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mercy-burning · 4 years ago

Text

Fake Fiancée

Pairing: Spencer Reid x fem!Reader

Summary: Spencer is left waiting at a bar when he gets in some trouble, and meets a woman who offers to help him out in more ways than one.

Category: SMUT (18+)

Warnings: Language, virgin!Spencer, car sex/exhibitionism, handjob, brief mention of edging, penetrative sex, unprotected sex, degradation kink, minor voyeurism kink, dirty talk (If I missed anything, please let me know!)

Word Count: 7k

MASTERLIST

NOTE: Hi, there!! Most of you have been extremely excited about this one since I shared the idea for it a few weeks ago, and so I’m glad to finally get to release it for you!! There’s a playlist here for you to check out if you’d like some ~vibes~ and over on @mercy-midnight I shared a few visual inspirations last night, so check them out if you want! Thank you for all your enthusiasm over this fic, I hope it lives up to your expectations!! 🥰

***

I've always loved the rain.

And it was definitely going to rain soon. How soon, I wasn't entirely sure, but as I made my way into the bar, taking one final breath of fresh air before it would inevitably be taken over by alcohol, greasy food, and way too much cologne, I could smell it. Cool and fresh, waiting to serve as some type of fresh start, to wash away all the hard shit and give me a clean slate.

The gaudy ring on my finger was one of those hard things I wished I could wash away. At least, it had been for a long time. Patrick never asked for it back after he left, and I'd had every intention of pawning it off, but I started noticing—after a few nights out where I'd tried to get hammered and nailed—that it scared everybody off.

I guess no one wanted to fuck a married woman—and a drunk married woman at that. Even if she technically wasn't even married anymore. Which I found all particularly odd considering my experience with men in the past has proved to provide me with extremely low standards.

It'd turned out to be a blessing in disguise, though. Sure, it might have taken me longer to completely get over Patrick and the mess he left me, but rather than losing myself in the lonely company of strangers, I forced myself to reflect and move on, to take each day in stride and take time for myself. Could I have just taken the ring off and gotten laid? Absolutely. But being on my own like that was the wakeup call I didn't know I'd needed.

And now, almost a year later, the ring sat tucked away in my jewelry box until I wanted it— usually when I knew I was going to the bar with every intention of getting hammered and not nailed. There were the occasional persistent players, but they were few and far in between, and if all else failed I resorted to smiling sweetly at them and lying, saying my "husband" was a cop. That shut them up pretty quickly, and by that point I was ready to leave anyway.

Like I said, blessing in disguise.

After a long day at work being called in on a Saturday, a few drinks at Waterson's sounded like a perfect way to end the night. I'd gone home, showered, ate dinner, and got dressed before taking a walk down the block and crossing the near-packed parking lot. The air was quite muggy despite it only being around forty degrees, which was the first indicator of rain. The second was the smell, of course, which I'd always been fond of, and the cobbled pavement had some type of haze around it that served as the final confirmation of my theory.

Honestly, I was hoping to get caught in the rain on my way home. I couldn't tell you why, exactly, just that the idea of walking home in the rain gave me the most excitement I'd felt in a long time. Life was great at the moment, of course, but between work and my less than ideal commute there on the train every day, I think I was due for a little excitement.

That excitement, naturally, started once I opened the door to the bar, taking a step inside and quickly being smacked in the face with the smell of fried everything. A small smile crossed my lips as I went in further, jumbled conversations, glasses clinking, and music humming softly behind the sharp snaps of pool balls being shot forward with the cue completing the picture.

I walked up to the bar to find Carla standing behind it, and I smiled at her. "I didn't know you were working Saturday," I called to her as I approached.

The brunette looked over at me and beamed, her teeth as perfect as ever. "Y/N, I didn't know you came in on Saturdays! How've you been?"

I took a seat at one of the barstools, nodding as I set my wallet and my phone down. "Alright... Work's a bitch, of course, but when is it not?"

"Yeah, I hear that. There's only so much relentless flirting I can take." We shared a good laugh at that before she nodded. "What can I get you?"

"A beer?"

"You got it."

I turned around then, surveying tonight's crowd. Waterson's was decently sized— definitely not as big or popular as the other bars in the city, but it got enough traction on the weekends, and even on Tuesdays when they had open mics. As my eyes wandered, they passed over all kinds of people. Women in tight clothes and men all over them, large groups of friends over by the pool tables who were betting and yelling with large smiles on their faces, old men by themselves in some of the tucked away corners... Anyone you could think of, name it and they were there.

One scene in particular caught my eye, though, and I thought about leaving it alone, but my gut twisted when I noticed how obviously uncomfortable the person was and how there was no one around who seemed to care enough to say or do anything.

Sitting alone at a rather large table was a guy who... no offense to him or anything, but he didn't look like he belonged here, not alone anyway. With a formal button-down short sleeve, meek stature, and a pair of glasses sitting atop his nose, he was an easy target for the two men that were towering over him as he sat, eyes averting them while they conversed. It could have been nothing, but occasionally the man in the glasses would flinch or look around nervously like he was waiting to be rescued.

Not that I wanted to rescue anyone or anything tonight. But he reminded me of someone being stood up, and from experience I knew how embarrassing that was, especially in a space crowded with other people who could obviously see what was happening to you. I hated Patrick for standing me up time and time again, and it wasn't until this waitress once intervened and offered some advice that I started to understand just how fucked up it was. That didn't make it hurt any less, of course, when he inevitably said he was moving across the country and dropped divorce papers on my desk at work, but still... The talk gave me some clarity.

Whether or not this man was actually being stood up or not, it was obvious that he was uncomfortable, and I figured he could use some help.

And I had just the plan.

I watched the scene until Carla came back with my beer, at which point I turned to her with a smile and got money from my wallet.

"Hey, could I get another?"

***

"No, you specifically told me 8pm..."

"I'm pretty sure I told you 9..."

I sighed, glancing around briefly at everyone and everything around me before speaking again, almost yelling into the speaker over all the noise. "Maybe you meant 9, but you told me 8, so I'm here. Alone!"

"Hey, look, I'm sorry, Kid, alright? But we're not gonna be there until 9, so... keep yourself busy until then? Let loose, have a couple drinks..."

I could hear the smirk in Derek's voice just as easily as I could picture it in my head as I sighed out a, "Fine," and hung up. The whole situation significantly raised my blood pressure, not to mention my anxiety— It wasn't hard to see that I stood out here. Bars were most definitely not my scene, and the only reason I'd agreed to go in the first place was so that I could try something new. Expand my horizons, as Penelope had told me right before I caved and agreed to accompany her and Derek on their little outing. I'd even drove my car here, a move I rarely made, as a start.

But now I was sitting alone at a booth, a glass of water in front of me and this twisting sensation in my gut that usually came to me when I didn't know what was going to happen.

I leaned back in my seat and sighed, staring down the glass of water as my cellphone tumbled around between my hands. All I had to do was wait here for an hour and remind myself over and over that eventually I'd be with people that I knew, people that I felt comfortable around. Only an hour.

One hour...

One hour, one hour, one hour... It was a chant in my head that went through different pitches and speeds until it was interrupted by a loud, "Hey, you!"

It could have been for anyone, but it was right next to me, and I knew when I wasn't wanted somewhere.

Sure enough, I turned my head to see a rather large man, a football player-type if I had to guess, wearing a grey tee shirt that hugged every muscle. There was a beer in his hands, and someone next to him, another man slightly shorter but still definitely athletic, held what looked to be a glass of hard liquor. By the looks on their faces, it was obvious that they were looking for a fight.

And it was also obvious that I was the easiest target in the whole bar.

One glance at the clock across the room and above their heads told me that I still had 54 minutes until my friends showed up, and that meat I'd either have to give these men whatever they wanted, tell them I was just about to leave, or attempt to pull the "I'm a Federal Agent" card, which I knew would probably get more laughs from them than a simple, "Sorry," and an exit.

I was about to run through every outcome of tonight's events in my head when the bigger guy spoke again, making me jump.

"Hey, m' talking to you!" He was drunk, most likely toeing the line between sobriety and a fist fight if I wasn't careful.

"I—Is there something you need?" I asked, hoping that if I could get this over with quickly, they'd leave me alone and maybe I could get out of here...

He mocked my voice in a way I'd heard more than once while growing up, and though I knew it was childish of him, saying more about him than me, the action got to me more than I cared to admit. Call it intuition, but when a nearly-drunk guy two times your size starts picking on you like a kid and you know he's just looking for a fight, the odds aren't very good when you're someone on the smaller side like me— Federal Agent or not. And he wasn't an unsub. He wasn't someone I could pick apart and just hand over to my team once I pushed back his defenses. If I picked this man apart, he'd likely throw a punch at my face.

Of course, I could get him arrested for assaulting a Federal Agent, but... Obviously I didn't want to get punched in the face.

As soon as his mumbled mockery of my words ended, he punctuated them with his own. "Yeah, I'm thinkin' I need you to find a new place to sulk. Go to the library or somethin'."

His friend laughed beside him like he'd just said the best comeback anyone's ever heard, and that alone almost made me laugh. Though, I knew that might have gotten me into more trouble.

Speaking of, I probably should have just got up to leave. That would have been the perfect time to say, "Okay," get up, and drive home. Sure, Penelope and Derek would have probably given me crap about chickening out, but I'd have avoided getting beat around or ridiculed further by these morons, so it was overall a win, right?

But my stupid mouth didn't agree with what my brain was thinking. "Oh, well, um... I'm waiting up for some friends, they should be here soon—"

"You have friends?" the other guy retorted before I could finish, and he looked proud of himself for it.

"Look, I don't care who you're waitin' on, pal, Right now you're alone, so I want y—"

I didn't see it coming. I couldn't have seen it from a mile away, never dreamed of anything like this happening in a million years. It was certainly not one of the possible outcomes to the night that I'd had in mind. And actually, even if I'd had any time to prepare for it, seeing the woman walk up to us with two beers in her hand and the biggest smile on her face, I still wouldn't have believed what was happening.

She blocked me from the men's line of sight, sitting herself promptly on my lap as she set the drinks down. "Hey, babe, I'm back with our drinks," she chirped, leaning forward and stopping just under my ear, whispering. "If you play along, I can get them to leave you alone..."

She didn't even give me any time to process, quickly pulling back, but not before kissing me firmly on the cheek, leaving my face in a warm flush as she turned back around to survey the men, who I'd quite frankly forgotten about once she pressed her soft lips to my skin and set her hands on my chest.

What the fu—

"Who're you talking with?"

Her voice was so... low and smooth, and it sent a flood of warmth throughout my whole body. If I could have bottled up her voice to drink, I would have. But instead, I settled for the beer she'd brought, grabbing it and chugging down four big gulps even though I hated it.

"You're with this... loser?" the bigger of the two men said, and truthfully it was the first time all night I'd well and truly felt inadequate in front of them. Sure, I knew I'd stood out, that physically I was weaker than them, but I also knew that deep down they were just drunks looking for a fight. I was better than that, regardless of whether or not they'd almost bullied me into leaving the bar.

I didn't have a problem with who I was, but when it came to women, I was pretty much a total wreck. I'd only ever kissed someone once, and much like back then, this woman was absolutely stunning and completely out of my league.

The man was right to be suspicious.

"Excuse me?" my savior retorted, standing up off my lap and removing herself from me completely. I exhaled, trying hard not to look like I was just as shocked as they were as she tore them a new one. "This loser happens to be my fiancée. And I'd watch what insults you're throwing around— You're the ones going around some bar picking on someone you don't know like you're middle schoolers. Now grow the fuck up and back off before I take your drinks and shove them so far up your asses you'll still be able to taste them."

Truthfully I was surprised when they didn't back down. The bigger guy scoffed, his eyes raking the woman up and down with a wicked glint in them. "Y'know, maybe if you ditched him and got fucked by a real man, you wouldn't be such a bitch."

And once again, I was stunned by her ability to quip back quicker than lightening. "Maybe if you weren't such a childish prick, you'd actually get fucked in the first place. Now back. The fuck. Off..."

While I should have been more grateful that her words got them to scoff and turn away, a small, absolutely random part of me wanted to hear her yell at them some more. The longer she did it, the warmer my body got, and the second I started to put together why that was, I chugged more of the beer that was currently resting in my shaky hand.

It was even worse when she turned around to face me again, her radiance and beauty intimidating me in an entirely different way than those men. She wore a simple black dress that complimented her figure extremely well, minimal makeup and jewelry, and her hair was pinned back, showing off her neck and collarbone.

If she hadn't just helped me out, with the way she was looking at me I probably would have wondered if she was... trying to pick me up.

The thought made me all warm again.

"Y—You didn't have to do—"

She stepped forward and sat on my lap again, and I swallowed hard, the beer almost slipping from my hand entirely. "Don't worry about it. You looked uncomfortable, and those boys were absolute meatheads. But they are still here, so we should probably keep up the act, huh?"

I couldn't tell if she was joking or not. Either way, I set the beer on the table, though my hand still kept it firmly in my grip as I looked down at the ring on her finger. "I—I wouldn't want to get you in trouble... with your husband..."

"Oh! Uh, funny story," she laughed, leaning in and running her hands over my shoulders, most likely to keep up the façade. "I'm not actually married. Or engaged. I um... I wear this to deter people from trying to take me home."

I actually laughed a little, though my stomach still flipped at her touch and her proximity. "And that... actually works?"

She laughed with me, bringing her hands up to cradle my face as she tilted her head and looked me over. Her pretty, pillow-y soft lips quirked into a smile before her eyes flitted up to mine. She looked like she was entranced, like she was in a dream, and honestly I felt the same way. Because there was no way in actual Hell this was a real thing that was happening to me, right?

"Not always," she answered in a whisper, her face inching closer to mine. She smelled a little like beer, but mostly some type of fruit, probably pear. I didn't eat pears, but maybe I should start...

A gentle tug at the roots of my hair pulled me out of my thoughts, a soft sigh escaping me at the sensation. The woman laughed, brushing her nose against mine for a moment before pulling away and grabbing her beer. "So, since we're engaged, I feel like I should know a little about you. At the very least, your name?"

"O—oh," I laughed nervously, swallowing as she sipped her beer. And I tried not to let it get to me, but the way her lips wrapped gently around the bottle had my mind going a mile a minute, laser focusing on one image in particular of those perfect lips wrapped around something else. I wondered if she could hear the longing in my voice when I whispered my name. "Spencer."

With the beer still in her hand, she lowered it and rested it on my knee as she smiled. "Mmm, and what's my last name going to be?"

The thought of actually marrying this woman infiltrated my thoughts as I answered, louder this time, "Reid."

See hummed again, using the hand that was currently massaging the back of my scalp to gently tug at my hair again. "Y/N Reid... I like the sound of that."

I do, too, is what I thought, and I almost said it, but she started talking again.

"So, Spencer, what do you do?"

I would have gone into my entire spiel, but she was so pretty, and so close, I didn't want to scare her off. So, I simply stated, "I work for the FBI..."

Her eyebrows raised, and I felt her hand slide down my neck and settle on my shoulder. "Really?"

"Y—Yeah, I'm a profiler. We aid law enforcement in catching serial killers."

"So, Agent Reid, huh? That's hot..."

I should have just left it alone, because it was common knowledge that if a woman has any reason to call you hot, you just let it happen, right?

Well, like I said, when it came to women I was a complete wreck.

"A—Actually it's Doctor... I, um... I have 3 PhDs."

As soon as the words left my mouth I regretted them, but the hunger in her eyes deepened and her free hand roamed my shoulder and the front of my chest as she scooted even closer, her mouth coming up right under my jaw. "Mmm, even hotter..."

This time I didn't hold back, my voice audibly whimpering as I sighed out a simple, "Oh..."

Y/N pressed a featherlight kiss to my neck before dragging her lips to my ear again. And I'd been so hyperaware of her proximity to my face that I hadn't even noticed she'd set her beer down and took that hand to rest firmly at my hip, her palm pressing into my lower stomach. I only felt it when that hand moved over, the tips of her fingers hovering just above the buckle of my belt.

"Tell me something, Doctor," she whispered just under my earlobe. I was nothing short of putty in her hands as my brain tried to focus on what she was saying over the more prominent desire to focus on the way she pressed her whole body into mine. She was everywhere, taking up every ounce of air that found its way into my lungs, and I'd never breathed in anything sweeter. "Are you saving yourself for marriage?"

I found the question odd at first, but remembering the circumstances of our fake situation, my body suddenly flared to life at her implications. "N—No..."

Her hips shifted against my lap, and I swear I could have fainted on the spot as she hummed in my ear, "Good."

***

I certainly didn't expect for the night to end the way it did.

I mean, I knew I was going to be wet when I got home, but damn. We hadn't even made it out of the bar before my panties were soaked through at the thought of fucking my fake fiancée. Who worked for the FBI and called himself Doctor...

Not to mention he was fucking dreamy as hell with those honey doe-eyes and pouty lips... And his hands? I had taken one look at the one tightly holding his beer bottle for dear life and instantly went white-hot with desire, visions of them disappearing inside of me swimming in my head.

And then he had to fucking whimper when I called him hot.

Yeah, I definitely didn't expect the night to go how it did, but I wasn't mad about it in the slightest.

After explaining to him that I'd walked, and that my house was only a few blocks away, we decided to just hop in his car. Though, by the time we got there, I think we were both so eager to "get to know each other a little better," as I'd said before we actually left, that we didn't even make it out of the parking space.

Spencer fumbled around with his keys for so long, and he kept dropping them, so I just said fuck it and kissed him when he came up the third time. The sound of his keys hitting the ground for a fourth time excited me almost as much as his the way his hands trembled as they rested on my forearms.

"Pull the seat back?" I mumbled against his mouth, sliding my hands down the sides of his face and over his shoulders.

He let out a strained, "Uh huh," and fumbled around with that too, his urgency and nerves all rolled into one adorable spectacle that had the pit of my stomach in desirable knots. The seat sprung backwards, and I laughed lowly as I climbed over the center console and right into his lap, my dress riding up incredibly high.

The way Spencer looked up at me then, his eyes just as pouty as his lips as they practically sparkled with adoration and need, gave me this feeling I hadn't experienced in a long time— something that filled my bloodstream with fire and made me feel... wanted.

And that's not to say I hadn't slept with people since my divorce, but every time it happened there was hardly any connection besides the obvious need to get off. Here, with Spencer, it was different. And realistically I knew it was most likely the fact that a beautiful woman came to his rescue and pretended to be engaged to him just to get some morons off his back, but... In his eyes I saw this vulnerability that I'd never gotten with another partner. He was open and willing to take advantage of our situation to the fullest extent, sure, but within that was a pure longing to be close to someone after going so long without that connection.

I knew that look so well because it was exactly how I felt. We wanted to have sex with each other, that much was obvious, but less so was the fact that we could feel each others' loneliness. It was a shared bond that ran deeper than sexual desire, and in his eyes in that moment, I knew he could see it in me.

"D—Do you know... what it's like to feel alone, even... when you know you really aren't?" he asked as though he was reading my mind. His voice was soft, so curious and hinted with a little sadness that it made me want to hold him tight and rock him to sleep more than anything.

Still, I nodded. "Mhm... After my husband left I haven't... really been the same. I act like it's okay, and I... I really am better now that he's gone, but I just... I've spent most of my life with him, and now it's like I don't know what's out there beyond... loneliness."

It wasn't the most sexy conversation in the world, but Spencer reached out, his hands less shaky, and ghosted them over my bare arms. He looked up at me with those pretty eyes and let out a relieved breath before he spoke. "I kinda know what you mean... Not to that extent, but... I get it."

Seeing that he was more comfortable with me, I leaned in closer, bringing my fingers to brush the underside of his jaw. "And that's why you make the perfect fiancée."

I felt the laugh leave his lips before I kissed him, soft and steady, and reassured that I was in this for as long as he wanted me to be. Obviously we weren't actually engaged, but the connection that came with a real engagement felt pretty damn close to what we had going on.

And he conveyed that in the way he kissed me back, stronger than he'd been before and most certainly more skilled than he'd let on. His tongue expertly caressed mine with just the right amount of pressure and precision, and it made it easy for me to fall into him. Over time we grew more hungry, but for the most part our dance of mouth and tongue was so slow and intense, it felt like we really had known each other forever.

Eventually though, I did feel him grow harder underneath me, and the feeling kickstarted this more primal urge that caused me to groan into his mouth and rock my hips forward. Spencer's hands rested firmly at my lower back the whole time, though when I moved, I could feel him tense a little, like now that it was actually starting to happen, he was suddenly nervous again. So I brought my hands around my back to grab his wrists, gently sliding them down over my ass as I pressed myself into him and nipped at his bottom lip.

"Mmm, your hands are so big," I purred as I kissed my way over his jaw. "They feel so good all over me..." He relaxed a bit at my reassurance, but I wanted to give him more. So I helped him slide his hands underneath my dress, feeling him shiver under me when I assisted him in squeezing them into my skin. "You can touch me however you like," I whispered into his ear. "I'm all yours, Doctor..."

He squeezed my ass then, of his own accord, and I hummed happily before kissing my way back to his mouth, running my hands through his hair.. "Just like that, baby, whatever you want..." He swallowed my words with his tongue, taking a deep breath and inhaling me like I was his only source of air. Respectfully, I gave it all to him, happy to be of service as long as he wanted me— and in that moment, I hoped it would be forever.

Maybe that was cheesy. But he was an excellent kisser... And I was sure there'd be something equally as excellent waiting for me once I got the clearance to get my hands down to his belt.

Thankfully, that clearance came pretty soon. I would have waited as long as he wanted to, but with the way his hips jolted upwards and the needy whine that erupted from his throat at the contact it provided, I knew now was the time.

So I smiled over his lips and then kissed his jaw again, one of my hands staying threaded in his hair while the other snaked down his chest and lower, undoing each button on his shirt as I went down... "Forgive me if I'm feeding into the stereotype by asking you this, Spencer," I said, leaving small bites on his neck in between words. "But have you ever done this before?"

His hands continued kneading my ass as he let out a shaky breath. "N—No. But I've um... I've p—practiced..."

"Hmm, how so?" I wondered, sucking a big hickey into his neck. Meanwhile my hand traced along the waistband of his pants, not quite dipping underneath but teasing the skin just above the material.

"U—Um, well... I regularly t—try to edge... myself, just... I—I want to last longer, and... And I thought it would help..."

God, the images of this man lounging in bed, training himself to last longer in the event that he had sex with someone? I groaned into his neck, taking the initiative to move my hand lower and gently palm him through his pants. "Fuck, that's so hot..."

"Re—really?"

"Mhmm... You really wanna make a girl feel good, huh?"

"Of course..."

"So eager to please?" I cooed, starting to undo his belt. He gripped my ass tighter like he was holding on for dear life, like he'd some how fall out of the car if he didn't hold on to me tight enough. The way his fingers dug into my skin brought me almost the same amount of joy as the sound he made when I finally snuck my hand down the front of his pants and pulled his dick out, gently stroking it and getting a feel for him. "Obedient?"

"Y—Yes, Y/N, please, oh God..." he jumbled out, his hips bucking into my hand. I sighed into his neck, kissing him again as my hand slowly jerked him off.

"Is this how slow you go?" I asked, making sure to memorize how every ridge of him caressed my hand. "Hmm, you wanna draw it out? Feel every ounce of pleasure as you possibly can before you come?"

He didn't answer so much as he let out a loud, whiny breath that sounded very much like a broken, "A-hh."

"I'm clean... On birth control, too... So what do you say we trade this hand in for something a little more... wet..."

Spencer grabbed my underwear then, pulling at the fabric and bucking his hips again. Taking it as a good sign, I adjusted myself so that I could slide them to the side and hover above him. Meanwhile I pecked at his lips and he did the same, meeting me with urgency and anticipation.

And when the head of his dick finally came in contact with my pussy, he threw his head back and exhaled, exposing his neck and the front of his chest, which was lightly glossed over with sweat already. The only source of light in the car came from the neon bar lights and one single streetlight outside, which gave us this dark, aesthetic lighting that only made what we were doing even hotter.

I sank slowly onto him, letting out the longest sigh of my life until he bottomed out in me. "You doin' alright, Doctor?" I asked, pulling his shirt open some more to get a better view of his skin.

He sat his head up a bit and looked at me, breathlessness in his eyes. "F—Fantastic. You f—eel so good..."

I ground my hips in slow circles, nodding down at him with a wicked grin. "Feeling's mutual, babe... You stretch me out so good... It's like we're a perfect match."

The moment I started lifting myself only to sit back down, Spencer shut his eyes, his hands roaming my ass and my thighs as I rode him. It looked like he was concentrating on lasting, and I was going to tell him not to worry about it, but then he opened his eyes and started to speak.

"Will, um... Will you be m—mean to me? Please?"

I halted my movements for a moment, taking in what he just said, but then it came to me immediately. And my discovery turned me on way more than I would have liked to admit.

So I grinned and circled my hips again, leaning forward to practically crawl up the front of his body. My hands tangled in his hair as I studied his face, which was ridden with worry and maybe regret at what he'd just confessed. But I kept circling my hips all the same, clenching myself around him as I spoke against his lips.

"Ohhh, did hearing me insult those guys in the bar turn you on?" I drawled, gently pecking his lips.

"Uh huh," he breathed in response.

I smiled, rocking my hips a little faster and feeling him start to relax again— The worries he had about his desires faded into nothing as I gave into them, feeding them with an open palm and embracing them with great pleasure. "I bet you just couldn't wait for me to take you outside and fuck you after that, huh? For me to treat you like a needy little slut..."

With every word and every quick rock of my hips, Spencer started to pick up his breathing. He leaned back completely and let me take care of him, gave me every green light, every go-ahead... I never got to be like this in bed before, and the fact that it came so naturally sparked this confidence within me that was hard to quell once it got going.

"Is that what you wanted?" I asked him, picking up my pace and bouncing steadily back on his dick. "You were so desperate to get fucked, too, you couldn't even make it out of the parking lot before you gave into me... And now everyone in the bar could see us out here..."

He groaned out at that, his hands digging into the flesh of my thigh, which already burned from straddling him like this, but considering everything, a little burn never hurt anyone.

"Ohh, you like that too, huh? The thought of everyone seeing us?"

"Y—Yes... Y/N, yes... o—oh, fu..."

I took his face into my hands then, grabbing him by the chin and making him look at me. "And what about your friends, huh? What would they think if they showed up and saw their precious Doctor Reid getting fucked like the dirty little slut he is, huh?"

Even though his face was in my hands, he still managed to lean his head back with a loud groan. His hands were now sliding over to my waist, where my dress was bunched up. His nimble fingers slipped just under the fabric and explored the planes of my stomach as I continued riding him, and the feeling of it all coupled with the looks on his face and his reaction—verbal or otherwise—to my words grew the fire simmering in the pit of my stomach.

I wasn't sure how mean to him I could be anymore now, though, considering we were both so close to finishing, and the closer I got the more it became harder to focus on stringing together the perfect words.

Still, I tried the best I could, because it was his first time, and it's what he deserved.

I leaned in and kissed his neck and collarbone, simultaneously riding and grinding for extra stimulation. "You're doing so well, Doctor... Taking this pussy like a good little whore..."

Okay, so it wasn't entirely mean, but it was the best I could come up with on the spot.

Though, it seemed to have done the trick, because Spencer drove his hips up to meet mine, panting and whining out my name as his eyes fluttered open and he looked at me with the most desperate look. I almost fell apart right there.

"That's it, baby, take it," I cooed, leaning over and kissing him. One of his hands came out from under my dress to rub tight circles into my clit with an expert thumb, and it started to break me down immediately. "Ohhh, I'm almost there, honey, just like that... Show me what a good little slut you are, baby, c'mon... Just like... that... Ohhh..."

I kissed him hard as I shook and clenched around him, holding still as he drilled his hips upwards into me. His thumb kept up at my clit until I was whimpering into his mouth, and then he just held it there, a few grunts of his own rumbling in his chest before he stilled and filled me with his warmth. I kissed him through it, gently swallowing all his whines and sighs as he gradually came down from his high.

