#last night i watched one of my favourite films turning red and i was reminded at how fkn GOOD the animation is

[aro-aizawa]

god i just,,, i adore animation SO. MUCH.

[madam-wakefield]

Open when... Chapter 12

AO3 Link FF Link

Summary:

Chapter 1 Chapter 2 Chapter 3 Chapter 4 Chapter 5 Chapter 6 Chapter 7 Chapter 8 Chapter 9 Chapter 10 Chapter 11 When a few years into their relationship Bernie is asked to go back to the army and deploy Serena isn’t sure how she’s going to get through the nine months without her girlfriend. What she doesn’t expect is for it to be her girlfriend who has the perfect set of surprises to get her through both the best and the worst days. Canon divergent - Elinor lives (well actually the accident never happens), Raf lives, and Cameron isn’t a total ass! The staff of AAU also probably didn’t all work on there at the same time in canon but do in this! The fic is already fully written with the first few chapters having already been Beta’d. 27 chapters including the epilogue. Hoping to post every Monday and Friday!

Open when you want to reminisce…

Serena has spent the day putting up Christmas decorations. She loves Christmas and always has, even as a little girl from which she has fond memories of a house decorated beautifully and the excitement she always used to feel as the big day drew closer.

Elinor had come round to join her and Jason to decorate the Christmas tree, a real one, of course. They’d shared lunch together after that, and she loves the way that Elinor’s and Jason’s relationship has developed since she took Jason in, originally worrying that it would never happen. 

She’d have thought Elinor would have wanted to go home then, but she’d asked if they could watch Elf, her favourite Christmas film and when Jason had said it was one he enjoyed too, Serena couldn’t say no. She couldn’t help but think as the three of them sat on the sofa that there was just one thing missing however:  Bernie. This is their third Christmas together but they are spending it physically apart. She had pushed the thought from her mind, had known Bernie would want her to enjoy this time and not spend it worrying about her.

It’s only now, that Elinor has gone home and Jason has gone up to bed that she’s had time to finish the last few bits of the decorating, adorning the photo frames with silver tinsel. She’s doing okay, until she gets to the one of her and Bernie, taken at the first Holby Christmas party they had attended as a couple, Bernie in a simple navy suit, with that shirt Serena loves on her so much, Serena herself in a deep red floor-length dress. The happiness in both their eyes is strong enough to have been captured in the picture.

And suddenly she misses Bernie more than she has in weeks, and she just needs to be able to remember more happy memories. She goes to her room and extracts the box of envelopes from her closet. She’d brought it home in case she wanted to open any during her week off. She hadn’t wanted to take the time off, but she’s got holiday time to use up and Hansen had insisted.

She finds the envelope she wants and goes back downstairs, of course, pouring herself a glass of wine. She considers turning the main living room light on but then decides she’ll read the letter using the twinkling lights of the Christmas tree, her sometimes dodgy eyesight be damned.  

“Serena, open when you need to reminisce…” and right now it’s exactly what she does need.

My Dearest Serena,

You feel like a little reminisce and this is my way to help you. We’ve had so many wonderful unforgettable moments together and I just want to remind you of some of them, to bring a little smile to your face. I wish I could write them all but if I did I’d be here forever.

I’ve picked a variety of special memories for us, a few of them are from before we even started dating. From the moment we first laid eyes on each other to our last date night before I deployed, I tried to pick memories that we both find special, that we both still talk about frequently.

The first has to be the day we met, you getting mad at your car and telling me I didn’t look like a mechanic. Laughing over my crazy love for cigarettes and your need for a nice glass of Shiraz, we should have known then how well we’d slot together.

I can’t write you a letter about reminiscing and forget to mention a certain ‘plumber by trade’ patient who caused us to have a fun little arm wrestle. I thought in the weeks just before that that I’d messed up with you for good, and well at that point the laughs I got to have with you that day were very much needed.

The next memory has grown to have so much more meaning now than either of us could have ever known when you first said the word: “Equals.” Called into Hansen’s office after lying to you again, even if it was to protect you, I thought I was a goner, and then you told Hansen we were equals. It was one of the first times I’d ever felt truly valued in the civilian world. And how that word has come to evolve, now as girlfriends, partners, lovers, equal in every sense of the word, except for nominal rank of course.

I guess the next memory would have to be the trauma bay, the way you believed in me despite everything. The surgeries we’ve performed together, the people we’ve saved because of it. And now here you are running it for me with Raf! Remember I want my spot back once I’m home.

The next memory comes with more mixed emotions. Our first kiss, there in the theatre of AAU, having just performed lifesaving surgery on our friend and colleague. Even to this day I couldn’t tell you what made me do it, other than that I wanted to. But despite what came for a time after, I wouldn’t change that decision for the world. I kissed you that day and it was like the world righted itself. I know it isn’t what you had planned for your life either, but I think I can speak for you when I say, I guess that kiss really did change our lives.

I’m not going to save your blushes during this little reminisce so I’m afraid I must bring up the girl from Stepney. Talking of Stepney we still never have made it there, I think we should put it in as a date, maybe for four years after the conversation happened?

What can I go on to from there to say other than  an Italian with an extensive wine list? Sitting in that restaurant with you for the first time never could I imagine what was going to unfold the next day or over the coming months. Me running off to Ukraine because I didn’t know how to face my own feelings. At times we were both idiots, but it turned out for the best in the end, and we’ve had many a pleasant date night there since, though not enough for you to have made it through that extensive wine list yet.

You have to know what the next memory is, your delightful nephew playing cupid, and where would we be without him? Neither of us were brave enough to say what we needed to do without him. And I will be forever grateful that he locked us in that office on the day we now call our anniversary. Even just thinking about that kiss, the way it felt to be back in your arms after so long makes me feel tingly all over. It might not have been the most delicate kiss or the average way to get together, but it is so perfectly us!

For one of our first proper dates, we decided to go ice skating seeing as it was December and the open-air ice rink had been erected for Christmas. I very ungracefully smashed into the back of you almost landing us both up in hospital. Instead, I brought you hot chocolate to apologise and vowed I’d never step foot on ice again.

Then it was our holiday together to Italy. I’ll never forget the way your eyes lit up when you first laid eyes on Venice, or that special kiss we shared in the gondola. The special time we had to just be us and learn all about each other. And the sex was pretty incredible too!

It wasn’t long after that you gave me the keys to your house, told me that you didn’t want to have to be without me most nights with the knowledge that I was in my tiny little flat when your house was more than big enough. The idea terrified me as much as it excited me. But for the first time, I managed to voice my worries to you instead of running, I’d gotten good at running by then. I’ll never forget how proud you were as you looked at me as I voiced my concerns to you. I guess that’s when things really changed for us, isn’t it? I learned I didn’t need to run, that you didn’t expect or need me to be perfect, you just needed me to be myself. Two weeks later I did my back in moving boxes, though I guess it was worth it for the amazing massage I got.

It wasn’t until we’d been together a year that Elinor finally agreed to meet me properly. I was so nervous, but you kissed me and reminded me that you loved me and that I didn’t need to be anything I wasn’t. That the fact you loved me should be good enough for Elinor. It was awkward but we made it through, and I hope over time my relationship with Elinor will keep improving, and maybe one day Charlotte will be willing to meet you too.

Then there was that day when we went to the beach together. We had a fabulous day, we played in the arcades, ate fish and chips and far too much ice cream. I even managed to convince you to have a paddle in the sea. Then you told me you couldn’t stand getting sand on your feet once they were wet, so I told you I’d piggyback you over to the bench. You didn’t believe I could manage it, as if you’d forgotten I was in the army for over twenty-five years. I managed it and we fell about on the bench laughing as if we were teenagers and not two middle-aged women.

And then a few months later my call to go back to the army came, and that intense fear to shut people out welled up inside me again, but then we talked it through and for the first time in my life I was with someone who understood that being part of a relationship meant being able to let the other person have what they need and you told me you’d support me if I needed my closure.

You treated me to a final date, a week before I deployed, and you wanted to make sure we could both thoroughly enjoy ourselves. A meal at that posh restaurant which you knew I’d both love and hate at the same time. It’s a good thing I’ve been in the officer’s mess enough times to know how to behave! I’m sure you just used it as an excuse to get me drunk though, and it worked! Though I can’t say I’m complaining, and it’s a good thing neither of us had work the next day, as even if we hadn’t had hangovers, neither of us could exactly walk properly! You really do know how to show a girl a good time!

And then just like that we knew it was time for me to get ready to leave and that’s what led to this letter, and I will never be able to put into enough words just how thankful I am that you’ve let me do this. I’m not sure how far into my deployment I am but what I do know is I can’t wait to make more memories with you.

I’m going to sign this letter off without saying anything else more except that I love you and miss you and that I really can’t wait to make more memories with you.

All My Love, Bernie,

Your Big Macho Army Medic x

[bazwillendinflames]

Hey there, got a Halloween prompt for you: Ryan and Dylan meet-cute, with Ryan taking his little sister out for trick-or-treating? Happy Halloween!👻🎃

It had taken almost half an hour, interrupted by other kids starting trick or treating, but they were finally ready.

Sarah was in green overalls over one of Ryan’s old white polo shirts, a little ribbon at her neck. She’s accessorized with a tea pot on her head and a frog plushie she’d been claiming to be too old for a week ago. Not that Ryan wanted to remind her. At thirteen, Sarah would be too old for Halloween soon too. Or at least Halloween with her older brother tagging along.

“You forgot something,” Sarah said, tugging on his sleeve.

Sarah held out the red cone that they’d constructed yesterday, still held together with the excess amount of hot glue used. It would complete his insomnia of his white shirt, suspenders, mismatched shoes and blue cape (knitted by their grandmother) for Ryan’s Wirt costume.

“Thanks.”

Ryan was finally aware he looked a little dorky but Sarah had begged him to match with her and he’d never been good at saying no to her. Even as their grandparents took photos - first with their ancient Polaroid camera, then a blurry one on Ryan’s phone - his smile wasn’t forced at all.

“Come on,” Sarah said impatiently, pulling on his wrist again. “I heard the clowns on Mary’s road are giving out full sized Twix.”

“Clowns?”

“Scary clowns,” Sarah added. She rolled her eyes - yeah, definitely a teenager now.

Their night went well. Sarah got plenty of candy and graciously handed off whatever she didn’t like onto Ryan. Her dislike of peanut M&M meant his own collection wasn’t too bad as they walked home.

“Can we watch Hocus Pocus later?”

“Again? We watched it last night.”

“Ryannnn-“ Sarah pleaded. “You know it’s my favourite film.”

They had finally reached their street and all of Ryan’s self consciousness came flooding back at once as he spotted a group he recognised from college. They were all dressed as various forms of pirates, trying to squeeze together for a photo.

Sarah caught him looking. “Uh Ry? You stopped.”

He shook it off. “I’m fine.”

Sarah raised an eyebrow. “Sure.”

Ryan hurried his step. “Hey, if we hurry home we might have time for both Hocus Pocus films.”

“You’re being weird,” Sarah said, quickening her pace to follow him.

They weren’t fast enough. They passed the group just as a gust of wind knocked off Ryan’s hat and left it rolling right at the feet of one of the guys in the group.

“Hey, here,” he said, far more chill Ryan was.

It got worse. Ryan recognised him from his literature class. He’d forgotten his copy of pride and prejudice and they’d had to shuffle together and read about Mr Darcy’s failed proposal.

“Thanks.”

“You guys look cool!” Sarah said. “Right Ry?”

“Right,” Ryan agreed.

Despite how chilled he seemed, Ryan’s literature partner had to be prodded by the shirt girl next to him into answering too.

“You too! I love Over The Garden Wall.”

“You do?” Ryan asked, after spending the whole night explaining their costumes. “It’s one of my favourite shows, with all the Byron inspiration and the darker tones-“ Ryan stopped. “Sorry.”

The guy smiled at him. “Don’t. You’re cute when you ramble.”

“Smooth.”

The girl next to him snickered. “Dorks.”

“Ignore her,” he said.

“Ryan,” Sarah said. “Quit flirting, you promised me two Hocus Pocus films!”

“See you later,” Ryan said.

“Wait-“ the guy said, prompting them to turn around. He was suddenly flustered. “Happy Halloween.”

“Happy Halloween,” Ryan said back.

Once they had parted again, he overheard the group again.

“You call that flirting Dylan?”

“That’s the guy you were gushing over?” Another girl said. “He doesn’t seem very brooding.”

“Shut up, shut up, shut up-“

Sarah punched his arm. “You are such a dork.”

After being a dork had gotten him a smile from another cute dork, Ryan wasn’t really offended.

[supernovanim]

Strike, Dear Mistress, and Cure His Heart

I was lying in bed yesterday morning, when I realised I would like to tie Dylan O’Brien up. So i wrote this, and I’m not even the slightest bit sorry. It’s just one shortish fic as I don’t know how you’d continue it - there is no plot to speak of, it’s very self indulgent. I wrote it very quickly, although I did have to go back and rewrite some bits in case I ended up breaking his arms (I can’t be the only one that hates physically impossible smut). Let me know if you like it.

Title comes from Venus in Furs by The Velvet Underground, which is itself based on the book by Leopold von Sacher-Masoch. I’d highly recommend both the song and the book.

Summary: Dylan is bad so you decide to punish him

Pairing: Female Reader x Dylan O’Brien

Warnings: References to alcohol and drinking, Swearing, light BDSM (bondage and hitting), Sub/Dom dynamic, Smut, unprotected sex (use protection!), orgasm denial, might be some British spellings

Word count: 3,554

Taglist: @hernameisnoellex3​

You woke in the dark to a crashing sound coming from the hallway and sat up in bed rubbing your eyes. You reached across and turned on the light before you heard it again. There it was, unmistakably the sound of someone stumbling around outside the bedroom door.

Sitting up in your large warm bed you looked over at the space next to you. Empty. Which meant…ah yes, you thought, as the bedroom door crashed open and your boyfriend Dylan tripped across the threshold.

“Sssh” he slurred, putting his finger across his lips “You’ll wake Y/N. She doesn’t…doesn’t like it when I’m drunk”

“It’s not the drunkenness Dylan” you sighed sleepily “You can have as much fun with your friends as you like” you watched as he tried to remove one of his shoes without sitting down, resulting in him hopping awkwardly on one leg “I just don’t know why you always have to wake me up when you get back”

“It’s no…no fun if you’re not there” he finally crashed awkwardly onto the side of the bed and tore off his shoes “gotta wake you up to have fun” his socks followed swiftly afterwards and he removed his shirt in one surprisingly co-ordinated movement, then ruined it by tipping over sideways.

You admired the way his movements had messed up his hair, leaving it stuck up every which way. You also couldn’t help but look at his lean chest and the smattering of moles across his now bare skin.

He caught you looking and leered knowingly, crawling towards you across the covers wearing only his jeans. “There’s my best girl. Missed you” he bent his head towards you and kissed you softly on the lips, his denim clad thighs bracketing you on the bed. Unfortunately, the effect was ruined by him tasting of beer, whiskey and cigarettes.

“Ew Dylan” you squeaked “you taste like an ashtray”

His caramel-coloured eyes widened, and he looked hurt “Sorry, I’ll go...go brush them” he yawned, but instead lay back with his head on the pillow next to you. “Just…just going to have a small rest first” and with that he closed his eyes and passed out, leaving you to remove his jeans and go back to sleep.

***

The next morning Dylan took ages to emerge from the bedroom. In fact, it was pretty much the afternoon when he did, and then he spent a while having a slow shower, getting food and groaning softly to himself every so often.

This meant he didn’t notice how angry you were for a worryingly long time. You weren’t sulking, you didn’t sulk, you just stayed on your laptop out of his way and didn’t talk to him. When he bent to kiss you, you moved your head, so it landed on your cheek, and responded to his apology with a non-committal “hmm”

“Baby, baby I’m sorry” he said, the aftereffects of the drinking and smoking adding a gravelly tone to his voice. “It won’t happen again”

“But you always say that, and it always does happen again” you practically growled, letting your anger colour your voice.

“It won’t, I swear” he pleaded “let me make it up to you, I’ll do whatever you want”

“Whatever I want? You mean that?” you spoke thoughtfully, a few ideas running through your head.

“Anything” he put his hand over his heart and looked at you, sincerity filling his gaze. You wanted to believe him, but he’d always been an excellent actor.

“You’d do anything I say, without question?” you asked

“Anything” he repeated, a spark of fear appearing in his eyes. He licked his lips as he stood in front of you though, so you knew he was interested.

You stood and slowly walked around him, contemplating your options. You’d never showed Dylan your dominant side so far in your short but intense relationship, happy for him to take the reins. But now, now seemed a good opportunity to let some of your kinks show, see how he took it.

“Here’s how it’s going to go” you let your voice drop an octave and leant towards his ear “you’re going to do exactly what I say, and if you don’t, I’m going to punish you. Hard” you saw him gulp. “Do you know what the traffic light system is?” you asked

“Y-yes” he stuttered

“Tell me then” you asked thoughtfully. If he’d done this before it was going to be easier than you thought to get him to comply.

“Green means everything is good. Orange means slow down, discuss things. Red is stop straight away” he answered

“Good boy. Have you tried this before?” you asked, curious

“N-no. Just read some stuff, watched some things” he shifted from foot to foot, embarrassed

“You happy with it?” you questioned, mentally crossing your fingers for luck

“Fuck yes” he let out with a gasp, so you moved to stand directly behind him, pressing yourself against his back

“That’s the correct answer” you spoke into his ear “anything you don’t want me to do?”

“Um…no marks that can’t be covered by a shirt, I’ve got that thing I’m filming next week”

“Sure” you said, shrugging, “wouldn’t want any of your co-stars knowing what a naughty boy you’ve been”

He swallowed thickly, his throat moving “apart from that I’m all in. You can even get a little rough. That would be…that would be hot” you see him shiver in anticipation.

“Excellent” you practically purred. Then your tone changed, becoming sharp and demanding “I want you to strip completely. Then I want you to kneel on the floor right here, with your hands behind your head”

Speedily Dylan stripped off his clothes, throwing his shirt to one side. He hopped on one leg to remove his shoes, reminding you of last night.

“Wait” you said firmly, and he stopped, both shoes off but still wearing his jeans. You moved round him to go sit on the sofa. “Ok you can keep going, but slower”

He looked at you and slowly popped the button on his jeans. “Good boy” you smiled, and he smirked back as he lowered the zipper. You’d always liked this view, watching as he pushed the denim down and off. Then he hooked his fingers under the waistband of his grey boxer briefs and you unconsciously licked your lips and crossed your legs. Your eyes followed the trail of hair leading down as he slowly removed them, revealing his far from inadequate cock.

You watched admiringly as he tossed aside the briefs and knelt as you’d asked, hands behind his head showing off his biceps.

“Nice” you complimented “what a good boy you are”

You noticed his pupils widen at that, and his dick twitched, starting to harden. Interesting.

“Now stay there, don’t move an inch while I go get ready” you ordered

“Yes” he said quietly

“Oh, and from now on you’ll address me only as Mistress” you added

“Yes mistress” he replied obediently. Oh, this was going to be fun, you thought.

