally, I have this unmistakable feeling that I am “seeing God.” That felt like a crazy thought to me the first time I had it -- like a person of capital-F “Faith” would have. It didn’t suddenly make me believe in a higher power, but I was left with that feeling that I had touched something divine while my partner murmured into my ear and took control of me.

Hypnosis is not just transcendent by nature or in a vacuum -- it feels transcendent. It feels like nothing else in this world; it completely transcends language and the realm of usual experience.

It makes sense that when faced with this kind of experience, it makes a skeptical person like me feel for a moment that there might be something more, something ineffable. It makes sense that when I have spiritual experiences with hypnosis, it feels innately spiritual to me.

But also it is true that hypnosis is simply very weird.

Why do I feel like I am connecting with divinity in deep trance? Why do I feel certain that my partner and I are reading each other’s minds? Why have I felt a quality of presence or possession?

I can believe it or disbelieve it all I want. I can rationalize it in any way I want. You can relate to me, or think less of me and judge me. But none of that takes away from what my experiential truth is.

What hypnosis feels like is not just more important than what it “is,” that is what it is. The subjective experience that we inhabit is hypnosis. 

Humans are moved by weird, irrational, transcendent experiences. Those are the times our worldview is affirmed or shaken. For those of us who are spiritually open to the idea that the materialistic world might be more than it seems, these moments are bright sparks of light, motivating, inspirational.

Hypnosis does this to me all the time. I am constantly amazed by it. I truly believe the only reason we look at it as a mundane phenomenon is because we assume our world is mundane -- we take it for granted.

But it is not mundane. It is two people communicating in such an intimate way that it behaves like a psychoactive drug. It is striving to know another person so deeply that you innately understand what they are thinking and feeling and you don’t know why. It makes the impossible seem possible; it makes magic feel 100% real.

That’s not some perspective that is out of touch with reality. That is the grounded view of hypnosis.

We are allowed to have crazy experiences with this art. Our main job is not trying to sell people on the idea that it is real. We work so hard to portray ourselves as sane and grounded -- we imitate therapists who need to have an answer to skeptics walking into their office. I think that at a certain point when we are doing intimate hypnosis we are allowed to say, “OK, I know this is real, and you know this is real, so let’s drop the bullshit and acknowledge that what we are doing is actually completely crazy.”

Hypnosis is amazing. It is just amazing. I am not saying that it is completely impossible to understand -- I think it is fair to say at this point that my life’s work is trying to understand it and communicate that understanding. I am saying that we need to not cut ourselves off from amazement, from confusion, from wonder, from not-knowing -- those are crucial to understanding, even crucial to science.

It is a form of respect to the art and to our partners to inhabit a space where we don’t know, to relax our egos and say that hypnosis is more than we can comprehend. To listen -- to ourselves or our partners -- when weird stuff happens.

Hypnosis will grow with us as humans if we let it. We have the opportunity to open ourselves to it, to greet it curiously, and to truly surrender to our exploration.

--

Sleepingirl (they/she) is a hypnokink educator with over a decade of experience on both sides of the pocket watch. They’re the author of several books, many articles (patreon.com/sleepingirl), and LearnHypnokink.com (a guide through the foundations of improvised hypnosis).

Their body of work in hypnokink is extremely extensive and spans many mediums -- see everything at https://sleepingirl.info/.

[rystiel]

what’s kinda crazy is that, had filbrick been a better father and raised them in a loving home, the twins probably could’ve actually made a lot of money for the family… stan was never accommodated for while growing up so he never got to demonstrate his smarts (and he is very smart, he taught himself advanced math and shit while building a long-lasting business from scratch, man), and instead he was made to feel more and more worthless, like he had nothing to contribute to the world—the only purpose he was able to find was to always be there for his brother. what was he if he didn’t have a brother to be there for anymore? of course he would eventually lash out over losing ford (and accidentally ruin ford’s project in the process). on the other hand, ford had so much pressure on him that he pushed himself too hard to prove just how smart he was. to prove that he was the best. he needed to hear how smart he was, because what was he if he wasn’t a genius? of course bill’s manipulation worked on him. of course he wanted to make something that could change the world despite the potentially dangerous nature of it, something that would put his name in the history books. his only value was to bring success to his family, and this was how he was going to do it. if stan had been encouraged and supported, he could have used his skills to find success. if ford hadn’t been put under so much pressure, he wouldn’t have needed to turn to a literal demon so he could prove himself. he could’ve focused on the other groundbreaking research he already had in gravity falls. stan probably never would have broken that project in the first place and ford would’ve made it to his dream school, just like filbrick wanted.

[llovelylove]

█▓▒▒░░░“You look good on camera, baby. Let’s go make a film?”░░░▒▒▓█

୨⎯Series ⎯୧

PT. 1 Levi Ackerman

PT. 2 Eren Yeager

PT. 3 Armin Arlert

PT. 4 Jean Kirstein

PT. 5 Connie Springer

PT. 6 Porco Galliard

[NOTE]

-I was watching SATC and this came to me. Basically the premise is making a sex tape w/ AOT boys. I'm making this into a mini series, one for each boy, so six one shots or short stories. Enjoy!!