Immediately after we both settled, with his dick still sheathed inside of me and my hands rubbing gently over the planes of his chest as we slowly and softly made out, the unmistakable sound of raindrops hitting glass covered us on all sides.

I pulled away from Spencer with a small smile, resting my head on his shoulder and looking off to the side, out the window at the sea of cars slowly getting covered up by a multitude of rain droplets. "I hope that was okay," I whispered against his skin, willing myself closer by draping an arm over his shoulder and using my hand to twirl some of his hair around my finger.

"That was more than okay," he responded contently. His chin rested on the top of my head and I snuggled closer into him. "Thank you, Y/N... For... For everything."

"It was my pleasure, Doctor."

We sat in comfortable near-silence for a while then, letting the rain tapping gently over the car be the steady sound that grounded us and washed away everything we had until there was a clean slate.

That was the one bad thing I found about the rain. I loved it, yes, for all its cleansing properties, and as I came into the bar tonight, I looked forward to them— to clearing my head with alcohol and a walk home in the rain.

But as I laid there, breathing in every ounce of Spencer Reid, I watched the rain roll down the windows and actually dreaded the moment it would stop.

"I wish it would rain forever," I sighed wistfully, playing with one of the buttons on Spencer's shirt.

He drew patterns into my leg all the same. "How come?"

"Because... I have to walk home. And the longer it rains, the longer I can stay here with you..."

He chuckled. "That's a nice sentiment, but you know I can drive you home, right?"

"Yeah, but... I really don't want this moment to end."

He was silent then, and for a while I thought maybe he was just going to leave it be. But then his soft voice broke through the rain and cut into me like a piece of glass. "You know you're gonna be okay, right?"

I broke away and looked up at him. "How do you mean?"

He sighed, thinking before continuing. "I mean... I'm guessing it's been rough since your husband left, and... being here with me has given you some companionship and comfort, but... Even after we part ways, you're going to be alright... It's still going to feel lonely, sure, but if there's anything I know for sure after tonight, it's that you're going to get through it just fine."

My heart swelled, though it still broke all the same. "How do you know?"

Spencer smiled, bringing a hand up to gently brush the side of my face. "Because you're my fiancée and I know you better than anyone."

As I laughed at the joke, he looked back at me with sparkles in his eyes. And then minutes later, I was haphazardly cleaning myself up in his passenger seat with a wet-nap that I'd kept tucked away in my wallet while he fumbled around for his keys.

Even as I stood on my porch that night, under the rain as I watched him drive away with the lingering buzz of our final goodbye kiss on my lips, I wondered if I'd ever see him again.

And I wondered if he would ever notice or do anything about the sparkly diamond ring I left behind, sitting beside him in my place— a reminder of our time together, the comfort he provided me with, and the clean slate that always inevitably came with the rain.

***

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PERMANENT TAGLIST:

@elldell1204 @muffin-cup @calm-and-doctor @slutforthegubes @rainsong01 @yourmisosoup @liveloudwriteloud @reidsconverse @la-vie-en-amour1 @edgycowboy666 @averyhotchner @centiaaa @lizziechaseee @coffeeandendlesswords @usuck @spenxerslut @g0lden-cth @emilyprentisslittlewhore @reidyoulikeabook @spencerreid9 @takeyourleap-of-faith

#spencer reid x reader #spencer reid #criminal minds #spencer reid smut #spencer reid x reader smut #criminal minds fanfiction

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babyboibucky · 4 years ago

Text

Charming (Part 2 of Charm)

Pairing: TFATWS!Bucky Barnes x Reader

Summary: Bucky has everything planned out for his date with you.

Word Count: 2,566

Warnings: No TFATWS spoilers here, Bucky being charming (hence the title) is a warning in itself

A/N: Ahhh you guys, thank you for all the love for Charm! I didn’t expect for that oneshot to receive so much love from everyone. Can’t thank y’all enough!!! For those who haven’t read it yet, make sure to do so before reading this!

Charm (Part 1) || MAIN MASTERLIST

Bucky nervously waited outside of your apartment building. He made sure to plan really well for this date, he didn’t want to mess up. He really liked talking to you and he wanted you to enjoy this day.

“Okay, I’m ready!” You announced as you stepped out of the building, jogging downstairs to approach him.

You looked excited, Bucky noticed. Okay, that’s good. He’s off to a good start. He found himself smiling at you, admiring this light and bright aura that radiated off of you. He could use a little light in his life and it might be too soon for Bucky to even consider it, but you seemed like the perfect girl to him.

“Hi.” Bucky greeted. “You look beautiful.” He said, eyeing you from head to toe.

Bucky’s confidence grew when your cheeks turned pink at his compliment. You thanked him and let your eyes fall to his left arm, making Bucky instantly regret his decision to forego the gloves. He should’ve worn his jacket on top of his blue henley. All his worries though eventually dissipated when you reassured him.

“Glad you aren’t wearing your gloves, it looked really uncomfortable.” You told him genuinely.

Bucky shyly let out a chuckle, “Yeah.”

“So, to the park?” You asked excitedly.

Bucky made a face, “Actually, I thought of changing our plans a bit. Hope that’s alright?” He asked hopefully.

You narrowed your eyes at him as you nodded, “Hmm, that sounds interesting. Alright then, what do you got?”

Embarrassment filled Bucky’s entire being when he whipped out a folded piece of paper from his back pocket. He glanced at you and watched your expression as he unfolded it, revealing it to be the size of a bond paper where he had written down his agenda for the day.

“Oh wow, that’s...very interesting.” You pointed out but with no malice. In fact, you were impressed.

Who would’ve thought that guys nowadays came to a date prepared? But then again, Bucky wasn’t from this time but truly appreciated how old-fashioned he still was.

Bucky rubbed his neck, “I made an itinerary but saying that out loud, it actually sounds terrible.”

“Not at all!” You were quick to defend. “I like a well-planned day. I’m not really the spontaneous type so this really works well for me.” You chuckled.

Bucky bit his lip to stop himself from smiling too wide. It seemed like the date would go pretty well, he hoped it’d last the entire day though. He couldn’t help but worry that something might happen that would throw you off. Or that he might end up saying things that you’d find offensive.

“What’s first on the itinerary?” You asked.

“I got a strike!” You squealed in excitement and pumped your first in the air.

Bucky took you to a bowling place and honestly, he didn’t expect for you to be so excited about it. He felt silly for outdoing himself for this first date. In fact, he researched about dating in the modern day the moment he got home after meeting you. The tips were very different, some of which he wasn’t comfortable doing. So instead of adjusting to the present, Bucky stayed true to himself.

He was going to do it his own way, no matter how traditional it seemed. This led him to writing down his ideas on a piece of paper and planning everything out properly.

“Looks like I won.” You smirked, seeing the scores flash on the television hanging on the ceiling. “Did you go easy on me? Tell me the truth, Bucky.” You warned as you looked at him suspiciously.

Bucky chortled and shook his head, “I didn’t. It’s been decades since the last time I did this so I got pretty rusty at it.” He explained.

“You ready to grab something to eat?” He asked, checking the time and seeing that it was close to three in the afternoon.

You nodded enthusiastically, “I’m starving! I mean, beating a super soldier at bowling can be really exhausting.” You teased.

Bucky smiled, “Great, but can we stop by somewhere first?”

Bucky felt proud at himself when he saw the astonished look in your face.

“Oh my god, is this...?” You asked, eyeing the car that Bucky drove out of a car rental shop.

“A 1942 Pontiac Torpedo.” Bucky boasted before stepping out of the car and leading you towards the front seat.

Bucky waited for you to slip in, your expression still that of utter disbelief, before closing the door and walking around to ride back inside.

“And it’s the convertible one.” He said proudly and laughed at your reaction when he brought down the roof.

“I have no words for this, Bucky. This is amazing!” You exclaimed, running your hands on the compartment and just taking in the beautiful interiors of the vintage car.

Bucky watched you with a soft look in his eyes. He felt kind of selfish for gloating at the fact that this date only proved to himself that he still is James Buchanan Barnes. Despite decades of torture and brainwashing as the Winter Soldier, he still had pieces of himself left.

But seeing you so giddy at the date that he poured so much effort in? Maybe he wasn’t so selfish after all.

“And where will you be taking us next for you to rent this lovely vehicle? I honestly don’t know what to expect after this. I’m just...I love it!” You laughed, unable to hide your excitement.

“We’re having burgers and milkshakes.” Bucky announced.

Bucky wanted you to experience what it was like dating in his time, so it was only right that he took you to a diner. But it wasn’t just the regular one, he took you to a drive-in diner where waitresses even wore roller derby skates.

“You just keep on outdoing yourself, Bucky. I’m speechless!” You laughed.

The waitress rolled by your car and took your orders. After she left, there was finally a moment of peace which allowed you and Bucky to have an actual conversation.

“Did you often hang out in one of these places then?” You asked.

Bucky smiled at the memories, “Yeah, used to take Steve with me. He always ended up getting mad whenever he realized that it was a set-up for a double date.”

You hummed in amusement. “You seemed really popular with the ladies, huh?”

Bucky chuckled timidly before letting out a sigh. He turned to you curiously and creased his forehead, “Why didn’t you tell me you knew who I was?” He finally asked.

You seemed surprised at his question but your features softened up almost immediately. Shrugging as if it was no big deal, you told him that you really didn’t feel the need to do so.

“Would it change anything if I told you I knew who you were?” You curiously asked.

Bucky thought for a brief moment, “I probably would’ve excused myself and left.”

“That’s what I thought.” You said. “You seemed comfortable then, I didn’t want to overwhelm you by bringing it up. Besides, I really don’t care about it. I mean, I had fun talking to you and that’s all that matters to me. Superhero or not, I do enjoy your company.”

Bucky snickered, “I don’t think superhero is the right word.”

“You’ll be surprised that a lot of people call you that.” You said, placing a hand on Bucky’s arm, squeezing it to offer him comfort.

Bucky loosened up at your touch and kept his gaze lingering on how your fingers were wrapped around his arm.

“There’s this one kid at the orphanage I volunteer at,” you said, letting go of Bucky’s arm as you adjusted your position in the car so you could turn to him. Bucky almost missed the warmth from your hand on his skin.

“I asked them to draw someone they looked up to and this is his work.” You said, bringing out your phone to show Bucky a photo of the drawing.

Bucky’s breath hitched when you handed him your phone, revealing that the kid drew a man with long brown hair and a metal arm. He used black and gold to color the metal arm, not silver. It didn’t even have the red star on it. When Bucky looked up at you, he saw the most genuine smile he had ever seen.

“I asked him why he chose you and he said that he liked how Captain America’s best friend fought alongside him. For a kid his age, he knew a lot about your history too. He’s a huge fan.” You laughed.

Bucky’s eyes almost brimmed with tears. He was unable to believe that a kid would look up to him, consider him a superhero. All this time he had been seeing himself as a villain still, the bad guy. Someone who would have a hard time redeeming himself. You made him think twice about it, that maybe he had been too harsh on himself.

“You should come with me to the orphanage some time. The kids will love you, Bucky. It’s not that hard to do so.” You said softly, lifting your hand up to fix a strand of Bucky’s hair that was out of place.

It was a beautiful moment between the two of you. Bucky felt vulnerable but safe, like you’d keep him safe. Not from danger but from his very own destructive thoughts. Whenever he loses control of his mind, whenever it wanders into the darkest parts of his past, Bucky tends to self-destruct. And he almost wandered there but you were quick to pull him back to the surface.

“What are you thinking of?” You asked when you noticed that Bucky was just staring at you.

Bucky’s gaze fell onto your lips and then back at your eyes, “Thinking about whether I should just go for it now.”

“Go for what?” You blinked.

Bucky slowly leaned in but was immediately startled when the waitress arrived with your orders.

After the diner, Bucky drove to the park where the two of you walked around while talking about well, anything. He learned more about you and this time, he didn’t have to lie about anything whenever you asked him. In fact, Bucky got really comfortable opening up about his life in the 40’s, he even talked about his family.

The two of you talked more until the sun set and the next thing you knew was that Bucky brought you to a drive-in theater and bought pizza to cap off the date.

It was a little past ten in the evening when Bucky drove you home. He opened the car door for you and nervously fidgeted with the piece of paper in his back pocket.

“So did you tick off everything on the itinerary?” You asked.

Bucky let out the fakest laugh because no, he hasn’t ticked off everything on his list. There was one more thing that he planned to do at the very end of the date. He had been confident about it, especially after how much you enjoyed the date in its entirety. But, now standing outside your apartment building and staring at you nervously, he wasn’t sure whether he had enough courage to pull this off.

“I uhh...well...” Bucky stammered. “Did you enjoy?” He asked again, just to be sure.

“I am offended that you had to ask because I thought my face was unable to hide at how much I did!” You laughed.

“Thank you for giving me the 1940s experience. I love it. I really do, it’s...it’s been a while since I last went on a date that I really enjoyed.” You shyly admitted, biting your lip and looking up at Bucky through your lashes.

Bucky’s breath got caught in his throat as he gazed down at you. You looked really beautiful, no matter how simple you looked. He wanted to take you out to another date, maybe tomorrow. Or the next day perhaps, actually, Bucky wanted to be with you every single day.

You were so kind and bubbly, you offered so much light to his darkness. He loved how your hopeful attitude rubbed off on him, he badly needed it. And he loved how you made him feel...himself. He was just Bucky Barnes, a guy navigating through the modern times and finding his place in this world. And it would seem like an easy task with you by his side.

“Well, I guess this is it.” You said. “Thanks again, Bucky. I really did enjoy.”

Bucky was surprised when you stepped closer to him for a hug. Feeling your arms wrap around his waist and your hair brush against his chin gave him the boost of confidence he needed to finally check off the last on his date itinerary.

By the time he convinced himself to do it, you already stepped back and bid Bucky good night.

Bucky proved to himself the other night that he still has his charm from back then. And tonight, he was going to prove that his charm was going to sweep you off of your feet.

“Wait, one last thing.” Bucky said, reaching out for your wrist.

He tugged you forward making you squeal, and then wrapped his metal arm around your waist before swooping you down for a kiss.

Bucky wasn’t sure how you would react to his kiss but he could no longer hold himself back. It could either make or break his friendship with you, but Bucky just had to. And it wasn’t just to prove something to himself, he’d been wanting to kiss you all throughout the day. He would have already, at the diner, if only the waitress didn’t interrupt his little moment with you.

He almost panicked when your lips remained still, but it all went away when he felt your hands wrap around his shoulders before finally kissing him back. Bucky’s lips curled into a smile against yours as he slowly straightened, bringing you back up before pulling away.

You panted against his lips, your hands sliding down to rest on Bucky’s chest as his landed on your hips.

“Was that...was that a part of your list?” You breathlessly asked.

“Yes. Almost went for it at the diner but I guess the universe wanted for me to stick to the schedule.” He grinned.

You threw your head back in laughter, “So that’s what you meant by that!”

Bucky laughed in agreement and held your face in his metal hand, noticing how you weren’t thrown off. Instead, you turned your face to even press a kiss on his palm.

“Was I too fast? Kissing you on the first date?” He asked, caressing your face.

You shook your head, “You did wait until the end of the date to do so, I guess your timing was just right.”

“And...how was it?” Bucky meekly asked, almost afraid that he might have sucked given that this was his first kiss in decades.

Smiling, you leaned in again to give him a quick peck on the lips. A reassurance, something to melt Bucky’s worries away.

“What can I say? James Bucky Barnes, you are one charming man.”

Now, Bucky was a hundred percent sure that he still has it in him. And he made a mental note to boast to Yori how his first date with you went.

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Some tags aren’t walking ugh I’m so sorry to all those that tumblr failed to tag!

#bbbwrites #oneshots: bucky barnes #tfatws #tfatws spoilers #bucky barnes #bucky #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x you #bucky x reader #bucky x you #bucky barnes fluff #bucky fluff

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whump-a-la-mode · 3 years ago

Note

Ok so I had a prompt idea? We’re all familiar with the “villain is sent to a ‘rehabilitation center’ that turns out to be secretly torturing the villains there” trope, but consider this: scared villain is captured by a kind hero and sent to a villain rehabilitation center, and villain has never experienced such warmth and kindness! Not to mention frequent visits from hero to check up/see how they’re doing. Maybe it’s no good but just a thought I had; I love your writing so much!! 💛🌼

(No pressure though, I know you’re probably busy!)

Oh, I absolutely love this prompt! Evil rehab centers are all well and good, but I’d never thought of one as being a source of comfort. I hope you like this! I was going to do some more with it, but it was already running a little long ^^

Thanks so much for the prompt!

CW//Arson, burning buildings, smoke inhalation, fear of death, gross food, mentions of torture, animal disease

As though singed by smoke, Villain’s lungs burned.

Even as they gasped, they felt as though they could not inhale a single breath. Yet, somehow, they had enough air to keep going.

It wasn’t as though they had a choice.

They were unsure, at that point, if their legs were truly moving at all. They had lost feeling in them far too long ago to be able to verify such a thing. Somehow, though, they were moving forward. Even if they wanted to, they didn’t know if they could stop, with momentum pushing them as it was.

Everything was riding on this. Days of keeping ahead, of leading the chase. If they stopped moving for just a moment, it would all be wasted.

And their life would be over. If they stopped running now, there would be no Villain left.

In that instant, they understood what it was to be a rabbit. When there was a fox on your tail, there were no do overs. No second chances. It was run or die.

As long as they could, they were going to run.

Villain couldn’t remember the name of the building in which they had managed to find the briefest of respites. Despite its sprawling size, there was nothing truly remarkable about it. Perhaps it did not have a name in the first place. At some point, it had been some sort of industrial complex-- the home of half a dozen separate companies, each clashing and butting up against one another.

Yet, the structure had long since been left to rot. They had a feeling that mold clinging to every corner had something to do with that.

Just a week ago, they would never have dreamed of so much as going someplace like this. The air smelled rotten, and breathing it left a sour taste sticking to their tongue. Not to mention the fact that several animals of varying size and danger had already claimed the rotten complex as their home.

But, they weren’t the same Villain they had been a week ago. Stumbling upon the building had felt like a gift from above, and, the night prior, they’d managed to get some honest-to-god rest among its sodden carpeting.

It was the most rest they’d gotten in days, despite the fact that, halfway through it, they’d awoken to a diseased rat with its teeth buried in their forearm. They’d had worse awakenings.

After shooing away the animal, they’d managed to sleep an hour or so more. Then came the worse of their two awakenings, that night.

The shouting voices of heroes.

Villain didn’t know how they’d found them. There was no trace, no trail. They had no vehicle-- instead moving through the woods on foot. ‘On foot’ was quite literal in that instance, considering the fact that they’d lost their shoes three days ago to a patch of quickmud.

But, still, they’d been found.

They didn’t no how long ago it was, that they’d been awakened by those voices. With the darkened building’s clocks hanging stubbornly on the wrong minute and hour, there was no way to tell how long it had been.

How long they’d been running...

Villain skidded around a corner, hissing as their foot caught on an uprooted carpet tack. Had they been this way before? It was impossible to tell-- all the halls looked the same.

The halls repeated, just as the heroes’ footsteps did.

How were they not tired?

Maybe because they’d eaten. And slept. And had water.

Villain had found that stream the other day, though...

Everything about them seemed to be repeating. The walls. The footsteps.

The lies of the heroes.

“Just stop running! We don’t want to hurt you!”

They couldn’t count just how many times they’d heard those words. Lies. Of course they were lies! Or, perhaps, it was their own sick attempt at a joke. We don’t want to hurt you, we just want to kill you!

Villain wasn’t ready to die. Not just yet.

Another corner was taken with haste, and their nostrils were overwhelmed with the scents of rust and oil.

The garage was massive-- reaching further upwards than the shreds of sunlight filtering through dusty windows could reach with their furthest rays. Its concrete floor stretched out, seemingly, all the way to the horizon-- dotted only by support beams, and whatever scattered machinery and supplies the company had not deemed valuable enough to bring along.

The source of the scent of gasoline was quite rapidly made apart. Stacked haphazardly in the corner, red gas containers stood. Their reek alone made it well known that they were far from empty.

But the gas was far from Villain’s main concern regarding the garage.

In the past few days, they had become awfully good at finding exits. It was with a ruthless instinct that they scanned the room for one.

But, in the end, they reached a terrifying conclusion.

There was one exit. It was the same door as the entrance. The garage doors on the other side of the chamber had long since been chained shut, and there was no time for lockpicking.

The heroes flooded in.

It was with an exhausted hopelessness and steadfast stubbornness that they kept running forth. Of course, with their terrible luck, they did not make it very far. A rebar pipe caught their toes, sending them sprawling onto the concrete, pain shrieking from a thousand different, tiny wounds.

For a few seconds, Villain let themself breathe. They figured that, at the very least, they should let themself enjoy their last moments alive.

Their relaxation did not last long. They refused to die laying down. Trembling from exhaustion, pain, starvation, dehydration, and terror, all at once, they staggered to their feet. For a moment, their vision blurred, before solidifying once more.

Half a dozen heroes fanned out before the entrance, guarding it ruthlessly. Faux looks of concern painted their countenances.

From the array of aches and pains swarming Villain, a single one, all at once, made itself known. Something pressing up against their leg.

Their lighter.

Their trembling gaze flicked to the pile of glimmering red gas cans. It was behind them-- only a few steps back. If they could just...

“Villain!” The person in the front of the group called out-- Hero. “There’s nowhere else to go. It’s okay. Everything’s okay. You just need to come with us. You can’t survive like this much longer, you know that!”

No. What they couldn’t survive was the heroes.

But, they didn’t have to.

Villain took a step back, inching towards the pile.

“Come on, buddy!” Another hero called. “What are you so afraid of?”

It was the heroes who should be afraid. Another step back.

“There’s nowhere to run, Villain.” Hero spoke once more. “Just come with us. No harm will come to you, I swear to it.”

No.

Villain wasn’t ready to die. Not today.

They took the final step, until they were mere inches from the pile. With a well-placed kick, and a horrible clattering, the cans toppled from their precarious pyramid. The reek of gas grew tenfold as brown liquid spilled out, onto the concrete below.

Stepping back from the gasoline-- they were ready to go, not just yet-- they reached into their pocket. The heroes had no time to identify the object they pulled out. By the time they realized what had happened, the lighter had already been thrown.

The flame leapt into the air with such force that Villain was thrown back, tossed to the concrete like a ragdoll.

The faux compassion on the heroes faces turned to an emotion that was very, very real.

Fear.

Spreading so fast that its growth could be heard, the inferno pounced, grabbing onto the base of a wooden support beam and licking its way upwards.

“Everyone!” Hero shouted-- terror in their voice overpowered by sheer determination. “Get out! This building’s not stable.”

“W-what about you?”

“If I’m not out within five minutes, send someone in after me.”

“Are you certain?”

“We’re heroes. And, sometimes, that means saving villains, too.”

Despite their clear reluctance, the other heroes, one by one, nodded, allowing their terror to spur them to flee.

When the last of them was gone, only two remained in the garage. The villain and the hero.

Villain looked upwards, watching as the flame reached the top of the support beam and rippled onto the ceiling.

There were only two ways this could end. They knew that.

Either Hero lost their nerve and fled, allowing their prey to escape, or they both perished in the flames.

No matter which came to pass, there was only one thing that mattered:

They would not die by the hands of a hero.

“You’re scared.” Hero began. Another stupid speech. “I know. I know you’re scared. This last week has been hell for you, I know that. But it doesn’t have to go down like this. You can still make the right choice.

Please. Come with me. I don’t want to hurt you. Believe it or not, I don’t want you to die!”

“You’re a bad liar, you know.” They croaked.

Villain’s lungs were already torn from gasping. The slowly-rising smoke only served to salt their wounds.

Before them, a flaming ceiling tile fell, spraying them with embers.

“You don’t want this! I know you don’t! You don’t want to die!”

“Why do you think I’m doing this?! Of course I don’t want to die, you fucking idiot!”

“Then come with me!”

“It’s like you don’t even hear yourself.”

The building shuddered as a support beam splintered and collapsed. The force of it sent Villain, once again, to the concrete, bathing their face in smoke. As they scrambled to their hands and knees, they could not help but let out a shuddering cough.

“Villain! Watch out!”

“Wh-”

The ceiling tile struck their head, burying them under its accompanying rubble.

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

Warmth... and music.

They awoke to warmth, and music.

The first of the two came in the form of something soft, heavy, enveloping them, making them feel as though they were buried within a cloud. The music, too, seemed to surround them-- there were no words to it, just the soft, lulling tone of a piano, accompanied by the occasional splash of waves.

It was confusion that first whispered to Villain, when their leaden eyelids at last agreed to open. Above them sat an off-white sky, stretching out to meet with a light blue wall. They blinked once more.

Where...

The chase the heroes the running the building the gas the fire the rubble the-

Villain jolted upright, tossing off of themself a heavy, fleece blanket. Trembling fingers gripped the mattress below them as they scanned the world around, instincts kicking in, searching frantically for an exit.

The room was small, walls colored a soft, baby blue, and lit by a pair of lamps with warm, orange bulbs. The few items of furniture were made of a light brown wood-- three small nightstands, two in corners, and one next to the bed in which Villain lay.

Next to one of the stands was placed a small writing desk and chair, while the other was accompanied by a potted plant, petals just starting to emerge from its buds. Embedded in one wall, a window stood, a small radio perched upon its sill.

The door was at the room’s far end, next to their bed. A wooden door with brass handle-- easy to break down.

But guarded.

Before the door, a figure stood-- a person dressed in a bright flannel, from the breast pocket of which stuck an overabundance of pens.

They did not look particularly strong, but, then again, neither did Villain. At the sound of their movement, the figure turned to face them, a smile growing upon their round face.

“I didn’t even notice you waking up.” They hummed. “Good morning.”

There were two options for escape: The door or the window. Neither was particularly desirable, but they had to choose one...

“Hey, buddy.” The stranger’s voice felt almost as warm as the fleece blanket. “You’re looking a bit like a deer in the headlights, there. I’m sure this is all a bit overwhelming, and I’m sure you’re pretty confused. I’d be confused too, trust me.”

No. There was no confusion in Villain’s mind. They were focused on one thing, the only thing that mattered: Getting out of here!

The flannel-wearing figure took a few steps towards the bed. In instinctual panic, the villain scrambled to their hands and knees, shuffling backwards until their spine was flush with the headboard.

“Hey, hey, shhh.” They hushed. “I’m sorry I scared you. I’ll stay right back here, okay?”

“L-Let me out of here!”

The figure frowned.

“Bud, I’m not sure that you’d last another day out there. Not in the state Hero found you in.”

Hero. Of course they were working for Hero.

“I’ll explain everything, alright bud? But let’s just start here. My name’s Doctor. What’s yours?”

Villain only then noticed that they were shaking like a leaf. Whatever this method of torture or interrogation or whatever it is was, they wanted no part in it. They just wanted to go home! To get out! Warm bed or not, this was a prison. They were sure of it.

But, the bed was comfortable, and there wasn’t a single rat in sight...

“How about this...” Doctor coaxed. “You tell me your name, and I’ll tell you what’s going on, okay?”

A trade. Information for information.

Was it worth it? They supposed there was little use in lying.

“V-Villain. My name’s Villain.”

“It’s nice to meet you, Villain.”

“Now, wh-what is this p-place?”

Doctor nodded.

“This is the Supervillain Memorial Villainous Recovery Center. We’re in the city, right by the river. Next to the botanical gardens, if you know where that is.”

They were really telling them the location of their prison? Surely it would have been better to keep such a thing secret. That is, assuming they were telling the truth.

“I believe you’ve been asleep for about... seventeen hours.” Doctor glanced to their watch. “Yep, just about. You’ve been here for maybe half that time. After you got caught in the fire, Hero brought you to the hospital. They bandaged your wounds and brought you here. I hope you slept well.”

Villain almost laughed at that, before a realization struck them. They had slept well. Sure, remnants of the specter of fatigue still haunted them, but for the first time in days, they felt awake enough to think clearly.

