Oh, hello there!

You set your coffee down with a small thunk on the long classroom table somewhere in the middle of the lecture room. Your binders and notebooks joined next, placed down more carefully to not tip the cup over, because spilling your caffeinated beverage before 8 am would have been a tragedy in and of itself. Your backpack sat nicely in the seat to your right, and to your left you placed one textbook exactly in the middle. 

One for Jack, and one for Robby; just as you'd been doing since you met them during orientation of your first year. Because where one of them was, the other wasn't too far behind with you, their added third to their duo, falling somewhere in the middle. 

Even though Robby was already an MS4 whereas you and Jack were MS1s, he'd known the curly-haired redhead during childhood and scooped you up right along with him. Now halfway through your second year where Robby wasn't as around as either you or Jack would like, he promised to at least sit with you when he got called in to assist during the few lectures of the ACLS provider course. Today happened to be one of those golden moments where all three of you got to be together again. 

Normally, you liked to be the first one in the room to get a feel for the atmosphere and not be rushed to find a nice seat. Doing so had grouped you and Jack in Gross Anatomy and Histology last year, and you would have liked to keep the streak going, however, as you looked around the room, your eyes caught on a male student sitting front and center with his hands folded. 

You fought the urge to scoff. Who fucking picks front row? 

Taking a seat, your head ducked closer to your backpack, and your hands dug around to find at least one of your good pencils before Jack decided to use them all for himself. 

"Are you looking for something?" the guy's voice echoed from the front. 

You didn't even look up over the desk when you answered. "Just needing to find a pencil." 

He fell quiet for a few moments, and you were sure he was watching you struggle to reach the bottom of your backpack, hoping that he'd stay quiet or at least look away. When you failed to grasp anything pencil-shaped, you straightened back up and squeaked when you came face to face with the guy, jolting at the sheer suddenness of his presence. He was holding a regular number 2 pencil out near your face, sharp end almost between your eyes. If you'd been any closer, your nose would have tapped it. 

"You can have one of mine," he said, more insisting for someone you didn't even know. 

You eyed him carefully. He was taller than you, you noted, and that even if you were still sitting down, he'd probably tower over you the way he was doing as he waited for you to take the yellow pencil. Your lips pursed together. 

"I'll be fine," you answered. "My friends probably have extras." 

"But I'm offering you mine. It'd be rude not to take it." 

Your stomach flipped. This guy probably wasn't going to stab you with the pencil in broad daylight right before class was about to stop, but your mind went sailing right back to last night's news that yet another student had been murdered while studying in the top floor of the library, and a chill raced up your spine. 

"You just go ahead and keep it; I think I'll wait," you muttered, eyes tearing away from him to look at your coffee, the steam rising steadily through the hole in the lid. 

He scoffed loudly. "Well, if you're not going to take my pencil, can I at least get your name," he said as though you had to compensate him for "wasting" his time. 

"Why would I give you my name if I don't even know yours first." You paused before adding with a smirk. "We're not supposed to give out our names to strangers." 

From your peripheral as you turned to look toward the door, you saw him physically contemplate your words. 

"Stephen with a ph," he pushed out, and you swore little droplets of his spit hit the cover of your binder. 

You desperately wanted to drag a sleeve over it for good measure, but that would just open another can of worms. 

His name didn't ring any bells. He certainly wasn't a part of your friend group, and you knew he wasn't the type of guy that Jack would go out of his way to befriend either. 

"Now, tell me your name." 

Your fingernails curled into your palms, mind willing for either Jack or Robby to walk right through the doors in some divine intervention. You were more than capable of telling the guy off, but why would you when either one could do it for you. 

Women in STEM you always told them after you managed to get them to do something for you. 

When you failed to answer and give up your name, Stephen hunched forward and placed both hands on the desk. Sadly, his weight and abruptness made the entire thing shake, and before you could reach out, your coffee tipped over and spilled in the opposite direction, right onto his shoes and pants. Your lip automatically slipped between your teeth in an attempt to not laugh as he yelped and cursed loudly. Yet, when he turned back towards you with fire in his eyes and out stretched hand with the pencil curled between his fingers, your face dropped.

"You bitch," he growled while shoving the pointed end in your direction. "You ruined my shoes!" 

This time, you were the one to scoff. "You shouldn't have shaken the table like that, so really, you ruined your own shoes all by yourself." 

His face flushed red, and his eyes practically bulged out of the sockets; he looked as though he were less than a second away from exploding and going off on you when the door opened wide, reviewing the two you had just been manifesting. 

Your head whipped so hard in their direction that you winced at the twang in your neck, and your chest heaved in a sigh of relief. 

"No, dude, I'm telling you, this class absolutely sucks," Jack loudly announced, hands gripping his backpack straps as he waddled in. "Just be glad we get here early because by 8 all these seats are fill—" 

His words died in his mouth when he finally looked away from Robby and over to where you normally sat, and his expression dropped at the sight of Stephen still towering over you with the pencil in your face. He halted abruptly, causing Robby to follow his line of sight. You tried your best to smile and slightly wave when you met their hazel and deep brown eyes, but the damage had already been done. 

Jack scowled something fierce, and his knuckles turned white. He took no time in resuming his walk over. Robby stayed close behind, height feeling more dramatic than normal. 

"Heeeyyyy," you drew out before pushing up out of the seat. 

Neither said nothing in return, opting to take their normal spots at your sides. Jack's hand planted in the middle of your lower back while Robby slung an arm around your shoulders, large hand squeezing gently when it rested against your upper bicep. 

Jack's chin jerked out at Stephen. "Who're you?" 

Stephen straightened slightly and puffed out his chest like that was going to do anything. "Stephen Miller." 

"Stephen Miller," he echoed before turning to you, his eyes softening. "Do we have a problem here?" 

"I was just trying to be friendly man—" 

"He wasn't talking to you," Robby cut in. His eyes were darker than you'd ever seen them. 

In response you raised your head slightly. "No problem. Just having a conversation." 

"Didn't look like a very friendly one," Jack muttered. "You sure, sweetheart?" 

"Yeah." The corner of your mouth twitched slightly, but you knew both of them could see right through you. "I'm sure." 

Jack and Robby wanted to press more. Their chests had tightened the minute they saw this boy standing over you with what looked like intent to harm. For all they cared, they'd go straight to the dean and report him for violent tendencies, but the look in your eyes and normal want for no animosity kept them close. However, they did share a knowing glance over your head, something that you missed completely as you began to gather your stuff from their seats. 

The door burst open a beat later, and students began filling the classroom. Stephen finally sulked back to his chair but not without one more heated glare in your direction. 

"What the fuck was that about?" Jack muttered as he slung his backpack down to the ground. 

You rolled your eyes. "I guess my search for a pencil was louder than I thought, so he asked if I wanted one of his. When I said no and that I'd probably just steal one of yours, he got . . . angry? I don't know; it was weird. And then he knocked my coffee over," you retold, the last little bit coming across as more whiny than you would have liked, but you were a second year med student for fucks sake. 

Coffee kept you sane, and that asshole had taken your morning dose away from you. 

"Sorry we didn't get here sooner," Robby stated while getting his papers out, and you fully turned his way. 

This had been the first time in months that you got to see him. Between his countless hours as an R1 over at an ER a few towns over, about a two to three hour drive one way, and dealing with his own personal shit, he'd been gone long enough that a short beard covered his jaw and space between his nose and lips. You couldn't help yourself as you reached up and lightly scratched at it. 

"When did this get here?" you asked, desperately trying to change the conversation. 

His facial hair was soft beneath your fingers, and you felt the way he slightly leaned into your touch. 

"I already gave him shit about it; don't worry, sweetheart," Jack announced loudly. "He leaves us for—what?—three months and comes back with a face blanket?" 

Robby chuckled and leaned away to look at his friend over your shoulder. "Laugh it up, kid. You're just mad because all you can grow is that upper lip caterpillar." 

"Please, let's save the bickering until the clock hits at least ten o'clock," you laughed. 

Jack opened and closed his jaw while he made a talking motion with his hand, to which you lightly smacked hip upside the head before taking a seat. Almost instantly, Jack's left hand found the top of your knee. 

"But seriously," he muttered, leaning closer so his voice didn't carry much, "are you okay, though? That guy . . ." 

You placed your hand on top of his. "He's fine. I doubt he could do much damage with a pencil." 

"You never know," Robby huffed. "I'll be back soon; gotta check in with Professor Barlowe." He leaned down and pressed a very light kiss to your temple, something he'd started doing recently, and then clapped Jack on the shoulder as he passed. 

Your brows furrowed slightly when you noticed the way Jack let his eyes trail Robby, but you kept your thoughts to yourself. The two had always had a stronger bond than you would ever realize, and if they wanted to let you know if anything changed, you'd let them come to you first before asking invasive questions. 

So, instead, you settled on asking about the homework. "Were you able to get it all done? I was up forever." 

Jack pulled out a small stack of papers. "Yeah. I finished them this morning. Had a bit of a late night but managed to get a decent amount of sleep." He smiled widely, crooked teeth on full display. "How about you?" 

"Uh, I don't know if you listen much to the radios but there was another stabbing last night," you murmured. 

His eyebrows rose. "No shit?" 

"Yeah." You swallowed thickly. "Miles Pennington. He was found by the janitors in the library. No one knows who did it since all the cameras have been out since last semester, but he had five stab wounds and thirteen clean incisions." 

"How do you know all this?" he asked, shoulders hunching slightly. 

"My friend works the late night desk. She's the one who called the police and stuff. I'm surprised you didn't know any of this Mr. I have a police scanner and listen to it for fun." 

His head leaned back as he barked out a laugh before he looked back toward you, mischief gleaming in his eyes. "You're trouble; you know that?" 

You let your eyes quickly trail the freckles that dotted his outstretched neck. "Yeah, yeah. Anyway, it kept me up most of the night, because—" You looked around before leaning in closer. "They think all the recent killings are all connected." 

Jack choked on his spit. "What?" 

"Every single one of them had calls from an unknown number on their hand-held mobiles that ranged from five to ten minutes." 

Under the desk, Jack's fingers tightened and curled into a fist. Through the adrenaline high, they'd, once again, forgotten to grab the fucking mobile. 

He hoped he was able to keep a calm expression to hide the way his heart was beating wildly beneath his sternum. However, his breathing must have quickened, because he watched the way your brows furrowed with concern.

"Are you okay?" you asked, scooching forward in your chair to give him a once over. 

"Fine," he managed to get out. "Just . . . I think I forgot one of the questions." 

"Oh, that's okay," you said, hand already sliding your copy of homework over without a second thought. 

Jack's heart clenched at your kindness that he definitely didn't deserve. Not when he was the one to give Miles every single one of those incisions with a scalpel Robby swiped from work. The guy was so close to graduating and becoming a resident, but he just had to go and flirt with you last Christmas, blatantly asking if you had plans to "stay warm" during the break. He had almost killed him then, already envisioning the way the blade would sink deep into his gut, before Robby had given him a look, eyes screaming to be patient. 

He only had to wait until midterms, get him alone, and have Robby make the call and give him what they dubbed "The Test" over a call before he could pin him to the ground. It had been easy with very little struggle, even with his vision clouded with that white opened-mouth mask they'd found in a going-out-of-business Halloween store. Cash payment; no trail, no evidence. 

Jack was already starting to itch again, that vein deep need to spill blood instead of stopping it from flowing, to cause harm instead of protecting. 

You snapped in front of his face, and he blinked rapidly. 

"You're spacing out again," you said. "Do you need to take a break? I doubt we'll get in trouble if we sneak out to get more coffee." 

He shook his head. "No, I'm fine." His finger tapped on your homework. "Thanks for this . . . again." 

Your hand rose and covered your mouth as you giggled. "No problem. I cannot have you flunking this class, Jack Abbot. I don't think I'd survive without you." 

"Nah, you're smart enough," he said after lightly flicking your temple. "You'll probably match your first try with whatever hospital you choose." 

"You think so?" Shyly, you tucked a piece of fallen hair behind your ear. 

Jack met your eye with a ferocity you hadn't seen. "I know so." 

Heat flushed to your cheeks and spread down your neck into your top, and you quickly looked back down at your papers and binder. You took one glance toward the front, eyes locking onto Robby where he stood discussing something with your teacher. 

"Guess I just need to survive the next two years and hope I don't get a phone call myself," you whispered loud enough for Jack to hear over your scratching pencil and the beginnings of the lecture. 

It was almost like you'd been put under a trance every time the lesson began to not miss anything important. Because of this, you missed the way Jack locked eyes with Robby over the tops of the students' heads. His older friend barely glanced in the direction of Stephen, and the slight nod he got sent a pleasured chill racing over his skin. 

Jack couldn't wait to feel the slick of Stephen's blood and organs against his black leather gloves as he cut him up once clean slice at a time. 

· · ─ ·✶· ─ · ·

The phone's cord tangled around your finger as you giggled into the chunky receiver while Robby told you about one of the pranks his attending played on him because he fell asleep in an on-call room. 

"And then, they had the fucking audacity to page me, and I went running before I fell face first into the hub!" 

"And then what?" you laughed breathily, leaning back until your head hit your pillow. 

"Then so many casualties came in after, and I was stuck with the cast on and unable to help! I had to wait hours before they could get it off." 

"Did it teach you not to fall asleep?" you questioned with a smile that he couldn't even see, but Robby could definitely hear it in your voice. 

He smiled as well, lips practically kissing his phone. "For a bit, but then I managed to find an excellent napping place." 

"Did Benton tell you off for it?" 

"Nope." Robby looked down at the paper in his hand, fingers playing the frayed edge. "He actually woke me up with my acceptance papers." 

You sat up straight and gasped loudly. "Michael Strausser Speer Robinavitch! You got accepted into their emergency surgery program, and you didn't fucking tell me in person! You ass!" 

"It just slipped my mind." 

A scoff flew from your lips and echoed in his ear. 

"It just slipped my mind," you mocked, voice dipping into a lower tone that didn't quite match Robby's all the way. "Did you tell Jack?" 

"Yeah," he breathed. 

"And how'd that go?" 

Robby pursed his lips at the memory of Jack screaming at him before kissing him right on the lips. "As well as you could imagine." 

"He just . . . worries about you, I think," you tried to console with your lip between your teeth. "Worried about you several hours away, worried that he won't be able to catch up." 

"Did he tell you about his plans after med school?" 

You nodded on instinct before catching yourself. "Y-yeah, he did. He's brave for it." 

"Only Jack could want to be an Army field medic," Robby grumbled while running a hand across his jaw. "He's insane." 

A low hum rumbled through your chest in agreement. "He wants to help people, but I don't understand why he thinks he needs to do it under active fire." 

For some reason, tears pricked at your eyes, and you rapidly tried to blink them away. To keep them away, you did your best to sniff quietly, but the sound was louder through the phone than you thought. 

Robby frowned, and his brows pinched. "Hey, why're you crying?" 

You chomped down on the inside of your cheek before replying, "I don't want him to get hurt, and he's going to be so alone over there. It breaks my heart every time he wears that stupid Army crewneck he got at the recruitment office." 

He knew exactly which one you were talking about; he pulled the damn thing off Jack's freckled body earlier that morning right after he got back from slicing the kid in the library with blood still crusting at his shoes and at the stretches of skin the robe didn't cover. Robby had licked it all off before taking Jack's cock in his mouth. 

"Did I lose you over there, Robinavitch?" you asked when you could only hear heavy breathing. 

Robby raised his brows and smirked. "Oh, am I simply Robinavitch to you now?" 

"It's what you get for keeping important information from me!" 

"Okay, baby, okay," he mused, laying it heavy on the small pet name. “Have you decided what you’re wanting to do after school? We could always use you over at Sacred.” 

Nervously, you twirled the phone wire around a finger. “Actually . . . I’m thinking about looking into an endo fellowship.” 

Your words hit him right in the stomach. “What?” 

You huffed. “Yeah, I know I said I might go into emergency med, but Robby, I don’t think I can keep up with that life. Seeing all those traumas would fuck me in the head.” 

“So, Jack’s leaving me, and now you’re leaving me?” 

“Don’t put it like that. You’re a big boy; you’ll be fine.” Your eyes glanced around the room before widening when you caught the time. "Fuck, Rob, I gotta go. I'm supposed to meet my roommate for breakfast tomorrow before my 8 am." You paused before adding. "Thanks for talking to me. I've really missed you, ya know?" 

"I've missed you too," he confessed, "a lot." 

"It's not the same without you. I have Jack, but I think I can say we both feel incomplete when you're not here." 

"Feel the same out there," he whispered. "I'll let you go, but I'll give Jack a plan for lunch so we can all meet up, yeah?" 

"Sounds good, Robby. Sleep well," you said before ending the call. 

Your hands raised high above your head, and a soft moan slipped through your lips as you stretched. Needing to use the bathroom one more time, you softly slipped from the bed and padded toward the connected suite. You still had no clue how you managed to get a room with a bathroom, but you were never one to look a gift horse in the mouth. 

However, only a few feet away, your phone screeched a loud shrill into the air. Your cheeks puffed as you blew out air, mind thinking that Robby probably forgot to tell you something important. Your hand curled around the receiver and raised it to your ear. 

