#that moment when the script makes you constantly stop and stare long and hard to the canvas

[windydrawallday]

COMFORTABLE

Continuation of [this one] ! Yeah, the tone shifted because... Because.

This is what I really wished that happened to me in a similar experience years ago. But it didn't. At all.

Now I can go back, reflect on it, learn and... talk about it. It still stings but the lesson is greater to let it hide behind my heart. I deserved comfort.

We all deserve comfort.

So, I will keep writing in this way now and then ♥.

[faithintheunknownsblog]

How do pip and alucard (seperately ) deal with a reader who is oblivious to them liking her?fluff plz

A/N: I'm so sorry, I promise I didn't forget- I've just been trying to get more chapters

Alucard

Alucard would just get tired of it, blankly staring at you and plainly asking you, “are you stupid or something?” 

“What?” You ask, taken aback by the rudeness.

“Are you stupid or something,” Alucard asks again in a serious tone that still has a sprinkle of annoyance mixed in since he had to repeat himself.

You shake your head, “no, I heard what you said. I’m just wondering what the actual fuck makes you think you can talk to me like that.”

“Well, clearly you are too dumb to realize I’ve made multiple advances in attempts to court you.” Alucard says plainly. This old geezer still thinks ‘courting’ is a thing.

“Did you offer the plumpest goat in the whole village to my father as well?” You ask sarcastically, “the Hell are you talking about ‘making advances’?”

“I have been doing like what they do in those movies-” Alucard has been watching cheesy rom coms in attempts to learn how to flirt, “-trying to woo you, but you just haven’t caught on.”

You couldn’t keep yourself from laughing, “that’s why you’ve been acting weird?!”

Alucard stays silent.

When you finally stop laughing and catch your breath you rhetorically ask, “Alucard, you do understand that life doesn’t work like that, right? All of those people are actors and the whole thing is scripted.”

Alucard grumbles, “Seras should’ve just let me give you the letter.”

“Letter?” Your curiosity immediately peaks, “you wrote me a letter?”

“Yes,” Alucard pulls the letter out from his jacket and hands it to you. Though he does not show it, he’s nervous as he watches you delicately unfold the paper and your eyes skin across it.

“Huh,” you keep your look unwavering as you look back up at him. Knowing that your unimpressed demeanor has him sweating bullets, then you fold up the paper and with a smirk say, “I could get used to these types of letters.”

“So that means you’ll let me court you?” Alucard asks.

You chuckle, “it’s called dating now, but yes, I’ll let you ‘court’ me.”

Alucard gets the biggest smile, “I told Seras the letter would work.”

“Yeah, you shouldn’t take dating advice from her anymore,” you laugh.

“Well I shouldn’t need to, now  that we’re together,” Alucard says happily.

You just roll your eyes and wave your hand to shoo him away, “alright, now go, I have to finish my work!”

“As you wish,” Alucard tips his head and leaves, now a very happy man to be courted with you.

Pip Bernadotte 

You and Pip are laughing and joking around like usual, but out of nowhere with absolutely no context he says “you make it very hard for me, you know?”

You and him tend to joke around, making lewd jokes, so you assume that’s what he’s doing now, “yes, I know. I wouldn’t be surprised if you had a picture of me you wank off to every night.”

Pip shakes his head, “no, not that way. Well, not all ze time, but zat’s not what I’m talkin’ about now.”

“What are you talking about then?” You ask Pip.

“Not to kiss you, I think about it all ze time,” Pip’s attitude is no longer playful. He constantly thinks about what it’d be like to hold you tight as he gives your soft lips tender kisses. You make him so happy and you’re all he thinks about. 

You go back to not taking him seriously and thinking this is a joke. So you decide to test him like you’ve done before and playfully say, “do it then.”

Pip is tired of all the joking, he leans in and kisses you so passionately, the world fades away. At this moment the rest of the world fades, it’s only you and him as it should be, always and forever.

When you two break apart, you're both breathing heavily, the kiss stole all the air out of both of your lungs and after a long pause Pip finally breaks the silence, “zat what I meant.”

You couldn’t help but chuckle, “I’ve already figured that out by now.” “Just makin’ sure-” Pip smiles, “-because it took you zis long.”

You roll your eyes and Pip steals another kiss, which he will be doing with every chance he gets from now on.

[happyhauntt]

haunted — alina starkov

writing masterlist | askbox

─── summary: alina starkov is dead, except she isn't, and the memory of her haunts you constantly.

─── pairing: alina starkov x reader.

─── warnings: angst, hurt/no comfort, references to mourning. reader is gender neutral. honestly i just wanted to write something about falling in love with alina but letting her go after ruin & rising because making her stay would be unfair when she's earned her peace, but that doesn't make it fair to you, either. i take requests though so please feel free to send stuff in!

─── word count: 1.1k.

It is a very odd feeling, you think. To long for a place that doesn't exist anymore. To dream of a life spent with someone you'll never see again. To wish for home, and a girl whose arms were the last place you felt safe, and know that it is hopeless.

It feels like a knife between your ribs. Something sharp and jagged, something that tears on its way in, the way it saws through your flesh like the teeth on a hunting dagger. Every breath hurts. You used to fear you'd never get used to feeling this way.

You used to fear that you would.

A year has passed since you last saw her. Fingers curled into the rough wool of her travelling cloak, tight enough that you swear you can still feel the stitches against your skin. She'd held you so tightly. As if she could press you into the cavity between her lungs and keep you there forever, right next to her heart. With your face between her hands, she had kissed you in the kind of way that makes poets weep and stars fall from the heavens, and you can still taste the salt of your tears in your mouth, but it hadn't been enough to make her stay.

It wasn't a choice. You know that if it was, she would have chosen you.

Alina, Alina, Alina...

The scratch of the quill against parchment sends a shiver down your spine, but you cannot bring yourself to stop. How many times have you tried to write this letter? The bottom drawer of your desk holds all the secrets of your past, kept locked away from prying eyes. There must be a hundred unfinished letters hidden there. A thousand things left unsaid. A love that you've had to bury, a future that will never come to pass.

Alina, Alina, Alina...

You set the quill down for a moment, flexing your hand as a cramp knots in your palm. Her name stares back at you. The black ink is stark against the paper, vicious and mocking. Her name is all you're able to write today. The sharp scratch of your handwriting is wrong, so wrong. Her name shouldn't look like that. Your Alina was looping script and curling edges, nothing like the jagged way you've scribbled her name onto the page.

She isn't dead, but it feels that way. There is a ghost haunting the edges of your life, in the shape of the girl you love, and though it never says a word, you can feel the gaze of it burning into you. Her absence is a brand upon your soul. There is not a corner of you that does not ache when you see a flash of blue in the training yard, or a familiar laugh rattles across the table at dinner.

Sometimes, the very worst part of you wishes she had died. You wonder if it would be easier than this.

With the quill back between your fingers, you try to write something. Anything. Her name in your mind and on your tongue and in every letter you've written this past year. This is what it’s like to be haunted, you think, except your ghost is still alive and breathing, and still as unreachable as the dead.

Alina, I hope you are happy.

I need you to be happy.

You don't doubt that, really. With all that she sacrificed, of course Alina Starkov had to die. The Sun Summoner perished in the Shadow Fold destroying the Darkling, and a white-haired girl walked into obscurity with a peace that was hard-won. A peace she deserved. A quiet life and an orphanage she rebuilt, and a heart full of love to give.

I need one of us to be happy.

She had to leave, and you had to stay. It wasn't a choice, but you think it might have hurt less if it had been. But Alina could not live, and the girl she became could not stay in Os Alta, and there are some things that love cannot change.

Genya writes to her sometimes. Keeps her up-to-date on life in the Grand Palace. She never mentions anything about politics — Alina has earned her peace — but there are anecdotes about Nikolai's newest invention, and bets on how long it will take Zoya to murder him in his sleep, and whether the performance troupe at this year's Winter Fête were any good. You don't know if she mentions you in those letters. You've never asked.

Zoya has plans to visit Alina in the spring. She has a list of gifts she wants to bring with her, certain that life out in the countryside must be dreadfully dull and uncivilised, and you'd wanted to laugh when she told you. The comforts of the Little Palace are nothing in comparison to the greatest gift of all; Alina's freedom. But you know Zoya understands, really. That she misses Alina, too, in her own way.

A hundred letters gathering dust in your desk drawer, but you've never sent one. You keep trying to write something that doesn't hurt, but none of that feels true or right or real. If you could open your veins and let the words spill out of you, then you would. They might tell a better story. There has to be somewhere else for all this hurt to go.

Are you happy?

Scratch scratch scratch. The tip of your quill rips through parchment, stains the desk below with ink. Your hand is trembling. If you close your eyes, the ghost of her drifts forward. You can still smell her perfume.

With shaking fingers, you discard the quill and fold the letter along uneven edges. You hide that in the drawer, too. It rests in a pile with all your other heartbreak. It disappears from sight as you lock the drawer again.

A deep breath in, out, and your heartbeat begins to settle again. The ghost of her retreats to the corner again, settled on the edges of your vision like a battle wound that won't quite heal. Genya's voice carries down the corridor, calling your name.

There are things to do, a country to run. You push that feeling down, that old ache of longing, until it sits back between your ribs. All pain starts to dull when you live with it long enough. That jagged edge keeps digging, digging, cutting at your heart one breath at a time, but you'll live. You will.

You put the quill back in its box and stand up. You'll try again tomorrow.

[harfanfare]

Pomegranate Rule || Idia Shroud x Reader

Obligatory pair work with someone you like very much on a school project and have a chance to fall for each other more? - cliché.

The difference with Idia was that he kidnapped his project partner.

Idia leaned out from behind the column, whispering words of encouragement and summoning up the plan of this meeting he compiled at yesterday’s evening. He practised this conversation all night in front of the mirror, but as soon as he gained confidence, he forgot the text and desperately searched for the next line in the script.

There was a faint blush on his pale cheeks. Not from the sun, not from the fatigue, but nervousness. He hadn't left his room for someone in a long time, and what he was about to do required from him new social skills...

…to ask you to be his project partner, that’s it.

Ortho stood right next to Idia, leaning out from behind his older brother's silhouette and shifting his gaze once at the courtyard, once at him.

Idia cuffed his fingers on the sleeves of the sweatshirt.

Ortho's presence helped him a lot to keep on the promise he made to himself: today he will actually talk to you not on the phone, but face-to-face and suggest that you could do Sir Crewel’s project together.

He knew that you didn’t have a pair, since Grim went off where he could bug Adeuce combo, and even if he didn’t, you two would be counted as one student. But, to at least make some progress, you were picking up leaves you suspected to be just right for the experiment.

With each bush, you were getting closer and closer to the column behind which Idia was hiding, and he knew that if he won’t hurry with his proposal, someone will enter the square, dispatch the last pieces of Idia's courage and disperse you, and take you away.

For example someone like Epel and Jack, who have just entered the courtyard using the entrance on the opposite side.

This coincidence seemed to Idia to be as unfortunate as if all the forces of the world wanted to stop him from what he was planning and yet to validate his theory that it was not worth ever leave his room. On the other hand, since he was already here, and it took him a good few dozen attempts to motivate himself, he could not lose this unstarted game.

Idia, in an act of desperation, rushed towards you, hoping that the first-graders would not notice you.

You both keel over into the bushes as Jack and Epel headed towards you.

"Jack Howl, Epel Felmier!" Ortho greeted them, distracting all possible attention from the bushes that had just been approached by two people, both unaware of what was going on. "How is your project going? What topic did you choose?”

"Ortho-kun! What are you doing here?” Epel replied, coming closer to the young Shroud.

As Ortho distracted them with a conversation, Idia had an intimidating thought: what would happen if they saw your two in the bushes? He was madly blushing at the scenarios that created in his head. He put his hand on your lips—he was afraid that you would say anything that would attract unwanted attention—he slipped with you through the empty corridors to the dorm of Ignihyde.

…He forgot to explain what he was doing, and it likely looked like him committing a crime, but nothing will happen if he explains everything in his room, right...?

You were able to ask Idia what was he doing, once he closed the doors. Till then, on every question you asked he hissed “Sheesh! Do you want us to be found?!” and “P-please! Let us get to headquarters where I will… explain the mission…”.

Soon enough, you found yourself in his room; electronics was the main source of light, and the screens glowed bright blue around them. Although you didn't see any exposed windows or lamps lit to illuminate the room, everything was clearly visible.

There was a mess there, a mixture of the cardboard disorder that prevails after moving a house and the chaos of a man whose constantly working on something, desk always cluttered with papers, pens and documents.

You were sure you would stand on some lost Lego block or pin if you put your foot behind the bed where Idia has set you down.

“So, Idia,” you started. “…What exactly I am doing in your room?”

"Uh, well...” he stuttered, trying to remember the speech from yesterday's practices. “I wish I would know what you're doing here... I mean- I know why I brought you here. I wanted to ask you something. Ask, yes.”

"Ask? About what?” you didn't mention that you can ask outside of your own room, and you wasn’t going to correct that.

Idia tried to explain the whole situation. He skipped the preparation process, his speeches and ideas, he didn’t even mention the project, so all he said was hard-to-understand, abstract justification from the current situation.

He said, at least, that he came up with the idea to take you somewhere further away, where there were no people, as first-grades entered the courtyard.

“So I'm here by accident?" you asked after listening to Idia, slightly cocking your head at the side. “I don't understand…”

“It was an accident. A bit,” he wanted to loudly groan at his helplessness but finally bit his tongue. “I didn't want you here. I mean, I wanted to, but I didn't plan on it. I mean- Aah, it’s so hard to explain!”

You waited in silence, only nodding, letting him take his time.

"Sorry, I just... I feel weird talking to you...” Idia admitted, lowering his head.

The definition of Idia’s "weirdness" was different from yours.

When you heard that he was calling you strange, you felt a pang in your heart. Really? After so many months of acquaintance and quite frequent texting on the phone, when finally there was one of those few moments when you could talk face-to-face, he says it's awkward?

The "weirdness" of that feeling in Idia was something he could not explain easily: the joy of talking to you, anxiety that he would say something wrong, an uncertainty that you would change your mind and stop talking to him, excitement because he knew how interesting person you are and the frustration for every accurate, teasing comment…

"Oh, I see," you tried not to sound depressing. "So let me leave.”

"No, wait, that's not what I meant..!”

Oh, no. Idia’ plan went downhill again.

Idia jumped to a drawer and started looking for something in it, digging through notebooks, cables and lost items.

“...Don't worry, Idia, we can end this conversation on the phone... or something.”

“No, no, no, wait, please!” discreetly took out a round metal box before he dashed to you, blocking the only way out, heavy equipment surrounding you that now seemed to be an impassable wall.

"Uh?"

He took the hard candy from the container he took from the shelf, though he did it so subtly, forcing himself to stare at you and keep your gaze from tearing away from him, so you couldn’t notice candy in his hand.

They were pomegranate drops that had been presented to him as a funny joke from a student who knew that a box, just like its contents, was enchanted by Vil's unique magic: whoever tasted them will not be able to move more than twenty meters from the place the fruit drop was eaten.

Haha, because you know, the members of Ignihyde don't go outside and won't even notice they were cursed.

Idia was sure that even Vil did not know that the candies had fallen into his hands.

"Huh? What are you-“

As soon as you opened your mouth, Idia pressed fruit drop up to your lips and covered them with his hand, in case you tried to spit it out. His movements became very mechanical and heavy, probably most of his muscles were strained. Because of that, you also couldn't push him away.

He only stepped out of your way you once swallowed the candy.

And so you were bound by a spell that you discovered the moment Idia let you towards the door. You stopped more than a meter from them, unable to even grasp the doorknob.

You swung your hand a few times as if not believing that none of your movements was moving you forward.

“Idia. I know we should talk, but by cutting me off from the door?”

Surprise with this solution, Idia's embarrassed smile, dripping sweat from the stress he felt, and a sudden dose of delicious sugar made you burst into laughter.

“This. Is. Great.” You accented each word, becoming more and more amused with each one as if you had just heard the best joke of the era. “Is it the fault of those drops?”

Idia, surprised by your reaction, finally relaxed. Your sudden, inexplicable outburst, hearty laugh calmed him down a lot. He even came to the conclusion that he really likes the way you laugh.

Ortho soon entered the room. You two shortened the story and explained that you probably have to stay here for the night.

"Oh, so nii-san finally asked you to do a project with him?"

“Project...?” you repeated. Then you turned your head to Idia and smirked at him. “So that was what it was for?”

He answered you with a shrug as if last day Idia didn’t have any thoughts screaming “Project!” and that followed by “[Name]!”.

However, Ortho said it for him.

Idia, of course, tried to stop him, but Ortho knew how much time his brother spent just planning to talk to you. A wave of shame flooded Idia as you listened to Ortho's words with interest. And maybe with a pinch of delight spilling over your heart—Idia did so much for you! You could feel the flush on your face and a smile spread across your lips every time you heard about Idia's efforts.

Soon after, after the excitement of this conversation had died down and you thanked Idia for his planning efforts, a package of cookies and biscuits was opened. You couldn't go to the cafeteria to eat anything, and even ordinary snacks from school vending machines taste better in pleasant company, right?

“We haven't had many opportunities to talk like that, have we?"

You took a sip of the warm tea Idia had made—it was incredibly bitter but chilled enough not to burn your tongue—and watched the screen where Idia was working.

He pushed himself away from writing some codes with some slowness, but he didn't look at you.

“You're right...”

After a pause, he started speaking again, this time in a whisper, but you heard him very clearly.

"I've always admired you, [Name]-shi..." he said, pressing his knees against his chest. “Talking to so many different people and solving their problems... I often find it tedious and self-righteous to interfere in the affairs of others, however…. Everything you do always ends well. I-I couldn't do that.”

“I should be saying it!” You said after a moment of silence as if you were processing words you completely didn't suspect him of. “You deal with electronics like a professional. Wait, you are the professional! How many programming languages have you already mastered? How many devices have you already created? You have a wonderful talent and... even your brother little is proof of it.”

You both looked at Ortho connected to specialized equipment. "CHARGING" was displayed on the screen, and by minutes the numbers were close to 100%.

Idia didn't smile at your words—instead he seemed incredibly focused. With each passing second, he had a more and more sincere expression of pleasant frustration, which was also reflected in his long hair behind which he tried to hide his face.

He couldn't even answer and just nodded.

"And... I have to confess to something," you began after another minute of pleasant silence, which you felt sorry to interrupt. "If you previously seemed quite average to me, maybe even a little pale-faced, now I know that you are special."

These words were already his limit. He couldn't take his eyes off you, forgot how to breathe, forgot how to blink, and his lungs refused to cooperate.

His heart crashed for good after your next words.

"So... if you please," you got up and smiled at him. “Idia Shroud, will you do me this honour and become my project partner?”

"The curse already faded.”

You could reach the door and go to the farthest corners of the room. You could leave.

The project has been completed. With the light help of Ortho, who also wanted to contribute to the project, by two in the morning, you finished doing experiments, writing out data, conclusions and completing them with graphic documentation.

And then you played games for the next three hours; each game was digital and very engaging—it wasn't for Ortho, you and Idia wouldn't fall asleep even for a minute. Even when you went to bed—and there was a whole five-minute debate about where you were going to sleep—you talked in whispers about everything and nothing until one of you fell asleep.

Even if the attachment to Vil's magic was gone, you couldn't deny that you became attached to a certain blue-haired boy who followed the last lines of your conclusions with his golden eyes.

It was really fun.

He and Ortho probably would have done this project faster, but the collaboration of the three—you, Ortho and Idia—seemed so pleasant that if he could, he would do it once again. Even if that meant another research about hyper-difficult projects Crewel liked to torture his students with.

"I will come again," you said as suddenly as if you were reading his mind. He flinched at those words, and your tone of voice changed to a more biting tone. “You don't have to kidnap me this time.”

"I d-didn't..." he tried to deny but was stuck on the next words. “...Really? Will you really come here?”

“Your charm bound me more than candy, I can promise you,” you gave him one last smile before you closed the door behind you and rushed through the corridor with a strange, blissful feeling, looking forward to your next project.

So did he.

[untaemedqueen]

Take One (M)

Pornstar!Yoongi x Fan Fiction Writer!Reader

Genre: Strangers To Lovers!AU, Smut, Fluff

WordCount: 24k

Warnings: Masturbation, Fingering, Big Dick!Yoongi, Slight Dom!Yoongi, Degradation (Slut, Cum Slut), Spanking, Sex Against A Wall, Unprotected Sex, Cream Pie, Phone Sex, Edging, Pussy Slapping, Daddy Kink, Hair Pulling, Cock Slapping, Cum Swallowing, Love Making, Marking, Body Worship, Cunnilingus, Face Fucking, Multiple Orgasms, Possessive!Yoongi, Forced Orgasm, Doggy Style, Impreg Kink

A/N: Again the biggest shout outs to my crew @ppersonna​​, @ladyartemesia​​, @xjoonchildx​​ who are constantly rooting for this fic to come out. I love my ladies so much!!!!!!!

There are three things which Yoongi was certain of. One, he was a big star in his field of work. Two, he had a huge cock, one to rival many of the largest names in his industry. Three, he can only find pleasure these days in written word. 

He has seen so many bodies in his career. So many different women and men that he cared very little for the human form. Now, written word where he could just simply envision a woman of his choosing doing what is described in twelve font Ariel Black ink. That is where he finds his pleasure.

He found himself after a long day on set, looking for mental relief. People make fun of his job, but it's incredibly taxing on one's spirit. He tried for years and years to be not only the best porn star in his field, but the most talked about. He succeeded after not too long, one utterly embarrassing title called 'Little Cat, Bowl of Milk' skyrocketed his success and had people coming back time and time again to his profile on all the major porn sites. He began to realize that success was eating at his bones. He so often found himself not being able to cum as he fucked his co-star half way to Sunday. 

It wasn't about being the greatest anymore, or having the biggest cock in the industry. It was about actually being able to cum without the prop team having to strap a tube on the underside of his cock and pump out this incredibly realistic looking paste that actually looks like jizz. It was practically degrading. And yet, Yoongi only found himself orgasming through reading. 

It was a random happenstance as he was scrolling online. Just looking at a few different blogs on Tumblr before finding a link in their biography stating 'Masterlist'. Finding himself intrigued he clicked on the link, the girl with the pen name Nevermore had countless series of books. She was great at writing, truly understanding her character's complexity and portraying it in such a way that had Yoongi constantly on the edge of his seat. But above all, the sex scenes she wrote were so erotic; so completely entrancing that he began to lose himself in her stories. He had never cum harder than before he read the words she so ardently wrote.

Jumping onto his couch, his feet find their place on the arm as his hand rests beneath his head. "I wonder what's up with Kyla and Bjorn today." He whispers to himself before sipping his beer. Every day of the week waits with bated breath to be Sunday. Nevermore publishes every Sunday at 8 o'clock and Yoongi never misses it. He will even stop a late filming just to read her new chapter. 

Stopping by her blog fills him with a sense of renewal. He first checks her updated page before anything else. She seemed to have an almost poetic soul within her, as if her fingers poured out earnest sentences with cryptic and riddled meaning. It's her latest post that catches his attention, first and foremost, before he can even click on the book's masterlist. He sips his beer as he peruses the post.

Coming Tuesday - Take One. 

Pornstar!Min Yoongi x Reader

Author's Note: I usually research heavily for smut to make it seem the most realistic as possible. I looked into porn to get a sense of what pornstars go through day to day and came across Min Yoongi. Eajsidicjeisoc HE'S UNBELIEVABLE! So the next book will be a fan fiction based on him. And believe me when I say I'M A FAN.

Beer goes flying out of his mouth. Sitting up quickly, his eyes widened at the text. 

"EXCUSE ME?!" He yells loudly before putting his hand over his mouth. 

A voraciously nervous giggle escapes him as his eyes flit to the popcorn ceiling. "Me? She's seen me?" He doesn't know whether to be astonished or incredibly flattered. He was a mere reader, one of the thousands that follow her blog and here he was being featured in one of her gorgeous stories. Would she write him like he is or turn him into a sex god? Someone completely void of feeling like Bjorn? Or someone absolutely brimming with possibility like Kyla? His bottom lip purchases between his teeth as he lets out a happy groan. I guess Tuesdays would be the days to look forward to now.

Sweat builds upon Yoongi’s lean frame as he snaps his hips into his co-star once more. His arm muscles shake as he holds himself above her thin frame, “You like that? Hmm? Like getting pounded by your sister’s husband? You’re such a fucking slut.” He recites his script before wrapping his hand around her neck. She whimpers out, botoxed lips parting for air as she keens loudly.

“Yes! Fuck! More, I’m such a little slut. I want you to fuck me so hard!” She whines and he can feel his energy slipping from him. This isn’t exciting. This doesn’t get him off. It was a trivial part of his job. He knows she’s enjoying it, the way she drools isn’t prompted. The way her eyes roll back every time the head of his cock meets her cervix folds isn’t scripted. He used to savor that. He used to adore fucking his co-stars stupid, making them forget their lines so he could take a break and edge his orgasm away before pile driving into them like a frenzied maniac. Now he just wishes she could hurry up and cum so he could get to the blog. It was Tuesday after all. 

“Oh Christ.” He murmurs out as she cums on his cock for a third time. Her cum squirting onto his thighs as she screeches to the heavens. The camera was solely focused on her battered pussy. And so, with that knowledge he closes his eyes. Picturing, or trying anyway, how Bjorn took Kyla into the fish hut after their summer raid. How he laid her down on the bed of hay and let his wild freeness overcome him. The way he ran his fingers over her nipples deftly. Deftly, that was a word used in the books often that he found himself loving. He remembers reading in obscene vividity how tight Kyla was for Bjorn, signifying that she had not been with a lover since he went to raid England. 

Yoongi finds himself gasping gently as he pictures the scene written just weeks ago by Nevermore’s beautiful hands. His cock was thickening just at the thought and he lets out a loud groan. Pleasure seeping into every nerve of his body as his teeth clamp down on his bottom lip. Picturing someone else beneath him, someone more supple to the touch. Someone who was simple and adoring being underneath him because they wanted to be. 

Alas, he’s ripped from his impending orgasm as his co-star scrapes her ridiculously sharp nails over his arms. He lets out a defeated sigh before opening his eyes. Jaw going slack he waves in the prop team. It’s still disgusting to him, the feel of the tube beneath his cock twitch and pulse as the paste emits from below him. It smells like glue. 

He gives a loud moan, something the director would say is beautiful as the paste lands on the folds of her pussy. He pulls away from her, ripping the tube out from beneath him as she giggles to the camera. Her index finger sneaks its way into her mouth and she gives a ginger bite to it before sighing happily. “Thanks Yidu.” He murmurs before grabbing a pair of boxers from his manager.

“What’s the matter, Yoongi? Can’t seem to get off?” Yidu calls to him as she sits up on her elbows. 

“Not with you or with anyone.” He mumbles to himself before shoving open his dressing room door. 

“What’s wrong with you?! Yidu is hot, man!” His manager, Hoseok says as he closes the door behind them. Yoongi rolls his eyes as he digs into his jacket before pulling out his phone. 

“Hobi. I told you. It’s hard to get off anymore, it’s just so… so-”

“Trivial? Come on, Yoongi! You just had one of the hottest A list porn stars beneath you!” Hobi says before handing Yoongi his coffee as he sits down in the arm chair.

“Then you go fuck Yidu. Give her a good seeing too.” He mumbles as he unlocks his phone. Hoseok scoffs loudly before throwing himself down onto the loveseat. 

“Yeah right! She’d never want to be with me after your eleven inch cock was deep in her kidneys.” Yoongi snorts at his comment before turning around to him. 

“It’s eleven and a half inches. I wish you would get it right.” He jeers before sipping his coffee.

Hoseok didn’t leave him alone for the rest of the afternoon. So, he had to wait with bated breath to read the new book until he got home. Which he finds agreeable since he would want privacy anyway. He’s kind of nervous. Isn’t it odd to read a book about yourself? As flattering as it is? 

What if the book painted him out to be this sex craved monster? He takes a deep breath before unlocking his phone. “Okay.” He whispers before crossing his legs and throwing them up on the couch.

There’s something magical about meeting the right someone. Captivating, even. The way irises flit between one another in a moment of glorious silence. The breath that is held within one’s chest as you stare longingly at the other person before you. Hands could shake from nerves, excitement- both, even. It had never happened for Min Yoongi. Until you. 

Yoongi clears his throat before leaning deeper into the couch cushions. There it is. The master at work. Painting him to be a god among men. A small smirk finds its way on to his lips as he settles in for more.

It took a second to notice him. To see him in a sea of moving bodies. He was a gentle breeze in a vast desert. And, in that second you yearned to know him. 

He was tall. Taller than you by all accounts. His hair was black and long, the gentle spring breeze blowing his bangs into his eyes as he leans against the hotel door waiting for his car. 

Expensive. That’s a word that could describe him even in the darkest of nights. The way his leather jacket clung to him, highlighting his biceps. Even his sunglasses screamed exorbitant. With one foot pressed against the foggy glass of the door, you found yourself walking towards him without any care for yourself. 

His jeans hung low, the crisp white t-shirt he adorned barely covering his pale skin underneath.

“Someone’s been watching ‘To Meet A Man’, hmm?” He quips as his thumb trails slowly over his bottom lip. He was already hooked. Seeing himself as the character and yet, completely setting himself outside of it as well. He was torn between the two and he feels as if he could go on this way forever. 

Stopping in front of him, he tilts his head towards you before smirking. “Can I help you, little one?” His voice was like the sound of a harp. Sharp and melodic. 

“You’re standing in front of the door.” You reply. Your index finger pointed at the foggy glass beneath his foot. He opens his mouth for a fraction of a second before nodding. 

“Thought you recognized me.” He murmurs to himself, opening the door to let you into the hotel. 

“I bet you’d like that.” You smile at him, black sundress rippling through the breeze before entering the hotel. 

“Yes. I think I would like that.”

God, this was enthralling. His toes curl as he reads on. Loving the picturing being painted already. How is it that you made this Min Yoongi so incredibly bold and attractive? How is he not this attractive? 

Yes, okay. He was hot. Undoubtedly. He knows that. But, he never flaunted it if he wasn’t on camera. This Min Yoongi was confident and sound. Surely he could cum on command without having to think of book characters to maybe do it. 

Yoongi wishes he was like his book counterpart. He’s a fan of him.

Stepping on set, he takes in the scene before him. This is something his character in Take One would be into. Tying up his woman Y/N. Pleasing her through and through, making her beg for more just because he could. 

Sipping his coffee he hums to himself as his hand runs over the silken sheets of the prop bed. “Wow. Big budget.” He jokes to Hoseok who snorts as a reply. 

“Your co-star is here.” Hoseok whispers before nodding across the set. Yoongi takes off his leather jacket before looking her over and he internally groans. Nothing like how he pictures Y/N at all in the book. 

“Fine.” He mutters out as he hands his leather jacket to Hoseok.

“When did you start wearing leather?” His long time friend asks as he sniffs the jacket. Yoongi shoos him away before running his fingers through his hair. “Mind your business, Jung!” He snaps before taking off his sunglasses.

He’s worked with this porn star before. She was hot, obviously. The kind of hot that screams high maintenance. And she always brought her dog to set. Which was odd. Also, annoying. Every time it yaps, they would have to start the scene over which for Yoongi used to be great but now, he feels an impending sense of doom as the chihuahua opens its mouth. “Yoongi!” 

Oh yeah, her voice was really high pitched. Something that could break a wine glass if she tried to sing opera. “Candy.” He whispers before kissing her cheek.

He used to be fond of her. Hell, they’d even gone on a date once after they filmed a marriage scene together. She was not for him. Not for anyone that had a clear thinking mind and that could count above fifty. “I’m so excited! You remember Tiberius, don’t you?” She asks as she holds up her dog. 

The small dog growls at Yoongi as he gives a half hearted chuckle, “Of course I do. Hi...Tiberius.” He retracts his hand harshly as the dog nips at the air.

“Let’s go get you dressed. Hmm?” Hoseok asks, hooking a hand over his shoulder. He hums to him as they walk towards his dressing room. “Please, kill me now.” He whispers fiercely, earning a loud laugh from Seok as he pushes open the door. 

Running his hands over Candy's body, he lets out a hum of appreciation. Concentrating on keeping his face steady as the camera pans upward. He pinches her nipples roughly, a gasp emitting through the set as she wiggles her hips cheekily. Would Y/N like that? Would she like his book counterpart to treat her roughly like this? Or would she want to be praised? 

"God, look at your sexy little nipples." He says aloud before slapping her breast. She whines into the camera, pulling on the handcuffs as her legs part wider. "So fucking hard for me." He comments before trailing his tongue around her stiff peaked areola. 

She keens for him and his eyes shut just to shield his eye roll. But as the room fades to black behind his eyelids, he remembers something. Nevermore watches his videos. She watches to get ideas. 

His head turns to the director as he moves out of the way for the camera to take a shot of her wet pussy. "You said free script?" He asks him.

The director waves his hand agreeing before looking back at the monitor. His smirk sends Candy beneath him into a fluster. She eyes him delicately as he spreads her legs. Candy was good at this though, rolling off the cuff with whatever her co-stars do. 

Yoongi taps his palm to her pussy before rubbing slow circles on her clit. "Look at you, baby. Aching for my big cock. You remember when I met you outside of the hotel? In my leather jacket?" She whimpers at the stimulation before nodding. 

"You looked so good for me. I wanted to just tear you apart." He hums at her words before pulling his cock out of his briefs. 

"I asked if I could help you, little one. But it's you who'll be helping me. Suck my cock." He instructs as he shoves his cock towards her face. Saying the lines from Nevermore's story, acting like his book counterpart sends his nerve endings aflame. 

His body tingles with satisfaction and the smile that creeps onto his face is one of pure joy as his cock enters her lips.

Throwing yourself down onto your roommates bed, she raises an eyebrow at you before folding her arms. "What's with the face?"

"Viiii." You whine loudly before burying your head into her pillow. She scoffs gently before laying down next to you. 

"Are you stuck with your writing?" You whinge loudly in agreement before rolling on to your back. 

Twirling her hair around her finger, she snorts gently before leaning against the headrest of her bed. "What part are you on? Hurry up Taehyung is coming over in forty minutes to take me out on a date." 

"Oh Taehyung is more important than your best friend ever that is going through a crisis?!" You faun shock as you sit up on your knees. She laughs, kicking out her feet before rolling her eyes. 

"No. Well...He has a big dick so getting dicked down might be more important but anyway, back to your crisis." Your lips sputter as you giggle before crossing your legs beneath you.

"She's going to have sex with Min Yoongi." You tell her and she hums before tilting her head.

"And? Your smut is hot. Just do what you always do. Fuck her till she's crying." She states plainly and you can't help but chortle at her words.

"But he's a fucking porn star. I don't know how to just-" You intertwine your fingers before smacking them together repeatedly.

"Okay, the word is cohesion. Whatever the fuck that is you think your doing- is gross so please stop that." You pout at her and she pokes your nose before grabbing her laptop with a gentle grunt. 

"Let's get some ideas for your dirty sex romp." She whispers before opening up the laptop.

Skimming through the videos, the thumbnails make your eyes go wide. "How does she do that?!" Viola asks loudly before trying to pick up her leg and put it behind her head.

"Seems like the work of the devil." You murmur before continuing to scroll. 

"Look! A new one! 'Cuffs and Leather.' Sounds lethal." She wiggles her eyebrows at you and you nudge her with a laugh before opening up the video.

Right off the bat it's filthy. And, you can't help the way your body leans in as his hand grazes over her bare sides. "God, his voice is so rich and dreamy." Your roommate comments as he tells her how pretty her nipples are.

Your thighs press together unconsciously before tilting your head. His eyes seem alight with mischief as they look deeply into the camera. It makes something inside of you stir almost innately. "She's pretty." Viola whispers before leaning back against the headrest.

"Look at you, baby. Aching for my big cock. You remember when I met you outside of the hotel? In my leather jacket?" Those words send your heart lurching.

"No fucking way." Viola yells as she sits up quickly. Your head whips to her as your eyes go wide. 

"No way. No FUCKING way!" She screams before cupping her mouth.

"I asked if I could help you, little one. But it's you who'll be helping me. Suck my cock." His voice, the teasing tone sends you rigid. Your throat dries up and all you emit is a squeak as Viola slaps her fingers onto the spacebar pausing the video.

"Oh my FUCKING GOD. Y/N!" Her screams sound foggy to your ears as your heartbeat begins to fill the void of noise. He's seen it. He's fucking READ it. 

Your face goes red as you stare at the screen. Your left eye begins to twitch as Vi presses her hands to your shoulders and shakes you. Her squeals bring you back to reality and you cover your face with your hands. "That's so amazing! He's read Take One!" She cheers happily and you begin to feel sick.

Your stomach rolls, a cold sweat creeping onto your skin as you put your hand to your forehead. "No." You whisper to yourself before laying back onto her plethora of pillows.

"Yes! This is incredible!"

"No." It's weaker this time as she straddles you. Jumping up and down happily and your body moves freely atop the mattress like a limp noodle. 

"Y/N! What are you going to do?!" She squeals as she shakes you around.

"Delete it." You say before looking up at her. She stops for a second before going wide eyed. 