But, this was still a prison.

Right?

Prisons didn’t usually have soft beds and fleece blankets, but...

No. It was a trick. This was a prison, and they were a prisoner.

“Let me go.” Villain insisted, though it was halfhearted. “Y-You can’t keep me here! I’m leaving. I need to leave!”

Doctor frowned again, biting their lower lip.

“I’m sorry, Villain, but for now, you’re going to have to stay here. But, I promise, you’ll like it here.” They sighed. “I know you’re scared, and confused, and a thousand other things. But, here, you’re safe. There’s other people here-- quite a few of them, in fact. And, at one point, they were all like you. But ask any one of them. This is the best place for you to be.”

Other people?

“Where are they? W-What are you doing to them?!”

Doctor smiled.

“They’re in our main wing, right now. I believe everyone is eating lunch right about now. I don’t know about you, but where I come from, lunch isn’t a form of torture.”

Villain pursed their lips.

“Then, where am I?”

“This is our arrivals wing. You’re going to stay here, for a few days. Until you’re comfortable, and we can make sure all that smoke is out of your lungs. Then you can join in with everyone else. I’m gonna move over to the side of the bed now, okay? I won’t touch you.”

Even with the warning, Villain couldn’t help but flinch as Doctor approached. They moved to the nightstand at the bed’s side, plucking a small, red box from its surface.

“Hero told me to give this to you, when you got up. It’s not exactly the most nutritious thing to start your day off with, but I think you deserve something tasty.”

They offered the box. After a moment of hesitance, Villain snapped it from their hands, drawing it close to their chest. Was it a threat? Some kind of warning? Morbid curiosity took hold of them, prompting them to open the box’s lid.

Chocolates.

A dozen chocolates, laid out in the design of a star.

“I can eat these?”

“Go ahead.”

Without hesitance, this time, they popped one of the candy pieces into their mouth. Its flavor overwhelmed them, strong enough to nearly knock them over. It’d been days since they’d eaten anything that didn’t come off a bush or from the dumpster.

“Um...” Villain looked back up, closing the box. “So, when are you going to kill me?”

Doctor laughed.

“Hero will be visiting tomorrow. With how long they can talk for, I think you’re only in danger of dying of boredom.”

This was a prison. Of course it was.

Yet, as they glanced down at the box of chocolates, they could not help but forget all thought of panic and escape.

#villain whumpee #whump #hero caretaker #scared whumpee #whumpblr #whump community #ask

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maeve-writes · 3 years ago

Note

Heyo! Idk if you’d do this but could we maybe get a Bucky x Roommate!Younger!Reader? Like maybe Y/n is in college and lives in a shared apartment with Bucky and is stressed about finals. So to help Y/n relax he fucks the stress out of them? Can be male, female, or nonbinary. Any is fine!

a/n: I’m going to give this a little AU spin on it. Med Student!Bucky x Roommate!Younger!Reader. And let’s make it midterms. I might do a part two. Maybe. Our man for sure still has his arms and his dog tags, full time in the service because who can afford med school these days?

warnings: oral sex (f receiving), fingering (v), unprotected sex (piv), dirty talk, age gap (v slight), pet names (kitten, sweetheart), praise kink, slight size kink, fluff. 18+ Minors DNI

When you first moved in with Bucky, you thought things would be awkward. He was was two years into medical school, but already five years older than most of his peers. You were just a sophomore, fresh out of the dorms, looking for some place affordable when his ad popped up on your radar. He asked for only a third of the rent, for you to cover your own food and for you not to be a slob. Check, check, check.

It didn’t take him long to agree for you to move in. In fact, he pretty much decided you were it when he opened the door to your bright smile and enthusiastic wave. You had on a baby pink sundress with your hair up and sunglasses resting above your forehead. He wanted to dig his fingers into your roots and see what color panties you had on.

He called you “kitten” in his rumbling tenor ten seconds from you hitting the threshold of the apartment and your knees nearly gave out. Full pink lips curled into a half smirk as he guided you through the apartment, cherry red tongue darting out every so often - you swore it was to tease you.

Bucky, he told you to call him, was clean shaven back then, his cute dimpled chin visible and more prominent when he smiled. He was tall and broad, more muscle than not and had a prosthetic arm - black and gold which whirled and ticked when he moved.

He learned your name that day, too, but he never bothered to use it. Since then, he’s only ever called you “kitten” or “sweetheart”. Sometimes, when he was feeling really frisky, he’d go for “roomie”.

But you felt at home with Bucky. He never once made you uncomfortable about your age difference. You were both struggling through school and living life, he made sure you got to see the best of it because that’s just the kind of person he was.

He accepted your friends over, just as you accepted his. Though, his friends were over more often, but you didn’t mind. In fact, you enjoyed their company and their help. They were a godsend when it came to homework and tests, checking your answers and reading over your papers.

And they’d do all of this while you all sat around drinking and eating, watching Bucky lose miserably to Sam and Scott at Mario Kart. Which always meant a mopey Bucky would end up clinging to you, head in your lap, asking you why had the Gamer Gods forsaken him while Bruce was tried to go over your Organic Chemistry notes.

But those nights grew thin as midterms got closer. Your stress levels bubbled and you tried your best to maintain your composure. You built a nest on your bed, a fluff of pillows, a pile of all your favorite snacks - sweet, sour and savory, and, as a precaution, your Netflix queue had your favorite hits lined up. You told yourself that it was okay, you’d get through it.

But by the second day you were going to crack. You weren’t a bad student, far from it! You were making excellent grades and were most likely going to pass all of your tests, but your need to excel, to be the best, it burned under your skin and twisted you into a knot of nerves and anxiety.

“Somethin’ wrong, kitten,” Bucky asked from your doorway, his broad frame took up nearly the entire space.

“Everything,” you puffed, falling back onto your pillows to stare at the ceiling. His laughter filled your room and ran over your body, curling around you like silk.

“That seems a little dramatic.”

You lifted your head up slightly to look at him. He’s in a navy Henley that brought out his eyes more and they were sparkling mischievously. “I’m going to fail all of my tests and get kick out of school and become a two dollar hooker.”

Bucky’s brow quirked at that, his lips pulled up at the corner. “Now, if any of that were true, you should at least charge five.” You playfully scoffed, picking up the closest pillow, and tossed it at him. He blocked it easily and his smile grew. “Know your self worth, sweetheart.”

“I’d be the best damn five dollar hooker this town has ever seen,” you declared as your head dropped back down.

“That’s the spirit.” You heard him push off from the frame and move further into your room, his bare feet padded on the hardwood floor. He climbed into your bed next to you, head propped up by his vibranium. “For real, kitten, tell me what’s goin’ on,” he insisted with a nudge of his foot.

You limply rolled your head to the side and after you two shared a laugh, you stared at those sincere baby blues and sighed. “I’m just stressed. I get so worked up over midterms and finals. Last year, I broke out in hives during midterms and had a week long case of hiccups during finals.”

Bucky did his best to sympathize but the thought of your cute bunny hiccups had him cooing. “I bet you were the favorite during finals, huh,” he teased.

“I did my best to muffle them,” you whined. “Wrapped my head in a scarf. I looked like The Invisible Man.” That thought alone had Bucky chuckling and you slapped at his chest. “I’m serious. My anxiety is off the charts crazy. I’m working on it. I’m here, in my happy place, got all my favorite things, and I still feel like I am going to vomit up everything I have ever eaten ever.”

Settled from his laughter, Bucky listened - really listened - to your problems and nodded. “You need to be fucked, kitten.”

You stopped working completely, breathing, thinking, existing. The bluntness of his statement, the lewdness of it broke you. “Excuse me?”

“Have you tried it?”

“I’vehadsexbefore,Bucky,thankyouverymuch,” you gushed.

That sly half smirk ticked on his face and you wanted to reach up and smack him. “I meant during midterms. Did you have a good fuck? It would have probably relaxed you. Maybe more than one, just to be safe.”

“No,” you replied, “I hadn’t tried that, actually. I was too busy studying to deal with a relationship or… hook ups or whatever.”

Bucky sucked on his teeth. “Tha’s’a shame,” he said mournfully. You stared at him expectantly. He looked back at you with his playful boyish grin. “Well, I’m gonna go…”

“You’re an ass,” you shouted, sending a flurry of hits his way. His laughter filled the room again, bouncing around you as he caught your hands and rolled on top of you. He pinned both your wrists in his metal hand above your head and found his way between your parted thighs, his right hand curled around your calf.

Your nose is pressed against his. You could feel all of his weight on you and for the first time in days you felt grounded. He smelled like sandalwood and oak, mint and coffee. His lips parted and you felt them brush lightly against your own, “If you don’t want this, tell me right now.”

“I want this, Bucky,” you replied, skin heating liquid hot with need.

“Thank fucking god,” he sighed and licked into your mouth with the most sinful moan that rattled through him and into your soul. Bucky kissed like he was taking parts of you and making them his. Each swipe of his tongue curled your toes and made you shiver. Your candy laced tongue swept against his in the most sensual way that left goosebumps on your skin.

He released your hands and cupped your chin, angling your head as if he could kiss you any harder, any deeper. His blunt nails raked down the cotton of your leggings, up your thigh and rested on your hip. “You’re wearing far too much,” he murmured into your open mouth, his tongue swiped at your bottom lip.

“Pot, kettle,” you quipped and wiggled beneath him. There was a thin barrier of clothing between you, but you could feel the hard outline of his cock pressed against your hip. The friction tore a growl from him and earned a nip to your cheek.

“Knew you were a fuckin’ minx,” he laughed, but stole a quick kiss and sat back. You almost whined at the loss of his weight and warmth, but your brain short circuited when he peeled off his shirt above you. All tanned skin and toned muscle, a few scars littered here and there, most nestled near his prosthetic, all topped off by the silver of his dog tags hanging innocently against his chest. “See somethin’ you like, kitten?”

His confidence was annoying at times, but well justified. Bucky Barnes was wet dream on legs with heart of gold all wrapped up in a grumpy, brooding exterior. The man could have anyone he wanted and here he was, between your legs, hard and ready for you.

“Yeah,” you nodded with an absentminded lick of your lips, your eyes hungrily taking him in, “I haven’t had Sour Patch Kids in months.” You grab a pack nearby and force yourself to look down at them.

“You little shit,” he laughed, ripping the candy from your grip and tossing it aside. He bent down and slipped his hands underneath your shirt, the juxtaposition of hot and cold of his mismatched fingers caused you to shiver. Smirk growing, he dipped his head down to find the nearly exposed skin of your stomach as he pushed the fabric further up your chest. You shift your weight again, your muscles contracting when his lips press against your heated skin. “Tickles,” you half-whine. “Don’t mean to,” he apologized with a nuzzle of his nose near your bellybutton. The scratch of his five o’clock shadow leaves a light burn on your sensitive skin. “‘sfine,” you reassured him. Your hands found their way into the short brown threads of his hair and encouraged him to continue with a light tug. He looked up at you and gave another playful growl before he nipped at the upper shell of your bellybutton. He continued up your body, pushing your shirt along with him, teeth and tongue laying claim on your skin as he did. “Off,” he told you, letting you arch off the bed to take care of the rest and leave you in a white cotton bra decorated with tiny pink hearts. “Fuck, these tits are too fuckin’ sinful to be in somethin’ so sweet,” he groaned. Your skin heated at his compliment, but you had no time to bite back with him squeezing your breasts through the cotton material. “Do your panties match, kitten,” he asked breathlessly, cheeks flushed. When you nodded, you felt his hips jerk against you and he squeezed your tits together. “You’re going to kill me,” he groaned and found your mouth again. The kiss was brutal, hungry. Bucky was rutting against you, your tits still in his hand. Just the thought of how turned on his was had you on edge and you were close to tipping over - and you were going to ruin him? “I’m gonna fuckin’ destroy your sweet little cunt,” he promised, your mouths still sticky and wet from your kiss. “First, I’m gonna taste you, then I’m gonna fuck you.” He reluctantly released his hold on your chest and sat back on his heels to hook his fingers in the waistband of your leggings. “Then, I might give you a couple of hours to study after a dinner break,” he decided. “And when you get all worked up again - and you will,” he gave you knowing look, “I’ll fuck you to sleep.” With one seemingly practiced pull, he had your pants off and at the end of your bed before you could blink. “Any objections?” “Do I get to pick what we have for dinner?” “As long as it’s pizza, then yeah,” he nodded. “I want pizza.” Bucky’s face split into a grin and he turned his attention to his jeans, “Good girl.” He wasn’t as graceful getting his own bottoms off, but you didn’t care. “Everything off. Fuck, kitten, I want you so bad.” Your hands were shaking as you tried to unhook your bra. It wasn’t sexy, it wasn’t cool, but he didn’t seem to mind, either. He watched you with insatiable eyes when you undressed fully, flinging the bra and underwear somewhere unknown and unimportant. Bare, you worried your lip with your teeth and squeezed your legs together, suddenly shy. “Nuh uh,” Bucky grunted, crawling back to you as he pushed down his boxer briefs. He exposed himself to you first, his cock springing free - long, thick and veiny. Your eyes grew wide and your mouth dry. “I’ve shown you mine, now you show me yours.” He stopped at your closed legs, his leaking sex pressed against your shin, his hands on the tops of your knees. “Open up for me, c’mon,” he coaxed in that soft timber. You bit down on your lip harder and slowly parted your legs for him once more. His eyes trailed down your body, taking in every dip and curve, practically eating you with his gaze. When he reached your center, glistening with your slick and clenching desperately for him, you saw his cock twitch. “Goddamn,” he whispered and scrubbed a hand over his face. “What,” you asked, worried. He didn’t answer you right away, just continued to stare down at your pussy, transfixed. “I’m never gonna want to eat anything else in my life,” he finally replied. You wanted to cover yourself up again, to lock your legs up and tell him to stop, but his hands are firm on your knees and holding you open. “Gonna be fuckin’ ambrosia.” He lowered himself to lay on his stomach, kissing his way down one of your thighs until he got to his prize. “How many times have you came from gettin’ head,” he asked, his warm breath puffing against your slick folds. You shook your head and shrugged, “Once, maybe. Dunno.” “Once,” he repeated incredulously. “Seriously? Who the fuck have you been dating?” “Not you, obviously.” “Obviously.” Bucky planted a chaste kiss against your swollen clit and you squirmed. “I’m gonna make you come,” he decided. He flattened his tongue and swept along your folds from your quivering hole to your bud. “And I’m not stoppin’ ‘til I do, got it?” He doesn’t let you answer before he lost himself in you. There’s a lot of things Bucky is good at: guitar, baking, remembering random trivia. However, Bucky is mind-shattering fantastic at eating pussy. His tongue swirled around your folds, lapping up your slick with a eager moan. He flattened the muscle once again to drag it across your opening to your clit where he latches on and sucks. Your thighs clenched and your back arched, lightning crackled through your nerves. “Ah, fuck,” you gasped. Your eyes rolled into the back of your head as your fingers twisted into your sheets with each flick of his tongue against your bud. You couldn’t tell, but he watched you, memorized every movement you made, every gasp and moan that escaped your lips. He released you with a lewd pop and licked back into your folds. His nose rubbed and bumped against your clit as he fucked his tongue into you, long, deep strokes with equally deep groans. Each stroke caused his stubble to scrap against your cunt, your thighs, increasing the sensitivity and the pleasure. “Could eat this pussy forever,” he mumbled into your sex. “You gonna let me, kitten?” He shifted his weight and tucked his arms underneath your thighs, lifting you slightly off the bed and closer to his face. He kissed your cunt like he kissed your mouth, deep and full of tongue, licking into as if he’s searching for a bit of himself. Your body was floating from pleasure, hot and light, as if you were a balloon and needed Bucky to keep you grounded. You barely registered his question and answered him blindly. “Yes,” you whimpered, your hands finding purchase in his hair to scrape along his scalp, “whatever you want. Please... I need...”

“What do you need, sweetheart,” he coached. He made sure you were looking down at him, his tongue was only working your clit. Short, determined flicks of his tongue that had your stomach and thigh muscles flexing. You weren’t sure if you could pout while being overstimulated like you were, but you like it. “Need to come,” you rasped and tugged on his hair. “Please.” Bucky chuckled; his hot breath brushed over your already heated skin caused you to shiver and twitch. “No one is stoppin’ you, sweetheart. Come for me,” he murmured and latched back onto your clit. You felt your body light up and fall apart. Your nails dug into his scalp as you pulled his hair, your thighs tightened around him and your hips lifted off of the bed as the pleasure washed over you, his name spilled from your lips. ”Holy shit, that was fuckin’ beautiful,” he groaned, giving mercy to you for only a moment as you tried to even your breathing and the brainfuzz to clear. “How’s about we try for two or three more,” he grinned down at you with that teasing glint in his eye. ”Bucky,” you rolled your eyes, but shifted your hips nevertheless. “Love my name on your lips, kitten, but I’d love my cum even more.” He wriggled his eyebrows at you and winked when you groaned at the bad joke, but he quickly turned the groan into a gasp when he slipped his middle finger inside of you. “Mm, so sweet and warm and goddamn tight. You sure you had someone in here before?” You scowled down at him and slapped the back of his head which earned a chuckle. “Yes, asshole.” ”Must’ve not been very big,” he teased as he started to work the digit in and out. ”Not everyone can have a monster cock like you,” you playfully chided. The smug look on his face had you laughing even as he added a second finger inside of you, push and pulling, stretching you open. “Yeah? Well, this monster cock needs to get in your pretty little pussy like yesterday.” He moved to sit up, fingers still working you open. His body shifted until it was over you again, metal arm holding him up so he was nose to nose, your legs naturally spread to accommodate his width and give him a chance to push his fingers deeper. He stared down at you as a third finger worked its way inside and he eagerly swallowed the gasped that you made. Your arms wrapped around his neck, fingers twisting idly along the chain of his dog tags as your tongues slid next to one another. “Condom,” he asked in a whisper. ”Don’t have any. Have an IUD, though,” you shrugged. “Clean.” ”Yeah, me too,” he nodded and bit at his lip in thought. “Fuck.” He weighed his options and pulled out his fingers to grab at himself. After a few quick strokes, he lined himself up, “This okay?” ”Just fuck me, Bucky,” you snapped. Not one to be told twice, he slowly pushed himself in with a strangled moan. His head fell to your shoulder as his hips thrust shallowly into you, inch by inch. Your walls stretched and burned as you tried to accommodate his size as he continued to work himself in, you didn’t think you were going to be able to fit all of it. “Shit, kitten, you’re so fuckin’ tight,” he hissed into your shoulder. “Feels so goddamn good.” ”You’re not going to fit,” you voiced your concern. You spread your legs wider, dug your nails deeper into his shoulders, did anything to help him fit inside of you. You could feel Bucky’s smile against your neck when he turned head to kiss and mark up your pulse point. “We’ll make it fit, sweetheart,” he promised. “You’re takin’ it so good already. You’ll take it all.” His praise made you shiver and you hummed in delight at his teeth and tongue that would surely left a mark for the morning. ”Look,” he panted, lifting up from your body slightly to show himself sink into you full hilt. When he did, he smiled up at you, “How’s it feel, kitten?” ”Feels good, Bucky. Feel so full,” you answered. He practically purred in response, pulling out of you to the tip and slowly pushed in until he was seated fully once more causing both of you to whine at the sight. ”Do you know what you do to me,” he asked. You didn’t have time to question what he meant or even answer when his thrusts became faster with each stroke, the snap of his hips hard enough to clench your teeth and curl your toes. He was splitting you open, taking you apart, you felt like you were going to float away again. “No,” he whispered when your eyes threatened to close, “look at me.” You did your best to keep them open, to keep them trained on those stormy blues that were lust blown and feral. He curled your body into itself, your legs hooked over his arms, hips off of the bed as his own fucked deeper into you. Metal fingers found your clit, cooling the swollen, heated skin as they rubbed the bud between them. “Fuck, Bucky,” you hissed, barely able to breathe from the pleasurable assault against you. ”Want you to come again, kitten,” he told you through clenched teeth. “Wanna feel that pussy come on this monster cock and milk it for me. Think you can do that?” You couldn’t form words, not after hearing that. You could barely manage the nod you gave him. “Good girl. That’s my very good girl. Now, come for me, kitten. Come. For. Me,” he accentuated his last three words with harder, deeper strokes. You lifted off of the bed entirely when you came, your entire body tensing and shaking from the intensity. Bucky laughed, delighted, and called out your name for the first time since you moved in as he spilled inside of you after one final deep thrust. Breathless, you both collapsed onto the bed, your limbs starfished and Bucky flat on top of you. You were covered in sweat and he was still inside of you, you could feel his spend - and yours - leak out of you. “That was...” you started, not knowing how to finish. ”Yeah,” he replied, his head tucked under your breasts, eyes closed, content. You stayed there until it became too uncomfortable, too itchy. He was the one that suggested the shower, the one in his room because it’s bigger. When you told him you couldn’t move, he just laughed and carried you in there like he did it all of the time. Later, you were going to talk about what all of it meant, but right then... you just enjoyed it. - a/n: So, maybe more parts? I dunno. I just hoped you enjoyed it, nonnie!

#fic requested #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes x y/n

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httphopewrld · 4 years ago

Text

I Don’t Know What to Call This | (f/m/a)

Just Friends? Friends with benefits? Dating? Questions swarmed your mind when one of your dear friends, Allie, asked about you and Hoseok’s relationship. The truth was you didn’t know. You and Hoseok were close, knowing each other since elementary school, and considered each other friends. However, as you two grew older, maturing into separate professions—you a well-known fashion designer, and Hoseok a famous musician and dancer—you two had engaged in some intimate activities (sex—lots of it.) After Allie’s simple question, you had to confront your feelings. But were you and Hoseok ready to be more than close friends and f*ck buddies?

Pairing: friend/lover/bfhoseok! x female reader

Genre: slowburn fluff and SMUT

Rating: 18+ because there’s swearing and pretty detailed smut

Warnings: swearing and SMUT (one of the most detailed smuts I've written, and there's more than one sex scene.) Smut includes: switch!reader and switch!hoseok, grinding and thrusting, protective sex (USE CONDOMS, I cannot stress that enough), lots of kissing, ass-grabbing, dirty talk, a wee bit of choking on both sides, squirting, male and female oral, fingering and handjobs, vibrator use, cyber-sex, the reader uses dildo, slight degradation, and just lots of filth—YOU'RE WELCOME FELLOW FILTHY ANIMALS. Oh, and spoilers for the horror movie Hush. It's on Netflix if you haven't watched it yet. It is GOOD.

Word Count: 16, 465 (wowie)

A/N: Thank you for waiting! It’s rushed, so expect some little mistakes here an there, but I’m happy with how it turned out. I hope y'all enjoy it! Also, Y/L/N means "your last name."

Taglist: @kirbykook @kleritata @taestannie @jenotation @hemmos-obrien @zeharilisharaban @speed-of-wind @kawaisoraya

