#Single Review: Sin

[5ummit]

AO3 Ship Stats: Year In Bad Data

You may have seen this AO3 Year In Review.

It hasn’t crossed my tumblr dash but it sure is circulating on twitter with 3.5M views, 10K likes, 17K retweets and counting. Normally this would be great! I love data and charts and comparisons!

Except this data is GARBAGE and belongs in the TRASH.

I first noticed something fishy when I realized that Steve/Bucky – the 5th largest ship on AO3 by total fic count – wasn’t on this Top 100 list anywhere. I know Marvel’s popularity has fallen in recent years, but not that much. Especially considering some of the other ships that made it on the list. You mean to tell me a femslash HP ship (Mary MacDonald/Lily Potter) in which one half of the pairing was so minor I had to look up her name because she was only mentioned once in a single flashback scene beat fandom juggernaut Stucky? I call bullshit.

Now obviously jumping to conclusions based on gut instinct alone is horrible practice... but it is a good place to start. So let’s look at the actual numbers and discover why this entire dataset sits on a throne of lies.

Here are the results of filtering the Steve/Bucky tag for all works created between Jan 1, 2023 and Dec 31, 2023:

Not only would that place Steve/Bucky at #23 on this list, if the other counts are correct (hint: they're not), it’s also well above the 1520-new-work cutoff of the #100 spot. So how the fuck is it not on the list? Let’s check out the author’s FAQ to see if there’s some important factor we’re missing.

The first thing you’ll probably notice in the FAQ is that the data is being scraped from publicly available works. That means anything privated and only accessible to logged-in users isn’t counted. This is Sin #1. Already the data is inaccurate because we’re not actually counting all of the published fics, but the bots needed to do data collection on this scale can't easily scrape privated fics so I kinda get it. We’ll roll with this for now and see if it at least makes the numbers make more sense:

Nope. Logging out only reduced the total by a couple hundred. Even if one were to choose the most restrictive possible definition of "new works" and filter out all crossovers and incomplete fics, Steve/Bucky would still have a yearly total of 2,305. Yet the list claims their total is somewhere below 1,500? What the fuck is going on here?

Let’s look at another ship for comparison. This time one that’s very recent and popular enough to make it on the list so we have an actual reference value for comparison: Nick/Charlie (Heartstopper). According to the list, this ship sits at #34 this year with a total of 2630 new works. But what’s AO3 say?

Off by a hundred or so but the values are much closer at least!

If we dig further into the FAQ though we discover Sin #2 (and the most egregious): the counting method. The yearly fic counts are NOT determined by filtering for a certain time period, they’re determined by simply taking a snapshot of the total number of fics in a ship tag at the end of the year and subtracting the previous end-of-year total. For example, if you check a ship tag on Jan 1, 2023 and it has 10,000 fics and check it again on Jan 1, 2024 and it now has 12,000 fics, the difference (2,000) would be the number of "new works" on this chart.

At first glance this subtraction method might seem like a perfectly valid way to count fics, and it’s certainly the easiest way, but it can and did have major consequences to the point of making the entire dataset functionally meaningless. Why? If any older works are deleted or privated, every single one of those will be subtracted from the current year fic count. And to make the problem even worse, beginning at the end of last year there was a big scare about AI scraping fics from AO3, which caused hundreds, if not thousands, of users to lock down their fics or delete them.

The magnitude of this fuck up may not be immediately obvious so let’s look at an example to see how this works in practice.

Say we have two ships. Ship A is more than a decade old with a large fanbase. Ship B is only a couple years old but gaining traction. On Jan 1, 2023, Ship A had a catalog of 50,000 fics and ship B had 5,000. Both ships have 3,000 new works published in 2023. However, 4% of the older works in each fandom were either privated or deleted during that same time (this percentage is was just chosen to make the math easy but it’s close to reality).

Ship A: 50,000 x 4% = 2,000 removed works Ship B: 5,000 x 4% = 200 removed works

Ship A: 3,000 - 2,000 = 1,000 "new" works Ship B: 3,000 - 200 = 2,800 "new" works

This gives Ship A a net gain of 1,000 and Ship B a net gain of 2,800 despite both fandoms producing the exact same number of new works that year. And neither one of these reported counts are the actual new works count (3,000). THIS explains the drastic difference in ranking between a ship like Steve/Bucky and Nick/Charlie.

How is this a useful measure of anything? You can't draw any conclusions about the current size and popularity of a fandom based on this data.

With this system, not only is the reported "new works" count incorrect, the older, larger fandom will always be punished and it’s count disproportionately reduced simply for the sin of being an older, larger fandom. This example doesn’t even take into account that people are going to be way more likely to delete an old fic they're no longer proud of in a fandom they no longer care about than a fic that was just written, so the deletion percentage for the older fandom should theoretically be even larger in comparison.

And if that wasn't bad enough, the author of this "study" KNEW the data was tainted and chose to present it as meaningful anyway. You will only find this if you click through to the FAQ and read about the author’s methodology, something 99.99% of people will NOT do (and even those who do may not understand the true significance of this problem):

The author may try to argue their post states that the tags "which had the greatest gain in total public fanworks” are shown on the chart, which makes it not a lie, but a error on the viewer’s part in not interpreting their data correctly. This is bullshit. Their chart CLEARLY titles the fic count column “New Works” which it explicitly is NOT, by their own admission! It should be titled “Net Gain in Works” or something similar.

Even if it were correctly titled though, the general public would not understand the difference, would interpret the numbers as new works anyway (because net gain is functionally meaningless as we've just discovered), and would base conclusions on their incorrect assumptions. There’s no getting around that… other than doing the counts correctly in the first place. This would be a much larger task but I strongly believe you shouldn’t take on a project like this if you can’t do it right.

To sum up, just because someone put a lot of work into gathering data and making a nice color-coded chart, doesn’t mean the data is GOOD or VALUABLE.

[monst]

Day 2: Temptation!

Spit roast | Dick Grayson

Warnings: 18+ content (MDI) Female Reader, Spitroasting, Oral. M receiving Strangers, Hair pulling, Exhibitionism, Slight voyeurism, kinda free use, Deep throating, V. Masturbation, Praise, He calls you pretty, and Unsafe sex. 

WC: 1.9k

    His limbs ached. His muscles were taut, strained from a long day at both jobs. Honestly, he was craving a shower, his blankets and pillows. Maybe a quick dinner before? He was still setting up his plan when he reached the metal grate of the fire escape. He scaled down the steps to his floor, he was just about to pass his next-door neighbor's window. Mind whirling with thoughts of the quickest ways to undo all the traps on his… He stared at the street lamp ahead. 

    No. He was seeing things. Surly? He let out a breath, muscles relaxing as he backtracked a few steps to make sure he wasn’t hallucinating. Because his neighbor, his shy, sweet, and unassuming neighbor was not doing what his eyes saw her doing. Back at his neighbor's window, he didn’t even have to squint. The breath was knocked out of him, his translucent reflection on the pane showed him the widening of his lenses. 

     Dick thought you were cute. You know in the girl-next-door type of way. Attractive in the sense that when his friends would come over they’d mention ‘Your neighbor’s hot’. Hot wasn’t the word that came to his mind when you’d knock on his door to give him mixed mail, a bashful smile on your lips. Adorable fit you best. Pretty if he was being honest. But, right now. Right now you looked downright sinful. He felt his throat dry at the sight before him. Shame threatening to turn him away only for your salacious moans to draw him back in like a siren to a sailor.

     He wondered if you had a boyfriend. But the way you were fucking yourself onto your dildo had him reviewing all he knew about you. As far as he was aware you were single and in quite desperate need of some Dick. Or maybe he was the one who was in desperate need of something warm and tight. It’s probably why he hadn’t looked away. His eyes were rapt with attention, and his intense gaze focused on your toy's glossy sheen. The way it disappeared between your slick folds. Pressing deep and hitting all of the best spots, he assumed. At least it looked like it was. 

    Your hands were on your knees, your brows furrowed in pleasure as you pressed back against the slippery cock. The suction cup keeps it firm against the wall, allowing you to cry out with every reckless grind. Oh, his friends were right, you were really hot. Or was sexy the better word? Your complexion was glistening due to effort, your lips soft from being bitten, and your alluring eyes were calling out to him. No, not for him his thoughts supplied and guilt threatened to bubble up but your hands left your knees to knead at your breasts. The soft tissue moves in tandem with your thrusts. Hypnotic. 

    You probably felt amazing with how well you were bouncing on the silicone. He could tell. You were definitely someone who just needed it bad. Was he projecting? Was it getting hotter? He could feel the tight material of his suit strain against his bulge. His dick cubbing up faster than he could think. Oh, All his blood flew south for the winter that’s why he couldn’t think. Think? What was there to think about anyway? Your moans were muffled through the glass. He wondered if the thin walls would allow him to hear you clearer. Surely you wouldn’t mind him using your voice to get off. He’d prefer to use your pussy or maybe your mouth since your greedy cunt was busy squelching against the thick dildo. He’d have to make do with your voice and his memory. 

     It was just his luck that your eyes met when he began to move his feet. Your lidded gaze stopped him in place, your fucked out face more enticing now that you were focused on him. He felt the first tendrils of remorse, but before they could lap at his brain you were opening your mouth. His jaw dropped. His slutty neighbor had just invited Nightwing inside. He wasn’t thinking straight, he wondered if you were when you asked him if he ‘Wanted to come in?’ Why should he deny one of Bludhaven’s citizens his help? …He did lock the window for good measure. 

    “Look at you.” He breathed. Eyes raking down your form, you moaned beautifully for him as you continued to hump the blue toy. He ran his fingers down your sweaty forehead, trailing down the side of your face to your lips. He barely had a moment to trace them when you took his fingers into your mouth, your tongue curling around the digits lasciviously. When you finally release him, the blue of his fingerstripes are glossy. His breath stutters out as he holds them to the soft lamp light. 

     His teeth catch his bottom lip as he takes you in, his cock throbbing in time with your needy pants. You whine up at him, tears lining your eyes as you stare at the large print of his cock just out of reach. His palms cup your face, the rough pads of his gloves tilting your head up. “You’re so pretty.” He hums. “You like that? Being called pretty?” 

      You moan in approval, your hand making a grab at his muscular thighs. He’s staring at your lips, entranced with how your saliva makes them shine. He throws his head back when you press your palm down on his hard-on. God, it’s been so long. He lets you mouth at the waterproof fabric, your pink tongue pressing against him. The cute kitten licks you give him through his suit leave his brain empty. But sadly the material doesn’t allow him to feel it and he’s swiftly remedying that. Years of muscle memory help him quickly undo the top of his suit. 

     He steps forward once the material is just under his perky ass. You waste no time in pressing your face into his jock-strap. Your hot tongue runs up the protective cup. His fingers thread through your hair and he pulls you back gently by your roots. Your eyes are hazy he notes.  “You're just cock-hungry aren’t you?” He coos. 

     “Please” You gasp. He shudders, lava swirling in his veins as he takes in your utterly fucked-out expression. The way you lick your swollen lips, teary eyes crossing to stare down at his crotch. He hears your pussy squelch against the toy and lets you have what you’re craving. Your pretty eyes blink up at him in thanks he assumes. Your fingers make quick work of the strap and he sucks in a breath when you let the meat of his cock rest against your face. 

    “Jesus.” He huffs. You were really something. He committed the sight to memory allowing your scorching tongue to run up the length of his shaft, the pink muscle curls underneath the head, flicking up to lick his slit. “Mhm fuck, Got a mouth on ya” 

    You hum, the vibrations shooting up his dick, electric shocks going up his spine and tensing his back and tightening his balls. Your nails dig into his thighs as you pull him closer. The wet kisses you leave down the sides of his cock let his grip on your hair turn lax. He purrs when you trail down a vein. Breath hitching when the wet heat of your mouth closes over his right ball. He whines when you release him. He feels your left-hand grip onto the material of his suit while your right comes to squeeze the flushed base of his cock. He was quickly coming to the conclusion that he wasn’t going to last very long.

      You wrap your pretty lips around his head and take him in. He’s trying not to buck into you, but you seem to take more of him with each bob. The grip he has on your scalp stops you from taking him any further. Nightwing’s brows furrow when he slips from your mouth. He meets your cute glare with a confused frown. “I wanna choke on it.” He wonders if you heard his breath catch. 

     “Can I?” You ask sweetly, your hand pumping his slick cock. 

     “Of course.” He grins down at you. He briefly wonders if your thighs are sore, but when the head of his cock reaches the apex of your throat he drops the thought. He feels your hand leave his cock in favor of clutching onto the hard muscles of his butt. He hears you gag and his eyes roll back. His hips buck, more of him sliding down into your throat. He enjoys the flex of your throat before he feels your preemptive retreat and his grip on your hair tightens. He holds you till you settle “Good girl keep breathing through your nose for me.” 

      He’s greedy. He knows it when he sees the two inches of his cock still sitting out of your slick mouth. “Can you take more?” He pants “All of it.”  And, when your nose is finally pressed against his pelvis his hands smooth over your hair 

    “Doing so good for me.” He purrs. When he pulls his hips back you try to chase him. He laughs. “Not going anywhere baby, gonna fuck your hot mouth like you asked” 

     When he thrusts back into your mouth he’s greeted by your rolling eyes. Drool drips down the corner of your lips and onto the floor as he fucks your throat. He feels you whine and his hips stutter. His thrusts are pushing you against the dildo harder, at an intensity you hadn’t managed. He’s barely allowing you air and your dildo is pressing right up against your sweet spots. His fingers scratch at your scalp as he snaps his hips into your face. His salacious moans echo over the wet paps. 

      He’s close, and god you're so pretty. Your teary eyes drip as much as your pussy as he abuses your throat. Your lashes are clumped together and he's got a nice view of you grinding down on the toy. Slobbering all over his cock like a good fucking girl. Shit! The fact that you're getting off to this as much as he is... He groans, his eyes rolling as he spills into your mouth. It hits the back of your throat hot, thick, and copious and it spills down your bruised lips. He’s got to do this again with you. 

     Nightwing feels you swallow, your body trembling as you clench down on the blue toy, your sloppy pussy gushing onto your floor. “Fucking beautiful” He whimpers. Your knees weaken and he’s too stunned to catch you. “Oh! sorry.” His fingers brush your tears away as you come down from your high. The rough pads of his gloves were surprisingly gentle against your face. And when you finally sit up he speaks. 

    “Sorry, I didn’t warn you.” he hands you the glass from atop your dresser. “It’s been a while.” He adds. You take slow sips, your hazy eyes watching as he slips his suit back up his scarred body. Once he’s done he beams down at you. You’re caught off guard when he helps you up from the floor and begins to clean up. You can’t see his eyes when he comes back to wipe the slick from your thighs and pussy and he’s grateful for it because suddenly he’s parched. 

   “Do you mind if I come back some other time?” You nod happily a smile on your blissed-out face. Dick matches your grin, he’ll come back to his senses soon- 

    “Yeah, but bring your own condoms” Your voice was shot.-But not now, Hnnng would he be pushing it if he asked for one more round? He’d return the favor no problem! His mouth was cotton just thinking of it. Your drippy cunt quenching his thirst!? He’ll ask.

Kinktober2024|Masterlist

[incarnadin3]

How Obey Me Brothers realized they were in love with MC: Part One, Lucifer

A/N: This idea was in my brain for a while so I decided why not write it? Also, am I the only one who writes well in their head but struggles to write it on paper??? Like wtf should I yap on here.

Lucifer: The Mighty Firstborn

Since Lucifer was the first born, all the major responsibilities were naturally given to him. From paying bills, and managing Mammon's spending, to ensuring the House of Lamentation was running properly, it was quite a lot for the Avatar of Pride.

But his pride refused to let him show weakness, instead working himself overtime to stay on top of things, which often led to him burning himself out, like today.

Mammon had somehow managed to steal Lord Diavolo's card and spent a hefty amount on gambling. While the Prince seemed unfazed, perhaps even a bit amused by the ordeal, Lucifer had been livid.

After lecturing and tying him up to the ceiling as usual, he had been working through a stack of papers, ranging from letters from angry witches demanding their money back from Mammon, to debts that had to be payed because of his greedy brother.

As the moon rose higher in the sky, the stack of papers did not seem to lower, towering over him, waiting to be reviewed.

Even though it didn't outwardly appear that Lucifer loved his brothers, at heart, he really truly did.

Which was currently the reason why he had Mammon's homework in front of him, one of the many he had forgotten to do in his haste to go gambling.

Lucifer sighed, scribbling in the answers, wrinkling his nose ever so slightly at the messy handwriting. Mammon wasn't one to have good handwriting, and if Lucifer wanted to pretend that Mammon was the one who wrote in th answers, he had to copy his handwriting.

As soon as he wrote the last few words, his pen instantly slipped from his fingers, and his head dropped forward onto his desk, and he was knocked out cold.

The next day, as he discreetly slid the homework papers into Mammon's bag before the teacher began to collect them, he realized that in his haste to do Mammon's homework, he had forgotten to do his. Him, Lucifer, Avatar of Pride, the Mighty Firstborn, the one who never missed a single assignment, was about to get berated for not doing his homework.

He tensed up as the Teacher approached, nodding approvingly as she took Mammon's homework, then held out her hand expectantly at Lucifer, wait for him to hand in his homework.

"𝘐…𝘥𝘪𝘥 𝘯𝘰𝘵 𝘥𝘰 ��𝘩𝘦 𝘩𝘰𝘮𝘦𝘸𝘰𝘳𝘬…."

"𝘌𝘹-𝘦𝘹𝘤𝘶𝘴𝘦 𝘮𝘦?"the teacher stammered, staring at him as if he head sprouted two heads.

He merely sighed, his head dropping as he heard Mammon snicker in the background. Suddenly he heard another voice intervene.

"Teacher! Lucifer did do his homework! I accidentally took it thinking it was mine!"

Lucifer just stared in surprise, confusion, and shock as you gave an embarrassed smile, holding out the homework, his name written across the top. He watched as the teacher glared and lectured you on not stealing other's homework and passing it off as their own, even if it was by mistake.

As the class continued, he could barely focus, as he noticed you place a comforting hand on his thigh, occasionally squeezing it in comfort as they continued their lesson. As he finally began writing his notes in for the class, a small note suddenly got slipped into his hands.

We all appreciate your efforts, especially your brothers. You are truly amazing for doing what you did. We love you -MC

Lucifer couldn't help but blush slightly, a few tears at the corners of his eyes, as he reread each kind word.

He looked sideways at MC, who was ever so focused on their notes, thoughtfully chewing their bottom lip as the worked. It was at this moment that he realized that he truly loved you, and would be willing to kill for them.

After Lilith's death, it was as if no one wanted to appreciate his efforts. True, his sin made it harder to express himself, but his brothers refused to even try to understand him or appreciate why he did what he did. But today, seeing you go out of your way to appreciate him, made him realize that maybe, just maybe, there was some happiness in store for him.

[milswrites]

A thousand roses

~ Cassian X Fem!Reader

Summary: Every day you curse the books that gave you unrealistically high expectations of men. Sure you were going to be single forever until you meet Cassian. Adamant he wants to take you on a date, Cassian does his best to impress.

Warning: ⚠️ Reading this may give you unrealistically high expectations of men ⚠️

Actual warnings: Lots of sex talk and inferences to sex but no actual smut!

“And then he made her orgasm three times! Three! The last guy I was with didn’t even manage to squeeze one out of me!”

Upon finishing your latest read, you just couldn’t help but give a very detailed review of exactly what you thought about it to your co-worker. A packed cafe in Velaris during the middle of the day was probably not the most appropriate location to shout about your sex life, but you just had to share how the smut filled pages had left you more satisfied than any man had ever done.

Jadis snorted into the steaming hot tea she was drinking, liquid spilling everywhere, “I’m telling you girl, you just need to get out there, kiss a few frogs to find your prince. I don’t know how many more of your smut reviews I can take. It’s not natural to be this turned on at work.”

You hummed in response, fingers absentmindedly brushing over the pages of your book, “But that’s the problem. I’m too picky to go for a frog!” You blame the hundreds of books in your library at home for that, millions of perfect fictional men literally at your fingertips. “Real men just don’t do it for me anymore.”

This statement was confirmed as you miserably scanned your eyes over the customers in the cafe, none of the males present seeming to stick out to you meet any of your self-imposed standards. You only had yourself and your books to blame for your lack of a relationship.

“I’m just never going to find anyone! Forever reading in my house wishing I was at the mercy of one of my book boyfriends” you sighed, not wanting to seem downhearted but you just couldn’t help it. Velaris just so happened to be a haven for beautiful relationships, everywhere you turned you’d see interlocked hands, affectionate hugs and the occasional heated exchange of kisses. You could only wish that one day you’d be in the same boat as them, overwhelmingly in love with someone who you could call your own. There’s a reason the night court was so affectionately called the court of dreams.

Jadis reeled in your wandering mind, “Well darling, I hope you enjoy forever fantasising about sex rather than having it. I for one can’t wait to take Mr. Tall, Dark and Handsome for a spin.”

She was referring to the moderately attractive male who had asked her out the other day during the preparation of his morning coffee. In your opinion, it wasn’t the most romantic scene. Though Jadis hadn’t been on a date in a long while and so in her own words she was going to implode if she didn’t get a good fuck in soon. So who were you to judge.

The bell above the cafe door twinkled, ending the conversation about your book and pathetic love life. Your eyes travelled to the cafe entrance and stopped when they landed on the biggest male you had ever seen. The Illyrian walked through the door, having to duck his head and draw his wings in to fit through the much smaller frame. His presence in the cafe was enough for you to lift your head from where it was sat in your palm, interest peaked.

There was no doubt that this Illyrian was one of the most attractive males you have ever seen. His long brown hair was pulled back messily into a bun. You didn’t normally like the rough, slightly barbarian-esque type, typically preferring your males to be more clean-cut. It was clear this man didn’t look like most males. No, he looked as if he had just stepped out of one of your deliciously sinful smut books.