"What?! Delete it?! No! What're you talking about?!" She says quickly as you grab your phone from her bedside table.

"I have to delete it. This is embarrassing. I mean, he has read something I made for myself and-" You go to unlock your phone and Viola scoffs loudly. 

"No! Give me the phone." She says loudly and you begin to wrestle atop her mattress.

"I HAVE TO DELETE IT. HE SAW WHAT I WROTE! I USED MY OWN NAME IN A FIC!" You yell out as you pin her beneath you. But, she has the grip of a strong barbarian as she shoves your phone down her tank top.

"No! If he didn't like it he would have just ignored it! But, if he had enough balls to put it in a porn! Then you know, he likes it! And he doesn't know your name!" She says. 

You grimace at your phone in her shirt before folding your arms. Maybe she was right. Maybe, he did like it. "So what am I supposed to do?" You ask her as she pushes you off of her. 

Flipping her hair over her shoulder, she leans in. Fingertip pressing to the tip of your nose as she smirks. "You're going to write the hottest smut in existence and send Min Yoongi, the porn star cumming in his expensive Dior briefs." She says before fishing your phone out of her shirt and throwing it at you.

"That's disgusting." You whine as you wipe your phone. She shrugs before popping a piece of gum into her mouth.

"You've written sex scenes where men run an actual fucking train on a girl and she's covered in like four different types of cum. Get over it." She says before blowing a bubble. You roll your eyes at her before looking back down at the scene. 

He wouldn't have said something if he didn't like it. He would have just gone on with life as it were. "Now go write your cute little brain away." She says before shooing you out of her room.

"What're you going to do?" You ask as you jump out of her bed.

"Get ready to get fucked by Taehyung. Duh." She says before rifling through her closet. 

With a snort you shut the door behind you before sighing loudly. "Okay, Yoongi. It's on." You whisper before cracking your knuckles and walking towards your bedroom.

Yoongi throws himself on his bed. The California King size is way too large for him. It's seen only him for years now and he can't seem to get as comfortable in the constantly cold sheets like he used to.

Propping his pillows up, he leans against the headboard. Tuesday, the greatest day of the week has arrived. He wonders if you've seen the video that was just released. Did you hate it? Were you too caught up to watch it? He has so many questions that he could speak outwardly just to fall on deaf ears and stagnant air. 

Opening up today's chapter, his eyes scan the regular genre and warnings. But the author's note-- that catches his eye.

Author's Note: I SEE that someone really enjoyed the first chapter of TO and for that...I'm very grateful.

He clears his throat loudly before sighing. The smile that radiates off his face would blind even the most ardent sun lover. His fingers tremble, heart beating voraciously inside of his chest. It takes him a second before he's ready to continue on.

"She saw it." He whispers to himself before sniffing gently.

Crossing his feet he scrolls down the page. Eyes reading the words so fast due to sheer excitement that he has to read them over again to absorb their meaning.

It was the coldest of nights when he invited you back to his hotel room. You knew he was only going to be around for so long and you felt the pressing need to see him for as long as you could. 

You had always made fun of coffee dates. Always joking and jeering with the ever so clever roommate you heartily loved. Ana was your rock in a very baron land. She implored you to go on the date with him anyway, knowing his career and who he was. Maybe he would be different than every other man, or maybe he would just be the best lay.

"You thought coffee was only for cheapskates, huh?" Yoongi asks as he ushers you into the hotel room.

With a giggle you past the entrance, "Something me and my roommate Ana have said before." 

He hums understanding before closing the door behind him. "I don't want you to get the wrong idea. Just because I have the job I do, doesn't mean that I invited you back here to fuck." He says as you shrug off your coat.

He graciously takes it before hanging it on the door hook. "When will I ever get to fuck the esteemed Min Yoongi again?" You quip back to him as you fold your arms.

His smile dazzles you. Sets your breathing irregular as he cards his fingers through his black hair. "Oh, little one. Quite often I hope." He whispers before stepping towards you.

His hands press to your sides, caressing them gently as his head tilts to the side. Cinnamon brown irises flitting from here to there as he drinks you in. His pupils begin to widen, like molten hot tar spreading over the Earth. "I enjoy spending time with you. And, I'm okay with doing just that." He whispers, running his thumb over your bottom lip slowly. 

The smooth pad of his thumb sends your stomach alight with something akin to fire. Burning hot and bright inside of you, you step closer to him. "And I'm okay with being here. With you." 

He takes your words as a confirmation. Pressing his lips eagerly to yours, you find yourself melting in his strong arms. Lips collide, tongues lashing out at one another as you grip tightly at his biceps. 

It's your earnest whimper that sends him into action. His greedy hands grabbing at your thighs before hauling you up easily. "God, your lips are so soft. I bet they'll feel like heaven around my cock." He whispers against you.

His feet pad slowly across the granite floor before you're pressed up against the grey wall of his hotel room. Your fingers knit into his black hair, tugging gently as you angle his face higher. Nipping at your bottom lip, he suckles once coaxing a sweet moan from your throat. "Fuck." He growls as your legs wrap around his waist.

Yoongi chuckles to himself before pulling his erect cock from his briefs. "What're you playing at Nevermore?" He murmurs as his thumb slowly drifts over the reddened tip of his cock. 

His lips trail over your cheek, the kisses erupting a lava like pool within your stomach. Your lips part for air as he suckles away at your collarbone, leaving cherry blossom petals in his wake. "You're incredible." He says, before pulling down the low cupped shirt you wear.

Your breasts spring out, pushed up by the cups and he lets out a wanton groan at the sight. "God, look at your sexy nipples."

He lets out a breathy laugh, fist beginning to jerk at his cock faster. His tongue licks over his lips before moaning. "Oh fuck. She really watched it. So hot." He whispers to the still air of his room. Even with lust filled eyes, he pays attention to every written word. Gasping gently at each moment as he reads it through. 

His lips, colder now against your heated skin, drift over the valley of your breasts. Stopping over each areola to pluck at your stiff nipples. Your gasps elicit the only reaction worthy, his hips thrusting against you with each sound. "Shit." He curses before suckling harshly at the sensitive skin. 

His tongue flicks so fast against your stiff peaks that your head lolls back with heady wanting. It's in this moment that his name rolls off of your tongue. He stops for a second, fingers kneading at your ass before smirking. "Say it again." He commands through gritted teeth before slapping the thick globes beneath his palms.

"Y-Yoongi." You whimper out and his eyes roll back before latching onto your attended breast. His hands bunch up your skirt tugging roughly at the fabric. "You wet for me? Hmm?" 

His fingers dip between your asscheeks, feeling at the fabric of your panties. Your breath hitches as he pushes them aside. Running his fingertips over your folds, you whine out his name. "You're soaked, little one. Jesus." He thrusts a finger into you without warning-

"Fuck, fuck, fuck!" Yoongi chants as his cock throbs in hand. His phone clatters to the pillow beside his face as his eyes screw shut. "Oh Christ!" He whines loudly before cumming. 

In a sea of stars, he sees the image of Y/N so clearly as he orgasms. Ropes of cum smatter onto his raggedly breathing chest. He gasps loudly before tilting his head to his phone. "Fuck. She's good." He whispers before looking down at his chest and throwing his head back to his pillow.

Yoongi groans loudly as he sits down on set. The Americano in his hand getting cooler by the second as he skims through the script for what seems like the hundredth time. 

"Hoseok tells me you have suggestions." Namjoon, the director says. Yoongi smirks at him before nodding. He holds his hand out to his manager who grunts gently. With a sigh he hands Yoongi the packet of papers before shaking his head.

"This. This is gold. Just read it." He tells the director as he hands him the packet. His thumb skims over the pages before giving a defeated sigh. 

"Okay. I'll read it." He says before looking over at Yoongi's co-star. She smiles briefly, nodding in his direction and he feels a sense of calmness.

His co-star today was one of the better ones. She was sweet, naturally pretty and fun to have banter with. "Lin. Hey." He calls to her as the director skims through the packet.

"Hey Yoongs!" She cheers. Walking over, he finds himself staring at her. She would make a good Y/N, most of the things described in Take One would fit her nicely. She leans against his chair casually before running her fingers through her hair. 

"I heard we might be switching it up." She points her thumb backwards to Namjoon as he continues to read.

"Yeah. I just...read this idea somewhere and I thought it was great." Yoongi announces to her as Hoseok grabs her a chair. 

Sitting down she nods calmly, "What's it about?" 

"Steamy first date sex. Coming back after a coffee date and just fucking up against the wall. It was pretty hot." He admits, thinking back to the sheer amount of cum that landed on his chest because of it.

"You have the arm strength to hold me up?" Lindy jokes as she pushes him with her shoulder.

"You still have those thighs of steel? I might need your help on this one." She gives a laugh before turning her attention to the director. 

"Genius." Namjoon comments as he smacks his palm to the top page of the packet, "Let's do it." 

Yoongi smiles widely before looking at Lindy as she grabs the packet. 

"You're soaked little one. Jesus." Yoongi mumbles against Lindy's neck as he thrusts a finger in without warning. She moans loudly, eyes screwing shut as he expertly curls his finger within her.

His cock was so hard already, knowing you would watch this and knowing that it's from your book. Lindy was quick at learning the lines, expertly acting as the perfect Y/N he could only hope for. 

"Fuck!" She curses, nails gently scraping down his arms. He groans gently, suckling at the column of her throat as he adds a second finger. 

"Your pretty pussy is so tight." He says as he scissors her open, her arousal practically dripping down his hand. 

"Y-Yoongi." The gentle tone in her voice makes his arms quake. Y/N would whimper for him like this he bets. 

Picking her back up off of the wall, Lindy discards her top. It's almost feverishly fast how his lips attach to her nipple. Groping at the skin of her ass, kneading roughly he spanks her hard. She gasps loudly, breasts thrusting towards his face. 

"Once I saw you, I only wanted this. To feel you in my hands like putty. To-" He scissors her pussy open wider for his cock, "-To feel your soaked cunt stretch around my big cock." 

His hand leaves her cunt only to unbutton his jeans. She kisses down his neck, nipping gently at the skin in her euphoric pleasure. "I want your big cock inside of me." 

He groans at her words, pressing her harder into the wall. Cock springing out, he coats the underside in her arousal before lifting her easily by her thighs. "Thighs of steel, get ready." He jokes, almost silently into Lindy's ear and he can hear a gentle snort in reply. 

He positions her entrance above his cock before pressing his lips to hers. The kiss is heated, tongues tangling with one another as he slowly sets her down. Her mouth opens wider at the stretch, his teeth biting and pulling at her bottom lip with a moan. 

"God, you're fucking tight." He mumbles as her hands snake around his neck. 

He was in his element now. Thinking of the book and becoming his book counterpart. Knowing just how crazed Yoongi in the texts becomes at the feel of Y/N's pussy on him. He could practically cum right now on the spot and it sends him into a pleased fury. 

"Y/N." He whispers, closing his eyes. He doesn't realize what he has said until Lindy leans in to him. 

"Easy now, big guy. Don't put your girlfriends name in." His eyes snap open before clearing his throat. 

"Sorry, Lin." He says before thrusting roughly within her. Her hands scramble to grip him tighter as he begins to fuck her for all she's worth.

"Goddammit! You feel so fucking good! Oh shit!" He whines loudly and his eyes flutter shut as he pictures Y/N on his cock. 

Teeth gritting, he rolls his hips filling every nook and cranny of her cunt. She was the perfect vessel for this, transporting him to a cloud high above nine as he bulldozes himself inside of her. Every sound, Lin's gasps and moans send him on the right track of hearing Y/N's voice. She was practically alive off the page for him. 

"Fuck! Your cock feels so good!" She whines as he lifts her hips off of the wall. His tongue licks over his lips as his cock impales her deeper. 

"Rub your clit for me, little one." Bunching up her skirt, she rubs at her clit and he can feel his cock already throbbing. He should keep himself at bay, finish the scene but this was the first time he would be finishing inside someone in almost two years. He can't pass this up.

"Yoongs." Lindy warns as he presses his lips into a straight line. 

"God, little one. You're going to make me cum, your pussy feels too fucking good." He skipped a bunch of lines to get to this one. He can't bring himself to feel sorry though as white hot pleasure courses through him. He could see her behind his shielded eyes, could see Y/N drooling for his big cock as he fucks her. He could hear her whimpers and moans as he fucks her open. 

He could feel Lin's fingers moving in frenzied circles to get off on him and he chokes on a moan as he buries his face into her neck. "Y/N. Fuck. Your pussy is so amazing. Oh, God!" He whines as his cock throbs wildly within her begging for release.

In her heady pleasure, she forgoes chiding him. Instead, she orgasms loudly. Moans ricocheting off the walls of the set as her pussy clamps around his huge cock. "Y/N! Oh shit!" He gasps out loudly as his thighs lock.

He doesn't notice the camera panning to where they're conjoined. He certainly doesn't notice how much he babbles Y/N's name. Lin runs her fingers through his hair, tugging roughly and that's all it takes before he's stuttering inside of her. 

"Oh SHIT!" He yells out as his cock gives a final twitch of pleasure. He cums hard, arms and thighs shaking as her pussy becomes painted white with his seed. Her thighs clamp around him, holding herself up as he practically goes limp before her. His eyes fill with pleasurable tears and he brings himself back to reality to hold her to the wall.

Pulling out of her gently, he finds it immensely satisfying to see his cum finally leak from a pussy after so long. He moves out of the way of the camera before running his fingers through his hair. "Oh fuck." He murmurs realizing now what he's said in his hedonistic pleasure.

"Please cut out Y/N's name." He tells Namjoon who simply nods as Lindy spreads her pussy lips for the camera. She sticks her tongue out at Yoongi and he gives an exhausted chuckle before closing his eyes. Nevermore is the first person to make him cum like this in years.

"You alright?" Lin asks as the prep team cleans her up. Yoongi sighs happily before nodding to her. 

"Oh yeah, I'm great. Sorry I said her name during that." He tells her and she scoffs before rolling her eyes.

"Don't apologize. It felt good to be Y/N." She says before kissing his cheek. 

It felt really good to be Yoongi too.

Sitting down in your living room, it's become a ritual now-- or so Viola says, to watch every new porn Min Yoongi puts out. "This is the most canon like thing that's ever happened in my lifetime." Vi says as she throws herself down beside you. 

She scrolls through the new video playlist before casting it onto your television. Opening a bag of chips, she holds it out to you. 

"I'll probably choke." You murmur as you settle in to watch the new video. She snorts loudly before munching on a chip. 

"This is so exciting. You know, I cancelled a date with Taehyung for this." She informs you before pressing play. Placing a pillow on your lap you bury your chin into the soft fabric before tilting your head to her.

"What's the name of this one?" 

"'Cheap dates.'" She says before throwing the remote onto the coffee table and giving the screen her undivided attention.

"You're soaked little one. Jesus." Yoongi whispers and the embarrassed laugh that bubbles forward is almost ridiculous. You bury your face into the pillow and you get a quick swat on your arm from your best friend reprimanding you.

"Pay attention! He's fingering her." You laugh louder now, picking your head up slowly. 

It's almost like a fever dream. Watching him reenact the scenes you've so earnestly written. After the initial shock and horror of it all, it kind of became flattering. Knowing that he was so into it. There was something inside of you stirring. 

"Goddammit. You feel so fucking good." You say right before he says his line. The overwhelming sense of pride you feel while watching this makes your heart swell. It’s almost as if he was your greatest supporter. It’s a deeper understanding of knowing how connected you are just by the words you write. 

“It really is exactly like the second chapter.” Viola says. Her voice rips you out of your day dream like state. 

You watch as Yoongi becomes almost animalistic, driving himself into the woman wrapped around him. It stirs you, your thighs pressing together inherently as your lips part. 

“He seems like he’s real into it. Look at him.” Your best friend murmurs and you can’t deny her words as he skips half of the scene in his deep seated pleasure. As he buries his face in her neck you can hear his soft grunting and babbling like there’s no tomorrow.

“Y/N.” The end of your name gets tapered off quickly and you sit up quickly at his moan. Your pussy clenches around nothingness, head turning to your roommate as her jaw drops wide open.

“Did you just hear him s-” Your voice is cut off by hers as she leans in to look at the television.

“Oh yeah.” She whispers before covering her mouth with her hand. 

It’s an awkward silence as he finishes his scene. Heart racing at the speed of sound. Your palms begin to sweat as you stare at his lusty haze. Watching his arms and legs shake with bouts of euphoria. “Y/N. This is… I mean… He’s thinking of you when he fucks someone else.” Vi whispers.

“No. He’s thinking of the book character. I’m just Nevermore to him.” You feel a sense of overwhelming pride as he gently sets his co-star down on the ground. Her pussy creams with his cum before the video ends and you find your body hurtling itself back into the couch with a sigh. 

“Post a selfie.” Viola says quickly before throwing your phone into your lap. Your head turns to her in confusion as she waves her arms wildly. 

“What?!�� Your voice is exasperated as she moves her hands faster. 

“Post a selfie on your blog and as soon as he likes the post then just take it down.” She says before unlocking your phone for you. Your eyebrows furrow in confusion, not truly understanding what she’s trying to get at.

“Why?”

“Because you’re fucking hot and he needs to know what you look like! Just trust me! Did I get the hottest guy in a four mile radius to talk to me by just posting a selfie?” You nod slowly to her and she winks at you.

“Trust me. Just do it.” You shrug before opening up your camera. 

“Pull these babies out.” Viola says as she pulls down your tank top to show your cleavage and you narrow your eyes at her as she shifts you around before humming to herself.

Fixing your hair, you tilt your head and she tuts her tongue beside you. “Just lips and tits.” She tells you and you sigh gently.

“Why?” You ask again.

“Because your eyes are the element of surprise. Just listen to me for once in your life, please.” 

Sighing loudly you do as told, taking a picture of your lips and the curvature of your cleavage. Viola hooks her chin over your shoulder before smiling. “Wow, your boobs look great.” She comments before patting your upper back. 

Opening up Tumblr, you attach the photo before looking at Vi. She grabs the phone before smirking and you read over her shoulder as she types in a comment.

Feeling like Y/N today!

You snort as she posts it, breath catching in your throat as she replays the porn video. 

“What’re you going to do after the shoot?” Yoongi asks his manager as he slings his leather jacket over his shoulders in one smooth motion. He watches Hoseok shift from foot to foot awkwardly. Raising an eyebrow, he leans against the door jamb waiting patiently for a response. 

“I’m actually going out with Lindy today. We...um...Started talking after your last shoot.” Hoseok mumbles. 

Yoongi gives him a gummy smile before clapping him on the back. “Have fun. She’s really nice, seriously.” 

Pulling out his phone, Yoongi takes into account how Hoseok smiles to himself before fixing his clothes. It’ll be good for him to go out with someone. Yoongi knows exactly what it’s like to be lonely. “I’ll head out first then.” Hoseok tells him as he opens up his Tumblr app.

“Have fun, go fuck her so hard she’ll feel it in her kidneys or whatever you say.” Hoseok snorts at his words before tapping his hand against the door frame as he leaves. Picking up his shoulder bag, the first thing he thinks is if Nevermore has watched his latest video.

He hasn’t seen it but he never watches his works after they’re released. There’s something truly cringey about it. Since it was Sunday, a new chapter of Bjorn and Kyla is out. The second to last chapter which seems almost heart wrenching before remembering he has his own story that has only just begun. Clicking on her profile, his legs quake at the image. 

“Oh shit.” He whispers at her selfie. 

She was all natural. No botox like he’s used to seeing. No breast implants. Just Nevermore. And from what he could see, she was right up his alley. There was a small seam between her tank top and breast showing black lace from her bra. His bottom lip finds itself tucked between his teeth as he leans against the door frame. God, she looks cute. Her lips are parted and he imagines his tongue dipping between them, caressing the pink petals. 

His pants begin to tighten and he locks his phone without a second thought.

Getting home for him was almost a blur. Nevermore's lips and chest constantly in the forefront of his brain. Her lips just gently parted as they were, they seemed to hold an innocence to them that intrigued him. She writes such glorious works, the filthiest of sex scenes and she still had this air of innocence. He was so enraptured by a quick glimpse of a photo that he was even wondering if he himself were changing. Changing into a man who wished for something deeper, something fulfilling. 

Throwing himself down on his couch, he unlocks his phone. Her picture was gone from his dashboard and he sighs gently. 

"Damn." He whispers before refreshing the page again. Just a single post from her. Just one line that sent his lips into a full on smile.

Just a taste for you.

It was kind of exciting. This backhanded flirting that you two have gotten yourselves into over a mere book. You would write and he would act. He would moan your name, close his eyes and dream as if he was inside your book. You would write with the intention to see him act it out. 

Yoongi sips his coffee, the first Tuesday he's had off in a long time does not come without excitement. Refreshing your blog, he tilts his head at the new chapter. "What're we getting into today." He whispers before leaning back in his chair.

Softly his fingertips caress your skin, eyes alight with wondrous emotions as you stare at each other in the grandiose bed. The morning sun alerts you, it's golden rays peeking in the window as if to chide you for not having slept all night long.

"I think I love you." Yoongi admits, his voice deep with tiredness as his arm encircles your waist. You begin to smile, eyes creasing with delight. Running your fingers through his black hair, you feel his lips against your shoulder.

"I think I love you too." You whisper before giggling as he straddles you.

"Let me make love to you and show you-" 

"Oh God." Yoongi mumbles as he sets down his coffee. Love? God, what even is that? Now he really wishes that he was like his book counterpart. So sure and sound with himself that he could venture out to find love with other people. It almost nauseates him as he continues reading. Jealousy creeping up inside of him like venom. 

Nevermore's beautifully written words make him seem devoid of feeling anything at all. He wants to be this Yoongi, so badly it's almost eating him alive.

His fingers press the backspace before opening up the messenger page. Clicking on her name he tilts his head as his fingers fly over the keyboard.

Min1993: I don't make love, Nevermore.

Sending the message, he hums to himself. Before he can pick up his coffee he widens his eyes. "Oh fuck! You idiot what did you do?!" He yells before trying to will his phone to unsend the message.

With an exasperated sigh, he throws his arms up annoyed with himself. Shoving his phone away, he buries his face in his arms before scoffing.

"I don't make love." He mocks himself before closing his eyes.

"VIOLA GET YOUR ASS IN HERE!" The screech that emits from you earns a clattering in the kitchen and wild cursing. You stand up from your phone as if it has caught fire, both of your hands slapping over your mouth. Your eyes widen at the message, the five words on the screen feel as if they're stabbing you.

"What?!" Viola yells as she stomps into your bedroom. With shaking hands, you point at your phone before swallowing. She hip checks you out the way, drying her hands on the kitchen towel. 

"I just broke the ceramic dish me and Taehyung made at the pott- OH MY GOD WHAT THE FUCK IS THAT!" She screams as she drops the towel. She jumps on your bed, picking up your phone and you close your eyes. 

Writing for him and seeing what he does is one thing. Getting a message from him is clearly another thing altogether. It's with a shaky sigh that you run your hands over your face. 

"He messaged you. I can't believe it and-" She looks over the message before smirking, "He's flirting with you."

With a scoff you look up at the ceiling. Your eyes drift from here to there, not focusing on anything with certainty. Drifting past one of his porns randomly had gotten you here? Flirting with one of the hottest men you'd ever seen in your life. This was like fiction in and of itself. Pushing past your insecurities, your insides clamor with excitement. Arms and legs shaking with adrenaline. 

"Go on! Answer him!" Vi says before pulling you down to sit next to her. Your hands quiver as you take the phone from her, thumbs nervously shivering above the keyboard.

NevermoreWrites: Then what do you do, Yoongi?

"God, imagine if he asks you out on a date? Imagine he fucks you?" She asks, getting comfortable on your bed. 

Her voice falls on deaf ears as you stare at the phone. That nervous niggling beginning to eat at you again. This banter that you'll begin to engage in, where will it lead you? If he wants to meet, you would dare show your face to him? Even after describing Y/N in the books exactly like yourself? 

The insanely loud pop of the Tumblr messenger goes off and you jump from your nervous spell to look at your phone. 

Min1993: I would love to give you some pointers. If you'd be interested. I think myself more of a Bjorn than anything else.

You gasp gently, sending Viola scrambling into your lap. He's read your other books before? Oh God! 

"Amazing! He's amazing! It's official and he has a huge cock!" Viola says before slapping her thighs in a defeated manner.

NevermoreWrites: A Bjorn? Wow, I'm impressed. 

You run your sweaty hands over the knees of your sweatpants. You tilt your head to Viola as she smiles widely. 

Min1993: I've been a fan for a long time Nevermore. Seriously, I have ideas. Give me a call 3721-8724.

Both of you in your room lowly whistle at the same time before laying back on your bed. Your heart beat fills your ears as your roommate giggles. You lay silently for a while before turning to look at one another. 

"So you gonna call him?" She asks quietly as you put your hand over your heart.

"Mhm." You hum to her before beginning to smile. Maybe this project that you began for just yourself is turning into something even bigger than you could ever imagine.

Yoongi doesn't do nervous. He hasn't been nervous since his first audition where he had to have his cock measured. But now, waiting for your phone call, he finds himself incredibly nervous.

Throwing the fourth empty water bottle in the trash, he paces around his kitchen. Even after drinking so much water, his mouth still felt dry. He even put on nice clothes for a phone call. "Something is wrong with me." He whispers to his empty apartment.

This woman, that he's waiting on. The woman he's been a fan of for so long now is going to call him. And, he hopes to the new gods and the old that he doesn't make a fool of himself. Pacing the granite floor of the kitchen, he wills himself to keep his eyes off his phone. Staring at the clock of his oven instead as seconds feel like years. 

It's the ringtone that makes him jump. Knocking over the container of kitchen tools on his counter, he curses before picking up his phone. Taking a deep breath, he answers the call.

"Hello?" His voice is steady, which he is grateful for. But the way his chest vibrates with anxiousness makes him grimace.

"Hi." Your voice is soft. Sending shivers down his spine as he leans against the marble countertop. Your voice sounds so sweet to his ears. 

"Nevermore." The word becomes breathless as he begins to smile.

"Yoongi." 

God, his name from your lips is gold. Shoving off of the counter, his heart finds its regular rhythm. His feet pad to the living room before flopping onto the couch with a sigh.

"I am a big fan of your work." He admits to you. You giggle at his compliment, sending butterflies aflutter in his gut.

“And I am a big fan of your work.” He gives a devious chuckle, his arm finding its way beneath his head as he gets comfortable.

“God, this is nerve wracking.” You say and he can hear your breathless laugh behind it.

The image of your lips, parted ever so slightly and your cleavage come to mind. Swiping his tongue over his lips, he doesn’t find it odd how at ease he has already begun to feel.

“I thought the same thing, but your voice is very calming.” Even without seeing you, he likes to think you’re smiling as widely as he is at his words. 

“Yours too.” You whisper and he can hear shuffling on the other end of the line.

“I really am a big fan. I’ve read all of your books before even seeing that you were writing a series about me.” His fingers play with the hem of his charcoal grey button up shirt as he stares at the ceiling.

“Did I get anything right so far?” You ask him quietly. Your voice was as eloquent as your writing. Every word sounded like a song he never could tire from.

“Some things. I’m a fan of the Yoongi in your book. He’s much braver than me, I like how you portray me. Far better than myself, I’m sure.” He hears you snort gently and he chuckles in return.

“Just because you fuck as a job, doesn’t mean you aren’t human.” You tell him. And, the curse that slips past your lips begins to stir something inside of him.

“You did however get something wrong.” He murmurs, his voice becoming a bit more gravelly as he runs his hand over his chest. The gasp you take, the quick sound has his tongue slowly traipsing along his lower lip as he begins to smirk.

“What did I get wrong?” You ask and the nervousness bubbles through easily. Clearing your throat, he takes that second to chuckle to himself.

“Oh, Nevermore. I don’t make love. I fuck every way till Sunday.” His voice is smooth as velvet, and he finds his cock beginning to stir in his jeans.

“Oh God.” Your voice is faint and you sound like you’re about to pass out.

“I can stop. Or I can show you my ideas on how to make it feel more like me. If you want, we can always just talk about Bjorn or Kyla. What the last chapter is going to be about next week.” He says quickly, hoping he didn’t give you the impression that all he wants is to have phone sex. Because, in all honesty, he doesn’t. He wants to get to know you. Wants to know how your wonderful brain can write such amazing, illuminating things. But, the prospect of you all for him right now is something he cannot pass up.

“No...No. I just haven’t done something like this in a long time.” You admit with a laugh. He chuckles to himself before pulling his arm out from beneath his head.

“We’ll take it slow.” He murmurs before hearing your hum of agreeing.

“Tell me your name. Please.” He hears your unsure hum and he tilts his head. Forehead resting to the couch cushion as he practically feels your hesitant stutter.

“Or don’t. I can call you Nevermore.” He says quickly, hoping to not ruin the mood.

“Y/N.” You whisper.

He chuckles at this. Eyes closing before sniffing. But, you don’t laugh along with him.

“Y/N? Like in the book?” He asks humorously. 

“Yes. Like in the books. My name is Y/N.” Your voice is devoid of any playfulness. Yoongi sits up quickly, fingers carding through his black hair as he nods. You were deathly serious. But, it doesn’t put him off. No. If anything his cock strains harder against the unforgiving tightness of his jeans. With a sigh, he unbuttons them before licking his lips. 

“Fuck. That’s hot.” He announces and the breath of relief you give makes him lay back down. 

“It was supposed to be for me and my readers… I-I never thought that you would re-”

“Y/N.” His voice is quick as he cuts you off, “Shall we begin, little one?”

He can hear your sweet low whine before you hum in agreement. Unbuttoning his shirt slowly, he lets his fingers drift over the smooth skin of his chest.

“You got my cock real hard over here, baby. I’m thinking about that cute little picture you posted for me.” He whispers as he unzips his jeans. 

“Did you like it?” The softness of your voice sends his nerves wrought with excitement.

“Fuck yes. You should have kept it up just a little longer. I was getting hard in public over your little slutty display.” Your gasp elicits a groan from his throat. 

“I wanted you to see how much I appreciated you using my scene in one of your movies.” He finds it cute that you don’t use the word porn like it isn’t something he does almost every day. 

“You can show me now how much you appreciate it. What’re you wearing?” He asks as he tugs off his jeans, throwing them over the lip of the couch without a care. 

“I’m wearing just panties and a t-shirt.” You reply and he groans louder at the thought.

“Fuck. You’re going to take everything off for me, do you understand?” He asks as he discards his button up shirt to the floor.

“Yes.” He curses quietly at your submissive answer before pulling his cock out of his briefs. 

“Your lips looked so pretty parted like that. I want them around my cock.” His hand shakes as he reaches for the length of his cock. Precum beginning to pool at the slit as you keen on the other end of the phone. 

“I’ve wanted to feel you all over me since I first saw your videos.” You admit to him.

“Fuck, I bet you do baby. Touch your nipples for me.” 

With a gentle gasp, you reach for your breasts. Your breath is hitched as you cup them in hand. “Roll your nipple with your fingers and pinch.” He instructs you and your hips bow off the bed at his request.

God, how were you here doing this right now? With him? THE Min Yoongi having phone sex with you. 

Whimpering, you roll your nipples between your fingertips. “I bet you look so pretty playing with your tits, little one.” The use of the pet name that you wrote for him sends you into a frenzy. Stomach unfurling with lava like heat as your legs spread wider on the bed.

“Yoongi, please. I need more.” You beg. The devilish chuckle he gives has liquid arousal seeping out of you towards the mattress.

“You need more? You’ve already seen my cock. I need to picture what your sweet cunt would feel like around me. How you would beg me to fuck you so hard you wouldn’t be able to walk the next day.” You pant at his words, breath devoid in your chest as your toes curl.

“Touch your aching pussy for me, then.” He whispers and you hear his breath hitch on the other end of the line. Your hand dips down your stomach, all the while your fingers continue to pinch and roll your nipples. 

Spreading your pussy lips, you’ve surely never felt yourself this wet before. “My pussy is so wet for you.” 

“Jesus, fuck.” He mutters out and you try to imagine how he looks right now. Laying down with his bottom lip clasped between his teeth. Droplets of sweat sticking to his black sideburns. “I bet your pussy is nice and swollen, hmm? Your clit is probably real sensitive, begging to be touched. Why don’t you rub your clit for me, little one?” 

Doing as told you run your middle finger around your clit in gentle circles. Pressing your lips into a straight line you whimper out quietly. He tuts his tongue in a way that makes your eyes roll back. “Who told you to keep quiet? I want to hear you, Y/N.” 

“Fuck.” You mumble through gritted teeth. Hearing your name actually fall from his lips as he pleases himself, knowing it’s really you who he’s giving his pleasure to makes you moan louder. 

“That’s it. Fuck, you sound so hot. How wet are you for me? Put a finger in your cunt.” With a whine, you do as told. Running your fingers down your sodden lips before entering a finger into yourself. Grabbing your phone off the pillow beside you, you place the phone between your legs as you thrust your finger into yourself. 

The moan he gives is almost hedonistically evil, “Another.” 

Pushing the second finger in, the sounds of your soaked pussy emanate throughout the room and you moan his name loudly. “You’re so hot, Y/N. I swear to fucking God.” His voice sounds muffled as if he’s speaking through gritted teeth. 

“Yoongi. I want you inside me. I want you to fuck me.” He whimpers out before groaning. 

“You got me edging myself baby. You sound so fucking good.” Thrusting your fingers, you let out a yelp as you curl them to the spongy spot inside of you. 

“Take them out.” You whine in defiance as you continue to build your pleasure higher. Your eyes roll back as you squeeze at your breast, hips lifting off of the bed.

“Y/N. Take them out of your pussy. Now.” His voice demands respect and submission and with a frown you take your fingers out of yourself. 

“If you aren’t going to listen. We aren’t going to play. I’ll hang up and cum alone, is that what you want?”

“No.” You mumble to him. He hums in agreement as you pick your phone back up from between your legs.

“Put your filthy slut fingers in your mouth and suck your slick.” It’s almost mind boggling how quickly he changed roles. But, fuck, if it doesn’t get you on edge. 

Entering your fingers into your mouth, you whimper at the musky taste on your tongue. “You taste how needy you are for my large cock? Bet it tastes good, doesn’t it? Knowing that your dripping for a porn star you’re dying to fuck.” 

Whining against your fingers, your pussy clenches around nothing as he lets out a laugh. “Spank your cum slut pussy. I want to hear it.” 

Your hand shakes as you rear back before slapping your cunt. “You can do better than that, slut. Slap your filthy cunt.” 

Fuck, how is he so goddamn hot? You slap your pussy, the feeling ricocheting through you as your body jolts. Gasping loudly, you end with his name on your lips.

“That’s it. Good girl, little one. You’re so good at following directions. Play with your clit again, you must be aching.” He says and you can hear movement on the other end of the line. 

“Are you touching your cock?” You ask him.

“Fuck yes. You’re driving me insane, baby.” Your clit throbs, aching to be touched and you concede. Rubbing smooth circles, you whine his name out only to hear a string of curses from his end of the phone. 

"Tell me what you want to do to me." You beg as you continue your ministrations. 

He gives a growl and your eyes roll back at the thought of him stroking his cock to you. "I want to stretch you out on the bed, body flayed for me. Make you cum on my cock so many times you'd go stupid for me. I wanna spank your naughty little cunt for even teasing me this badly." He admits and your whimper earns another curse from him.

"I want to suck your big cock, let you use me like a cocksleeve." 

"Jesus fucking Christ." He says breathlessly. 

"Put your fingers in your pussy. Cum for me, I want to hear it." Your fingers jump at the chance, leaving your breast to play with your sodden hole. 

"I want to bend you over a fucking table and spank you so hard. Want you to drool for my cock and cum. Wanna make you cry for it." You hear faster movement on his end, his breath hitching before groaning loudly.

Entering two fingers into yourself, you keen loudly for him. Toes curling as you set an unrelenting pace. You haven't felt this sexy or turned on in so long. "Did you cum for me?" You ask sweetly before tucking your bottom lip between your teeth.

"Not yet, baby. I'm real good at keeping myself on edge. It's my job, remember. Curl your fingers to your g-spot." He tells you. 

Curling your fingers, your thighs become turse. "Yoongi! Fuck! I-I want to cum for you."

"That's it, little one. Keep going. You sound so gorgeous when you moan for me. Makes me want to please you so well."

"What else do you want to do?!" You ask quickly as the bubble inside of you begins to expand.

"What else? Baby, I want to do everything to you. Wanna suck on your sweet nipples until they're swollen and red for me. Fuck your cunt until your squirting all over me like a fucking slut. I especially want you to let me use your throat how I see fit and cut off your air with my cock. Watch you gasp for breath as you let me use you as a cocksleeve." You gasp for him, eyes screwing shut as your hips lift off the bed.

"Your pussy sounds so wet. You're making a fucking mess, I bet. I would love to lick it up. Taste your pretty litt-" You whine his name loudly, hips gyrating as you reach your precipice. "-Go ahead, little one. Cum for me."

Willing it to be so, you orgasm. Your head lolls back as your ears go deaf with white noise. You feel your cum leak out past your fingers as you fuck yourself through your orgasm. "Such a good girl." He praises as you whimper his name repeatedly. 