⊱ ────── {⋅. ✯ .⋅} ────── ⊰

“You can move those over there,” you gestured to the left corner of the windowed room, where a pile of boxes waited. The move was going to take longer than you expected because the movers arrived a week later than your assistant, Rachel said. I really need to talk to her about this. You stressed in your mind, rubbing your temples. “Are you okay?” You looked up, vision resuming its focus on your friend, Allie. Allie, your friend for as long as you could remember, offered to help you move to your new building. She would help you manage everything, including the movers, tracking your company's items, and the layout you gave to her for said things while managing the company. “I’m just irritated at Rachel,” you noticed her confusion, “my new assistant.” She nodded, remembering, “Right. Why is she still employed?” “Because she’s new, and being an assistant is a tough feat. She’ll get it soon.” You reassured, “Rachel is a fast learner, and this is her first mistake. We’re prepared for the next show, though, because Westley's helping me organize it.” “Remind me who Westley is?” Allie asked. You sighed. “West is like my second brain. He helps organize the fashion shows, hire the models, find the venues, and secure the guest list. He has other people help him too, but he’s the brains of that. I create the fashion, and he finds a way to present it.” Allie nodded, “Gotcha.” Your phone rang, and you answered. “Y/N.” “Y/N!” Rachel chimed on the other end. “It’s Rachel. I’m so sorry about the mix-up on dates. It won’t happen again, I—” “I know it won’t, Rachel. You’re new, so I expected to slip up. I’ve gotten it taken care of,” you nudged Allie’s arm, and she smiled. “We’re luckily prepared for the next show in Vancouver, so you don’t have to worry about the mess up. All I need you to do now is make sure that my fabrics are coming in.” “Yes! They’ve arrived at the studio.” Rachel replied. "Fantastic. Thank you. That'll be all for now. Check on West if he needs anything." You ordered. “Will do, Y/N. Talk to you soon.” You hung up. The Vancouver show was in five months, giving you and your team enough time to design the clothes for the production and move to the new building. The show's theme was natural bodies of water and nature, a nod to Canada's landscape. The clothing catalogue would include various icy blue shades to represent waterfalls and warm emerald tones like flora and fauna. These colours would be encapsulated in elegant gowns and suits, worn by different body shapes, genders, and colours. The materials would be made from recycled fabrics from your previous shows and from your fellow artists. You were known for designing elegant attire, so it was best to keep to it. However, it was rare to see different sized, coloured, and gendered models on a runway; because of having to customize clothes to those models. Additionally, making clothes from recycled fabrics would be tough. “Okay,” you began, “I need to talk to my design team and plan out the gowns. Can I leave you here to deal with the movers?” Allie gave you a thumbs up. “Thank you,” you smiled, hugging her, “if you need anything, please call me or Rachel, or both. We’ll be back to help.” Before you left, a thought struck you. You turned around to face Allie. “I should just hire you.” She chuckled, “Why?” You scoffed, "Because you're here all the time!" You walked back to her. "Listen, you're the best manager I know. You can be my third brain. You already are, outside of work, so it would make sense." Allie seemed unsure. “I already have my job at Youth and Hope.” You grasped her hands. “You would be given a great wage, not just because you’re my best friend, but because you’re going to be busy with lots of work. You would be handling the management tasks, like West. You’d be given a good amount of vacation, trips for shows and meetings would be paid for—you could get that loft you always wanted downtown.” You wiggled your eyebrows, and Allie laughed. “Don’t I have to go through an interview process?” You brushed a hand through the air. “I can get someone to interview you and officially hire you. Once that’s done, you’ll start getting paid.” You checked your watch, and a quick rush of panic ran through you. “Shit, I’m going to be late. Consider it, alright! Let me know your availability, and we’ll schedule an interview!” “Okay!” She shouted back as you left. . . The coffee had become bitter. You weren’t sure if it was the roast or the fact that this was your fourth cup of the night. It had been a month since the fabrics arrived. Thanks to Allie, your friend and now employee, your move to the new building was complete; however, your designs weren’t translating as smoothly as you wish. "Fuck," you cursed, resting your head in your hands and rubbing your temples. The sketches waited in front of you—the measurements and ideas raking at your confidence. Your designs are redundant. You’ve done something similar last time. Boring. Plain. You turned back to your mannequins, still bare. The theme was in your mind, and your design team reassured you that your sketches were fine, but it all felt fuzzy. “Y/N,” Rachel peered into the studio from the door, “there’s a gentleman here to see you.” “His name?” You asked, still looking at the mannequins. You heard footsteps retreat into the front lobby, then come back to the door. “Jung Hoseok?” You turned around, trying to contain your excitement. “Please send him in.” Rachel nodded, jogging back to the lobby. You heard a muffled “thank you” before heavy footsteps approaching your studio. Hoseok reached the doorway, beaming his signature smile. He wore acid-washed jeans, a baggy white sweater that matched his chunky light sneakers. His dark hair was slightly wavy and parted in the middle. A tote bag was slung over his shoulder. “Y/N!” He cheered, opening his arms wide. “Hoseok!” You replied, running into his arms and hugging him tightly. You couldn’t remember the last time you saw Hoseok—a year or two? “Fuck, how long has it been?” You asked him. He pulled away, thinking. “About six months?” Totally off. “Seriously, it felt longer than that.” You argued. Hoseok pulled out his phone and scrolled through his calenderer and photos. He made a ‘tsk’ sound. “Ah, see here,” he showed you a few photos of you two with his friends, who were also his bandmates, “six months ago, you joined us on tour for a couple days before coming back here. I have it also marked in my calendar.” He showed you the dates, which were marked with ‘💚Y/N’s visit💚.’ “Can Namjoon or Yoongi confirm this?” You crossed your arms. Hoseok mimicked your body language. “I can call them right now,” he challenged. You two stood in competitive tension. You succumbed. “You win this time, Jung Hoseok.” He playfully chuckled. You realized that Hoseok doesn’t live around here. “Wait, why are you in town. Shouldn’t you and the others be in Korea planning another album or something?” You speculated. “Our company gave us a month for vacation because we spent most of the year touring.” Hoseok sighed. “So, I decided to come to visit.” You hugged him again, happy to see someone who wasn’t your employee amidst this chaos of stress. “How long are you staying?” You asked, muffled against his chest. He paused. “Maybe a month?” You pulled away from him, shocked. “A month? Here? That’s all your vacation time.” “Yeah,” he replied, as if that wasn’t a big deal, “I didn’t want to travel to a bunch of places because the group and I have been doing that for almost a year—and it’s pretty chill in this area.” He sighed. “Besides, I don’t think many people would recognize me. The airport wasn’t busy, and I haven’t been swarmed by fans yet.” “Do you have a place to stay?” You asked. He nodded. “Yup! I’m staying at a fancy hotel. I got the suite at the top floor,” he made a gesture with his hand, indicating how high up his suite was. You playfully elbowed his side. "Wow, look at you, Mr. Famous. You can afford a top suite now. Are you sure you don't want to stay with me, though?” Hoseok dismissed your offer with a wave of his hand. “It’s alright, Y/N. Thank you, though.” He peered over your shoulder, “It looks like you’re busy anyway, so I think I’ll just stick to my suite.” He walked past you, over to the bare mannequins. “Are you preparing for that show in Vancouver that you told me about?” You nodded, relaying your theme and ideas to him. He smiled. “That sounds really cool,” he pointed to the mannequins, “but don’t you need some clothes for the show, then?” You rolled your eyes, chuckling at him for being a smart ass. “Yes, I do. I’m brainstorming some ideas right now, but I’m coming up with nothing. I have the design team coming in tomorrow with drafts, but I’d like to bring my own thing to the table, you know? I’m the main brain of this operation, and it’d be embarrassing if I come in with zilch.” You leaned against one of the tables, facing the mannequins. "The tough part is designing gowns that fit the right people, you know. Sure, you can make a collection of clothes, but they won't look good if they don't fit the models." You shook your head. "Maybe it's just tougher to design clothes for different bodies. I should just stick to one type of person and leave it at that." Hoseok walked up beside you, leaning against the same table and facing the figures. “Why don’t you find the models and then design the clothes?” You looked at him, surprised. “But wouldn’t that take a long time?” He crossed his arms, “Well, how many models would you need?” “We’re thinking around seventy. There’s going to be two changes within the show.” Hoseok nodded, and you could see him brainstorming. “Well, you have four months left, right? You and your team can make some drafts, cast the models, and finalize the ideas with said models. Which would take about a couple of months? You could do that while planning the show?” He paused, appearing to notice your hesitant expression. “Think about it. You’ve trained your team well enough to work on its own, right? That’s what you did for your last show, which was a success. You came in every day for a couple hours to make sure everything was in order, then focused on other things.” Hoseok grasped your hands. “You’re great at multitasking, so do it. It’s scary, but you can check on people every day to make sure everything’s alright.” You bit your lip, “I-I don’t know, Hoseok. That sounds like a lot of work—” “You did it last time, and it worked out just fine,” he gently squeezed your hands, “and I’m here for a month. I can help out whenever you need me. I’ll simply clean things up and fetch coffee if that’s what you need.” You laughed, “Like my intern?” “Yeah! I don’t know how to design anything or plan a fashion show, but I’ll do what I can.” He smiled. “You’re so much more than you think, Y/N, and if you need reminders, I’ll be here.” You smiled back at him, so grateful to have him here. “My god, you’re fucking sweet,” you scoffed, taking your hands out of his. Hoseok laughed. You pushed yourself off the table and faced him. “How did we even become friends?” You questioned. He actually gave it a thought. “You joined by dance club in elementary school, when no one else would.” He laughed so hard that he teared up. “I think we actually took club photos, and it was only you and I posing.” You laughed with him, remembering those days spent trying to breakdance to hip hop and presenting dance routines to your parents. “Yeah, that was before you joined that Music Academy in grade four, right?” He nodded, and you sighed, surprised you still remembered. Your mind came back to the present. “So, you’re actually okay with helping out?” You checked. “Why would I ask if I didn’t want to?” Hoseok replied. You tapped your index finger against your temple, “true.” “So, how much do you want?” Hoseok looked offended at your question. You chuckled. “Well, you’re going to work for me, so I need to pay you.” “It’s only just a month, though.” “Yeah, but—” “What about we see how much you have me do before you pay me?” He interrupted. “I might just have to fetch coffee, so you can just give me money on the spot.” You thought about it for a minute. Hoseok yawned. “This work talk is making me tired. Do you want to go out for dinner?” He looked around you, “Unless you have more work to do. I can always wait in the lobby for you to finish.” You brushed your hand through the air, “Nah, it’s okay. I’m pretty brain dead anyway. I need to be energized for tomorrow’s draft review.” Hoseok pushed himself off the table and clapped. “Awesome! Where do you think I’m taking you for dinner?” You bit your lip, trying to guess. “Sushi?” “Sushi it is!” He beamed. You grabbed your things and followed him out of the studio.

Both of you sat towards the back of the sushi restaurant, to Hoseok’s request. The waitress placed you two in a concealed booth, with drapes covering a small entrance.

You two had to take your shoes off before sitting down.

“Why did you say, ‘sushi it is?’” You asked, taking a sip of your water.

Hoseok opened his can of sprite, “What do you mean?”

“You asked where I thought you were taking me, I responded, and you said, ‘sushi it is!’” You reiterated.

He took a sip of his soda before responding, "It's a trick I learned from Instagram." He set his drink down. "You ask someone, 'where do you think I'm taking you for food?' dinner or whatever, and then take them to a place with that food. It's easier than asking 'what do you want to eat?' because people can't decide."

You nodded, making an ‘aaahhh’ sound. “Smart.”

You two caught up while eating your meals. Hoseok chatted about his bandmates and the tour, and you talked about your move to the new building.

Most of it was just adding more details about your lives because you two texted lots during the week and sometimes video chatted. You'd get to see Hoseok and his friends, and he'd get a view of your life on the other side of the world.

To others, it looked like both of you were dating. Both of your friends would tease, singing, "Y/N and Hoseok sitting in a tree, K-I-S-S-I-N-G." Many of his fans, ARMY, would theorize your friendship, pointing out the matching bracelets you two wore—which was later proved normal because Hoseok went live on Vlive making bracelets for his bandmates.

And you two would continually clarify that you two were strictly long-time friends. Nothing more.

Girls and boys can be friends. Simple as that.

You and Hoseok finished your meals. You two shared a few rolls and a bento box and were full.

“That was really good.” You commented, rubbing your stomach.

Hoseok chuckled, copying you, “I think I’m pregnant.”

You laughed, “Shut up! You’re so fit.”

“You’re right,” he replied, pulling up his sleeves and flexing his arms.

You both laughed as he flexed his muscles, which were significantly more prominent than your remembered. You were slightly jealous of his lean athletic figure.

And were gazing at it for too long.

“I don’t know about you,” Hoseok sighed, appearing to be tired from the food and flexing his muscles, “but I’m in the mood for some Ben and Jerry’s.”

Your eyes lit up. “YES.”

“Cookie dough with chunks?” You both said in unison.

You two erupted in laughter.

"I'll go play," Hoseok said, getting up.

You stopped him, “It’s alright,” you smiled, “my treat.”

Before you left the booth, you turned around and said thoughtfully, "But you're getting the ice cream."

Hoseok's expression conveyed the same seriousness as if a soldier on a mission.

He saluted you. “Copy that, Y/N.”

You saluted him back and left to pay.

The walk to Ben and Jerry’s was quick. Both of you were eager to share the tub of ice cream.

You ended up getting a chocolate chip cookie dough and a cherry Garcia pint, and two spoons to share. You both ate the ice creams with delight while walking back to your apartment building.

When arriving at your building, Hoseok handed you the cookie dough ice cream pint.

“What are you doing?” You asked while he gave you the closed pint.

He tilted his head to the side, confused. “What do you mean? I’m dropping you off at your place.”

You gave a shocked expression. “Dropping me off? We’re not even done our pints!”

“But you have work tomorrow. I don’t want to keep you up.” Hoseok stepped back towards the edge of the sidewalk. “I can catch a cab back to the hotel, don’t worry.”

You balanced the pints in one hand and used your other to grab his arm.

“You’re not going anywhere,” you said, pulling away from the curb and closer to your building.

Hoseok pulled his arm out of your grip. "Y/N, you need to be well-rested—"

“At least help me finish the ice cream.” You interrupted, holding up the pints that were now in both your hands, along with your spoon.

“We haven’t seen each other six months, and it’s only…”

Hoseok pulled out his phone. “Nine.”

“Exactly!” You expressed. “It’s only nine. I don’t need to be in until nine-thirty tomorrow morning. As long as you’re out by eleven, that gives me an hour to get ready for bed at twelve, and I will wake up at eight. Plenty of rest!”

You watched his unsure expression.

"If you don't want to go home at eleven, that's fine by me. Could you leave earlier? Or you can go back to your hotel if you want. I won't take offence; you know me." You held up your arms in surrender, ice cream pints still in your hands. "But if you're leaving because you're worried that I won't get enough sleep, don't. I'm a grown woman. I know how to take care of myself, and I want you to come in.

Hoseok bit his lip, appearing to debate the offer.

He sighed. "Fine, I'll come in. However, I don't want to get a text from you complaining about being tired in the morning."

“I swear,” you promised, pretending to draw an ‘x’ over your heart, “I cross my heart.”

Hoseok chuckled, and you led the two of you into your apartment building and into the elevator. You pressed the twentieth button, and you two waited in comfortable silence.

The elevator doors opened, and you two walked to your apartment.

You opened the door to your studio apartment, locking the door behind you two and hanging up your bag along with your keys.

“Want anything to drink?” You asked, setting down the ice cream pint in your hand and taking off your coat.

Hoseok set down the cookie dough pint on the coffee table. “Anything is alright, thanks,”

You hummed, getting both of you bottles of black cherry soda and bringing over the cherry Garcia pint and your spoon.

"Jesus, do you need help?" Hoseok asked with worry, seeing you holding the bottles by their necks in one hand and the ice cream pint and spoon in the other.

You chuckled, “It’s alright, just sit down.”

You two sat on the couch, twisting off the caps on your sodas and taking a sip.

Hoseok sighed. “That’s really good,” he gestured to the pop before putting it down on the coffee table.

“Yeah! They’re so addictive,” you replied, setting coasters under both of your drinks.

Both of you continued to reminisce about your childhood, especially middle school. The puberty years had been gruesome to you two, speckling your faces with acne.

You pulled out a photo album you kept on one of your bookshelves, which had pictures of your families and your younger selves—even photos when Hoseok was training, before debuting with BTS in 2013.

“Oh my god, look at you!” You gasped, showing him a picture.

In the photo, Hoseok arms were crossed over his chest, his attempt at having swagger. He wore a collared shirt, and his hair was short.

“Oh god, no,” Hoseok cringed, gently pushing the photo away.

You chuckled, "You were so adorable, always dancing and having a good time." You smiled. "You are such a hard worker, practicing so much. I remember you twisting your ankle but still practicing."

You looked at him tenderly. “I wish people could see that.”

Hoseok smiled back at you, softly touching your hand. You grasped his hand, feeling butterflies in your stomach.

He was the first to pull away.

“You remember our sleepovers?” He asked.

You giggled, "Yeah when you could leave that cramped place you shared with the boys."

He swatted your arm, “That apartment was good! It was where everything started.” He pouted. “Anyways, we would always look up deep questions to ask each other—or would you rather.”

You rolled your eyes. “Those questions were overrated.”

“I thought they were nice!” Hoseok defended. “We got to know each other more, like, ‘what is your biggest fear?’ or ‘what is your biggest pet peeve?’”

He must've seen your unimpressed expression because he continued, "You got to admit that you learned a bit more about me because of those questions!"

You sighed. “I did, I guess.”

Hoseok held up his index finger, seeming to signal ‘wait a minute.’

He pulled out his phone. “Let’s try some now, then.”

“Hoseok—”

“Come on,” he interrupted. “If you don’t learn anything new about me from the first four questions we do, then we can stop, alright? I will never bring up these questions ever again.”

You debated his offer.

“Fine.” You agreed, setting down the photo album. “Shoot.”

“Okay, but we both pick two questions and answer all of them. For example, when we ask a question, the other person answers before the picker.” Hoseok said while he scrolled.

You hummed, understanding his instructions.

“Want to do would you rather?”

“Sure.”

"Sexy edition?" Hoseok wiggled his eyebrows. "Unless you're uncomfortable."

You scoffed. “Hobi, we're grown, adults. I can take a few sexual questions."

“Okay,” Hoseok replied, “but if you ever feel uncomfortable, we can choose another question or stop.”

You nodded, and Hoseok appeared to find what he was looking for.

“Alright,” he began, “would you rather bite someone’s ear during sex or bite someone’s lip during sex?”

This is pretty vanilla. You thought.

"Lip, for sure." You emphasized the 'sure' in your sentence, stringing along with the 'er' sound.

“Same,” Hoseok agreed while passing you his phone.

You took his cell and strolled through the website.

What do I choose? Do I just dive in, or go for the vanilla shit?

“Would you rather engage in foreplay or go right into the main course?” You asked.

Hoseok thought about it. “I would say foreplay. You can warm things up—and nothing is more fun than teasing.” He shimmied, making you two laugh.

You agreed, passing the phone to him.

“Oooo, here’s a classic,” he grinned, “top or bottom?”

“I think I’m a switch,” you replied.

He tilted his head.

“It’s like, you’re both, top and bottom. I like to take control sometimes, but I can also sub.” You explained. “You?”

“Top,” he replied, “for sure.”

You laughed, “You sound so against being a bottom.”

He laughed too. “I like pleasuring the person I’m having sex with. Nothing is more satisfying than making someone cum.”

“True,” you admitted.

You found your mind wandering to unholy memories of you and Hoseok. What was odd about your friendship that—to put it blatantly—you two had sex. Not just once, but a few times.

This is why asking these questions was pretty casual and not too surprising.

You two started engaging in sex a couple years ago. You were stressed about your company starting, and Hoseok was in town. He offered to help you relax, and before you knew it, he was drilling into you from behind.

Both of you agreed to stay friends but continued to have sex every now and then. It was great, you had to admit. Probably the best sex you had in your life, and it was good that you two were able to keep your friendship platonic at the same time. Only, it was sex without the romantic feelings.

To be honest, you were craving it again.

He passed you his phone again, and you tried to pick a good last question.

“Would you rather kiss me gently or kiss me aggressively?” You asked.

Hoseok paused before answering. “Depends on the mood.”

“Well, at this moment, then, what is the mood?”

You watched Hoseok’s eyes shift between your lips then your eyes.

“Aggressively.”

You hummed. “Good to know.” You passed him back his phone. “Last question.”

Hoseok chuckled, “You seriously didn’t learn anything new?”

You shrugged. “I guess not.”

He didn't seem bothered, though, when his body shifted closer to yours.

When he looked back up at you, his expression changed. Although his eyes were already an opaque shade of brown, they had darkened.

I know that look.

He smirked. “Would you rather make the first move or receive the first move?”

You bit your lip, gazing up at his body.

Before you could reconnect with his eyes, you heard his phone drop, and his lips were on yours.

Just like his answer, his kisses were aggressive and needy. You could taste the cherry cola and ice cream on his lips and mouth.

You pulled his face closer, wanting more.

Hoseok’s body language opened up, allowing you to get up and straddle his lap. You felt his hands inch up your shirt and tug at the fabric. He helped you take it off, which gave him access to your breasts.

You felt him undo your bra with a quick flick of his fingers, and you tossed it off without a care.

Hoseok let out a chuckle before claiming your lips with his.

His lips were intoxicating, and you wanted more.

“Please touch me,” you begged against his lips.

He hummed, grazing his hands down your back before roughly grabbing your ass. You moaned, and he held you against him, hard enough to feel him grind into you.

“Fuck, stop teasing,” you pulled away, and he laughed.

“Baby, I’m not teasing,” he smirked.

Baby. The term of endearment made your heart swoon.

You weren’t always this infatuated by Hoseok. But the way he came to visit you during his break, had dinner and ice cream with you, and kissed you this good—it made you want more than just a fling.

But you couldn't think that way. It was sex. You two were doing this to get off, not engage in lovemaking.

Hoseok swiped his tongue over his bottom lip, eyeing your figure. “You know what I want.”

You ran your hand up and down his chest. “What are you waiting for?”

Hoseok's hands came underneath your thighs, and he picked you up, walking you to your bedroom. He used your body to close the door, slamming you against it.

He ground himself against your core, causing you to moan louder than you expected.

You covered your mouth in embarrassment.

Hoseok chuckled, “It’s okay,” he pulled away enough to graze his thumb over your cheek, “I love it when you moan.”

You rolled your eyes, kissing him and grabbing his ass, causing him to grind on your core.

"Fuck, I can practically feel that you wet," he groaned, trying his best to hold you up and sturdy you against the door.

“B-bed,” you choked, one of his particular thrusts stroking perfectly against you.

Hoseok moved you towards your bed and gingerly placed you down. He kissed down your bare chest and slowly took off your pants and underwear.

“Fuck, your perfect,” Hoseok awed, softly running a finger through your wet heat.

His cold finger sent a wave of pleasure through you, making you flinch.

Hoseok hummed. “So wet for me,”

He looked up at you. “May I?”

You nodded, but he only smirked.

“Words, baby,” he put a hand to his ear.

“Please,” you bit down on your lip.

You felt him spread your lips, and you clenched in response. He appeared to savour you, taking his time as he ate you out.

When you moaned, he’d hum, sending vibrations into your heat that brought you closer to your climax.

“Fuck, I’m close—”

He pulled away, licking his lips and gazing down at you.

“Hoseok—”

“You taste better than I remembered,” he commented. “But I want you to cum around me.”

God, I love his dirty talk.

You watched him take off his clothes. He must've been working out because he was more toned than six months ago.

He was about to line himself up with your entrance, but you stopped him with your foot on his chest.

You smirked. “Not yet, baby.”

You stood up. “Sit.”

Hoseok sat on the bed, your roles shifting.

“But I want—”

You interrupted his beg with your hand around his erect cock. He appeared to be speechless as you run your hand up and down his shaft.

“Hm?” You asked, chuckling lightly at how easy it was to make him submit. “What do you want, baby?”

“I-I wanted,” he stuttered, thrusting slightly into your hand, “to cum inside you.”

“Is that so?” You questioned, pulling your hand away.

Despite his vocalized want, he whined when you pulled away.

“I’m only doing what my baby wants,” you shrugged. “Condoms are in the bottom drawer on the right.”

Hoseok dashed over to the bedside table, rummaging for the condoms.

“Those should fit you, right?”

"Yes," he replied, opening the familiar wrapper and unravelling it on his erect member.

He stood there for a minute, wrapped penis and naked, just fondly looking at your nude figure.

He whispered something under his breath.

“Hm?”

“Nothing,” Hoseok blushed. “You still want to fuck?”

“Yes.”

“Top or bottom?”

“Top please,” you smiled.

Hoseok laid down on your bed, and you climbed onto his torso.

“Fuck, you’re so wet,” he cursed as you moved off his abs and onto his cock.

A wet puddle was left on his abdomen, which he wiped away with his fingers, then putting said fingers into his mouth.

“So good,” he groaned.

You hummed in response, slowly sinking onto him.

"Fuck, you feel so good," you said when you bottomed out.

You started moving, swaying your hips back and forth. Each time Hoseok's cock would graze against your g-spot.

His hands were placed on your hips, guiding you on him. You could feel yourself clenching around him and your climax building up.

“I-I’m close,” you stuttered.

Hoseok swallowed, “Me too.”

“Ch-choke me,” you requested as you picked up your pace.

Hoseok grinned. “Only if you choke me back.”

You chuckled and rolled your eyes. Hoseok gently wrapped his hand around your neck, and you did the same, slowly applying pressure.

You felt your thighs burn from exhaustion. "F-fuck me," you cursed, slowing down.

Both of you let go of each other's neck, and Hoseok flipped you two over, still inside you.

"It's okay," Hoseok assures before resuming the pace.

His thrusts were rough and deep, and he pushed your thighs against your chest.

“Fuck, please keep going,” you begged.

“Can I choke you?” Hoseok asked.

“Please,” you replied, “do you want me to choke you too?”

“Yes,” Hoseok responded.

You felt yourself rhythmically clench around him. Hoseok must’ve realized because he began thrusting faster into you.

The room was filled with unholy noises. You could hear the wet sounds of your entrance and the impact of Hoseok’s hips against your core.

“Fuck don’t stop,” you choked out.

The knot building up in your abdomen unravelled, and pleasure and relaxation spread through your body. Your core gripped onto Hoseok like a vice.

“H-Hoseok,” you stammered, your core overstimulated.

“I-I want you to squirt,” he replied, continuing his firm thrusts.

“Oh,” you moaned.

He pounded deeper into your core, to the point where you could feel his tip ram against your cervix.

“Ah!” You screamed, feeling yourself gush around him.

“Fuck, so good,” Hoseok groaned. “I-I’m cumming.”

You felt the condom fill up inside you, and you felt disappointed that his cum couldn’t coat your walls.

His thrusts slowed down, and he stood still for a few moments.

When he pulled out, you shivered with oversensitivity. You knew that your sheets would be a mess and weren't looking forward to cleaning them when Hoseok left.

You looked up at the ceiling, breathless, while you heard Hoseok walk away from the bed.

“Where do you put your towels?” He asked.

“In the hallway, in the closet beside the dryer and washing machine.” You replied.

You heard him walk into the hallway and the closet door open and close. “Thanks,” he said. “And your bedsheets?”

“The closet in my room.”

You heard him walk back into your room, open your walk-in closet that led into your bathroom, and shuffle around. The tap ran in your bathroom for a couple seconds, then the sound of Hoseok wringing out something.

You began to sit up, but he hushed you to lie back down.

“Just relax,” he soothed, placing the clean bedsheets on your bedside table and walking over to you with a damp cloth.

“You don’t have to—”

He placed a hand on your thigh. “It’s okay,” he reassured.

You two exchanged a quick smile before Hoseok began to clean you up.

“You didn’t even cum on me,” you chuckled as he gently wiped your inner thighs.

“I know,” he replied, “but I still made you messy.”

When your thighs were no longer covered in your cum, you two changed your bedsheets.

“You good sleep in the same bed?” You asked while folding over your duvet.

“Sure,” He smiled.

You walked into your closet. "There should be some clothes that fit you. I usually wear men's clothes at home, anyways. It's crazy how great the quality men's clothes are compared to women's clothes." You picked out a t-shirt and sweatpants and tossed them at Hoseok.

He caught them, “Thanks.”

You two showered separately and spent the time getting ready together dancing to tunes.

If someone were to walk into the room, it wouldn’t look or smell like you two just had sex. You two looked like close friends having a dance party before going to bed.

Again, after you two had sex the first time, you both agreed to stay friends. It was easier said than done.

It was awkward initially, but you both were able to get past that by talking it through. Hoseok would ask how you felt during sex and what could have been better, and you would return the question.

Now, you both were able to have a good time and intimately learn more about each other.

Sure, it was strange, but it was a mutual agreement between consenting adults and fun.

The sex was fun—great, really—and you couldn’t have it any other way.

But you would be lying to yourself if you didn’t feel like something was missing.

“Good morning, everyone,” you greeted your fellow designers, “this is Hoseok. If you don’t know him already, he’s a well-known musician and one of my closest friends.”

Everyone welcomed Hoseok with a warm round of applause.

“Thank you, it’s a pleasure to be here.” Hoseok thanked.

“Hoseok will be helping out here and there while he’s vacationing here for a month,” you explained, “so take it easy on him.”

People shared chuckles at your joke.

"Anyways, let's start looking over the design ideas. You all are very talented artists, and I want you to remember that this is a draft, which means that these ideas are not final. If your idea is rejected, it's okay. We'll continue to work on a collective theme for the show."

The morning was spent listening to everyone's design concepts. To follow your reputation, the designs were contained within suits and gowns. As mentioned before, the theme was Vancouver's nature, where the fashion show would be taking place.

You and your design team used the recycled fabrics—which were separated by colours, textures, and materials—while figuring out your drafts.

You asked your design team to draft some ideas because you couldn't think of anything to present.

You were pleasantly surprised that your whole team had ideas that you approved.

“This a phenomenal,” you awed, “Great job, Erinn.”

“Actually,” you grabbed the attention of the other team members, “you all did a great job. We will be using all these ideas for the show.”

Your team shared cheers.

“Y/N,” Rachel nudged your shoulder, “I’m sorry to ask, but now that we’ve got the designs all in order, what about the models? You wanted to have various body types, right?”

“Don’t worry, I’ve got that covered,” you whispered back.

You turned back to your design team. "You all know that this show is tougher than our last one because we are trying to include more body types, genders, races, just different kinds of people. Which means that we will need to cater our clothes to the models, rather than the other way around.” You smiled, “So you all can go home for the next week.”

You heard Rachel choke on her inhale.

"Although you all have the week off, I want you all to try drawing your designs on other body types. Experiment with materials and colours. Remember to take some of the recycled fabrics home with you, and feel free to come in to pick anything up. Just let Rachel and I know in advance, and we'll give notice to the front desk so they can let you in. When we reconvene in a week, which would be next Friday at nine-thirty, I need you all to be ready to translate your designs, colours, and materials to our models." You ordered.

“Any questions?”

Comfortable silence amongst everyone.

You nodded. "Awesome. Good luck, everyone. Contact me if you have any questions."

Your team started packing up.

“Y/N, does that mean we’re spending the next week casting?” Rachel asked.

“Yes, Rachel. Please contact Westly and schedule lunch tomorrow at noon to discuss modelling criteria. It’s probably going to be pretty loose, but we need to contact Westly before sending it out.” You answered. “If he’s not free at that time, try figuring out something later tomorrow. Then book a reservation for three at Romeo’s.”

“Alright, on it,” Rachel replied.

You turned to Hoseok, who seemed shocked.

“What?” You blushed.

He continued his surprised expression. “I haven’t seen you like this before.”

You chuckled. “How else are you supposed to run a company and organize and execute a fashion show in 3 months?”

Rachel tapped you on the shoulder. "Westly can do lunch tomorrow, at noon, at Romeo's. He and his team secured the venue with Vancouver Fashion Week and are currently collaborating with the interior designers to figure out how the place will look. West said he'll debrief you tomorrow, at lunch, about the rest of the progress."

You smiled. “Great! Thank you, Rachel. You can also take the rest of the day off.”

Rachel appeared to be stunned, not responding to your words.

You waved a hand in front of her face. “Rachel? You can take the rest of the day off.”

“Are you sure, Y/N?” She asked.

You chuckled, “I wouldn’t be telling you to if I wasn’t sure, would I?”

She gave it a thought. “I guess not.”

You grinned. “Just meet me at our main building tomorrow, at eleven-thirty, and we’ll go to Romeo’s together.”

Rachel nodded. “Thank you, Y/N,”

“No worries,” you smiled.

You and Hoseok watched her leave, leaving you two alone in the studio.

“I’m sorry, it passed my mind. You’re okay not joining us for lunch tomorrow, right?” You asked Hoseok.