He began to approach the counter, his body taking up so much space that he bumped into tables, displacing the drinks of customers who were grasping at the mugs and glasses to try and prevent them from spilling at the earthquake caused by this ginormous man. He apologised to each of them as he moved but kept his eyes locked ahead. Locked on you.

Your friend, noticing the effect this man had on you, spun around and immediately started acting as if she was busy with another job, leaving you to serve him in your hypnotised state.

“Just a coffee please love” he said, pulling you from your stupor as he finally came to a stop at the counter. Mother, even his voice was hot. It was resonant and also bore the twinge of gruffness which left goosebumps on your arms in its wake. There was no doubt everything about this man oozed pure sex appeal. You were too mesmerised to move, brain not registering that he had asked you to do your job. Instead, like a besotted fool, you stayed stood behind your counter, feet rooted to the ground.

“You alright there gorgeous?” The unbelievably good looking male asked, roguishly handsome smile growing on his face, clearly aware of the effect he has on you. This spurred you to move, the stacked cups surrounding you rattling at your sudden movement. “Coffee! Right. Yes, of course!” Managing to squeak a few words out, you turned around to busy yourself with making the coffee, hatred in your eyes as you glared at Jadis who left you stranded making coffee for this very handsome man who’s looks alone were doing very strange things to you and making you think very indecent things. Jadis, undeterred by your glare, wiggled her eyebrows at you, grin stretched across her face, beaming from ear to ear.

With shaky hands, you finish up with making his coffee and without turning around, afraid you’d accidentally start professing your undying love to him if you did, you ask, “any sugar?”

His honey coated voice replies, “No thanks, I’ve already got my eye on something sweeter.” You ignored the sight of your friend’s head snapping speedily to look at you in glee. Heat burning across your cheeks, you turn back to face him, avoiding the man’s eyes.

Hands still shaking, you place the coffee in front of him and wait for him to pay. The sooner he leaves the sooner you can gossip with your Jadis about him and moan about your inability to act normal in front of incredibly attractive men. He pulls out the money from his pocket and places it on the counter, pushing it towards you, but before you can take it from him he drags it back in his direction, finger holding it in place. “How about you and I go out together sometime sweetheart? You’re obviously desperate to.”

At this, the lovesick fog that had been swimming in front of your eyes since this man had entered the cafe dissipated. Rose-tinted glasses off you noticed that the smile that adorned his face was more of a cocky smirk. His confidence and tone of voice told you that he asks this question a lot and most likely always gets the answer he desires. It was clear this man wasn’t the personification of one of your book males come to life. He was just another playboy.

Not wanting to just be another name on the list for this man, you slid the money out from under his hand, sickly sarcastic smile on your face, and said, “I think I’ll pass thanks sweetheart.”

The males smirk promptly fell from his face in shock, clearly not expecting, nor used to rejection. He sputtered out a few buts and whats, flirty demeanour forgotten, a slightly pathetic butt-hurt one taking its place. This was definitely a man not used to losing.

“Have a nice day!” You enthusiastically, and very satirically, finished this interaction before walking away to busy yourself with clearing some now empty tables in the cafe. Wings hung low in defeat, the man at the counter left the cafe, bell ringing as he exited. This surprised you, having expected him to put up a little more of a fight, but nonetheless you were glad that it was over with. Cursing yourself for falling for just another pretty face, standards forgotten.

“What?!” Your friend screamed running over to you, grabbing your shoulders and shaking you vigorously as if you had lost all senses. Unafraid of scaring off the customers who still sat in the cafe, some clearly entertained by the whole event which had transpired. “Do you know who that was? Oh Y/N he was totally into you! Why did you say no?”

“Because he was looking at me as if I was a piece of meat! And no, I have no idea who he was and unlike you I don’t go jumping on every stranger who asks me out at work” You brushed Jadis off of you and started taking the dirty glasses back behind the counter to be washed, your friend hot on your heels not wanting to finish this conversation just yet.

“That was Cassian!” She continued, expression as if it should have been obvious to you who the Illyrian male was. “Good for him” you replied, no idea why it should matter to you who he was, clearly if Jadis and the few interested by standers in the cafe knew who he was he had quite the reputation in Velaris. Surely that mustn’t be a good thing.

“Cassian? Lord of bloodshed? General and Commander of the Night Court’s army?” She continued, seriously not convinced you could have absolutely no idea about him.

You snorted, “I’m sorry, no one actually has that many titles unless they’re from a book… or if they just have a very large ego”.

Jadis groaned, hands fisting her hair in exasperation, “Y/N he’s like totally hot and totally loaded and super important! And he was so checking you out!” You could tell all this was upsetting your friend who was most definitely hoping you were about to get some much needed action, but all you could do was shrug, “I’m sorry babe but I’m a romantic, it’s going to take more than pet names and a stupidly attractive face to gain my interest.”

Giving up, Jadis dropped her hands from her head in acceptance, disappointment clear on her face, “I know, but don’t come running back to me to complain how unsatisfied you are when that Illyrian god was basically throwing himself at you.”

After the topic of the male was dropped, your day continued as normal, whilst Jadis had promised not to bring it up again but you couldn’t help but notice the angry glances your friend kept throwing your way during the last few hours of your shift, distressed that you had let a man go who had seemed perfectly acceptable in her opinion.

At the end of your shift, in an attempt to get her to understand where you were coming from, you slid your book towards her, “Here. Read it and then maybe you’ll understand what I mean.” She picked it up, looking at the cover eyes bulging at the title, “Bound in chains? Really?”

“Trust me, sit down with a large glass of wine and read it. You’re going to love it!”

With that the two of you locked up the cafe, book secure in Jadis’s bag. You said your goodbyes at the door and headed your seperate ways, all thoughts of the handsome man from earlier in the day long gone. Upon your arrival at home, you wandered to your favourite room in the house, your library, wanting to select a new read to cosy up with for the evening.

Approaching your shelf that you reserved exclusively for books you had bought but had yet to read, you pulled one out by its spine, eyes glancing over the cover. The cover which bore the image of a large, well-muscled man, whose long brown hair flowed freely over his shoulders. Eyes blowing wide and blush returning to your cheeks you shoved the book back onto the shelf. Thoughts drifting back to the Illyrian with the same looks who had been flirting with you earlier. Maybe you’d be better off reading a safe fantasy book tonight. Or better yet a book that had no man in at all, although that would be a rare find in your library.

~~~~~

“I am a changed women”

Returning to work the next day, you were greeted by Jadis smiling, bouncing up and down on her feet, and holding your book in her hands.

“I take it you liked it then?”

“Liked it?”Jadis squealed, “it was like reading pure porn. I loved it”

You laughed along side her, of course Jadis would read an entire book and focus on the porn rather than the actual plot of it.

“Truly I did,” she continued, rushing about and gathering her things, “and I would love to stay behind now my shift has finished to talk about it but I have to go home and get ready for Mr Tall, Dark and Handsome, maybe tonight I can try out some of those moves I read about!” She winked at you, handing over your book before rushing out of the cafe with an excitable “Wish me luck!”

Work had been very quiet today, allowing you time to sit and read your newest book. After finishing a simple fantasy last night you were left unsatisfied by the lack of enjoyment it provided when it came to the physical romance. Needing more, you had selected one of the filthiest books you could find.

Engrossed in the pages, plot thickening by the minute, you were absorbed into the book. Only to be broken from its spell when the familiar chime rang of the bell rang out, signalling a customer had arrived. Rushing to finish the page before they reached the counter, your eyes flew over the words before you finally reached the end of the page. Enabling you to look up from behind your book only to see Cassian standing before you, lips formed into a cautious smile. As if unsure of how you’d react to his presence after yesterday.

“Coffee?” You ask, eyebrows raised, placing your book down before standing up from the stool you were sat on behind the counter.

“Please if you don’t mind, but don’t let me stop you from finishing ‘Fated Frenzy’… cauldron do women really read books like this?” Cassian exclaimed, picking up your book and flicking through the pages, holding it out of reach so you couldn’t snatch it back.

Clenching your fists together as you glared at him you replied, “well if only men knew how to actually please a woman then we wouldn’t have to.���

“Maybe you just haven’t found the right man then,” Cassian mumbled, focus still on the book that was dwarfed in his large hands. He must have reached a particularly risqué part as his eyes widened slightly, tongue peaking out from between his lips. Now as he spoke, reading from your book, he wore a large grin, “I mean not every man has a cock that looks as if it was sculpted by the gods themselves.”

You scowled, now managing to take hold of the book grasped in one of his large hands and snatched it back. “I’ve certainly never met a man like that” you replied as you slammed your book back onto the counter and moved off to make his coffee so he could leave you to read in peace.

“Don’t want to check sweetheart?” He teased from behind your back, clearly trying to get you as flustered as he had managed to yesterday. Pleased at your banter. Not wanting to give him what he wants, and definitely not wanting to turn around to see his stupidly handsome smirking face looking back at you, you replied from over your shoulder while you were busy finishing his drink, “it doesn’t take a fool to know the spymaster has a larger wingspan. Now his I’d like to see.”

You heard the catch of his breath, causing him to choke on air at what you had said, clearly not expecting your confident retort, and not saying anything at the discovery you do indeed know who he is all thanks to Jadis. Cheeks stretching into a grin of your own at his embarrassment, you turn and place his drink in front of him. Unlike yesterday, Cassian didn’t even attempt to reach for his money before asking, “Please, let me take you out somewhere nice”.

Your smile dropped, head shaking slowly, “What classes as nice in your books? Other than a quick fuck behind the back of the building.” This comment made Cassian’s eyebrows knit together, not happy with the impression you had of him. “What will it take for you to understand I’m serious? That I want to take you on a date to get to know you.” He sounded earnest you’d give him that.

“I don’t know ok! I just know that I’m not going to say yes to a man I don’t even know who asked me out while I was just doing my job.”

He stretched out his hand, trying to meet yours which was resting on the counter but you pulled away before any contact could be made. “I want to get to know you, if you’ll let me. Likes, dislikes, good bits, bad bits, everything.”

“I- I don’t know Cassian, I just don’t think this is going to work.”

“What will it take?” He begged, eyes desperate.

“For you to be like one of them” you said, nodding your head towards your book.

“An overly sexual alpha male?” He said, confused as to what you were actually referring to. This made a small laugh escape from your lips, “No that’s just a bonus. I’m sorry Cassian, I just dream about being swept of my feet by a man that acts like one of them. Romantic, sweet, not asking out every other woman they see.”

“I can be romantic” Cassian said defensively, “I can be incredibly romantic”

Wanting to get this interaction over with you decided just to agree with him. “I’m sure you can Cassian, no doubt there’s a very lucky woman waiting for you somewhere”.

You weren’t sure it was possible for his brows to furrow any more than they already were, “I’ll prove it to you. Prove that I’m all in on this. You’re the most beautiful woman I’ve ever laid eyes on and I’m not going to let you go that easily.” Determined look plastered on his face Cassian grabbed his coffee and walked towards the door pulling the it open, bell chiming, and before he stepped outside he called back to you, “I’ll see you soon gorgeous, you better be ready for me” and with that Cassian left, the cafe silent apart from the bell still ringing, the sound helping you realise that Cassian was real and that interaction did actually happen.

It was only five minutes later, when your wild thoughts were tamed by another customer entering did you realise that Cassian never even paid for his drink.

~~~~~

“Y/N!” Cassian shouted bustling through the tables to reach you as he entered your work once more. Shock flooded your system, he had learnt your name from when you last spoke to him two days ago. After causing a ruckus, and spilling many drinks onto poor unsuspecting customers laps, he reached the counter where you were stood waiting for him.

“What are you-“ you started angrily, worried he would scare away valued customers. Though you were interrupted by Cassian whose arm, which was hiding behind his back, shot out revealing the largest bouquet of flowers you’ve ever seen.

He held them out expectantly, waiting for you to take them but your suprise had you rooted to the spot. Familiar with your freezing by now, Cassian impatiently shook the bouquet in your face, movement bringing your thoughts back to the present. Still not taking them, not quite believing something so beautiful could be gifted to you, you spoke, “They’re lovely Cassian but you just cut right in front of Matilda who was here first!” Cassian’s features faltered as he dropped the bouquet in disappointment.

Matilda , the lovely little old fae who frequented your cafe, leaned around Cassian’s broad figure so she could see you, “it’s alright Y/N! Take the damn flowers and talk to the man!”

Cassian thanked the older women and stuck out the flowers once more. “For you,” he said encouragingly, willing you to accept the gift, “I told you I’d prove myself to you. I’m here for a date.” By this point you had been stood there for a ridiculous time causing your Jadis to stretch her arm past you and grab the flowers smirking as she says, “Thank you Cassian, they’re beautiful, Y/N loves them. Lillies are her favourite, how did you know?” Winking as she walked off with the bouquet it was clear Cassian has been getting some insider information from the mouth of your best friend.

The Illyrian nodded his head at your friend gratefully and you finally rediscovered the ability to speak, “Thank you, but if you’re here for a date I’m sorry I can’t help you, this is my work Cas, I have to do my job.”

“Pfft bit presumptuous I’m here for a date with you”

At that your face fell slightly before you quickly returned you expression to normal, not wanting Cassian to know his words had an effect on you. Surely he wouldn’t bring you flowers just to have a date with another woman in your workplace. Was this some twisted way to try and make you jealous?

Flirty expression on his face Cassian adjusted where he was stood and flung his arm around Matilda who began to blush, “Have to find out everything I can about you from my beautiful date Matilda here! One coffee for me and one of whatever my darling date would like” he said, making Matilda giggle before asking for her usual. Relief flooding you body, your lips twitched and you began to make their order, “my, my, Matilda. I have to say I expected better in your taste of men”.

“Woah woah no need to tell her,” Cassian joked, “don’t want this hot commodity to leave me for something better” he finished, winking at Morgana who looked as happy as if it was Solstice morning. Grabbing the finished drinks you had placed before him, he headed to a table, coming back once the drinks were down to walk Matilda to her chair, but not before placing his money on the counter, saying, “Moneys there for the other day by the way, I’ll speak to you later.”

Cassian must have sat talking with Matilda for hours, watched closely by you from the corner of your eye as you worked, customer after customer coming and going. Finally when the rush had died down and your shift was coming to an end, the two who had been huddled together gossiping over more than a few coffees, hot chocolates and cakes stood to take their leave. Or more accurately, Matilda was taking her leave. Cassian had said his goodbyes bending down to give Matilda a big hug and then scooped their empty plates and cups into his arms before walking towards you.

There wasn’t enough time for him to place the items down on the counter before you watched as Matilda lay a firm smack to his backside before giggling, “I’ll see you later hot stuff.” Lucky not to break any cups, Cassian jumped, flying forwards and dropping them all onto the counter before you, eyes terrified.

You couldn’t help but chuckle, placing the cups the right way up before checking on the male, “you alright there hot stuff?”

“Oh don’t even start. That woman’s got one strong slap” he whined, hand rubbing his ass to relieve some of the pain.

“Don’t act like that’s not how all your dates end” you goaded, cheeks twinging at the effort to stop yourself from bursting out laughing.

“Trust me gorgeous, if any of my actual dates ended like that I wouldn’t be complaining” he winked at you, all the while pulling a napkin out of its holder to help you clean his mess from the counter.

As you watched him clean, you couldn’t help but admire the way his brows slightly furrow when he’s concentration, noting the way his focused mouth tilts to once side, tongue slightly poking from between his lips. He was handsome there was no denying it.

“Will you walk me home?” You blurted, snapping your mouth shut and internally cursing yourself for asking such a ridiculous thing, digging yourself into an even deeper hole you continued, “it’s only that the flowers you got me are so big… and I have all my other things…and…uh..”

“Y/N, I would love to walk you home”

“Great! I’ll just um, go and grab my stuff”

You turned, heading towards the cloakroom, only to be met by Jadis, bag and bouquet in hand. She shoved them eagerly into your arms squealing, “go get him girl!” Hands pressed against your back, she forced you to move forwards until you were in front of Cassian, “don’t have too much fun you two” she said now guiding you both from the cafe, tripping and stumbling over each others feet as Jadis’s excitement led to some very firm shoving.

~~~~~

Once outside in one piece, no thanks to Jadis, Cassian plucked the flowers from your arms allowing you to swing the strap of your book-filled bag over your shoulders. Timidness now overcame you, what were you supposed to say to him now? Had asking him to walk you home seemed too desperate?

“So what are you reading now? Not another book about a poor sexually frustrated female?” He asked, breaking your panicked thoughts as he walked side by side with you.

“No sex this time,” you giggled lightly, “this one’s about a man who sacrificed his kingdom for his true love”

“You really like that stuff huh?” Cassian spoke softly to you, he sounded like he was truly interested in finding out exactly how your brain worked, “that true love and romantic gestures shit?”

“It’s not shit” you defended, “sometimes it helps me not feel so alone. Reading about all these grand gestures and things people do for the ones they love.”

Cassian cleared his throat awkardly, his hand which was not holding the flowers moving up to scratch at his head, “and you’re into that? Romantic gestures?”

“It’s hard not to be. Pretty sure it’s every girls dream to be swept of their feet and fall as deeply as characters do in books.” Cassian was nodding along to what you were saying but his eyes showed he was lost in thought. It was your turn to draw him from his head, “you never done anything romantic for your ladies Cas?”

His name on your lips seemed to work, the clouds of thought in his eyes fading as he turned his gaze from the road ahead to you, “I guess I’ve normally always thought that just me is enough”. He didn’t say this to be cocky or narcissistic, you could tell. You didn’t mean to make him feel shame over the situation, you had been genuinely curious. Perhaps a little jealous at the thought of Cassian putting in just as much work into chasing other women as he has been with you.

“That’s ok. I think romance is more reserved for the pages of books these days than in actual reality”

Not a fan of where this conversation had turned to Cassian did his best to lift the mood, “I’m not surprised you think that if all your books were like that one I caught you reading. Heck where are you meant to find a overprotective god of war with who hates everyone but the lowly daughter of an inventor and they go on to have insane - and totally not physically possible by the way- sex!”

You scrunched your face, “Cassian there’s no way you were able to get all that from one page…Oh cauldron! You read the book! You read Fatal Frenzy!”

As if only now realising what he said to you, a flustered Cassian tried to provide you with lame excuses as to how he knew that information until it was clear you weren’t going to let it go. After about five minutes of listening to your constant prodding, poking and teasing as you walked, Cassian caved, “Fine! Fine, I read it ok. I was curious as to how he was going to put his god level cock to use!”

By this point you were full on cackling, having to stop your walking to put a hand on your stomach at the thought of this mountain of a man sitting down to read a devilishly smutty book. “I have to say”, you gasped out in-between giggles, “I’m surprised you can even read”.

Cassian acted out the most overdramatic reaction to your words, his hands flew to his heart, bouquet still in his grasp, and released loud, exaggerated noises of pain and cries of just how horrible you were. People had began to stop in the street, wondering why the Lord of Bloodshed was acting as though he had just been shot. Rolling your eyes and wanting the attention off the two of you, you elbowed his side prompting him to stop, “careful you’ll crush my flowers if you die any wilder.”

Charming grin of his face, Cassian looked down at you, “we wouldn’t want that would we? Not when a super hot guy went through the effort of finding out your favourite flowers for you.”

“You’re crazy” you said in dismissal, continuing to walk in the direction of your home.

“Your kind of crazy?” A hopeful tone in Cassian’s voice.

“I haven’t quite decided yet” you said honestly. You couldn’t deny that Cassian was already proving himself to you more than any man has. No one had ever bought you flowers before and no male had ever attempted to read a book you were reading for your attention.

“Well you just let me know when you do” Even the way Cassian looked at you made you melt.

“You’ll be the first” gentle smile on your face. Nerves building in you once more as you thought about what going further with the man next you you would entail.

Content to let you walk lost in your thoughts, Cassian didn’t try to force any conversation. A natural peace fell between the two of you, the silence not an awkward one. It wasn’t until you neared the outside of your house that you broke the silence, “Well, this is me”.

Nodding Cassian passed you the bouquet. For the first time you looked at the flowers and really admired them, admired the fact this man had gone out his way to go to your friend and make sure he got your favourite ones.

“Thank you Cassian,” you said, laying a kiss onto his stubbled cheek, “they’re beautiful.”

Cassian’s usual confidence gone, it was his turn to blush. Shyly, he tried his luck again, “so about that date?”

You walked over to your door, pulling out your key, turning back to Cassian, twinkle in your eyes, you said, “ask me again tomorrow”.

“That wasn’t a no!” He said, confidence rushing back into him. As you entered your house and peaked through the window behind your curtains you couldn’t help but watch Cassian, beam on his face, as he jumped on the spot. A small celebration that you hadn’t fully rejected him once more. A matching grin on your face as you observed him, you stayed watching until he took off from the ground, large angelic wings spread, wondering what in Prythian was this man doing to you and what sinful things you’d like to do with those wings.

~~~~~

You were sorely disappointed over the course of the next week. Since that evening Cassian had walked you home to the cafe he had not returned. Jadis tried to keep your thoughts positive, saying he was probably away on important Night Court business, being the General of its army and all. After being the one to speak to Cassian about you she was adamant that he was undoubtedly in love with you and he wouldn’t leave you hanging.

It was hard though, when the eighth day of his absence rolled round, not to think that he had found someone more interesting to pursue. Someone who didn’t make him work as hard for their affections. Your mood was so glum that you didn’t even have the heart to read. Why read about love when you’re not sure you believe in it anymore?

You had spent days wondering what you had done wrong. Had you been too forward? Or did he find your obsession with males that weren’t real a little too bizarre? You did your best not to dwell on it but it was so hard not to, the flowers you had placed in a vase on the side table in your library, right next to your reading chair, still flourished beautifully, a constant reminder of the man who crashed into your life only to leave it in shambles.

