#so many of their songs are in direct conversation with each other

[whorety-k]

Ebony Coasts [Part 4]

Pairing: Merfolk!Corvus Corax x fem!Marine Conservationist!Reader (second person POV)

Song recommendation: Love Will Tear Us Apart - Joy Division “Is my timing that flawed? / Our respect runs so dry /Yet there’s still this appeal / That we’ve kept through our lives / But love, love will tear us apart again.”

Warnings: Ocean mentions / potential thalassophobia, culture shock and misunderstanding between species, suggestive actions, angst, minor blood / injury (a cut), unresolved conflict

Word Count: 2.3k

[Part 1] [Part 2] [Part 3]

Nothing could stop you from returning to the beach each day after having a lap full of purring merman. As time went on, more often than not there would be a sly raven figure meeting you at the water’s edge to engage in whatever natural conversation crossed your minds at the time. 

It’s your weekend. You return to the beach wearing the black halter-top swimsuit, hoping that perhaps today you’ll be able to actually try to swim with your new friend. He, however, seems to have other plans.

“How does the device work?” Corvus asks.

You look around the beach, not certain what the merman is talking about. “What device?”

Corvus moves beside you in the hot sand, completely silent as he hauls himself forward on his hands. His tail is slithering behind him, kind of, to support the action. “The one you left. Silver and red. I have seen many similar things before, but I have never seen one that moved,” he replies, tilting his head softly. 

His explanation jogs your memory: you had already forgotten about the compass that you had left at Corvus’s cave the previous week. You had multiple in your pack because no one ever seemed to have theirs the moment they were needed in your line of work, so leaving one behind wasn’t any trouble for you. “The compass? It’s used to find out what direction you’re facing.”

The perplexed look the giant gives you is nothing short of adorable incredibly amusing, eyes partially squinted and ear fins pinned back against his head. Corvus’s abyssal eyes look you up and down. “Are humans incapable of using the sky and familiar structures to determine their location?”

“Some of us can– but what if we’re at sea, or if there are clouds?” you rebut, playfully stopping in front of him and rounding his front. You stand directly in his path. 

Corvus reflects over the scenario while staring deep into your soul. The thought that humans need so many tools when it comes to any sort of sea travel crosses his mind several times as he realizes just how lost a human would be if they were dropped in the middle of the ocean. It kicks up a protective instinct within his hearts. Corvus lowers himself down to your level, placing a cold hand on your shoulder. “The more I learn about humanity, the more I understand how woefully inept your kind can be at the basics of survival,” he says. His tone of voice is reassuring, an attempt at expressing something you can’t place. 

Still, you scoff at his words, placing your hands on your hips. The merman’s eyes flicker down when the action causes the chiffon frills to bounce. “Try putting yourself in my shoes for a day, and we’ll see which one of us is woefully inept.”

A hum leaves the giant, and he nods his head, “I suppose we are built for different environments.” The grace of a soft smile finds his lips, and Corvus’s face softens. His hand on your shoulder slides to your neck, then moves to cup your cheek. The honeyed baritone that leaves his lips is intoxicating, “I am grateful that you are the human that fate has granted me, for you do well to keep me humble.”

Your eyes slowly look from the hand on your cheek to Corvus’s eyes, bewildered. With how he’s been treating you, you must feel like a sauna against his frigid skin. The afternoon sun has nothing on your burning flesh.

Corvus pats you and moves around your frozen body, elegantly striding past you. You catch back up with him and see his den come into view, realizing that’s where he must be taking you. He holds up the vines covering the entrance, allowing you to enter first before following behind. 

From the last time you entered Corvus’s den there have been some serious renovations, the merman explaining each one as you pass by. Along the bedrock walls, in intervals, bioluminescent algae and mushrooms that you have never seen before illuminate the previously pitch-black halls. 

“I didn’t wish for you to flounder in the dark as you did before.”

The stone floors, which had been previously completely waterlogged, are nearly completely dry outside of a little saltwater stream that leads deeper into the cavern.

“Having you perish from the cold due to being wet is not in my best interest.”

When you reach the first open room, there is a large central table of stone with a (somewhat shoddy) driftwood chair. It is definitely not Corvus’s size.

“My family is not the greatest at hospitality, but I thought it rude if I did not try to accommodate you having… legs.”

The den may not be heavily decorated, but you get the feeling that more will be done. Corvus continues into a deeper room, but when you try to follow, he hesitates. He looks over his shoulder at you with furrowed brows, then continues up the slight incline anyway. 

The end of this final tunnel is a curtain of dried kelp that opens into a small bed space. At least, you think it’s a bed space, given the glowing algae alights a nest of grasses, furs, and feathers against the wall. The walls are heavily decorated with objects like stones, jewelry, any shape of shining metal, black feathers, bones, skulls, and some artifacts you can’t identify. You recognize your compass and former moonstone necklace just above the ‘bed’. Corvus swells with pride as you look over his collection, trying to appear modest by looking everywhere but at you. 

This room is the warmest by far, and you suppose that’s intentional. “I do not always rest at sea,” is Corvus’s only comment on this room.

You’re led back into the first room with the table and invited to sit. You do, of course, trying to be a kind house guest amidst the constant worry of accidentally learning another new merfolk tradition the hard way. 

Despite being in his own space, the ebony giant is visibly bashful when he curls at the table beside you. Beside is a strong word, really, considering that Corvus is long enough to wrap around the small stone structure completely. One of his fins covers your exposed legs delicately where his tail rests alongside you. The vast size difference between the two of you is made palpable; to any outside observer, he’s a dragon protecting his treasure. 

“You seem to be keeping yourself busy when I’m not here to bug you,” you taunt, gesturing at the space around you. 

Corvus props himself upon the table beside you, arms folded beneath his chest. The rippling muscles of his arms relax. Filled with amusement, he quips, “Do you presume my life stops in your absence?”

The retort jars you. “I’m not that shallow,” you huff, instead of what’s actually on your mind. As of recent, your life has begun to feel utterly barren when the reserved merfolk isn’t around. Days that used to fly by before now crawl at a snail’s pace while waiting to go to the coastline. It’s odd to think that Corvus likely doesn’t feel the same. 

“Sometimes it is beneficial to have a location away from home to be,” he notes, all but reading your mind. Corvus places a hand at your back tenderly, deftly pulling you closer. You think you can feel a soft rumble against you, but as soon as you register it, it’s gone. A figment of your imagination.

You look up at the merman, eyes soft. Sensing your gaze, Corvus meets it. Despite the stony decorum, you swear you feel his cool body relax against you. The protective curl he has you in tightens around you like a gentle hug. 

Two distinct heartbeats accelerate as Corvus admires you, even as time seems to slow down. Unconsciously, you run a hand along his side, fingers tracing the jet gill covers of his left side. 

Corvus shudders.

You reach up to do it again, testing the waters, but a large hand stops you.

Corvus’s eyes are still closed when he speaks, “Those are incredibly sensitive. I’ll allow you to explore them another time.” 

You apologize, realizing that you had gotten caught up in the moment, but when you even think to move away, Corvus stops you with a hand on your cheek. 

You can barely identify it in the black abyss of his eyes, but a glint of blue from the bioluminescent glow around you allows you to see just how blown out his pupils are. One of your hands moves to rest on top of Corvus’s, and he becomes transfixed on the sensation of you against him. 

Ba-dump. Ba-dump.

You lean into his palm. He leans towards you.

Ba-dump. Ba-dump. 

Your free hand reaches for his face. It’s cold against your palm.

Ba-dump. Ba-dump. 

Everything in the world clicks into place when your foreheads touch, sharing a breath. Time stands still as your eyes begin to flutter shut, leaning forward to close the distance.

Ba-dump. Ba-dump—

The merman suddenly goes rigid, pupils snapping into slits. Doubt and hesitance bleed into every part of his long body. “...I have something important to attend to,” he mutters, abruptly pulling away from your hands. You’re in a daze when he sloppily uncurls his body from around you and moves away.

The swiftness of his withdrawal brings you to the present and causes you to reach out for him, catching one of his clawed fingers in your hand. “Wait, Corvus, please–” you beg. 

Corvus shakes his head, looking away from you with a troubled expression as he aggressively runs a free hand through his hair. He yanks his hand from yours roughly, voice raising, “I must return to my brothers, I–”

You yelp in pain as fire suddenly sears across your fist, the instant ache of something tearing forcing you to pull away. Blood drips from your hand, splattering onto the rock below, and you look down to see an angry laceration spanning the width of your palm.

There’s a tense moment of silence where neither of you move, Corvus unable to tear his gaze away from the tear in your skin as you both take in the situation. Your hand begins to tremble as the adrenaline sets in, the pain slowly dulling as you try with ferocity to prevent shock from setting in. 

You look up at the onyx giant, and it’s the clearest you’ve ever seen him express any emotion.

Corvus is statue-still with a pallor paler than his alabaster skin already is. His posture is ramrod straight and arched away from you, an arm crossed over his chest defensively. His mouth hangs half open in a silent gasp contorted with dread, and his ear fins droop so low that they blend into his raven locks. One of his ebony talons is a damning crimson, and when he sees it, all hell breaks loose.

“Throne, I’m so sorry. I–” Corvus’s words catch in his throat. The mer reaches out towards you, only to flinch like a man shot when he sees his claws near your delicate skin again. He retreats his hands close to his chest, fists white-knuckled and trembling. His eyes clench shut as shame boils within him, and the trepid merman winces. You hear a shuddering breath leave him before he turns away hastily, head bowed low. 

You hastily try to call out to him. “Corvus?” you try, stepping toward him.

The movement shakes him from his trance, and his face crumbles with deep-set guilt. “Forgive me,” he whispers, pulling himself rapidly towards the mouth of the cavern. For a creature designed for the water, he moves with terrifying agility over the rocks and out of the cave.

You try to catch up to him– you really, really do– but the merman doesn’t hear any of your pleas as he flees to the waterline. Your feet couldn’t hope to match his speed against the wet terrain. You fumble, sticking into the muck, legs swallowed up to the ankle in earth the texture of quicksand. The last glance of Corvus you get sees him gliding into the surf gracefully, disappearing into the tides as you trip, clawing your way forward in anguish.

You finally find your footing in the dry sand and rush for the waves. You stop at the water’s edge, staring out over the water. There’s no hope of trying to catch up with him in his natural environment, and you know that getting yourself stuck in a dangerous situation would only serve to upset him further. The air in your lungs begins to burn as your throat constricts, the horrible aftermath of the chase making your limbs heavy. You feel yourself choking up, sobs building in your chest for reasons you couldn’t even hope to explain. 

Your eyes scan the water for any trace of the midnight giant desperately, but there’s no trace of him amongst the sea foam. Defeated, you sink to your knees in the waves, clutching your injured hand close to your chest for comfort. 

With a start, you look down when you feel it brush against something around your neck. Between your collarbones, tinted crimson, is a corvid skull pendant. It’s nearly an inch long, black diamonds delicately set within the pendant’s silver eye sockets. The jewelry is so distinctly Corvus that it makes your heart seize.

Looking once more over the water, you grip the necklace tightly in your bloodied fist, willing the tears not to fall as you stand and return to your car. 

You’ll worry about it after the hospital.

___________________________________ I'm not sorry <3

This one is for you, necklace anon :)

[bluesey-182]

"levitate" being about someone withholding their love from vessel and "the love you want" being vessel's promise that he will never do the same

[yanaromanov]

in unholy denial

･ ｡ﾟ*. 18+, minors DNI . * ｡ﾟ･

pairing: wanda maximoff x reader

summary: you’re the perfect all-american girl; a good student, a weekly churchgoer, you’re even dating the high school quarter back. so it’s all a big shock to you when your family decides to send you to a conversion camp, claiming they believe you’re a lesbian. you don’t agree with their accusation, telling everyone that you don’t like girls at all. but then you meet your camp mate wanda maximoff, who seems determined to sway your mind in another direction…

warning(s): conversion therapy, homophobia (externalised and internalised), religious mentions (christianity), smut, fingering, thigh riding, loss of virginity, hickeys, slight dubcon (only kissing), swearing, pet names (princess, honey), wanda and r are in high school but of age (over 18), cheating (r has a bf), slightly innocent reader, nude magazine, etc. minors dni

author’s note: this is my first time writing and uploading smut so i really hope it’s not terrible 🙏🏻this is heavily inspired by ‘but i’m a cheerleader’, only this time it’s with teenage wanda and much more smutty :) i also took light inspiration from @imaginedanvrs and her fic ‘atonement’, and though i did take a different turn, check it out because all of their writing is amazing :))

wc: 11.7K words

The car is quite on the ride up. You stare out the window, watching as your world begins to disappear. The camp is just under two hours away from your home town; far away enough that it feels like a whole different world, but close enough that your parents can still come visit on the weekends.

You’re not being punished. At least that’s what your parents have told you. They just want what’s best for you, want to help you find the right journey in life. Apparently this camp was supposed to do that for you. Though, you could quite see how - the apparent problem they claim to be able to fix, not identifiable to any part of your mind.

When they’d first brought up the idea, you’d been quick to confusion. A conversion therapy camp? But you weren’t gay. You had a boyfriend, the football team’s best quarterback at that, and you two were very happy together. He was handsome and kind, and you loved him. Except for maybe when he tried to kiss you, always left feeling grossed out by the encounter as his tongue tried to play with yours. But he must just be a bad kisser. That was at least what you always told yourself…

Aside from that, there were so many things that couldn’t have possibly lead your parents to believe you were gay. You were one of the top students at school, always getting the highest grades. Every Sunday you attended church, said your nightly prayers each evening before you slept. You were in the church choir, for goodness sake!

Still, your parents had sat you down in the living room one night and had a very serious conversation with you. They were concerned mostly, worried that something sinister had crept in and was tainting your life. You’d used all of your excuses in protest but they’d came prepared with their own.

A few posters from your room, filled with woman in bikini tops. You liked the patterns. Songs from your playlist that held ulterior meaning. You just liked the way they sound. The fact you hated kissing your boyfriend; a few comments you’d made to your friends about other girls at church. You thought everyone felt that way…

In the end, they’d convinced you to come along to the program, claiming it was in your best interest to attend and get the help you need. Although you didn’t believe you needed any help at all, you had agreed. If this camp was going to help them feel better, you were willing to give it a go, even if it meant getting treatment for a nonexistent problem…

Still, your heart aches a little as your small family car drives away from the suburbs you are used to, the view soon replaced by dense forest trees and vibrant undergrowth. The program was set out almost like a Summer camp, out near a lake where members could swim during their free time. That was one of the activities you’d read in the pamphlet your parents had handed you, the camp explained in its entirety alongside its promise to guarantee positive results. You’d initially asked your parents how long you would have to spend there, worried about being forced to remain when there wasn’t a problem with you to begin with, but your mom had simply smiled back softly and replied, ‘let’s just see how you get on’.

You’re almost lost in thought when the car finally turns on to the last stretch of its journey. The sight ahead of you drags you back to the present moment, eyes now searching the wide opening in the trees as the camp comes into view. It’s easy to spot, the only buildings around for a long while, and the white shutters standing out vibrantly against the green trees. The lake comes into view too, shimmering in the morning summer sun.

Soon the car slows, coming to a halt outside what looks to be the main building, its size large compared to the other’s dotted around. The ranch-style house is painted a soft blue, the fixtures and wrap-around porch shining dazzling white. All in all, it looks rather beautiful.

Your parents are the first out the car, looking around as they close the doors. You follow a moment later, eyes drifting over your surroundings as you inhale the sweet smells of the forest air. A pair of footsteps soon diverts your attention, your gaze falling to a tall blonde man making his way in your direction from the large blue house. He’s dressed very similarly to the men you see at church; a pair of neat navy slacks and a matching blue and white gingham shirt. You and your parents come to stand together on one side of the car just as he reaches your feet.

“Good morning,” the blonde says, his grin reaching from ear to ear. “Mr and Mrs Y/L/N, isn’t it?” There’s an exchange of hand shakes as your parents confirm his assumption. “It’s a pleasure to meet you. And you must be young Y/N.” His gaze falls to you as he speaks, a hand outstretching in your direction.

You take it, shaking it gently as you nod your head. “It’s nice to meet you, sir.”

The blonde lets out a low chuckle as he releases your hand, his attention turning back to your parents. “What a polite little girl you have,” he says, his smile widening. Your parents seem to take pride in his compliment, inching closer together as they stand and look over at you. “But please,” the man continues, turning back to you. “My name is reverend Steve so you can call me as such. Or just Steve if you prefer.” He smiles again as he shrugs his shoulders. “Sir always feels a bit too formal.”

There’s a trade of small laughter between the adults but you don’t find yourself joining in, still feeling a little apprehensive about this whole scenario.

“I do hope your journey here was alright.”

“Oh, just fine,” your father replies in response to reverend Steve’s question, smiling easily back at him.

“Good. I’m so glad to hear that. We’re just so happy to have Y/N here. And don’t worry, your daughter is in very good hands.”

Just at that moment, you notice another figure approaching your group, a woman, originating from the same place Steve had. When she reaches you, there’s a soft smile on her face, her red hair dazzling in the Summer sun. The reverend reaches one of his arms out, bringing the woman close to his side as his hand rests on her hip. “I’d like you to meet my wife, Natasha. She helps direct things around here, especially with the girls.”

Her hand also extends out to your parents to meet in a soft handshake as she smiles widely back at them. “Hi, it’s a pleasure to meet you.” With your parents, reciprocating the sentiment, the redhead then turns her attention to you. Her eyes sparkle a bright shade of green as the morning sun hits them. “Hello, Y/N,”

You find yourself momentarily stumbling over your words, something about the woman distracting you until she speaks. “Good morning,” you manage eventually, smiling back nervously.

In the time you’ve greeted her, it seems your parents have retrieved your luggage from the back of the car. “These are your bags?” Reverend Steve asks, reaching to pick them up. In truth, you hadn’t even noticed them being moved there. “I’ll just take these up to your dorm room, Y/N.” He smiles once more at you before he turns, walking towards the house with your belongings in tow.

“I’ll give them a little check over once we get there,” Natasha says, drawing your attention back to her. She passes you a playful wink that causes a strange feeling in your chest. “But I’m sure there’s nothing in there that will get you in trouble, hm?”

“I don’t think-“ Your response is cut off by your sudden realisation you’re standing alone, your parents retreating back to the car and already starting the engine. “Wait I-“

“Don’t worry.” The redhead’s words yet again distract you, pulling your attention away from the vehicle behind you. “They’ll be back at the weekend to visit. You’ll be seeing them again in no time.” Natasha turns to stand side by side with you, her hand resting on your back as she gently begins to press you forwards. “Now how about you just come with me and I can show you around the place. How does that sound?”

“A-alright,” you stumble, giving one glance back to the car that has already pulled away from the camp. You let the woman by your side guide you as you watch it slowly move further and further away up the road, officially leaving you all alone.

The tour Natasha gives you, however, helps to lift your spirits a little. The camp grounds are rather beautiful, the grass vibrant and speckled with small colourful flowers. The buildings themselves are also very pleasant, all adding to the soft summer camp feel the area had. Natasha first directs you to the small bunker home her and Steve resided in, claiming members were not allowed inside but there was a small bell if you ever needed them at any time. Next, she shows you the church; a small yet grand building with dazzling stained glass windows. As you walk the pews, Natasha tells you how their service is held each morning, directed by Steve himself.

“I hear you’re in your church choir?” Natasha quips as you take in the way the light hits the windows, spreading bright colours across the floor of the building.

“Yes,” you reply, lifting your head and smiling sheepishly. “I have been since I was thirteen.”

“You’ll have to sing for us one time,” Natasha says playfully, before beckoning you out of the church and off to your next destination. On your way, she explains a little of how their program works; a mixture of group lessons and singular sessions to help you understand your problem. “Do you still attend bible study, Y/N?” Natasha asks as you approach the main building.

Shyly, you turn to face her. “No. I stopped a few years ago when I turned sixteen.”

The redhead clicks her tongue but overall doesn’t seem too disappointed, still smiling over you. “Don’t worry,” she replies. “I’m sure our study will set you just right again.” She passes you another wink before you step in through another door that she opens ahead of you.

The building has a wide front opening, a set of grand stairs set out ahead in the expanse of the tall ceilings. At the bottom of them, you suddenly notice a tall girl standing there. She’s wearing a neat uniform, her long black hair pulled back into two braids. “Y/N,” Natasha says, gesturing towards the girl. “I’d like you to meet Kate. She’ll be your mentor while you settle in.”

The raven-hair girl smiles at you as she extends a hand. You shake it, sharing a quick greeting before she hands you a welcome packet. Natasha explains how all of the rules are written inside, alongside a list of other expectations and your schedule for your stay. You hold on to it against your chest as the pair walk you around the house on your continued tour.

Inside of the main building, it feels somewhat like a mixture of a house and a school. There are two classrooms, both filled with a set of students learning from a tutor at the front of the class. A large dining hall was also set up, functioning like a school canteen. Downstairs there were a few recreational spaces with small couches arranged around card tables, all littered with various bible verse posters along the walls. As you move upstairs, Natasha shows you the bathrooms and the couple isolation rooms they had, though she assured you, you most likely wouldn’t be spending any time in there.

“Now, let’s get you some uniform, hm?” Natasha says, moving further down the corridor. She opens a long cupboard, filled with rows of pleated skirts and crisp white shirts. She looks through the rails before handing you a set of uniform in your size. Her and Kate then give you some privacy in the cupboard to change while they step outside.

The uniform is light blue, the skirt pleated through with lines of navy. The sweater vest is a matching dark blue, the logo of the camp embroidered onto one breast. You pull it on over the white button shirt, followed by the long white socks and black patent shoes Natasha had also provided. When you step out of the cupboard, the older woman takes hold of your old clothes, claiming she’ll take care of them for you until you’d be needing them again. You’re not entirely sure what she means but she’s continuing on with the tour once more before you can truly give it much thought.

“These are the girl’s dormitories,” the redhead says as she opens another door, guiding you inside. As you step in, you notice two rows of small cots, lined up with matching pink floral bedsheets. You notice one on the end, your bags sat atop waiting for you. But what catches your eye even more, is the brunette girl splayed across one of the middle beds, a magazine between her hands. She looks up as all three of you walk into the room, her green eyes meeting directly with you.

“Miss Maximoff,” Natasha says as soon as she notices the girl. “Aren’t you supposed to be in your lessons right now?”

The girl diverts her gaze to the camp director. “I didn’t feel well so I came to lie down.”

The way the girl lay across her stomach, face perfectly amused as her eyes flitted across her magazine didn’t exactly come across to you as unwell. It seems that Natasha too picks up on her lie, simply passing the brunette a small scowl. “Nice try.”

There’s a moment where the girl stares back, almost daring the women with her gaze, but she soon gives up, instead rolling her eyes as a long frustrated sigh escapes her lips. “Fine,” she mumbles, lifting herself up from the bed and slowly walking towards you. As she does, you notice how her shirt is unbuttoned further down and how her skirt is rolled at her waist, climbing the front of her thighs.

Natasha seems unfazed by her antics, simply holding out her hand which the brunnete places her magazine into with another sigh. The redhead gives it a once over before staring back at the girl. “This is contraband. Where did you find it?”

The brunette simple smirks in response. Her shoulders briefly brushes against yours as she squeezes her way through your group, headed towards the door. Before she leaves, she turns, walking gently backwards as the smirk widens on her face. “The Lord showed me the way to it.” She turns again quickly, disappearing from the dormitory alongside her lingering gaze.

Natasha doesn’t make any move to follow her, simply inclines her head as as she shouts down the corridor. “Roll down your skirt, Miss Maximoff!” Her voice still echoing, the redhead then turns back to you, that perfect smile returning almost as quickly as it at dropped. “I’m so sorry about that,” she says, glancing down at you. “Some of the other girls are a little…challenged in finding the light. Sometimes they can be a bad influence but I’m sure if you just stick with Kate, you’ll be just fine.”

You glance at the tall girl stood beside you, her soft grin looking back. “If you have any questions, feel free to ask Kate. Or of course, me or Steve at any point,” Natasha adds, drawing your attention back to her. You nod in response and she smiles back, placing a hand on to your shoulder. “Now, how about we take a look at your bags?”

———

Settling in isn’t as hard as you thought it might be. Kate is nice, you discover quickly, and helps you get unpacked. You tuck your things away into the drawers under your bed, then some more of your belongings in to the bedside table - next to the complementary bible you find tucked inside. Kate explains you can put up some photos with blue tac if you wish, pointing out to some of the other girls’ beds who have done the same. You borrow some of said blue tac from her as you stick a photo of your family alongside one of you and your boyfriend up on to the wall.

Afterwards, Kate sits with you while you look through your welcome packet. A lot of it relates to the pamphlet your parents had given you before your arrival, talking all about the camp and its methods of tackling what they phrase, ‘the misdirection of youths towards homosexuality’. The entire idea is still a little scattered in your head, but you brush it aside as you delve further into the rules and scheduling of the camp.

There are quite a few rules written down, a lot of which you recognise from your own home regulations. No curse words are to be used, nor any other inappropriate language. The Lord’s name must not be used in vain. Members must pray before each meal and every night before bed. Uniform must be worn at all times.

Then there are other rules that make you feel a little more uncertain. There is strictly NO fraternising between members. No member is permitted in the opposite dormitory to which they are assigned. Any inappropriate belongings will be confiscated.