He dismissed your apology by brushing a hand through the air, “It’s all good. You’ve got your shit to do.” He smiled, “It gives me time to tour around a bit, anyways.”

“Good,” you replied. “So, where to?”

You pulled apart the croissant, eating pieces one at a time. The butteriness covered your tongue in a warmth that mixed well with the iced coffee you and Hoseok shared.

The park was surprisingly empty, despite it being a Friday. Usually, it would be tough to find a spot decently away from others, mostly shaded by trees.

The inlet was a few meters away, allowing you two to see sailboats pass by. People also kayaked and canoed, and you could hear their laughter faintly on land.

Here, you and Hoseok would be shielded by looming trees and away from potential fans of Hoseok. It was a rarity to have those two things when spending time with Hoseok: privacy and security—peace and quiet.

“This is what you wanted to do?” You asked, finishing off the croissant.

He nodded, sipping the iced coffee. “Yeah. It’s quiet and nice here.”

You two people watched, enjoying the breeze and serene environment.

“I was thinking,” you cleared your throat, “about last night. Did you enjoy it?”

Hoseok set down the iced coffee. “Yeah. I always like hanging out with you.”

“I mean—the sex.”

He seemed shocked by your question.

“Yeah, that was good too. Why do you ask? You never brought up before.” He pointed out.

Because I am growing feelings for my childhood friend, who I now have sex with for fun. This wasn't a part of the agreement, I know. We agreed to not grow feelings for each other and just have sex for pleasure. But it's inevitable to develop feelings for someone you have sex for, right? Like, there are probably people out there that can distinguish sex from love—and I guess it started out like that—but for us?

Am I crazy?

“No reason,” you sighed. “I just wanted to know if there was anything I could have done better.”

Hoseok turned his body to you, smiling. “It was perfect.”

He gestured with his arms for a hug, and you obliged. His cologne smelt of freshly peeled oranges; it was a pleasant fragrance, and you found yourself snuggling closer.

The past month went by in a busy blur.

The model casting went well. You and Westley found fantastic individuals to present your clothing line, which was in the process of being altered to fit those people.

The venue was secured, and the guest list was being made by You and Westley.

“Maybe invite Hoseok,” Westley suggested.

You shook your head, “I can’t.”

"Why not?" He retorted. "The worse thing he could say is 'no,' and you can invite the whole band." He giggled. "Maybe I can meet Jimin in person."

You chuckled, “So that’s why you want me to invite Hoseok. Just because you made eye contact with Jimin for more than five seconds, it doesn’t mean that he’s into you. He’s straight.”

“How do you know?” Westley had a hand firmly on his hip.

“W-well, I haven’t asked him personally—”

"Then you can't assume he's straight!" Westley exclaimed. "The baseline isn't being heterosexual."

“True. Anyways, let’s get back to the guest list.” You chewed on your lip. “We have Harry Styles, BLACKPINK, Lizzo…”

Both of you ran down the list of a thousand attendees to the show in Vancouver. It was way smaller than fashion week or any of your previous shows, but it wasn't meant to be a big party.

Y/N [14:00]: Hey! Are you free and the boys on March 1st at 1 pm for about four hours, including an after-party until 10 pm, with food?

Hoseok [14:30]: Hiiiiii!! Sorry for the late text. I was asking the others. Yeah! That’s in 4 months? 🧐

Y/N [14:31]: Yeah, it’s for my fashion show. You can ask your company for that time? We’d provide the plane tickets and accommodation. You’d probably stay 3 days and 2 nights? You’d fly in the first day, sleep the one night, then attend the show the second day, sleep the second night, and fly out the 3rd day. I’ll need to know by the end of the week.

Hoseok [14:32]: Sounds good!!! I’ll ask my managers and let you know 👊

Y/N [14:33]: Awesome! Thanks 💚

Hoseok [14:33]: Np 💚

“So, Hoseok and the boys can come, but he has to confirm with his managers. He’ll let me know soon.” You relayed to Westley.

"Great! As long as we get confirmation from Hoseok at the end of this week, we can send out the invitations. We've checked with everyone's management, and they all seem to be busy. Worse comes to worst; we'll just have to move seats around." Westley advised.

He closed his laptop, and you followed.

“Alright, that seems to be all of the guest list business. I’ll get my team to start organizing plane tickets and accommodation.” He sighed, “shall we head to the studio to check on the design team?”

“Yes,” you replied.

Both of you were driven to the studio to check on the design team.

The studio was filled with models of various shades and shapes. Music played quietly in the background, and your coworkers and models grooved to the tunes. Designers pinned fabrics around people’s figures and sketched down measurements and ideas.

You and Westley went around checking on everyone, making sure gowns and suits were well in progress. A smaller group of people created ideas for shoes and were sending them out to shoemakers.

The rest of the day was spent getting to know the models, fixing measurements, finalizing some ideas, and briefing everyone about the plan for the next two months.

"Please have the gowns, suits, and shoes by the end of this month so we can start having the makeup artists consult all of you; to make sure the makeup correlates with the clothes and the models." You informed. "Thank you, everyone, for your amazing work."

Scattered “thank you”s responded, and our workday was over.

“You want to get some drinks?” Westley nudged.

You nodded, frankly too tired to answer but eager for a drink.

Both of you decided to walk to the high-class bar, which allowed private areas in the back for paying customers. You and Westley sat alone, away from the crowds of people near the entrance of the bar.

“To having a productive three months,” Westley sang, holding up his martini.

You sighed, “Cheers,” you tapped your peach Bellini glass against his, admitting a chime.

"Fuck," Westley cursed at the sip of his drink, "they're always stronger than I remember. "Anyways, the show is pretty much underway. Guestlist is handled, the venue is prepped and ready for us, the clothing is almost done. Oooo, I can’t wait to see it all together.”

You nodded.

“You don’t seem so excited, Y/N.”

“I am,” you replied.

“But?”

“I am excited.” You affirmed, although not living up to the word

Westley silenced, knowing when not to push your buttons.

He took a careful sip of his martini. “Where’s Hoseok?”

You fidgeted with your glass. "Hoseok went back to Korea. He only had a month of vacay, so," you left the sentence adrift.

“Did you enjoy his company?”

“Can we not talk about him right now? I rather not mix work and personal life.” You stated.

Westley acknowledged with a firm nod, finishing off his martini and asking for another.

“May I ask a question?”

“Sure.” You replied.

He cringed. “But if I ask, promise me you won’t fire me.”

You turned to him. “Depends on your question. You have to ask me first, then I can decide whether or not to fire you. I cannot make promises.”

“Why are you so off all of a sudden?” He genuinely asked.

You took a deep breath. “I’m not going to fire you, not for a long time. You’re my best worker, and I can’t let you go.”

"I feel like there's going to be a 'but' somewhere. Might as well rip off the Band-Aid." Westley sighed.

You nodded, “You’re right. And you’re right about my mood. I’ve been kind of off lately.”

“Because of Hoseok?”

"Yeah, to be honest." You admitted. "I feel like we're really close—more than just friends. We're on the same wavelength, you know? And whenever we're apart for a long time and then meet up again, it's like time has passed."

“And let me guess, you haven’t told him because you’re afraid to ruin your friendship.”

You scoffed. “There’s no need for sarcasm, West.”

He rolled his eyes and sighed. “I’m just saying, it’s the oldest narrative in the book. One friend is falling for the other, and that one friend doesn’t want to confess their feelings because they’ve known the other person for years and are afraid of ruining that connection.” He took a sip of his martini. “But in the end, it’s two friends just pining over their feelings of love for each other.”

“But we’re different.” You argued.

"I guess so. The narrative doesn't really specify one friend is a famous fashion designer and the other being a famous musician—"

“I mean,” you interrupted, “we have sex every time we see each other.

Westley's mouth fell open in a silent gasp. His hand was placed on his chest, and his eyes stared into yours.

He tipped back his martini into his mouth, finishing it off. “Well, you didn’t mention the friends with benefits part.”

“I know!” You groaned. “That’s why it’s so complicated.”

"Is it really, though? Wouldn't confessing your feelings after you two have had sex so much make it slightly easier? Because it makes sense to grow feelings for someone you've known for a while and have had sex with on multiple occasions." Westley speculated.

“I didn’t say we had sex on multiple occasions—”

“Honey,” he began, “you said you’ve had sex with him every time you see each other, and you two meet a lot. It doesn’t take a detective to figure it out.”

"Anyways," he digressed, "the sooner you tell him, the better. There's no use debating over it for years, then finding out he's found someone else when he would've picked you anyways."

"Gosh, when you say it like that, it sounds like a romantic movie." You cringed, finishing your peach Bellini.

He shrugged. “Well, it kinda is.”

You chuckled. “Well, thanks for the advice.”

“Thank you for filling me in,” he smiled.

The week went by fast. Your design team was still working on alterations, so you were left brainstorming hair and makeup and contacting specialists in those fields.

You were sitting at home, knee-deep in Pinterest boards when your phone buzzed.

You stopped strolling through your laptop and peered down.

Hoseok [19:30]: We can come to your show!

Y/N [19:30]: Fantastic! I'll let my team know, and we’ll send out the invites.

You texted Westley, informing him that BTS could attend the show.

Westley [19:33]: Great! I'll let the rest of the team know, and we'll send the emails out tomorrow

Y/N [19:34]: Thanks!

Westley [19:35]: Np

You set down your phone and continued to add ideas to your private Pinterest board.

Your phone buzzed again.

Hoseok [19:55]: What are you doing right now?

You were puzzled.

Y/N [19:56]: Nothing much, just brainstorming ideas for the show. You?

Hoseok [19:57]: Just chilling in my room.

Hoseok [20:05]: I miss you

You chuckled at the text, thinking that Hoseok was drunk.

Y/N [20:05]: I miss you too, Hobi.

Hoseok [20:08]: …how much?

Again, you were puzzled by his text.

Y/N [20:10]: Wdym? I miss having you here? Is that what you mean?

Hoseok [20:11]: I mean, do you miss me intimately?

Y/N [20:14]: Like sex-wise?

Hoseok [20:14]: Fuck, I need you, Y/N.

You stared at his words.

Hoseok [20:18]: I miss your body and how perfectly you fit around me.

Your cheeks flushed.

Hoseok [20:21]: Can you video chat? Unless you’re not in the mood.

You panicked.

You were in the mood but weren't presentable. Your hair was messy, and you weren't wearing any makeup, and you were dressed in a hoodie and sweatpants.

Y/N [20:23]: Yeah, I’m in the mood. Just give me 5 mins.

You quickly got out of your seat and ran to your bedroom. You sifted through your closet and found the sexist clothing item you had: a red lingerie set. You quickly undressed and put on the set.

You looked into your full-length mirror and tried not to cringe. Your hair was a mess, and you weren’t wearing any makeup. It definitely looked like Hoseok's text came out of nowhere—and it did, but you somehow expected yourself to be decently presentable.

However, the lingerie set was doing you favours. The set was composed of a crotchless thong and a bralette that exposed your nipples.

Y/N [20:28]: I’m ready.

Your phone rang, and you answered, quickly propping it on your drawers across from your bed.

You were faced with a shirtless Hoseok, his cock already in his hand.

“Fuck, you look amazing.” He complimented breathlessly.

“Wow, you’re ahead of the game—and really? I’m a mess.” You chuckled.

He hissed, flinching in his grip. “Fuck, just take the compliment, Y/N.”

You cleared your throat. “Thank you.”

You sat a pit forward, angling your breasts towards the camera.

“What are you imagining, baby?” You purred.

“Y-You,” he stuttered, moving his hand up and down his cock.

“Mhm,” you moaned, “thinking up my pussy clenching around your cock, making it all wet.”

He nodded.

"You can do something if you want," he suggested. "You said you were in the mood."

Your eyes opened wide. “Wait a minute.”

You brought the phone with you on your journey, going back to your closet and fetching your dildo, lube, and vibrator. You hurried to the bathroom and propped your phone up against the closed door.

You suctioned the bottom of the dildo onto the titled floor. You placed the vibrator on the bathroom counter.

“You want to watch me bounce on this dildo and think of you?” You smirked, rubbing lube onto your hands, onto the toy, and onto your vagina.

“Fuck, yes,” he replied, stilling his hand around his cock for a moment.

“Did I say you could stop?” You spat.

“I’m waiting for you,” he smiled, making your heart melt.

You paused over the dildo, smiling back at him. “Awww, that’s actually kinda sweet. Thank you.”

You quickly washed your hands and grabbed the vibrator.

You crouched down and slowly onto the dildo.

“Fuck,” you moaned, tilting your head back at the feeling of being filled up. It didn’t hit the spots Hoseok did, but it was good enough.

You lifted yourself up and sunk back down again, rhythmically repeating the motion.

“Fuck, so good,” you sighed, overlooking the pain in your knees.

“That's right, baby, imagine me filling that pussy up," Hoseok groaned, following your rhythm while pumping his cock.

“Fuck yes,” you replied, “and I’m clenching around you so tight.”

You two exchanged moans at the sound of your pussy squelching around the dildo.

“Use the vibrator, baby,” Hoseok purred.

You hummed, grabbing the rose gold vibrator and turning it on. You place the buzzing toy on your clit, feeling pleasure rippling through your core.

“Fuck,” you hissed, speeding up your pace a bit.

“I-I’m getting close.”

“Yeah, baby?” Hoseok smirked. “You get off at me rubbing my cock? Imagining me buried inside your pussy, making you feel so good?"

You nodded. “But it’s not as you, baby.”

“I know—” He choked, appearing to be on the brink of his climax. “I fucking miss the way your pussy fit so well around me, no matter how many times I fucked you open.”

“Mhm,” you bit your lips, watching him with hooded eyes. “Don’t stop.”

“Who knew you were filthy enough to cum during cybersex?" He observed. "I'm not even there to touch you, but just thinking of me inside has you in ruins.”

“What would you do if I was with you right now?” You asked.

“I would fuck you until you couldn’t walk the next day,” he replied, “I’d fuck you until that pretty pussy is swollen.”

"F-fuck, I'm going to cum," you stuttered, feeling the familiar build-up in your core.

“M-me too,” he stammered.

You watched his head tilt back in pleasure and his cum squirt up from his cock.

“Fuck!” You cursed, feeling your pleasure shoot out of your core and onto the floor

“So hot,” Hoseok sighed.

You chuckled, coming down from high. You pulled yourself up and off the dildo, sitting on the cool tile floor.

“Fuck, did you squirt?” He asked, looking closer.

You nodded, gesturing to the mess on the ground.

“Spread your legs for me, baby,” he commanded and obliged, showing him your battered cunt.

You spread your lips, and he hummed at sight.

“So beautiful.” He awed.

“You happy? I need to wipe this all up, now,” you scoffed.

He chuckled. “It’s not my fault that you cummed.” He angled his phone to the floor, showing splashes of his cum on the floor, "and besides, you also made me make a mess.”

You both chatted while cleaning up your messes, talking about your days as if nothing happened. After finishing your clean-up, you two continued your conversation while showering, as if both of you were doing it together.

Ready to relax for the night, both of you signed off with exchanged ‘thanks’ and ‘good night.’

You turned off your phone with a soft click and stepped out of the steamy bathroom. Your pyjamas were soft on your skin, and you felt ready to go to bed.

Hopping onto your bed, you grabbed your laptop and turned on some Netflix to fall asleep to.

From an outsider’s perspective, masturbating with your best friend and then casually talking with them while showering and getting ready for bed was odd. Repeating the scenario in your mind did make it sound like you two were in a long-distance romantic relationship rather than a platonic one.

But you and Hoseok were different. That was your excuse.

A friend could do this and not catch feelings. You two were the perfect example of that.

Emphasis on were because you were currently spiralling in your growing romantic feelings for Hoseok.

But what would you do in this situation?

You and your childhood friend engage in sex one time and promise each other to not grow feelings. In this manner, you two could have sex without attachment. Fast forward into the future, and you both are still making this arrangement with no negative consequences and feel like you two have gotten to know each other better and have become better friends—until you catch feelings. And you don’t want to risk losing this relationship you two have.

Because he is a worldwide musician who can’t be tied down because it could risk his career, and he might lose fans—and you couldn't be bothered with any romantic commitment with your fast-paced and unpredictable work schedule.

So, you stay in this unnameable mess.

“Time flies by when you’re having fun,” Allie commented from the plush couch.

You looked in the mirror, twisting your back towards it to see the back of the dress. “I guess so.”

“You have to admit, planning a fashion show is pretty fun,” she said. “If it wasn’t, you wouldn’t be doing it over and over again.”

“True,” you replied, turning to the stylist.

“May I see the other dress?” You asked, and the stylist nodded, retreating to somewhere in the shop you couldn’t see.

It was the last month until the show. Everything was in order: the show’s venue and its decorations, the clothes, makeup and hair for the models, and the guests’ accommodation. Now, it was your turn to find suitable attire for the occasion.

You tried on the next dress. It was a slim-fitting number, with a leg slit in the front. It was scandalous and stunning, but not right for the show.

“I don’t like any of these dresses,” you sighed, annoyed.

Allie appears to brainstorm some ideas.

“Maybe try a suit?” She proposed.

You kept your eyes on the mirror, twirling your figure and watching the fabric move at your feet.

“Think about it,” she began, “think of all the powerful women who’ve worn suits and killed it. Zendaya, Kristen Stewart, Blake Lively, Awkwafina. The list goes on. It’s a statement piece, and you’re the big brain behind this operation.”

“I think it’s ‘mastermind behind this operation,’ but I get what you mean.” You corrected.

“You literally bypassed my whole point—”

“I know, I know,” you interrupted. “It’s just—suits for women are so overpriced. And it’s just like the dresses, except a different fit. Same colour palettes, same materials, so on.”

Allie scoffed. "You're a fucking fashion designer, did you forget? Make your own thing. There are leftover fabrics at your studio; you have time to make something." Her face lit up, “And, technically, it’s for free.”

You gave it a thought, but the stylist came back before you could finish it.

"I'm sorry, Ms. Vega, but I’m not finding anything, and I don’t want you walking back and forth and bringing me more dresses.” You gave an apologetic smile. “Thank you very much for your help.”

"No worries, Y/N! Just hang up the dress when you take it off, and I’ll deal with the rest,” she replied.

“Will do,” you said, and she stepped out of the room.

Allie helped you unzip the gown, and you shimmed out of it. You did as you were told and hung up the dress, and you and Allie left the shop.

The walk back to the studio was quick, you two making determined strides through the crowded city.

You and Allie entered the empty studio, turning on the nights.

The studio was organized chaos with dressed mannequins, big boxes of fabrics in the back of the room, and papered patterns on the tables.

“Wow,” Allie awed.

"Yeah," you replied, leading you both to your master station is near the back, "it's crazy what a couple months before a show looks like.”

You looked through the drawers beside your desks and grabbed the tools you'll need to plan out the suit.

“So, just a suit jacket and pants…” You said, grabbing some paper to sketch up your pattern.

You looked up at Allie, “Do you mind helping me out with measurements?”

She nodded, “For sure. What do you need?”

You guided Allie on how to measure your proportions for the suit. She measured your inseams for your pants, the sleeves, the cuts, and so on. In between, you'd write down the dimensions for the patterns.

You two sifted through the fabrics to create a monochrome patchwork outfit. The suit would be shades of cherry red, with different materials making it up. There were no patterns in the patchwork, only various tones of red in several types of wool.

“Fucking hell,” Allie cursed while sifting through the materials, “who would’ve thought there were so many shades of red.”

She held up a piece of recycled fabrics, checking with you that it was the correct tone. You took it and held the portion against the others.

“Nope, too dark,” you shook your head.

"What? It looks exactly the same," she disagreed, walking over to your table. When comparing the fabrics, she made an 'aaah’ sound, letting you know that you were right.

Before sectioning off your pattern, you tried your best to evenly sew all the material together into a quilt-like form.

“Jesus,” you muttered, shaking out your sore hands.

“We don’t have to get this all done today, you know. You do have two months left.” Allie advised.

"I know. I just want to put this all together first," you replied, continuing to push the material through the sewing machine.

“Alright,” she surrendered, bringing one of the seats over to your table.

You sewed in silence for a bit.

“So,” Allie began, “how are you and Hoseok doing?”

You paused. “What do you mean?”

“You know…you two and your arrangement.”

You scoffed, “Our arrangement? You mean us having sex?”

“Yeah, but the other stuff.”

You pulled your hands from the sewing machine, crossing your arms over your chest. "Just spit it out, Al."

“Well, you’ve had mixed feelings with Hoseok, right? Like you’re starting to like him?” She speculated.

Your mouth gaped open. “Have you been talking to West?”

She didn’t respond, not making eye contact.

“You can’t be fucking serious. You two are ganging up on me!” You yelled.

“Y/N, we’re just worried.”

“About what? I have feelings—and?” You fumed.

She sighed. “You shouldn’t be having sex with someone if you’re growing romantic feelings, especially if you two agreed to be platonic.”

“Oh, fuck off,” you stood.

“Y/N!” She exclaimed. "Don't you dare talk to me that way? I am your friend, not your enemy." Allie stood up and sighed. “I get it. You don’t like people in your business. That’s fair. I just feel like you're sacrificing yourself for Hoseok when you could talk about it with him."

“Allie, you don’t know what you’re fucking talking about.” You spat.

“I get it,” she sympathized. “I don’t. I’m not you or Hoseok.”

“So, tell me,” she said. “Educate me on the situation. I am not here to judge. I’m just worried about you, that’s all.”

You took a few deep breaths, trying to calm yourself down.

“I’m sorry,” you apologized. “I shouldn’t have talked to you like that.”

“It’s okay,” she forgave, “just don’t push me away so fast, okay?”

“Okay.” You agreed.

She sat down, “So?”

You sat down and rehashed your feelings about you and Hoseok to her: the growing romantic feelings for him, not knowing what to do, and wanting something more.

“Well, do you think it’d work out between you two if you dated?” She asked.

You shifted in your seat. "I honestly don't know. It's tough with Hoseok's work because he has a loyal fanbase. I'm afraid he's going to get even more hate if we were to date.”

“But would you two be happy?” She asked.

You gave it a thought. “What do you mean?”

“Well, you go into a relationship regardless of other people. Whether you’re a celebrity or an ordinary person, you date someone for you and that person; no one else. There are going to be people who support and hate your relationship no matter what. What matters is what the two people think in the relationship."

She sighed. “You cannot control what others will think about you. No matter what you do or who you do, you're going to upset someone. So, just do what feels comfortable and safe with you."

You hummed, understanding.

“So, would you be happy if you and Hoseok dated?”

“Yes.” You stated without a thought. “I really like him—love him even.”

"Then that's all that matters," Allie replied.

The week before, the show crept on you faster than you expected. You, your team of designers and event organizers, models, hairstylists and makeup artists flew into Vancouver a week early to prepare on location.

However, the majority of the week would be spent preparing for the show. The first day was spent unloading all of the outfits and equipment for the show into the venue. Everyone was required to show up to organize their stations and to familiarize themselves with the venue.

“Please set up your stations while Westley and I look into the main runway and after part section. We’ll be back in around two hours to check up on everyone. If you have any questions while we're gone, please contact me on my phone." You held up your cellphone and everyone nodded. "Great. Good luck, everyone!"

The venue and interior designers' owners toured you and Westley around the place, showing you the drawn floorplans, running down the prices, and checking that the decorations correlated with your plans.

“These weren’t the chairs we sent over,” Westley pointed to the black folded chairs lining the runways.

“Yes, but these were within the price range and—” One of the interior designers, Queeny, said.

“But did we get an email regarding this change?” You interjected.

Queeny exchanged looks with the other three decorators, and they shook their heads.

Wesley let out an angry sigh. "Well, I guess we’ll have to live with these then.” He sat down on one of the chairs. “At least they’re comfortable. They look cheap, but they’re sturdy.”

“Are there any more changes you made without informing as?” You asked.

They all shook their heads.

"Great." You turned to one of the two-venue owners, named Ruby. "Shall we continue to the after-party part?”

“Yes,” she replied, gesturing to the doorway that led to the front reception area.

From the reception area, where guests would check-in and get a wristband, a double-door way on the right led to a ballroom for the after-party.

The overall theme of the place was classic European designs with off-white luxurious walls and chandeliers. The ceilings were intricately carved, and the floors were a smooth white oak. Just walking around made you feel like you were dirtying the place.

“This place is stunning,” Westley whispered.

“I know,” you replied, “you chose the place.”

“I know,” he smiled, pretending to flip his hair.

You both chuckled, continuing to follow the owners around the venue.

Everything worked out, besides the chairs, so you and Westley checked on the designers, models, hairstylists and makeup artists.

At the end of the workday, everyone was in order and ready for the next three days of dress rehearsals and solving and problems.

You arrived back at your hotel with sore feet and exhaustion.

Your phone rang as you flopped onto your bed.

You answered. “Hobi!”

“Y/N! How was your flight to Vancouver?” He asked.

“It was good. We didn't have a rest day, though. We had to settle into the place and check it over. My feet are so sore.” You groaned.

“Really? I thought you’d at least have a rest day when you guys arrived,” he assumed.

You shook your head. “No. Sadly, this whole week will be walking around and making sure everything is going smoothly.”

He sighed. “Shit. That sucks.” You heard him shift on the other side of the phone. “Do you want to relax?”

You laughed. “Jung Hoseok, did you seriously booty call me from across the world?”

Hoseok gasped, "I did not! I was talking about watching Netflix or something." He chuckled, "You're so dirty-minded."

You both laughed.

“Okay, so what do you want to watch?” He asked on the other end of the call.

You brought out your laptop and scrolled through the movie selection.

“Oooo! Let’s watch Hush. I’ve heard so many good things about it.” You recalled.

You could hear his hesitation.

Hoseok did not like being scared. Whenever you watched anything scary, you were afraid that your neighbours would complain at how loud his screaming was. As you remembered saying "hello" to him once and him screaming in fear and surprise, he was also easily frightened.

“We don’t have to,” you said.

“No, no,” Hoseok reassured, “we’ll watch it. Just send me the Netflix Party link, and I'll ready the Zoom link."

You giggled. “You don’t have to be brave for me, Hobi. I know you don’t like scary movies.”

“You want to watch it, so let’s do it,” he said, “and the ratings are good.”

“Okay,” you digressed. “I’m texting you the link right now.”

“Same,” he replied.

You two hung up and joined the links.

“Hello!” Hoseok beamed, dancing.

You rolled your eyes and chuckled at his burst of energy. “Hello, Hobi.”

You carried your laptop to the bathroom and began getting ready for bed.

“How was your day?” You asked.

Hoseok described him and his bandmates' film day for "Run! BTS," and you groaned at all the work they had to do.

He laughed. “But we got to play games, which was fun. We laughed so much that my abs hurt.” You watched him lift up his shirt and show his toned abdomen.

Your core felt a familiar flutter.

“W-wow, that must be a lot of laughing,” you cleared your throat and took out your toothbrush and toothpaste.

For the moment, the time difference worked for you two because it was almost ten at night for you and nearly three in the afternoon for him.

“Should I turn off my camera?” You asked before undressing to get into the shower.

He shook his head. “I’m okay with you leaving it on. I’ve seen you naked before, so it’s not really different. But if you’re uncomfortable, you can just turn it off.”

You shrugged and began taking off your clothes in full view of the camera and screen.

You noticed Hoseok’s expression.

“Enjoying the show?” You chuckled, finally taking off your undergarments and fully exposing yourself.

Hoseok smirked, “Don’t act like you weren’t just turned on by my abs. I saw how you looked at me.”

You nodded and surrendered. “Fair point.”

You hoped in the shower, and you two continued talking.

“Jesus, we haven’t started the movie yet,” Hoseok commented while you were washing your hair.

“Shit, right,” you laughed, massaging the shampoo into your scalp.

After you hoped out of the shower and dried your body and hair, you both started to watch the movie.

“This is a pretty cool premise. Like, we’ve never seen a deaf person in a horror movie before,” you regarded.