"Yoongi." You whine as you ride out your high.

"Still here, baby. I'm so close to cumming." He groans out.

Fisting his cock in hand, he can hear your exhausted pants on the other end of the line. His cock throbs wildly, having been edged to completion four times already.

"I want to suck your dick so badly. Let you cum in my mouth and swallow it. Show you I'm a good girl for you." Your voice is so gentle, so fucking sweet.

"Goddamn, Y/N. I'm- Baby, fuck!" He curses as he shoves his phone up to his shoulder off of his bare stomach.

"Want you to cum in my pussy and make me lick it off your cock." The beautiful thought of his cum glazing your lips and cheeks sends his fist stuttering.

"Y/N! Shit!" He yelps out as he orgasms. He gasps loudly, eyes screwing shut as he ruts his hips into the air. Warm ropes of cum land on his stomach as he moans for you.

"Jesus. Wow." He slurs out, feeling drunk off of the pleasure. 

There's silence for a bit as you both breath heavily. Yoongi's eyes slowly open before he chuckles to himself.

"Can I tell you a secret?" He asks as he uses his boxers to wipe his stomach. You hum in agreement and the sound tickles him pink as he turns his body on the couch.

"Until I read your stuff, I couldn't cum for a long time. I was really not excited about sex anymore until I read your works." He admits to you. 

"Really? But, you seem so into your work." He feels cozy now. This pillow talk going above and beyond anything he could have imagined. 

"I haven't been for a while. This was more erotic to me then most of the women I fuck." Your silence at his words makes him question if he's said something wrong. Picking skin off of his lip with his teeth, he waits for your reply.

"That makes me feel really warm to hear that." You finally say and he lets out a breath of relief before smiling. 

"Well it's true… Listen Y/N. I'd really like to continue talking to you. To get to know you more." 

"I'd like that, too."

"You fucking like it? Like trying to gasp for air around my cock? Hmm?" He seethes through his teeth as he thrusts his cock deeper into his co-stars throat. 

Yoongi has gotten amazing at shutting his eyes and picturing you behind his eyelids. He hasn't even seen you, yet. But, your conversations on the phone, the way you can giggle and talk for hours it was like a dream. A dream he would never want to wake up from. 

You were so real with him. Your personality is so magnetizing that it almost makes him feel like he's always known you. And in a way, he has known you. Your mind, your creativity and the way you write expressed something deep in your soul that he had always known.

The tap to his thigh makes him stop. Pulling his cock out of his co-stars mouth, he slaps it against her cheek. Smearing his precum and her spit over her face, he tugs her hair roughly before smiling. "Look at you, slut. Begging for daddy to stop when you practically got on your knees to grovel for my pleasure. What does that say about you? Hmm?" 

With a whimper she opens her mouth for him again, black mascara tinted tears streaming down her cheeks. "That's a good girl." He praises before entering his cock into her mouth. Your lips would be much better suited for the task he thinks. Remembering how you begged to let him cum in your mouth just to swallow his seed. 

"Jesus. That's it, little one." His cock throbs as her tongue swirls over the head. Pulling her closer with every thrust, his head lolls back. He wants to cum so badly. Wants to release and let the camera see his cum on his co-stars tongue knowing you'll watch it. 

"Fuck. Your slutty mouth feels so good around my cock, baby." He whispers through gritted teeth. He bets his life on it that you would whimper at the taste of his precum as your fingers dig into the skin of his thighs. That you would extend your tongue just to get every drop of his warm cum in your mouth. 

"Y/N! Fuck!" He yelps out as he orgasms. 

Disregarding the name he just said he taps her cheek roughly before pulling out. "Show me and then swallow for daddy, you slut." 

She does as told, the camera panning to her mouth before swallowing. "Good girl." He says before stepping away from the camera and her.

"Did you like it?" He asks as he cracks open his beer. 

With a laugh you hum unsurely, "I don't know. You seemed awfully pleased to cum in her mouth."

Rolling his eyes, he sips his beer before sitting down on his couch. "You know I was picturing your mouth around me, don't be silly." 

You giggle as a reply and he can hear clacking on your end of the phone call. "What're you up to? Writing?" He asks as he puts his feet up on the coffee table. 

"Yeah. Next weeks chapter of Take One." You tell him and he smiles at your words.

"Am I going to fuck you over a table again? That was hot." He mumbles over the lip of his beer bottle. 

"No. You're making love." You say seriously. Rapid tapping enters his ears and he sighs dejectedly. 

"You know I don't do that. I don't know how." He replies.

"I watched that video of you having sex with a woman on your wedding night." He gives a breathy snort before clearing his throat.

"Yeah but I didn't love her. I was acting. Your Yoongi in Take One is seriously in love with Y/N. He gets all emotional and shit." The sound pauses and silence invades his ears. He's gotten used to your long pauses, taking them as a sign of deep thought now rather than nerve wracking. 

"I'll teach you." You finally say to him. 

His eyebrows quirk up and he leans forward on the couch at your words. "You'll teach me?"

"Yeah. I'll teach you how to make love. Teach you how to feel emotion rather than just fucking someone till they can't remember their own name." 

"If you recall, last night you couldn't remember your own name after we had phone sex." He quips back, a smirk playing on his lips. 

"Yoongi."

"Y/N." 

"I'll teach you." You tell him sternly and who is he to say no.

"Yes ma'am." He replies quietly and he can practically feel your smile through the phone. 

"How about on Thursday? Your apartment or mine?" You ask.

He shivers at the thought before running his thumb over his bottom lip. Fuck, you were amazing. "Mine. Should I buy candles? Maybe rose petals? Decorate a heart on the bed with them?" He jokes to you.

"No. Just you and your pretty cock is fine." 

Fuck.

You stand in front of his front door, tilting your head at the brass numbers. You should feel more nervous that you are, you find yourself thinking. You were more excited than anything else. This is like finally seeing a lover after months of being away from one another. But, you’ve never seen each other. Only talked for long hours until the early hours of the morning. 

You feel comfortable talking with him though. Constantly finding yourself at odds with your gut as butterflies flutter endlessly within you. It just felt natural. You weren’t even that nervous for him to see you in your entirety after portraying Y/N in Take One exactly like yourself. 

Taking a deep breath you ring his doorbell. You can hear sound through the midnight blue door and your heart leaps with excitement. 

A minute feels like hours as you stand in the hallway. “Coming!” You hear faintly.

His voice is even rich and creamy through the door, sending your poor nerves on edge. You pull at the hem of your dress, teeth picking at the skin of your bottom lip.

 The door opens and you’re greeted with the handsome face you’ve only seen on screen. Breath catching in your throats, you both look each other over for a second. Taking in his black hair as it sweeps into his eyes and the black button up shirt with the sleeves rolled up to his elbows. “Wow.” He’s the first to speak.

“Hi.” You whisper before clearing your throat. 

He looks like someone straight off the front page of a magazine. His obvious gawking makes you feel giddy, your stomach flipping and falling like you’re on a high rollercoaster descending to the ground. 

“Hey.” He says, a smile creeping onto his face.

You notice how his arm veins protrude as he pushes the door open wider. “Come in.” 

With the flurry of excitement, you don’t really take in much of his apartment. Besides the fact that it’s clean and neat. You mainly focus on him. On the way he swings the door shut and runs his hands over his face like he’s trying to ebb away a bout of nervousness. Min Yoongi getting nervous, why you’d never think that. 

He presses his back to the door and through his black jeans you can see his thigh muscles tensing. “Wou-Would you like a glass of wine?” He asks, before rubbing his hands together. 

“Sure. That’d be great.” You say.

He nods slightly, before rushing past you and you giggle quietly as you follow him. He’s so endearing. So absolutely handsome.

Rounding the corner, your eyes fall to his dining room table and you shake your head with a laugh at the many candles that are lit. “Very funny.” You say as he steps into the kitchen.

He chuckles to himself, not making eye contact with you as he pops the cork of the wine bottle. “They’re beeswax candles for wax play.” He mumbles and you let out a laugh before leaning down to the table. 

Elbows folding in on themselves, you look over the bright colors before tilting your head to him. Everything he’s doing, every movement and action is filled with tenseness and you feel sorry that he’s so nervous. 

“Yoongs?” You ask gently. 

His head whips to you as you call his name. His smile is gummy and gorgeous as he tilts his head. “You okay?” You question as he picks up the two glasses of red wine.

He hums in agreement before taking a deep breath and handing you the glass. He seems to have an inner struggle with himself as his hand reaches for yours. Probably wondering whether or not he should take it in his own hand. You let him work through it and you’re alright when he puts his hand back down to his side. 

His fingers flex and rub against the fabric of his pants as if he made the wrong call but you don’t say anything. It’s kind of nice to see his all power, sexy demeanor lost at the sight of you. It makes this real. Makes him real.

He shuffles over to the couch and you follow. Sitting down, he stares ahead at the art installation instead of where a television would be in normal living rooms. You can see him swallow multiple times, Adam’s apple constantly bobbing before shifting a glance over to look at you. 

“Nervous?” You ask him before sipping your wine. The flavor bursts in your mouth, undertones of stone fruits and Earth invading your senses. He takes a sip himself before leaning back into the couch and throwing his arm over the top.

“Honestly? A little. You’re exactly how I pictured you.” He says over the lip of the wine glass.

“And that’s a bad thing?” You ask playfully as you cross your legs.

“No! God! No, not at all! It’s kind of amazing. You’re really beautiful. I just don’t hang out with people much. I read your stories and just stay at home by myself.” He finally makes eye contact with you.

His onyx eyes focused solely on your face. They were holding emotions far more than you thought they would. It makes your heart clench, something deep inside of you falling into a cavern without anything holding you tethered. 

“Well, you’re exactly how I pictured you too.” You jeer and he chuckles in reply. 

He seems to relax after that, molding himself into the couch naturally. And you find it surprising how much you adore his not so cocky attitude like you see in his movies. “Your eyes are very pretty.” He announces before leaning over and putting down his wine glass on the coffee table. 

As he moves you can see his upper chest and you tilt your head at the sight. A god among men, perhaps. 

You cross your ankles, outstretching your legs and his eyes flit to your thighs. He licks his lips quickly before sitting back up. “Are you nervous?” He asks as he rests his back against the arm of the couch.

“Not really. I’m more excited to finally meet you, after talking for so long.” He smirks at this before folding his arms. 

“Who would have thought that you would be the one to put me on edge?” 

“What’s that supposed to mean?” You ask with a laugh before taking another sip of wine. The alcohol burns nicely as it slides down your throat. Warming your stomach and your insides as he throws one leg up onto the couch bent at the knee. 

“You always seem so shy on the phone. I’m surprised it’s me that is feeling the effects so strongly of our meeting.” He says before holding up his hand as it shakes slightly. 

“I’m not shy on the phone. I’m submissive for you. That’s different.” You retort making him hum as you set down your glass of wine. 

Taking a deep breath, he looks you over once more. There’s something primal in his gaze, taking you in now like prey. He reaches forward, fingers sliding over your dress fabric. Your body turns towards him on instinct, ready for whatever he is going to offer. 

This is something you’ve come to terms with. You like him, kind of adore him actually. Talking with him on the phone, giggling and chatting for hours at a time made him seem so perfect. You were honest with one another, your connection very real.

"And are you going to be submissive for me today? If you choose to spend your time with me?" He asks quietly, the octave in his voice dropping so low you could practically feel the baritone shudder through you.

"No." You tell him confidently and he gives a short laugh before inching his way closer to you.

"And why not? You like it when I make you submit." He whispers. 

He was so close now, that his wine tainted breath fans over your face. 

With him being so close, you could see every emotion in his eyes. Every little thing calling out to you. His tongue slowly licks over his bottom lip and your groin twinges with satisfaction as he begins to smile lazily. 

"Because I came over here to teach you today." 

"Y/N." He whines. 

You watch the way his perfect lips part as he speaks your name. The way it rolls off his tongue like a plea and it makes your stomach coil. 

You press your hand against his clothed chest, feeling his pectoral muscles twitch and you feel power surge through you. He was yours to be with today, not anyone else. Not a co-star or any other person, just you. 

"Yoongi." You reply and you watch his breath catch in his throat. His eyes flutter shut and you smirk as he relaxes at your touch. 

"Say it again."

"Yoongi." He groans at the word and you sit up straighter at the effect you're having on him. It's with a simple giggle that you shove him backwards. He hits the arm of the couch with a grunt before opening his eyes.

Pupils blowing out with lust as his onyx irises gaze upon you. You crawl over his body, his hands finding their place on your thighs upon instinct. 

"I like hearing my name from you." He murmurs before showing you the column of his neck as your head bows down. 

You press your lips to his skin, the scent of fresh soap and linen breeching your nose as you give slow open mouthed kisses to his honey colored skin. His fingers dig harder into the flesh of your thighs and you could feel him trembling beneath you. 

"God, your lips. They feel so good." He whispers before swallowing thickly. 

Your hands roam over his shirt, as you suckle gently on his skin. He gasps gently, eyes fluttering shut as he holds you tightly. "I'm going to teach you." You whisper against his skin before nipping. 

His hips lift at the sting, eyebrows furrowing as he turns his head to give you more access. "Fuck." He seethes through gritted teeth. 

Your fingers begin to slowly unbutton his shirt, his hands snaking over your thighs to your hips before squeezing. "You're so fucking sexy. I knew you would look this good." He says as you lift up to unbutton properly.

"You're pretty hot yourself." You joke and he chuckles before looking back up at you. His thumb drifts over your bottom lip as he locks eyes with you. 

"You want me to feel emotion? You got it." 

Your chest puffs up at his words as you shove open his shirt. Revealing small abs and perfectly smooth skin, it's hard to find a place to focus as your eyes flit from here to there. His hands steady your hips before sitting up. 

He grabs you tightly before slinging you over his shoulder with a chuckle as he stands. "Yoongi!" You gasp out and he bends down just to pick up his wine glass. 

He chugs the contents before walking towards his bedroom. With this angle your eyes focus on his backside, every step contorting the muscles of his fit ass. Your hand reaches out for it and you feel a swat at your own backside. "Behave, little one." 

You whimper at his words, feeling arousal beginning to pool in your panties as he steps over the threshold of his room. You want to look around and take it all in but you're met with his bed first and foremost. 

Throwing you down, he runs his fingers through his hair before crawling over your body. The sheets are silk beneath you and you make out a painting on the wall before his face is in your sights. 

"What the fuck are you doing to me? Hmm? Getting me all nervous around you. Making me want to please you so well just to hear my name fall from your pretty lips." He asks as he runs his hands over your dress.

He discards his shirt and you watch his small abs flex under his taut skin with every breath. "Can I take this off?" He asks sweetly as his fingers find the zipper at the side of you.

You lift your body for him as he unzips. He groans at the sound before pressing his lips to your jaw. Sweet kisses glide over your skin and you gasp at the feeling. "I-I'm sup-supposed to be teaching you." You find the words to say as his lips trail down to your neck. 

He suckles gently at the skin, leaving pink and red rose petals in his wake. "I think I got the gist, little one." He whispers against you before nipping at your collarbone. 

Shoving your dress off of your body, he groans at the sight of you. "This is the bra you wore in that selfie, isn't it?" He asks, running his fingers over the black lace hem of the cups. 

You find it in yourself to hum in agreement as he throws your dress to the floor. You don't care how wrinkled it'll get, you can only focus on him as his hands reach for your almost bare body. 

You were making him feel something. Something he certainly isn't fucking used to. 

Knocking your legs open, he situates himself inside them. "Are you okay? Do you want to continue?" He asks for your confirmation as his hands run over your sides. 

"Yes. Fuck, yes." You whine. He chuckles before bending back down. His hands grab at your breasts, squeezing them rough enough to elicit a loud gasp from you. 

"Your skin is so soft, little one." His tongue laps over the skin atop your bra before tugging down the cups. Your breasts heave up at the action and he groans at the sight. 

"Look at your pretty nipples. Fuck." He curses before encircling your areola with his lips.

You were everything he had hoped to see. Everything he could possibly want and here, underneath him like this was sending him into overdrive. 

His hips rut in the air as he flicks at your nipple with the tip of his tongue. Rolling and squeezing your other breast in hand. Your back bows for him, gentle moans escaping your throat as your legs spread wider.

Your hands grasp at his strong shoulders. As he forsakes your nipple to leave his marks around the skin of your breast. "God, you're fucking amazing." He mumbles before moving to your other breast.

Whining his name, your hips lift up begging for more. Hooking his fingers into the sides of your panties, he slowly pulls them down. Tugging on your nipple with his lips as he leaves your core bare for him. "Spread." He instructs.

You find it arousing how he hasn't even looked down below yet. As if he's waiting to reveal it to himself like the greatest gift. Spreading your legs for him, you can feel strings of arousal breaking and snapping to your inner thighs. 

His lips trail down the valley of your breasts and your breath becomes caught in your chest. His thumbs flick at your nipples as he takes his time, kissing and suckling every inch of you. "What the fuck? Were you made for me? You're so perfect." He says before dipping his tongue into your belly button.

"Yoongi." You whimper out as your fingers find his soft locks. Tugging on it, he growls against your skin before looking up at you. 

"Keep doing that and I'm going to forget this whole love making thing and fuck you till your bow legged." He promises and you tug gently at his hair with a giggle. 

He rolls his eyes in response but you don't miss the smirk he gives. He shoves your legs open roughly and your jaw drops in excitement. He kisses at the bare mound of flesh of your pubic bone before picking his head up. His hums to himself, tongue licking over his lips. 

His bottom lip purchases between his teeth as he makes a V motion with his fingers opening your pussy lips for him. He stares lewdly at your cunt and you could see his hard cock throb through the leg of his jeans. "Look at your pretty little cunt. You're fucking dripping." He mumbles before rearing down and spitting. 

You moan at the feeling, hips thrusting into the air. 

His fingers glide over your soaked cunt. Your eyes screwing shut as he prods at your entrance with a finger. "Eyes open. Watch me." He instructs. 

Your eyes snap open as he nestles his face between your thighs. He breathes in deeply before latching his lips to your now swollen clit. 

"Oh fuck!" You whine loudly as your back bows off the bed.

His mouth was so incredibly skilled, lapping at your clit with such expertise. 

His eyes were on yours as he devours your needy pussy. 

He gives a flat stripe to your sex, before showing you the amount of arousal on his tongue and swallowing greedily. "You taste so fucking good." He mumbles before suckling at your clit again. 

You keen loudly, hands fisting tightly at his hair as he flicks the tip of his tongue to you. Your body jolts with pleasure as you mumble his name. 

Without warning he enters a finger into you. He himself moaning against your sex at the tightness of your dripping pussy. "God! Yoongi!" 

He hums in agreement before lifting up, slowly he drips his spittle from his mouth. You watch with keen eyes as it meets your cunt before he's ravaging you once more. Grinding your clit to the flat of his tongue, you feel white-hot pleasure coursing through your veins. Your skin feels aflame, your stomach tightens as you course towards the precipice. 

He curls his finger inside of you before slipping in another easily. "God look at you, so eager to cum for me, little one. So gorgeous." He praises and you whine as he lets you ride his tongue again.

He could feel his cock begging to be released from the confines of his jeans. Straining so tightly to the fabric as he precums at the sight of you losing all semblance of reality. You were gorgeously fucked out beneath him, cheeks tinged pink with arousal. He feels something stirring in his gut, something completely different than arousal. An emotion that sends him aflutter and he wonders if he's catching real, true feelings for you.

"Cum for me, baby. Cum on my tongue." 

Tugging on his hair harder, he groans against you. The vibration shoots through you as your eyes become spotty. Gasping for air, you babble his name as the tightness within you is almost too much to take. It's the image of him as he picks up his head that makes you lose it. Lips, cheeks and chin coated thickly in your arousal and you careen over the precipice as his fingers lovingly strike the soft bunch of nerves inside of you. 

You see stars as you orgasm. Hips undulating violently as your ears ring with white noise. "Goddamn." You hear from him faintly as your thighs shake.

He watches you lay so fucked out beneath him and he smiles. Yeah. He's caught fucking feelings. Moving up your body, he presses gentle kisses to your nipples before kissing you. 

Your first kiss together is wildly heated. Tongues lashing over one anothers as he caresses your cheek with his thumb. You can taste your arousal on his tongue and you whimper against him as he flips you over easily. "You're so fucking pretty." He murmurs with wonder.

Your legs straddle over him and you barely notice his hand creeping down your stomach. He rears back before slapping your pussy hard. You writhe with overstimulation, gasping loudly as your thighs lock. "Had to." He jokes before hooking his hand around your neck and pulling you down for a kiss. 

The kiss is languid now, tongues exploring each other's mouths as you unbutton his jeans. The sound of the zipper sounds so loud in the silent room and it fills you with gusto for what's to come next. 

He doesn't break the kiss as he shoves his pants down roughly. He sighs loudly into your mouth as his cock springs free from the confines of his jeans and briefs. 

You've been dying to see his cock in person. And boy, does it not disappoint. You practically gape at the size and thickness. Rose colored veins meet your gaze on his length and you find yourself practically drooling at the sight. His bulbous head is a mean shade of red as it weeps precum begging to be touched. "All for you." He says as he runs his thumb over your bottom lip.

"Me and every other porn star." You joke and he clicks his teeth at your words.

"I don't want them like I want you. I've never wanted to feel a body like yours in years. You're special to me, don't you get that? You make me feel shit. You make me cum. Nobody does that anymore, baby." Your eyes greet his as he speaks. And, you watch him earnestly pour out his emotions. You give him a sweet smile before running your hands over his chest.

He sighs at the contact before combing his hands through your hair. "I'm serious. You want me to make love to you? You got it. You want me to fuck you so hard you'll beg me to stop? You got it. Anything. Anything you want, I'm here to please you." 

Your heart swells at his words and you smile wider before grasping his cock. He gasps at your touch, hips rutting into the air before gritting his teeth. "I want to please you." You tell him.

"By all means." He mumbles as his jaw muscles flex. 

Bending down, you pepper kisses over his long length. Earning gentle groans from him as his hands make a ponytail with your hair. Your tongue laps at a trail of precum as it lazily runs down his length and he shivers in response. "Fuck." He curse before gripping tighter at your hair.

Swirling your tongue around the tip, he lets out a hiss of pleasure. The sound makes your pussy clench around nothing. "Goddamn." 

Spreading your legs wider with his hands, he rubs gentle circles onto your clit and you moan loudly as you take his length into your mouth. "Agh, Christ. Your mouth is amazing." He hisses out as you assiduously work your mouth on his cock.

Hollowing your cheeks with every suck, you feel brazen as he moans your name. "Not even some porn stars can suck cock like this. Jesus Christ!" He yelps out as he shoves your head down on his cock. Gagging around his length, he moans louder at the sound. 

Tears spring forth from your eyes as you look up at him. His bottom lip is trembling between his teeth as you run your tongue flat over the base. "That's it, baby. Just like that. Your mouth is amazing, baby girl." He praises you and you keen as he pinches your nipple. 

You whimper against his large cock, your hands gripping at his terse thighs as he lifts his hips with every head bob. He makes it a point to praise you every time you gag. Show love to your body as you cry on his cock. 

Spittle and precum stream over your chin as he begins to lose himself in the pleasure. "God, I've wanted to fuck your mouth for so long. Since you put that selfie up for me. I knew you would feel so fucking good around my cock, baby. So fucking eager to please me." His cock begins to throb as you swallow around him. Trying to get him as deep in your throat as possible. 

"Fuck yeah. Let me use you like a fucking cocksleeve." He murmurs out as your nose nestles to his bare pubic bone. He rears back before spanking your cunt again. Your body undulating at his ministrations and he holds up his hand showing you your fresh wave of arousal on his fingers. 

"Look at how horny you are for me. Fuck you're incredible." He enters his fingers into his mouth, moaning both at your taste and as he fucks his cock deeper into your throat. 

This wasn't particularly love making in a normal sense, but who gives a fuck. Right now, as he fucks your throat you can only whimper and want more. Getting so caught up in being with him that there really wasn't anything but perfection in this very moment. "Y/N. You're going to make me cum, baby. You're- Fuck." He curses before pressing his lips into a straight line. 

He tugs on your hair roughly, his eyes still on you and surprisingly not on his cock as it disappears into your mouth. His heart swells with admiration, wiping your cheeks of your tears as his jaw tightens. Licking over his base you watch him gasp loudly and your thighs tighten around his.

"Oh baby. Fuck. I'm cumming! Shit!" He whines out and his cock gets thicker inside your throat before orgasming. His eyes roll back as ropes of cum slide down your throat. He whispers your name ardently as you swallow diligently.

"Show me." He gasps out and you pull off of his cock before opening your mouth. 

"Such a good girl." He praises.

He takes a second, blinking the lusty haze from his eyes before flipping you onto your back. You giggle at the sudden movement, a smile painted on his face as he leans down to kiss you. Discarding your bra to the floor, he pecks at your lips.

"First woman in my bedroom. First woman to get me to cum that hard in so long. I got a lot of firsts going on today." He whispers against your lips before nipping your bottom lip. 

"Really? I'm the first girl in your bed?" You ask, surprised.

"Oh yeah. No ones ever been this special for me to invite them over. Keep playing your cards right and I'll make you dinner." He jokes as he spreads your legs.

Your giggle is cut off as he enters two fingers inside of you before stretching. With a whimper, you whine his name. "Cum for me one more time. I gotta stretch you to fit my cock in." He expertly curls his fingers inside you and your chest heaves upwards at the feeling.

"You-You never stretch any of the other girls on camera." You say as he scissors you open.

"They don't need to be stretched, they're constantly loose or have already been prepped. Also, stop talking about them and my job. This is about us right now." He says before silencing you with a kiss. 

The pad of his thumb rubs over your bundle of nerves and you gasp into his mouth. His fingers begin to fuck you faster as his tongue glides over yours. His taste, the subtle hints of wine and your arousal have your mind becoming fuzzy for the second time. Your pussy clenches around his fingers, arms hooking over the back of his neck as he nips at your tongue.

"You're such a good girl cumming again for me." He whispers before curling his fingers so fast inside of you that you feel all the air in your lungs disappear. 

"Y-Yoongi! Fuck! I'm-"

"Go ahead, baby girl." With a loud moan you orgasm for the second time and he scissors your pliant channel open as he whispers words of praise in your ear. Your vision goes white behind your eyelids and you barely feel his fingers leave you. 

He waits for you to come down from your high. Caressing your cheek with loving strokes as he aligns himself to your entrance. You whimper as he prods at you before looking up for confirmation.

"Just say the word and we can stop. I don't want to push you too much on the first round." So he wants more with you? 

You pull him closer and he pushes his bulbous head past your entrance. Both of your mouths falling open in tandem as he slowly thrusts inside. He was stretching you so open, the feeling almost mind boggling. 

"Oh God." You whine as he buries his face into your neck. Kissing over your heated skin, he pushes himself to the hilt inside of you. He allows you to adjust around his considerable length as he plays with your nipples. Pinching and rolling them between his fingertips. 

"I'll make love to you for however long you let me." He announces into the crook of your neck. 

He suckles more vivid colors to the surface of your skin as your legs wrap around his waist. He pulls out slowly, letting the head of his cock drag against your soft walls before thrusting harshly back inside.

The both of you moan loudly, your hands scrambling to grab onto his arms as he begins a diligent pace. He pulls your face with his hand to look at him as he fucks you lovingly. "You drive me so crazy. So fucking nuts. I can't believe I get to do this with you. You're like a dream." He whispers before kissing you softly. 

The balls of your feet dig into his backside as he continues his pace. You can tell he's dying to go faster but he makes it a point to give you what you want. He was truly making love to you, every thrust having purpose and meaning as he sheathes himself inside of your heat. 

"So nice and wet for me. So fucking tight." He seethes out through clenched teeth and you rock your hips with every thrust to meet him. He grabs your hands before intertwining your fingers together. 

His lips suckle at your skin as he begins to fuck you faster. Sweat beginning to produce on his sideburns. Your hands tighten your grip on his as you lift your hips for more. "I really like you." He tells you as you moan.

"I like you, too. A lot." He smiles before thrusting harder inside of you. Your head lolls back as he begins to fuck you with everything he has. 

"Oh fuck! Y/N!" He cries out into the valley of your breasts. You're a blubbering mess beneath him now, the tightening in your stomach coming back in full force as each thrust meets your cervix folds. 

Lifting himself up, he watches how your breasts jiggle with every thrust. How gloriously in pleasure you are beneath him and he can't deny the feeling of ardent emotion as his heart strings tug at the sight. "Shit!" He curses loudly before letting go of your hands to grip your hips.

Pulling you down onto his cock with fluid motions, you feel his cock begin to throb within you and your pussy clenches around him.

His hand reaches for the apex of your thighs, pinching your clit skillfully. Your eyes roll back, mouth drooling for his cock as he splits you open.

"You're so fucking tight for me. So fucking made me for me. Who does this pussy belong to?" He asks before pinching your bundle of nerves again.

"You! Yoongi!" You gasp out as your veins pump with pleasure. 

"Cum for me again." He mumbles.

He hooks your ankle over his shoulder before drilling into you at a speed that shouldn't be humanly possible. Mumbling his name incessantly you cum for him a third time. Eyes screwing shut as your cunt milks his cock for his cum. "Fuck yeah. So fucking tight." He mutters out as he watches you bask in deep seeded pleasure.

Your cum squirts out of you, landing on his thighs and he growls animalistically before pulling out of you. Flipping you over, he lifts your hips in the air and you can barely understand what's happening as you moan loudly. He enters you in one fluid motion, simultaneously spanking your ass hard. 

Lurching forward you moan his name as you grip at his bedsheets. Fisting them until your knuckles become white. "Fuck. You're so amazing. So fucking willing to keep creaming on my cock." He growls out as his hand grabs at the back of your neck.

He pulls you back onto his cock with fervent need, his eyes on your smarting globes and the way your pussy sheathes him so tightly. "So beautiful." He says before smacking your ass again.

You appreciate the sting, letting it bring you back to reality. His hand finds the junction of your thighs once more and he rubs furious circles to your clit. You yelp out at the over stimulation, eyes watering with tears. 

"Yoongi! Can't!" You whimper. 

"Yes you can. My woman can do anything." He's claimed you right then and there. You allow yourself to be pushed through the over stimulation, crying and whimpering before your simpering turns to loud moans.

"That's it, baby. Good fucking girl." He seethes out before spanking you again. "Let's go for four." He pulls out of you almost fully before spitting on your battered cunt. Pulling you harshly back onto his cock, your cunt continues to convulse around him as he begins to throb harshly.

"Oh fuck. You're going to make me cum." He alerts you. Thighs shaking, you rock your hips back to him with every thrust. Your hands grip the sheets tighter as you cum for a fourth time without warning. 

You bury your face into the mattress crying out loudly as he groans. "Oh fuck! Baby!" He yells out before stilling inside of you.

Ropes of cum smatter the walls of your cunt and you whimper feebly as the warmth fills you. He lays his chest to your back before kissing your cheek. You can feel his chest heave for air behind you and he pulls out gently. Pressing his tongue to the inside of his cheek, he chuckles as you cream with his cum. 

You flip onto your back with a tired whine and he laughs quietly. Bending down, he kisses you gently before standing. "Let me clean you up, okay?" 

You hum as you close your eyes. God, hes fucking incredible. 

Cleaning you up, he watches as your head lazily tilts towards him. "You okay?" He asks with a laugh. 

Snorting gently you nod before looking over his naked body. "Did you mean what you said? Do you like me?" You ask him and he stops his ministrations.

Bending down he kisses you. The kiss filled with passion and reverence. "Yes. I like you. Very much." He replies.

"So...what are we?" You ask quietly as he lays down beside you.

His arms pull you into his chest as he rests against the headboard of his bed. Pushing some stray hairs behind your ear, his lips meet your hairline. Brushing against it gently, he closes his eyes. 

"I claimed you while we were having sex and that still stands. I'd like to see where this goes between us. Your soul is so pure, so honest and I'd like to know you on every level I possibly can." Your eyes flutter shut and you smile into his chest as he holds you tighter. 

"I'd really like that Yoongi."

"Me too, little one."

"Baby." His voice is loud as he steps over the threshold of your shared apartment. 

You jump at the noise, sending your fingers flying over the keyboard of your laptop before looking up. You smile at his figure, his bleach blonde hair falls into his eyes as he smiles back. You erase the keyboard smash before closing your laptop.

"Don't stop on my account." He tells you as he sets his keys down on the kitchen table.

"I'm almost done anyway, I was just editing the next chapter." He raises an eyebrow at you before padding over and kissing the top of your head. You purse your lips for a kiss but he hums awkwardly.

"Might not wanna kiss me. I gotta go take a shower too." He says before taking off his shirt and showing you the wax candle burn marks on his chest. You laugh, rolling your eyes as he winks at you.

He notices how your eyes shift to your laptop as he continues to stare. What are you hiding? "Wanna come take a shower with me?" He asks as he discards his pants.

"Sure." 

"Who'd you film with today?" You ask as Yoongi runs the bar of soap over your back, pressing sweet kisses over your bare shoulder.

"Candy. She says hi." He whispers as he pulls you closer to his naked body.

"While she was gagging on your cock?" He snorts into the nape of your neck before swatting at your backside. Whining at the sting, you turn your head and pout to him. He nips at your protruding bottom lip before nuzzling his nose into your wet hair.

"What were you writing before? Take One?" You hum in agreement as he runs the bar of soap over your breasts.

"What are we doing this time? Fucking in a car on our way to the Porn Awards? Or, maybe going on that vacation we won at the charity ball?" He quips and your body goes rigid as he questions you. Fuck, you're acting odd. 

"Just fucking." You say, your voice sounding small under the sounds of running water as it slaps the floor. 

He pulls away from you before rinsing his body off. "I'm done with the shower, are you?" He asks, finding himself sounding distant. 

You shut the water off and grab the towel from him watching him walk away and out of the bathroom.

Yoongi lays in bed, watching you comb through your hair with your fingers and he folds his arms. Your back muscles were terse and he raises an eyebrow as you throw your body down onto the bed as if you're frustrated. 

He can't seem to understand where this was coming from. You've been together for years now and every time you've shown this sort of tantrum or distance from him, he's always just fucked it right out of you till you couldn't remember why you were upset in the first place.

You were usually very vocal. He remembers the first fight you had gotten into, something that he still agrees is his fault. He was careless at first, when you began dating. Not really telling you the subject of the porns he was filming.

He would come home with hickies and scratch marks, without thinking of how you would take it. But, he hadn't had to explain himself to anyone ever. So he understood when you finally snapped and cursed him out. You put him on a sex ban for almost a month and he felt like a hollow shell, reverting back to not being able to cum inside of his co-stars for that little while. 

Just thinking about it gives him shivers and he pulls the covers over his chest higher. Getting comfortable in bed, your back is turned towards him. "Baby, come lay on me." He insists as he runs his hand over your bare thigh.

You stay silent before huffing out and flipping over. Wrapping his hand around your body, his thumb presses into the muscles around your spine. Kneading them gently as his lips drift over your temple. "What's wrong, baby girl?" He asks quietly.

"Nothing. I'm fine." You reply as you lay your cheek on his chest. He rolls his eyes at your hollow words before tipping your chin up with his index finger.

"I'm your fiance, you're supposed to talk to me. We're in this for life, remember?" His eyebrows raise with his words as your fingers run over the wax burns on his body.

"I'm fine. Seriously." You give him the fakest smile he's ever seen in his life before closing your eyes and he sighs a little too loudly.

What the fuck did you write that's got you so upset?

Yoongi picks at the skin on his lip as he watches you sleep. You've been distant for over a week now and he's starting to think he's done something frighteningly wrong. 

He made it a point to tell you that he didn't need to read Take One anymore. That you could pour your emotions and feelings into the story almost like a diary. He wanted you to have that creative outlet that brought you so much freedom.

He loves that about you. Anything and everything you write has meaning, you make it count. And, if you needed to write about how annoyed you were with him in your books then so be it. Vent to your heart's content as long as any real major problems were discussed with him first. 

But, God there was something wrong and he knows he would find the answer if he opens up Take One. Grabbing his phone off the bedside table, he lays you down gently before standing up. He stares at you for a second in your moonlit bedroom, watching you wriggle from the movement before becoming dead to the world once more. 

He sighs as he walks to the bathroom. His feet pad against the heated floor before locking himself in. Sitting down on the toilet, he unlocks his phone. Blinking rapidly at the bright light before scrolling through your blog. 

Chapter 99: To New Beginnings

"Oh Jesus." He mumbles nervously before putting his cheek on his hand as he begins to read.

It's early morning when your husband wakes you up. Breakfast in bed was never his thing, burning eggs so easily as if they were going out of style. 

But it was a welcome sight as your stomach grumbles with hunger. His smile stutters your heart as he sets the plate of food down before you. 

His touch is warm as he caresses your cheek. The feeling waking you up faster than the strongest coffee ever could. 

After last night's ball, how you danced among countless bodies with no faces, he seemed to become reinvigorated. Wholly invested in love for one another. 

He watched children in small dresses and suits play beneath glittering chandeliers. Watched their small bodies dance effortlessly to the cords of classical music and it struck something inside of him. 