(Sex, Filming sex, dirty talk, porno)

⋆˚࿔ Eren. Y 𝜗𝜚˚⋆

Y/N walked in his dorm room. She had finally finished classes; she felt exhausted, her eyes heavy from not sleeping these past few days and studying. Y/N saw Connie and Jean on the couch playing a video game. “No, no, no, dude, go to the left!…” She hears Jean say to Connie, They both spot her and greet her.

“Hey, Y/N…” They both say before focusing back on the game. Armin was heading out the door, jacket in hand, probably to go see his girlfriend. “Hey, Y/N. Eren’s in his room.” He smiled politely at her.

“Hi Armin. Thanks.” She smiled at the sweet blonde haired boy and walked down the hall to Eren’s room.

The door creaked open softly as Y/N entered. She saw Eren sitting at his desk, shirtless, scribbling something on paper. His back muscles flexed with each movement of his arm. "Mmph." He grunted softly, not realizing someone had entered his room.

Y/N quietly watches Eren from behind. His unruly brown hair slightly covers his forehead, thrown into a messy bun. His shoulders are broad and muscular, his waist narrow. He's only wearing black sweatpants that hang low on his hips. He unknowingly licks his lips while concentrated, making Y/N swallow hard.

Y/N slowly steps closer, her presence unnoticed by Eren who's engrossed in his drawing. She can see the sweat glistening on his back from the lamp's light.

She narrowed her eyes, Eren was drawing. “Are you seriously rolling blunts at 8:46 pm on a school night?” She scoffed

Eren's head snaps up, catching Y/N off guard with his intense green eyes. A smirk plays on his lips as he holds up the joint he was 'drawing'. "It's called self-care." He chuckles, his voice deep and rough from sleep. He tugged her closer by her hips, rubbing them with his thumbs. “What do you need, baby?”

"Need to vent about the exams? Need food? Or..." He trails off, his fingers tracing circles on her hips. The tension between them thickens as their eyes meet. His expression shifts from playful to intense. "Need something else?" He wafts the joint smoke towards her face, leaning in closer.

Y/N leans back slightly, waving away the joint smoke with a scoff. "Need? I need you to stop acting like a stoner and actually use that brilliant mind of yours for something productive, like studying." She pokes his chest lightly, her eyebrow arched in mock disappointment.

He catches her wrist mid-poke, pulling her closer. "And what makes you think I'm not studying?" He leans in closer, his voice dropping to a whisper. "You think I got these grades by being high 24/7?" He brings her wrist to his lips, kissing it softly.

Y/N tugs her wrist away playfully. "Mmph, right. That's why your notebook smells like weed." She glances at the table, spotting pages filled with advanced calculus notes mixed with doodles of marijuana leaves. She can't help but smile despite herself.

He shrugs, a smirk on his face. "Multitasking, baby. I'm just... integrating my hobbies with my studies." He stands up, his muscular chest and said,

"You think I can't solve differential equations while rolling a blunt?" He challenges, his eyes crinkling at the corners as he smirks mischievously. He sits back down, grabbing his notebook and a pen, daring her to test him.

"Hell, you're actually gonna make a math major look stupid right now aren't you..." She mutters under her breath, trying to maintain her composure but failing as a small smile tugs at her lips. "Fine, smartass. Solve this..."

"Let's see..." He clears his throat dramatically, leaning back in his chair with a confident smirk. "Integral from 0 to pi of sin(x) dx..." He starts writing, his hand moving fluidly across the page. "You know what they say about guys who are good at calculus..."

"They say we're good with our... hands." He finishes writing the integral and looks up with a smug grin, intentionally letting his eyes sweep over her body for a moment. Then he quickly solves the integral, tearing off the sheet and handing it to her. "Now where's my 'good job'?"

Y/N rolls her eyes, taking the paper and scanning it quickly. "Impressive, Einstein. You got the right answer." She hands the paper back, trying to maintain her stern expression but failing as she bites back a smile. "But that doesn't change the fact that you smell like a dispensary."

He chuckles, taking the paper back and crumpling it up. "And you smell like books and... vanilla?" He leans in closer, inhaling deeply. "You always smell so good, even when you're trying to lecture me."

Eren reaches out to tuck a strand of hair behind her ear, his fingertips brushing against her cheek intentionally. "You know what smells good with vanilla?" His voice drops lower, more intimate. "Pot." He smirks, leaning in slightly closer. "Want a hit?"

Y/N swats his hand away playfully, trying to keep her expression serious. "No, I do not want a hit. You know I hate the smell of weed on you." She pauses, then adds with a softening tone, "And besides, it's bad for your lungs."