So here you were, sat on the stool in the cafe, your thoughts being the only thing to keep you busy due to your sudden lack of interest in reading. It had been another quiet day, but it wasn’t long now until Jadis would arrive, you had opened the cafe for her after she asked for a favour so she could spend the night at Mr. Tall, Dark and Handsome’s, who’s name you had learnt was Arthur. Happy that even if your love life was crumbling, at least Jadis’s was blooming. However, you were thankful you weren’t actually supposed to be working today, not sure if you could survive another shift listening to her unintentionally boast about how perfect Arthur was and how good he is at sex.

So you sat there and waited for her arrival, desperate to go home and crawl into your bed. Without your typical reading to do, you found yourself spending most of your free time sleeping, wasting away the hours you didn’t know what to do with yourself in.

It was finally an hour after the time she had promised to be in for, when Jadis flew into the cafe, bell ringing aggressively at her sudden entrance. Running to where you were at the counter, coat and bags in hand, she was profusely apologising over and over for her tardiness.

“You must have had a good night with Mr Handsome” you teased, trying not to let your slight annoyance at you still being here show. Confusion flashed across her face before she quickly corrected it in realisation, “Oh yeah! Totally great sex, every woman’s dream. Hugeeee dick.”

Opening your mouth, ready to ask her about her odd behaviour, she pulled you from your stool before you could talk. Dragging you out from behind the work area, saying “Come on Y/N it’s your day off, don’t want to be here any longer than you have to be!”

Now you defiantly knew something was off, Jadis typically keeping you an hour in-between shifts to catch you up on everything that has happened since the day before. “Jadis, what’s going on?” You asked cautiously, had something happened between her and Arthur? No. Jadis would definitely tell you if that was the case, or maybe she just didn’t want to make you any more depressed than you already were. Still in that strange tone of voice, Jadis kept pushing you to leave, “Nothings wrong! I’m fine. Now leave, you still have the whole day to do something, go read one of your smut books!”

This confirmed she was definitely hiding something, knowing that you haven’t picked up a book for the past week after listening to your incessant complaining about the matter. If you weren’t so desperate to leave and go rot in bed for the rest of the day you would have stayed and forced whatever it is she was hiding out of her. You decided that was tomorrow’s job, when you had a nice six hour shift together where she couldn’t avoid your pestering.

Shrugging on your coat and promising to yourself you’d find out what she was dodging tomorrow, you left the cafe. Turning your head around to look back through the windows only to be met with Jadis and her crazed eyes watching, as if making sure you were walking in the direction of your house. Unsettled, you followed the streets leading home, praying to the Mother that your friend was alright and you weren’t about to have to kill a man for upsetting her.

Finally, you arrived at your door, turning the key in the lock you were startled to discover the door was already unlocked. You were exhausted when you left that morning but you could have sworn you weren’t so tired that you’d risk your property and your safety like that.

Fear now coursing through your veins, you quietly pushed your door open, scared you would alert anyone in your house that you were there and something bad would ensue. The fae lights in your hallway were all lit, softly casting a warm glow over your home. You stepped inside, and instead of your foot meeting the usual plush of your carpet it was met with a slight crunch.

Casting your eyes to the ground you gasped. There were hundreds of rose petals scattered across your floor, leading towards each of your rooms. Following the trail, you made it through to the entrance of your living room, if your jaw dropped any lower you were sure it’d hit the floor.

The entire room looked as if it had been covered in a red blanket, a sea of roses covering the entirety of your room to the point where you couldn’t actually see anything that wasn’t a deep shade of red.

By this point your heart was pounding in your chest and you were sure you could feel your eyes watering, the hundreds of roses placed around you getting blurrier and blurrier. But there was no sign of the man you were sure had placed them.

Turning around you sped into each of your rooms, wanting nothing more than to find Cassian and throw your arms around him. Each room the same as the last, filled to the brim with the most beautiful roses. Lillies may once have been your favourite flowers but you think the kind-hearted man, who had wormed his way into your heart, may have just changed your mind. Roses were perfect.

Still no Illyrian insight you flung open the door to your library. Room decorated just as over the top as the others. And there in the centre of it all, sat waiting for you to return home, is Cassian. He stood quickly, treading on some of the flowers placed by his feet.

“How?” You asked, voice cracking as you tried to hold the tears at bay.

“It wasn’t easy, Jadis let me in.” Cassian said lightheartedly from where he stood across the room, too far from you for your liking, “I’m sorry I’ve been gone so long. I wanted to do this the day after we last spoke but I guess I didn’t actually think about the logistics of getting thousands of roses delivered.”

You stayed silent, heart overwhelmingly filled with love for the man before you, the man who had spent the past week getting a thousand roses just to ask you on a date. Taking your silence for something bad, Cassian began to ramble, “My brother Azriel - the spymaster - he helped too…I wanted to make sure it’d be done in time. It’s a mess I get it, I’m sorry, I’ll clear it all out for you I just-“

You cut him off, tears now flowing freely down your red hot cheeks, hands trembling, “it’s perfect Cassian. Nobody…nobody has ever done anything like this for me” At the sign of your tears Cassian made to make his way towards you but was stopped by the fact he just didn’t know where to place his foot without ruining all his hard work.

“Clearly I didn’t think this through very well” he mumbled, arms out to keep him balanced and preventing him from falling. Not wanting to spend a minute more away from him after having to suffer through a whole week, you ran, roses be damned right into his arms. Throwing yourself at his muscled body as he caught you, pulling you close to his chest in midair.

“You’re crazy!” you exclaimed, head tucked into his neck as you rested it on his shoulder.

Cassian placed you down gently, arms still wrapped tightly around your waist but he wanted to look into your eyes for this, “your kind of crazy?” His eyes held that same hopeful desperation that they had when he last asked you out.

“Hell yeah” and with that you grabbed him by the collar of his shirt and connected his lips to yours.

The kiss was like nothing you had ever read before in one of your books. It was everything and more. A fire ignited within you, burning hotter and hotter and you just kept needing more. Cassian the fuel to your fire and you were sure that as long as you had him with you it was a flame that would never die out.

It was a messy clash of teeth and tongues, both of you uncaring of how sloppily and uncoordinated were kissing. All you knew was you needed each other like the pages of a book needed ink. You kissed and you kissed, hands wandering until you weren’t sure which parts belonged to Cassian and which to yourself.

The need to breathe forgotten, you continued. Hands running over his back which was rippled in muscles before reaching around his neck, holding onto him tightly as he picked you up once more.

It was only when the need for air was so overwhelming that you had no other option to pull away that you did. Heads pressed together, lips still slightly touching, a trail of saliva linking the two of you together. Cassian continued to hold you in his arms as if you were nothing but a feather, catching his breath he finally began to speak, “So about that date then?”

You giggled, pulling him even closer to you by his neck and laying a soft peck on his lips before drawing away to give your answer, Cassian’s mouth chasing after yours, “If this is how you ask me, I can’t wait to see what you have planned for our first date. Hopefully you don’t ignore me for a month whilst you prepare.”

Barking out a laugh Cassian placed you on the floor of roses, holding your hands to ensure you didn’t stumble. He looked around the room, proud smile adorning his face, he first took in the roses which he had took so long in prepping, screaming at Azriel when he hadn’t placed them down as he had pictured in his head. His gaze then swept your shelves, hundreds of books upon them.

“Ever read about this in one of your books?”

“Nope this is definitely a first”

His eyes landed on the book resting on your table, right next to the vase full of lilies he had originally given you, title in gold lettering along the front of the cover. Fated Frenzy. The book he had read because of you. You laughed as you spotted what he was staring at, his eyes travelling back to you, running up your body with hunger before finally settling on your eyes.

“You into roleplay gorgeous?”

With those words he smashed his lips back onto yours. The promise of an exciting night ahead.

Here, standing in your library entwined with the Illyrian you decided all those characters you have read about were lacking in one thing you never even knew you needed.

They weren’t Cassian.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Notes: You have no idea how much I wanted to finish this fic with “And so Cassian did” lol

Happy Valentines <3

[destinationtrekk]

Well I've been going a bit... Unhinged lately; and the umbrella reader prompt gave me a few... Ideas

Umbrella reader who fell first for wesker? In the whole yandere-ish way? Like "I have an entire scrapbook dedicated to him" way???

oh man this is a good one. cut added bc it ended up much longer than i expected

you’ve been working at umbrella for a while, you’re no longer just a rookie assistant. You’re in charge of your own lab and techs, and they actually like you, which makes manipulating them a lot easier

everyone knows who Dr. Wesker is. And i mean everyone. There isn’t a soul in the building, in the entire company, who doesn’t either shiver or scowl at his name. He’s umbrella’s golden child, after all, especially since Birkin went and got himself killed.

he is not known for being friendly, but he was never cruel to you, at least. Nowadays he’s out making deals and monsters so his time in the actual labs are rare, so every moment you see him is like a miracle from god.

you notice everything about him in these days. The cut of his trousers, how much gel is in his hair, which pair of sunglasses he’s wearing (no one except you even realizes he has different pairs - seven of them, to be exact). You even count his breaths when you’re both in the same lab and one of the assistants is pissing him off (he actually breathes slower when he’s angry, like it takes every ounce of focus to keep his composure)

this is when you think things might be getting out of hand. You’ve gotten yourself into quite a situation. You’re thinking about him constantly - in traffic on the way to work (he drives an unmarked, pristine black sports car), when you’re hunched over your desk working (he actually wears headphones when he’s using a microscope, you noticed he doesn’t like the sound of the slides clicking), when you’re cooking dinner (he never eats during his shifts, and he scowls at anyone who isn’t using a napkin in the break room) - even when you’re showering, all you can do is remember the smooth scent of his air when he walks past you.

you’re certain you know everything about him now. Even his cologne. A few weeks ago he leaned over your shoulder to correct one of your equations, his voice quiet and void of any emotion, and before he stepped away you got a solid breath of his expensive cologne - subtle, woodsy, deep, intoxicating. You went home and spent half the night looking up the undertones of every single obscure cologne you could find, because no way was it cheap or popular, until you found what you think was the right one

(you order it and a week later, you’re elated to find you were correct. Now your entire bed smells like him)

you make your move on a Tuesday. The entire lab had been whispering about annual reviews, Wesker would be conducting them himself since the other supervisors were busy. A few weeks earlier you had seen his coffee cup in the trash and memorized his order (ew, but you had big plans) and you had left a perfect cup of coffee on his desk before he arrived, conveniently walking past him in the halls just a few minutes later and flashing your most charming smile. He actually smiled back

later that day he leaned over your shoulder again, mouth brushing your ear and hand next to yours on your desk, and his voice was pure sin.

“My office, Doctor, three o’clock. I think we have a few things to discuss.”

needless to say, the two of you are inseparable after that

[sorcerous-caress]

Bad at sex | Sorn Orlith

[ Smut, crack treated seriously, AFAB Reader ]

I am not sorry, enjoy.

There you stood, in the middle of the twin's room as you took in the decorations that clearly resembled the underdark. They had a certain charm to them despite how on the nose they tend to be.

"Now, how do you want to do this?" With his arms crossed and a sinful smile on his face, Sorn waited patiently in front of you amidst the various mushroom covered walls.

You know what you came here for, it's why it was so easy to depart with the hefty sum of 500 gold.

Taking a step closer, Sorn looked at you with tantalising half lidded eyes as he straightened his posture, putting his full lean body on display to entice you.

With confidence that rivalled the gods, you spoke. "missionary with the lights off"

Sorn's sexy facade fell as he stared at you, it was a reaction you had anticipated.

What you didn't foresee however, was how it was almost instantly replaced with an air of passion and excitement as the biggest grin crossed his face.

"Oh you don't know how long it's been since I got to do that." There was a giddy nature to his speech as he uncrossed his arms.

First night

"Like an old married couple" is the frame of reference you gave to him.

He played the role perfectly, as if it was his true calling in all those years.

Yes, it must have been his destiny to play the part of a very sexually unskilled husband. Judging by the limp grasp against your chest, not quite squeezing nor fondling, just sitting there and making you sweat the more it prolonged.

Or maybe it was the utter and complete ignoring of your clit, as if the poor thing never existed.

Your role as he put it, was to lazily lay on the bed and not contribute a single thing to the whole experience.

So you laid there, legs parted and arms free to not do anything, maybe pick at the stray lint from the pillows under your head.

It's barely been ten minutes and yet the cock pumping inside of you is still going at the same unsteady and uneven pace, not even a hint of rhythm to its movement as it simply plunged in and out of your hole.

You weren't even close to the beginning of the beginning of an orgasm.

"Oh kitten, yes!!" The drow above you moaned his heart out with every unfulfilling thrust, his face in utter bliss as he declared how bad you were at this, how this might just be the most boring sex he has ever had.

And just like how it suddenly began, it suddenly ended with a groan and an uncomfortable squeeze on your behind that wasn't sure of itself.

When he pulled out, he immediately collapsed next to you. Skin glistening with sweat as he seemed to beam and flourish in the aftermath of your joined flapping around in bed, there was a glow to his face and stray hair strands framed his face making it look even more angelic.

His eyes met yours, there was a genuine spark in them.

You could tell he had the time of his life.

As you left Sorn to regain his energy, you were handed one of those review pamphlets just before you exited sharess's caress.

"It's a performance review, you can leave some notes or a tip if it was more than satisfactory" you were told.

Night summary: 2.5/10, didn't orgasm. Will be coming back + 30% tip excluding tax.

Second Night

"First oral experience between a sheltered couple in a barn" was your frame of reference.

That's how you ended up on the uncomfortable floor with merely a few scattered plastic leaves to imitate the scenery.

Sorn had a determined look in his eyes, as he got on his knees in front of you and parted your legs, he took a second to study and observe your private parts.

…okay the second might have stretched on for a bit too long, a full minute of silent uninterrupted blatant staring was more accurate.

And from the faux confused look on his face, he was really doing the role justice.

Finally he reached down, no not with his hand or even finger, he dove in head first.

A spark of hope ignited inside of you at the sight of his eager tongue, maybe just maybe he'd accidentally brush your clit with it.

You closed your eyes and leaned your head back, as you felt wetness sweeping across your core.

Here it comes.

Sorn paid very close attention to your….Vulva.

You opened your eyes as the eager tongue seemed very keen on licking and stroking your exterior skin, not even taking an accidental dip into your labia or anything.

Just full on licking the outside of your pussy.

He avoided your clit, of course he did, even with his face buried between your thighs, he still held an unnerving amount of precision to his movement.

You played with his hair until he finished his meal, not in a tender and sweet way but in a "this is the only thing I can fiddle with right now" way. It was surprisingly soft, you made a mental note to ask him about what conditioner he uses.

When Sorn eventually came up, he was breathless with a deep hunger in his eyes, as if he just ate the best meal of his entire life.

"Kitten you spoil me so much" he groaned as he got up from his knees, his cock erect and leaking from the previous display of the lack of passion no doubt.

He continued. "Take my milk kitten, be bad and make sure to use lots of teeth, make my cock have the worst experience in a mouth ever."

You obliged. Mimicking his technique, your lips parted as you sucked onto the tip of his cock, accidentally bumping your front teeth against it on the first try.

His hand went down to stroke his cock, leaving very little space for you to actually take in your mouth as he successfully made this interaction the most awkward it could be.

You kissed the smooth tip, giving soft kitten licks at the shaft and teasing the opening slit with your tongue. It must have been too good for his liking because he pulled his cock away.

Should the disappointed look on his face at your bad performance at being bad in bed, be considered a compliment or an insult?

Ready to attune for your sins, your look of determination didn't go unnoticed by him as you pulled his hand away from his cock.

You took a deep breath.

Then fully enveloped it in your mouth, taking it all the way back to the base, forcing your gag reflex to activate.

In mere seconds you were a coughing mess on his cock. And from the goosebumps on his body you could tell he didn't enjoy the experience of having a jaw filled with sharp teeth contracting around his shaft.

Perfect.

When the urge to almost throw up was too strong to ignore, you pulled away and looked up at him.

He had a lovestruck look on his face as his cock was left ignored.

Night summary: 1.5/10, neither of us orgasmed, will definitely come back again + 40% tip excluding tax.

-

Chapter Two:

[insomniumstella]

spite her, spite me (7) | bucky x avenger!reader

summary: Steve’s silly joke happened to inspire the best, or possibly the worst, idea Wanda had ever come up with — send James Buchanan Barnes and y/n on an all-expenses-paid honeymoon in Hawaii. the problem? they cannot stand to be around each other.

warnings: enemies to lovers, forced proximity, explicit language, alcohol consumption, sarcastic!bucky, smut MDI

word count: 8,485

author's note: i cannot believe we reached the end — thank you for all of the comments and the love you've showed this series, it truly means the world! also, i don't know how the nsfw section stretched to be over 2k words and now i'm rethinking every smutty fic i've ever written

WHERE DREAMS GO TO DIE masterlist

series’ SPOTIFY playlist

“The dress is a bit much,” the sergeant’s eyes raked over her gown. 

The intricately beaded dress was black, and sensual, and outrageous, with a deep slit, which exposed most of y/n’s upper thigh. She might’ve seemed like an angel in devil’s clothing to those of unsuspecting eyes, but James understood better. The woman was a fallen saint, and as he committed the image to memory, he had decided that she was placed on this earth solely to tempt him in every way she could. Their story was never destined to be comforting, and easy, no, the story of James and y/n would always be difficult, complex, and shamefully sinful. 

“It seems Maui had been harsh on you, James,” she spoke, “otherwise you wouldn’t be here.” 

The cool touch of his metal arm brushed against y/n’s skin when he took a step forward, coming to stand beside her. It was bothersome, the closeness of his body as they observed the gala’s guests unsuspectingly dancing, drinking, or conversing about matters they had deemed important.

There was only a single matter on her mind y/n considered meaningful, and she had not seen him for the entirety of the night. Steve had been a nimble shadow, shaking hands with the leaders and first ladies of the world. 

“Perhaps, I was wrong,” the word felt foreign on his tongue, “and HYDRA ceased to exist.”

She angled her face to read his expression, but it was aggravatingly blank, “how’d you figure that out, Sherlock?” 

James noticed the sarcasm in her tone and nearly chose to ignore it, “reviewed some files, checked a couple databases,” possibly hacked into Sam’s iCloud to read the texts between you two. "Have any more theories you’d like to share?” 

She chuckled, then chuckled again from the bewilderment before breaking into a boisterous laugh; it couldn’t have been more disingenuous if she tried. “Why should I if the Winter Soldier will only trample on my ideas?” 

Though the dimly lit ballroom overflowed with chatter and soft sounds of jazz, a tense stillness settled between them. The looming threat of Steve’s assassination was not a time for games and stubbornness, and James was frustrated at the spy’s thorny attitude. 

“The Winter Soldier was blinded by bloodlust, but he’s ready to hear out his partner,” Bucky replied with a deep sigh, hoping she’d crack.

“Oh, we’re partners now?” The clench of his jaw didn’t go unnoticed, and she begrudgingly dropped the act. “Back when we attended Elijah’s yacht party, Mark was wary of you hence the fish tend to be vigilant around James comment. I might forget a name, but I always remember a face.” This time, she angled her entire body to face him. “Mark attended a gala in Germany a couple years prior, Steve had me monitoring the security cameras for hours then, and nothing was particularly interesting except for Mark and Wilfred Nagel’s unlikely friendship.” 

“Shit,” his flesh arm clasped around her forearm, “ Nagel’s the doctor CIA had recruited before he seemingly disappeared into thin air.” 

“Bingo,” she replied with a popping sound. “The accusations against Elijah, Mark’s presence on the boat, and the conversation between him and Wilfred months before Wilfred’s disappearance had me conceptualizing a theory of Mark and Elijah working alongside Nagel to produce super-soldiers.” A server boy approached the couple, and she promptly replaced her empty champagne flute with a fresh glass. “I’d assume Captain America would ruin those plans." 

“The theory’s still blurry,” James released the grip on her arm, smoothing out the invisible wrinkles of his black suit. “If they’re plotting to execute Steve, why wouldn’t they assassinate me as well?”

She drank him in — the sergeant’s black suit was made of satin, alike the dress shirt, matching her onyx gown. Perhaps he had willingly chosen to abstain from a tie, or perhaps, he had been too headstrong to admit she had been correct about HYDRA, subjecting James to a lack of time for elaborate preparations. She decided it must’ve been the latter, for Bucky had worn the outfit to a party Natasha had organized after the court had pardoned his crimes. 

“They could,” she agreed, “but they wouldn’t because you’ve been forgiven and have since retired, remember? The Winter Soldier enjoys a peaceful life away from criminals, Avengers, and fights.” 

“The sucker has a wife too,” James gawked into y/n’s eyes, and she tittered at his attempt at a joke. “She looks good tonight.” 

The glimmer in his expression she couldn’t understand.

She took a swig of champagne, peering at James over the flute for a single awkward moment too long, “was that a compliment?” 

“It should’ve been,” he pursed his lips together. 

James was allowed to feel frustrated, angry, and disappointed about y/n’s actions, he had decided after she had packed up and hastily abandoned the honeymoon. The woman had betrayed him by hiding significant information and biting her tongue on theories of HYDRA and its remains. Worse, she had fled Maui without as much as a goodbye, leaving James to sleep in the bed, angrily alone. Though his appetite had been ruined, he had chosen to order room service and watch terrible TV shows she had recommended to Wanda in the prior months. The sheets had been tainted with the scent of y/n’s perfume and lotion, a delicious blend of strawberry and vanilla. The Lovers’ Suite had been scattered with traces of her, and when he had ditched the room at last, deep into the night, even the beach had seemed to remind James of the bizarre yet pleasant memories they had shared. He wouldn’t have admitted it out loud, but he had begun missing y/n’s presence, prickly remarks, and the pointless arguments over the smallest of things. 