"Robby, I swear if you forgot about something again I'll—" 

"Hello?" a distorted voice cut you off, and your stomach dipped ever so slightly at the unfamiliar caller. 

"Um, hi?" 

"Would you like to play a game?" 

You frowned deeply. "No thank you. I think you have the wrong number. Goodbye." 

The phone clicked back into the stand, and you turned away once more, ready to get peeing over so you could get some sleep. Yet again, your phone rang, and you jumped at the noise. This time, you stomped back over and ripped it right out and up to your ear. 

"You shouldn't have done that," the voice tsked. "Because now, if you hang up again, I'll have to kill someone for you." 

Your blood ran ice cold. "How is this?" 

"Uh, uh, uh, I ask the questions here, sweets. And you still haven't answered my first one: would you like to play a game?" 

"Fuck you," you spat. "Is this Stephen from class, because I swear if this is just some elaborate prank, I'm going to report your sorry ass to the dean." 

"Oh, she has a mouth on her," he—because this had to be a man—laughed. "What fun you and I are going to have." 

"I'm not going to play whatever stupid game this is, Stephen." 

"Sorry to tell you, but this isn't Stephen," he growled, and the sound had you shaking slightly. 

Knuckles turning white, you gripped the phone tightly. "Then-then who is this?" 

"Can't tell you that or it'd ruin the surprise!" He sighed and clicked his tongue against his teeth. "Now, I will ask for the last time, do you want to play a game? Or should I start killing your friends? What are their names again? Jack and Michael?" 

"If you hurt them—" 

"You'll do what? You don't even know my name? But I know yours, Y/n." 

Your skin itched, and you whirled around, almost like you swore that you felt someone's eyes on your body. You stepped up to your window and cracked the blinds open with a finger. When no one seemed to be standing outside, you let the slat fall back down. 

"Will you play now?" 

A thick glob of saliva fought back against your attempt to swallow it down. "Fine. I'll play. What are the rules?" 

"If you can answer my questions, I won't kill poor Stephen here." 

In the background, you heard muffled screams and cries that matched the student who had held a pencil to your face. Tears slowly streamed down your face as it fully settled that the man on the other end wasn't playing around, that a life was in your, a mere med student's, hands. 

"Don't hurt him, please," you whimpered. 

"Such big emotions for a stranger. Oh, you're going to be such a good doctor one day." He cleared his throat. "Question one: a twenty-three-year old comes rolling in after being involved in a motorcycle accident. Her BPs seventy-eight over forty, heart rate’s one-forty. She has absent breath sounds on the left, and her trachea’s deviated to the right. What kills her first?” 

“How am I supposed to know that? I’m only a MS2, fucker.” 

“You’re smart enough to know it. All that time spent with that emergency resident, and you can’t remember anything?” 

“Just give me a second!” 

“I fear Stephen doesn’t have ‘a second,’” he taunted, and in the next moment, a pain-filled wail muffled through your phone, causing a sob to rip right from your throat. 

“Okay, okay, just—” You pinched your eyes shut as you tried to think through the question. “Tension pneumothorax,” you settled on before holding your breath. 

“And your treatment to keep him alive?” 

“A-a needle decompression followed by a ch-chest tube.” 

The distorted voice paused on the other line. “Correct. See, I knew you would get it. You’re so smart, Y/n.” 

You unsuccessfully tried to wipe the tears from your cheeks, but your eyes kept replenishing them. “Okay, I answered your fucking questions, now let the guy go.” 

“I’m sorry. Was I not specific? We still have three more to go before I think of letting Stephen here see another sunrise. Next question: A trauma patient arrives talking to you. Five minutes later, they’re confused, then unconscious. What do you suspect is happening?” 

A frustrated groan bubbled through your chest. “I need more information.” 

“If your patient is unconscious, you don’t get more information. Tick, tock, sweets, Stephen’s counting on you.” 

“It-it could be something like an epidural hematoma?” 

“And what would be the classic artery?” 

“The middle meningeal artery.” 

“I’m so proud of you for getting that correct.” 

Instead of feeling elated, you were so close to throwing up that you could taste the tang of bile on your tongue. “What’s the next one?” 

“Feeling confident, are we?” 

“Ask the fucking question.” 

“You’ve got penetrating trauma just left of the sternum. Blood pressure is dropping. Neck veins are distended, and the heart sounds are muffled. What’s the diagnosis, doc?” 

“Cardiac tamponade,” you answered instantly. It had been one of the homework questions from the ACLS provider course you had with Jack. 

“Treatment?” 

“Emergency thoracotomy if they’re crashing. Pericardiocentesis only if it’s the bridge.” 

“I guess you really can stay awake during your classes. Now, for the final question: your last trauma patient just received a massive transfusion after losing too much blood like poor Stephen will if you get this wrong. All seems to go well until the monitor suddenly shows a widening QRS, peaked T waves, and then ventricular tachycardia. What is killing the man on your table?” 

Your stomach dropped to your toes. This should have been the easiest one. You should know this. 

“It’s hypocalcemia,” you stated. 

The line went silent. 

“Did I get it? I got it, you mother fucker,” you growled. 

However, all you got was a click on his tongue. “Wrong.” 

All blood drained straight from your face. “Wha-what? No, I’m certain it’s hypocalcemia. It’s the textbook definition of it.” 

“The diagnosis you’re looking for is actually hyperkalemia. You would have needed to administer potassium instead. Well, the calcium would have been the protocol, but it wasn’t the answer I asked for.” 

“N-no,” you stuttered out with another sob wracking your body. “Please don’t hurt him. Let him go.” 

“I gave him a fighting chance like all good doctors do. But sometimes, in the real world, we can’t all save our patients. Say goodbye to Stephen. He’ll be missed in class.” 

Your throat constricted in a gag as wet slashing sounds echoed through your phone speaker. You should have turned it off, but you stayed frozen to the middle of your room, mind fuzzy and close to dissociation as Stephen’s wails rattled and echoed in your brain. He gave a particularly loud screech that followed almost a ripping sound, something you’d heard before from medical tapes used in surgical classes, the tell-tale noise of someone wrongly cutting through skin and tendons. 

In a few moments, he quieted before the line went fully quiet, save for the heavy, distorted breathing from the assailant. All you could manage to do was whimper and tremble. 

“Thanks for playing, sweets. Better luck next time.” 

The drawl of the dial tone echoed in your ear until the receiver slipped from your hand and landed in a loud thunk against your carpet. Your knees almost buckled as you tried to make your way back to your bed, bathroom break far forgotten. It didn’t even cross your mind as you sat shaking on the comforter, hands clenching the blanket. 

All you could hear were Stephen’s moans and cries, and if you could get past those, the man’s words rang freely. 

Say goodbye to Stephen. He’ll be missed in class.

The killer was in the ACLS provider course. One of your classmates just murdered Stephen and probably all the other guys too. 

· · ─ ·✶· ─ · ·

“What’s so important that we had to meet before your first class, baby? Thought you had plans with your roommate,” Robby’s voice sounded behind you, and you flinched violently at the suddenness. “Woah, it’s just me.” 

Your red-rimmed wide eyes looked up at him from the empty space at the small coffee table in the on-campus cafe, and his cocky smirk dropped as he took in the paleness and horror that had been plastered on your face since that phone call late last night. Robby grabbed the top of the chair and dragged it out to sit. His knees bumped against yours while his hands gently rested on your cheeks, fingers tilting your chin in order for him to look you over, ever the doctor. 

“What’s wrong?” he questioned. You sleepily watched his eyes flicker down your face in an obvious fashion. “What happened?” 

You jerked out of his hold and looked back down to the table. “Let’s just wait for Jack.” 

Almost as if he were waiting for you to say his name, Jack plopped down into the seat opposite of Robby, the three of you making a triangle around the table. He too was wearing a smile that dropped just as quickly as Robby’s had moments earlier. At least he didn’t start going full doctor on you, but his concern was evident in his pinched expression. 

“What’s wrong?” Jack asked, eyes glancing over toward Robby. 

“That’s what I asked,” the brunette responded without looking away from your shaking form. 

“I-I wanted to tell you both before the n-news got out,” you stuttered between shaking breaths. 

Jack leaned forward and placed both his hands on the table. “What news? I think you’re scaring us a bit, sweetheart.” 

“Stephen wa-was murdered,” you squeaked, “last night, right after I finished talking to Robby.” Your pointer finger picked at your thumb, loose skin catching with every scrape. 

“Did your friend have to call in another one in the library?” Jack asked. 

You shook your head. “No. I did.” 

“You did?” Robby echoed, and his concern morphed into confusion. “Was he murdered in the girls’ dorms?” 

Another shake of your head. “No.” Tears welled in your lashline, and you squeezed your eyes tight as another wave of Stephen’s cries rang through your memory. 

Jack licked his lips and leaned back in the chair. “Well, didn’t you say the killer calls his victims? So, unless you’re a ghost, you should have been far away from whatever happened.” 

“You two don’t understand!” you screeched, not caring if a few people turned their heads toward you. “He called me. I had to listen to-to—” Bile burned up your throat as you slapped two hands over your mouth in case it decided to spew between your teeth. 

“Jeez,” Robby muttered as he dragged a hand down his jaw. “You had to listen to him getting . . . ya’ know.” 

“Murdered,” Jack filled in casually, like he wasn’t concerned at all about what you’d just confessed. Although, he did do a good job at looking a bit surprised. “But why would he call you?” 

“I don’t know,” you whimpered, arms coming to wrap around your middle as you hunched in on yourself. “One minute, I thought I was talking to Robby, and the next I thought it might be Stephen because of the pencil incident, but then I tried to hang up again, and . . .” you trailed off right as you remembered what the distorted voice had told you. 

“And what?” Jack pressed. 

 “He said if I hung up and didn’t play his game, he’d kill you two.” 

From the corner of his eye, Jack looked over at Robby for the briefest moment before scooting his chair closer to you to wrap you in a hug. Your pliant, shivering body went willingly right into his embrace, and he couldn’t help the smirk that stretched onto his face. 

Everything was going to plan better than they had expected. Sure, calling you hadn’t been their first line of action, but looking at you now, so scared, so terrified that they were in danger, made them feel like they should have called you first. Robby initially had been the one who wanted to call and hear your panicked little whimpers, but he’d been the last caller. At least Jack had the decency to record everything, and Robby didn’t remember the last time they had both cum so hard while fucking as they played your delicious sounding cries, its echos joining the perfect symphony of their moans. It was almost as good as having you there with them, but they had to get you willing. 

And right now, you seemed on the verge of being just that. They’d planted the seed of doubt in your mind that they weren’t untouchable, that they might be the next victims. 

Jack ran a hand up and down your back in soothing motions, and you pressed into his chest, eyes meeting Robby’s worried-looking brown hues across the table. 

“Did you already give your statement?” he asked. 

“Yeah; last night,” you sighed. “My roommate found me crying, and she was the one to call. Everything happened so quickly.” 

Jack pressed his cheek into the top of your head. “Did you recognize the voice?” 

“No. It was all distorted.” You tensed suddenly. “But he did say something weird.” 

Robby eyed Jack wearily. “Yeah?” 

You nodded. “He said that Stephen would be missed in class, but—I mean, wouldn’t that imply that the killer was in the same class as us?” 

Jack mouthed a quiet fuck and closed his eyes. He hadn’t meant to say that; he needed himself as far from the scene and victim as possible. Robby normally got away with it since he was supposed to be three hours away while Jack made sure his alibi of being in his dorm room stayed air-tight. 

“Did you tell that to the police?” 

The corner of your lip turned downward. “I-I think? I don’t know; I can’t remember.” Your words started to slur into a whine, and a single tear slipped down your cheek in frustration. 

“That’s okay, sweetheart,” Jack cooed, hand never stopping in soothing circles while he held you. “Tell you what. Why don’t you and I go down to the station after class if you’re feeling up to it.” 

Your stomach gurgled at the thought of having to retell what you went through for the sake of adding one more detail, and you swallowed thickly even if your mouth had gone dry. 

“I don’t think I want to go to class. Seeing the empty seat . . .” If you thought about it for long enough, you knew you’d start crying all over again. “Can we just stay here? Or go to the fountain outside?” You’d been looking at Robby, but you pulled back from Jack enough to look him in the face. However, when neither of them answered right away, your stomach sank. “Oh.” 

Robby cupped a hand at his neck, a familiar thing you’d seen him do for a year straight when he got stressed or nervous. 

“Jack and I promised that we’d help out with an advanced simulator today for the fourth year students after you two’s first lecture.” 

That was utter bullshit; they hadn’t been asked at all, but they needed to get away from you for a couple of hours to really let you sink into helplessness and paranoia. The longer you went without them with the thought that any moment they might be stabbed and sliced, the more you’d run into their willing arms no matter how they decided to break the news about their late-night activities. 

You pulled fully out of Jack’s embrace, and the freckled boy had to stop himself from bringing you right back in, hands already itching to grab onto your arms. But he pulled himself together; he would have all night with you once they got you right where they wanted. 

“Will I at least see you both before Robby has to go back tonight?” you asked, finger going back to pick at your thumb, face wincing when a spark of pain shot up your digit. You looked down in time to see blood well under the flap of skin. 

“Of course. I’ll be at Jack’s dorm after I finish up with the final night class,” Robby said and finally smiled. He leaned over and softly pinched your cheek. “I wouldn’t leave without saying goodbye to my favorite girl.” 

A rush of pleasure crept up to his chest at the sight of your heated cheeks, and somehow, evening couldn't come soon enough. After you stood and left, probably headed toward your dorm to try to get some sleep, Jack turned towards Robby with a flick of his head. 

“Tonight?” he asked, lips stretching into a wide smirk. 

Robby didn’t even look his way, eyes still planted on your figure. “Tonight.” 

· · ─ ·✶· ─ · ·

Three raps of your knuckles against the wood door and a muffled Come in! from Jack had you pushing the creaky thing open and stepping right into his dorm. You eyed the small piles of clothes that you tried not to step on as you made your way toward his bed. Jack was leaned back against his headboard with a sleepy look on his face and pajamas on his body: a pair of much-too big sweats (that you guessed probably belonged to Robby) and that fucking Army crewneck. 

“Would it kill you to clean once in a while?” you asked while taking a seat right at the edge of the mattress. 

“There’s a system to it. Left side of the room is for clean clothes, and the right is for dirty,” he responded with a shit-eating smirk. 

You rolled your eyes and turned to face him as much as you could without lying stomach down on the bed. “You’re such a boy.” 

“At least my room’s not dripping in makeup,” he shot back, face scrunching in disgust. “It’s almost like I can smell it from here.” 

“No, that’s your hairspray.” You reached out to ruffle his curls, but his hand darted out and wrapped around your wrist before it could get any further. 

Jack pulled slightly, and you followed, knees digging into the comforter so he could bring you closer. “You know better than to touch the curls.” 

“Then don’t make fun of my makeup,” you muttered before ripping your hand out of his hold. Using your hands, you pushed yourself further up the bed and mirrored Jack with your shoulder against his and back against the headboard. “How’d that simulator thing go?” 

His lip curled. “As well as it could be. Fuck, I hope we’re not going to turn out to be like those stuck up know-it-all assholes. They think they know every damn answer.” 

You nudged him slightly. “As long as we study and actually know the answers, we can act as asshole-y as we want to.” 

He ran a hand through his hair and scoffed. “That’s the thing. We asked the question for the mock-up ER, and one of the guys in there—total douche—didn’t even know the protocol for hyperkalemia.” 

“It’s potassium instead of calcium,” you rattled off mindlessly before pausing. 

Jack turned slightly. “Yeah. How the fuck did you know that?” 

Your eyes locked onto your feet. “It-it was one the question I got wrong before Stephen—” Your mouth quivered. “Fuck, it’s all my fault.” 

“Don’t say that.” 

“But it’s true, Jack,” you muttered. “I killed him.” Panic began to lick at the edges of your mind, and your chest started heaving in pants. “I killed him. I killed him.” 

Jack pushed up off the headboard and hovered halfway over, hands raising like he didn’t know where he could touch you without sending you over the edge. “You gotta breathe, or you’re going to pass out on me.” 

His words were like he was talking underwater, and you couldn’t even process what he was telling you to do. This was not a part of their plan, but Jack had to make due with what he could before Robby got back from killing one more student, a guy who had looked at you way too long in your pharmacology class. Before he could really think things through, Jack cupped your face, leaned in, and kissed you deeply. 

The feeling of his lips broke you out of whatever hysteria threatened to take over, and you found yourself mimicking his movements as you kissed him back, lips moving against the other while your hands found purchase in his crewneck. Your eyes fluttered shut before snapping back open when Robby popped in your mind. You pulled back instantly and wiped your lips as though that would get rid of what just happened. 

Jack took in your debauched look, you clearly liking that he kissed you, but the worried look you had sent his heart racing the wrong way. 

Had they read you wrong the entire time? 

“Jack,” you breathed. “We can’t.” 

He cocked his head. “Why can’t we?” 