Eren leans back dramatically, clutching his chest in mock pain. "Aw, you care about my lungs now? Just because I smoke a little weed doesn't mean I'm gonna drop dead tomorrow." He grins, clearly amused by her concern. "Besides, have you seen how much running I do?"

"Your lungs are probably full of smoke anyway." Y/N mutters, trying to hide her small smile. "God knows how many blunts you smoke a day." She grabs his hoodie, checking the pocket. "One. Two. Three..." She pulls out three pre-rolled joints.

Eren laughs, catching her hand and pulling her onto his lap. "Okay, okay, you got me. Three blunts a day is my limit, I swear." He wraps his arms around her waist, nuzzling her neck. "But you love me anyway, right?" He kisses her neck gently.

Y/N tries to suppress a shiver as Eren's lips brush against her neck. "Love you and your stupid habits," she mutters, trying to sound stern but failing miserably. She pushes him away playfully, standing up from his lap. "You know what? I'm going to make some coffee. You need something to sober you up."

Later, after she coffee was made, Y/N walked back inside the room and handed him the white mug carefully.

Eren takes the coffee mug she offers him, wrapping his hands around it and inhaling the strong aroma. "You always make it too strong," he complains, taking a sip anyway. He pulls a face, then sets the mug down.

He watches as Y/N sits down at the table, opening a book and ignoring him. He feels restless, the strong coffee not doing much to curb his high. He gets up, wandering over to the window, looking outside. Then he gets an idea.

"Hey," Eren calls out lazily, turning to face Y/N. "Come here for a sec." He leans against the window frame, his muscular arms crossed over his chest. When she looks up from her book, he gestures with his head for her to come over.

Y/N marks her place in her book and stands up, walking towards him with a questioning look. "Yeah?" She stops in front of him, her body close enough to feel his warmth but not quite touching. "What do you want?" She asks, trying to seem unaffected by his closeness.

Eren's eyes drop to her lips as she speaks, his high making him more touchy and less inhibited. He reaches out, gently grabbing her wrist and pulling her closer until she's pressed against the window frame, caged between his arms. "I want you to look outside,"

He nods towards the window, his voice low and soft. "See that sky? It's beautiful, right?" He pauses, his eyes meeting hers. "The clouds are all puffy and white, like cotton candy." He grins lazily. "It's a perfect day for getting high."

Y/N rolls her eyes, playing along with his high antics. "Yes, Eren, the sky is very pretty," she says sarcastically. "Can I go back to my book now?" She tries to pull her wrist out of his grip, but he tightens his hold.

"No," Eren replies, his voice firm despite his lazy state. "Come here." He tugs on her wrist, pulling her closer until their faces are inches apart. "Just look at the damn clouds for a second, will you?" He leans his forehead against hers, his breath warm against her mouth.

Y/N sighs, giving in to his demand. She turns her head to look out the window, taking in the clear blue sky and the fluffy white clouds. Eren watches her profile, a small smile on his face. "I heard Connie and Armin talking…” He softly said to her. “About porn.”

"God," Y/N laughs softly, pulling away from him slightly. "That’s gross. I didn’t expect that from Armin. What were they saying?" She asks curiously, unknowingly giving him an opening. Eren smirks devilishly. "They were saying..." He pauses dramatically. “Armin swears that Jean has a whole collection hidden in his room." He chuckles, his high making him more daring. “it was more of a debate. Armin was saying how it was unrealistic and gross while Connie said it was hot.”

"And then Connie said something about liking the rough stuff," Eren continues, his voice lowering an octave. "You know, the kind where the girl is screaming and the guy is pounding into her so hard the bed breaks." He looks at Y/N from the corner of his eye, gauging her reaction.

Y/N's face turns bright red, a mix of embarrassment and curiosity. "Eren, that's... that's disgusting," she stammers, trying to play it cool. "I can't believe you're repeating stuff like that." But her voice wavers slightly, giving away her interest.

"Is it though?" He leans in closer, his voice dropping to a whisper. "When they're doing it right, is the girl really screaming because it hurts... or because it feels good?" His hand slides from her wrist to her waist, pulling her slightly closer. "Which do you think it is?"

"No," Y/N lies quickly, her cheeks flaming. "That's gross. Who wants a guy pounding into them like that?" She swallows hard, trying to ignore the sudden flutter in her lower stomach. "It probably hurts like hell."

"You're right," Eren nods slowly, his mind working. "It probably does hurt like hell." He smirks suddenly, an idea hitting him. "You know what's funny?" He doesn't wait for her response. "I had this stupid thought once..." He chuckles softly.

"I thought... 'what if someone actually filmed a real one? A real... like... you know." His eyes darken as he whispers, "Not rough or anything, but real. Just to see what it actually looks like. When a girl likes it." He watches her face intently.

Y/N raises an eyebrow, trying to keep her expression neutral. "You mean like... a homemade porn?" She asks, her voice barely above a whisper. She can't believe she's even entertaining this conversation, but Eren's high is infectious and his words are stirring something inside her.