"Little one." He whispers to you.

Looking up from your plate, your eyes greet his. His irises show you nothing but ardor as he grabs for your hand. 

Running his thumb over your wedding band, he swallows thickly. Nervousness sweeps through you as his eyes flutter closed. 

"What's wrong?" You whisper, setting down your plate.

"Nothing. Nothing is wrong. I just want to talk to you." You nod to him, sitting up straighter as you give him your undivided attention. 

His hand is atop yours, running smooth circles over your skin. In the morning sunlit room, you can see his forehead crease with tension. It seems like he has something to say and it just won't come out. Like he could shout underwater without any outcome. 

He takes a deep breath before looking up at you again. 

"I want to try for a baby." He tells you. 

Your heart lurches deep in the recesses of your chest. Eyes wideni-

"Oh, baby girl." Yoongi whispers before running his hand over his exhausted face. He has thought about it, surely. But, he never put much stake into it with the job he has. 

This is why you've been so distant? You want a baby? Why weren't you comfortable enough to tell him? You could talk to him about anything and everything.

It doesn't seem far fetched to think about having children with you. You were the greatest love of his life, the only love of his life. If it's what you want, then he wants that too. 

The thought sends his mind alive, waking from his exhaustion as he continues to read.

Sliding his hands over your bare body, his lips caress your breasts. Suckling at your nipples with the new intention of having them swell for his child. 

"God, how amazing you're going to look with my child inside you. So pretty and swollen for me." He whispers above your nipple, his breath hardening the bud to stiff peaks.

With a gentle mewl, he spreads your legs. Eyes on yours as his irises begin to swell with lust. 

"Wouldn't you love that, baby? Letting me cum deep inside your fertile womb and give you my son or daughter?" He asks as his fingers knead at the flesh of your thighs.

"Yes! Fuck! I want you to put a baby in me!" You cry out as he begins to smirk deviously.

Yoongi shifts in his seat, hand reaching down for his cock before stopping. God, this was fucking hot. 

Then he imagines you, swollen with his child as he lavishes upon your body. You walking down the street hand in hand as your rub circles onto your stomach. 

"Oh fuck." He mumbles before rubbing at his cock through his briefs. 

Reading through the sheer eroticism you have written, he finds the thought of you becoming pregnant weighing heavily on the front of his mind. Knowing him, he wouldn’t be able to stop thinking about it until he makes it a reality.

Standing up from the toilet, he opens up the medicine cabinet doors. Rifling through the small objects and toiletries he finds your birth control container. Without a second thought he clutches it tightly in his hand. "Whatever you want, I'll give it to you."

Unlocking the bathroom door, he leans against the door jamb as you lay fast asleep. “Fuck, I love you.” He whispers, before walking back over to his side of the bed.

You can see him staring at you through the big mirror in your bedroom out of the corner of your eye. Shutting your laptop, you meet eyes with him and you both tilt your heads at the same time to each other.

You giggle gently before looking down at the comforter beneath you. You really shouldn’t have been so pissy with him over the last few days, especially when you haven’t even talked to him about why you were so short and rude. 

He knows you too well by now, he probably knows something must be going on with you. It’s just all been coming to a head lately, you could say. Seeing Viola and Taehyung’s baby, seeing pregnant women in the street glowing and looking happy. It makes you feel like something is missing in your life. 

And, you want these things with him. You love him with every ounce of your being. You should just talk to him, just tell him. It scares you, what if you tell him and he says that because of his career it’s not really too hopeful to have a child. It’s nerve wracking.

“What’s up, baby girl?” Your fiance asks as he sits up straighter. His onyx irises feel like daggers through the mirror and you stand up before giving him a sweet smile. 

“Nothing, going to get ready for bed.” He hums to you before throwing his phone on the bedside table. 

Rifling through the medicine cabinet, you raise an eyebrow at where your birth control should be. You move things around before furrowing your eyebrows. 

“Yoongs?” You call to him as you shove his razors and shaving creams out of the way.

“Yeees?” He asks before stepping into the bathroom behind you.

“Have you seen my birth control?” You ask quietly.

You feel his lips press against the back of your neck. Giving soft kisses to your skin, he ignores your question as his hand runs over the hem of your tank top.

“Babe?” You ask gently.

Shoving your tank top up, your breasts bounce freely before being shielded by his hands. He groans as he cups them, squeezing gently. Your body shudders at his touch, pressing back into him as you steady yourself on the granite countertop. 

“You’re so fucking beautiful. I love you so much.” He murmurs against your skin.

Tilting your head to give him more access, you raise your arm to rifle through more of the medicine cabinet. He’s quick to push your arm back down, grinding his hardening cock against the globes of your ass. 

“You aren’t going to find them, they’re gone.” He tells you as he rolls your stiff peaked nipples with his fingers.

With a whimper, your eyes flutter shut adoring the attention. Especially, when you think you don’t deserve it with how nasty you’ve been with him lately. 

Kissing over the shell of your ear, he holds you closer before thrusting his hand down the front of your sleep shorts. Gasping gently, your hand hooks around the back of his neck. 

“Wh-Why won’t I find them?” You lick your lips as his fingers part the folds of your pussy. 

Suckling small marks of reds and pinks, you can hear his hum. Feel it vibrating through his chest as he holds you so close. 

“Because I have them." He whispers before spreading your feet wider apart with his own. Running his fingers over your cunt, he moans as your slick begins to coat his fingers. Digging into his sweatpants pocket he produces the aluminum packet, holding it between his two fingers.

“Why?” You question him, before biting your lip as he rubs circles onto your clit with his middle and index fingers. 

“Because I’m going to stuff you full of my cum and make you carry my child.” He says nonchalantly.

You gasp loudly as he slaps your pussy gently. How could he know what you wanted? Was he that in tune with you? 

"Can I throw them away baby?" He asks, his breath fans over your ear before nibbling your earlobe.

"Yes." Your voice is breathless. 

Groaning at your response he chucks the packet into the garbage before picking you up with his strong arms. Taking off to the bedroom, he kisses over your neck.

“I’ve been thinking about getting you knocked up for the past few days. It makes my cock so hard to think of you swollen with my child, baby girl.” He says as he throws you unceremoniously down onto the mattress. 

Rubbing your thighs together, you watch him crawl up the bed. His tongue laps slowly over his lower lip as his eyes devour you. 

It sends your heart racing. Knowing that he’s going to fuck you with such intent. Knowing that he’s fucking you with purpose and not just for both of your pleasure. 

“Why do you think I haven’t been shooting all week? I want my cum to be potent for your fertile cunt.” He announces as he climbs over you. 

His hands grip at the sides of your shorts before tugging down roughly. Leaving you bare and open to him as he spreads your legs wide. He eyes your soaked cunt before giving you a lazy smirk. Running his fingers through his blonde hair, you can feel your gut explode with wanting. 

“You’re going to let me fill your sweet pussy up, aren’t you baby? Let me fill you to the brim till your tight little cunt is dripping with it.” You let out a sob of pleasure as he plucks at your nipple with his lips. 

“Yes! I want you to give me a baby so badly!” You whine out as he nestles between your legs.

He lavishes on your breasts, groaning gently as your hips thrust upward. Your pussy clenches around nothing, your clit starting to swell with need. His hands press your hips down firmly to the bed as you writhe beneath his ministrations. He looks up at you, his eyes give a stern warning and you know not to move again without being told. You whimper his name gently as he kisses down your stomach, mouth leaving hot, wet kisses before hovering over your womb.

“Look at you. You beautiful minx, I can’t wait to see you swell with what’s mine.” He whispers before licking from your lower stomach to your sex. His tongue is achingly slow, sending your toes curling as you do your best to keep your ass planted on the bed. 

Kissing and suckling at your slick folds, he moans at the taste of you. Lapping up your arousal on his tongue like it’s his favorite meal. Frankly, it fucking is.

"Oh Yoongs! Fuck!" You whine as his arms hook around your thighs. 

Prodding at your entrance, the amount of arousal that leaks from you has his lower half already rutting into the mattress. When it comes to his job he can stave off any sort of pleasure but with you, he just can't help losing himself. 

He enters his finger into you slowly, enjoying how your thighs twitch and lock as he suckles on your swollen nub. 

"Fuck. You're soaked." He groans loudly against you. 

Adding a second finger, he could already feel you beginning to pulsate around him. Trying your hardest to not move at his request. "Grind on my tongue baby, you deserve it." He murmurs before letting his tongue hang out.

With a mewl, your hands fist at his blonde hair before gyrating your hips. Your eyes meet and the whimper you give has his cock twitching into the mattress. 

"I want it so badly. Want you to get me pregnant with your baby. Fuck me so full of cock and cum." You whine loudly.

His eyes roll back at your words as your breath quickens. His fingers curling so fast inside of you, it must be the work of the devil. 

"I'm gonna cum! Fuck!" White hot pleasure courses through you, cutting your nerves to the quick. 

Your fiance grips hard at your thigh, his fingers pumping into so fast you might have just seen Jesus as you rush towards your precipice of pleasure. 

His tongue flicks your clit at a dangerous speed sending you over the edge moaning his name loudly. Back bowing off of the bed, you cover your mouth with a shaking hand as you let out a sob of pleasure.

He kisses over the inner skin of your thighs waiting patiently for you to come down from your high. Running your fingers through his hair, you wince as he scissors you open.

"I know baby, but I gotta prep you. Your pretty pussy is too tight for my cock." He tells you as his lips drift over your skin. 

Stretching you open, he tugs down his sweatpants before sighing at the freeing feeling. Watching his cock spring out, you let out an involuntary moan at the sight. Precum weeps mercilessly from the head as his tip turns an angry shade of red. 

Spreading your legs wider with his own, he pulls his fingers from you gently. The loss of being full makes you focus more on his cock. As his eyes run over your figure, you can see it pulse and twitch with need. Your mouth goes dry at the sight, hips lifting off the bed at the sheer excitement of being filled with him. 

“I know baby. I’m coming.” Yoongi whispers before running his cock through your slick folds. The stimulation to your clit has your jaw tightening as your teeth grit together. It’s a sexy concoction of overstimulation and need as your body jolts with each rut against you. 

Pressing his lips needily to yours, your tongues collide in heated passion. Gripping the base of his cock, he enters you slowly. Moaning in tandem into each other's mouths. 

“Christ, your cunt is so tight.” He groans out against your lips as he thrusts himself to the hilt. 

Letting you adjust around him, his lips pluck at the column of your neck. “Gonna look so pretty for me, little one. So beautiful with my child inside of you. I can’t wait to eat your needy cunt while rubbing your big belly.” He whispers against your neck, groaning loudly as your pussy clenches around him at his words. 

“Oh, you like that so much don’t you? Picturing my baby inside you as I fuck you every way I can.” He jeers as his fingers roll your nipples almost painfully slow. 

“Yes! I can’t wait to be big for you. Sucking your cock as you play with my milky tits.” You whisper as you card your fingers through his hair. 

“Oh, fuck yeah.” He curses.

Pulling out of you, he steadies himself on his elbows above you before thrusting hard into you. Your hands grip at the sheets beside you, knuckles going white as your head lolls back.

“You’re so fucking wet, baby. Soaking my cock so nicely. Shit.” He whispers in your ear. 

The feeling of his breath producing goosebumps on your skin as he begins to bulldoze himself inside of you. Hooking your legs around his waist, you begin to meet each thrust with your hips. 

“Your cock feels so good inside me! I love when you fuck me!” You moan for him as he sits up on his knees.

Shifting your leg over his body, he presses your legs flat against one another. Your pussy becomes tighter around him at the new angle as he practically turns you on your side. Spanking the globe of your ass, you moan as your skin smarts with the sting of his slap. 

“Gonna take my cum deep in your aching little cunt, aren’t you little one? Let everyone in the street know how well I fuck you to get you so nice and big for me.” His head lolls back, licking at his lips as he grips at your hip. 

Plowing into you, your mind becomes muddled. Babbling and whining as he fucks you with every ounce of passion he has. “Rub your clit for me baby, I’m so close to blowing a load in your sweet pussy.” 

Lifting your leg, he grips your knee as you press it against his stomach. Your fingers rub your clit with furious circles, aided by how much of your slick weeps out of you. "Oh fuck, you feel so good, baby. I'm so close." He whispers as his eyes flutter shut.

His bottom lip purchases between his teeth as he holds your leg tighter to his body. Snapping his hips faster your stomach churns with delight. Your eyes flutter shut as you lift your hips higher, letting the head of his cock brush against the soft patch of nerves inside you.

He could feel your cunt beginning to twitch and clench around his cock and he curses loudly before bending down and kissing you deeply. Swallowing your moans, he groans against you as the head of his cock brushes against your cervix folds. Losing your mind once more, you grip onto his shoulder.

"I'm cumming!" You sob out as your eyes fill with tears.

"Good girl, baby. Cum on my cock. You look so gorgeous when you cum for me." His thumb trails over your bottom lip as you lose yourself in the pleasure.

Your body locks before going boneless as you orgasm. Sobbing loudly, your back bows off the bed. Ears ringing with white noise, you whimper gently. 

"Oh shit! That's it, little one. Your pussy got so tight!" He cries out as he snaps his hips harder. 

His hands grab at your breasts, squeezing and rolling them roughly as his thrusts become erratic and out of rhythm. 

"Oh God, please give me a baby. Take my cum deep in your pretty pussy. Please baby." He begs as he stills inside of you.

"Fuck, take it deep baby girl. Shit!" He cries out as ropes of warm cum paint the walls of your cunt. 

He lets out a shaky breath before burying his face into your neck. "I love you baby so much." 

He pulls out gently before lifting your hips. "Keep 'em up for a bit." He instructs before kissing you sweetly.

"You read Take One, didn't you?" You ask, voice riddled with exhaustion. 

When he doesn't respond you smirk tiredly. His lips drift over your cheek before nodding.

"Forgive me." He whispers to you.

He sits up on his knees before stuffing his cum back into your pussy as it begins to slowly weep from you.

"I'm sorry I wrote it and didn't explain why I was being so coarse with you." He runs his thumb over your bottom lip.

"I love you, little one. We're perfection together and children will only add to our amazing life. I want them with you, too. I want everything with you." He tells you, onyx irises staring earnestly.

You giggle before opening your arms. Laying beside you, he clicks his teeth before pulling you into his side. 

"I love you, too. Always." You say as you hook your chin to his pectoral muscle. He wrinkles his nose to you before kissing your forehead.

Sitting down on the couch, you close your laptop before side eyeing your fiance. 

There he sits, beautiful and poised as ever. Sipping his beer, his hand lands on your thigh. He leaves gentle strokes as he notices the attention you're giving him. 

Turning his head away from the movie, he tilts his head to you before leaning in and kissing your forehead. You smile at the warmth of his lips before coddling into his side. 

"Finished this weeks chapter?" He asks gently as his thumb caresses your skin.

"The last chapter actually." You reply as he offers you a sip of his beer. You shake your head with a smile as you extend your feet to the coffee table. 

"Last chapter? But we have so much more to do together. Like getting married and having kiddies. Buying a house and things of that nature." He whispers as he kisses your cheek.

"The ending is perfect for right now. I would really like you to read it." 

Muting the television, he turns his body towards you fully before furrowing his eyebrows. "I don't read it anymore, you know that. It's a trust thing for us." 

You giggle before putting the laptop on his lap. "Just read it. Okay? It's the last chapter… You might find it...uplifting." You tell him.

Placing the beer on the table, he sucks air in through his teeth before opening up your laptop. "Alright." He mumbles

Your feet find their place tucked underneath you as he begins to read.

There are certain ways that one can feel pure bliss. Whether it be seeing a lost loved one after a long while or hearing a song that strikes all of the right cords inside of you. Pure bliss can come in many forms. 

Today was your form of pure bliss. The sex god, your sex god had finally arrived back home from work. Sweaty, with a tired smile gracing his face as he throws his leather jacket onto the coat rack.

Your insides jump with joy, nervously excited giggles raring to pass your lips as he turns to you.

"Hi beautiful." He murmurs with a wide smile before pecking your lips gently.

"Hi." You whisper again his lips before copying the expression on his face.

His head turns to the dinner table, fully set with hot food waiting in the middle. Two candles on either side, picturesque like it was taken straight out of Good Housekeeping. 

"Wow. This looks amazing. Thank you baby!" Yoongi claps his hands happily as you both walk over to the table. Usually you both sit at the ends of the table but today you've taken the seat beside him.

Grabbing your hand, he gives the back of it a gentle kiss before leaning back in his chair. 

"Why such a lush dinner? Did you see my newest movie?" He asks with a laugh.

Butterflies roam free within you at his question. You giggle with him before holding your breath as he picks up the linen napkin from his dish. He gives a quick glance to the plate before almost giving himself whiplash to look back down at it. Sitting in the middle of the plate is a monochrome picture. 

Just a little hint of something white inside grey matter. Taking a sharp breath, he lets out a strangled noise before shaking hands approach the picture. "Oh my God." He whispers before clutching at the paper.

Your hands press together like a prayer as you bring them to your lips. He lets out a loud sob, eyes screwing shut as his hands continue to shake.

"You're pregnant?!" He cries out loudly.

"Yes. I'm pregnant." You say with a giggle as he kicks his chair away. Grabbing your wrist tighter he hauls you up before burying your face into his chest. 

"Oh, little one. Thank you." He cries as he holds you tightly to his body.

Yoongi wipes at his eyes before turning his head to you and sniffing quietly.

"It's beautiful, baby. Seriously. You need to be published. Get your own movie or something." Your fiance says as he closes his laptop.

With a smile, you lean your head against the top of the couch. "So what do you think about me being pregnant?" You ask gently.

He smirks before placing the hardware down on the table and grabbing you. He holds you close to his chest and you can feel his steady heartbeat which has become your life song. 

"We're trying, it'll come babe." He whispers as he runs his hand over your head in a calming manner.

"I use Take One as a diary. It's there to help me keep track of real life events too." He hums in reply before swaying your bodies in tandem.

He smiles unknowingly as his eyes shut. Real life events? Real life?

You wait patiently for it to set it, staring at the television as it lights up with different scenes of the movie he was watching. 

Then all at once, he goes rigid and you give a relieved laugh.

"Didn't take too long now did it?" You tease him as he pulls away from you.

Looking back up at him, his eyes are wide. Pressing both hands to either side of your face, you can see his eyes beginning to water with emotional tears.

"You're pregnant? With my baby? My perfect, precious baby?" He asks and he takes in a deep breath as you nod.

He scoffs loudly before sobbing. He caresses your cheeks with his thumbs as his eyes screw shut. His chest racks with emotion as he bites his bottom lip. 

"Fuck I love you." He cries.

His lips press to yours and you close your eyes to take in the passionate kiss.

"I love you too." You whisper against him.

Yoongi groans as he sits down in the director chair. He sips his coffee before looking over the set for the day. He chuckles to himself before folding his arms.

It's your voice that has his head cocking to the side as you step on the set. Stomach so large he's certain you can't even see your feet today. 

"Hi my loves." He says as he holds his hand out to you.

You wrinkle your nose, grabbing his hand as you place a kiss to his temple. 

"Hey boss man! I'm ready to go." He hears from the side of the set and his attention turns to the owner of the voice as he rubs at your belly.

"Y/N, this is Park Jimin. He'll be playing Yoongi in Take One." He introduces the younger man.

You bow your head to him as you take a seat besides your husband. Lazily he rubs at your stomach before calling everyone to their places. 

"Look at us, huh? A director and a screenplay writer for the biggest porn films in the industry. Who would have thought?" He whispers in your ear as the lights begin to dim.

With a laugh you nudge his shoulder as Jimin props himself up against the hotel door just like the first chapter of Take One.

As the scene begins, you find your attention wavering to your newly married husband. Tilting your head, you take in his handsome features. A god among men.

The giddiness explodes inside of you as normal and you feel his son kick inside of you. With a snort, your thumb runs over his wedding band as he holds his hand.

Who knew writing a simple story would get you here? In the greatest place you could ever dream of?

There’s something magical about meeting the right someone. Captivating, even. The way irises flit between one another in a moment of glorious silence. The breath that is held within one’s chest as you stare longingly at the other person before you. Hands could shake from nerves, excitement- both, even. It had never happened for Min Yoongi. Until you. 

[blackenedwhite97]

Coming Out [Poly! Erasermic x {Fem}Reader]

Hello! this was a requested fic from like before Christmas. I'M A MESS I KNOW I'M SORRY! I’ll be catching up at some point, I'm in my final sem at uni and have MAJOR senioritis. Me no do unless me have to. Instead, now I just spend my time staring at the existential abyss the threatens to swallow my ceiling and think about everything I'm procrastinating. But I digress...

Content Warning: This story is of a negative experience coming out as poly to your family, this deals with rejection from the reader's mother, father, and a grandparent. This story demonstrates Homophobia, xenophobia, traditionalist and conservative values and attitudes and may be triggering to some folks.

This story includes a Polyamorous relationship

Polyamory: the practice of engaging in multiple sexual relationships with the consent of all the people involved.

Word Count: 3.7 K (A baby story)

Y/N --- 4:06pm

Hey can my roomates come to dinner?

DAD --- 4:06

You mean the gays?

Y/M --- 4:08

Please don’t call them that. Neither of them are gay anyways, there’s more than just gay or straight.

DAD --- 4:10

Yeah whatever. Let your mom decide.

MOM --- 5:12

Sure, they can come.

Mom --- 5:23

Gma might be coming dinner tho. Maybe talk to them?

That conversation should have been enough of a warning for how the evening was going to transpire. At news of your grandmother attending dinner, you panicked and tried to back out of your plans. You had been growing steadily farther apart from your parents anyways, barely seeing them more that once a year if that. It’s not like they didn’t have their suspicions anyways, to them you were a single woman living in the big city sharing an apartment with two gay men. Not that they’d ever been to the apartment. If they had they might have notice that one of the two “bedrooms” was being used as an office. Earlier on in the relationship you were so deeply uncomfortable being around your parents alone, that you had Shouta come with you every visit because you were so paranoid you were just going to come out on the spot.

At first your parents were sure that you and Shouta were together. He had subconsciously cleaned up quite nice the first few times he met your parents anyways, wanting to make a good impression on them if you finally did tell them about your polyamorous relationship. Then as time went on you got busier and started to see them less. Shouta’s parents lived in the suburbs and you saw them on holidays, plus Shouta had come out to them as being bisexual a long time ago and hadn’t felt much pressure to hide the polyamorous nature of your relationship to begin with. Hizashi’s mom was still a city dweller in her 60’s and on top of doing the cute mom things like baking fantastic cookies and handing down family jewelry to the daughter in law, she’d also taken Hizashi and Shouta to their first pride in Tokyo and had an in-home recording studio where she recorded for local punk bands. She was, quite literally, a cool mom.

You gnawed vigorously at your thumbnail, not quiet biting the whole way through, instead riddling it with dents and cracks. Chewing your nails wasn’t a habit you’d always had, it became a sort of silent worry thing you started to do when you got to your agency and had to remain still and quiet during briefings, no matter how terrible the news was. Your ruined nail beds were an atrocity to Hizashi, who had paid several times for you to get a manicure to get your nails short and evenly trimmed so you could manage them on your own. You still somehow found a way to gnaw on the short squared off nubs of your nails though, and it drove him nuts. Shouta cared less, his hands were in ridiculous shape, he was callused and bruised, cracked and flaking all over the place and Hizashi would regularly force moisturizer on them. Shouta cared more about figure out the root stress, it’s not that Hizashi didn’t, he just didn’t know how to, so he settled for pampering you.

“It’s dead.” Hizashi huffed from the bedroom door. “Obliterated, actually.”

“Hmm?” You looked up from your phone, you hadn’t been reading any of the messages in the chat for a good few minutes and just let your eyes unfocus instead. You yanked your thumb from your mouth and hid it below the table like a child caught with a sweet they’d snuck from the kitchen before dinner, you knew he saw.

“Your nail.” Hizashi gently patted the end of his hair with his special fluffy towel that he’d convinced you and Shouta he needed to control his frizz (which he didn’t have) and padded towards the kitchen table where you sat. He placed a kiss on the top of your head as he strode around you.

“What’s up, love?” he murmured softly, leaning against the table next you. One of his legs propped up on the chair to your right and leaned down to look at your phone screen.

“This is going to go horribly.” You breathed, panicked as you set your phone down on the table.

“You don’t know that.” Hizashi looked back up at you and smiled sweetly.

“Not everyone’s mom is a cool rocker lady in her 60’s who lives in the heart of downtown still and is fully supportive of her child’s bisexual polyamorous relationship with their childhood best friend and an ex-small-town girl with an ultra-conservative family.” You huffed out in one long breath.

“That was oddly specific.” He chuckled softly. “What about Sho’s parents, they’re conservative?”

“Yeah, but his parents are at least polite and send us both Christmas gifts every year and keep any and all of their shittier opinions to themselves because they want their son to be happy.” You groaned dramatically, dropping your head onto his thigh, using the extra meat to muffle the noise.

“Y-your-” Hizashi’s leg twitched from the vibrations of your groan. “Your parents want you to be happy too, Y/n.”

You groaned into his thigh, trying to explain the difference between your parent’s and Shouta’s. Hizashi laughed and gently grabbed the side of your face, lifting it so you were no longer muffled by his leg.

“Try again.” He instructed.

“They only want me to be happy if it fits into their rigid frame of what acceptable happiness looks like.” You explained again.

“Hey,” Hizashi ran his thumb back and forth across your cheek, “have faith, baby. They’re your family, they love you.”

If only he’d been right.

Shouta was the know it all, the one that way always right. Hizashi on the other hand was quiet used to being the one that was not always right, he had no hubris about his intelligence what-so-ever. So much so that sometimes you and Shouta had to remind him that he was intelligent and offered a lot of knowledge and wisdom in many many ways: public speaking, social relationships, radio scripting, he spoke two languages fluently as well. However, this one-time Hizashi wished dearly that he had been right, that he was an insufferable know it all who never got it wrong. It was a different twisted feeling in his gut, sitting the back seat watching you try to keep it together in the front seat, than the usual mild embarrassment that faded after a couple of minutes when he was wrong about something. That was damn near luxurious compared to the painful knot tearing into his stomach.

The silence in the car was so dense and absolute that it almost physically gagged Hizashi and Shouta, the two of them were too afraid to say anything and break it. It felt as though the heavy silence was keeping you from breaking, as if it were applying enough pressure at all sides to keep the thin veneer of composure you were managing together. You felt it too, along with the heavy weight that was nearly crushing your chest, the thick doughy lump clogging your throat and the tremble in your lips. You took a deep breath, it getting caught halfway and freezing in to an unrealized sob that you pushed down.

Shouta huffed and pulled off to the side of the dark country road, slowing into the gravelly shoulder. He turned in his seat to face you, undoing his seat belt so he could fully turn his body. You kept your eyes out the window, trying with all your might not to let the tears that clouded your eyes to fall. You knew you’d need to cry about this, about your parents and their conditional love. You knew that this was something you would need to deal with, but you didn’t want to at this moment. You wanted to go home, take some sleeping medication and go to sleep, you wanted to wait until the open wound in your chest had stopped bleeding to begin treating it.

Your father was being facetious about your living arrangement as usual, whenever he was faced with Shouta and Hizashi his first reaction was to constantly point out that fact that you were a woman living with two men and that if they weren’t gay that one of them should have married you by now. Shouta and Hizashi had taken these comments like water rolling off of a duck’s back, Hizashi even grinned and mumbled something about your father tempting him. You could have kept your mouth shut, you could have kept your cool but Shouta’s hand was brushing against your thigh and you felt it tense into an annoyed fist. Something about Shouta’s minimal reaction lit a fire in you, more like an explosion. It was a surge of very sudden and very ferocious courage that lasted a split second and no longer. You’d practically shouted it, the ringing in your ears drowning whatever words you’d used out.

You were met with complete and utter silence, shock and fear thick in the air. You’d almost believed for a moment that you hadn’t done it, that you’d just shouted randomly and just scared everyone. But then your dad stood up, his shocked open mouth flattening out into a hard straight line, this jaw swelling as he clenched it.

“W-what?” he growled, stepping back from the table as if you were a threat.

You were ready to backtrack, you were so ready to just laugh and pretend you were fucking with him. But you spared a glance to Shouta and Hizashi, their faces pale and guilty. They, regardless of what you could say in an attempt to cover up what you’d just said, were basically admitting to it already. You instinctively shrunk back into your chair like you’d do when you were younger at the dinner table whenever something uncomfortable would come up. You could tell everyone was at a loss for words, the difference was that you were scared and at a loss for words, Shouta and Hizashi were shocked and at a loss for words and your father was steaming angry and at a loss for words.

Your mother, who had always been the least confrontational of the two turned away from you and almost in a show of disgust immediately went to comfort your grandmother. It was as if you were an afront to goodness, an act of moral atrocity being committed in front of them. Your father began to barrage you with passive aggressive questions and accusations towards Shouta and Hizashi. He was trying to understand while at the same time refusing to give you a chance to explain. You stopped listening after the first few sentences that came out of his mouth, falling back into an internal monologue filled with regret. He must have said something exceptionally terrible because in an instant Shouta was standing, his arm reaching out to separate you from him and he was shouting. Shouta never shouted, he barely voiced any form of annoyance or frustration in general when it wasn’t a learning moment for his students, but here he was on his feet volleying harsh word with your father.

Hizashi, you realized was attempting damage control, his hands raised and his voice lower than either of the other two men’s. You blinked back into the present, as noise filled your ears, you mother was crying, your father and Shouta were shouting and Hizashi was rambling panicked. You took a couple of deep breaths and stood up on shaky legs, gripping Shouta’s protective arm for support, and looked your father in the eyes. He faltered at the direct eye contact and you saw an opening where there was less shouting to contend with.

“Stop,” you hissed through gritted teeth. “this is why I never wanted to tell you! Why I was perfectly okay with living away from you guys for the rest- This is why I haven’t been home.”

Your mother gasped a ragged, tear-filled breath. She’d expressed before that she’d wished she could see you more often, that she’s noticed you’d been coming home less and less. You’d been good at covering it up, saying you were busy with work and simply couldn’t get the time off. You knew that what you’d just said hurt her, not in the way it should have. It hurt her because you’d just told them it was their fault that you felt unwelcomed here and not because you were afraid of your own parents.

“How long?” she breathed.

“Three years.” You sniffed, hand tightening around Shouta’s wrist.

“THREE?! THR-” your father bellowed in disbelief. “For three years they’ve been brainwashing and forcing themselves on you?!”

Suddenly you understood why Shouta had leapt up, you had just now caught up with the conversation. Red hot anger flared up in your chest, the mere insinuation that you were being forced in anyway to be with your partners filled you with utter rage.

“No!” You growled, for the first time in your life matching your father’s volume. “For three years they’ve been by my side, showing up at the hospital when I got hurt at work, celebrating my promotions at the agency, helping me make a home that I feel safe in and actually fucking caring about me!”

There was silence again, this one was thin but not light in anyway, like it was a delicate thread barely holding a great weight from falling and crushing you.

“We care for you.” You mother said darkly.

“No,” you swallowed hard, “you haven’t for a long time.”

“Get out.” You father growled.

Hizashi was already moving, grabbing your coats from the back of the chairs and pulling Shouta by the arm away from the table. It took you a good long second to move, even then it was because Shouta latched onto your shoulders and Hizashi tugged him along.

“I’m sorry.” Shouta whispered, his hand finding yours in your lap. You kept your eyes focused out the window at the pitch-black fields with barely visible for off golden dots of light. You couldn’t talk.

You heard Hizashi shuffling around in the back seat, scooting closer to you and his hand joined Shouta’s, pulling up onto the storage compartment between the seats. It was cracking, that veneer.

“It’s not your fault.” Hizashi murmured.

You sniffed hard, biting int you bottom lip. Of course, it wasn’t your fault that your parents didn’t accept you, that you weren’t good enough or right for them, that you weren’t on par with the apparent morality of the rest of the family. It wasn’t your fault that they were backwards people with terrible ideas of how a person should be. It still didn’t hurt any less that you couldn’t meet those backwards ideals, that you couldn’t be the right kind of person for them.

“Y/n,” Shouta whispered, gently grabbing your chin and turning your face towards them.

They were looking at you the way a mother looks at her crying baby in the first few months, the desperate need to connect and nurture glowing in their eyes. They were filled with worry, with pity, with understanding but also, with fear. No doubt, what had just happened had been traumatic for them too. Looking into their emotion filled eyes you felt that veneer shatter, falling away and unleashing that mournful sobbing that had been trapped inside.

Shouta pulled you towards him, holding you firmly to his chest placing his head atop yours. You vaguely felt Hizashi disappear from you for a moment, but you were too preoccupied with the trembling muscles seizing violently in your chest. Then you felt him sliding in behind you, only now realizing he’d stepped out of the car and slide in through your door as he shut it behind him. He draped himself over you rubbing circles into your back.

“It’s not your fault.” He murmured into your hair over and over again.

At first you didn’t really focus on it, thinking it idle words of comfort but the more he said the more it sunk in. The more your realized that you were holding onto the hope that there was something about this, about you, that you could fix. With every repetition of those four words that false hope chipped away and that heavy weight in your chest began to fall away. It was still painful, it still felt like you had a pen festering wound that you’d never fully heal from, but it also felt lighter. It felt as though a burden you’d believed was yours to bear was suddenly the responsibility of the many.

“You don’t have to change,” Shouta whispered softly as your sobs ebbed into weak beaths, “they do.”

That reignited some tears, to hear what you needed to said so plainly. Shouta was good at that, putting those intangible thoughts and feelings into plain words. You cried until the tears and the worry and the late hour caught up with you, until your head felt heavy and waterlogged and you slumped backwards into Hizashi sniffing. You cried until your wavering breaths evened out and your tired mind fell to silence. Hizashi pulled you into his lap and cradled you against him like a parent holding and oversized child, running his hand slowly through your hair.

When you awoke you were swaddled thoroughly with the fuzzy blanket from the couch Shouta hated because it shed and sandwiched between the two men who snored away. As you blinked in the early morning light that just barely peaked through the blinds you noticed the red rims around Hizashi’s eyes and deep-set circles under Shouta’s as if they both been awake all night. Shouta was still in his dress shirt and Hizashi had stripped down to his boxers and pulled his hair back into a sloppy bun. Neither were properly snoring which told they hadn’t been asleep for very long.

You tried to ignore what had happened last night, what had led to the heavy feeling in your head and crusty dry eyes and tight cheeks. You tried to pretend that they had stayed up for work, that they you had swaddled yourself up in the blanket nor because you were sad but because you just wanted to be cozy. Then you heard a phone vibrate on the nightstand and any and all work towards denial washed away as you dreaded checking it. It could just be a work thing, it could be Hizashi’s phone even though he’d never had it on silent even once since you’ve known him. It could have been Shouta’s vibrating against the wooden table even though you could see his slightly peeking out of his back pocket.

You sighed and sat up, daring the smallest of glances at the nightstand. It was your phone screen that was lit up, several notifications on the screen. You groaned and laid back down, scrunching your eyes shut begging for sleep to suddenly and miraculously take you. It buzzed again and you huffed. Fine. You’ll check it. I guess someone could be dying. I do stop that from happening for a living.

You very cautiously crawled over Hizashi and reached to get your phone, electing not to look at it until you settled back between your boys. You scrolled though your notifications, weather, news, a work email, a second email from a contact that made your blood run cold and three missed calls and two answering machine messages from the same contact. Grandma. Your hands trembled at you unlocked your phone and typed int your voicemail password. You held the phone up to you ear and listen to the first message which was more or less just some frustrated grandma noises and mumbles about the inconvenience of technology, followed briefly by a set of hellos. If you hadn’t been ready to shit yourself, you’d have laughed. Then the second played and you had to take a deep breath to hold yourself together enough to keep listening.

“Hello? Hello? Y/n? Oh shi- well this is just ridiculous. Y/n, I don’t know if you can hear me, or maybe this is your answering machine, I don’t know I can’t hear too well but-” her soft worn voice said into the phone, “I want you to know that I love you. Your parents love you too, even if they did not act like it tonight.”

She paused and your eyes welled up with tears, a lump forming in your throat. It was this strange feeling of pure sadness but also happiness and relief.

“Those boys,” she continued, “probably would have killed your father last night if they had the chance. I’m not saying I get it, but they sure do love you, sweetheart. I quite like the blond one he is very-”

The message cut off and the automated voice asked you what you wanted to do with the message. All you could do was laugh, laugh and cry. You were still sad, still in pain, but it was already starting to feel less life-ending.

“Hey,” Shouta mumbled blearily, “S’okay. I’m here.”

He wrapped an arm around you and pulled you close, trying to pull himself from sleep. You hugged him back and massaged the back of his scalp gently.

“Listen to this.” You sniffed.

He nodded and you pressed repeat, listening to the whole second message through again. You watched as a smile spread across his sleepy lips and he laughed softly. He pouted suddenly when it ended, his eyebrows pulling together as much as his drowsy state would let them.

“What?” you asked, worried he’d heard something you‘d missed.

“Why does she like Zash more?” he grumbled, barely awake now.

You smiled and curled into him, electing not to answer knowing that he wouldn’t like being told that Hizashi is more sociable than him. Besides, you smiled to yourself, he’d be asleep in a matter of seconds.