“Robby.” 

“What about him, sweetheart.” 

You looked at him earnestly. “Aren’t you two . . .” You left words unsaid in case you were the one to get this wrong. 

Jack almost looked bashful as he replied. “You’re always too damn smart. Catching onto things before we could even tell you.” He leaned back in though and pressed another kiss to the side of your mouth. “We are . . . together, but—” He dragged his eyes over your body with a heated look. “But we want you too.” 

His words had you blinking rapidly. “What?” you laughed out, but one look from him said that he wasn’t joking around. “Are-are you serious?” 

He clicked his tongue against his cheek. “Deadly.” 

You weren’t too sure who moved first, but you met his mouth once more halfway. You moaned loudly at the feeling of his lips and teeth mushing against yours. His hands rose and planted on your hips, fingers curling into the small pudge against bone and pulling you into him, hips dragging along the blankets until you were seated on his lap. Your knees dug into the mattress on both sides of his thick thighs as you held onto his face.

Jack shivered with glee at the feeling of your grinding weight on top of him, cock already stiff below Robby’s pair of sweatpants hugging his legs. He bucked up slightly into your dampening core, and your jaw dropped enough for him to slide his wet tongue right into your hot mouth. He languidly licked around your teeth before playing with the tip of your tongue. You couldn’t help but think that if he was this into your mouth, you wanted to imagine what it’d feel like against your clit. At the vivid picture popping into your imagination, you ground down harder against his bulge.

Jack being large wasn’t surprising; not with the amount of tight pants he liked to wear, but you never imagined yourself being able to feel it nestled against your clit through your thin pajamas. As you continued to rock back and forth, he let go in order to play with the hem of your shirt before lifting it over your head and tossing it to the ground. His eyes widened slightly when he realized you’d foregone the bra. 

“Fuck,” he muttered after pulling back to really look at them, hands rising to cup your breasts. 

With his pointer fingers and thumbs, he pinched your nipples into soft peaks, drawing a higher-pitched whine from behind your teeth. By now, your underwear were soaked with slick arousal. Without warning, he leaned in right as your back arched and took one bud into his mouth. His cheeks hollowed, and a loud sucking noise squeaked out of his lips. You jerked at the feeling and sank your hands into his hair. 

“Jack,” you breathily sighed. 

“That’s me, sweetheart,” he retorted after letting your nipple go with a wet pop just to do the same to your other one. 

You normally weren’t one to cum just from stimulation to your breasts, but the hazy feeling from grinding on Jack’s cock and his lips and tongue circling your nipples started to well in your stomach. Your jaw dropped again as a loud moan shuddered out of you after he bit down on the sensitive peak before running a soothing, wet stripe over it. He pulled back again to lightly blow on the heated flesh, and his cooled breath made goosebumps race up your skin. 

He dropped a hand to play with the waistline of shorts, and you lifted your hips to allow him to get your sleep shorts and underwear off in one go. They quickly joined your shirt at the floor, and his hand had just started to trail between your thighs when his bedside phone gave off a loud shrill into the air. Jack acted as though he didn’t hear it, lips still suckling away at your chest. 

“Aren’t you going to get that?” you panted between the grinds of your hips. 

“Just let it ring,” he responded, but the sound had already ripped your attention away from between your legs. 

With a smile, you reached over and picked up the phone, mind too full with pleasure to even think of the last time you picked up a phone without knowing who was on the other line. Really, you should have been more careful, but with Jack under your naked body, all caution was out the window. 

“Jack’s busy right now,” you giggled into the phone, “but I can give him a message—” 

“Hi, baby.” 

Your hips stilled, and your blood froze at the sound of the distorted voice. A dizzying feeling replaced the warmth of pleasure in your system, and you could barely get out a response that wasn’t a small, terrified noise. 

“Has Jack left you that speechless already?” he continued, voice sounding louder than it had last night over the phone. If you really thought about it, it felt as though he was right next to your ear. “Go on, baby. You were looking so pretty getting messy over him. I was really enjoying the show,” he growled, voice suddenly right over your shoulder instead of through the speaker. 

You dropped the phone and whipped around right off Jack’s lap, and panic seized your chest, because right by the door, a tall man draped in black fabric and a hollowed-eyed white mask stared back at you. You started to scramble as a small scream ripped up your throat, but Jack was quicker. He grabbed your hips and brought you back to this lap, this time facing the masked intruder. His arms wrapped around your middle and held you through your struggles and tears. 

“Jack, what the fuck!” you sobbed, hands wrenching and nails scratching at his arms. “Let me go! We’re going to die! Let me go, please!” 

Instead of doing what you demanded, Jack tucked his chin onto your shoulder as the man started stalking toward the bed. With each step, your struggles grew. By now, Jack’s arms were littered with bleeding stripes from your desperation to get away, but that only added to his pleasure, cock never failing to fade into softness against your back. Your chest heaved and tightened the closer the man got before he stopped at the foot of the bed. 

You watched with wide eyes as he raised a small box to where his lips would be under the mask before his empty gloved hand suddenly lifted the stretched-chin until the mask slipped from his face, and Robby’s dark brown eyes locked on yours. 

His lips curled into a devilish smirk. “Surprise, baby.” 

For a split second, you thought you’d pass out, suddenly overwhelmed with everything in a dizzy sensation. 

“What?” you sputtered. 

Jack hummed over your shoulder and ran a finger down your tear-streaked cheek. He pouted when you met his eye from the corner of yours. 

“Aw, sweets, you look like you’ve seen a ghost. Not enjoying our little surprise?” he taunted before a chuckle rumbled in his chest. “Awww, Mikey, look at her. The poor thing’s shaking.” 

Robby let the voice modulator fall to the floor with a dulled thunk that kept your heart racing against your ribcage. In a desperate attempt to keep a distance between you and Robby, you tried to fling yourself to the side, but Jack just tightened his arms around you more. 

“Not so fast,” he said. “Not when we haven’t gotten to the best part yet.” One arm let go so his hand could grip your chin to keep you facing Robby. “Go on and spread her legs for me.” 

Without hesitation, Robby kneeled at the edge of the mattress and crawled until he reached where your feet planted against the comforter. His brown eyes, the hues almost black with lust, watched you intently as he placed his gloved hands on your naked knees. Yet, when he tried to part them, you swung a foot and connected it right between his legs, drawing a grunt from deep in his lungs. 

He shuddered, his hand reaching down to palm himself over the long black robes he wore. His chest was rising and falling rapidly as he fought to get air back in his lungs. As his hand pressed down harder, he groaned, looking up at you through his eyelashes. The inky blackness of his pupils swallowed the brown of his irises entirely.

The motherfucker liked that. 

Jack’s hand slid down from your jaw and wrapped around the front of your throat, and his fingers squeezed lightly against the sides of your neck, sending a fuzzy wave to your brain, and your breath hitched, body stilling in his grasp. His lips softly grazed your ear as he whispered, “Be a good girl and stay still for us. You’ll like it, I promise.” 

He jerked his chin out towards Robby, and you could only watch him finally grip your knees. In one fluid motion, he wrenched your legs apart, revealing your glistening cunt to both of them. Robby hummed lowly in amusement. 

“You’re so wet for us, baby,” he mused and lowered his face until he was inches away from your core. 

An embarrassed heat flooded your face and neck when he inhaled sharply. If you bucked your hips to get him to move back, you’d just shove his nose right into your folds, and if you withdrew them, you’d grind right into Jack’s cock. You were stuck, and neither seemed to be concerned with how you felt. 

“Please let me go,” you pleaded with a whimper and squeezed-shut eyes. “I won’t tell anyone.” 

Jack tutted against your ear. “It’s not that we don’t believe you, sweets, but . . .” 

“We’ve already waited this long to have you like this,” Robby finished his sentence, finally pulling back from between your legs to look down at you as he ripped the gloves off. “We can’t let you go after we’ve worked so hard to get you right where we want.” 

“You fucking murdered people,” you spat, body beginning to shift unconsciously as a result of your fear . . . or something closer to simmering arousal that you didn’t even want to admit to. “And now you think I’m just going to sit here and enjoy this?” 

“Well, yeah,” Jack smacked his lips. “Cause even though you’re putting on a big show of being brave even if you’re terrified—” He reached down and ran a fingertip through your cunt from hole to clit before holding it up to the light to show just how wet it was. “Your body is still begging for us.” 

You shivered against him. “It’s not—I’m not begging.” 

Jack sighed loudly. “That’s okay; we know you will once we get started.” His hazel eyes met Robby’s gaze. “Go right ahead, Mikey.” 

“Robby, please don’t,” you whispered as he leaned back down, bare fingers coming to grip at the soft insides of your thighs. “Don’t do this. I—” 

You bit down on your lip to stifle the first moan that threatened to burst out as Robby’s tongue began to lick at your puffy folds, fingers curling into Jack’s freckled forearms and thighs jolting at the feeling. He held them down. His tongue moved inward and stiffened into a point to drag upward to your throbbing clit, the texture of his tastebuds adding to the buzzy stimulation. He toyed with you, going from circular motions to biting down gently with his front teeth. As he tilted his face to get a better angle, his beard rubbed against your inner thighs, and the scratchiness of it added to the burning pleasure from your core. 

If he continued, he’d leave a lasting reminder of beard burn for you to remember this night. 

Above, you refused to look down at him, lip staying between your teeth as he tried to break you. Jack was having none of it, and the hand around your throat pressed harder into your pulse points, cutting off your circulation to flood your brain with a hazy feeling that made the pleasure from Robby’s ministrations grow tenfold. 

It was only when he licked around your sopping entrance that a keel ripped from your throat, and the sound was like music to their ears. 

“Good job, sweetheart,” Jack muttered as he let go to allow oxygen to rush back in. “That’s what we want to hear. Keep going, Mikey. I wanna hear more.” 

“Just keep her steady,” Robby responded against you, and his words sent vibrations tingling through your cunt, drawing out another heady moan. He continued to go back and forth from your clit to your hole before the first finger breached the tight entrance. “Oh, fuck, she’s tight,” he groaned, cock throbbing as he imagined sinking deep into you.

“Yeah?” Jack breathed. “Saved yourself just for us, sweets?” 

“No,” you moaned out, hips slightly rocking to alleviate the stretch. “Nooooo shit!” 

Robby sucked your clit as he began to pump his finger in and out, your innermost muscles clenching in uncontrollable spasms around the digit. Slowly, he felt you begin to loosen and suck him back in. Your head tilted back against Jack’s shoulder when he curled his finger upward, expertly finding your soft spot. Your back arched, and your hips raised into Robby’s face, making his nose catch against your clit. 

A wave of pleasure washed over you. Your once tense muscles had relaxed as endorphins fought to replace your terror, leaving you close to putty and pliant between them. Your legs widened instinctively when Robby added a second finger. 

“Oh—fuck!” you wailed out when both fingertips rubbed along your walls, slick gushing out with each thrust. “Robby!” 

“There we go,” Jack gleefully said, voice filled with nothing but content as he felt your body drape against him, all fight draining the closer they got you to cumming. “I told you that you were going to like it.” 

Somehow, Robby managed to get his fingers to reach further, and stars dotted your vision by how deep you could feel him. You didn’t want to imagine how deeper he could get with his cock—wait. 

You were giving in. You couldn’t; this was wrong. They killed people. You needed to get away fast. 

“Robby!” you parroted and followed with a moan as your lower belly simmered with something that was about to snap. “Gonna cum! Wanna cum!” 

Finally, you looked downward and met his lidded gaze through his eyebrows, lower face hidden behind your soft mound as he continued to lick and suck and graze your bundle of nerves with his teeth. He was close to sending you right over the edge, but there was one thing they both wanted to hear. 

They wanted you to beg for it. 

Jack finally unwrapped his arms from your middle to start palming at your breasts again. “C’mon, sweets. Mikey’ll make you cum, but you need to ask nicely for it first. Just say the magic words and—” He pinched and pulled and twisted your nipples, and a cry ripped right out of you, “—he’ll give it to you.” 

Your eyes burned with unshed tears, and somewhere deep, the need to push back flickered before being doused with a rush of arousal. Robby added a third finger and quickened his thrusts, causing a squelching noise to fill the room. 

Finally, after feeling the heat about to boil over in your core, you whimpered out the smallest, “Please.” 

Robby groaned against you, and bit down hard on your clit while curling upwards with stiff fingers. You came instantly, walls clenching rhythmically while Robby kept his pace steady to draw out your high for as long as possible. He watched the way your thighs shook and the way your arched beautifully, stomach curved out high as Jack continued to pull and grab at your breasts.  

You all but collapsed back against Jack’s chest when Robby finally pulled away, your sticky arousal coating his lips and chin and also the  three fingers that he stuck in his mouth. He held eye contact with you as he swirled his tongue between the slots. Jack huffed behind you. 

“I want a taste,” he demanded, and Robby quickly leaned over you, robes draping across your heaving chest, and kissed Jack. 

The loud slurping noises coming from over your head made you groan when your hole clenched around nothing. 

“Tastes good,” Jack muttered before licking across Robby’s lips. “Tastes so fucking good, sweetheart,” he addressed you even if he was currently occupied. He bit down, and Robby whined as a metallic tang filled their shared saliva. 

You lied there, and for a moment, your mind caught up to the situation at hand. Robby and Jack were the murderer—murderers? One to make the call, and the other to kill the student. Through the initial shockwaves of your orgasm, your stomach dipped, and you pushed up slightly, hoping they were both too into the other to miss the way you tried to inch across the bed. Jack pulled away suddenly and reached across, hands planting on both sides of your hips. Air rushed from your lungs at the sheer amount of his strength as he flipped you in one fluid motion and put you on your stomach. 

“No, fuck you,” you whined against the covers. “I’ve never—” 

Jack’s hands maneuvered you like a personal doll: knees pushing into the mattress and hips high in the air. He used his knees to knock yours wider to fit behind. You tried to push up on two hands, but he sent you right back down with a strong enough push between your shoulder blades. He held you down and pulled down the waistline of his sweatpants just enough to pull his cock out, lips parting in a hiss at the cold air enveloping his heated flesh. He sighed when he got a hand around himself, and the tip spurted out a line of precum. He used his palm to spread it across his length before he notched it at your entrance. 

Your body tensed at just the feeling of the large head already barely fitting even if Robby had managed to get three fingers in you. 

“Wait,” you said and gripped the comforter. “No, no, please wait, please, Jack, I’m a virgin, wait—” 

As though your pleas fell on deaf ears, Jack slowly started to sink into you. He shuddered when your warmth sucked in the first inch like your cunt needed him even if you thought you didn’t. 

“Fuck, sweets,” he hissed. “Robby said you were tight, but fucking—can’t believe I get to be your first.” 

You gasped at the stretch and intrusion, and he kept feeding himself into you even after the first bit of resistance. You’d mold perfectly around him soon enough. Your inner thighs shook and tensed as he pushed in further, and sweat collected at your brow line as your body heated under the pressure. You shut your eyes tight, but that only made it difficult to concentrate on anything but the feeling of Jack’s massive cock bullying its way into you. 

Jack pulled back slightly, and the drag of the head along your walls had you gasping for air. 

“Too much for you?” Jack cooed as your whimpers hit his ears. “Shhhh, it’s okay, sweetheart, you can take it; I know you can.” He slowly pushed back in. “Take a deep breath for me, yeah? Big streeetch,” he drew out until the entirety of his length sat inside you. 

Your chest heaved as much as it could into the mattress, and your jaw dropped to take in lungfuls of air. You felt too full, like one wrong move and Jack would rip you in half. It only got worse when he started to thrust, and his tip started tapping against your cervix with no more room to push into. 

“J-Jack, f-fuck,” you stuttered, and tears once again streamed down your cheeks. “Please—fuck!” 

He rocked his hips against yours to the point that his balls slapped against your ass with every thrust. “You feel how deep I am inside you?” he grunted while his hands tightened around your hips. “Fucking taking all of me. Such a needy girl for my cock.”  

You bit down on the comforter, muffling your whines in an attempt to keep how much he was affecting you to yourself. 

“Oh, sweets, that won’t do,” Jack tutted and sank a hand into your roots, fingers curling around the strands and yanking your head upward with a yelp. Your hands scrambled to get under you to relieve some of the pressure, but Jack didn’t stop thrusting, and the motion had your breasts swinging in the air. “Mikey, give her mouth something to do.” 

You eyes widened because under Jack’s fucking, you somehow completely forgot about Robby. But now as he shrugged off the robe and unbuckled his pants to get his cock out, you started sobbing once more. 

“Please don’t do this. I loved you two,” you weakly confessed, mind warring against your needy body, but all that did was make Jack angle his hips on an upward thrust to hit that spot that made you wail. 

Robby fisted his cock while he raised your chin up, and his eyes softened for a split second. “You’ll just have to learn to love this version of us, baby, because we love you just like this.” 

His words hit you in the pit of your stomach, and suddenly his words broke something inside you.  

This was Jack and Robby, your two best friends who’d do anything for you. You couldn’t keep fighting against them if you tried.  