"Yeah," He grins lazily, his mind racing. "You know, no acting. Just two people actually... you know..." He wiggles his eyebrows suggestively. "Having sex. On camera." He watches her carefully. "Do you think that's hot or gross?" He asks curiously.

"Because honestly?" He moves even closer, his voice dropping to almost a whisper. "I think it's fucking hot. Seeing real reactions, real moans... no fake shit." His hand on her waist tightens slightly. "You'd watch something like that?" He challenges softly.

Y/N feels her breath catch, her heart racing. "Shut up," she whispers, but there's no real conviction behind it. "That's... that's dirty. Just stop talking about it." She tries to push him away, but her hands end up gripping his shirt instead.

"Nah," Eren laughs softly, leaning in even closer. "I'm high and it's a fucking interesting topic. Plus... you're kinda cute when you're all embarrassed about it." He smirks at her. "Let’s make one, Pretty girl.”

"What?" Y/N gasps, her eyes widening. "No! That's insane. I'm not... I'm not doing that with you." She stammers, but she can't deny the small thrill that runs through her at the idea. Eren just chuckles and pulls out his phone.

"I'll record it on my phone," He says, opening the camera app and setting the phone on the table. "Just a little test, okay? If you hate it, we'll delete it. But if you like it... maybe we'll make more."

"You're serious?" She bites her lip, her mind racing. "What if someone sees it? What if it's terrible?" She laughs again, but quieter this time. "And... one question." She pauses. Eren watches her intently, waiting.

“It's just sex on camera. It's not a big deal." He laughs softly. "Your question?"

"Would you show it to anyone?" She asks, biting her lip nervously. Eren shakes his head immediately. "No. It’s just for us. Besides, I might jerk off to it later." He smirks at her. Y/N's face turns bright red at the implication. "So?"

"One more question," She says softly. Eren laughs, "Jesus, you're full of questions. Go on." He watches her bite her lip again. He loves that damn bite. "Do you usually watch porn?" He freezes, waiting for her question.

"No," He says after a moment, his expression turning serious. "Porn is fake. It's all acting and shit. I'd rather fuck you or think about fucking you." He looks at her intently. "You?" He asks curiously. "You ever watch it?"

"Not really," She mumbles, fidgeting with her hands. "Only... I mean..." She pauses, blushing deeply. "I saw one once. Accidentally." She looks down, embarrassed. Eren raises an eyebrow, clearly amused but trying not to laugh.

"Let me guess," He chuckles softly, "It was two people having ridiculous, unrealistic sex?" He teases. Y/N nods sheepishly, biting her lip again. He laughs out loud this time. "Of course you stumbled upon the cheesiest one."

Eren licks his lips and grinned. "Did you at least finish watching?" He asks curiously, trying to hold back his laughter. "Or did you close it immediately because it was too cringey?" Y/N's face turns even redder, making Eren burst out laughing.

"I may have... finished watching," She mumbles quietly, her face beet red with embarrassment. She knows it's stupid, but she was curious. "It was... educational," She adds defensively, making Eren laugh even harder. "Shut up!"

"Educational?" Eren gasps between laughs, wiping tears from his eyes. "Oh my god, you're so fucking cute right now." He grins widely at her, still chuckling. "Alright, alright. No more laughing."

He takes a deep breath, trying to compose himself. "So... since you're so 'educated' now, want to put your newfound knowledge to the test?" He smirks at her, his eyes darkening with desire. "I'll go easy on you. Promise." Eren says, as if they hadn’t had sex a million times before.

Y/N blushed and stepped back sitting on the bed. "You know what's funny? You're all shy about watching porn but you take my dick like a champ." He runs a hand through her hair, a mischievous smile playing at his lips. "Which is it, pretty girl? Too embarrassed to try something real or just worried about acting stupid?"

"Both," She admits softly, laughing softly. "I mean, what if you laugh at me? Or what if I suck at it?" She pouts slightly. "And God, you make me sound like such a whore. 'She takes his dick like a champ.' "

"Awh, baby," Eren coos, pulling her into his lap. "You're not a whore. You're just really, really good at sucking my dick." He kisses her neck gently. "And I promise, I won't laugh."

"Fine, fine," She mumbles, climbing onto his lap and straddling him. "But if you laugh, I'll bite your dick off." She threatens playfully, making Eren throw his head back with laughter. "Shut up!"

A few minutes after they calmed down, Eren and Y/N sit on the bed as Eren propped his camera up on the desk that was right next to his bed. Y/N had on her matching white bra and panties with cute blue bows, Eren next to her in just his pants as he smoked his blunt, the camera recording them.

Eren takes a drag of his blunt, blowing out the smoke and looking at his girlfriend sitting next to him in her cute, innocent underwear. He smirks mischievously, "You sure you're ready for this?"