“Steve’s backstage," Sam’s voice was a muffled sound through the earpiece. 

She took a step forward, using Bucky’s body to shield herself from possibly prying eyes. “What about Mark Basso?” 

James paled at the closeness of their bodies, but remained professional, examining the ballroom of feasible threats. 

“I can’t find him, the dude’s been a ghost for the entire night, but,” there was a pause in his speech, “Elijah Williamson is backstage,” she could hear Sam drum his fingers on a metal surface, “they’ve been conversing for a good while.” A second passed before his words reached y/n’s ears once more. “Are you certain Mark’s appearance at the party is enough to incarcerate him?”

The woman recognized she should inform Sam of the situation without excluding certain details, and yet she couldn’t. If Sam understood the gravity of Elijah’s gala plans, he’d abandon monitoring the security cameras and would certainly place himself in danger to save the Captain. She needed the footage of the events that were to occur backstage, for she had already deceived James, allowing the soldier to believe HYDRA continued to exist. 

The eight months they had spent together, unraveling Elijah’s life, had been honest, on y/n’s part, but the last five days had not. James had pursued false leads and theories, and she had let him. Sam might punish her with a harsh lecture, move to live on Natasha’s floor or stop coming to Friday’s Tequila Nights at Barry’s if he discovered y/n’s incomplete truths, but it’d be worth it, for he’d be in the security room in case Mark had planned to delete the footage. James deserved peace, and she craved to ease his mind two criminals at a time. A former HYDRA officer and a corrupt politician behind bars was a good start to rid of the nasty organization and its remains. 

“The man’s a HYDRA operative,” she reminded, clutching James’ hand to lead him through the crowd of guests, “who just happens to be identified as deceased,” y/n maneuvered around people, dodging staff members and unsuspecting bystanders, “imagine the headlines and the public’s fear when it’ll get revealed the US government missed a dead man walking after the program to incarcerate security threats was implemented.” A corrupt program for a corrupt country. “President Ross would imprison Mark just to save face.”

The pair soon found themselves backstage. The stage was narrow much like the hallways, and though the space had plenty of overhead LED lights, it was painted a pitch-black color, and the confusing maze of corridors, entrances, and clothing racks seemed rather murky. She hauled James into the women’s bathroom and hurriedly locked the door. The soldier had seen women dragging men into bathrooms at clubs and parties. He was old, but he wasn’t dead — James understood what a couple would do in a bathroom together hence his confusion and reddened cheeks. 

She raked her eyes over his face, “we’re not having sex, Barnes.” 

“Is it because Steve needs saving or,” the smallest of smirks danced on his lips as James observed y/n step on the toilet to open a vent, “is it because you want our first time to be special?” Amusement colored his tone. 

She threw a miffed glare toward him before continuing to rummage in the outlet, “do you actually believe I burn with lust for you?” 

“Yes,” Bucky caught a pale yellow gym bag after she tossed it at him, “surely did during the honeymoon.” 

“We’ll always have Maui,” she smiled with faux sweetness, stepping off the toilet and on the sparkling white tiles. 

The smirk dropped from his lips at the comment because he had been open, honest then, and she just teased him about it. If time allowed for it, she might’ve apologized, guilt beginning to claw at her heart, but she ignored the strange emotion. 

“Sam,” she pressed a finger on the earpiece before squatting down to search in the sack, “James is with me,” y/n found an additional earpiece, standing up and taking a step forward to gently attach the gadget onto the soldier, “do you have eyes on Steve?” 

“Yes,” the Falcon murmured, audibly upset by Bucky’s presence. “James, hi,” he spoke through the intercom, “y/n, didn’t you say you'd leave the tin-man in Hawaii?”

“Obviously, I failed,” she replied, earning a soft smack from James on the shoulder, “when does the charity auction start?” 

“It should begin in fifteen minutes,” Sam spoke, inspecting the view on the monitors, “an incredible date with Amelie Barnes, a gorgeous New York City socialite, is fifth on the list to be auctioned, seven offers before the old-fashioned date with the handsome Captain America.”

She glanced up at James, studying his bewildered expression. “There might be a few things you’ve missed,” y/n grinned in faux innocence before promptly clarifying, "we needed access to the backstage areas. Do you have a gun?” 

“No,” James begrudgingly admitted, ashamed to have missed a crucial detail in his attire. 

The pair stood in front of each other without a sliver of space in between. She didn’t give herself a minute to think the action through, resting her hands on his chest as she hastily lowered into a squatting position to reach the bag. James sucked in a breath as y/n’s hands slid across the length of his body. She rested a single palm on his upper thigh for balance while she retrieved a set of pistols, but just before his mind had enough time to register the sudden stimulation, she arose, clutching his flesh bicep to steady herself. 

“Tuck it into the waistba—“

“Alright,” James interrupted her, “I’ve done this before.” 

She let go of his shoulder, taking a step backward. “There’s no need to be rude,” y/n shrugged. 

“I’m not being rude,” he rebuffed the comment, “just worried about where you’re planning to hide the gun.” 

A slight smile waltzed on her lips as she pushed the bottom of her gown aside, faintly exposing lacy onyx panties and a holster. James choked, once, at the obscenity of her response. 

“I’ve done this before,” she teased him, “sergeant.”

The charity auction had been a distant thought until she was standing on the stage with dozens of eyes upon her. She could hear the voice of the auction's host, describing the date she’d be forced to attend and the chatter of middle-aged men, hoping to secure the evening with Amelie Barnes, but y/n could only focus on searching for Mark in the crowd.

Nancy wouldn’t have lied to someone about Elijah and Mark’s wicked plans because the lawyer had zero motives to deceive a person she trusted. At least the woman hoped Nancy trusted whoever it had been on the other side of the phone because her whole plan revolved around Mark’s appearance at the gala. She’d never wish for Steve’s untimely death, but she did wish for the HYDRA operative and the politician to be caught on camera as they attempted to eliminate him.

“Let’s start the bidding at a thousand dollars,” the host announced, and she swallowed the lump of nerves in her throat.

A man on the left side of the ballroom raised his bid paddle. He seemed utterly too old to take y/n out on a date, and she shivered at the possibility.

The host beside y/n smiled, peeking at her. “We have a thousand, can we get more?”

“Two thousand!”

“Three thousand!”

“Five thousand dollars!”

She could barely register the number of voices, each interrupting the next to outbid the other.

A woman, close enough to the stage that she could see her face, raised the paddle. “Ten thousand dollars!”

“Ten thousand dollars for the woman in a green gown,” the presenter spoke cheerfully. “Amelie loves art galleries and tennis at The River Club of New York!” He encouraged the guests to aim higher. “The woman’s a real good company."

What the fuck did Sam tell them?

If she had ever thought that time spent in James Buchanan Barnes’ proximity must have been the worst thing the world could possibly offer, which she often would, she had been wrong. She was a spy, she had undoubtedly used her appearance to obtain certain information or opportunities on missions before, but the auction caused goosebumps to waltz on her skin — to be suppressed into an object, the perfect accessory for a date night, was one of the worst emotions she had ever experienced. 

James stood in the back, observing her panic-riddled expression. She had forgotten Tony’s credit card in Maui on accident, and though Tony would skin him alive if he spent as much as a dime on it, Tony and James had never been close buddies, so what further damage could his impending action legitimately cause if the damage of the two’s past had already been irreversible.

“Fifteen thousand dollars,” James raised the bidding paddle, grinning at y/n.

She stood on the stage perplexed at the sound of Bucky’s voice, frantically searching for his face in the sea of people.

“Ladies and gentlemen, we just got our highest bid of the night! Fifteen thousand dollars for the man in the back going in one, two, th-“

“Thirty grand for the man in blue.” A deep voice reverberated through the room.

She abandoned her search for James, locking her gaze on Mark. The spy had inspected the crowd once, then had inspected it for a second time, and the agent had not been comfortably sitting at a nearby table, peering at her through the top of his champagne flute. Mark must have sneaked in, which signified that either Steve was already dead or Elijah was waiting for Mark backstage, conversing with Captain America before commencing the plan of a brutal murder.

“Forty,” James challenged, studying in which direction y/n’s disgusted glance pointed.

“Fifty thousand,” Mark announced before the host had a chance to say anything, continuing to scrutinize her. The agent’s smile was cocky, overconfident, almost as if she was the victim and he was the hunter; as if he had discovered y/n’s deepest and darkest of secrets.

“Fifty thousand going in one, two—“

“A hundred thousand dollars,” James yelled, interrupting the ghost, and maneuvered to stand by the stage.

Silence settled upon the room at the sheer absurdity of his proposed bid. The truth was, the sergeant had spoken before he could think because the world, at that moment, had not existed outside the gala. She was standing on the platform, the glitter in her special lotion, as she’d describe it, glimmering underneath the fiery spotlight. She was clad in an opulent gown, dripping in pearlescent onyx beads and intricate patterns. She was reduced to nothing but an object in the auction, a good company auction's participants could purchase. 

She, the woman who’d never become a friend, for he’d always crave to be her lover. 

The spy averted her piercing gaze away from Mark and glanced at James. Concern was visibly displayed in his eyes, yet his grin, sweet and playful to steady her nerves, remained. A corner of her mouth quirked up, and she mouthed a silent thank you. James was attempting to outbid every person in the room to save y/n from a terrible date, and he was willing to do it in understanding that Tony would lecture, if not evict, him. 

The moment shattered as she returned her eyes to Mark, and her expression turned deadly. The spy might have played the role of an obedient, pleasant wife and woman on Elijah’s boat, but it was apparent he had acquired some kind of insight into who she verily was. It was useless to pretend she desired to be friends with Mark, a positively unsuspicious Elijah’s friend, who just happened to surprisingly specialize in foreign weaponry. 

“This is shockingly incredible,” the host trumpeted in amazement, pausing for a second, “a hundred thousand dollars for the man in the satin suit going in one, two, three.” Mark basked in the daggers she sent toward him, sipping on his second glass of champagne as James glided onto the stage, clasping y/n’s fingers in his gloved hand, and placed a chaste kiss on her knuckles. “The date with Amelie Barnes has just been sold to the guy in a lovely suit,” James and y/n exchanged amused looks at the host’s comment, “but don’t abandon your seats just yet ladies and gentlemen, because up next we have a cooking lesson at Daniel with the beautiful chef Olivia Stroud.”

“Thank you,” she softly acknowledged his sacrifice at the auction, "for what you did back there."

The pair hid behind heavy velvet curtains, a hairsbreadth away from each other, occasionally peaking through the crack to inspect the limited backstage area for Mark or Elijah. It slightly resembled a room suited for rehearsals, mimicking the layout of the ballroom and the stage on a lesser scale. The space was cluttered and messy, with tangles of cords littering the floor and racks of clothing lining the walls.

A date with Steve was the last to be auctioned before the break, establishing the perfect opportunity to catch him off-guard and without innocent eyes around to witness the gory sight of Captain America’s murder.

James smiled, shyly almost. “I couldn’t allow myself to watch and do nothing while creepy old men fought over a chance to spend time with Amelie,” he teased, adjusting a fallen strap of y/n’s gown, “my hatred for you doesn’t stretch that deep.”

Heat crawled up her neck and onto her cheeks. “Bucky, you are an old man,” the woman teased, “perhaps not creepy, but weird? Absolutely.” 

“I’m not weird,” he argued, suppressing a smile, “you eat ice cream with pickles for toppings.” 

False shock stained the edges of y/n’s expression, “it was one time, and I only tried it because Pepper affirmed it was the most delicious thing she had ever eaten.”

“Pepper was pregnant,” he reminded playfully, earning a light smack on the shoulder.

The two Avengers swiftly switched into vigilant agents at the sudden squeak of the door. It was Mark, who entered the room first, scanning over the area for unwanted people. Steve appeared in the room seconds later, an arm resting on Elijah’s shoulders as he vehemently laughed at something the politician had mentioned.

It would’ve taken a fool to miss the obvious problem at hand. 

Steve was seldom intoxicated. She’d know, for she had spent too many gatherings attempting to outdrink the man without real success. Thor’s Asgardian mead was deadly to mortals but pleasantly kind to gods and super-soldiers alike. Earthly alcohol, contrariwise, was harsh on him; the taste delectable, the effects on Steve’s modified human body meager. 

It abruptly struck y/n — guns signified blood, plenty of it, and an operative smart enough to fabricate files of his supposed status as deceased wouldn’t be reckless and leave a plash of evidence in the backstage area of a charity gala’s ballroom. 

“Good news,” Sam’s voice echoed in the pair’s ears, “I have eyes on Steve,” he paused briefly, “bad news, Mark Basso and Elijah Williamson are plaguing the Captain.”

James opened his mouth to speak, but she silenced him by placing a tender finger on his lips. “Sam, how closely were you monitoring the security cameras?”

It was a simple question she hoped the Falcon wouldn’t take offense to. 

He did. 

“I was observing the monitors like a hawk, y/n.” 

She refrained against an unnecessary comment and focused on the task, “and the video has audio?” 

“Yes.”

She took a step forward, closing the barely existent gap between them, “Elijah and Mark must’ve spiked his drink,” y/n hushedly whispered, circling a hand around James’ waist to touch the handgun she had provided. 

The pistol was securely tucked into the waistband of his trousers, and the sergeant cocked his head to the side. I’ve been on missions before, the glimmer in his eyes stated, and she could sense the early stages of his frustration, I didn’t accidentally drop it or nothin’. 

“At any point, did you notice Steve drinking a whiskey he had not ordered himself?” 

“Alright,” Sam clicked his tongue, “so I might not have an answer to that particular question, but I can say that Steve went into the bathroom twenty minutes ago, and his face seemed quite pale.” 

James placed a finger on the gadget, “did anyone accompany him?” 

“Yes, a line of beautiful ladies,” the Falcon responded, and James could nearly visualize Sam rolling his eyes in annoyance. 

The two men bickered some more, but she had tuned out the conversation, studying the scene onward. Everyone has a tell, y/n recalled. Though Steve’s words regarded lies and treacheries, the advice had not yet lost its meaning. It had been New Year’s Eve when she had gotten a nasty infection and had forgone Thor’s mead due to antibiotics. The compound’s residents had partaken in a friendly drinking competition then, and Steve had sworn the alcohol couldn’t exhilarate him, except his eyes had been droopy, and he had clutched James’ biceps for balance. 

Steve leaned on Mark, his laugh far less joyous than it had been before, so perhaps Nancy had been wrong, and they had not planned to eliminate him at the gala, but rather drug the Captain, sneakily transporting his unconscious body to a place, devoid of prying glances and curious endeavors. She wondered whether Elijah would linger in the room until the poison took its course. It’d be easier to carry dead weight, for Steve might fight against the operation.

The plan was meticulously calculated except for a single nuance. Why would the two men bring Steve into the backstage area in the first place if they could’ve used the narrow hallways and hidden exits to sneak out?

“We should slaughter Wilfred.” Mark spoke as if answering y/n’s concerns. “I specifically told Nagel he cannot be late.”

“It’s a slight blunder,” Elijah replied, oblivious to the surroundings, and the woman behind the velvet material, around him. Steve was barely awake. “We have Rogers and a bit of time before he’s supposed to appear on stage.” 

It was impossible to ignore James’ piercing eyes, and she hastily peeped at him. “Do we wait?” 

And she craved to have the correct response to his question, but, despite her usual confidence during missions, she didn’t have an answer. James had allowed her to lead, and she felt as if she was disappointing him, lingering behind a curtain as the Captain, a friend, clutched the very enemies they wished to incarcerate. The only thing y/n understood in great certainty was that Steve’s body couldn’t leave the premises of the establishment. 

“Did you see Mark or Elijah on the phone at any point in the night?” 

“Mark was a ghost,” Sam’s voice crawled through her earpiece, “but I distinctly remember Elijah in a heated conversation. The man arrived at the gala with his wife, presumably, and scuttled away into a lonely corner soon after, which I found interesting.” 

The former HYDRA operative’s phone dinged, and she lowered her hands to reach for the gun strapped to her thigh. Steve’s dormant body nearly hit the ground as he lost consciousness, and Elijah slithered his hands under Steve’s armpits to support the Captain’s weight. The woman’s heart clenched at the sight, of her confidante resting against Elijah’s chest like a heavy sack of potatoes, entirely unresponsive to the situation.

“Let’s move,” Mark clasped his ankles, and the unlikely allies hoisted Steve’s figure, “Wilfred messaged he’s awaiting outside.”

She could only comprehend Elijah's high-pitched shriek that rang in her ears, silencing the laughs, chatter, and footsteps sneaking into the space from the ballroom. James was the first to abandon the secure hiding spot behind the curtain, pointing his gun at the man, a stern expression on his face. A couple seconds passed before she trailed after him, shoving a pistol into Mark’s back as a threat. Steve’s body caused a harsh crash sound when it hit the ground, but she could only concentrate on Sam and the amount of time it’d take him to reach the ballroom backstage from the van parked outside.

“On your knees,” y/n instructed, firmly thrusting the gun against his skin.

The operative lazily raised his arms, making no effort to do as she had requested. “Amelie Barnes,” he chuckled, “what a stupid alias,” the situation didn’t afford contemplations on how he could’ve realized she was more than a homemaker, “though I must admit, I almost fell for the lovebirds' act by the way you two basked in each other on the boat.” Mark’s tone was tainted with smugness. 

Elijah landed a painful punch on James’ jawline, and he staggered back at the surprise of the action before he straightened up and kneed him in the stomach. 

She drew in a breath, “you’re wrong.”

The operative ignored the politician and the fight he seemed to be losing, “am I?”

She jabbed the pistol into his muscled back once more, hands quivering at the unspoken confession; it swallowed the room, knocking the air out of her lungs. “Get down on your knees,” she spat the warning.  

“A dozen names,” he snickered, “and not a single true. Mindy Phillips, Tara Marvin, Katherine Bailey just to identify a few.” 

“This is the last time I’ll repeat myself, get down on your fucking knees.”

“C’mon, y/n,” he spoke, lowering his arms a bit, “we can come to an agreement that’d satisfy both of us.”

She froze at the mention. The curiosity almost lured her into the biggest mistake she could make — playing along. “Elijah and HYDRA’s golden agent behind bars is the only agreement I’d be delighted about.” 

Mark suddenly turned around, grasping one of y/n’s wrists, and she clobbered him across the head with the hand that was clutching the gun. He wobbled, momentarily, before he tackled her to the ground, thighs resting on either side of her own, and gripped y/n’s wrist once more. The gun landed by her, and she writhed in his hold to reach it, but it was useless. Mark harshly pinned her arms above her hand, leaning in so close she could feel his disgustingly hot breath upon the skin of her neck.

He snickered, grazing the top of her ear with his lips, “we could’ve worked together,” Mark lightly nipped at the sensitive spot, “could’ve been a real good team.”

She found his eyes, amused and eerily hungry, and spat in his face, “fuck you.”

Mark laughed, but before he could sputter another comment, James was pouncing on the agent, resting his entire weight on him just as Mark had done to y/n, mercilessly pummeling the flesh of his upper body.

She averted her gaze from the bloody sight, searching for Elijah. The politician was sprawled out on the cement floor, by Steve’s feet, unconscious. A huge gash tainted his bottom lip, and purple had begun tinting his cheekbones. She glimpsed at James and the small cuts that adorned his handsome face; Elijah must’ve stricken a few great hits before the sergeant had stunned him cold.

Sam barged through the door. Besides the Falcon, she was the only person in the room without visible injuries, though her joints ached from the pressure Mark had used to clutch them.

“I called reinforcement,” he spoke, kicking her gun to a corner Mark couldn’t reach.

“Care to help?” Bucky’s teasing comment amidst a fight was almost comforting.

Sam rolled his eyes, joining James in the scuffle with the agent. She focused on Steve, crawling to his dormant body. Though it was dreadfully faint, his heartbeat remained. It was difficult to raise the top half of his weight, yet y/n succeeded, supporting his neck and shoulders as she inspected the back of his head for damage. She gasped silently, noticing that the blonde of his hair had been stained red. The split in his skin wasn’t deep enough to be profoundly alarming, but it'd require stitches. Speedily, she checked the time on his watch, creating a mental note, and lowered his figure to rummage in his pockets for a cell phone. The Captain’s head she placed upon her folded legs.

The woman’s fingers trembled as she typed in the emergency number. In the years they had worked together, never had Steve fallen unconscious, nor had he obtained a gaping gash in the back of his scalp. Elijah and Mark must've given him an alarmingly high dose of tranquilizer to knock the super-soldier out entirely, and she was scared.

The two Avengers had handcuffed Mark when the call between y/n and the local emergency service had ended. The operator’s voice has been soothing and calm, and she had turned the iPhone off feeling far more composed than she had been when she made it.

“An ambulance should be here in a few minutes.”

“That was quite dramatic,” Mark noted, a weak chuckle slipping past his lips, “Steve ingested sedatives, not poison.”

James placed a gun to his temple, and Sam planted a hand on the sergeant’s shoulder, “don’t engage him,” the Falcon advised, turning to y/n, “did you know?” 

She recognized Sam’s true question was did you know they planned to kill Steve?

“Yes,” she averted her gaze to observe Steve, “I’m sorry.” The spy was genuinely apologetic for hiding certain information. 

Sam drew in a deep breath, pursing his lips together, “why wouldn’t you tell me?” 

“I needed you to monitor the security cameras,” she answered truthfully, “I needed someone to transfer the footage into our database,” the explanation was honest once more, “I was afraid Mark or Elijah would attempt to tamper with it.”

“She was right, we had a whole plan 'n' everything,” Mark chimed in, and James pushed him down to his knees.

He sighed in frustration, the pistol lingering in its position against Mark’s skin, “stay fucking quiet, asshole.”

The Falcon ignored the commotion in the background, his expression strained as he continued to stare at her, “you should’ve told us.”