Your jaw chomped shut hard enough that your teeth clicked together, but both of them were one step ahead. Jack let go of your hair and snaked a hand between your thighs to start circling his fingertips against your clit as he continued to fuck into you at a slowed pace, really wanting to draw this all out. 

You couldn’t help the moan that flowed freely at the double stimulation attacking your cunt, and your jaw unhinged enough to let Robby slip the tip of his cock between your teeth. Instantly, the salty tang of his precum coated your mouth. He held the sides of your face and pushed in deeper. 

“Another deep breath, baby,” he groaned before he thrust into your mouth, giving you barely any warning to brace for his cock to fill your mouth. 

Your throat constricted in a gag, but a flick of Jack’s fingers around your bud paired with a harsh thrust pushed you forward until your nose right into Robby’s navel, his wiry happy trail filling your senses with his deep musky scent. Above you, Robby arched into the feeling and groaned into the air. You were now filled on both ends as you desperately tried to breathe in through your mouth. 

Robby’s cock nestled against your tongue and a few inches down your throat. He was definitely longer than Jack, but the redhead had a much thicker girth than the brunette. Jack planted both his hands on your shoulders and pulled you back until Robby almost slipped right out. You sputtered and coughed from the lack of air, and a string of saliva wiggled down from your mouth to the bed. 

In just a breath later, they resumed, and you moved upwards and backwards on them like a pig on a spit. You felt dizzy between the white-hot pleasure Jack gave your cunt and the fuzziness that took over when Robby slipped down your throat. Both men moaned and grunted when you seemed to clench down on them at the same time. 

“Fuck, you weren’t kidding when you said she was—shit—so fucking tight,” Jack moaned when your walls spasmed around him, nearly cumming from the feeling. “You any close, sweets? Wanna feel you cum on my cock.” His words went straight to your body, and your pussy tightened. “Oh, you like when I talk to you? Is that right?” 

You whined in response and nodded. . 

His fingers picked up against your throbbing clit to meet his thrusts, and your stomach flipped with the onslaught of never-ending ecstasy flowing through your lower half. He could tell you were close when you started leaking around him, inner thighs sticky and wet enough to transfer onto his when he pushed into you with wet plap, plap, plap, plaps. 

At your front, Robby continued lazily thrusting into your mouth with jerky motions, knowing that once Jack filled you, he’d have his turn to sink deep into your pussy. His head leaned back when he managed to make you gag, and your throat constricted and caught his tip. His large hand basically covered the back of your head. He kept you tucked against his navel even when you tried to jolt back to get more air. His soul thrummed at your panic, and he wondered if you could feel him get harder between your teeth. 

“Uh, uh, uh, uh,” sputtered around Robby with every draw and snap of Jack’s hips. 

“Just give in, sweetheart,” Jack whispered into your ear after slotting his stomach into the dip of your back. “Let us know that we’re making you feel so good.” Using two fingers, he pinched at your clit just as his hips began to stutter, a tell-tail sign that he was about to cum as well. “Fucking—shit—give it to me.” 

With a muffled cry, your body shook as your second orgasm ripped right through your body. Jack could barely fuck into you with how hard you were clamping down on him as your cunt wept and dribbled onto the bed. 

“Good—fucking—girl,” he punched out with three forceful thrusts. His hands planted back onto your hips, and his fingers curled white-knuckled into the skin so hard that you knew you’d have his fingerprints bruised into you by morning. His lower stomach pulsed when you began to whimper from overstimulation, and the sound had his cock throbbing. “Fuck, gonna fill you up, sweets. Gonna cum, gonna—fucking shit!” 

He thrusted hard once, twice, three times before he stilled, cock spurting release into your fluttering hole. He had squeezed his eyes shut, but he peaked through his eyelids to see Robby lean over with a hand between your legs. The air knocked right out of Jack’s lungs when your cunt clamped down on him again near the end, and he guessed that Robby had rubbed right against your clit. Jack’s chest heaved through his high. 

“Good job, sweetheart,” he muttered, giving little rocks of his hips to prolong his own pleasure, dick already softening just a bit. “You took me so well; so well.” 

His hands loosened from your shoulders, and without any strength left in your wobbly arms, you fell right back into the bed, body twitching in the aftershocks. A whimper climbed from deep in your chest when he finally pulled out. Your hole clenched and pushed out a thick glob of the mix of your rapidly cooling slick and his cum from your walls. 

You felt his finger drag along your folds to catch it just to push the mess right back in, drawing a mewl from your lips. Too tired and fucked out to care about what they did next, you let your hips lower until they rested against the bed. You heard some shuffling through the haze, and the next moment, your body flipped over. Each of your limbs tingled with warmth, and you let out the smallest giggle. 

You enjoyed that more than you’d ever admit to it. 

“What’s so funny, baby?” Robby asked as he took off the rest of his clothes just as Jack was taking off his crewneck but leaving his sweats still on. 

Your eyes fluttered shut. “Think it’s funny that you said you loved me, but you killed people,” you slurred. 

Jack and Robby shared a look before the taller took his place near your feet. 

“Stephen deserved it, baby,” Robby darkly muttered. “And all those boys who came before him.” 

Jack ran a soothing hand up and down your leg. “You’re our girl. We couldn’t let them live after how they acted towards you.” 

Like he did earlier, Robby parted your legs, leaning down for half a heartbeat to press a small kiss to your twitching clit before trailing open-mouthed kissed up your stomach until he reached your lips. As though all fight drained out of you with the last climax, you matched his advances and kissed him back, legs absentmindedly parting to let him hover over you. 

You were the one to break the kiss when he rutted his cock through your sopping, overly-sentivie folds. Your breath hitched high in your throat before breaking to give way to a shuddering moan. You tried to push him off, but his lips stayed glued to your neck. 

He reached down and positioned his cock head to your entrance, and he slipped in with no resistance, the added lubrication of Jack’s spend and your relaxed muscles adding to his eased thrusting. The back of your head pushed deep into the mattress, and you swore you could feel Robby all the way up into your throat. Through lidded eyes, you caught the sight of Jack already hard again in his hand, his hazel eyes watching intently as Robby started to fuck you. 

“Hnnngggg,” you moaned through your teeth. Robby’s tip hit your cervix with each forward movement. “Oh my—fucking—please, Robby!” 

“Only took two orgasms to get you begging, hm?” Jack asked, and he reached over to pet at your face while simultaneously fucking up into his hand. His fingers traced your lips before he plunged them into your mouth. His breath stuttered when you started softly sucking on his digits. 

“Whatever you’re doing up there,” Robby grunted, hips snapping into the heat of your walls, “she likes it. Her cunt’s clenching—shit—around me like a fucking vice, man.” 

Your high-pitched whine came out all muffled through Jack’s fingers. Without someone holding your hips down, you began to meet Robby’s thrusts in shallow grinds. Where Jack’s cock stretched you out to the point of bliss, you wanted Robby’s length to stay buried deep to constantly rub against your walls. He must have understood what you wanted, because he stopped with the full thrusts and ground against your hips. The thatch of hair at the base of his cock rubbed deliciously against your swollen clit, and you whined at the added stimulation. 

After having climaxed twice so fast, it didn’t take long before you started to writhe under Robby’s frame, close to cumming without needing much. 

“Gonna—” You gagged when Jack pushed his fingers in farther. “Gonna,” you warbled. 

“Gonna cum already for us, baby?” Robby grunted. “Well, when you do, I wanna hear you cry my name, okay? Want your pretty mouth to spit it out.” 

You nodded shakily and tried to respond, but Jack’s fingers were too deep for anything eligible to come out. After thrusting them a bit more and getting them slick with your saliva, Jack pulled them out of your mouth. You squealed loudly when his fingers rubbed between your clit and where Robby was rutting into you. 

“Ooohhhh,” you breathed. “Jack! Feels good!” 

“Yeah? Does it feel better when I do this?” Suddenly, the pressure inside your walls exploded as Jack nudged his pointer finger into your hole, digit brushing against Robby’s cock to make you feel fuller than you ever had. “I bet that feels really good for you, sweetheart. Got your hole all nice and filled to the brim.” 

He tried to angle his wrist as best he could to press upward, and your thighs tried to close around his hand, but Robby’s hips kept them spread wide open. Needing to alleviate the pressure, you dug your feet into Robby’s lower back and arched into his chest. In one more movement to grind against Jack’s hand and Robby’s cock, you came instantly in a soundless scream. 

Robby folded over as your walls suddenly clamped down on him without warning. Your chest shook in a deep sob as the pleasure almost became too much. But through the shivers and pinpricks of euphoria, you remembered what Robby had asked. 

“Michael!” you screamed, hips jolting uncontrollably against him. “Micahel! Michael!” 

Like some Pavlovian effect, Robby groaned loudly with stuttering hips, cock spurting with hot waves of cum deep inside and fusing his and Jack’s cum to your cunt. No matter who you else might fuck in life, they’d always know that their cum was in you first. 

“Such a good baby,” Robby spat, mind barely keeping up with the feeling of your warmth entrapping his cock. “So smart for remembering. Fucking love it when you say my name. Fucking love you.” 

Your eyes had squeezed shut yet again right before you felt splatters across your face and heard a plethora of curses and moans from Jack above you. Some of his cum painted across your eyes, and you could only lie there and take his spend to your face. 

For a moment, you ceased to exist on the bed, mind floating blissfully somewhere else as you stewed in the slowing waves of your probably final orgasm. It wasn’t until you felt a warm, wet towel against your face did you open your eyes again. You blinked rapidly to clear them of the gloss that had taken over, and Jack cooed softly as he wiped his drying cum from your cheeks. 

“There she is,” he whispered. “There’s our girl. You did so well for us, sweetheart. Can’t believe we got to finally do this with the girl we love.” 

There it was again: their declarations of love. 

You wondered if it was all a ploy, but with their soft touches and slow roll of your pliant body to settle between them as sleep licked at your body, something settled inside your chest. Sure, they’d killed people, but they’d been right about what they said. Stephen deserved it, deserved what they did to him along with all the other boys who’d made you uncomfortable before meeting their ultimate demise. 

They’d done it all for you . . . because they loved you. 

Your lip twitched into a soft smile as you relaxed into the blanket Jack tossed over the three of you. 

“I love you both, too.” 

· · ─ ·✶· ─ · ·

Morning light was the first thing to cause your closed eyelids to glow as your body slowly woke up. Instead of gently being lolled from your sleep, you became instantly aware of where you were and more importantly who you were between. Sometime after falling asleep, you’d managed to tuck yourself under Robby’s chin while Jack clung to your back, their shared heat making the bed feel like a furnace. You shifted. One leg slipping from between Jack’s, and your hips tilting away from Robby’s. 

Yet, you’d barely moved a few inches when Jack was the second to wake up. He muttered something sleepily before tightening his arms around your middle. 

“Don’t go,” he slurred, voice still thick with sleep. 

“I need to pee,” you whispered back, but all you really wanted was to retreat to the bathroom to wrap your mind around what had happened last night: their confessions, them fucking you, you confessing your love for both of them. If you stayed any longer, the dream of last night might become reality, and you weren’t ready to face the possibility that you might become their next victim. 

Robby shuffled slightly at your front and nuzzled his cheek into the top of your head. “Pee here. Pretty sure Jack’s into that,” he sighed, almost like he was seconds away from falling back asleep, however, his eyes shot open when Jack whacked him in the face with a spare pillow. 

“I don’t have a piss kink,” the redhead groaned, not even opening his hazel eyes. “I just think it’s hot.” 

“Then it constitutes as a piss kink, kid.” 

Jack pushed up with one arm while rapidly blinking the sleep away. “Can we not kink shame your boyfriend, please? We get one morning with her between us, and you start spouting bullshit nonsense.” 

“Guys,” you whined. “Enough.” Your head tilted down until your forehead connected with Robby’s chest. “Let’s just get this all over with.” 

Jack paused with another pillow mid-way in the air, fingers letting go to let it drop down to the bed. He slightly curled around your shoulder and tried to meet your eye. “Get over with what?” 

Robby twirled a piece of your hair around a finger. “What’s going on in that head, baby?” 

“I already know what will happen next. You’re going to tell me that last night was a fluke, and I’m about to show up on the news as another dead body,” you spat. “So, please, make it painless and get on with it.” 

Over your head, Robby and Jack shared a look of concern before Jack plastered himself along your back. 

“No, sweetheart, no,” he cooed. “That’s like the exact opposite of what’s going to happen. We weren’t lying when we said we loved you.” 

You shook your head and closed your eyes. You didn’t believe them. How could you after all they’ve done? 

“Listen, baby,” Robby started as he pushed back to make you look at him, “Jack and I love you so much, and the thought of us never being able to have you pushed us over the edge. It’s like an itch we can’t scratch unless we get rid of the problems.” 

“And the problems were all those boys who either thought they had a chance or made you uncomfortable by thinking you wanted them back,” Jack growled, and the noise went right to your core. “We fucking love you so much, and it was agony to see them hurt you, so we hurt them in return—like, take them out entirely.” 

“No one messes with you unless they want to mess with us,” Robby stated. “But we’d never hurt you, baby. I think we’d both rather kill the other if we ever did.” 

They both waited in silence for you to answer, and for a moment, they thought that you were able to push away, grab your clothes, and run out the door with how heavy you were breathing. But then, they both noticed the way your thighs shifted together, and it dawned on them that you were into this—them killing men just for you. 

“You really mean that?” you finally asked, voice meek and scared for them to laugh and yell psych! 

“We’d let you kill us if we didn’t, sweetheart” Jack said, voice steady and strong. “Our hearts beat only for the other and you.” He placed a kiss on your bare shoulder before lightly biting into your skin. 

Robby inhaled sharply. “We’ll stop . . . if you want us to. No more games, no more murders—” 

“Unless you want us to,” Jack added. “Say the word, and you’ll have a heart on a platter if you wish.” 

A loud groan rumbled through your chest, and your hips jutted back against Jack’s front. “You two can’t say stuff like that.” 

“Why not?” Robby asked, and you could hear the smirk in his words. 

“Becasuse—” You squeaked when Jack suddenly palmed at your breasts under the covers. “Because it makes me feel . . .”

“Good?” Jack filled in, but you shook your head. 

“Loved. It makes me feel loved, and it’s fucking crazy to say that, because you’re willing to murder people if I ask for it.” 

Your thighs parted when you felt Robby try to prod between them, and a lazy sigh exhaled from your lips as he slowly started to circle your clit through your puffy folds that were still slick from last night’s activities. 

“We’re willing to do a lot more than murder,” he muttered, lips pressing into every inch of your face. “But we have you now, and unless anyone thinks they can get through us, we won’t need to put any more bodies in the ground.” 

“Promise?” you asked with a pant catching the end of the word. 

“Promise,” Jack grunted, hips bucking into your ass. 

“Promise,” Robby echoed. 

“Okay, okay,” you said. “I was also telling the truth when I said that I loved you both. Just wanting to make it clear that this goes both ways.” 

“Good,” Jack said as he placed two hands on both sides of your hips. “Now, flip on your front. I wanna feel your cunt cum on my cock again.” 

· · ─ ·✶· ─ · 

Night was not the best place to be hanging around a parking lot in the middle of Pittsburgh. Unfortunately for Brendon Park, he found himself doing just that around an hour after his shift ended at 9 pm, eyes narrowed at his slashed tires on his brand new Porsche. Someone had done this, and all he needed to do was wait for the stupid tow truck and security officer to come help him out. He could have left it for the morning and gotten an uber, but Park was a proud man. 

And yet, what did they say about pride? It commeth before the downfall. 

He was so busy huffing and puffing while stalking back and forth along his car that he failed to hear the twin footsteps rapidly approaching behind him. He didn’t even know he wasn’t alone until a white-hot pain in his side froze him in his tracks. His torso twisted, but that just dug the scalpel in deeper. He stumbled to get away, but all he was met with was another parallel stab to his other side. 

Automatically, Park applied pressure over the blood already soaking through his scrub top. He looked down and hissed before looking for his assailant. He squinted into the dark, and his breath hitched when twin robed figures stepped out into the small bit of light coming from a close to burning out lamp. It was almost like the two were from a slasher movie in the 90s with their hollowed-eyed halloween masks and glittering robes that donned their bodies, keeping Park from knowing who had just stabbed him twice. 

“What the fuck?” he hissed as he backed up into his Porsche’s driver door, hand trying to grip the handle but failing because of his blood’s slickness. “I’ll give you money or whatever the fuck you want but stay right over there or I swear I’ll call the cops.” 

One of them tilted his head, and Park felt the dead eyes stare right through his soul. 

He watched as the other—the taller one—raised a box to where his mouth would be behind the mask. 

“You wanna know what we want, Brendon Park?” he asked, voice distorted through the modulator. 

“I’ll give it to you,” Park grunted, the pain blooming up his sides and into his chest. They must have hit one of his kidneys and possibly an organ with how fast the anguish was spreading, making it hard to breathe in and out. 

The taller looked down at the shorter, and their eyes met before they nodded. Park’s eyes widened when they both produced longer knives than the shorter ones they stabbed him with. The modulator rose again, and what he said next sent a chill right through Park’s stomach. 