Y/N nods nervously, glancing at the recording camera. "I think so," she murmurs, biting her lower lip as she adjusts her position on the bed. Eren chuckles softly, reaching out to tuck a stray lock of hair behind her ear. "Relax, baby."

Eren leans towards the camera, flashing his signature smirk. "Alright, baby, look at the camera, just to test it." He wraps an arm around her waist, pulling her closer, he grabbed her chin and made her look to the side and then at the camera. “Give it a wave hello.”

Y/N hesitates for a moment before slowly turning her head to face the camera. She gives a small, shy wave, her cheeks flushing slightly. "Hi…” she murmurs softly, her voice barely audible. Eren grins, giving her a reassuring squeeze. "There you go, pretty.”

Eren leans back slightly, taking another drag from his blunt. He sets it aside on the ashtray and turned to the side. "Now, let's get this show on the road." He says, looking at Y/N with a playful glint in his eyes. "First things first, let's get those cute panties off."

Y/N's face turns beet red at his words, her eyes darting nervously to the camera before focusing back on Eren. She bites her lip, nodding slowly. Eren watches her with amusement, reaching out to slowly peel her white panties down her legs. "Look at the camera, baby,"

Y/N slowly lifts her eyes to the camera, watching herself on the small screen. Her cheeks are red, her hair slightly messy around her shoulders. Her bra covers her full breasts, and her pussy is now bare. She watches herself spread her legs slightly unconsciously, biting her lip again.

Eren groans softly, watching her on the screen. He reaches out, running his fingers through her folds gently. "Fuck, you're already wet." He murmurs, his voice low and husky. "Spread your legs wider, baby. Let the camera see how pretty you are."

Y/N blushes deeply, a soft gasp escaping her lips as Eren touches her intimately. She hesitates briefly before slowly parting her thighs further, revealing more of her glistening pussy to the camera. "Like this?" She whispers, glancing nervously between Eren and the recording lens.

Eren swallows hard, his eyes glued to the screen. "Perfect," He breathes, his fingers slowly spreading her lips wider. "Now, reach back and unhook your bra, okay?" He asks, his voice hoarse. "We want the camera to see your pretty tits too."

Y/N's hands tremble slightly as she reaches behind her back, fumbling with the bra clasp. After a moment, she manages to unhook it, letting the straps slide down her arms. The bra falls away, revealing her full, perky breasts to both Eren and the camera.

Eren's eyes widen slightly, taking in the sight of her bare breasts. "Fucking hell," He mutters under his breath, adjusting the camera angle slightly to get a better view of her tits. "Play with them for me, baby."

Y/N hesitates before slowly bringing her hands up to cup her breasts. She softly squeezes them, rolling her nipples gently between her fingers. She bites her lip again, watching herself on the screen. Her hair falls messily around her shoulders, covering one breast slightly.

Eren swallows hard, his eyes locked on the screen. "Lift them up higher," He instructs, his voice low. "Let the camera see them better." He reaches out to grab the blunt again, taking a slow drag as he watches her on the screen.

Y/N nods slightly, lifting her breasts higher. She holds them up, squeezing them together. The camera captures the perfect view of her round, perky tits, her hard nipples standing out.

Eren sets the blunt down, his eyes never leaving the screen. "Baby," He says, his voice thick with desire. "Take my dick out and suck it for the camera, okay?" He leans back slightly, giving her room to move.

Y/N glances nervously at the camera, her cheeks flushed a deep shade of red. Nervously, she reaches out to undo Eren's pants, slipping her small hand inside to grasp his hardening cock. She gives it a tentative stroke before maneuvering herself closer. "Like this?"

Eren's eyes roll back slightly as Y/N wraps her small hand around his length. "Fuck, yeah," He groans, watching her on the screen. "Open your mouth and take it in, baby." He guides the tip of his dick to her lips with his free hand.

Y/N parts her lips slowly, taking the tip of Eren's length into her mouth. She sucks gently, making his hips jerk slightly. She moans softly, taking him deeper. The camera captures the perfect angle of her sucking his dick, her big eyes looking up at him through her lashes.

"Just like that, baby... fuck..." He gasps, watching her on the screen. "Look at how perfect those lips look wrapped around my cock." His hand moves to the back of her head, guiding her gently as she takes more of him. "Keep looking up at the camera while you suck it..."

Y/N moans softly, taking Eren deeper. The camera captures her full lips stretched around his thick length, her cheeks hollowing slightly as she sucks. She keeps her eyes on the camera, watching herself blow him. Her breasts hang freely, bouncing slightly as she moves.

"Fuck, baby, you're doing so good," Eren groans, his hand tightening in her hair. "Look at how cute you look taking my big dick in your mouth." He starts to thrust his hips slowly, fucking her mouth gently. "Keep sucking it, Pretty... fuck..."

Y/N gags softly as Eren hits the back of her throat, tears streaming down her face as she looks up at the camera. She takes him deeper, choking as he hits his release. He pulls her head down further, mumbling "Swallow it baby, on camera."