The last rule makes you wonder back to the girl you’d seen sat inside the dormitory. There have been something ‘inappropriate’ about her magazine, obviously leading to the confiscation by Natasha. You weren’t quite sure what about it could be so bad, the name you’d glanced at briefly unrecognisable before Natasha had quickly stashed it away from your sight. If anything, the whole ordeal had only made you more curious about the strange girl and what exactly she had been reading.

As if the universe could hear your thoughts, it’s barely a few hours later when you collide with the girl once more. It’s lunch time, Kate and you just having sat down with your plates of food after she’d explained how they were set out each meal time. The dining room is filling up, all of the other camp members filing in to take their place at differing tables. It’s as your inspecting the meal in front of you that a very particular member sets herself down in front you.

“Hey, newbie.”

Your head raises from the table as you hear the voice, looking up to meet the same pair of green eyes that you recalled from earlier. The brunette stares back at you, a small smile playing at her lips as she watches your face. “Uh…hi?”

You don’t get to say much more before Kate is speaking up, leaning over the table with a scowl. “Get lost, Maximoff. We don’t want you to sit with us.”

The brunnete turns to look at the other girl, a frown of her own appearing between two perfect brows. “Loosen up, Bishop. I just wanted to say hello to our newest addition.” As she finishes, her eyes trail back to you, the scowl dropping away to that same smirking expression. For a moment it seems as if she looks you up and down, scanning over your uniform before studying your face again. “I’m Wanda,” she says eventually, voice light. “It’s a pleasure to meet you.”

You smile back a little awkwardly, torn between your polite nature and the instructions you had received to avoid this exact girl sat opposite you. “Y/N,” you reply, letting your manners overtake the situation.

“Just go away, Wanda,” Kate butts in suddenly, her voice raised. “I’m her mentor, not you.”

The brunette screws up her face as she turns to the raven-haired girl, scoffing under her breath. “God Kate, you’re so fucking uptight.” She sighs loudly as she pushes herself up from the table. As she does, you notice how her skirt is still rolled at the waist. But you don’t settle on it too long, distracted as she begins to speak again. “I’ll see you around, Y/N,” Wanda says, her voice playful once more. Her eyes train on you for just a moment as she backs away from the table, another girl soon taking her place.

“Just ignore her,” Kate grumbles over to you. She begins to list a string of complaints about the girl but doesn’t get far, soon interrupted by Reverend Steve calling for grace at the front of the room. You bow your head as he begins to pray, clasping your hands under your chin just as you did with every meal you ate at home. A chorus of ‘amens’ rings out as the prayer finishes, all heads lifting once more to begin eating their lunch. As you lift yours, your gaze briefly flashes across the room, catching across the way, a pair of green eyes staring back at you. Wanda sits smirking, but you don’t see much else, quickly finding yourself flustered and looking away, turning your concentration instead to the plate of food sat in front of you.

———

Natasha’s office is very nice. That’s your first thought when you enter through the door, guided by her hand on the base of your spine. There are a few wide windows on one wall, white shutters open to give a view of the lake just down a grassy hill. Her desk sits in one corner, a plush vibrant chair close by, then across the way, a small couch. There are shelves littered with both plants and framed pictures, most depicting some sort of bible verse.

You sit yourself down on the sofa while Natasha settles in her chair beside her desk, pulling out a notebook as she turns to face you. There’s an exchange of pleasantries as she explains exactly how these private sessions will go and how anything you say is entirely confidential. You nod, sitting rather folded in on yourself, uncertainty still coursing through your body.

“So Y/N,” Natasha says eventually, crossing her legs over the other. “To start off, why don’t you tell me a little bit about the first time you experienced homosexual tendencies.”

The request is one that leaves you stumbling a little. “Oh I- well…” You swallow, landing on the same response you’d had every time your parents had suggested the idea. “I’m not actually gay. Everyone just thinks that I am.”

Natasha’s face changes, taking on a soft but curious expression. “And why do you say that?”

“Well I’m not,” you reply. “I don’t- I don’t like girls. I have a boyfriend.”

That fact alone seemed enough to you for this whole endeavour to be needless. You didn’t like girls, couldn’t like them. You and your boyfriend had been going strong for over two years. He was handsome, funny, and you were sure you loved him. Even if you did feel slightly disgusted every time his lips touched yours…

“Listen Y/N,” Natasha says, her voice calm. “I know this whole experience can seem a little daunting but we’re here to help you, okay?” She smiles softly, the intention of her words feeling truthful. “But the first step of your journey needs to be your admittance to your problem.”

It isn’t that you don’t feel comfortable telling Natasha about your problem, in fact you actually feel a strange warmth in your stomach whenever she talks to you, but in your mind, there was no problem to begin with. “I’m not gay.”

Natasha sighs at your answer. She adjusts herself in her seat, her soft gaze looking back at you. “Think about it like this; homosexuality is like a disease. These thoughts weave their way into your mind, changing your behaviour.” The redhead raises a set of perfect brows. “But we can’t begin to heal if we don’t have a proper diagnosis. Can’t administer the right treatment if we can’t admit we’re ill, right?”

Her analogy isn’t lost on you, somewhat similar to something you’d heard your pastor say back at your home church. “Yeah…I guess that makes sense.”

“Now what you’re experiencing can be fixed,” Natasha continues. “I’ve seen it fixed many times before. You can heal Y/N, break away from this and find the light of our good lord.” With his name, Natasha glances up to the cross hanging on the wall beside you. Your eyes follow too. “Don’t you want that?”

You turn back to the woman, your voice sounding small. “Of course I do.”

Natasha smiles. “That’s good.” She rearranges herself again, adjusting to hold her notebook and pen better. “Now, could you maybe tell me first time you can remember ever having thoughts about other women?”

“I don’t-I haven’t,” you stumble. “I don’t think about them like that.”

Like that. It was a phrase you’d repeated like a mantra in your head. You didn’t want a girlfriend, you didn’t want a girl to kiss you. You thought about girls the same way everyone else did. Sure, sometimes your eyes would fall to their ass when they walked to the front of class, or perhaps you got a bit hot and bothered in the changing rooms before gym, maybe even your favourite movie scene was the one where all the girls would go to the beach and play in the water. But that was what everyone else thought too…right?

“Alright,” Natasha says, sighing again. “I can see you’re really struggling with this, but that’s okay. I’m here to help you.” She smiles. “How about we take a little look at your family history, hm? See if that can get things kickstarted for us?”

You spend the rest of your session talking about your family. Natasha asks about extended members, questioning about any problems there may be down your blood line. But as far as you know, it all comes up clean, your entire family the same good Christian folks you’ve always known them to be.

Finding nothing of interest, Natasha moves on to talk about your childhood. She asks about your time at school, how long you’d attended church, what sort of friends you had. It’s all scribbled down on the notebook in her hand as you list off answers, all the perfect idiom of what a good Christian girl should be.

By the end of your session, you’ve spoke about almost everything that’s led you up to where you are now. Natasha asks again about your feelings towards women, trying to compare the reasons your parents sent you here to real acts of homosexuality. But all in all, it’s no use. At the end of the hour, you’re still in denial, refusing any accusation of your alleged problem. Thankfully, Natasha doesn’t seem angry, still smiling softly as you leave her office. She send you away with an assignment to think about what could be your ‘root’, what she terms the initial source of your unholy thoughts, determined once you figure this out, it will begin your journey to sanctuary.

———

The next few days pass by without much excitement. You begin to settle into your lessons, listening as a few ex-members of the program give speeches of their experiences, or as Steve talks about how God can help give meaning to your life. There are group therapy sessions you attend, though mostly sit quietly through, but listen while others talk about their own experiences and thoughts. It’s in them you notice a certain person who seems to stare at you from across the room. You try to avoid making eye contact but it seems each time you glance over, Wanda’s stare is trained on you.

Following what Natasha had said when you first arrived, you tried to stick to Kate’s side as much as possible, avoiding the other girl who seemed to look at you more often than not. When you weren’t in lessons you could avoid her, instead hanging around with Kate and her friends in the recreational spaces, sometimes watching one of the approved DVDs that lay beneath the TV. At meals, your group sits together, always saying your prayers before eating your food. But it seems even there you can’t escape the strange brunette, always catching her stare from across the room. It’s only in bible study, on the day that marks a week since your arrival, that you actually get to speak to her again.

Kate was sick today. She’d caught a head cold, presumably from her parents who came to visit her at the weekend. You had also had a visit, your mother and father asking every possible question about your stay and how you were finding camp. The visit had went well, but now a few days later you were left with no mentor to guide you throughout your day. It isn’t too much of a worry in your mind though, the layout and scheduling of the camp already becoming a familiar routine to your body. But what you aren’t used to, is a certain strange individual sitting in the seat where your mentor usually sat.

You don’t notice it is Wanda at first. Feeling the body slide against yours on the bench, your first thought is perhaps that Kate has made a miraculous recovery. But when you turn to face the individual and are met with piercing green eyes, you are certainly even more surprised. “Um,” you fumble, looking back at the brunette as you try to stumble for words. “That’s Kate’s seat.”

Wanda raises a brow, her head spinning to look around the room before it returns to you. “I don’t see her.” She smirks. “Besides, no seating arrangements, right?”

Technically she is correct. There is nothing actually stopping her from sitting beside you apart from your slight aversion to interacting with her. You slide your body away a few inches to the right, shifting away from the touch Wanda had initiated as she sat down a little to close. The brunette seems to notice, glancing down at the gap now settled between you, but she doesn’t say anything about it, instead just looking up at you as she flashes a set of white teeth. “So Y/N,” she begins, rolling your name easily over her tongue. “Where are you from?”

“Not far,” you reply, still inclined to politeness even with your anxiety around the interaction. You elaborate further, telling her the name of your town just two hours north of the camp.

Wanda hums at your response then crosses her legs on the bench. You try not to notice the way her rolled skirt flashes a pair of smooth pale legs. “I’m from down south,” she says. “Further than you, though. About six hours. My parents only come to visit about once a month.”

You met her eye as you try to think of a response, but before you can, you’re being interrupted. Reverend Steve calls out at the front of the class, silencing everyone so that he can begin calling the register. As names echo out across the room, you and Wanda’s conversation dies, but the soft warmth emanating from her body close to yours, does not leave for the rest of the lesson.

Having quit bible study over three years ago, you were a little worried you wouldn’t be able to keep up, but as Kate had told you last week, some of these kids had never even been to church, so the pace was definitely slow enough for you to follow along. The story Steve told today was one you knew rather well actually, one of the most prominent ones you could recall from your early teens. Still, you pay the upmost attention throughout the entire time he talks, eyes trained on his figure at the front of the classroom. What makes that a little difficult however, is the girl sat right beside you.

Wanda is easily distracted you notice quickly, constantly fidgeting with the pen in her hand - your pen actually, borrowed by the brunette when she claimed she had forgotten her own. You sit a little in shock as she casually graffitis the open bible sat upon the desk in front of her, mindlessly drawing squiggles and random shapes into the margin. You try your best to ignore her antics but it’s a little hard when she accidentally tosses her pen across the desk, following a failed attempt to spin it around her fingers. It lands over on your side, just to the right of your own bible. You go to reach for it to hand back to her but it seems she’s already moving before you can even get the chance.

Her body lifts slightly from the bench, stretching out across the table with one arm for her lost pen. As she does, her chest is brought closer to your face. Your eyes fall on the black cross hanging around her neck, then suddenly dip lower, catching the area of her shirt where her buttons are undone further than they should be. There’s the briefest of moments where your eyes linger there, passing over the ever so slightly visible cleavage that swells on her chest, but it’s less than seconds later you’re darting away. Wanda eventually picks her pen back up, after what feels like an eternity, and pulls back in her chair. You glance momentarily over at her, then quickly return to the bible open in front of you, trying your best to follow along with the passage Steve reads aloud while ignoring the strange sensation that has settled in your lower stomach.

———

Camp isn’t quite the way you imagined it to be. Before you arrived, you thought it would be entirely awful, like a prison only with more…God. But for most of your experience, it just feels like you’re back in school. Although, now your lessons about maths or science are replaced by those about God and the way into his heart. Just over two weeks in, you’ve picked up the swing of things quite nicely, falling into an easy routine as you move through the services and lessons with ease. The one thing you just can’t quite seem to grasp is the understanding of why you’re here in the first place.

You’ve had three private sessions now with Natasha, each of them as feeble at finding a change as the last. You’re still not ready to admit your problem, as Natasha puts it, reluctant to find the issue within yourself. But as you’ve said since before you even came, it’s a simple fact you aren’t gay. Natasha seems determined in her ways to make you see something different.

She’s handed you a book, walking out from your last session. The title reads, ‘My Sexuality and Me: Finding the Root of Homosexual Tendencies’. You’re tasked with reading it before your next session in hopes it might finally help you understand your own thoughts. For now, however, it has to wait. Leaving your session, you go up to the dorm to drop it by your bed, taking just a moment before you have to head to your next organised activity.

The camp helps run on a set of scheduled chores that the members have to carry out. It’s on a rota, something Kate had shown you on your very first day, and changes each week. There’s everything from weed picking to cleaning dishes, all work that helps to keep the camp in shape for everyone staying there. Reverend Steve mentioned something about the work ethic helping everyone be grateful for what the lord had given them.

You have to go down to check the rota, forgetting what was scheduled for you this week. Most of the others are already dotted around the camp doing their chores, apparently your one-on-one session running over slightly and causing you to be a little late. You make your way down the stairs to the main room where the rota is located, pinned into a notice board on the wall. But as you turn the corner at the bottom of the stairs, you notice that you are in fact, not alone.

Wanda turns almost immediately when you round the corner. She’s stood up against the notice board, back resting upon the wall with one foot lifted against it. A smile appears on her face as you come into view, her teeth shining around the piece of pink bubblegum she chews. “Hey, princess.”

You try not to scoff at the name - an endearment the brunette had coined after seeing you one night writing in your diary about your boyfriend, claiming you were like a locked away princess longing for her prince to come save her. You’d rolled your eyes at her comment at the time, and had to deal with its return each time you’d bumped into her in the past week. Now, you try to ignore it as you walk past her and stare up at the notice board trying to find the chore schedule. However, Wanda is speaking again before you even get the chance to locate it.

“Looks like it’s you and me this week.” You glance over at her, watching as a pink bubble forms at her lips. You want to ignore her teasing, looking back to the board to locate where you would be stationed, but when your eyes fall upon the schedule, you realise she is right. Written on the notice board, right below the date of the beginning of the week is your and Wanda’s name, then below it; house duty.

You turn back to look at her, a pair of green eyes glinting your way. For a moment you think there’s some kind of mistake. After all, you had always been with Kate before. But then, not far away from yours is indeed Kate’s name written, not on house duty, but on pantry organisation.

Wanda smirks as she rolls the gum in her mouth, eyes fixated on you as she blows another bubble. When it pops, she finally speaks again. “You’ve never done house duty, have you?”

She’s right. You’re in unfamiliar territory and you don’t have your usual mentor to help guide you. “No,” you reply simply, gently shaking your head.

Wanda breathes out a laugh, throwing her head back slightly as she drops her leg from the wall. “Come on, princess,” she says teasingly, walking to close the gap between you. “I’ll guide you.”

Her hand is reaching for yours before you can protest against it. Soft skin slips into yours, gripping hold and quickly dragging you down the corridor. You stumble slightly, surprised by the whole encounter but Wanda doesn’t seemed fazed. She simply pulls you along the hall like a lost puppy. When your brain restarts from the initial shock, you look down at the way your fingers are grasped between hers. It’s a simple interaction at its core, an innocuous hand hold as she shows you the way to go. You’d done the same thing with your own friends back home many of times, but something about this one feels a little different. Something about the way her soft skin is warm against yours creates an odd fuzz in your head.

“Here we are,” Wanda announces, suddenly dropping your hand. You try not to think about the way it now feels cold as you watch her reach for a door handle. It opens to a cupboard, full of what looks like cleaning supplies. “We basically just dust everything,” the brunette continues, turning back to look at you. “Just dust and vacuum the floors in every room in the house. Oh- but not the bathroom, someone else will be doing those.”

You find yourself nodding, the task seeming simple enough. You’d dusted plenty of times at home, this couldn’t be any different.

Wanda lets out another laugh, seemingly at your immediate obedience to follow through with your task. “Alright, princess,” she says, cracking her gum. She reaches in to the cupboard, picking up a cloth and a bottle of disinfect spray. “I’ll do upstairs, you do downstairs?”

There isn’t much room for objection even if you had any, Wanda already beginning to walk away with the cloth thrown over one of her shoulders. You reach down to grab similar materials, standing back up to watch her figure moving down the corridor. “Stop calling me that!” You call out, but the girl is gone before your sentence is even finished, the protest seemingly falling on deaf ears. A sigh escapes your lips as you close the cupboard door, determined to just ignore the other girl while you begin your designated chore.

You start with the class rooms, wiping each desk with the spray and then dusting the other surrounding surfaces. You quickly find nothing was too dirty, the uphold from the other members ensuring the work wasn’t too difficult. You move next to the dining hall, then the recreational spaces, your cloth picking up any small specks of dust that have come to rest on the furniture and surfaces. When you’ve wiped down each room, you return to the cupboard for the vacuum you’d spied earlier. It’s older than the one you have at home but easy enough to work, quickly making light work of vacuuming the entire bottom floor.

It’s probably half an hour later when you finish, at least that’s the guess you make without a watch. You tidy away the cleaning supplies back into the cupboard before doing a quick inspection of everything to make sure you haven’t missed anything. Satisfied everything is clean, you turn your attention to your missing task partner. You haven’t seen Wanda once, barely even heard her moving upstairs. So, devoid of what else to do, you decide to head up to check if she needed any help.

You check a few rooms before you find her, the closest spaces absent of her presence. It’s only when you open the door to the girls dormitory that you finally see her. Except, she’s not cleaning like you expected her to be, in fact the cloth is entirely disregarded on the bedside table. Instead, Wanda sits with her back against the headrest of her bed, legs crossed over the top of her floral sheets and a magazine sat across her lap.

The door almost slams behind you as you catch eye of her, shock and repel taking you over. “You’re supposed to be cleaning!”

Wanda’s eyes pick up as she hears you yell, meeting your stare across the room. A smirk appears on her face, her expression seeming very amused by your sudden entrance. “Believe me, what I’m doing is much more enjoyable.”

You scowl back, annoyed by the fact you’d just spent the last half hour cleaning the house while she had been sitting up here doing nothing for who knows how long. If you were more argumentative, you would think of something to say in retaliation, some quick quip to get back at her for being lazy. But you’d never been very good at arguing, never very good at holding your temper. So instead you simply hold your tongue as you walk further in the room, watching Wanda as she stared back at you. Suddenly, your eyes fall to the paper in her hand, reminded of how similar this situation felt to the first time you’d met her. Like then, the same curiosity comes over you as to what she might be looking at, particularly how it could be classified as contraband. With that in mind, the next words you utter are not with anger anymore, but instead interest. “What are you reading?”

“Oh this?” Wanda replies, closing the magazine and holding it up briefly. She smirks your way, the grin wide against her cheeks. “Playboy.”

The word was unfamiliar to your mind. “What?”

Wanda’s brow raise. “Don’t tell me you’ve never heard of a playboy magazine.”

You notice in that moment she’d lost her gum from earlier. In fact, you wouldn’t be surprised if she’d stuck it under a piece of furniture somewhere. But still trying to focus on the conversation at hand, you simply shake your head in response.

Wanda looks surprised, her brows raising even further. You think she’s going to jest you further, make fun of you for not recognising the name of her treasured magazine, but instead she simply extends it out. “Look.”

You move slowly, slightly hesitant to approach. You know Natasha had confiscated something like this from Wanda before and you didn’t presume this new magazine was much different from that previously banned material. Still, your curiosity seems to be getting the better of you because you slowly sit down on Wanda’s bed, your legs hanging off the side whilst the brunette crosses hers. Against the covers of the bed, Wanda slides the magazine between the two of you, opening it to a random page. What is plastered over it causes your eyebrows to raise completely in shock.

Women. But not just any pictures of women. The magazine was covered in dozens of images of women in differing stages of nudity. Immediately when you saw it, you felt the need to pull your eyes away, knowing that these kind of images were most definitely not the kind you should be looking at. But at the same time, it was like you couldn’t stop. There are about four models across the two pages scattered with different images, sometimes wearing sets of black lacy lingerie, sometimes wearing nothing at all. Theres a strange sensation bubbling in your gut, an odd warmth spreading through your mind as you look down at the pictures. The pure immorality of it all is enough for you to shake your head viscously.

“This is-we’re not-you shouldn’t have that.” You stutter, the images imprinted in your brain making it harder to focus and find the right words. You’ve never seen anything like that before, never looked at a woman’s body so out in the open. Now you could see why Natasha had quickly confiscated Wanda’s magazine and hidden it away from your view. “How do you even have this?”

The brunette seems utterly unfazed by the material in front of you. More so, her face looks amused at your alarmed reaction. “I steal them out of my brother’s backpack when he comes to visit,” she replies casually, as if this is something she’s been doing for months. “He’s pretty oblivious so he never notices, always thinks he lost them. Besides, even if he did know, he couldn’t tell my parents. He’s not allowed them either.”

While Wanda explains, you have to fight against yourself to hold eye contact. In your peripheral, you can still see the open page of nude women, restraining yourself from your body’s seemingly natural instinct to look down. “This isn’t right,” you reply, shaking your head. “We shouldn’t be looking at that.”

Wanda scoffs, looking displeased at your disapproval. She reaches out for the magazine, pulling it back into her own lap as she glances down at the images. Then, she’s looking back up at you, face inquisitive. “You’ve really never seen one before?”

You’re not sure exactly where she thinks you were going to find such a thing, but you’re certain you’ve never seen anything of the sort before. “No,” you reply sternly, shaking your head once more.

Wanda laughs to herself, rolling her eyes. “You call yourself a lesbian and you don’t even know what a playboy is.”

Her words cause a deep frown to appear on your brow, your voice raising to almost a shout. “I’m not a lesbian.”

A perfect brow raises in your direction as Wanda looks at you. Her expression seems particularly amused. “No? How’d you end up here then?”

The question hits you hard, the same thing you’d been pondering to yourself over the last few weeks of your stay. “I’m not gay,” you reply harshly. “Everyone just thinks that I am.”

“And why do you think they think that?”

Wanda’s eyes meet your own as she speaks, the question another one familiar to your own mind. “I don’t know,” you shrug. “Stupid reasons.” You think back to the conversation you’d had with your parents, the first time any of this had even cropped up into your mind. “A few posters I had up in my room, a couple songs on my playlist. Oh, and I told my boyfriend I don’t like kissing him. Which is totally stupid. I’m pretty sure he’s just really bad at it.”

A chuckle emanates from Wanda’s throat. You’re not quite sure why, watching as she leans in closer to you. When she speaks again, her face is barely inches from your own. “Oh honey, you don’t like kissing him because you like kissing girls.”

“What?” you exclaim, taken aback by her accusation. That couldn’t possibly be right. “No! I don’t! I told you, I’m not a lesbian.”

Wanda smirks, her eyes trained on yours. “Okay, maybe not a lesbian but I bet you’ve thought about a girl while he’s kissing you.”

The idea was entirely preposterous. “No!” you yelled back. “I haven’t!”

But your anger is only met with amusement on Wanda’s side, her smirk only deepening as she leans back on the bed. “You’re cute when you lie.”

The words have you recoilling, the inclination behind them picked up on yet rejected by your brain. And yet, you could feel a warmth spreading to your cheeks, embarrassment flushing in.

“Have you ever kissed a girl?”

You snap on to Wanda as her question rings out, watching as she casually slides her magazine back behind her bedside table. “No,” you reply firmly. “Of course not.”

“Then how do you know you don’t like it?” The brunette sits up again, leaning in closer to you. Her eyes meet your own, a strange shadow seemingly passing over them. She watches you for a moment, in almost unreadable expression moving across her face. “Surely theres only one way to find out.”

Wanda’s voice is low, barely above a whisper. You find you’re too busy watching her lips to notice her leaning in even closer, face barely centimetres from your own. Suddenly, you pull back. “What are you doing?”

Wanda doesn’t miss a beat, continuing to lean in even as you pull away. One of her hands comes to rest on your thigh, fingers grazing the material of your pleated skirt. “It’s okay,” she says lowly. “I’m just trying to help you.”

Her advance doesn’t stop, face moving closer and close towards yours. It’s only when she’s almost touching you, you realise she’s trying to kiss you. “No,” you say quickly, pushing her back by the shoulders. “We can’t do that. It’s not right.”

Wanda sighs, relaxing her posture a little. She shifts in the bed, eyes still trained on you. For a moment she simply looks over your face before that smirk appears once more. “Maybe…” she says, angling her head. “But isn’t that the whole reason we’re here?” The question slightly throws you for a loop, your confusion allowing Wanda to move closer to you once more. “Don’t do you want to be a good girl and finish the program?”

The way her breath fans across your face sends an odd shiver down your neck, goosebumps appearing on your arms. Her choice of words seems to form an odd feeling in your stomach, but you try your best to brush it off, nodding your head in response to the question. You did want to finish the program. You wanted to be able to go back home to your family.