The statement disintegrated into thin air, the weight of it still heavy on her shoulders. She stayed silent, brushing away the sweaty pieces of hair that had stuck to Steve’s forehead. His face was eerily peaceful as he rested, unconscious, on the cement floor, head propped on y/n’s thighs. The gown Sam had chosen for the evening was sprinkled with blood in various spots, albeit the dark color disguised it. It was gorgeous and elegant, she’d admit, but it was destined to burn after the events that had unfolded during the gala.

“I’m sorry,” she repeated, her voice drained of emotion.

“The two of you should return to the hotel,” Sam suggested when a group of FBI officers spilled into the room, “shower, eat, rest. I have zero doubts it’s been an exhausting week,” he half-heartedly joked, referring to the faux honeymoon, “I’ll stay with Steve.” 

“Sam,” she spoke, “we want t—“

“Go,” the Falcon interrupted her, “please,” one of the officers firmly hoisted Mark, and James swiftly reached y/n’s kneeling figure, “I got this.” The tone of his voice had whispers of irritation at its edges. 

“Alright,” she agreed, helping a paramedic transfer Steve’s body onto a stretcher, “I trust you.” 

Sam glanced at James, shoving his hands into his pockets, and returned his eyes to y/n. “Good.” The look they exchanged was strangely comforting, the kind of look that conveyed Sam wasn’t angry, per se, but rather vanquished, and disappointment she could deal with. 

She offered him a weak smile, “I should shower.”

The Falcon chuckled, mouthing a silent go, and turned his focus to James, both of you. 

James stood in the hotel room’s doorway.

She was fidgeting with lavish jewels, her patience stretching thin as the necklace’s clasp remained closed despite y/n’s nimble fingers attempting to work it open. She glanced at him, once, before regaining focus. “Why are you here?”

The sergeant shrugged, though she couldn’t see it. “I forgot to book a hotel room.”

She ceased her movements, observing his awkwardness-laden body language. James’ long-forgotten suit jacket dangled over his bent arm, the other hand shoved into the pocket of his satin trousers.

“May I suggest driving back to the compound?”

The corner of his mouth quirked up into a small grin at y/n’s thorny response, “we’re in the middle of Manhattan, and the compound is a three-hour drive away.” James closed the heavy wooden door, locking it behind him. “Can I stay with you?”

“It seems you’ve answered the question before I had the chance,” she referenced the action, staring at him in forged disbelief.

The atmosphere stilled in a pregnant pause. It wouldn’t be harmless for the couple to sleep in the same bed. They had done it in Maui, and neither her skin had broken out in a rash nor had she perished. On the contrary, it was peaceful to relish in the warmth of his skin.

James dumped the jacket on an empty chair, slowly coming to stand in front of the woman. She could almost hear the thumping of his heart, his body a hairbreadth away. Sirens echoed outside the sealed window, saturating the silence in crimson sounds. New York City contrasted with the lush green of upstate New York. The living quarters at the compound were usually deprived of clamor, protected against harsh winds and white noise by thick cement walls. 

“Let me help you,” James cooed, sliding his hands across the skin of her arms upward. The soft pads of his fingers caressed her collarbone before he grasped the necklace’s clasp and easily worked it open. “We could be great together,” he spoke, turning to gently place the diamond choker on a glass desk, “great partners,” her fingers ghosted over the spots James had touched, “great lovers,” he toyed with the idea. 

The sergeant returned to his previous place and, “great lovers,” she teased, “you think we could fit together?” 

“Mmmh,” he concurred, “but we always extinguish the flame before it truly burns.”

She brushed her hands across the smooth fabric of his dress shirt, savoring the firmness of his muscled chest beneath the textile. We always extinguish the flame before it truly burns. Perhaps James was correct — she had been opposing a traitorous fire within the deepest pits of her heart, and body, long before Wanda had a terrible idea to send the two on a faux honeymoon. 

“Kiss me,” she spoke in an honest confession of lust. 

“What?” James’ voice was breathless as he gawked at the woman in foreign excitement and disbelief. 

Oh, the way he hoped she’d realize that the line between love and hatred stood thin, and they had surely blurred it in Maui, but never did James think she genuinely would. The fault was his, partially. It had been easy to fabricate false narratives for the compound’s residents, convince himself he loathed the woman despite the countless nights of wandering hands and shameful memories of her body. James had designed a malicious persona, but oh, the way he hoped she’d see through it. 

“Kiss me,” she repeated, “because just once, I need to get you out of my system,” her hands slithered to his biceps, “kiss me, so the next time I’ll touch myself at night, it won’t be your face I’ll be seeing.” 

James cupped the back of y/n’s neck, crashing their lips together. The world in the background ceased to exist at the moment. He swiped his tongue against her bottom lip, asking for permission, and she surrendered to the request, tangling her fingers in his copper locks. She gingerly pulled at the root, earning a muffled whimper from James, and he slid his metal arm down to y/n’s waist to bring the woman closer, to erase the barely existent gap between their bodies. She burned with arousal, and Bucky was equally as famished. It was only the lack of oxygen that pulled the couple apart, and James drew in a deep breath, capturing y/n’s lips once more seconds later.

It was a dangerous promise, the kiss. A wildfire that spread through the entirety of her body, stimulating every nerve ending until she was moaning into his mouth as a plead for more, tongues fighting for dominance. It knocked the air out of her lungs, and when she retreated, James didn’t meld their lips, opting to focus on y/n’s neck. He kissed, licked, and sucked the sensitive skin like a man deprived of the only thing he’s ever desired. She was a drug, and god, was James addicted to her scent and her silky skin, and her hands, sloppily untucking his dress shirt, to slide under the fabric and explore his taut muscles. Everywhere she touched scorched, and he messily searched for the zipper of her gown, discarding the dress to the ground as soon as the piece of metal relented.

She was the most beautiful sight James had ever seen as she stood in front of him in just a pair of lacy panties. Art, created by the world’s most talented of artists, an angel bestowed to him by the gods themselves. 

The sergeant brushed his flesh thumb across her lower lip, blending their lips together. His metal hand, the one she had always disgracefully thought was outrageously attractive, slithered between her plush thighs, and James moaned into her mouth upon discovering that she was soaked and aching for him. He shifted the undergarment to the side for access, dragging his fingers through her silken folds. 

Cool metal thumb pressed into her clit, and she broke the kiss, “inside,” she spoke, the tone of her voice laced with desperation, “I want you inside of me.” 

“Sweet girl,” James chuckled, inserting a single digit into her slick heat, “you need to be stretched first.” 

He thrusted his finger a few times before adding a second digit. She clenched around him, messily unbuttoning his shirt and throwing it on the carpeted floors. The pace of his thrusts remained steady and agonizingly slow as James basked in her pleasure-riddled expression. 

The woman clutched the waistband of his trousers, messing with the belt, her fingers trembling as James continued to stroke the sensitive spot inside her with two of his fingers. “Please,” she muttered, “faster.” 

A sly smirk waltzed on his lips at the request, but, instead of obeying y/n’s wishes, he halted the activity, removing his hand, and placed the metal in his mouth, sucking it clean, “such a sweet thing you are.” 

Warmth crept up her neck and onto her cheekbones. He hastily removed the trousers, placing his hands on the back of y/n’s upper thighs, hoisting the woman, and gently tossed her onto the spongy bed. She stared at him through curious eyes, lowering her gaze to observe the bulge in his boxers, and swallowed the lump in her throat. Judging by the outline in his underwear, James was huge, far bigger than the men she had fooled around with in the past. 

“I want to taste you,” she confessed, propping herself up on her elbows.

James shook his head no, hooking his fingers under the waistband of her onyx panties to tear them off, “next time, doll.” 

She wasn’t certain whether there would be a next time, for James had discovered a side to her, she had long buried. An alter ego, who was submissive, and pliable, and starved for the touch of a man she described as her enemy. 

James nestled between her legs, arms on either side of her waist, and placed chaste kisses on y/n’s mouth and jawline. His head dipped lower as he assailed her neck and chest, popping a nipple in his mouth. The sergeant sucked the sensitive bud before nipping on it, massaging her other breast with his hand and rolling the right nipple between his fingers. 

She writhed under him, eyes shut from the waves of pleasure racing through her. James didn’t linger over the area, choosing to concentrate on kissing the length of y/n’s body as he crawled to situate himself betwixt her thighs. Goosebumps painted the path of his eager kisses, and she grasped a handful of his hair when James gave her clit a kitten lick to test the response. 

“James,” she purred as he repeated the action and slithered two digits back into her dripping heat. 

“Use your words,” he grazed his tongue over the bud again, applying a little bit more pressure, “tell daddy what you want.” 

The woman’s eyes shot open at the term but then he was thrusting his fingers into her wetness, repeatedly hitting the delicious spot that made her toes curl, the insult toward James forgotten. 

“Mouth,” she mumbled, too lost in the delectation to form a coherent sentence. 

James snickered at her vague response, wrapping a pair of soft lips around y/n’s clit. The thrusting of his fingers persisted as he stimulated the area. James was spelling out his full name on her sex, she realized by the time he had started tracing a b for Buchanan, yet she abstained from further reflections, coming undone by his mouth and fingers seconds before James could complete tracing the s in Barnes.  

“Good girl,” he praised, helping y/n ride out her orgasm.

James withdrew his fingers, sucking them clean of y/n’s stickiness before he removed the metal with a pop, and peeled off his boxers, flinging the garment across the space.

The room was modern and opulent, with floor-to-ceiling windows exposing the ever-awake skyline of New York City, its sky-high buildings, impressive bridges, and countless lights. It was situated on the fortieth floor of the hotel, creating a perfect opportunity to indulge in a bit of a rush and leave the curtains wide open without a true risk of innocent bystanders witnessing the scene.

James kneeled on the bed. The usual glimmer of annoyance toward her in his eyes had been replaced by a feral kind of hunger, and, as she stared at him like a pray would observe its hunter, y/n decided that, just maybe, this wouldn’t be the first or the last time she’d let James treasure her body. 

She loosely draped her forearms over his neck when he slanted to capture her nipple in his mouth, “I know you consistently ignore my wishes,” she whimpered, “but for the love of god, sergeant, I need you.” 

He chuckled, showing attention to the other bud by pinching it, “my sweet girl wants to get filled, huh?” 

James’ throbbing weight rested heavily against the skin of her thighs, and she reached down to palm it. “Yes.” 

The woman’s nimble fingers caressed the reddened tip, spreading his precum on the surface before she dipped her hand a tad lower to gently fondle his balls. A moan escaped past his lips at her eager endeavor. 

“I like it when you’re needy,” James pulled back and she groaned at the loss of him in her hands, “and dripping,” his fingers ghosted over the velvety folds before he was manhandling the spy to rest on her knees and forearms, “willing to let daddy take care of you.” 

She ignored the name yet again but stored it within her memories to use for blackmail in the future. “Is he?” She questioned when Bucky clutched her hips and pushed his hand down on her back for a deeper arch. “Is daddy gonna fuck me, or is he just going to talk all night?” 

James understood she only used the term to mock him, but shit, did it stir his already aching cock. He palmed himself twice before dragging his length along her slick folds, the metal hand abandoning her hips to circle her waist and gently rub y/n’s clit from behind. She clenched around emptiness, pressing into his pelvis for friction, and Bucky ceased his movements, removing the fingers from her bud to harshly grip the flesh of y/n’s hips once more. James continued the torture, lazily teasing her entrance, and she painfully sunk her teeth into her bottom lip. 

“What do we say when we want something?” He taunted the woman, utterly enjoying her anguish. 

“James,” she mumbled into the crisp sheets. 

The soldier found amusement in the warning but showed mercy, sinking into her sodden heat. He’d fuck the brat out of her on a different day.

A strained whimper escaped past her lips at the delicious stretch of his cock, matching Bucky’s hiss at the way the spy’s walls drunk him in. James thrusted into her a few times, experimenting with speed and rhythm. A particularly rough roll of his hips seemed to rip a piercing moan from y/n’s throat, and he grinned, abandoning the hold on her hips to massage her clit again.

The room was saturated in vulgar noises of skin slapping against skin, moans, and desperate whines as James mercilessly pounded into her. She sobbed into a pillow as he led her to the edge for the second time, refusing to burst the bubble and let the flame consume her, thick fingers retreating just before the orgasm could ignite her body, over and over again.

James consumed every shallow breath and every wail, deciding that it would not be the last time he’d listen to the melody — she was a sin he’d gratefully burn in hell for, and an angel he’d break down heaven’s gates to attain. The soldier suddenly removed himself from her, already missing y/n’s silken walls squeezing around him, and shifted the woman, so that she rested on her back. He captured her ankles, draping them over his shoulders before he roughly thrusted back in. She wept at the overstimulation when he bottomed out, balls slapping against the skin of her ass. The new angle allowed James to reach far deeper. 

He groaned, “you’re so tight,” thumb brushing against her plush lips, “my sweet, sweet girl,” he cooed, “wanna worship this pussy all night.” 

And in his head, the statement stood true, but it was his body that opposed it, his arousal steadily creeping over the edge of an orgasm. 

She shut her eyes, expression drenched with pleasure, “I’ma cum,” she moaned. 

“I know, doll.” James wiped off the tear threatening to roll down her cheek and captured y/n’s lips in a messy kiss. 

“It feels good—,” she hiccuped when he pulled away, “—so good.” 

The world stilled. It was only James’ ragged breath and the heavenly orgasm she could focus on, washing over her body in syrupy waves and causing her toes to curl into the mattress below. She raked her nails over the skin of his back, leaving scorching marks in her wake. 

“Shit,” James cursed as his own peak approached, his strokes sloppy. 

It was a few thrusts later when he climaxed, painting her velvety walls white with a loud moan. He licked a sensitive spot on y/n’s neck, propping himself up on his forearms when the thunderous arousal began to quiet.

She brushed the hair that had gotten stuck to his sweaty forehead aside, “we don’t have evidence to convict Nancy,” she spoke when her heartbeat steadied.  

James sighed amusedly, pulling out his softened length and maneuvering to lay beside her. “This is what you say after we just had sex for the first time?” 

“Yes,” she deflected, refusing to admit she had fallen for the soldier and that it would not be the only time they’d get tangled in the sheets. 

“Alright,” he abandoned the bed with a laugh and gathered y/n’s exhausted body in his arms to locate the bathroom, “but let’s shower before we talk shop.” 

James observed the skyline of New York City. It was the place they had first encountered one another, back when he had brutally stabbed the woman. She rested on his bare chest now, peacefully asleep, soft snores falling from her lips. Times have changed, James realized with a heavy heart because change was uncertain and scary. It was worth it, though, if it meant the sergeant could love her up close and without barriers between them. It’d surely take a while to erase the tainted memories of the past, but they had been at war for five years, and he’d happily spend another five falling in love. 

An iPhone James had recently purchased dinged with a text. 

CAPTAIN AMERICA: guess Wanda and I won’t have to sleep with our eyes open after all:)

His mouth curved into a smile, elated Steve had not only woken up but was cracking jokes over the situation he had forced Bucky into. 

WHITE WOLF: debatable. 

It was not debatable — Steve and Wanda sending the couple on a honeymoon in Maui was the best decision they could’ve made, for the moon found his sun at last. 

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[aqua-the-smiter]

Part 6 mfers, sorry this took so long Cato Sicarius x female reader Divider by @squishyowl Song - https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=3q63sILptUs

Cato awoke to a soft apothecarium cot underneath him and the sweet scent of flowers. It was warm under the covers. His limbs felt leaden and the sleepiness didn't abate like it usually did. Sedatives then. Nothing hurt either, which meant the analgesics he must have been pumped with were something else. He could feel a pressure on his chest. Lifting the white sheets and looking down, he could see a lump of bandages.

On the small table next to him was a cup of water and a vase full of different flowers. Alongside these was a stack of notes, some hastily scribbled while others took up several sheets of parchment. Late afternoon light filtered in from some window or other. He tried to sit up and quickly decided that could wait for a bit long with a groan.

"Cato?"

He turned his head to see you nearly running back into the room. Sitting yourself down in a chair by his bedside.

"Peahen."

"By the throne." You said in a choked whisper, throwing your arms around his neck and kissing him. it was all your could do to not break into tears right there and then. "You're ok!"

Slowly, he put an arm around you and squeezed gently. "Of course I am. How long have I been out? Is Melor alright?"

"You get stabbed in the chest and still your duty is the first thing you think about when you wake up." You kissed his cheek.

"He is far more than just my duty, Peahen."

"I know, I know. Thankfully the little guy is just fine. A bit shaken up but otherwise unharmed. It's been three days."

He laid back. "Then all is well. What happened since?"

"The Primarch has tightened security around the whole Fortress, but that's probably obvious. That Word Bearer who turned on his comrades was given over to the Redeemed."

"That is good to hear. He seemed decent."

You reached over and grabbed the stack of notes. "He left you one in here somewhere beforehand."

Cato took them and began to shuffle through them, skimming the contents. They were letters from his battle brothers. Well wishes, congratulations. Even a few apologies. He found one that was just a single sheet, the oddly spiky handwriting suggesting that the author was not quite used to writing in Gothic.

Thank you for allowing me the chance to redeem some of my sin. That boy will love you like a brother for all of his days. - Robavam

There were others. He found ones from Calgar, Ventris, Titus, and several other officers. Practically all his comrades in the Victrix had written one. Some from regular marines, some from neophytes. Even some of the Redeemed had sent their wishes. He laid back after reading a few. There was an odd feeling in his heart that he couldn't put his finger on.

You resisted the urge to lay your head on his chest. Instead you cradled his head in your arms, stroking his hair.

"You were so brave Cato. So, so brave. You know there's pict recordings of your fight? Security footage. The Primarch let me see them after everything was reviewed. And lucky too. They had to bring the Redeemed's chief apothecary here to help patch you up. Now the whole place smells like flowers."

"I can see that." He poked the bandage on his chest. "But it was not anything special.

"You killed six Chaos Astartes and a terminator. How is that nothing? Don't undercut yourself." You chided him gently, kissing his cheek. "You're a hero."

"So it would seem."

"You are!"

Cato didn't look convinced, and changed the subject. "Since you seem to be well informed, Peahen, do you know how long I'm to be here?"

You flushed a bit. "Well...someone had to look after you while you were out. The apothecaries told me I could tell you since I've been here the whole time. The sword went in deep, poked a lung but missed both your hearts thankfully. You're healing up nicely thanks to Apothecary Asphodelus, but you're supposed to stay here for a few more days just so you can be monitored."

He let out a small, hollow laugh. "Just a little to the left and it probably would have killed me. The Primarch must have been disappointed."

"Lord Guilliman is extremely proud of you!"

"I'm sure he is."

"Cato!"

"What?"

"What's with the cynicism? You did good." You stroked his cheek in a mollifying gesture. He huffed like a dissatisfied dog.

"I didn't do anything special. I just did what was expected. Of course I would have either way, I would never just sit by and let Melor be harmed or killed." Just the thought of it made him feel slightly sick. "But it was my duty regardless."

"I think you went a little above and beyond. You would have been expected to get Melor out of danger, not kill six marines and a terminator solo with a massive wound. You're undercutting yourself."

He sighed. "Maybe. I am just happy that he's safe."

That I didn't fail.

In that moment it hadn't mattered what anyone thought of him, or how he thought of himself. All that had mattered was that Melor's tiny life was at stake, and that he had been the only one standing between it and the boy's enemies. Everything had dissolved. It didn't matter how he was perceived. A failure, an egoist, arrogant, a sexist, a weak leader, whatever. He had done his duty. He knew the truth about what and who he was, even through the screams and pipe organ music that haunted his memories. That was enough for him.

Wasn't that all that really mattered in the end?

You felt him relax in your embrace, and you ran your fingers through his hair. Letting him drift off back to sleep in your arms again. ------------------------------------------------------------------------------ The Primarch came to see his gene-son later that day, bringing a special someone along with him.

Cato was awake again when he came in, Melor cradled in one arm. His golden eyes lit up when he saw the Ultramarine. He cooed happily, reaching out with his arms and making grabby hands at him. He was surprised at that. The boy seemed too young to recognize him so easily, and with such enthusiasm.

Guilliman didn't seem surprised. He smiled at the scene before addressing Cato. "It is good to see you well. I was worried I had lost you for a while."

He tried to conjure up something confident and snarky to say and found that he couldn't. "I fully expected to die that night. The fact I did not is nothing short of a miracle."

"All the same, I am quite glad you're still with us. It would have been a devastating loss. Not just for me either."

Melor continued making grabby hands at his cousin, and was started to get fidgety. You watched the scene with amusement.

"Is he alright?" Cato asked.

"Just fine. He wants to be with you for a little while I think. Would you mind?"

"I could hold him for a bit." He agreed, masking his apprehension.

The boy was handed over in short order. Cato cradled him in his arms the way he'd seen you and Primarch doing. He weighed practically nothing. So light and fragile. Melor reached up a tiny hand to him and tangled it in his beard, giggling.

"Aren't you a little young for mischief?" Cato asked, the question directed as much to Roboute as to Melor.

Guilliman picked up on his suspicious. "He is...unique."

"He would be, wouldn't he?"

You patted his cheek as he untangled Melor's tiny fist from his beard. "Oh come off it Cato. Look at him, he likes you."

"Which is also unusual."

"He's the son of a Primarch." You reminded him. "Of course he'll be a little unusual."

Sicarius looked like he wanted to argue with you but dropped it, turning his attention back to Melor. To your surprise, the Primarch shot you a grateful look, which you decided not to question. Whatever was strange about the boy, it was probably best not to question. ------------------------------------------------------------------------------Cato was back on his feet and out of the medicae in another three days, although under strict orders to go easy for a while longer. He was functional, but not healed. The process was slower, both because the wound was quite deep and because it seemed the sword had been covered in a mild poison of some sort. Thus his recovery would take more time, and he was relegated to light training and paperwork.

