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thewulf · 5 days

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The Analyst's Arrival || Aaron Hotchner

Summary: Request - Hi can I request a hotch x bau reader? I'm sure its been done before but I just love your hotch fics!! When Strauss hires the reader without Aaron Hotchner's approval, tensions run high. Hotch is distant and a little mean, but the reader's unwavering positivity and kindness start to chip away at his walls... Read Rest Here

A/N: Really loved writing this one. Hope you all enjoy!

Pairing: Aaron Hotchner x Female Reader,

Word Count: 4.2k

TW: Yelling, gunshots (non wounded), general CM triggers

The BAU conference room hums quietly with the usual pre-meeting chatter. Derek flicks a crumpled paper ball at Spencer who is engrossed in his latest physics journal. While JJ shares weekend plans with Prentiss. The light mood does little to ease the stiffness in Aaron Hotchner’s posture as he stands at the head of the table with his folders organized neatly in front of him.

The door swings open and Erin Strauss steps in. It was a rare occurrence that immediately draws everyone’s attention. You follow behind her, your confident stride belying the curious glances you receive from the team.

"Good morning, everyone," Strauss begins. Her voice pulling the room into a focused silence. "I’d like you to meet Agent Y/N L/N. She’s joining us from the NYPD where she served in the Major Crimes unit. Agent L/N has a sharp analytical mind and extensive field experience which I’m confident will be invaluable to our team."

Hotchner's eyes narrow slightly, not at you, but at the way Strauss seems to relish the surprise on his face. He had not been informed of this decision—a move that didn't just sidestep his authority but outright ignored it. A move he hated.

As polite smiles and nods pass around the room, Hotchner remains motionless. His gaze finally landing on you. You seem unaffected by the tension your presence has stirred as you returned his scrutiny with a polite, unwavering smile.

"I'm very excited to be here and look forward to working with each of you," you spoke. Your voice steady and warm. "I’ve heard only the best about the BAU team."

"Thank you Agent L/N," Strauss cuts in smoothly. "I’ll leave you in Agent Hotchner’s capable hands." With a final nod Strauss exits, the click of her heels echoing a stark finality to her departure.

There is a brief silence as you linger in the doorway. "Why don’t we get started then?" Hotchner says. His tone more a command than a suggestion. "Morgan, Reid, can you bring Agent L/N up to speed on the current case?"

As the team dives into the details of their latest unsolved case Hotch observes you. You listen intently, asking pertinent questions that demonstrate not just your understanding but your capability to dive right into the deep end. Despite his initial resistance he can't help but admit—albeit grudgingly—that you seem competent.

Yet as the meeting progresses Hotch feels a gnawing sense of irritation. It isn't directed at you, but at Strauss and the situation he’s been forced into. Watching you interact with his team, a part of him wants to see what you can do. To see if Strauss’s confidence in you is justified. But as the leader of the BAU and with walls built from years of leadership, admitting that will take a bit more than just a good first impression.

In the days following your introduction the BAU team falls into a familiar rhythm with you, gradually weaving you into the fabric of their tightly knit group. Spencer shares book recommendations, curious about your interests. While Morgan teases lightly, testing your sense of humor. Prentiss and JJ involve you in their lunch outings often asking about your experiences with the NYPD.

However, Hotchner maintains a professional distance. During briefings he is succinct, his interactions with you strictly businesslike. His questions about your reports are pointed and perhaps harsher than necessary. You sense his doubt. Not just in his words but in the lingering looks that question your conclusions or the slight frown when you speak up during meetings.

One afternoon you're updating the team on a profile you've been developing. "Based on the victimology the unsub is likely someone with a deep-seated resentment towards authority figures. Possibly stemming from a troubled childhood," you explain as you clicked through the presentation slides.

"Seems like a stretch without more evidence," Hotchner interrupts abruptly. His critique hangs in the air. Heavier than the typical scrutiny profiles usually receive. You notice a brief exchange of looks among the team, but they remain silent.

Despite this you maintain your composure, responding calmly. "I'll dive deeper into the case files and see if I can substantiate that with more specific behaviors," you assure him with a nod that's meant to show both your respect for his experience and your confidence in your own skills.

As you work later in the quiet of the empty briefing room refining your profile, Hotchner watches from his office. The light from his desk lamp casts a long shadow and his expression is unreadable. The easy acceptance from others contrasts starkly with his skepticism and it's clear that you have yet to earn his trust.

One evening as you're the last two in the office Hotchner approaches your desk with his usual resolve towards you. "Agent L/N, I want our profiles to be watertight. I can't have assumptions without solid evidence," he states. His voice low and firm.

"I understand, sir," you reply, meeting his gaze. "I appreciate your guidance. I'm here to learn and contribute as effectively as I can."

There's a pause, a moment where something unspoken passes between you. Perhaps it's the acknowledgment of your dedication, or maybe it's Hotchner wrestling with his own reluctance to accept change. He nods curtly and leaves you to your work.

Despite the cold front you don't let it dampen your spirit. Instead, you double down on your efforts, pouring over case files late into the night. You were determined to prove your worth not just to Hotchner, but to yourself. Your positivity and commitment slowly chip away at the team's initial reservations and even though Hotchner remains distant you start to feel like a part of the BAU family.

As weeks pass your insights during case reviews become sharper. Your suggestions more intuitive. The team begins to rely on your judgment. They sought out your opinion, and slowly, very slowly, you notice a thaw in Hotchner's demeanor—a nod here, a less critical question there.

But the wall he has built around him isn't one to crumble quickly and you know that gaining Hotchner's full trust will be a marathon, not a sprint. Still, your unwavering kindness and the diligent sparkle in your eyes during every case discussion continue to sow seeds of change. Even in the stony ground of Hotch’s reserved heart.

A couple of weeks later and Hotch finally decides you’re ready to join the team in the field instead of staying behind with Penelope. Not that you didn’t like working with her you were just craving to do what you were hired to do.

The air is thick with tension as the BAU team arrives at the suspected hideout of the unsub at an abandoned warehouse on the outskirts of the city. It's late, the darkness only broken by the beams of flashlights and the occasional flicker of police sirens in the distance. Hotchner's orders are clear and concise. His voice a calm command over the sound of rustling tactical gear.

"Reid, Y/N, you're with me. Morgan, Prentiss, take the east side. Radio if you make contact. Everyone, stay sharp," Hotchner instructs. His eyes scanning the perimeter before leading you and Reid towards the main entrance.

The warehouse is a labyrinth of shadows and echoing spaces. A place that seems to absorb sound and light alike. You follow Hotch with your senses heightened every training you’ve undergone pulsing through your veins. As you navigate through a maze of crates and discarded machinery, a noise—a soft scuffle, almost imperceptible—catches your attention. You signal to Hotchner and Reid pointing towards a dark corridor off to the left.

"Stay here, cover us," Hotchner whispers. His gun raised as he edges toward the sound with Reid close behind.

You position yourself with your back to a solid surface, gun aimed at the corridor. Your mind races through various scenarios, but nothing prepares you for the sight of a figure lunging out of the shadows. Heading straight for Reid with a knife glinting in the dim light.

Without a moment's hesitation you break cover, tackling Reid out of the knife’s path. The impact sends you both sprawling to the ground just as Hotchner turns, firing off two quick shots. The unsub goes down, a groan echoing off the walls.

"Reid, you okay?" Hotchner is immediately by your side. His usual stoic demeanor replaced by concern.

"Yeah, thanks to Y/N," Reid gasps. His eyes wide with the adrenaline of the near miss.

Hotchner turns to you. His expression unreadable for a moment. Then, slowly his features soften, the corners of his eyes crinkling not with frustration, but something akin to gratitude. "Good work, Agent L/N. That was quick thinking."

Your heart pounds not just from the action but also from Hotchner's acknowledgment. "Just doing my job, sir," you manage to choke out though the gravity of the moment isn't lost on you.

As the team secures the scene and paramedics check over everyone Hotchner keeps glancing your way, his gaze lingering longer than usual. In those looks there’s a new respect, perhaps even a reassessment of his earlier doubts about you.

Later, as the team debriefs back at the BAU, Hotch publicly commends your actions. "Agent L/N’s instincts and bravery tonight might have saved Dr. Reid’s life and potentially others. Excellent work."

The team’s applause is warm, genuine, and you can't help but feel a surge of pride. More than the praise it’s Hotchner’s nod of respect towards you that marks a significant shift. It's a turning point not just in your relationship with him but in your place within the team. Your actions have not only proven your worth, but they’ve begun to dismantle the walls Hotchner had built around himself, brick by brick.

In the weeks following the intense warehouse operation the dynamic within the BAU team subtly shifts. You are no longer just the new agent. You have proven yourself as a vital part of the team. Hotchner notices the change not only in how the team interacts with you but also in his own perceptions.

One crisp autumn morning as the trees outside the Quantico offices burst with gold and russet hues, Hotchner finds himself observing you from across the bullpen. You’re assisting Morgan with recalibrating the physical training program for new recruits. The ease with which you handle the task, balancing Morgan’s strength with strategic insights, does not go unnoticed by Hotchner. There's a gentleness mixed with competence in your approach. A stark contrast to the decisive action you displayed in the field.

Later that day, you offer to stay late to help Morgan review the training schedules, ensuring they are optimized for the team’s needs. Garcia joins in eager to add her tech-savvy touch. Hotchner overhears laughter from the office you’re sharing, a sound that is light and genuine, making him pause as he packs up for the night. The sound of friendship and shared effort makes the BAU feel more like a tight nit family and he realizes you are a big part of that shift.

During a team briefing the following week Hotch openly seeks your opinion on the psychological conditioning aspects of the training program. As you outline your thoughts by citing recent research and adaptive training methods he listens intently. The team watches this interaction, clearly seeing Hotchner’s respect for you which influences their own views.

When the team encounters a critical situation with a string of high intensity raids you suggest an innovative tactical maneuver that saves valuable time and minimizes risk. Watching you handle the pressure with composed determination Hotch feels a significant shift within himself—a deep-seated respect for your skills and a growing admiration for your resilience.

It’s not just your professional competence that reshapes his thoughts but also your empathy and dedication. You take the time to ensure that the team is not only prepared physically but supported mentally. A role that enriches the team in ways Hotchner hadn't anticipated.

One evening as everyone is about to leave you pass by Hotchner’s office. He calls you in, an impromptu gesture that surprises even him. “Agent L/N,” he begins, his voice reflecting a mix of professional respect and something more tentative. “I’ve been meaning to say… your work, especially in these past weeks, has been exemplary. I initially misjudged you and I want you to know I appreciate what you bring to the team.”

Your response is a nod accompanied by a warm smile, but his words catch you off guard and a faint blush colors your cheeks. “Thank you, sir. I’m just glad to be here, and I really truly appreciate your guidance.”

It's then, in that quiet moment, as the setting sun casts a warm glow through his office window highlighting the blush on your face and the sincerity in your eyes that Hotchner sees something he hadn't fully allowed himself to recognize before. The softness of the light, the quiet dignity with which you accept his praise and the undeniable warmth of your smile strike him profoundly.

For a brief moment Hotchner is silent, observing you not just as a capable agent but as a person whose presence has subtly but indelibly changed the fabric of the team—and his own perceptions. The realization that he finds you beautiful, in more ways than one, surfaces quietly but powerfully in his mind. This acknowledgment isn't just about your physical appearance but encompasses the entirety of your influence on him and the team.

As you leave his office with a certain lightness in your step. The thoughtful look on Hotchner's face mark a turning point. It's a small almost imperceptible moment, but it’s one where personal and professional lines blur slightly, hinting at deeper unspoken possibilities that neither of you may yet fully understand.

The next case up had been grueling with long hours and high stakes that left the entire team feeling the weight of their responsibilities. As the post-case debrief wraps up in the BAU conference room the team disperses, leaving behind a palpable relief mixed with the usual fatigue. But as everyone else heads out to grasp at some much-needed rest, Hotchner lingers at the conference table organizing his notes with more care than perhaps necessary.

Seeing you gathering your belongings slowly he finds the resolve to address the change he's felt brewing within him. "Agent L/N, could I have a moment?" he asks. His voice much softer than usual.

You nod, curious, setting your bag down and returning to the table. The room is quiet now, lit only by the dim lights left on for the night shift.

Hotchner takes a deep breath, his demeanor uncharacteristically open. "I owe you an apology," he starts. His eyes meeting yours. "When you first joined the team, I was... less than welcoming. I questioned your capabilities. Not because of any fault in your record or your behavior, but because I was resistant to the change you represented."

You listen, surprised by his candor, as he continues, "I've always insisted on control, on predictability. After everything I’ve been through, it seemed like the only way to protect the team, to protect my family from further loss. But I've come to realize that I was protecting myself more than anyone."

Hotchner pauses. His gaze shifting away momentarily before returning to yours, more intense, more vulnerable. "You’ve brought a new perspective to the team, a resilience and warmth that I didn't know we needed. You've saved lives, not just through your actions in the field but by being who you are. And...” he hesitates, the next words clearly weighing heavily on him, “and I find myself grateful, not just for your contributions to the team, but for the light you've brought into my life."

Your heart skips a beat at his words. The formal barriers between you melting away in the quiet honesty of the moment. “Thank you, Hotch," you respond, your voice low. You were touched by his admission. "I’ve always admired your dedication and getting to see this side of you, it means a lot."

Hotchner nods with a slight smile breaking through his usual reserve. "I guess what I’m really trying to say is, I would like to... explore this, whatever this is, with you. If you’re open to it," he adds quickly, almost awkwardly.

As the room quiets and you acknowledge Aaron Hotchner’s feelings. Even though your elated you feel that pit of dread form in your stomach. Aaron was your superior… a shadow of concern passes over your face, quickly deepening into visible anxiety. "Hotch," you start, your voice carrying a mix of hope and worry that quickly spirals into panic. "What about Strauss? If things change between us... I mean, if we do this, couldn’t it really complicate things? What if it impacts the team, or your position, or—"

Seeing your distress, Hotchner steps closer. His expression softening significantly as he picks up on your escalating fears. "Hey," he interjects gently, his tone soothing. "Let’s just take a moment, okay?"

You pause, your breath shaky, caught up in the whirlwind of potential consequences that his words had unwittingly unleashed.

Hotchner reaches out slowly. He was giving you time to accept his comfort before his hands rest lightly on your shoulders. "We're not going to rush into anything," he assures you, his voice calm and steady. "Yes, there are risks, and you’re absolutely right to consider them. But we’re not in this alone. We have a team that supports us, and we have each other."

His words help, but it's the firm comforting presence of his hands, the warmth from his touch, that really begins to calm your racing thoughts. "We'll be careful," he continues. "We’ll make decisions together. I respect you too much to let this cause you any distress. If it ever becomes too much, we stop and we stay professional. That’s a promise."

Your breathing slows, steadied by his reassurances. Looking into his eyes you find a sincere commitment there. A steadiness that you’ve always admired in him now directed towards nurturing whatever might grow between you.

Seeing that you’re still tense, Hotchner does something he rarely does—he pulls you gently into a hug. It’s a careful gesture making sure to respect the boundaries but offering comfort. "We’ll handle whatever comes, together," he murmurs. "You're not in this alone."

The hug was unexpected but deeply comforting. It helps to dissolve the last of your apprehensions. You let out a slow breath, allowing yourself to lean into the embrace. You felt a sense of safety in his support.

"Thank you, Hotch," you manage to say with your voice muffled slightly against his shoulder. "I needed to hear that. One step at a time. I can do that."

"One step at a time," he confirms. Giving you a reassuring squeeze before stepping back to respect your space. "We have all the time we need."

As you both leave the conference room, your steps feel lighter. The burden of immediate decisions lifted. With Hotch’s support you feel ready to face whatever challenges might come knowing that not just the weight of the case, but also the weight of new possibilities could be shared.

In the weeks that follow your relationship with Hotchner develops quietly but deeply. Both of you are cautious, acutely aware of the professional boundaries that must be maintained in the intense environment of the BAU. Yet outside of those walls, in the small, stolen moments you find together, a new world seems to unfold. A world where you can be just Aaron and Y/N, not agents with burdens too heavy to bear alone.

You start with simple coffee dates after long shifts where the conversation drifts from case debriefs to shared interests in literature and quiet confessions about your lives outside the FBI. These moments are a revelation, filled with laughter and soft looks that linger longer than necessary. They are moments that stitch the fabric of your relationship tighter with every thread of shared vulnerability and joy.

Aaron, who has always been guarded with his emotions, finds in you an understanding ear and a comforting presence. You learn about his son, Jack, about the painful loss of his wife, and how these experiences shaped him, not just as an agent but as a man who fiercely protects those he loves. Your empathy and gentle encouragement help him navigate the lingering shadows of his past. Allowing him to embrace the possibility of happiness again.

For you, Aaron becomes the person you didn’t know you needed in his strength. His steadfast nature and unyielding integrity inspire you, guiding you through the complexities of your role within the BAU. His belief in your abilities boosts your confidence and his support becomes your anchor in the turbulent sea of your demanding careers.

Together you navigate the highs and lows of life at the BAU. After particularly harrowing cases it’s Aaron who helps you decompress by taking long walks by the lake near your apartment or simply sitting together in comfortable silence. And it’s you who brings light into his evenings with Jack making sure to join them for movie nights and slowly becoming part of the family he holds dear.

The relationship does not go unnoticed by the team but the respect you both maintain at work ensures that your personal lives enrich your professionalism rather than detract from it. Your colleagues see the subtle changes—how Aaron smiles a bit more, how you’re both more relaxed despite the demands of your job.

After a few months of dating, you and Aaron walk hand in hand along the quiet paths of a nearby park, he stops, pulling you close. The city lights cast a soft glow around you, and the world feels like it’s holding its breath. "Y/N, these past months have shown me something I hadn’t dared to hope for," he says, his voice low and full of emotion. "That it’s possible to find light even in the darkest places. You’ve brought that light into my life."

You smile while reaching up to touch his face gently. "And you’ve shown me that strength isn’t just about holding up the world on your own, but knowing when to share the load," you reply, your heart full. "I love you, Aaron."

"I love you too, Y/N," he whispers, and as he leans down to kiss you, it feels like a promise. A promise of a future together where love and understanding can thrive amidst the chaos of the life you’ve chosen.

As autumn turns into winter the relationship between you and Aaron blooms amidst the frosty edges of the season, weaving warmth into the crisp air around you. Your love, quiet but profound, becomes the silent strength that both of you draw from during the demanding days at the BAU.

One chilly December evening after a usually tough case that had stretched your limits and tested your resilience, Aaron plans something special to celebrate not just the end of the case but the life you are building together. When you arrive at his house after the long day, you find the living room transformed into a cozy winter wonderland. It was complete with soft blankets, flickering candles, and a fireplace that crackles with warmth.

Jack was at a sleepover and Aaron greets you at the door with a gentle smile dressed in a comfortable sweater that makes him look homier than ever. "I thought we could use a quiet night in," he smiles while leading you into the room.

The table is set with your favorite foods and there’s a gentle playlist humming through the speakers filled with songs that have slowly become 'yours'. Aaron pulls out a chair for you, his manners impeccable as always, but his eyes are shining with a joy that is purely personal. As you eat, the conversation flows easily—plans for the holiday, funny anecdotes from the day, shared dreams for the future. After dinner Aaron leads you to the couch where a blanket is draped invitingly. He sits beside you pulling you close into his side, and you nestle against him feeling the steady beat of his heart.

“Y/N,” Aaron murmurs, his voice soft in the quiet of the room, “when I think about all we’ve been through, I realize every moment led me right here, to this. To us. I can’t imagine my life without you.”

You look up at him touched by the sincerity in his voice. “And I can’t imagine a better person to share my life with,” you reply. Your hand finding his. “You make everything... brighter. More beautiful.”