Quickly you returned to the bedroom and stripped, changing into your black satin lingerie set. It was one of Dylan’s favourites. Then you put on your highest black stilettos, the soft suede ones that you only wore if you knew you didn’t have to do much walking. They were unbelievably sexy but made you slightly taller than Dylan which always felt strange. Not today though, today feeling more powerful was the point.

Then you crossed to the closet, reaching into the back and pulling out a small cardboard box. You removed some items from inside, placing them on the bedside table. A couple of silk scarves, a soft leather flogger, and your favourite item – a length of black rope. It was deceptively strong but coated in something to make it comfortable. After all you didn’t want Dylan arriving on set with rope burns. That would take some explaining. You thought for a moment before taking it out of the bedroom with you.

Dylan was exactly as you’d left him, kneeling in front of the sofa, hands placed on the back of his head. You walked slowly in front of him, listening to the sharp tap of your heels on the polished floor and letting your hips sway seductively. You heard him take a sharp intake of breath before you turned to face him.

“God” he groaned “you look incredible”

“Did I say you could talk?” you snapped, the smirk on your face in contrast to your sharp tone

“N-no. Sorry…mistress” he responded quickly

“I’ll have to punish you for that” you said, eyes narrowing. At that his eyes widened, and he bit his lower lip, biting back another noise.

You stepped slowly towards him “hands held out in front” you commanded, smiling to yourself as he quickly complied. You stood in front of him, not being able to stop yourself running a hand through his hair. He started turning his head into it, but you quickly removed your hand - “eyes forwards”

His head snapped up “yes mistress. Sorry”

You bent in front of him and wrapped the rope around his wrists, tying each one tightly but leaving a length in between. You made sure the knots were secure but could be undone quickly if needed. “Colour?” you checked

“Green. Definitely green” he replied.

“Good boy” you praised, and tugged on the rope to lift him to his feet “I think we should take this to the bedroom, don’t you?”

“Yes mistress” he complied, following as you pulled him along by the rope.

When you got to the bedroom you led him over to the bed and made him lie on his back, hooking the rope between his hands over the bedpost so he couldn’t move. You made sure the pillows propped his head up and took some of the pressure off his wrists.

“Comfy?”

“Not entirely, but still green. So green” he grinned up at you.

“Good. Going to blindfold you now” you said, picking up one of the silk scarves and moving towards his head.

Dylan pouted “but…wanna see you. You look so good; you have no idea”

“Did I ask for your permission Dylan?” you questioned. He shook his head. “You’re just making this worse for yourself. If you’re a very good boy, I’ll let you see me later. Let’s try that again - I’m going to blindfold you now.”

“Yes mistress” he replied sulkily

“Better. Still think you need to learn your place though – we’ll work on that” you said sharply as you placed the scarf over his eyes and tied it at the back, taking the opportunity to give his hair a swift tug while you did so.

Now Dylan could no longer see you, you stood back and admired the view. He looked delectable, his arms stretched over his head, his pale skin with a flush starting on his chest, his impressive cock half hard between his legs. You wanted to touch him, to lick a path between all his moles and get him moaning. Oh wait, you could totally do that.

You moved onto the bed to straddle him, first kissing a path across his stubbled jawline and rubbing your nose across his cheek before pressing your mouth to his. You licked into him, deepening the kiss and tangling a hand in his hair to tip his head back, exposing the long line of his neck. As you bit gently at the tendon of his shoulder, he bucked his hips up and you felt him fully hard against you.

“No – no moving” you admonished, pushing him down with your hips and being rewarded with a pained moan from Dylan. “And try not to make too much noise or I’ll need to gag you”

At that Dylan made a strangled sound, biting it off before it could fully leave his lips. You shut off any protests by returning your mouth to his and enjoying the feeling of his tongue against yours.

Soon it wasn’t enough, and you started licking down his body, interspersing broad stripes with your tongue with small nips and bites. When you reached his nipples, you let your tongue lave over them, then tweaked them with your fingers causing Dylan to buck his hips again. To stop his movements, you placed both hands on his hips and pushed him into the mattress firmly, turning your attention to his cock.

This was the easy bit – blow jobs always got Dylan worked up. You breathed over his cock, hearing him hold his breath in return. Slowly you licked from the base to the head, collecting the drops of pre cum that had collected and savouring them on your tongue. As you took the head into your mouth and wrapped your hand around the base Dylan started moaning

“Fuck yes, yes baby. So good, so good to me”

“Sssh” you stopped touching him to admonish “no talking”

You returned your attention to your actions, taking him towards the back of your throat and working past your instinctive gag reflex by breathing through your nose. You bobbed your head for a while, enjoying the heaviness of him on your tongue. You reached down with your other hand and cupped his balls loosely. And as you twisted your tongue over the sensitive spot below the head you felt Dylan tense up and his balls tighten.

“Oh god right there yes, so good gonna – gonna” he moaned above you

So, you stopped. You removed yourself completely from him and climbed off the bed. Dylan let out a frustrated huff.

“N-no! Why did you stop?” he pleaded, breathless.

“I told you to be quiet. You’re not being very good. Only good boys get to come” you stated simply.

“I’m sorry mistress. Please, please let me come”

“Nope” you said, emphasising the ‘p’ sound with a pop of your lips “you’ll have to be good first. Now, I think we can put your mouth to better use, don’t you?”

Dylan made a sound that was half pained, half hopeful. A kind of questioning whine. Quickly you removed your bra and panties, leaving you just in your black suede stilettos. You climbed back onto the bed and moved up, so your knees were at his chest. You dug your sharp heels slightly into his sides, just to remind him they were there. Placing a hand on the headboard for leverage, you moved so your core was in front of his face.

“Lick” you instructed “and make it good, you’ve got to make it up to me”

“Yes mistress” he said obediently, already moving his face forwards and feeling you out with his tongue. Quickly he started to lap over your clit, sending electric signals down your spine.

“See” you groaned “you can be a good boy”

He groaned in return, clearly enjoying this. You let go of the headboard and moved higher, placing your hands flat on the wall so you could manoeuvre yourself over his face more. You buried his lips in your core, gasping as his tongue prodded up into your entrance before returning to your clit and moving in small circles. You moved a hand to your breasts, pinching hard at the nipples to increase the feeling. Slowly but surely you felt your release start building from your toes upwards.

“C-colour?” you rasped, worried you might be suffocating him below you

“Green…green…green” came the muffled reply, and it was the vibrations from his words that finally sent you tumbling over the edge, crying out. “Fuck yes. There, there!”. He kept licking you through your orgasm until you felt over sensitive and moved away from him.

You moved back down the bed on slightly shaky knees and looked at Dylan. He looked almost as fucked as you felt, his face slick with your juices and his cock leaking pre cum onto his stomach. The scarf blindfold still sat over his eyes and the blush that had started on his chest now extended to his throat. A light sheen of sweat covered his body as he panted.

“Very good” you praised him “I knew you could be a good boy really. Eating me up so well”

At your words he twisted slightly on the bed, his cock looking harder if that was even possible.

“Do you like that Dylan? Do you like hearing what a good boy you are?” you asked

He seemed to struggle with words for a moment, and then replied his voice cracking “Yes, yes I like that mistress. Want to be a good boy for you”

“Of course you do. Good boys get to come. But not yet, right now I think you should be punished a bit more until you know your place. Then if you’re very good and quiet and don’t move, I’ll ride you until you come” you promised

“Yes mistress” he capitulated quickly

You nodded in satisfaction even though he couldn’t see you and got off the bed to walk to the bedside table. There you picked up the soft black leather flogger – made up of many strips of leather with a handle it resembled a small whip but could be used in a number of different ways.

First you ran it over Dylan’s face letting him smell the leather. Then you moved it downwards, letting the tips fall over the planes of his chest like a brush. The blush on his throat moved up to his face, and you saw him bite off a sound.

“Good, that’s really good Dylan” you said softly, continuing your ministrations with the flogger. You teased it down his chest and the trail of hair there, ending up brushing over his balls and cock softly. At that he couldn’t help it, his hips bucked off the bed desperate to get more contact on his hard leaking length.

“Oh no, what did I say about moving?” you admonished “I can see I’ll have to punish you more harshly. Colour?”

“Green. Still green, goddamn you” he replied

“There’s no call for that” you said and brought the flogger down sharply on his stomach letting the leather snap. He gasped at the feeling but managed not to make any other sound or move.

“I’m going to do that five more times” you stated, “and you’re going to count for me, ok?”

“Y-yes mistress” he said shakily

You moved the flogger down to his inner thighs so he could feel it there, and then snapped it against his pale skin again.

“One” he dutifully counted

The second hit landed on his other thigh, and you alternated back and forth each time. The skin reddened until you knew it was overly sensitive. When he got to a gasped out five, you bent over and sucked right over the reddened skin, leaving a darker mark that would remind him of the feeling for days.

“Well done” you praised “that was excellent. I think you deserve a reward now, don’t you Dylan?”

“Yes mistress. Please, please” he didn’t seem able to get any more words out. His cock looked painfully hard now, and he gasped against the pillows. You decided he’d probably had enough punishment and could be put out of his misery.

You returned to straddle him on the bed. Still soaking wet from before, you easily took his whole length as you lowered yourself onto him in one movement. You felt your walls flex around him and you braced your hands against his chest as you started riding him. Slowly at first, then faster as you heard his breathing quicken. You reached down to circle your clit with your fingers, determined to come before him.

“Hold on Dylan, just be a good boy for a bit longer and don’t come until I say so”

“Please mistress. No more. I c-can’t” he pleaded; his voice wrecked

“You can, I know you can. Hold on” you increased the pressure on your clit and felt yourself tense up. Below you Dylan bit his lip to stop himself crying out as he desperately tried to hold off his own orgasm. As you felt your release wash over you you clenched around him, and you took pity on him

“Ok, go on – come for me Dylan” you whispered into his ear

His hips bucked up into you at that, and you reached up and removed the blindfold. It seemed that the sight of you finally did it, and he came with a scream, his body arching against the wrist restraints. You felt the warmth of his cum filling you up as you rode out the last waves of your own orgasm.

You reached up and quickly untied the knots securing the rope, removing it and examining his wrists for any damage. Luckily there was nothing permanent, and you tossed the rope away, letting him slip out of you and moving to cuddle against his side. You licked a bead of sweat from one of his nipples and he twitched sensitively.

“So” you asked, “will you be waking me up drunk anymore?”

“Baby, if we get to do that again I’ll give up smoking and drinking completely” he growled, voice low “that was incredible”

“That’s the correct answer” you smiled back… “what a very, very good boy you are”

THE END

[creativeashproductions]

Reluctant Vacation // Charlie Gillespie

Summary: The niece of the infamous Kenny Ortega had its advantages and disadvantages, you received insight on his projects but felt guilty saying no. Kenny seeing the exhaustion pulling you down invites to the set of Julie and the Phantoms where you rediscover your love with the field.

Warning: Swearing and fluff.

 Words 2.2k

A/N: I do take requests. It may take a bit to get to them but I’ll post some.

Please ask to be tagged in my inbox because I can’t promise you will be through commenting on the posts!

Masterlist

The sigh came from deep in your chest wanting to drop to the floor for an exhaustion induced nap, but an airport wasn’t the best place. Large sunglasses obscured people from seeing the deep bags under your eyes on the way to the film lot. It was coming full circle, the change different from the frantic schedule you had had recently. When Kenny called you hadn’t hesitated in packing and buying a ticket.

“Miss Y/L/N?” The voice pulled you from your thoughts as a man holding a card with your name displayed. He was of Puerto Rican descendent with a young girl beside him with similar features, “I’m Ricardo. This is my daughter Madison.”

“It’s nice to meet you. I’m-“

“Y/N Y/L/N.” Madison supplied with a beaming grin on her face having recognized you from your role as Sabrina in The Chilling Adventures of Sabrina along with movies.

All you could do was send a fragile smile in response after a long sleepless flight to Canada.

Madison’s eyes saddened at the exhaustion you carried, “I can fangirl later. You looked really tired.”

“Kenny saw and asked me to come over the guise of help, but he knows I need a break. He’s lucky I don’t need to be on set for a few weeks.” You replied, covering a yawn as you found yourself at a car, the walk a blur.

Unintentionally you found yourself asleep in the backseat the moment you settled back there for the drive. You had filmed in Vancouver before, so it wasn’t a huge deal, and the Reyes’ duo didn’t have the heart to wake you up.

“We’re here,” Madison whispered with the back-car door opened. Your eyelids fluttering at her voice, giving Madison a closer look at your face.

Walking on set, you saw Kenny giving one of his pep talks before he cut himself off at the sight of you. The actors surrounding him furrowed their brows as the legendary director power walked to a person concealed behind Mads.

“Sweetheart.” Kenny beamed, pulling his niece in for a hug before leaning back to scan her features, “You need a nap.”

“I need to meet your new cast.” You snickered stepping around the man to the three actors he had abandoned to see you. You found amusement in their widening eyes at the sight of the Y/N walking to them.

“Oh, my shit.” Owen gasped freaking out as the actress co-starring in the new Spider-Man trilogy came closer.

Last night Owen, Charlie and Jeremy had hosted a movie night in the rented apartment the first two rented. They had quickly made their way through Captain America: Civil War before watching the following movies with Spider-Man. You had a cameo in Captain America: Civil War before becoming a star in Homecoming and Far From Home.

“We manifested her.” Charlie hissed frantically fixing his set costume growing a blush at the smile you wore. He could feel the hair stylist on standby glaring at his tousled locks.

The girl in question came to a stop before the three guys portraying the phantoms of the show in the second season. You couldn’t help but chuckle at the expressions each one of them had.

“Hello.” You greeted flattered when the tall blonde one turned a blossom pink at the voice of an angel. Charlie and Owen had developed celebrity crushes on you.

In revenge, Tori, a returning choreographer and background character, saw Charlie’s expression along with a familiar girl. After filming season one ended the previous year you had stopped by during the filming process of CAOS to catch up with Kenny. Tori had been there and you two became friends.

“Hey!” Tori grinned, pulling you into a hug, “These three binged your MCU movies last night, and Charlie’s wallpaper is you.”

“Tori!”

“This is what you get for telling Booboo about the poster!” Tori called to the Canadian boy jogging out his area. Charlie’s cheek darkened more than Owen’s as your smile grew bigger.

“No worries Ghost. Luke definitely my favourite character and gotta say you should have been on Charmed more than two episodes.” You supplied walking backwards to Kenny once more yearning for a night’s rest after the flight.

“Holy shit.” Charlie choked smacking Jeremy’s arm repeatedly, “She knows me. Oh, oh, OH. She’s seen me-“

 “-Getting it on for a scene.” Jeremy snickered as his friend grew more and more flustered, “That was tame compared to her and Tom going at it.”

Charlie’s face dropped being reminded of the explicit scene you had done with Tom Holland in the movie that came out near the end of 2020. The Devil All the Time was the only film out of the MCU you had done with Tom. You had played the promiscuous daughter of a devout, loyal churchgoer and close friend of the preacher.

“Didn’t they date for a few months?” Owen questioned thinking back to the media mayhem during the virtual press for the film.

Owen was correct with the chemistry between you and Tom it was natural you would do interviews together via shared video chats. Charlie watched every single one that came out with interest. He hadn’t even expected the film to do so dark and explicit, but you had a natural talent.

“English, handsome, actor-“ Charlie started to list off on the English actor with a far more extensive list of credits. Charlie felt like a Canadian child in the city of Los Angeles compared to your leading man.

“-runs a charity with his family.” Jeremy continued raising one eyebrow, “At least he isn’t tall. You’d be fully screwed.”

Charlie shoved his teasing friends away with a smirk of his own as the trio continued on to the film. Charlie put his feelings on the back burner to focus on the storyline and emotions of the scene.

“Spider-Man Three baby!” The English accent shouted from the phone with only an ocean separating the two actors. Tom hadn’t even greeted you before screaming at the news you both received; despite the scripts from a few weeks prior the sequel had fully been greenlighted

Your head tossed back at the childlike glee on the older adult, clearly displaying the two years really mean he was two years old. After meeting on the set of Civil War along with Harrison, you had become friends. Followed with the following MCU appearances, it had been a surprise to be cast in Devil All the Time.

“Insane.” You started making your way through the set to where Kenny had texted you from. It was closing to the end of your vacation.

In the few weeks, you had reconnected with Tori on her breaks along with becoming good friends with the cast members. Something clicked between you and the core four of the show even if Madison sometimes still got starstruck.

“Did you read the script?” Tom questioned quirking his infamous eyebrow his fans wholly adored. You found it amusing, to be honest, that every character he portrayed had the same eyebrow.

“Not fully. I’m surrounded by people, and unlike you, I prefer not to jeopardize my career with marvel.” You teased glancing up as Charlie and Owen made their way over, “I’ll be flying out in a few days for filming.”

Tom nodded his head, “I got get back. Jacob and Haz are visiting. Remember to film the announcement! Bye Love!”

You gave a thumbs up before Tom ended the facetime glancing up at the duo who each raised their eyebrows. Charlie’s mask nearly breaking at Tom’s goodbye. Charlie could feel the cover of his feelings falling more and more each day.

“Announcement?” Owen questioned, slipping his jacket on over his shoulders having changed from his Alex outfit.

“Nothing.” You waved it off, starting to walk backwards with a smile that Charlie thought made your eyes shine brighter than stars.

The boys followed behind on the walk to the house Jeremy and Carolynn had decided to rent during filming. You had been crashing there as Jeremy didn’t want Carolynn to be alone with his filming schedule. It also gave the perfect place for your plan. Last few nights you had binged the marvel movies again ending with Far From Home.

The living room was decked out by Carolynn with your help from earlier as she was the only know that knew. Everyone settled in the living room with Mr Reyes there as well who had quickly become a father figure to you.

“So, I wanted everyone here for a reason. I’m sure you’ve noticed I’ve been reading a script and I have something to open.” You started thanking Jeremy as he brought in the package, he had no clue of the contents, “Now nobody says any spoilers for season two.”

You turned on the camera Paul Becker had supplied with a small smile having already filmed the opening sequence. You sat on the floor in the camera shot, opening the big box to hand out the smaller boxes to your friends. Charlie, Owen, Jeremy, Madison, Savannah, Booboo and every else glanced at the non-descript red box.

“Open them.” You urged grinning as the room went silent except for the tape ripping off the packages.

In each individual box was marvel themed candy, a plushie of Spider-Man along with signed cards from the Avengers actors and the MCU Spider-Man cast. At the very bottom, all it said was to look up at you. Instead of facing them with their looks of shock, you addressed the camera.

“Tom and I are so incredibly happy to announce that Spider-Man 3 is in the beginning process of filming.” You beamed at the camera listening to the intense noise of your friends screaming, “we can’t reveal anything else about the film, but the script is immaculate as usual. You’ll get to see Harper on the screen once more.”

“WHAT!” The collective scream behind you came as you waited a second before ending the video. You’d have to replay it before sending to marvel for the finishing touches with Tom’s version and then you could post it on Instagram.

“Surprise!” You spoke to the group behind you all in states of excitement, “You don’t know how much I’ve wanted to tell you guys! I got the script a few days before I came.”

“Holy shit.” Owen spoke, laughing at he shook his head, “You managed to get autographs from fucking Iron Man himself.”