Wanda smiles at your answer, her head angling to the side as her voice takes a caring tone. “Well we both know what the first step is…You have to admit to yourself you like girls.” She leans in closer, her eyes briefly flashing down to your lips. “You can’t heal if you don’t admit you have a problem.”

Her words mirror those of Natasha’s, the same thing she’d been trying to get through to you for weeks. But you can’t help but fight the part of your brain that recalls everything you’ve been taught about attraction. “This isn’t right,” you say quietly. “You have to stop.” And yet you find yourself making no move to pull away from the girl whose face sits mere inches from your own.

“As I said, I’m just trying to help you.” Wanda’s voice is calm, understanding. “Once you realise you like girls, you can move on with the rest of the program.” Then the brunette shrugs a shoulder. “Or hey, you maybe hate it and realise you actually are straight.”

It makes some sense in your mind but you’re still hesitant, knowing that what Wanda was even suggesting was against everything you wanted to believe in. “I don’t think that we should-“

“Just don’t think.” Wanda cuts you off before you can finish, and before you can even process what’s happening, she closes the final gap between you. Her lips meet yours, soft and warm against your skin. It’s gentle but rough at the same time, your eyes fluttering closed. Then immediately, as the warmth leaves, they snap back open.

Wanda’s staring back at you, face smiling. “How’d that feel?” You notice that her eyes look a little blown out, pupils wide against the sea of green. “Feels good right?”

Suddenly you realise what’s just happened, every part of your upbringing screaming inside your head. “What? No!” you reply, flustering. “No, it didn’t feel good. It felt wrong.”

But some part of you creeps up in the back of your mind, a part you recognised and yet wanted to snuff out more than anything, a part that knew you were lying.

And apparently, Wanda can see right through to that part too. “I can see it on your face, honey,” she says, voice now teasing. Her eyes trace over your features and you wonder what exactly gave it away. There isn’t much time to think however, as before you know it, Wanda’s leaning in again. Her lips meet yours, a hand sliding to your thigh once more.

“Stop,” you reply, pulling away. “This isn’t right. We’re not supposed to-“

Wanda cuts you off again. “Don’t think about what we’re supposed to do. Think about what feels right.”

You notice again the wildness of her pupils, only for a moment, before she leans in again. Your eyes close on impact, her lips crashing into yours in another kiss. Only this time you instinctively lean into it, pursing your lips against hers. Wanda pushes back, her mouth opening just slightly to take in your lips and you find yourself leaning in. There’s a reminiscent taste of bubblegum, sweet on your tongue as her saliva begins to mix with your own. The hand on your thigh tightens, another placed on to the side of your face. For a second you don’t think about anything other than just how good this moment feels.

It’s seconds later Wanda pulls away, her touch lingering but her lips missing. You find your eyes opening, gazing back at the smirking brunette staring back at you. “It feels pretty good doesn’t it?”

You’re lost for words, sure of your answer to her question but so reluctant to admit it. Wanda smiles back at you, her grip on your leg slowly raising up, ever so slightly bunching the fabric of your skirt. Before you can formulate a response, she’s moving in towards you. Her face disappears into the crook of your neck, her warm breath fanning out across your skin before her lips attach. Without thinking, your head falls back, only giving the brunette more access to nip at the skin of your neck. Your eyes feel heavy, an odd sensation pooling deep in your body. “I can make you feel so good…”

The words reverberate across your skin, sending shivers down your neck and across your chest. A small whine exits your throat, unintended by any part of you but seemingly drawn out by the gentle touches of both Wanda’s lips and her fingers dancing across your skin. “Wanda…”

The brunette slowly pulls back, her face rising to meet with yours. Theres a look in her eye you can’t identify. “You’re already a sinner now, right?” she says, voice husky. “No harm in twisting the knife.”

There’s a moment where you want to turn away, to listen to the rational part of your brain that tells you this is all wrong. But right now there’s only one thing you can truly think of; just how good it felt with Wanda’s lips against your own.

Your hands grab at the brunettes shoulders as you pull her in, the pair of you colliding before you even recognise what you’re doing. The kiss comes fast, clashing together in your desperation for the girl to stop talking and just to feel her against you again. Wanda smirks against your lips, humming an amused noise before she’s all over you.

Her hands find purchase in your hair, entangling in the strands at the nape of your neck as she pulls you in closer to her body. Her kiss becomes fiercer, control quickly being regained as she presses her lips into yours. A small hum of your own escapes as she presses her tongue into your mouth, quickly taking over as you simply let her in without protest. And in that moment a thought crashes over your mind; gay or not, your boyfriend was definitely bad at kissing. Furthermore, Wanda was very, very good.

Your hands grips slightly at her shoulders as the brunette domineers the kiss, her lips almost possessive against your own as her hand clutches as your cheek, manipulating your position to give her full control. You feel her other hand begin to drift further up your legs, pushing your skirt up to your hips before climbing even higher. Delicate touches grace over your stomach, then softly against your chest. You release a small whine as Wanda nips at your lip with her teeth, at the same time, reaching to unbutton the top clasp of your shirt. Her fingers work faster than your mind can even process, too distracted by the touch of her lips to notice her quick work of opening your entire shirt. It’s only when she reaches to touch your chest, a gasp of realisation releases from your throat.

Wanda however, continues without missing a beat. As you gasp, she lets her lips leave your own, reappearing quickly on the side of your neck. Her hand tightens around the skin beneath it on your chest, fingers squeezing around your bra and grabbing hold of your breast beneath it. Her soft kisses continue to move lower as you whine softly, her touch against your chest sending shivers down your body.

Then, her mouth turns more aggressive, resting just at the curve of your breast she begins to suck on the flesh harder, nipping with her teeth before smoothing it over with her tongue. You whine softly, the new sensation novel to your body but so intrinsically intuned. For the first time your eyes open, looking down to where the brunette resides again your chest. You notice the way your necklace rests between the wisps of her hair, a silver cross that you’d worn every day for years. The image is enough to remind you of how wrong this is, how under no circumstances you should be letting a girl kiss you or touch your body like this. But before you can fully wrap your mind around the forbidden nature of the act, a new sensation is stripping a small gasp from your chest. Wanda’s fingers move back to your thighs, slipping up the exposed skin before coming to rest on your underwear underneath.

“Wanda…” you breathe heavily, worked up by her touch and yet knowing how wrong it all was. You shouldn’t be doing this, any of it, especially what Wanda was insinuating as she slipped her hand beneath your skirt.

“Shh, it’s okay.” The brunette replies with ease, her voice low and sensual. Her eyes raise back up to your face, meeting your gaze with a blown out expression. “Let me make you feel good, Y/N.”

And with that, her mouth is on yours again. Her kiss is enough to distract you from forming a response, eyes closing as the sweet taste of bubblegum coats your tongue once more. Then you feel her fingers again, pressing lightly against the material of your underwear, tracing the lines of your folds underneath. Small noises travel from your mouth to hers, receptive to her touch, but it’s when she presses her thumb to your clothed clit, a moan finally slips out.

The situation is entirely new to you, never having been touched by anyone this way before. You and your boyfriend had always said you’d wait till marriage, just like you knew you should. But here with Wanda, her lips against yours and her fingers tracing your most delicate areas, the endorphins flowing through your brain are enough to say to hell with it all.

You push harder into the kiss, grasping hold of Wanda’s shoulders as you try to gain the upper hand. But the brunette is much more experienced than you and doesn’t let up easily. Her hands move to your own shoulders and quickly begin to push the open shirt from them. Her lips remain on yours, strong and fierce, until the shirt has been slipped from your body. Then Wanda pulls away, her eyes drifting down over you for just a moment before she’s grabbing at you again. She spins you around, pulling you fully on to the bed as her hands press your shoulders down into the mattress. In a swift movement, she’s kicking off her shoes to the floor, then pulling yours off too. She comes to settle on top of you, knees placed either side of your legs as she looks down. Her hands are quick as she unbuttons her own shirt, tossing it to the side. Then, she’s moving to unclip her bra.

You feel your eyes widen slightly as Wanda’s bare chest is revealed to you. Before the magazine she’d shown you minutes before, it’s the first time you’ve looked at another woman so nude. And in that moment, despite what your brain is screaming out to you, you can’t help but think about how good she looks.

Wanda seems to notice your staring, her face pulling an entirely amused expression as she looks down at you. “I don’t see why you deprive yourself of this, Y/N,” she says, beginning to lean in. Her lips meet your neck, sucking gently as you feel her fingers slip behind your shoulder blades, seeking the clasp of your bra. “Can something truly be so wrong if it brings you so much pleasure?”

You try to reply to her question, brain racking all of the answers you know you should be saying. But then her lips are sucking at your neck and you’re arching into her touch, once again taken over entirely by the flush of pleasure underneath her control. Theres a release against your chest as Wanda unclips your bra, tossing it easily to the side along with her own. “So gorgeous,” the brunette murmurs, one hand coming to grab at your chest. Then her lips are on you again, kissing at the skin around your nipple. When she pulls it into her mouth, teeth grazing over the bud, a needy whine erupts in your throat. Wanda smirks against you, breathing out a laugh. “So sensitive.”

Her mouth continues to work around the skin of your chest, before you notice her fingers crawling over your stomach. They take hold of your skirt, pressing it up to bunch at your waist. Then Wanda is moving away, fingers quickly hooking themselves under the sides of your underwear as she begins to slide them down.

For a sudden moment, you’re acutely aware of what’s going on, of how you are quite literally in a dorm at a camp where this type of behaviour was attempted to be corrected. Not to mention the rule of any sort of fraternisation being entirely banned. “Wait,” you say, looking down at the brunette between your legs, suddenly afraid of what you were about to do. “I don’t think-“

“I told you to stop thinking,” Wanda replies, eyes snapping to yours. She continues to pull your underwear down, throwing them to the floor once they’ve passed your ankles. Before you can say anything more, her lips drown you in a kiss. The sweetness of it all is enough to wipe any of the doubt from your mind, so when Wanda’s hands dip between your legs, you don’t hesitate to let her. Deft fingers run between your folds, teasing you slightly as they brush gently across your clit. You sigh breathily between the breaks of your kiss, Wanda’s touch like electric to your skin.

“God, you’re so wet, Y/N,” the brunette whispers, pulling her face away to smirk down at you. “Is this all for me?”

She’s teasing you, making you think about how hesitant you’d been to this whole idea, and then about how receptive you were under her touch. But you don’t want to think about any of that, don’t want to remind yourself of how wrong this all was. All you want is for her to keep going. “Wanda…” you whine, squirming under her as her fingers teased your entrance. “Please.”

You don’t even truly know what you’re asking for her to do, all you know is you need her. Thankfully, the brunette is proficient in picking up your body’s signals. “Shh, it’s okay,” she whispers, breath fanning across your face. “I know what you need, princess. Don’t worry, I’ll take care of it.”

It’s only seconds later you feel her middle finger plunge into you. You let out a loud gasp at the contact, feeling her finger begin to move inside of you like nobody’s had before. Her name drips off your tongue, laced with pleasure, as her head moves back to your chest, tongue playing with your hardened nipple. Theres a mark resting there, red and throbbing below the skin of your cross. In the heat of the moment, you hands reach out to grasp the back of her head, intertwining with her hair as you feel her add another finger inside you.

The pleasure rolls of you in waves, Wanda’s touch like a skilled professional highly attuned to draw sweet subtle moans from your mouth. Her thumb circles your clit as she continues to pump her fingers inside of you, curling them to reach that spot that sends shivers up your spine.

“Fuck, Wanda,” you murmur, nails lightly scratching at her bare back.

The brunette chuckles, raising her head from your chest. “Now that’s not a very holy word, is it Y/N?” She smirks, and for a moment her touch is gone. You whine, chasing her fingers as they leave your needy core. Theres a second she lifts her weight and you see her reaching to remove her own underwear, then she’s back on you, this time sitting against just on of your thighs. You can feel her wetness against your skin, a soft moan escaping as she makes contact. “I wanna cum with you, okay?” she says, eyes meeting yours. You nod eagerly but your reply is swallowed up by a low cry as her fingers suddenly sink back into you.

Her speed picks up as she begins to curl inside you once again, a soft stream of curses leaving your lips at the unexplainable pleasure of her touch. You can feel Wanda begin to grind on to your thigh as she works, soft gasps escaping from her lips each time her clit brushes beautifully against your skin. She showers your praises as you whimper noises of your own, breaths heavy and moans unrestrained as she brings you closer and closer to that edge.

“You’re so fucking gorgeous, princess,” Wanda husks over you. “Such a pretty girl for me.”

Her words only add to the building feeling in your lower stomach, that familiar coil building from the times you’d reached down to pleasure yourself after your parents had went to bed - not that you would tell anyone that.

“Please, Wanda,” you whimper, back arching into her. “I’m close-please…”

One hand continues to pump inside you, paced perfectly as her curled fingers reached that spot with each thrust. The other come up to play with a perked nipple, the bud rolling though Wanda’s fingers as helpless whines spill from your mouth. “Just a minute, princess,” Wanda replies, her breathing heavy. “I’m almost there.”

Surprisingly, her pace doesn’t falter as she too climbs closer to her orgasm. Her moans grow louder, her cunt grinding harder against your thigh as she continues to swirl your clit at the perfect speed. It’s when you finally tense the muscles in your leg, that she finally falls apart.

You feel her soak your thigh, gasping desperately as she cums. You watch mesmerised as her face screws up, her jaw hanging loose as she rides out her orgasm on your leg, drunk on pleasure. It only adds to the bundling arousal pooling in your lower stomach.

“Cum, pretty girl” Wanda whispers, still coming down from her high. “Cum for me.”

And you do. With her fingers curling just right inside you, you finally tip over the edge. Your orgasm comes hard, crashing over you in a tidal wave as Wanda slowly circles your clit, guiding you through it. A guttural moan elicits from your throat, Wanda’s name lacing your tongue. That pleasant buzz takes over your mind as you feel her fingers slow, riding out your high, drunk on her touch. You’re on the brink of overstimulation when she finally removes her hand entirely. Eventually your eyelids flutter open, heavy from exhaustion, and you spy the brunette with her fingers deep isnide her mouth, her tongue lapping up every last bit of your arousal.

“So sweet,” she murmurs above you, both of your minds still fuzzy from the resounding pleasure. Eventually, the brunette moves herself away from your thigh, whining slightly as her core is exposed to the cool air. Her body flops down next to yours, shoulders touching as you lay cramped in the single cot. Your heavy breaths are the only sound for a long while, loud in the silence of the dormitory. Then finally, when you’ve managed to right your body again, your face turns to look at the girl beside you. Wanda is already staring back, green eyes wide as a huge smirk settles across her lips. She looks you up and down, her grin only widening as she husks, “You still wanna believe you’re not into girls?”.

[403tarot]

. . . THINGS YOUR FUTURE SPOUSE WILL NOTICE THE MOST (AND LOVE) ABOUT YOU + LITTLE ANALYSIS OF THE RELATIONSHIP

hello! today's subject is future spouses, to the ones that seek a true love. take what resonates to you and leave the rest away. close your eyes, take a deep breath and choose the pic that calls you the most. feedbacks are always highly appreciated <3

PICK A PILE !

* i recommend you to listen to the song and read the lyrics after reading your pile for a more immersive experience in the vibe of your relationship with your future spouse !

IF YOU CHOSE PILE 1 ...

wow, your meeting with your future spouse will be a soul connection. destiny will lead you to them so that finally, your lives regain balance.

this person will appreciate the fact that you're always willing to roll up your sleeves and solve your problems. your attitude and talent for dealing with difficult situations come from a long path of responsibilities and maturity. many times, you had to take the lead and handle situations for which you weren't prepared, with no assistance – just you and your survival instinct. however, this hasn't made you lose the part of you that wants to experience pure and true love, someone who loves you for who you are and takes care of you.

i see that this relationship will be very peaceful and kind, a new stage in both of your lives. you might feel like you've known each other for a long time, even from past lives. this sensation might scare you a bit at first because you might not be used to having someone who understands and responds to you and your ways as well as your future spouse, as your connection might be the strongest you'll ever experience with someone in your lifetime.

this person will be the one who admires the little things about you, from your most impressive talents to the sound of your laughter. expect many candlelit dinners, conversations under the moonlight, and someone who covers you with a warm blanket if you fall asleep first. they will watch you as you sleep and count each of your eyelashes, resisting the urge to trace your lips with the tips of their fingers just to touch you and make sure you're real. you will be a gift in each other's lives for sure.

cards pulled: 8 of pents, page of cups, strength, justice | the lovers, the moon | ace of wands, 2 of pents, knight of wands | ace of pents, the world | blood bond (connections)

IF YOU CHOSE PILE 2 ...

your relationship with your future spouse will be the model of the relationship you've always dreamed of. when you saw a couple with such a beautiful connection that happiness seemed to radiate from the people involved, and you wondered if you would ever have something like that, know that your relationship will be your ultimate standard.

one of the things your future spouse will admire most about you is your persistence and commitment to everything you set out to do, including your relationship. i see you as the one who takes care of things, who ensures that the relationship stays on track with your ability to always keep everything in its proper place. this person will find you very intelligent and coherent not only about life matters but also emotionally. you are someone in constant evolution who always seeks to be a new and improved version of yourself without losing your authenticity.

this relationship will make you feel capable of achieving anything when you're by this person's side. they will always encourage you to pursue your aspirations and cheer for you wholeheartedly. beyond that, they will be there with you in your victories, defeats, sorrows, and joys. you'll be able to lean on this person and open up your feelings to them because you know they'll understand you like no one else ever could.

your future spouse will love loving you and will also enjoy showing their feelings! it's as if this person wants to shout to the whole world how happy they are to have the opportunity to create a beautiful love story with you. expect them to take many photos of you to post on their feed, for you to be a frequent star in their stories, and also a significant commitment ring on your finger. after talking so much about how incredible you are to everyone, they have to make sure that everyone knows your heart already belongs to someone.

cards pulled: 4 of wands, queen of pents, page of wands, king of swords & king of wands | the sun & 6 of wands | the magician & 2 of pents | witches boots (stability)

IF YOU CHOSE PILE 3 ...

the relationship with your future spouse will sweep you off your feet. if you're the type of person who's afraid to show emotions due to past relationships and struggles with reciprocation, know that the universe plans to push you against the wall on this. your future spouse will gradually enter your heart and awaken a sentimental side within you that you never even imagined could (still) exist. they will revolutionize the way you express affection in all types of relationships you have in your life.

i see that this person will really appreciate your worldview and your stances. they'll want to know your opinion and value what you have to say; your ideas will matter to them. your future spouse will be someone who truly listens to you and cares about understanding how you see things. they'll admire how you engage with the world and how you showcase your personality through your clothes, the way you style your hair, your accessories and will notice every little aspect of your being and how it reflects in you, even things you thought no one else but you would notice.

your future spouse will want to heal your heart, and together you'll heal each other's souls. i see this person viewing you as a precious treasure and wanting to lay the world at your feet, protect you, and be a solid pillar for you to lean on during tough times. you'll both feel incredibly fortunate to have each other in your lives, and from this union, i see you both taking lessons that will help you evolve as individuals.

your future spouse will be someone who wants to take you on adventures and explore the world. visiting historical places like museums or art galleries will become a frequent routine in your lives. they're the type who'll want to take you to lunch at a quaint and charming bistro as you watch people pass by the window, trying to guess what they do in life, their purposes, and dreams. they'll love your sense of humor and how you present your ideas. expect them to gift you an album of photos containing all the memorable moments you've shared — it will be a quite thick album.

cards pulled: page of wands, 2 of wands, 9 of pents, the empress, ace of cups | queen of cups, 6 of cups & the tower | the lovers, king of cups, the emperor | queen of swords, ace of wands, 7 of cups | black kitten (inner child)

you can book a reading with me! a full analysis of your relationship with your FS + NSFW for just $30. an analysis of how would be a romantic relationship with your favorite idol is $25 and the NSFW comes with it as a bonus! check my pinned to know more!

[elordilover]

Hii! Could you write a walker scobell x actress reader fic where she's new to acting and her first acting role is in the pjo show? Thank you!!

i love this!! thanks so much for the request! 💐

more than best friends

pairing: walker scobell x fem!reader

summary: you are casted as annabeth for the pjo series and become best friends with your co-star, walker.

warnings: nothing really! not proof read, reader plays annabeth in the seires, half social media

————————————————————————

yourusername- i am so honored to finally tell you that am part of this project! this cast has become family. i’m so excited for everyone to watch it, meet you at camp half-blood: december 20th 🌩️⚡️🌊

walkerscobell- so honored to be able to work with you, and call you my best friend 💐♥️

percyjacksonseries- ⚡️⚡️⚡️

view more comments……..

—————

everyone on the cast just announced their spots in the series, it was your first time doing this so you were a bit nervous. you watched your phone as all the positive comments started to roll in.

you heard the door to your trailer open and saw a familiar face, walker. you would never admit this to anyone, but you did sort of have a crush on him. but you had to put the admiration to the side now that he was your co-star.

“Y/N, do you want to go grab food since we’re done shooting for the day?”, he asked you.

“sure! where are we going?”, you replied as you got up and started exiting your trailer.

“i don’t know, in-n-out?”

“yeah, sure”, you said as you walked to the car.

the whole car ride was filled with scream-singing to one direction songs, it was amazing. the light that shined through his hair made you admire him even more. how the sunshine made his eyes sparkle. the way his smile grew when you were both singing along to the music that shaped both of your childhoods. you had always dreamed of nights like this, now they became your reality. your only wish was that he would see you as more than a friend.

—————

the next day you arrived to set early and we r straight to the hair and makeup trailer, which was were walker was also. you couldn’t wait to see him.

“hey Y/N, how are you?” walker asked as you walked through the door.

“i’m good, a little tired tho, how about you?” you replied.

“i’m good!”, he said.

you two fell into easy conversation while getting makeup done, or getting your hair fixed. it was always easy with him, you always felt safe and at home while you were with walker. it was just something about him.

—————

“action!”, you heard and immediately started to act out your scene with walker. it was going to be in the finale episode, where you place your necklace around his neck. it was supposed to be a little romantic, but it shouldn’t have affected you this much.

walker’s deep blue eyes stared you down, your cheeks immediately turned a deep shade of red. it was embarrassing, everyone on set would notice your admiration toward walker.

walker started laughing, most likely from your eye contact. almost every scene you guys shot together ended up like this, you and walker would burst out laughing. almost every scene had to be reshot many many times.

you shot the scene again and again until it was perfect. your cheeks still burning many minutes after.

—————

after many long hours of shooting, walker entered into your trailer to hang out with you. it had become a nightly ritual for you guys. you would lay on your couch and scroll on tiktok, showing each other the funniest ones.

after minutes of scrolling walker tilted his phone toward you. you noticed the tiktok featured you and walker. it was an edit shipping you two. it used clips from different moments from the press tour, and red carpet events.

“i mean… it’s a good edit”, you said nervously. you secretly loved seeing tiktok’s like these.

“yeah i agree, it’s one of the better ones i’ve seen. we look pretty good together, we make a great team”, walker replied not knowing how that last sentence would effect you.

“we sure do”, you agreed as both you and walker’s cheeks turned red.

—————

the other members of the cast had noticed how close you and walker had gotten, when you weren’t together, you guys were texting, and if you weren’t texting, you were probably asleep. aryan had brought it up to you last week, he said how everyone saw how you guys looked at each other, and how you were both always blushing when you had scenes together. you didn’t believe him though.

—————

filming had come to an end and you were definitely going to miss your new best friends, especially walker. you two had agreed to call and text as much as you could till you could be back together for the press tour.

—————

yourusername- filming this show was the best experience of my life, thank you to everyone who was involved in creating this amazing series. love you all ♥️

the first two episodes are out now! 🌩️⚡️🌊

walkerscobell- SO EXCITED‼️‼️‼️

percyjacksonseries- oh my god

walkerfan- Y/N’s feeding us with this bts content

Y/Nfan- it’s sooooooo good

walkerscobell- first two episodes. out now. 🌩️🌊

i love everyone on this cast so much, they have become my family, so so so thankful for everyone who got me here

yourusername- GO BEST FRIEND ‼️‼️‼️

percyjacksonseries- watching rn.

walkerfan13- PERCYBETH 😭😭😭

Y/Nfan- Y/N X WALKER CONTENT 🎉

—————

after the cast party, you decided to go over to walker’s place before your parents came and got you.

“hey Y/N, i kind of wanted to tell you something”, walker said nervously, “ever since i first met you you’ve inspired me so much and i just wanted to say that i really like you, in more than a friend way”, he rambled out.

you thought you were dreaming, no way he just said that. you stared at him for a second before kissing him, it was just a simple peck but you hope it got your point across.

“wait, you like me too?”

“of course, of course i do” you replied, noticing how red walker’s cheeks were.

he leaned in and gave you another kiss, you couldn’t believe this was real life.

—————

after a couple of months, many interviews, many nights on facetime, many ship edits being sent to each other, many days of secretly dating. you both decided to make your relationship public.

yourusername- my mom approves

comments on this post have been limited…..

walkerscobell- percybeth irl

comments on this post have been limited……

————————————————————————

thanks for reading, please send feedback and more requests!

🎀🧡🐞🫀⭐️🥥🫶🏻🐝🪻🪩🌎🪷🥿🫧🫐🧿🪞

[bleedingoptimism]

You Are Mine part 3

Second day is an early call too. They are going to shoot a bunch of scenes of them hanging out between shows, loitering on the bus, playing d&d, and going to weird little dinners, all things they actually do when on tour.