Aaron smiles, his gaze tender. “I have something for you,” he says while reaching into his pocket to pull out a small, exquisitely wrapped box. He opens it to reveal a delicate silver necklace with a pendant that glimmers softly in the firelight—a compass.

“It’s to remind us that no matter where we go or what cases we face, we’ll always find our way back to each other,” he explains. His fingers brushing lightly over the pendant before fastening it around your neck.

You touch the pendant overwhelmed by the thoughtfulness of the gift. “It’s perfect, Aaron. Just like this night, like this.”

He leans in with his lips meeting yours in a kiss that is slow and sweet, a seal over promises made and kept. The rest of the evening passes in gentle laughter, shared kisses, and dreams whispered between the folds of blankets under the watchful glow of firelight and twinkling stars outside your window.

Aaron Hotchner/Criminal Minds: Permanent Taglist (If you'd like to be added to any or all works please fill out the form here: (Taglist Sign Up) @loving-and-dreaming @kmc1989 @memeorydotcom @matisse556 @buckylov3r @taygrls @ah-blossom @daily-evanstan @hardballoonlove @14buddy22 @rosiahills22 @djs8891 @mrs-ssa-hotch @panandinpain0 @viscade @kreepja @il0vebeingdelulu @hiireadstuff @kajjaka @guacam011y

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msafterhours · 28 days

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Saccharine | Act Three

Male Reader x (G)I-DLE Yuqi

[Act 1] [Act 2] Act 3 (~16.5k words)

Note: this is not intended as a standalone story. If you haven’t already read Acts One & Two, I’d highly recommend doing so before reading further so that you don’t miss out on important context.

You sit there, alone, sipping on silence long after the bar closes. A little longer. You stay until the sunrise slips past the horizon, shining a light on your sins and reminding you of the responsibilities to come. With a stretch and a sigh, you stand and make your way to the elevator, internally debating whether or not you’d prefer her to be there. Even after you’ve exited the lift, walked down the hall, and turned the handle, you still haven’t come to a conclusion. Luckily, you don’t have to, as the ceaseless stillness of the room confirms your solitary status. A quick check of the bed informs you of her departure; a brief look at the clock tells you a bit more. It’s been seven hours since she arrived, six and a half since the new year began, and who knows how long since she awoke and fled?

It’s a question you don’t expect an answer to, so you do your best to move along, packing up your things and catching an early bus ride back to your apartment. The calendar’s kind enough to offer you an empty schedule and a well-timed weekend, so as soon as you lay your eyes on the beautiful sight of your very own bed, the rest of your body is quick to follow suit. Sleep is all too easy to find as you crash harder than you ever have before. Maybe a minute, maybe a millennium passes in that darkness—you’re far too tired to even try to tell. The first sight that greets you upon your awakening is a familiar one: a singular “four” at the front of the face of your alarm clock alongside those cursed letters “AM” at the end. Nearly an entire day lost—a price paid to the debt of fatigue you’d been so careless in accruing.

It is what it is. The second sight that greets you is a calendar event on your phone, reminding you of the upcoming deadline of your quintet interview piece in twenty hours. With a resigned sigh, you set about your routine, teeth grinding into your lower lip as the shower reminds you of your multitude of misdeeds. A bit of coffee and a metric fuckton of determination are all it takes you to get through the day, allowing you to submit your composition to your editor minutes before midnight.

With that out of the way, you return to your bed once more, mustering up some semblance of motivation to march onwards towards a new day. Almost immediately upon the morning’s dawn, you’re unnerved by just how irregular your everyday routine suddenly feels. There’s a sense of anxiety—anticipation?—in the air, as if you’re waiting for someone or something to burst through the door and denounce your wrongdoings. Ultimately, there’s basically no media coverage of the party, leaving you to post your piece and enjoy the peace granted by publishing your work. It receives mostly positive, complimentary feedback, primarily through proximity as love is heaped upon the idols, but that’s anything but a surprise. Considering the sensitive nature of the subject matter discussed, you make sure to keep it strictly vanilla: looking to the future without lamenting the losses of the past. Things really only get interesting when a remarkable message arrives in an inbox normally filled with unremarkable shlock:

A memorable account name? ✔

A multitude of comments and original posts across its very active existence? ✔

An unending array of likes and comments on every one of her posts, all of them singing her praises? ✔

Oh, and of course the message itself:

noodle.zip: Oh come on, you and I both know that the conversation wasn’t anywhere near that boring

Check.

This time, wanting to avoid any unnecessary heat, you respond directly:

inkingship: Maybe, but wasn’t this for the best? noodle.zip: I wouldn’t say so noodle.zip: In fact, I might even say you’re actively avoiding the most important parts inkingship: Are you judging me for being a professional? noodle.zip: Not exactly noodle.zip: I’m just saying you might have missed out on a chance for more fun for all parties involved noodle.zip: Or something like that inkingship: You’re definitely judging me noodle.zip: And if I am? inkingship: Then I might like you even more than I thought I did

And just like that, the new norm forms and what was once routine becomes forgotten. You continue your writing, covering comebacks from Changwon to Kwangya and conversing with your contacts, Miyeon chief among them as she compliments your recent work and you praise her performance on the Moonshine OST. All in all, it’s a calm, quiet time, especially compared to the cacophony that’s comprised the previous couple of months. But, as always, the perfect weather never lasts, and signs of the storm are swift to show themselves just beyond the horizon.

You know well ahead of time that their comeback is soon to be announced and as soon as the album is teased, you cut all contact—refusing to read or respond to any of Miyeon's messages. Part of you can't help but wonder if she's wondering why you ghosted her, but every fiber of your being knows beyond a shadow of a doubt that she would know exactly why. It’s made even worse when you see the concept teasers—see the way she looks over her shoulder, face framed in shadow as those piercing eyes stare down upon your paltry soul, and—fuck—the bare skin of her back, acting as an enticing invitation to all who've yet to witness her in full. Then the second teaser drops, and then the third—each communicating the slightest hint of how dangerous she can truly be. In your well-respected opinion, it’s the hottest she’s ever been, and it’s not close. She knows full well the things she does to you, and she’s daring you to do something, anything in response.

It drives you fucking insane.

As soon as you receive early access to the album, you give it a full listen. Even as your head sways in sync with the songs, you cast aside your compliments, instead choosing to pen your words with a different kind of ink—searing the page as paragraph by paragraph, you pick your poison. Once again, all five of the names atop the page should matter to you, but only one of them does. It’s not Miyeon’s. Word after word is penned and written with venom in your veins, delivering the hatred from your heart to the page. For once, you’re finished well before your deadline, giving you the rare chance to reflect and, more importantly, convince your editor to go along with the sudden change of direction. It’s a simple task for someone as attuned to the environment as you, simply necessitating a promise to write a favorable review for his girlfriend’s group’s next release. Granted, you were already likely going to, but there's no reason the truth can't get you what you want.

This time, you’ve elected to take the time to cover each of the members, giving high praise and harsh critiques of each of their contributions to the album. Your criticisms for the auxiliary trio range from their vocals to choreography to even their styling, but admittedly, they aren’t the stars of this story. For Miyeon, you bend the knee to your heart slightly, deciding to blame the utilization of her vocals outside her ideal range and general chosen image across her portrayal in the promotions—just about anything to avoid laying the fault directly at her feet.

Things get truly interesting when you arrive at the final member, as your review of her performance can fall anywhere between nuanced and dismissive, depending on perspective. “Yuqi, as always, provides her unique vocal color that contrasts against the other members and their performances. However, I can't help but wish that she had reached deeper, displaying more of herself and taking this opportunity to truly showcase her individuality.”

While there's no questioning your confidence in your abilities, it’s undeniable that this is the biggest risk you've ever taken. For the record, it's not even close. By putting yourself out there in this way, you're effectively stepping directly into the line of fire, all but taunting the legions of stans to take their best shot. Even with all that in mind, it's still a risk you're willing to take, one largely fueled by spite simmering inside you at the sight of her transgressions. She knows what she's done. Now it's time for you to respond in kind. Worst case scenario, everything you've ever worked for crumbles into ash; best case scenario, she fucking suffers. But no matter what happens, you both know that the other won’t go quietly into the night. If one of you burns, you'll burn together. All the more reason to add fuel to the fire.

Their first studio album and your first scathing critique hit the market in swift succession and initially receive a wildly different reception. The first wave of fan backlash is fucking brutal, but perspectives swiftly change, likely swayed by your masterful weaving of words that convey a tone of disappointment instead of hatred or vendetta. You watch on in glee as the narrative is quick to shift, especially once fans begin to passionately parrot your critiques as if they were gospel, slowing any surging momentum the album might have built. The snowball melts under the heat, and you see it reflected in the sales, the view milestones, and even the results of music shows as surefire victories turn into losses by the slimmest of margins. Videos of the members discussing their disappointment occasionally pop up on your timeline, threatening to tug at your threadbare heartstrings, especially as they discuss the stress they felt when returning as a five-member group for the first time on the biggest stage. You force yourself to cast those thoughts aside, too intrigued by the inconspicuous intentions of a certain someone. While four face the music, the last piece of the puzzle remains cloaked in shadow, broadcasting nothing but radio silence on the matter. In your mind, her lack of a statement speaks volumes—especially when considering the critical context of those titillating teasers.

Regardless, as you return to your routine responsibilities, you’re confident that your hand as the author will be largely invisible. To the average reader, the article simply seems like a bold, honest critique of a group you have high expectations for. But for your target audience—the only one with the cipher and context necessary to see below the surface—it's nothing but gloating. A statement of victory and a reminder of her failure. In another world, the song might have become a massive success, but in this one, the tale of “Tomboy” comes to an unexpectedly swift end. And the blame lies solely at a certain someone’s feet.

Man, does it feel fan-fucking-tastic to win like this, and the best part is, it doesn’t stop there. Shortly after, you’re contacted by a larger company and extended an offer to do more video-related content, allowing you a greater opportunity to grow your brand. You’re shown that your choice to take a risk and put out something this strong is viewed favorably by those in upper circles, and your just reward is a landing pad for your leap of faith. Not only do you accept their job offer, you even bring your editor along with you as you mutually agree to keep silent about the skeletons in each other’s closet.

You debut under this new company in spectacular fashion, writing a shining pair of favorable reviews for two groups on the fast track to superstardom, then doubling down on your newfound fearlessness by refusing to shy away from the flaws in another big group’s “experimental” title track. Somehow, you even manage to regain a bit of goodwill from the group’s fandom, Neverland, by penning some well-deserved praise for Miyeon’s debut mini album.

You get nothing from Miyeon.

From debuts to disbandments, you cover as much as you reasonably can, and then a bit more. Your coffee consumption skyrockets while your sleep schedule craters, but you convince yourself you’ll be fine. The most important piece is the present, and you’ll allow yourself to rest at the end—not in the middle. Too much progress is being made, and you’re finally reaping the rewards of all the seeds you’ve sown over what feels like a century. You’ve yet to experience the full ecstasy of celebrity—the celebrations and approbations. All of it and more, and it’s all for you. As it should be.

Which is why the email that arrives in your inbox in late September hits so fucking hard.

You get a better explanation later in the day via a face-to-face meeting, but the assignment still sends your mind into a spiral. A full suite of video content with the (G)I-DLE members shot across the two weeks before their comeback, with filming beginning two days after the last stop of their world tour. The selling point is tied to the EP’s title “I Love”, with the temporary tagline being “If these girls can make even him fall in love, what can’t they do?”. It’s sickening. You hide the worst of your feelings in your reaction, but show enough for them to note that your “history” with the group was a determining factor when pitching the idea. If only they knew.

You, of course, accept the project and promise to produce some initial ideas for the content and execution by tomorrow, then stumble out of the meeting room before collapsing into your chair. Your body capitalizes on this perfect moment to take a bit of petty revenge, slamming you with every ounce the fatigue you’ve taken on over the last few months. It’s a sobering thought, realizing that your selfish ambition didn’t actually lead you to success, just into the gaping maw of an even bigger fish. Truly an unfortunate roadblock to run into midway through your victory lap.

Considering this is your first major project at the new company, it’s something you desperately want to succeed at; considering it’s your first interaction with the two most impactful people in your life since you more or less ruined their hard work, it’s something you need to avoid failing at. So, you get to work. You fire up every synapse into a flurry of inspiration, fervently exploring every possibility you’ve ever seen or concepted. A straightforward series of video interviews? Too standard. A documentary style behind-the-scenes? Too impersonal. An all-out variety show style series of games and gifts? Too shallow. Your trash can quickly fills to the brim with page after page of mosaics of discarded inspirations. You decide almost immediately that if you have to stick your neck out like this, you’re going to make it personal, powerful, and a peek into the people behind the personas.

You do your due diligence, poring over hours of live performances, TV appearances, interviews, behind-the-scenes footage, and anything and everything in-between. Aside from their quirks as a collective, each member brings their own unique color to the table—something you want to showcase for fans old and new. You start with Minnie’s unending positive energy, note the dichotomy between Soyeon’s personal and professional interests, eagerly include Shuhua’s absolute refusal to give a fuck, and of course make room for Miyeon’s delicate princess personality and her chaotic character breaks. Then, you arrive at the exception. There are many sides to the enigma that’s eluded your understanding for far, far too long. She’s a contradiction—the brightest star outshining the spotlight while still a ticking time bomb, ready to explode at the slightest hint of heat. It’s impossible to think of her without feeling her warmth on your skin, remember the fire in her eyes as you held her close; ironic, considering that your coffee grows cold while you struggle to plan around her professional side without letting your personal dynamic bleed into things. You ultimately decide to focus on the sentimentality hidden beneath the shamelessness, thinking it ideal to allow her the chance to show her best self.

You meet the next morning head-on without a minute of sleep to your name, fueled solely by the significance of the undertaking and a medically inadvisable amount of caffeine. Once it’s time for your meeting, you stride in with a self-assured swagger, presenting your bosses with an astounding arrangement of activities and ideas, as well as a pair of significant stipulations. Make sure the idols know ahead of time that the expectation is to shoot more than we need, and that both CUBE and I have veto power on any content we want cut. It’s a potentially perilous power play, but one you feel you need to make considering the circumstances of the engagement.

The surprising answer you receive is, for once, a pleasant one, as they approve the project with no further changes. With their blessings and their budget in mind, you walk out of the room and finalize the plan to descend into the lions’ den. The rest of the week flies by in an instant, leaving you winded yet wound up the night before shooting starts. The hardwood beneath your feet emanates an unending chill as you pace around your apartment long after the sun descends beneath the horizon, mind teetering on the precipice of insanity, as you rehash each detail of the project—every potential pitfall. In the empty silence of your apartment, your heart pounds like the beat of a drum, echoing in your ears and drowning out the quiet passage of city life outside your window. For the first time in forever, you stop by the aforementioned opening, peeking past the curtain and staring out across the twinkling cityscape below. The steel and glass structures glitter like stars against the darkness of the night, projecting a damned good recreation of the maze your thoughts are lost in. A long sigh escapes you, fogging up a small circle on the glass as anxiety gnaws at your gut like a rabid animal escaping its bindings. The constant ticking and tocking of the clock on the wall certainly doesn’t help your mentality, serving as an ever-present reminder of the sands of time’s flow and the speed at which the dawn approaches.

Somehow, someway, you make it back to your bed. In this space, with the curtains drawn and the lights dimmed entirely, your mind paints your thoughts across the darkened canvas—disordered and chaotic as an artist’s palette. The possibilities of what the future might hold in two weeks’ time are literally endless, but you swear to yourself that you’ll give everything to make sure the story doesn’t end here. So, for once, you deviate from your late-night norm, and force yourself to get some much-needed rest. You know you’ll need to be at your best when the consequences of your actions come calling, and the very next morning, they do exactly that.

-x-

On the other side of the sunrise, you stand amidst a larger production crew than you’ve ever been responsible for, discussing procedure with a production assistant when the universe calls “Action!”.

“I guess we can start with—”

Even under the unmarred sky of the sunny Seoul morning, it’s a crack of thunder that brings your sentence to an abrupt end. There’s a moment of shock before the ripples of pain spread and the realization hits your mind, but as everything clicks, there’s no stopping the twisted smile from spreading across your face. On your right cheek lies a freshly hand printed mark, perfectly mirroring a ghost of your past.

“Hey, you,” you call, nodding apologetically at the stunned production assistant before turning and confirming your suspicions.

“You didn’t say goodbye properly last time,” Miyeon grumbles, gritted teeth grimacing at the pain clearly radiating out of her hand. “I wanted to make sure you’re nice and awake today.”

“I get it, you’re extremely upset with me and it’s for all the right reasons,” you admit, wincing slightly as her words cut deeper than her hands ever could. “But we’re both professionals, right? Things will go much easier for everyone if we play nice, at least for the cameras.”

Miyeon pretends to contemplate your offer, but you can see in her eyes that it’s nothing she hasn’t already come to terms with. “I think I can manage that.”

“Thank you,” you say softly. Sincerely. “You just do your best, and I’ll try my hardest to stop giving you reason to keep hating me.”

“Wow, you really don’t get it, do you?” she asks, laughing sardonically as she wears the type of smile that’ll never reach her eyes. You can’t help but freeze—uncharacteristically unsure of what she means—but you barely have to wait before you receive the answer that chills you to the bone. “I never even started.”

It’s somehow even more brutal when she walks away, leaving you speechless and in serious need of caffeine. After a brief excursion to the break room, you return with a steaming mug of caramel coffee, ready to face just about anything … anything except the person sitting atop the audio equipment before you. Her tired eyes tell quite the story, but between the lines you see the smolder, ready to alight at the slightest provocation. When her stare meets your own, you see her form tense, fists clenching in anxious anticipation as you close the distance. Both of you knew this was bound to happen; neither of you could have expected what comes next.

“Here,” you say, offering her your mug as a substitute olive branch.

Surprisingly, she takes it, her rich voice reverberating through your entirety as she asks, “Still no poison?”

Hints of a smile breach your defenses, adding a lightness to your tone that surprises even you as you respond, “Not today.”

“Good,” she grumbles, finally taking a sip and sighing in satisfaction. “This too.”

“Glad to hear it,” you say, leaning against the wall next to her as you look out across the sound stage. “Rough turnaround?”

“Quite.”

“Brutal.”

“...”

“Tight schedule,” she says, gesturing to the flurry of activity before you two.

“Very.”

“...”

“You ready?”

You see her glance at you out of the corner of your eye, but you keep your stare locked in place, pointing solely towards the production crew that’s somehow become your responsibility. “Have to be. For them.”

“Yeah.”

“You?”

“Same.” This time, you let your eyes wander, following her stare until it rests upon the other members of (G)I-DLE, where Miyeon and Shuhua animatedly argue in a way your research has made you all too familiar with.

“For them,” you say once more, barely catching her movement out of the corner of your eye. It’s not much, but it’s a nod of gratitude. It’s enough.

You remain there in silence, side-by-side for a short while before someone calls for you, asking for a bit of clarification about something on the schedule. You walk away from her once again, spending the next hour or so in a flurry of activity that finally culminates in the start of the actual day. Just before the cameras roll, you quickly introduce yourself to the group, meeting the remaining members for the first time. It doesn’t take an empath to recognize the instinctive distrust, but over the course of the conversation, the combination of your earnest energy and Miyeon’s shining smile manages to thaw the ice. With that out of the way, you confirm everything with your production crew one last time, then call for the cameras to roll.