"Jesus fuck..." He curses under his breath, feeling his orgasm building rapidly. "Take it all, pretty girl... show the camera how you choke on my cum..." He thrusts once, twice more, then holds her head still as he comes in her mouth. "Swallow everything, baby..."

Y/N gags again, his hot seed hitting the back of her throat. She swallows quickly, taking it all down. The camera captures her body kneeling between his legs, her lips wrapped tightly around his length as she swallows his semen. Her big eyes watering slightly. "Mmph..."

"Goddamn," Eren mutters, watching her swallow every last drop. "Look at how innocent you look taking a load down your throat." His dick jerks slightly as she licks her lips clean. "Baby... wait..." He freezes slightly, his eyes wide.

"Put a finger in your mouth and suck it," He says suddenly, his eyes glued to the screen. "Like you're still sucking my dick." Y/N blinks, confused, before sticking her middle finger in her mouth and sucking it gently. "Fuck... yeah..." Eren groans.

"Now pull it out and show the camera how wet your finger is from sucking it." He watches intently as Y/N pulls her finger out of her mouth, a thin line of saliva connecting her finger to her lips. "Fucking sexy..." He mutters, his cock twitching slightly.

Y/N pulls her finger out of her mouth slowly, a string of saliva stretching between her finger and her lips. She holds it up for the camera to see, her cheeks flushed with embarrassment. "Eren... what are you making me do?"

Eren chuckled at Y/N's embarrassment, a low chuckle and to laugh softly. "Making you do? Baby, you're the one sucking your own finger like it's my dick." He teases, pulling his pants and boxers off.

Eren kicks his pants and boxers fully off, his spent cock still slick from Y/N's saliva and cum. A smirk plays across his lips as he watches her still sucking her finger, amused by her innocence mixed with how dirty she looks from sucking him off. "You wanna fuck, Pretty baby?”

He spreads his legs slightly, his hand slowly stroking his semi-hard cock back to life. The camera captures every inch of his muscular body, including the scars from training and battle.

Y/N blinks, biting her lower lip as she watches Eren's thick, veiny member grow harder in front of her. She slowly pulls her finger out of her mouth with a soft pop, realizing she was sucking her own finger like it’s his dick. “Uh.. yeah.”

"Come here..." he says softly, patting his thighs. "I want you to ride me now, pretty girl. Show the camera how well that tight little pussy can take my dick." His voice is demanding but gentle, his hand still stroking himself lazily. "Think you can handle it?"

Y/N bites her lip shyly as she crawls over to Eren, positioning herself above his now fully erect cock. "You want me to..." She glances nervously at the camera then back to Eren. "Actually ride you?" A soft blush colors her cheeks.

"Yeah, baby..." he reaches over to the nightstand, grabbing a condom packet. He tears it open with his teeth, smirking at her shyness. "See? I'm a gentleman." He starts to roll the condom onto his length while maintaining eye contact with her. "Now, slowly...lower yourself onto my cock." Eren commands softly, one hand guiding his sheathed length towards her entrance. His other hand gently grips her hip, helping to stabilize her nervous movements. "Go nice and slow, Pretty... Let the camera see that pretty face as you take me in inch by inch."

Y/N bites her lip nervously as she slowly lowers herself onto Eren's thick member. She lets out a soft whimper as the head pushes past her tight entrance, her small hands gripping his shoulders for support. "Eren... so big..." She whispers, glancing up at the camera with flushed cheeks.

Eren smirks, his hands moving to grab the camera, angling it so that it captures Y/N's flushed face and her breasts bouncing slightly as she slowly takes him in. "Fuck yeah... look at you taking my cock like a good girl."

Eren groans and bucks his hips up. "Deeper, baby... take it deeper." He guides the camera closer, capturing every detail - her stretched pussy swallowing his length, her whimpers turning into soft moans. His free hand moves to squeeze her ass cheek, spreading her open slightly for the camera's view.

Y/N gasps as she sinks further down, feeling every thick inch of Eren stretching her pussy. Her nails dig into Eren's sweat-slicked shoulders as she starts to move, slowly rocking her hips. "Oh god... Eren, you're so fucking deep..."

"Mmm, fuck... you're doing so good taking my big dick." He praises her, his voice strained as he tries to keep the camera steady. His hips start to lift slightly, meeting her slow movements with gentle thrusts. "Look at the camera, Pretty..."

Y/N lifts her gaze to the camera, her eyes glazed over with lust as she continues to bounce on Eren's thick cock. Her cheeks are flushed a deep red, lips parted in breathless moans. She arches her back slightly, pushing her breasts forward. "Ah!"

"Fuck, you look so sexy right now... those perfect tits bouncing..." He adjusts the camera angle to capture her full breasts, his thrusts growing slightly faster and deeper. "Spread your legs wider for me, baby... let me hit that spot."