It’s even better than the day before, Robin and Steve get along so well with the band it feels like they’ve been friends for years.

Since their conversation won't be distinguishable in the video, Argyle tells them they can talk about whatever and just be a little more emphatic when talking so it reads better on camera.

A direction that apparently they don't need at all because they are both so expressive. And so, they actually get to chat and get to know each other better, laughing and joking all through the day.

Robin, who is a ‘raging lesbian’ (her words) is fucking adorable and bizarre, her energy is contagious and nerve-racking. She’s finishing a career in linguistics, can speak fluently in like six languages, and is apparently a certified genius.

She’s also head over heels obsessed with her girlfriend, and won’t stop talking about her. Vicky is a nurse student, one of Steve’s classmates actually.

‘Steve is a fucking nurse student, why is that hot? Why does he find that so hot? Jesus’.

Steve is much quieter than Robin, especially in comparison. But he’s just, or even funnier. Eddie can see how observant he is, listening attentively and waiting for his moment, because he’s mostly quiet but when he speaks he always says the perfect thing.

It’s like every time he talks Eddie can see him dropping an imaginary mike on the floor. It’s fascinating honestly.

He is incredibly sweet too. Eddie can tell, by how his eyes light up when they are placed in a scene meant to look like they are playing Dungeons and Dragons and he goes on a tangent about the kids he used to babysit when he was younger, that they like to play too, how they drove him insane and how he never lost touch with them after they grew up, how they are all seniors in high school now, how proud he is of them. It’s so fucking cute.

They get a good laugh imagining the kids' reactions to seeing them in the video, Steve laughing so hard he cries when Robin starts imitating the expression of one of them finding out Steve made out with his favorite singer.

And they haven’t even talked about or planned that scene yet, it’s meant to be shot tomorrow, but when he hears them talking about it, it fills Eddie up with antici…pation. He’s dying to kiss Steve and he can’t stop thinking about it.

♫

After the lunch break, they shoot a bunch of scenarios of Eddie sneaking into various places, the bus, a bathroom, a changing room, and so on. Since Robin and Steve are practically the same height is easy to cheat the camera into only showing the back of the shirt that says ‘crew’ making it impossible to know which one of them he’s hooking up with until the end of the video.

He has a lot of fun pushing Steve into different corners of the set, and Steve does too judging from all his cute little laughs between scenes. 

Argyle calls it a day late afternoon, he’s happy and excited, says he has a really good feeling about this,

“Not many scenes left to shoot, mostly you two,” he said pointing at Steve and him, “So we can start mid-morning tomorrow. Get some rest my dudes, love you” and dismisses them.

Eddie gets distracted talking with Argyle so when he gets back to the changing room there’s no one there, except… Steve.

He’s meticulously fixing his hair in the mirror and he’s humming the video’s song. Of course he is, Eddie thinks amused, he’s heard it so many times by now. He leans on the doorway watching Steve’s reflection, waiting for him to notice Eddie, but Steve doesn’t see him right away, and thinking he’s alone, he starts singing.

I don’t want to hide anymore,

I want the whole world to know,

That you are mine,

Are you mine, please be mine, you are mine.

It’s his song, but it sounds nothing like it. The chorus of You Are Mine is loud, angry, desperate but what Steve is singing sounds so soft, so beautiful. It sounds like one of those slow acoustic covers that usually play in coffee stores and it’s funny, Eddie despises those kinds of covers, but Steve’s? 

Steve’s he could listen to all the goddam time.

He’s so lost in his thoughts he doesn't notice when Steve finally sees him, he only looks up when the singing stops.

Steve is smiling at him bashfully through the reflection in the mirror, blushing prettily. 

Smiling back he tells Steve, “I’m surprised you are not sick of it yet,”

He pushes himself off the doorframe and walks inside, hovering over Steve since he’s sitting on the only makeup chair.

Steve shrugs as he stands up and leaves the chair to Eddie, going around the room to grab his things. Eddie can’t help but feel a little disappointed, he kind of wanted Steve to keep him company, but to his surprise, Steve doesn't leave immediately, and it’s his turn to hover slightly close.

“It’s a really catchy song,” Steve says and Eddie snorts because, no, it’s not. But he just smiles again and says,

“Well, thank you.”

“You wrote it?” Steve asks tilting his head to the side and it’s fucking unfair how cute he looks when he does it.

Eddie just nods, because speaking hard when cute boy near. Man he usually has so much more game, what is it about Steve that just makes him feel so giddy?

“It must be about someone very special,” Steve says and there’s a question hidden somewhere in there.

And Eddie wants to tell him ‘I wrote it for you’ because it feels like he did. He wrote the song thinking about a concept, an ideal, someone he would truly want, and he genuinely feels he was conjuring up Steve in his mind. Even before he met him.

But instead, he shakes his head and says, “It’s hypothetical, there- there’s no one.”

And Steve smiles at him, his smile getting bigger slowly and his cheeks redder as he looks down for a second before staring at Eddie through his lashes, “Good” he says in an almost whisper and then leaves the room.

And Eddie thinks maybe all the songs in their next album will be about Steve.

to be continued

part 1: ♫

part 2: ♫

part 3: is this

part 4: ♫ 

☕ cafecito?

[odessa-2]

Titbits and analysis 🖖

As promised, some more titbits from the Con yesterday in Melbourne as well as my interpretations. Prior to attending yesterday, I told myself to keep an open mind and attempt to leave any biases behind (even after having seen the funeral pics). Clean slate. To try and view Sam, the event, questions, and subsequent behaviours objectively.

I'm the sort of person who feels energy and is affected by it and in some ways governed by it. The energy of people, both individually and collectively. The energy of a group. I tend to couple this with objective analysis, which forms the basis of my conclusions about people and situations.

I applied this method yesterday in attempting to understand and view Sam, the OL money 💰 machine and everything else. I also just wanted to go there and bask in the audience and enjoy myself....and....I did like it Jamie.

So first thing I noticed off the cuff was how experienced Sam was in handling questions, and the women, and tailoring his behaviour to suit their desires. He was charming, charismatic, approachable, a skilled professional. I saw the veneer. I felt the veneer. I also saw and felt that he is a pretty decent bloke under that veneer. A man with a solid work ethic, who is mild mannered and working with purpose in his life.

I observed that his handler or Convention agent or whatever he is, Steve, was in full control. He managed Sam's performance in a sense. He asked the questions and even set the directions for some answers. Sam is controlled. I didn't like Steve. I didn't get the best vibe off him. Infact, I got a bad vibe off him. I observed that everything was a performance. Scripted to a large degree. The Single Sam narrative was pushed by Steve. Hard. It was a performance. That much was clear to me.

So Sam chose to mention that he was in Austria skiing 2 weeks ago....blah blah...something about singing a Ronan Keating song. So the script tells everyone nice and early that he is NOT with Caitriona ✅️

Later on in the panel, he mentioned that he "was at the theatre in London the week earlier" watching a play. Huh? Getting his timeline confused? Interesting titbit, I thought. Who would he go to the theatre with whilst in London? Who else likes to go to the theatre? Who have we seen him go to the theatre with before? Ding ding ding!!

One of the first things he spoke about (umprompted) and imo was part of his speaking program, was that Caitriona is back home in Scotland doing prep work and will be directing this season. He said that he spoke to her recently and that she is cold and miserable back home. No one seemed to give a shit. The women were there for their Jamie. Sam read the crowd. He understood.

Sam tried to bring Cait into the conversation again saying something like "Where's Claire?....Caitriona isn't here". Again crickets from the audience.

He said that he auditioned with a lot of Claire's, but they couldn't find the right fit and that nobody was as brilliant as Caitriona.

It sounded like he genuinely missed her.

He spoke of his audition with Cait, saying they were very physical and were almost wrestling each other. He said he was sweating all over her and that his sweat was on her. The crowd still only wanted to hear about their Jamie. I think Sam relished in being cheeky in saying that she wore his sweat that day.

Someone asked about "how do you kiss and make out with a costar and then just carry-on. Isn't it awkward"? Sam responded generally initially, saying that there's lots of checking in with the person and apologising afterwards (in a joking fashion). Then that prompted him to start talking about Cait saying that he has also "snotted" all over Cait and exchanged many body fluids with her (in an acting context presumably)and that there's nothing really left to do together that they haven't already done. I was like "whoooaa wtf Sam?". Shooketh that he said that really. The silence from the crowd was palpable. They really didn't want to hear about Cait and Sam and their shared bodily fluids whilst 'acting'. He is THEIR fantasy man. Not Caitriona's. Silence from the audience. Sam already knew that the crowd were Sam onlies but he loved telling this story. Relished in it imo. He loved the double entendre. It was an unrehearsed, unscripted conversation as it resulted from an audience question. I concluded it was an act of defiance on his behalf. That's what it felt like to me.

Steve the convention agent guy, was always bringing it back to Single Sam. "I worry how are you going to get a date" said Steve. With Sam understanding the prompt ...."I worry too" says Sam. Bachelor narrative secured ✅️

Steve spruked the Bachelor narrative again to Sam's thirsty and adoring fans....."Sam you remind me of that old show where everyone has to guess which bachelor is going to come out of the mystery door". And that's when I knew with 100 percent certainty that the bachelor talk was a ruse. It was so contrived and performative. I smiled to myself. The women in the crowd were eating it up.

Another thing that stood out to me was when Sam was searching for the right terminology when talking about Cait. "My......co star" huge pause.

"I love you Claire" is the line he randomly chose to say when explaining his acting.

When asked how he has time to foster friendships and spend time with his family he talked around it. Avoided the question and kept it about his friendships saying that they are strong friendships that endure. He diverged and started talking about how he still has his core friendships that he had when he was bunking and sharing an apartment/house with them in London when he was younger. The veneer was up. Inpenetrable.

At another point in the panel Sam asked "How many Sheila's are there here"? LOL. I found that amusing.

Now this next part captured my attention the most. It had a weird feeling (energy) around it . Sam gave off a weird energy. Almost hostile. Again that's just what I felt.

Someome from the audience named Toni with an "I" was selected to ask a question. I can't remember what the question was but Sam made a really big deal about her being named Toni. "There's always a Tony have you noticed"? Why is there always a Tony"? He said. He didn't want to drop it. He placed a little too much emphasis on it. I was laughing silently but Sam's double entendre didn't go unnoticed by me. Everyone else was clueless or at least that's how it appeared to me. Was that an Easter egg dropped by Sammy?

Asked about what does he do for self care, he seemed to struggle answering that too. He talked in circles about his way points hike and how he's learning how to live in the moment. There's that wall again.

There were many other things discussed of course but I thought I'd focus on the things that shed light on his situation and that resonated with me.

So my closing Analysis? Sam is controlled. He peforms. He caters. He's intelligent and in tune with people and aims to please but is private. Sunday just reaffirmed and solidified my beliefs. Caitriona snatched up that hard working gem of a man quick smart!

[alotofpockets]

Busy morning | Reneé Rapp

Pairing: Reneé Rapp x Reader

Summary: After spending the morning supporting your girlfriend at her Today Show performace, you're very tired and spend the rest of the day cuddling. [Full request]

Masterlist | Reneé Rapp Masterlist | Words: 725

It was only 4am when your alarm sounded, you were dreading the early-ness of today’s activities but you wanted to be there to support your girlfriend. She was performing on The Today Show, they organized a small concert on the Today Plaza as a part of their Citi Concert Series. 

Neither you or Reneé were morning people, but you had to be on location at 6am. Reneé had to do hair and make up and then at 7am sound check started. Reneé had told you over and over again that she wouldn't mind if you went to sleep for a couple more hours and arrived later but you insisted on joining her and supporting her. 

So, both of you get ready and drive over to the location. While Reneé got ready you waited in the parking lot for her parents, so that you could guide them in the direction of the dressing room. Just like you Reneé's parents tried coming to as many of her performances as possible. When they arrived you gave both of them a hug before you all joined Reneé in the room. 

Even though it was still way too early to function, she looked absolutely stunning. Her shirt brought out the color of her eyes, and the smile she was wearing was enough to make you stop in your tracks when you laid your eyes on it. 

When the sound check was done, the Plaza started filling with fans. You were standing to the side of the stage with her parents, looking out over the excited fan that had come out to see your girl perform this early in the morning. When Reneé entered the stage and started singing, the crowd started screaming and yelling the words back at her. She truly had the best fans. Reneé had an amazing performance and the crowd loved the way she was interacting with them.

A couple songs later and the concert was over again. The hosts did a quick interview on stage, even her parents joined them on the stage for one of the questions. You were just admiring your girlfriend and the ease she had in answering the questions, she seemed to be in her element and her confidence was radiating. 

She went straight to you when she got off the stage, hugging you tight. "You did amazing, baby." You let her know, paired with a kiss to her cheek. You talked for a bit before a couple of fans walked up asking to take a picture. More and more fans wanted pictures, but you had lunch reservations so you had to leave soon. She didn't want to disappoint her fans, so she said "I'm sorry I can't get to all of you. You know your support means so much to me. Can we take a group picture and you all share it with each other? I'm so sorry, but we really have to get going." Her fans understood of course, because they are amazing. You took the picture for them and then you were on your way.

Lunch with her parents was great, but you were so tired that you were finding it hard to focus on the conversation. You leaned into Reneé's side and put your head on her shoulder. Their conversation continued as normal, giving you some space. When everyone was done eating Reneé said, "I think I should take this sleepy head home." She thanked her parents for being there and for the lunch, before she walked you back to the car. 

Once you arrived back home Reneé led you right to the bedroom. You plopped down on the bed, she smiled at your silliness before helping you take your shoes off. Then doing the same to her shoes before laying down next to you on the bed. You cuddled up into her side. Your favorite place in the world was in her arms. It didn't matter where you were, her arms were home. Reneé plays with your hair until you fall asleep. She kisses your forehead and pulls the blanket over the both of you. She scrolls on her phone for a bit still too high on adrenaline to sleep herself. The videos of today's performance were already all over her notifications, so she watched some of those before closing her own eyes as well.

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[maknaeswrld]

a life remembered | l.mh, h.js

wc: 4.6k

genre: soulmate au; reincarnation au; fluff; angst; poly!minsung x reader

cw: primarily Han pov; illusions to suggestive conversation; concert highs; anxiety/panic attack mentions; food/eating mentions; Bee (I feel like they need a warning lol, love them the most); arguing but bc they care (not between the soulmates); please let me know if I missed anything

part one: a life forgotten

Soulmates are a curious thing. Everyone has them, and someway, somehow, they always find each other.

When Lee Minho walked into JYP Entertainment for the first time, Jisung didn’t know what to do or how to react, and looking back on it now, it was comical. Minho was, in Jisungs opinion, one of, if not the most, handsome man he’d ever seen. It had struck a chord in him he’d chosen to interpret as jealousy.

When Chan told him he wanted to include Minho in the group he was creating, Jisung couldn’t decide if he was giddy or nervous. He’d met the other boy twice and couldn’t shake the overwhelming feeling that they knew each other. It wasn’t until their third meeting, the first one in an official capacity, to learn the song Chan wanted to showcase, that Jisung realized why.

The small space of the practice room they were designated to made the group circle a tight one, Minho rushing in and dropping to the floor in the open spot between Jisung and Felix, accidentally brushing against Jisung in the process and shooting them both headfirst into a memory both could swear wasn’t theirs.

Water surrounded them in every direction, the sounds of laughter filling the air. The ship rocked gently as the waves pushed it along steadily.

Minho took Jisungs hand, leading him to the edge of the ship. 

“Where is your beautiful mind right now, my love?” 

And although it didn’t feel like he was talking to Minho, and there was no response, Jisung’s smile lit up his entire face, his eyes twinkling in pure content.

“Come back to the group, love. The boys are going to start their whining if you ignore them for too long.” Minho groaned.

Again there was no response, as if a chunk of their memory for this specific moment was still missing.

“You know how your boys can get.” Jisung waved nonchalantly, hand grasping at thin air before the two turned back to join the rest of the crew.

Practice was immediately derailed as they were brought back to the present, everyone looking worried as they surrounded the pair.

“What just happened?” Changbin asked, holding Jisungs shoulder to keep him steady.

“I’m not entirely sure.” Jisung couldn’t stop himself from seeking out Minho’s eyes, which were already on him, holding the softest expression Jisung has ever seen in his life.

“Please tell me you saw the ship too.” Minho whispered, voice unsure, hand grasping Jisungs for dear life and all he could do was nod. Minho started nodding along with him, the two slowly morphing from shock to joy as smiles spread across their faces.

Tears pricked at Jisungs eyes the more the realization hit him.