He was not prepared for the reception he received when he was finally walking the halls of the Fortress of Hera again.

There had been distance. Respect for sure, but he could tell there was a warmth gone. His reputation had proceeded him for the most part. Not anymore.

There were hushed, awed whispers as he passed by. Serfs and Astartes alike stopped and saluted him. There was genuine admiration from his battle brothers now. Real, deep respect. Neophytes and scouts would nervously approach him during drills, asking for advise. Before he had felt like the Primarch's disappointing side project. Now he was being lauded as a hero.

It was like everyone had finally divorced the version of him they had in their heads, and come to realize the version of him that truly existed. The two different people that had been running around since his return from the Emperor's Will had become one again.

That didn't mean all was well though.

In truth he felt disdainful now. It had taken his near death to alleviate himself of their scorn. Like the Emperor's Will wasn't enough. Nothing he had done since had been fucking enough. Not only was he haunted by the screams of his dead and dying, but of their disapproval as well. It left a bitter stickiness in his throat whenever he thought about it. He had never been one for self pity. This just made his angry. Why did he have to prove himself when he'd already done so more times than he could count? Why did he have to shed his own blood and come on bended knee for them to see he had repented from his younger years? Why did he have to repent for them at all? As if others hadn't done a thousand times worse.

The exception was you, of course. You were always the exception. You were the light in his life.

Guardianship over Melor had been temporarily passed to a few different Ultramarines on a rotating schedule. Among there were Uriel and Demetrian, although Cato wasn't off the hook with him either. Instead spending time with the boy when he had a spare moment. It gave him a convenient audience for his bitterness.

"I'm like you now." Cato said. He was sitting cross legged on the floor, shaking a rattle for Melor. He giggled, his tiny hands reaching out for it.

"How so?" Titus asked. He was standing in front of the door, back to his brother, one hand on his chainsword. "Did you cross the Rubicon while I wasn't looking?" He joked.

Cato snorted. "Of course not. I mean everyone thinks I'm a hero now."

"Are you not? You nearly died saving the little one."

"I suppose so. I am just jaded about it. Instead of earning the title by cutting through hordes of orks and swarms of Tyranids, or tearing my way across a daemon infested planet like Caedo, or everything that Ventris did, I get it by being stabbed in the chest and killing seven enemies."

"You already had a good reputation before then." Titus reassured. "This was special."

"My reputation was lying beaten and bloody on the floor before this."

His expression knitted into a frown. "It was not that bad, Cato. You had some blunders, but it is as the Chapter Master said. No leader of men has only victories."

"And you really believe that, do you?" Cato scoffed. "You don't have to lie to spare my feelings Titus. You're too good of a man for that."

"Do not tell me you saved Melor only for your reputation."

"Of course not! I...care for the boy." He admitted. "He is our cousin. And the last of Lord Ferrus Manus's legacy."

"Then what has made you so bitter?"

"Why like this? Nothing else I did matters. Why does all the rest of my suffering mean nothing!? I have been at the sharp end for years. I have been brought to my knees time and time again, but all of that is forgotten. I have been humbled so thoroughly that only by nearly dying, and not for the first bloody time, did anyone remember who I actually am. The wraith going around wearing my name is finally banished."

Titus didn't respond, but he turned to look at Cato, and his expression was pained. Sicarius didn't see it, too occupied with Melor.

He didn't mind coming to see the boy. There was definitely an affection for the boy, born of their kinship. Melor was, after all, his cousin. But the more time he spent with him, the more he realized just how strange he was.

It wasn't anything big. More a series of small oddities that added up. He was a normal baby in nearly every way. Which made the ways that he wasn't stand out all the more. There was his recognition of Cato, for example. His golden eyes lit up when he saw his cousin. Easily picking him out even without his helmet on. Beyond that, even. He always seemed to relax around him. Like he felt safe with him.

The other thing that really tipped him off was his unusual strength, which was usually demonstrated when someone tried to take a toy from Melor's little hands. For example, he had been gifted an old plush toy that had once been Primarch Guilliman's when he had been a child, a fact that boggled Cato's mind to think about. It was a pegasus, soft white with a fluffy mane and tail, shimmery wings, and a dove gray muzzle. He adored it, and would cuddle and roll all over it. Good luck trying to take it from him when it was nap time, however. You'd end up in a surprisingly even tug of war. What's more, Cato always got the impression that Melor was holding back because he didn't want to damage the thing. Which was more brainpower than any barely-over-a-month old should have.

But he acted just like a normal baby in every other regard. He was a normal baby, just with a few quirks.

Still, it was clear there was much the Primarch hadn't told him.

"With all due respect my lord, there is something you neglected to tell me about Melor, isn't there?" Cato said, before Roboute could get a word out.

He sighed, shifting the topic of conversation in his arms so his head was resting more comfortably. Cato probably had a gut feeling this conversation was supposed to be about him and was trying to prevent it before it even started. Still, if he'd already figured it out anywhere, there wasn't much to be gained by hiding it.

"I know what you're trying to do." Guilliman replied. "But you are correct. I felt it was not information that needed to be shared. Since you are at least somewhat aware of it, I will tell you. Given enough time, you would probably figure it out on your own anyway."

"He's...alright, isn't he?"

"Of course he is. He is just...well, he's unusual. You see, by some miracle, he is a full blooded Primarch."

Sicarius's eyes widened. "What? How?"

Guilliman sighed. "I don't know. Ferrus doesn't know. As near as either of us can figure, my brother simply got incredibly lucky with the boy's genes. I have a feeling the only person who could tell us for certain is the Emperor, and I am not bringing Melor anywhere near him."

His face scrunched in a pained frown with memory for a moment before relaxing.

"That's why he recognizes me then? Why he seems much stronger than he should be? That's why the Word Bearers came."

"Yes." He nodded. "I don't think they knew either, but they knew he was different. They knew enough to deduce he could be a threat one day."

"Is he doing alright? He was very shaken when I found him." Cato asked.

"He is young. Some things still linger, but as long as we keep an eye on him, and make sure he feels safe, he will heal just fine from it. that is why I let him be with you so often."

"He feels safe with me?"

"As much as an infant-even an infant Primarch-can register something like that. Make no mistake, he is still only a baby. But you shouldn't be surprised. You nearly gave your life for his. I'm proud of you, and your actions."

"Yes. Despite my injury it seemed to remind everyone that I am not, in fact, a paper general."

"Cato, are you well?" Roboute asked his son.

He sighed. "I am just fine, my lord. It has been a trying week, but I have been through worse. And I am relieved that Melor is alright."

He paused.

"What has Titus been telling you?"

"He has told me enough. He's worried about you. I am too."

"What is there to be concerned about? You know what's wrong with me."

"You seem very...jaded."

"Of course I am!" He threw up his hands. "What else could I be? I have been shouldering the disgust of my own battle brothers for years now, all while my mind is eating itself. And now, after I nearly died, that is what gets them to remember who I was. They're patting me on the back like it was expected I'd try to get myself killed to earn my respect back."

"Do you really believe that's the whole truth, or have you run away with your own bitterness?" Roboute asked him softly.

"...What?"

"I will not sit here and tell you that you have not been dealt an unfair hand. In many aspects you have. Not all of your brothers like you, your reputation definitely has taken many hits. Moreover, your mind has been wounded, deeply. I do not think anyone truly understands how much it has hurt you."

He raised an eyebrow. "I detect a 'but', my lord."

"The whole chapter is not out to get you, Cato. I am not here to hang you out to dry. I don't pity you, I am worried for you. Both for your mind and how you have been handling this whole thing. You are not nearly as despised as you think you are, and your brothers are not congratulating you because they thought you needed to grovel, it's because you saved the life of an innocent baby and Ferrus's only son."

When Cato didn't respond, he continued.

"You know I am very proud of you. There is a war in your mind that you have been fighting alone for years. But I've never seen you falter in your duty. Never waver. You're in pain, but Melor is still alive and safe. You killed six Word Bearers and a terminator solo. Your brothers are proud of you too. It is all I have heard any of them talk about for the last week. They hail you as a hero, not a prodigal who redeemed himself."

Melor squirmed, and started making grabby hands at his cousin. Guilliman held out the little Primarch to his son, who took him hesitantly after a moment.

"Even he knows you did a good job."

"He's too young to know much of anything."

"I have met older men and women who know less." He shook his head. "You've done well, Cato."

Sicarius looked down at Melor, then up at his Primarch, lost for words. "Are you sure?"

"If I was displeased with I would tell you. You are doing just fine, and I wish to see you get better."

Cato nodded, turning the Primarch's words over in his head. It was the kind of encouragement he'd really only heard from you. From Guilliman it took on a whole new meaning. He supposed he had a lot to reevaluate then. Lord Guilliman was many things, but a liar was not one of them. ------------------------------------------------------------------------------ "Are you doing alright, Cato?" You asked him, stroking his hair as he rested his head in your lap.

He thought for a moment, snuggling into your thighs. "Better than I have been."

[sirfrogsworth]

Someone was having trouble getting decent sound in his living room and instead of recommending a room treatment or better speakers this person just casually suggests PUTTING AN ADDITION ONTO THE HOUSE.

Trying to get advice on audio forums is often a challenge because a lot of these dudes just have *so much* disposable income. And they just assume everyone else is wealthy too. You can even tell them you have a budget and they'll be like, "You should save up longer and buy this thing that is three times your budget."

And it's not like there aren't wonderful options that are more affordable. I think I may have about $3000 worth of home theater equipment that I have collected over the last 20 years. They will spend that on a single speaker and suggest you do the same.

The people in these forums would have a fit if they knew I had a single subwoofer. Apparently, the cardinal audio sin is having only ONE subwoofer.

Your room could have NULLS!

NULLLLLLS!!!

Seriously, they will lecture you anytime you mention having a single subwoofer. "Your seat-to-seat response is going to be inconsistent!"

I also saw a guy say that a 15" subwoofer was "tiny" and "pointless."

My 70-pound, 12" subwoofer is currently vibrating items off the shelf in my house ever since I moved it upstairs and don't have concrete floors like in the basement. I'm going to have to buy special subwoofer feet to decouple it from the floor. I can't imagine what a 15" sub would do to my house. It might collapse on top of me.

So you can only get a sub that is at least 18" and you need a minimum of 2... but 4 is much better. Actually, 4 is the minimum. 2 is garbage. 2 in front and 2 in back.

And, of course, you have to get a Rythmik or PSA subwoofer. Don't cheap out on the brand!

You have to build an addition to the house AND buy $8000 worth of subwoofers and then MAYBE your sound will be somewhat listenable.

But only if you calibrate the subs with a MiniDSP and the proper UMIK calibration microphone.

Wait, do you have a regular AVR with built in amplification? That won't do. What you need is an audio processor with individual external amplification.

You'll need a 9.4.6 configuration for the proper surround sound experience. That is 9 ear-level speakers, 4 subwoofers, and 6 atmos ceiling speakers.

So 2 of these.

1 of these.

3 pairs of these.

6 of these... plus professional ceiling installation.

And an individual amplifier for each speaker.

Do you really need a 600 watt amp for the ceiling speakers too?

OF COURSE YOU DO!

DO YOU WANT A LOW NOISE FLOOR AND NO DISTORTION OR DO YOU WANT GARBAGE?

Comfort is important too. So you'll want a Valencia leather power recliner with LED cup holder.

And... by far... the most important home theater component...

The power cable.

This will assure that only the highest quality electrons are delivered to your audio equipment.

Don't think about it too much.

Don't think about all of the janky powerlines that deliver electricity to your house.

Or all of the generic power cables inside your wall.

This cable magically negates all of that and turns the last few feet of electricity into pure, audio-grade power.

Guaranteed to drastically improve your sound quality... somehow.

It can't be nonsense, otherwise someone would have never written such beautiful prose about a power cable in a review...

"I was smitten by the piano’s extra depth in its nether regions. I’m not talking about what some audiophiles like to refer to as testicular bass, but rather, a rich and absorbing presentation."

$14,000 for rich and absorbing testicular bass? WORTH IT!

So that's roughly $65,870 for all of that and between $50,000 and $100,000 for a 500 square foot room addition.

A small price to pay for a room that is not junk for listening to music.

[my-castles-crumbling]

cas review of ttpd?

Ah yes! I am finally ready!

Cas's Review of TTPD that Two (2) People Asked For (so now you all get a fucking essay)

Literally, this is growing to be one of my favorite albums. Like...I appreciate Taylor most for her lyrics and I wrote down seven pages of them in my notebook of lyrics that fucking killed me. I feel like it's a more mature version of folklore, which is exactly what I was hoping for.

I really liked the promo for this album- the lyrics being spread, the phases of grief, the entire thing was so well-done. And the double album drop left me literally screaming.

I feel like the order of the songs on the album is also super well thought out. It really tells a story and I could feel her going through the phases, especially in the first half of the album.

I thought it was cool that she definitely took some risks in the album, but most of them landed 1000%. So many of the cool things done with the lyrics, melody, and tempo were amazing and kept me interested.

I'm gonna start by listing the more specific things I didn't like because there's only three:

In the song "Fresh Out The Slammer" during the outro, the change in beat was very jarring. I LOVED the rest of the song and it just ruined it for me

Florida!!! was...a choice. I get it. The concept of going away somewhere after a breakup to get over it is great. But Florida? Like...c'mon. Also "fuck me up Florida" made me cringe.

The line in "I Hate It Here" about racists...god, I have two minds about it. I don't think there was winning with that one, and I think people are going to tear her apart for it without taking it in context. Like when you take it in the bigger picture of the song, it makes sense. But when you take it in just the few lines...it feels a bit like it's trivializing the fact that literal slavery existed during that time? So yeah. I go back and forth...

And now a song ranking and my feelings about some of the songs:

Guilty As Sin? - This song has been in my head ever since I heard it. It's perfect, it's everything.

I Can Do It With a Broken Heart - This is giving DBATC (favorite taylor song) vibes and I am so in love. It destroyed me.

Who's Afraid of Little Old Me? - This is an ANTHEM. This will be screamed in the shower. This is so powerful.

But Daddy I Love Him - This was just so nostalgic. Like it gave Fearless Taylor and I loved it so much. Also the jumpscare fucking SHOOK me.

So Long, London - This was like a companion to You're Losing Me and god, it was amazingly hurtful.

loml - I just love slow, sad Taylor. and the twist at the end? ugh

I Hate It Here - Questionable line aside, this song was 15/10 relatable as a fanfic reader/writer

imgonnagetyouback - I feel like this will be a single.

The Prophecy - ouch

The Alchemy - Awww, so cute!

I Look In People's Windows

I Can Fix Him (No Really I Can)

The Albatross

The Smallest Man Who Ever Lived - god she CAME for this man.

The Black Dog

Down Bad - I also feel like this will be a single

Fresh Out the Slammer

How Did It End?

My Boy Only Breaks His Favorite Toys

TTPD

Cassandra - hahahaha whoops, we're coming for Kim again?

thanK you aIMee - and again? that line about her mom was AMAZING

So High School - adorable

Chloe or Sam or Sophia or Marcus

Fortnight - she and Post Malone work so well together

The Bolter

The Manuscript

Peter

Robin

Clara Bow

Florida!!

What do you all think?

[intplayboy]

TOUCH - MAFIA BTS OT7 X READER [ONE]

complete the form if you want to be part of the tag list.

summary: you have finally escaped the filthy jail you were made to grow up in as a guinea pig. on your way out, you bump into two members of south korea's most infamous mafia gang. stunned by the rather intriguing encounter with you, the younger one decides to bring you back to their home base in secret, only to have their plan foiled when the rest of the gang catches them red handed and the entire group unanimously decides what to do with the strange girl, which is you.

pairings: mafia bts ot7 x experimented human female reader

genre: mafia au | moderate? angst | romance | sci-fi | action | fluff

warnings: mentions of blood, verbal harassment, gun, and swearing.

word count: 6,933 (decided to combine two chapters from wattpad)

tags list: @juju-227592, @drunkzseok, @yourgirlcin, @babybunli, @xanny91, @bibetsa, @borahae-reads, @lalavione1309, @luvsbngtn, @tetehearts, @singukieee, @serendididy, @quixoticbittersweet, @iriaachan, @jksisbunntboy, @missseoulite (the tags that are strikethrough could not be tagged)

masterpost | intro + characters | two

copyright © 2022 by kumiko. all rights reserved. my works or any portion thereof may not be reproduced or used in any manner whatsoever without express written permission from me except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

He speeds down the vacant corridors till he comes to a halt in front of her room. Well, that's what he likes to call it. Everyone knows it's more like a prison cell for you.

Within the 10 by 10-foot concrete box, there were no windows and only a single bed, a toilet, and a sink next to it. He swipes his key card quickly, unlocking the automated steel door. And as soon as it slides open, he rushes over to your sleeping body.

When he gently jerks you awake, your eyes flickered open. You glance about frantically till your gaze is drawn to him.

"It's okay, it's okay. It's just me." He coos at you quietly.

He gulps before speaking. "Listen, we don't have a lot of time."

You can only stare at him, as if asking for an explanation wordlessly, given your speech impediment.

"You're in danger, but I'm going to get you out of here. Y-Your father is taking things too far..."

"...You don't deserve any of this, you're supposed to live a normal life. And now is the time to do so." He digs into his pocket and pulls out a purple pendant chain necklace.

He stretches out his hands to your neck, causing you to flinch. "Don't worry, it won't hurt you."

You comply, allowing him to place the necklace around your neck. "Do not take this off, no matter what."

"Do you understand?" He locks his gaze with you. You nod, and although you can't say much, you can comprehend most sentences.

"Good. Let's go." He says as he gently grasps your hand and pulls you out of the grim box.

You both rushed through the halls, making a few different turns, just like he did earlier. "In about three minutes, they will check your room and the alarms will go off."

The pair of you stopped in front of another door. His personal lab, it was like his happy place, which was sickening. You step back, shaking your head at him, recognizing that door all too well.

As soon as he turns around and sees your reaction, his face softens. "Appa isn't in there. Don't worry, this is the only way out."

"I will never hurt you. Do you trust me?" He extends his hand once again.

You glance at his face, then at his hand, briefly, with hesitancy, before clutching it. The corner of his lips tugs upwards slightly, and he walks inside the room without hesitation.

The alarm goes off less than a second after he shuts the door behind him. You quickly curl into a ball, covering your ears, overwhelmed with fright and confusion.

He grabbed your shoulders and shakes you out of your distress, knowing you don't have much time left. "You've got to go now!"

You look up at him, tears brimming in your purple glowing eyes.

He sighs in guilt. "Stay here for a second." He sprints up to a single metal shelf, pushing it aside, revealing a small vent.

You notice the metal vent and tilt your head in curiosity. He swiftly turns around and approaches you. "You need to crawl in there. Continue straight until you see light at the opposite end."

"Kick the metal as hard as you can, and after you're out, run as far as you can away from here."

"Run until you see large buildings all around you and other people walking about like you." He explains.

You nod. "Okay."

"Repeat what I said."

"Crawl until I see light... Kick... Run far, look buildings... And people, like me...?" You reply.

"Good." He breaks off the metal and leads you inside. As you begin to crawl, voices can be heard outside the lab's door.

He panics and scrambles the metal frame onto the vent outlet. "Go!"

You watch for a minute while he covers the vent with the metal shelf from earlier, hearing the hammering against the door.

Fearing that they would find you, you begin crawling farther down the vent as he instructed. You soon found the light at the other end.

You shifted your body so that your legs are in front of you, recalling his words to yourself. After a forceful kick, you finally exit and run.

The words echo in your head, along with the emotions they evoked.

Run as far as you can...

Large buildings...

People... Like you...

After a time, you peer behind you, seeing the lab you grew up in from birth, gradually shrinking in your vision. You never understood why you had to do what Appa told you to do, and you never liked any of it.

But you couldn't resist because every time you tried, the consequences were worse.

Everything that passed you by was unfamiliar to you, and your interest in the outside world only grew. Were there people like you truly out there?

After an hour or two, you find yourself on the busy road's sidewalk, crowded with cars. Of course, you had no idea what it was called. Everything you looked at, whether it was vehicles zooming by you, birds flying in the sky, people strolling, dogs and cats walking with their owners, or green trees and other greenery, piqued your interest.

You raised your eyes to the large lettering mounted on the concrete bridge. You struggle to read it, your brow furrowed in concentration. "S-Seoul we-elcoome... you."

Another half-hour has passed, and you're now surrounded by the city life of Seoul. Large buildings all around, and people like you crowding the city streets, just as he said.

But this quickly became an issue since he forgot to consider that you had never interacted with so many people in your life, let alone be surrounded by thousands at one time.

Seoul was known for its congested sidewalks, where practically everyone walked with little personal space. Too often people brush up against each other, even collide, and don't even realize it.

As the panic in you slowly start to build up, people around you gave you weird looks while you continued to wander in the new environment you had discovered. But who wouldn't? A young girl, barefooted and clothed in nothing but a blue hospital gown and messy hair, was roaming around their beautiful metropolis.

You then suddenly sensed a bad aura, something bad was happening to someone. It was a result of all of your trials and experiments, that you're able to distinguish between bad and good emotions.

Although you couldn't express it properly in your own words, for obvious reasons, you were aware of what they were and the various outcomes that may come from them. But, of course, you still had a lot to learn, especially since you're in a foreign territory.

Following the negative energy, you begin to cross the road mindlessly, and as soon as you take a few steps, a loud car horn blares, followed by tires screeching.

As a man steps out of his car and violently shuts the door, you freeze in place. "What the hell lady?!"

"Are you crazy?!" He yells.

You look at him with a sweet yet blank expression on your face. "You... mad."

He scoffs. "The hell I am! What do you think?!"

"Can't you tell this isn't a crosswalk?!"

You tilt your head, a little perplexed. "Cross.. walk?"