“I got connections.” You snorted meeting the gaze of Charlie, “Nah, Downey’s kids came for a visit, and I kept them company. Downey offered to do anything, and I took the favour.”

The surprise wore off as the group mingled, but Charlie’s eyes stayed pinned to your form as you sent a message to Tom. Locking your phone to noticed his eyes.

“Hey Charlie.” You smiled, sitting on the couch next to him. His expressive eyes showing a silver screen of emotions you couldn’t quite decipher.

The corner of his mouth tilted up in response to the way his name rolled off your tongue, sending his heart stuttering. A cold sweat appearing when you grasped his hand in yours in a confident manner.

“So, you leave soon?” Charlie murmured moving closer to hear you among the chatter of the group. Your lips turned down for a split second as you felt the sadness of leaving.

It was refreshing to be on set without the demands of makeup, costumes, filming and choreography. To see the action and magic but not be part of it was a definite change you had needed desperately. But to leave Charlie hurt.

“My call time is in three days. Need to get ready to bring Harper Osbourne back to the big screen.” You replied, loosening your grip on his hand, “I don’t really want to go back. I’m gonna miss you…and everyone else of course.”

Unaware to the eyes watching in anticipation you and Charlie conversed further on the upcoming months. To the great disappointment of the house began to clear out, Owen for an early call time. Savannah was meeting with her brother, and Mr Reyes was taking Madison home.

It left Jeremy and Carolynn to retire to their bedroom while you stayed on the couch with Charlie for longer. The emotions building from the prior weeks, bubbling to the surface. Hearts thudding in their chest Charlie leaned in glancing at your lips; yours glancing at his.

Who moved first couldn’t be known, but as your lips brushed together just barely you felt grounded and peaceful. If he leaned closer, you wonder what the kiss would make you feel.

“I’d like to kiss you.” Charlie murmured startled at the confidence he had gained, “But before I do. Do you have something with Tom?”

“Other than onscreen chemistry? Absolutely nothing.” You spoke barely louder than a whisper to the boy that had become so much more than some actor.

He was Charlie. The goofy boy that put a smile on anyone’s face with an impromptu concert in the middle of a crowded street. He lived life to the fullest without any regrets. He was passionate about his work, music and the environment.

Those thoughts evaporated when lips met another pair of lips in what might be described as the best kiss ever. No fireworks felt as Wattpad would say, but instead, it was the heady warmth of hot chocolate on a cold day; a warm shower after a long stressful day. It was home and perfect.

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[falcqns]

Over Again

Pairing: Henry Cavill x Reader, Sebastian Stan x Reader

Summary: Part two to To Be So Lonely. You work with Tom again, and is forced to face Henry.

Warnings:

A/N: Here’s part two! Hope you enjoy!

Said I'd never leave her

'Cause her hands fit like my t-shirt

Tongue-tied over three words, cursed

Running over thoughts that make my feet hurt

Bodies intertwined with her lips

The next few years with you and Sebastian went great. Both you and Sebastian had issued a statement discussing what had happened, as well as Henry. The media was all over it for a few weeks, but eventually, it died down. Henry was able to maintain his role on The Witcher, but you had heard that things between him and production were a little tense. He hadn’t made any more movies, and rarely appeared at public events, such as award shows. You felt bad for the way he was being treated, but Sebastian reassured you that its what he deserved.

You and Sebastian had gotten married, and had a 2 year old daughter named Lerae Georgeta Stan. You continued to work, doing big projects such as a few Marvel movies, and quite a few Tom Cruise movies. When Tom called you and asked if you wanted to be in the new Mission Impossible, you said yes. He had told you that Henry would be appearing well, but you insisted everything would be fine. Henry had seemed very remorseful the last few years, and you weren’t one to hold grudges. You’d have scenes with him, but Tom assured you there would always be another person in the scene with you at least.

Sebastian was happy for you, of course, but he was still nervous. You understood his nervousness, and when he asked if him and Lerae could come with you, you agreed. You hadn’t ever left your daughter, and you weren’t planning on it anytime soon. You didn’t want to be one of those ‘celebrity moms’ who never see their children.

You arrived in England a few weeks after getting the role, and you, Seb, and Lerae found an apartment which was close to the set, and planned to come to set whenever they could. Seb still wanted Lerae to experience a normal childhood, and explore London, so he planned on taking her out to do “Daddy - Daughter” activities in the city.

You had arrived on set the first day of shooting, without your husband and daughter. They were supposed to come, but Lerae threw a huge tantrum the night before out of pure exhaustion, so Sebastian decided it would be best to keep her home for the day, so you were on your own. You had worked with some of your co stars before, and the ones you hadn’t worked with, you had met previously. Working with Tom Cruise had its benefits. You didn’t see Henry, but everyone else was there.

Now she's feeling so low since she went solo

Hole in the middle of my heart like a polo

And it's no joke to me

So can we do it all over again?

Just as you were finishing up in Hair and Makeup, Henry walked through the door. Every one said hello to him, but you just gave him a nice smile, to which he didn’t return, his eyes averting to the ground. Everyone was finished a few minutes later, and then it was just you, Henry, and the hair and makeup artists. You were about to say hello to him, when your phone rang. You answered, and your heart dropped.

“I have to go back to the States today,” Sebastian said, and you heard him sniffle. Your eyebrows scrunched in confusion.

“What? Why?” You asked.

He sighed before talking. “Apparently a good 20 minutes of footage is unusable because the files on the camera card corrupted, so I have to go back to reshoot. I’m so sorry.” Sebastian said, and you heard him breaking down over the phone, and your daughter asking why her daddy was crying.

“Sweetheart,” You said gently, and noticed Henry’s face get even sadder. “It’s okay. Bring Lerae here, and you head back. I can manage her on my own for a few days, okay?” You said, and Sebastian calmed down.

“O-Okay. I’ll bring her in about an hour.” He said, and you nodded.

“Sounds good. How long will you be gone?”

“Only about a week. I’m just feeling bad because we just got here,a dan now I have to leave you alone to parent in a whole new country while shooting a movie.” He explained, and you chuckle. “We’ll survive. We’ve had weeks alone before, dont worry, okay?”

“Okay.” Sebastian said. “I’ll see you soon.”

“Okay. Te iubesc,” You said.

“Și eu te iubesc,” He responded, and he hung up.

Your hair and makeup was finished soon after, and you headed out of the trailer. Henry’s eyes followed you out, but didn’t say anything. You walked over to Tom and explained the situation, to which he was very understanding.

Not too much later, Sebastian sent you a text saying he was here, and you walked over to meet him at the entrance to set. His eyes were still red and puffy, and Lerae was clinging to him for dear life, obviously afraid of the big burly security guards.

“Hi sweetie,” You said, and your daughter reached out for you. “Hi, Mama,” She said, before she pressed a kiss to your cheek.

“Hi other sweetie,” You said as you turned to Sebastian, who smiled as well. “Hi baby,” he said. He gave you a sweet kiss, and handed you Lerae’s diaper bag. She was mostly potty trained, but did tend to have accidents sometimes, just like a normal two year old. Seb then wrapped his arms around you, and pulled you into his chest. Lerae giggled, and rested her head on his chest too.

“We’ll be okay, my love,” You whispered, and he nodded.

“I know. I just worry sometimes.” He said and you nodded. “It’s okay.”

He sniffled again and pulled you two closer. “I should go, or I’m going to miss my flight, but I’ll call you when I land, okay?” He promised, and drew your lips in for a kiss, which made Lerae gag. “Ew, Dada!” She exclaimed, hiding her face behind her Winter Soldier bear. Sebastian chuckled, and lifted her out of your arms.

“be good for mama, okay? Dada will be back on Sunday,” He said, and she nodded. “I pwomise Dada. I be good.” Sebastian smiled, and hugged her to his chest. He pressed kisses on her cheek, which she returned, and then she was handed back to you. The three of you said your goodbyes, and you two watched as Sebastian walked away.

“Okay, honey. We’re going to go to my trailer and play there until Mama has to go film.” You explained as she wiggled out of your embrace to walk on her own. “Otay Mama. I see Uncle Tom?” She asked, as she gripped your hand and you two made your journey to the trailers. “Yes honey, we can go see Uncle Tom in a little bit.” She nodded, and you watched as she gazed around at the buildings on set. She had been on set’s before, but she was always so interested. You and Sebastian had a suspicion that she is a star in the making.

You two passed the makeup trailer just as Henry was coming out, and you smiled at him. He gave you a sad smile in return and retreated to his trailer to wait to be called to set. You two walked inside your own trailer, and Lerae climbed up on the couch to take her shoes off.

The two of you were able to stay in the trailer for a few more hours, her colouring, and you rehearsing lines, before a PA knocked on your door and told you they needed you on set in 20 minutes. You got changed into your costume, and Lerae gasped as she saw what you were wearing. You had a yellow sundress with white flowers on it, with matching yellow ballet flats.

She scrambled up, and gave you a hug. “You so pwetty, Mama.” Your heart melted and you lifted up your little girl. “Thank you, baby. Let’s get out shoes on and head to set, okay? We get to see Uncle Tom!” Lerae giggled, and slid out of your grasp. She got her shoes on and gripped her “Bucky Bear” in her hands, and followed you out.

You were reminding her that when the cameras are rolling, she has to be quiet, and sit in your chair nicely, when she squealed. You looked up, and saw Henry. “Mama! Supaman!” She exclaimed, and your stomach flipped. “Yeah, baby, that is Superman. Maybe if you’re nice enough, he’ll say hi to you,” And she nodded with a determined look on her face.

Henry noticed you, and then his eyes drifted down to Lerae. He smiled, and gave her a wave. She then decided to take off running to go say hello to one of her favourite superhero’s. You followed after her, and smiled when Henry finally talked to you.

“Hi, Y/N,” He said, giving you a tentative smile.

“Hey. Listen, you don’t have to walk on eggshells around me. It’s been 3 years since then, and we’ve all moved on. I’m sorry for what my friends did to your career. I never wanted that to happen.” You said, and he smiled warmly.

“Thanks. And, you don’t have to apologize. What I did was horrible, and I deserved what happened. I don’t blame you, or anyone. I was actually hoping to a police to Sebastian about what happened, but I guess he left,” He said, glancing down at your daughter who had her face smushed against his leg, and gazing around the room.

“He’ll be back Sunday. He feels really bad too, so I think you two talking it out is the best thing.” Henry nodded, just before Tom came up and scooped up his niece.

“Hey, you two. We’re about to start. I’ll watch her.” He mentioned, while tickling her belly, and you thanked him, before moving to start filming.

If you're pretending from the start

Like this with a tight grip

Then my kiss can mend your broken heart

I might miss everything you said to me

The rest of the week went well, with Lerae glued to Henry. You two hadn’t had a moment alone to actually talk, but Michelle and Rebecca came into your trailer and insisted that they could watch your daughter so you could go talk to him.

You knocked on his trailer door, and heard a faint ‘come in!’, so you entered. He smiled at you as he was petting Kal, who ran up to you.

“I was hoping to actually talk to you about what happened.” You said and Henry nodded. “Me too.”

You sat down on the couch, and pet Kal, while Henry sat next to you. You took a deep breath before speaking. “I’m really sorry. If I had known how you were feeling, I wouldn’t have mentioned it, or at least brought it up in a different way. And I definitely wouldn’t have talked about him as much as I did. I was just in love, and wanted to tell everyone about him,” You said and Henry nodded.’

“It’s okay. I shouldn’t have reacted the way I did. I guess I built up how our first meeting would go in my head, and then I got angry when it went in a completely different way. Sebastian told me how excited you were to work with me, and on The Witcher, and I instantly felt bad. I wanted to come and apologize but you were gone, and the damage was already done.” He said, his eyes down cast.

You scrunched up your eyebrows. “How bad was it after?” You asked.

Henry looked up at you. “I got screamed at. By everyone. Anya, Freya, Joey, Lauren, and Director, everyone. Anya, Freya and Joey didn’t talk to me for a god two months afterwards, and everyone else was extremely harsh on me. My agent and manager said they had never seen someone act the way I did, and that they were considering dropping me. Thankfully, they didn’t, but it was very tense for a while. I’ve never seen my parents more angry at me. I honestly thought they were going to disown me. Once I had made my statement, I couldn’t find work. Until this movie, I was relying solely on The Witcher for income. Which, is okay while were filming, but the cheques aren’t as big after filming wraps. I thought for sure that I’d lose this role too when you found out, but I’m very thankful that I didn’t.”

You smiled sadly. “I don’t hold grudges. You’ve changed, I’ve changed, and everyone’s moved on. We’re all good. And don’t worry too much about talking to Sebastian. Knowing him, he’s going to try to apologize for getting me first,” You joked, and Henry laughed.

“You two seem happy. Sometimes I wonder if we could have been that happy,” he remarked sadly, and you nodded.

“Maybe in another life. But, we’ll never know.” You said, and Henry smiled.

“I’m just happy that we can be friends,” He said. “You’re daughter seems amazing. What’s her name?” He asked, as he gazed out the window where she was playing tag with Rebecca and Michelle.

“Her name’s Lerae. It means ‘strong and brave’, which she is. She was born two months premature, and she fought like hell the entire time.” You explained, your eyes drifting to her. She was running around, her blue eyes reflecting off the sun. You could see so much of Sebastian in her.

“She’s the real superhero. Not me,” Henry said and you chuckled.

“Sebastian says the same thing.”

You'll never know how to make it on your own

And you'll never show weakness for letting go

I guess it's still hard if the seed's sown

But, do you really want to be alone?

The film went smoothly after that. Sebastian arrived on Sunday, and him and Henry had a good talk, which resulted in them making plans to go to a Rugby game with some of Henry’s friends. After that game, they became really good friends. Chris and Anthony forgave him as well, and the four of them were great friends.

Lerae loved her Uncle Henry, and she loved Kal. Her daddy may be a Marvel hero, but she always had a soft spot for Superman. Henry remained involved in her life. He came to every birthday party, every dance recital, and eventually every movie premier when she grew up. He got her her first acting job at the age of 7, on The Witcher. After that, she was hooked.

You and Sebastian stayed together through everything. You gave him a son, named James Anthony Stan, when Lerae was 4. The two were inseparable, much like you and Sebastian.

Even though you and Henry remained friends, he always loved you. You’d notice it sometimes, wether it be in the way he looked at you when he thought you didn’t notice him looking, or the way he treated your children. Sometimes it wasn’t as noticeable, and you’d think it faded, but then you’d catch his eye in the right light and you saw it again.

The love.

If you're pretending from the start

Like this with a tight grip

Then my kiss can mend your broken heart

I might miss everything you said to me

And I can lend you broken parts

That might fit like this

And I will give you all my heart

So we can start it all over again

[keravnous]

- agent 14/agent steve haines; american money

It's a Thursday and it's raining. The raindrops are heavy and loud on impact, running down his windshield like tears. He's on his way to the set and he prays that it'll clear up soon.

"This show will kill you", Warren sits on his bed, sheets lazily draped over his legs. Steve can see where his pubic hair begins and his mouth waters. Warren takes a long drag from his cigarette, blows the smoke into the air.

"It fucking won't, nothing can", Steve's leaning against the door frame, coffee in hand.

"Fuck yes, it can. And it will, lurking around at Forum Drive all day and for what? Two minutes of frightening pictures that will make Karens all over LS go buck wild."

"Who's Karen?"

"Forget about it. Let me suck your dick, Haines, c'mere."

As he arrives near the recreational center and pulls into one of the lots it has indeed stopped raining. The streets are still wet but the sun's coming out again and the air is already mushy with the reblooming heat. There's a lanky man with a dog and he's yelling into his phone - the man that is, not the dog.

He knows who the guy is, even though he most likely doesn't know him, probably he doesn't even know that Steve exists. He's an associate of Franklin Clinton and the Bureau keeps a close eye on him, due to the nature of Clinton being so close with Townley and Philips.

Steve watches Lamar, leaning against the hood of his car, the remaining rain wetting his thigh through the denim.

"Man Frank, you just ain't around no more, homie. That's all I'm saying. Yeah - Yeah, sure whatever, dog - Yeah, fuck yourself too, homie."

He hangs up and stuffs his phone back into his pocket. The dog looks at him. "Man, you get the fool more than I do, Chop. Wassup with him, can you tell me? He always been that fool, but something ain't right there."

Steve knows what ain't right there. Franklin must've picked up by now, or maybe Townley told him, what they were up to that one afternoon at the warehouse. And for what he knows about Clinton and what the intel tells him, the young man probably isn't much of a big fan of government-approved interrogation techniques.

And he probably also won't like what Steve has next in stock. Warren was a little careless the last time around, tongue loosend by sweet kisses and a hand around his dick, when he spoke about a securicar delivering important IAA files soon. It won't hurt 14 but it would definitely aid Steve an awful lot, so he decided to send the boys on the road again, maybe on Tuesday.

The production team's van rolls up next to him and they swarm around him like a stock of bees buzzes around their queen and then there's sound and light checks being run and a woman applies powder to his face. Lamar Davis has not moved a single step. Their eyes meet.

"What are you idiots doing here?", he hollers. Steve wonders if he could be of use.

"We're shooting a show", he replies, while the attach a little microphone to his collar, "The Underbelly of Paradise, you surely have already seen an episode or two."

"You're that Haines-guy then?", something in Lamar's voice makes his skin crawl, his files told Steve that he too is a gangster after all, killing and robbing are some of Davis' favourites. The look he shoots him isn't much friendlier.

"In the flesh", Steve dusts of the sleeves of his polo shirt.

"Yeah, aight. Fuck you then, man. C'mon Chop, we best be leavin', homie. Imma take you back to Frank's crib", oh, there is something in Lamar's voice that Steve definitely doesn't like at all but he just smiles politely at the man, until he's around the corner and out of sight. Steve's smile drops.

"Can we hurry this up a little, people? I don't got all day!" The bees start buzzing again.

_

The raid on the Humane goes by easier than expected. They are in Warren's living room, as the news inform about the incident. Steve is just pouring himself another glass of wine and Warren looks at him.

He knows, that the other one knows. It's a cover story the IAA will buy, but not Warren. Pain shoots through his legs as he slowly makes his way towards the sofa.

Warren mouths a few words at him. Be careful. Steve nods and leans over, places a soft kiss on his shoulder.

"Learned from the best", he whispers and Warren jerks.

"What?", there's panic in his voice.

"The Rashkovsky Job? The breakout and then his research goes missing?"

Warren blinks at him in disbelief.

"So, did he let you know if he likes it in South America?"

They laugh and Steve feels light, his fingertips tingle with it.

_

Steve's on his balcony. There's a saxophonist a few meters down the road, playing some Sinatra pieces and the music wraps itself around him like a blanket. The musician's interpretation reaks of melancholy and reminds Steve of the golden days of Vinewood cinema, noir films and cigarette smoke. Musicians playing at street corners isn't something foreign in a city where everyone has dreams of being the next big national superstar, but Steve usually hates him with his guts. This one's different. It touches him and he finds himself enjoying the dark, warm tunes that float through the cool air. It will be autumn soon and Steve's glad that the heat will be gone.

Warren watches him from the inside, leaning against the kitchen counter, lips curled in a smile.

_

Steve has always hated Michael's bloated and ugly, fat face and now he even gets to point a gun at it. It feels like his birthday and christmas fall on the same day.