“We’re soulmates.”

````

Five years. 

In five years, so much had changed for Han Jisung. In just five years he’d met not only the love of his life, but also his soul brothers, a realization they came to some time after the soulmate realization, as Minho and Jisung saw the rest of the members in almost all of their past lives. 

In five years Stray Kids had also risen to a level of fame not one of them had predicted. They were living a life their younger selves could have only hoped to dream of, and they were so beyond grateful and happy to be able to keep doing music together.

But also within those five years, Minho and Jisung had come to the conclusion that something was missing. They were absolutely positive that they were soulmates, of that there was not even a shadow of a doubt, but there were too many holes in their shared memories, conversations that felt one sided, moments in bed with a gap between them that shouldn't be there if they were at peace with one another. But the confirmation that they were missing a piece came in a memory that surfaced much later than the rest, one with Jisung storming up to Minho’s door, fist banging in anger, wedding band adorning his finger but not Minho’s. 

That memory was one of Jisung being angry with Minho and not even knowing who he was, with Minho knowing of Jisung but not knowing him personally, of them both being in love with a person that wasn’t the other. Minho is positive he’d despise cheaters in every life, yet was accused of sleeping with a married person. Neither Jisung, nor Minho could remember Jisungs spouse's name, what they looked like, what gender they were, all they knew was that both of them loved them, and they both loved them as desperately as they love one another, and that was enough to convince them that the piece missing was a third soulmate.

They didn’t know how to go about it, they couldn’t even be allowed to share the truth of their relationship and thousands of Stays were claiming to be each members soulmates daily just for a chance of meeting them. The chances of finding their third and final piece was slim at absolute best. 

People always say trust the soulmate connection and that time would bring them together, but that was hard knowing you couldn’t remember someone you love. 

Han Jisung spent far too many concerts and fan meets searching the crowd in hopes that you’d be there, that he’d finally find you and the trio would finally be complete. Likewise, he’d spent just as many nights disappointed that you were nowhere to be found. With their fame came the higher likelihood of you being able to find them, but that also meant it’d be harder for them to find you. However, Chan and his soulmate, Riley, gave Jisung hope that he would find you.

Lee Minho wanted to find you just as badly, though he looked for you in the mundane. Whilst his partner expected you to reach out via their fame, Minho hoped more for bumping into you on the sidewalk or in a coffee shop, it made him feel more attainable. Minho knew that whilst Riley and Chan made it work, and even Bee and Changbin, there were just as many people that would be scared off by celebrity soulmates as there are seeking them. 

Another concert, another night of Jisung daydreaming about finding you in the crowd and whisking you away after to finally meet you and remember you. Riley gave Chan a knowing glare, the parental figures of the group concerned about their younger friend. Ever since the two soulmates came to the conclusion they have a third one, which isn’t unheard of but is fairly rare, their friends have been doubtful to say the least. 

No one likes seeing the kicked puppy look on Jisungs face whenever someone mentions that maybe there isn’t anyone else out there, or the way Minho gets defensive when they try to talk to him about the possibility of their memories just not having fully solidified yet. Both in the firm belief that five years connected at the hip was enough time to remember everything. But that didn’t stop the worried glances and strained smiles when they’d start talking about their ‘other soulmate’.

“They’re gonna be here tonight.” Jisung stated as if it were an absolute fact.

“You said that last night, Sungie.” Hyunjin muttered.

“Yeah, but I can feel it this time. They’re in the crowd right now, I’m positive of it.”

“Ji, you have an incredible soulmate already, why are you so eager to find another one?” Bee asked from their almost permanent place snuggled into Changbin. “I’m just saying, I can’t imagine dealing with more than one Binnie.”

“They’re not another Minho, they’re mine and Min’s missing piece.” Jisung argued. It was a conversation that felt all too familiar, and every time one of his soul brothers or other lifetime friends make comments, he feels himself getting just a little more hostile but also a little more defeated.

Maybe they were wrong, maybe there wasn’t a missing piece and they truly just haven’t had the best relationship in every lifetime. But Jisung couldn’t bring himself to believe that. Seeing how whole Bee and Bin, and Riley and Chan, were, how they didn’t have memory gaps or questionable moments and conversations, made him feel like there was no other explanation aside from another person to fill the void. It wasn’t like Jisung thought Minho wasn’t enough for him, he wasn’t seeking more from outside their relationship, he loved Minho with every fiber of his being, but he knew Minho wasn’t the only one he’d hold these feelings towards. And Minho knew it too, it was a long conversation to have, one that ended in tears but mutual understanding that they would always have each other and weren’t seeking out this third person for any reason other than them wholeheartedly believing they are also their soulmate.

As the time to go on stage got closer and closer, Jisung felt more antsy. He wasn’t sure why tonight felt different, but he couldn’t stop fidgeting. Minho tried to calm him down, but was just as on edge. 

The concert went smoothly, they always did, but Minho and Jisung both spent far more time engaging towards one specific area than they ever had before. It’s like they couldn’t abandon the section for longer than a few minutes and they always ended up right back there the second they could. Jisung felt better than he had in a long time, adrenaline pumping through his veins and a smile plastered on his face. He felt good, he felt whole for the first time in a long time. Jisung couldn’t explain it, but that stage was the most at home he’d felt since he first found Minho.

As they said their goodbyes to Stay and made their way backstage, the overwhelming peace Jisung had felt slowly faded. He couldn’t think of any reason why, but as he watched Riley smother his leader with kisses and Bee put his best friend into a headlock, he felt himself growing more numb. 

Minho wrapped his arms around him, nuzzling into his shoulder, relieving the aching feeling sinking in so fast it would have given Jisung whiplash if he weren’t already used to the other boys' affect on him, body and mind. Jisung could feel giggles bubbling up in him with each soft kiss placed on the base of his neck.

“You were radiant out there tonight, my love.”

“And you were very sexy.” Jisung giggled.

“Hey now! There are children present!” Riley scolded, breaking away from Chan to cover Jeongin’s ears. “Go foreplay somewhere else.”

“Yeah!” Bee shouted from Changbin’s back. “There’s dressing rooms for a reason!”

The look of absolute dismay Riley shot Bee was priceless, “That’s not what the dressing rooms are for.” 

“It’s not? Did you know that bro?”

Changbins ears were red. “Please don’t call me bro while talking about this.”

“How about we just all get showered and changed and go grab something to eat?” Chan suggested in a tone that left no room for argument, clapping his hands together and pulling Riley back towards his body. “And stop babying Innie, he’s worse than Bee these days.”

“I will never stop babying my baby, but I am hungry.” Riley muttered in agreement. “If y’all take too long in the shower, we’re leaving without you.” Riley pointed at Bee and Changbin, who’s ears somehow got even more red. Bee just winked at their best friend, shiteating grin plastered on their face.

Twenty minutes later, Jisung piled into the van with his bandmates and additional soulmates, Seungmin and Hyunjin discussing what they wanted to eat whilst Felix snuggled into Bee’s side, the two looking at memes while Changbin pouted.

Jisung felt more drained than he had in a long time, his social battery past empty and moved on to completely fried. Minho pulling him into his side eased some of the anxiousness starting to well up.

“No panic attacks after amazing shows.” Minho whispered.

Jisung buried his head further into the other mans neck. “I’m trying.”

“I know.” He kissed the crown of his head gently, smiling softly while tightening his hold. “I’m seriously so proud of you.”

The ride was uneventful out to the opposite side of the city, in hopes less people would recognize them so they could have their meal in peace. Minho and Jisung were the last of the group to venture out of the vehicle and towards the restaurant. They didn’t get too far before a voice rapping along to Han’s part to All In stopped them dead in their tracks.

“Y/n, please, you’re in public.” 

“You’re wasting your breath, you know how they are about their spotlight songs.”

Han’s eyes landed on the person rapping his line with such ease it was as if they’d written it themself. He felt excitement flood through him instantaneously, rushing over and joining them, singing along to the song playing quietly in the outdoor speakers overhead.

He watched your eyes light up as the two of you sang along together, ignoring your friends and focusing on one another. Not a thing in the world was registering to either of you as you both turned to Minho, watching as he rolled his eyes, smile already playing at his lips, joining in for the last parts of the song.

Your laughter filled the air as the song came to an end, and Jisung could swear it was already becoming one of his favorite sounds. 

“Took you long enough.”

Your voice was laced with amusement.

“Sorry to keep you waiting.”

“You know I don’t like singing by myself.” You nudged his shoulder lightly, causing him to wrap his arm around your shoulders and squeeze tight.

“But your voice is so nice!”

A blush lit up your cheeks in an instant, mouth opening to respond when someone clearing their throat behind you drew the groups attention.

“Y/n, um, what?”

“Min! Sungie! Hurry your asses up or we’re gonna eat without you.” Bee shouted from down the way, drawing Jisungs attention just long enough for you to slip out of his hold.

By the time he or Minho could focus back on you, you were gone. No trace of a person having been standing with them, as if you’d been a figment of their imagination.

“Sungie…”

“I know.”

“That was…”

“Yeah.”

Minho was staring off into the direction you had to have gone in, itching to run after you. Jisung stared at his hands, in disbelief that just moments prior he was holding the final piece of his puzzle in those same hands.

You, the random stranger unabashedly performing one of their songs in the middle of the street, were the one person Jisung and Minho had been looking for incessantly. The person they knew they couldn’t remember. 

“Do you ever wonder what we’d be like if we didn’t find each other? What’d it’d be like if we don’t keep finding each other?”

Jisung was used to thinking these types of questions, but hearing you ask them out loud hurt more than him thinking them ever did.

“I’d rather imagine we’ll always find each other.” Jisung grumbled, tightening his hold on both of the bodies on either side of his.

“Okay but what if-”

“There are no what if’s, my love. We’ll always find one another, in every lifetime, even if some take a little longer than others. I don’t see a reason to dwell on the impossibility of not ending up right back here every single time.”

You snuggled deeper into Jisungs chest, hand squeezing Minho’s.

“I suppose you’re right.” You mumbled. Minho squeezed your hand comfortingly in response. 

Jisungs arms shifted entirely around you, squeezing as he rolled over to toss you in the middle, both of your soulmates wanting to hold you close. You sighed in content, snuggling into your boys happily.

“I am so dead serious right now, you two. We will absolutely eat without you if you don’t- why do your faces look like that?”

“We found them.”

“Found who? Why are you being cryptic.”

“We found our other soulmate.” Jisung said.

Bee’s mouth dropped open and within moments all of their brothers and Riley were there, bombarding them with questions.

“Okay, so is no one surprised that they actually have another soulmate? Is that just me?” Hyunjin said, a smack from Seungmin following shortly after. 

“Which direction did they go? We need to find them!” Jeongin said, already shifting from one foot to the other as if he were ready to sprint in any direction in a moments notice. 

“We didn’t actually see what direction they went in because somebody distracted us.” Jisung glared at Bee.

“Oh, I’m sorry I’m hungry and didn’t know.” They huffed.

“We were facing that way so they definitely couldn’t have gone in that direction.” Minho cut in, knowing a grumpy Jisung and a hangry Bee is never a good combination. They loved each other like siblings but damn could they argue until they both turned blue.

“Alright, everyone pick a direction and let's find our boys’ soulmate.” Chan said, “Go in pairs and meet here in one hour, no exceptions. Even if everyone comes back empty handed, we have to at least try.” Turning to his first and last children, his eyes and tone softened. “Is there anything we can use to recognise them?”

Jisung immediately jumped into a full description, followed by Minho simply saying, “Ask if they know ‘All In’. They were singing it with us just now.”

Nods all around as people started pairing up.

“Okay, I’m going with Ji.” Riley stated, looping their arm through Jisungs. “Channie, you take Min. Bin and Bee, separate. I am not dealing with soulmates getting distracted and off mission right now.”

Before Jisung could even think about protesting, he was being swept away by Riley in the first direction he would have guessed you ran in. Jisung struggled to keep up with the pace set by Riley as they ducked into shops and restaurants, checking bathrooms and fitting rooms as they went. Riley wanted to cover as much ground as possible in the one hour timeframe given, which Jisung was appreciative of. However, Jisung hoped Minho and Chan were having better luck, or anyone else for that matter.

He wanted to find you more than anything. Knowing he had you in his arms was enough for him to get addicted to you, and if he stopped for a moment and focused on his memories, he was sure you were already fitting yourself into almost every single one..

Every one sided conversation suddenly being completed, all those nights spent with an unnecessary space between himself and Minho being filled by you. Your presence for those four minutes he got with you had already led to a downward spiral of need to be close to you, to hold you in his arms once more.

In combination with the presence of you in old memories, as if you’d always been there, there was also a small onslaught of new memories, ones without Minho but including you. Ones that further solidified your rightful place within his life.

As another memory flashed behind his eyes, he took a seat on a bench outside of a small corner store.

“Are you okay?” Riley asked, always a mother hen.

“I’m fine, just, check this one without me, I need a moment.”

Riley seemed to understand and didn’t ask questions as they pat him on the back and wandered into the store.

“Do you believe in soulmates?” A voice whispered in your ear as hands made their way around your waist. “Because I feel like we’ve met before and I’d like to get to know you again.”

You could smell the stench of alcohol emanating off the stranger feeling you up in the middle of the dance floor. Rolling your eyes, you ripped his hands off you, turning around and shoving him back for safe measure. 

“I do believe in soulmates, and you sure as hell ain’t mine. But the guy who is doesn’t really take kindly to strangers touching what's his.” 

Before the idiot could open his mouth again, Jisungs arm slid into place across your shoulders, pulling you in for a downright make out session right in the middle of the bars dance floor.

When he finally pulled away, the dude was nowhere to be seen.

“Took you long enough.” You said teasingly.

“Sorry to keep you waiting.” He smiled gently, and then led you to the booth he’d been watching you from.

You shook your head as you splashed water on your face in the bathroom, your best friend, Lia, pacing behind you.

“I thought you wanted to avoid them?”

Lia was the only person you’d confided in after coming to terms with the fact that your soulmates were not one, but two international superstars.

“I did, but, I don’t know. It was like being like that with them was so natural I didn’t even register that we don’t know each other. It felt right.”

“Do you think they know?”

Sighing, you lightly tapped your head against the wall, eyes squeezed shut. “I don’t know. If they don’t yet, we’ve met now, it’s only a matter of time before I start filtering into their memories.”

“Do you want to keep hiding from them? Y/n/n, they know now, there’s no avoiding them not remembering you anymore. Don’t you think avoiding them now will just cause unnecessary pain?”

“I know that! I do. But, I’m not sure I could handle being in their world, and what if they end up resenting me for ruining the good thing they already had? They’ve been together for so long, and then I just blindside them with my existence? What if they didn’t even know they had a third soulmate?”

“Then they do now and they’re probably looking everywhere for them. Those two don’t seem like the type to resent you for coming into their lives, but they might if you enter it just to disappear forever. I get the feeling now that they know, they’ll never stop looking for you. Do you understand that?”

You opened your mouth to answer when the door to the bathroom swung open.

“Oh, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to interrupt. I was just looking for someone.” The stranger looked flushed, as if they’d been running, but even so you could tell they were stunning. “Um, neither of you happen to know the song All In, do you?”

You and Lia shot each other confused but nervous looks, which seemed to be enough for this stranger who finally let the bathroom door shut behind them, leaning against it and eyeing you both.

“So which one of you is the runner?”

“What do you mean?”

“One of you just met your two soulmates and then booked it while they had their backs turned, which was it?”

Lia threw her hands up in defense, pointing at you in the process and backing up.

“Traitor.” You mumbled, causing her to stifle a laugh.

The stranger blocking the exit landed their gaze on you, “I ran too.”

Of all the things you were expecting them to say, that was definitely not on the list of possibilities.

“It’s scary,” They continued, pushing off the door and walking towards you. “But the separation is worse. I promise you, it’s better than you can possibly imagine. The company takes good care of us, and while we aren’t allowed to be public, we go pretty much everywhere with the boys if we want to. They don’t do anything to risk our relationships.”

“I’m sorry but, who are you and what do you mean by our?”

“Oh! I’m Riley, I’m Chan’s soulmate. And Changbin found his as well, their name is Bee. I went through the running and being scared of falling for someone in the industry but Bee was already in the industry themself when they found Bin, so it was slightly easier for them. Sorry, I’m rambling, but my point is we’re both here for you and we both understand how you’re feeling. And that those men you just left in the dust are two of the best I’ve ever met, and they’ve been looking for you for a long time.”

That comment shocked you to your core. 

They’ve been looking for you.

“How could they be looking for me, they couldn’t have even known about me.”

Riley seemed to hesitate. “To be honest, none of us believed them. For a while we really just assumed that they found each other at such a young age they’ve never experienced anything but one another, so the whole third soulmate thing was just sort of a way to come to terms with the fact that they wanted a change of pace or something. But, here you are, and we stand corrected. 

“They may not have known you, or known how to find you, but they’ve been searching for their ‘missing piece’ about as long as I’ve known them.” Then Riley quirked their head in a very parental like motion. “You already knew, didn’t you.”

It was phrased as a question, but was completely an irrefutable statement.

“How long have you known?” Where you were expecting harshness or judgment, you received only the sound of sheer curiosity.

“Almost a year now.” You mumbled, arms wrapping around yourself for a sense of security. 

Riley blanched. “A YEAR?!”

You just nodded. 

“Damn hun, I would’ve lost my mind if I’d known who Chris was for a whole year. How the hell did you manage that?!”

“By convincing themself that Minho and Han were already happy and better off without them, that they’d just throw a hitch in their lives that they didn’t need.” Lia stated, you could practically hear her rolling her eyes at you. Riley’s eyes softened at her words.

Grabbing your hands in one hand, Riley brushed a stray piece of hair out of your face, gently cupping your cheek. “I know exactly how you feel. When I found Chris, I ran too. I didn’t think I could survive his work schedule, the expectations placed on him, all the fans claiming him, but he is so worth every single difficulty and so much more. I know you’re scared right now, and it’s probably worse for you because it’s just Chris and me, but Min and Ji already adore you, they could never be happier without you than they will be with you, I can promise you that much.

“I understand if you’re not ready yet. I wasn’t ready for a long time myself, so if it’s okay with you, I want to give you mine and Bee’s numbers, you can reach out to us with any and all questions, concerns, whatever. Heck, if you just want to use them to get to know us, that’s fine too. I didn’t have anyone to help me, but you have us, we’ll help you all the way. Think about it, okay? All three of you will be so much happier together. You aren’t meant to be apart.”

You felt tears stinging your eyes again. You knew Riley was right, you’d always known you’d be happier with them, but you also knew there was no way for you to get their attention, no way for them to actually find you, now that you had, now that they knew you, you were truly out of logical reasons to avoid taking your place by their sides.

Because soulmates are a curious thing. Everyone has them, and someway, somehow, they always find each other.

next part: a life eluded

a/n: ahhhhhh part two, I feel like it’s been done for a while but I’ve been like nervous about it idk, anyways I hope you enjoyed!! I know it’ll run for at least two more parts with potential for spin off(s) on the others finding their soulmates or even ‘prequels’ of Riley and Chan as well as Bee and Changbin🫣🤭 please feel free and encouraged to leave your thoughts and opinions and also lemme know if you’d be interested in being tagged in upcoming parts? ciao!! 🫶

[loubombshell]

Imagine Nikolai being drunk.

Nikolai Lantsov x Fem!Reader

It was a beautiful evening. The sun started to set, turning the entire sky into a beautiful red while the ocean reflected the color. A refreshing breeze blew trough y/n's hair, making her take a deep breath from the salty taste of the wind. Her eyes followed the wind, that filled their sail. Most of the time a Squaller was responsible for the wind, carrying them around the ocean, but right now they had enough of it to sail on their own. Y/n sat on a bench near the railing just enjoying the view and the sound of the waves.

A shadow walked up behind her and sat down next to her, one on her left and one on her right. The girl turned around and looked at Tolya and Tamar joining her.

"Do you need anything from me?" She asked with a little smirk.

"Don't act like we just come around when we need something." Tolya scoffed.

"The last time you talked to me was- wait let me think." Y/n put a finger on her chin, pretending to really think. "Oh yes! It was when you lost your sword and thought Nikolai added it to his weapon collection." She chuckled about it.

Tamar laughed a bit about the conversation and put a hand on Y/n's shoulder.

"You're not completely wrong. It's about Nikolai, he and the whiskey got pretty close to each other- like really close." Tamar told her honestly and Y/n sighed a bit about it.

"On my way." Y/n added and made her way under deck. She didn't hear him singing old sailor songs, which is a good sign.

So far, so good.

The creaky door opened, revealing Nikolai's chambers. There was a desk, with different maps either drawn by him or getting ripped from a book. The lamps hanging from the ceiling swayed to the left and right with the rhythm of the waves, that were hitting the ship.

In the middle of it, Nikolai stumbling from left to right also with the direction of the waves. Y/n had to bite her lips a bit, trying to hold her laugh, she came in and closed the door behind her.

Nikolai turned around by the sound of the closing door, looking at his girlfriend standing in the room too, he let out a drunken smile.

"Y/n!" He raised his arms happily. "The girl of my dreams." He chuckled and walked towards her. "Whoops." He let out when he swayed pretty much to the left side.

"Princess of my Kingdom. My leading Star. Fire of my love and-" Nikolai called her and put both of his hands on her shoulders, as soon as he reached her.

Y/n crossed her arms infront if her chest and raised her eyebrows up. "Are you finished?" She stopped him.

"-and my little mermaid." He smirked and tapped her with a finger on her nose.

The girl was charmed by his words, even if he won't remember them the next day. She wanted to keep a straight face, but after his last sentence she lost it.

"I hope you know, that alcohol isn't good for you and your body." She told him honestly. "You're not going to get older than 40 when you keep doing." She added.

"Are you saying you're going to miss me in a few years then?" He smirked.

"Of course dumbass. I want to see your beautiful face in wrinkles." Y/n joked smirking.

Nikolai looked horrified to her and touched his own face.

"Oh no! I never thought of this." He admitted.

Y/n laughed even more about it. "Come on, let's get you to bed." She took his hand and lead him towards his bed.

"You could've just said so many minutes ago." Nikolai smirked but Y/n couldn't take him seriously with his drunk face. She just shook her head with a smile and pushed him into bed, helping him to take off the shoes and threw them into some corner of the room and sat down on the side of his mattress.

"Are you going to sing for me now?" Nikolai asked with a smirk and looked to her.

"If you want me to wake a shark up, sure." She told him smirking. She was a terrible singer, but she had her qualities elsewhere.

Nikolai chuckled a bit about it. "I can teach you, I'm a great singer." He smirked arrogant. "Do I get a goodnight kiss?" He leaned on his elbows.

Y/n rolled her eyes with a smirk and leaned towards, wanting to give him a little kiss to the cheek but in the last moment her turned his head and she kissed his lips instead. The girl didn't pull back, she stayed like this for a few seconds before ending the kiss with a smile.

"You taste like alcohol, idiot." She pushed him back into the pillow with a smirk and stood up again.

"You're not going to join me?" Nikolai asked her.

Y/n shook her head laughing. "Goodnight, Nikolai." She closed his door and walked over to the little cabinet with his liquors in it, she grabbed every bottle and walked upstairs again with the many bottles drowning every single one in the Sea.

[sivyera]

Dating Jake Sully would include...

PAIRING: Jake Sully x reader

WARNINGS: bad grammar

CONTAINS: fluff

SONG: 18 - One Direction

gif is not mine

Meeting each other

you weren't part of any clan anymore..

you were alone in the woods were no one could find you

you had your home and your ikran and that was everything you needed or you thought it was everything you need

one day you saw some guy fighting with thanator, which was stupid idea but it was his fight

and it looked like he was going to lose so you stepped in and saved him but when you turned around and saw the guy you found him on the ground passed out

you felt a little responsible for him because he didn't look like a local avatar

so you took him to your place

you fixed his wounds and put a blanket (you stole that blanket) around him to keep him warm

after you took care of him you started to make some meal for you and him

you didn't realized how much time had passed when you felt the presence of the guy behind you

you wasn't very communicative so you just give him the food you made and sit on the other side, away from him

he seemed little uncomfortable and confused

'my name is jake, what's yours?' he asked

you just looked at him without saying anything

'it's pretty good, did you cooked it? What is it?' he asked again

'it's a soup and yes' you answered

he light up a bit when you answered and he ate it all

after the meal he went little quit because he wasn't sure what to say

'thank you for saving me' he said while he was looking at you,

omg you are so beautiful that he can not stop looking at you

you just node at him and after a while you spoke up again

'y/n' you said

'what?' he answered

'that's my name, you asked for it, it's y/n' you said

'oh that's a beautiful name' he said

after this little meeting you started your common adventure

you taught him everything about this world

he told you everything about him and you told him everything about you

it was like you known each other many years

so simply you two started to catching feelings towards each other

HC's

he confessed his feelings first

he become very cuddly and possessive

he's protecting you with his life and he trust you with his life

teaching him everything you know

helping him to get his own ikran

hugs from behind

kisses have special meanings for him

kiss on the lips: 'i love you'

kiss on the forehead: 'everything is gonna be okay'

kiss on a cheek: 'thank you'

he'll hold your hand every time he knows he's going to get angry

find out that you two are mates and you two mate under the Na'vi (secretly ofc)

meet other avatars and get to know Grace

and Grace was so happy when she met you because she never met avatar who's not living with others or at any clan

your free spirit amazed Grace and Jake

teaching him how to cook

looking at the stars at night, under a blanket, cuddled together

races on ikrans

exploring whole Pandora

teaching him how to fight with a bow and a spears

deep conversations with deep meanings

make him little braids

gets jealous easily but he trusts you, he doesn't trusts the others

hand-to-hand combat and any other playful fights

him watching after you every time so he knows you won't get hurt

very very angry if something happen to you

massaging each other

singing and dancing together everywhere

he loves you more than anything and he wouldn't forgive himself if something happen to you

[madameaug]

3D || JJK x Black OC

Pairing: Celebrity Jungkook x Non-Celebrity Jennette

Feature: Jack Harlow

WC: 900 ish

Context: Things are going smoothly on the second day of filming for Jungkook's solo '3D' with Kentucky rapper Jack Harlow. But tempers rise when Jack takes a flirtatious approach to Jungkook's girl.

Jungkook naturally had a positive attitude. He got a full nights rest and he had a tasty American breakfast. He was on set for the second and final day of filming for his single '3D'. It would be his second solo song with the new direction and image he was launching.

Seven was just a tiny drop in the pond for the full extent he wanted. He was tired of the 'baby' and 'maknae' cape he wore for the many years he was a part of BTS. Of course, he couldn't deny the fact that he was the youngest member of the group, but he was twenty-six. He was a grown man and he was entitled to his sexuality. He wanted to express how raunchy and nasty he could be is. I mean he was in a long term relationship with his girlfriend, fans couldnt' have thought that he was just holding hands with her. They would be delusional.

Currently, Jungkook was sitting in his trailer rubbing the soft fabric of the neon pink romper Jennette was wearing. She laid down on her stomach, scrolling through her phone. Her legs were across his lap, giving unrestricted access to her plump behind. What she it lacked in size, it overcompensated in weight. Any time she walked there was a jiggle that caught Jungkook's attention.

"Bug look at this." Jennette turned showing Jungkook a video of Jack Harlow's story. "He's here." The Kentucky rapper had tagged the singer in a Instagram story showing that he had arrived on set. The diamond crusted shape of Kentucky reflecting off the sunlight.

A sequential knock on the trailer could be heard. A slight groan Jennette moved off of Jungkook allowing him to stand up fully. Opening the door Jack Harlow had a big smile on his face. He dapped Jungkook.

"What's poppin."

Jungkook returned the same enthusiasm. Using the English that he knew. He was now at a conversational level thanks to Jennette and could better articulate himself. Jennette just look at the two men conversing with each other. Unaware at the secret glances to she was receiving from Jack.