You were still hurt; you still had that big open wound in your chest. But with Shouta and Hizashi at your side you knew you’d heal; you knew they’d give you anything you needed. You knew that your grandmother was right, that these two boys loved you very much.

[seasonofthewicth]

nobody does it like you do - act 3

Here is act 3!!! Thank you so much for all of your enthusiasm so far! Hope you enjoy :)

8.6k - masterlist - ao3

--

Aelin has never really thought of herself as someone with a lot of friends. She’s always had Elide, Aedion and Lysandra, but they almost fall into a separate category. Like what they’ve been through surpasses friendship, and she thinks at this point Elide and Lysandra are as much her family as Aedion.

Throughout her years in the industry she hasn’t made many friends, Chaol and Dorian are probably the only two, but she's learned how things work. It didn't take her long to realise that all the girls she met at auditions, and bonded with over all of the things they had in common, would have stabbed her right in the back at the earliest opportunity.

It's cutthroat, but she can't say she's never succumbed to the temptations.

She’d be lying if she said she’d never pretended she was there to audition for another character just to get the other actress to spill her analysis of the character. She can’t say it was unintentional when she’d leave the audition room and then pretend to take a phone call where she’d discuss how pleased the casting director had been with her take and had promised to call, watching the faces fall of the other hopefuls she waltzed past.

She can’t say she’d never do it again.

That said, she feels like she has a good thing going with Fenrys, Manon and Rowan. They've hung out a couple of times and she likes them admittedly more than she thought she would at first. The dynamic is fast and snappy, funny and sarcastic, and she can feel herself getting back into the old motions.

Aelin knows they’re friends now, and it feels really fucking good, but she has one concern. She’s not entirely sure that what she feels for Rowan can be described as friendship and she’s kicking herself for letting it happen. The physical attraction she can excuse, he looks how he looks and she’s defenseless against that, but the rest? The rest is where she’s really let herself go.

He’s opened up to them a lot more now, and they spend a lot more time together than they did at the start. Just last week she had thrown herself into her seat at the end of a long day of shooting and plunked her feet in his lap. She had expected him to throw them off and growl something at her, but he had simply rested his left hand on her ankle and continued to scroll through his phone with his right.

It had felt far too easy to settle into his touch, and far too enjoyable to have the heat of his skin against her own.

Even so, there’s a level of detachment to his interaction with them. He falls somewhere between bemused dad and despairing lecturer tasked with herding a group of unruly children through a life or death venture. He curses actors all day long but he’s just as dramatic. There are moments when she catches him beginning to smile at a comment from Fenrys or the bickering she and Manon do before he halts himself and seems to rein it back in.

She wants to see him grin.

It’s kind of weird to think back to the first week of shooting and how unsure she felt around them, how insecure she was of her own ability compared to theirs, but by now she’s pretty sure she’s past the worst of that and she doesn’t want to waste any more time doubting herself, at least in comparison to them. It helps when Rowan makes little comments like nice job, Aelin or when she catches the nod he does after she nails a scene, especially when he tries to hide it.

She posted a picture on Instagram of the four of them from set last week, her and Manon crouched at the front wrapped up again in the massive coats they give them on set, their faces almost completely covered by the puffed up collars, and Rowan and Fenrys stood behind them, their arms crossed across their chests and faces twisted into overly dramatic imitations of anger. It had taken some pleading and possible bribery from Fenrys to get Rowan to agree to the pose, but they had succeeded in the end.

She had captioned it so we stole their coats… and tagged each of them, watching as the likes came flooding in. Only seconds later the comments had begun to run a bit wild.

This is going to be so good I can already tell.

fenrys looks so hot fuck me up

ARMS!ARMS!ARMS!ARMS!

Are they dating?

She stopped reading the comments pretty quickly after that.

They’re about a third of the way into shooting, and Aelin knows what she’s accomplished so far is some of her best work. It hasn’t been easy, but she’s put hours and hours of her time into understanding her character and she feels like she truly knows Feyre, and almost sees some of herself in her. There are differences of course, Aelin isn’t quite as naive as Feyre or as forgiving, but they’ve both been dealt a shitty hand, and Aelin likes to think she’s working just as hard as Feyre to pick herself back up.

She finishes the take, and slaps her usual high-five against Fenrys’ palm and sends her regular nod over to Rowan. Good? Her nod asks. Good, his own gesture returns. She tucks her smile away as she begins to wander over to where he’s stood chatting with a producer.

She’s built a habit of going over to him once they finish shooting, she wants to seek him out constantly, and she feels drawn to him in a way that she’s beginning to lose the fight against. She’s about halfway towards him when she spots a tall head of brown hair making its way towards her.

She barely has time to process before there are a pair of strong arms around her waist and she’s being lifted up and swung around, her feet dangling inches above the ground.

“Hello, superstar.” His voice is deep in her ear and she can feel the vibrations where she buries her face into his neck.

“Gods! I thought you weren’t coming for another two weeks.”

She gasps as he places her back down on the ground and she can finally smile up at Chaol. Taking in the chestnut-brown of his hair and the faint creases beginning at the corners of his rich brown eyes. Gods, she’s missed him.

She’s known he’d be visiting the set at some point. The Crescent City is his baby, a script he’s been working on for years, and she knows he couldn’t stomach leaving it all to Rowan without any supervision.

He had first mentioned it to her a few years ago, but back then it was nothing more than an idea. Aelin knew he had been chipping away at it in the background for a while and it wasn’t a surprise when he first sent it to her. It’s different now though, now that there’s a budget and a set and actual progress made in getting it on screen.

It feels like a big deal to her; she can’t imagine how Chaol feels.

She had never dreamed though, through all of their midnight conversations about it and their half-dreaming out loud discussions, that she would be the one to star in it.

Chaol just grins at her, a twinkle in his eyes that she knows means he’s happy, and says “thought I’d surprise you.”

“It’s definitely a surprise.” She leans up to wrap her arms around his neck for a second time. She squeezes him tight and breathes him in, his smell is comforting and it makes her feel young again. “How long are you here for?”

He gives her waist a short squeeze, reminding her that his hands are still resting there with hers still up on his shoulders. It’s not the closest she’s ever been to him, and it doesn’t cross her mind for her touching him so freely to be an issue.

“A couple of days.” He smiles down at her again. “Lunch?”

“Of course, let me change first?” She asks, releasing his shoulders and turning to walk back to her trailer. He holds a hand out, as if to say lead the way.

She sets off as he follows, and she can feel the lightness of the wide smile across her face. It’s a kind of comfort now that Chaol is here, he’s taken care of her for so many years and his presence grounds her in a way she hasn’t really found with many other people.

Rowan still stands with the producer behind where some of the team are tinkering with the filming equipment. His brow is drawn into a frown and the producer standing with him has begun to look profoundly uncomfortable.

The take was good, she knows that, and when he runs a jagged hand over his face a jolt of concern strikes her. He looks anguished, or frustrated, and she wonders how he’s soured so quickly after the silent exchange they shared mere moments ago.

His gaze snaps to hers and it’s a powerful thing. His stare weighs heavily into her, so much so she wants to look away and her steps falter. The stumble is barely perceptible, but she sees it and thinks maybe he does too. There’s something thorny in the pull of his brows and the twist of his mouth and she wants to go over, ease his troubles, but that’s not her place. And Chaol is inches behind her following her lead.

Rowan’s eyes flick to Chaol and his mouth twists further. And not to get ahead of herself yet again, but surely not, right? His gaze switches back to rest on her, only for a second longer before he mouths something short and sharp to the producer and disappears.

Aelin shakes it off. She might think they’re friends, but as has become her mantra, he’s her boss. What she needs is something gentle and simple and uncomplicated. In the real world, everything she wants from Rowan is decidedly complicated.

Sitting opposite Chaol is a place she’s been many times before. More often than not, Dorian would have taken up the mantle at Chaol’s side, the pair of them closer than brothers. They have the kind of relationship she thinks truly cannot exist for people other than the two of them.

The level of understanding they share, the lengths they would go to for each other, it’s unparalleled and she longs to find a bond like that one day.

When she was younger being sat in a position like this, opposite Chaol, so close they could whisper to converse, would have been a dream. She had a bit of an infatuation with him when she first met him; he was a few years older than her, charming, handsome and calming. He had been her entrance to the world she lives in now and he had kept her safe and taken care of her.

She had thought he was everything she wanted.

She had realised pretty quickly, after going in for an ill advised kiss that he had swerved, that that would never be an option for them. He had let her down kindly and gently, which she appreciates now, even if it felt like a blow at the time.

He hadn’t let her pull back from him though, he had kept her close until she eventually got over the embarrassment and was able to look at him without blushing. It’s not something she dwells on now, she was young and naive and she could have done a lot worse than Chaol.

He was who she had gone to when she had met Sam. She had waxed poetic to him about the boy with the curly brown hair and the shy smile. She smiles lightly to herself at the thought of him, what he would make of where she’s at now.

He’d kiss her cheek with his arms around her waist, boasting how his girl, his baby, was a star in the making. She swallows the thought, struck by both the image and the lingering pain it brings, but also by the knowledge that she’s gone a couple of days without thinking of him.

She hasn’t thought of the boy with the brown eyes in a few days, hasn’t woken up screaming in even more. She breathes past the panic that threatens in her throat, both at the idea that she hasn’t thought of Sam for a while and the reasons there could be for that.

“How is the love of my life?” She focuses back on Chaol and watches him try very hard not to choke on his mouthful of his drink.

He had picked the cafe, even though she’s been in Rifthold for a while it is still far more his space than hers, and he knows the hidden gems like this that she isn’t privy to yet. It’s rustic and cosy, the brick walls have colourful bunting draped between them and none of the chairs inside match. She’ll have to come back if the food is good, the atmosphere inside is relaxed and busy enough that she can feel completely anonymous. She doesn’t want to leave, maybe next time she can bring a book.

“My beautiful wife is well,” he manages once he swallows, and she smirks at how he knows exactly what she’s asking. “Almost past the second trimester now, and still refusing to slow down.”

That sounds exactly like Yrene. She says as much and Chaol nods wearing the expression of a man who, if he didn’t love his wife so much, would be tired of chasing after her.

Yrene is a whirlwind of energy and efficiency and it’s why she’s one of Aelin’s favourite people. She’s full of exciting tales and inspiration, that is, when she can get Yrene to slow for a second enough to catch up. She probably doesn’t need her high paced job as a doctor in Rifthold General Hospital, like, Chaol’s scripts are successful, he’s won a number of awards that sit in a special cabinet in their house, but that’s just how Yrene is.

Caring and kind and so, so smart. If Aelin didn’t do what she does, she’d love to be like Yrene.

“Second trimester?” She cries. “He’s almost here!”

Chaol is again at risk of choking. “Aelin, please. I still have a few months left to get ready.”

He looks almost panicked and she scoffs. “Chaol, please.” She mocks his tone perfectly and ignores the eye roll he gives her. “You were born ready. You’ve basically raised me for the past few years and look how well I’m doing.”

He laughs, and she smiles, it’s exactly the reaction she wanted.

“I’m not sure that’s the glowing compliment you think it is,” He says dryly and she just pokes her tongue out at him.

“Chaol,” she begins, seriously this time. “You are already the best dad I know, you’ll be fine. And if not, the baby has Yrene, so he’ll definitely be fine.”

He doesn’t bite on any of it, just looks bashfully to the table cloth and nods. She can’t resist one last comment.

“And even then, he’ll have me and Dorian.”

“Gods, Aelin. The thought will send me to an early grave.”

She tilts her head to the side and sketches a flip of her hair over her shoulder. The combination of her and Dorian and a baby probably would give Chaol a heart attack but she’ll embody her role as the cool aunt, and Dorian can more than handle the cool uncle.

“Do you not want your child to be cool?” She knows he’s barely finding her funny at this point but she’s missed him and she loves winding him up.

He’s saved from having to respond by the arrival of their food. She stares longingly at his burger and greasy side of fries and forces herself to take a mouthful of her wilted salad.

After a few bites she notices his expression, something pinched around the corners of his mouth, and she knows there's something he wants to say.

To say that Chaol is less invested in her sobriety than Aedion and Lysandra would be a lie, but he doesn’t question it as openly as they do, so she doubts what he wants to say is anything to do with that. She’s ordered an orange juice to spice it up, and he has a tap water that he ordered without question so she thinks he mustn’t be concerned.

“What?” She says slowly, whatever it is she wants to know, and the pain of waiting for him to spit it out was almost too much.

He shakes his head and pops another fry into his mouth. She can’t resist stealing one and a swipe of ketchup off his plate.

He begins carefully, after using his napkin to dab at the corner of his mouth. “How is it going? You read the script pretty early on, do you think…”

He trails off, and seems to pause while he considers his words, but she doesn’t need him to finish.

“Chaol, I think it’s going really well,” she says and it’s sincere. “And it’s not just because I’m in it.”

It’s far easier to crack jokes and reassure others than it is to be the one being reassured.

He shoots her an unimpressed look, but she knows her words have done their job. Even through her faults she knows he trusts her judgement.

“I feel like you asked that in a way that meant you thought it wasn’t going well.”

She’s fishing a little, but Chaol is a gossip at heart, even worse than Dorian despite how he’d deny it.

He sees right through her, but relents as he takes another bite of his burger. She stabs another bundle of lettuce, dipping it in a pool of dressing resting in the bottom of her bowl as he swallows and speaks.

“I didn’t think it would go badly, but Fenrys Moonbeam has a bit of a reputation, and I just hope he’s taking it seriously. I put a lot of work into it.” He pauses and Aelin just waits. It doesn’t seem like he’s quite done. “Rowan Whitethorn too. But I think his reputation is a bit different.”

It puts her in a bit of a weird position with a sharp taste in her mouth, wanting to defend her new friends to one of her oldest, but Chaol has to understand that how he sees them isn’t right.

“I don’t think either of them is quite how you think.” She says it gently because she doesn’t want to risk irritating Chaol with this. “Fenrys works really hard, you know. He’s putting a lot of work into understanding Rhys, Rowan too. He puts a lot of thought into what he does, he’s really smart.”

He’s watching her silently, his eyes shining with a question she doesn’t want to answer.

“You’ve written an incredible story Chaol, we all want to do it justice.”

The quirk of his eyebrow is somewhat impressed as he takes her in, but maybe there’s something more in there. Something that catches the difference between the way she talks about Fenrys compared to the way she talks about Rowan.

“I’m glad,” is all he says.

“It’s going well,” she says and truly believes it. “I’ve said it before, but it really is a work of art, Chaol.”

She pauses, her next words thick in her throat. “Thank you… for writing it, I mean. It means a lot to me, and I am honoured to play this part.”

He nods thankfully, and she knows he appreciates the compliment but his response is typical Chaol. Quiet and understated but shining with sincerity.

There’s a moment before the corner of his mouth pulls upwards and she knows he’s just about to turn the game around and tease her now.

“A part of me wishes I hadn’t written so many intimate scenes between them, the thought of you and Fenrys Moonbeam…” He trails off.

She tugs her lips inwards between her teeth, pleading with the blush on her neck not to rise. They haven’t got to those scenes yet, and she’s been avoiding the idea of them. She doesn’t want to think about what she’ll have to do with Fenrys in a couple of weeks.

Fenrys isn’t the problem though, she knows he’ll be professional and respectful. The problem is that Rowan will be there, watching them, watching her, and the idea plays with her in a dangerous way. Everything about Rowan feels dangerous to her, and gods if that isn’t half the draw.

“I know we joked before, but you do know you’re not my father? You’re worse than Aedion,” she laughs.

Chaol just shakes his head, “I’m allowed to look out for you.”

“I didn’t say you weren’t, but you’re only, what? Five years older than me?”

“Six. And Rowan Whitethorn is older than me.” The way he says it is noticeable, like he has a point to make.

“He is?”

So she didn’t know that, but it worries her how it doesn’t change things even a little bit. It doesn’t change how attractive he is, or the fact that she should be going nowhere near the idea of the two of them. She needs to call Elide, or her actual therapist.

“Yes, I think he was in the year above me at the Royal.”

She really doesn’t know all that much about him, hadn’t even known he went to the stage school in Adarlan.

What she knows is the fleeting moments she sees of him behind the camera, the expressions he makes when he’s impressed and when he’s not. She knows things like his coffee order, his hatred for the little pastries the catering department provide and how he doesn’t seem to drink alcohol. She knows about Lyria, but it’s from the internet, not him.

She doesn’t know him.

“Oh,” is all she manages.

Chaol eats another fry, watching her the whole time, and she wants him to look away. She has nothing to feel guilty about; they haven’t done anything. She has one, probably inadvisable, crush on her boss that she’ll speak to Elide about and get over. Then the movie will be done and she won’t ever have to see him again.

The dropping sensation in her stomach at the thought is less than desirable.

Chaol stays for a few days. He hangs around on set and sits in her chair while she films. It’s a pleasant kind of relief, tinged with an element of nostalgia, to have him around. He makes her feel like a kid again, and she feels herself looking towards him for approval when she desperately avoids how she wants to do the same to Rowan.

He relents on the second day, after having met Fenrys and Rowan properly, and admits to her that he thinks his baby is probably in good hands. She just says “I told you so,” because she’s a child and annoying Chaol is fun.

She’s sitting in Manon’s chair next to him, and they’re talking about Aedion. He and Chaol have a friendship she likes to pretend doesn’t stem from a mutual concern for her. Chaol is saying something about how he doesn’t envy Aedion’s schedule, but she’s barely listening.

Aelin’s watching where Rowan stands a few feet away. He’s wearing a soft-looking black sweatshirt and jeans, and she can’t help but imagine how it would feel to slip the sweatshirt on herself. How it would still be warm from his body, how the sleeves would trail way past her fingertips, how the smell of him would surround her.

He’s directing Manon, gesturing jaggedly with his hands and she’s nodding along. The shades of their hair almost match, Aelin notices absently, but she prefers the silver shine to Rowan’s compared to the clean-white of Manon’s. Rowan makes a gesture with his right hand and his fingers flex in a rhythmic movement, the elegant lengths of his fingers flowing freely in motion.

She wants to take that hand and put it on herself, she wants to run it down her side and between her thighs. She wants to take his fingers into her mouth and suck.

And like, what the fuck Aelin?

Texting Rowan is, objectively, a bad idea. Not that it’s a bad idea to text a colleague and ask to hang out, it’s just that that isn’t exactly what she wants to get from texting him. So yes; it’s a bad idea, and Aelin knows this, but she’s been thinking of doing it for a couple of days and the desire to do so hasn’t faded. She’s thought about it for long enough that she’s rationalised it, it’s not rash.

Aelin wants to know Rowan.

She taps away at her screen, hi rowan… No. That's not right. Aelin deletes it.

Hey, I was wondering if you wanted to… Nope. Not right either. She bites her lip while she backspaces the string of letters.

She wants to seem casual, so if he’s not into it it’s not awkward. Aelin’s a feminist, but she still doesn’t want to outright ask him out until she’s tested the waters a little more, got a bit of a better read on him and whether he could be into it or not.

She thinks he is, at least a little bit. She knows his eyes linger on her sometimes, sometimes her face, sometimes her arse. She likes it, but whether all he feels is attraction, or whether he feels the same as her is a mystery.

She still hasn’t spoken to Elide about it, but there’s a devil on her shoulder whispering that she’s probably past the point of no return already.

i’m sick of takeout, she types. want to go and grab a bite somewhere???

Aelin taps send before she can overthink it. She can always invite Fenrys to come along too if Rowan doesn’t seem keen on doing something just the two of us.

It’s not long before her phone buzzes with a response. You’re sick of takeout, so you want to go and eat out?

She chews the inside of her cheek, his response doesn’t really give her much. And while it’s not a rejection, it’s not a yes. Maybe her text was stupid, gods, why didn’t she think-

Her phone buzzes again. How about I cook something instead?

Much better. She smiles as she writes her response.

i don’t really want food poisoning :/// my boss might be a bit pissed if i can’t work

The bubble with the three dots pops up immediately, and her thumbs hover over the screen as she waits.

Ha. Ha. He sends, and she can’t fight the little laugh that escapes her as she imagines him rolling his eyes at her. His next text comes through pretty quickly. I’m on board with going out if you want, just thought something more private could be better.

And shit. There are a number of ways she could interpret that. Aelin’s trying not to read into things, things like Rowan saying he wants to go somewhere private with her, he could just be talking about paparazzi. Damn, he probably is just talking about paparazzi.

oh yeah sounds good actually but pls don’t poison me

He just sends a straight faced emoji.

Aelin leans back into her couch as he sends another follow up text.

Do you want to come here?

She could, but he hosted last time. And while she liked the atmosphere at Rowan’s house, she can’t deny that she likes the idea of him here. She likes the idea of seeing Rowan making his way around her kitchen, likes the idea of Rowan sitting opposite her at the end of this couch.

or you could come here????

She bites the corner of her nail as she stares at her screen, waiting for his response to come through.

Sure. I’ll swing by the store to grab some ingredients. How many people am I cooking for?

Aelin pauses, her thumbs hovering above the keyboard.

was thinking 2 but i can invite others if you want

She thinks that’s pretty clear, but it also puts the ball in his court. She’s the most nervous she’s been so far as she waits for his reply, and the three dots pop up before disappearing again. They pop up again, before finally his message comes through.

Don’t. His text reads. I’ll pick up enough for two.

His response is pretty clear too, and she smiles as she sends three thumbs up emojis.

Her apartment isn’t dirty, or even messy, but once she’s locked her phone she’s up and full of nervous energy. It’s probably presumptuous to make sure her bed is made, but she does it anyway. She leaves the leggings and oversized sweater she wears on, it’s casual, she’s chilled out. Or she can at least pretend to be.

She’s doing her last round of the apartment, keeping her eyes peeled for any stray socks or underwear that she could have left anywhere. A blush threatens her cheeks at the thought of Rowan and her underwear, but she forces it down when there’s a sharp knock at the door.

She swings the door open and there he is.

He looks good, as always, but today it’s highlighted by the deep green military-style jacket he has thrown on over his plain white t-shirt. The tan of his skin always looks good against bright white, and the green of his jacket draws out the depths of his green eyes.

“Hey,” she breathes as their eyes meet.

He smiles, a slightly crooked thing, and he just looks even more attractive. “Hey.”

He’s carrying a brown paper bag pressed against his side in his left hand, and she reaches out to take it from him as she steps aside to let him in. He steps in, but resists her grab for the bag, instead wrapping his right arm around her waist to pull her into a brief hug. “Thanks for having me.”

His words take her back to the first time she visited his house. The time with Fenrys and Manon and the football game. The visit with her and Rowan in his kitchen.

She’s nowhere near as stiff with him as she was then and she lets herself relax into the hug.

“I only let you in on the promise of food,” she says into his chest and feels more than hears his reluctant snort of laughter.

Every time they touch she’s struck by how much she likes it. How much she wants more. But then he pulls back, twisting to push her door shut.

“I feel like I should let you know now before we go any further that I can’t cook.”

Rowan only raises a brow.

“Seriously, when I was in college I set off the fire alarm in my residence at least three times.”

“Three times?” His eyes widen in playful disbelief. “What were you making?”

“Well,” she laughs. “The first time I was trying to make Lysandra a birthday cake but then I got distracted and left it in the oven for three hours. The fire department got called but it was not that big of a deal, there wasn’t a fire.”

There’s laughter dancing in his clear green eyes as she regales her tale of youth. She practically beams at the knowledge that she has put it there.

“But our kitchen did smell like smoke for the rest of the year.”

“That doesn’t sound like you’re bad at cooking.” Rowan tilts his head down at her and she realises they’re still standing in her entryway. “That sounds like you don’t pay attention.”

Aelin shrugs at his teasing. “The third time was the worst. I was trying to do that thing where you put vodka in pasta sauce.”

“Gods,” Rowan’s laughing now and she loves the low rumble of the sounds. It pricks the hairs on her arm as the sound washes over her skin.

“There were some flames,” she confesses and he winces.

She didn’t have a completely normal college experience, she was acting part time in very minor roles during her time there but she managed to make some memories in her short time there. After Sam she dropped out and the memories always leave a bittersweet taste in her mouth.

Talking about this with Rowan and laughing at her silly little anecdotes is one of the first times it hasn’t hurt.

“Sucks to be an actor,” he says mockingly with a nod into her apartment as she finally leads him into the kitchen. The apartment she’s staying in is fine, more than fine, it’s actually a really great apartment and she tries to fake a frown through her smile.

Aelin shrugs. “We can’t all be big, household-name directors, living in glamorous mansions, too famous to go out to eat.”

She shoots him an amused look, and Rowan just smirks, tilting his head to the side in a way that exposes the length of his throat.

So maybe this was a fucking dangerous idea.

Inviting Rowan to her apartment had seemed like a good idea at the time, but now he’s here, now he’s in her space, looking all… damn him, he looks so fucking good she feels flushed.

She used to think brunettes were her type, Chaol and Sam were both brunette, with tanned skin and brown eyes. Recently though, as much as she wants to resist it, her type has pretty much become Rowan.

Rowan with his silver hair, and green eyes. His low voice with it’s lilting accent from across the sea. His skin is tanned too, but she knows it comes from spending hours outside rather than genetics.

She hasn’t thought seriously about another man since they started filming, or more likely since the moment they met in the hallway.

And if she allows herself to admit it, probably a lot earlier than that.

She shakes herself as he watches her.

Rowan smirks at her as he places the bag on the counter. “We’ll have to try not to set this kitchen on fire.”

She’s perched atop her counter, with one knee crossed over the other, as she watches Rowan unpack the items from the bag. He’s shucked off the jacket by now, and the t-shirt he wears gives her uninterrupted access to the image of his toned arms and the tattoo that swirls down his left side.

She realises a moment too late that he’s asked her a question.

“What?”

She can tell Rowan knows why she didn’t respond, she just hopes it’s not too much for him. From the smirk he wears she thinks maybe not.

“I’m trying to teach you a valuable skill, it may help to pay attention.” She flips him off and revels in the dark flash of a smile he offers. “I asked if you have a frying pan.”

Aelin pulls a face, she hasn’t done a lot of cooking here past the basics like pasta and soup. Her microwave has been a trusty companion.

“I don’t know.” She waves a hand to the cupboards that line the side of the room. “Have a look in there.”

He gives her a look that tells her he’s deciding whether or not he likes her giving him orders, but then he turns to rummage through her cupboards before returning triumphant and waving the silver frying pan in her face.

“So, what are you making for me?” she asks as he finds a chopping board and unloads the hoard of vegetables he brought with himself.

“Veggie burgers,” he states simply, and she knows she pulls a face because he laughs. “Before you complain, they’re good for you. And they’re tasty.”

She still wrinkles her nose at him, unconvinced.

He cocks his head as he pauses his rhythmic chopping of the leafy green vegetable he has on the board. She’s trying desperately hard to make eye contact and not just stare at the motion of his hands, and his arms, and the ink swirling down his skin.

“Didn’t I promise not to poison you? Do you not trust me to take care of you?” Aelin doesn’t think she’s reading into things to hear the flirty tone to his voice.

“I’ll let you know after I’ve tried the burger.”

Rowan shakes his head at her, the ghost of a smile floating across his face as he resumes his chopping. “Ye of little faith.”

Aelin just shrugs, making a show of being sceptical by turning her nose.

“You could always help,” Rowan comments. “Or do you regularly invite guests around expecting them to make you a meal?”

“Tell me what to do, chef.” Aelin holds her hands out, ready for instruction. “I am yours to instruct.”

Rowan nods and reaches back into the bag and pulls out a can, he turns to find a bowl and a fork and places them in front of her. She’s impressed that in under half an hour he knows his way around her kitchen far better than she does.

“Mash these,” he says.

Her disgust isn’t pretend this time and her lip curls. “Mash these beans?”

Rowan nods.

“Mash them?”

“Yes, you do know what that means don’t you?”

Aelin hits him with the fork on the bicep and he laughs again, the sound smooth and rich in her stomach. “Shut up. You’re not convincing me this is going to taste good.”

Even so, she opens the can and is about to tip them into the bowl when Rowan grabs her hand. His fingers are warm and solid where they wrap around her own, and she snaps her eyes to his face at the contact.

“Rinse them first. You warned me and yet I still overestimated your ability in the kitchen.”

He’s smiling slightly, exposing the whites of his teeth, and he’s so close to her face. They’re almost level where she sits on the counter and Aelin swallows. His eyes are bright as he looks at her and she feels her smile grow involuntarily. Something flickers across his face before he clears his throat and steps back letting go of her hand. She misses his touch immediately after it’s gone.

Aelin slides off the bench and turns towards the sink to compose herself, she rinses the beans under the tap and Rowan stays silent while she does.

She turns back and tips them into the bowl and begins to mash as Rowan grates a carrot. Aelin really didn’t know her flat even came with these things.

“This is actually fucking disgusting.”

She’s managed to turn the bean mixture into a grey-ish mush. There’s no way this can taste good, she’s going to struggle even putting it in her mouth without retching.

Rowan snorts. “It’s good for you.”

Aelin wrinkles her nose again, but keeps going. It speaks volumes that she’s willing to trust Rowan on this.

It feels weirdly domestic to be here with him in her kitchen, and they move with an easy kind of synchrony. He adds his chopped vegetables to the bowl and she mixes them together as he readies the pan.

“Up for getting your hands dirty?” Rowan asks her once he’s done, and hell if Aelin doesn’t read far too much into that. The answer is yes.

“Always.” Sue her if she makes sure to look up at him through her lashes, and to bend forwards towards him as she rests her forearms on the kitchen counter.

“Grab a handful of the mixture,” He points to the contents of the bowl. “And shape it into a round patty.”

Aelin goes to put her hand tentatively into the bowl, it’s now a grey-ish mush with flecks of orange and green and she’s dreading it getting under her nails.

“Wait,” Rowan says, and he reaches out to roll the sleeves of her sweater up. It’s such a sweet gesture that it kind of takes her by surprise. The gentleness with which he holds her wrist as he rolls the fabric is nice, and she finds herself watching his face as he does it.

His brows pull together, in an expression she assumes is concentration, as he makes the careful motions. He looks good, she notes, not for the first time.

His thumbs and index fingers move down to squeeze the junction where her wrists meet her hands as he finishes and says, “there you go.”

“Thanks,” she breathes.

Aelin turns back to the bowl, attempting to somehow calm her heart. Rowan really needs to stop touching her if she wants to get over whatever this is. But now that he’s here, and he’s looking at her the way he is, and specifying that he wants to spend time with her, just the two of them…

It’s the first time she allows herself to consider that maybe, just maybe, this isn’t something that’s only dangerous. She finally allows herself to consider the idea that this could be fun, this could be something she could really enjoy. And here, in her apartment just the two of them, he doesn’t have to be her boss. He’s just Rowan and she’s just Aelin.

She really likes that thought.

Rowan clicks the pan on, and the sound startles her out of her head. Aelin hesitates before finally plunging her fingers into the mush and gods, she has some faith in Rowan if she’s going to even consider eating this.

It’s gross, but she manages to shape it into two round patties, and she places them into the pan when Rowan instructs.

Aelin washes her hands as Rowan pays attention to the burgers, and she retakes her seat on the counter after sorting out their plates and condiments. She might not be a great cook, but she can be a good host.

She watches him flip them a couple of times, taking the opportunity to ogle without risk of being caught staring. He has strong arms, and the tattoo snaking down his left makes her mouth water with every flex of his muscles. He has wide hands with long, almost elegant fingers that she wants to link through her own. Aelin is reminded, as he lifts the pan, of the thought she had the other day when he was directing Manon.

It wasn’t the first time she had considered Rowan in a sexual way, but it was the most direct, and she’s not complaining, but sometimes it makes it a little difficult to concentrate in his presence.

Finally, he switches the heat off and turns to place the patties in their buns. Aelin has to admit they look a little better now that they’re cooked, but she’s still not convinced.

He presents her with the plate, wearing a bashful little smile, and she’s taken by how adorable she finds it. He’s actually nervous to hear what she thinks.

She slathers it in ketchup, hoping to make it somewhat palatable and lifts it to her lips, about to take a bite when he speaks.

“We’re eating here?”

Aelin pauses, putting the burger back on her plate. “Where else would we eat?”

Rowan shrugs, still holding his own plate. He doesn’t put any ketchup on his and she’s trying not to be disgusted. She taps the bench next to herself, and Rowan seems to deliberate for a moment before finally hopping up at her side. He towers over her again now that they’re on an even playing field and she likes it. She likes how much bigger he is than her, and likes it even more how she still feels safe with him.

“Okay, now go,” he says, still apprehensive of her reaction, and Aelin makes a big deal of taking a deep breath before her first bite.

She chews it all silently before swallowing, working to keep her expression neutral, and Rowan doesn’t look away from her face the whole time. She purses her lips afterwards, and waits for him to speak.

“So?”

“It’s not terrible,” she admits with a small smile creeping up the sides of her mouth.

Rowan quickly takes his own bite, and she watches the way his fingers dwarf the same bun that fills her hands. He hums his own pleasure.

“Not terrible,” he repeats. “Admit it, it’s good.”

She flips a strand of hair over her shoulder before she takes another bite. She was sceptical -- more than -- when it was still a mush, but she has to admit it’s tasty, and very Rowan. She doesn’t know for sure he’s a health nut, but based on the parts of his body that she’s seen and his distaste for all things sweet, she can guess.

“Maybe,” is all she says before taking another bite. He watches her with a smug smile, one she desperately wants to get rid of. It isn’t helpful that the way she wants to do so is by kissing him.

“Oh!” She jumps down from the counter, throwing her plate to the side, suddenly reminded. “You know what I have that would go perfectly with this?”

She grabs two glasses out of the cupboard and sets them down on the bench in between where she’s been sitting and Rowan. Aelin turns to the fridge before pulling out the small bottle.

Rowan groans, and she tucks the sound to the back of her mind. “Aelin,” he starts. “I don’t want any of that.”

“Come on,” she cries. “A milkshake is an essential with a burger and this is the best I have to offer. If I’d thought ahead I could have at least found a bottle of wine to go with the dinner you cooked for me.”

She’s not entirely sure why she said it, especially when she’s pretty sure she’s deduced that he doesn’t drink, and the reason for it, but it feels like an automatic apology that just slips off her tongue whenever she’s in a setting where alcohol could be a presumption.

Rowan’s expression locks down at her comment and she immediately regrets it.

“Um-” she starts but Rowan clears his throat.

“It’s okay,” he says slowly, avoiding her gaze, “I don’t drink.”

“Oh,” Aelin all but whispers, and it surprises her when Rowan lets out a dark huff of laughter. “I’m sorry.”

“You don’t have to be sorry,” he says, shaking his head. “I’m guessing you know why.”

His voice has a somewhat bitter edge to it that she hates.

“I wasn’t-”

She stops when he finally looks up at her and she sees his expression.

“I’m sorry,” she says again quickly and he only shakes his head and pats the counter at his side.

“You have nothing to be sorry for.”

There’s something in his eyes that makes her retake her seat at his side and pick her burger back up, taking a bite as he takes a breath.

“It’s not something that usually falls into casual dinner conversation.”

“You don’t have to share if you don’t want to.”

It’s something she isn’t sure she realised the importance of at first. The offer of whether to share or not. She fights a desperate war inside of herself every time conversations head down a lane like this. The desire to scream her story from the rooftops squaring off against the desperation to remain closed up where no one will ever know what bubbles just below the surface.

Usually privacy wins. Usually she swallows those words down and stays quiet, keeping this reel of pain and loss and tragedy buried deep within, but here with Rowan, tucked away in the kitchen of her temporary home, the words don’t feel so daunting.

“No.” He shakes his head. “It’s often something that makes other people feel uncomfortable. They pity the guy with the dead fiancée”—Aelin blinks past the way his voice wavers—“but they don’t want to actually hear about it. I’ll spare you the gorey details but after that I couldn’t bring a drink to my lips again. I’ve never so much as considered it — never wanted to.”

There’s an ache beginning in her chest, and she puts her burger back down on her plate. Rowan hasn’t touched his since his first few bites. She desperately wants to comfort him, wants to place a hand on his shoulder and take the pain away any way she can, but she knows from experience that it can’t be done.

This kind of pain, this grief, is something that can’t be taken away. She lives with her grief and her guilt after Sam every day of her life, and she thinks she will forever. No matter how many therapy sessions she goes to, no matter how many days and weeks and months pass, Sam will always be a part of her. Scrawled across her heart in his messy penmanship.

“I understand,” she says quietly. “More than you’d think.”

This is the moment where she could probably finish, where she could twist the conversation back to Rowan and pat his shoulder sympathetically, or where she could tug it to somewhere new and safe.

But she doesn’t often get opportunities like this, in the dim light and the quiet of her flat where the only other sound is the noise coming from the hood above her cooker. She doesn’t often get to talk about this with someone who truly understands.

All of her friends tried in the months after Sam, and gods bless them they still do, but none of them were as close to Sam as she was. They were upset for Aelin and her loss, not at the loss of Sam. And Rowan, who sits next to her staring at the floor, she thinks he could understand.

His gaze lifts from the floor to meet hers as she begins to speak.