"They know or they think they know that I'm the one that was behind the incident."

They stare each other into the ground, guns raised. Steve's ready to fire, has been from the minute Townley walked onto the plaza for the first time.

"Put the weapons down, boys. Fun time's over!", Steve wants to sigh. This is not happening. And then they are suddendly surrounded by their own man Sanchez has sent and then fucking Merryweather's there, too. This is not fucking happening. And so he does the only thing he's always been good at.

"We all know you Agency boys are balls deep in a plot to drive up your fundings by any means necessary", he shouldn't have said that. Warren trusted him with that info, even showed him the intel. He sees something moving behind Agent ULP's eyes, it's fear. He's got him.

Suddendly there's a loud pop and then pain shooting through his left leg. "Same goddamn leg", he blurts out as hell starts to break loose around him. Sanchez blood sprays the concrete in a bright red as the bullet pierces his skull. Steve wishes it would've been Michael instead.

He runs until he can't take the pain no more, then cowers on the ground, slowly robbing behind cover, as Dave and Michael pick up the gun fight. He's bleeding heavily, red liquid rushing out of the wound and drenching his cargos. It seems like the bullet is stuck and maybe has wounded some arteries. He figures that he probably hasn't that much time left. He strips himself out of his shirt and wraps it around his leg, adding pressure on his thigh, just above the bullet wound.

He thinks about Warren. Oh dear God, don't let me die today.

_

"What did you do?", it's Warren, he's sitting at Steve's kitchen table.

"Did you let yourself in, pretty boy?"

"What happend?", he sounds furious now, gets up and his eyes bore into Steve's. He's dizzy with it, with what Warren's gaze tells him, let's him know without saying a word.

"Nothing, it's nothing."

"You got shot!"

"Yeah, the same leg."

"That's - you're-"

Steve wraps his arms around him and presses him close and Warren releases a surprised noise. "I'm still here", he says and it's more for and to himself, than for Warren but the other doesn't seem to care, burying his face in Steve's neck.

The world's a little brighter and warmer and Steve doesn't feel that threatend anymore. He has to make a phone call, but that can wait a few more minutes.

_

He has a team on the way to the plant, it will be alright. They'll be gone for good, just another casualty. He sighs, takes a deep breath and throws the script on the seat across from him.

"Are the cameras rolling? Yes? How do I look, the chin's sharp?"

Warren looks at him, eyes still a little hazy from his last orgasm and Steve turns his head and looks at him. He's so pretty and Steve's heart misses a beat.

"I-", his voice breaks and Warren blinks.

"Yeah?"

"I hate you."

Warren laughs. It's deep and dripping with amusement, running down Steve's body like hot honey. He rolls himself over, on top of Warren, who's still laughing deep in his chest, burying a hand in Steve's blond hair.

"No. No, you don't."

They look at each other and their gazes turn soft. "Sometimes I do", Steve's voice is quiet, honesty seeping through his words, "But sometimes I-, I would burn the world down to protect you."

Warren's hand caresses his neck. "My life would be so very boring without you, Haines. It nearly makes me forget that I just really want to skin you alive, sometimes."

It's not really an I love you - I love you too, but it's as close as they can get without hurting their egos. The kiss is soft and sweet and a promise.

"Hi, I'm Steve Haines. I've tracked down killers, attacked incompetence and taken down terrorist cells, and tonight -"

The gunshot rips through the night and the camera man throws himself back, lands unpleasently on his back.

"My god! The guy! What's-his-name! Fuck, shit, they shot him!", he stares down at the dead man, blood rushing out of the bullet wound in the back of his head. The impact had torn some skin and skull apart and there's a nasty opening, his brain leaks out of it. The camera man vomits out of the gondola as sirens erupt in the night.

_

Warren has his feet up on the coffee table, mindlessly zapping through the programs. It's all shallow and boring and he hopes that Steve will be home soon. Home.

His stomach does a funny little flip and Warren smiles to himself, wraps the blanket around him tighter. It smells of him, his perfume. He closes his eyes and he can practically feel Steve's hand creeping around his neck, resting on his shoulder, heavy and warm. It's always like that, when he comes in on Warren sitting on the sofa. He will lean down and place a feather light kiss on the back of his head, maybe rest his nose there for a moment, taking the other man's scent in for a few seconds, before getting up again and ranting about Norton or another colleague. A fuzzy warmth spreads in his stomach and Warren sighs. A sudden noise interrupts his daydreaming and he lazily opens an eye at the TV. It's a Weazle Broadcast.

"We interrupt our nightly program for an important message. We just recieved notice that FIB Special Agent Steve Haines has been shot on duty at the Del Pierro Pier. Agent Haines died a hero, doing what he loved, which was presenting a TV show. He helped combine the chaos of anti-terrorism and the mindlessness of network television into one highly successful career. Mr. Haines, who was not married, leaves behind his mother."

The world goes silent.

_

He's not moving. Has not in hours, maybe it's even a full day at this point. He has not eaten, has not showered, has not moved at all.

Warren feels like a dead man. The thought makes a bitter laugh splutter over his lips and then has him break out in tears immediately after.

It's a scary thought that people continue to live their lives, acknowledging that an agent passed away last night but they are now out and about, at their jobs, maybe seeing friends or family. A lover, even. They are busy living their life's while Warren's just dissolved in a matter of seconds.

It's a scary thought being ripped off of something so dear so abruptly, it's scary how it ripped a hole it Warren's chest that is now filled with a black, emotionless but equally painful void that nags, tears and claws at him.

It's a scary thought that he's alone again.

His body, his throat gives in and he's rolling on his side, screaming and tearing at the blanket, fingers grabbing at the fabric, as his knuckles turn white. He's screaming and screaming and screaming until his throat is sore and his eyes burn and the only noises that leave his mouth are little pathetic whines of exhaustion and the gasping for air. The pain in his chest takes his breath away, chokes him and makes him want to curl up, bore a knife into it, twist and turn it until it goes away. He feels like vomiting.

_

It's Sunday. It's been a little over 30 hours. Warren is tired, but everytime he tries to close his eyes he sees him, hears his laughter ring in his ears. It hurts. It hurts so much, he has hardly any words left to describe the agony he is going through.

His head hurts too, so does his throat and his stomach, with the constant throwing up and the lack of hydration. But he can't bring himself to get up, to grab a glass of water and drown some pain killers and go to bed. His legs are heavy and he just doesn't have the energy.

Warren feels like dying but he's also so painfully alive.

_

He's wide awake. He'll need to find a solution for how he's going to be able to go to work tomorrow.

But for now he's wrapping himself in Steve's blanket, the one he sleeps in when he's been over, inhaling the fading scent.

_

"Agent 14?"

His eyes are red, bloodshot and his fingers are trembling, seconds away from shaking. He had powder this morning to just make it somehow and it's slowly wearing off. He hasn't been on coke since college and it sent him on a murder high, blood pumping like a race horse only to now let him dive head-first into a killer hole.

It's been three days since Steve left his life both, quiet and eardrum-tearing loudly, and it feels like a nightmare, eternal and burning hot. He's empty inside but there's also just so much pain, it feels like he's breaking into pieces. His stomach clenches and his heartbeat is heavy, vibrates thickly in his chest and he just wants to die, too.

"Mrs. Rackham", his voice is rough, it doesn't bother to hide that Warren had been crying and screaming his lungs out every night since Steve's brain had been splattered onto the ferris wheel.

"I need to talk to you."

This is about Avon and Clifford, he's sure. His hand shakes and coffee spills on his desk. He curses under his breath and reaches for a tissue but Mrs. Rackham grabs his hand with force. They look at each other. Warren blinks.

"You are not in a good condition. I don't need explanations or lies, 14. I want to offer you my sincere condolences on your loss, Mister Jones. "

Warren takes a deep breath but he can't keep his eyes from tearing up.

"Take the week off, Agent", as he's not moving, shocked and dumbfounded, she starts to pick his jacket up, "Go now, I'll cover you up."

He gets on his feet, knees weak and body shaking, takes his jacket from her hands.

"Thank you, Phoenicia", he means it.

She looks at him. "I'm sorry", and she means it, too, "The IAA could've done some-"

"Don't."

She nods sharply and then looks at him once more, eyes piercing.

"I lost my husband in service as well, Iraq in 2004."

And then they're hugging, Warren is burrying his face into her neck and wailing like a little child.

_

It's a weird feeling and it fucks with his head as his gaze falls on the door of his apartment. He could've sworn that he heard the key turning the lock. He stares and stares and stares and it feels like his brain is readying for Steve to come through the door anytime.

He doesn't.

_

It's midnight and he had five more moments like the door-lock one earlier. He feels like he may go insane.

Warren fumbles for his phone on the nightstand and opens up Eyefind, types his thoughts into the searchbar.

At the end of his research he's left with two possibilities: it's either a stage of grief (denial they call it - dying's more fitting, Warren thinks) or the sideeffects of the coke slowly wearing off.

_

It's raining. It's like the heavens above are pissing down on him. Warren's crying while the rain relentlessly pounds on his umbrella.

He's standing a few meters away from the funeral party. Steve's mother bails her eyes out and he would like to go over to her and wrap her im his arms but he would just be a stranger to her.

There's a saxophonist in front of the cementry. He's playing Sinatra's Summer Wind, sounding sad but warm nonetheless. Steve's family probably thinks of that as a weird coincidence but Warren has spent two full nights finding the man again, who has played down at Steve's street corner all those months ago. It was difficult and time consuming, but not impossible.

There's a new wave of tears making their way out of Warren's eyes and he has to clasp a hand on his mouth to stop the painful noises from making their way into the soft air of spring. He feels like he's breaking apart, torn into two pieces.

He cries and cries and cries until the funeral party is long gone any the sun sets. The saxophonist is still playing.

_

When Warren comes home the sun's gone for some while and it's dark out. There's a light burning in his kitchen. For a moment, just a split second, it feels like Steve will swing around the corner. But he doesn't.

He walks into the kitchen to find a bouquet of white lillies sitting on the countertop. He checks the card attached to them.

Sorry about your loss.

He doesn't recognize the handwriting, it looks like it could've been written by someone who's older than Warren, male maybe, but his last Hand Writing and Letter Indentification Course was two years ago. He figures his cleaner, a nice elderly lady, had put them there. He thinks about her seeing the bouquet on the door step and carefully carrying them inside, placing them in the only vase Warren has at home. It makes him both sad and glad, glad that at least she's still around.

_

In three words I can sum up everything I've learned about life: it goes on.

14 would've liked to ask Robert Frost if he was just stupid or naive or both.

_

Two days later he's so angry at the world that he grabs the vase and throws it across the room, where it collides with the wall and breaks in a thousand little pieces.

_

The anger keeps on coming, rage that boils hot and white in his stomach, makes him lash out at colleagues and scream his lungs out, throwing things and fits like it's nothing.

He finds himself beating into walls and furniture until his knuckles bleed.

Mrs. Rackham puts him onto another break, Temporarily Suspended Until Further Notice the record reads.

_

Warren's awake, restless but exhausted, again. It's three in the morning. His head hurts, his bones hurts, his whole body feels heavy.

"I should've stopped you from going", he whispers into the night and his mind conjurs up Steve's voice, consoling him.

"No, really. I should have been more persistent. If you just would've stayed with me that night."

Steve answers him again, but it sounds washed out in Warren's ear.

Oh, please don't let me forget his voice.

_

He's not moving again. Hasn't done so in two days.

Mrs. Rackham continues to call him, but he won't pick up. He can't handle her, can't handle her sorrow and her advices. He doesn't want to hear it. She would probably also bug him about not showing up for work again and that's just something he really doesn't want to hear right now.

It's phone rings again and he picks it up to throw it against the wall with all the force he can possibly muster, so it would just shut up, but it's not Phoenicia calling this time. It's Lester.

"14? This is Crest." He doesn't sound good. Warren doesn't know what to say.

"I am, ehrm, calling to see how you're doing?" Odd. He can't bring himself to say anything back. "You know I, err, saw you didn't clock in to work for a few days? Are you doing, ehrm, well?"

"Yeah", it sounds as broken as he feels. There's an uncomfortable silence on the other end of the line for a few seconds, maybe even for a full minute. He hears Lester's inhaler.

"I, well I err heard about Haines."

It should send him into a rage, a fit, maybe even crying manically but there's just nothing. Just the casual numbness that hangs above him like thick clouds these days.

"Yeah, a shame, isn't it?"

There's coughing, then deep breaths being taken. "You're not doing too well, Crest?"

"Can we meet up, 14? I", another cough, "I know a place."

_

The sun's out and it burns in Warren's eyes, on his skin, even though he's wearing both, a jacket and sunglasses. Crest sits across from him at the table, not touching his iced coffee. So isn't Warren, he is neither thirsty nor hungry.

They are at a bean machine on Vinewood Boulevard. It's one of the stores Steve used to buy his coffee at. There should be stining pain at the thought but there's just sadness, blackness wandering through Warren's mind.

"You don't look too good", Crest says.

"You neither", Warren says and to mask the shaking of his voice he takes a sip from the coffee. It tastes like nothing, like liquid paper.

"I don't feel to good either. But you also don't, so what's the matter, 14."

Warren just shrugs. Lester looks at him, a steady and stern gaze, as if he's looking for answers in Warren's eyes, in his fucking soul.

"What are we doing here?"

"Just looking after a, err, friend."

"We're not friends, Crest."

"Associates then, maybe?", the look on his face is a little sad, offended. Warren can't bring himself to care.

"Yeah, whatever."

"Any lead, yet?"

Warren lifts his eyebrows in suprise. "A lead?"

"Yeah, you know", Crest clears his throat and leans in a little, "Who did it, you know."

Maybe Warren's mind is playing tricks on him again, but Crest looks a little concerned.

"No, none. Nothing."

Crest nods and leans back. Lester doesn't offer his help, so Warren decides that he then won't ask for it. Still confused and mouth already opened he wants to know why, as Lester's lungs throw a fit, his body cramping and being thrown forward and then back again by his dry coughs. Warren's up on his feet in a matter of seconds, his heartbeat picking up a fast rate he hasn't feeled in weeks, adrenaline rushing through his veins. He grabs Lester by his shoulders and holds him up, while he coughs coughs coughs. At the end of it there's blood on his chin.

"You're not planing on dying as well, are you?"

The look Lester shoots him, slumped in his chair with other guests on the terrace staring at them in shock, makes Warren's skin crawl.

_

He hasn't been at an attorney's office ever. It's a weird experience.

The people are nice and calm and so is Mister Allan, who has Steve's testament laying in front of him.

"So, Mister Jones, shall we get started then?"

Warren nods. It still confuses him. He wonders what Steve's mother thought, when she heard that she won't inherit everything. Warren doesn't want money, money won't replace anything.

He must've said that out loud, because Allan chuckles.

"Mister Haines hasn't left you money. No need to worry, Mister Jones."

He leaves the office with a black box tucked safely under his arm. He doesn't open it, not in the office, not on the way out in the elevator, not at home. He tucks it away in his closet, deep down where he keeps a ski puffer, that he never wears anyways.

_

He finds himself talking to Steve, or what his mind conjurs up of his memories, more often. It helps him, or so he hopes.

He misses him and the soliloquy is a good substitute, at least for now.

_

They are at a clinic just above the hills and behind the Vinewood sign, far away from the city, the air is dry and crisp nonetheless. Lester sits in a wicker chair, wrapped in a blanket and stares at the fountain in the middle the perfectly trimmed meadow. Warren sits next to him, craving a cigarette, but not lighting one. He'll have to wait a couple more minutes, until the nurse will bring Lester back into the clinic.

"Thank you for stopping by", Crest means it.

"Am I the only one?"

"No, oh no. There's, ehrm, Franklin's coming over too, once or twice a week."

He looks better, rested. Warren doesn't know who Franklin is, but he nods politely anyways.

"That's nice."

"Yeah, he's a good kid." A crook then.

"Are they treating you well up here?"

"It's fine, I- argh, fuck it. The dinner's horrible but the doctor's are good enough. Won't make a difference anyways."

"That's what they're saying then?", Warren looks into the setting sun. From up here Los Santos seems peaceful, quiet, a big, glorious and shining city. It's a hell hole full of shit, Warren knows that now, but he can't leave. Not yet.

"Yeah. No. They don't say it, but they mean it. It's in their eyes." Lester takes a sip of his water.

"Don't say that, Crest."

Lester looks at him. He doesn't say it, but the look on his face says it all. You've been through enough, I won't tell you that I'm dying soon.

"Yeah, well, it was nice seeing you. Getting better and such", Warren gets up, the wicker creaking, his phone in hand and sunglasses back on. They look at each other for a long, quiet moment and then Warren nods, turns around to leave. A surprisingly strong hand grabs his arm.

"I have a project, it's happening right now, Warren."

He stops in his tracks. From somewhere behind the fountain laughter sweeps up the hill. There's an old lady on the meadow with their grandchildren and they're playing ball. She has a bandage around her head.

"A project?", Warren doesn't turn around.

"Yeah, I'd like you to take over. You need something to do."

"I still have a job, Crest."

"That reminds you of him." It's like a kick into his guts and there's sudden rage boiling inside of him, but there's also something else. A certain calmness, that wraps itself around his shoulders like a white blanket. T feels a lot like clarity.

"That it does, yeah."

"I'll have Paige bring you the details."

"Sure. Good night, Crest."

He walks over the little path out of bark mulch, that is overgrown by trees, back to his car. He feels oddly content.

_

See, life does goes on. It's a weird thought that strikes him out of nowhere. He's afraid of forgetting everything that was, since forgetting always seemed easy. Maybe not tomorrow, maybe not next week but who knows what will be in a year? Maybe he'll catch himself sooner or later, not thinking about Steve for a few weeks, months, years.

He's afraid of that, sincerely so.

_

The air in the bunker is cold and damp. Some of his people are moving out the old equipment. He doesn't know Crest's newest associate, it's most likely no one from the Hertz/Clifford-Incident.

I'm sorry I called him a buffoon, if I had only known back then.

He thinks of Phoenicia's concerned face and suddendly he finds himself smiling.

"Oh, he was a buffoon, you weren't wrong, Ma'am", he says to himself and hears a quiet chuckle errupting from his chest. There's sadness floading him, but it's warm and sweet and feels like an old friend.

There's no time for tears as the door of the bunker suddendly beeps loudly, informing him of a visitor arriving.

_

"So, you're getting along, then?", Crest sounds better. Warren lets go a breath, he doesn't even know he held in the first place.

"Yeah. They are quiet, but I appreciate the effort they are putting into it."

"I told you, they're are reliable."

"So you did."

There's a long pause, silence.

"Listen, Crest. I gotta go, speak to you soon."

As he hangs up, he's confronted with his lie, standing alone in his quiet living room.

_

The next time Lester invites him over, he says yes. He lives in a bigger, cleaner house now and Warren can only guess, that he was indeed involved in the robbery at the Casino his team is trying to solve right now. He'll offer them a false trace. Maybe they'll pick that one up.

"Georgina's not home, you just missed her", Lester wobbles down the stairs to the living room, crutch in hand.

"Who?"

"Georgina, he lives with her", Warren looks up, from where he is securing Lester's arm with his own hand and looks into the face of a young man. He looks younger than himself and wears expensive street style clothing.