“We want to see what your insides look like.” 

Without a beat, the two robed figures pounced on him, and in just a few minutes, Park slunked down to the concrete, leaving a painted bloodied smear across his car’s door. With satisfaction pumping through their veins, the two watched as he took his last wheezing breath before dying in a puddle consisting of almost all his blood. His body wouldn’t be found until the morning with stab wounds littering his body. His fault for parking away from everyone else in fear of his car getting scratched. 

Only when the two were sure they were the only breathing beings in the lot, they ripped off the masks, and Jack huffed loudly. 

“Murder was so much easier in med school when I wasn’t missing a fucking leg,” he grumbled while shifting his weight onto his real leg. He ran a hand through his sweat-soaked salt-and-pepper curls.

“Tell me about it,” Robby answered. “If he were any shorter, my knees would have given out if I had to bend down.” He kicked at Park’s leg and smirked when the body recoiled slightly. “But man did that feel good.” 

“I’m kinda glad he decided to go off on her. Last mistake he’d ever make, but nothing beats the rush of this.” 

The memory of Park berating you in the middle of their ER flashed through their minds. They'd seen the way you flinched under his words in a way they hadn't seen in decades. They'd wanted to kill him right then and their, but Robby and Jack weren't ones to break their promises, however, the next time all three of you had the day off, you told them what you wanted between moans as Robby sandwiched you between his and Jack's chest.

"I want him gone," you had whimpered out, forehead pressing into Jack's collar bone while Robby rocked you back and forth on his cock.

"Want who gone, sweets?" Jack questioned before grunting loudly when his tip notched against your clit.

"Park—shit—I want him gone."

You wanted them to kill Park, and they were never ones to disappoint.

Robby went to say something, but the shrill of his iPhone had him digging and floundering through the drapes of robes. When he managed to bunch the fabric, he reached into his pocket and took out his phone, answering it without a second glance. 

“Hello? Michael Robinavitch speaking.” 

“Do you want to play a game?” a voice answered from the speaker, and the two glanced at each other with devilish, knowing smiles. 

“Depends on what type of game it is, sweetheart,” Jack responded, crossing his arms against his chest. 

“I wanna know how much it’ll take to make you two scream.” Your small laugh followed, you not being able to take this as seriously as the two had back in school. 

Robby brought his phone up closer to his mouth. “I don’t know the exact answer, but I think you can start with being naked and face down on the bed by the time we get back.” 

“I think that can be arranged. Get home soon, or I might have to play the game myself.” 

works in progress tag, nothing is free for anyone else to use as these are my works in progress. do not lift my ideas for yourself.

TITUS DANFORTH

slip down into the dark— Lifestyle BDSM Dom/sub relationship with personal stylist!reader who is down on her luck and chronically ill. you've worked for titus for a while, he respects you, cares about you in his way, and makes that your problem when

(nothing is fair in) death & romance— assassain!reader. you're employed by a rival family to take out titus danforth. instead, he wants to take you out (in a much less lethal manner). blurb here.

i've got to bring you to my hell— Le Domas!reader. Unsatisfied, needy, horny after a wedding night spent fighting off crazed in-laws, you wake up gagged in front of more cultist lunatics and get told to do it again. But you spot the most attractive man you've ever seen among them, and neither of you can ignore the pull of the hunt for something better than blood.

you want it darker? we kill the flame— witch!reader, demon!titus. you summon the demon of danforth manor to do your bidding. like all exchanges of power, it comes at a cost.

sympathy for the devil— devil!titus. out of desperation (and out of other options) you have decided to make a deal with the devil. the good news is: you can pay the price. the news you haven't made your mind up about yet? he wants more than just your soul. he wants you.

other ideas: royalty/arranged marriage hades!titus vampire titus

JACK ABBOT

when the sky is losing the light— Normal People-inspired. You and Jack knew each other once, in school. Your lives circled each another. Separated only to come back together time and time again. Intertwined. Until opportunities pulled you apart for what seemed like the last time. But you can never say never. (music therapist!reader).

other ideas: pervy gyno!jack sugar baby resident reader

CHARLIE REID

understand i've got a plan for us— personal assistant!reader. corruption kink, strict/mean!dom charlie who enters an arrangement with his personal assistant to allow them to both let off steam. feelings were never part of the agreement, but they enter the playing field and force the two of you to confront them.

wicked love will leave me blind— secretary!reader. you absolutely loathe cops and the entire system you're employed by, but it's the best paying job you could land, and bills don't pay themselves. you notice your boss has quite the watchful eye for you, but you elect to ignore it until you make a mistake that forces your hand. deputy chief reid wants to break you and make you his. you let him.

devil's advocate— criminal defense attorney!reader. making a name for yourself as a defense attorney is so competitive. it's remarkably easier when you commit the crimes your clients are charged with. only a certain deputy chief takes notice of you, and would rather like you and your services under his thumb.

portions for foxes— district attorney!reader. you and charlie are required to work together on a high profile case. you're excellent at what you do, so there should be no problem. except... you cannot stand charlie reid and his incessant need to pry his way under your skin.

welcome to my cage, little lover— interrogation of a reformed criminal!reader, but it's bdsm and very dead dove. (i'm going to keep this one a nice vague surprise for now!)

other ideas: Consultant/Specialist reader 2nd Interrogation au (criminal defense reader, even more extremely dead dove)

GRANT REILLY

everybody's got a hungry heart— private caterer!reader. you move to boston to escape a long neglectful family that has always put the brunt of responsibility on you, but continuing your private catering business proves more difficult than you anticipated. (meet cute-ugly with michelin chef grant reilly, one-sided rivalry-to-lovers.)

He did, however, get first pick at the guest list. They were frat parties, of course, but sophisticated enough to have a guest list. And top of his list was always one name: yours. Which seemed an odd choice to his housemates as you never turned up.

“Party tonight, you know the place,” said Jack, pushing himself up from the wall that was his. His because he waited there for you every Friday. Waited to follow you, pestering you all the way down corridors and halls, up and down stairwells.

“I know the place, loud, rowdy,” you listed, a heavy looking book tucked under your arm. “I'll be sure to avoid it.”

“No, the open door means come on in, not hurry by.”

“I must have missed that class.”

“You? Miss a class? Nah.”

It was routine for Jack to do this: get the details of the latest party from Derran, run to whatever class you were still stuck in and wait for you to come out to invite you to the party.

The party where he'll linger by the door and let everyone think he was being a diligent owner, welcoming them in, handing them off to the kitchen were drinks were being downed already. Really, he lingered and waited for you. One day you would turn up and he'd back away into the crowd, making his way over all nonchalantly and bump into you, saying some practised line like “Oh, you came!”

“Speaking of class, you were later than usual coming out,” he noted, hands in his jersey jacket pocket.

“Do you ever hear yourself and think how creepy you sound?” you pondered.

“No, not really. I do catch myself in the reflection though and think, woah, you're a good looking guy.”

“Before it cracks right?”

Jack grinned. It was his favourite part of his days, when he got to see you and have this one on one. You bit back to his words and a lot of girls blushed at his teasing, tucking back hair in hopes Jack would catch the drift and do it himself.

He didn't know what it was about you that had you not falling for him. It drove him mad. He loved it. He was crazy, thought his friends, you clearly weren't interested, they were trying to get it through to him. And still, he persisted. Because when he saw you one day, narrowly missed getting hit the face with a soccer ball and instead of slick by you proceeded to yell at every player, and since he couldn't stop seeing you in crowds, finding you in libraries.

When he got talking to you and found you could keep up with him- well, he was smitten.

“What's the book today?” he asked, gesturing to the brick that was tucked under your arm. “Some Latin, some Greek.”

“An old Greek classic. It's in English, I just don't think you can read.”

Jack chuckled and followed you onto into the fields, where the sun beamed down. “Looks heavy, you want me to carry it for you?”

“No, I want you to stop stalking me.”

“I'm not stalking,” he denied, holding up his hands in surrender. “I was just passing by, I swear.”

“You seem to pass by every Friday, which is odd because you don't have classes over here on Fridays.”

Jack's hand darted out. He stopped you with a grin. “Now who's the stalker?”

You frowned, a roll to your eyes like you just couldn't be bothered with him. Yet he knew if that was fact you'd have already avoided him. You liked the bite as much as he did. “What?”

“How do you know my class schedule, huh?” he teased, tongue poking out and running over the bottom of his lip. “Unless someone's been looking.”

There was a stutter on your lips and he stood there, giddy.

“No. I-I just, I mean, my room mate has a friend who's studying medicine and he's not here on Friday's,” you argued.

Jack nodded along with you, rocking slightly back and forward on his heels. “Oh yeah? What's his name?”

You shook your head. “You wouldn't know him.”

Jack doubted, he doubted this guy was even real. It lightened him up to have you wanting to know things about him. That maybe you'd asked around to know his schedule, looked it up, actually spared moments out of your day to think about him while trying to act like you weren't.

Quickly, he followed after you as you took the long way around the pitch.

“Is this guy coming to the party?” he asked, just to entertain the conversation a little longer. “Maybe you can third wheel your roommate and him.”

“Yeah, sure, that sounds fun.”

“Well I'll be there to keep you company, don't worry.”

“Oh good, I feel assured.”

“C'mon,” he said, taking a jog to keep up with your long strides. “What's one night of relaxing, huh?”

You chuckled, dryly. “You and I clearly have a very different idea on what relaxing is.”

“You're a more book and a bath kinda person, am I right?” Jack asked.

You glanced at him, a small frown between your brows like you were trying to figure out how he knew. “There's nothing wrong with that,” you said, almost defensively.

“I didn't say there was. I enjoy a bath myself.”

“With the walls shaking? With all the noises and company? Not a moment's peace?”

Jack smirked, leaning in closer to you. “Just what kind of baths do you think I have?”

Your lips parted, a fresh sheen of gloss over the pink of them. Your tongue clicked as you shook your head, tucking it down but he still caught the corners of your lips tilting up that you tried to hide. One day you might just admit you found him funny, that you thought about him outside of your little coincidental meetings.

“Jesus,” you breathed out, turning from him and taking a path back to your dorm.

“That's what they all say!”

You were making your way down the path hurriedly.

“Think about it!” Jack's hands cupped over his mouth as he yelled after you.

You yelled back. “I've thought about it!”

Jack watched you until your form became a blur and he had pretty good eye sight so he must have been watching you a while. By the time he tore his gaze away from the long way you'd gone he saw jocks on the field, girls preening at them and looking at him with bitten back smiles.

All he thought was how you'd never bitten back a smile. Maybe you tried to hide your smiles around him but he'd seen you grin big before, when you were unabashed and un-afraid to be seen.

He wanted that smile to be his, one day.

The party was already in full swing by the time Jack abandoned his post at the door, trying to make peace with the fact you clearly weren't coming. It was going on midnight and he'd been keeping his spot in the entryway since well before the sun set, wearing a patch into the carpet that would definitely need looking at with sober eyes.

Jack allowed himself a flicker of disappointment before he replaced it with resolve. Next time, maybe he'd even just invite you out somewhere, try to get you on a date instead of carrying on the pointless crusade of dragging you to a party you clearly weren't interested in.

Girls lifted up their plastic red cups to him as he passed, guys clapped him on the shoulder yet none of it felt as rewarding as it should of.

“Jackie, boy!” yelled Derran from his own post of guarding the beers.

“Derran!” he called back with as much enthusiasm as he could muster.

Derran spotted his glum look and empty side. “Better luck next time, bro!”

Jack nodded and continued on his venture.

Was it just him you didn't like? He'd seen you at a party before, Stacey M from psychology. He'd caught sight of you, little black dress, taking to someone he didn't know but wanted to if they were stealing your attention. He'd spotted you across the room and hadn't said anything because he didn't want to scare you away. He didn't think you'd seen him.

So, you could party. It must have been Jack you were trying to avoid.

He was thinking as much when he saw Kev.

Kev was Derran's buddy but even that was too generous a statement. He was more like a pestering fly you just couldn't get rid of and Jack spotted him buzzing around someone, animatedly.

“Geez, lighten up!”

“Lighten up? You were about to take a girl who could hardly stand upstairs!”

“She was literally begging for it an hour ago.”

“And now she can hardly string a sentence together!”

The crowd dispersed around the shouting, looking back and to each other with pulled faces. They were hoping for a fight. Someone always was. As they parted, Jack could finally make out who Kev was talking to.

You stood across from Kev, in a dress that demanded Jack's attention, your cheeks flushed and arms crossed over your chest. You were there, at his party, arguing with a guy notorious for being a huge dick.

“What the hell is it to you, anyway?” said Kev.

Jack shouldered past everyone, falling into the conversation. “Hey,” he said to you.

Your eyes moved from Kev's to his and softened. “Hey, Jack.”

Jack. He liked hearing it from your lips, instead of stalker.

“Jack, hey pal,” greeted Kev in a stony voice typical for him. “Get a hold of your fucking girl, would you?”

You scoffed as Jack took a step in front of you. “Excuse me?”

“She's not my girl, man,” said Jack. “And she's right. If a girl's too drunk to keep her eyes open she's way to drunk to commit to anything.”

“She wants it, bro! I can tell!”

“I guarantee you, she does not.” Jack watched Kev roll his eyes and guessed he wasn't a guy that took being told no easily.

“Whatever man,” he said, waving his hand in a dismissive sort of gesture as he turned. “Just get this bitch out of my face.”

Kev tried to go but Jack was hot on his heels. You were hot on his.

“What did you just say?” snapped Jack, yelling over the noise of the music that rattled in his bones and his own heartbeat he could hear pounding in his ears.

“You heard me!”

“Yeah, and I'm really hoping I fucking didn't!” Jack grabbed his shoulder and spun him around. He was taller than Jack, bigger than Jack and heavier than Jack. But Jack was willing to bet he had only a tiny dick. “Say you're sorry.”

“Jack-” you interjected behind him.

“Apologise,” he ordered, standing his ground, ignoring the forming crowd.

“Fuck off, man. What the fuck is your problem anyway? Your girl not giving you any pussy so you have to go and ruin mine?”

Jack froze.

He didn't know how it happened. One minute, Kev was running his mouth, the next, your fist flew past Jack and a sickening crack sounded.

Kev was on the floor, cradling his broken and bleeding nose with a whine.

You brought back your fist, shaking it off. “Shit-” you seethed.

Jack was back at your side, quickly. “Ooh- are you okay?” Gently, he took your trembling hand, cradeling it in his as he would a hurt bird. There was a redness spreading along your knuckles, blood blooming at the tiny cuts.

Around the two of you, the party crowd that had formed and watched it all happen started to applaud.

“Let's go!”

“Whoop-whoop!”

“Dude, Kev just got knocked out by a girl!”

If Jack were anybody else he might have cheered to. He might have been apart of the crowd, clapping. But he was only himself. He was only focused on you and your had still held in his.

Your cheeks were flushed with spring time pink as you tucked your head low, leaving him to lower his own closer to hear you. “Is... is there... is there somewhere...”

It took Jack just a moment to realise what you were trying to ask.

“Yeah. Yeah, c'mon.” Jack kept a hold of your wrist as he dragged you past Kev still rolling around on the floor and moaning in pain. He pushed through the crowd that were meandering back to their drinking and dancing. He led you through and up the crowded stairs.

You were silent till Jack stopped the two of you in front of a locked door.

He fished the key out his pocket. “It's my bedroom.”

You stiffened under him.

Jack's eyes widened. “Oh! Oh no, I- it's ensuite. I'd take you to the other bathroom but I can promise you do not want to see what's going on in there. I just want to take a look at your hand, is that okay?”

Your lips pursed and you nodded.

Jack waited. “Words, please.”

“Yes, Jack, you can take a look at my hand,” you said, cheeks still red.

His room was organised, trophies from several sport competitions standing high and polished on shelves. Whenever his parents came around they made sure to keep them clean and straighten them up. On his desk there was a tall pile of medical textbooks, thick enough to act like building blocks and his half finished mug of coffee was left there next to them.

He flicked the lights on and finally let go of your wrist. “You can, sit, make yourself comfortable.”

Jack rushed into his bathroom that was a little less tidy, kicking towels on the floor and dirty boxers into a pile behind the door and reached under his sink to find his first aid kit.

You were stood at the end of his bed, looking around at the walls, at the posters of bands on the wall that he put up when he first moved in and didn't tear off. Your eyes scanned over sheets of paper he had stuck up, post-it notes full of medical terms that were like a different language if you didn't know how to read it.

Jack lingered and watched you study everything that made him, him. Suddenly he was very aware he didn't really listen to any of the bands plastered up on his walls, that his wardrobe doors were hutting open from a draw not closed properly.

“You used to play soccer?” you asked when he appeared again.

Jack eyed the trophies you stared at. “Er, yeah.”

“I didn't know that.”

Jack smirked. “There's a lot you don't know about me.” He held out his hand to his bed, inviting you to sit on the edge as he sat on his desk chair, switching on the lap and moving the neck till the gold glow was on your hand. He was lucky his room was small enough to accommodate the two of you close together.

You splayed out your hand.

“Nice throw,” said Jack as he took a cotton swab and dabbed lightly at the beads of blood.