Jack immediately noticed the feminine fragrance in the trailer. The scent couldn't belong to no one other than the beauty sitting on Jungkook's leather couch. Her legs were crossed over one another, and he could see the pure white color she sported on her toes. Two gold hoop piercings hanging on each nostril, elevated her look. Baby hairs were laid, with lips dewey and glossy. Her hair was shaped like a cloud, and not in its usual protective style.

Jungkook wasn't an idiot and watched the glances Jack made behind him. He was probably just curious about who Jennette was. Thinking nothing of it, Jungkook formally introduced the pair.

"Jeanie come meet Jack. Jack this is 'Jennette', Jeanie this is Jack."

Jennette smiled with simple wave.

"Had I known there were going to be gorgeous models like her I would have gotten here earlier so I could get to know her." Jack lifted Jennette's hand bringing it to his lips.

"Oh that's not necessary." Jennette dryly laughed, pulling her hand away. Once it was behind her back, she discreetly wiped any trace of his lips on her back.

"Jeanie was it?"

"ACTUALLY it's Jennette." Jungkook stepped in the middle of the two.

Thinking fast, Jennette bawled up her face appearing to sneeze. She turned behind her before letting out the fake sneeze.

"My allergies must be acting up. Let me go blow my nose." Jennette excused herself, before leaving the trailer. Before closing the door behind her. In another moment of disrespect Jack turned his head to watch Jennette leave the trailer. He bit his lip, before tucking his hands in his pocket. He rocked on his toes, before whispering a 'damn' to himself.

Jungkook found himself outside of his body. He saw himself wrapping his hands around Jack's neck. Shaking common sense into his thick skull. How dare he make a clear pass at his girlfriend, in front of his presence. His eye twitched at the lingering thought.

It took alot for Jungkook to get out of character. Having fame at such a young age taught him how to grow thick skin and how to let some things roll of his back. He was good at picking which battles were worth fighting over. And his relationship with Jennette was always one worth fighting for.

Jennette was one of the best things to ever happen to him. He trusted her and developed a deep love for her. One day when he will be courageous enough to get down on one knee and ask her to spend the rest of her life with him. He could see the day happening any time soon. A future with Jennette was his endgame.

And collaboration be damned, Jungkook wasn't going to let Jack get away with that.

"Don't disrespect me or my girl like that." Jungkook's tone was sharp and cold. His eyes narrowing in on Jack's face. He was watching every thought cross his mind. His eyebrows furrowed, at the drastic demeanor change.

"Your girl? I was just being polite-"

"Polite? Yeah right, you were clearly flirting with her in front of me."

"I didn't know she was your girl, my bad bro."

"Damn right. Don't try that again."

Jack noted putting both of his hands up backing away slowly. Sheesh

[ghostssweetgirl]

simon ghost riley x f!reader

mine [smut]

Pairing: simon 'ghost' riley x fem reader

CW: alcohol intake, bar, dancing flirtatiously with a girl (y/n uses fem pronouns), bisexual/pansexual reader, jealous ghost, bathroom sex, fingering, oral (f receiving), slight praise kink, slight size kink if you squint, slight possessiveness kink

Word Count: 2.5k~

nsfw under the cut ! minors, do not interact! 18+ only !!

It was a well-deserved celebration night after an important mission. The 141 stopped by a lively bar, filled with all types of people. Music was bumping, and people were party chatting, laughing, and having a great time. For you and the team, it was a victory on your end for finally completing a very long, painfully exhausting mission. 

You had slipped out of your dirty uniform to something better. You were wanting to get lit tonight, so it had to be something sexy, but comfortable. You put on a long sleeve top that squeezed your figure tightly, a long 'V' exposing part of your breasts, and a small portion of your tummy. Paired with black jeans, ripped aggressively along your thighs, and black heeled boots. Of course, you let your hair down. Brushing it out, watching slight curls form at the tips. 

Trying something new, you put on some eyeliner, giving yourself some siren eyes. Curling your eyelashes, and putting on some mascara, you were very happy with how you looked. Cue hours later, at a bar you've never been to before, you were confirmed by the long, flirty looks of random men that caught eye contact with you. 

Going in and out of conversations with the force, and people watching around the bar, you were on your 8th drink of the night, finally feeling the buzz run through your veins. Soap calls a toast, lining up shots for everyone to take. Once everyone cheers, you sling your shot back and catch a peek at the Lieutenant, Ghost. 

He sat back in the booth, legs man spread and nodded his head at you as he took his shot. You smile, chasing yours with another shot, then go back to your girly drink, bobbing your head to the upbeat music. Soap joins you in the head bopping as well as Gaz. Price chuckles, shaking his head and Ghost looks unamused, unphased. 

--

Your body moved on its own; simply dancing out of your seat, to a semi-crowded area. A pretty woman, bubbly with a charming smile waltzed up to you asking you to dance with her. Of course, you obliged, can't tell a pretty lady no, can we?

You jumped up and down while you heard your favorite song come on - although your vision was hazy, your mind was colorful and wild, you smirked at the girl as you wiggled your hips, walking to her, accepting her invitation. Your bodies clashed, hands stuck together as they swirled into the air together, waving back and forth. 

You two giggled with each other, and it ended up with you turned around, basically grinding onto her. Her hands grabbed your hips and yours hung over your head, around her shoulders. You take a look around and it seems you've forgotten who you came with since you were having so much fun. Your heart almost drops as you look in the direction of where the rest of the 141 is sitting and they're looking directly at you. Soap, Gaz, and Price ogling you, enjoying the show they've been able to see. Really, you were looking at Ghost, but he wasn't looking at you. He was looking at his captain and his men. 

-

Ghost

He really, really was trying his damndest to hold himself back at this point. Many attempts to remain professional failed, and at this moment, he didn't want to admit that what he was feeling was jealousy. He knew the consequences of hooking up with you in the past, as he had tried to push them down and ignore them. Especially knowing that with the latest mission you were on, there would be no way to get a piece of you. But as soon as he could, he knew he'd pursue you, though Ghost urged him to pull away and leave you be. Simon was insatiable; he wanted every inch of you, to make you his, make you feel the love you never felt before, and treat you right. Hence, why every "last time" was never truly the last. 

Ghost had an upper hand at first, but Simon was overcoming, therefore developing anger and possessiveness when he saw the way his own captain, his men ogling over you, dragging their eyes slowly over your body, over the curves the feminine hands were caressing. He even felt jealousy towards the woman running her hands along your body; the same one that had melted under him several times. The body, the person he thought of every waking morning and every night. As seconds tick by, he just gets more pissed off, his fists clenched by his sides.

She knows what the fuck she's doing, he thought. I'll have to show you that you're mine. No one else's. 

Fuck, it was hot, though, he couldn't help but admit that. He knew you were feeling yourself, feeling good - you damn sure looked good. Lust mixed with jealousy as he saw her hands grope your waist down to your hips while you shook your ass on her, swaying your hips to the music. The way your tits bounced, your chest glistened with sweat, your jawline stretched slightly as you tilted your head back at the attractive woman, and her hands glided up between your breasts as she pulled you into her face slowly.

Just before your lips met hers...

-

Your heart was racing, you were sweaty, hair locked to your face. She was teasing playfully, slowly pulling your face to hers before you felt a presence looming before you - your Lieutenant. 

You pull back, looking up at him nervously. "Yes, sir?"

"Need to talk to you," he told you. 

"Okay, wh-" you were cut off as he grabbed your wrist, stealing you away from the girl and walking away from the crowd towards the bathrooms. You looked back to make sure no one was watching you before you stumbled along, keeping up with his long steps.

--

He opens the bathroom door quickly, slamming and locking it behind you. You stood on the tip of your toes, anticipating what was going to happen. He seemed angry, or flustered. 

"Are you okay, Ghost?" 

"Shut up," he rasped, caging you against the wall. "You knew what you were doing out there, doll."

"I was dancing, Lieutenant," you replied softly. 

"Mm, dancin'? Looked like a little more than dancin' to me," he whispered lowly into your ear, causing a shiver to run down your spine like hot electricity.

"We were just having fun, sir... I apologize..." you look up at him with drunken, glossy eyes. There was no way that he was jealous of you as you both knew what was what while you two hooked up in the past, knowing the consequences of catching feelings in your field of work. It was damn sure a nice stress reliever, but it was just as hard on you as it was on him - to not catch feelings. 

One arm against the wall above your head, the other reaching towards your face. He grabs your chin, aligning your face to his, with dark eyes scanning your innocent ones. He sighs roughly before lifting his mask above his nose to press his lips to yours, kissing you with hard passion. 

He shifts one leg between yours, pulling away from the kiss as one hand trails down your neck to your collarbone, tracing your delicate skin. "Is that what you call havin' fun? Grindin' your arse on a pretty lady, givin' the men a show, huh?"

"I... I," you panted as his head lowered, and his breath lingered on your neck. His lips sucked at the soft spot as he gauged your reactions. You tried to explain yourself, but the pleasure took your words from you. "I was just..."

"Save your excuses, darlin'..." he nipped at your neck, earning a small squeal from your lips. Your back slightly arched against the wall as his lips trailed down your chest, and both hands massaged your waist. 

Your body melded to his touches, arching and leaning into him, for his hands that pervertedly, expertly, explored your curves. You couldn't help yourself as you ground onto his thigh, feeling the friction send a shiver up your spine. 

He grunted as he worked his thick thigh into your heat. "Good girl, that feels good, yeah? Grindin' on my thigh?"

"Yes..." you panted as you met his lust-filled gaze. 

"Fuck, I need these pants off," he rasped, taking his leg away from you as he knelt down, unbuttoning your jeans, watching your thick thighs ease out after being constricted. "Beautiful girl." 

Nearly blushing at his compliments, you shuffled your legs making it easier for him to remove your bottoms. He sets your pants to the side before he runs his large, calloused hands up your legs to your hips, squeezing the fat of your ass. He places soft kisses up your inner thighs that knowingly spread once he was on his knees. 

"Simon..." you moaned.

"That's right," he said in between kitten licks at your slit over your panties. "Whose name are you moaning, luv?"

"Yours, Simon!" you squealed as he pressed his lips deep over your covered clit. He hummed against your heat as he moved your soaked panties to the side. "Fuck, you look so good between my legs, Simon," you cooed. 

"Yeah? Only me, right?" he teased as he kissed the puffy lips of your cunt, before licking a slow stripe up to your clit. His lips suck harshly on it, causing your hips to buck. His hands snaked up your stomach to your breasts, pushing the shirt out of the way as your tits bounce out. He plays with them as his tongue is flicking at your throbbing nerve.

"Fuck! Yes, only you!" you agreed, grabbing the back of his mask between your fingers, pulling him deeper into your core. His tongue flattens as you hold his head steady, riding his face. You feel his hums as it vibrates against you, helping you ride out your high. 

The knot in your stomach tightens, threatening to snap as he pistons two large fingers that felt like a real cock inside you, scissoring against your gummy walls. You cry out in pleasure as your legs start to stutter beneath you. His arm reaches around your waist to hold you in place as he coaxes your arousal out of you, straight onto his face. 

Out of breath, you tilt your head down to see him kneeling for a moment, panting with your arousal shining on his face. You watch him as he gets up, towering over you once again. He pushes his two fingers inside your mouth in which you suck greedily, lapping up your own juices. He moans at the sight. 

"Fuck... 'M gonna show you who you belong to, doll," he growled. He grabbed you by your waist and flipped you around, bending you over the sink. You anxiously meet your own eyes in the mirror before you meet his, boring into your soul, demanding you to watch. 

Two fingers work your hole, stretching it to prepare you for his cock before he unbuckles his belt, releasing his throbbing length from the restraint before the tip meets your entrance. Stretching you open slowly, pulling back before he bottoms out; you moan in unison at the feeling. "Tight cunt... always so fuckin' wet f'me, yeah? You like my cock inside you, babe?"

Your mouth opens as you struggle to reply, staring sheepishly into his eyes as he tilts his head, waiting for your answer. "Mmf, ah, fuck, yes, yes, sir!" you whispered as you felt his cock reach your cervix, teasing it as the tip of his cock rutted against your sweet spot. 

Your eyes roll into the back of your head, a sight to behold for Simon as he's doing long, slow strokes into your cunt, cherishing the way you feel wrapped around him. 

"No one else fucks you like this, right, y/n~?" he leaned down, grabbing the back of your neck as he plowed even deeper inside of you. The lewd sound of skin slapping echoes against the tile walls and your choked moans motivates his thrusts as they get rougher. 

"N- Oh~... No! No one else, no!" you plead, tears welling up in the corner of your eyes as you helplessly reach another orgasm. You nearly scream when he spreads your cheek, allowing him to ram into you better. He then leans down, clamping a hand over your mouth when he feels your pussy grip him impossibly tighter.

"Fuck, yes, good fuckin' girl," he purred. "You're mine, luv. This pussy is fuckin' mine." Thrust. "You're fuckin' mine, all mine." Thrust. "Only I get to fuck you like this. Only I get to touch you like this." He squeezes your tit roughly, rolling your nipple between his two fingers as you whine, tears falling down your cheeks as pleasure takes control of your body, the coil snapping as you finally release, squeezing his cock as he moans lowly into your ear. 

"Who fucks you dumb, huh?"

"Y-you, Simon!"

"Mhm, that's right, good fuckin' slut," he laughs as he teases his tip against your entrance before he slams into you slowly, watching your head loll around as he uses you like a fuck doll. 

"Simon! I can't! Too much, fu-uck!" 

"Oh, you can. One more f'me, doll," he chuckled, pulling you to his chest, wrapping an arm around your torso. He cups your chin, forcing you to take a look in the mirror. You see your tits bouncing, your pussy and thighs coated, slick with arousal and his veiny hands and arms gripping you tightly. 

"You're takin' me so well, luv. Such a good fuckin' pussy wrapped around me."

Your fucked-out eyes meet his predatory gaze, he chuckles at you before he looks down, watching your ass jiggle as he slams in and out, demanding that last orgasm to come out of you. 

Your body nearly collapses, he catches you as you fall over, legs spasming as he rips an out-of-body orgasm from you. His cock twitches as he paints your insides white with his thick ropes of cum. He topples over you for a moment as you both catch your breath.

--

He helps you redress and clean yourself up before you fix your makeup and hair. You look up into his eyes as he pulls you into his chest, kissing you deeply. He tastes faintly of you and the sweet bourbon he drank. His moans into the kiss as he lets you go with a deep sigh. 

"I meant what I said, y/n. You're mine," it was nearly an order how he spoke to you when he said that.

"Yours," you repeated. "Have been from the start." You winked at him, looking at him from over your shoulder as you walked out of the bathroom, having to pretend as if nothing had happened. 

[h-sleepingirl]

Milton Erickson and a Rabbi Walk into a Bar... (Essay)

Finally, I've finished this essay about connections I'm finding between hypnosis, Judaism, magic, and intimacy. It's ~4.5k words, extremely "me," and I'm really thrilled to share it. Enjoy!

--

My weakness is getting deeply invested in very niche topics.

Hypnosis was my first and most lifelong obsession. It was my confusing, shameful sexual fetish that I eventually took by the horns and -- through my desire to learn as much about it as humanly possible -- turned into a job. But not a normal sex work job where I do hypnosis for money -- a weird job where I just teach about it. The kink community, and the further-specific niche where people want to hypnotize each other during intimate experiences, became my home.

But the value of study doesn't really come from the quantity of people I'm able to engage with. It comes from the way it enriches my life. It creates and benefits from the capability to see overlaps between all of my various interests.

On the surface, it may appear that two skills have no relationship. But the deeper you get into each one, a synthesis appears.

At a certain point when you are learning hypnosis, all seemingly-unrelated information seems to fit effortlessly into your hypnotic knowledge. You can listen to a song and suddenly you learn something new about how to hypnotize someone. Maybe it was a lyric that gave you an evocative emotional response; maybe it was a pattern in the music that you thought about replicating with the rhythm of your hypnotic language.

Over a decade into my own hypnosis learning, I got very lucky and found a second passionate home in communities of Jewish text study about a year ago. I started from almost zero there and found myself again to be a greedy novice, obsessed with digging into it.

Of course, as I got further, it became that I read a page of Talmud (a text of rabbinical law and conversation) and suddenly I learned something new about how to hypnotize someone. And as I progress, it is starting to go the other way: I learn about Torah study by reading about hypnosis and intimacy.

There are two directions this essay can be read. “How can intimacy and hypnosis teach us about Jewish text?” And, “How can Jewish text teach us about intimacy and hypnosis?” One half is of each part written by me as an authority, and the other half is by me as an avid novice. The synthesis of these two parts of me -- just like any synthesis between concepts -- may perhaps create something new.

Models

I’m sure most communities have a version of the idiom, “Ask three people a question and get five answers.” For a long time, this was a source of frustration for me in the hypnosis community. Is hypnosis a state of relaxation and suggestibility? Kind of, but also no. Is it more accurate to say it is based on unconscious behaviors and thoughts? Well -- kind of, but also no. 

So what is it? Well, it’s probably somewhere in the overlap of about 20-30 semi-accurate definitions and frameworks for techniques -- what we’d call “models.” Good luck!

Why is hypnosis so impossible to define and teach? How have we not found a model that we can all agree upon yet? I think many people share this confusion, and it's complicated by the fact that most sources for hypnosis education teach their model as the model. It makes sense -- it would be difficult to teach a complete beginner a handful of complex frameworks with which to understand hypnosis when that person is just trying to muddle through learning “how to hypnotize someone” on a practical, basic level.

…Or would it be? By the time I got involved with Jewish study, I had long given up on chasing the white whale of some unified theory of hypnosis. I was firmly happy with the concept that all ways to describe hypnosis are simply models -- and all models are flawed, while some models are useful. I was delighted, when entering Jewish community spaces, to hear the idiom, “Three Jews, five opinions.”

This concept is baked into Jewish text study, in my experience. You can look at any single line in Torah and find innumerable pieces of commentary on it, ancient and modern, with conflicting interpretations. Torah and other texts are studied over and over -- often on a schedule -- with the idea that there is always something new to learn. And this happens partially by the synthesis of multiple people's perspectives adding to and challenging each other, developing new models. My Torah study group teacher always starts us with a famous line from Pirkei Avot, a text of ethical teachings from early rabbis: “If two sit together and share words of Torah, the Shekhinah [feminine presence of God] abides among them.”

The capacity to develop and hold multiple interpretations at once enriches your relationship with the text. So too do I believe that being able to hold multiple interpretations of what hypnosis is and how it works enhances your skill with it. It is not a failure of the system -- it is the best thing about it.

Intimacy

It is intentional to make the distinction of “relationship with the text” -- not “relationship to the text.”

My job on the surface is to teach hypnosis, but the meta goal is to simply teach something that helps people develop profound intimacy with others. I think that hypnosis is a kind of beautiful magic that is well-suited to this, but it’s not the only path to take.

One of my favorite educators, Georg Barkas, describes themselves as an intimacy educator who teaches rope bondage. Their classes and writings are highly philosophical and align closely with my own ideas about intimacy -- as well as my partner’s, MrDream, from whom I’ve learned so much. I frequently cite Barkas when I talk about hypnosis because I feel the underlying ideas they have about rope bondage are extremely applicable to all kink and intimacy -- and I will continue that trend here.

Barkas recently published an excellent essay looking in detail at the concept of intimacy itself. They posit that our first thought of intimacy is usually about a kind of comfort-seeking and familiarity. That’s contained within the etymology of the word, and socially it’s what many of us think of when we define our relationships as “intimate”: settling in to engage with a partner who we love, know, and understand.

But, Barkas asks, what if we place this word into a different context? They talk of how in scientific endeavors, the goal of “becoming familiar with” is unpredictability and discovering things that are surprising and unexpected. This perhaps offers a different view of intimacy: intimacy where you do not engage with your partner as though you know everything about them; intimacy where being surprised by them and learning something new is the goal.

My partner MrDream teaches about this often in hypnosis education: approaching a partner with genuine curiosity and interest -- “curiosity” implying that you don’t know what to expect, with a positive connotation. There is a kind of delicate balance between being able to anticipate some aspects of what is going to happen hypnotically -- to have a general grasp on psychology and hypnosis theory -- versus holding tight to a philosophy that neither you nor the hypnotic subject really knows how they are going to respond. The unexpected is not to be feared, but celebrated and held as core to our practice. Hypnotic “subjects” (those being hypnotized) who can relax their expectations will often have more intense experiences.

Thus we come to the first time in this essay where I mention Milton Erickson, my favorite forefather of modern hypnosis. Erickson was a hypnotherapist active through the 1900s and is famous (among many things) for presenting a model of hypnosis that wasn’t necessarily an authoritative action done to a person, but a collaborative and guiding action done with a person.

In his book “Hypnotic Realities,” he talks about how his view of clinical hypnosis is defined by how the therapist is able to observe each individual client and directly use those observations to continually develop a unique hypnotic approach with them. The client’s history, interests, and modes of thinking are utilized for the trance, as well as any observable responses they have in the moment. For example, a client with chronic pain may have the frustration they express over that pain incorporated into the trance. This is in deep contrast to hypnosis where the therapist comes in with any kind of “script” or formula to recite ahead of time.

It’s important to Erickson’s model that the therapist doesn’t know exactly what to anticipate, and it’s also important hypnotically that the same is true for the client. A common “Ericksonian” suggestion is, “You don’t have to know what is going to happen, and I don’t know either.” In order to develop the most effective approach with each patient, Erickson would enter into a session with some presumed knowledge, but ultimately learning -- not assuming -- how to best hypnotize each individual person.

We circle back to the phrase, “a relationship with Jewish text.” In my opinion, engaging with Torah is exactly this kind of intimacy. Torah is something we come into in order to poke and prod at it, to interact with it and to see how it interacts back at us. The teacher of my study group always cites a model where Torah itself is a participant in our partnered learning and group discussions. We ask it questions, we push its boundaries, we strive to glean something new and yet unseen. A line that may seem simple on the surface can reveal much more when we explore its context or put it into a different context entirely. 

This is easier for me to say as someone who is coming into learning Torah for the first time, but I am able to look ahead to when I will be fully familiar with the text and still be able to take this expanded definition of intimacy with it. Not coming to it without a sense of comfort, but still engaging with curiosity. MrDream teaches a model for hypnosis that is based on the idea of exploration -- exploring your partner no matter how long you have been with them. You are always coming to them as a different person, shaped by your ever-growing experiences and identity, and your partner changes as a human as well. I believe Torah is also dynamic in this way, as the context within which it exists -- and the way we interpret it -- is constantly shifting.

Ritual

I have been engaging with spiritual ritual on and off for as long as I’ve been learning hypnosis. The concept of magic has always been alluring to me -- not from a motivation to meet specific goals, but for something more difficult to pin down. I like that ritual, in an esoteric framework, is about looking at various metaphors between ingredients and actions; a candle representing an element of fire which may in turn represent intensity, or purity, or something else. Drawing meaningful connections between concepts like this is a skill I’ve developed in parallel with hypnosis, as well.

I was recently talking with a friend of mine who is also interested in esotericism -- we were sharing our frustrations with various books on magic and ritual. We wondered why so many sources would go on to teach prescriptivist formulas and associations, and not much else. Do this, and that will happen. This symbol represents that. My friend and I agreed that the ritual value of ingredients comes from how you personally assign meaning to them -- but why was everything always trying to teach us their meaning, as opposed to teaching us how to cultivate our own associations?

A week or so later, I happened to go to an excellent class that explored whether or not there was a place for smudging and smoke use in modern Jewish ritual. The teacher first took a careful, measured approach towards looking at indigenous smudging practices and the concept of appropriation. What followed was 30 minutes of history and text exploring examples of smoke in early Judaism, and then 30 minutes of a handful of interpretations of what “smoke” could mean and represent with relation to Jewish ideas -- directly practical to modern ritual. It was utterly excellent and immediately profound for me, as someone who has been yearning to blend my experience with esoteric ritual with my relationship with Judaism.

Observant readers will note that through this essay I speak passively about Judaism -- I am a patrilineal Jew, which for better or worse means that it is not a simple matter to say, “I am ‘fully’ (or ‘not’) Jewish.” (I am in the beginnings of working with a Conservative rabbi -- who affirms that I’m Jewish -- to make my status halachic [lawful], which is deeply exciting.) Opinions on that aside, a relevant piece of information is that the Jewish holiday we celebrated most consistently when I was growing up was Chanukah. While a lot of Jewish practice has been something I’ve been striving towards as an adult, Chanukah has always been “mine.” It was fast approaching after this class, and I felt motivated to use my newfound knowledge to make more ritual out of lighting the candles.

I was deeply surprised when all I did was light a stick of incense before saying the blessings over lighting the menorah, and my experience transformed into something intense. I smelled the incense and couldn’t help but think about what I’d learned about the Rambam’s commentary that incense in the time of the Temple was about making the Temple smell sweet to pray in after the burning of sacrifices. I thought about what I’d learned about the presence of God being smoke and clouds to the ancient Israelites. I thought about things I’d learned from other places -- hiddur mitzvah (the value of beautifying a practice), and a midrash (parable) about God loving the light and rituals we do in a very personal way simply because they are from us.

Esoteric ritual has often felt to me like exerting effort in making the associations of ingredients work for me. But this was effortless. I was doing something that was entirely my own, solidly founded by the broad and deep study I’d done, by my personal relationship with the concepts, by my identity.

In other words, the power behind this ritual came from knowledge, and the knowledge came from my intimacy with it. And that intimacy was not just with the study I had done -- it was also the process of being surprised in real time by what I was learning through the ritual itself.

Hypnosis gains “power,” in so much as we let ourselves use the term, through these same acts of intimacy towards knowledge. It operates directly based on various ingredients: how much we know about hypnosis theory itself, general psychology, the person we are working with, and ourselves. Hypnosis is a ritual -- it is setting aside special time to do something with a collection of ingredients that you have personal associated meanings with. If you can’t connect to those deeply enough, it won’t reach its full potency.

Knowledge, Perception, and Unconsciousness

One of my favorite concepts to teach in hypnosis is, “A change in perception equates to a change in reality.” This is derived from Erickson by MrDream, and it’s something he and I have had a lot of conversations about to refine. The implication of this is not something as trite as hypnosis having the power to change a person’s perceived reality. It is the concept that if you look at something from a different perspective, you gain various different capabilities.

For example, when you are feeling stuck in a situation and you think about what a close friend of yours would do if they were in your shoes, you gain the capability to see more options, to change your actual view of the reality of the problem and therefore change your actions towards it. In hypnosis, this could be the difference between simply telling someone to relax their legs versus another perspective of telling them to imagine what it would be like if their legs just started relaxing. It could be the idea that when a person does feel relaxation from a simple suggestion, their perception changes on what is happening -- they build more belief in hypnosis, and that belief in turn makes the next suggestions easier to buy into.

Erickson’s model of hypnosis is predicated on the idea that hypnosis itself matters, that hypnosis is a time within which someone’s reality changes. In his ideal hypnotic context, the subject feels like they no longer can expect things to behave as they usually do in their “waking” reality. They are thus opened to many different kinds of new experiences and capabilities. To Erickson, perception matters -- by itself, it’s a primary driving force behind literal change and response.

This ties back to our idea of intimacy -- just as I aim to approach my partners with this profound curiosity, just as I aim to approach Torah, I want to have this intimacy of the unexpected with trance itself. I want to allow myself to be surprised by hypnosis, by the things I don’t yet know about it even after more than a decade and thousands of hours of trance. But more than this, in an Ericksonian sense, simply changing my perspective to this motivation is one of the things that lets me get there.