"Who are you?"

"That's Franklin, Warren. Franklin, that's the friend I've been telling you about."

"Pleasure", Warren's voice still on the edge, while the man's handshake is firm.

"You lost your man, dog? Lest been telling me."

"I did, eight months ago."

There's something moving behind Franklin's face but he's quick to cover it up. Warren wonders: what and why.

"Shame man, I'm sorry to hear that, homie. My girl left me, too."

"He didn't leave me. He died."

Franklin looks at Lester, confused and a little reproachful, too. Then, it seems to click, as Franklin looks at him again. He now looks a little terrified, actually.

"Franklin was just leaving anways, weren't you?", Crest sits down in a beige armchair. Warren notices that he has new glasses.

"Yeah, shit. I mean of course, I was on my way out. Nice meeting you man, I hope you're, you know, doing better soon. See you around."

"Thank you", Warren recieves an awkward pat on his shoulder and then Franklin's steps distance themselves, until the front door falls shut.

_

He didn't leave me. He died.

His own words echo in his skull but they don't throw him into a manic tantrum, he's not crying, not screaming. He's oddly calm.

Is this how it feels, when one comes to terms with something, he wonders. Maybe, it is.

He died.

That he did and it must've been fucking ugly. Blood and soupy brain everywhere. Warren wishes he could've held him during these moments, when the body is slowling shutting down, when something mysterious, unknown happens to the human consciousness.

He died.

And Warren had missed him every single day since then. He leans himself against the closed bedroom door of his apartment and then makes his way to his closet.

The box is still where he has left it.

He died. He died. He died.

"I miss you, Steve", he whispers into the silence of his flat and then he smiles, it's small and sad, and he sinks onto the ground, box clutched in his hands, "Fuck, I wish you were still here."

There's silence but Warren likes to think that something of Steve's mind, his soul is still left on this earth, stayed with him. It's a nice thought, even if it's unrealistic. It's still consoling.

Steve's gone for good, but just because his body doesn't walk the dirty streets of LS anymore doesn't mean that he left Warren's life completely - he still existed, left his footprints behind. And Warren's ready, willing even, to take carefully aligned pictures of them and hang them on his wall. He's ready to look at them every day that may come and maybe he'll stop crying at some point. Or maybe he won't. He'll be fine.

It's an odd feeling. His life still feels empty, incomplete since Steve passed and so does Warren. He feels empty, shallow and sad, but it will pass and he will take the time. It doesn't mean forgetting him, quite the contrary maybe.

He flips the lid, puts it aside carefully with a quiet thump on the carpet below. He takes a look inside and bursts out laughing.

_

"Did he leave you something?", he hasn't seen her in years, since college. She used to be his flat mate.

"Yeah", he smiles to himself.

"What is it?", she looks moved and Warren would love to tell her, but he can't. He really can't. Not all of it, anyways.

"A letter."

"A letter?"

"Yeah, a fucking love letter."

"Warren! Don't say that! It's very heartwarming!"

It's been a year. He still misses him. "He wasn't the type for it, that's all."

He thinks of the envelope he keeps in his safe. It's a document, FIB header and logo, completely official.

Reference: Counter Espionage, Crimes Against National Safety, A Report By Steve Haines to be handed to Misses Phoenicia Rackham In Relation "To Agent 14", Mister Warren Jones

"Oh, was he not, you know, a little a romantic?"

"No, it must've taken a lot for him to write a love letter." It was really sweet and it went well with the attempt to put Warren in a High Security Penitentiary.

"Really?", she looks a little concerned, but she doesn't get Steve, their relationship as it was, like Warren does.

He looks up from his coffee cup and lights a cigarette. He hasn't had a smoke in a long time but at least he stopped with the cocaine.

"Yeah. Sometimes", there's a smile tugging at his lips, "Sometimes I think he would've rather seen me locked away."

[honeymoonjin]

ᴘᴀɪʀɪɴɢ: ot7 x reader || ᴡᴏʀᴅ ᴄᴏᴜɴᴛ: 14.1k || ɢᴇɴʀᴇ: smut - rated 18+

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ᴡᴀʀɴɪɴɢs: filmed sex/voyeurism/exhibitionism as usual, semi-public sex, foodplay, a lot of sloppy making out, creampie is not the only type of dessert involved, very soft dom!jin, sub!reader, unprotected sex but who’s surprised, dom!hoseok, waxplay, painplay, very explicit discussion about consent since waxplay is technically edgeplay, restraints, cuffs, flogging, hobi in his element is a kink in and of itself, degradation, discipline, subspace, scratching, rough sex, hoseok going the extra mile honestly, still unprotected sex, cumshot

dedicated to my sfhs girls, everyone in the villa discord, and sponsored by the red room

FAN FAVOURITE

On the sixth Day of every Week in the game, the Audience Fan Favourite vote is released for 48 hours following the post of the fic. Please note, this is NOT the elimination vote, which is taken on the seventh Day of each Week.

The vote is at the end of this chapter.

DAY TWENTY

Though it’s the weekend (as if that has any real significance when you aren’t really working) you wake up tragically early, before the sun’s even risen.

Unsure of what woke you, you rub your eyes and duck your head out into the hallway. To your surprise, there’s the distinct yellowish glow from a light on downstairs. It’s hard to walk down the stairs when your head is full of cotton, your eyes still bleary and your mouth constantly stretched in a yawn, but finally you stumble down into the main space.

Frozen, with a metal spoon hanging out of his mouth and his eyes wide and red, is the oldest man of the house. He leans dejectedly against the kitchen counter, haunting a tub of ice cream that’s definitely not intended for one person. You quickly realise what may have woken you is the obnoxious whir of the microwave, something in a covered glass jar twirling round and round inside.

“What-” you swallow and clear your throat when the word comes out croaky, “what are you doing here so early? Are you okay?”

Still startled by your presence, he blinks a few times and removes the spoon from his mouth, letting it clatter to the table. “I’ve been better.”

Your face drops in sympathy, ignoring the freezing tile on your feet as you approach him. Without waiting for permission, you wrap your arms around his waist and pull him close to you in a tight hug. “What’s up, Jinnie? You can be honest with me. If you let me have some of your ice cream, of course.”

That manages to pull a weak laugh from him as he hands you the spoon and ruffles your hair. “I am, as it turns out,” he explains, “incredibly stupid.”

“Ah.” You dig into the tub of ice cream one handed, dislodging a chunk of what looks like brownie. “First of all, I disagree, but more importantly, why do you think that?”

“Do you have an hour?” Jin sighs at the poor attempt at lightening his own mood. “To tell you the truth, and this may come as a shock to you, but-”

“Is this about Yoongi and you fucking?”

Jin pulls back, staring you down with a bewildered expression.

You swallow a cold mouthful, furrowing your brows apologetically. “Sorry, I shouldn’t have interrupted. Go on.”

“I- How did you- Who knows?”

You hum for a minute, tapping the end of the spoon against your lips. “Oh, I’d imagine everyone,” you summarise. “Subtlety isn’t your strong suit.” You wince as you recall a few particular evenings. “Nor is volume control.”

“Right.” Jin has the good grace to look sheepish at that, but gently tugs the spoon back. The microwave beeps noisily behind you, and he curses, rushing over to pull the jar out. “Anyways, yes, Yoongi and I have been casual for a short time now, but things are messy. And I suppose I sort of thought they were good messy, but last night I realised how very not-good messy they were. I haven’t been fair to Yoongi. Or you.”

You tilt your head, watching him uncover a lightly steaming jar full of what looks and smells like caramel. “Me? What does this have to do with me?”

Jin opens his mouth, grimaces, and closes it again. After a few moments of silence where he stirs the sauce and tastes a bit of it, he finally faces you to speak. “After the fight, you didn’t really...say anything about what you found out. My feelings for you, I mean. Not that you were at all obligated to, of course, but I wanted to give you space. And… I wanted to have space too, but I couldn’t stop thinking about it, so when Yoongi expressed interest in me, I thought him and I could help each other out.”

He pours some of the sauce directly into the tub of icecream, but then puts it down and rests his forearms on the countertop, really leans his whole body weight onto them like it’s hard to stay standing. “Yoongi has feelings for me,” he explains. “I don’t know if you know that too, but- yeah. He said- even as recently as yesterday, he said he was fine, but I should know better. It’s irresponsible of me to take his words as gospel when I can so clearly see, as his friend and as a trained therapist, that he isn’t okay.”

You want to wait until he’s said his piece, but your chest feels hot, like your ribs are smouldering coals. You can’t stop your tongue. “I don’t need space.”

Jin blinks, caught off-guard. “Huh?”

“I don’t need space,” you repeat in a warm voice, “I don’t want you to be distant. Fuck Yoongi if you want, but don’t do it just because you’re avoiding me. You’re right; that isn’t fair to either of us.”

“I know,” he concedes, shoveling another spoonful of melted ice cream and sauce into his mouth to buy him some thinking time. “It’s getting out of hand, too. Just yesterday Jungkook asked to join and- God, this is such a mess. I should end it, shouldn’t I?”

Your tongue tingles with the urge to press about Jungkook. Feeling like that isn’t really Jin’s priority right now, you change tact. “Do you want to end it?”

Jin furrows his brows, deep in thought. Clad in blue and white striped pyjamas, his face seems far too serious for his attire, but it’s clear this is really eating away at him if he’s up so early thinking about it. Had he even gone to bed at all? “I don’t want to,” he admits, “being with Yoongi is so easy. And not like- not logistically, I’m not saying Yoongi is easy, but… God, I don’t know how to say this without it being soppy. It feels right. But at what point do I stop doing what I want and start thinking about others? I need to do what’s best for Yoongi.”

It’s hard conveying any semblance of intelligent thought when you probably have not even half of the whole story, but you do your best for him. “Is that a decision you should be making on his behalf, though? I feel like you should be having this conversation with him.”

Jin sighs, placing the spoon down so it doesn’t clatter. “Here’s the thing. I’ve been going over and over it in my head. My reasons for sleeping with him aren’t all noble or genuine or even fair. And I know he has feelings for me. I think if I let this continue I’ll be hurting him. So surely ending it is the right thing to do?”

You mull it over a moment. “It seems like you already know the answer, Jin,” you offer up softly.

“Yeah. Yeah, I do.” Jin bites his lip, eyes distant. “If I text him, if I tell him that we need to talk, or that we shouldn’t do it anymore, then… You said you didn’t need space. So can we talk? About us?”

“Of course,” you reply immediately, though your heart rate quickens at the thought, “that’s probably for the best, too.”

“Alright.” Jin wipes his hands on his shirt pants, whether it’s to get off the stickiness of the dessert or sweat you don’t know, but soon enough he’s slipping his phone out and hunkering down on the kitchen tile floor.

You join him, scooching up so that your shoulders bump. With your back against the cabinets and your lower half on those icy tiles, normally you’d be shivering. But Jin’s body is like a radiator, and he leans into you as he unlocks his phone and pulls up Yoongi’s contact.

For his privacy, you try not to look, but you can’t help but notice the name for Yoongi is Min City, and that their recent texts are calls for late-night rendezvous. Jin takes a deep breath, his thumbs hovering over the keypad. “What do I even say?” he muses out loud. “I’m a therapist; why can’t I even work out a good ‘we should talk’ text?”

You hook your hand under his arm, tucking it to your side. “Start off by apologising for texting him at ass o’clock in the morning,” you jibe.

Jin pauses. “I’ll probably rephrase,” he admits, “but that’s solid.”

hey yoongichi, sorry about texting you so early. |

“Okay, what next?” Jin says in a shortened breath.

You let out a light laugh. “This is your message,” you remind him, “but fine. How about this? Tell him that you’ve been thinking a lot, which you have, and that you just can’t keep sleeping with him in good conscience because you don’t feel like it’s wise. And maybe, like, tell him to come find you when he reads it so you can have a proper chat. It shouldn’t just be done over text, you know?”

“That’s true… Okay, here goes.” Jin swallows hard as he types away, and were it not for the fact that these were your friends who were involved, you’d laugh at the cheesiness of the moment. Like something off a trashy k-drama, though your life felt more and more like one every day anyway.

hey yoongichi, sorry about texting you so early. i’ve been doing a lot of thinking after our talk, and i just really don’t think us doing this is a good idea anymore. please let me know when you get this. we can talk it over a bit. |

“Is that all I need?”

You shrug. “I guess so. Unless you wanna add an ‘xoxo’ to the end of it.”

Jin bites his lip. “That may send mixed messages.”

“It was a joke, Jinnie,” you protest, shoving him playfully. “Anyway, are you gonna send i-”

A loud ding cuts you off, echoing slightly in the otherwise silent house. Above the box of text Jin had been crafting, a new strip of grey appears.

The both of you freeze, staring in disbelief at the screen. “Did he just..?” Before you can even finish that sentence, a second chime rings out again, and the screen shifts to display more grey, slightly smaller than the first.

“Looks like,” Jin murmurs, scrolling up to view the new message. “Holy shit.”

I’m sure you’re still asleep jin-hyung, so just text me when you get this but yesterday i was lying when i said i was fine, because i’m really not and jungkook has really helped to give me a little perspective so i’m sorry if you still need someone to distract you but i’m not gonna be that someone anymore

No hard feelings btw, i still feel the same way about you but i don’t think we should have sex for a while, i just need some distance. I like to think that you’d want me to put myself first and i’m doing that now. I hope you can understand

“That… I guess that’s that sorted,” Jin says slowly, tapping the screen to delete his message. “Should I reply now?” He thinks for a moment, then shakes his head as he locks the phone. “No, I’ll wait until later. He won’t be expecting a reply now, anyway. Hopefully he can get some sleep.” His eyes turn sad. “Do you think he was up all night stressing about that?”

“Hey,” you warn lowly, “don’t guilt yourself. The two of you can straighten things out later, and sleep better tonight. Yeah?”

He nods. “Yeah.” He releases a slow breath, his body heavy with unshed tension. For a moment, the two of you stay silent, you giving him time to process. When he speaks, he shuffles his whole body around to face you. “I know why you’ve been so hesitant,” he announces suddenly.

You frown. “Wait, what? Hesitant?”

“Yes,” he insists, “you haven’t really talked at all about if you return my feelings. I used to feel really confused and hurt by it, but I get it now.”

Your stomach rolls strangely, a feeling like being caught red-handed. “What do you mean?”

“Last night,” he explains, “I came up to tell everyone that dinner wasn’t far away. You weren’t in your room, and Taehyung wasn’t in his…” He trails off meaningfully, and realisation settles in your bones, not shock, but resignation.

“Oh.” You swallow, sitting up so you’re no longer leaning towards him. “You saw us? In Jimin’s room?”

“I won’t tell,” he begins automatically, “and it’s okay. I see that you’ve been answered for already. I’ll respect that.”

“It isn’t like that,” you say reflexively, “we - god, we weren’t supposed to let anyone know, I can’t believe we didn’t lock the door - but we aren’t together together. It would be too messy, and it was putting a strain on our relationships with everyone else, you know?”

Jin frowns, like he’s trying to work it all out. “So it isn’t a romantic relationship?”

You smile thinking of Taehyung’s loving brown eyes and Jimin’s gentle embrace. “It’s a promise,” you explain softly, wrapping your arms around your torso. “We aren’t making any commitments or ties now, and we obviously can’t be exclusive, so it’s a promise that once we’re out of here, we’ll try and explore our feelings. Do it right.”

The therapist takes in a deep breath, nodding. “Then where do I fit into all of this? Does that mean I have a chance?”

“I-” You bite your lip, avoiding his imploring gaze. “It would feel wrong getting into a relationship when I’d decided that I wouldn’t do it with them. If that makes sense?”

“It makes perfect sense,” he assures, “but that’s not what I mean. I don’t need to be in a relationship with you to treat you right, Y/n. I just want to know if there’s a chance in hell that you return my feelings.”

You lift your eyes at this, staring at the way his soften in response. Your heart thuds in your chest and there’s a liquid relief pumping through your veins that he’s willing to stay by you. If you didn’t already know it before, those sensations certainly make it clear. “I like you, Jin. A lot.”

He smiles in relief, a small and sweet one that makes his eyes crinkle. Rather than responding verbally, he slips one large palm around the nape of your neck and pulls you in for a kiss.

Eyes slipping shut the moment he comes close, you reach out blindly for him and fist your hand in the thin fabric of his pyjamas to steady yourself. His lips are so plush, and moving so slowly, that it feels like they could slow down time itself. There’s no urgency in the sensual way he kisses you, but you can nonetheless taste his elation sweeter than the remnants of caramel on his tongue.

In that same way, you have no idea how much time passes with your mouths locked together, slowly warming the kitchen floor with your body heat until your skin feels on fire. Even the slightest details, like his fingertips on the back of your neck and your inner wrist make you dizzy.

You break apart for air, still clinging to him like you’d drown without his touch. Panting, you try to slow your racing heart. Your lips still tingle, and reach up to brush your fingers against them in wonder. “Oh, wow,” you whisper dumbly.

Jin smiles, then, a brilliant one that warms his whole face. “Wow,” he repeats. “I’ve been waiting to kiss you like that for a long time, Y/n.”

Barely able to think, you find your eyes slipping down to his lips, how swollen they are, dusky pink. “You can do it again, if you want.”

Jin goes to lean forward, but halts, looking up to the countertop. “One sec,” he hedges, “I’m determined to continue my opportunist streak.”

“Your what?” You chuckle at first, but as he reaches up and drags the jar of caramel sauce down, your eyes quickly widen in realisation.

Jin catches your look, sending you a wink. “Open up,” he instructs, and you drop your jaw without hesitation, anticipation heightening your senses.

When he tips the lip of the container forward, and you feel that warm sweetness burst on your tongue, you moan, tilting your head back so it pools in your mouth. But instead of stopping, he continues to pour, until you feel it threaten to spill out. “Too much,” you try to say, but you can’t move your tongue or lips enough to enunciate it.

Jin only pulls the jar away when it begins to drip down your chin, and like a man starved, he leans in and licks into your mouth without abandon.

You moan as you feel his tongue cut through the molten sugar, running over yours, over your teeth and lips and even ducking down to messily swipe up the stickiness on your face. No matter how much he ravishes you, the moment you begin to kiss back, your tongue lifts and a thick wave of hot caramel slips between your mouths, no doubt getting on your pyjama shirt.

Jin doesn’t seem to care; on the contrary, he moans and clasps your face in both hands, nipping at your lips and deepening the kiss more than you even thought possible. Slowly, the sweetness of caramel gives way to his own taste, and you’re left licking each other filthily, entwined together on the kitchen floor.

Once your chest is aching with a lack of oxygen, you pull away with a gasp, wincing at the weird feeling of caramel on your chest. “So messy,” you groan, “sorry, I didn’t think you’d pour so much.”

Jin’s eyes just light up with mirth. “Messy is the point, baby. We probably have, what-” he pauses to consult the time on the microwave, “two hours before the early risers are up? Why don’t we make an even bigger mess? I’ve decided I’d like to have my dessert first.”

You press your lips together to prevent a moan, nodding frantically. “Fuck, please. I want you.”

The therapist’s chest hitches, but he reaches out to squeeze your thigh. “Lie back, then, baby. Can you take your shirt off for me?”