“His name was Sam,” she says and Rowan nods.

“I know.”

Aelin feels her breath leave her chest in a whoosh.

“I saw some of the headlines at the time, Aelin I’m so sorry.”

Her jaw works as she tries to find the words, any words, to respond to that. But she’s shaken. She didn’t think anyone knew, or even noticed, outside of her immediate circle. But then she thinks back to the dinner they shared, the way his gaze had burned into her when the conversation had turned to her break. He knows — he has known — and he gets it.

She shakes her head, composing herself enough to speak. “You have nothing to be sorry for.”

His lips twist as she repeats his words back to him.

She doesn’t mean to say, “I knew about Lyria too,” but Rowan just nods, breaking their gaze to stare down at where their hands lie beside each other with an expression she can’t read.

Aelin knows she shouldn’t, for any number of reasons, but she reaches out to twine their fingers together atop the marble of her countertop. His fingers are rough and calloused between her own but the thumb he rubs against the back of her hand is gentle and reassuring.

He doesn’t speak, but there isn’t anything Aelin feels the need to say. It’s a kindred kind of silence, one borne of more pain than either of them could bear to speak aloud, and there’s an awful feeling of comfort in it. She knows he’s thinking of Lyria the way she’s thinking of Sam. But there is a part of her mind, a part that’s like a rising sun creeping above the horizon to break the shadow of night, that’s thinking of Rowan too.

Eventually she picks her burger back up again, it’s cold now but she can reluctantly admit it doesn’t taste horrendous. Their fingers stay linked as they each eat single-handedly, building themselves back up to sharing short stories and playful quips.

She’s glad she invited him, her boss or not.

[storiesforallfandoms]

unconventional ~ pete davidson & rook

word count: 1788

request?: yes!

“I can’t remember if I requested this already or not but can you do a fluffy throuple between Reader Pete Davidson and Rook”

description: she never thought she’d ever end up in a poly relationship, until her best friend introduced her to the two guys of her dreams

pairing: pete davidson x female!reader x rook

warnings: swearing

masterlist (one, two)

As corny as it is to say, I never expected to have a boyfriend, let alone to end up with two.

I was never the most popular with guys. I grew up with a group of guy friends and was often viewed by the opposite sex as “just one of the boys”. I was even told once in high school by a guy I had a crush on that he thought I was a lesbian because of it.

I tried not to let it get to me, but when you watch all the girls around you getting asked out on dates, or you see your guy friends starting to get girlfriends (or at least hook ups), it’s hard not to think something is wrong with you because no one is showing interest in you.

Colson always made jokes when he started getting famous that he was going to find me a guy using his fame. He started taking me on tour with the rest of our friend group (again, all guys) and trying to get me laid at after parties. Of course, I never turned down a casual hook up here and there, but one night stands don’t usually lead to relationships.

Enter two of Colson’s best friends: Rook and Pete.

I knew Rook for a long time due to Colson. I had never viewed him as anything more than another guy friend until the two of us got very drunk and hooked up one night. At the time, we had both decided that it was a one time thing and it would never happen again, but...come on, how many times have you heard that story before?

I was conflicted over my feelings for Rook when Colson introduced me to Pete as well. I knew immediately there was a connection between the two of us, something more than just acquaintances or even friends. But at the same time, I was still debating my feelings for Rook.

I felt so confused over everything, and it was obvious that I was constantly in my head because Rook pulled me aside backstage one night to make sure I was okay. I wanted to tell him that everything was fine, but I was so confused and overthinking everything that I accidentally blurted everything out before I could stop myself.

For some reason, I expected Rook to be angry. I expected him to tell me off for having feelings for both him and Pete, or for him to be weirded out by the fact that I had feelings for him at all. He had never showed signs of liking me back after all, there wasn’t any reason for me to truly believe that he liked me the way I liked him.

I was shocked when his response was, “Well...have you considered you may be polyamorous?”

And that’s how I found myself in a relationship with the two guys that I loved more than anything in the world, and guys that loved me back as well. We were an unconventional couple, and both Rook and Pete’s fans were very confused about the aspects of the relationship when we first announced it, but we were happy and that’s all that mattered.

On a beautiful, sunny day in Los Angeles, Pete and I decided to go soak up the sun while Rook was out touring with Colson. We went to a local park and set up our spot far enough away from people that we knew we wouldn’t be spotted by fans. I was laid back on a blanket with sunglasses covering my eyes as the hot sun beamed down on my bikini clad body. Pete was sat up next to me with his back against a tree we were sat next to, reading over a script for his upcoming movie role.

My phone chimed between us. Pete’s eyes flickered towards it for a moment before he declared, “You have a text.”

“Thanks Captain Obvious,” I teased as I reached for it. I tried to shade my eyes so I could continue to lay down, but the glare from the sun made it impossible to see the screen, so I sighed as I had to sit up. “It’s from Rook.”

The text read, “Hey my beauty. Sorry for such a late text, I only just woke up. How are you today baby?”

“What’s he saying?” Pete asked.

“Just asking how I am. He says he slept in. I’m assuming him and the guys were up until like 7am this morning.”

Pete paused to look down at his own phone. “He didn’t message the group chat.”

I raised an eyebrow at him. “No, he just texted me.”

Pete feigned an angry face. “That’s rude of him. Doesn’t he care how I’m doing today?”

I laughed and rolled my eyes at him before turning my attention back to responding to Rook.

“Hello my love. I’m good! Pete and I are out soaking up the sun. He says he’s offended you didn’t message the group chat to ask how he was too 🤣”

A few moments later, my phone chimed again.

“Tell him I said fuck you 🤣”

I giggled and laid myself back down to continue my sunbathing.

Despite some bickering between the two of them, Pete and Rook were actually very good friends and respected one another a lot. While Rook had suggested the poly relationship, I wasn’t sure how Pete was going to react to the idea of dating someone who was also dating another guy. Surprisingly, he was really into the idea and didn’t mind that Rook would be on the other end of the relationship at all.

It also surprised people that both Rook and Pete were so into the relationship and weren’t just constantly fighting for me. I understand that some people don’t understand poly relationships - I didn’t either until I entered one - but some of the shit people said to us was very rude. It was like they expected us to be super toxic to one another despite all of us being in a consensual and loving relationship.

It wasn’t long until my phone chimed again. I almost groaned in frustration at having to sit up again. Pete laughed at me. “Maybe you should put it on silent.”

“That would require me to have brain cells, Peter,” I teased.

It was another text from Rook, but this time this one confused me.

“I hope you’re taking good care of our girl while I’m gone. I miss her so much.”

I tilted my head in confusion, trying to make sense of the text that had been sent to me. It took me way to long to realize the text was probably meant to be sent to Pete and not to me, and I couldn’t stop the laugh that burst from my mouth. Pete looked over at me in amusement as I clapped a hand over my mouth.

“Must’ve been a funny text,” he said.

“Actually, it was a text meant for you.”

I held my phone out for Pete to see, and he laughed at the error as well. “Man, how did he fuck that one up so bad?”

“Probably has the same name for both of us in his phone. ‘Beauty’, mine with a black heart and yours with the two pink hearts.”

“Why do I have the two pink hearts?”

“Cause he loves you more than he loves me.”

Pete laughed and shook his head at me. “Just let him know he sent the text to the wrong person. The poor guy.”

I turned back to my phone to respond to Rook until something hit me. “Wait, do you and Rook text about me often?”

Pete nodded. “Yeah. You didn’t know that?”

“Of course I didn’t! Neither one of you told me that.”

“I figured you just assumed we did.”

I shook my head. “Not really. I didn’t know there was a reason for you both to talk about me outside of the group chat. I figured when it was just the two of you you just talked like the boys.”

Pete chuckled and extended his arms to me. I smiled and leaned back in them, resting my body against his chest.

“We can’t help but get on the topic of you whenever we talk,” he told me. “We both love you so much, and we worry about you. We don’t mean to talk about you a lot, but if one of us is with you while the other is away we tend to start asking about how you are and talk about taking care of you and stuff, like Rook said when he texted you then thinking it was me.”

“Does that happen often?”

“Probably too often,” Pete responded. “Most of our conversations are about you, actually. We’re like two school boys talking about a girl we have a crush on.”

I giggled at the thought and rested my head against Pete.

For some reason, knowing that Pete and Rook often talked about me by themselves made me feel fuzzy inside. It was sweet that they both cared so much, and I was beyond grateful that they were so okay with this relationship we were in that they talked civilly in private.

I looked down at my phone again, the words on the screen staring up at me for a while. I decided that instead of responding through text, I pressed the call button and held the phone up to my ear. It rang for a short period of time before Rook’s voice filled my ears.

“Hey beauty.”

“Hi baby,” I responded. “Just wanted to know who you were telling to take care of your girl.”

Pete tried to stifle his laugh as I was met with silence on the other end. After a moment, Rook finally said, “Oh shit! I sent that to the wrong person, didn’t I?”

“You did,” I confirmed. “You sent it to me instead.”

“Well fuck.” I could hear the smile in his voice. “Sorry, baby.”

“Don’t apologize. I think it’s sweet that you and Pete care so much about me.”

“Of course we care about you! You’re our girl. We both love you so much.”

I tried to hold back the tears of joy that were welling up in my eyes. I was glad I had my sunglasses on still to cover my eyes.

“I love you, too,” I told him, then angled my head to face Pete. “And I love you, too.”

Pete smiled at me and kissed me. Through the phone, Rook called, “Tell him to give you a kiss from me too! I’ll be home soo, baby.”

When I hung up from our call, Pete happily obliged Rook’s request.

[blu-joons]

Idol Producer ~ Zhang Yixing

His eyes lit up as the studio was pushed open at the end of the recording. Yixing’s eyes looked across straight away as you walked in, handing him a cup of coffee, one you knew he definitely would need after a couple of hours with all of the trainees.

“You’re a star,” he smiled, pulling one of the chairs across so you could sit beside him. “I love helping all the trainees, but it’s such hard work, there’s so much to teach them.”

“I was about to ask you how it was going but judging by your face I know better than to ask,” you teased, resting your legs over his. “You’ve worked hard here; it’s bound to be tiring for you.”

“I’m just wondering if all of this has been worth it.”

Your expression softened, “it will be worth it at the end.”

The end felt like a long way off for Yixing recently. When he was asked to join the programme, he couldn’t have been more excited to work with the trainees, but as time went on and more was expected from him, it was a pressure that he struggled to deal with.

You could see his mind beginning to wander, tapping your hand against his shoulder. “Why don’t you take a bit of time away and do something else for a little while?”

“I need to get this done.”

You glanced over the work he had it, recognising that it was the scripts for the upcoming filming. All he seemed to be doing over the past few weeks was read over scripts and director’s notes as the pressure piled on to make sure the programme was perfect.

“You know what’s expected from you, and all you can do for all of this is your best.”

“You’ve not seen the trainees Y/N,” he vented, “one hundred is a lot, but some of them just don’t even seem like they want to be here. It’s a waste of my time.”

“So, focus on the ones that do want to be here,” you suggested, squeezing gently against his arm, “you’ve always been strict, it’s something they’ll have to get used to if they want to achieve their dreams.”

Yixing often worried if he came off a bit too strong to the trainees, but as you constantly reminded him, tough love was sometimes needed. “I just use what I was taught when I was a trainee.”

“And look where you are because of it, obviously it’s something that they will all need to.”

You’d taken a step back throughout most of the programme, trusting that Yixing knew exactly what he was doing. But when you began to see Yixing stress and worry, you couldn’t stay in that position anymore. He had the best interests of all the trainees at heart, but that didn’t always mean the trainees wanted his help.

You moved yourself closer towards him to stop his eyes reading through his lines whilst you talked, pulling at the ends of his jacket to spin him around to face you. “You’re doing your best, everyone is, something like this takes a bit of time to get used to.”

“What if it flops? What if all of this has all just been for nothing?”

It was a chance any company took with trainees and groups, there was always a worry that the group wouldn’t work out. Yixing had a strong idea of who he liked, but he knew the importance of making sure everyone got on well together in order to make the group a success.

It was one of the things he bonded with Jackson about, the two of them were more focussed on the cohesiveness of the trainees before anything else, if they didn’t have that, then there was no point even continuing with the search.

He’d spent hours at night looking over videos of the trainees, asking you for your opinions on all of them as an outsider. As far as you were concerned, every trainee was great, but you didn’t have the intricate eye that Yixing did in order to know exactly what they were looking out for in each one of them.

Your hand pressed gently to his cheek, “I don’t think it will flop, and if it does, that’s not down to you, that’s something that the group needs to figure out.”

“But I was given the responsibility of putting them together,” he groaned, scratching the top of his head, “who else can they blame aside from us?”

“Themselves,” you quickly asserted, shrugging your shoulders at him. “If Exo didn’t work out, do you think that people would blame SM, or you guys?”

He paused for a moment, staring across the room at the poster he kept up of the group altogether. “I don’t know,” he whispered, “it would probably be an equal split to be honest, it’s up to us to make it work, but SM decided that we were the ones.”

Slowly it began to sink in to Yixing that he carried far too much pressure on his shoulders. The mentors could only guide the trainees, as you continually reminded him, he wasn’t going to be there to hold their hands forever.

“If you’ve done your part, that’s all that can be expected of you,” you smiled, intertwining your hand in with his. “You’re doing what you’re supposed to, no one here is expecting you to work the hours that you currently do.”

“I just don’t want to let anyone down,” he whispered, resting his head carefully against your shoulder. “They’re relying on all of us to make their dreams come true.”

“And you are,” you chuckled, “I bet they’re all terrified of you right now, but in the long run, they’ll understand why you said the things that you said to them.”

He knew he was the tough mentor, the one that wouldn’t pretend to like something if he didn’t. He felt the tension grow when he walked into the room, he didn’t want to mess around or make friends, he wanted to make the programme, and the group, a success.

After a few moments, he leant across his chest and folded the piece of paper over, so the blank side was facing up. “I’m sure that I can look over this a bit later or tomorrow, maybe you’re right. I need to stop overworking otherwise I’m no good to anyone.”

Your head nodded, as finally a smile appeared on Yixing’s face again. “It’s admirable how hard you’re working, but you’re not the only mentor here. Just take a step back sometimes and try not to worry, you’re doing all that you can for everyone.”

Your lips pressed to the top of his head, brushing his hair away from the front of his face. “Thank you for coming to see me and supporting me through all of this. It means a lot that you’ve helped me through the filming.”

“I just want to keep an eye on you,” you whispered down to him, “you work yourself hard, a lot, without giving yourself any time to take care of you.”

“It’s certainly made me feel better about all of this knowing that I have you here with me,” he added.

“It’s nice to see you at work, those trainees don’t realise how lucky they are to have you.”

---

Masterlist

[signifying-something]

Artemis Fowl: Animated Bloopers

So a couple weeks ago on the Artemis Fowl Incident Report Discord server ( @artemis-fowl-incident-report ), the brilliant @brekkie-bing had an amazing idea. Like how The Lion King and Brother Bear had animated bloopers in the post-credit scenes, she wondered what that would be like if we ever had an animated Artemis Fowl movie or tv series. That is where the greatest, most stupendous chain of ideas was birthed~~

SO MY SWEET PEEPS!! I present to y’all a whole host of bloopers me and a number of other people came up with, and feel free to reblog your own or even draw some of them!! As the great Super Mario says, LETSAGOO!!

Mulch is about to blow a big one, but it just comes out as a squeak

Foaly’s got a scene with a long rant in it, but he keeps jumbling up his words and they do about 76 takes to get it right

Holly writing “Fresh AF” in white marker on Artemis’ sunglasses, when he puts them on in a high tension scene you can here the whole crew in the background laughing

A phone goes off during filming. The ringtone is Madonna’s ‘Papa Don’t Preach’. The phone is Butler’s...

The camera pans on Holly eating some vole curry on set without realising her it’s her scene, her eyes widen as she’s like “OH CRAP ARE WE SHOOTING?”

Holly and Artemis goofing around during the punch take

Holly actually punches him super hard and he’s out cold

Artemis cracking up when he fumbles a line. Like, the voice actors just messing up and taking the piss

That one scene is Book One where Angeline has a weird homemade mannequin thing dressed as Artemis Fowl Senior, and the head just rolls off mid take and everyone bursts out laughing. Artemis is hands on knees screaming at the floor in laughter.

Juliet and Holly strutting and posing in the dressing room with Butler filming them

A full on argument between Argon and Cumulus which slowly delves into insulting each other

When they print out the first translation: “This...is [censor bleep]” cue laughter behind the camera

Julius roots cigar being too strong and he just chokes on the smoke for a painful five minutes while the crew hold in their laughter

Artemis struggles saying ‘I don’t like lollipops’ with a straight face

Footage of the troll fight without audio mixing so it's just Butler grunts and plate mail noises

Holly filming Artemis getting make up done on set

Artemis, glaring: I bet you won't release footage of your hair and makeup getting done

Holly does anyways

He’s getting some face powder on his noggin and Holly warns; “If that stuff gets on my hand when I punch you..”

Artemis, constantly: What's my line? I have so many words.

Artemis: I read the script but it’s all just words

Artemis:...*sigh* LINE???

When they finish a take they all just start dancing randomly cause thank god Artemis finally got his line out

Like Artemis walks into the room all intimidating and then he just stands there and he’s like “I don’t know what I’m supposed to be doing”

Artemis: L

Juliet: If you say line again I will throw one of the gold bars at you

Like Holly’s just watching and waiting awkwardly

Artemis: And this vial uh contains...llll

Butler: *glaring*

Artemis: llllemonade

Artemis running lines off camera and he's great and intimidating and subtle when he actually knows the words

When the director asks if everyone’s good on lines and they all know the questions for Artemis so they all just look at him

Artemis: Do you people understand how many words this is? This is approaching Rosencrantz And Guildenstern Are Dead levels of words

He has to pay up for every fudged line and every time they laugh or have a blank moment

Holly has a swear jar and Artemis has a "line?" jar

Artemis assuming it’s Holly’s line and he’s staring at her and she’s like “BRO ITS YOU”

Holly: That's a quarter in the jar

Artemis: THAT DOES NOT COUNT, I DID NOT SAY IT

Grub juggling the bars of gold cause they’re made of styrofoam and one of them hits trouble

Juliet accidently wacks someone else with her jade ring and she just goes "Oh god. I'm so sorry" repeatedly

Julius and Holly can’t stop laughing when he’s yelling at her

Holly doing the flying into scene and she trips while knocking over the props

Maybe a really heart warming scene where Holly catches Artemis playing Moonlight Sonata on the piano and secretly films him in his element

Mulch’s jaw gets stuck and he’s like “no guys I’m serious I can’t shut my mouth” Holly being like “well there’s a first”

Mulch hides food on set like RDJ during Avengers

Mulch would eat all the food and Holly would go "Goddamnit Mulch, why are you like this."

They come off set to get lunch. Food? Gone

Redoing takes because Mulch has cream cheese on his face

Inexplicably, it's always cream cheese

Even when they don't have any on set

Camera zooms in randomly on someone zoning out and making weird faces as they wait

The fairies being so short that the boom mic comes so low down in shots and it gets really annoying for everyone

Butler like Mufasa getting his voice pitch right as the audio rolls

Foaly: Uhh line? Sorry, it's a really wordy scene

Artemis: So it's okay when he does it?

Foaly: I don't call line nearly as much as you do. Aren't you supposed to be a genius?

Artemis: Aren't you?

Butler: Artemis, remember who you are

Butler: Artemis, I am your father

Juliet: Hell yeah you are

Thank you so much to my peeps who contributed: @brekkie-bing @pokegeek151 @the-local-bookworm and everyone on the discord server who was with us during those crazy, like, 15 minutes.

Once again, feel free to reblog and add your own or even draw some of these out! (Low-key looking at you; @brekkie-bing @iesnoth @hop-a-lot @fowlblue @popsicle-stick @blackhollyshort @talesoftales and all you beautiful artists...pwetty pwease 👉🏽👈🏽)

Have fun darlings!

[duskamethyst]

shatter.

a/n: kirishima is best boy so when he is sad, i also get sad. god i wish he is real. anyways, i wrote this with that one image of him in my mind. you know, when he cried. oh, and happy new years eve.

word count: 2.7k

genre: angst

warnings: some guilt tripping?, toxic behavior if you squint, mentions of death

pairing: kirishima x gn!reader

summary: kirishima just couldn’t stand seeing you always getting hurt from doing hero work and he constantly persuades you to quit– through words and action.

“you’re gonna be a great hero, babe!” kirishima had an arm wrapped around your shoulders and he pulled you in to kiss your forehead.

three years in U.A. and it was finally graduation day. you both had your heart and mind set on your desired agencies, ready to serve and protect the society from evil as pro heroes. 

you and kirishima work under different agencies but your relationship with him has remained steady ever since your last year in high school. now, you are together for almost three years with a small and cheap apartment to reside in though your schedules aren’t exactly the most favorable as a couple. 

when kirishima has a day off, you have to be out for work and the same goes the other way around. even when both are at home, you barely get to speak to him since one of you is already sleeping while the other just got home. be that as it may, both are still very optimistic. it makes each moment together not to be taken for granted and it serves as a reminder to appreciate each other more. even when you are lightly awake from feeling the mattress dipping from behind, the moment he holds you close as he dozes off to sleep is something you greatly treasure. 

but sometimes, one of you has to be out of town. far away from your home and one of you is bound to get some scratches and ugly bruises– which seems like you’re more a victim of. kirishima tends to be a worrywart and he gets upset that he can’t stay at home too long to take care of your needs and you need to assure him every time that you’ll be fine and that a good rest can get you back up on your feet.

the reassurance and the constant worrying tends to turn into a regular argument at some point. not forgetting when he suddenly starts to blame himself for how useless he is. when will he ever understand that this has nothing to do with him but your own carelessness? it’s getting all too mentally draining.

the nauseating feeling of not being good enough is already shitty and you don’t need the pity look he throws at you every now and then. you know he means well but it ticks you off when you have to say the same thing all over again and he needs to focus on his job. the villains out there are not going to shove their asses into prison by themselves and every argument in the house is a waste of time.

still, you have an admirable passion for your job and he respects that (or used to?). as a hero himself, he understands the risks pro heroes need to take and the kind of danger that they have to face everyday. kirishima knows that you’ve worked hard to be who you are today but certain times he fails to convince himself that you are fit to work in this field. kirishima doesn’t mean to disregard your work and all but hell, this sure isn’t the first time that you got a bad bruise on your body– though the broken foot is new (still doesn’t change the fact that you needed a cast for your arm before). 

“please? retire for me?” he mutters under his breath, his eyes are wavering with worry from the other side of the room as he looks at you sitting on the couch with a crutch resting close to you. the words that come out of his mouth seem to already be scripted from saying the same thing over and over again.

“not this again. eiji, we’ve talked about this before.” you groan, sinking down further into your seat. you just got back from the hospital and your body needs a good rest before you can heal properly.

“i know but,” he sighs dejectedly. “i can’t stand to see you like this.” 

you shake your head, your voice firm. “no. eiji, this is just a fracture. it’ll heal soon.”

“baby, you know i can protect both of us.” kirishima’s voice is soft as silk in hope to be able to persuade you into something you clearly defy time after time.

“are you saying i’m not capable of defending myself?” you raise your voice a little, clearly vexed and kirishima’s gaze meets the floor, trying to construct words so it doesn’t sound wrong or offend you any further. 

“you’re not answering me, eiji.” you snort, his hesitance giving him away.

“i’m not the one injured here.” kirishima glances at your bandaged foot and the crutch next to you. his heart throbs at the sight of you needing to use a crutch to help you walk. 

“oh, good for you.” it feels as if he’s adding insult to injury. it’s all thanks to his quirk that the scratches he received only managed to look like mere paper cuts because he won’t be saying that without it. 

kirishima knows that you can be stubborn sometimes and it reminds him of a certain friend of his but he just wants you to listen and understand from his point of view and not to take it any other way. it undoubtedly makes him upset that you’re hurt but he’s more… scared. so scared to the point that he finds himself being so grateful from you just sitting there in front of him, breathing and alive. he doesn’t want to lose you. he can’t bear the pain if– if you’re not in his life anymore. his world would crumble and there would be nothing left of him.

“do you love me?” kirishima asks out of the blue, deliberately using the question as his last resort to either make you feel guilty or to force you to obey him as some kind of proof that you are true to your words.

“don’t you use that, eijirou.” you sigh in annoyance, knowing too well where this conversation leads. undeniably, you do and he knows damn well too. you’re certain that he is just using that as an excuse or a way to end this argument and it just seems very tacky.

“well, do you?”

“you know i do!” you practically shout before quickly regaining your composure again. “i love you, eiji. so much.”

“then if you do, you would listen to me!” there’s a pitch higher in his voice, a mixture of sorrow and anger in his tone and his eyes begin to look glassy. 

it almost startles you and you know he’s about to put on the waterworks but as the hard headed person you are, you still continue to stand on your ground. 

“and if you love me, you would understand!” you shout back from your seat. you would walk away if you could but you know you’d be too slow before he catches up so there’s no point in that. instead, you shift your gaze somewhere else and force yourself to tolerate the tense and stuffy ambience of the room.

“babe,” his voice croaking. “i don’t.. i don’t wanna lose you.”

“and what about you? would you quit your job for me?” you snarl, still refusing to look at him when he takes small and slow steps towards you.

kirishima falls silent for a second before answering, “i– i told you. i can protect–”

“see? you wouldn’t even do the same.” that should be the end of discussion. if he’s not willing to give you the same energy, why would you? as a hero himself, you believe he should understand the love you have for your job because you understand him too, so why can’t he? 

an exasperated breath draws out from your nostrils as you reach for your crutch to stand up. “eiji, i’m tired. i’m gonna take a rest.”

kirishima just stands quietly in the middle of the room as you start to walk to your shared room. he knows he has lost the argument but he’s not going to let it end like this again– not this time. 

“you don’t love me.” he suddenly breaks the silence, making you stop in your tracks to turn around and look at him– which none of you know would be the last time. 

“what?” you murmur in disbelief, though you heard him very well. even though your heart is wrenching inside your chest, the anger that hasn’t yet subsided from prior rushes through your veins even greater.

“why won’t you ever listen to me?!” he suddenly shouts as tears begin to roll on his cheeks. “i want the best for you– i– you’re everything to me!” 

your own vision suddenly starts to blur and you realize that tears are starting to pour out from your eyes out of your own frustration.

“how do you know what’s best for me?!” you scream back angrily. 

“i’m your boyfriend! i know– i know you’re too weak for this!” he blurts out as he walks towards and stands in front of you.

“why? because i got hurt?!” you push his chest with your free hand though you know he won’t budge considering how shredded he is.

kirishima grabs your wrist to stop you from pushing him as he continues to look at you with irises that burn with rage. “because you’re not fit to be a hero!” 

amidst your struggle to free your wrist, now you only stare at him, too shocked to utter any more words. is that how he thought of you all this time? like a fool trying to play hero? a weak hero that keeps getting injuries and unable to defend themselves let alone the lives of others?

your head hangs low and kirishima panics and lets go of his grip as he slowly realizes what he just said to you on the spur of the moment. 

“babe, i’m sorry. i didn’t–” 

smack.

the sound reverberates throughout the room and it falls silent again. your breathing has gone erratic and able to give him a good slap him in the face earns you some sort of satisfaction. none of you are the type to get physical during a heated argument but that was the final straw. even if you reconcile after this, what then? it’s not like you asked to get beaten up and if it does happen again, you both are going to go through the same thing again. you can’t take it anymore and it’s leaving you with the last option.

“i think,” you finally choke after taking a deep breath. “we’re not on the same page anymore.” 

“w-what do you mean?” he sobs, having the urge to pull you into his embrace and apologize over and over albeit knowing that you’d push him away. 

your lips purse into a thin line. must you spell it out for him?

“eiji, i’m–” 

“baby, no. please– d-don’t say it–” kirishima starts to cry again as he drops to his knees and holds your uninjured leg tightly to his chest, sobbing through your pants. “i’m- i’m sorry!”

“eiji, stop.” you weakly try to shake him off. “maybe if we– if we part, you don’t have to worry about me anymore.”

kirishima looks up at you through the tears in his eyes, “i don’t want– babe, i love you! please don’t– don’t leave me!” he stands back up on his feet and his big hands reach to gently grab your face so you can look at him. “let’s... let’s talk about it, okay?” 

“no, eiji. you can’t even trust me.” this time you start to sob. “a-and we keep on arguing about the same thing.”

“t-then, please? we’ll work it ou–”

his phone suddenly interrupts as he gets a call. he takes out the phone from his pocket and his face drops when he realizes it’s from his agency. he knows he can’t possibly ignore it. with a sniff and cough to alter his voice, he picks it up. kirishima continues to talk to the phone, sparing you glances once in a while as if to analyze the weight of importance between the emergency and the current situation you both are in.

you know very well that the people still need a hero and right now, they need red riot. with a heavy heart you whisper, “go.”

that last option probably isn’t the best but kirishima really couldn’t come to terms and you both failed to reach a mutual understanding. you’re persistent– the kind of person that knows what they want in life and that no one can get in your way. the fact that your boyfriend, out of all people, doesn't seem to show you support like he used to back in the days in U.A. leaves you disappointed. 

the longer the fight carried on, the deeper you drowned in the pits of self loathing. comfort and reassurance weren’t the things that kirishima provided. no, all he kept on doing was putting you down further. especially after he said that you aren’t qualified enough to live the dream you’ve always wanted. oh how it’s going to be stuck in your head for a while.

maybe, two people are better off without each other than being secretly unhappy together.

his lips are pressed flat as he hangs up the call. he doesn’t have much time in his hands but he doesn’t want to leave you either. afraid that once he walks out the door, it’ll be done forever. kirishima only wants to hold you again, to assure himself that it’s alright– that all of this is just a mindless fight and you’ll stay with him. 

but you take the first step away from him and kirishima only watches you quietly as you walk away and disappear into the room. lots of thoughts are running through his head and things he wants to say but couldn’t. his selfishness made him take things too far but it’s all out of love (or probably his best interest). he knows that you’ll be mad at him if you knew that he went to great lengths just to make you change your mind. but now, his efforts proved to be futile because he still ends up losing you and he has no one to blame but himself. 

kirishima doesn’t mean what he said about you not suited to be a hero. he watched you over the years, he knows what you’re capable of and he admires your determination but being in the real world opens his eyes. he had seen death and almost tasted it himself, and that made him realize how precious you are to him– how every moment with you counts because he knows that you could be gone in any moment. 

and you were just so damn obstinate. why couldn’t you understand his feelings? he even talked nicely but you just wouldn’t listen. he almost gave up before an idea suddenly struck in his head. kirishima didn’t want to get his hands dirty but you probably still needed a little push.

he had connections and he got the money.

you were on your shift while kirishima just got home. he spent some time on the couch, glaring intensely at his phone– particularly on the few digits on the screen. his heartbeat was running a marathon as he stared at the phone icon in rumination. the shaky thumb hovering above the screen seemed like forever before he groaned and clicked the off button instead. 

multiple times he had tried and each time he failed to find the will to simply click the call button. he doesn’t want to hurt you, not at all but you were definitely leaving him with no choice.

so he took a deep breath and typed in the numbers again, this time immediately pressing the phone icon and waited for the other line to pick up. though the longer he waited, the more he felt the guilt and wanted to hang up the phone. shortly enough, his call was answered. 

he had a script ready in his head from the first time he tried to call them. it should be no problem. just tell them that he wanted them to hurt you, but not until the point that they could kill you. he sighed. even saying that inside his head made him queasy but what’s love without a little pain, right? 

“hey, i need a favor.”

kirishima hoped that his wicked scheme would work and even if it didn’t, he’d just have to give them a call again until your will to stay a hero shatters.

duskamethyst © 2020 • do not modify, translate or repost anywhere.

[imaginesbymonika]

“Until they discover what a mess I truly am.”

Pairing: Pete Davidson x reader

Warnings: Angst, mentions of depression, fluff at the end

As a writer for SNL Y/N knew a bunch of famous people, she worked with almost everyone since she had started in 2013. The young woman began writing at the age of 17, being the youngest female writer in Saturday Night Live history. On the one hand, it was super fun, the thrill of working among people such as Seth Meyers or Lorne Michaels filled her with pride. At the same time, it was intimidating and occasionally mentally exhausting. It felt like she frequently had to prove herself to everyone, prove that she was worthy of being a writer for SNL at such a young age. She constantly had to work twice as hard.

The first person that looked at Y/N as an equal writer was John Mulaney. John treated her like an adult and whenever she happened to be in the writers' room with him, he always wanted to hear her ideas and opinions on scripts and previous shows.

He explained that he saw a piece of himself in her, and he knew exactly how tough the first year could be without having at least one friend.

To this day still, Y/N was incredibly grateful for him.

Over the years she had met a lot of writers, some of them grabbing her attention more than others. But at the end of the day, none of them seemed to be 'dateable'. John always wanted to set her up with one of his friends, but she always declined saying he was her friend, not her dating service. Until Y/N met Pete Davidson.

„Sorry, I’m late.“, he announced after entering the writers' room. He sat down on the opposite side of Y/N and flashed her a quick smile, before leaning back in his chair.

„I saw how you stared at Pete this morning.“, John later said as the two left the SNL building. She simply rolled her eyes and turned her head away from her friend, humiliated that her cheeks were burning up.

The very first-time Y/N realized she had developed quite the crush on Pete was after his proposal announcement.

He held up Ariana’s hand, while a huge smile played on his lips: “WE‘RE GETTING MARRIED!“. She could see the little tattoo behind his ear and sighed.

She could feel her heart breaking, but when his eyes met hers, Y/N smiled softly and nodded her head at him. Forming the word „Congrats“ with her lips.

From that moment on, she tried her best to get over him. Dating guys and having one night stands- Y/N did everything to keep Pete of her mind. She hardly saw him, during the time of his engagement, which was a miracle. But after the engagement was canceled, he was around more often. They sometimes made eye contact in the writers' room or at an after-show party. But Y/N kept her distance, knowing that once they would start talking again- her old feelings would resurface.

„Pete asked about you again.“, John explains while handing her a cup of coffee. „Thank you.“. Making her snap out of her thoughts: “Are you alright?“.

She simply nods: “Yeah, I’m fine.“.

„Did you hear what I said? Pete-.“.

„Yeah, I heard you.“, Y/N interrupts him, a bit more cold than she intended. She takes a sip before looking at her old friend apologetic: “John, you know how I feel about Pete- I don’t want to get my hopes up. He’s out there dating these supermodels, I just don’t-“, she pauses for a second: “I just don’t fit into that picture.“.

John, confused and a bit overwhelmed by her words swallows thickly: “Okay, wow. I never expected you to think that little of yourself-.“.

„Pete’s too good for me. Hell, he’s too good for anyone, really.“, she explains: “Let’s not talk about him. Please.”.

„That’s exactly what he said about her.“, Anna, John's wife, exclaims after Y/N left their apartment: “We need to do something about this mess.“.

„I don’t know.“, Pete says, holding a cigarette in his hand: “I mean, it’s not like I don’t find Y/N attractive... she’s really pretty, but I feel like she deserves more- better than this.“. He makes a hand gesture, pointing at himself.

„But Pete-.“.

„Look, I appreciate your concerns but - it’s always the same. I like a girl, we date then she gets to know the real me- like the real me. You know how fucked up I am. She breaks up with me.“, Pete explains: “And I don’t know, I can get it when they’re famous- like Ariana or Kaia...but a normal girl like Y/N? That would probably break my heart.“.

Anna and John exchange a look.

Y/N who walks into her office turns on the lights. One hour earlier she received a weird text message from John saying:

Sorry to text you this late, there’s some trouble at the office considering the sketch for tomorrow. Would be great if you could go there, rehearse it and look it over. Anna and I have our date night, so it would be you with another writer. Thanks. Love you.

„Hello-?“, a voice asks and Y/N lets out a high-pitched scream. She quickly turns around and sees Pete Davidson standing in the door frame.

„Oh my god, Pete.“, she says and runs a hand down her face. She can hear how he chuckles slightly. “You scared the living shit out of me. Don’t ever do that again!“.

„What? Say hello?“, he smiles and Y/N just rolls her eyes in response.

„I guess, it’s just you and me.“, Y/N points out and hopes that John was mentally preparing himself for what’s going to happen the next time they see each other again: “John said there’s some sort of Sketch, waiting here...but I can’t find one.“

„John texted you too?“, Y/N asks and her eyes widen: “Maybe he made a mistake?“.

„Nah, I don’t think so.“.

An awkward silence falls upon the two and after a few seconds Y/N walks over to her computer: “Maybe he sent me the script via E-Mail, let me check.“. Meanwhile, Pete sits down on the little couch and watches her.

„You should get a bigger couch.“, he exclaims and when Y/N looks up from the screen, he smiles at her. It makes her cheek blush and she quickly hides her face beneath the computer.

„Now... how’s life treating you?“, Pete asks and lays down, he stares at the ceiling.

Y/N sighs: “It’s okay, I guess. What about you? I heard you’re currently dating this actress. Kate. How’s that working out?”.

„No.“, he replies: “I’m not, we- well, she broke up with me a month later. I feel like they all think I’m a great guy until they date me and discover what a mess I truly am. Or maybe it’s the fact that Ariana said my dick is huge so- they want to check that out themselves. I don’t know.”.