The moment the red light flickers on, a palpable shift takes place in the room. While not your first time on camera, it’s your first time doing so while juggling the needs of an entire group. After a deep sigh and an extended exhale, you begin, introducing yourself, the series concept, and finally, the girls themselves. One by one you go down the line, providing a stage upon which they can display their charms. Initially, their responses are brief, rehearsed—clearly favoring professionalism over genuine enthusiasm. Shuhua gushes about spending the holidays with Tzuyu but seems unsure of herself when asked about her aspirations for this comeback. Soyeon displays a rare moment of timidness when she can’t find the right words to describe Marilyn Monroe as the inspiration for the album’s concept, but instantly provides you with a ranked order of her favorite choices from the vast array of anime she watched during the lockdown. You can feel the progress you’re making, but you know you’re not quite there.

Things finally click midway through—when you get to Miyeon and lean on the rapport you’d been so quick to establish. Questions come to you far more easily, and you finally make some actual progress when you ask her about the differences between promoting as a soloist versus working as the host of M Countdown. You’re further elated as she elaborates, beginning to ramble about the ways she tries to be a good representative for the group while also shining as an individual. You can’t keep the smile on your face as she tells her tale, nodding in excitement as you finally get the first hints of the genuine introspection you want so badly to inspire in this series. From there it’s far too easy to foster a connection with Minnie—one built simply upon your shared passion for music as you find a profusion of shared loves among each of your lists of favorite artists.

You reach the end of the line. Inspiration strikes and you act before you can overthink it, shading your eyes from the bright lights bearing down from overhead as you pretend to search around the room for the final member.

“Oh, come on!” she pouts, playing her impromptu part perfectly. “Just because Minnie’s a giant doesn’t mean I’m that short. Soyeon’s literally right there!”

“Of course, I merely jest,” you say, smiling all too brightly as you stare into her eyes. “Would you be so kind as to introduce yourself to the unfortunate few who don’t know who you are?”

Yuqi does exactly that, deep voice carrying across the entire sound stage as she greets the camera. Her eyes meet yours once more and it’s almost concerning how familiar the conversation feels. You’re quick to reignite the conversation about corgis, complimenting her addition of paw prints to her tattoo as you grant her the platform to explain their significance. It’s barely any time at all before you’re just as enthralled as the rest of the audience, lost in the heartfelt retelling of her journey to Korea alone and the difficulty of working to achieve her dreams step by step. You can relate to the feeling all too well, and it nearly makes you question everything you’ve ever thought about her. But as her story finishes and she looks to you to continue, you package it up into the back of your mind, intending on returning to it later. Right now, you have a job to do.

You’re quick to move the topic forward, finding yourself pleasantly surprised as the six of you get into a comfortable rhythm, progressing from topic to topic with a surprisingly swift pace while keeping the number of mistakes reasonable. You’d be delusional to view it as anywhere near perfect, as there are plenty of instances of a joke not landing or a miscommunication or a moment of hesitation leading to an awkward pause that’ll have to be cut in post. But when the cameras cut and the conversation continues all throughout the lunch break, you finally allow yourself to relax, even if it’s only the slightest bit.

The first couple of days fly by in a dazzling blur of lights, camera, and action. One minute, you’re heading a hectic pre-production meeting, the next, you’re standing still amongst the silence of a scene about to roll. Confusingly, the most chaotic cacophonies can be found amidst the members themselves as they grow to trust you. Your initial fears are quickly quashed as the seemingly demure Shuhua quickly displays her unperturbed sense of humor, firing off jokes and threatening to peak out your audio equipment at the drop of a hat. The atmosphere further improves when you introduce a bit of competition into the mix, allowing Soyeon to showcase her leadership skills as the group’s superlative strategist. While admittedly a bit of a risk, your choice to lean into a shoulder-to-shoulder style of interviewing rather than the face-to-face norm ends up paying off, allowing the audience a rare opportunity to peek behind the curtain and watch the girls share their thoughts in a far more comfortable setting amidst the variety of challenges and contests. It’s quite the ideal arrangement, especially since it leaves you with the perfect seat to spectate everything they choose to share.

You’d readily admit your eyes are all but glued to Miyeon for much of the shooting schedule, which is potentially the only reason you catch on to the fact that she’s playing a game of her own. From a surface-level standpoint, she seems like a perfectly pretty professional—dancing from scene to scene with all the grace you’d expect of a self-proclaimed princess—but it takes only a bit of reading between the lines to unveil the true story. While you might not expect an angel to need a guardian, Miyeon seems absolutely shameless with how frequently she taps into your prior history of working together and plays the “favorite” card. She milks that status for all that it’s worth, hiding behind your leg at the slightest hint of adversity and being concerningly quick to jump ship when it comes time to separate into teams of two. To her credit, none of it crosses into unprofessional territory—only a brief wink in your direction or a playful nudge as she passes by—but it’s definitely blatant enough to raise an eyebrow or two.

To her credit, there’s no such subtlety with Minnie. Minnie remains a beacon of smiles and sincerity throughout the entire shooting process, happily gushing about her increased involvement in the production process alongside the ever-spectacular Soyeon and, of course, the final member of the main cast, Yuqi. Somewhat surprisingly, she does a phenomenal job of actually being the consummate professional Miyeon pretends to be, although she takes advantage of every opportunity to compete against you, acting as the mirror to Miyeon’s tendency to join your side whenever possible. Facing her from the opposite side of the battlefield—sometimes more literally than others—you’re grateful for the chance to observe her reactions. You see the subtle furrow of her brow every time your team claims victory, see the tightening of her smile whenever Miyeon’s quick to find you to celebrate with. Admittedly, you probably enjoy it more than you should. Even then, you’re shocked by the sides she’s willing to show, stunned by the sight of the quiet resilience in her eyes as she navigates each day of shooting while fighting back fatigue. It’s a painfully potent subversion of your expectations, leaving you utterly unsure about the truth in stories you’ve been told and the significance of the scenario burned into your mind so many years ago. But again, those questions can wait until you’re done finishing the shoot. Until then, you add a fourth item to your morning coffee runs.

-x-

After three days of filming, you finally get your first round of feedback from your higher-ups. Somehow, it’s simultaneously better than you could have hoped for while still sending a chill down your spine:

Great start so far, seems like the content is really starting to click and we are yet to receive any complaints from CUBE. One small suggestion: you should try to engage with Yuqi more. There haven’t been too many interactions between you two thus far, but every time it’s happened, the chemistry has been clear as day. Try focusing on her a bit more; you might end up liking what ends up happening.

Oh. Yeah. Sure. Fine. That’s a totally reasonable thing to ask of nearly anyone. Nearly.

It’s a damned shame, but it’s also literally your job to make this work. So, you fire off a quick email, thanking them for their feedback and promising to implement their suggestion in the upcoming shoots. For once, you stay true to your word, doing so the very next day. “The Thursday of Truths” shoot starts off strong, with candid conversations carrying out throughout the day at the idols’ behest instead of the demands of the script. Everything’s going absolutely great … until they steer the ship down a path you’d rather not follow.

Ultimately, you are the one to blame as you’re the one who asked, “Everybody always asks about your biggest dreams, but what about your weirdest ones? Any insane dreams recently that you couldn’t help but remember?” The first couple range from harmless to hilarious, the highlight of it all being Miyeon’s astoundingly detailed description of her fantastical life as a college student and its associated escapades. But once again—like they always do—things change when the spotlight shines on Yuqi.

“There’s no better way to describe it; it was an inferno,” she says, lowering her voice as she captivates the audience. “I was trapped, drawn in by a sort of magnetic pull towards the center. The weirdest part though was that even though I couldn’t get through the fire, I kept having this dream over and over and over again. Eventually, I gave up and tried to walk away, but then a figure—someone somehow familiar even though they were completely featureless—dragged me back in. It’s probably been a couple of years since I’ve had the dream, but I don’t think I’ll ever forget it.”

With her final statement made, ten eyes turn to you, only to find your own unfocused pair staring into the distance. Once again, it’s the specificity of her words that’s affecting you so deeply, stunning you into inaction as you desperately scramble for the right words to continue the conversation. “It must have been a year ago now?” you say, pretending to wonder as if the memory hadn’t been seared into your mind. “I woke up on a beach and heard a voice, kind of like a mermaid or something. And the way it sang, it was oddly familiar but like nothing I’d ever heard before. I couldn’t help but walk out into the ocean to follow it.”

“And?” Minnie asks, eyes bright with wonder. “Did you find out what it was?”

Your eyes drift, searching for a solution and finding anything but as you make the mistake of meeting Yuqi’s eyes. “I don’t know,” you respond, uncharacteristically unsure if you’re telling the truth. “But I’d give anything to figure it out.”

From there, filming continues fairly normally, but anyone with the slightest semblance of sense can see that both you and Yuqi are clearly unsettled. Giving credit where it’s due, both of you are fine when you’re not directly interacting, but things change when your dialogue becomes direct. You try to crack a joke you’re sure she’ll smile at, but the laugh you get in response is performative at best, and even that’s grading on a curve. When she later asks you a question, you do your best to remain unaffected, but aiming for a casual response results in you missing by a mile.

The sighs of relief echo throughout the sound stage as shooting wraps and you bid the group farewell, wishing them the best as tomorrow’s Friday of filming will be spent not with you, but on their latest music video. With a warm smile sent especially Miyeon’s way, you take your leave and depart into the oncoming night. As you navigate the streets of Seoul, the ever-present endless lights and symphony of sounds fade into white noise as they speed past you. Your body remains on-edge the entire way, wracked with tension as whispered words and murmured melodies dance across the forefront of your mind.

For once, you find the expectant silence of your apartment foreign and unsettling. While normally you crave the uninterrupted train of thought, tonight you wish for something, anything, to derail it. You spend the evening attempting to distance yourself from the day’s events, distracting yourself with the everyday chore of eating and even turning on the TV until that too joins the white noise framing the canvas for your ceaseless contemplation. One uncharacteristically good decision later, you find yourself in your bedroom, cradled by your comforter as the darkness beckons you. Once more, as you close your eyes and allow your consciousness to roam, you give in to delusion, hoping that your dreams might grant you an answer to the questions haunting your mind, and as you drift off into the soft embrace of sweet oblivion, you can’t help but wonder if someone somewhere wishes the same.

As it turns out, you may never know the answer to any of your questions as you awaken the following morning after a night of total darkness and unending silence. After a scream or seventeen, you force yourself to get up and prepare for a day of further research and revisions to your planning for the following week. You’re lucky enough to fall into a rhythm, allowing your mind to narrow in on work and work alone all the way through the day and into the afternoon. The monotony is mercifully broken as the sky darkens into a tapestry of stars, upset by an unexpected notification flashing across your screen.

ASong4You: I never thought I’d enjoy hating someone so much

Somehow, the message makes more sense than it should. You can’t help but chuckle at the fact that even now, you’re still chatting through the burners. Even after all this time, you’re both still resolutely clinging onto something—a secret neither of you is willing to give up so easily.

TurnThePage: Hate’s a strong word, don’t you think? ASong4You: I didn’t hate you before ASong4You: Things changed pretty quickly TurnThePage: They always seem to TurnThePage: Maybe we both have a knack for stirring up trouble ASong4You: It certainly seems to follow wherever I go

Once again, you barely have to read between the lines to catch the sadness simmering beneath the sarcasm embellishing her words. It reminds you of the smile you’ve seen her wear on stage, the one where she doesn’t have to think—only feel. Unfortunately, the flip side of feeling so intently is what happens when her heart is filled with hatred instead of happiness. It’s a compelling thread to pull, but with no tangible benefit for doing so, you choose to toss it into the pile of unresolved issues you’re sure to find time to address later.

TurnThePage: Careful now TurnThePage: Someone might make the mistake of thinking you enjoy it

A brief pause.

ASong4You: And what if I do?

Another.

TurnThePage: Then I might like you even more than I thought I did ASong4You: Careful now ASong4You: We don’t want things getting too hot next week ASong4You: Especially with your special someone around

Some twisted middle ground between a grimace and a grin graces your visage, shining on the screen as you compose your response.

TurnThePage: I thought you were the one trying to keep her from getting involved ASong4You: Well it’s not my fault that the pretty little powder keg jumped into the open flame TurnThePage: Your words, not mine ASong4You: Maybe, but you were thinking the same TurnThePage: How would you know? ASong4You: Dude, I just do ASong4You: Ask Minnie or something, she’s the one into zodiac signs and shit TurnThePage: Yeah, that tracks ASong4You: How would you know? TurnThePage: I literally write about you maniacs for a living TurnThePage: It’s my job to know random shit like that ASong4You: Oh yeah? ASong4You: Then what do you know about me? TurnThePage: Way too fucking much

You hesitate for a moment, but your heart supersedes your mind once more and sends one more message.

TurnThePage: And nowhere near enough

The conversation lapses into an uncomfortable silence, leaving you staring at the screen as you wonder whether you’ve crossed a line. In the moment just before turmoil overtakes you, you force yourself to step away, going into the kitchen and grabbing some water before returning to a newly received response.

ASong4You: Says the guy interviewing us on camera for four days straight TurnThePage: Fair TurnThePage: Maybe after I’m done farming you for content, I’ll give you the chance to bridge the gap ASong4You: That’s cute ASong4You: I’m supposed to be pretty busy this month TurnThePage: So am I ASong4You: And? TurnThePage: I can make time TurnThePage: I’m willing to bet you can too ASong4You: You willing to go all in on that bet? TurnThePage: Maybe once all the cards are revealed TurnThePage: Deal? ASong4You: Deal

The conversation continues well into the weekend as you banter back and forth, firing shots and sharing thoughts as each of you prepares for what’s to come. She shares snippets of the behind-the-scenes chaos that is the last week of comeback preparations, and you respond by keeping her up to date with the shooting plans as weather related complications appear upon the horizon.

-x-

Sunday's open schedule allows you a rare moment of reflection, one you spend entirely on the previous week and how so much can change in so little time. Without even realizing it, you realize you're wearing a smile—the rare type that's spawned organically rather than painted on for the day's performance. It puzzles you for a moment, just long enough for you to realize how much fun you're having. Somehow, some way, the project you'd feared might ruin your life has been fun. It's fun brainstorming ideas with Soyeon in between takes. It's fun getting Shuhua to begrudgingly admit she's having a great time. It's fun seeing Minnie’s smile shine that much brighter every time music plays. It’s fun watching Miyeon panic and hide behind your leg for safety. And believe it or not, it's fun getting to compete with Yuqi in a lower stakes environment. It's a fun project that gets you into bed early so you can be energized for the next morning of shooting.

Which makes it such a damned shame when that all goes away one sweltering morning when the sun lights a long-forgotten fuse. In the aftermath of Monday’s outdoor shoot being canceled because of the rain and Tuesday’s shoot ending early thanks to audio issues, Wednesday’s atmosphere is restless at best as everyone suffers the stress of the time crunch. The residual humidity fuels the frustrations, and by the time an early lunch break is called, everyone seems grateful for the chance for tempers to settle. Your focus waxes and wanes as you dip in and out of conversation, indulging each and every one of your crew’s curiosities rather than getting a bite to eat. Amid one of those low points, your eyes dart over to a situation brewing in your peripheral vision. It’s her.

She’s arguing with one of the lighting techs, and from each of their respective postures, you harbor a guess that she’s blaming him for something. What might appear like a mostly harmless altercation to some instead sounds the warning bells in your mind, as you immediately recognize the danger lurking in the way her muscles tense and her hand balls into a fist, arm shaking as if she’s barely holding back the urge to strike. Barely. You see her self-restraint slipping.

But you cross the line before she gets the chance to.

“Yuqi.” Your voice echoes throughout the enclosed space, reaching the ears of all and resonating up the spine of your intended recipient, clearly shaking her to her core as you speak her name aloud for the first time. “I wanted to get your thoughts on the next shooting block. Do you have a moment?”

Immediately, suspicion overtakes her visage, but she retains enough sense to recognize the out you’ve given her and begrudgingly follows you. You lead her into one of the break rooms—one of the few places you can have some semblance of privacy—then turn to face her, but she speaks before you get the chance to.

“What the fuck are you doing?”

“I just—”

“No, not fucking now! You are going to shut the fuck up for once and listen,” she grows, still clearly seething. “I still don’t understand what you want from me, and you know what? Fuck it. I might never figure it out. But that’s just fucking fine. You can try to harm or help me, but at the end of the day, it doesn’t matter. Because I don’t fucking need you. If I want to ruin someone’s life, I can. And there isn’t a damned thing you can do about it, okay? I …” Her voice trails off, mind finally catching up with her heart as she realizes what she just said.

“Okay,” you say, voice straining as you keep your response painfully monotone. “I get it.”

“I—”

“One more day,” you interject, each word piercing another self-inflicted wound into your seeping heart. “One. More. Day. For them. That’s all I ask. Let’s finish this filming, then I’ll fuck off out of your life like you’ve wanted all along. Deal?”

“I …” she tries again, voice failing her as she looks away. “Yeah. Deal.”

“...”

The silence stretches between you two, merciless even in the face of your misery.

“You go out first,” you say, offering a sad attempt at a smile. The type that’ll never reach your eyes. “Wouldn’t want people to get the right idea about us, would you?”

A lone finger is all you receive in response, a simple thumbs up as she walks away. Not for the first time. Maybe for the last. Something aches within you, grasping at the sense of superiority you should be feeling. Because you won. You were right about her all along.

So why does everything feel so wrong?

Your train of thought is derailed by the insistent buzzing against your leg, your alarm warning you it’s time to get back to filming. With a heavy sigh, you step back out, running on fumes and struggling to stay afloat throughout the rest of the day. The humidity becomes the least of your concerns as the atmosphere turns icy over the last day and a half of shooting, leaving you with plenty of painful content that your editor can hopefully make palatable in post. But hey, that's his problem. This Thursday's been terrible enough without you trying to make it worse.

That afternoon, you say your goodbyes, wishing them well as you swear—under a debatable amount of duress—to write the glowing review their comeback deserves. You shoot three of them smiles in farewell and offer the same to another, but before you know it, you're pulled into a hug—one you're painfully hesitant to return. Fighting your instincts, you hold Miyeon tight, whispering all your kindest compliments into her ear before pulling away. Last, you offer her a nod—perhaps one of thanks for the professional courtesy, maybe one of regret; undeniably, it's one of a far from fond farewell. You tell her goodbye. And then you walk away.

That evening, you reflect—honestly, earnestly—for the first time in what feels like a lifetime. About how far you’ve come. About where the fuck you’re going. The tranquility of your apartment masks the turmoil within, amplifying your inner monologue as you cast your mind back to that fateful day a half decade ago. A grimace graces your visage as you think back to your heart of stone and see how the pressure it’s withstood; how it’s produced not diamonds, but despair. At the center of it all, what image graces you? Far be it from the eye of the storm, no, what awaits you is the heart of the tempest. Images of her scowling, temper flaring as her fists clench in anticipation flash through your mind like a litany of lightning bolts. But maybe that’s just part of her appeal. She’s all thorns and no roses, yet you’re swept up by her all the same.

You’ve covered idols before, been on sets and seen the different parts they play … but the way she wields words sharper than any knife, you know she’s different. You know from experience that when she’s backed into a corner, she’s quick to let the claws come out and flash her fangs, so maybe that’s where you went so wrong. By authoring the article, you lost what little you could hold over her. You lost your leverage—the invaluable currency that drives the entire industry; you realize the threat of telling stories of her misdeeds falls flat when she seems so eager to write many more. So, what are you supposed to do now? Maybe you’re meant to play the long game—rely on patience and wait for her to make the first mistake. She’s done it once before, literally walking through your door when the opportunity to walk away was less than an hour away. You have no reason to believe she won’t come running back once again.

You also have no reason to believe she will.

So maybe the play is to reach out first, take a risk like you did when writing the article. Maybe the play is to take that chance, even if there’s a possibility you’ll get burned. Because there’s a chance you won’t. Because there’s a chance you forge something beautiful in the heat you two seem to ignite so easily. But in a rare moment of wisdom, you decide to sleep on it. You know better than to risk such a message getting lost in the darkest hours of the day; the universe has convinced you nothing good ever happens after midnight.