You’re in such a hurry to obey him, shivering violently at the cold tile against your bare back, that when you suddenly feel a cold burst on your chest you jump, getting a fright.

There’s not enough time to feel that burst of ice, however, as a hot tongue quickly laps it up, collecting every last drop. Jin even sucks the skin there, just above the swell of your breast, to make sure he’s cleaned you up.

You writhe on the floor, your panties uncomfortably soaked, but Jin just throws a leg and an arm over you, straddling you and caging you against the floor. His weight against you makes you moan, that delicious sensation of being trapped exactly where you most want to be.

This time, when he digs his spoon into the slightly-melted ice cream, he pops it into his mouth instead of on your skin. You almost assume he’s just taking some for himself, but then he’s dipping his head and wrapping those sinful lips around one of your nipples, making you cry out.

The cold is immediately overwhelming, tightening and stiffening your peak, and the dizzying mix of his hot tongue with that cold dessert has you clinging to his back, nails digging into the fabric of his shirt. “F-fuck, Jin,” you gasp, “so cold.”

“Is it?” Jin quips, his hand reaching to his side. “Oh, I’m sorry, baby.”

Without giving you a moment’s respite, he’s drizzling trails of caramel over your breasts, and lapping it up with ravenous enthusiasm. Though the caramel has gone mostly room-temperature, the contrast against your cooled nipple just makes it feel that much more electric, and you arch your back harshly until Jin finally reaches it and soothes it with his mouth.

You moan, wishing you had something to rut against, some type of friction where you needed it most, but Jin’s more focused on licking, nipping and sucking the sugar off of your body, leaving you trembling. “More,” you plead needily.

“More sauce? More ice cream?” he asks, panting as his own arousal presses stiffly against your lower stomach.

“More you,” you beg, arching up into him, making him curse lowly.

Like desperate virgins, you both quickly discard the last of your clothing, Jin just about popping the buttons of his shirt clean off, and it feels simultaneously like a second and a century before you feel his familiar girth pressing into you, stretching your dripping walls.

You groan, the back of your head knocking against the tile as you go slack, letting yourself focus fully on the sensation of him filling you up. “Fuck, Jin,” you gasp out, legs wrapping around his torso as he goes deeper and deeper.

When he bottoms out, however, Jin doesn’t begin fucking you straight away. Instead, he reaches for the jar. “Tongue out, baby,” he instructs.

Swallowing the drool that gathers in your mouth from the pleasure, you stick out your tongue until you feel it on your chin, awaiting the stream. Clearly wanting to be as messy as possible, Jin intentionally lifts his hand higher so that instead of a mouthful, you get whippings of sugar all over your neck, chin, and cheeks. Hardly any actually makes it in your mouth, but the therapist just chuckles and puts the jar beside him, bending down to run his tongue in a broad swipe up your cheek.

You squeal, turning your head to the side, but the surprise quickly bubbles into arousal as he laps up every last drop, sucking hickies into your neck all the way. The longer he goes, the more you need him, wetter and wetter around his cock. Rocking your hips just to get some friction, you whine into the silence of the kitchen. “Jin, fuck me already,” you plead.

Jin’s first thrust punches all the air out of you. He snaps his hips hard enough to push your body forward from the tile, then grabs your waist with a low growl, pinning you against the floor.

Though the tiles are still cold, your body heat is quickly taking the edge off, and being fucked against such a hard surface is a new feeling to you entirely. There’s no give, no bounce. When Jin begins fucking you at a greedy pace, you feel every inch of him stretching you open.

Your eyes squeeze shut and your mouth drops open, trying not to moan loud enough that the sound would travel upstairs, but barely able to even contain them at all. “Fucking me so go-mmf!” Your mouth is filled with a cold intruder, and you suck hard, swirling your tongue around the two fingers covered with ice cream. Jin curses lowly at the feeling, and suddenly he’s picking up the pace even more.

You cry out around his fingers, hands flailing to find something to latch onto and anchor yourself, but your knuckles whack into something solid. The ache in your fingers is quickly drowned out by the sudden rush of thick wetness on your stomach, and your eyes fly open, choking on Jin’s digits.

His thrusts slow down and he pulls his hand away and before you can say a single thing, the room is filled with the contagious sound of his laughter. Cock still buried deep inside you, and one hand dripping with caramel, holding onto the near-empty jar, Jin howls, shoulders shaking with the force of it.

“Hey!” you whine, pouting when the caramel disperses over you, soon dripping down onto your back and the floor. “Don’t laugh at me! You wouldn’t like it if your chest was drenched in caramel!”

Jin discards the jar beside him with a sticky clink, and composes himself, though that glint still remains alight in his eyes. “Oh, wouldn’t I?” Without a moment’s hesitation, he’s bending down until your chests are pressed together, separated only by that slippery layer of sauce.

A muffled squeak leaves your lips when he captures them again, his fingers scratching lines up your sides, making you shiver. You try to protest his attempt at tickling you while you were vulnerable, but then he’s rocking his hips, shallow strokes that grind into you so deep.

You moan, wrapping your arms around his back. Every time you feel his nails cutting through the syrup, you scratch his back. Instead of deterring him, however, he just groans into your mouth and doubles his efforts at fucking you.

Slowly, his hands move around from your sides to your back, and you cling to him tighter as he lifts you off the kitchen floor. Still delving his tongue deep into your mouth, he pulls you up until your torso is arched against him and your head tips back slightly, a perfect halfway point between horizontal and vertical, and uses the extra momentum to thrust up into you harder. The angle hits your g-spot roughly with every snap of his hips, and your clit grinds against his cock.

You cry out and lose contact with his mouth, but he just latches it onto your neck instead, dragging his teeth over your shoulder to let the cooled caramel pool in his mouth.

“Jinnie, I’m close,” you confess in a rush, your orgasm quickly building with a pressure between your legs. Something in the way your toes curl and stomach tenses warns you that this will be a powerful one, and your cries increase in pitch and volume, every breath a moan. “Jinnie! Fuck, I’m gonna cum, I’m gonna-”

“Make another mess for me, baby,” Jin groans, and with those words alone your vision goes white.

Jin curses when you lock up around him - legs and arms and pussy alike - but continues to rut against you as you ride the churning wave of your high. Burying your head into the crook of his neck so that you don’t wake the others with your keening scream, you feel a sudden burst inside you that leaves you trembling uncontrollably beneath him.

You feel Jin’s chin pressing into your hair as he glances down, grunting with exertion, and suddenly he’s freezing, holding you tightly to him as he cums inside of you.

The warmth of him filling you is the perfect soother as you come down from that intense climax, and you sigh as he leans forward, lying you back down on the kitchen tile. The two of you fight to catch your breath, the only sounds in the room your joint gasps.

Above you, Jin’s chest heaves, dripping with caramel just like yours must be. He doesn’t take any bother though, wiping away the sweat on his brow with a clean patch of his forearm. “Man,” he exclaims with a cheery chuckle, “you really did make a mess, huh?”

“What?” you ask blearily, weakly propping yourself up on your elbows to glance down. Thinner and clearer than the caramel, a liquid drips over yours and Jin’s stomachs, running down to the tile. You’d squirted. With a weak groan, you let yourself collapse back onto the sticky floor. “It’s too early for this,” you whine. “Oh, god. We have to clean this up.”

Jin’s smile is wiped clear off his face. “Oh, fuck. I didn’t even think about that, my notes didn’t mention it…”

“Your notes?” you ask curiously, grimacing when Jin slowly pulls himself out of you, a stream of cum following and joining the mess of liquids on the floor. “What notes?”

The therapist lets out a nervous laugh as he gets up off the floor, grabbing a clean dish cloth from the bottom drawer. “I did some research, that’s all. Like, no spicy stuff near any mucous membranes because of the sting, no sugar in the vulva otherwise you might get a yeast infection-”

“Eugh,” you cut in, “I’m glad you did the research, but that just makes me want a shower even more now.”

“Go shower, then,” Jin allows with a sympathetic smile, wetting the cloth and beginning to wipe off the stickiness on his chest. “I can clean this up for you.”

“Absolutely not,” you insist, “I’ll quickly wash this off, but I’m coming back down to help you. The sun’s about to rise, so if we work together, maybe there won’t still be cummy sauce all over the floor when the others come down for breakfast.”

“It is probably a safety hazard,” Jin admits. “Okay, then, we’ll clean it together. I’ll have a quick shower once you get back.”

You beam up at him but, before you grab your clothes and rush up the stairs, you rise onto your tiptoes and press a kiss to his sugared lips. “Don’t miss me too much.”

Jin returns your warm smile, ducking down to steal another kiss, and another, and another until you’re giggling and ducking away. “I’ll do my best.”

--

“You aren’t being particularly subtle.”

Hoseok shrugs at Yoongi. “I’m not trying to be subtle.”

The doctor’s eyes narrow. “Then tell us what’s in the box.”

Hoseok hesitates. “I’m trying to be a little bit subtle.”

Taehyung groans, reaching out for the heavy cardboard box and glaring reproachfully at Hoseok when he smacks his hand away. “Could we have a clue?”

Hoseok smiles sweetly. “No.”

“Then why is it on the table?” the masseuse whines miserably. “You’re just teasing us!”

“I don’t know why you’re so bothered,” Yoongi notes, “it’s not even for you.”

Perhaps you’d be more bemused by the antics of the boys at the table were it not for your own rampant curiosity. As usual, your days were measured by communal mealtimes (courtesy of the fact that six of you were too lazy to cook for yourselves, and the remaining too were perfectly happy to make enough for you all) but this time, as you enjoyed a pan-seared fish of some sort, the flow of the table was interrupted by the package that Hoseok had so dramatically dropped down in front of him. “What is it on the table for?” you ask in what you hope is a casual, unbothered tone.

Hoseok sighs patiently like he’s been through this before. “It’s to create an atmosphere of anticipation,” he explains importantly. “This is reality TV gold, guys, this is exactly what the editors would put a close-up of right before the ad break.”

Jin furrows his brows. “I don’t think there are ad breaks, Hobi.”

“You get what I mean,” he huffs petulantly before clearing his throat, “anyway, let’s change the topic. Any gossip? Love declarations, plot twists; what have I missed?”

Jungkook opens his mouth, beside him Yoongi quickly places a hand on his thigh, and the younger boy sinks back into his chair. “Just the usual for me.” If you weren’t already looking at him, you might have missed the slip of a smile that he presses his lips together to suppress. “Except for the extra dicks I’ve been sucking.”

“Jungkook!” Yoongi shrieks, before sitting up straight. “Wait. Dicks, plural?”

“Well, yeah, Taehyung can’t fuck Y/n anymore, so…” Jungkook deflects. Across the table, Taehyung wordlessly throws his hands in the air in a ‘what can you do?’ type gesture. “It’s like an emergency relief fund but sex,” the youngest explains, “I’m very generous like that.”

Taehyung’s mouth drops open, his breezy demeanour fading. “Hey! You only sucked my dick because you said my technique was off!”

Jungkook smiles glacially at the rest of you. “I’m a giver,” he continues, “much like Yoongi, I teach on the side.” He pouts at Taehyung. “And your technique was off!”

“It was better than your sloppy toppy!” Taehyung defends. “I wanted a blowjob, not a shower.”

“Listen,” Jin says sharply as Jungkook lets out an offended cry, “the only way you’ll ever know for sure is if you have an objective party to compare the two directly.”

Jungkook harrumps, crossing his arms. “What; are you offering?”

Jin pauses. “To have...my dick sucked twice by two very attractive and enthusiastic people? Yes, yes I am.”

Taehyung narrows his eyes at Jungkook. “You’re so on,” he threatens, “when I win, you have to let me join your stream.”

Jungkook’s already leaving the table, dragging Jin up by a handful of his hoodie. “Such a shame you’re not going to, then,” he taunts, “when you lose, you have to give me a full-body massage and no skimping on the back.”

The rest of you watch in speechless bemusement as Taehyung huffs and throws his chair back, hurrying after them. “Maybe if you didn’t slump in your chair so much, you wouldn’t have a sore back in the first place! Wait, Jungkook, not so fast, I just ate…”

Once the three have left, Yoongi clears his throat. “The gossips have left,” he states carefully, eyes serious as they watch Hoseok, “so what’s in the box?”

Hoseok giggles and claps his hands together, clearly delighted with the attention this box has given me. “You know, the more you ask, the less likely I am to show you.”

Yoongi immediately makes his expression sour, turning up his nose. “I don’t even want to see what’s inside the box,” he insists, “I don’t care at all.”

“Sure thing, hyung.”

The academic is next to have a go. With gentle eyes and shy fingers, Namjoon props his hands on the very edge of the table and looks over to Hoseok. “What if you just showed us one?” he bargains. “It just seems like such a shame to get them delivered all the way over here and not get to show more people.”

Hoseok purses his lips, still unconvinced. At the head of the table, Jimin lets out a scoff and stands up, picking his plate and cup off the table to go discard them in the dishwasher. “It’s going to be something boring,” he drawls, bending over slowly to put away the dishes, letting the table get an eyeful of the tight black jeans he’s wearing. “He’ll wrap Y/n up in rope like tinsel on a Christmas tree and call it BDSM.”

An indignant cry comes from the table as Hoseok watches Jimin reach into the fridge, pulling out a single raspberry from the fruit drawer in there, and grin rakishly at the older man. “That’s not true at all,” Hoseok defends insistently, “I’m just easing her into it. Besides; let me show you something from the box and then we’ll see what you think.”

“How- wha-?” Yoongi’s mouth drops open as Hoseok reaches for the box and uses a knife from the lunch to cut the tape down the middle. “He doesn’t even like you! Why was he the one to convince you?”

Hoseok barely takes note, shielding the opening from your eyes as he digs around inside. It’s near impossible to restrain your curiosity, but you curl your ankles around the chair legs and force yourself to stay seated as he shoves his hand in.

You hear clinks, thuds, and scrapes, before Hoseok lets out a triumphant gasp and pulls his arm up, retrieving a braided leather handle, which he lifts out of the box to reveal a whip of sorts, complete with a neat pile of clean-cut leather strips. Your eyes widen as Hoseok sets it on the table with a weighty thunk, closing the box back up.

“Too boring for you?” Hoseok asks of Jimin with a challenging stare. One finger lazily trails along one of the tails of leather, neatly folded in a gathered loop on the table, making you swallow harshly at the thought of what one of those might feel like lashing across your skin.

Wiping his mouth with the back of his hand, Jimin returns to the table, inspecting it slowly. “And what are you going to do with that, big boy? Such a big flogger; I must admit, it seems like you’re overcompensating.”

Hoseok scoffs, a smirk playing at his lips. “I’ve caught you staring enough times, Peaches,” he taunts, “you and I both know that’s not true.”

This time, Jimin seems almost expectant of the nickname, and just rolls his eyes. “I’m surprised you noticed, seeing as your eyes are always locked onto my ass. Bet you wish you had a handful, huh?”

Hoseok frowns, pushing himself away from the table. “Did I eat too much or did the thought of dirtying my hands with you make me physically sick?” he questions rhetorically, making Jimin huff. “Anyways, I’ve got a scene to set up. Best for last, and all that.”

With a flourish, Hoseok picks up the whip - or, as Jimin had said, flogger - handle between two fingers and throws the tail of leather strips over his shoulder, lifting the box into his arms with a light grunt of exertion. Suddenly, he turns his gaze to you, warm but firm. “The downstairs bathroom; be there in half an hour wearing your underwear and only your underwear.”

You suck in a breath when he suddenly leans in close, hoisting the box on his hip as he uses the opposite hand to reach out and fiddle with your bra strap, snapping it against your shoulder with a teasing smile. “If you want to make Master happy,” he says in a voice like crushed velvet, “pick something pretty.”

Hoseok disappears down the hallway with all the drama of a Disney villain, sans a cape to billow behind him, and Yoongi lets out a slow sigh, getting up from his chair. “Well, I’m going to go outside and try and forget about all the debauchery in here. Anyone else?”

Namjoon straightens up immediately, hips bumping against the table. “Sounds good to me,” he rushes out, still looking a little pale from seeing that sneak peek of Hoseok’s box of toys.

Jimin, on the other hand, glances up towards the ceiling with a thoughtful expression. “You two go ahead,” he states, “I think the little ones upstairs could use another judge.”

Yoongi’s eyebrows lift, almost looking like he’s about to reconsider his choice to leave, but Namjoon is already suggesting they could bring out some board games or a pack of cards, and as usual Yoongi is softer than he likes to think he is.

Once everyone has left you alone in the living room, you slump back onto the table, letting out a breath. Your skin is already tingling relentlessly wondering what those strips of leather would feel like raining down on your skin. And that tool must have only been taking up a small portion of that box. It was heavy, full with other surprises that you couldn’t even begin to imagine.

Taking a look at the time, you curse and scamper upstairs to track down something pretty for Hoseok.

--

It’s impossible to stop your mind from conjuring up countless images of what could be waiting for you. Big posts of metal or wood to tie a sub to, chains and latex and the Hollywood taboo of kink that comes to mind. But in the end, it seems trying to picture anything at all was a useless venture, as when you make it downstairs and knock on the door exactly thirty minutes after Hoseok let you, what’s inside is not anything you would have ever expected.

The bathroom itself is decently large, with flat tile all over, a row of showerheads without the luxury of cubicles, a large bath set into one corner, and a bench with a mirror.

But in the middle of the room, closer to the bench than the showers, sits Hoseok.

There’s nothing around him bar a single empty chair that he inclines his head towards, silently instructing you to sit. You glance around in suspicion, but the cardboard box is folded up just beside him and there’s nothing else to see.

Hoseok himself quite easily takes his spot as the centre of attention, though. As you sit gingerly on the wooden chair, grimacing at the scraping sound of the legs on the floor, you look him over. As usual, he makes his statement in black. Hoseok dons boots that lace up to just below his knees, tight leather pants, and a collared shirt that shimmers slightly in the light, like expensive silk. Around his middle is a belt that tightly cinches his waist, accentuating his chest and shoulders. With his hair parted and slightly curling to one side, you don’t miss the way his eyebrow quirks up. “Are you quite done?”

Your cheeks heat, and you lean back until you can feel the chair digging in. “Sorry.”

“Sorry, who?”

“Sorry, Sir,” you stutter out as quickly as you can, lowering your gaze.

“Dear me, I hope you haven’t forgotten your manners already,” he croons with a faux look of disappointment, crossing a leg over his knee. “Lucky for you, our scene hasn’t started yet. I want to have a little conversation with you first.”

You swallow, eyes darting down to that cardboard box, curiosity eating you up from the inside. “What do you want to talk about, sir?”

Hoseok’s eyes soften slightly and he laces his fingers over the top of his knee. “You and I are going to have a talk together as two adults, princess. I know we have the consent forms and safewords, but this one requires a little more direct communication. Normally in a scene, you’d be kneeling or I’d be standing right now, but I want you to be fully aware that we are having this discussion as equals. Understood? You can ask questions, raise concerns, anything you need.”

Though your heart hasn’t stopped racing, you feel yourself beginning to calm, relieved for a chance to properly prepare yourself and see what’s going to happen. “Yes, understood. Sir.”