“Thanks,” you mumbled.

“Where'd you learn to punch like that?”

“Self defence classes,” you told him. “When I thought about coming to your party I figured I best take another one, might come in handy.”

“Glad to know it wasn't me you were planning on punching the day lights out of,” he said.

“I'd have gone easy on you,” you shrugged. “Oh my god, I assaulted him!”

Jack chuckled at the sudden dawn of realisation on your face. “He had it coming. He's a dick anyway.”

The two of you fell silent again as Jack gently looked around your knuckles, checking for any injuries that he could see as if he was already a qualified doctor.

“It's probably the nasal bones you hit,” said Jack. “Might have fractured it.”

“Is it gonna harm is breathing?” you panicked.

“No. His nose will just be bruised for a while. Might have given him a free nose job, too.”

Your other hand combed back your hair. “He could report me for assault.”

Jack shook his head, glancing up through his lashes at you. “He won't. He'd have to explain how the fight began, how he wanted to have sex with a girl that couldn't say no, let alone yes. And besides, Kev wouldn't admit he was hit by a woman.”

“Some company you keep at these things,” you mumbled.

Jack swallowed away guilt. “I'm sorry, Kev just turns up to these things. Usually the parties aren't so bad,” he explained. “This is still going down as one of the best, in my books.”

“Because Kev got punched?”

“Because you showed up.”

Your gaze was hard on his, not un-kind but just watching him to try to catch out the lie. There was none. He was waiting to tell you.

“How come you changed your mind anyway?” he tried to distract you as he ran an anti-septic wipe over the small cuts.

Your hand still tensed and curled up. “Ow- Jesus!”

“Sorry,” he cringed.

You shuffled on the edge of his bed, pulling the hem of your dress back down. Not that he was looking. “My roommate was going, thought I'd see what all the fuss was about. And that way I didn't have to drive.”

“Where's your roommate now?” he asked.

“She and a couple other girls went to take the other drunk girl home, make sure she gets back safe and is okay.”

Jack smiled down at your hand.

“So much for sticking together,” you sighed with a little huff of laughter.

“You need a ride home?” asked Jack, perking up.

You raised your brows. “Haven't you been drinking?”

He shook his head. He'd never been happier to not be a big drinker. “I'm a med student. You think I can get drunk and the next day dissect a rat.”

Your lips pulled into a frown. “I thought dissecting rats in class was band in the fifties?”

“Who said anything about being in class?”

You laughed and Jack wished he could go back in time, make the joke again and savour it anew. He wanted to know what else he could say to make you laugh. What else made you smile. He wanted to know everything that made you happy and be apart of it.

He ditched the wipe on the side and went back to holding your hand. His eyes scanned over the expanse of the back of your hand as if he was trying to find factures or bruising when he just wanted to have an excuse to hold your hand a little longer and try to remember what it felt like.

“So, am I gonna live, doc?” you whispered, head ducking low and closer to his.

Jack raised a brow. “It's doc now, not stalker?”

“I guess I'm the one in your bedroom, I feel like the stalker now.”

“I really didn't have another agenda to this,” said Jack, stony at once at the implication he came up to his room with you for another reason. “You can leave at any time, I don't want you to feel uncomfortable.”

“I don't.”

It was perhaps the longest conversation you'd had together without you walking off and him wondering if he'd see you again. This was different. You were sitting, letting him touch you and look after you in a room that surmised him.

“Your hand should be okay,” said Jack. “You might want to ice it when you get home. Or I can get you a bag now?”

“Will I make it if I wait till I get back?”

Jack tilted his head to the side, holding your hand in his and leaning back. “I dunno. Let's see-”

Studying your hand side to side, Jack slowly brought it up to him, making sure to leave you enough time to retreat. You didn't. He kept his eyes lowered as he brought it up to his lips and kissed it gently. It was just a press of his lips, not a brush or a bite. He just held himself there and felt your pulse under his fingertips race.

He was enjoying this medical training thing more when he could use what he learnt on you.

“You'll make it,” he said, letting your hand down onto your lap.

You shivered and held the hand he'd just kissed in the other. “Thank you, Jack.”

“Thank you for punching Kev and putting him in his place,” he said. “Think you can stick around till three and get everyone out of here?”

“Three is a little after my bedtime.”

“Bath and a book?” Jack asked. He found his voice naturally lifting in his flirting sort of way but there was genuine curiosity underneath it. He wanted to see you room and not in a creepy way. He wanted to know what posters were up on your walls, or what colour they were painted. He wanted to know the photos you had framed and books you had stacked on your bookcase.

You glanced at him, a degree of shock that he'd remembered. “Yeah. Something like that.”

Jack figured you'd be surprised to know he remembers your favourite sweater you wore when the weather was cold, the Margaret Atwood book you carried with you more than any other. The fact you preferred the south corridors because there was a breeze in the north. That you wore one colour more than any other.

If he admitted it you might just tease him again.

He could live with it though.

“I can give you a lift back, if my cars not blocked up,” said Jack, spinning his keys around his finger.

“Oh no,” you said, standing up with him. “I can't ask you to do that.”

“You didn't ask,” he pointed out. “I'm asking you.”

You looked around his room again, trying to find an excuse.

“C'mon,” said Jack, nudging you. “If I were to let you get home some other way I'd only be worried, I'd get no sleep, then how would I study the next day?”

“At least the rats would be safe.”

Jack waited still, holding his hands behind his back and rocking.

You sighed. “Sure, fine, if your cars not blocked in.”

Jack was willing to ram into any car he needed to to get you home.

And so Jack took you home that night and for the rest of the week thought about you more than usual. After all, now he knew how soft your hands were, fingers slightly rough from the constant turning of your pages. He knew what your hair smelt like closer up and how your body relaxed with the vibrations of a car. He knew so much and so little but Jack was on a mission to know everything.

Decades later and Jack had memorised the touch of your skin when trailed by his own fingertips. How warm it felt in the morning sun and the slight tremble when it was night. He'd seen shades of your hair through the years and the lengths you changed but he always remembered how it looked in the gleam of the afternoon sun. He knew- when he could once only dream of knowing- every secret dent and tint of your body, knew your curves like it was a road he took down every day.

You knew where Jack was starting to grey, when his leg hurt him more than usual. You knew the roundness of his stomach and kissed down it when he realised he wasn't as lean as he was when he was younger. You could map every freckle on his body and join them dot-to-dot with your eyes closed. It was the sort of knowing one only got from years of dedication.

That was why Jack knew he needed you to run into the ED when he'd only been there for an hour.

“Jack?” you were wind-swept, coming in through the ambulance bay doors that had seen you come in and out almost more than it saw emergencies.

He would ask you to come in to share some crappy dinner he'd prepped the night before, wonder if you were driving by in the morning to your own job at teaching English just so he could steal a kiss and taste your morning coffee on your lips. Any excuse, Jack was asking for you.

You were always happy to deliver.

He smiled as you stepped up to him and he grabbed your hips, bringing you closer and kissing him.

“You're so in love, I hate it,” said Nurse Vivi from Lena's side.

“You're adorable,” cooed Lana.

Jack pulled back, brushing your hair and framing your face. He peeked with a smug smile at Lena. “Thank you very much.”

“What's going on?” you asked. “You said it was an emergency?”

“I didn't want you to miss this-” he took your hand, the one branded with the two rings he'd slid on there and dragged you to an exam room.

You knew the floor planning almost as well as Jack did. He'd given you a tour of the place after only a week of working, introducing you to Dana and Lena, showing you off to Robby who couldn't believe Jack's wife was... well, you... that he'd stared, mouth agape for at least ten seconds.

The both of you like to tease him about it now.

“Miss what?”

Like he was showing you a show he'd rehearsed, Jack held out his arms to the glass windows of nine.

Two young women, alike in look and stature, stood over a bed. They were talking down with anger between their brows to a man slouched in the bed, a crooked nose and black eye, beard long and ill-kept-

Jack watched your eyes widen and brows raise. He grinned.

“No,” you gasped.

He nodded and chuckled to himself. He tried to keep his back straight, holding onto the reigns of composure he kept for his night shifts. Yet, with the dazzle of amusement in your eyes he couldn't stop himself from the boyish grin only you ever brought out.

“Is that- is that Kev?”

Jack nodded. “He's here for a conference. That-” he pointed to the woman on his right. “- is the conference and that is his girlfriend.” He gestured to the other.

“Some people don't change,” you chuckled.

“No they do not.”

He let you study Kev. The length of the beard was one thing, the scraggle of it another. The hospital gown in white and grey did nothing to flatter him, nor did the black eye and crook in his nose. He was balding at the top and reseeding on the sides.

“Wait, isn't this a breach of some patient confidentiality?” you asked, a hand on his bicep.

Jack pulled his lips down and shook his head. “I don't think he'll say anything.”

Kev's eyes flickered from the girls (because they were very much younger than he was) and found you and Jack standing there on the other side. He shrunk back in his bed and rubbed over the crook in the bridge of his nose.

No, he wouldn't say anything.

You took your time stripping off your work clothes, leaving you in just your underwear that had him gulping audibly amidst the silence at the sight. Clark’s cock stood proud against his belly, red and hot to the touch, leaking slick that slowly dripped down taint.

You watch as your every step in his direction caused his dick to jump, twitching in anticipation while Clark looked up at you—desperate without shame.

“Hi, honey…” your words caused a whimper from his throat, mouth parting when your hand cupped his cheek. “Thank you for waiting for me.”

You knelt in front of him, flesh coming on contact with the soft fabric he’d laid for you, disregarding his arousal before you and smiling up at him softly. Your good boy, you thought. So willing and eager for you, and in desperate need to rid of the weight that sat heavy on his shoulders.

Clark, an extraterrestrial being forged of steel and muscle, as sweet and as soft as the hands that raised him, was familiar being the strongest one in the room—the one that commanded everybody’s attention.

Never has he felt this helpless, small. This needy.

Rough fibers irritate the sensitive skin of his wrist, the pale skin burning from the insistent rubbing of flesh against fibrous cordage though his hide barely flushes before the color fades back to a light pink.

And, at that second, he wished the glow of the sun couldn’t heal his flesh—wished that the sun had been a harsh red, if only to feel the pain for longer than a few seconds.

Thankful, however, that the gold glow hadn’t taken away the pleasure from your hands that caused his skin to pink. You left featherlight kisses from his knees, trailing up to the sensitive skin of his inner thighs, biting softly and fitfully.

The touch sent small pricklings climbing his arms, his skin erupting with goosebumps. Sweat beads from his temple the closer your lips drew to his crotch, hyper aware to your distance when he felt your breath brush his balls.

A soft whimper left him when you pouted up at him, faux pity lining your beautiful face before you took him in your hand. He was leaking like a faucet, coating every ridge and vein that drew helpless gasps from the man above you. 

Your hand pulls at him, squeezing his tip just right to cause a gush of arousal from the hole, and squeezing tight at his base to help him prolong his pleasure.

“Mmmph—” he huffed, hips jerking up to follow your touch before he forced it back down. Clark, who’s head had already felt fuzzy at the thought of being bound and at your mercy, could feel his head grow lighter with your every stroke.

Baby blues hide behind hooded lids, unable to hold them open when you brought your lips to his tip, the skin so red it looked painful. “hah—!” he breathed when you hummed around him, tongue peeking out to lave at his slit.

You hummed contently against him, the salty bitter taste of his arousal drove you with need to have him further in your mouth, releasing his entirety in your belly—but your focus was his pleasure.

So, you kept your tastebuds against his slit, kitten-licking the hole that oozed pre-cum like he was already coming. Clark whimpered and gasped in the air, loud and shameless. 

He lapped at the empty space to prevent his saliva from dripping down his chin, only for his efforts to fail and the sticky slop to drip down his sternum, slowly gathering on his navel and clinging to the hairs that led to his cock.

You tsked at the sight, pulling away to watch him squirm and jerk, hips rising to follow you. “Hmm…” you hummed. “Makin’ a mess baby.”

Clark apologized, words muddled in his tongue. “‘s alright, honey.” you whispered, leaving a fleeting kiss on his thigh while plucking the vibrator from where it sat atop the table. A jolt of excitement ran down your spine when your fingers switched it on, and it seemed as though you weren’t the only one.

The sound that emitted from the toy had a choked gasp escaping Clark, hips lifting and thrusting in the air looking for friction. One that you gladly grant by pressing the head of the toy against the head of his cock.

A cute yelp sounded from his throat, glasses foggy and skewed and barely hanging on the tip of his nose.

His chest, flushed, freckled and covered with a sheen of sweat, was heaving rapidly and without restraint—arching and bowing the longer you held the vibrating toy against him throbbing tip.

His hips jolt before he cursed lowly. He could feel his resolve fraying, softly spurting pre against the tremulous toy and whimpering when you held his base firm, painfully halting his release before it softly caressed his quivering thighs and cupping his tightened balls.

Clark babbled and babbled soft apologies to the air as you petted him, only to cut himself off with a groan when you slapped the scrunched skin and pulled the toy away. 

His spine bowed forward, almost toppling over you—and he would’ve. He could’ve ripped the rope off of his wrists and freed himself to finish the job—but he didn’t.

He wanted you to take care of him. To lose himself in the arms of his lover, succumb to your touch and feel his brain melt out of his ears.

And he was almost there.

“Doin’ so good, baby.” You knew he was almost there when his jaw dropped, his mouth forming a soft permanent ‘O’ that he felt no shame releasing his constant needy mewls from. You feel yourself gush at the sight, needy hole clenching around nothing.

Your fingers reach for his reddened tip then, the poor thing still spurting sticky fluid when you toyed with his frenulum, pulling back and rubbing at the exposed skin rapidly. 

He trembled violently against his bounds. Clark doubted he could keep it together any longer, especially when you reached up, fingers toying with his pert nipple with slick fingers. You thumbed the sensitive peak until you heard his breath hitch—a quiet indication of his release—and you pulled away before he could gush against your palm.

His freckled chest gleamed with sweat, gasping violently toward the ceiling at the loss. You let his cock fall limp, tapping occasionally as though it was a toy and not attached to your extremely expressive boyfriend. The one who let unabashed cute noises fall from his lips.

And just as he catches his breath, you go back and toy with his tip again, drawing out his orgasm further.

“Honey!” he panted, pleading for nothing and everything at the same time. And once his body curled over, his breath falling raspy at the end of his pleas, you knew he’d earned his reward.

Your hand cups his cheek, the contact he sought after immediately granted with a touch so soft, he couldn’t believe it was the same one that held his cock in a chokehold. 

You pressed you forehead against his, just as eager to watch him fall apart in your hands as he was finally reach his peak.

And he does so when he peeked his eyes open. Blues held contact with your own for only a few seconds before they disappeared behind his lids, falling apart and convulsing in your touch as uncontrollable spurts of warm spend covers your hand and reaches your heaving chest.

You held him there, one hand against the warm skin of his cheek as the other kept stroking his length, prolonging his release. You didn’t care for the mess that dripped to the floor nor the ones that marked your chest.

You only focused on the way he further leaned into your hands, seeking your warmth in his most vulnerable. 

Clark felt as though his brain was melting out of his ears with how leaden his limbs became, unable to fight even the weak fibers that held his balance, and only seeking the grounding nature of your touch.

You stayed there, holding this fatigued god-like figure in your arms, and give him the respite he so sweetly requested and earned.

💌 𝐟𝐫𝐨𝐦 𝐥𝐨𝐫𝐞: this was supposed to be posted a couple hours ago and i just found out it didnt....my eye's twitching. . .

𝐜𝐨𝐦𝐦𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐬, 𝐥𝐢𝐤𝐞𝐬, 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐫𝐞𝐛𝐥𝐨𝐠𝐬 𝐚𝐫𝐞 𝐠𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐭𝐥𝐲 𝐚𝐩𝐩𝐫𝐞𝐜𝐢𝐚𝐭𝐞𝐝!

©𝐛𝐮𝐜𝐤𝐬𝐩𝐥𝐮𝐦 — DO NOT translate, steal or post my work anywhere else without my permission.𝐓𝐇𝐈𝐒 𝐖𝐎𝐑𝐊 𝐖𝐀𝐒 𝐌𝐀𝐃𝐄 𝐖𝐈𝐓𝐇𝐎𝐔𝐓 𝐀𝐈 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐌𝐀𝐘 𝐍𝐎𝐓 𝐁𝐄 𝐔𝐒𝐄𝐃 𝐓𝐎 𝐓𝐑𝐀𝐈𝐍 𝐀𝐈 𝐎𝐑 𝐁𝐄 𝐔𝐒𝐄𝐃 𝐅𝐎𝐑 𝐀𝐈 𝐈𝐍 𝐀𝐍𝐘 𝐂𝐀𝐏𝐀𝐂𝐈𝐓𝐘.