That night, you dream. Unlike in previous outings, there are no beaches or blazes in sight. Instead, a heavy darkness obscures everything in the vicinity. All you can see are the jagged planks laid atop your body, each with a name of an idol you’d forgotten or a friend you’d discarded scrawled across the wood; all you can feel is the chill of the chains wrapped around your limbs, shackling you in place as your sins are literally held against you. The soft sound of a spark steals your attention, and you lift your eyes to see a single match illuminating the darkness. Behind it stands a familiar figure—the one that’s haunted your dreams for years—staring at your unmoving form. Your breath catches, but they remain motionless, ever vigilant as you strain against your bonds.

“Do it!” you challenge. “I know you want nothing more than to watch me burn, so just fucking do it. Put an end to this. If you’re not the one with the key to what’s holding me down, the least you can do is set me free. Isn’t that what we both want?”

From the blank canvas of her countenance, her first feature forms as her lips appear for the briefest of moments. Just long enough to blow out the flame, plunging you into darkness. As you thrash against your bonds, a faint hint of cherry wafts past you and sends your mind into a spiral. An eternity or eleven pass and you find yourself hating the silence, yet surprisingly finding a familiar solace in the darkness you'd feared you'd lost. You may not know what the future holds, but at least here, where you’re most comfortable, you’re willing to face it.

-x-

That Friday, a message is sent … and read. It has only a single line of text: an address. That Saturday, its recipient follows the directions, its desires, and definitely not its mind as it drives down the bustling streets that so closely resemble the veins of the nation's beating heart. Their pulse pounds with a similar rhythm, thumping against their chest faster and faster as the remaining distance grows ever smaller. They make a stop, desperate to delay the inevitable. Sooner than they’d like, they arrive, reaching the base of the building. From within the cabin, they look up and see the profusion of floors staring back. Watching. Waiting. They step out into the night.

-x-

You close the door behind you, a pair of steaming hot coffee cups in hand as you navigate towards the address you'd been given. After a brief conversation with the doorman, you enter the elevator and let the door close behind you, allowing it to lift you into the endless night. The soft melody reverberating throughout the enclosed space provides a nice rhythm for your bouncing foot to harmonize with, anxiety rearing its ugly head at the worst of times as the intended floor grows ever closer. You can’t help but shake your head in disbelief at the absurdity of the situation you find yourself in once again. Somehow, she’s convinced you to walk headfirst into the lion’s den, and you’re the one bringing her a gift in thanks. But then again, you think to yourself as you hear the bell’s chimes and doors open. It’s probably more about practicality than pleasantries if we’re being honest. It’s going to be a long night.

A step forward, and then another. More, enough to bring you to an intersection where you make the right choice. You continue forward step by step until the door in question appears on your left. As soon as you stand before it, your body goes rigid, frozen into inaction. A million unknowns await behind that door, but you can always choose to walk away now. The one known option lies back at the base of the building. Maybe she's right—maybe trouble really does shadow her wherever she goes. Maybe that means you shouldn't follow in its wake.

Maybe it means you should.

In this split second of hesitation, you’re suddenly reminded of an old quote you've always liked: Opportunity knocks softly at your door; temptation leans against the doorbell. Even here, on the steps of her home away from home, you have the opportunity to leave. You check your phone, desperate for any excuse to continue stalling, and note your time of arrival: 1:57AM. Just enough time to do the responsible thing of wishing her farewell and leaving; just enough time to—lean in.

Moments later—as if she knew to expect you—she opens the door, wearing the most casual clothes you’ve ever seen her in and staring up at you with tired eyes before flicking them down to the cups in your hand and smirking slightly.

“Whichever one you got for me,” she says, smile barely reaching her eyes as she steps aside. “I want the other one.”

“Damn, and I really thought I'd get you with the poison this time,” you reply, smiling slightly as you step inside and remove your shoes. “Any particular reason why?”

“Wanted to try something new. Seems like that kind of night,” she says, shrugging as she shuts and locks the door behind you.

“Maybe it is,” you murmur, extending both cups to her and allowing her to take her pick. “Is this your home?”

She pauses for a moment, then takes the drink from your left hand. “I guess it is,” she responds, smiling softly as she takes a sip. “It’s weird to say considering how many of my relatives are in China, but … yeah. I guess a lot of my family’s here, too.”

“That’s cute,” you say, smiling as sweet as the honey you sip from your cup. “Are you all ready for your comeback?”

“Wasn’t I the one supposed to be asking the questions once we finished filming?” she asks, earning a shrug from you in response before continuing. “But yeah, I think so. As long as nothing unexpected comes up this time.”

You’re grateful for the lid blocking her view of your smug smirk as you ask, “Are you saying you didn’t expect me to keep my word?”

“I was hoping you’d had a change of heart,” she corrects you. “But as soon as Miyeon asked if I knew why you ghosted her, I knew that wasn’t going to happen.”

“You didn’t tell her why.”

“Of course not!” she exclaims, laughing ruefully. “I pulled a page out of your book and lied to cover my ass. And guess what? It worked … until it didn’t. It worked all the way until I had to hold her as she cried in frustration at the negative reception.”

“Good for you,” you say, somehow keeping your voice steady even as you struggle to smother the swell of emotion. “It was the right thing to do, especially since you caused it.”

“I had to!” she fires back, flashes of fury flaring in her flaming eyes. “You were just as much to blame, but everyone knew that there was no chance of you caring for anyone other than yourself!”

“You’re partially right, but also so, so very wrong,” you say, pausing as you finish your drink. “Unfortunately, it really was all your fault.”

The silence hangs heavy in the air for a moment before her whispered words float over to you. “Why are you like this? I don’t understand.”

Her shift of demeanor is so sudden, it shakes you to your core. You know full well she has a tendency to get loud, especially when frustrated, but as her voice dips and her eyes darken, it tells an entirely different tale.

“What do you mean?” you ask, volume rising as she puts you on the defensive. “You knew damned well exactly what you were doing when you walked into my room that night.”

“No, what I don’t understand is why you act like I’m the worst thing that’s ever happened to you when I haven’t fucking done anything!” she yells back.

“Wow, you really don’t get it, do you?” you respond, dropping your voice back to a dull quiet and laughing emptily as you wear a familiar sad type of smile—the one that dies before ever reaching your eyes. “You are. And the worst part is that I can’t even escape you if I try.”

This time, your words are the ones that chill her to the bone, leaving her unsteady as she asks, “What do you mean?”

“You’ve had them too, right? The dreams about the inferno? The ocean? The others?” You wait for a response and receive nothing in return, but in the absence of a no, you continue on. “Somehow, you’ve gotten into my head, so deep that I can’t even escape into my dreams without being reminded of you. Don’t lie to us both and say you aren’t the same.”

“No,” she declares, shaking her head. “Fuck that. I’m nothing like you. And I never will be.”

Her words are stuttered, dipping into whispers, voice shaky as she spits them at you. She must be furious, unable to control her hatred as she refuses to match your stare, shoulders heaving as her eyes tremble and search for solace in any direction other than yours. You’ve never seen her like this, never seen her so open … so openly inviting you in so that she can pounce on your overreach and capitalize on your vulnerability. Every thought you’ve desperately clung to over the years surges back to the forefront of your mind, reminding you of the truths you’d gleaned long before you’d ever met her. It’s a dangerous game you two are playing, and it’s one you’d rather lose than allow her to win.

But before you can cut in, she continues. “I matter. I mean something to the people who mean so much to me. And I know that you don’t.”

“I don’t think you ever will.”

Her words finally cut deep enough, sparks igniting a fire far more ferocious than any fury you’ve felt before. You. Fucking. Snap. “You’re right, we’re not alike,” you agree, voice deep and dangerous as you take your first step forward. “That’s the difference between us. I have something to lose. You have someone to lose. Multiple someones, in fact.”

She opens her mouth to respond, but another thunderous step silences her as you continue. “And that’s the worst fucking thing about you, isn’t it? That you’ve found a home—a family—here in a foreign country, but you keep risking it all because you can’t keep your fucking temper in check.”

Another step, another crack of thunder reverberating off the walls of the room. “But you just can’t do it. You want so desperately to be kind, to be someone who deserves all the love and support you've been given, don't you? But you can't, because it's too hard to break the habit, isn't it?”

One more step and you find yourself in front of her, staring down into her hate-filled eyes as hints of tears threaten to spill from the corners. Once again, you see her muscles tense and her arm rise, but this time, you stop her, snatching her wrist out of the air before the slap can connect. This time, you’re the one who lights the spark.

“Let. Me. Go.” Her growl grates against your ears as she makes a token attempt to pull away, but your grip holds firm, even as the pounding of her pulse pummels your inner palm; even as the heat rises.

“What, so you can try to slap me again?” you retort, snatching her other wrist. Continuing to fan the flames. “Fucking look at us. How many times have we found ourselves here, screaming and at each other's throats?"

A quick flash of fury flickers in her stare, but it’s quickly replaced by something far more potent. Desire. “One too few,” she responds, smirk as lopsided as the tilt of her head as her wild eyes stare back at you and further proof of arousal pokes through the soft fabric of her oversized shirt.

"I agree," you say, smiling wide before latching your lips onto the base of her newly exposed neck.

Her growl gives way to a gasp, goosebumps swiftly spreading over her skin as you suck at the sensitive spot you’ve come to claim as your own. Her nails dig into the soft flesh of your wrists, threatening to draw the blood from your veins as you rip the whimpers from deep within. You can feel their hum reverberating across her chest, demanding more from you with each pass across the base of her neck. Her pulse quickens under your lips, hammering in sync with your pounding heart as her legs shake under the weight of ecstasy.

Just like always, her very existence burns away any inhibitions, causing you to crave even more of her even as you’re granted unrestricted access. Your earlier exposure to her has been a series of microdoses—either interrupted or forced to end earlier than intended—but with all those excuses lost to the flame, you’re forced to admit the truth. You’re addicted to her. Everything about her, from her smile to her scent to her taste to the way she clings to you when you make her quiver, all of it's intoxicating and quickly becoming a fix you can't live without. The only consolation you find amidst this revelation is found when you pull away the slightest bit and stare into her eyes, the only place you find your feelings mirrored, like some fucked up representation of reciprocal craving.

Even this tiniest bit of distance proves to be too much for you both, as you meet in the middle and crash your lips together. The kiss is harsh, messy, maybe a bit brutal, sure to leave bruises that’ll have to be explained away somehow. It’s unbelievable really—she's so much smaller than you, so much more delicate, yet her mouth is so demanding on yours. Your gift has left her tasting like caramel and coffee—your favorite combination—but even then, there’s a hint of the cherry flavor you know so well. Leverage becomes the least of your concerns as you release her wrists, hands instead sliding up her body until they’re tangled into the golden strands flowing down her shoulders, gripping her hair with intent as your tongues clash. Her newly freed fingers find a home atop your chest, forming fists in your shirt’s fabric as she pulls you even closer. Somewhere hidden below the cloud nine you’re on, you’re sure that your malnourished conscience is crying out at the hypocrisy of showing such vulnerability to the root of all your problems. It might even be right, but honestly, who could blame you for getting hooked when the very sight of her was your gateway drug?

So yeah, you’ll admit to yourself. Maybe I’m just another one of her victims, unique only in the words they’ll write on my tombstone. But if the way her body melts into yours is any indication, you can find solace in the fact that while she might have you wrapped around her finger, at least the feeling’s mutual. Unfortunately, the need for an entirely different chemical—that pesky “oxygen” thing—deprives you of the dopamine high you’re both riding, demanding a moment of pause amidst the pleasure. You’re the first to speak up, laughing softly as you comment, “This is too familiar for my tastes; I thought we were supposed to be trying something new tonight.”

"I agree. Which means the real question is: are you such a man that you want to fuck me right into this table—fuck me so hard that we break through it—or are you going to be gentle," she sneers, "and take me upstairs and romantically fuck me on my bed?"

"Neither," you say as you roughly push her back, protecting everything but her from harm as she stumbles backwards and you follow closely behind. "I'm gonna pin you against this fucking wall and see how many noise complaints your neighbors file. How's that sound, darling?"

She responds, but her words are shaky, shortened as she catches the breath taken by the impact of her crash against the wall. "That - that doesn't sound - like a very gentlemanly thing to do at all."

"Maybe not. But you don't seem like the type who deserves a knight in shining armor, do you? Princess."

"Fuck you," she spits, eyes reignited as your words pierce through her faux composure.

"Oh baby," you drawl, blissfully unbothered by her venomous words and burning stare, "When you beg so nicely, how could I not give you everything you've ever wanted?"

"I—" A single syllable is all that escapes before you have your knee between her legs, grinding against her sopping heat and eliciting the foulest of symphonies from deep within, yet even as you cup her breasts, even as she writhes under your touch, you both know you’re standing safe in the storm’s eye. So, when hers finally open and stare daggers into your own, you decide to take the leap.

You drop to your knees, nothing but the worst of intentions in mind as you tear open the button on her sorry excuse for a pair of shorts. Your fingertips are quick to hook into the fabric and harshly pull them past her knees, exposing her glistening sex to you like a gourmet dish. From there, it’s all too easy to tease her with an appetizer of what’s to come, licking at the outer edges of her lips and the insides of her thighs as your breath delivers hints of heat onto her core. Even without looking, you can feel the fire in her eyes as her heated stare threatens to bore holes into your head, though the fingers gripping your hair pose a more immediate threat. You remain unphased as you continue your explorations, tracing intricate patterns up and down her smooth skin with the lightest of touches while your tongue continues its dance across all the places that deny her the satisfaction she so badly craves. It’s an exquisite form of torture, one you revel in and one she wants so desperately to despise, yet can’t help but delight in.

“Fuck you,” she growls, grasping at both strands of hair and metaphorical straws as her voice betrays her building sense of exasperation and ecstasy alike.

You chuckle, a deep laugh rumbling out from low in your throat as you rest your hands against her thighs, impeding her impatience as she attempts to squirm closer. “Is that a promise or a plea, princess?”

“It’s a fucking warning,” she tells you, though the threat’s hollow amid the lack of heat in her words. Instead, the note that rings in your ear is one of need, one of a near peak and a prayer that you’re willing to push her over that edge. Because here’s the thing you’ve learned about her: even though she’ll never admit it, she’s obsessed with the game. You know better than anyone that she loves being riled up as much as possible because it makes the drop that much more intense when she falls apart. So, when the muscles in her thighs finally start to tense and press against the sides of your head, you’re kind enough to give her the nudge she needs.

You dive in deep, tongue finally flicking against the hardened nub of her clit as you plunge a pair of fingers deep into her folds, finally freeing her hips to buck against your face. Raw ecstasy rings out from her very soul, enchanting your ears with her song of bliss and blessing your tongue with the lingering taste of ambrosia as you fully devote yourself to her desires. You remain relentless, keying in on her keening as you single out her most sensitive spots and sending her into a ruthless spiral of rhapsody and suffering.

“Nonononono, oh god—oh FUCK—oh please,” she whimpers between breaths, pleading for mercy even as her entire body begs you for more. Passion overflows from you both—a bit more literally in her case—as your movements harmonize, elevating both of your experiences in this hunt for euphoria. For once, she’s being so good, asking so nicely, and the best part is that none of it even matters, because when she looks and sounds and smells and tastes and feels like this, you’d give her everything—no questions asked.

All the signs suddenly start to show, and you know exactly what’s about to happen next. You wrap your free arm around the back of her thighs, holding her even closer as you heighten your pace just the slightest bit. In your embrace she is unmade, absolutely lost in the throes of paradise as her whimpering turns into wails of pure, unfiltered pleasure. Your sadistic side celebrates as you refuse to cease your assault, prolonging her peak until her legs threaten to give out from under her. While you're kind enough to keep her from falling, you're also cruel enough to progress without giving her any respite.

You pick her up, easily handling her small frame like putty in your hands as you lay her atop the table, garnering a gasp as her back makes contact with the cold glass. As she attempts to regain her senses, you free yourself from the confines of your clothing, finally stripping away the last barrier between you and the satisfaction you deserve. Before you she lies in a daze—somehow free of her shirt—still drunk off the sensation she’d sought so desperately and you’d delivered so skillfully. Now, with your inhibitions forgotten somewhere in the fog filling the periphery of your vision, you step up, rock hard shaft in one hand as you pull her closer with the other.

My fucking turn.

You push yourself inside of her, fighting the friction as your shared groans of ecstasy echo against the walls. Her fingernails drag against the glass as she claws for something, anything to hold on to, but is ultimately left wanting. The thrill of triumph rushes through your veins as you progress ever deeper, coating the entirety of your shaft with her wetness until you’re buried to the hilt. While your initial foray is necessarily slow, stretching seconds into eternities, you're quick to establish an unyielding pace, demanding the attention of every fiber of her being as you punish her with pleasure. With every reaction you rip from her—ceaseless blushes of red and continuous ragged breaths—you write another page in the tale of your magnum opus: your grand victory over her everburning heart. In this sonata, you're the sole composer and her body is the instrument you play so masterfully, perfecting your angles and amount of pressure on the fly. Every single time you thrust inside her, you seek only the sweetest song and are only satisfied as she sings her symphony of sighs and screams.

Even here, amongst the winces and whimpers of pleasure, her undying flame burns bright, reminding you that this duet demands a duo. Despite her shudders of satisfaction, she finds time to disrupt your rhythm and threaten to remix the melody entirely, mercilessly using your reactions against you. She’s quick to hook her ankles around your back, pulling you deeper inside of her right mid-inhale and sending a shock of surprise up your spine. It’s a push and pull, a battle back and forth that reignites you both, leading to a further escalation of an already brutal pace.

“Don't tell me you're burning out so quickly,” she taunts, twisted glee glimmering in her eyes. “I was expecting so much more from you.”

“Listen babe, I promise, I’m going to give you everything you need,” you promise her. “But first, I’m gonna take everything I want.”

With that vow made, you crank the dial all the way to eleven and then further still, the rough pad of your thumb finding her clit as your hips piston in perfect tempo with the pounding of your heart. The dual stimulation draws out high-pitched moans from her, exactly what you’re hunting for as you echo them with your own growls of satisfaction. Every time her breath hitches, every time a curse tumbles from her lips, it's music to your ears, reminding you that this idol to so many becomes your toy so easily.

Thrust after thrust, you explore her further, like a wanderer lost in a labyrinth of pleasure. Like the twists and turns of a maze, your bodies weave together in a performance of sin, feeding off each other as you bruise her skin and her clawed hands dig into your arms. It’s an overwhelming experience, unlike anything you’ve faced before, and somehow—somewhere amid this aurora of anticipation and the unthinkable tightness she grips you with—something trapped within the deepest parts of you slips out.

“You're mine,” you whisper, getting close enough that your words barely have to travel from your lips to the deepest depths of her soul. “At my beck and call, so fucking desperate for my touch”—you pair this with a drag of your nail against her clit, sending her into screams of pleasure—”that you can't muster the strength to walk away. Hell, when I'm done with you, it'll be days before you're able to walk at all.”

“You … you fucking w-wish,” she pants out between moans, jaw clenched as her lust-filled eyes still glint with that sense of stubbornness that makes her who she is. But even as she denies your words, the arching of her back and rolling of her hips tell a different story, one where you're the only one who can give her the happy ending she so desperately desires. Everything else around you fades into nothingness, suspending you both in an endless abyss of night where you can focus on the only thing that matters: each other. Every grunt you make is matched by one of her gaps; every roll of her hips is mirrored by a thrust of your own. She's relentless and so are you, but while you’ve perfected the performance of a lifetime, she’s lived hers being so unapologetically her. You’re different in so many ways yet you’re both here, together, and as you stare into her eyes, you’re left wondering whether you're looking into a mirror or a window to your future.