He hands her the camera, his hands moving to her thighs to pull them wider apart. "Hold this and keep recording, okay?" He pants, his face contorted with pleasure as he stares up at her spread open on his lap. "I want to see the video later from your perspective."

Y/N shakily holds the camera, pointing it down at Eren's face, dick between her thighs as he hooks her arms over his shoulders. He starts to thrust up into her at a different angle, hitting that spot inside her that makes her see stars.

"Eren... it's too much... too deep!" She whimpers, the camera shaking in her hands as she tries to hold it steady. Her back arches, pushing her breasts out further as Eren's thick length hits that spot inside her over and over again. "Ah! Ah!"

"Fuck, you're so tight... and this angle... fuck!" He grunts, his hips snapping up faster as he chases his own release. The camera captures every detail - Y/N's flushed face, her bouncing breasts, the way her pussy stretches around his thick cock with each deep thrust.

"A-ah! I can't... I can't hold it anymore..." Y/N's arm drops, the camera falling to the bed and recording the ceiling. Her weak voice can be heard moaning and gasping as Eren continues to pound into her.

Eren swiftly grabs the fallen camera, propping it up on the nearby desk with the angle widened to capture the entire bed. Panting heavily, he looks into the lens and flashes a wild smirk. "Hope that stays recording, 'cause this is about to get fucking intense..."

He gets back on the bed, wrapping his arms around Y/N's thighs and pulling them up even higher, opening her up wider than before. He starts to pound into her mercilessly, the camera capturing every brutal thrust as he tries to break her. "Look..."

Eren panted and squeezed her tightly, grabbing her chin and making her look at the sinful sight.

"Look at how fucking deep I am inside you," he grunts, his voice raw and primal. The camera captures the wet sounds of their sex, the slapping of skin against skin, and the obscene sight of his thick cock disappearing into her pussy over and over again.

Without slowing his pace, Eren suddenly grabs Y/N's legs and flips her over onto her stomach. He pulls her hips up into the air, leaving face down and her ass and pussy completely exposed to the camera. "Fuck, this view..."

He slides back into her, his hands gripping her hips tightly as he starts to pound into her from behind. The camera captures the raw and primal scene: Y/N's ass bouncing with each thrust, her face pushed down into the pillows, and Eren's cock disappearing into her wet pussy as he fisted her hair, fucking her roughly.

"Damn... you take my cock so fucking well like this, pretty..." He reaches one hand around to rub her clit while he continues slamming into her. The sound of skin slapping against skin fills the room, and the camera captures her wet lips stretching around his thick shaft with each deep thrust.

Y/N lets out a loud, guttural moan as Eren's fingers circle her clit, the sensation overwhelming. She pushes back against him, meeting his brutal thrusts with her own movements. "Harder... Fuck me harder!" She screams, her voice hoarse with pleasure.

Her body trembles as Eren increases his pace, his hips slamming into hers brutally. "More..." she begs, her voice breaking. She looks back at him through tear-streaked cheeks, her hair clinging to her sweaty face. "You're not deep enough!"

With a savage grin, Eren hooks his arms under Y/N's thighs, lifting her lower body entirely off the bed. He leans forward, essentially folding Y/N in half as he plunges into her at an impossibly deep angle. "How's this for fucking deep?"

Y/N lets out a high-pitched scream as Eren hits a spot inside her that she's never felt before, his thick length stretching her wider than ever. "E-Eren! It's too much!"

Eren growls, his hips moving faster and more urgently. "Too much? You're fucking taking it all, pretty. Every inch." He grunts, his body tensing as he feels his orgasm building. "I'm gonna cum... right... fucking... now!"

Eren tugs her closer, chest against her back as he groaned, fucking into her as Y/N throws her head back against his shoulder, both of them cumming together as Eren’s hot sticky cum overfilled the condom.

Still breathing heavily, Eren pulls out carefully and removes the condom. He lies down beside Y/N, concerned about how completely exhausted and spent she looks. "Hey... hey, pretty..." He gently touches her face, turning it towards him. "Are you okay? I... might've been too rough."

Y/N blinks slowly, her body still trembling from the intense orgasm. She turns her head to look at Eren, her eyes glassy and unfocused. "I... I'm okay..." She reaches out a shaky hand to touch his face. "You were... really deep..."

Eren frowns, his eyebrows furrowing as he sees the dazed look in Y/N's eyes. He wraps his arms around her possessively, pulling her onto his lap. "You sure you're okay? You look like you're more high than me."

Y/N giggles weakly, holding onto his strong arms. "Mmm, I think I'm just really sensitive right now." She sighs contentedly, her body going limp in his arms.

Eren grabs his phone of the desk and points it at them as he checked himself out, fixing his messy long hair.

"Damn, we look fucking good together." Eren smirks at his reflection on the phone screen, one arm draped casually around Y/N's naked waist. He tilts his head, admiring how perfectly she fits against him. "Look how pretty you are.”