His face turns red as he becomes increasingly agitated by you. "Are you fucking mental or something?!"

He clenches his jaw and inched closer to you.

"What the fuck are you even doing on the road?!" He spits in your face unknowingly, causing your head to recoil back at the contact.

You take a step back, uncomfortable with the man's close proximity. You returned your gaze to him, but it was quickly diverted by something else.

You fixed your eyes on a scene in which one man towers over another. It appears to be the source of the bad energy.

You walk past the enraged man in front of you without further thought, but your hair is immediately yanked backward. And you're thrown back, slamming onto the hard asphalt road, scraping your hand and elbow, making it bleed.

Inside a window-tinted black van, three men are sitting casually, as it moves. The chauffeur is dressed in a white long-sleeved dress shirt, a black suit vest, and a black bow tie. The two others sat together in the back.

If there was one thing you could say about these two men, it would be that they were really handsome and well dressed. They exuded such a powerful aura that simply being in the same room with them made you feel small and intimidated.

"I have a bad feeling about this... I don't think we've ever seen a case like this before." The man, clothed in a black leather suit jacket and graced with beautiful pink plump lips, rests his chin on his clasped hands.

Across from him, the man, who was dressed in a black long sleeve top with one sleeve cut off and a black harness over it, chuckles before taking a sip from his whiskey cup. "Well, it's not every day you find a bunch of missing medical supplies and laboratory equipment sold so abruptly and in large sums."

"But, why should it really concern us, Jimin Hyung?" He places his whiskey cup beside him.

Jimin directs his gaze at him. "Because it will leave innocent people suffering. Whoever is doing this is selfish, Jungkook."

Jungkook scoffs. "Welcome to the real world. Isn't this something we're used to?"

"That's not the point-" He sighs exasperatedly. He was about to open his mouth again when the van violently braked.

Since the pair wore no seatbelts, the jolt sent them sideways, landing on the floor of the van.

Jimin glares upfront. "What the fuck was that?!"

The chauffeur flinches as he realizes he's being addressed. "I-I'm sorry, sir, but s-someone suddenly stopped in front of us."

Moments later, all three of them heard muffled yelling from outside. Jungkook and Jimin exchanged a brief glance before the man in the leather suit jacket stood up and exited the vehicle.

"Wait- Mr. Park! I don't think-"

Jungkook flashed him a piercing stare that made the poor man gulp. "Just watch over the car." He then leaves and follows his Hyung.

The man who flung you on the asphalt is now looming above you. Fear began to set in, and your eyes glowed purple as he watched you steadily sit up, curiously putting your hands into view.

You start to self-heal yourself, seeing the blood spots leaking from your wounded skin. The man's eyes widen as he notices the changed form in your eyes.

"What the...?" He muttered, shifting back slightly.

His brows furrowed. "What the fuck! Y-you're a fucking freak!"

"She's a goddamn freak!" He shouts, pointing at you, drawing the attention of nearby onlookers.

Your eyes return to normal when your injuries completely healed, feeling profoundly confused by his comments. "... Freak...?"

"Did anyone see that! H-her eyes changed colors, s-she's a monster!" He looks around, as people slowly gathered around them.

You still sit there with her head tilted and the same innocent but vacant expression on your face. "What's.. a monster...?"

The man gave you a disgusted yet frustrated look. "You! That's exactly what you are!" He then rushes forward, almost grabbing you, causing you to flinch again from his sudden movements.

But before he could reach you, he's forcibly pushed back, causing him to stagger backward.

"What the hell?!" He regains his composure, finally focusing his gaze on the stranger who stopped him.

"I think you've done enough." The voice was smooth yet frighteningly authoritative.

"Who do you think you-" The man tries to fire back, but the stranger who pushed him only raises his brow as if daring him to finish his sentence.

That's when it dawned on him. This is a man he should not mess with. Casanova... One of seven members of their country's most notorious mafia gang.

"You know- It's one thing to raise your voice at a woman, but it's another thing to try put your hands on one. Especially an innocent one." He gives him a menacing stare.

The man gulps, struggling to maintain eye contact. "She's the one who walked into a busy road! She shouldn't be here in the first place!"

Before Jimin could respond, the man in front of him attempts to rush past him, chasing after you, who suddenly stands up and moves towards the scene you saw earlier. "Hey! Where do you think you're going, lady?!"

Jimin rolled his eyes and jerks the man back from his collar. "And where do you think you're going?"

The leather-suited man casts a sidelong glance at his dongsaeng. "Delta, go after her."

The dongsaeng obeyed him with a silent nod, leaving the two men on the road. Jimin then shifts his attention back to the man in front of him. "There is no excuse for abusing a helpless young woman. Shall I teach you a lesson?"

He smirks wickedly, sending chills down the man's spine. His expression changes to one of terror, and he trembles slightly when he realizes he has no way out. That's because no one dares to challenge the Bangtan Boys. Their business is their business, and no one is allowed to get in the way. Not even the police.

The man looks around desperately for anybody who is willing to help him. But, unfortunately, there isn't anyone. Nobody wants to, therefore they turn a blind eye to the situation.

Jimin laughs cynically. "No one will help you. You brought this on yourself."

"Come to think of it, I was just having a stressful day... But it appears that I've found a way to relieve my stress." He began taking perilous steps towards the defenseless man, while he in exchange, moves back.

Meanwhile, Jungkook jogs after the nameless young woman, which is you, being only a couple of feet behind. "Hey! Girl in the blue gown!"

You, as if in a trance, ignore Jungkook's calls and continues to travel toward the negative source you were sensing.

The unknown man, who towers over the other, slams him against a brick wall. At the same time, Jungkook had finally caught up to you, and the guy draws a gun.

You yell, overwhelmed by the negative energy. "No!"

The man catches sight of you, and then...

BANG!...

Your eyes are pressed tight, and your hands are covering your ears. You reopen your eyes to find a figure covering you. It's almost as though it's shielding you...

You raised your head, your gaze fixed on the stranger. Although you didn't know the words, he looked very appealing. Large doe eyes with a defined face structure and jawline.

He breathes. "Are you... all right?"

You merely stare at him, most likely still processing what just happened and recuperating from the gunshot's ample noise.

The odd thing was that there was no blood. No, none of them was covered in blood, but when you peered over the stranger's shoulder, you noticed the unfortunate victim on the ground, covered in his own blood.

The perpetrator fled the scene as soon as he pulled the trigger. He must have recognized the man who accompanied you and decided it was best to do what he needed to do and get out of there.

But it will all be in vain since Jungkook has a remarkable memory, having a clear image of the man, and will soon find him.

Your eyes widen at the sight, sensing the emptiness radiating from the victim. "No..."

You brush by him, not in an impolite manner, of course. The man shallowly breathes, noticing your petite figure approaching him. "Help... Ple-Please..."

"It hurts so much, I don't want to die this way." He whimpers.

The wounded man appears to be in his mid-forties, with gray hair dispersed throughout his short dark locks. He also has some mature creases on his forehead.

"It hurts?" You say.

He gives a faint nod. "Help me..."

You crouch next to him, your eyes glowing, signaling you're about to use your special abilities. In fright, he locks his vision on your brilliant violet eyes, gasping and backing away. "W-What are you...?"

You frown a little. "I won't hurt- I help..."

"I promise it won't hurt." You softly reassure him.

He stares at you briefly. "Okay."

Jungkook, on the other hand, quietly observes as you delicately cover the man's gunshot wound with your hand.

His pupils dilate as he watches the veins surrounding the man's wound and on your hand glow purple. It looked like something out of a sci-fi film.

What the fuck is happening right now? He thought.

Tears dropped from your eyes, as you transfer his pain into herself from feeling the same sharp burning sensation. You chew on your lower lip, suppressing your pained groans, for a few more excruciating seconds before pulling your hand away from him. "D-does it hurt?"

He smiles with bloodied lips. "No. T-thank you..."

"I don't know how you did it, but thank you." He exhales a weak breath as his eyes slowly shut. "You know... You kind of remind me of her..."

"Her?"

"Yeah, my Areum..." And with that, his eyes finally closed.

"A-Areum?" You muttered, but he didn't respond.

Your brow scrunched as you placed her bloodied hands on the motionless body. "Ya- Wake up."

You try to shake him awake, but it is futile. Jungkook sighs and approaches you from behind. "He's gone."

You pause, acknowledging him. "But he's here."

"That's not what I meant. He's dead, which means he's no longer alive." He explained bluntly.

Jungkook rests a hand on your shoulder as you drop your hands, still staring at the dead man. "Come on. The police will find him, and your presence will make matters worse." More like my presence, but there's no time for an explanation for that.

"His family will be contacted, and he won't be alone."

You raise your eyes to Jungkook. "What is... family...?"

"What?" He raised his brows.

"You said..." You point at him. "...Family... What is family?"

Something is certainly not right here. First, she causes a road rage, then walks into a crime scene, and she touches a man with glowing purple veins, lastly, she has no idea what family is.

So many thoughts raced through his head, but one thing he was certain of was that the girl in front of him was no ordinary girl. Therefore, he made the conscious decision to take you with him.

You glanced at him, waiting for an answer, but he is cut off by the sound of his phone buzzing.

He quickly reaches inside his pants pocket and takes out his phone. "Hello?"

"I'm all finished here. Where are you and the h/c colored girl?" Jimin spoke.

He returns your gaze. "We're nearby. We'll be there in two." He then hangs up the phone and lowers himself to your level.

"You're gonna have to come with me, little girl." He commanded.

You blink. "Okay."

Jungkook gets baffled by your instant cooperation. That was easy... Maybe too easy. He makes a mental note to keep a close eye on you. He then pulled you by the hand and led you back to their black van.

"Well, hello there." Jimin greets you charmingly as you enter the van with Jungkook.

You look up at him. "H-Hello..."

Jungkook walks up to the chauffeur. "Continue our way home, we have urgent matters to discuss."

He then returns to the two others in the back, with Jimin raising his brow at him. "What is this 'urgent matters' you speak of?"

"Her." Jungkook nods his head at you.

Jimin then shifts his eyes to you. "What about her? Is she from a mental asylum or something?"

"Who knows... but I don't think she's human." He whispered the last part.

"What are you talking about? She looks pretty human to me." Jimin retorts with a scrunched face.

Jungkook sighs. "I'll explain it later when we get home."

"Are you sure it's a good idea to bring this girl home?" Jimin turns to Jungkook as they exit the van, followed by the silent blue gown-clad girl, you.

"What if she's psycho and attacks us?"

Jungkook scoffs at his hyung's nonsense, rolling his eyes. "We're literally trained mafia gangsters, Hyung. Do you honestly believe she'll be able to lay a hand on us?"

"But we could never lay a hand on a woman. It's just against our moral code." Jimin crosses his arms.

"True, but if she attacks me without reason and with the intent to seriously harm me, I will fight back. I'm telling you that." Jungkook replied.

"And no one can really stop us since we live in the most remote location."

Jimin scrunches his face in uncertainty. "Well— Except for hyungs." He then checks his watch. "Which, by the way, will arrive home in about two hours, so we better be quick."

"Yeah, yeah."

Jungkook then pivots to face you. "Hey. Follow us, okay? Don't touch anything."

"You got it." He raised his brows.

You blink and silently nod. Jimin watches the pair's interaction. "At least she's obedient."

Jungkook responds with a shrug. The two men and you then entered the house, or mansion, as we shall call it, and were immediately greeted by its luxurious design. The exceptionally high ceiling, the rich modern yet simple layout, and the decorations span the vast entryway that leads to the living room.

"Let's keep her in your room while we talk in here." Jungkook proposed.

Jimin's eyes bulged. "Why my room?! Why not your room!"

"Because there are fewer things that could break. Seriously, your room is so minimalistic."

"Besides, it's the closest to the stairway, so she'll be able to get down faster when it's time to leave." Jungkook elaborated.

Jimin sighs defeatedly as he clicks his tongue. "Fine, this better be worth it. You owe me Jeon Jungkook."

Jungkook gives his hyung a not-so-innocent smile. Jimin then looks at the girl, scanning her with his eyes up and down. "First, she needs to get cleaned up. She's not going to be lounging on my furniture like that."

"My goodness, you sound like Jin." Jimin narrows his eyes in response to the dongsaeng's complaint.

"Let's get this over with." He unexpectedly grabs your elbow, making you flinch and look up at him.

"I won't hurt you." He reassures you, then softly pulls you again.

As soon as you three enter the older male's room, you instantly scan your surroundings. Looked at everything with awe. Your gaze was soon drawn to the 98-inch 8k flatscreen tv. You approach it with a curious tilt of your head.

The men watch you approach it quietly, noticing your dim reflection against the barren black screen. You extend your hand and poke at your reflection. "Is this... me?"

They exchanged a brief glance before Jungkook spoke. "Yes, that is you. You're a mess."

"Do you know what that thing is?" Jimin asked.

You turn your head at him. "It's me."

He chuckles and shakes his head. "No, that's not what I meant. I'm referring to this large black box."

You pout slightly, not understanding what he's saying, leaving the two men dumbfounded by your lack of knowledge of one of the most basic items in modern society. "I-It's a tv. It essentially displays moving images and emits sounds according to what is displayed on the screen."

He reaches for the black remote that had been carelessly tossed on the edge of his bed. "I'll show you."

"Should I put on a kids show?" Jimin whispers to the younger one.

"It looks like she'd understand that better." Jungkook answers.

Jimin turned on the television, completely unaware that his volume was set ridiculously high. The abrupt roaring audio triggers you to startle and curl up into yourself, shielding your ears, like you did at the lab.

That's when you remembered the deafening sirens and the hammering on the door during her escape merely hours earlier. Your eyes are tightly clenched as Jimin and Jungkook panics at your reaction.

"Turn it off!" Jungkook screams as Jimin fumbles with the remote.

"Yeah- I'm trying!" He shouts back, finally turning it off.

The dongsaeng sighs deeply in embarrassment. "Why the hell do you have your tv so loud?"

"O-our rooms are far apart, it wasn't like it disturbed any of you guys." He stutters.

Jungkook shook his head in disappointment, then shifted his gaze to the petite girl curled on the floor. He frowns softly, questioning what happened to this you before they all met to make you so clueless about everything and react so badly.

Jimin looks at you with a guilty expression. Meanwhile, Jungkook quietly approaches you and hesitantly touches your shoulder, to bring you out of your fright. You give him a solemn face while unconsciously flashing your vibrant purple eyes at them.

Jimin's jaw drops at the sight, finally recognizing what he meant when he said you're not ordinary.

"What the actual fuck?!" He exclaims, causing Jungkook's head to snap at the curse word. "Dude..."

You scrunch your eyebrows. "Fuck?"

Jungkook returns his sight to her. "Don't say that, he didn't mean to say that."

The younger one glares at his hyung, who smiles bashfully. "Oops-? It's fine, she doesn't know what it means."

"Now, do you see what I meant?"

"Yes, we have a lot to talk about. This is very— fascinating..."

"But, once again, let's get her cleaned up." While Jungkook helps you to your feet, Jimin walks up to his drawer and brings out an old sweatshirt and shorts that are too small for him.

Jimin then pulls the very bottom drawer, which is filled with... female underclothes...

Jungkook grimaces in disgust. "Are you really going to give her your past hook-ups' underwear?"

Jimin rolls his eyes. "They're clean."

"Yeah but still-"

The two men led you to Jimin's bathroom, while the oldest one held the folded clothing."This is the bathroom. You need to shower and change into these clothes—"

Jimin places the stacked clothes on the counter. You stared blankly at the folded garments. "You'll have to undress first."

Understanding his words but not the appropriate timing, you grasp the hem of your robe and begin lifting it.

Their eyes widen at your quick compliance. "WAIT WAIT WAIT-"

You froze in place, perplexed by their reactions. Jimin chuckles shyly. "Once this door is closed, you can start to undress."

He then shuts the door as the boys step out.

‎

‎

After a good fifteen minutes, you emerged from the bathroom. All dressed in Jimin's oversized hoodie, which made you look even smaller than you already were, and shorts that ended just above your knees.

Jungkook snorts at your look. "Cute."

Jimin clears his throat. "We'll be talking downstairs, you stay here and try not to break anything, okay?"

You nod in response, and the two exit the room.

"Explain." As they sat across from each other on the couch, Jimin locked eyes with Jungkook.

Jungkook then goes on to explain what happened earlier, when he followed after you, who managed to stumble upon an active homicide scene. And how you approached the poor man who had been shot and was pleading for help because he was in pain, then did whatever you did which caused your veins to glow purple, much like your eyes.

"I'm guessing she took away his pain. I did overhear him say that he was no longer in pain."

He chuckles dryly. "This may sound strange, but what if she escaped from something? Like the movie, The Witch."

The elder remained silent, soaking in the newfound information and evaluating the bizarre situation they had found themselves in. "So... you're saying she has these man-made special abilities?"

"Yes! Exactly-"

"Well, it seems sensible, but let's not go too far ahead of ourselves." Jimin answers.

The younger scoffs. "Oh, come on- what other explanation could there be for all of this? You witnessed it for yourself! Have you ever met anyone else who possesses glowing purple eyes?"

"I guess you're right. But if that's the case then we should keep a close eye on her. She could be dangerous."

"Dangerous? So far, she seems to be quite harmless." Jungkook held an amusing expression.

Jimin crossed his arms. "Yeah, for now. If what you say is true, who knows the extent or what additional 'abilities' she has."

Suddenly, a loud motorcycle engine roars, and they exchange nervous glances. "Shit."

"Didn't you say they wouldn't be home for another hour?!"

"I'm just as surprised as you are! I didn't know they'll come home early!"

"What should we do?" Jungkook says.

"Nothing. They'll be there in a second; let's just pray she's okay in there."

Not long after, the front door opens, revealing four other males. As soon as the group entered the mansion, they both flashed an 'innocent' smile. "Taehyung-ah-- Hyungs!"

"You guys are home early." Jimin nudges Jungkook.

A man with a freckle on the tip of his nose combs his parched hair. "Yeah, the meet-up was a complete bust."

His remark was met with frowns. "What happened, Yoongi-hyung?"

The man with a long scar lined down his right eye laughs snarkily. "We were ambushed, and Namjoon was injured as a result."

"What?!" Jungkook exclaims. "Is he okay?!"

"Yeah, he's fine. I took him to the clinic house, where Sun-Woo is currently treating him." A man with broad shoulders and spectacle lens answered.

"They're gonna regret that." Jimin's expression darkens.

The man with platinum blonde hair smirks mischievously. "They certainly will."

While you wait for the two strangers, you explore Jimin's opulent room, strolling from corner to corner, as your eyes are captivated by all of the foreign furnishings. Somehow, her attention was caught by a gleaming black item. Being intrigued by it, you found yourself drawn to it.

The shiny black object turned out to be a 10mm long-range handgun. you put it out in front of you, not realizing what it is but nevertheless fascinated by it. You thoughtlessly take a detailed look and fiddle with it.

You spin and flip it around several times, shaking it near your ear, desperately trying to figure out what it is.

You then smack it a few times against your palm, wrapping your hand around the handle and trigger. As you grew increasingly frustrated with the object, you unintentionally squeezed the trigger.

The gunshot rang, and the bullet flew through the room and out the window, shattering the glass. Scared by the unexpected gunshot and the force of the pistol, you yelp and stumble backward, tripping over the protruding end of a rug and knocking down the flower vase that sat on the glass coffee table. ‎

‎

The six reunited men in the living room were completely immersed in their "business" discussion when glass shattering and a gunshot broke out, interrupting their conversation.

Jimin and Jungkook start to perspire, anxious about the outcome. The other four males shared perplexed looks before becoming serious.

"What was that." Yoongi spoke passively.

"Did someone just break in?" Hoseok questioned. They all rose up, realizing the potential threat to them.

Taehyung kept his gaze fixed on the top of the stairs. "Whatever or whoever that was, chose the wrong house."

"It sounds like it came from Jimin's room." Jin comments.

Hoseok looks at Jimin. "Were you expecting someone Jimin?" The addressed man kept silent, which the others took as an affirmation.

Yoongi reaches behind him and draws out his handgun, while the others follow him. "Formation boys."

Jimin and Jungkook trail behind uneasily. They approach Jimin's door with vigilance, and Yoongi extends his hand, twisting the doorknob and then violently slamming the door open.

He immediately aimed his gun toward the "intruder" in the room, joined by the rest of the members. "Who are you?! Don't move!"

Jungkook's eyes widened as he rushed forward to block Yoongi. "Wait! Don't shoot!"

"What the hell, Jungkook?!" Yoongi's brow pinched. "What are you doing?"

Jimin comes forward as well, seeing the scene in front of them. You sat on the floor, knees bent against your chest, an arm wrapped across your knees, and the other hand lying on the floor next to you, staring frightened at the pistol that had been dropped.

"What did you do?! Are you okay!" Jimin pulls you from your trance. You looked at him with guilty eyes, not knowing what to say, causing Jimin to sigh. "You're not bleeding which I take is a good sign."

"Jimin, is this another one of your... toys?" Jin asked. "She's cute, almost innocent-looking. It's hard to believe you'd bring a girl like her home."

He shook his head. "No, Jungkook and I just kinda found her on our way home."

Yoongi's expression stays hostile. "So the two of you brought home a random girl?"

"There's a reasonable explanation to this." Jungkook begins, and Yoongi arches a single brow in return. "Which is?"

"It'll be difficult to believe based on words alone, you all will have to see it for yourselves first."

"I-I'm s-sorry." A tiny voice abruptly sounded, bringing all six pairs of eyes to you.

"It's fine." Jimin responds, and Taehyung's face lights up. "How adorable!"

He eagerly approaches you, crouching to your level. "What's your name, cutie?"

You sway your head. "Name? What is name?"

As Taehyung chuckles awkwardly, they all blink in confusion at your answer. "When you want someone's attention, you call them by their name. For instance, my name is Taehyung. So you call me Taehyung."