"True, that's a good point—AHHHHHH!" Hoseok screamed at the sudden slam in the movie.

You burst into laughter.

“Holy shit!” He exclaimed, trying to calm himself with controlled breaths.

The movie continued as you finished off your skincare and put on your pyjamas.

The oversized t-shirt was long enough to cover your thighs.

“You’re going to watch this before bed?” Hoseok gasped.

You chuckled. “Yeah. It’s not that scary.” You say as you jump at the sound of breaking glass in the film.

Hoseok laughed at the coincidental timing.

You don’t remember falling asleep, but you woke up to the sound of your alarm.

“Shit,” you grumbled and turned it off.

You heard Hoseok stir awake on the Zoom call.

Both of you had fallen asleep, but Hoseok finished the movie before you could; because you saw the end credits paused in the Netflix Party.

“Sorry,” you whispered.

“It’s okay,” Hoseok mumbled, squinting at the screen.

“I’ll let you sleep,” you smiled, hovering your cursor over the "send" button.

He softly smiled, “thank you.” He snuggled into his pillow, “I love you, Y/N.”

“I love you too, Hobi,” you replied, ending the call for both of you.

It didn’t hit you until you were halfway through your dress rehearsal, but Hoseok had stayed with you while you slept. He didn't wake you but quietly continued the movie and fell asleep.

Hoseok was usually sweet, so you didn't pay too much attention to it.

But it did make you feel special.

It was the day of the fashion show, and you were fucking nervous.

You had done this before, a show, but this one was different. You had put in so much effort and were proud of how it turned out but were afraid of what other people would think.

“It’ll be fine, don’t worry,” Allie assured through video call,” it’ll be excellent, and everyone won’t stop talking about it.”

“Probably,” you replied, putting on your makeup.

“It will be excellent, Y/N. I am so sure I will bet money.” She stated.

You chuckled, "then I'll take your word for it because I am not bidding money.”

You both laughed.

“Okay, I know I already showed you my outfit, but are you sure it looks good?” She asked, putting on the A-line floor-length dress she’d shown you before. It was a beautiful viridian green with lace shoulder straps that draped over the sides of her biceps.

“You look beautiful,” you complimented, setting your makeup with setting spray and heading to your closet.

You put on the suit you made and looked in the mirror. You looked a bad bitch.

“You look great! Oooo, put on the red bottoms,” Allie squealed.

You put on the signature Louis Vuitton black high heels with the ruby bottoms.

Your phone buzzed.

“I got to go; Westley is here with our ride to the venue. I’ll see you there!”

“See you!” She waved, ending the call.

You did a quick check in the mirror, fixing your hair, grabbed your bags, and headed out the door.

Your driver waited outside the vehicle as you approached, and opened its door, showing you a well-dressed and excited Westley.

"Oh my god, you look great!" He gasped. “When did you make the suit?”

“I finished it a week before we flew out,” you chuckled, “and you look great too! I love the pine on you.”

You took a step back and looked at Westley’s crisp pine-coloured suit with matching brown dress shoes.

“Thank you,” he grinned. “Okay, get in before we become late.”

You hopped into the car, and your driver got in and started the vehicle.

The drive was spent recalling your opening and closing speeches with Westley and the show's agenda.

“So, five pm is when the show ends, and then the guests for the after-party go into the ballroom area. Food is served at six pm, and everything is wrapped up at ten pm.” Westley relayed.

You nodded, “Yup.”

Both of you arrived a couple hours before the start time, which was at 1 pm, to set everything up and warm up the models and crew.

Westley checked the organizers and the models while you went to the runway area to check the lights and sound.

"Let's rerun the lights, please!" You announced as you walked into the runway room. "Can I get a headset, please?" You ask the crew on the ground, who nodded.

“Yup!” You heard the lighting crew respond.

You were given the headset, and you heard the head light technician’s voice.

“Can you hear me?” They checked.

“Yes,” you confirmed.

They ran by the six light settings for the show, and it was all correct.

“It’s perfect, thank you. Can you please check that the sound is alright?” You asked through the headset.

“Yup. You’ll have to hand the headset to another person, though, and we’ll give you a mic.” They added.

You heard their muffled voice as if they covered their mic's headset with their hand. Next, you had someone hand you a mic and take your headset.

“You’ll need to stand on the stage,” The person said.

“Okay,” you replied, going to the runway and standing on the end portion.

All the room’s lights turned on, and you could see the lighting crew’s area in the back and the chair organized around the runway.

“You can speak into the mic!” You heard someone shout.

You started speaking nonsense in the mic, like the type of weather outside, as they adjusted the volume.

“Thank you!” Someone shouted.

“Thanks,” you said into the mic before handing it to one of the crew.

“Is there anything to report? Any problems that arose before I got here?” You asked the crew.

They all shook their heads.

“How is everyone feeling?” You asked.

They all shared nervous laughter, and a few people said “good.”

“Alright, if there’s anything you all need, just come to the modelling area and ask me. It’s in the backroom.”

They all nodded, and you left them to their business.

You arrived in the backroom and saw designers fitting their outfits on the models and makeup artists and hairstylists prepping their stations.

“How is everybody doing?!” You enthusiastically asked.

They cheered with a mix of excitement and nervousness.

"I get it. Everyone is on their toes. You all have an hour left to set things up before people start filing in. Remember, the show starts at 1 pm. The door opens thirty minutes before them.”

They call responded with various forms of understanding, and you went around to check on them individually.

Rachel came and taped your shoulder, with a headset on, “So, the guards are in their posts, and the front is ready to check people in.”

“Is there a line already?” You asked.

Rachel pressed down the headset, asking the crew on the other end.

“Yes, there’s a line of people outside,” she reported, “about twenty people, so far.”

"Shit, yeah, let them in. It's probably cold." You ordered.

“I’ll tell them,” she replied.

“Okay, everyone! We’re starting to let people in. Again, you all have about an hour left, so try to wrap things up and relax. Thank you!” You announced.

Again, sounds of understanding, and you, Westley, and Rachel left the backroom.

“Rachel, Westley and I are going to check that the ballroom area and catering are all handled. Please check in with the front desk to see how they're doing, and then meet us in the ballroom." You told.

“Got it, Y/N,” Rachel answered, walking past the two of you and towards the front area.

Westley appeared impressed. “She's terrific. She's even got the headset and everything."

"I know, right? She's cool." You remarked.

Like clockwork, you and Westley ran over the details and schedule for the catering and the after-party. Everyone had places to sit, with elegantly decorated name cards.

Everything was ready.

"Fantastic, thank you," you thanked the caterers and the staff in the ballroom. "Feel free to come into the runway area during the show if you all would like to watch."

With that, it was about time the show would start. You and Westley hurried backstage, where you both were handed microphones.

The lights dimmed, and classical music played—fitting the theme of elegance and high class.

You and Westley regarded each other, did an excellent handshake, and strutted out on the runway. Both of you were met with applause from the crowd and blinding spotlights.

You two walked to the end of the runway and let out an exhausted sigh.

The music quieted, faintly heard in the background.

“And that’s why I’m not a model,” Westley joked, causing the crowd to giggle.

“Same here,” you chuckled.

“Anyways, welcome to the show, everyone!” You cheered, and the crowd clapped. “As you know, I am Y/N, and this is Westley. Today, we’ll be showing recycled elegant clothes on people. Not just models, but people. All the clothes you'll be seeing here today are made from recycled fabrics and hand-crafted by our design team and me."

Applause.

"We wanted to represent people, so we got people to present our clothes. Redundant, I know, but the fashion industry rarely shows models that look like people. Don’t get me wrong, they’re all fantastic. However, this show will be different. Enjoy!” Westley waved.

A final round of applause while you and Westley walked off the runway.

The show went smoothly and wonderfully. The changes were fluid, and there were no clothing mishaps. The classical music turned into upbeat music that everyone seemed to groove to. Models danced on the runway while walking, and there were joyful cheers in the crowd.

In the end, you and Westley gave your brief thank you speeches, and months of planning and work were officially completed.

When everyone was backstage, you all collectively cheered.

“Phenomenal job, everyone!” You praised. “I am speechless at how well we all did. Thank you all for being such wonderful people to work with.”

Smiles and cheers were shared as everyone got ready for the after-party.

“Okay, remember that food is being served at six o’clock, and you all will be able to find your names at a table.” You reminded.

You and Westley did a quick check-up on people before heading to the ballroom area to socialize.

“Great job, you two!” Some complimented.

You and Westley thanked the praise and had a small talk with some colleges.

“Hey, Y/N!” You heard a familiar voice say.

You turned and say Hoseok with the rest of the boys, waving.

“Hey!” You smiled, nudging Westley to join you.

"Well, enjoy the after-party," Westley grinned at the other guests before joining you.

As always, the seven boys were well-dressed in designer suits. Hoseok wore lightly tinted shades paired with a dark suit and floral dress shirt. His hair was wavy.

“That was awesome, Y/N,” Namjoon said.

“Thank you!” You replied.

“Yeah, Y/N, I loved the recycled-fabrics idea. Are anything on sale?” Taehyung asked.

You nodded. "Everything will be on sale next month. I'll send you the dates, so you mark them in your calendar. The clothes go fast," you chuckled.

“Damn,” Taehyung remarked, eyebrows raised.

“Hey, Jimin,” Westley greeted.

“Hey West,” Jimin smiled, “loved your speech today. That suit looks great on you.”

“I know,” Westley smirked, “you look good too.”

"How are you feeling?" Hoseok asked, letting Westley and Jimin casually flirt.

You sighed. “Glad that it’s over, to be honest. It was fun, of course, but it's a lot of work to organize."

“Oh my god, is that Charlie Puth?” Jungkook gasped, hiding slightly behind Namjoon.

Everyone laughed.

"You should go and say 'hi,' Kook. You've already met and sung with him before. You two are practically friends." Yoongi expressed.

“True,” you agreed, “and Charlie’s a nice guy.”

“Okay,” Jungkook straightened his posture, “I’ll do it.”

You all watched Jungkook walk over and begin chatting with Charlie Puth.

“God, he’s grown up so much,” Seokjin sighed.

The rest of you caught up and chatted about the show.

Before you knew it, Westley was poking your side to let you know it was five minutes until six.

“Shit,” you cursed. “Sorry to cut this convo short, but Westley and I have to announce dinner. We’ll talk soon!”

You all said your goodbyes, and you and Westley went up to the front to state it was time for food.

You two were seated with Rachel, Allie, and a couple others. Everyone ordered off a menu, which served various kinds of pasta, salads, and a mix of alcoholic and non-alcoholic beverages.

It was an excellent way to end off the show.

There was a dancefloor, too, where people could groove to music after eating.

Of course, the seven boys went to the dancefloor, which caused others to join.

You were finishing off your fettuccine alfredo when Hoseok danced over to your table. You chuckled as he held his hand out and quirked a brow.

“You’re ridiculous,” you said, taking his hand.

“You love it,” he smirked, pulling you off your chair and leading you to the dancefloor.

You danced together, along with your friends. He held your hands as you two swayed to the slow songs and body-rolled with you during the upbeat songs. Of course, a few BTS songs played, and everyone tried to follow the known choreography. You went back to your table for a drink of water, and Allie came with you. "Look, and you and Hoseok dancing up a storm," she teased. “Shut up,” you chuckled. “The chemistry is there, Y/N,” she commented. You drank your water. "Not now, Al." “Come on! He’s here for, what, the night and then gone tomorrow morning? When will you see him again?” She asked. You paused, honestly unsure when you'd see Hoseok again. “Now or never, Y/N. How much longer can you debate this?” “I know,” you replied. “I’ll do it later tonight.” Around nine-thirty, the party was dying down, with only a few guests scattered around the venue helping to clean up. You made eye contact with Allie, who was tending to the chairs, who nudged towards Hoseok’s direction. Now or never. You said in your head. “Can I speak to you, Hoseok?” You asked, walking up to him. “For sure!” He replied. You led both of you to a secluded part of the venue, away from listeners. “Did you enjoy the show?” You asked. “Yeah! You did a fantastic job, Y/N. I love how everything turned out, the colours, the recycled fabrics were great—and your suit! I can’t believe you made it,” Hoseok complimented, stepping back to look at your attire. “Thank you,” you blushed. You gave a quick look around to make sure no one was around. “Is everything alright, Y/N? You’re looking around as if they’re spies around.” He gasped. “Are there spies around? What secret don’t they know?” “I don’t want to have sex with you anymore.” You abruptly stated. A stretch of silence. Hoseok’s expression was a mixture of surprise and concern. “What?” “I can’t have sex with you anymore.” “You can’t or don’t want to? Is it something I did?” “Yes? No? In a way?” You pondered. You took a few deep breaths. "I like you, Hoseok—possibly even love you.” You ran your hand through your hair. “I know we agreed not to catch feelings, so I think we should stop having sex.” You watched his expression shift from some form of being happy to disappointment. “You know I cannot date with work,” he explained, "with the fans, touring, and whatnot, I cannot date someone. And you have your company to work on." “I know,” you replied. “But do you like me back?” You asked. “I do—” “You do?” You were on the verge of hugging him, but he stepped back. You looked at him, confused. “We can’t—” “Why?” “I literally just told you, Y/N. With work, dating wouldn’t allow it. I already have people—” He choked on his words. “People who wish I was dead, j-just for being me.” “Hoseok—” You reached out to him, but he gently pushed you away. “No,” he objected, “I’m fine. I just don’t want to add you to the mess.” “You can’t decide that for me.” You retorted. “I understand that you don’t want to add me to it, but I’m okay with it. I don't care what other people would say about us. They're not in the relationship, we are—" “But what if I care?” He said, almost too quiet for you to hear. “I’m the happy guy of BTS, who’s dedicated to his work.” “But are you truly happy?” You peered into him. “Yeah,” he replied, avoiding eye contact, “but it gets really hard sometimes.” “So, let me help, Hoseok,” you pleaded. "I don't need to be helped! I'm not another project for you to work on.” He thundered. “You know that’s not what I meant.” You seethed. “Let’s just drop it, okay? We’re not dating, that’s it.” He dictated. “Fine.” You replied. “Have a safe trip back home.” You left without another word, trying your best not to cry. Out of all the ways you thought he'd respond, this took you off guard. Hoseok wasn't one to push you away, but here he was doing so. “Fuck this,” you whimpered, walking up to Allie. “I’m going back to the hotel, sorry,” you said, turning away as soon as possible. “Y/N!”

You washed your face and hoped into the shower—the warm water soothing your sore muscles and emotions. You couldn’t tell if it was the water or your tears streaming down your face.

What else did you expect? Hoseok had a point: with his work, he couldn’t date someone. And it was ridiculous that Hoseok would want to date you.

However, instead of sulking over Hoseok, you decided to have a bath and put on a facemask.

The room’s phone rang while you were starting the bath.

“Hello?”

“Hello, is this Y/N Y/L/N?

“Speaking,” you confirmed.

“Great! There’s a man here, named,” a muffled noise, “Hoseok Jung.”

“Tell him I’m busy, please,” you replied.

Another muffled noise. “Hoseok says he's sorry and that he has ice cream—cookie dough. But if he’s dangerous, I can call the police.”

“No, no. God no,” you said.

You bit your lip. "You can send Hoseok up."

“Okay. However, if there’s anything wrong, please try to press the red button on the receiver. I will check back with you in an hour. If there’s no response, I’ll get someone to check on you.” They informed.

“Thank you,” you replied, slightly shocked by their concern.

You hung up.

A few minutes later, you heard a knock on the door. You tightened your robe.

You checked the peephole before cracking the door open.

“Hi,” you greeted.

“Hey," he smiled. "I'm sorry for leaving you like that at the party. It was sudden and insensitive. I should have been more considerate of your feelings rather than shutting you off.”

“I was just—scared. I don’t know what it’s going to be like for us. And I don't want you to fix me—but I like you, a lot—so I brought cookie dough ice cream and two spoons—"

“Do you want to come in?” You interrupted his nervous rambling.

“Yes, thank you,” he chuckled.

Hoseok still wore the suit from the fashion show, but his jacket was folded over his arm, and his dress shirt was unbuttoned lower.

“Oh, you’re running the bath,” he noticed. "We can deal with this later if it's a bad time."

“No, it’s alright. I’ll just turn off the water.” You replied, going to the bathroom to do so.

When you came back, Hoseok was sitting on the edge of your bed.

“So, what did you want to talk about?” You asked, sitting beside him.

He opened the ice cream tub, setting the lid on the desk and handing you one of the spoons.

“I was thinking you could talk more, actually; about how you feel," he replied, giving you the tub and angling himself to face you. "I just want to listen to you this time."

You gave a brief smile before spooning a small piece of ice cream into your mouth.

“Well, I just feel like we’re in this grey area of being really close but having sex. And we both like each other, and we said at the venue, and I just feel like we should just date then.” You set the ice cream and spoon down on the desk. “I get that work complicates things for you. But once we’ve confessed our feelings, I just don’t know what to call this—this friendship?”

Hoseok nodded.

"So, if you don't want to date, that's completely fine. I understand. However, we can't keep having sex like we used to; because I have feelings for you now, and you said you do too, so it's not a good mix."

“That’s fair,” he acknowledged.

“But what do you think? Like, how do you feel about us?” You asked.

He paused and set his spoon on the desk with yours. “I want to date you, Y/N. I just don’t want to get you hurt.” He softly grasped your hands. “The industry can be toxic, and I don’t want to subject you to that.”

“I understand,” you replied, “but I want to date you too, regardless of all the other bullshit. As cheesy as it sounds, all I want is you, Hoseok.”

Hoseok smiled but then pretended to gag.

“Hobi! I was romantic."

“Sorry, but that was so cheesy.” He cringed.

“So, do you want to just start dating, then?” You proposed. “We have the ice cream here; we can pretend to get to know each other more.”

He chuckled. “Sure. Let’s do that.”

Hoseok stood up and held his hand out to you. “Y/N Y/L, will you go on a date with me?”

You laughed but composed yourself. “I would love to, Jung Hoseok.” You took his hand, and he immediately sat back down.

“So, Y/N,” Hoseok began, handing you the partially melted ice cream and your spoon, “what do you like to do on the weekends?”

1 year later.

“I’m thinking of moving to Korea,” you said. Hoseok turned to you, surprised. “Really? But you’re not based here.” “I know,” you acknowledged, “but I can fly in and skype, or whatever. I can have a home base here, too.” You were visiting Hoseok for a couple weeks before you had to go back home for a clothing launch. Both of you were cuddling at his place when you brought up your idea of moving to Korea. “Of course, it wouldn’t be immediate. I would need to sort things out with Westley and Rachel and organize a place to stay here and a work area. The company is sturdy enough to handle the change.” You reasoned. “You could move in with me,” he suggested, turning his body to face you. “Are you sure?” “Yeah, why not. We’ve been dating for a while now, and it makes sense.” He shrugged. “Unless you don’t want to.” You kissed him. “No, I want to.” Both of you discussed what your move would be like and imagined living together. If you were to look back at how your relationship with Hoseok progressed, you would be shocked. In a matter of a few months, you and Hoseok went from friends to romantic partners. Although you had not come out publicly about your relationship, many people had a sense it existed; but that didn’t matter. You and Hoseok were in a secure and healthy relationship. It was long distanced, but you two made it work by visiting each other when you could and calling almost every day. The only thing that didn’t change was the sex—although it had gotten better. Nevertheless, so much has happened over the past year. And you wouldn’t have it any other way.

#jhope bts #jhopoe fanfic #jhope smut #jhope fluff #jhope angst #hoseok smut #hoseok angst #hoseok fluff #bts smut #bts angst #bts fluff #bts fanfic #ficswithluv #houseofddaeng #hobiuary2021 #hodevent

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whythinktoomuch · 4 years ago

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recovered in time

(pt. i)

“From what I can tell, the implant seems to be interrupting the connection between your visual cortex and your emotional center,” Brainy says, eyes narrowed in concentration, two fingers pressed against the incision point at the base of Kara’s neck. “As well as inhibiting your frontal lobe and sending distress signals to the amygdala.”

“What does that mean?” Kara asks.

“It means that... you weren’t feeling like yourself,” Alex says, and Kara nods hesitantly at that.

“So, can you rid of it or not?” Alex asks, fixing Brainy with her most hardened stare.

“I’ve already determined five different ways to extract the device—”

“Great! So, we can—”

“—but none that wouldn’t immediately prove fatal or result in permanent brain damage.”

Eventually, Alex releases a long-suffering, shuddery sigh. “... You could have fucking led with that.”

“I did feel like myself though...” Kara interjects, suspending what was surely about to result in another very unproductive argument. “And I still feel like myself now. It’s just...” She ducks her head, fiddling with the sleeves of her shirt, already frayed from anxious attention. “... I felt so alone? Like, I’d been abandoned, or was suddenly in a world where I’d lost everyone all at once. Again.”

Kara shifts uncomfortably in her seat, now able to feel everyone’s eyes on her, burning holes into her skin. She has long since traded in her super-suit for comfy clothes, and her scarf has been upgraded to a pair of heat vision resistant blackout goggles, but it would take more than 24 measly hours for her to adjust to, well... everything.

“You’re not alone though,” Alex says, giving Kara’s knee a firm squeeze as if in reminder. “You know that, right?”

Kara rubs at her nose, sniffling herself back into some semblance of composure. “Yeah, I know.”

But of course, knowing something hardly ever outstrips the feeling of it, and Kara kinda just wishes that she still had Lena’s scarf on her.

“Hey Lena,” Kara calls out softly from the bed. She doesn’t lift her head from her pillow, but still offers a small wave in greeting.

“What gave me away?” Lena asks, and it’s almost playful, which makes everything that much easier.

“Well... Pretty much everything, actually.”

“Ah.”

Then the smell hits her, overwhelming her senses in an unexpected rush of heat and spice. Kara sits up right away, startled. “How did you...” is all she manages to get out, then pushed into her hands is a considerably sized takeout box of potstickers.

“I wanted to surprise you, so I might have created a hermetically sealed lunchbox just to sneak these in,” Lena says, and Kara’s already laughing softly. “The food’s still good though! I literally just slipped them inside right before walking into the building, so...”

“... Thank you,” Kara says. She inclines her head to the spot next to her, and feels the bed sink with Lena’s weight accordingly.

Kara starts eating, but does so with only one hand. The other just fidgets at her thigh, tugging at her sweatpants, lying in wait so impatiently. Then Lena takes the hand and holds it firmly in her own, and finally, it feels like Kara can breathe freely again.

“I never thanked you,” Kara says, “for, you know... everything.”

“You already did,” Lena reminds her, squeezing Kara’s hand.

“I... did?” Kara feels Lena nodding beside her. “Okay... so then, why does it feel like I still have so much left to owe you?”

Lena tries to hold her breath quietly, but Kara hears it; of course, she hears it. “I can’t answer that for you.”

A couple of hours later, when Alex pops into the room for her usual check-in, she stumbles upon an unexpected sight: Lena sitting up on the hospital bed, her legs tucked beneath the sheets as she answers emails on her phone, and Kara fast asleep, curled up around her.

Kara’s still holding Lena’s hand, her face buried in Lena’s shirt where it smells most like her, apparently, besides her hair.

Lena blushes a little, but can’t find it in her to regret her position.

“Alex says it’s because I didn’t see your face,” is the first thing Kara says the next time Lena visits. “I pretty much saw everyone else’s, but... never yours. So, I’ve imprinted on you, or something.”

Lena recovers quickly, “Well... what do you think?”

“I don’t know,” Kara admits, running her fingers down the back of her neck, feeling the tender skin still raised in jagged lines. “There’s still so much I feel like I can’t trust right now.”

“But you trust me...”

“Yeah.”

Lena carefully cradles Kara’s hand in both of hers, and it feels like a thank you of sorts. Then Kara draws their joined hands closer and closer, pressing her lips gently to Lena’s knuckles, and sighs in a way that could only ever be an expression of deep gratitude.

Kara’s days all seem to unfold the same way, with Alex and Brainy running tests, Lena stopping by once per day for company, and Kara just trying to break up the monotony of it all with podcasts, books on tape, and tossing a tiny bouncy ball around the room to test her reflexes.

For that last one, she has to stop the moment she hears Alex approaching her room, of course, because of all the broken glass and knocked over plants, and such.

Until one day, she overhears a couple of DEO agents discussing some urgent mission—not exactly a rare occurrence, given her super-hearing, but she perks up, ears honing in at the mention of Lex Luthor.

But when they also mention how Lena might be in danger, Kara is already out of bed and flying out the window.

Kara hasn’t flown since donning her blackout goggles, but she remembers enough to travel at a height that would be safe from any threat of collision. And before long, she’s hurtling straight for the source of all the distant commotion now pounding in her ears.

She practically crashes in landing, the earth cracking beneath her bare feet. She whips her head toward where Lena’s heartbeat is fluttering the loudest, then hears low chuckles coming from the same direction.

“You’re all so pathetic and predictable,” Lex crows. “At least try to make it somewhat of a challenge for me. God, it’s all just too easy.”

“Kara, get out of here!” Lena’s voice shouts out to her, muffled and desperate. “It’s a trap!”

But Kara takes a step toward them anyway, and immediately, the entire world seems to scream in protest.

Kara falls to her knees, hands clapping over her ears but to no avail. The excruciating sound is coming from her own head, akin to hot spikes scraping at the inside of her skull. She calls out to Lena, but can’t even make out her own voice over the pain.

She crumples over, helpless, her teeth gritted as she pushes her face into the dirt and shakes uncontrollably. She knows she has to get up; she’s a sitting duck like this. She can’t save Lena like this.

And so, Kara does the one thing that she can do.

She rips the goggles off her face, hurling them somewhere behind her, and jerks her head up.

She sees a blur of colors, then a single hand outstretched towards her, clutching onto something silver and vaguely rectangular.

She fires a burst of heat vision right at that hand, and feels the back of her head explode.

“Man... she couldn’t just put them down gently?” mutters a voice that’s not unfamiliar. “She just had to throw the goggles like a goddamn shot-putter or something? These things cost a fortune!”

“All right, that’s enough, Demos,” says Alex, a much more familiar voice. “I’ll worry about the budget, okay? You just get everyone else back to headquarters.”

“’M’sorry,” Kara says, or at least she tries to say. “My bad...” Her eyes still shut tight, she flashes a thumbs up, then lets her arm flop back down to the ground. Alex stops her when she attempts to sit up.

“Hey, not so fast, you jerk,” Alex says, somehow keeping Kara grounded with a single hand pressed against her shoulder. “We’re getting a stretcher for you.”

“I don’t think I need a stretcher.”

“Yeah, well... nobody asked you,” Alex sighs, before grumbling, “God, what’s taking them so long? Ugh, hang on... Hey, can you watch her? I’ll be right back.”

Lena’s there now, and Kara can actually feel herself grinning without even meaning to. “No, don’t... You shouldn’t have come, Kara.” But there’s a smile in Lena’s voice, and Kara’s grin grows wider for it. “I’m serious!”

“Okay, me too.” Kara then winces as a sharp pain gradually surfaces, trickling into reality. “The back of my head is killing me...”

“Yeah, you’re bleeding.”

Kara scoffs. “I don’t bleed; I’m Supergirl.”

“Okay, Supergirl... but somebody got blood all over my shirt, and it sure as hell isn’t me, so...”

“I don’t believe you.”

“Then check for yourself.”

Kara goes rigid, her humor dashed and her brow furrowing heavily.

“... You know I can’t do that.”

Soft fingertips brush down Kara’s face, tucking her hair behind her ear so tenderly. “Listen,” Lena says. “You destroyed Lex’s transmitter, along with most of his right hand, and I think you blew out the implant in your head in the process as well.”

There are thoughts then—the kind that Kara is unwilling to say aloud lest they develop reasons to be true. Thoughts like, what if the explosion damaged parts of her brain permanently? What if it severed that neural link between her eyes and everything else for good? And, how can she risk losing the one person who she believes to be absolutely, 100% real?

Lena draws Kara’s attention with a gentle hand squeeze. “Hey, where’d you go?” she asks softly.