The young woman stops typing and looks at Pete again, she leans back in her chair: “I hope you know, that’s not true.”.

“How do you know? I never showed you my dick. Or did I? If I-.”.

“Pete, you’re not a mess, you just have some mental health issues. If these women can’t 'handle' you that’s not your problem but theirs. You are a great guy and every girl would be lucky to have you by their side... I can’t seem to find an email, I’ll call John.“.She gets up from her chair and leaves the room: “I’ll get myself a cup of coffee afterward, you want some?.“.

Pete, speechless by her words slowly sits up straight on the couch. He never expected someone to say something so kind about him. He gets up and leaves the room. At the end of the hallway stands Y/N, slightly slapping the coffee machine.

„I can’t reach John, and this stupid machine isn’t working-.“, she says, frustration audible in her voice.

„Did you mean what you just said?“,he asks and Y/N looks up.

She stares at him for a few seconds: “Yeah, why-?“.

„This might sound ridiculous.”, he starts, crosses his arms, and leans against the wall:” But... did John talked to you about asking me out for a date?”.

As soon as the words leave his mouth the color on Y/N’s face disappears. She can feel how her mouth runs dry and her hands start to sweat.

“Because he talked to me about asking you out. And-.”.

“What did you say to him?”.

He wrinkles his forehead:” Of course, I said no.”.

“Oh.”.

Y/N can feel it. She can feel how her heart is breaking in ways she didn’t know were possible. If dying of a broken heart was a real thing, maybe now it would happen to her.

“Of course.”, she repeats his words and scratches her eyebrow.

“Yeah, I mean- you wouldn’t date me either. That’s probably what you told John.”, Pete chuckles but stops when he sees Y/N’s facial expression. His eyes widen:” Shit, no.”, he says, almost like a whisper.

Y/N rushes past him into her office before the tears are falling. She didn’t care. Not now.

“Y/N- I...”, he starts but the girl shakes her head.

“Go Home, Pete. I’ll call John and tell him I didn’t find the script.”.

“I just assumed we were on the same page.”, he says, ignoring what she just said:” Like, look at you and look at me- I’m too much of a jerk for someone like you!”.

“Excuse me?“, she replies, her voice growing louder with every second passing: “Since when do you decide what’s best for me?“.

„I don’t want you to get hurt, I’m difficult. Fuck, Y/N, you know that. We’ve been working together for such a long time now. If we would get together, I don’t know if I could survive you thinking the same way these girls think about me now.“.

Y/N sighs and crosses her arms in front of her chest, as if she was trying to protect the last bit of her heart: “You’re right, we shouldn’t get together.“.

„W-what?“.

„Pete.“, she slowly takes his hand, her voice breaking: “You need to work on your mental health, you can’t just jump from one relationship into the next. That’s unhealthy. But... I will help you. I will be there for you until you’re truly ready to date again.“.

A soft smile spreads on his lips: “That sounds good.“, he leans down: “One kiss, though?“.

„Sure.“, she replies:” You can get more than one..”.And when their lips meet, it feels better than she could have ever imagined.

[bitchiha]

The Hokages Office (Yamato x Reader)

A/N: this is dedicated to all my Yamato stans (esp uhhh-hatake and papashi) You’re both lovely and I think it’s about time i fed you, my fellow whores <3 I wrote it on and off for about like four days... and I think I did horny tree man some justice. Ending was a little rushed and it’s semi proofread :(

Warnings: this is like a fucking porno script okay bye like it’s all smut. Li te rally all of it. Like there’s maybe like 4 paragraphs that don’t include horniness so... yah. Public sex I guess?? Just look at the title.

Summary: Ever since Tenzou was assigned to team Kakashi, he has been dying to get you alone. However, it seems to be quite a difficult task when you’re always running away flusteredly, he is beginning to lose his patience.

— —

From the moment Tenzou was assigned to Team Kakashi, he could not stop thinking about you; Lady Hokages new assistant.

It was like your flustered face was burnt into the frontal cortex of his brain, numbing his self restraint with every shy smile you gave him. He could never manage to get you alone though, in fact all of your exchanges were just polite and short and in the presence of either Shizune or Tsunade. The hungry beast inside of him constantly lashed out for more. Lord help him, he needed more. But no matter how hard he tried, it seemed the universe refused to give him what he wanted and that beast was always left unsatisfied.

His patience was wearing incredibly thin. It’s been months since the two of you met and the amount of times he’s had to take care of himself because of you was borderline pathetic. He just couldn’t stop thinking about you. The way your skirt clung to your waist, or the way you’d look up at him through your long lashes with those adoring eyes...

His day at the office started with the usual boner. He had barely managed to last five minutes in the building before it happened.

The halls were completely empty, save for you rushing down the passageway — straight towards him. He stood there shocked, his feet felt like they were cement blocks holding him in place as he watched your preoccupied figure practically run straight for him at an alarming pace. There was a paper fisted tightly in your hand as you ran through the empty hall. It was probably some paper Tsunade had you go fetch, Shizune being to busy to do so herself. You didn’t seem to notice him in your state, you got so nervous over the littlest things. So much so that you were blinded by them and the inevitable fate was that you two were most definitely going to crash into eachother and all Yamato could do was wait with a twisted excitement.

You slammed into him with as loud thump. He could feel your breasts pushed right against his chest and your hair brush the bottom of his chin. A gasped slipped from your muffled lips, your face pressed to his chest. Once you realized you had knocked into another person, whose heart was beating 100 miles per hour, you peered up at them. When you recognized Yamatos face you managed to retract your body embarrassedly, but the damage was already done to Yamato’s now tightening pants. A look of surprise was set across his face as he processed the lingering feeling of your body against his, this had to be the most pathetic moment of his life and a record breaker for the worlds fastest boner.

But ss Yamato observer these past few months, your nerves bad blinded you and you didn’t seem to notice. “Y-Yamato! I’m so sorry!!” You said as you avoided eye contact, “I-I’m just.. I’m just a little behind with schedule and I can’t seem to find Shizune to give her this—“ you breathlessly babbled, he wasnt really focusing on any of the words you spoke though. The only thing he was thinking about was how he wanted to make you stutter out his name like that again, the sound was practically tattooing itself onto his brain.

As usual, before Yamato had the chance to respond, the two of you heard a sound from down the hall. He watched as your face perked up, like a puppy at the sound of a squeaky toy. You turned away from him, glad for an opportunity to escape, “That must be her!” And you were off again, shooting down the hall leaving Yamato to stare after your disappearing figure and to deal with an raging hard on..

And here he was now, about a half and hour later, alone in the Hokages office. The boner still prevelant, more than before as the thought of your body pressed against his was superglued to his brain. He was grateful that his pants were loose fitted and made it a little difficult to see, but he honestly didn’t put up much of an effort to hide it anymore. Lady Tsunade has already seen the imprint of his pants grow gradually bigger these past couple of months, there was no use in trying to hide it anymore. He debated if he should just go jack off in the bathroom, it wouldn’t matter if he was a little late, right? Afterall, Tsunade clearly didn’t care about her own tardiness.

The sound of someone’s footsteps approaching caused him to stop his internal debate. Instead, he listened carefully as he try to identify the owner of the sounds — was it Tsunade? No... They were too fragile to be Tsunades, she walked with much more authority.. Shizunes? Not likely. They were too light to be Shizunes, who’s steps were always frantically beating the ground as she chased the Hokage about. No.. These steps were definitely y/n’s and she seemed to be rushing straight for the office.

His heart rate sped up at the thought, straightening against the wall. Was it too good to be true? He silently prayed to see the shy girl appear as he watched the closed door intently. Desperately trying to manifest the sight. The footsteps got closer, and closer, and the door knob began to turn.

“—Lady Hokage!” You screeched breathlessly as you stumbled into the room, a huge stack of papers balanced in one hand as the other whipped the door open. Bingo.

He watched with surprised eyes as the poor assistant begin to nervously babble out an apology for her tardiness. It took a minute for you to collect yourself and realize there was no one to hear your apology. When you did, you let out a sigh of relief at the empty room, clearly failing to notice Yamato behind you. No wonder you were still an assistant in training.. your nerves were worse than Shizunes. He observed indulgently as muscles in your back untensed through your blouse and you sighed in relief, placing the stack of papers on the already cluttered desk. Your skirt rising up just the way he pictured when he thought about you in the late hours in the night, causing a scratching from the hungry beast inside the observing Shinobi.

You quickly thanked the empty room for the salvation of escaping Tsunades wrath, hanged wringing to together with relief. The little display caused Yamato to chuckle quietly, resulting in a startled yelp from the assistant. You stumbled backward, leaning your body against the desk, facing the Shinobi who had been behind you. He noticed how your legs trembled a little, like a baby deer and he couldn’t repress his excited smirk. This is just how he pictured this.

“Sorry. Didn’t mean to startle you, y/n.” He said with a sly smile as he straightened up and peeled his body off the wall.

“N-no thats okay!” You managed to yelp out, bowing respectfully to the ninja, your vision lowering with your movement, catching the tent in his pants. Your mouth fell open a little at the sight. You were bent in a bit of an awkward position, your legs were still shaking causing you to rely on your arms leaning on the desk for support. Nonetheless he appreciated the gesture and how you pretended not to see the obvious surprise in his pants as you straightened up again. You were always such a good girl, always so respectful, but he didnt fail to notice your lingering eyes.

Yamato chuckled again at your wandering gaze fueling this dream in his hesd. Yeah, he’s struck gold, that’s for sure. The sight of you all flustered like this, all because of him, it caused another stirring in his pants and a boost to his confidence.

“Do you you know what you do to me, y/n?” He asked in a falsely nonchalant tone. His body carrying him towards the desk, not before making sure to lock the office door.

“What do you mean, Y-Yamato?” You nervously sputtered out, dodging his question as he came closer, like a lion approaching it’s prey. He couldn’t waste anymore time. This whole thing was a sign. It was a damn sign from the universe. Having you here, in this room that he’s fantisized about taking you in so many times, it was a gift. Afterall his waiting, he was finally getting rewarded and had zero intention to take this opportunity for granted.

“Not gonna answer?” he finally reached you, body towering over yours, repeating those same words he thought about saying to you before. Both his arms coming down on the desk, caging your body between them as he whispered, “I guess I’m just going to have to show you then.”

He watched your parted mouth with vigour, waiting for a protest or a sign of objection, but nothing came. Instead he watched the slick of saliva coating your tongue as your open mouth stuttered, attempting to say something, but only mindless splutters coming out. It took everything in him to prevent himself from just devouring you right then and there.

You stared at him with a doe eyed look, his clouded eyes meeting yours to pool into your irises. His bold advances were new to you, you’d never had someone do this to you before. But you werent complaining, you’d always wanted this — wanted him.. but you could never tell him and to see him so eager and hungry for something — for you — had done a wonderful job on soaking your panties.

Your shaking legs were pushed apart by Yamato’s knee, taking the look in your eyes as a sign of permission. You felt your legs giving out as your arms struggled to hold you up. Luckily his hands snaked around your waist and hoisted you up onto the desk. He drank up this innocent little way that you acted and he wanted nothing more than to have your legs shaking under him for an entirely different reason.

You felt your ass pushing the stack of papers you placed down previously, making room for you on the cold wooden table. There was a sound of brief swooshes, papers slipping to the floor as your mouth fell open a little more.

Before you had the chance to manage some some sort of comment about the papers in your shaky little voice, he leaned his head closer to yours and you instantly making you stop your thoughts in their track. You felt his hot breath against your mouth. You tried to say something you really did, but the only thing that came out was a whimper. He chuckled again, his lips brushing against yours as he did so. You wanted this just as bad, didn’t you? Then he wouldn’t want to make his little angel wait. Without further notice, he pressed his lips to yours.

He was much better than you at the kissing part, probably because he dreamed about this on a daily. His tongue swiped over yours eagerly, the sensation made you moan giving him better access to your mouth. Sliding right in, his tongue swirled around yours almost immediately. You immediately gave him dominance, causing him to groan into your mouth with satisfaction. He savoured how you let him drink you in, his fingers roaming about your body as he did so. They started at your waist, one coming down to your thigh while the other moved up to your chest.

After he couldn’t continue without suffocating, he pulled away. A string of salvia connected your mouths together and he brought a hand to his lip to break its connection, watching it fall back against your chin. You were too lost in what had just happened to bother wiping it away, allowing Yamato to mentally take a picture of the sight. He pressed your ass towards the edge closer to him, allowing your core to collide with his bulge. You let out a gasp, hands gripping onto his shoulders for support.

“See what you do to me? Do you know how long I’ve wanted this? You wanna know what I do when I go home everyday after seeing you in these little skirts?” His eyes never leaving yours as he spoke, the look in his eyes was borderline animalistic. “I stroke my dick to the thought of fucking you on this desk.”

Your response was just a jerking of your hips towards his own, what he was implying was too much for you. It was an involuntary action, but you were glad your body had done something other than just stare at him. “I— Y-Yamato... I didn’t know that.”

He scoffed, but it was more of an “of course you wouldn’t know” kind of sound. His hands travelling up your blouse and beginning to undo the buttons one by one. “How could you know? I can never get the chance to tell you how I feel because someone’s always barging in. So let me show you then, let me show you exactly how you make me feel.”

As his actions process, your reaction a little delayed due to all the cloudiness in your head. Your mind was swimming in the heat of his words. Once you managed some coherent thoughts, your hand flew up to his, pausing his work on your shirt. “Wait! W-What if Lady Tsunade hears? What if she comes back? Yamato.. I.. we can’t..” despite your hand atop of his, he swatted it off and resumed unbuttoning your blouse with a snicker.

“Then I guess she can watch, you’ve tortured me for months y/n. There’s no way I’m stopping now. Not when I’ve finally got you to myself.” And the truth is that you didn’t want him to stop either. You’ve wanted him just as much as he was wanted you, your desperation allowing you to stop your worries and let Yamato continue.

He stopped with the buttons once they were about two thirds undone, open enough that he could get a perfect view of your chest. Shoving the blouse down your shoulders, he gave himself a more clear view of your bra and your collarbones. The bra was a simple lace white fabric and he could see your erect nipples peaking out, causing him to practically drool. They’re even prettier than he imagined. He shoved your bra straps downwards, pulling the fabric covering your flesh with it, giving him full access to your now unclothed breasts.

He immediately dipped his head down to kiss and lick the flesh, his brain recording all of your sounds of pleasure. Your arms tightened around the back of his neck, little panting moans escaping your lips at this new feeling. Then he began to suck at one of the buds, his tongue eagerly swirling around it, the gasp that left hear your mouth fueled his assault further. He could your noises becoming muffled, you had bitten your lip to stop yourself from being so loud. He pulled away with a pop to look up at you, “You’re so responsive. So loud for me. I bet you want this just as much as I do, huh?” He could practically feel the heat radiating of your face, you looked like you were going to burst. So much so that you only managed to squeak out a yes.

“Huh? I can’t hear you, y/n. You weren’t that quiet a second ago,” god he was enjoying this, “I guess I’ll just have to find out for myself then.” Those words puzzled you, unsure of what he meant for a moment — but as you felt his hands travel down to your skirt you knew exactly what he intended to do.

His hand bunched up the fabric of your skirt, holding it up to allow him to view of your white panties, matching your bra. He couldn’t help but groan at the sight. “Wow, sweetheart. Were you wearing these in hopes that I’d see them?” He crouched down infront of your legs, one hand still bunching the skirt up while the over came down to stroke your clothed core. “You’re a little angel.”

Shocks of pleasure shot through you as he continued to stroke your clothed pussy. Causing you to grip the edge of the desk. The sensation only became stronger as he pushed your panties aside, dipping a digit slowly into your already soaked core. Yamato let out a sound of approval at just how ready you were for him. “See? I knew you wanted this just as bad as me, y/n.”

You wanted to say something, talk to him the way he was talking to you, but you were such a flushing mess. Finally, after you adjusted a little to his fingers and the pace, you managed to say something through your panting moans. “Yamato please... I want to make you f-feel good too.”

Those words caused his pace to falter for a second, he looked up at you with a satisfied smile before his pace completely stopped. His fingers laying still agaisnt your plush walls while his thumb pressed against your throbbing clit. “You want me to feel good too? Oh what a good girl you are. But don’t worry, I’ll feel good soon too. I Just want to make sure you’re ready for me first.”

His eyes returned to your wet core, watching as his fingers pushed in and out of you. He didn’t know when he would get this opportunity again, so he needed to cherish all the future jack off material he could get. You squeaked when he entered his second finger into your core and he moaned lowly as he watched your pussy struggle to take two of his digits. “God you’re so tight, how’re you gonna take my cock?”

“I’ll take it! I promise I can handle it!” You managed to respond as your eyes squeezed shut. Being the shy girl you were you didn’t have much sexual experiences prior to this, but that didn’t mean you didnt have fantasies and right now Yamato was doing a good job at fulfilling them.

“Such a determined girl, so good for me.” He grinned at your responsiveness as his thumb circled your clit, eyes trained on your pussy. He felt you begin to clench around him and he looked up to watch your face build up with the anticipation of a little death.

“Not yet, sweetheart. You’re gonna cum on my cock like good girls do, okay?” You nodded furiously as you began to hold back your impending orgasm. Just when he knew it was too much and you were going to spill over the edge, he stopped, retracing his fingers completely and standing up.

You hated how empty you felt as they retracted, but you knew what was coming next was going to be even better. As Yamato began to fiddle with his pants you took the opportunity to press a kiss to his lips. The gesture was surprising knowing how shy you were, but the kiss was so soft and sweet he forgot about undoing his pants and let his hands roam your body. His hands came up to palm your breasts, causing you to gasp into the kiss. That innocent noise making him lose his restraint again, shoving his tongue into your mouth. He dragged it along your gums, your teeth and then swirled it around your own muscule, it seemed as though he was trying to memorize every ridge and crevice you had.

You pulled away to gasp for some air, and he took a moment to look at your dishevelled appearance. Blouse tugged down, hanging onto your shoulders as your breasts peaked out courtesy of him shoving the fabric down earlier. “I’m gonna fuck you know y/n. And I want to do it with you bent over this desk.” He stepped back, giving you enough space to comply with his wishes. You nodded obediently, eager to please him. Standing once again on your shaking bambi legs, you turned around.

Your wetness was practically slipping down your legs as Yamato hiked up your skirt and pulled your panties down. He bent down to lick a small dribble of your slick that had began to slide down your thigh, his sudden desire to taste you taking over him as he licked further up towards your heat, savouring every taste his buds could collect. Greedily he starting to lap at your soaking core, faster and faster his restraint failing him miserably as those heavenly sighs left your lips.

There was just so many things he wanted to do to you. He wanted to do every fuckable thing to your pretty body, but he simply didn’t have the time. Reluctantly pulling away his tongue — a whine escaping your lips as he did so — he stood back up again. “You’re making me get carried away here, y/n.” He scolded teasingly before straightening himself up and fussing with unzipping his pants.

You were practically shaking with excitement as you heart the sound of the zipper giving way and the gentle whisp as the fabric falling to his knees. Listening intently to the sound of his boxers slipping down his thighs next, you let out an excited noise feeling his cock slap against your ass.

“So excited aren’t you? So eager for my cock. Gosh, I bet your play with yourself at night to the thought of me having my way with you.” He slides in unexpectedly as he finishes his thought, causing your hands so slip against the table. You lose your balance, arms stretching against the desk, back arching allowing even more of his dick to sink deeper into your tight pussy.

“Gosh you fit just right.” He groaned, letting himself completely sink inside you, the sight of your new position made his mouth water. Your tits were pressed against the desk as you arms splayed you out infront of him. His cock twitched at the sight, he didn’t want to cum too fast, but this was just too much.

He began with slow eager strokes, absolutely drunk on the noises you were making and just how warm and welcoming your pussy was for him. You moaned loudly at the feeling of him stretching you out like this.

Suddenly, he became very curious about something. He picked up the speed of his thrusts, the angle of this position giving him wonderful access to your sweet spot and he made sure to hit it every stroke. “What do you use when you think about me?” You a manged so slide your head against the table to look at him, cheek burning as you did so. There was a little bit of saliva that was beginning to pool out of mouth and when Yamato saw your sinful face he only became more violent in his pace and that only made you make even more sinful faces.

“What do you fuck yourself with when you think about me?” He repeated again, adding a much more aggressive thrust to the end of his sentence, showing he wanted you to answer it. The thrust caused your tits to drag further on the desk making a squeaking sound, only to be retracted once again as Yamato dragged your ass back onto his cock.

How could he expect you to respond when he was practically making you see stars? “I..” you said some incoherent words and Yamato slowed his pace down just enough for you to get your head back on.

“Come on sweetheart, I need to hear you say it. Tell me, tell Yamato.” When you still couldn’t answer his pace practically stopped. He made the slowest thrusts possible, each one managing to hit that heavenly spot inside you.

It’s like he was making it difficult on purpose. “F-fingers! I use my fingers.” You managed to finally stutter out, tears sprinting against your eyes.

That answer must have satisfied him a little because his pace began to quicken somewhat. “And what do you think about when your fingers are fucking your cunt? What do you think of me doing to you?”

“This!” You didn’t even have to think about the answer. This was exactly what you would think of, what you would daydream of as he stood on the office reporting to lady Tsunade..

Now that answer was definitely the right one and before you knew it he was pushing into you again at a rapid pace. “Ngh, that’s right. I knew your mind was wandering everytime we‘re in the same room. Your much dirtier than you’ve lead on, such a naughty girl.”

You couldn’t respond, the only sounds you managed to make were moans of pleasure as you felt yourself clenching more and more around his cock. “Oh you’re gonna cum now aren’t you? All over my dick, just like in your dreams.” His words fueling your orgasm as he felt you spasm around, him cumming all over his dick. He watched as your cum seeped out a little between his thrusts. Studying your face he memor the way it was pressed into the desk, your mouth open and your tongue peeking out, a thin film of drool puddled around your quivering mouth as he continued to fuck you through your high.

After a few more thrusts Yamato knew he couldn’t hold back his orgasm anymore. Your numb brain could somewhat piece it together too as you felt his cock twitching inside you. You’d both thought about this moment many times before and the one thought that always set you over the edge the fastest was when he let himself spill inside you.

“Yamato,” you mumbled hazily as you seen his own contemplation through foggy eyes. His pace was getting sloppy. “Can you cum inside me, p-please?”

As soon as he processed what you asked him, he came right into your sore little cunt. It took a surprising amount of strength for the shinobi to keep standing upright and holding your hips to his own at the pure bliss of his high. Holy fuck, that was so much better than anything he’d imagined.

The two of you stayed silent for a few minutes, trying to collect yourselves. As he began to pull his dick out of you the mixture of both your orgasms dripped out from your legs. He turned you around so you were laying on your back as he gingerly cleaned you up, lacking the resources to clean you up properly he settled on the tissues on Tsunades desk. Then he moved to pick up the fallen papers, letting you lay on the desk like a little doll until you were finally back from your high.

You were so fucked out that he had to help pull your panties back up for you, as well as adjust your bra and rebutton your blouse after he finished with the stack of papers.

Had he been too rough? You seemed like you were enjoying it when he was ramming into you, maybe he let himself indulge a little too much...

Your sweet little voice broke him out of his thoughts, “Yamato, would you help me go home please?” He watched your trembling little legs as you tried to stand, he was glad his wish from earlier had come true; your legs were wobbling for a different reason now.

“Of course, y/n. You were such a good girl, you did so well.” He pressed a kiss to your lips before wrapping in arm around your waist and guiding you out of the room. “What’re you gonna tell Tsunade now that you’re leaving early?”

You smirked to yourself, Yamato not noticing as he unlocked the Hokages door with his free hand. “We won’t have to worry about that.” Unbeknownst to the man holding you, you had grown impatient with your lack of alone time with Yamato too.

So lady Tsunades absence and everyone else’s for that matter, well.. that wasn’t some gift from the universe, it was an elaborate plan you had made yourself. You’d kept them all busy so you could finally have some time with Yamato. Turns out you were so much naughtier than anyone at the office could have thought thought.

[armageddon-generation]

Articulating Why His Dark Materials is Badly Written

A long essay-thing with lots of specific examples and explanations of why I feel this way. Hopefully I’ve kept fanboy bitching to a minimum.

This isn’t an attack on fans of the show, nor a personal attack on Jack Thorne. I’m not looking to ruin anyone’s enjoyment of the show, I just needed to properly articulate, with examples, why I struggle with it. I read and love the books and that colours my view, but I believe that HDM isn’t just a clumsy, at-best-functional, sometimes incompetent adaptation, it’s a bad TV show separate from its source material. The show is the blandest, least interesting and least engaging version of itself it could be.

His Dark Materials has gorgeous production design and phenomenal visual effects. It's well-acted. The score is great. But my god is it badly written. Jack Thorne writing the entire first season damned the show. There was no-one to balance out his flaws and biases. Thorne is checking off a list of plot-points, so concerned with manoeuvring the audience through the story he forgets to invest us in it. The scripts are mechanical, empty, flat.

Watching HDM feels like an impassioned fan earnestly lecturing you on why the books are so good- (Look! It's got other worlds and religious allegory and this character Lyra is really, really important I swear. Isn't Mrs Coulter crazy? The Gyptians are my favourites.) rather than someone telling the story naturally.

My problems fall into 5 main categories:

Exposition- An unwillingness to meaningfully expand the source material for a visual medium means Thorne tells and doesn't show crucial plot-points. He then repeats the same thing multiple times because he doesn't trust his audience

Pacing- By stretching out the books and not trusting his audience Thorne dedicates entire scenes to one piece of information and repeats himself constantly (see: the Witches' repetition of the prophecy in S2).

Narrative priorities- Thorne prioritises human drama over fantasy. This makes sense budgetarily, but leads to barely-present Daemons, the Gyptians taking up too much screentime, rushed/badly written Witches (superpowers, exposition) and Bears (armourless bear fight), and a Lyra more focused on familial angst than the joy of discovery

Tension and Mystery- because HDM is in such a hurry to set up its endgame it gives you the answers to S1's biggest mysteries immediately- other worlds, Lyra's parents, what happens to the kids etc. This makes the show less engaging and feel like it's playing catch-up to the audience, not the other way around.

Tonal Inconsistency- HDM tries to be a slow-paced, grounded, adult drama, but its blunt, simplistic dialogue and storytelling methods treat the audience like children that need to be lectured.

MYSTERY, SUSPENSE AND INTRIGUE

The show undercuts all the books’ biggest mysteries. Mrs Coulter is set up as a villain before we meet her, other worlds are revealed in 1x2, Lyra's parents by 1x3, what the Magesterium do to kids is spelled out long before Lyra finds Billy (1x2). I understand not wanting to lose new viewers, but neutering every mystery kills momentum and makes the show much less engaging.

This extends to worldbuilding. The text before 1x1 explains both Daemons and Lyra's destiny before we meet her. Instead of encouraging us to engage with the world and ask questions, we're given all the answers up front and told to sit back and let ourselves be spoon-fed. The viewer is never an active participant, never encouraged to theorise or wonder

 Intrigue motivated you to engage with Pullman's philosophical themes and concepts. Without it, HDM feels like a lecture, a theme park ride and not a journey.

The only one of S1's mysteries left undiminished is 'what is Dust?', which won't be properly answered until S3, and that answer is super conceptual and therefore hard to make dramatically satisfying

TONAL INCONSISTENCY

HDM billed itself as a HBO-level drama, and was advertised as a GoT inheritor. It takes itself very seriously- the few attempts at humour are stilted and out of place

The production design is deliberately subdued, most notably choosing a mid-twentieth century aesthetic for Lyra’s world over the late-Victorian of the books or steampunk of the movie. The colour grading would be appropriate for a serious adult drama. 

Reviewers have said this stops the show feeling as fantastical as it should. It also makes Lyra’s world less distinct from our own. 

Most importantly, minimising the wondrous fantasy of S1 neuters its contrast with the escalating thematic darkness of the finale (from 1x5 onwards), and the impact of Roger’s death. Pullman's books are an adult story told through the eyes of a child. Lyra’s innocence and naivety in the first book is the most important journey of the trilogy. Instead, the show starts serious and thematically heavy (we’re told Lyra has world-saving importance before we even meet her) and stays that way.

Contrasting the serious tone, grounded design and poe-faced characters, the dialogue is written to cater to children. It’s horrendously blunt and pulls you out of scenes. Subtext is obliterated at every opportunity. Even in the most recent episode, 2x7, Pan asks Lyra ‘do you think you’re changing because of Will?’

I cannot understate how on the nose this line is, and how much it undercuts the themes of the final book. Instead of even a meaningful shot of Lyra looking at Will, the show treats the audience like complete idiots. 

So, HDM looks and advertises itself like an adult drama and is desperate to be taken seriously by wearing its big themes on its sleeve from the start instead of letting them evolve naturally out of subtext like the books, and dedicating lots of scenes to Mrs Coulter's self-abuse 

At the same time its dialogue and character writing is comparable to the Star Wars prequels, more childish than media aimed at a similar audience - Harry Potter, Doctor Who, Avatar the Last Airbender etc

DAEMONS

The show gives itself a safety net by explaining Daemons in an opening text-crawl, and so spends less time showing the mechanics of the Daemon-human bond. On the HDM subreddit, I’ve seen multiple people get to 1x5 or 6, and then come to reddit asking basic questions like ‘why do only some people have Daemons?’ or ‘Why are Daemons so important?’.

It’s not that the show didn’t answer these questions; it was in the opening text-crawl. It’s just the show thinks telling you is enough and never shows evidence to back that up. Watching a TV show you remember what you’re shown much easier than what you’re told 

The emotional core of Northern Lights is the relationship between Lyra and Pan. The emotional core of HDM S1 is the relationship between Lyra and Mrs Coulter. This wouldn't be bad- it's a fascinating dynamic Ruth plays wonderfully- if it didn't override the Daemons

Daemons are only onscreen when they serve a narrative purpose. Thorne justifies this because the books only describe Daemons when they tell us about their human. On the page your brain fills the Daemons in. This doesn't work on-screen; you cannot suspend your disbelief when their absence is staring you in the face

Thorne clarified the number of Daemons as not just budgetary, but a conscious creative choice to avoid onscreen clutter. This improved in S2 after vocal criticism.

Mrs Coulter/the Golden Monkey and Lee/Hester have well-drawn relationships in S1, but Pan and Lyra hug more in the 2-hour Golden Compass movie than they do in the 8-hour S1 of HDM. There's barely any physical contact with Daemons at all.

They even cut Pan and Lyra's hug after escaping the Cut in Bolvangar. In the book they can't let go of each other. The show skips it completely because Thorne wants to focus on Mrs Coulter and Lyra.

They cut Pan and Lyra testing how far apart they can be. They cut Lyra freeing the Cut Daemons in Bolvangar with the help of Kaisa. We spent extra time with both Roger and Billy Costa, but didn't develop their bonds with their Daemons- the perfect way to make the Cut more impactful

I don't need every single book scene in the show, but notice that all these cut scenes reinforced how important Daemons are. For how plodding the show is. you'd think they could spare time for these moments instead of inventing new conversations that tell us the information they show

Daemons are treated as separate beings and thus come across more like talking pets than part of a character

The show sets the rules of Daemons up poorly. In 1x2, Lyra is terrified by the Monkey being so far from Coulter, but the viewer has nothing to compare it to. We’re retroactively told in that this is unnatural when the show has yet to establish what ‘natural’ is.

The guillotine blueprint in 1x2 (‘Is that a human and his Daemon, Pan? It looks like it.’ / ‘A blade. To cut what?’) is idiotic. It deflates S1’s main mystery and makes the characters look stupid for not figuring out what they aren’t allowed to until they did in the source material, it also interferes with how the audience sees Daemons. In the book, Cutting isn’t revealed until two-thirds of the way in (1x5). By then we’ve spent a lot of time with Daemons, they’ve become a background part of the world, their ‘rules’ have been established, and we’re endeared to them.

By showing the Guillotine and putting Daemons under threat in the second episode, the show never lets us grow attached. This, combined with their selective presence in scenes, draws attention to Daemons as a plot gimmick and not a natural extension of characters. Like Lyra, the show tells us why Daemons are important before we understand them.

Billy Costa's fate falls flat. It's missing the dried fish/ fake Daemon Tony Markos clings to in the book. Thorne said this 'didn't work' on the day, but it worked in the film. Everyone yelling about Billy not having a Daemon is laughable when most of the background extras in the same scene don't have Daemons themselves

WITCHES

The Witches are the most common complaint about the show. Thorne changed Serafina Pekkala in clever, logical ways (her short hair, wrist-knives and cloud pine in the skin)

The problem is how Serafina is written. The Witches are purely exposition machines. We get no impression of their culture, their deep connection to nature, their understanding of the world. We are told it. It is never shown, never incorporated into the dramatic action of the show.

Thorne emphasises Serafina's warrior side, most obviously changing Kaisa from a goose into a gyrfalcon (apparently a goose didn't work on-screen)

Serafina single-handedly slaughtering the Tartars is bad in a few ways. It paints her as bloodthirsty and ruthless. Overpowering the Witches weakens the logic of the world (If they can do that, why do they let the Magesterium bomb them unchallenged in 2x2?). It strips the Witches of their subtlety and ambiguity for the sake of cinematic action.

A side-effect of Serafina not being with her clan at Bolvangar is limiting our exposure to the Witches. Serafina is the only one invested in the main plot, we only hear about them from what she tells us. This poor set-up weakens the Witch subplot in S2

Lyra doesn’t speak to Serafina until 2x6. She laid eyes on her once in S1.

The dialogue in the S2’s Witch subplot is comparable to the Courasant section of The Phantom Menace. 

Two named characters, neither with any depth (Serafina and Coram's dead son developed him far more than her). The costumes look ostentatious and hokey- the opposite of what the Witches should be. They do nothing but repeat the same exposition at each other, even in 2x7.

We feel nothing when the Witches are bombed because the show never invests us in what is being destroyed- with the amount of time wasted on long establishing shots, there’s not one when Lee Scoresby is talking to the Council.

BEARS

Like the Witches; Thorne misunderstands and rushes the fantasy elements of the story. The 2007 movie executed both Iofur's character and the Bear Fight much better than the show- bloodless jaw-swipe and all

Iofur's court was not the parody of human court in the books. He didn't have his fake-Daemon (hi, Billy)

An armourless bear fight is like not including Pan in the cutting scene. After equating Iorek's armour to a Daemon (Lee does this- we don’t even learn how important it is from Iorek himself, and the comparison meant less because of how badly the show set up Daemons) the show then cuts the plotpoint that makes the armour plot-relevant. This diminishes all of Bear society. Like Daemons, we're told Iorek's armour is important but it's never shown to be more than a cool accessory

GYPTIANS

Gyptians suffer from Hermoine syndrome. Harry Potter screenwriter Steve Kloves' favourite character was Hermione, and so Film!Hermoine lost most of Book!Hermoine's flaws and gained several of Book!Ron's best moments. The Gyptians are Jack Thorne's favourite group in HDM and so they got the extra screentime and development that the more complicated groups/concepts like Witches, Bears, and Daemons (which, unlike the Gyptians, carry over to other seasons amd are more important to the overall story) needed

At the same time, he changes them from a private people into an Isle of Misfit Toys. TV!Ma Costa promises they'll ‘make a Gyptian woman out of Lyra yet’, but in the book Ma specifically calls Lyra out for pretending to be Gyptian, and reminds her she never can be.

This small moment indicates how, while trying to make the show more grounded and 'adult', Thorne simultaneously made it more saccharine and sentimental. He neuters the tragedy of the Cut kids when Ma Costa says they’ll become Gyptians. Pullman's books feel like an adult story told through the eyes of a child. The TV show feels like a child's story masquerading as a serious drama.

LIN-MANUEL MIRANDA

Let me preface this by saying I genuinely really enjoy the performances in the show. It was shot in the foot by The Golden Compass' perfect casting.

The most contentious/'miscast' actor among readers is LMM. Thorne ditched the books' wise Texan for a budget Han Solo. LMM isn't a great dramatic actor (even in Hamilton he was the weak link performance-wise) but he makes up for it in marketability- lots of people tried the show because of him

Readers dislike that LMM's Lee is a thief and a scoundrel, when book-Lee is so moral he and Hester argue about stealing. Personally, I like the change in concept. Book!Lee's parental love for Lyra just appears. It's sweet, but not tied to a character arc. Done right, Lyra out-hustling Lee at his own game and giving him a noble cause to fight for (thus inspiring the moral compass of the books) is a more compelling arc.

DAFNE KEENE AND LYRA

I thought Dafne would be perfect casting. Her feral energy in Logan seemed a match made in heaven. Then Jack Thorne gave her little to do with it.

Compare how The Golden Compass introduced Lyra, playing Kids and Gobblers with a group of Gyptian kids, including Billy Costa. Lyra and Roger are chased to Jordan by the Gyptians and she makes up a lie about a curse to scare the Gyptians away.