I went through a guided study class about Shabbat (Judaism’s weekly sabbath of rest) with a partner, and so much of the class was in the abstract that it at times felt difficult for me to latch onto. We were learning all of this background context about a view of Shabbat where instead of spiritually striving and reaching on that day, you come in acting as though your spiritual work -- like your other work -- is “finished.”

In one session, we spent a chunk of time parsing through how we could interpret that as actionable. It felt like it just wasn’t clicking for me -- the midrashic texts weren’t offering enough for me to feel like I could make judgments on questions like, “Does this imply I shouldn’t meditate on Shabbat in this context?”

It wasn’t until I slept on it that I found a very simple piece of the puzzle: putting aside the questions of concrete actions, in an Ericksonian sense, the internal act of shifting my perspective would absolutely change the way I behaved and interacted with the day. It would become more indirect and unconscious -- instead of carefully analyzing my actions as I might with other Shabbat prohibitions on work, I could simply let myself act in ways that fit that perspective of “spiritually resting.”

The abstraction of the class made more sense -- perhaps it wasn’t trying to give us direct answers, but rather create a psychological environment for us that was well-suited to this more unconscious processing. Or rather, in addition to the sort of typical conscious halachic interpretation. If I allow myself an opinion here, I’d say that I care about halacha as actionable, but as always, I tend to care more about feelings and what’s internal.

This also lent credence to ways this class and the class on smoke and ritual changed my experiences. I was not given a set of actions to take, but rather a variety of perspectives that unconsciously made me think and behave differently. The concept of “knowledge is power” is both true and alluring in many different contexts, and yet had often fallen through for me in most ritualistic frameworks. The way that it succeeds, I believe, is when you develop a relationship with knowledge that actually changes your internal perspective and perceptions.

Limitation

With this we return to the concept of models and interpretations. It is serendipitous to be going through these experiences at a time where I am avidly working on my next book -- the thesis of which is that in order for us to progress as hypnotists, we must get comfortable moving fluidly between many differing definitions and frameworks (models) of what hypnosis is and how it works.

It is as the Ericksonian principle would say: If you take a perspective on hypnosis that boils down to “hypnosis is about relaxing the conscious mind,” you will do hypnosis according to that perspective. You will use relaxation-based techniques and make an effort to get someone to think “less consciously.” If you instead take a perspective that is “hypnosis operates based on activation of the conscious mind,” you may do hypnosis that causes someone to think and process in a more stimulating way.

Both and neither are true, and they can coexist. I believe that most models can be useful -- some more useful than others. But the best thing you can do is to not assume that one model is the most correct one -- instead, it is to develop the capacity to work within many at once even while being aware of their boundaries.

Jewish text, in my experience, provides models -- perspectives that themselves give guidance on how to understand things and act. I think especially about midrash and stories that are explicitly intended to fill in the gaps or give an alternate view on something. The question of, “Is there one correct way to do/see things” is more complicated here, but there are areas -- especially in those subtle shifts of mindset for ritual or interpreting text -- where the answer is still “no.”

My time so far in Jewish study supports this in a different way. There is a human element of collaboration and challenge. Learning as we do with a chevruta (study partner) adds another person to the relationship -- it is no longer just between you and the text. There is another human who you are building something with, and it is “intimate” according to our exploratory definition in an even clearer way.

The purpose of a “scene” inside of kink (a “session” of kink play) is to operate in a semi-limited framework -- limitations exist on who is involved, where it begins and ends, how partners communicate, and what themes/topics/activities are involved. These limitations -- though they may be quite broad -- are partially what allow for intense experiences. A scene needs to exist in a different “space” than our daily lives, and it needs to operate by different rules and involve different ingredients. Here, we also see overlaps with the definition of a “ritual.”

This doesn’t just facilitate intensity (and safety) -- it facilitates learning something new about your partner. By taking your relationship and putting it into a limited context, it allows you to observe it in a more careful way, where novel changes can be more obvious.

Studying with a chevruta is much like this. I have had study sessions where my chevruta and I are meeting for the first time and the only thing we are aware of sharing is our desire to dive into a piece of text. I’ve also had chevrutas where we know each other outside of study, and some of our time is schmoozing and catching up. But in all cases, we are limited in scope, and that limitation creates ease of access towards the common goal of expanding our knowledge and relationship with the text. We are focused; we are motivated. We are creating something that we can only create through who we are as individuals and what we are doing as avid learners.

This has surprised me at times with its tenderness and intensity. Building well-founded interpretations with someone is in and of itself very intimate -- not sensually, but humanly. It has given me something I have always wanted -- an intimacy that is pervasive not just in application of knowledge, but in the development of it. A feeling of sacredness and joy from being able to see so many different perspectives.

I long for this connection, this alchemy. Yes, all models are limited. But within those tight, restricting limits is the potential energy of creation.

“And I Must Learn”

There is an infamous story in the Talmud, in Berakhot 62a, where Rav Kahana hides under the bed of his friend Rav Abba. Rav Kahana hears Abba and his wife giggling and starting to have sex, and remarks out loud that Rav Abba is acting like someone who is famished. Rav Abba, mid-sex, understandably says, “Kahana, why the fuck are you under my bed listening to me fuck my wife?” Rav Kahana replies, “It is Torah, and I must learn.”

There was a version of this essay that began with this tale. I am enamored with the vast overlaps I can derive from its briefness: that intimacy can be studied sacredly both as a general concept and specifically with your partner; that we are obligated to learn ourselves, our partners, and general human desire; that there can be a thread of wholeness in every action of your life if you give every action sacred attention.

Even this, though, is a limited-context interpretation. The rabbis of the Talmud were certainly not sex-positive, especially not as we currently use the term. The surrounding triptych of conversations is similarly humorous but seems to comparatively describe sex as dirty or gross, and this bit of text cannot really exist separately from all of the places where there is halacha derived about sex that is about controlling women’s bodies or preventing queer and trans people from being able to live authentically.

But -- we are allowed to interpret like this. We are allowed to play with context and see what we discover.

For me, this is about finding the connections between my actions and my interests; parts of me that synthesize the whole. It is about developing intimacy with Torah, with my learning partners, with my romantic partners; with the people within the writings, with the authors, and with the readers.

Reading Torah is the same as hypnotizing someone is the same being intimate with someone is the same as doing a ritual. All things on a broad enough scale overlap this closely. There is value in this “zooming out” to a wide enough context to see the connections that exist -- just as there is value in celebrating the limitations that arise, models nestled alongside each other, when you “zoom in.”

We need both to be able to treat our learning -- all forms of it -- as something special.

[yeahspider]

tooth brush 🫀

Ve’s note - this is fluff . i love a good friends to lovers trope and this is exactly what this is . han jisung x gn reader . this was inspired by that one dnce song . no actual smut but illusion to sex and alcohol mentions .abrupt ending as usual bc i suck at conclusions . i’m gonna get better at posting more frequently and proofreading i swear . (also i’ve gotten a lil critique on my writing style recently but i write how i talk . very casual and very realistic . this is 100% a personal choice and won’t be changing anytime soon sorry *kinda*) anyways i hope your enjoy and feel free to request in my inbox !! <3

you didn’t expect you’d end up here . never in a million years . staring at your reflection in the mirror it’s safe to say you look a mess . bare feet on the cold tiles of the bathroom floor . hair in every which direction . clothed in only a shirt which definitely didn’t belong to you . maybe you had one to many last night . and now you had to deal with consequences .

taking a deep breath you turn on the faucet sink to splash some water on your face . you needed to be 100% awake for the conversation that awaited you once you stepped out your safe haven . just a few steps outside the bathroom door was your childhood best friend han jisung . it’s been awhile since you’ve seen each other . life taking you on different paths . him to a studio and you to college . your bond never severed though .

you had came home from school and decided to have a sleep over with at his house . an event which has happened several times but not once has it ended the way it did last night . you could blame the liquor or you could blame the unresolved feelings that have sitting between you two since you were both 15 .

you knew hiding in the bathroom and waiting for him to leave the room so you could sneak out wasn’t a realistic option . but it was the one that brought you comfort . confronting the hours you spent embraced in each other last night was scarier in comparison . you could smell the breakfast his parents were cooking for you both downstairs . yeah sneaking out was seeming less likely by the second . picking up your sparkly blue toothbrush you left there after your last sleepover you decide to buck up . you were both adults . adults have sex . it’s normal ….maybe not with their childhood best friend but your sure it’s happened before . spitting out the paste you run yours hands through your hair and take a deep breath . you could do this .

“are you going to hide out in there forever or are you gonna come out eventually ?” you heard jisung say from the other side of the door . you could just picture the smile on his face . it leaked through his voice . there went your resolved , down the drain with your toothpaste . your hope of sneaking out officially ruined you grab the doorknob and step out .

“ah there you are i thought you had fallen down the drainpipe or something .” he said as he took in your disheveled appearance . you were rooted to the floor , scrunching your toes in the carpet and gripping the bottom of your - jisung’s - shirt out of nervousness . you couldn’t find it in you to respond to him . and that’s when he burst out laughing . shocking you out of your stance . how could he be laughing right now . this is a serious situation . but the longer you laughed the more weight you felt lifted of your shoulders . you realized that this was just jisung .

you quarter your shoulders . hand on a hip and sled him what exactly was so funny . your tone mocking an anger that you didn’t really feel .

“you’re just cute when your nervous.” jisung’s said as he gestured you to come lay back in the bed . making your way over to him you grumbled something out about not being cute . he pulled you into his lap as you crossed your hands over your chest . pouting at him for laughing at you .

“hey don’t pout it’s okay i have no regrets .” he said as he swirled soothing circles on your bare thighs . bringing a comfort over you as you smile at him . you asked him if he was just saying that to make you feel better .

“i’ve been in love with you since we were like 15 i’m just glad you feel the same way …unless you do regret it ?” he posed the question to you a hint of insecurity in his tone , to which you brushed away as you planted a kiss to the mole on his cheek . you would never regret him .

“cmon my parents made breakfast we can talk seriously after you eat.” jisung stated as he took your hand and lead you out the bed and towards the smell of breakfast .

[laurfilijames]

Like My Dreams

Part 5

Intro Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4

Pairing: Pete Dunham x female reader

Words: 9.9k

Warnings: Rated E, 18+. Swearing. Alcohol consumption. Unprotected intercourse. Sex in a public place. Blood, cuts and bruises. Dressing of wounds. Cockwarming. Mention of stab wound and life-threatening injuries. Assault. Threat of rape.

Summary: Right when you and Pete seal the deal on your relationship, more car trouble and a visit from an ex stirs up drama and pops the blissful bubble you waited so long for.

A/N: 😅 this chapter really got away from me but I had the best time writing it!! I had an idea for part of it and pitched it to the wonderfully supportive @ramadiiiisme who encouraged me to go for it and helped me pull it off, so big thanks to you a million times more 💗 The scene with Mrs. Platt was inspired by a conversation with @stealfromthedevil about her dear grandmother who's cheeky words are included in the dialogue 💗💗

The linked song is one I've been listening to non-stop while writing this chapter and is just so lovely and fits in with all the fluffy bits of not only this chapter, but this series as a whole.

---

It had been a couple of hours since Pete had gone home to shower and clean up after the friendly game with the lads, now sitting in his favourite seat at their table watching the Hammers struggle to get a lead against Chelsea, the match currently tied at 1-1. He would normally care a bit more about it, but knowing you were on your way to meet him there had taken all his focus and energy, feeling more excited to see you than bothered that his team might end the game in a draw, or worse.

He slouched against the old chair with his arm over the back, taking a long sip of his beer before setting it back down and licking his lips.

“Oh, come on! Fucking unbelievable!” he muttered at the screen, the referee pulling an outrageous call against West Ham.

Whatever happened next in the game no longer mattered to him all that much, seeing you walk in the door and through the crowd of people standing between you, his smile growing as he watched you tug your scarf out from around your neck and head over to the bar where you stopped to say hello to Terry and order a drink.

Pete stood and walked over slowly, admiring you from across the room as you chatted with Terry for a moment, your smile making his heart nearly stop when you turned and directed it at him as he reached you.

He said nothing, his grin too large to control any words to come through it, instead opting for a greeting he had been waiting all night to give.

Grabbing your cheeks, he leaned in and kissed you, inhaling with a low moan as he felt you melt into him and release your breath, your hands landing limply on his biceps.

A few people cheered around you, making both of you smile again after you parted from each other, but the need to get you alone was quickly becoming a priority in the realization of how many people were preventing him from doing all the things he wanted to do right then and there.

“Hi, love,” he said warmly, the tone of his voice and the look in his eyes making desire stir inside you.

“Hi,” you sighed with a love-drunk smile, the single word a breathy whisper.

Pete bit his lip as he reached for both of your drinks off the bar, nodding in the direction of their table in the corner.

“Come on, gorgeous, we’re over here.”

You were greeted warmly as usual, the spirits of everyone high after the Hammers scored a goal, and with all members of the GSE and their respective partners present to watch the match, little room was available at the booth.

Ned and Ike shifted over to make a spot for you beside Clair and Dave, leaving a space that was too large for your liking between you and where Pete sat in his designated chair, his hands folded together with his elbows resting on the arms of it as he looked fondly at you mixed in with his favourite people.

As much as you loved being at The Abbey enjoying conversations that made your cheeks and stomach hurt from laughing so much, the company that Pete kept people you now couldn’t imagine your life without, it was difficult for you to focus tonight, your mind constantly wandering to how the night was going to turn out just as much as your eyes continued to find Pete’s automatically.

It was like he knew everything you were thinking, his blue eyes glowing with a telling want and his looks loaded with insinuation, every swipe of his tongue over his lips or the way he rolled the toothpick that hung out of his mouth teasing you and driving you mad.

You squirmed in your seat, your fingers toying with the soggy coaster that had been spilled on too many times, forcing yourself to peel your eyes away from him whenever you felt the heat inside you becoming too much, only to steal another glance a moment later, finding him still looking at you hungrily.

The game was coming to an end, and with the Hammers still holding onto their lead, Pete was more than happy to miss the rest of it in exchange for seeing something he had wanted to all day, and as you slowly trailed your hand down your neck to your chest before reaching for the drink you had nursed most of the night, he knew he couldn’t wait any longer.

Waiting for you to glance over at him again, he watched you intently, imagining your bare form beneath him, pressing his lips against every single inch of you.

Finally, you met his gaze, a sultry look weighing in your eyes, and with a subtle nod toward the door, Pete silently told you it was time to go.

You smiled almost sheepishly, your face seeming to glow in a mix of embarrassment and excitement as you rushed through your goodbyes, your friends all shouting teasing jeers at you in knowing the reason behind your early exit.

Pete winked at you as he shrugged into his tan trench coat, adjusting the collar and tugging it up at the back so it covered his neck, flicking the toothpick he had still had in his mouth onto the table.

He took your hand and lead you through the pub with a pride that didn’t go unnoticed by those you passed, finding yourself bashful in thinking that everyone knew what was about to happen based on the look on your face, having to bite your lip to stop yourself from grinning and cast your eyes down at the worn carpet as you made your way out.

The door hadn’t even shut behind you before Pete had you up against the brick wall, his hands holding your waist with a claiming grip as he leaned into you and kissed you breathless, his want for you inarguable.

“Let’s go home,” he said with surety, his smile lighting up his eyes when he stepped away from you, pulling you with him with his hand clasped around yours again confidently.

The walk to Pete’s wasn’t long, but was made longer tonight by how often the two of you stopped to kiss, unable to keep off of each other for the duration it took to land at his door.

There was thankfully no sign of Mrs. Platt hanging around to make comments, the time it took for Pete to fish out his keys and unlock the deadbolt incredibly delayed due to interrupting the process in favour of kissing, your bodies now pressing together more closely and your hands becoming bolder where they roamed.

Pete finally opened the door and walked through it, and after tossing his keys onto the table, turned to grin at you and take your hand, pulling you inside with him.

“Get in here,” he said through his smirk, the playful tone of his voice undisguisable despite how much lust showed in his eyes.

He brought you in against him, his lips teasing yours as he whispered, “I need you.”

You smoothed your hands up the back of his neck as you kissed him, melting when he moaned into your mouth as the sensation of your fingers raking through his hair made him desperate for more, the intensity of the kiss increasing quickly.

Within moments you stood naked in his room, holding each other close while playful kisses were shared and hands began their worship, the excitement and anticipation that had slowly built up to this moment stirring within you.

It was clear that Pete felt the same, his smile unable to be wiped from his face each time you parted to look at each other, and as he moved closer to the bed with you, he tucked his bottom lip in his teeth to try to restrict it.

You sat on the mattress, leaning back on your elbows where he followed closely, crawling over you as you fully laid down in his bedding that lingered with the scents of him and you. His smile turned into a sweet chuckle as you giggled too, having him settle between your legs and laying on top of you making you feel unbelievably elated, the sensation of his readied cock resting against your core solidifying the fact that you couldn’t possibly wait another night.

His expression turned serious for a moment as he peered down at you, a soft groan coming out of his mouth as his cock rubbed against you when he shifted slightly.

“You sure you’re ready?” he asked, his voice somewhat shaky with restraint.

You nodded, and spoke with as much certainty as you could have in a moment where you felt on the border of being totally consumed by lust and longing, “Fuck me, Pete.”

He didn’t hesitate, pushing into you with a confident drive of his hips, your head tilting back as you cried out, the stretch of him filling you bare without a doubt the best thing you had ever felt.

Together, you quickly found a pace that suited you both, his thrusts slow and rolling but purposeful, his kisses growing more desperate on the skin of your neck and chest as each minute ticked on.

It took hardly any time at all for your climax to fire up within you, the anticipation of sex with Pete having let the intensity of it lay in dormancy right under the surface only to bring it forth faster than ever, his body linked with yours igniting and awakening every part of you.

You clawed at his back in a signal of your oncoming pleasure as well as a silent plea for more, half of you wanting to experience it immediately while the other half begged to prolong it all.

Clenching around his cock, you couldn’t ward it off any longer, moaning into his mouth as he continued to slam into you in a tempo that sent you to the edge but you could tell was beginning to falter as his climax took him in its clutches.

Your orgasm came through you hard and fast, shattering every inch of you as he followed right along with you, feeling him pulse and swell inside your walls, soaking him at the same time he filled you.

Pete kissed you almost frantically as he slowed his movements in you, savouring every second of being inside you while seemingly starving for more, your whines quieting out in his mouth as his breathing worked to calm to normal.

Emotion overcame him at the thought of never being able to experience this with you, the reality of him almost dying without ever having kissed you or touched you or loved you made his eyes burn, and closing them tight as he parted from your lips, he held your face in his hand and brought his forehead to rest against yours, his thumb moving to pull down your lower lip as you shared more laboured breaths.

You made love again and again through the night, resting between rounds only long enough to recharge, the addiction you had to each other increasing each time.

It was well after three in the morning when you had finally fallen asleep, exhaustion eventually taking over the nagging need for more, the cold comfort of the open window and your bodies wrapped together truly feeling like heaven.

The sound of rain and Pete stirring against you woke you up, making you scoot back against him to get closer to him, his arm that was wrapped around your waist tightening its hold and pulling you in.

He hummed in your hair, his body beginning to wake before his mind fully did, feeling him harden against your bum while his lips lazily kissed down the back of your neck.

A long moan sounded from you as you indulged in the blissful sensation, wriggling against him until his cock was firmly pressed between your cheeks, beginning to rock your hips languidly back and forth until his sleepy kisses turned to warning nips.

“Babe…” his sleepy voice purred in your ear, his lips pulling your lobe between them before his tongue swept along its shell.

“Pete…I need you.” His name fell from your lips in a whimper as your hand took hold of his and guided it between your legs, his fingertips gently stroking your clit until he had you begging for more.

Pete sat up and guided you onto all fours, positioning himself behind you where he gripped your cheeks with his hands to part them while he stroked your folds with the head of his cock.

Despite feeling how wet you were, he was aware how you would likely be sore from the amount of times he’d fucked you already, reaching over for the bottle of lube on the nightstand where he squeezed some out and coated his length until he hissed from the sensation of his own hand and slowly guided himself inside your tight walls.

He watched your hands grip the sheets as he filled you, your fingers relaxing slightly as he pulled back out, only to grip them harder and cry out when he pushed in again.

“Fuck, you take me so well,” he muttered, keeping a slow tempo even though he was tempted to quicken it and destroy you.

He heard your soft hum of appreciation for his praise over the pouring rain, everything you did adding up to drive him insane and make him fall more in love with you, suddenly feeling as if being buried inside you wasn’t enough to appease his heart.

Pete wrapped his arm around you so his hand splayed out over your stomach, applying pressure to guide you to sit up and onto his lap, careful to keep himself locked in your cunt.

Spreading the remaining lube onto your clit with his fingers, Pete began to steadily work you, his other hand holding you up while also squeezing and massaging your breasts, his mouth worshiping the space between your shoulder and ear in an intoxicating way that had your head lulling back onto his shoulder.

Goosebumps erupted over your skin as a brisk gust blew in through the window, adding to the over-stimulation that assaulted every part of you, doing your best to focus on the fullness of Pete driving inside you as you rocked yourself on his lap.

You reached your arm up and around his head, stroking his hair and gripping at him as you rode him, feeling yourself beginning to lose all control but placing all your trust in him to take care of you just how you needed.

Still holding you firmly against him, he continued to strum between your legs, knowing how close he was getting you from how you subtly tried to escape his grasp and your body convulsed to his touch, feeling your hands tighten on his head and forearm that was wrapped around you to keep you in place.

“That’s it. Come for me,” he panted in your ear, feeling you angle your hips against his hand in order to gain more friction on your clit, chasing your end as he increased the power behind his hammering thrusts.

Quiet whimpers grew at a steady pace as they spilled from your mouth, your whines of pleasure drowned out in your own ears as you focused on the sound of Pete’s heavy breathing and the praises he was showering you with, the pouring rain tapping furiously against the glass panes.

You unraveled together, the way your body tightly coiled before turning limp milking out his climax at the same time, his breath fanning out over your dewy skin as he rested his parted lips on your shoulder and stilled inside you.

Lifting yourself off his lap, you sank onto the mattress on your stomach, closing your eyes as exhaustion completely took over you, a faint smile tugging at your lips when you felt Pete follow, kissing up along your back until he collapsed half on top of you.

He took hold of your hand and brought it to rest between your bodies, kissing your knuckles softly until his breathing began to turn shallow as sleep quickly dragged him into its grasp.

These were the moments you knew you couldn’t live without, willing to sacrifice sleep night after night in order to love and be loved like this, the gratitude that filled you at being the one laying beside him as he slept outweighing any desire to close your eyes and miss even a second of it.

You knocked twice on the door before opening it anyway, letting yourself in just as Pete had told you to whenever you came over, the urgency you felt to get inside and out of the hallway too much to handle even if you weren’t allowed to walk in as you pleased.

Pete gave you an amused look, one of his eyebrows hooking high on his forehead as he placed the pen he had been holding in his mouth and reached for another paper to grade off the coffee table, your laughter sparking his curiosity.

“What?” he asked, letting out his own chuckle at your flustered state as you leaned against the door and ran your hand over your head.

“I was just stopped by Mrs. Platt. She told me she can hear us and to keep it down!”

Pete burst out laughing, shifting on the settee so his arm rested on the back of it to face you more.

“It’s not funny!” you argued, even though you were still laughing yourself, shaking your head in disbelief at the conversation you had just had with the crotchety woman in her eighties.

“Oh, it is!”

“Pete!” you urged, as if saying his name would scold him into not making fun of the situation, walking through to the living area where you plopped your bag down on one of the chairs as you passed.

“She actually said, ‘It’s not my place, but do you two ever sleep? All I hear night after night is that bed banging against the flaming wall!’”

Pete only laughed harder, hanging his head back over the sofa where you stood behind it and leaned down to grab hold of his face, begging him to stop laughing before kissing him in order to try to shut him up when he didn’t.

He was still chuckling when you pulled away from him, prompting you to smack his chest as you cursed at him.

“I can’t keep being stopped in the hallway to listen to this poor old woman make comments about hearing us have sex!”

“Ah, she’s just winding you up!”

You turned to walk into the kitchen only to be stopped by Pete’s arm wrapping around your waist to pull you back to the couch that he leaned over the back of, looking at you with mischief in his eyes that made you melt and suddenly not worry about anyone hearing the things you did together.

“Come on, love,” he purred. “She ain’t heard nothing yet.”

“Is that a promise, or a threat?” you asked, smirking as you freed yourself from his grip and made it into the kitchen, filling up the kettle.

“Both!” he replied, sitting back down on the sofa where he resumed marking his student’s homework.

“I need to take my car back to the mechanic,” you explained, shifting the conversation to something ordinary after a couple minutes of comfortable silence while placing a tea bag into your respective mugs.

“Yeah?” Pete asked somewhat distractedly as he focused on his task.

“Yeah, it's been making a funny noise whenever I accelerate, and it sort of jolts when I shift gear. Hopefully it’s nothing major or expensive, they were meant to be the best mechanic…”

“When are you taking it in?”

“Tomorrow morning. My sister’s going to meet me there and take me to work after.”

“I can do it if you want,” he offered, glancing over at you.

“Nah you’re off the hook,” you smiled, “she’s got some holiday time so I’m off duty being Jack’s chauffeur for a week!”

“Ah, look at you!”

“I know, right? She’s even taking him to practice this week.”

“That means I won’t get to see you there then, nothing good to look at on the sidelines and distract me,” he pouted, making you roll your eyes before pouring the hot water into your mugs.

“I reckon you’ll live.”

“Ah, then Mrs. Platt will just get to hear an even better show than normal when I get back home to you,” Pete laughed, ducking when you threw the tea towel at him.

The drive to Millwall took longer than normal due to rush-hour traffic, but it didn’t bother you as much as it typically would knowing you had a late start to your day that had been approved by your boss.

You pulled into the open bay door of the garage, parking your car and stepping out, giving a friendly smile to the mechanic who had helped you before.

“Giving you some grief, then eh?” he asked through a grin, nodding to your car as he wiped his hands on a rag.

“Yeah, as I said on the phone it’s kind of clunking when I’m shifting and the sound it makes when I accelerate worries me a bit…”

“We’ll put ‘er right, not to worry!” he beamed at you, extending his oil-stained hand to take your keys that you held out for him.

He stared at you for a moment, making you avert your gaze slightly, feeling somewhat uneasy.

“Say, you don’t happen to know the Dunham’s do you?” he asked, his question making your head whip up again in surprise. “Steve and Pete? They’re brothers.”

You tilted your head, your curiosity somewhat guarded, “I do, as it happens…”

The way his smile changed and the shift in his eyes put you on edge and raised your suspicions, but you did your best to remain confident, interested as to why he was asking and how he knew who they were.