“I’m still here,” Kara says. “Still just right here.”

But Lena seems to understand Kara’s concerns, unvoiced or not, because she leans a bit closer and asks, “Do you trust me...?”

And, yes; yes, she does.

With a deep breath filling out her lungs, Kara slowly opens her eyes. Everything’s a blur at first, just like before. But then little by little, bit by bit, the night sky comes into focus. She stares up at the darkness, counts as many stars as she can to put off the inevitable.

Then her hand is being tugged and squeezed in the gentlest reminder, so she turns her head, blinking her eyes in preparation before looking up to see Lena Luthor smiling down at her.

“Hey,” Kara says.

“Hey yourself,” Lena returns.

Kara nods thoughtfully, then gestures to Lena’s shirt. “Sorry, but I can’t afford dry cleaning,” she says, squinting at the various splashes of red—light but unfortunately prominent against the very white material—and Lena just laughs and laughs.

#lolwat?#my words.#WHERE DI THE READ MORE GO #I HATE THIS WEBSITE

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retro-scorpio · 3 years ago

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The Arcana Meets The Devildom (Part One)

Fictional Backstory: Julian, Lucio, and Asra were in the magic shop because (MC) was teaching Lucio how to perform a basic teleportation spell while Julian and Asra were in a side room having tea and talking things through. Lucio’s attempt of the spell goes horribly wrong, and he, along with Julian and Asra, get transported from their world to a world of demons that aren’t exactly like the ones back home. With no immediate way to get back home, they’re stuck in the Devildom indefinitely.

Julian x The House of Lamentation

Lucifer: Julian recognizes nearly right away that Lucifer could be him in an alternate universe. Their fashion sense is essentially the same; they both struggle immensely with sleep due to work; they both like to kick back and relax with their favorite drink; and they both have a dramatic flair to them and a love of theatre. Obviously, there are some key differences as well, like how Lucifer is a sadist while Julian’s an masochist, plus the fact that Lucifer appears much more uptight than him. These things make Julian want to get to know Lucifer more and (perhaps) become friends with him. Lucifer, however, takes a while to warm up to Julian. Initially, he finds Julian to be too loud and reckless, especially when Julian’s around his brothers. He also refuses at first to accept the fact that he has anything in common with “that buffoon”, as Lucifer calls Julian during his first days in the Devildom (when his brothers are teasing him relentlessly about it). However, one late night conversation and a bottle of Demonus later (which Julian finds nearly as pleasurable as a Salty Bitters), the two men begin to grow close. Lucifer tries his best to help Julian get back to his own world, and in return Julian offers Lucifer his company during nights where they can’t fall asleep but are much too tired to work.

Mammon: Julian is very drawn to Mammon at first due to Mammon’s desire to party and let loose, but the longer he’s around the second-born, the more he sees that maybe Mammon isn’t the best influence (this opinion is partially influenced by the increased amount of time Julian spends with Lucifer). There’s nothing wrong with letting loose, but Mammon takes it a bit too far at times. However, Julian does see that Mammon does have a pretty big heart, even when he hides it under his sin of greed. So, instead of insulting him or punishing him for his wrongdoings, Julian takes the time to talk to Mammon and listen to him. Mammon finds this odd at first and isn’t the most open to sharing, but as Julian reveals parts of himself to him, he realizes that they each have insecurities about people not accepting them for who they are and feeling like they have to act a certain way in order to protect themselves from harm. Julian and Mammon essentially help each other work through and heal from past trauma.

Levi: Since video games (and gaming in general, unless you count drinking competitions) aren’t exactly commonplace in Vesuvia, Julian is fascinated by Levi’s collection. When he has a free moment, he will ask Levi all sorts of questions about technology and gaming. This throws Levi off guard at first, because he’s not used to people expressing interest in his hobbies. Once he gets used to Julian’s curiosity, though, he gets excited to talk to Julian and show him how to play some games. This becomes very apparent when Julian catches Levi rewatching The Tale Of The Seven Lords (TV series) and asks him if he can join him, because of course Levi couldn’t allow Julian to enter the series mid-season and mid-episode; they have to start from the very beginning so that Julian gets the entire picture. They also share a love of water, and they share their experiences with the liquid with each other (Julian focuses on his sea adventures and pirate days, and Levi talks more about creatures he’s come across and raised). Levi finds Julian’s love of leeches amusing.

Satan: The amount of books that Satan has in his possession overwhelms Julian at first, but he’s also impressed by Satan’s collection (the first words to leave Julian’s mouth upon seeing Satan’s books are, “You could open up a library!”) Due to the amount and variety of literature Satan has, Julian often swings by his room for research purposes, because somewhere in Satan’s vast collection/messy room, there are some books on world-hopping. Julian gets a little too curious by Satan’s books, and Satan has to keep an eye on Julian to make sure he doesn’t grab a cursed book by accident. Satan initially acts like he’s too good for Julian’s theatrics, but the longer Julian stays with them at the House, the more it becomes apparent that Satan loves hearing all about Julian’s adventures in Vesuvia. Satan may or may not begin writing down all of Julian’s tales in order to remember them for future reference.

Asmo: The moment Asmo lays eyes on Julian, he develops a HUGE crush on him. To Asmo, everything about Julian is perfect, from his roguish looks to his dramatic flair. Whenever he gets the opportunity, Asmo will pull Julian away from his brothers to spend as much time with him as possible, although he’ll often deflect his brothers’ teasing with statements such as, “Julian needs to unwind!” and “I have to get rid of the bags under his eyes!” (Asmo’s a terrible liar.) The bad news for Asmo is that Julian is completely oblivious to how he feels about him, despite the fact that everyone can see that Asmo has the hots for Julian (even Beel, who isn’t always receptive to those types of things). It’s not like Julian’s obliviousness is intentional, though; between his own insecurities and the fact that, at the end of the day, his main focus is to be able to go back home to Vesuvia, he’s not exactly attentive to who he may have attracted in the process. After a while, Asmo cannot keep his emotions towards Julian bottled up anymore, and so one afternoon, when they’re alone in his room on one of his spa days, he blurts out to the red-head that he has a crush on him. Julian lets him down easy, saying that, while he is flattered by the Avatar of Lust’s confession, his heart belongs to (MC) back to Vesuvia. Surprisingly, instead of throwing a fit, Asmo accepts the truth of the situation fairly quickly and actually keeps some of his flirty nature in check when he’s around Julian from that point forward. He still tries to have Julian join him on his spa days whenever possible, mainly so that Julian has a chance to relax properly.

Beel: There’s an unspoken connection that forms between Beel and Julian almost immediately (Belphie believes it’s because they’re both red-heads). In his quiet way, Beel will tear Julian away from his research if he’s been at it non-stop and get him to eat something, sometimes by gently coaxing his sin out of Julian if he’s particularly sucked into whatever he’s looking at. While he’s used to doing this gesture for his brothers (especially Lucifer and Satan), Beel kind of forgets at first that humans are easier to sway than demons, and so he needs to use less of his power in order to force Julian to eat. During his early days in the Devildom, Julian became so gluttonous that he not only ate everything in the House, but he also slammed down several large burgers at Hell’s Kitchen (Julian apologized profusely for this incident and offered to cook meals for everyone for the following week to make up for his mistake). In addition to eating, Beel will pry Julian out of the House and have his fellow red-head work out with him. They’re pretty comparable in size, and so Beel doesn’t have to hold back as much of his physical strength as he normally does around other demons (but he still holds back a little because Julian is still human, after all). Even though they may not speak about their personal lives a lot with each other when it’s just the two of them, Julian and Beel feel at ease with each other.

Belphie: To put it simply, in Julian’s eyes, Belphie is a god-send (he fully sees the irony of using that phrase to describe the youngest demon brother). When Julian is barely holding his head up after 24, 48, and even 72 hours of not being able to sleep, all Belphie has to do is to grab a pillow and blanket, get Julian comfortable on the nearest surface, and use the powers his sin has given him to make Julian fall asleep. Unlike his twin, Belphie picks up right away that he doesn’t have to exert a lot of power in order to get Julian to engage with his inner sloth in a healthy way; Julian always wakes up well-rested and recharged after a Belphie-induced sleep. The two of them will occasionally look up at the night sky together and talk about the different stars and constellations of the Devildom and Vesuvia, and when that topic of conversation runs dry, they’ll talk about all sorts of things, ranging from the best ways to prank Lucifer that will get the best reaction out of him to the trauma of losing a sister.

#the arcana #the arcana julian #julian devorak #the arcana ilya #ilya devorak #obey me shall we date #house of lamentation #obey me lucifer #obey me mammon #obey me levi #obey me leviathan #obey me satan #obey me asmo #obey me asmodeus #obey me beel #obey me beelzebub #obey me belphie #obey me belphegor #the result of me playing the arcana first and obey me second

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iluvthingsfree99 · 4 years ago

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bräñdÿ mēłvïłłē methods!!

HIGHLY RECOMMENDED FOR TEENS! i haven’t seen anyone do this yet so i wanted to share the methods that work for me @ basically any bräñdÿ store !! also i have done all of these with at least one or two of my lifter friends and it has worked so far (knock on wood).

let’s start off with the precautions to take beforehand:

i HIGHLY recommend having a friend when going into brandy. the stores that are not located on a street or something are generally much smaller (and more difficult to lift from), compared to those in a plaza or mall. the ones in the PLAZAS or MALLS are the best options to go to especially during the pandemic. what i personally like doing a day before lifting is googling the store that you’re going to visit on yelp or any other website that can show the store’s exterior and interior. i always do this to get a realistic idea of the store’s layout based on where the register is in the pictures. don’t forget to go on their website and scout some clothing you might like! though, there is no option to check what is inside the store and isnt, it’s good to have a general idea of what you want in terms of basics, outerwear, bottoms, etc etc.

me and my friends also usually wear very basic bräñdÿ girl clothing like mom jeans, a cropped long sleeve top, oversized sweater, and converse. since these bräñdÿ’s are located in wealthier areas, i try to look a bit more upperclass so they wouldn’t expect anything. we bring dark-colored tote bags (thank god for this trend) or one of us brings a kanken since mostly teenage girls are in/work there and we dont look suspicious. we also save large shopping bags from common clothing stores such as uniqlo, urban outfitters, zara, etc. and hold one bag each with a sweater or two inside (depending on the size) to make it appear as if we’ve bought a lot of clothing and that we have money to spend inside of the store (jokes on them, we never do AHAHAHA). kankens are very very useful since theyre small and no one really expects anyone to steal with it but trust me, it can hold A LOT.

next, what we’re usually all worried about - TAGS:

don’t worry about them in this store! there is NO security tags on any of the brandy melville clothing. (most likely because they are placed in more wealthier areas/malls) usually, they are just casually hung up by a wire wrapped in fabric or folded and placed on benches. i live in the US and i have never seen any kind of security tag ranging from the pencil kind to the more rounded ones.

now, who to watch out for:

CONFIDENCE IS KEY! don’t be nervous love! it’s usually a bunch of scrawny girls that work there anyways and from what i’ve seen, they do not have an LP and they very rarely have security guards. an LP is a higher up representative from the company that comes in to watch the tapes but they very rarely come by. the only thing to be aware of is the WORKERS. they are often dressed in regular plain clothing and blend in with other customers around you. when you walk in, it is only easy to distinguish the people working the register. i say to spend 5 minutes, browsing and picking up/putting back items to get a feel for the place and to see who are workers and who’s not. often, they go around to fix and fold varying items or they’re restocking different areas. customers and workers can be easily confused so i recommend staying on your toes and being self-aware. this is where a lookout is most useful and why i highly suggest bringing a friend just to keep an eye on anyone that may be passing by.

and for the BEST part - how to actually lift:

due to the size of the store, me and my friends have distinguished a language of common things to say in code. for instance, i might say, “can you reach that tank top for me?” which basically translates to: “i’m going to put this in my bag, keep a lookout.” we always, always, ALWAYS make sure to go into a blindspot because it is so hard to find the cameras unless they are placed directly on the wall (honestly, thank god for the pandemic because these masks are SUCH lifesavers since they cover your face). anyways, since the tops are flimsy it is *very easy to stuff it in your regular lifting bag. if it is your first time, i reccomend getting any and all tops. i usually just put some in my extra shopping bag quickly and pile up on them. i also carry my kanken with only one arm and leave the zipper a bit open for my friends to easily slip in anything they want inside. i am about 5′4 and both of my friends are 5′6 - 5′7 so usually one person stands in front of me and one is behind me so then the person in front can reach for anything i might like, take it off the hanger and pass it to my friend behind me to place in my bag. it can also work with two people where the person holding the kanken passes each top to their friend behind them. but for the 3 people, i hope this poorly drawn diagram explains it a bit better LMFAOOO

for sweaters, since they are thicker, i mostly use a large zara shopping bag and place it under an actual zara puffer i got previously (but honestly any sweater from any store would work as a cover for it too, i’m just a very paranoid person and scared they might check my bag LMAO). moving the clothes around would be loud but they always play music in the store and those working are always doing something else. last but not least, for pants, this is when i like to use my kanken since they are larger than both a sweater and a tank it’s riskier. i usually hold them up to my waist, see if they might fit, and then i pretend to set it down when really i’m folding it to make it smaller. after, it is folded or rolled up very tightly, my friend becomes a lookout and i open the zipper to my kanken “looking for my wallet” and then i just stuff it in really quickly. before exiting the store, make sure you have no sleeves stinking out of ANY of your bags because there is almost always someone waiting at the door counting those coming in and out because of covid. remember to act CASUAL! if you act nervous, it will most definitely show to the workers. me and my friends are usually in there for about 15 - 30 minutes which is kind of a long time so one of us actually buys something cheap and simple as an explanation while the others leave and wait somewhere else.

and i think that is it AHAHA. if you have any questions or if i missed anything, be sure to pm me, i am more than happy to help !! remember: act casual! dont conceal on camera / BLINDSPOTS ARE YOUR BESTFRIEND! trust your gut and dont get greedy with items! i know everything in there is cute but it’s always good to not overdo it for the sake of both yourself and your safety!

here’s something for all the new babylifters too:

the paranoia gets better over time! use all the information on liftblr at your disposal and learn from experience and new knowledge! remember that whatever corporation you are lifting from, it is from a company that rakes in millions upon millions of dollars exploiting workers for a shirt that only takes 6 cents to make but is being sold for $26. the toxic capitalist system is justification enough and i promise that the workers and the company itself are BARELY affected by lifting. taking $200 worth of clothes or even $16, it is merely pocket change to these corporations. so, always stay safe and good luck loves !!!

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writersrealmbts · 4 years ago

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Diamond Tears and Little Wings: Part 4

Description: You’re a fairy, taken in by BTS. You need lots of love and care, otherwise your light will fade and you turn to stone. Between the seven of them, you should never feel unloved. Right?

Warnings: N/A

Posted: 01/28/2021

Tags: bts x reader, ot7

Angst/Fluff: 4,695 words

A/N: Well it’s been forever, and you guys wouldn’t let me forget about this so it’s done, I just have to pick when to post them. Hope you enjoy this update. And Imma say this once, ao3 is going to get more regular updates than tumblr.

You were in a cage.

It was not okay.

And they knew it too.

They were steaming mad when they saw it.

Dehumanizing.

But then, you weren’t actually human.

Jin, thankfully, was never completely kowtowed by the company. He made a good show of backing off, and pulling the other boys back to make them complacent.

Then the moment no one was paying attention he went over, pulling you out, hid you in his pocket and maybe bent the latch on the door so that it wouldn’t close properly.

He handed you off to Yoongi as soon as he could, and Yoongi hid you just in time for the staff to notice you weren’t in the cage and begin to question the others.

The boys kept slipping you to each other as they were inspected for you, but the staff never did find you, and the boys made a big deal out of them losing you.

You loved your boys.

Even if they were making you go through with this fansign appearance.

Tae made a big show of “finding” you just before they went out, then an even bigger fuss with taking you out with him instead of in a cage.

And apparently the staff knew what losing looked like, because they gave in.

So you were hiding in Taehyung’s pocket as they went out to greet their fans, with earplugs in as well as covering your poor ears because holy hell it was loud. While you waited for it to quiet down, you tried to stay completely still.

You could make out the staff explaining that you were there, requesting them to be respectful of noise since you were sound sensitive, but also that you were there because you’d gotten a fairy illness and had to be close to the boys for your health. Which you felt was pretty ironic considering they wanted to send you away if the fans didn’t accept you.

After a few events, Taehyung put his hand over the pocket you were hiding in, the signal he had told you earlier.

You took a few deep breaths, then stood, grabbing the edge of his pocket and peeking out.

No one noticed you at first, thankfully, allowing you to take in the large crowd, and the activity of the boys before you pulled yourself out of the pocket, fluttering up to his shoulder.

The fan in front of him noticed you first, eyes widening.

You squeaked as you slipped over the slope of his shoulder, grabbing the fabric so you wouldn’t fall all the way down and get squished, especially since he was so focused on the fan that he didn’t notice you falling.

You crawled back up his shirt, peering at the fan that was getting her album copy signed. She was cute.

They were all cute. But only because they loved your boys and supported your boys.

She asked something that you couldn’t make out due to the earplugs, but Taehyung grinned and looked at you on his shoulder, replying that you were shy.

You ducked back, climbing sideways until you were behind his head. Then you climbed up until you reached the collar, then his hair, giggling when he flinched ever so slightly at the feeling of you climbing into his hair. You wrinkled your nose at the stickiness from the styling products, then let go, fluttering back down to his shirt and wiping your hands off on his shirt.

A hand came over and rubbed Tae’s neck (almost squishing you, but hovering just long enough for you to get out of the way) then sort of lay out flat, inviting.

You smiled and climbed onto Jin’s hand, riding it over to him as he pretended to stretch—allowing you to hop onto his head (which had less product in it, thank goodness). You tucked yourself out of the way without messing up his hair. You made sure to be able to see everything outside.

There was definitely an increase in noise when you had been visible, but you weren’t certain whether it was due to something the boys did or because of you.

Everything was fine for a little while, then you felt Seokjin shake his head slightly. A couple seconds, or maybe minutes, later, his hand came up. Tense. Uneasy.

You stared at it, then extricated yourself and crawled on.

He passed you over to Yoongi.

Yoongi set you on the table, one finger caressing your hair. He showed you a note.

‘We had to bring you out. Stay close to us.’

You nodded, glad that he was guarding you from the sight of the fans for just a little longer, and kicked the note off of the table.

You made sure you looked okay in your little mirror, then looked up at him, nodding.

He nodded as well, hand moving away as he greeted the next fan in the line up.

You looked around, still a little overwhelmed by the crowd and the scrutiny. Finally you settled on sitting just out of the way between Yoongi and Hoseok and watching the fans pass by, noting the curious looks they gave you.

The whole situation was strange to you. It wasn’t like your presence added anything or took anything away from the event. Not in your mind. You were aware—more than aware—that your gender could be a point of criticism and unrest that could damage their careers.

But you were harmless…weren’t you?

The boys operated as though you weren’t there, focused on their fans. They were very discreet about taking care of you.

You took another deep breath, then pulled out the earplugs.

“She’s so tiny!”

“How cute!”

“Did you see her hiding in Jin’s hair?”

“Her peeking over Taehyung-oppa’s shoulder was so adorable!”

“She doesn’t belong there.”

You closed your eyes, frowning slightly at the bombardment of voices.

“She could ruin their career.”

“She’s too pretty.”

“Jimin-oppa is so handsome!”

“She better not be the kind that can change sizes.”

You wanted to hide. You knew the boys couldn’t hear the comments, their hearing wasn’t as sensitive as yours, but that didn’t mean the comments didn’t exist.

“She isn’t dressed very modestly either. I bet she’s their sl—”

“Oh my Gosh! Look at Jungkook! He’s so cute!”

“Oppa!”

You crawled over and pressed yourself against Yoongi’s elbow, overwhelmed and trying to get the earplugs back in.

His elbow moved and then his hand covered you protectively. He didn’t do anything else, just protected you while you stuffed your ears again. Lifted a finger to check on you, then removed his hand when you signaled you were okay.

You got up, looking around again, then fluttering up so you could look at the picture in the album that Yoongi had opened to.

An excellent picture of Yoongi.

You landed again, looking around, then running toward Hoseok to observe him, tripping when a sticker got stuck on your foot and shaking it to try and get it off, hopping and then falling.

You could hear Hoseok’s laugh, and he carefully picked you up, flicking the sticker off of your foot and then setting you back on the table.

He was talking more animatedly with the fan in front of him, laughing and signing the album in front of him with a genuine smile. He looked so nice when he smiled.

On his other side, Jimin was basically flirting with the fan in front of him. Goofing off, but Jimin was always showing himself. Always showing a touch of honesty in his actions. Opening himself up to things.

You worried about him, but you knew the other boys would always catch him if he fell.

They always caught each other. Supported each other, got each other to the therapist when needed, and held out until the other was well enough to continue without full support.

Where did you fit into that scheme?

You felt your wings droop. They said…they said that they cared about you, and their actions confirmed that. But did they really have time for you?

A finger poked your belly.

You looked up at Hoseok, then grabbed his finger and held onto it.

He lifted you up, peering at you with carefully veiled concern. “You okay, y/n?”

You shook your head.

He glanced at the others, then looked down the line, leaning forward and saying something to the others.

Jimin nodded, then reached over.

You glanced at Hoseok, then dropped into the waiting hand.

Jimin peeked at you, smiling momentarily, then passing you to the next waiting hand.

Jungkook took you carefully, bringing you up to his shirt pocket. “It’s okay.”

You nodded and crawled into the pocket, happy that all the boys with shirt pockets had stashed some of your blankets in them. You wrapped up, trying to calm yourself. Their preparation was just evidence of how much they cared for you. They got you houseplants and they were searching for a new dollhouse for you (you would have been happy with anything, but they were being very particular). They fed you when you couldn’t do it for yourself and took care of you when you were too floaty to do so yourself. They’d brought home dozens of flowering plants, imported different floral teas, got raw honey, brought you toys, made sure their pets didn’t eat you (you forgave Tannie, but man that was a close call), and made room in their hearts for you.

And they gave you kisses, sometimes. Jin was the most allowed to give you kisses, because his were simple and sweet and very quick. TaeTae had given you a couple pecks. Jimin didn’t dare kiss you yet after what happened last time. Hoseok was fond of placing kisses all over your face. Namjoon and Yoongi weren’t as physical with affection so you didn’t expect kisses, but Yoongi often held your hand or let you cuddle up to him. Namjoon liked sharing space with you, and often suggested books he thought you might like, it was his own sort of affection.

Then there was Jungkook.

He’d taken to carrying you around even when you were fine (you weren’t about to complain) and no matter your size.

You wrapped yourself tighter in the blanket, shivering as you battled the thoughts in your head.

Jungkook’s chest vibrated, speaking to the fans. His words weren’t clear to you, but it was lighthearted and happy.

So happy.

Did you really have any right to ruin their happiness with their fans?

But how much happiness would you be taking away if you left now?

You felt his chest move suddenly, like he had laughed or was startled or upset by something.

His fingers suddenly plucked you out of the pocket, gentle but stiff.

You winced and peeked out of the blanket, confused.

His face was tense, especially around his jaw, even though he was faking a smile.

You got the unspoken message. He was forced to pull you out. You needed to show yourself to the fans.

You huffed and wiggled out of the blanket, flying as fast as you could down the line to Namjoon, landing lightly before reaching him completely and walking the last few steps, flopping over his arm and then resting your head on your elbows, watching him interact with the fan. They seemed to be almost down with the signing part of their event.

You rode his arm as he moved it, gripping onto the sleep so you didn’t get thrown into the wall behind them.

There was an increase of noise and then both Namjoon and Taehyung were making sure you were okay.

You hopped off of his arm, sitting down cross-legged and facing the crowd. “I’ve learned my lesson.”

They definitely didn’t hear you, but both boys looked relieved that you were okay.

You sat there, observing the fans for a while. Your earplugs were great, but you could feel the rise and fall in the volume all through your body. You could feel someone bump the table, you would have those spots in front of your eyes for weeks from all of the flashing lights.

You had to make these people like you. Had to make them understand that you posed no threat to the boys. You had to show them that there was no way you could do anything that would be…detrimental to them.

It would help if you knew what those things were, though. Maybe you were detrimental to their career just by existing.

You wished, now, that the boys hadn’t divulged the fact that you were the kind that could change size. You had a feeling that it was the one thing that the fans could never get over.

Your only hope was if you could twist what they knew to be size-changing to your advantage. If you sized up, just a little. Maybe became a foot tall instead of three and a half inches, maybe they would accept that.

But that would depend on the managers insistence.

You could already feel the apologetic look Sejin was giving you.

It was enough to make you contemplate running (or flying) away. Getting as far away from that place as you could. Sparing yourself the trouble because they had already decided your fate and were just waiting for the cruel souls to confirm their judgement.

One year with a family.

That’s all you ever got.

You got up quickly and flew back down to Yoongi, staying close but out of his way. If you hadn’t thought the fans would get the wrong idea you would have just hidden under the table. You could easily evade all attempts you pull out out down there.

As it was, you amused yourself by making some of the stickers float and then stealing one of the extra pens (which was definitely bigger than you and you definitely used pixie dust on it) and finding something to write on—which someone provided in the back of a spare picture they had.

You set up a tic-tac-toe game on the back in one corner and pushed it up to the edge of the table, putting an O in the center and waiting for the next fan. Holding out the pen to her.

She blinked at you, eyes wide when she finally noticed, then she carefully took the pen and added an X before continuing to Seokjin.

You contemplated the thing, then added another O, nodding and waiting for the next fan that would acknowledge your existence.

Which was about three fans later.

It ended up a tie, and you started a new one, but ran out of their fans before the game could be completed.

You pouted a bit, but then the pen was being taken from behind.

You quickly released it and turned to see who was the perpetrator, only to see Yoongi peering at the tic-tac-toe game and then lightly brushing you aside so that he could make a move.

You bounced happily and put in an O, watching his fingers carefully as he debated where to put his X, then fluttering up in glee as he put it exactly where you wanted it. You had this game in the bag. Now, no matter where he put his X, you would still get three in a row.

The volume rose as you did a little victory dance, having thoroughly beat him.

You scurried over to Yoongi’s arm and hid behind it because what just happened.

He shook slightly, like he was laughing, as he picked you up carefully. He was grinning, and definitely laughing.

You tilted your head, curious about what was so funny, but not daring to take out the earplug.

Hoseok reached over and gently poked your head, also laughing.

Seokjin was talking into the microphone to the fans, standing up with the others.

Was the event almost over? Was that too good to be true?

Yoongi leaned in closer. “Go back to Taehyung’s pocket,” He told you, just loud enough for you to hear with the earplugs, but you also mostly read his lips because it was sound and vibrations and your mind’s translation of it was a little hazy, but his lips were clear.

You nodded, getting up and running off of his hand, flying straight for Taehyung, landing on his should and then sliding down his shirt and into the pocket—quickly burying yourself under the blankets instead of in them since that backfired earlier.

Tae patted the pocket once, then was busy talking and moving and maybe hiding in his pocket had been a poor life choice.

But his hand went over the pocket you were in, covering it in a very protective gesture.

You shrunk more, to maybe an inch, to try and escape what would happen next.

Tae’s breathing was slightly hasty, like he was trying hard not to lose control.

You teared up, but quickly tried to dash your tears away. You couldn’t cry in public. The boys had been very adamant on that, and worried, they said it would be dangerous for you if you did.

His hand moved away from the pocket slowly, then one of his fingers came in, simply waiting. A simple request that he knew you wouldn’t want to acquiesce.

You took a deep breath, then wrapped around the tip of his finger.

He carefully pulled you out, eyes wide at how tiny you were.

The other boys looked just as surprised and alarmed—all trying so hard to hide their emotions from the fans and pretend everything was peachy.

Tae looked up and then leaned over to talk into the microphone Jimin was holding, telling them something about being right back. Then he hurried back-stage and seemed to usher the staff away.