In one scene the movie set up: 1) the Gobblers (the first we hear of them in the show is in retrospect, Roger worrying AFTER Billy is taken) 2) Lyra’s pre-existing relationship with the Gyptians (not in the show), 3) Friendship with Billy Costa (not in the book or show) 4) Lyra’s ability to befriend and lead groups of people, especially kids, and 5) Lyra’s ability to lie impressively

By comparison, it takes until midway through 1x2 for TV!Lyra to tell her first lie, and even then it’s a paper-thin attempt. 

The show made Roger Lyra’s only friend. This artificially heightens the impact of Roger's death, but strips Lyra of her leadership qualities and ability to befriend anyone. 

Harry Potter fans talk about how Book!Harry is funnier and smarter than Film!Harry. They cut his best lines ('There's no need to call me sir, Professor') and made him blander and more passive. The same happened to Lyra.

Most importantly, Lyra is not allowed to lie for fun. She can't do anything 'naughty' without being scolded. This colours the few times Lyra does lie (e.g. to Mrs Coulter in 1x2) negatively and thus makes Lyra out to be more of a brat than a hero.

This is a problem with telling Northern Lights from an outside, 'adult' perspective- to most adults Lyra is a brat. Because we’re introduced to her from inside her head, we think she's great. It's only when we meet her through Will's eyes in The Subtle Knife and she's filthy, rude and half-starved that we realise Lyra bluffs her way through life and is actually pretty non-functional

Thorne prioritises grounded human drama over fantasy, and so his Lyra has her love of bears and witches swapped for familial angst. (and, in S2. angst over Roger). By exposing Mrs Coulter as her mother early, Thorne distracts TV!Lyra from Book!Lyra’s love of the North. The contrast between wonder and reality made NL's ending a definitive threshold between innocence and knowledge. Thorne showed his hand too early.

Similarly, TV!Lyra doesn’t have anywhere near as strong an admiration for Lord Asriel. She calls him out in 1x8 (‘call yourself a Father’), which Book!Lyra never would because she’s proud to be his child. From her perspective, at this point Asriel is the good parent.

TV!Lyra’s critique of Asriel feels like Thorne using her as a mouthpiece to voice his own, adult perspective on the situation. Because Lyra is already disappointed in Asriel, his betrayal in the finale isn’t as effective. Pullman saves the ‘you’re a terrible Father’ call-out for the 3rd book for a reason; Lyra’s naive hero-worship of Asriel in Northern Lights makes the fall from Innocence into Knowledge that Roger’s death represents more effective.  

So, on TV Lyra is tamer, angstier, more introverted, less intelligent, less fun and more serious. We're just constantly told she's important, even before we meet her.

MRS COULTER (AND LORD ASRIEL)

Mrs Coulter is the main character of the show. Not Lyra. Mrs Coulter was cast first, and Lyra was cast based on a chemistry test with Ruth Wilson. Coulter’s character is given lots of extra development, where the show actively strips Lyra of her layers.

To be clear, I have no problem with developing Mrs Coulter. She is a great character Ruth Wilson plays phenomenally. I do have a problem with the show fixating on her at the expense of other characters.

Lyra's feral-ness is given to her parents. Wilson and McAvoy are more passionate than in the books. This is fun to watch, but strips them of subtlety- you never get Book!Coulter's hypnotic allure from Wilson, she's openly nasty, even to random strangers (in 2x3 her dismissal of the woman at the hotel desk felt like a Disney villain). 

Compare how The Golden Compass (2007) introduced Mrs Coulter through Lyra’s eyes, with light, twinkling music and a sparkling dress. By contrast, before the show introduces Coulter it tells us she’s associated with the evil Magisterium plotting Asriel’s death- “Not a word to any of our mutual friends. Including her.” Then she’s introduced striding down a corridor to imposing ‘Bad Guy’ strings.

Making Mrs Coulter’s villainy so obvious so early makes Lyra look dumber for falling for it. It also wastes an interesting phase of her character arc. Coulter is rushed into being a ’conflicted evil mother’ in 2 episodes, and stays in that phase for the rest of the show so far. Character progression is minimised because she circles the same place.

It makes her one-note. It's a good note (so much of the positive online chatter is saphiccs worshiping Ruth Wilson) but the show also worships her to the point of hindrance- e.g. take a shot every time Coulter walks slow-motion down a corridor in 2x2

The problem isn’t the performances, but how prematurely they give the game away. Just like the mysteries around Bolvangar and Lyra’s parentage. Neither Coulter or Asriel have much chance to use their 'public' faces. 

This is part of a bigger pacing problem- instead of rolling plot points out gradually, Thorne will stick the solution in front of you early and then stall for time until it becomes relevant. Instead of building tension this builds frustration and makes the show feel like it's catching up to the audience. This also makes the characters less engaging. You've already shown Mrs Coulter is evil/Boreal is in our world/Asriel wants Roger. Why are you taking so long getting to the point?

PACING AND EDITING

This show takes forever to make its point badly.

Scenes in HDM tend to operate on one level- either 'Character Building,' 'Exposition,' or 'Plot Progression'.

E.g. Mary's introduction in 2x2. Book!Mary only listens to Lyra because she’s sleep and caffeine-deprived and desperate because her funding is being cut. But the show stripped that subtext out and created an extra scene of a colleague talking to Mary about funding. They removed emotional subtext to focus on exposition, and so the scene felt empty and flat.

In later episodes characters Mary’s sister and colleagues do treat her like a sleep-deprived wreck. But, just like Lyra’s lying, the show doesn’t establish these characteristics in her debut episode. It waits until later to retroactively tell us they were there. Mary’s colleague saying ‘What we’re dealing with here is the fact that you haven’t slept in weeks’ is as flimsy as Pan joking not lying to Mary will be hard for Lyra.

Rarely does a scene work on multiple levels, and if it does it's clunky- see the exposition dump about Daemon Separation in the middle of 2x2's Witch Trial.

He also splits plot progression into tiny doses, which destroys pacing. It's more satisfying to focus on one subplot advancing multiple stages than all of them shuffling forward half a step each episode.

Subplots would be more effective if all the scenes played in sequence. As it is, plotlines can’t build momentum and literal minutes are wasted using the same establishing shots every time we switch location.

The best-structured episodes of S1 are 1x4, 1x6, and 1x8. This is because they have the fewest subplots (incidentally these episodes have least Boreal in them) and so the main plot isn’t diluted by constantly cutting away to Mrs Coulter sniffing Lyra’s coat or Will watching a man in a car through his window, before cutting back again. 

The best-written episode so far is 2x5. The Scholar. Tellingly, it’s the only episode Thorne doesn’t have even a co-writing credit on. 2x5 is well-paced, its dialogue is more naturalistic, it’s more focused, it even has time for moments of whimsy (Monkey with a seatbelt, Mrs Coulter with jeans, Lyra and Will whispering) that don’t detract from the story.

Structurally, 2x5  works because A) it benches Lee’s plotline. B) The Witches and Magisterium are relegated to a scene each. And C) the Coulter/Boreal and Lyra/Will subplots move towards the same goal. Not only that, but when we check in on Mary’s subplot it’s through Mrs Coulter’s eyes and directly dovetails into the  main action of the episode.

2x5 has a lovely sense of narrative cohesion because it has the confidence to sit with one set of characters for longer than two scenes at a time.

HDM also does this thing where it will have a scene with plot A where characters do or talk about something, cut away to plot B for a scene, then cut back to plot A where the characters talk about what happened in their last scene and painstakingly explain how they feel about it and why

Example: Pan talking to Will in 2x7 while Lyra pretends to be asleep. This scene is from the 3rd book, and is left to breathe for many chapters before Lyra brings it up. In the show after the Will/Pan scene they cut away to another scene, then cut back and Lyra instantly talks about it.

There’s the same problem in 2x5: After escaping Mrs Coulter, Lyra spells out how she feels about acting like her

The show never leaves room for implication, never lets us draw our own conclusions before explaining what it meant and how the characters feel about it immediately afterwards. The audience are made passive in their engagement with the characters as well as the world    

LORD BOREAL, JOHN PARRY AND DIMINISHING RETURNS

At first, Boreal’s subplot in S1 felt bold and inspired. The twist of his identity in The Subtle Knife would've been hard to pull off onscreen anyway. As a kid I struggled to get past Will's opening chapter of TSK and I have friends who were the same. Introducing Will in S1 and developing him alongside Lyra was a great idea.

I loved developing Elaine Parry and Boreal into present, active characters. But the subplot was introduced too early and moved too slowly, bogging down the season.

In 1x2 Boreal crosses. In 1x3 we learn who he's looking for. In 1x5 we meet Will. In 1x7 the burglary. 1 episode worth of plot is chopped up and fed to us piecemeal across many. Boreal literally stalls for two episodes before the burglary- there are random 30 second shots of him sitting in a car watching John Parry on YouTube (videos we’d already seen) completely isolated from any other scenes in the episode

By the time we get to S2 we've had 2 seasons of extended material building up Boreal, so when he just dies like in the books it's anticlimactic. The show frontloads his subplot with meaning without expanding on its payoff, so the whole thing fizzles out. 

Giving Boreal, the secondary villain in literally every episode, the same death as a background character in about 5 scenes in the novels feels cheap. It doesn’t help that, after 2x5 built the tension between Coulter and Boreal so well, as soon as Thorne is passed the baton in 2x6 he does little to maintain that momentum. Again, because the subplot is crosscut with everything else the characters hang in limbo until Coulter decides to kill him.

I’ve been watching non-book readers react to the show, and several were underwhelmed by Boreal’s quick, unceremonious end. 

Similarly, the show builds up John Parry from 1x3 instead of just the second book. Book!John’s death is an anticlimax but feels narratively justified. In the show, we’ve spent so much extra time talking about him and then being with him (without developing his character beyond what’s in the novels- Pullman even outlined John’s backstory in The Subtle Knife’s appendix. How hard would it be to add a flashback or two?) that when John does nothing in the show and then dies (he doesn’t even heal Will’s fingers like in the book- only tell him to find Asriel, which the angels Baruch and Balthamos do anyway) it doesn’t feel like a clever, tragic subversion of our expectations, it feels like a waste that actively cheapens the audience’s investment.

TL;DR giving supporting characters way more screentime than they need only, to give their deaths the same weight the books did after far less build up makes huge chunks of the show feel less important than they were presented to be. 

FRUSTRATINGLY LIMITED EXPANSION AND NOVELLISTIC STORYTELLING

Thorne is unwilling to meaningfully develop or expand characters and subplots to fit a visual medium. He introduces a plot-point, invents unnecessary padding around it, circles it for an hour, then moves on.

Pullman’s books are driven by internal monologue and big, complex theological concepts like Daemons and Dust. Instead of finding engaging, dynamic ways to dramatise these concepts through the actions of characters or additions to the plot, Thorne turns Pullman’s internal monologue into dialogue and has the characters explain them to the audience

The novels’ perspective on its characters is narrow, first because Northern Lights is told only from Lyra’s POV, and second because Pullman’s writing is plot-driven, not character-driven. Characters are vessels for the plot and themes he wants to explore.

This is a fine way of writing novels. When adapting the books into a longform drama, Thorne decentralised Lyra’s perspective from the start, and HDM S1 uses the same multi-perspective structure that The Subtle Knife and The Amber Spyglass do, following not only Lyra but the Gyptians, Mrs Coulter, Boreal, Will and Elaine etc

However, these other perspectives are limited. We never get any impression of backstory or motivation beyond the present moment. Many times I’ve seen non-book readers confused or frustrated by vague or non-existent character motivations.

For example, S1 spends a lot of time focused on Ma Costa’s grief over Billy’s disappearance, but we never see why she’s sad, because we never saw her interact with Billy.

Compare this to another show about a frantic mother and older brother looking for a missing boy. Stranger Things uses only two flashbacks to show us Will Byers’ relationships with his family: 1) When Joyce Byers looks in his Fort she remembers visiting Will there. 2) The Clash playing on the radio reminds Jonathan Byers of introducing Will to the song.

In His Dark Materials we never see the Costas as a happy family- 1x1’s Gyptian ceremony focuses on Tony and Daemon-exposition. Billy never speaks to his mum or brother in the show 

Instead we have Ma Costa’s empty grief. The audience has to do the work (the bad kind) imagining what she’s lost. Instead of seeing Billy, it’s just repeated again and again that they will get the children back.

If we’re being derivative, HDM had the chance to segway into a Billy flashback when John Faa brings one of his belongings back from a Gobbler safehouse in 1x2. This is a perfect The Clash/Fort Byers-type trigger. It doesn’t have to be long- the Clash flashback lasted 1:27, the Fort Byers one 55 seconds. Just do something.

1x3 beats into us that Mrs Coulter is nuts without explaining why. Lots of build-up for a single plot-point. Then we're told Mrs Coulter's origin, not shown. This is a TV show. Swap Boreal's scenes for flashbacks of Coulter and Asriel's affair. Then, when Ma Costa tells Lyra the truth, show the fight between Edward Coulter and Asriel.

To be clear, Thorne's additions aren’t fundamentally bad. For example, Will boxing sets up his struggle with violence. But it's wasted. The burglary/murder in 1x7 fell flat because of bad editing, but the show never uses its visual medium to show Will's 'violent side'- no change in camera angle, focus, or sound design, nothing. It’s just a thing that’s there, unsupported by the visual language of the show

The Magisterium scenes in 2x2 were interesting. We just didn't need 5 of them; their point could be made far more succinctly.

In 2x6 there is a minute-long scene of Mary reading the I Ching. Later, there is another scene of Angelica watching Mary sitting somewhere different, doing the SAME THING, and she sees an Angel. Why split these up? It’s not like either the I Ching or the Angels are being introduced here. Give the scene multiple layers.

Thorne either takes good character moments from the books (Lyra/Will in 2x1) or uses heavy-handed exposition that reiterates the same point multiple times. This hobbles the Witches (their dialogue in 2x1, 2 and 3 literally rephrases the same sentiment about protecting Lyra without doing anything). Even character development- see Lee monologuing his and Mrs Coulter's childhood trauma in specific detail in 2x3

This is another example of Thorne adding something, but instead of integrating it into the dramatic action and showing us, it’s just talked about. What’s the point of adding big plot points if you don’t dramatise them in your dramatic, visual medium? In 2x8, Lee offhandedly mentions playing Alamo Gulch as a kid.

I’m literally screaming, Jack, why the flying fuck wasn’t there a flashback of young Lee and Hester playing Alamo Gulch and being stopped by his abusive dad? It’s not like you care about pacing with the amount of dead air in these episodes, even when S2’s run 10 minutes shorter than S1’s. Lee was even asleep at the beginning of 2x3, Jack! He could’ve woken from a nightmare about his childhood! It’s a little lazy, but better than nothing.

There’s a similar missed opportunity making Dr Lanselius a Witchling. If this idea had been introduced with the character in 1x4, it would’ve opened up so many storytelling possibilities. Linking to Fader Coram’s own dead witchling son. It could’ve given us that much-needed perspective on Witch culture. Imagine Lanselius’ bittersweet meeting with his ageless mother, who gave him up when he reached manhood. Then, when the Magisterium bombs the Witches in 2x2, Lanselius’ mother dies so it means something.

Instead it’s only used to facilitate an awkward exposition dump in the middle of a trial.

The point of this fanfic-y ramble is to illustrate my frustration with the additions; If Thorne had committed and meaningfully expanded and interwoven them with the source material, they could’ve strengthened its weakest aspect (the characters). But instead he stays committed to novelistic storytelling techniques of monologue and two people standing in a room talking at each other

(Seriously, count the number of scenes that are just two people standing in a room or corridor talking to each other. No interesting staging, the characters aren’t doing anything else while talking. They. Just. Stand.) 

SEASON 2 IMPROVEMENTS

S2 improved some things- Lyra's characterisation was more book-accurate, her dynamic with Will was wonderful. Citigazze looked incredible. LMM won lots of book fans over as Lee. Mary was brilliantly cast. Now there are less Daemons, they're better characterised- Pan gets way more to do now and Hester had some lovely moments. 

I genuinely believe 2x1, 2x3, 2x4 and 2x5 are the best HDM has been. 

But new problems arose. The Subtle Knife lost the central, easy to understand drive of Northern Lights (finding the missing kids) for lots of smaller quests. As a result, everyone spends the first two episodes of S2 waiting for the plot to arrive. The big inciting incident of Lyra’s plotline is the theft of the alethiometer, which doesn’t happen until 2x3. Similarly, Lee doesn’t search for John until 2x3. Mrs Coulter doesn’t go looking for Lyra until 2x3. 

On top of missing a unifying dramatic drive, the characters now being split across 3 worlds, instead of the 1+a bit of ours in S1, means the pacing/crosscutting problems (long establishing shots, repetition of information, undercutting momentum) are even worse. The narrative feels scattered and incohesive.   

These flaws are inherent to the source  material and are not the show’s fault, but neither does it do much to counterbalance or address them, and the flaws of the show combine with the difficulties of TSK as source material and make each other worse.

A lot of this has been entitled fanboy bitching, but you can't deny the show is in a bad place ratings-wise. It’s gone from the most watched new British show in 5 years to the S2 premiere having a smaller audience than the lowest-rated episode of Doctor Who Series 12. For comparison, DW's current cast and showrunner are the most unpopular since the 80s, some are actively boycotting it, it took a year-long break between series 11 and 12, had its second-worst average ratings since 2005, and costs a fifth of what HDM does to make. And it's still being watched by more people.

Critical consensus fluctuates wildly. Most laymen call the show slow and boring. The show is simultaneously too niche and self-absorbed to attract a wide audience and gets just enough wrong to aggravate lots of fans.

I’m honestly unsure if S3 will get the same budget. I want it to, if only because of my investment in the books. Considering S2 started filming immediately after S1 aired, I think they've had a lot more time to process and apply critique for S3. On the plus side, there's so much plot in The Amber Spyglass it would be hard to have the same pacing problems. But also so many new concepts that I dread the exposition dumps.

[scribble-blog]

Soulmate AU part 7!!

First • Previous • Here • Next

Damian was not panicking.

Marinette was at his side, her hand securely in his offered arm, and whatever sixth sense produced the electricity between them mellowed as they kept in contact. They were walking the gardens, but aside from their initial introductions, he hadn’t been able to think of a single thing to say that wasn’t overly blunt, didn’t reveal his own confused nervousness, or wouldn’t sound entirely idiotic.

Marinette, for her part, seemed content to walk in silence. Which, from what he’d read from her and what Tim has said about his meeting- which Damian was still scowling about- with her last night, was out of character. But he found that with his own normal faculties so misaligned, he couldn’t exactly hold it against her.

“Here,” she said, letting go of him, and as Damian stopped accordingly he realized she’d drawn him to one of the further greenhouses, which was empty of people. Even with him leading, she’d drawn him somewhere alone, which sent off his internal alarms instantly.

Except that she was his soulmate. And perhaps she just wanted to talk to him for the first time without the threat of the public recognizing him.

He’d been grappling since Tim had mentioned her ability to take him down without warning with the thought that- perhaps, despite what he’d been trying to do for years in making himself someone worthy of being both Batman’s son and Robin, he was still the person who was raised as an assassin, and his soulmate might, possibly, also be on the less savory side of those who knew how to defend themselves.

The immediate revelation about supervillains in Paris and the fact that she knew how to fight like that to protect her life was a point back towards comfort, but he still couldn’t discount it.

And then his whole family had wondered why Tim had stopped to speak with a random civilian on a rooftop in the first place, and he was mostly sure they hadn’t bought Tim’s half assed excuses, so they would surely know about her by noon.

He realized he’d just been staring at her, yet again. Photos didn’t do her eyes justice, he thought, the blue both sweet and dazzling. Her mouth was still curved into a small half smile, the way it had been since she’d spotted him. In her white dress, surrounded by plants and with the natural light filtering in from the windows, she looked almost- angelic.

“I’ll go out on a limb,” Marinette said, eyes meeting his. “We’re soulmates. I’m sure with your status you’ve had people try to fake it, so-“

She moved the neckline of her dress, pulling it low but not scandalously so, until he saw the tidy script of his own handwriting across her shoulder. For half a moment, he wanted to reach out and trace it.

She licked the pad of her thumb and scrubbed it against the mark, but there was no movement, no blurring or smearing.

“You realize that is entirely unnecessary,” He couldn’t stop himself from saying scornfully. “Seeing as how your name is also on my skin. Though you’ll excuse me if I don’t show you.” He chose deliberately not to bring up the electric feeling that still thrummed faintly in the space between them.

“Not everything is as easy as shoulders,” Marinette just shrugged, the motion slipping the dress back into place.

“You successfully pulled me away from any onlookers,” he kept going, and somewhere in his mind he was already despairing over himself. “What did you want?”

She didn’t wince, but it seemed like a close thing. “I wanted to be able to introduce ourselves. Properly.” She sat on one of the garden benches, and he sat beside her. “I know nothing about you.”

“Surely you don’t expect me to believe you didn’t do hours of research on me when the marks first appeared.” He knew that even in France the Wayne name was well known, even if it wasn’t a household name like in Gotham.

“Did you?” She asked, and he made a face. She laughed in response to it, and it made him want to smile. Before he could think about it to much, he let his mouth tug upwards, sharing just a bit of her infectious joy. “I didn’t think so, somehow. No, when the marks appeared I was entirely in love with someone else, and I refused to look you up out of spite. It was only yesterday after running into you like that, my friends made me look you up.”

He was not comfortable with whatever ugly feeling settled in his chest when she mentioned being in love with someone else, so he firmly pushed it aside. “I googled your last name- two years ago, but I didn’t actually look you up until last night. I have to say, you’ve got quite an impressive resume from that google search alone.”

He didn’t miss the slight twist to her lips. Insecure about her accomplishments, perhaps? He’d have to put an end to that.

He realized he was already very much thinking about her being around for a very long while.

Shit.

“I barely found anything on you, though,” she hummed instead of acknowledging his praise. “Only articles about you arriving here in Gotham, and something about you being presumed dead for a while? But I’m sure you don’t want to talk about that. Do you like animals?”

He felt a bit thrown by her rapid change of subjects but also- grateful, that he wouldn’t have to start immediately lying to her. It didn’t hurt that she’d chosen a favorite topic of his. “I have several. My dog, Titus, who my father gave to me, a cat named Alfred, given to me by our butler, and a cow.”

“Hold on- you have a cow?”

He held back his amusement at her bewilderment. “Her name is Bat-Cow.”

She narrowed her eyes at him. He thought it looked cute, like when Alfred had been a kitten, eager to attack his foot when he walked by.

“I’m not sure if I believe you.”

He shrugged. “Bat-Cow doesn’t need your belief to be any more or less real.”

She continued staring him down before finally nodding to herself. “I’ll take it on good faith.”

“Do you have any pets?” He returned the question, still awkward but trying to be as interested in her as she was in him without all of the- quirks of his personality. He was historically not good with first (or continuing) impressions.

“None,” she sighed, “but I desperately want them. If you googled my last name-“

“Ah, the bakery. No pets allowed?” He inferred, and she nodded.

“I’ve always wanted a hamster. Maybe a cat. Although that dream has died off a little in recent years...” She looked more amused than sad, so he let it go. “How do you take your coffee?”

He managed to keep up with her constantly changing topics, flitting from coffee to school subjects to languages. He found himself- for once- falling into actual easy conversation, and she kept up with him just the same. She was smart, he realized as they talked about school, where she told him about being moved up a grade and still taking advanced classes, and whenever he said something a bit too wry and sarcastic her eyes would flit away and one side of her smile would tick up, as if trying not to laugh and agree. He get uncomfortably as if he were flying, the swooping sensation in his stomach uneasy but- she would smile at him again for something and he would find himself hard pressed not to give her a small smile in return. And then they were interrupted.

“Ah, the littlest Wayne.”

The woman at the door was very familiar to Damian. Her long red hair, skin with its faint green pallor- Poison Ivy, but mostly now just Pam Isley, who was practically the reason his father had poured so much into these gardens and other green initiatives.

And she was bleeding from a bullet wound in her side.

TAGLIST:

@the-fusionist @rebecarojas07 @lowandco @kotaleartzu @resignedcatservant @alenee13 @mystery-5-5 @ladybug-182 @actual-disaster-human @loysydark @rumbelle18 @magic-miraculous @vixen-uchiha @athena452 @mochegato @ash-amg @worlds-tiniest-spook-pastry @thestressmademedoit @sassakitty @doriebell @toodaloo-kangaroo @myazael @theatreandcomicfreak @mer-mel @dahjokester @northernbluetongue @abrx2002 @area51qt @jessigurl-design @renscorpio @cici-schnee @multplelifes @redscarlet95 @razzledazzle247 @rosep16 @emotionalsupportginger @kceedraws @tired-butterfly @kuroko26 @catthhay @moonystars14 @shamefullove @shreky-boi @imanerddealwith @chaosace @captainmac6 @purple-people-eaters-productions @crazylittlemunchkin @weird-pale-blonde-person @bigpicklebananatree

[kettle-on]

(Oh woops, this is a lot longer than it was supposed to be, but I got carried away. Still not super happy with it, but I figured I'd post it sooner than later, before I changed my mind completely!)

Monty Python and the Barbados Fic

Eric x Michael x OFC

Chapter 4

attn: @jessm78 @coincidence-ithinknots-blog

Evenings at Heron Bay were lively, silly, rowdy, and populous. The Pythons had decided they would have guests to dinner every night, and surprisingly this proved not too difficult. Apparently Barbados was hopping with friendly famous faces at this time of year.

Mick Jagger continued his regular visits with Jerry on his arm, and one or two pairs of glamorous mystery Misters and Misses. It was revealed through many rounds of Charades that the Rolling Stone had an extraordinary talent for both miming and deciphering interpretive dance. His rendition of “the eruption of Mt Vesuvius” was met with roaring applause, and his “Sex Pistols” brought the evening to an un-toppable peak.

Things would take a turn, however, when an entirely sober Graham introduced a favourite game of his called “Poor Pussy” in which the chosen “pussy” approaches guests and, through meowing and distinctly feline behaviour, must make the guest laugh whilst they attempt to pet pussy’s head and say with a straight face three times: “poor pussy.” When one does laugh, they become the new “pussy.” This last rule changed quickly when it arose that multiple “pussies” had taken over the room, and hardly a word could be spoken from the guests through their laughter.

Perhaps the most uncommon news, however, came from casual chat. A visiting Keith Moon explained his plans for a new house in Malibu, anxious for acres of privacy and leaving behind his celebrity neighbours. Jagger the Charades king told of all-night New York City parties, to which Graham countered: “At least in London, one has the good sense to wrap up before sitting down to breakfast.”

Y/N was sure that, had she been keeping a list, she’d have been privy to the business of every star in modern comedy and rock and roll.

The next morning came too early once again, but Y/N was this time drawn to the bedroom window. From here she could see the team of gardeners hired to keep Heron Bay looking lush and groomed. She couldn’t help but feel that with each day that passed she was floating further and further away from what she remembered normal life to be like.

Not wanting to disturb a sleeping Eric, she made her way to the morning room that looked out to the curved courtyard. At one end of the room was a large painted screen of columns in some beautiful ancient scene. Each table surface in this room was topped with a floral arrangement, antique candlesticks, and photographs of visitors and houseguests. Decades of beautiful faces and elegant dresses, men in uniform, and posed portraits looked back at her from their frames.

What was this world? she had long wondered. Painted screens, stone pediments, beaches, house staff, tennis courts, and private ponds. Marriages, affairs, and cover-ups. Churchill, the Duke of Edinburgh, Lord and Lady Something of Somewhere Unpronounceable, and movie stars and rock n roll gods. And who was she in all of this?

From the near distance, she heard puffs of exertion and approaching steps. Michael had committed himself to continuing his disciplined daily morning jog and here he was returning.

“Ah,” he panted, “Morning.”

“Good morning. Nice run?”

“Well,” puff, “it’s not Holloway, but it’ll do.”

When he caught his breath, he noticed her uneasiness. With a smiling face and a tone he’d learned from his mother, he suggested:

“Tea?” --

It was much later that night that Y/N found herself again wandering the corridors alone. The afternoon had passed with a visit from Eric’s friend Ricky Fataar with whom he’d made The Rutles the previous year, and his wife, Heron Bay’s proprietress Penelope Tree. The couple had dropped in for what they called a “business luncheon,” and extended an invitation to the Python household out for a “business dinner.” The two Terrys and Eric accepted, (the Terrys hoping they might throw in a bit of “money talk” regarding their upcoming film budget) and by the time the day’s activities had come to a close, the outward dinner guests had yet to return.

In the rare quiet of the late-night, Y/N knocked on the door to the room where Michael was staying, and a friendly hum invited her into the room. A single lamp lit up the walls and floor, and a Michael in repose who was making edits to his well-kept journal.

“Do I recall correctly you said you’d brought a small library with you?” asked Y/N from the door.

“I did, indeed!” he responded, setting his journal on one of the nightstands next to the bed. “What’s the matter – can’t sleep?”

Y/N shook her head with an apologetic smirk.

“I see, and what sort of thing are you after?”

“Something, uh... gentle, I suppose. Something to escape.”

“Escape? From here? A tropical island and you’d like to escape – now that’s puzzling.” He drew back the thin blanket that covered his lower half, and swung his mostly bare legs over the side of the mattress.

“No, no,” she started, “Just something to, y’know, get out of my head for a bit.”

“Mm, is there something troubling you?” Michael eyed the three stacks of books casually adorning a side table, and inspected the choices of titles.

“Just feeling a little…” Y/N searched for a believable excuse, “homesick.”

He was not convinced. Putting his book task on pause he raised his eyebrows, requesting her further explanation. Y/N both appreciated and hated this look. Michael, though the gentlest and kindest of the troupe, would not let anything go unexplained or hidden for long, and his generosity and patience invited her to open up.

“I’m not really sure what I’m doing here,” she confessed. “I feel like I’m just getting in the way, y’know? You’re all working hard on what I’m certain will be a brilliant film, and what am I here for?”

“You’re on holiday,” he declared with what he hoped was an assuring smile.

“A holiday from what? What do I even do?” She felt the agitation rising in her voice. “It’s like I just exist day in and day out with no purpose or point. No goals and no…”

Michael’s stare was intense and he waited for her to continue.

“…future.” Her voice dropped to almost a whisper when she noticed she’d drawn his undivided attention. A quiet Michael was a rare thing, and the silence stilled the air between them.

“So, I thought... maybe a… a book might help,” she attempted, but Michael was already smoothing down the bedspread, offering a space beside him which she gratefully filled.

“Is this what it’s like being famous?” she asked heavily, taking a seat. “Always surrounded by extremely talented, important people, and constantly comparing your own worth and accomplishments?”

“I suppose it is, yes. Sometimes.” Michael was usually very good at telling the truth in a palatable way.

Nevertheless, this acknowledgement only supported her anxiety. Her face fell and she closed her eyes, sensing exhaustion was on its way. She silently prayed for one of Michael’s rambling speeches, and he intuitively delivered.

“But it doesn’t have to be,” he began. “None of this comes with the expectation that you’ve earned your right to enjoy things. You don’t need to have won a Nobel Prize or sold a million records to deserve fine cutlery. But when you’re well-known, everybody wants to know you and bring you lovely things, whether or not you think you deserve them. When that happens, I think what helps is to recognize what’s there for you, and appreciate that there are all these things you can access if you’d like to. What’s important to remember is that you have options, and lots of good ones, too.

“And as far as goals and a future, well… I can’t tell you that. All I can tell you is that you’re already building a future just by living. And learning, and asking questions, and thinking, and wondering, and loving, and caring.”

Y/N had stayed quiet. The past few weeks of indulgence, creativity, and celebrity drama had left her feeling in a way excluded, and far away from herself. It wasn’t something she found she could explain to Eric without seeming ungrateful.

Michael continued:

“So right now, you’re on holiday somewhere you’ve never been, and learning how the other half lives. And what am I doing? Well at the moment I’m enjoying a few weeks on a beautiful island, with marvelous weather, with my wonderful friends. Together, we’re finishing up a script for a film which, if all goes well, we’ll be making later this year. That’s my job, and it keeps me working, but I’ve got the rest of my hours and days, too, and that’s when I’m living. That’s when life happens, you see, in the in-between time.

Y/N had secured a point of focus on the floor, and found it fitting that Michael’s was one of the few rooms in the building with wooden floorboards instead of the palatial stone. In this room she could be almost anywhere in the world, and at this moment she was happy to be somewhere closer to home.

“There’s no rush,” Michael added, noting her half-daze. “Life is short, but... there’s so much of it. You can stop and start and chop and change as many times as you like. It’s all life,” he slowed his pace, carefully observing her softened expression, “and it’s all yours.”

Y/N leaned back onto her elbows and contemplated her bare knees.

“I don’t think I’ve heard that one before,” she mused. “Hm. I’ve got a lot of time to fill, haven’t I?”

Michael gave a warm hum of agreement and joined her sideways, propping his head on an elbow, attentive as ever.

“And what are you going to fill it with first?” he asked.

This prospect was suddenly overwhelming, and it showed in her eyes. She took a breath and decided to choose levity for a change.

“I could work on this tan, I guess,” she playfully suggested, kicking a leg up and indicating her knees, “What do you think?”

“Very nice,” he approved. In fact, he had long admired her knees, and was grateful to the January Barbados weather for getting them out of trousers and wool tights. The previous summer at many a pub garden evening, he’d envied Eric’s long fingers resting atop Y/N’s knees, giving an occasional squeeze, and more than once catching sight of a slow glide up a thigh, disappearing under a skirt hem.

“Looks like you’re off to a good start there,” he said, allowing himself an extra-long, fully permissible eyeing up of her legs.

“And you?” she asked, “What’s next in the in-between time?”

“Well, I thought I might see what life by the ocean is like. I don’t see it very often. They’ve got waterskiing down at the bay - I might give that a go. I doubt I’ll be any good, but at least then I can say I’ve done it. Obviously a very valuable skill in London. I can see it: there I am, shooting across the lakes of Hampstead Heath. Or better still, an aquatic commute! I could start off from Blackfriars in the morning, and be in Molesey by tea-time, how’s that?”

Y/N laughed, tired from the day but grateful for Michael’s silliness. She liked this. Why couldn’t Mike be around more often? Or could she have a mini-Mike to keep in her purse and take out for impromptu pep-talks and compliments, please?

“I wonder,” he said carefully when her laughter died down. “Rather than in the way, do you think perhaps you might be feeling a bit overlooked?”

This caught her off guard. Overlooked? She never felt ignored or unappreciated. On the contrary, Eric’s attention and gestures of love came in spades. But what was it for? What really did she have to offer? She hardly expected to stand out next to her accomplished and celebrated partner and his career, nor did she wish to dull his accomplishments or stifle him. Stability would be very nice, but so too would making a name for herself be. So what did she want – life or recognition?

“Maybe,” she finally said in a small voice, too tired now to analyze any further.

How fragile she now seemed to Michael. She had opened her heart to him, and the sense of duty and the care with which he held it felt so natural. He wished he could hold it for a little longer.

Stroking kind fingers down her forearm, he took her hand, willing her out of her trance. With a closed-eyed focus on her hand, he drew her knuckles to his lips.

“So I’ve got options,” Y/N re-stated.

“Mhmm,” sounded Michael, whose lips were still appreciating her fingers.

“And I’m building a life every day,” she continued.

"Every day,” he repeated, his thumb now taking over addressing her knuckles.

“And mine is no less important than anyone else’s?”

She knew the answer, but the question brought their eyes to meet, and he held her gaze with tenderness.

“I think anyone who meets you feels lucky that they did. I know I do.”

Y/N felt whatever was left of her distress dissolve with a heavy breath. She had been heard, and she knew with certainty that her cares were safe with him.

Slowly, she wrapped her arms around his torso, and he enveloped her shoulders with a tight grip. His voice was low in her ear:

“You know, if it was a book you were after, I rather thought you’d have asked Terry.”

Y/N wasn’t going to bother mustering the energy to protest or to come up with a nonsense reason why she’d chosen to see Michael. She was here now, and she was perfectly content with it.

“I’m very glad you didn’t,” he confessed, and having exhausted all words, he began a slow exploration of her neck, starting with nuzzling the delicate space beneath her ear. Sensing no resistance, and hearing her approving sigh, he continued down to her shoulder, leaving soft, open-mouthed kisses as he went.

He was kind and patient and open, Y/N remembered as she felt herself giving over to the moment’s tenderness, her curiosity duelling with her fatigue.

With restrained eagerness, he moved along the underside of her jaw before,

“Stop stop,” she hushed.

She was fighting with her enjoyment, but this was not a good time to discover feelings. All she wanted now was comfort and sleep. She looked at her kindred Michael half-apologetically, and he shifted aside, making a space for her to lie down and sleep. He reached over to switch off the bedside lamp, and gently pulled the sheet up to cover their spooning bodies.

Out on the patio under the moonlight, Eric lay on a lounge chair, gazing into the sky and contemplating several things: Ricky and Penelope’s marriage, Mick and Jerry’s affair, and the concept of unfaithfulness. And the very nature of frivolity, and luxury, and everything he learned from the swinging sixties of liberation and self-indulgence. And, unexpectedly, Michael.

He wriggled in his spot, unable to relax. I need to write this, he thought. He worked most things out through writing, and now he would turn to his typewriter, get his musings out on paper, and try to make some sort of sense of his brain soup.