“What if I do?”

She’s slow to respond, lips parting in silent pleasure as another wave hits her. Your words hang in the air before you—taunting you with the impossibility of taking them back—but just as you're about to dismiss your question entirely, Yuqi finds the answer she's been looking for. “Then maybe that means you're mine, too.”

Immediately, the air shifts, sharpened somehow as every gasp, every shiver of pleasure becomes magnified a million times over. The peak of the precipice of pleasure you’d been ascending somehow seems so much nearer, barely seconds away as you feel weak in the knees. This demanding dance suddenly becomes much more dangerous as you both teeter on the edge, so close that a single push would send either of you spiraling over, yet you hold back, unwilling to break this spell just yet. Instead, you stay here, in this spectacular space where the line between pleasure and pain blurs into nothingness, focused solely on fulfilling your promise.

You give her everything she wants, bruising the creamy skin of her thighs with the slapping of your hips as you overwhelm her with simultaneous assaults on her breasts and clit. Her legs are the first to succumb to the shaking, going slack and releasing their hold around your waist as she’s sent soaring into bliss. With a herculean effort, you free yourself from the death grip she has on your arms, leaving behind trails of fire that’ll burn well into the night as you pull out of her. Her hard-earned abs act as the perfect canvas for you to paint white as your own orgasm overtakes you, dotting bits of black across your vision as pleasure overwhelms your senses.

Shot after shot fires out from you, each a unique brush stroke as they streak across her skin. All the way until you empty the magazine, you aim for her heart, shooting higher and higher until even her breasts are covered. Your heart pounds as you finally pull away, forcing your eyes shut for a moment as you arduously attempt to regain your breath. Once you reopen them, your attempt is proven futile as you’re met with the intensity of her stare, holding unwavering eye contact with you as she runs a pair of fingers all the way down to her messy little cunt before bringing them up to scoop your cum into her hand and let it drip into her mouth.

“Holy fuck …” you say, voice failing entirely as you stagger a step back, desperate to regain some semblance of balance as the very sight of her threatens to upend your entire existence. It’d require the performance of a litany of lifetimes to lie to her here, so instead putting your acting chops to the test, you let the truth slip again. “You’re insane. Incredible, but utterly fucking insane.”

She seems too preoccupied with her current focus to immediately respond, but once she does, her expression makes it blatantly clear that her recent consumption was nowhere near enough to satiate her appetite. “You’re looking at me like I’m the hottest thing you’ve ever seen.”

A laugh—one deep and genuine—rips itself from your throat, ringing out across the stillness of the silence as you’re caught somewhere between disbelief and delirium. “I won’t lie to you, Yuqi, it’s because you are.”

Once again, intentionally or otherwise, you cross the line, and the effect of your voice delivering her name to her eardrums hits in a way she’s utterly unprepared for. “Come here,” she calls, beckoning you over as she sits up on the edge of the table.

You’re quick to comply, stepping forward and beginning to formulate your response when she catches you completely off-guard, wrapping her arms around you and pulling you close enough that you can feel the persistent pounding of her heart.

“I can’t keep fucking doing this,” Yuqi murmurs into your chest.

“I know,” you whisper back, wrapping your arms around her as you pull her even closer.

“No, not the sex,” she quickly clarifies. “I mean this, the back and forth, push and pull shit we have going on right now. I literally just finished a twenty-one stop tour and immediately started preparing for our latest comeback, but this is still the most exhausting thing in my life … what I mean is—”

“Yuqi,” you say, cutting her off. “I know.”

She pauses, sitting in stunned silence for a moment before asking, “How? How would you know?”

All you offer is a shrug. “I don’t know what to tell you, honestly. I just do.”

While it’s far from a perfect answer, it seems to suit Yuqi’s tastes just fine, allowing her to relax a bit—just enough to lean that little bit closer, hug you just that little bit tighter as you sink into each other’s embrace.

“You know, the responsible thing to do here would be to call it here, let you get some much-needed rest before your comeback tomorrow,” you offer, unable to stop the smile that spreads across your face as she pulls away and scoffs in disbelief.

“Oh, yeah?” Yuqi fires back, quirking an eyebrow as a smirk appears to mirror your own. “And what’s the irresponsible thing?”

You shudder in mock horror as you answer, “Probably fucking in the kitchen; I’m kinda terrified by the thought of you with a knife.”

The laugh that rings out is crystal-clear and so quintessentially her that you’re left wanting for breath once more. “As you should be,” she says oh so sweetly, shaking her head slightly before meeting your eyes once more. “But you also don’t seem like the type to make the responsible choice two and a half hours after midnight.”

Under the weight of her intense gaze, the air in your chest feels uncharacteristically heavy, but you force it out of your lungs as you respond, “Maybe I’m not. And I’m guessing you aren’t either, so what would you suggest?”

You see the spark of inspiration you know and love glimmer in her eyes, joyous anticipation in each of her words as she suggests, “Maybe my bed wasn’t such a bad idea after all.”

Your heart skips a beat, but you manage to keep your voice steady as you release your hold on her and reply, “Then lead the way.”

Yuqi is more than happy to do so, hopping off the table with ease as she captures your hand in her own, nearly dragging you across the room and up the stairs with her characteristically surprising strength. Step by step you follow, framed photos and memories passing by in a blur as she races forward. It’s only once she darts past the door that Yuqi lets you go, allowing you a moment to survey the fan gifts and hints of past experiences that create such a fitting mood, one you’d immediately associate with Yuqi.

Your eyes quickly drift back to her—as they always seem to do—and you’re met with the sight of her bent over the bed, shaking her cute little ass in the most unfair way as she looks back at you with invitation clear in her eyes.

“For the record, I’m not expecting anything romantic,” Yuqi clarifies as you close the distance.

“Good to know,” you respond, roughly grabbing a hip with one hand while the other hand positions your cock as inspiration strikes and you begin to tease both entrances. "So … exactly how many new things are we trying tonight?"

"Another time, I still need to be able to dance tomorrow,” Yuqi replies with the deepest of sighs, like she's even more disappointed than you are. “You've already got me wondering if I'm even going to be able to walk.”

“I understand,” you say, lining yourself up with the sopping heat of her pussy. “Maybe I’ll just leave you with a sore throat from all the screaming.”

You cut off her chance to reply with a thrust of your cock, penetrating her fully as you both shudder and shake at the sudden sensation. Her breath hitches at your entry, then is spent on a strangled moan as you pull out only to slam back into her. From the first note, you’re perfectly in sync, establishing a raw, primal rhythm as the sounds of collision fill the room. The heat of her body—the way she tenses, then relaxes only to tense in anticipation again—only serves to amplify the maddening desire pounding through your veins.

“God, the way you make me feel …” you rasp out, voice trailing off as the rhythm leaves you breathless.

“Stop being nice,” Yuqi admonishes, but the lack of bite in her tone tells you she’s not demanding an end to your words, only an escalation of your actions.

“Make me,” you retort, punctuating your point with a slap of her ass so hard that it leaves her desperately clinging to the bed frame for support. The curse she throws back is filthy, but the sight of Yuqi so beautifully undone sends your heart into a flutter. Because here’s the thing: there’s still obvious hints of reservation from each of you, both sides unwilling to reveal all your cards yet; but there’s also something sweet about the way she tries to stay aloof while creaming all over your cock, something endearing about the beginnings of a genuine laugh right before you cut the sound short with a thrust at the perfect angle. Of course, the obsession goes both ways, and every single time her eyes meet yours, you feel like you’re about to melt under the heat of her gaze, absolutely at her mercy even as you drive the air from her lungs and make her scream your name.

“I fucking love the sound of your voice,” you growl, voice heavy with lust. “Ever since I heard it live that night in China, I knew that one day I’d hear it screaming my name.”

Her eyes widen as yet another unanticipated admission slips past your lips, but once again she’s kind enough to spare you the shame of your confession, instead simply demanding, “Fucking do it then. Make me scream.”

The challenge hangs heavy in the air between you, like a curtain awaiting its inevitable fall. Her words contain no malice, but amidst the undercurrents of craving seeping through, there’s an element of expectation, like Yuqi knows what you can do to her and how badly you want to do exactly that. So, without an ounce of hesitation, you oblige.

Immediately, there’s a shift in the way you move against each other—a new level of determination as each of your bodies demands everything the other can give. This time, you’re the one to up the intensity with a hand wrapped around her throat as the other grabs a fistful of her hair. As your hold on both tightens, you feel the thrum of her pulse quicken and pound unceasingly against your fingers. With a harsh tug, you pull at her hair, forcing Yuqi to arch her back as you look into her shining eyes and find all the motivation you’ll ever need. There’s a level of desperation in the darkness of her irises that dares to exceed your own, driving you to the brink of insanity and threatening to send you careening into the abyss. You’re enraptured by the sight of those chocolate eyes fighting to stay open even through the tears threatening to form, begging you for more even as you overwhelm her in a way she’s never felt before.

Your world goes dark as you close your eyes and capture her lips with your own, allowing your other senses to overwhelm you as you cherish the way she moans into the kiss. And overwhelm you they shall: you feel the softness of her pillow lips against your own insistent pair, taste the hints of salt from the beads of sweat beginning to drip from her brow, smell the scent of the combination of her cherry lipstick and your caramel coffee, and hear the sound of slapping skin as you fuck away the silence normally accompanying these dark hours of the night.

“Faster … FUCK—I can’t, just please, please fuck me faster,” Yuqi hisses through gritted teeth, barely slipping her message through the pained gasps that escape in rhythm with your frantic thrusts.

“Of course,” you murmur, instinctually finding the curve of her ear and gently nibbling at it. “I’m gonna take good care of you, I promise. I just—god you’re so fucking beautiful it hurts—just need you to stop holding back and scream for me. You can do that, right babe?”

Your words are like a bolt of lightning down Yuqi’s spine, sending shockwaves throughout her entire body as the storm overtakes her and those threats of tears start raining down freely. As always, the crack of thunder is soon to follow, and it manifests in an ear-piercing wail as she’s overwhelmed by pleasure, screaming your name in the most intoxicating way—in a way that sends you to a high you know you’ll never be able to get enough of. With the help of that jump start, you crank things up to a new gear entirely, ratcheting up the intensity of both your thrusts and your hold on her body. Her cries go silent—stolen from her by the way you’re leaving her breathless—but if the price you’re paying makes her look like this, you’d sell your damned soul to have the sight of Yuqi seared into your mind one last time.

The signs of her unraveling are quick to follow, her body tensing and her quivering heat around your shaft clenching down even tighter. Your hold on her hair, neck, and heart never wavers as her cries reach a new octave and you lead Song Yuqi through the opening notes of a ballad of bliss. You slow your thrusts—partially intentionally and partially out of necessity—keeping up just enough stimulation to carry her through the strain but not enough to overwhelm her. In this moment of vulnerability—this culmination of desire—her raw self is radiant, stirring up something buried deep within as you ride her through the rhapsody.

It takes just about everything you have to keep from reaching your own crescendo, but with the knowledge that this isn’t the note you want to end the night on, you manage to pull out. With a far gentler grasp, you lift her unsteady body into the security of your embrace, holding her for a moment so you can throw aside the covers before placing her on the bed. You’re quick to climb atop it alongside her, laying an affectionate hand on her cheek as you turn her to face you. “Hey gorgeous, you alright?”

“Dude, what the fuck?” Her question catches you completely off-guard, sending you into a fit of laughter as she shakes her head in disbelief. “No, but like seriously, how are you still hard after that?”

“As if you don’t know why,” you scoff, punctuating your point with a dramatic roll of your eyes. “You just want me to call you beautiful again.”

A cheeky smile graces the face of Yuqi at your words and she responds, “You’re not wrong. But I don’t think I have the energy to go like that again.”

You nod in understanding, then pull her close against your chest before planting a far gentler kiss than usual atop her lips. “Then maybe we could try something new,” you offer.

“Like what?” Yuqi asks, attempting to play coy even as the intrigue in her eyes betrays her.

You allow your actions to be your response as you pull her atop you, placing her in the perfect position to rest her forehead against your own. “Let’s try taking it slow for once. Maybe not slow enough to be romantic,” you joke, nearly melting at the warmth of the smile that spreads across her face. “But slow enough to savor the moment.”

“Okay,” Yuqi whispers, nodding resolutely. “Let’s take things slow.”

With those loaded words placed securely at the forefront of your mind, you reach down, taking your hardened cock into your hands and teasing her soaked entrance. In a rare moment of consideration, you lock eyes with her, awaiting confirmation before crossing the threshold once more.

“We still have a lot to talk about,” Yuqi murmurs. “Like, so fucking much.”

“Yeah, we do,” you whisper back. “But for now, just let your body tell me everything I need to know.

With a final nod, Yuqi extends the invitation and you’re happy to accept, slipping inside her and groaning in ecstasy as her pristine body fits around you so perfectly. Slowly, steadily, you begin to thrust in and out of her, savoring the depths you reach as her breathy moans of pleasure cascade across your face.

“I want you to do something for me, Yuqi …” you whisper, words trailing off as you experience the euphoric effects of what you speaking her name aloud does to her. “I want you to tell me absolutely everything; I want to make you feel better than you’ve ever felt before. Can you do that for me? Please?”

Even as she shudders, Yuqi still manages to wear a lopsided smirk so fucking well as she fires back, “Sure, but only because you asked so nicely. And only if you do too. Deal?”

“Deal.”

With declarations made and promises sworn, the experimentation begins in full. Even through her fatigue, she takes on the challenge in earnest, exploring every inch of your body and mentally noting the spots you react to most strongly. Of course, you’re just as active, refreshing your list of known sensitive spots—her ears, the base of her neck, and her inner thighs—creating a list of her least favorite spots—Yuqi stops entirely and literally threatens to punch you after you boop her on the nose—and create a whole new list of wholly unexpected favorites—apparently the skin between her breasts and at the bottom of the sides of her ribs. It’s an experience unlike any you’ve had before, though you’d admit the strength of your reactions is likely amplified because it’s Yuqi you’re holding in your arms.

“Look at me,” Yuqi says, voice low and smooth as satin. As you do, you’re met by her dreamy eyes as she stares right back, hair glowing in the dim light in such a striking way—almost like a halo. Instinctually, you wrap your arms around the small of her back and pull her body against yours again, pressing her breasts against your chest as your hearts beat in synchronized rhythm. Her hips leisurely rock against you, each movement calculated for maximum pleasure rather than desperate fulfillment as you match her pace to perfection. Even amidst this melody of movement and symphony of sin, the pleasure coursing through your veins seems to melt time itself away, leaving you lost in thought as you lose yourself in her eyes.

“Tell me,” she purrs, the typical fire in her eyes replaced by a warm glow, one shining a unique light that seems so uncharacteristically vulnerable as her soft hand caresses your face. “Tell me what you’re thinking right now.”

“Yuqi …” you start to say, eventually losing your words halfway through as the sight of her utterly derails your train of thought. After a second, you somehow piece something together, just enough to tell her, “I feel like I’m dreaming right now … but even my dreams can’t compare to you.”

Your words do the unthinkable: leaving the seemingly unsilenceable Yuqi utterly speechless. In a rare moment of shyness, her lips come down on yours, ensnaring them in an impossibly soft kiss. The heat is gentle at first, just enough for you to savor the sweet sensation, but it quickly grows in intensity, demand sparking and burning hotter with each passing second. In this shared space—one where every breath you take is filled with Yuqi, every sound you hear being entirely Yuqi—the best of intentions are quick to burn away. The smooth, steady pace you’d previously set is set aside as your bodies’ demand for release becomes more urgent and every repetition becomes even more impactful.

In each other’s arms, you each give everything you have left, culminating in a climax neither of you has ever even come close to. Her arousal coats your shaft and floods down your thighs as your orgasm shoots deep within her, finally satiating your urges. There’s a moment of near silence broken only by desperate panting as you both attempt to recover. With what little strength remains, you pull yourself out of her and gently lay her down beside you before laying on your back. As you stare up at the ceiling, attempting to catch your breath, you try to piece together the puzzle—try to figure out the perfect words to say—but you pause as you note the sudden quiet.

You turn over to look at her and see that she’s gone, drifted off to dreamland, taken by tranquility. The sight of her curled up like a kitten, facing you without fear leaves you short of what little breath you’d regained, blinding you with her beauty as her chest rises and falls in sync with the soft breaths drifting across your skin. As you pull the covers up over your bodies, worry strikes you, makes you wonder if your pounding heartbeat will wake her. You desperately try to slow its pace, even as your mind races through realizations, chief among them that you once viewed this sliver of divinity as the devil herself. It’s a shocking notion, one that’d hit much harder if it weren’t for the fact that a part of you still believes this angel fell long ago. For now, this seraph dreams. As the darkness clouds the corners of your vision, you know you’ll join her soon. You wonder if you’ll find her there, in a pocket of consciousness that you two seem to have shared for much, much longer than either of you could have possibly imagined. Answers may never come, but the dawn always will.

When Yuqi wakes, she’ll find you beside her. For the first time. Maybe the last. It’s one of many truths only tomorrow can tell. In another life, you might have left by now, might have played it safe, listened to your head instead of your heart. Maybe you might have even been the one to tell the tale of her misdeeds to the world; maybe she might have been the one to shine a light on your darkest wrongdoings. But here, now, in this moment? That’ll never happen. She’ll always be the sin you’ll never confess. You’ll always be the secret she’ll never let slip. No, today is best spent reveling in the heat found solely in the spark you ignite in each other, consequences be damned.

If you burn, at least you’ll burn together.

The End

(Thank you for reading my story. I know it was a significant investment of time and I couldn’t be more appreciative of your choice to spend it here. My final, sincerest bit of gratitude is dedicated solely to @majorblinks, this fic’s endless source of inspiration and infinite hype. If you haven’t already, go read “hard to break the habit” parts one & two (my primary reference when crafting Yuqi’s character) and if you’re still hungry for more, go read “for all the right reasons” parts one & two (home of the hottest clapback in human history). It’ll be a while before I attempt another project of this scale, but as a consolation prize, my next story is intended to arrive slightly sooner this time. See you in late May!)

#kpop smut #kpop fanfic #kpop fanfiction #yuqi smut #yuqi fanfic #idol x reader #idol x male reader #gidle yuqi #gidle #yuqi #song yuqi #slow burn #gidle miyeon #miyeon

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bahrtofane · 17 days

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promises under the stars - jude pov

Jude never meant to replace you. But that's how it ended up isn't it. There's no one to blame but himself, no one behind each and every decision that now has him standing at the end of an aisle, waiting for his bride. A bride that isn't you.

highly highly recommend reading this fic first. or else it kinda doesnt make a whole lot of sense on its own. then come back here. this is kinda like a part 2? kinda

shout out to this anon for this idea ! hope you like it

word count - 2.1K+

watch it - well angst, yet again. pregnancy talks the works. sorry if i used ur name for his wife xoxo. enjooyyy

p.s. - shout out to @anadiasmount for the inspo to create the image at the end ! go read all her stuff yall so good

—————-

He thinks the moment it all comes crumbling down is when he gets word of you getting mobbed. After you've just been to Madrid with him. And he can't do anything about it but send security and hope it doesn't get out of hand.

He expects you to give up right then and there, curse him and wish for him to have nothing to do with your life again. But you don't. You can never bring yourself to blame him. To hate him.

Then comes your whole family suing him for something completely out of his control. Fresh after your father has threatened him, this is just what they need to come after him legally.

It's okay because they don't win. Of course they don't. How stupid do you have to be to try and sue for going on vacation for someone you love. He wants to call you every step of the way. But his lawyer warns against it. So he doesn't. And you’re left in the dark.