“I thought as much,” he nodded.

His response took you back, and you blinked quickly, trying to wrap your head around this whole inquiry.

“Sorry, how exactly do you know them?”

He hesitated, staring you down for a few seconds before answering, almost as if he was being careful to formulate a proper response or like he was unsure how much to tell you.

“...We’re old mates,” he said slowly, his smile not leaving his thin lips.

You nodded, glancing down at the embroidered name tag on the chest of his overalls, the name ‘Martin’ one you wouldn’t forget.

“Right,” he broke the silence, his tone more cheerful in disrupting the somewhat tense air. “We’ll have a look at it and likely get it back to you at the start of next week…give ya a ring when we know what it needs and what the damage is.”

“Ta,” you thanked him, giving him one last look before turning and walking out of the garage, heading to your sister’s car where she was parked on the road out front.

You pulled the handle on the door and sat down into the passenger seat, looking out the window into the shop where Martin stood with another man of equal stature, both of them glancing out in your direction.

“What’s the matter?” she asked, pulling you from your thoughts.

“Hm? Nothing, it’s fine,” you assured her, smiling at her as you put your seatbelt on. “Can we stop for a coffee on the way?”

It was a typical Thursday night at The Abbey, everyone gathering at the table one by one as they flowed in from work, a pint and some laughs with mates seeming to be of the same priority for each hardworking hooligan alike as the week started to take its toll and winded down to an end.

“Where’s Pete?” Ike asked, sitting down beside you with his fresh pint.

“Oh, he’s coaching tonight,” you explained, spinning what was left of your gin and tonic in its glass. “He should be here in an hour or so.”

Ike nodded in confirmation as he took a long sip of his beer, both of you drawing your attention to the Bjorno’s as they walked in with a cheerful greeting.

Dave planted a kiss on Clair’s lips as he stopped at the bar to get the drinks in, letting her continue on to the table where she sat down with a sigh.

“Long shift?” you asked, catching the weary look that she couldn’t easily hide.

She glanced at you exasperatedly, “Oh, don’t even get me started!”

“Here you go, my love,” Dave said while leaning down to place her drink in front of her, kissing the top of her head as he did.

You found it difficult to focus on the conversations happening around you, your attention glued to the small group of women standing at the far side of the bar, the looks they kept shooting your way making you feel uneasy.

“Hey, do you know who they are?” you asked Clair, subtly nodding in their direction as they leaned in over the bar to get closer to Vicky, the barmaid, before all staring back at you again.

“Those tarts?” Clair began. “Yeah, they’re mates of Vicky’s. Bunch of slags.”

You nodded, taking it in but still not having an answer as to why they seemed so interested in you, thinking of all the times you had nice enough conversations with Vicky, or so you thought.

“Pete used to have it off with the blonde one,” Bovver piped up, blowing the smoke from his freshly lit cigarette in your direction as he spoke.

Your eyebrows raised high on your forehead as you took in the information, finally having some clarity as to why these women you had never seen before were obviously unhappy with your presence.

“Fucked like crazy for a few months…” he continued, the iciness of his blue eyes holding something of a threat as he told you.

“Oi! Don’t be like that,” Dave scolded him, shoving his arm. “Why do you have to say it like that?”

“It’s true!” Bov scowled, his loyalty to his relations with Vicky clearly extending to her friends over you.

You sighed, trying not to let it bother you, reminding yourself that everyone, including you, had a past, and hoped that whatever issue she had with you would pass soon.

“Right, I need another,” you stated, shaking your empty glass in your hand as you stood.

Just as you anticipated, the daggers coming from across the bar dug into your back, still doing your best to ignore them while waiting for Terry to fix your drink, but that became impossible when the blonde who was apparently an ex of Pete’s slunk over to you and stood far closer to you than you would’ve liked.

“I didn’t think it was true, but here you are,” she began, her accent sloppy from the drinks she had tossed back already, her breath smelling of stale fags and the tartness of the cranberry juice she mixed with her vodka.

“What’s true?” you asked, giving her no more than a sideways glance as you fished the change from your pocket to pay for your drink.

“That Pete is dating a plain, old slag.”

“I’m sorry, and who might you be?”

“I was you only a few months back,” she grinned, her smile vicious and proud in her admission that she had been Pete’s at one time.

You huffed as you smiled, taking your drink from Terry who eyed you up as if offering his help, turning to go back to the table. The thought of him being with someone as vile as her made your stomach lurch, and not wanting to give it any further attention, you ignored her.

“I’m not done talking to you, you soppy cow!” she shouted, her lack of couth on full display to everyone around as a hush fell over the pub.

When you continued on your way over to the group, all of them watching with bated breath to see what would happen next, the satisfaction on Bovver’s face boiling your blood more than she was, her shrill voice sounded out again, making you pause.

“He said I was the best he’s ever had, and I’ll be right here to remind him of that.”

Your heart was pounding in your chest, the adrenaline making you feel shaky and on the verge of doing something stupid, but instead you neglected to give her the drama she sought and took your seat again, praying that Pete would get there soon.

“Don’t let her get to you,” Dave assured, leaning over Clair who had already offered to fight her twice. “It wasn’t that serious…”

“It’s fine, I’m fine,” you assured, hoping it sounded genuine or at least believable.

“I mean, they were at it together for a few months…” Keith added in, earning a scolding from both Dave and Swill, making you swallow thickly.

You took a long sip of your drink as you tried to tune out the sound of the lads bickering and the jeers still coming in your direction from across the bar, your eyes closing as you tried to slow your breathing.

After a couple more minutes, you stood and made your way through the bar to the loo, praying no one would follow you, your newfound enemies calling you names as you passed.

Pete finally made it to the pub, strutting through the crowd and desperate for a beer after a long day at work and then coaching out in the cold rain, the sight of his ex leaning what she thought was invitingly against the bar making him scowl as he passed.

When there was no sight of you at the table, he did a quick glance around, distractingly returning everyone’s greetings as he shrugged out of his jacket and sat.

“Oi, what’s she doing here?” he asked Dave, nodding over in the direction of the bar where they continued to stare over at him.

Dave shook his head, “They’ve been causing trouble, pal.”

Seeing Pete’s face fall into worry as he looked around for you again, Dave continued. “She’s in the toilets, she seemed a bit upset…”

“For fuck’s sake,” Pete muttered, standing and going through the pub in quick strides, not giving his ex even a glimpse as he passed.

He pushed open the door to the ladies room more aggressively than he intended, his anger at the situation and that cheap tart upsetting you getting to him, his anger quickly turning to surprise when he saw you standing in front of the tarnished mirror reapplying your lip gloss, appearing fine and unbothered.

“Can I help you?” you grinned, watching him in the mirror with unhidden amusement at his presence.

His head tilted a bit to the side, walking toward you slowly while still assessing you, his concern still creasing his features even though he was smiling back at you.

“They said you were upset…”

You laughed and shook your head, screwing the cap back on your lip gloss before sticking it in your pocket, turning to look at him directly instead of in the mirror, your bum sitting on the edge of the sink.

“Upset? Over those twats? Come on…” you shrugged, trying your best to play it cool even though it had bothered you more than you were letting on.

Pete closed the space between you and leaned his forehead against yours, still searching your eyes for any hints of you being hurt or shaken up.

You let your eyelids close, instantly feeling relaxed from him being close to you, breathing in deeply when he brought his hands up to hold your face.

“We all have a past, Pete,” you whispered, saying it more for your own conviction than his, the frustrated exhale he let out at his past involving that awful slag fanning over your lips.

“I’m sorry,” he muttered, his lips moving against yours as they hovered there, teasing a kiss.

“Don’t be sorry,” you answered, your hands trailing up his chest where you took hold of the collar of his jumper and slid the material through your fingers, his body moving closer to yours. “Just kiss me, Pete.”

He did, crashing into you so hard your head was forced back but stopped by his hands still gripping your face, his tongue delving into your mouth hungrily and greedily where you didn’t hesitate to match his fervor.

Everything was rough and desperate, kissing with a need to prove that each other’s lips were the only ones ever worth kissing, your hands pawing and groping in a crazed act of passion.

Pete’s fingers tore at the button and zipper of your jeans before diving his hand inside them, his long fingers stroking through your folds until your wet coated them, your moans reverberating in his mouth as you continued to kiss, your lips moving against each other sloppily and hastily.

After a minute, he withdrew from you, roughly tugging your jeans and panties down your thighs, his steely eyes staring at your exposed cunt as he quickly unfastened his own jeans and pulled out his hard cock before crashing against you again.

You spread your legs as wide as you were able to, giving him enough access to your core where he guided his leaking head, smearing his precum on your clit a few times until you were moaning and begging him to fill you.

Pete happily obliged, pushing inside your tight walls where he paused once he couldn’t go any deeper, kissing you frantically and groaning into your mouth from how good you felt.

Like he lost all sense of control, he slammed in and out of you, fucking you hard and fast while his mouth hung open and panted against yours in his efforts, the sink creaking precariously as you rocked your hips in time with his brutal thrusts, your fingers digging into the back of his neck and shoulders as you held on tight.

You were both so entranced in each other that neither of you noticed the door opening, his ex standing in the doorway in shock of the scene she walked into, scoffing as she turned and left.

“Fuck, babe,” he growled, pulling his face away from yours slightly where he watched his cock slide in and out of you, the sight encouraging him to move even more furiously within you, your cries growing louder as your climax quickly built up.

“Pete!” you bellowed, a desperation in your voice that told him you were on the brink, and knowing you were at risk of screaming as you came, he covered your mouth with his and proceeded to pound you mercilessly, swallowing your noises of unbridled pleasure as you clenched and shuddered on his cock.

Only seconds behind you, Pete bucked into your soaked cunt until he pumped you full of his hot spend, feeling it leak out of you as he continued to slowly thrust, drawing out every moment of your highs that he could.

You laughed as you comprehended what just happened, smoothing your hand over your head as your chest rose and fell sharply, Pete chuckling as a mischievous and prideful look dressed his flushed features.

“It’s impossible to get enough of you,” he admitted, his eyes flickering over your face as he leaned his arms against the sink, caging you in.

You hummed appreciatively, wrapping your arms around his neck to pull him closer, kissing him long and slow and in a way you hoped conveyed everything you felt for him.

“You sure you’re alright?” he asked when your kiss slowed to a pause, the blue of his eyes more vibrant and full of emotion.

“Yeah,” you nodded, smiling at him softly while your finger traced the crease beside his mouth.

“Okay, darling,” he cooed, nuzzling his nose against your cheek as he inhaled deeply, his face moving into the side of your neck where he pressed kisses into the sensitive skin and made you squirm and giggle.

Stopping, he brought his face back up to look at you, his expression serious again, his hand finding yours where he laced your fingers together and gave it three gentle squeezes.

“You know you’re the only one I want, yeah?”

You nodded, squeezing his hand back three times, smiling bigger as his own grew.

“I do, though I wouldn’t mind you showing me again…”

“Careful what you wish for!” he laughed burying his face into your neck again where he nipped and sucked at your skin, your laughter echoing against the tiled walls.

Pete walked out of the bathroom with you confidently after cleaning up and composing yourselves, even happier to see that his ex and the rest of Vicky’s horrible friends had left, the expressions on everyone’s faces as you sat back down at the table telling you they knew exactly what you had been up to.

“Oi, that colour suits you, mate,” Ned commented, pointing to his lips as he stared at Pete’s that were tinted from your lip gloss.

“Yeah? It’d suit yours too,” Pete said, leaning over and planting a kiss on Ned’s cheek quickly before he pushed him away, cursing and wiping his cheek dramatically.

Pete laughed as he took his seat, downing his pint that had been waiting for him to return to, leaning back in his chair where he pulled you onto his lap to have you proudly perch, the atmosphere more relaxed and as it normally was.

Red dripped into the sink one drop at a time, flowing steadily from so many places on his hands and face he wasn’t even sure where it was all coming from.

Pete tugged more tissues out of the box, bunching them up and holding them to what he thought was the deepest cut on his chin with as much pressure as he could, the ache in his hand preventing him from doing a sufficient job. He didn’t think he’d cracked on that Zulu cunt as hard as he did, but his knuckles proved otherwise, split open what felt like to the bone.

Any effects the pints in his bloodstream had provided him had definitely worn off now, his head pounding and every cut on him stinging and burning like mad, the severity of each fresh injury hard to determine as he looked at himself in the mirror through one good eye, the dark, puffy welt spreading up to his other from his cheek.

He stood with a towel wrapped loosely around his waist, his blood and sweat-stained clothes discarded in a heap on the floor, his reflection revealing bruises on his side and abdomen that refused to be ignored when he had lifted his jumper over his head.

It was late, and as quiet as he tried to be, Pete knew better than to think you wouldn’t have heard him come home, your inability to stay asleep for long without him something he secretly loved and made him swell, always feeling equally as eager to get back home and in bed with you.

“Hiya, love,” he muttered, smirking at you in the mirror when you appeared in the doorway, your sleepy face quickly changing to shock when you saw the state of him.

“I’m fine!” he stressed, knowing what your next words were going to be, the worry on your face breaking his heart a little.

“Pete…” you whispered, not in an accusatory or scolding way, but out of sheer love and care, your hands cupping his cheeks gently despite getting blood on them, your eyes searching his for truth in his claim of being okay.

“Fucking Zulu’s…” he trailed off, a small laugh blowing out of his lungs.

Never once had you asked him to stop fighting, and he knew you wouldn’t now, taking the aftermath of his hobby on the chin just like he did multiple times tonight, his love and appreciation for you making him feel a bit emotional as he watched you open the cupboard and get out the first aid kit to tend to his wounds.

He blinked back the moisture that had quickly accumulated in his eyes before you were facing him again, closing them when you pressed a careful kiss to his bloody lips, letting out a long sigh when you pulled away.

“Sit so I can see better,” you instructed, your voice soft and soothing to his ears.

Pete turned and stepped toward the tub, perching on the edge of it so he faced the sink for you to work, watching the deep red spots staining it dilute into a rusty colour as water ran from the tap and washed his blood off the porcelain.

Carefully, and for as long as it would take, you gently cleaned all of his wounds, wiping the blood that had dried and stuck in his blond stubble and dabbing the cuts that still oozed, your touch becoming lighter whenever you noticed a wince that involuntarily snuck past his attempts to hide them.

Luckily, nothing needed stitches, and even though Pete knew you were done cleaning and disinfecting each cut he’d sustained, you continued to linger, admiring his bruised and battered features.

Wrapping his arms around your waist, he pulled you close to him, letting his face lean into your stomach, breathing deeply as you raked your fingers up his bare back and through his hair. His shoulders relaxed, letting go of the tension held in them from taking the painful sting of peroxide seeping into his cuts over and over, his hands smoothing up your bare thighs and your bum.

“You’re sure you’re okay?” you whispered, your lips pressing against his scalp.

He hummed, pulling his face away from the warmth of your body in his sweater.

“Yeah. C’mere,” he offered, shifting slightly so your legs had room to straddle him.

You seated yourself on his lap, smiling when his own broke out on his damaged face, your back arching into him when he placed his hands under his sweater that you had now worn more times than him to card up your back.

“Thank you,” he said quietly, admiring you for a moment before kissing you softly, his nose moving back and forth on yours a couple of times before nudging your cheek, resting his face against it while he closed his eyes and breathed slowly.

“You’re welcome, love,” you cooed, your fingers ghosting over the back of his neck, making him melt into you even more.

“I don’t know what I did to deserve you,” he spoke, mostly to himself, still finding it hard to believe that he had been lucky enough to survive his injuries and then have you walk into his classroom that one morning.

Pete kissed your cheek once, then again, each press to your soft skin urging him to add another and then more after that, eventually meeting your lips with his until minutes had passed with you lost in the haze created by your slow kisses.

His hands held your back firmly, keeping you close to him and preventing you from falling back as he moved his head away from yours and looked at you in a way that made you want to show him that the love you had for him existed like no other.

“I love you,” he professed, as if he had stolen the words right out of your mouth. Those three words were spoken with a calm surety that held such truth there was no way you could deny or question it, your fingers trembling against his cheek as you trailed them along the crease that flanked his lips.

“I love you, too, Pete.”

The taste of blood transferred onto your tongue again as he crashed into you, kissing you with more ardor than ever before, the relevancy of the cuts on his lips no longer a concern to either of you.

Your hands slipped around the back of his neck, pulling him into you even more to deepen your kiss, your hips rolling against his just enough that you could feel his cock hardening, your bare core grinding on the somewhat rough material of the towel separating you.

Pete moaned into your mouth, and without stopping kissing you, leaned back enough to unwrap the fold of the towel from his waist, letting it fall open under him.

His hands slid under your thighs, guiding you to lift your hips in order to get on top of his cock, breaking your kiss to watch your face as you sank down on his length.

Before you even had the chance to start riding him, Pete ran his battered hands over your hair, his eyes holding as much softness as his voice did.

“Just be still for me, yeah?” he asked, wanting to savour the intimacy of being inside you unmoving.

You nodded, drawing in a deep, shaky breath, closing your eyes as his nose brushed against yours before capturing your lips again, your hand resting on his chest where you could feel his heart beating wildly.

You would have been kidding yourself if you said you weren’t feeling a bit uneasy about going to pick up your car alone, the conversation you had had with the mechanic, Martin, when you dropped it off still fresh in your mind.

Pete was unable to take you, having to coach a practice after work, and your sister was taking Jack to it and staying to watch since she always missed so many, leaving you to take the tube over to Millwall to deal with it on your own.

You assured yourself over and over that it would be fine and that you were probably reading into things too much, but still the way he had mentioned knowing Steve and Pete and claiming to be old mates with them wasn’t sitting right with you. With work being so busy this week, you had completely forgotten to mention it to Pete, and you cursed yourself for failing to bring it up when you had checked with him again that morning if he was sure he couldn’t get someone else to coach for him.

As the stops to Millwall grew closer and closer, you did your best not to dwell, reading the book you brought with you while your leg bounced up and down unconsciously, your eyes scanning over the same paragraph again and again without being able to absorb the words.

“Alright, good job, lads!” Pete shouted after blowing his whistle, signaling the end of their practice.

He held the bag open for them to toss their soiled jerseys in, laughing at all their comments to each other and how supportive they all were of their teammates.

“Eh, Jack, will you help me gather up the pylons?” he asked when your nephew had made it over to him in the queue of rowdy boys.

As Pete knew he would, Jack happily jogged around the pitch and collected the majority of them, saving Pete and his leg the trouble of going to do it all himself.

“Cheers, mate,” Pete thanked him, ruffling his hair as he walked with him over to where his mum stood waiting.

“Great practice, love!” She praised her son, then smiled at Pete as Jack worked at untying his cleats and taking off his shin guards. “Reckon she’ll be back from Millwall soon, then?” she said, glancing at the watch on her wrist.

“Millwall?” Pete asked, his face screwed up at the mention of his rivaled district.

“Yeah, that’s where the mechanic is she took her car to.”

“What’s the garage called?” he questioned, an urgency present in his voice as he reached in the pocket of his jacket for his phone.

“I don’t know, I didn’t look when I had dropped her off and she never mentioned it…is everything okay?”

“Hmm, yeah,” Pete lied, trying to settle the rising panic he felt inside him at the thought of the garage you took your car to for repairs being Tommy fucking Hatcher’s.

He hit the button to dial your number and held it up to his ear, pacing as he listened to ring after ring before the sound of your voice came through, his heart falling when it was only your voicemail picking up.

“Fuck-” he hissed, hanging up before redialling, praying you would pick up and tell him you weren’t alone at Tommy’s garage.

The bell that chimed when the door opened sounded ominous tonight as you stepped through it, the smell of oil and exhaust fumes hitting your nose heavily, the distant sound of the radio and tools clanking against metal filling the otherwise quiet shop.

Your car was parked out front, seemingly ready to drive off in, and you hoped to settle the bill and get your keys quickly so you could make your way back to see Pete, wanting this day and especially this exchange to be over and done with.

Glancing through the window that looked into the garage from where the little waiting area was, you could see Martin bent over the bonnet of a car, and behind him, a small office where who you assumed was the owner sat at his desk.

When neither man noticed your presence, you stepped through into the bay, careful your heels didn’t slip on the greasy floor.

The man in his office finally caught sight of you, grinning with a somewhat villainous smile that split his hardened features, and you thought no matter how friendly he tried to appear, there was something about him that seemed impossible to soften.

“Hello, love,” he greeted, his voice matching his looks.

“Hi, sorry,” you stammered, “I’m just here to get my car.” You hooked your thumb and pointed over your shoulder in the direction of where it sat outside, planting your feet firmly on the cement floor while doing your best to stand tall and confident.

“Yeah, not a problem, I’ve got the paperwork all here for ya,” he explained, standing from his chair and turning to reach for some papers from the filing cabinet behind him.

Martin nodded as you walked past him to enter the office, giving you a curt ‘Evening,’ as you smiled weakly in return.

The man seemed to fill the entire space of his office, his form tall and broad, his personality giving off a powerful air that made you feel somewhat suffocated.

There were empty beer bottles on his desk, and scattered across the walls and cabinets that took up nearly every square inch of the small room were various pieces of Millwall F.C. paraphernalia.

“You a fan?” he asked, catching you looking at the poster of the crest hung on the wall beside him.

“Erm, no, I don’t really pay attention to football all that much,” you lied, the realization that this man was clearly a huge supporter of the club that was Pete’s sworn enemy making you want to avoid the topic altogether.

“No?” he questioned, his head tilting to the side as another vicious smile revealed his teeth. “Not even a fan of the mighty Hammers?”

The way he said it made your blood turn cold, and you swallowed thickly, thinking how Martin must have discussed your affiliation to West Ham United through knowing Pete and Steve, and you wondered if these men were members of Millwall’s infamous firm.

You shook your head and huffed out a false laugh, reaching into your purse for your wallet.

“No,” you repeated, hoping he didn’t press his inquiry any further.

Clearing your throat to ensure your words came out properly, you started filing through the stack of notes you had taken out of the bank that morning, counting out what you had been told the total was going to be for the repairs.

“It was £450, wasn’t it?”

“That’s right,” he confirmed, watching as you placed the money on his desk, folding his arms across his chest.

“You sure you aren’t running about and singing along to ‘Forever Blowing fucking Bubbles’ then?”

You scoffed, trying your best to look like you hadn’t heard or even sang that song more times than you could count since meeting Pete.

“Ah, I see,” he said, slowly. “So you’re going to lie right to my face and tell me you’re not Pete Dunham’s missus, are ya?”

You almost choked, words unable to form on your tongue that felt too big for your mouth, the air in your lungs feeling trapped while everything around you started to distort as a dizziness overcame you.

“How…how do you know that?”

He pointed his finger at you, his lips still curled into a smile. “See, I knew you were lying to me, you little slag.”

You stepped back as he walked around his desk, his blue eyes icy with an evil you had never seen before.

“Don’t you think you’re going anywhere anytime soon, love,” he grinned, sitting on the edge of his desk as he nodded behind you. “Martin there hates your little boy toy just as much as I do, so he won’t be letting you run past him too easily either.”

You kept still, taking in as deep a breath as you could, closing your eyes briefly to gain some courage as you thought of which of the many questions racing through your mind to ask next.

“How do you know who I am?” your voice squeaked out, unable to hide your fear.

He shrugged his shoulders and frowned, “I get people to find things out for me.”

“Right, I’d just like to get my keys and leave, I don’t want any trouble-”

“You’re missing the fucking point, here!” he shouted, cutting you off. “Didn’t little Petey warn you about me?”

You shook your head again, confused as to who this man even was to Pete. “No, I-”

“Was he too afraid to come with you, not man enough to protect you?”

He stood from his desk, walking closer to you until you were face to face and your back was pressed against a cabinet, leaving you nowhere to escape.

“Is the taste of death still too fresh for him?” he laughed, clearly amused in seeing you put it all together.

“You’re-”

“Yeah, that’s right, darling,” he cooed, his face so close to yours you could smell the stale beer and smoke on his putrid breath. “I’m Tommy Hatcher. The man who nearly wiped out the Dunham name.”

He seemed so proud of it, like the memory was something he revisited often, and you felt sick knowing you were standing vulnerable at the hands of the man who almost killed the one you couldn’t live without.

“It’s funny, innit? That out of all the garages in London to get your car fixed, you came to mine.”

His finger jabbed into your chest with each word, making you recoil to try to make space between you, only to press yourself harder into the cabinet.

“You’re vile,” you spat, shoving your arm against his chest to push him away from you, only to have him come back stronger and closer than before.

He gripped your chin with his meaty hand, his fingers digging into your skin so hard it made you yelp.

“I’ve been watching you for weeks now. You should really pay more attention to your surroundings, love,” he warned, the pleasure he took in this written all over his grisly face. “How’s that nephew of yours, by the way?”

Bile rose up your throat at the idea of him getting to Jack and causing him harm, the lengths this horrible, soulless man would go to to make anyone he hated suffer having no limit.

“He seems like a good lad,” he whispered, his mouth hovering beside your ear where his hot breath made your skin crawl and you squirm in his grasp. “It’d be a fucking shame if he didn’t make it past his twelfth birthday just like my son didn’t.”

“You wouldn’t!” you cried, trying to move your legs enough to kick him, only to have his body lean harder into yours to stop you.

“See, you’re forgetting what I’m capable of. How easy it was to drive that bottle into Stevie’s neck and how much fucking joy I got breaking Petey’s body until he was lifeless on the ground.”

His grip tightened on your face as his eyes scanned over you, and despite your efforts to not let it happen, tears sprang from your eyes at the description of him trying to kill Pete.

���Don’t think it wouldn’t be hard to do the same thing to you or that little boy.”

With all the strength you had, you pushed against him, hitting him as hard as you could in his stomach while stomping hard on his foot, but Tommy was too strong, slamming you back into the cabinet so the handle drove into your ribs and all the air in your lungs was knocked out of you.

He laughed in your face, locking his forearm across your neck to keep you in place, your struggle to breathe seeming to satisfy him.

“I could do anything I wanted to you right now and no one would know or be able to stop me,” he bragged, growing more aroused with the power he held over you.

He ground himself against you, making you feel his hardness through his trousers, the possibility of you actually being sick between that and the lack of oxygen becoming more and more likely.

“It’s funny, you've got the same look of terror in your eyes as he did right before I smashed his fucking face in!” he pointed out, his laughter ringing through the room like you had just shared a joke together.

Within a split second his demeanor changed again, glaring at you seriously as his voice quieted and turned calm.

“See, I could rape you, ruin you so he’d never want to touch you again...”

You let out a broken sob, your eyes screwing shut when you felt his other hand travel slowly down your waist until he reached your thighs, stopping when he spoke again.

“But it’s lucky for you I’m a changed man.”

Tommy loosened the force of his arm against your neck, backing away from you slightly, and ran a hand over his hair to regain some composure.

“Don’t wanna be stuck in the nick again over someone as pitiful as you and your precious Petey!” he barked, adjusting himself in his pants crudely while you shook against the cold, metal cabinet.

He reached for something on his desk, turning around and quickly throwing your keys at your face where they missed and hit you hard in the chest, making you jump and cry out which only made him howl a maniacal laugh.

“Go on, you shitcunt,” he spat, “go home to Petey and cry all about it to him!”

You stooped and grabbed your keys off the grimy floor with a trembling hand, bolting out the door as fast as your legs would carry you, the sound of his and Martin’s laughter chasing you out of the building where you pressed the button to unlock your car as quickly as possible.

The tears didn’t come until you were out of the lot and onto the road, the lights from passing cars blurry and blinding as you finally let out wracking sobs, unaware of how fast you were going or which roads you were turning down, getting as far away from Tommy Hatcher as you could the only thing on your mind.

---

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