That was the first commandment of your personal holy text. A list, scribbled hurriedly in the back of your notebook when you were eleven, weathered by years of spilled sodas and tears. The rules were there to protect that part of you which would take the longest to evolve as you became a young woman: your heart. Really, they were quite infallible rules. Though quite juvenile in conception, and a bit poorly worded, the ideas had to be taken down. You often found yourself struggling to cope in situations that were completely normal, like the average mall afternoons and classroom projects. You needed to have something tangible to follow when you could not function in the wake of Clark’s sunshine. And in your devoted way, you lived by them. From middle school all the way until your senior year you adhered to these guidelines without fail, and it helped you survive lifetimes of being best friends with the golden and angelic Clark Kent, small town hero… and Lana Lang’s admirer.  

It was a poor hand to be dealt, to love a boy who didn’t know what he wanted. It was not that Clark was a bad person, but he certainly had no proper guidance on the subject of love. His parents were a one in a million example, and they set up quite unattainable expectations for true love in the teenage world; not to mention the series of significant others his friends blew through (especially Lex), proving oppositely that love had a time limit, and breakups usually ended badly, or that people did not last if they did not communicate. It seemed every example presented to him made love seem both aspirational and impossible, and for a boy so intent on having it, he was completely conflicted. His only good example was you, and that was the worst one to have, because it was completely invisible. Friend-love. Always-there-but-never-explored love. Too-late love.

The worst of it came from his unfortunate object of affection. Ever the dreamer, Clark latched onto Lana Lang from a young age and had never let go. Something about her aloofness, like a lovable cat who worked on her own clock, ensnared him. He timed his every breath to fit her whims, following the tides of her affection in and out, always waiting for when they’d grace him once more. Even after she had boyfriends, and even after she said she’d never reciprocate the feeling, and even after he promised to get over it, Clark just could not retract his claws. You could not blame him, because you technically did the same– but at least you were quiet about it. What nobody knew didn’t exist and could not be judged. That was Clark’s failure– he was too sweet, open, and trusting. Everyone knew his love. Nobody knew yours. 

There was nothing wrong with Lana Lang. In fact, you liked her very much. It was hard not to. She was gentle and understanding, she got good grades, she worked hard, she showed up when it mattered. She was a good friend to Chloe and Pete and you. But as these things go, you just couldn’t shake the dreadful ache in your stomach when she came around, smiling with white teeth and tossing that glossy hair over her shoulder. There was nothing wrong with her, which made her perfect, and that meant you had to live in her shadow. Anybody would be a little resentful, however selfish or mean-spirited that might be. You were not perfect. Someone had to have flaws. 

You managed well for a long time. You became close friends with Clark’s group, seeing as you were around longer than all of them (you were sandbox, they were grade school), and considered Clark’s most prized friend. You were at the top of your class alongside the quarterback. You went to every Friday night football game and cheered him on wearing the homemade Kent jerseys you and Chloe had bedazzled. You worked your shifts in the Talon without complaint and lived your life in silence. You grew up between braced smiles and new clothes each September, and surprise birthday parties planned by Clark alone, all for you, because he loved you, and you were his best friend, and the world revolved around that. The fabric of your life was repetitive and woven into his, and that of Smallville and all it contained, so you had to be content with it, because you knew nothing else. Did not want to know anything else, really, no matter how painful it became. Every year you got older, loved him more, and hated yourself in a new way. You kept on. 

Somewhere along the line, though, you lost touch with that desire to keep hiding. One person could only take so much self-loathing and pity before they started to hate themselves for hating themselves– it was a slippery slope. You did not look at the sacred list anymore because you had trained yourself in its craft, which in turn morphed you into a shell capable of little more than behavioral adaptation. Nobody could sense it, not even Clark, but you knew. You seemed normal, like the same girl you’d always been, still intelligent and quirky and plump as the day the world met you. But you could feel in every step and breath how you moved mechanically, analyzing your every facial expression and word, making sure you gave nothing away and never truly let anybody see the truth. It was exhausting, and the only way you knew how to behave. You became the rules, and now that you were close to losing this curated life, you were restless. Tired of this game, of this fear. Terrified to stop, but needing to change.

By ‘losing’, college is implied. College and the changes of a young woman’s life. For you, that was a much more loaded event than for others. 

Turning eighteen early was what ignited the turnaround. You reached the milestone sooner than most of the kids in your grade. You were light years ahead in maturity, already focused on your acceptance to MetU and counting the days until you could escape forever and be someone who was a part of a bigger world with other chances to be loved. After so much time spent giving back to Smallville and surrounding yourself with the things that looked, felt, smelled, tasted like the love of your life, you were growing weary. You had endured the pain as long as you possibly could, and now it was breaking you. There were only so many sleepovers and lake trips and study nights you could spend with your circle before it all felt like playing house with a handful of dolls, positioning yourself in a plastic chair to reenact a life you had never truly been living around people who thought you were present. No wonder you were an old woman trapped inside– you had heaped on more emotional damage than any eighteen year old should ever sustain. 

Graduation was a few weeks away, and you had an early MetU start in July, so you had two options now that your heart was finally evolving. Or rather, now that you have become self-aware. You could come clean before you go and leave the baggage behind, or you could keep your secret forever and hope it doesn’t bite you in the ass when you’re gone. 

Everything was so confusing now that you weren’t sure which path to choose. You were not a confrontational person, and you knew that Clark would only meet you with a slurry of apologies and soft rejections, so it would be safest not to say a word. But the grown part of you, the piece that was forged in the sole flame of your heart that knew you deserved peace, felt he deserved to know. With everything he’s been through these last few years, all the leaning he’s done on you, all the heartbreaks you’ve sheltered, he should know it wasn’t done selflessly. He should learn not to trust those who surround him– he’d believed in a fraud for too long. Gave her gifts and movie nights in the truck bed without knowing he was sitting beside a motivated girl. Then again, that might break him. He was so empathetic he might just die from knowing what he put you through. See? Confusing. Impossible. It seemed like there was no way to know how to handle the situation.

Then again, you had always been prepared, hadn’t you? You had a list for these things. A scripture to abide by. So, with just mere days standing between you and the rest of your life beyond Clark– who was still unsure of following you and Chloe to MetU, or Lana to Central Kansas–  you decided to revert to your best shot at getting through the change alive. You dug through your bedroom for the sacred notebook and laid your eyes on a page you needn’t touch since the age of fourteen. And upon reading it, you devised your plan. 

THE DO NOT LIST

Rule #1: Never, and I mean never, tell Clark how you feel

The look on Clark’s face was worse than all those years of imagination could have ever conjured. It was a bad place to do it, but you just didn’t have the patience to wait any longer. It was gnawing at your body like a parasite, and you suddenly had to spit it out after harboring the secret so long. Granted, you could have waited until you were in a position to leave swiftly, and not done it in the car when there was another fifteen minutes to spare before he reached your house. 

“You… what?” He gulped, eyes wide as a deer’s while his father’s old farming truck rumbled down the county road. 

You sighed in resignation, regretting the impulse. “I love you,” you repeated. “I’ve been in love with you for a long time. A-and I’m sorry to say it now. It’s bad timing, I know, but I just… can’t be quiet about it anymore. I feel like you deserve to know.”

The boy– well, young man now, isn’t he? Eighteen like you, grown up, beautiful, strong, your best friend after so much time– clutched the steering wheel like a buoy. His words drowned beneath his heavy tongue. “Cap… how long?”

That was easy. “Since I was ten, at that Christmas party in Ms. Mary’s class. When you kissed me under the paper mistletoe.” You smiled a bit at the nickname. Everyone started calling you that when you captained the debate team in middle school. Even in a moment like this, he let it slip.

Clark dared to glance at you, relieved to find you were not looking back. Your eyes were trained on the cornfields outside the window, and your polished nail fiddled with the crank. Your face had not changed since ten years old. Your cheeks were still round, and they got red as apples in the cold or when you felt afraid. They were a deep Gala shade now, like the ones his mother picked from their tiny orchard along the edge of the farm. It was June, so it had to be the other catalyst for bloodflow. “You remember that?”

“Yes, I remember that,” you nodded, dropping your limp hand into your lap. “All this time we’ve been friends. And you love Lana, I know that. I never tried to tell you because it was pointless, but I don’t know, something in me just– just can’t keep lying. It’s not right. To me or to you.”

Clark had to remember he was driving and to keep his eyes on the road as you shifted in the cab. He blinked a few times, as if he could see all the moments of your shared life flashing before his eyes and was trying to scrutinize in vain, attempting to find any moment that stood out which might point towards a sign that you’d shown your love and he was too blind to recognize it. But nothing was memorable. That was your intention, after all. To go unnoticed.

“I don’t expect you to say anything,” you said softly, breathing deeper, “or to apologize. Nothing is your fault. And it’s mean to just drop this on you, I know, but I don’t want to upset you or confuse you, okay? That’s not the goal. I just wanted you to know, that’s all. I don’t… need anything, or, like, want anything from you. I don’t need anything to change. You’re still my best friend and I’m yours, unless you say otherwise. It’s just been a long time coming, and with me going to school soon and everything moving along, I felt like if you didn’t know I’d be cheating you, or something. Failing to be the friend I’ve been. I know how important it is to you for people to be honest, that’s like your number one thing, and I wasn’t brave enough where it mattered for a really long time. So I’m sorry. And I hope you’re not angry, or sad, or… whatever.”

The sound of you breathing had always been so familiar to him, but as it sounded now, you were entirely new. Clark wasn’t sure if he was feeling anger or remorse or a thousand emotions in-between. He wasn’t sure of anything after hearing such unexpected words. He wanted to tell himself that he should’ve known better, but how could he? You never seemed to care about him any more than just special, true friendship. In a way, he never assumed you would, so that might have helped blindfold him. You were this untouchable thing all his life, a constant between every heartache and failure; the one person he knew would never change, who always had his best interest at heart. And here you were, admitting to keeping a secret he would’ve wanted to know. It could have been handled. You could have been cared for. He didn’t know how to feel, and he definitely didn’t know what to say. 

But for you, the feeling was a better outcome than the payoff. The weight lifting from your chest made you wonder if you’d ever truly breathed right at all since you met Clark. The icy fear in your veins began to warm in his silence, and while you still wondered if you had ruined everything, you were less afraid to find out. You read somewhere that when people are finally ready to have an important conversation, they will know, because the idea will stop feeling like pressure and start feeling like an urge. That was exactly it. You had stopped wondering how long can I keep this up, how long before he finds out, when will I have to come clean, and begun thinking if I don’t do it now, I’ll regret it. The change occurred without you even knowing. Finally, for the first time, you had broken the primary rule, and it felt good. 

Clark didn’t say anything that night. He just drove you home, and when you smiled and thanked him for the ride, he watched you leave with tears in his eyes, feeling so very confused, like he’d always been. 

Rules For When You’re Confused So You Can Figure It Out Fast

Clark’s First Rule: Be honest with yourself

“It came out of nowhere.” 

“I don’t think so, Clark,” Martha sighed, running her fingers gently through the thicket of hair at the base of her son’s neck. “She might have hid it from you, but she didn’t hide it from the world. That girl has always had eyes for you.”

“Why didn’t she say anything?” Clark sniffled, swiping tears away from his reddened eyes. “I feel like such an asshole.” Martha gave him a friendly whack on the neck and he winced. “Sorry, Ma.”

“You are nothing of the sort,” Martha hummed, pursing her lips in disapproval. “You’ve just had your head set on Lana. It wouldn't have helped for you to know.”

“Yes it would!”

“How, honey?” Martha gave a pointed glance. “Would it have made you like Lana less? Are there feelings there for you?”

Clark broke down into another sob and clutched at his hair. “I don’t know, I don’t know…”

He curled into his mother’s arms and cried for a long while. Clark didn’t cry much, he was always the stoic type, but something inside him felt sick and rotten and he wanted to wretch until he rid himself of it. Never in his life had he felt more responsible for someone’s pain than now. All he could imagine was little you, chubby and covered in glitter from art class, pining after him while he pined after Lana. Lana, who never wanted him back. You, who hugged him every time he was reminded of that reality. You, who forced him to watch 10 Things and Clueless and She’s All That, as if they’d cheer him up. You, who never turned him away. It must have been torture to sit idly by and love him when he had his head too far up his own ass. You were his twin flame, the one he came to for everything, over even his own parents. Nobody else knew all of his secrets and mistakes. Nobody else could remember his favorite songs or what kind of publisher he liked to buy from– Oxford Classics, not Penguin, because he liked white spines. Not a soul could promise him everything would be okay and mean it like you did. And all he’d given you in return was a shotty friendship where his heart was somewhere else and his need with you. 

Martha shushed into his hair as his breathing began to level. “Shh, Clark, it’s alright… what are you thinking, huh?”

Clark croaked, “That I’m a terrible person.”

“Oh, you are not,” she tutted, petting his ears. Clark lifted his sore eyes and gazed up at Martha. “You’re a kind, generous person, that’s why you’re so upset. You love her and you don’t want to see her hurt.”

Clark rubbed his dribbling nose on his sleeve. “I don’t know what to do, Ma. I’m so confused.”

Martha tilted her head and brushed a few drying tears from his soft cheeks. “Well, do you love her too?”

Clark grunted in frustration. “No! Yes! I don’t know!” He added quietly, “I love Lana. Or, I think I love Lana. I just don’t know. I always wanted it to be Lana.”

“But it isn’t. And it won’t be. I know that hurts, but you have to dig deeper than that now. You have to look at your life. You have to admit a few things to yourself, honey.”

“I want her to be happy,” Clark rasped, and he wasn’t sure which girl he meant.

“Let me ask you differently,” Martha sighed, sitting back against the couch. She could answer the question for him, but he had to be the one to understand, not her. “When you think about her, and about Lana, which one do you feel sure with?”

Clark scratched between his eyes. “What?”

“Which one makes you feel sure, sweetheart? Unafraid, happy, confident? Which one makes joy easy?”

Clark had never asked himself that question before. 

THE DO NOT LIST

Rule #2: Never tell anyone else either

“I’m sorry, come again?”

“Come on, Chloe, don’t make me do this over and over,” you mumbled, nudging the microscope towards her. The metal screeched on the black lab table, and she winced as she slid a new slide onto the plate. “Is it really so surprising?”

“Yes!” She hissed, giving you a look of incredulity. “Why did you never tell me? You’ve seriously just been, like, hiding this? Forever? Never thought it would help to let somebody know?!”

You huffed and scribbled a few notes onto the lab sheet. At the front of the room, Mr. Gable was grading the most recent quiz while the chemistry class did filler work. You could do this sort of thing with your eyes closed. “It wouldn’t have helped. He’s always loved Lana, you know that. Would’ve wasted my time and gotten me hurt way worse.”

Chloe frowned as she shoved the microscope back. “Did you not trust me?”

“Of course not! I trust you with everything. I just… you know. It wasn’t something I wanted anyone to know about, okay? Too personal. Too… much.”

Chloe reached over with her pen, some sky blue doodad with a fuzzy top, and jotted a detail onto your sheet. She peered up at you from beneath her light eyes and sighed. “I can’t say I don’t get it. We’ve all had our things for Clark. It’s hard not to,” she offered, “but… jeez. Eight years?”

You shrugged. “He’s my best friend.”

“So you suffered in silence. Like a hermit. Or a monk.”

“I wouldn’t say it was that extreme,” you fibbed.

“Come on.”

“It just wasn’t worth it, Chlo, okay? Now, can we please move on?”

“No,” Chloe waved her fluffy pen in front of your nose. The interspersed tinsel shone under the fluorescent lights. “We need to figure this out. What are you going to do?”

“Nothing.”

The girl nearly choked. “Nothing?”

“What do you expect? He still loves Lana!” You grumbled, glancing around. Everyone was busy pretending they were finishing the lab, itching for the bell to ring and set them free. Senoritis had a ghastly grip on the student population now. “Plus, I’m going to MetU in a few weeks. He doesn’t know what he wants or where he’s going, and I have to let go. I need to be able to start fresh.”

“So you’re telling me, what, you’re doing some crazy mental purging so you can run away to Metropolis and pretend it never happened? He won’t let you go that easy and you know it. He loves you. He’ll miss you!”

“I didn’t say we can’t be friends,” you sighed.

“But you’re treating it like he’ll never want to see you again.”

You glanced at her, trying to find a reasonable rebuttal, but Chloe had a point. Maybe you were trying to shelter yourself, hoping the brave thing would eliminate the problem, and therefore circumvent the pain. Could you have been both brave and cowardly in the same moment? Would he see it that way?

“Did he say anything?” Chloe tacked on. 

You shook your head, flipping the packet over to keep writing. “No. I did tell him that he didn’t have to, though. It’s been a few days, I did it after the game last Friday. I haven’t seen him since. I worked all weekend, so I don’t really know what he’s thinking.”

Chloe frowned and rubbed your arm. “Oh, babe…”

“Don’t do that,” you begged, “this is why I didn’t tell anyone! I’m not some kicked puppy.”

Chloe leaned her head on your shoulder and said, “Well, it wouldn’t hurt you to be one for a while. Feel something. Want something. He does, so why can’t you get a chance?”

You stiffened a bit at the advice and stopped writing. Chloe could be very astute when she wanted to be.

THE DO NOT LIST

Rule #3: Do not talk about him when he is not there – friends will snitch

“You have to talk to us at some point, Cap,” Lois grumbled, “because Clark certainly won’t.”