Hoseok’s eyes fleck with mirth as he tilts his head. “First of all; are you allergic to soy or paraffin? I know we have the allergy sheets, but I’d feel safer double-checking.”

You frown, brows knitting in confusion. “Soy? Like soy sauce? And no, I’m not allergic to either of them.”

When Hoseok smiles to reveal his teeth, you catch a glimpse of his dom side, even as he maintains a friendly disposition. “Soy candles, princess.”

A flicker of alarm rushes through you, and you clasp your hands together, fiddling your digits to keep calm. “Is this like, pouring hot wax? I don’t know, Hoseok…”

“It wasn’t a hard limit you listed,” Hoseok reminds gently, “has that changed?”

You swallow. “I- no, it hasn’t but it’s still a soft limit, and I don’t know if-”

“That’s why I wanted to sit down and have a talk with you about it,” he explains without missing a beat, “and if, at the end, you want to keep it as a limit, we’ll do something else. I don’t mind forfeiting the challenge and taking a week in the bunks; they’re perfectly comfortable.” You still don’t answer, feeling scarily vulnerable in a bra and lace panties, nothing but a loose satin robe over top to keep you a little warm and covered. Hoseok’s warm expression keeps you anchored. “Wax play isn’t explicitly pain play, it can be sensation play just like running an ice cube over your skin. And I’ve been doing it for years, princess, if you know what you’re doing, it’s perfectly safe. Do you want to hear me out? There are no obligations.”

You suck in a deep breath, taking a second to think. “I want to at least hear you first,” you decide, “but I really don’t know.”

“I understand entirely,” Hoseok says, and a strange change overtakes his face as he bends down to slip open the folds keeping the box closed. It’s a slight lifting of his brows, pursing of his lips while still being relaxed. The almost stern look of a teacher as he pulls out a weighty red candle, rolling it over in his palm. He glances back at you, presenting it. The two of you are seated close enough together that you only have to lean forward to take it from him.

He lets you look over it as he speaks, his voice soothing and practiced. “This is a pillar candle,” he explains, “see how it’s quite girthy? When you light a candle like that, the molten wax pools in the middle. So when you go to tip it, you can control how much wax you want to pour and when. Some people will have at least two candles burning so that they can alternate. These ones are soy, but I brought paraffin too in case you had an allergy.”

Out of curiosity, you dig your nail into the top, by the fresh wick, and watch thick red wax build up under the nail. “Doesn’t it burn you?” you question. “Like it got melted because of actual fire, surely it would burn.”

Hoseok shrugs. “Not with the right wax.” He takes it back from you, flipping it up to show off the base where a small white sticker displays some information about the candle in tiny print. “Soy and paraffin both tend to melt at roughly the same temperature, and it’s low enough that it won’t burn you. The further away you drop it from affects the temperature when it gets to your skin, too. But candles like beeswax melt at a very high temperature. Those can be dangerous, and you’d never catch me or anyone at Red using them. Now-!” Slipping the short, fat candle back into the box with a soft thud, he pulls out a second one. This one is black, and thin with a pointed end at the top. “This one is a taper candle. There’s no room for the wax to build up, so when you light it, it’ll drop the melted wax one drop at a time. The advantage is that it’s handy for constant use, and very easy to maneuver. One of my friends at Red actually uses it in suspension bondage. She’ll tie up her sub and slip a lit taper into the rope somewhere so that it drips on, say, the sub’s back or stomach. You can imagine if you where tied up and blindfolded, feeling a single drop of heat at a time would be a pretty intense experience.”

The dom breaks off with a laugh at the look on your face, and promptly slips it back in the box. “For our purposes, I’m going to use the pillar. It means that I can easily stop at any time and let the wax just sit in that little divot at the top without it getting everywhere. Still with me?”

You nod quickly, shifting on the chair. Perhaps it’s the hypnotic, soothing lilt of his voice as he walks you through it, or perhaps you’re just realising that it’s not as scary as it seems, but that soft limit is getting softer and softer. “You can go on,” you state in a small voice.

Hoseok’s beam is addicting, brightening the room as he lets out a pleased hum and stands up. Instead of approaching you, however, he walks right past to the bench, fiddling with something in the sink there before he’s filling it up. “An important safety measure,” he explains, “is to have a water source nearby. In case it’s too hot, or the candle catches on anything. I’m doing it in here so that there’s not really anything flammable like carpet or curtains, but there’s no such thing as being too safe.”

You watch him shake the water off his hand with a fond smile. He returns to sit across from you, nudging the open box with his foot. “We have some other surprises in here, but nothing too wild apart from the flogger. How are you feeling about it?”

Your heart skips a beat when you recall it, the satisfying whip of air as he threw it over his shoulder earlier. “I’m nervous, but I really want to try it.”

“Excellent,” he says warmly. “And the wax? We can take it slow, try it out a bit and then I’ll check back in, yeah? Just because we’ll be in the scene doesn’t mean this communication is cut off.”

You suck in a slow breath, biting your lip. Hoseok gives you time to think, waiting patiently and without expectation, but you know that you want to at least try chasing that thrill deep inside you. “I wanna give it a go too.”

Hoseok’s look of pride makes your decision feel all the more right. “That’s my girl,” he chimes, “so brave for me.” Without further notice, his eyes darken, and his smile turns less sweet and more sly. “You know Master will make it good for you, right?”

You shiver beneath the thin layer of satin and lace. “Yes, sir.”

“Good girl,” he coos, “I want you to make a choice now, princess. I’ll let you choose what you wish to have first? Candles or the flogger?”

You feel slightly paralysed by the sudden decision making, brain already beginning to slow down. “Flogger please, sir.”

“So polite,” he praises, “alright, then. I want you to stand up and take that robe of yours off.”

You do so with a quickening pulse, but Hoseok doesn’t even spare a second glance at you, instead shifting the box over to the bench, pulling out… something that definitely isn’t the flogger.

Hoseok turns to you with a grin, dangling a chain on a single finger. At either end, leather cuffs twirl and bump each other, familiar to ones you’d used on the show before. Unlike the other pair, which were pretty simple and basic, this pair look beautiful enough to be a regular fashion accessory. The leather is thick but not stiff, and they’re done up with silver buckles, adjustable for size. What really catches your attention, however, is the gorgeous red trim of the softest velvet, a deep colour that makes it look unbelievably expensive. As he approaches, you notice that the insides of the cuffs are embossed with the symbol you recognised from the box. Two Rs facing away from each other, with delicately curled strokes.

“Pretty, aren’t they?” Hoseok asks rhetorically. “They’re from the dungeon, if you hadn’t already guessed. Show me your wrists.” You rush to obey, sighing when you feel cool velvet encase around your left wrist, Hoseok deftly fastening the cuff as he continues to talk. “We have a colour code for everyone that comes in our doors. All spectators wear a simple black wristband. If you’re there to play, doms get armbands and subs get cuffs. Green means free use, anyone inside those walls wearing a cuff or a armband can play with you-” he doesn’t miss the way you shudder at the concept of being totally at the mercy of a roomful of strangers, arms pulling closer to your sides defensively, “-blue means looking. You’re open to negotiation, but there needs to be a kink negotiation and mutual agreement before you begin to play.” Hoseok moves to your other wrist, making sure the cuff is snug, but not cutting off circulation. “Can you guess what red means, princess?”

You can’t bear to look away from the gorgeous cuffs that adorn your wrists. You can feel the weight of the chain that connects them as it swings below. “Taken,” you offer in an uncertain voice.

“That’s right.” Even though you aren’t looking directly at him, you can sense Hoseok’s grin. He gracefully hooks the chain on his finger, lifting it up and tugging it to watch your wrists jerk towards him. “And can you guess why I picked red for you?”

You think you know the answer. But you become overcome with the desire to hear him say it. You lift your gaze to his, shaking your head slowly. “I don’t know.”

Hoseok sees right through you, tilting his head. “I think you do,” he counters, “but I’ll happily tell you.” He yanks again, making you stumble forward into his chest. With an arm bracing you against him, Hoseok bends down to murmur in your ear. “Because you’re mine.” With the teasing slowness of a cat playing with its food, he brushes your hair back, fingertips light against the bare skin of your neck and shoulders. “Do you want to know something funny? The entire time you’ve been in there, you haven’t thought to look up.”

It happens quickly. Just as you lift your chin to seek out what he’s referring to, you feel a pull on your wrists. Hoseok’s grip on you loosens but the tug on your wrists continues until they’re stretching right up above you. The moment you set your eyes on the hook dangling from the ceiling - what looks like thick, industrial grade steel - you see the chain loop onto it and suddenly you can’t drop your arms anymore.

You tug them, a natural instinct to escape the hold, and the unforgiving way your body is stretched out makes your chest pound a little with alarm,heels only just resting on the floor. Hoseok’s hands are on you, palms hot as they smooth up and down your sides and back, soothing you. Your racing pulse starts to slow, even as your arms tremble.

“That’s better,” he remarks, tongue flicking out to lick his lips. “Would you believe that hook was there when we came?”

Your lips twitch. “Honestly? No, sir.”

He flicks you a wink, patting your ass fondly. “You would be surprised. Used to be a fixture for a chandelier. Who the fuck needs a chandelier in a bathroom?” You suppress a laugh, knowing that your nervous giggles will get the best of you if you give them a chance, but Hoseok sees that he’s managed to calm you down quite a bit, and slips back into the velvety depths of his dominant persona once again. His hand hasn’t moved from your ass, and you suck in a sharp breath through your nose as his fingers slip beneath the lace, gripping the flesh there, unable to move away from it.

“I’ve been waiting for this, you know,” he starts with a casual air, massaging your ass openly even as his eyes stay fixed on yours, monitoring your every expression, “been waiting to turn that pretty ass of yours red. Let’s take these pretty panties of yours off first.”

You relax your thighs to let the strip of fabric sneak past, and when he bares your bottom half, tucking the cream-coloured lace into his back pocket, you shiver for a different reason entirely. You feel the wetness between your thighs begin to run down now that it’s unhindered by your panties, and your nipples are stiff, begging to be touched.

Hoseok isn’t so merciful, however, and when he glances down and sees them, he flicks lightly at one with an amused chuckle. “Desperate little one, aren’t you? Now, princess, I’m going to go over to the bench and get my flogger. Are you okay here alone? I’m not leaving you; I’ll only be out of your sight for a moment.”

The tile feels so cold and unforgiving under your toes as you shift, the chain preventing you from going far. “Yes, sir,” you say, but Hoseok clearly senses your hesitance.

Eyes imploring, warm yet serious, he tips up your chin with his knuckles gently. “Do you trust me? I’ll be no more than ten seconds. How about this? In your head, chant ‘Master is a good kisser’ three times, and I’ll be back.”

Your eyes round, wetting your lips. “How would I kn-umph!” Your question is cut off prematurely as Hoseok ducks down and demonstrates; a firm, bruising kiss that’s only heightened by the bondage restricting your movements. You can’t touch him, or move closer. You just have to sit and take it, and your mind feels heady as his lips press roughly against yours, teeth tugging on your lower lip enough to sting. By the time he pulls away, you feel breathless, the tension of the cuffs the only thing keeping you on your feet.

Hoseok gently buffs you on the cheek with another wink. “Don’t forget the magic words, princess,” he chimes, “I’ll be right back.”

And, though only two weeks ago the feeling of having him out of sight and out of reach had freaked you out to the point of safewording, the tingle in your lips and that admittedly accurate mantra - Master is a good kisser - keep your mind occupied enough that before you reach the end of the third recitation, Hoseok has stepped back into your line of vision, giving you an expectant look. “Still with me?”

“Yes, sir.” You nod with it, though you can’t bring yourself to look at him, so captivated by the flogger in his hand. He holds it like a seasoned expert, which you don’t doubt he is. The handle is black braided leather, with two thicker balls on either end like a dumbbell, no doubt for ease of grip. His hand wraps around the narrower middle section, but loose enough that his fingers look relaxed around it. Though he holds the handle upright slightly, the strips of leather fall straight down in a single cascade, neatly kept together.

Observing your trained eye, Hoseok laughs and steps closer, sliding the leather over his palm to display it for you. “Shall we have a quick lesson? This here is a perfect beginner’s flogger. Perfectly balanced with a weighted handle and clean-cut leather. These strips here, they’re called falls. The less you have or the thinner they are, the more it stings like a whip would. This one has probably around 30, 35 falls. Proper garment leather. Expensive, but well-crafted.” His hand shifts, clasping around the ends, which he spreads apart with a thumb. “You see how the ends are rounded? Some falls have forked tips, pointed tips, or straight-cut ones. The pointier it is, the sharper the sensation. Rounded tips are best for a newbie like you.”

Suddenly, he drops the ends, letting them revert back to their single stream of leather spouting from the handle. The quick movement makes your eyes automatically jump up to his face, and you suck in a breath at how intense his gaze is on you. “You need to be very clear where your limits are, princess. Tell me if I’m going too hard. This is painplay, but it should still be pleasurable. Understood?”

You swallow. Now, with your body almost entirely naked, your body restrained and a very practiced dom standing in front of you with a flogger, the concept of pain is a little more concrete. But still, you trust him, and his ability to make it feel good for you. “Understood, sir.”

“Good.” Hoseok steps back, giving himself some distance as he eyes you up. With a smooth motion, his wrist begins to flick, and you instinctually recoil when the falls of the flogger start flying through the air in a graceful arc. They’re uniform in both width and length, probably just about as long as Hoseok’s arm, which stays perfectly still as he isolates the movement in his joint. Even if you weren’t in the metaphorical hot seat, this show of excellence and practiced skill would nevertheless add to the coil of arousal between your legs. He looks good like this, fully in his element. “Now,” he states, smirking at your telling reaction, “normally the best spots are the back of the shoulders, and the ass. But something tells me you’d rather see what I’m doing before letting me loose behind you. Would I be right in thinking that?”

You picture him going behind you and beginning to whip you with no context or warning. You nod your head quickly. “Yes please, sir.”

Hoseok smiles, slowing his wrist, before he begins flicking it the opposite way, the ends of the flogger curving downwards towards you instead of upwards. “Now, this flogger is a little thuddier than what I’d usually use on breasts, but since I’m only going to be very light, it’ll be just fine.”

You try to inch backwards, but the chain rattles and gives you away. “My breasts?”

Hoseok’s hand stills, his head cocking to one side as his brows come together. “Is there a problem, princess?”

His disapproval is clear, and you get the feeling that you’re treading on thin ice. But he said that communication wouldn’t stop here, so you forge ahead. “I’m not protesting, I’m just curious, sir. Why not somewhere easier like the stomach?”

Distaste wracks his features. “This isn’t going anywhere near your stomach,” he says firmly, “the organs there are unprotected. Anything vulnerable - joints, spine, the stomach and lower back, of course the head - they’re all off-limits. Do you understand that?” When he receives a nod, the line of tension in Hoseok’s shoulders relaxes. “Now, I need you to move your head back so that it’s between or behind your arms. Can you do that for me?”

Pushing your head through the gap in your upper arms, you shift until your whole face is between them, chin tilted slightly up. “May I ask why, sir?” you request in a small voice. Why did this whole thing feel so technical? And why were you still so wet from it?

“You may,” Hoseok replies bemusedly, “it just distances your face from the swings. Don’t worry-” he interjects quickly when your eyes widen in alarm, “the falls will be nowhere near your face. It’s just for our peace of mind. Do you still trust me?”

You manage to nod with your face bracketed by your arms, and with a rush of anticipation, watch Hoseok start up those quick circles, the leather whipping through the air in one bunch. Instead of stretching his arm forward, he steps in slowly, moving the falls getting closer and closer until the smooth stroke of impact flicks across your right breast.

You gasp, out of shock more than anything, but those strokes deliver a regular pattern, and it’s already lacing across your skin again, and again, an odd feeling that certainly isn’t unpleasant. There’s a distinct feeling of impact, without any real weight behind it, and the slightest hint of a sting that just serves to gradually warm the skin. Your chest is heaving, but Hoseok lands each blow with perfect accuracy, even stepping side-on between arcs and switching breasts.

The constant snap of contact helps you get used to it and calm down, and you can’t deny that it feels kind of...nice? There’s something satisfying and freeing about feeling those split second granules of pain and tolerating them, overcoming them. It doesn’t take long before you unconsciously arch your spine, seeking out something more than just light swats from the very tips of the falls.

Hoseok notices the moment you move and, frustratingly, he stops with a chuckle. “Did that turn you on, princess? Do you want more?”

You whine, tipping your head back further so he disappears out of your sight. Against the skin of your inner arms, your cheeks are raging hot. “Yes,” you admit in a defeated voice when he refuses to move on.

“Yes what?”

“Yes, sir?” you quip with a hopeful tone.

“Nice try,” Hoseok replies flatly, “I want you to say it, princess. Yes, what?”

You bite your lip, squeezing your eyes shut. There’s only silence. The heat has already left your breasts, and they feel strange without that lick of leather on them. “I want more, please, sir.”

“Good girl,” Hoseok coos, and in reward you feel the now-welcome flick of the falls on your breasts. This time, however, he stands directly across from you and twists his wrist over, casting figure eights, alternating left and right. You tremble at the feeling, squirming under it. Though it’s still light, every strike feels even more intense on your nipples, shooting sensation right between your legs.

“Sir,” you gasp out, “I w-want some more, sir.”

Hoseok answers without faltering, and his voice easily carries over the sound of the flogger. “Oh, do you? I can’t go any harder on these pretty little tits of yours, princess.” He pulls away, ceasing the motion. “If you want to continue, I’m going to have to go behind you. Are you okay with that?”

You push your reddened chest forward to no avail. “Fuck! Hoseok, yes, I’m okay with it,” you whine, unable to resolve any of the need in your core, needing more. Hoseok clicks his tongue in disapproval, and you curse internally at the slip. “Sir! Sorry, I’m okay with it, sir.”

“You better not forget your manners,” Hoseok warns, taking one step at a time, boots thudding on the tile as he circles you. “I’m flogging you for pleasure, because I like to treat and train you, but if you do that again, I can easily turn this into a punishment.”

The thought makes you moan, and your wrist jerks as you fruitlessly try to cover your mouth. Actually relieved he’s behind you for once, you let your head duck forward, cheeks burning with embarrassment.

Hoseok chuckles. “It seems like you’re more of a painslut than you realise, princess,” he teases, and you’re given no warning before you feel a strike against your ass, making you jump with a yelp. Though it’s the same light figure eights as just before, these ones whip up from the bottom, so that every hit lands on the meat of your ass, avoiding your lower back. If the ones before were easy, these feel like child’s play. Whether you’ve gotten more used to the sensation, or the skin on your ass just isn’t as sensitive, you find yourself immediately wanting more, trying to lean back into it.

The dom isn’t pleased. “Did I say you could move?”

You don’t answer, hands reaching up to grip the chains that bind them as you bite down harshly on your tongue. “I can take more, sir,” you begin, but Hoseok cuts you off with a gruff noise of disapproval.

“Did I say you could move?” he repeats sharply.

You whine low in your throat. “No, sir,” you admit, “but I can-” You yelp and flinch when a single swat hits below the swell of your ass, across your thighs. It feels different there, stingier and less hazily pleasant. “I’m sorry-”

“That’s right, I didn’t,” Hoseok’s voice comes from behind you, cold and unforgiving. “In fact, I hung you up here to keep you still for me, so that I could play with you as I wished. If you insist on defying that, I’ll quite happily fetch a spreader bar so that you can’t move an inch.”