Do you even know that they've tried to sue?

He can guess what you're thinking. He knows you too well. You think this is him taking an exit from his life. He doesn't want it to be this way. Maybe its for the best after all he finds himself thinking. Back to the thoughts of letting you go for your good as much as his.

But like most things in life, things get muddy.

He spends his time in a whirlwind of emotions, all leading back to you. He can not go more than an hour without you in his mind.

Even if his texting habits dont show it, he wants to talk to you every second of every day. Do you remember when he would call you to complain about the mundane. When he stubbed his toe, or drank out of his mind, pressing his nose against the screen trying to feel you against him.

Things have changed. He’s no longer the same youthful Jude with a penchant for recklessness. Taking day trips to see you, skirting around paparazzi and your families just to have a moment together.

He misses you, but he’s scared to reach out again. So he remains silent and an onlooker to your life.

Funny isn't it. World class player with more money than he knows what to do with is scared to text you in fear of what your families will say or do.

And yet, he can’t stay away for long can he. His resolve breaks on your birthday. Months and years have gone by. Legal cases are drawn out go figure. And he's been so busy with games every few days and events he can never say no too. When he gets home his bones ache, only finding the strength to clean himself up and go to bed.

When he calls you he realizes maybe it's too late. That waiting for things to blow over have left a gap in your time together. He knows nothing but memories. Your life eludes him. He tries to go back truly, but seeing your story while you're out with friends, smiling- actually smiling. He thinks he better not intrude.

His mother isn't helping one bit. She's come to the conclusion that the only way to move on and get your family off his back for good is to just move on. Find a “nice sensible girl” she says, smiling.

Jude doesn't want to. It makes him sick. Kicking and screaming the whole way about it. It’s not a bad idea in theory. Pretend to date someone. Your family gets off his back his family of yours boom you can be happy together again.

So he can learn who you are again. Find a way into your life. Do you still tilt your head when you're confused? He needs to get back to you. He can't let someone like you leave. He doesn’t just love you, he’s fascinated with the person you’ve grown into.

The thought of you with anyone else makes him sick. He still loves you, and he makes himself believe that the same is true.

If only right.

He meets Kaylie in the dead of winter. At a sponsorship event that he completely forgets about and shows up an hour late to. He looks around trying to find his agent but before he can even say his usual rounds of hellos he spots his mother standing with a blonde who clutches her necklace to her chest while she laughs.

This is the start of his own nightmare.

He comes back around when he knows he has to. After taking his sweet time talking to everyone. He tries to look for help to get out of the encounter but it's already too late. His mother is flagging him down. So he walks over, already sweating.

His mother all but pushes them together.

“What a couple you two are.” she beams, hands clasped together.

He gives a tight lipped smile and tries to wiggle his way out the awkward slew of introductions Kaylie gives of herself. But his mother gives him a look, grabbing into his arm and making stand and listen.

There's a look in his mothers eye, he knows what it means. This is the woman that's supposed to replace you. He feels sick.

——-

Along the way he thinks that maybe this is what's best for him. For you.

His family all love Kaylie. And she's sweet enough.

Nothing like you, dragging him into different clubs while you linked arms to get ice cream at the same time.

He finds it hard to keep up with her. Her life is fast paced, more so than his. Every time he calls she's in a different country it seems, catching flights and going to fancy resorts.

You never minded a quiet night in. Its what you loved, being able to exist with him.

Most of all she doesnt know him. She knows Jude Bellingham. The player, the figure, the celebrity. She doesn't know that he has a bad habit of touching his ears when he's nervous, how his eyes go wide at praise and teasing. How without a hundred reminders and alarms he truly would be late for everything. You always helped getting him to things on time.

When you were both awkward pre teens struggling to make sense of the world, you’d stop by his house to make sure he wouldn’t miss the bus. Sitting next to him on the beaten leather seats, and spitting facts you learned the day before.

He always listened. He still would today.

He doesn't think Kaylie’s noticed anything about him. She spends most of their time together taking pictures and flaunting him around. He pretends it doesn't bother him. Is the peace even worth it at this point?

She doesn't know how much he loves making little daisy chains, how much he loved putting them in your hair when you were kids. You’d throw a fit, but he never missed the look in your eyes when his fingers would swoop down to settle them gently.

Kaylie is beautiful. But she's not beautiful like you. She may have an expensive taste for clothes that allows her to put together a stunning outfit for any occasion, cleavage on display while she pouts her lips and bats her eyelashes for a kiss. Kisses he never gives her. He can't. Not when he knows you wait for him.

Sure she's great by the average man's standards. But she's not lovely like you. You could be in a trash bag and he'd still think you're the most gorgeous person on the planet.

He thinks this whole Kaylie thing will blow over, that he'll be able to get back to you.

And he tells her this.

He goes through the motions, just to shut everyone up.

Sitting her down when his mother isn’t around, “I don't love you. I will never be okay. I'm only here to get my mom off my back.”

And she laughs, flicking her hair over her shoulder, “Okay Judey whatever you say,” bracelets clanking together.

The name makes him want to hurl. “Get out of my house.”

Kaylie has got it in her head that she's here to stay. They've gotten into screaming matches because she's gotten her hands on the spare key and spends her days lounging in his house while he's away. They're not even officially dating by any means.

And he keeps finding her in his bed, in nothing but one of his shirts. Giggling and acting coy. He's losing his patience and losing it fast.

“Why did you give her the key.” Jude storms into his mothers house.

She's making tea, swirling a spoon in her mug,”she's your woman isn't she. She needs one.”

“No. She's not my woman and you know that. Everyone that.”

She set the spoon down in the sink, going over to where Jude stands.

“Jude. you need to focus on what's good for you. And she wasn't good. You should be lucky that they didn't win the case. I went and told them about Kaylie and how wonderful she is. Be thankful. “

He's losing his mind. He needs to talk to you.

He gets the chance when he's back in his hometown. And he sees you. He doesn’t think he could ever miss you, not even in a crowd. A rush of people stop him from running right to you. So instead he texts you. For the first time in ages.

Was nice seeing you.

He hopes you can read between the lines, that you still know him well enough to understand what he really means.

I still see you.

For Jude is a coward.

——

You dont reply. He forces himself to go back to what hes been forced to know.

Kaylie is all over him, hands roaming his body. There are days when he gives in. Sharing a bed with her as a cruel demented way to find some sort of release from everything that goes on around him. The look on her face after its all set and done makes him genuinely want to punch something. A look of arrogance, like she's won something.

And to top it all off he's been called up for England. His life gets even busier, if possible. Trying to keep up with it all proves to be grueling.

But light comes in the form of you. In the form of a single text.

Watched you play tonight. I'm proud of you.

You're proud of him? You watched him?

The words bring him to near sobs, the light of his phone illuminating his hotel room while hes getting changed into his pjs. It's completely dark, his personal preference. And hes so happy he would fly the damn plane himself to see you.

Before he can even think of a reply Kaylie tells him she's pregnant. Barging into his room with a little white box in hand. He thinks is some sort of congratulations for the game. Tacky card, maybe a watch.

When he opens it, his world comes to a halt. Its a single pregnancy test.

He wants to cry. He's too young to be having kids let alone with her. It makes no sense to him. He always used protection the handful of times they did sleep together. Each time he'd only cry in the shower trying to scrub off her smell and the feeling of her touch off of him. She's only a distraction he tells himself. Too late for those words now.

It feels so wrong, so so wrong. He was supposed to be waiting for you and here he is sleeping with another woman. Who's now pregnant. He wants to vomit.

He's in too deep now. And he can't be a deadbeat dad.

Thoughts of you get pushed back to his mind while he scrambles to deal with the consequences of his own actions.

When they get back to Madrid, his mother doesnt let him off easy. Screaming at him till he thinks he's popped an eardrum. And yet there's a gleam in her eyes like she's happy it all worked out this way. Doting on Kaylie and rubbing her belly (that's not even close to showing yet), and calling herself grandma already.

The next step is obvious. He has to marry her and make it work.

So he does. An impromptu wedding that happens so fast he doesn't even hear the congratulations from everyone. He doesn't know how to break it to you so instead he posts on instagram and tries to figure out what his life has become.

Jude is nearing 25. He has a kid on the way. He's married. He hates his wife. He hate himself. Can you ever forgive him?

#jude x reader #jude bellingham x reader #jude bellingham imagine #jude bellingham x you #jude fluff #jude bellingham #jude x you #jude x y/n #jude bellingham one shot #jude bellingham fanfic #jude bellingham angst #bahr footy #YAY #i acc got this out in a semi reasonable time frame go figure

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kvtie444 · 3 months

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⋆‧₊˚ TEACHERS PET .7

summary: Reader has a new teacher and finds herself falling for him blahblahblah teachers pet by melanie vibes xoxo ouch.

・₊✧⋆⭒˚｡⋆

July became the somber conclusion. The spring, filled with the blossoming of love, now felt like a cruel illusion. Despite his professed love, I questioned the authenticity of our connection. Winter's usual melancholy paled in comparison to the new depths of summer depression. With school out, I languished in bed, nursing self-pity.

The school board granted me permission to stay due to my high grades and this being my first school issue. Yet, the purpose seemed lost without Matt. My room echoed with the loud hum of the fan as I scrolled through my phone - 2 missed calls from Madi, 4 from Mum, 1 from Dad, none from Matt.

I had no motivation or energy to go back home for summer break. I craved this town's familiar embrace, knowing Matt was still in the same place as me. Comfort came in waves, even though the worst part was that I didn't hate him - I still loved him.

Swiping off from calls, I checked the weather app - today marked a heatwave, the hottest in a decade. Amazing. I groaned and decided it was time to do something. Self-pity couldn't be my refuge. I texted Madi:

To Madi F What are you doing today?

From Madi F Hey girl!! Missed u <3 Some of the girls and I are having a little bonfire tonight. It starts at 7 if you wanna come? x

To Madi F I'd love to :))

Madi F liked your message

From Madi F Would you mind picking up some 6 packs, please? I'll send you the money. We're all just setting up rn x

To Madi F Of course, don't worry about it x

I sigh and get up, opting for a cold shower to refresh myself. The cold water soothes my weary body, and after that, I change into a crop top, shorts, and trainers. Walking through the familiar park on my way to the grocery store, I notice the leaves, once orange and crisp, have turned green. Birds chirp from the trees, the grass is lush, and the sky remains cloudless — a comforting sight.

Upon reaching the grocery store, I grab a trolley and head straight to the back where the alcohol is stocked. Loading up with a couple of packs and bottles, I make my way to check out, fanning myself as I wait in the blistering heat. After paying and bagging up the drinks, I exit to the car park, realising there's no way in hell I could carry all these bags home in this heat. Groaning, I push my trolley through the car park, undeterred by the curious gazes of onlookers. Sweating, I finally reach my building and head inside, trolley still in hand.

˚₊‧꒰ა ☆ ໒꒱ ‧₊˚

"3, 2, 1, go!"

I smile, watching our friends shotgun their beers around the bonfire in the middle of our circle. Perched on a refurnished log turned into a bench, I swirl my drink in a red solo cup and take a sip. Madi wraps an arm around me, "smileee" she chimes, she holds up her digital camera. I oblige, looking at the cute photo of us – me in a white mini skirt co-ord and her in black shorts and a cami. Downing my drink, I decide to get a refill.

"I'm getting a top up," I tell Madi, walking back to the makeshift bar area she set up (a cheap, fold-up table and half-empty drinks). I pour vodka into my cup, attempting not to spill it in my drunken state, when murmurs catch my attention.

"Yeah, she was screwing her professor for better grades." "Damn, I would too, to be fair. He was fine."

I whip my head around, giving the gossiping girls a stern look. "The fuck did you just say?" I speak up, liquid courage taking control over my body. The eyes around the fire pit turn towards us.

"What? That you were sleeping with your teacher?" the ringleader says, cocking her head.

"What's it to you? Just because the only dick you can catch is from some lowlife frat boy with more STDs than you can count," I spit back, kissing my teeth. "So obsessed and for what," I continue, rolling my eyes. Others come over, standing between us to calm things down, pulling me away.

"Yeah, that's what I thought, bitch!" the other girl yells as they retreat. "Watch when I see you again!" I shout back before Madi pulls me inside.

"Y/n, let's get you some water, okay?" she says softly, leading me to the kitchen. I perch on the island, trying to maintain my balance. She brings me a cup of water, and I sip on it.

"Stay here for a second, okay?" Madi leaves the room briefly. I struggle to focus, my head spinning. I'm so fucked up, and all I can think about is how much I miss Matt. He doesn't even work at the school anymore. What are they going to do? Not let me speak to someone who has nothing to do with my college anymore. I take out my phone, wrestling to unlock it, eventually succeeding. I go to texts and send him a message. fuck it.

To Matt S I miss you.

・₊✧ Matt pov ˚｡⋆

From Y/N I M IF DDD YOY

I gaze at my phone, attempting to decipher her message. She's clearly drunk. Is she alone? Is she safe? Is she with strangers? Shit.

For a moment, I stare at the screen, wrestling with the internal conflict. Ending things with her was one of the hardest things I had to do, especially seeing her in this state – shattered, pleading for me to stay. It was a sacrifice for her future, ensuring she could stay in school, earn a degree, and build a happy life. Not a day goes by where I don't think of her – waking up, reaching for her, preparing meals for two, driving past her building. She was my oxygen. I'd rather die than be the one hurting her. But I needed to.

Fuck it, I can't handle this. I dial her number. After three rings, she answers. Silence. "Y/n?" I say. "Hey," she replies. Her voice, I've missed it so much. "Are you okay?" I ask. "Why didn't you call me?" she slurs. My heart breaks even more. I sense the sadness in her words. "Y/n, where are you? Are you safe?" I attempt to steer the conversation. She sighs and sniffs. "I'm at a friend's, but I don't want to stay here. It's gone to shit. Everything's gone to shit," she mumbles. Sighing, I rise from my spot on the sofa. "Send me your location; I'm on my way."

・₊✧⋆⭒˚｡⋆

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#Spotify #matt sturniolo #matthew sturniolo #matt sturniolo x reader #chris sturniolo #chris sturniolo x reader #sturniolo triplets #nick sturniolo #smut #fluff #angst

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doomsday-dj · 1 month

Text

Decorative Grapes Rizzoli & Isles Rating: T Words: 3157 (This isn't any of the things that I said I was working on but I hope you all like it anyway!)

“I don’t know who she thinks she’s fooling. Everytime we see her at one of these she’s with that detective of hers and she’s practically stuck on her like a stamp. They’re always touching each other.”

“Honestly. It’s blatant. ‘This is my colleague,’ and ‘have you met my friend,’ as if anyone with eyes couldn’t tell she and that guard dog of a woman are intimately acquainted.”

“Mmm. Truthfully, I certainly wouldn’t object to being familiar with her ‘colleague.’ If it were me I’d let everyone know.”

“God, you’re truly beyond hope. Regardless, whether she wants it or not, everybody does know.”

Maura hears a heavy door open and close and the sound of fading laughter. A very welcome silence follows, a signal that she’s once again alone in the bathroom. Eyes closed, body trembling, she leans back against the smooth metal wall of the stall she’s been hiding in.

Ten minutes ago, Maura’s phone had pinged with an urgent email from the governor’s office and she’d excused herself from Jane’s company to find a quiet place to respond. She’d been tapping away in the bathroom when the women had entered, her presence silent enough that they clearly thought they were alone. Neither had needed the facilities for any of their traditional uses, leaving Maura with the devastating conclusion that their only reason for coming into the bathroom was to gossip about her.

Maura tries her best not to cry. She presses a cool hand first to her throat, then her cheek, trying to relieve some of the heat that has gathered beneath her skin. She’s absolutely burning up, flushed with embarrassment and shame at what she’d just overheard.

The conversation was such a cruel confirmation of what Maura has long been fearing. She already knew she relies too much on Jane’s company at these events, but thanks to those loudmouthed women she now also knows she’s been doing a terrible job of hiding her ever growing affection for Jane.

Maura breathes in for four seconds, holds her breath for seven, and then exhales for eight. She does it again as she exits the stall to wash her hands and again as she presses a piece of damp paper towel to her still-flushed chest and neck.

When the reflection in the mirror looks sufficiently calm, if still a bit ruddy, she exits the bathroom. As Maura anxiously scopes out the event space, she realizes that the worst part is she hasn’t the first idea about which two women were talking about her.

She zeros in on Jane lingering by where a dessert buffet has been set out on one side of the ballroom. She’s easy to spot: her height and her wild hair and her suit all readily mark her as different. It’s Jane’s nicest suit, which Maura appreciates, but with the caterers in tuxedos, Jane is unquestionably the least fancy person in the room. Maura loves that. She loves her. Jane diligently comes with her to every charity auction and gallery opening, unselfconsciously rubbing shoulders with her acquaintances and serving as her social interaction sounding board and shield, and all Maura has done to repay her is get her name dragged through the mud.

Maura makes her way over quickly. Jane seems to know on instinct when Maura is close and turns to face her just as Maura makes her final approach. Jane’s warm smile, usually so effective at making Maura feel at ease, causes a lurch of guilt in her stomach.

“Oh, hey,” Jane greets her. “I thought I was going to have to send out a search party. Do you think these grapes are decorative?” Jane nods her head at the selection of desserts.

“I’m—sorry?” Maura trips around the prepared apology that had been on the tip of her tongue, rehearsed several times on her way across the ballroom.

“The grapes,” Jane says. “You think they’re for eating?”

Maura blinks twice and follows Jane’s gaze to where many bunches of grapes adorn the dessert table.

“I think they’re quite clearly real grapes, Jane,” Maura says slowly.

“Yeah, genius, I know that part.” The words themselves are a little harsh but Jane’s voice is filled with that affectionate teasing that seems to be reserved just for Maura, a tone that makes it very clear that when Jane says ‘genius’ she means it. She’s still carefully examining the arrangement of grapes. “But are they decorative. They’re not even on the plates, they’re just like all around the plates. Is that something rich people do? I don’t want to look like some idiot townie who can’t tell a dessert from a garnish.”

Maura’s mouth opens and closes a few times. She’d worked up quite a head of steam on her way over and now instead she’s being called on to give expert testimony on grapes. Maura looks at the table again and takes the task seriously.

“They’re probably intended mostly as decoration,” Maura admits.

Jane weighs Maura’s perspective heavily and then shakes her head. “That’s dumb, I’m still eating them.”

Decisive as always, Jane reaches down with slender fingers and plucks a small bunch of the darkest grapes, dusty blue-purple in colour, and plops them on her plate. She tosses one in her mouth and makes a deep, satisfied noise as she nods solemnly, visibly pleased with her choice.

“Anyway, what’s up with you?” Jane says. She glances over at Maura as she slips another grape in her mouth. Maura watches it disappear before looking back into Jane’s eyes with a hint of panic. “You look stressed and you walked over here in that tight little way you do when you’ve got a test result I’m going to hate.”

“What—I do not—tight?” Maura sputters.

“Yeah, like, pinched.” Jane lifts her shoulders into a tense shrug, demonstrating. “And you walk really fast with short little steps.”

Maura scoffs in offense but resists the urge to launch into a vigorous denial. While she’d very much like to defend her honour, or at least the length of her strides, she knows that if she gets into an argument with Jane she might never get to what she really needs to say. She sighs instead.

“Jane, I have to tell you something.”

Jane’s head dips at the weight of Maura’s voice, concern shading her features. She glances around, then takes Maura by the elbow and draws her away from the dessert table, moving to a more private spot off to the side of the ballroom.