You flushed and adjusted your jacket sleeves. “That’s his choice. Also my choice.”

“Bullshit,” Lois frowned, tugging her own coat on. That early summer chill was rolling over the darkening town, and the lake was too cold to stay much longer. “We’re all in this, like everything else.”

“Actually, Lois, we aren’t,” you snipped.

As Chloe stoked the fire, everybody seemed to quiet down real quick. You were not known to assert yourself, especially against the big and mighty daughter of General Lane. Lana and Pete shifted uncomfortably in their Adirondack chairs, eyes flitting toward the shoreline where Lex stood beside Clark’s shadowy frame. They were skipping rocks and undoubtedly avoiding you. 

Lois’ frown deepened. “So, what? You come clean with this crazy secret and expect it not to change the dynamic? Clark barely talks to anybody now, and neither do you! It’s been two weeks of awkwardness! You guys need to work this out or else everyone is going to get real distant,” she warned. “We’re about to graduate. You really want to end on this note?”

You sighed, feeling how her jabs rolled right off you like water on a duck’s back. Everything did, now that you had released the fear. Nothing seemed to matter so much, but not in a bad way. Everyone around you took everything as if it was the end of the world, in the customary teenage fashion, and you were growing out of that. The world did not end when you told Clark you loved him, and it wouldn't end with a few angry friends. And for any of them to share in Lois’ sentiments would prove that they cared more about preserving the illusion than performing the actual act of friendship. “Lois, I get that it’s awkward, but really, this isn’t about you or anybody else. It’s between me and Clark. If you want to talk to him, talk to him. I’m not gonna just air my shit out here.”

“She has a point, though,” Lana interjected, sipping a Coke with nervous eyes. “We just don’t want it to ruin the group.”

Funny that the wedge between your heart and Clark’s would feel comfortable enough to drive deeper in this moment, isn’t it? That soft voice always seemed to grate you. Sometimes you wanted to tell her to stop speaking everything in whispers. But you affirmed your indifferent face and shifted your attention to Lana. “The only thing that would ruin our friendship is if you guys can’t get over it.”

“You don’t think that’s a little harsh?” Pete furrowed his brow. “I mean, you guys are like our family. Everyone’s just a little blindsided.”

“Well, I’m sorry you feel that way, but I’m not sorry I said it,” you shrugged, staring into the rekindled fire. “It was a long time coming, and I can finally be proud of myself for something. I feel like I could say anything now, I feel that good. 

“And you know what?” You continued, “I think it’s wrong that you guys are blaming me. Whatever grudge you have against me finally speaking my mind isn’t my job to fix. If anything, I’m just sorry I let everyone get so used to me being quiet. I’ve felt a lot of things, big things, for a really long time, and I never told any of you out of fear. Good thing, since now I know how you’ll handle it. I didn’t intend to upset anyone, but this isn’t a group ordeal, y’know? This is me and Clark. The Clark I knew before anyone else. Maybe it would do you guys some good to think about that before you judge me for putting myself first for once.”

The circle of shocked faces listened raptly as your even, gentle tone said things they would never have imagined you to think in a million years. You weren’t angry, you didn’t scream or cry, but you spoke with a level of confidence unseen. You weren’t the girl they’d come to know at all. You were someone entirely different, and a low cloud seemed to settle over each of their heads, shrouding them in the shame of being unobservant and judgemental enough to never look past your veiled surface. 

You stood up spryly, smoothing out your jeans, and you smiled at them all with no resentment attached. “I’m gonna go home. If you want to talk to Clark, go ahead. I hope you get what you want from him. I’ll see everybody on Monday.”

“Wait–” Chloe began, her face sullen as the rest but eyes much more bright, because she was proud of you. One out of four ain’t bad. 

You cut her off with a smile. “It’s okay, Chloe. I’ll call you.”

After grabbing your bag from the sand, you clodded up the incline to the street, leaving your friends to sit around that stupid fire and wonder. They would have to think now about what it means to take care of yourself after being stuck in the center of a feeding circle, where everyone saps each other and never puts their personal growth in the way of the group. They would have to compromise with the knowledge that you wouldn’t be held back, nor would you leave, but had committed some third thing born of a need to set free the girl you’d bound beneath your rules, and theirs. 

Clark turned to see you leaving, and he saw the way you smiled. He heard you, even down at the shore. You had never looked happier, he realized. He did not follow you. He didn’t have all the right words yet, and he wouldn’t try until he knew what to say. 

Rules For When You’re Confused So You Can Figure It Out Fast

Clark’s Second Rule: Be honest with others

Clark turned around again and thumbed the smooth, flat rock beneath his thumb. Lex watched the cold water ripple around his feet as he swirled one ankle in the lake. 

“What are you gonna do, then?” Lex inquired, picking up the previous chat they’d put on hold. Clark paused him to listen to you. “Seems like she just handed them their asses. Quite eloquently, I might add. Then again, that girl always knew how to make herself clear. When she actually tried, that is.”

Clark gave a slight chuckle and tossed the rock with a calculated flick of the wrist. It skipped on the water four times before sinking under the moonlight. “I still don’t know.”

“Well, I think we talked enough about Lana. You’ve had time to mull it over. What conclusion have you come to? Anything you can credit me with?”

Clark smirked at the man to his side and ran a hand through his hair. “Actually, there is something. The other day, you said something about love being hard, and needing a lot of maintenance.”

“Yeah,” Lex nodded, bending down to pick up some new stones. “Great stuff.”

“I don’t think that’s right.”

“Oh, really? Are you the love expert?” Lex snickered.

Clark gave his friend’s shoulder a shove. “Obviously not. But I asked my mom–”

“Oh, goodie–”

“Shut up, will you? Listen,” Clark sighed. “I asked my mom, and the first thing she said was that she wasn’t the least bit surprised to hear about all this. Which made me feel incredibly stupid. But then we got to talking, and I told her about Lana. Y’know, how I always admired her, and wanted to make her happy. But when I got to thinking, I realized how hard that was, and it wasn’t even reciprocated. What I’ve been feeling for her all these years has been at my expense, hasn’t it? I’ve just been getting myself hurt over and over, and for what? To prove I could love somebody long enough it might wear them down? She never loved me back, but man, did she lead me on. That relationship is hard, and it took more work than I think was fair. And I wouldn’t call that love at all. I would just call it… I don’t know. Codependency, or… something.”

Lex straightened up again, pausing before tossing a rock over the water. “So, you think you never really loved her?”

Clark rubbed his eyes. “It’s hard to say. Maybe there’s a difference between loving someone and loving someone.”

“That’s actual gibberish,” Lex grinned. 

“Maybe it is,” Clark groaned, shaking out his arms. “But you know what my mom asked me? Because I told her I was confused, right, and maybe it was possible I did have feelings somewhere deep down. She asked me, ‘Who makes you feel sure?’ And when I really thought about what that could mean, it sort of… all opened up.”

“Meaning?”

“All I ever did when I was around Lana was doubt myself. I pushed too hard, or worried too much. I would change how I acted and what I cared about for her. I second-guessed my every move.”

Lex stifled a laugh of agreement. “Oh, I know.”

“But with Cap, I can’t think of a time when I wasn’t sure.”

“Like, you never doubted anything?”

“Never. I trust her with it all. We could always talk, no matter what it was about, and she thinks I’m funny when I know the joke is bad, and she never once did anything to make me feel like I needed to change, or feel differently about something,” he muttered. “When I’m with her, I’m not thinking about what I should be doing or who I need to be to make her happy. Everything just feels easy, and when she leaves, I wish she would stay. I always felt that way, even when I was hung up on Lana. Like, when she leaves, nothing is the same anymore.” He wasn’t sure when Lex began staring, but he was well into it now. “What?”

Lex blinked at him, and said it plainly: “Dude, I think you love Cap.”

Clark stared back, and wondered if that was the look of surprise he sprouted when you had confessed a couple weeks back. He nodded simply. “I think maybe I always did, but because I thought love had to be hard, I never knew it.”

Lex looked back out over the water and asked, “Do you think we fucked you up, man? All of us, with all these dysfunctional people?”

Clark managed a smile and took a stone from his hand. “I don’t know. Maybe. All I know is that she never did. And now I wish I could just go back and see it all from the start, and do it right this time,” he admitted, “she must be scared. We haven’t talked.”

Lex nudged his elbow. “You heard her before– I think she’s just fine. You’re the scared one, buddy. So, I think I have to ask again– what are you gonna do?”

“I think I’m gonna tell her.”

“How?”

Clark really smiled this time, and he watched his stone skip eight times. A record. His number, too. His number… “I have an idea.”

THE DO NOT LIST

Rule #4: Always be one step ahead

When you went to the last pep rally of the year, you did it alone. Chloe insisted you were still welcome to sit with your friends in the bleachers, but ever since the night at the lake, the others have been avoiding you at all costs. You would be better off without the stress, and you didn’t want to make them more uncomfortable either– their pettiness was beyond your ability to help. So, you sat down front by yourself, near the gate. You were only there for Clark anyway.

It was a lively night. The weather was warm and dry, and the sun was just cresting over the stadium seats. All of the Smallville teams were making their entrances across the field, receiving their praises for another year well-played. This rally was a send-off for the seniors who were graduating, and so it was always the brightest, loudest, and most populated event of the year. The eldest members across the field were tossed around atop strong arms, painted in the school colors; the marching band blared their instruments loud in vaguely familiar pop renditions; the teachers and coaches took their time calling awards and honors into the microphone, giving everyone their chance to stand in the spotlight before the curtain closed at graduation in three days. It was a sweet thing to see, and now that it was Clark’s turn, there was no way you’d miss it, even if you guys hadn’t talked yet. He won the championship for the school, after all, and he worked harder than anybody on that team this year. He deserved his flowers. 

You sat through soccer, field hockey, wrestling, and every other team on the list before they closed the night out with the long-awaited senior varsity football players. The stands roared as Clark’s teammates rushed the field, and you saw him holding up the end, carrying a duffel bag. Props, you figured, and you clapped as the coach took the microphone. 

“Let’s hear it for our championship winners!” The coach rumbled, and the floodlights gleamed as the stands rallied. 

The players were bustling around Clark, right on the fifty yard line. You could barely make his mop of hair out in the commotion. You watched suspiciously as the coach smiled and raised a hand. 

“Now, I think we’ve seen enough awards and hubbub for one night, how about you, Smallville High?” As he received an affirmative cheer, he divulged, “Our varsity players chose not to take their sendoffs this year in favor of pulling together for one standout senior alone. They’ve put together a little number for you– haven’t you, boys?”

As the coach swiveled to address his players, they all scattered from the center of the field and lined up– in tutus and tiaras. You let out a shocked laugh as Clark emerged in the center, wearing a crappy king’s cape over his shoulders to complement the red jersey underneath, #8, and a plastic gold crown on his head. He strode forward to take the microphone and shoo his coach off the grass. You sat in utter confusion– Clark hated public speaking. What in the world was this about to turn into? Out of curiosity, you turned around and glanced up the bleachers toward Chloe, who was beaming like she knew a secret you didn’t. She winked at you and pointed back at the field. You turned again, stomach suddenly dropping. 

Facing the crowd of friends and family who would certainly never let him forget this as long as he lived, Clark raised the mic to his mouth and said, “How’s it going, Crows?” Another roar shook the field, and his laugh fluttered through the speakers. “All of us seniors have been so lucky to play and win for you, so thank you for all the support tonight. But we have a little problem. While everybody else on this team is ready for the future, I still have one problem to solve.”

You shifted in your seat, heart pounding. Clark stopped to scan the crowd, and you saw how his eyes searched above, where he expected you to be with the others. When he couldn’t find you, his voice cracked: “Cap, are you here?”

All that echoed in your head was, Holy shit. Without missing a beat, you stood up and braced the fencing in front of the stands. “I’m over here!”

At the sound of your voice, Clark’s lips turned up. You knew that face. He was up to no good. His eyes finally fell on you, all the way at the edge of the bleachers, and he beckoned you with an open hand. “Would you please come down to the field?”

The stadium erupted in sound, every voice cheering you on as you fumbled through the gate and walked onto the mushy grass, knees wobbling. You forced yourself not to look at the crowd, or else you’d spook and run. You weren’t even halfway into the green when the speakers began blaring a song which stopped you in your tracks. The soft trumpets crooned in a decreasing arpeggio, and you felt blood rush to your head and fingers and toes, all at once. 

“You know I can’t sing to save my life, but I seem to recall you having a favorite movie scene,” Clark began, stalking closer. The sparkly seniors behind him began moving in sync, displaying poorly rehearsed dance moves. “Where Patrick sings to Kat in the stands, making up for being a complete idiot.”

In the crowd, you heard muddled voices joining in: Pardon the way that I stare, there’s nothing else to compare…

“Everyone, this is Cap, although you might know her as the valedictorian, or the president of the literature club, or the debate team, or the Torch writer,” Clark gestured to the audience, who waved their happy hands. “She is my very best friend. My oldest friend. The only girl in my life who loved me when I was the worst person to love, and the one girl I never learned how to give it all back to.”

Rules For When You’re Confused So You Can Figure It Out Fast

Clark’s Third and Final Rule: Do what will make the ones you love happy

Clark held out a hand, and when you took it, yours was trembling half as bad as his. He was pink as the setting sun sky above, and his eyes glistened as they gazed down at you. People were starting to buzz in their seats as the trumpets picked up. He carefully tucked your hair away with the microphone-clutching hand, and he spoke for everyone to hear. “I’m sorry it took me so long to find the right words to say, but I wanted to do it right. And I wanted to be sure that you knew I meant it. Is this public enough?”

You laughed weakly, trying to swallow tears. The color of your eyes gleamed like little planets, drawing him in by force. So familiar, and as beautiful as the day he met you in the sandbox. You nodded without a word. 

“Good,” he grinned, voice shaking. “I wanted to say that I hope you can forgive me for everything I’ve put you through, and that there’s nobody in the whole world that is more important to me than you are. I’m an idiot, baby, but I love you. I have always loved you, only you, even when I didn’t know it, and I’ll embarrass myself in public like this every day until you believe me.” 

He would not have thought a town could be so loud if he did not hear the evidence for himself. The force of their cheers nearly shattered his eardrums– Frankie Valli washed over the field like a spell, and everybody was teeming in the stands, awaiting your answer and trying not to burst into song too soon. His teammates were leaping around you, calling out words of encouragement. As mortifying as all this was, they were willing to give up their last chance at small-town fame for him to make this moment special. He would have to find some way to thank them later.

You stood stock still, trying to gather the facts. He saw your gears turning. He imagined the inside of your brain, hearing your analytical voice which always made him laugh inside his own head. What he did not know was that it was then you realized your rules would not serve you anymore; because no matter how this played out, there was absolutely no way for you to be ahead of the curve. Clark had beat you at your own game. All there was left to do now was surrender.

“So?” he asked.

As he tipped the microphone against your lips, you managed a soft, albeit meek, response: “I believe you.”

I believe you, you said. It sounded a whole lot like I still love you.

Clark let the equipment fall to the ground as the pep rally broke out of control, people bringing the party to the grass like nothing could stop them now. You were jostled around until Clark wrangled you into his arms, and before you had the opportunity to ask why he did all this, he was cupping you by the cheeks and pressing his lips to yours. Your ears ached from the volume and your body shook in the crowd, but his mouth tasted like red Gatorade and he smelled like the blue 3-in-1 body wash in his bathroom, and his arms around you did not feel new at all, but like every other hug you had ever shared. He loved you just as you loved him all that time, and you knew it because nothing felt different at all, except that you were free. Free as a bird, and easy. That was the word. Easy.

You hadn’t yet lost your hearing, though, because his words were crystal clear against your lips. “I’m sorry for everything,” he repeated, “take me back?”

You giggled like an exploding star, bathing him in light. “I never let you go.”

You were about to kiss him when you paused, remembering the last rule. Wait– 

THE DO NOT LIST

Rule #5: Avoid conversations about Lana Lang AT ALL COSTS!!!!!!!!!

......

But then he was kissing you again, and you found the rule still held up. You couldn’t talk about Lana Lang with a mouth full of love. You’d bring it up later, after you ripped the page out of that notebook and threw it away. She didn’t matter. Nothing mattered but you and him. 

You felt Clark rest the plastic crown on your head, and he tucked his face into your neck, squeezing you so tight you could pop. “It’s always been you.”

You laughed as your feet left the ground. As Clark spun you on the fifty yard line, you clung to the crown and teased, “You think?”

˚₊‧꒰ა❤︎໒꒱ ‧₊

THE DO NOT LIST

Rule #1: Never, and I mean never, tell Clark how you feel

Rule #2: Never tell anyone else either

Rule #3: Do not talk about him when he is not there – friends will snitch

Rule #4: Always be one step ahead

Rule #5: Avoid conversations about Lana Lang AT ALL COSTS!!!!!!!!!

Rules For When You’re Confused So You Can Figure It Out Fast

Clark’s First Rule: Be honest with yourself

Clark’s Second Rule: Be honest with others