"So, what is your name? What do people call you?" Taehyung asks again.

After hearing his explanation, you finally nod in understanding. "What they call me?" He nods with a lip grin.

You then grab the ends of Jimin's sweater and start to lift it, surprising everyone.

"YA!" Jimin and Jungkook both exclaimed.

You ignore their yells, just stopping to expose the burnt branded skin on your left lower abdomen.

You point at it. "0...0...7..." Then look at Taehyung and gesture to yourself. "Me. 0-0-7, me."

"Your name is a number?"

You gesture once more. "I'm 0....0...7."

He looks at Jimin and the others with a puzzled expression, as they do the same.

Feeling frustrated with the situation, Yoongi glares at Delta. "You'd best start talking, Jungkook, who the hell is she?"

"I swear you will understand better if you witness it first!" He pleads. "We need an injured person, like... Namjoon hyung!"

The elder narrows his eyes at him. "Excuse me?"

"I have been summoned?" A deep voice erupts from the doorway, revealing a bandaged man. Jungkook grabs Namjoon and walks over to the girl who is still seated on the floor.

"How come you left the clinic, Namjoon?" Hoseok inquired.

"I heard a gunshot and wanted to find out what it was about." He answers while being dragged by the youngest.

"Hey." Jungkook addresses you, compelling you to turn your head in his direction. "Look at him, he's hurt, just like the man we saw before."

You blink at the sight of Namjoon, sensing his injuries instantaneously. "He hurt."

"Yeah. Help him, like you help the man."

You stand up and walk up to them. You scan Namjoon for a moment before gazing at his face. "I will help."

Namjoon gives his dongsaeng a short side-eye while muttering. "Jungkook..."

"Just let her, I promise you guys."

The leader clears his throat. "I-I suppose you can help- whatever that means."

You bring one hand slowly to his face, gently cupping it, as the other goes to the bandaged wound. You pause, eyeing it. "Remove please..."

He looks down at the bandage. "Y-You want me to take it off?"

"Yes." You nod, and Namjoon obliges, making everyone cringe at the nasty cut. You pout as well but continue by tenderly placing your other hand over his bloody gash.

And, as usual, your eyes began to glow purple, signifying that you're exerting your "power" to heal their leader and absorb his pain. The veins around his wounds, as well as those on your hand, shone purple.

Their eyes enlarged in reaction to the peculiar girl, who reveals her extraordinary abilities.

"Holy shit."

"What the fuck..."

"How the hell..."

They all muttered. You let out an inaudible whimper, taking in all of Namjoon's pain. Once all his wounds had fully healed, you lock eyes with him and detach your hands from him.

No one speaks, everyone is speechless, completely taken aback by your act. It was something they'd never seen before, and now that they've seen it, hundreds of questions are racing through their heads. Starting with, "who exactly is this girl, and where did she come from?"

Yoongi, of course, is the first to act on it. He lunges at you, deathly gripping the sweatshirt collar. "Who are you! What did you do?!"

You look at him, terrified as if you had messed up the healing process that you had previously been ruthlessly trained to do. "I- helped-d..."

"D-Did I fail? Did I-I hurt h-him?" You then shift your now violet eyes to the others behind him. But Yoongi's hold never faltered, even when you trembled slightly in regard to him.

Another few moments of quietness passed, accompanied by Yoongi's heavy breathing, as his gaze fixed on you, like a predator on its prey.

But Jin eventually intervened. "That's enough, Yoongi. You're scaring her."

"She should be. Don't you remember what kind of reputation we have?" He hissed.

"It doesn't matter. She did nothing wrong." Jimin spoke up.

"They're right. I think she healed me, she really took the pain away. I don't how, and it's quite freaky." Namjoon said.

Yoongi still never loosened his hand, causing Namjoon to place his hand on his shoulder. "Let her go, Oranyan."

He clenches his jaw, reluctantly releasing your petite figure. Still filled with fear, you collapsed to the floor, bowing as if your life depended on it.

"I-I'm sorry! 007 be b-better tool next t-time. Please n-no punishment..." You beg, keeping your head down.

Taehyung frowns at your pleas while the other six men watched you, not knowing how to react to it.

He approaches you again. "Raise your head sweetie."

You lift your gaze to him with complete innocence, reminding Taehyung of his little sister that was once so close to him but now six feet under. "Don't worry, you've done well."

"Well, it seems like we have a lot to discuss right now. Let's leave her to calm down." Namjoon clapped his hands, grabbing their attention.

"Go ahead, Jungkook." Namjoon instructs as they all gathered in the living room. Just like he did with Jimin prior to their arrival, Delta recounts everything that occurred when encountering you that led them to bring you home.

"That's it." Jungkook concludes as everyone sits quietly as they process the new information.

"So far, I believe we can assume that she possesses some special abilities. One that was able to heal Namjoon Hyung's injuries." Jimin pitches in.

"This reminds me of the movie The Witch. Maybe she comes from research or medical facility that conducts strange experiments." Taehyung suggested.

Yoongi rolled his eyes. "That sounds stupid, Taehyung, and this isn't a movie."

"No, but there aren't any other logical explanations." Jungkook quickly defends his two-year older hyung. "I also had the same idea, as I was explaining to Jimin hyung earlier."

"So, what are we going to do?" Hoseok inquires, looking aimlessly at the ground.

Namjoon's brows furrowed for a few moments before speaking. "There are far too many theories circulating, as well as unanswered questions. We need more information on this..."

"So what you're saying is, you want to keep the girl." Jin finishes his thought.

"Oh hell no-"

"There are too many variables, and who knows what will happen if she goes out on her own?" Jimin states.

Then Taehyung raises his hand. "I think she should stay. Plus she's cute too."

Jimin nudges him in the ribs, causing him to wince. "I too vote for her to stay."

"Then all in favor of the girl staying, raise your hand." Namjoon announces as he lifts his hand.

And, with the exception of one, all five other hands rose. The six pairs of eyes directs at the aforesaid man, who remained deafeningly silent and wore an annoyed face.

"Yoongi?" Namjoon calls out, making the man to huff. "What."

"It makes no difference whether I raise my hand or not; we all know how the majority votes." He answers sharply.

The leader's gaze lingered on him for a while until breaking eye contact. "Then it's settled she shall stay here."

Not a minute later, the scar-faced man storms out of the room, furious.

‎

‎

masterpost | intro + characters | two

[goodluckclove]

How I Critique Writing (A Loose Collection of Tips)

Someone asked me for insights into my methodology when it comes to giving feedback on writing and I realized I had way more than I could say in a reasonable amount of private messages. Are you someone who I've spoken to about their writing? Did someone send you their work and you don't know how to respond? Maybe this will help? Based on how people react I feel like it might be controversial but it seems to work.

When someone sends me their writing, no matter the size, subject or genre, I:

Take it seriously. It's a generational epic about the Vietnam war and its effects. It's a cute, young adult romance. It's Zim and Dib from Invader Zim realizing they've always been in love with each other. All of these things can be written with earnestness, strength, honesty and skill. It's fucking hard to write and if someone writes a single sentence that wouldn't otherwise exist its worth holding in your hands and examining with the same eye as if you were taking an interesting book off the shelf.

Respond with curiosity. It's common for critiques to follow a theme of ambiguous disdain. This doesn't work. Delete this. Bad. No. Gross. Guess what? That's not helpful. If you got that feedback, even if you followed it, you wouldn't be thrilled about it. Oftentimes you can take a line that makes you want to say Bad and ask something else. What is this supposed to express? What were you trying to do here? Am I supposed to feel happy/sad/uncertain when I read this? Curiosity can reframe something that you don't think works as a reader and turn it into an opportunity for the writer to look inward and solve their own problem. They might explain what they were trying to do, and if you were to say that it didn't pan out for you they're way more likely to tweak things themselves and feel like they still have control over their project.

Give comments. I've started giving more in-depth comments on the writing people give me depending on how anxious they are about it. If you're a pretty confident writer I'll give a summary of what I gained and what I was left wondering, what I thought and what I felt, what associations it made me think of in terms of tone and other forms of media - stuff like that. For newer writers, especially those who are far more doubting of their own abilities, I go buck wild. And in my opinion notes should be less like Good! I like this! Wow! Nice! (What are you, grading my book report? No thanks), and more like what you think when you're reading a book you're truly invested in. Make jokes about the characters (Not mean ones. I will send bugs to you in the mail.), chart exact lines that provoke physical reactions, even a small one. Can you imagine reading someone treat your work like it has its own fandom on Tumblr? You can do that for someone else.

Fucking have some fucking awareness of the fact that it might not be for you and that doesn't mean it's bad. I'm angry about this one considering the novel a friend sent me last night that they've been too terrified to try and post online, despite it being fucking brilliant. I'll try and calm down. Listen - you read what you like. I mainly read literary and experimental fiction, some poetry, horror and some sci-fi. Not a lot of genre fiction. But I will always be down to read someone's high fantasy story, because even though I don't really like fantasy I know what the good ones sound like. I've forced myself to gain a sense of what someone else would like, even if I don't like it. And I can still critique it. If I'm a builder and I see a house that's painted a shade of green I find sinful for a home (i.e. mint), I can look past that and focus on the state of the walls and the stability of the foundation. You aren't a reviewer, man. You are neither Siskel, nor Ebert. They write for readers, you write for writers. So you don't like historical fiction? Cool, man. Congrats. If someone trusts you enough to give you some to read and critique, you should still do so objectively. If you give it an automatic F because you wouldn't buy it, then you are legally a stinky little trash man. That's just the law.

Ask them what they liked to write and what was the hardest. There's apparently a weird trend on online writer communities that say there are specific rules that all writers need to follow. This is not true. It just isn't. If the dialogue in a story you read is weak, and the writer says they hate writing dialogue and really struggle with it, maybe tell them they don't have to use it. You might change their entire life.

RESPOND WITH CURIOSITY. You see the Ask games where people try and get more detail on the WIP of certain authors. If you have a WIP and I ask you a worldbuilding question that doesn't relate to the direct plot of the story as it exists now, I bet you'd like to talk about it. If I ask if you were inspired by a certain tone or movie, you might know the work I was talking about and feel happy. Or you might not know it, look it up, and feel inspired. I don't think people realize that a critique of new/unfinished writing is not a one-and-done exchange. You are taking part in an isolated process in a way few other people on the planet will. It's not homework. It's. Not. Homework. We spend so much of our time alone just fiddling our hands and making our magic, and in instances like these we share something in one of the ultimate forms of artistic trust. They're taking you into a world that hasn't fully formed yet. Is it cool? Can you tell me about it? Can they?

Be nice. Storytime, friends. In the way early 2010s, there was something on the internet called sporking. It was pretty much a line by line roast of someone's writing - typically fanfic. And I hate to say this, but I read a lot of it. I was 13, somehow untreated and overmedicated, and I was miserable constantly. Just cold in my chest. At one point I had the chance to critique a stranger's story - probably another child - and I essentially mocked the whole thing. They ended up deleting the story off the website. I cannot begin to describe to you the shame I feel about doing this, even ten years later. It burns in my heart and makes me sick to my stomach. If you are a serious writer, especially a young writer, and you insult another writer's craft to their face just as they're getting started - you will regret it. I promise you that. You will think about holding something alive and full of potential in your hands and squeezing your fists until it is just flecks of meat and crushed bone. It will haunt you. Maybe only a little, but constantly and for the rest of your life. So don't do it.

Wow what a grim note to leave on! That's essentially my philosophy on writing critique, do with it what you will. Want to send me some writing to receive this kind of excessive treatment? Cool! I have an email in my pinned post and I'll do that! I'm also down to chat if anyone wants to send me asks or DMs on writing/writing struggles/publishing tips.

[sophiesonlinediary]

Official TTPD Review

Fortnight - Such a vibe with headphones on, but still far from being my favorite though. I'm quite shocked this is the first single but I do really like it now at the second listen, still sad post malone didn't get his own verse i was excited for that :/

The Tortured Poets Department - The charlie puth mention really ruined verse 2 for me sadly, but the bridge ruined my life "At dinner, you take my ring off my middle finge. And put it on the one people put wedding rings on. And that's the closest I've come to my heart exploding" LIKE WTF HEART = BROKEN the title of the song is really cool but i dont know i wasnt expecting the song to sound like this.

My Boy Only Breaks His Favorite Toys - I think this may be my second least favorite from this album i dont understand why i didnt really like this song. Maybe it was the vibe of the song and sound especially the choruses which sadly didnt hit. i love how she wrote about a rocky relationship in this song. I feel like this one will definetly be a grower

Down Bad - literally one of my favorites from the whole album. Maybe it's cause the sound feels familiar to me kind off like midnights vibe. But wow that chorus is amazing truly so catchy and the lyrics like wow. i love this song so muchhhh

So Long, London - Not what I expected but still so heartbreakingly pretty. I love her voice in this song it's so pretty and the lyrics are so good oh my god. I swear the verse 3's in this album are vile. "I died on the altar waitin' for the proof" like god damn this whole song is amazing.

But Daddy I Love Him - I loved this song so fucking much. When she said "I'm having his babies" my face dropped and then she hit me with "no not really but you should see your faces" was really fun i'll probably never forget that. i believe this song is of everyone trying to decide her love life for her. And her being like fuck you guys it's my life and you have to accept it and i love her for that!

Fresh Out The Slammer - Those choruses are so good man especially the second one is so good and so me. On first listen this one isn't very memorable but still really good. Now that i've listened to it more like i love this song so much too and the bride ahhh <333

Florida !!! - Ok so maybe i'm a little biased but man this one is so fucking good. I have loved Florence and Taylor for years so like them collaborating was like everything and more. I have now listened to the song like thrice and wowwwww i love it so muchhhhh. Taylor, Florence, Fl welcomes you with open arms man. And like verse 3 was so good their song writing skills are out of this world.

Guilty As Sin? - What an interesting song, like man, idk how to feel. I love the chorus fs. I've come to interpret this song as her having thoughts of a man who possibly isn't available per say or it's just something that can never happen between the two but the want for eachother is there. "They don't know how you've haunted me so stunningly" I love this lyric btw and the chorus right after like wowwww

Who's Afraid Of Little Old Me - ME IM SCARED WTF. Her screaming that line was everything and like the second half of the song is so incredible like wow. also this line has stuck with me since last night "Then we could all just laugh until I cry" ALSO THE ASYLUM WHERE THEY RAISED ME SDJNVFI. I love how she's kind of portraying herself in this song as like the stereotypical scary neighbor in movies. At least that's how I saw it. The whole bridge is incredible and magnificent I adore this song.

I Can Fix Him (No Really I Can) - GIRL NO YOU CANT AND IM SO HAPPY YOU ACCEPTED THAT. Once I got past the point that this song is about ratty healy I really liked it. it's vibes are so good and the imagery is amazing.

loml - what if i said this should've been track 5. This was the only song in the album I cried to on first listen. It hit me like a bullet and I will never forgive cat lady swift for not preparing me for this song. Literally so fucking hurtful i'm screaming oh my lord. I- no im never getting over this song, sorry not sorry. And the fact "They almost had it all" but there life was cut short aka the relationship ended oh god kill me.

I Can Do It With A Broken Heart - I don't know whether to laugh or to cry. This song is heartbreaking don't let the production fool you, the lyrics want to make you rip you're hair out. And you know what i'll be dancing to this song with a broken heart. "The lights refract sequin stars off her silhouette every night. I can show you lies" it's giving mirrorball like augh i love this song so much!!! and the chorus is everything "I'm so obsessed with him, but he avoids me like the plague" SO FUCKING REAL.

The Smallest Man Who Ever Lived - DRAG HIS ASS TAYLOR YEAHHHH. HELLO WTF THIS SONG IS SO GOOD AND FOR ALL OF U HATING ON IT U JUST DONT GET IT THE PASSIVE AGGRESSIVENESS IS EVERYTHINGGGG. mad woman you'd be proud asf. also my religion mentioned as a tongue in cheek to his anti religion views 👏

The Alchemy - I'm not gonna talk about this song much but like I didn't like it at all, i'm sorry. It sounds like one of those Kelce parody songs 😭

Clara Bow - Not the name-dropping herself, damn. I wanna manifest that second pre-chorus btw 🤞 i need to see the light of manhattan. I truly love this song and I can tell it's very personal to her. she's had such an unbelievable career it's always interesting when she writes about it. loved this as the album closer!

this is my ttpd review. remember im just a girl who's only listened to this album twice so please dont drag me for these opinions. gonna do the anthology later!

[gamerkats]

Best part about having a Bard at game night? They tend to come in with an ear worm that will drive you NUTS!!! So excited we get to post this!!!!

Sung to the tune of "The Devil Went Down To Georgia", by The Charlie Daniels Band.

The Devil went down to Hazbin, He was lookin' for a dream to kill. He was in a bind 'cause in Charlie’s mind, She was doin’ up Heaven’s will.

When he came upon this tall man, Sawblade in a smile and spittin' it hot And the Devil jumped on the chandelier stump And said, “Alright then, tell you what,”

“I guess you just don’t know me, I must’a stayed away too long. But if you'd dare to take a care, I'll meet you horns head on. Now you tickle pretty good ivory, boy, but give the Devil his due, I’ll bet Charlie’s love gold against your soul, ‘Cause I know I’m better than you."

The man said, “My name's Alastor, and it might be a sin, But I'll take your bet, I’ll make you regret You ever came to our Hazbin.

Alastor, tighten up your grin, and play your piano hard. ‘Cause Hell has come to Hazbin, and the Devil is a bard. And if you lose, the Devil’s now the owner in control. But if you win, you just might get your soul.

[music interlude part, you know you're hearing it....]

The Devil was the first to sing, and he felt he could not lose. With fire just like a video killing all the radio’s reviews. And he plucked on every single string to fiddle with their hearts, And if Charlie would not barter, at least that smile’d be torn apart.

[music interlude that sounds like Adam just chimed in]

Before the Devil finished, Alastor said, “Well, not bad for an old man, Who’s least is quite his forte, I’ll show you how to lend a hand.”

Charlie’s got a dream, fun, what fun, The Devil’s jealous of all that I have done. I should really fear his seven wrath woe, Charlie, should I bite him? No, Al, no.

[more music!!!!]

The Devil ground his accordion down to Alastor’s hooved feet, And he readied for a second verse to make that deer heart bleat. Alastor said, “Devil, let’s go again, if you’re not all spent and flimsy.” Then the door broke down, to stomp on their bitch, Truest best of all was Mimsy. She played,

Charlie’s got a dream, fun, what fun, The Devil’s jealous of all that I have done. I should really fear his seven wrath woe, Charlie, should I bite him? No, Al, no.

[music!!!!!!]

[lurkingshan]

Sahara Sensei to Toki-kun Final Review

I was planning to just chalk this one up to every project having a flop, let this subpar Drama Shower show finish quietly, and move on to the next, but that finale was so egregiously bad that I can't let it pass. This is an angry rant so read at your own risk.

Let me just preface this by saying that I am not opposed to media about taboo relationships, particularly from Japan. Exploring taboo is a big part of the Japanese media landscape, and I have seen it done quite well in many Japanese works. I did not come into this show set against the idea of the relationship at its core (age gap, teacher/student), but I did need to see the show engage with the idea of it responsibly, and demonstrate that if they were going to end up together, that would actually be good for our protagonist, Toki.

This show utterly failed on both fronts. At no point in the course of this show did the story engage seriously with the fact that Sahara is 1) an adult teacher with professional obligations and standards of conduct to meet; 2) Toki's direct homeroom teacher who is responsible for guiding him. Instead, the story told us over and over again that none of this mattered. Not a single other character in this story was alarmed by the idea of Sahara dating his student. When Sahara "accidentally" kissed Toki in the school play in front of the entire school, there were no consequences. Sahara flirted with and touched Toki openly, at school, in front of others, and no one cared. Toki blew off his assignments in favor of focusing on and flirting with Sahara, and Sahara didn't care or help guide him back to focusing on his work. When Sahara's ex flame, who is also a teacher, found out he had feelings for his student, he encouraged him to pursue it. There was not a single character in this story who professed any concern for Toki's well-being once they knew his teacher was pursuing him.

And they damn well should have, because as we saw for ourselves in this very episode, this relationship with Sahara encouraged Toki to hide his problems, refuse to ask for help, and get himself hurt. And why? Because he didn't want to be embarrassed about being bullied or look weak in front of his teacher boyfriend. This is exactly why teachers are not supposed to cross these lines with their students. Toki needed Sahara to be a safe adult he could talk to and ask for help when he needed it a lot more than he needed someone to flirt with. And because Sahara did not maintain appropriate boundaires, Toki did not feel comfortable going to him to do his actual job.

And this is just the tip of the iceberg with this episode's sins. Toki's arc in this show completely fell apart. We started this story with the idea that he was a nice kid with a good heart who just needed to believe there was a future for him to work toward, but rather than completing that arc for him, this episode was about establishing a childhood connection between him and Sahara so that the show could give them a Fated Destiny excuse to get together. We spent most of this episode justifying Sahara confessing to his student rather than getting to see Toki grow or being shown anything to make us believe this relationship is actually good for Toki. No, this show decided to make that claim entirely via an expository voiceover right before Toki literally chucked his diploma into the bushes to jump on Sahara and tell him he liked him. What a fucking metaphor and perfect encapsulation of the message from this disaster of a story.

This show was a mess with no idea what it was trying to say, no grasp on the dynamics it was playing with, and no care whatsoever for its characters or the messages it was putting out into the world. I don't respect it and I absolutely cannot recommend it.

[filmbrainbmb]

New Projector Short! Kicking off October with - what else? - a horror movie review, as a family home contains the ghost of their ancestral sins in the German flick Home Sweet Home: Where Evil Lives, which is staged as a single shot in real time!

Home Sweet Home: Where Evil Lives US Release Date: TBC