“What’s up? What happened?” Jane’s deep brown eyes search Maura’s face, her hand still holding Maura’s arm. Maura chews her lower lip nervously. She’d figured out exactly how she wanted to say this when she was crossing the ballroom but now the only thing in her head is the different varietals of grapes that are on that stupid table. She’s just going to have to wing it.

“Jane, I overheard two women gossiping about us in the bathroom. I can’t apologize enough and if I’d had any idea that…well, I’m just very sorry. But unfortunately, everyone thinks you and I are together.”

Jane’s features, which had creased with concern when Maura began talking, smooth out in relief. “Well, sure.” Jane breathes out a sigh. “Of course they do.”

Maura blinks, first confused, then frustrated. She must not have said it right. Why can’t she be better at these things?

“No, Jane,” Maura says seriously. “I mean romantically. They think we’re dating.”

Jane stares at Maura. “Right, yeah. Obviously.”

Maura is dumbfounded. Obviously? Her expression must be broadcasting her bewilderment because Jane’s face crinkles with tender concern. It’s one of Maura’s favourites from the catalog of Jane’s expressions she’s learned to recognize. While plenty of people have looked at her with concern in her life, it has almost always been the pitying or morbid kind, and Jane’s feels like the sun. Maura basks in it.

“You don’t mind?” Maura asks, eyes wide with surprise and relief.

“Maur,” Jane starts softly. Her hand is still on Maura’s elbow and her thumb rubs a soothing circle against the soft skin of Maura’s upper arm. “I do mind that they’re talking about you behind your back. That’s rude as hell. But the fact that they think we’re a couple?” Jane shrugs. “What else are they gonna think? Every single time you’re at one of these things I’m with you. We show up together, we leave together, we spend most of our time together. It’s like…girlfriend or bodyguard, those are the options people are going to come up with.”

“That’s absurd.” Maura exclaims and, although she doesn’t want to be, she knows she’s probably coming off a little frantic. Her heart started racing when Jane said ‘girlfriend’ and hasn’t stopped. “Why isn’t ‘friend’ an option? Because that’s the truth, we’re friends.”

“I dunno, I think bodyguard is a little true, too,” Jane says wryly and lets go of Maura’s arm to pop another grape in her mouth. Maura shoots her a look.

“Jane, I’m serious. Just because two people…” Maura sighs. “So we spend a lot of time together, so what? They shouldn’t leap to conclusions like that.”

Jane makes a noncommittal noise in response. She sets her plate of grapes down and stares out onto the dance floor where couples have started swaying around to the jazzy house band that began playing after dinner. After a silent moment she looks back to Maura.

“You wanna dance?” Jane asks. Maura looks at her incredulously and Jane offers another shrug in return. “I mean, they’re gonna think it either way, so you might as well get to dance. You always say how you want to.” She holds out her hand, palm up, and Maura stares at it like she’s never seen one before in her life.

“I…okay,” Maura says dumbly. She places her hand in Jane’s and allows herself to be led out onto the dance floor. She feels immediately like every eye in the room is on them but when she glances around she finds that couldn’t be further from the truth.

Then she’s in Jane’s arms.

“Can I ask you a question?” Jane asks at the same time that her hand slides around to the small of Maura’s back, her other hand still clasping Maura’s and raising it up. Maura can’t pretend she isn’t shocked that Jane is this confident about dancing. She stares at Jane in a daze.

“Sure, yes.” Maura swallows with some difficulty and slides her hand up Jane’s arm until it winds over her shoulder. Jane’s eyebrow twitches just slightly and the smile on her face is not one that Maura can easily identify. She’s not sure she’s seen it before. Jane begins to sway them around the floor, sweeping her gaze around the room before settling it back on Maura.

“If there was a woman who came to all of these events, each time with the same man, and she spent all her time with him and they came and left in the same car and everything we do, what would you think?”

Maura looks up into Jane’s questioning face and presses her lips into a thin line. She blushes a bit. “I get what you’re trying to say, Jane, and you’re right, I’d think they were together. But all I’m taking away from that point is that one shouldn’t make assumptions about pairs of differing genders either.”

“That probably is the right lesson,” Jane says as she spins them slowly around. Maura thinks they might be pressed even closer together than when they started. No, she’s sure of it, actually, because she can no longer look Jane in the eye without craning her neck and Jane’s lips are startling close to Maura’s ear when she starts talking again. “Can I ask you another question?”

“Yes.” Maura really doesn’t mean for it to come out so huskily.

“Ignoring that lesson you just learned…if you had a friend, a male best friend, and he spent all his time with you and made you come to his dive bar with him and drove to your house every morning for fancy coffee before work even though he’d happily drink instant and has a well documented hatred for getting up earlier than he has to…”

It’s not exactly a subtle beginning on Jane’s part and Maura has already lost the ability to regulate her breathing. She’s trying not to dig her fingers into Jane’s neck but she’s not quite sure how to keep upright if she doesn’t hold onto something. She feels the arm around her waist tighten just slightly before Jane continues.

“...If, hypothetically, he’d run a marathon for you, pretend to be your lover to discourage a truly disgusting mechanic he definitely warned you about, and of course fill his nights with every charitable event in the Boston elite’s social calendar… What would you think?”

Maura can’t believe what she’s hearing. She especially can’t believe Jane Rizzoli just said lover.

“Jane,” Maura exhales quietly. She wants to lean back and look Jane in the eyes, verify that all of this is really happening, convince herself that she didn’t fall and hit her head in the bathroom prompting some very vivid auditory hallucinations, but Jane’s hand slides up to the middle of her back and holds her firmly in place.

“What would you think, Maura?” Jane’s voice is low and her breath is hot against Maura’s cheek. She shivers and grips the collar of Jane’s jacket so, so tight.

“I would think he wants me.” It’s barely louder than a whisper but Maura feels like she’s shouting.

“Hm,” Jane says, sounding sage, as if she’d just uncovered some difficult mathematical proof. “I think you’d probably be right.”

This time when Maura tries to lean back, Jane lets her, her hand returning to the small of Maura’s back except a little bit lower than it was before. Jane has that same mysterious smile from earlier and now Maura’s starting to get a sense of what this one means.

She has no less than a thousand questions about this revelation but it’s not difficult to pick out the most important one.

“Why didn’t you say something?” Maura carefully searches Jane’s expression, which turns bashful. Jane looks awkward and vulnerable and it’s painfully sweet. Maura can hardly fathom that Jane is still managing to dance them around the room.

“I tried to,” Jane says a bit helplessly. “Well—I tried to show you. I’m not very good with words. Unfortunately you’re not always so good without them. But I thought…you know, all that stuff you said about the signs of attraction, I thought you’d see my eyeballs having contractions and stuff.”

“Facial muscles,” Maura murmurs.

“Whatever,” Jane says, then clears her throat. They finally come to a stop but they don’t quite disengage, their clasped hands dropping to their sides while their other arms remain around each other. Jane’s eyes dart around uncomfortably. “Well anyway, now you know. I guess that’s also why I don’t really mind if everyone mistakenly thinks we’re dating.”

“Would you mind if they weren’t mistaken?” Maura asks, slipping her hand free. She can feel Jane’s fingers twitch at the loss.

“Of course not.” Jane frowns, offended at the implication. “If you want to clear things up with everyone, of course you should. Take an ad out in the next newsletter if you need to.”

“No, I don’t—that’s not what I meant.” Maura slides her hand from around Jane's shoulder to grasp one of the lapels on Jane’s blazer, her unoccupied hand coming up to take hold of the other. “I mean, what if—”

Maura wants to finish her sentence, she really does, but when she drops her gaze from Jane’s eyes to her mouth her fingers start tugging down on the collar of Jane’s jacket and she’s just going to have to show Jane instead, like Jane had tried to show her.

And she really had, hadn’t she? There will be time later to reflect on all the signs she missed but for now, Maura kisses Jane, lightly brushing their lips together once, twice, then tilting her head and slotting her mouth confidently against Jane’s. There’s the briefest moment of shock where Jane’s whole body goes rigid and then she melts into the contact and it sparks electricity up and down Maura’s spine. The hand that isn’t wrapped around Maura’s waist finds its place at the back of Maura’s neck, resting strong and possessive.

Jane tastes like grapes and their kiss is a relief and a thrill and a confirmation. When Jane makes a quiet, hungry sound deep in her throat it nearly extinguishes any consideration for social etiquette on Maura’s part. Despite the very public circumstances of their first kiss, Maura so badly wants to bite down on Jane’s tender lower lip, lick along the seam of Jane’s closed mouth and waste no time when she opens it. She wants to press herself against Jane’s strong thigh and goad Jane until she pushes Maura up against the nearest wall. More than anything, Maura wants to give those two women something to really talk about. She does none of those things, of course, if only because Constance Isles has many friends in this room and that’s not a phone call Maura is interested in having. She does, however, prolong the kiss as long as she reasonably can before breaking off with a sharp sigh, her eyes squeezed shut. For a moment everything is still.

“Hey,” Jane says carefully, nervously. “Are you okay?”

“More than okay.” Maura opens her eyes to find Jane’s looking the softest she’s ever seen them. She thinks her heart might burst. “I just… Well. While I’m obviously no longer worried about the spreading of false gossip, I’m still upset that they think I’m trying to hide it.”

Jane scrunches her face into a skeptical expression. “Oh, I really doubt they’re going to think that after you kissed me in the middle of the dance floor.”

Maura blushes and glances around and this time she does spot a few sets of eyes looking quickly away. She probably will be getting that phone call after all. She releases her grip on Jane’s jacket, smoothing the creases away with the palms of her hands before looking up into the open, caring face of her best friend. Part of her feels like she should be reeling from a seismic change in their relationship, but the whole thing just feels so overwhelmingly correct and Maura finds she can only think about one thing.

So she gives Jane’s shoulder a small shove.

“I don’t have a pinched walk, by the way.” Maura pouts.

“Oh my god, yes you do,” Jane says, reaching for Maura’s hand and winding their fingers together again. “You can’t help it, it’s how you were raised. Let’s go home and I’ll show you my impression.”

#rizzles #rizzoli and isles #femslash #f/f fanfic #f/f #f/f romance #maura isles #jane rizzoli #rizzles fanfic #rizzoli and isles fanfiction

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futurecorps3 · 10 months

Note

Hiii !! I love your writing ❤️. If your comfortabke can i ask for marauders comforting reader since they do stuff for others but forget to take care about themselves?

𝐍𝐞𝐠𝐥𝐢𝐠𝐞𝐧𝐜𝐞

Masterlist<3

Summary: They'll always have each other<3. Pairing: poly!marauders x fem!reader Warnings: Reader stops eating, kind of scolding from the marauders but like in a nice way, mentions of being sick. Lemme know if I missed any!! Word Count: 1.5K Requested: Yes

A/N: Made this poly!marauders love, hope u don't mind! Thank you so much, hope you enjoy<3.

Since they met, there was no waking moment where Y/N wasn't offering to do something to help life make even the slightest bit easier for people. Not because she was a people pleaser. No, not at all. She was just that kind. Sirius heard Remus say once that "acts of service" was her "love language".

He demanded to know what exactly that meant and the conclusion was that that's the way their girl expressed her love. And that was okay. James loved to craft little handmade gifts for his boyfriends and girlfriend. Remus tried to spend as much time as he could with them. Sirius wanted nothing but to cuddle with his loves. Y/N/N loved helping them.

Even her friends, too! Lily needed a book from the library but didn't have time to fetch it? Y/N could get it for her. Regulus was having a hard time and needed his comfort food? She'll cook it, it's okay. Her boyfriends loved how sweet she was with it as well, a caring soul that expressed her love through helping.

Until it backfires.

Remus was the first one to notice, ever the observer. "Y'okay dove?" he whispered, looking down at her figure resting on his arm, almost dozing off. That would be a normal occurrence if their history of magic lesson was a bit too boring for her liking, and he'd let her sleep through it since it was one of the classes Y/N excelled in without even trying.

Not the case with potions, and she always tried her best. So yes, this was odd. "Just a bit tired s'all" the girl mumbled back, trying to get up but inevitably snuggling impossibly closer to the boy's arm. "Darling, Slughorn will give you detention if you keep sleeping. Get up for me, will ya?" he muttered once again, gently pulling her up, but she just ended up falling face first on the table.

James looked over at the thud and frowned, directing his gaze to Remus who, wide-eyed, shook his girlfriend's form to wake her up. She was no longer asleep. A thousand possibilities ran through his head. Confusion. Fear. Shock.

"Is everything alright, Remus?" The professor asked, in perfect timing, looking over at his student. "I-I don't know what happened, sir. She was dozing off, and I was trying to wake her up but-" "Let's go. Pomfrey. Now."

Sirius' voice coming from behind him, James already carrying Y/N's limp form in his arms and quickly exiting the classroom in a hurried step. His boyfriend had a habit of overthinking and trying to piece a logical explanation for everything, like right now; why did Y/N faint suddenly? Sirius knew she fainted, and they needed to get help right that second.

Why's and how's would be found later, when their girl was okay.

The couple ran through the corridors, James muttering small "Darling, wake up" and "Stay with me, alright? We're almost there" with Remus and Sirius following close behind, hand in hand as the prior dried some stray tears with the right sleeve of his sweater.

It was all much too overwhelming for him; Y/N fainting, Sirius looking worried which practically never occurred, James talking to his girlfriend's limp body as if she were dead and how he got in his head instead of acting when it all happened.

His boyfriend squeezed his hand, knowing him well enough to realize what was going on in his head. “Remember what Jamie told us the other day? When you hop on a plane, they tell you to place your air-mask before helping whoever needs help near you” He said as the three of them walked through the infirmary’s door.

“Y/N/N needs help right now, but we gotta be okay to help her. Steady breaths for me, baby” he continued, encouraging him to find a rhythm so he could calm himself down. James placed Y/N on one bed and brushed the hair out of her face.

Pomfrey got in action quick as lightning, giving her a potion that would wake her up. Fainting like she did was not normal, not for a healthy person like Y/N, so she had to have her awake to answer her questions.

Her boys sat down on the sides of the bed, James and Remus on one couch cuddling as Sirius held her hand on the other side, rubbing soothing circles with his thumb. “My poor girl…” James mumbled, watching over her as Moony dozed off after the energy-draining panic he had.

“She’s been quite busy lately,” Sirius prompted. Maybe she fainted out of tiredness. “Yeah, she wasn’t even at movie night with the girls on Thursday, Lily told me,” the brunette answered, getting where his boyfriend was going. "Hasn't been much with us either, eh?" "Yeah".

They waited for about an hour after Pomfrey gave her the potion before she woke up. All of them stayed there the whole time. It was about 5pm, and they didn't attend lunch, but they couldn't risk her waking up alone. Sirius saw her shifting and stood up immediately, making James and Remus to do the same. Brows furrowed and dry lips, Y/N opened her eyes slowly.

"Hello, darlin'", "Hi babe", "Mornin' dove".

Prongs busied himself with a cup of water for his girlfriend as she returned their greetings. "W-what happened?" She asked, confused out of her mind before sipping on the glass. "You fainted during potions. Poppy said she needs to ask ya some questions." Sirius smiled, kindly kissing her nose to pull a giggle from her. "You've been taking care of yourself, baby?" Now spoke Remus, already sensing what was happening.

"Yes, I-I've been helping Reggie with some stuff for Divination and spent most of my days there, but yes" "When's the last time you ate?". Theatrical silence fell as Y/N tried to recall when did she had her last meal. Around ten seconds passed, and Sirius sighed in frustration. "Shit, Y/N".

"M'sorry, okay!?" the girl whined softly, feeling guilty about it already. "I was busy. Regg needed help..." "That's no excuse for you to not take care of yourself!" The raven-haired boy yelped, anger and worry clear in his tone. There was no way he'd let it happen again. It doesn't matter how much she wanted to help; straight up blacking out for not eating was unacceptable.

James grabbed his hand and squeezed it. "Calm down, darling. You too, Y/N. We're just glad you're okay." He pipped in, seeing as tears started to well up in his girl's eyes. Remus sat next to her on the bed, grabbing her hand and intertwining her fingers. "Sirius, could you go get some food for her? See if there's still some. Tell Poppy she's up and we know why she fainted." "Yeh," he mumbled, boots loud on the floor as he exited the room.

"Is he mad at me? A-Are you guys mad at me?" "Nonsense, dove," Remus cooed, laying beside her and letting her rest his head on his chest as Prongs did the same, holding his boyfriend's hand in the process. "We're not mad and neither is Sirius, he's just worried, and a bit frustrated but not mad". Y/N nodded after James explained, kissing both of their cheeks and finishing her water.

"S'not okay you forget to eat, though. We understand how much you like taking care of everyone and help them out..." Spoke the lycanthrope "We love that about you!" Chirped James. "... but you gotta be okay before you help anyone else. Take care of yourself first, then others. We could remind you if you like but this cannot happen again".

She nodded once again, reminding herself of the times her stomach grumbled, but she didn't listen. "Okay" Y/N smiled at her boys. Pomfrey walked over right after and scolded her for the negligence, offering more water and advised to skip the next day of classes to rest. As they got ready to leave, Sirius walked back with an armful of pastries, careful on balancing them and not drop a thing.

Everyone helped him and placed the food on the bed, rounding it so they could share their late lunch. Padfoot sat next to Y/N, and she immediately grabbed his face so he'd look at her to have his undivided attention.

As he looked upon her face, a chill ran through his body as he noticed how pale she was, and he couldn't help but feel his heart break a little as he reached out and held her face in his hands. "I'm sorry Siri..." She mumbled, looking him dead in the eye; a thing they did when one was being dead serious.

"No, I'm sorry. Shouldn't've lashed out at you like that, it's just you- you got me worried and I don't like you ill for something you can control. We'll eat our meals like clockwork now so you don't forget pup, that okay?" The boy proposed, grinning sympathetically at her as she mumbled a small okay before pressing a deep kiss to his soft lips.

The couple ate and chatted, like any other day. Promises were made, too; The boys made a silent agreement on making sure Y/N took care of herself, and she, to be as caring with herself as she was with others.

In the end, they had each other. When fainting, when laughing, when crying. They were together for the end of time and that's really all that mattered.<3

˚ · • . ° .

This is my first time writing poly!marauders so I'm very nervous at how y'all will like it haha. Tysm for reading! Hope you enjoyed

Remember, the best way to support writer’s works on here is by REBLOGGING WITH TAGS. I’d very much appreciate it if you did!

Thanks again, stranger. Hope you have a nice day<3

NO ONE IS ALLOWED TO REPOST AS THEIR OWN/TRANSLATE/OR COPY MY WORK IN ANY PLATFORM OR SPACE WITHOUT MY EXPLICIT CONSENT.

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cissyenthusiast010155 · 1 year

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I just read your April Fools's fic with Larissa!! I LOVED IT!!! I was wondering if you could write another Larissa/teacher fic with the sex pollen? But maybe this time it could be: they don't like each other at all so they're really trying to understand what's happening and trying to fight it really hard until it's not possible anymore? Pleaseee?☺

Heyyyyy anon!! I feel like what your describing would go really well with enemies to lovers so I sprinkled some of that in there… Hope you enjoy! ❤️‍🔥💋

What the Body Wants Pt. 1 ~Larissa Weems xFem teacher!Reader

Mommy…Master List

Requests & Prompt-List

Warnings: NSFW, 18+!!, bit angst, smut, teasing, sex pollen, drugging, eating out, masturbation, voyeaurism, grinding, scissoring, orgasm denial, exhibitionist kink…?, etc.

Enjoy (;

You had been working at Nevermore for multiple years now. And you enjoyed the job a great deal.

For the most part...

You loved the students and the work. The environment of outcasts felt homey to you. And you enjoyed most of your colleagues.

Most...

From the minute your and Larissa Weems’ paths collided, you both knew you were not each others cup of tea. She had taken the position of headmistress in your third year at the school, and the pair of you had immediately come to the conclusion it was best to walk separate paths.