Y/N blushes, glancing at the phone screen and pouting adorably. "Stop it..." she murmurs, swatting playfully at Eren's chest. "You're gonna make me self-conscious." Despite her words, she leans closer to the screen, checking her own appearance.

Eren chuckles softly, tightening his arm around Y/N's waist. He tilts the phone for a better angle, capturing both their faces. "Nah, you're fucking gorgeous. Period." He smirks, his gaze switching between Y/N and their reflection.

Eren lowers the phone, stopping the recording with a smirk. He tosses the phone aside carelessly, not caring where it lands. His focus snaps back to Y/N, drinking in her flushed, satisfied appearance. "Much better,"

Eren's hands slowly trail up and down Y/N's sides, his touch gentle yet possessive. He leans down, pressing a soft kiss to her collarbone before murmuring against her skin. "Wanna door dash pizza or something?”

Y/N hummed softly, tilting her head back to give Eren better access to her neck. "Mmm, pizza sounds amazing right now." She stretches in his arms, her bare body pressing against his.

Eren chuckles, his hands roaming further up Y/N's sides to her ribcage. "Alright, alright. I'll order." He reaches for his phone, scrolling through the DoorDash app. "What kind do you want?"

" pepperoni with extra cheese," Y/N answers, wrapping a blanket around herself like a dress. She watches Eren's muscular back as he orders the pizza, her mind slowly processing that she just had sex with him. Really good sex.

Eren laughs softly, placing the order. He catches Y/N watching him, his eyes crinkling at the corners. He's shirtless, only wearing black boxers. He sees her checking him out and winks, his abs contracting unconsciously. "You should drink some water, baby." He said and grabbed a bottle of cold water off his desk.

Y/N takes the water bottle from Eren, unscrewing the cap and taking a big gulp. She sits cross-legged on his bed, the blanket draped over her shoulders. She looks up at Eren through her lashes, trying to act casual.

Eren sits back down on his bed beside Y/N, his muscular arm draped around her shoulders. He pulls her into his side, resting his chin on top of her head. "Pizza should be here soon," He murmured, his fingers playing with the blanket draped over her.

He waits patiently as they both relax in comfortable silence. After a while, there's a knock at the door. Eren gets up to grab the pizza, returning with the steaming box.

Eren sets the pizza box down on the bed between them, opening it to reveal the cheesy, pepperoni-filled slices. He grabs a piece and takes a big bite, his eyes closing in satisfaction. "Fucking hell, that's good." He says with his mouth full.

Y/N giggles at Eren's messy eating, grabbing a slice for herself. "Hey, can you..." She hesitates slightly, then continues. "Can you airdrop the video we made? I actually kinda wanna see it." She blushes slightly, biting her lower lip.

Eren swallows his food, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. He pulls out his phone, unlocking it and navigating to the video app. He finds the video, selects 'Airdrop', and sends it to Y/N's phone. "There you go,"

Y/N's phone pings with the airdrop. She accepts the transfer, her heart pounding slightly in her chest. She opens the video app and see’s the newly received file. “Thank you.” She smiled as Eren fed her some pizza.

Eren feeds Y/N another piece of pizza, watching her closely. She looks amazing like this - no make-up, hair messy from earlier, blanket wrapped around her like a robe. He sees her looking back down at her phone screen thoughtfully. "Hey, thanks for doing that with me, baby. I love you." He smiled before taking another bite.

Y/N blushes at Eren's words, her heart fluttering. She puts down her pizza slice and leans into him, resting her head on his shoulder. “I love you too, Eren.”

Eren wraps his strong arms around Y/N, pulling her even closer. He leans down and pressed a kiss to her forehead as he grabbed the TV remote to put family guy on.

[redversaillesrose]

Show only fans don’t know about Lestat running face-first into a window. Or that he sucks at math. They don’t know he is friends with a guy called Gregory Duff Collingsworth. They don’t know his main personality trait is being 6ft tall. I need an episode of him narrating the time he broke into a store to “steal” clothes he paid for, or so he hopes, because he isn’t sure he made the addition properly because he is bad at arithmetic despite having vampire brain. They don’t know he claims people unironically refer to him as the James Bond of vampires. They don’t know about his signature violet shades. They don’t know he let his mom eat first after he turned her, even though he was fucking starving, because he is such a little gentleman and felt it was the proper thing to do. He learned to read on his own thanks to his Advanced Vampire Brain, which apparently can teach itself how to read, but addition is where it draws the line. They don’t know his favorite color is violet. They don’t know one of his aliases is Sebastian Melmoth which is also the alias of Oscar Wilde author, of his in-universe bestie, Dorian Gray. They don’t know how much he praises his blueish-greyish-purplish, soul-sucking blue eyes and his blonde hair that reaches just up to his collar that can appear white under fluorescent light and his 6ft height which was kind of a big deal back in 18th century France he’s six feet have I mentioned this already also omg aren’t those the same traits that Magnus robbed him of his life for? Tbh, girl? Same. I also suck at math.