You grew back to your normal pixie height, looking up at him desperately.

He signaled for you to take the ear-plugs out.

You did, slowly.

“Little Wing…I know you don’t like it, and I know you know that we don’t like it…but they’re insisting that you show our fans your full size. You can change size back here…but….”

You looked down at his palm, then nodded.

He waited patiently as you calmed yourself a little and then changed sized, but with as small and scared as you were feeling you couldn’t get as big as you normally would. Your chin came just above his belly-button.

His hand softly stroked your hair. “I know how stressful this is.”

You met his gaze. “No matter what happens, they’re sending me away.”

His face became anguished, and he closed his eyes as though to regain some of his composure, pulling you into a loose hug. “We’ll turn the world upside down before we give up on you.”

You took a shaky breath and did your best to grow the last bit to your height, but you only managed a couple inches.

Tae kissed your forehead. “Come on, this is good enough.”

You hugged his arm, keeping on the side that would keep him in between you and the fans, absolutely petrified as he led you back out in front of the crowd. Doing your best to still hide because you didn’t like this one bit.

It got scarily quiet.

“Army, this is Y/n,” Jimin said in a soft tone, coming over to you. “She’s really shy, so this is a lot for her. She doesn’t like being in her big form in front of strangers.”

Jungkook rested a hand on your shoulder, giving it a very gently squeeze.

“Y/n, can you say something to Army?” Namjoon asked.

You couldn’t even breath, pinpointing every glare sent your way, and quickly shook your head, rapidly shrinking.

Jungkook scooped you up when you were the size of a toddler, holding onto you firmly. “Do you want to ride on my back?”

You nodded.

He set you on the table and turned around, letting you latch on and then changing the topic to something else like you weren’t hiding by hanging onto his back.

You started to panic when someone grabbed you, but then noticed it was Sejin, and let him take you back-stage. You finally relaxed a bit when you were in the waiting room back-stage and Sejin had shooed all of the staff from the room.

You found one of the boys sweatshirts and wiggled into it, cocooning yourself in the ultra-long sleeves and extra fabric and then curling into a ball on the couch.

You woke again when you were being carried, recognizing the comforting “shh” as Jimin’s and letting yourself drift off a little, barely recognizing that you had been brought into a vehicle.

Namjoon was cradling you when you woke up fully, back at the house. His hair looked freshly dried, and he was dressed in comfy clothing.

The other boys were slowly filtering back to the living room with food and drinks, all freshly showered.

Namjoon tightened his hold on you when he saw you were awake. “Hey, baby.”

You rubbed your eyes. “Hey. How long was I asleep?”

“Four hours,” Hoseok answered, plopping a kiss onto your forehead after moving the hood of the sweatshirt.

Your eyes widened slightly, but were too tired to do much more than that. “So we’ve already been back to the office and then home?”

Yoongi nodded. “It’s no wonder you slept, that was a highly stressful situation for you.

Hoseok didn't look happy. “What were they thinking, forcing you to size up like that? Forcing you into a situation like that?”

“Probably something along the lines of ‘oh, how convenient, a way to get rid of the annoying fairy that we only got them for good publicity’,” You answered.

All the boys looked angry after that.

You shrugged, unwrapping yourself and then sizing up some more, about the size you were earlier. “You know it’s true. Don’t tell me you don’t. The whole point of this is to get rid of me.”

“Why?!” Jimin snapped. “Why would they want to get rid of you? Things were fine!”

You looked up and met Namjoon’s troubled gaze. “The v-live you boys had. The night Jimin kissed me and I got loopy. Someone told the viewers that I could change size.”

Namjoon’s eyes widened slightly, and his jaw set in frustration. “Which makes it scandalous for you to be living with us.”

Yoongi looked like he might be sick. “I said it. Why did I say it?”

Jin rested a hand on his shoulder, squeezing it.

“It’s not your fault. It would have come out at some point or other,” You told them. “But it’s also because I do distract all of you. I’m a liability on many fronts. I have no doubt that they’re already arranging everything regarding me being taken away.”

Namjoon gently set you on the seat beside him, reaching for a bag beside the couch, not at all surprised while the others still seemed like they were processing it.

You waited, wondering what he had in the bag, but mostly waiting for the other boys to be ready for the rest of the conversation you knew had to happen. It was obvious, now that you looked back, that the staff were preparing to get rid of you.

“I got something for all of us. Had them made, actually,” Namjoon said quietly. “I was afraid that something like this might happen.”

That seemed to get the boys attention.

Namjoon pulled out little gift-boxes. Eight of them. Each one was carefully marked, but you weren’t sure what the marks meant. But he did, handing them out to each of you.

You held your box nervously.

“I wanted each of us to have something, to remind you that we love you, y/n. Especially when we’re busy with shows and tours. Because we already know you love us, and nothing could make us forget that.”

You opened the box, revealing a simple bracelet, with two inset diamond tears. Both microscopically engraved with itty bitty words that you couldn’t make out, only visible to you because, well, you were magic.

Namjoon grabbed his phone, turning on the flashlight and pulling the bracelet so the diamonds were over the light, projecting it onto the ceiling.

It had all of their names, and yours, and it said that they loved you forever. And it also had the BTS symbol with fairy wings in them.

You stared up at the ceiling in awe, then carefully took the bracelet. It was made of a magical material, one that would shrink and grow with you unlike most other metals. “This is fairy-made.”

He nodded, looking a little sheepish. “I figured with your tears it was best to go to a fairy for this work.”

You quickly looked around the room.

Tae had a similar bracelet to yours, that he was examining with tear-filled eyes.

Yoongi had a ring with black metal, and was already wearing it.

Jimin and Jin had a necklaces, both different than each other’s.

Hoseok had a different style of bracelet.

Namjoon had a ring that he was playing with, made with a lighter metal than Yoongi’s.

Jungkook had earrings, a stud and a dangling earring, and he was already switching them out.

Everyone was quiet, most of the boys staring at their gift and looking upset in some way.

“When they remove me…because this was a better home for me…my best home…they’ll have to lock away the memories. I’ll be able to keep my things, and the memories can be recovered, but unless I’m in a situation where I am as loved, or more loved, and equally as happy…I would need to return to you all if I remembered.” You carefully put on the bracelet. “It’s a hard process. And they’ll probably send me somewhere else, somewhere I won’t be…as likely to find you, or vice versa.

“Like a different city?” Jimin asked.

“Like a different country. It happens a lot. Fairies can speak whatever language they need.” You shrugged, not looking at them. Not able to bear their heartache as well as your own.

“We’ll find you. Doesn’t matter where you are in the world. We’ll find you,” Jungkook said quietly.

It was quiet again after that.

Then Jin cleared his throat. “Jungkook, help me pull the mattresses in here.”

They all got up to do something, whether it was helping Jin and Jungkook create a giant bed in the living room or getting ready for bed, or just trying to calm themselves by pretending to do something.

Tae was the first to come back to you, cuddling with you on the couch, comparing the bracelets. “I’m glad mine matches yours, but I wonder why hyung did that.”

You peeked up at him. “You were the one who found me.”

His eyes filled, and he leaned down, pressing a gentle kiss to your lips that you melted into.

Then the two of you stayed cuddled up while Hoseok directed the madness of making the bed.

Yoongi came over and cupped your face in his hands. “You know we’re not letting you go without a fight, right?”

You nodded, closing your eyes as he kissed your forehead—opening them when he softly kissed your lips.

Then you were cuddling up with all seven boys on the bed, trying not to cry because your mind kept saying, ‘This might be the last time’.

And Jimin’s shirt would definitely be ruined by your tears solidifying in his shirt, but you knew he wouldn’t complain as long as you didn’t mention his tears to the others.

Even Namjoon was crying, though, so you doubted any teasing would be happening.

Hoseok and Jin left, Hoseok’s sobs echoing down the hallway before they locked themselves in one of the rooms.

Yoongi sniffled and squeezed your hand.

Jungkook’s sniffles turned into snores.

And as you fell asleep, you felt the way Taehyung’s breaths shook his body, gently pressed against your back and wings.

–

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stillness-in-green · 3 years ago

Text

MVA In Memoriam (3/5)

The Comprehensive Account of the Butchering of My Villain Academia

(Introduction and Part One, Episode 108: My Villain Academia) (Part Two, Episode 109: Revival Party)

Part Three, Episode 110: Sad Man's Parade

Chapter 229 – All It Takes Is One Bad Day

• The full first page, of Jin getting mobbed by Puppet!Jins, them tearing his mask off, and flinging it and then him away. Saved them a bit of budget, I suppose, but it’s a shame to lose the drama and the violence of Twice having his mask pulled away, since it’s decent foreshadowing (indeed, possibly intentionally so, on Skeptic’s part) for the violent bewilderment he’ll be subject to shortly.

• Re-Destro’s line, “Not when he’s using his meta-ability to puppeteer, unless you want another nagging lecture.” They didn’t keep the first nagging lecture, so of course they wouldn’t keep this. I’m still annoyed, both on general principle and at the loss of RD’s implication that these nagging lectures are a regular occurrence, especially if one tries to bother Skeptic when he’s using his meta-ability. Has RD himself been on the receiving end of one? Possibly so! But you’d be less likely to think so just from the anime.

• Re-Destro’s line, “This allowed our warriors to momentarily hold back and stay out of danger.” Because why would the audience need to know that Skeptic planned for and Re-Destro cares enough to observe something like that lol?? Obviously the MLA is perfectly content to just throw their peoples’ lives away because, whatever, more where that came from! Dammit, anime, the fandom believes this enough as it is without confirmation bias from your cuts!

• Skeptic’s “fufufu” laugh, because the anime is allergic to the MLA having fun.

• The police officer’s line, “Sure, but in a case like this, you’re still to blame.” The rest of the exchange hints at it, of course, but there’s a horrifying callousness to a police officer just saying straight to the face of a teenaged orphan facing his first offense, “Yes, you were obeying the law perfectly and this guy just ran out in front of you, but it’s going on your criminal record anyway, whatever.” A weight the anime lost, and another that makes me very suspicious of the patterns behind what, precisely, was put on the chopping block.[1]

• Jin’s narration, “That police officer couldn’t have known. Me neither.” Demonstrates that Jin doesn’t really hold his fall against the one policeman. It’s a consistent thread with Jin’s character that, while he’s very jaded, he’s not actually vengeful, nor is he looking to enact systemic change. While he’s very defensive of his friends, people who hurt Jin himself are never in any real danger of him coming to collect his pound of flesh in return; he just rolls with it as part of how the world works, in the way of someone who was never given reason to believe any different. This line is a good example of that.

• From Jin’s old employer’s angry rant, deletes the note that the client that called is angry, and that the client said, “That young punk of yours did this!” It’s nothing that wasn’t obvious from the rest of the conversation, but I do I think cutting it loses a sense that this guy is just unloading all of his frustration and fear on Jin. The length of the screed, the extra details—it clearly communicates that Jin’s boss is so angry and upset he’s not paying any real mind to filtering, but just recounting every point of contention the moment they come into his mind.

• In modern society, when you’re someone without roots… Well, not a lot of people can relate to that.” It isn’t just the police that failed Jin; it’s a whole society that’s distrustful of people who don’t have a place in the fabric, and thus are unwilling to try and bring them into it. Like Tenko, there are a thousand little places where someone could have reached out a hand, but no one ever did. The audience can intuit this, but I feel it’s better to be clear about it—it’s not just the legal system that screwed Jin over; it’s every other person that never tried to help him because they were afraid of his eyes or distrusted a guy who had no connections. When Shigaraki comes, he’s not going to be coming for heroes alone; he’ll be coming for this entire tapestry of indifference and timidity.

• Skeptic’s lines, “Hrm? Fighting back? I was sure he’d either flee or cower in place... We didn’t anticipate such unity between them.” This gets at two things. Firstly, and once again, that the MLA did their research; that they came into this with educated expectations and a definite plan. Secondly, an in-character observation of what the arc has been showing the audience all along: that the League isn’t just a disparate gang of hoodlums anymore; that they’re developing real bonds. Those bonds mark them as unusual—Re-Destro comments on it in 223, as did Overhaul in 147; even Mr. Compress remarks disapprovingly on Twice’s “habit” of getting overly attached to people. It’s striking that, even though the MLA knew from Giran’s records that the League was uncommonly well-bonded, Twice’s devotion still fell outside Skeptic’s parameters.[2]

• Again Skeptic’s line, “Now his legs.” The drones don’t actually get this far (though you can see them gearing up for it on the next page), so it’s a reasonable enough cut, but it does emphasize the ludicrous, over-the-top extremes Skeptic in particular is willing to go to in securing what he wants. If, you know, “Kidnap the doubler so we have a method to make copies of the Grand Commander at our leisure,” wasn’t bonkers enough.

• Twice’s line, “Even against Gigantomachia!” It really highlights just how much mental energy Twice has been dedicating to avoiding injury, that he was able to keep it in mind even fighting a foe as overwhelming, and for as extended a period, as Machia. And like, the anime blitzed over the Machia fight so quickly, and with so little visible wear and tear to the League, that it really could have used all the reminders it could find room for about how intense those six weeks were.

• Twice’s line, “I won’t watch a friend die!” Such an important line that the composer named an entire track for it, not that the anime gave us that track in the moment it was clearly scored for. They added in a new line later in the scene which mostly gets the important sentiments back in, but loses out in being slightly less fitting to his breakthrough. See the Additions portion of the write-up on Chapter 230, following.

Framing Shifts

• The policeman in Jin’s flashback looked up at him in the anime, where in the manga, his eyes stay down on his paperwork the entire time. I realize that anime can’t just still-frame every panel of a manga and call it an adaptation,[3] so characters will do things like move and look around in different directions just in the course of inhabiting a room, Still, in this case, it has the effect of making the officer look more alert and engaged than he was in the manga, and given that this whole chunk of backstory is about Jin slipping through the social safety net, it feels appropriate to me that the officer should be completely checked out.

Additions

• A new shot of Jin(s) in his pre-massacre doppelganger army days. Didn’t tell us anything we don’t already know—it’s little more than a new angle of the gang in the truck—but it was nice to see.

Bonus Note

• They left Re-Destro’s phrase, “My company,” alone when he was talking about the micro-transceivers Skeptic was using. That’s accurate to the manga, but I’d like to remind everyone that, at that point in the anime, viewers whose only reference is the anime itself have no idea that Re-Destro is a businessman. The show skipped the commercial, RD’s intro, the dinner scene where his company comes up, and Giran’s association of RD with Detnerat; it will further go on to skip Shigaraki recognizing him from the commercial. The news report mentioning Detnerat was ten full episodes prior to Episode 110, and was followed up on in not the faintest degree. For heaven’s sake, would it have been so hard to have Hirata Hiroaki say, “My Detnerat’s,” instead of just, “My company’s”?

Chapter 230 – Sad Man’s Parade

• Deleted the MLA members that are attacking Compress as they get pushed off by the Twice wave. Not the first time, and not the last, that the anime didn’t animate the random MLA people on the street. It’s hard to take the threat of their numbers seriously when the anime kept deleting them from what are supposed to be crowd scenes, you know?

• Mr. C thinking worriedly about Dabi as he’s mulling over Geten’s strength and disregard for catching his own people in the collateral damage. It’s just a, “Dabi—!” but it’s yet another tiny cut that shaves away at the manga’s clear depiction of Leagues’ concern for one another—even Mr. Compress, who claims that such things aren’t very villainous.

Framing Shifts

• Changed the random MLA’s exhortation to kill all the Twices to a generic, “Damn—!” I know American censors have often taken issue with the words “Kill” and “Die” in kids’ cartoons, but I was never of the impression that that was the case in Japan. And it’s not like the show made any bones about Curious planning to kill Toga. A rephrase to save a second and a half on dialogue, maybe?

• Had Skeptic give his lines about failure on the way over to the elevator instead of stalking over in silence, and then dumping the whole monologue all at once. The manga’s extended silence over three identically sized panels is much funnier and more characterful. I grow ever more confident in my assessment of Skeptic as the second-most ill-treated MLA character in this adaptation.

• The return of the Doom Choirs for the Twice Parade. I really wish the anime would lay off slathering Doom Choirs all over everything, especially a moment like this: a triumph for Twice, and, true to form for Twice, also crammed to the gills with visual and verbal gags. The Doom Choir is out of keeping with both the victory and the comedy—Mine Woman, later on, served the Parade much better.

Additions

• Gave Twice a new line, “I will protect my comrades!” It was nice to make up for his, “I won’t watch a friend die!” but the latter is more characterful, especially since a more literal translation is, “I won’t kill my friends!” Which is, you know, relevant to the fact that Twice has problems telling himself apart from things that just look like him, and he just had to intervene to stop some of those look-alikes from killing one of said friends. At least it got his use of nakama back in.[4]

• A new little cut of animation as the action went back to Geten and Dabi. I suppose the Dabi fans liked it, and it was nice to see more of Geten’s ice dragon, but I’d have much preferred they could keep the scenes we already have before adding new ones.

Chapter 231 – Path

The scene of Hawks wondering why he hasn’t heard from Dabi and his subsequent flashback to the last time they spoke were relocated to the beginning of Episode 102, the first thing the audience saw after the prior episode ended with Shouto inviting Bakugou and Deku to come intern with him at Endeavor’s. In the manga, of course, it’s not “a few weeks ago in Kyushu,” it’s “meanwhile in Osaka.” Also, the order of the scenes was flipped—the episode led with the flashback, then returned to the modern day. It really makes the timeline needlessly confusing—the viewer has no real context for what we’re seeing and when, especially since the anime neglected to specify how much time passed between the two scenes. You have to assume it was enough time for an outcry to be raised over Jeanist’s disappearance, but the random shot of a bird flying over was not at all helpful there.

Alterations included (as usual, outright removed material is in bold text):

1. Cut Hawks’ thought, “That’s why you keep calling,” and his line, “What’s the job?” I know I should give a breakdown here about Hawks’ mentality and training, but I’m afraid I don’t have it in me to complain about any lines Takami Keigo loses. God knows the anime gives him plenty enough bonus material.

2. Spliced in the flashback scene of Hawks reporting to the Commission from Chapter 243, but subtly changed it to suggest that it took place after the phonecall in which Dabi demanded Hawks kill a non-Endeavor top hero, rather than it taking place right after Hawks and Dabi’s first contact, which is what the manga implies.

3. Deleted several key shots in the Jeanist apartment scene, with the effect of making Hawks way less creepy. We got an anime-original shot of his eyes, narrow and serious, but not either of the shots of his big, off-putting grin and widened eyes as he pulls a feather-blade on Jeanist. We also lost a shot of Jeanist turning to face him, framed between extended primaries of Hawks’ Fierce Wings. It’s not like the anime dropped the fake!Dead Jeanist plot, so I’m not sure why the shift, unless it’s just that they wanted to keep Hawks likable for the merch-buying crowd, not creepy and unsettling. And while I personally never believed that Hawks really killed Jeanist, a lot of people thought it was plausible, no doubt based on how off-kilter he comes across in this scene. It loses a real frisson, to just play it straight.

• Shigaraki decaying a missile in mid-air. So Dabi can get those little animation flourishes but Tomura can’t, huh, anime? I see how it is. I. See. How. It. Is.

• Spinner’s little side comment about all the ice everywhere. A nice demonstration that Geten and Dabi’s fight really is affecting huge swathes of the city; that’s certainly apparent already in a bunch of the wide shots showing exactly that, but it’s helpful to have the more zoomed-in moments, too. Also, I do enjoy those little side quips wherever we get them, and the anime often removes them.

• Thinned out the crowd guarding the route to the tower somewhat (it’s particularly noticeable on the mid-distance rooftops) and, as best I can tell, removed Shigaraki and Spinner from the shot. Why keep all the lines harping on the 110,000 number when a) it’s not even accurate to the MLA’s forces, just the League’s assumptions, and b) the studio doesn’t even have the resources to adequately convey the numbers the manga does portray?

• Somebody in the crowd being defiant about Twice’s multiplication and vigorously declaring that the League are all just sacrifices for the MLA’s Revival Party anyway. The background nobodies? Allowed to express even bog-standard over-confidence? Well I never. How dare those people think their lives count enough for them to get dialogue.

• Spinner’s, “This keeps happening!” Of course he couldn’t have that line in the anime, since the anime cut the other big place Trumpet clearly used his power to rile up his followers. What other times were you even talking about when you said, “Every time he talks,” Anime!Spinner? That scene was the first time we even saw Trumpet since he welcomed you guys to town.

• Twice calling Re-Destro a cult leader. He just called him a damn moron (bakayarou) in the anime; he uses the considerably more specific baka kyouso (Google Translate gives “guru”; jisho gives “founder of a religious sect”). He uses the same term again immediately afterward—Viz’s translation gives, “More like chrome dome cult!”—which the anime also deleted.

So here’s another example of the anime doing everything it could to erase the presence of cults in the HeroAca world. The easy assumption to make is that this was tied to broadcast standards about the depiction of what Japan refers to as “new religious movements,” which—and pardon the brief swerve into real life historical horrors here—have been very unpopular in Japan since Aum Shinrikyo and the sarin gas attacks in 1995. But were these elements removed because the anime didn’t want to represent anything that smacks of new religious movements at all, or because the depiction of both the MLA and particularly the CRC are explicitly villainous and calling religious movements, even made-up ones, evil on TV leads to a lot of angry phone calls?

• Re-Destro’s line, “Unlike my good Miyashita, there’s nothing charming about you.” Of course they’d cut this, having cut the Miyashita scene, but I hate it anyway. As I said earlier, RD’s invocation of Miyashita in front of two people who are going to have not the slightest clue who that is tells me that Re-Destro really does miss and feel bad about killing the guy. Cutting the reminder that RD still feels that sting makes it much too easy to assume that Shigaraki’s right about RD hiding up in his tower, uncaring of the blood shed on his behalf, when if you read Re-Destro with even the slightest of attempts at good faith, it’s clear that those losses weigh very heavily on him.

Incidentally, and not to harp on the art again, but in the manga, Stress is still visibly spread down from RD’s temple to the ridge of his brow over his eye socket. The anime returned it back to its normal resting state, again suggesting that the death toll mounting in the streets below (as well as, possibly, the new stress of confronting a quirk as powerful as Double) left RD completely unmoved. The spread was back in the following shot, so it was probably just an art error, but it would be nice to have had fewer of those, especially when they impact characterization as much as what RD’s Stress blots are doing at any given time.

Framing Shifts

• Had Machia doing this weird cannonball skim just over the ground, when in the manga, he’s still half-buried, spraying earth and stone everywhere. The manga never namedrops Machia’s Mole quirk during the story itself, but it’s important to know for later that Machia can not only tear through obstacles, he can tear through obstacles extremely quickly.

Additions

• Gave Hawks a few new lines about how too many unexpected things happened for their last arrangement, and that Dabi should have given him more warning. Largely seemed to be there to give the anime an excuse to flashback to the High End fight, in case the viewers had completely forgotten about Hawks and Dabi having a clandestine meeting and sniping at each other in the aftermath of that event. An understandable addition, but deeply frustrating in the context of all the lines that got cut.

Chapter 232 – Meta Abilities and Quirks

• Dropped a third instance of Twice calling Re-Destro a cult leader. I don’t know what the S&P restriction is on this, but given that the movie was allowed to create and villainize an entire international terrorist cult, it is really incomprehensible that the MLA doesn’t get to keep their designation as such. Why?? Because the movie involves going out and defeating its cult, but the series is going to engage in a more sympathetic treatment?[5] Because the self-selecting movie crowd is less likely to complain than the TV audience? Did they just not want to draw attention to how much the movie was ripping off the MLA’s whole shtick? What??

• Missed that RD’s swole arm swipe wipes out the puppets Skeptic left behind; they just vanished from the scene entirely after Twice’s arrival. It’s hard to blame the anime for this; the manga also seems to lose track of the fact that they’re right there in between RD and the elevator—they’re nowhere to be seen anywhere between the end of Chapter 231 and the aforementioned arm swipe, where you can see them getting obliterated. Both versions could have stood to be more attentive to this; indeed, the anime could have fixed it, small error though it is.

• A sort of twitchy sparking around Shigaraki’s hand right after he decays the tower. This is foreshadowing that Shigaraki’s big AOE decay attacks are hard on his body, which will become extremely apparent after he unleashes it on the city at large during the climax, and factors into his decision to accept the mysterious power Ujiko offers. The damage Shigaraki sustains there doesn’t come out of nowhere; Horikoshi is, on the whole, extremely good at layering in foreshadowing many chapters before the foreshadowed elements come fully to light. It makes the writing look much messier than it actually is—more convenient, more pat—to delete this stuff.

• Shigaraki recognizing RD from the Detnerat commercials. Well, they ditched the Detnerat commercial, so of course they ditched this. Still, it lost one of the indicators that Shigaraki is, despite not receiving a formal education, actually quite up to speed on current events—even, apparently, when those current events are happening while he’s been fighting Machia in an isolated stretch of mountains for six weeks! I already suffer enough through fanon characterizations of Shigaraki in which he’s a basement-dwelling feral manchild glued to his gaming console whom AFO bans from accessing information about the outside world, anime! I don’t need you dropping the scenes that most clearly demonstrate otherwise!!

• In the anime, Baby!Chikara’s face was unmarked, just a normal infant face—you’d never even know the kid had a meta-ability just to look at him. In the manga, the skin of his face is clearly darker, contrasted against the paleness of his mother’s hand. It’s obvious that he’s not “normal” looking, and thus equally obviously would have attracted negative attention in his era.[6] Also had his mother smiling; her face in the manga is too shadowed and vague to make out an expression, befitting the murky tragedy of her story and the fear she must have been living with.

Framing Shifts

Additions

• A little thing: they had Twice echo, “Cushion?” when Clone!Shigaraki told him to get ready to cushion Giran’s fall. If anything, Re-Destro and his little thought-bubbled question mark is probably the one who should have had this reaction line.

• Added a visual for Clone-araki catching himself on the window. A perfectly reasonable way to fill screen time while a dialogue beat was ongoing.

• Added a panning still over a reaction shot from a bunch of Twice clones when the tower came down. It had a few good faces in it.

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So, generally, this episode was better. I definitely still had issues with it, but compared to what came before, when they were trying to cram 5+ chapters into the episodes, there were far fewer cuts, and what cuts and tweaks there were, were relatively minor. Definitely nothing that made me want to throw chairs Jerry Springer-style the way 108 and 109 did.

Sadly, I can't say the same for the remaining two episodes. Come back next time for Part Four, Episode 111: Shimura Tenko, Origin.

FOOTNOTES

[1] After witnessing the massacre that was Episode 108, I was convinced they were going to cut the policeman scene entirely, and just go right to Jin getting fired for hitting someone with his bike, letting the audience think it was his fault completely rather than cast aspersions on police and the justness of the law. I was pleased they kept it at all, but less pleased with the steps taken to soften the sharpness of its accusation.

[2] Of course, it’s not like the MLA themselves don’t understand the willingness to give everything for the people who matter. They just label those feelings Devotion To The Cause, and don’t think the League is capable of such resolution.

[3] Netflix’s Way of the House Husband, be told.

[4] Nakama is, of course, a shonen standby, but, to the best of my knowledge (which is admittedly limited; I don’t follow a lot of shounen series), it’s pretty rare to hear the word coming out of a villain’s mouth! Jin calling the League his nakama ties into how the League are both sympathetic villains in the larger story and also the protagonists of the current arc, thereby operating under a lot of protag tropes for the duration—foreshadowed by Spinner’s earlier talk of Shigaraki and his boyish, dream-chasing eyes.

[5] Sometime after the mass arrests, one hopes.

[6] This could well be a coloring error in the manga, but if so, you’d think they’d have corrected it for the volume release. Especially given that, again, the color is in a different shade/screentone than the shadow that covers most of his mother’s face, and her hand stroking Chikara’s chin isn’t shadowed at all.

#my villain academia #bnha #bnha meta #boku no hero academia #my hero academia #my writing #stillness has salt

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