You had a tendency to second guess her decisions...

Larissa had a tendency to undermine you...

It was just a back and forth game of tension and frustration. So you both stayed away. Because when caught in the same room, your colleagues sometimes worried you two would break out into a full-on fist fight. For the most part, this method worked. You didn’t have to see her annoying face or listen to her ongoing speech.

Except for monthly staff meetings.

Those were inevitable and miserable… A time where you both had to suck it up and sit in a room together for hours at a time...

Today was no exception. You sighed as you entered the dreaded meeting, plopping down in your usual seat with a huff. Larissa gave you a side eye, which you kindly returned with a light glare. The meeting droned on and you could focus on any of it. Your mind was on one thing: Larissa.

Every time she stood up to speak…

Every time to rustled her notes…

Every time she goddamn breathed it set you off…

Finally, the meeting came to its agonizing end. You made a beeline for the door the second Larissa had dismissed the group. As you exited, Marilyn pulled you aside into a corner of the corridor.

“Hey Y/N, Can I talk with you for a second?” She asked.

“Yea, Marilyn, what’s up?”

“I’m doing a small get together Saturday morning with only a few people for some tea that I made myself!” Marilyn eagerly explained, “I was wondering if you would join me??”

You lightly smiled at how bright and eager Marilyn could be.

“Sure, Mar. I’d love that.”

“Great! See you tomorrow at 9 then!”

At that, Marilyn walked away with a skip, and you went in the opposite direction. From a distance you swore u heard Mariltn saying “Larissa! So glad you decided to join us tomorrow!”

But you brushed it off, as Larissa playing tricks with your mind again.

She had a tendency to do that…

Getting in your head…

Anyways, eventually Saturday morning rolled around…

At 8:50, you began walking down to Marilyn’s Greenhouses. As you walked near, you could hear voices in the Greenhouse already. You opened the latch to the foggy glass door and stepped in. But you stopped in your tracks at what you saw…

Marilyn was serving tea to Larissa… You gulped and tried to think of any possible excuse to get out of this. You couldn’t think of one.

Marilyn had cornered you.

And Larissa.

“Y/N! I’m so glad your here, come in! Larissa and I just started to pour some tea!” Marilyn exclaimed with a hint of mischievousness in the twinkle of her eyes.

You walked in and sat. And you said nothing. Larissa also had become silent the second she had seen you.

Her eyes had widened and her breath had fled from her…

“Here, have some tea!” Marilyn said, pouring you the same cup as Larissa’s.

Again, the greenhouse went silent.

“Please, do drink! I’d really like to know what you guys think!” Marilyn pled with excitement.

You both, not wanting to disappoint Marilyn and trying to find anything to avoid the tension, began to sip your teas. After a few minutes of awkward silence and sipping of tea, Marilyn got up and announced something.

“I think I forgot something in my… other greenhouse! Be right back!”, before leaving the two of you. And closing the door, with a click.

“No Mar, wait!” You yelled, getting up to follow Marilyn.

But when you reached the door, it was locked. In frustration, you pulled on it harder, but it wouldn’t budge. Larissa sighed in annoyance, “Let me try.”

You rolled your eyes and backed up with your hands up.

“Alright, but it won’t open. She’s locked it.” you gritted out.

Now it was Larissa’s turn to roll her eyes as she used her strength to tug at the door. Nothing. You were stuck. For who knows how long. Larissa let out a grunt in frustration.

What other sounds could that pretty mouth make…?

You cringed as you realized your internal thought. Not knowing what to do and feeling a bit lightheaded, you decided it would be best to sit back down.

Your heart race had picked up, which could very logically be explained by the fact that Marilyn had trapped you in a greenhouse with Larissa Weems… In any rate, you unconsciously picked up the tea cup and began sipping it.

You were nervous and the tea wasn’t actually that bad. It tasted like crisp winter with waves of spicey warmth, a sweet but tangy kick to the flavor…

Kind of what Larissa might taste like…

You physically cringed now, having to compose yourself from your rampant thoughts. You noted that your heart rate had now doubled in its pace… And was it getting a bit too hot in here…? You lightly fanned yourself with your hand, while taking another sip of your tea.

“Put the tea down.”

The voice came out of nowhere, but it was clearly Larissa. You swiveled your head, still holding the tea, to meet the woman’s gaze. For the first time, you actually took the time to take the woman standing in front of you in…

You noticed the beads of sweat rolling down her face…

You noticed her hair frizzing more than usual…

You noticed her pursed, plump lips…

“Sorry…?” You tried to snark, but your voice faltered.

“I said to put the tea down.” Larissa repeated in her usual demeaning and stern tone.

“Why? It’s actually quite good, you should try some.” You quipped back.

“I did. All of it, and that’s the problem.” She gritted out almost growling, her voice shifting down an octave.

Now you were really confused. And hot. Fuck was it hot in this greenhouse. You placed your now empty tea cup on the table with a emphasized slam.

“Happy now?”

Larissa chuckled, “No, not in the slightest.”

You groaned in frustration, “God Larissa, that was a hypothetical question…”

Larissa rolled her eyes at you, as you caught a falter in her step. She too sat down quickly.

“Are you alright?”

“No. I have been trying to tell you.” She seethed.

“Oh for fucks, sake! What is your fucking problem?” You raised your volume.

“Must you be so crass?” She bit back.

“Yes! Now are you going to tell me or not??” You practically yelled.

“Lower your voice.” Larissa commanded, lowering her own voice even more.

You only now noticed your sweating and that your heart race was furious at this point. And that Larissa’s words went straight to your core.

What?? Why?? How?? This made no sense…

You clenched your fists in frustration at the woman and groaned in response. When you had had your moment, Larissa continued,

“I think we’ve been drugged. I think the tea was some sort of ambrosiac…”

Your ears pricked up at this, and your head immediately swiveled back to the blonde.

“Sorry, what?” You genuinely asked, needing to process her words.

“Marilyn drugged us, Y/N. I do not know why and I certainly do not understand why she would lock us in here for it, but regardless, we don’t know the extent of the drug or any of the intentions along with it.”

You just laughed at this. You couldn’t help yourself, you burst out in laughter. Larissa was puzzled and stunned.

“Is this funny to you??” She demanded, vexed that you weren’t taking this as serious as she was.

“Yes… Yes, actually it is…” you chuckled, trying and managing to control your outburst.

“Do enlighten me about what is so funny about a staff member drugging two other colleagues and locking them in a greenhouse….” Larissa seethed.

Your mind was reeling and all over the place. You couldn’t control what did and didn’t come out of your mouth at this point.

“It’s funny that you don’t understand why Marilyn did this! I mean come on, she gives us an ambrosiac tea and locks us in her greenhouse…??” You suggestively say to Larissa.

But blank eyes stared back at you. Not blank actually, fiery and seething…

“She wants us to fuck, Larissa!!” You blurted out in laughter.

But as soon as those words left your mouth, you realized your own conclusion and immediately stopped laughing. The room seemed awfully tense now… And oddly spinning…? Now it was Larissa’s turn to have a burst of laughter,

“You…You can’t be serious…!” She laughed.

You bit your lip, feeling very bouncy and energetic all of a sudden.

“Yep.” You simply stated, as you stood up.

Larissa could not contain her amusement.

“And why on earth would Marilyn want that?”

You shrugged your shoulders.

“Do you want it?” She pointedly asked.

You turned around to face her at the bizarre seeming statement.

“No. Do you?”

“Not in the slightest.” She replied.

You hummed in response. Your heart rate was still through the roof and you had started to sweat. You were also getting hotter by the minute.

So hot you just wanted to rip the clothes right off your body…

“So I suppose we will just have to wait for the ambrosiac to wear off.” Larissa decisively stated.

You took a moment to respond, needing to lean against a table to help ground your breathing, “Yes, it seems that way…”

Larissa was in a similar state, holding onto a desk to keep herself grounded.

“It’s oddly hot in here isn’t it?” You huffed.

“Yes it is…”

And before you could stop yourself, you were speaking,

“Would you mind if I took my shirt off?”

Silence. You immediately cringed yet again and quickly tried to explain yourself,

“Not in any sexual way, I just meant that It’s far too hot in here for me! Only if your comfortable with—”

“Sure.” was the simple response you received.

Larissa couldn’t ask the same thing as she was wearing a dress.

Although, you certainly wouldn’t mind her asking and complying…

Taking your mind back out of the gutter, you removed your shirt. A slight gasp came from across the room, and your head shot up. You found an almost stunned looking Larissa with a slight blush on her cheeks.

“Sorry.”

“It’s alright.”

“I like your bra.”

She likes your black laced bra…

You wonder whether she’d like it on the floor even more…

“Thanks.”

Now you were left in your bra and trousers, and your body still burning with heat… You started pacing the room. The wind made your skin go a little less crazy…

Larissa groaned again in frustration and got up to start banging on the greenhouse door. At one point she determined that her efforts were fruitless as she went to go and sat back down again.

But along the way, you both clumsily ran into each other. You gripped Larissa’s forearms for support and the contact with her skin made your mind go dizzy. She meanwhile had grabbed your torso and arm to keep you from falling.

Now you both stood there in silence, not breaking the connection. All the pain and overwhelming heat went away.

And then Larissa broke from the trance and quickly pulled back from the contact. A slight whimper escaped your lips as the waves of heat and dizziness and overwhelmingness hit you again only they were intensified.

And a very strong ache in between your legs was becoming more and more apparent… You looked over to Larissa who staggered and then sat herself done again.

“There… There has to be an antidote somewhere here…” you panted, your breathing now labored and short.

“Already checked. Nothing that I could find...” Larissa responded in a strained tone.

“Fuck…” you whimpered, the pain in your body getting worse, “I can’t take much more of this… I feel like I’m about to combust…”

“I have an idea…” Larissa spoke out hesitantly.

You nodded and hummed in her direction.

“We… Maybe if we sated ourselves, then it would go away…?” She barely whispered.

You looked at the blonde with your hodded eyes and cocked an eyebrow at her, “You’re taking about you fucking yourself and me fucking myself just in the middle of this greenhouse in front of each other?”

Larissa’s face contorted at your choice of words yet again, but her expression quickly changed to a serious one, “Yes.”

You hummed in response. Your body was so on fire. Your mind told you no to Larissa’s idea but your body was screaming yes.

“Ok.” you shakily breathed out, “We’ll just do our own things I assume, then?”

“Yes…” Larissa met your breathy voice.

You nodded in response and leaned back in your chair a bit to get comfortable. You unbuttoned your trousers and snuck your hand down until your fingers reached your knickers. Your body was in a frenzy and hyper needy, so the second you slipped your finger into your aching cunt, you couldn’t help the moan of relief that escaped your lips.

Up to this point, Larissa had just been unabashedly staring at you. Your moan had sent sparks straight to her core. It woke her back up from her trance. Larissa rolled up her dress and removed her knickers easily.

You glanced over to the blonde, while you were fucking yourself in the way you knew your body responded best, and you found a direct view of the blonde having scrunched up her dress and her fingers skillfully circling her clit.

And when she inserted her own finger into her cunt… Oh God, you swore you could have cum right then and there from the pornographic moan that Larissa let out…

You both continued your administrations, becoming more and more enveloped in the lust of it all. You found yourself staring at Larissa as she fucked herself, taking in all her little whimpers, cries, and moans. And vice versa. Larissa couldn’t seem to keep her eyes off of you.

Before either of you knew it and out of knowhere, you were both cumming with strangled cries and moans. You panted heavily and looked over to the blissed out blonde who looked heavenly. You had seen her when you came… The tightness and pain in your body seemed to be gone.

“Fuck…” Larissa breathlessly chuckled with small smile on her face.

Her explicit words ignited the fire back into your core and it all came back…

“OhHhhH shit…” you groaned as the wave of everything that was too much hit you once more.

Your words seemed to trigger Larissa as the smile was quick to fade from her face as her face contorted back into the pain filled frame from mere minutes ago.

“I don’t think it worked…” you groaned, having fallen to the floor and cradling yourself in some attempt of comfort.

“It seemed to for a while…” Larissa groaned right back, “I thought it would work…”

“I know. It was worth a try.” You comforted the frustrated blonde who was leaning against the table leg and spread out on the floor.

Silence ensued.

“I saw you…” you whispered.

“Sorry?”

“It felt better when I came and saw you…” you confessed, having to close your eyes because it was all becoming too much.

There was no response for a minute or so.

“I…I saw you too…” Larissa confesses in a hushed tone.

At her words, you moved to cradling yourself in a upwards position on the floor and met Larissa’s stunning yet glazed over sapphire eyes.

“My body wants you…” you confessed with a deep breath and your eyes looking down to the ground.

“And your mind?” She asked.

“I don’t know what my mind wants.” you whispered.

“That makes sense. The aphrodisiac most likely has the power to affect the body but not—”

Larissa didn’t have the chance to finish her thought as you and lunged forward and crashed your lips into hers. Larissa’s response was immediate, moving you to straddle her lap, she moaned into the kiss.

You pulled away after a minute having doubts, breathlessly panting, “I’m sorry. This doesn’t make sense.”

You went to pull away, but Larissa grabbed your hips and ground them against her own. You both let out embarrassingly loud moans, making Larissa tilt her head back with a small smirk,

“I think it makes perfect sense… We only feel better when we’re in direct contact… and right now, I think your wearing far too many articles of clothing…” she lustfully purred.

Larissa continued to grind her hips into yours, and you crashed your lips back into hers in response. The pair of you were a whimpering, needy mess on the floor, grinding into one another and sloppily kissing each others lips.

In response to her comment, you made quick work of your bra, throwing it aside. Larissa audibly moaned out in delight at the sight of your freed tits. Your nipples were so hard, you swore you could pop them.

You thrust your chest towards Larissa who was starting at your jiggling tits, “God please Larissa… touch me…” you breathlessly pled with the blonde.

The blonde happily obliged, wrapping her tongue around one of your hard buds and nipping and toying with her tongue. Your back arched in pleasure and your hands flew to Larissa’s hair. The pins had to go.

With your hips swaying in a rhythm and still grinding into one another, Larissa skillfully teased and marked your nipples and neck line, while you rushed to remove all the pins in her hair. Her beautiful locks cascaded down to her shoulders and your brain short circuited completely.

Larissa removed her lips from your puffy and marked bud with a pop, meeting your gaze, “What…?” She chuckled at your gawking state.

You ground against the blondes heat once more and with a pout breathlessly whined, “Clothes… need to go…”

At that Larissa eyes were completely taken by dark lust and desperation. She quickly took you off her lap, and before you could complain, she was unzipping her dress. You quickly followed with your trousers. When you looked back up to Larissa, she was in nothing but a cream satin lingerie set.

She stalked towards you, pining you against one of the greenhouse lab tables. With ease, she lifted you onto the table and slid her form in between your legs. You responded by immediately attaching your legs to her waist and pulling her face down to smash you lips against hers again.

As much as you would have loved to take a minute and explore the beautiful blondes mouth, you were desperate. As Larissa ravaged your mouth, you were quickly to unclip her bra, letting her creamy, soft, luscious tits free from their confinement.

“Fuck ‘Rissa…” you breathed out, your pupils dialating even more at you taking in her stunning form.

Larissa blushed at the nickname and how speechless her body had made you. But she was desperate too…

“As much as I love you ogling my tits, Darling… If I don’t have your face in my cunt in the next few minutes, I’ll fucking die…” Larissa groaned.

You licked your lips at Larissa’s words and nodded eagerly. You stripped your knickers off with haste. The two of you hastily swapped position, and you placed yourself right at the blondes thighs. You could see a soaking wet patch in her knickers, which only turned you on more.

Larissa needily bucked her hips into your face, “please fuck me please…!” She mewled.

And you happily obliged. You could already smell the scent of her arousal through her knickers. You tore her knickers off and threw them with her dress on the floor. Tonguing through her folds only made your body go into more of a frenzy. Every moan and cry that came from Larissa’s lips sent you spiraling.

Larissa’s hand shot down to grab ahold of your hair as the other stabilized her on the table. Strings of obscenities flowed from her smerred red lips as you explored her folds. Her legs clenched deliciously around your head, suffocating you in a manner that you couldn’t want any more than you did right now.

You noted that Larissa tasted like that tea, but wayyy more concentrated and far more delicious… Your tongue lapped through Larissa’s folds and in her walls with fervor, until she her walls were fluttering around your tongue more and more.

“Fuuuuck Darling M’mm gonna cum!!” Larissa moaned out, pushing your face deeper inside her cunt.

“Fuck ‘Rissa tastes so good… God cum for me please…!!” You groaned in response, which sent her even closer to her climax.

You attached your thumb to her clit, remembering the movement you saw her do to herself and you quickly circled the bundle of nerves sloppily. Larissa’s eyes rolled back as she came with the cry of your name on her tongue, her thighs depriving you of oxygen as they pressed together only pushing you further into her cunt, which was squirting plentiful amounts of cum on your face.

You moaned in delight as you ate her out, her walls clenching around your tongue. The blonde let go of your hair and you pulled out of your meal to look up at her. She was panting heavily with glazed over eyes as she stared down at you.

“Christ, you’re fantastic at that…” Larissa breathlessly chuckled, her body giving out on her causing her to collapse on the table.

But you two were by no means through…

You chuckled back at the blissed out blonde, “I’d clean you up but I’d rather feel your juices on my own pussy…”

At your words, Larissa sat up fully, eyes wide at your words, and she practically jumped off the table with her wobbly legs making her immediately collapse on the floor and taking you with her. You both laughed at her miscalculated act.

“Shit, when’s the last time someone properly fucked you?” You laughed, “Or am I just that good…?”

Larissa smacked your arm at your words and you wiggling your eyebrows suggestively. Damn was her laugh intoxicating…

But you quickly shut Larissa up by interlocking your legs and rolling your hips into the blondes, your dripping core grinding against Larissa’s. Your action immediately made Larissa’s eyes roll back in pleasure yet again and elicited another delicious moan from her lips. Her moan was quickly followed by a straggled cry of pleasure of your own.

Now Larissa was the one who caught you by surprise, rolling her hips into yours in unison to your moan.

“Shiiiit ‘Rissa! Do that again and M’mmm gonna cum…!!” You cried out, holding on to the tall blonde shoulders as you met her grinding sloppily.

“So soon, Darling…?” Larissa taunted, “I’m that good…?”

“Yes GOD YES please ‘Rissa!!” You cried out, your climax approaching at a rapid pace.

Your grindings got sloppier and more rushed as the two of spewed strings of obscenities into each others ears.

“Fuck Darling I’m…” Larissa panted, approaching her climax right along side you.

Suddenly, a distinct twig snapped outside. You and Larissa both immediately stopped and swiveled your head to the sound. Your breaths hitched together as you saw the shadow of Marilyn coming closer. You both scrambled, unlocking your legs and rushing about to find your clothes quickly.

“Shit shit shit…” you muttered, not being able to find your knickers.

But it was too late. The door was unlocking. You quickly finished dressing and so did Larissa. You and Larissa both hastened to sit where Marilyn had left you.

“Hey, Sorry, wanted to check on some plants on the edge of the woods…” Marilyn chirped with the same mischevious twinkle in her eye. You were still on complete edge and couldn’t stand it anymore….

“I’m so sorry, Marilyn, but I need to go…” you muttered, side eyeing Larissa before thanking Marilyn and rushing out of the greenhouse. Before you got up to the school, Larissa had caught up with you.

“My office. Ten minutes.” She breathed down your neck lustfully.

“God yes, ‘Rissa…” you groaned under your breath.

Your two bodies were by no means through with each other…

~~~

Part 2 out now… 🤭

Larissa Weems Masterlist

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