You furrow your brows, hating the feeling of making him mad. Hating even more that the sharpness in his tone and the filthy word he says just make you even needier, tightening your thighs together. “I’m sorry, sir, I’ll behave,” you mumble shamefully.

You jump slightly when you feel something on your ass again, but it’s just his hand, cupping the flesh. “I’m doing this to warm you up. For your own safety. I’ve been doing this for years, princess, don’t forget that Master knows best.”

“Master knows best,” you repeat mindlessly, feeling yourself begin to slip. It’s a comforting thought just as much as it is an arousing one; Master knows what he’s doing, and all you need to do is take it.

“Exactly.” Hoseok sounds pleased, and just as your heart lifts in relief, the hits resume.

Eyes slipping closed, you let yourself tune everything else out. When you focus, when you really actively feel it, you can recognise every shift in his posture, or change in angle by how it feels on your skin. The strips of leather lash up, gradually causing the skin to heat up as the thuddy feeling stays longer and longer after each strike.

Before he ups the intensity, he simply speeds up his strokes, and you let out a pleased whine as the constant ebb and flow of pleasure-softened pain lull you deeper. The more you take, the less it hurts at all, even as the skin on your ass feels like it’s radiating heat.

The warmth floods to the rest of your body until even your toes aren’t cold against the tile. You feel like you could stand here forever, strung up and lost in the sensations he’s giving you. In fact, those dull edges of pain are so soothing that it feels almost therapeutic, worries and aches melting away, irrelevant in this space.

Hoseok finally deems your skin is sufficiently warmed up, and you whimper when the hits shift. Instead of friendly, playful flicks of leather, every strike echoes in the room, the thud of impact delivering a bolder note of pain.

Not that it’s bad, though. On the contrary, if the earlier flogging was lulling you into a sleepy bliss, these ones wake you up like a burst of energy with every swing. Without even realising, a dopey grin stretches your cheeks, and you find yourself no longer trying to muffle the pleased sighs that stutter out with every flick of Hoseok’s wrist.

“Fuck, look at you,” the dom croons, “a painslut indeed. You’re dripping onto the tiles, naughty girl.”

You moan openly, knuckles aching with how tightly you’re gripping the chains that hook your cuffs to the steel loop above. Your pussy aches with the need to be touched, but to do that Hoseok would have to stop whipping you, and your mind hisses at the thought. All you want is more, you can take more, you want to show him, to show yourself you can take more. Every burst of pain on your flesh is another victory, and it feels euphoric.

You stay in this headspace for a while as Hoseok maintains the same, regular hits. Eventually, the scream for more overwhelms you, and you seek out something more intense the quickest way you know how - disobedience. “Hoseokie,” you whine, “hit me harder.”

You could sob when his hand freezes, the next strike coming down without any bite, just a loose draping of the leather falls. As they linger on the skin, you realise just how sensitive and raw it’s gotten, feeling every edge of leather in sharper clarity. Hoseok holds it there for a moment, then drops, the silence in the room palpable. “Are you giving me orders? And without the proper title, no less.”

Pain bursts across your skin like a line of fire, the sharpest and strongest hit yet. Like the one across your thighs, this comes at an angle instead of the upstrokes of his circles or figure eights. You can imagine him holding it back, and whipping it down with a single, swift flick. The residue heat on your ass just makes you want another.

Instead of another hit, however, you cry out when you feel nails digging into the flesh, not scraping, just groping the globes of your ass in each hand. You can even feel the stiff leather of the handle pressing into your flesh on one side, and you whine at the sensation.

“I know what you want, princess,” Hoseok growls, his voice startlingly close as his breath wafts hot on the back of your neck. “And if painplay was the purpose of the scene, perhaps I’d whip you until you cried like you deserve.”

You sob. “Master, please-”

“It’s too late for that,” he cuts off sharply. “The time for begging is over. You’ve disappointed me. I was going to lift up your legs and fuck you right here, but you’ve showed me that you don’t deserve that yet.”

Unprecedented, your eyes brim with tears. Hoseok slips back into your line of sight, face stern as he tucks the handle of the flogger in his belt at the back, and reaches up to unhook you. Your legs are weak, but he carries your weight with ease, letting the chain dangle around the back of his neck as he walks you over to the bench.

Instead of propping you up on it, or sitting you on a chair, he helps you lie down on the cool tile, an immediate balm for the deep-set heat radiating from your ass. Even as his face is stiff with disapproval, he handles you so gently, ensuring you don’t knock your head on the way down.

“Just stay here a moment,” he murmurs, brushing your hair out of your eyes, “calm down a little bit. I have some candles to light.”

You feel strangely floaty, your emotions all over the place, but Master had asked you to calm down, so you try your best to settle them. It’s not a bad sensation once you relax a bit. Need burns fiercely between your thighs, but the last thing you want to do is upset him by breaking the rules, so you simply let your eyes slip closed and your thighs clench together. You’ll wait until Hoseok comes back to you, and then you’ll make things right by being extra good. The thought of pleasing him makes you smile, and when Hoseok’s voice wraps around you, checking that you’re still with him, it’s only too easy to chirp a contented, “yes, sir.”

When he returns, he’s slipping one hand under your head and the other behind your back, lifting you ever-so-slowly so that your head doesn’t spin. Once you’re up, you lean forward and cling to him, wanting nothing more than to be close. Hoseok lazily cards his fingers through your hair. “You’ve misbehaved,” he states slowly, “you haven’t earned an orgasm, princess, but I’m soft on you. I’ll give you the chance to win one, how about that?”

You blink dazedly, feeling clarity begin to seep back in. “Win?”

Pulling back, Hoseok smirks down at you. “We’re going to play a little game, you and I. Come; I want you on your hands and knees.”

Hoseok guides you over, though you’ve mostly gotten your strength back. On the floor, near the box, are two lit pillar candles. The flames dance cheerily, leaving behind wells of molten wax. One is the red candle you’d inspected earlier, and the other is a pure white, the wax melting clear. You prop yourself up on your hands and knees beside it, but the dom quickly corrects you, leading you to instead assume the position over the box, which almost reaches your stomach.

Upon receiving your questioning look, Hoseok rubs one hand over your reddened ass cheeks, soothing the flesh. “I don’t want you losing your balance and creating a large angle,” he explains shortly, “the wax could drip forward into your hair or, worse, drip back where I’m sure you don’t want it.”

You shudder at the thought, your pulse steadily quickening as the reality of what he’s about to do sets in. This feels even more unfamiliar and alien than the flogging did at the beginning, but you feel safe beneath his touch.

Hoseok gets on his knees behind you, and you could cry in relief when you hear a belt buckle clink, and then a zip lower. It takes no time at all for you to feel the blunt head of Hoseok’s cock pressing against your entrance until it begins to sink in.

You moan, arching your back enough that you fee the texture of cardboard on your stomach. After only receiving external stimulation - pain, nonetheless - until now, suddenly being speared on his tongue has you speechless, tongue heavy in your mouth and drool pooling in your cheeks.

“Feel good, princess?” Hoseok questions, giving your raw ass a playful swat when you cry out the affirmative. “I bet it does.” But when he bottoms out, leaving you deliciously full, he remains perfectly still. “Sadly, that’s all you’ll get for now. Do you want to hear the rules of the game?”

You sob lowly in your throat, elbows almost buckling as your walls clench around the unmoving intrusion. “Please, sir.”

“I’m going to write a word on you, princess. A special word. But it just so happens that I don’t have a pen on me, so I’ll use this wax instead.” The glimpses of red and white blink out of your peripheral as Hoseok drags them closer to himself. “You can guess each letter, and if you manage to get the word right once I’m finished, then I’ll let you cum. Does that sound fair?” Your reply is garbled, incoherent, but Hoseok doesn’t seem bothered. “Then let’s begin. Pay close attention, now.”

Your body naturally tenses up, eyes squeezed shut as you wait for a burst of pain, of searing heat. When something touches your skin, you automatically cry out, but quickly realise that it doesn’t hurt at all, instead, it’s like viscous warm water that slowly stiffens on your skin as it cools. The tightness in your chest loosens.

“That was a test patch, princess,” Hoseok says in a calm voice, devoid from his usual dom smugness. “Too hot? Not hot enough?”

You swallow. “It wasn’t hot,” you admit, “it’s not bad.”

“Understood,” he confirms, squeezing your hip in reassurance as you clench again around him, but the safety monitor Hoseok quickly takes a backseat to the Master persona. “First letter, princess. I’ll only do each one once.”

This time, when lines of warmth bloom on your back, concentrated in the top corner by your shoulder blade, you focus your mind on picturing the shapes they create. Something straight, then a small loop. The wax isn’t painful; on the contrary, it doesn’t feel hot when it first makes contact. As it sits, the skin heats up, but before it gets too warm, the wax has already cooled to mostly solid. Your fears melt away fully, and you tune back into the game. “D?” you guess.

“Close,” he allows.

You rack your mind. “P?”

You moan when Hoseok’s cock suddenly moves inside you, pulling out slowly and giving you a single, snapped thrust. “Correct,” he confirms, “next letter.”

This one feels similar, starting with the same straight line, slightly to the right of where the first patch fell. A straight line, something wobbly again with a line to end it. Your breath catches. “R? Is the word ‘princess?’”

“Guessing so soon,” Hoseok chimes, humour lacing his voice, “but wrong on both counts. It’s a vowel.”

You go down the list, comparing them against the already-fading memory of thick warmth on your skin. “E- no, A?”

“A is correct. This one’s easy.” After fucking into you once another time, he does a single stroke that you easily identify as an I, and then you hear the thud as he puts down one candle and picks up the other. “Let’s see how you look in red, princess. Next letter.”

It gets harder and harder to correctly name the letters as you go on. With every right answer, you’re rewarded with a second of pleasure before it ceases, and that paired with the arousing feeling of warm wax drizzling over your skin just has you feeling hazy. It takes you whole minutes to guess N, but lucky it’s followed by simple strokes of S, L, and U.

By the time he’s switched wax a couple times and is readying you for the last letter, you already know the word. But Hoseok drops the wax from a little lower every time, and you relish the heat more and more with each letter, and you’ll take whatever else you can get.

At this point, the only space left on you is low on your back, just in from your waist. You squeeze your eyes shut, already knowing that he’s going to paint two strokes: one horizontal and one vertical. So instead, you allow yourself to just feel it for what it is.

He tips the pillar candle - red or white, you’ve long since lost track - and you moan openly as you feel fluidity, then heat, which crests and settles into a seal of solid wax. Hoseok wastes no time before completing the letter, one longer line going down in a thick trail that threatens to drip down your side.

“‘s T,” you slur out before he can even ask, tightening your walls around him as he snaps his hips a single time so that you can feel every inch of him. Even the sound of the one movement is obscene; you’re so wet that it runs down your thighs and soaks his cock, but Hoseok’s not complaining.

Instead, you whine as you feel his nails on your shoulder, dislodging the fully hardened wax from the beginning. It’s a strange sensation, there’s a minute suction to breaking that seal, but it lifts off so smoothly when he’s careful like that. “And can you tell me the word, princess? I picked it out just for you.”

Sighing out, you nod shakily. “Painslut,” you gasp.

“That’s right,” Hoseok replies warmly, even as his nails curl and drag down rough enough to crumble the wax in his path, leaving stinging lines over your skin. “You’re my little painslut, aren’t you? Say it, and I’ll give you your reward.”

“I’m your little painslut,” you moan out, back arching under the relentless way he dislodges slivers of dried wax, exposing the sensitive skin beneath.

Without further preface, Hoseok bends over to quickly blow out the two candles, shift them further away, and then straightens up to grip your hips with hands slightly slippery from the soy.

When he begins fucking into you properly, with the full force of his powerful hips, you’re pushed forward onto the cardboard box, a cry punched from your throat. He doesn’t wait this time, just as steady and unforgiving as the circles his flogger made earlier.

You feel the weight of his balls slapping against you, his hip bones pressing into your sensitive ass, and his nails dig in sharply to give you that delicious pain that had become just as potent as pleasure. You feel him inside you, too; mercilessly parting your walls and stretching you around him until it feels like you can’t breathe.

Your mouth spills a constant stream of garbled moans and pleas, doing your best to fuck yourself back on him to feel him deeper. “Fuck, Master, I’m so close,” you manage to make out, “can I cum, sir?”

Hoseok growls deep in his throat, and you squeal helplessly as his pace picks up until you can’t even stop yourself from drooling onto the tile, jerked about within his grip. “Cum for me, princess,” he commands, “cum on my cock now.”

In your body’s final effort to please your Master, your orgasm follows only a few thrusts later, and you go limp and shivery against the support of the cardboard box, clinging to it as Hoseok chases his own high.

Having cum from g-spot stimulation alone, the orgasm seems to reach as deep as your bones, and you ride the wave longer. By the time you’re finally beginning to come down, pleasure slowly turning to oversensitivity, Hoseok’s thrusts are stuttering, and he’s suddenly pulling out of you, grunting as a different kind of heat spurts over your back.

You’re panting, hugging the box you’re curled over as you feel Hoseok’s cum run down the divot of your spine, slowly cooling. You can still feel the dry flakes of wax that cling to you, and even as Hoseok gently helps you off the solid tile floor, you see shavings and slivers of red and white falling to the ground.

Hoseok’s dropped the Master persona entirely by now, and you hum happily as he checks you over, fingertips running across the skin of your back and ass. “No pain still persisting?”

“Well, my ass still kinda stings,” you admit, “but nothing seriously painful, no.”

He furrows his brows in concern as he straightens up in front of you. “And the wax was okay?”

You smile shyly and a little dopily, still coasting on the endorphins the pain and temperature play had released. “I’m probably going to go to Sejin and get him to change it to a definite interest, actually. It was great, Hoseok. You were great. Thank you.”

Hoseok’s eyes warm as he fondly buffs you on the underside of your chin. “Well; I say we have a nice shower and clean you up, and then we can go into the kitchen for some ice cream. Get your sugar levels back up, how about that?”

You could laugh, but you feel too blissed out to even exert that much energy. “I’m not sure there’s any ice cream left, actually.”

FAN FAVOURITE

On the sixth Day of every Week in the game, the Audience Fan Favourite vote is released for 48 hours following the post of the fic. Please note, this is NOT the elimination vote, which is taken on the seventh Day of each Week.

Please vote for your favourite member in the house according to Week Three only. Vote here. You need to sign in to prevent spamming, but I delete the survey after the 48 hours is up. All I take note of is the pie chart at the end. I’m very excited to see what the results will be !

And so we meet our fourth guest... Confused? Check bonus content four, five and six for the other three teasers ;)

[thedamageofherdays]

I read a variety of Evanstan and Stucky fics this week and revisited some old favourites. A good reading week I would say :)

Favourites are marked with a 🌻

Won't you tell me (you're scared too) by hellobeautworld @hellobeautworld [Evanstan, 6k words, Teen]

Before his brain – or his heart, in fear of it being its last living hours, Chris isn’t exactly sure which one is in charge right now – can talk him out of it, he speed-dials the most intimidating phone number he has ever set eyes on. And he had to make a lot of terrifying phone calls to a lot of terrifying people. It rings three, four times, until that familiar, always a bit hesitant, but yet so easily excitable, voice comes on.

“Hey, Chris, how are ya?"

Chris takes a very deep breath to keep from blurting out the truth. That he is so damn scared of what he’s about to do that he just wants to run away. Straight into those now a bit less heavily muscled arms, if possible.

nostalgia isn't forever by wintersoldier1989 @wintersoldier1989 [Evanstan, 904 words, Explicit]

This ficlet was inspired by a tumble prompt.

"I wish you would write a fic where… Seb comes home a day earlier than expected from filming and catches Chris watching Political Animals and feels all soft until he realizes he's got a hand showed down his pants in between all the blankets... now he either is very flattered and goes to say hello on his knees or he's a bit :( cause "so you like young me better than this old thing? *pouts*".. either way Chris is mortified at getting caught and red all down his chest :)"

The smirk on Seb’s face when he realizes what’s going on. 😏

Chris would blush furiously, that pale Irish skin turning a bright shade of red from lust and a hint of embarrassment at being caught with his hand in his pants with this particular ahem viewing material. It’s no surprise that both of them have aged over the course of their 10+ year relationship. And as much as Chris loves the grey in Seb’s beard these days, he’s always had a soft spot for his boyfriend’s baby face. It takes him back in time, reminding him of all the longing heated glances, fumbling hands and nervous butterflies.

Closer by musette22 @musette22 [Evanstan, 5k words, Teen]

The relief that floods Sebastian at seeing Chris alive and well is intense, lifting some of that debilitating weight that’s been pressing down on his chest all evening, but it’s short lived. Because Chris looks... Well, he looks unfairly gorgeous as always, with his beard and his soft, cerulean eyes, but he also looks nervous and just a little bit shifty.

The feeling of unease grows when Chris shoots him a smile that’s tense around the edges and says, “Hey, Seb. Can we talk for a moment?”

Sebastian’s stomach drops, a physical sensation that makes him suddenly grateful he hasn’t had any food all day. He swallows through a tight throat, then takes a step aside and gestures for Chris to come in. “Sure,” he says hoarsely. “What’s up?”

Chris smiles at him again, and wow, yeah, he’s definitely nervous.

“Sit down for a minute, okay?” Chris orders gently, taking a step closer, and Sebastian closes his eyes. This is it.

🌻 Soul Searching by musette22 [Evanstan, 20k words, Explicit]

So?” Scott asks after a while. “You wanna tell me how you’re really doing?”

A little hesitantly, Chris says, “I don’t know what to tell you that you don’t already know.”

“Sure you do,” Scott says easily. “How ‘bout you start with telling me why you were going around telling everyone you were going to take a break from acting, only to then sign up to two big new projects in the past month or so?”

Chris picks at the label of his beer bottle, looking a little sheepish. “Ah,” he says. “I was kinda hoping everyone’d forgotten about that.” He sighs, dragging a hand over his face. “I mean, I was honestly planning on taking a break, but then I had a couple of weeks off and I just- I just realized I would have all this free time on my hands and no one to spend it with, you know?”

There it is, Scott thinks.

🌻 I've done some things that I shouldn't have done (but I haven't stopped loving you once) by musette22 [Evanstan, 59k words, Explicit]

After the release of Infinity War, Chris and Sebastian each take some time off to recharge. Chris is staying in Scarlett’s lake cabin on his own and invites Sebastian up to come and spend some time with him. Due to busy work schedules and a number of other, more personal reasons, Chris and Seb haven't been as close lately, something which neither of them are very happy about. This mini-vacation presents a chance for them to revive their friendship and maybe (definitely) explore if there might be something more. Over the course of a week, and with a little help from meddling friends and co-stars, the boys learn to build bridges, to be vulnerable and take chances, and to stop letting fear rule their lives.

Angel in an Ambulance by deucalionsvision [Stucky, 1k words, Teen]

Bucky twists his ankle while drunk, and his flirting greatly impedes the hot paramedic's ability to examine him. Said paramedic doesn't really mind.

🌻 Rites of the Wild by dreamsinthewitchouse @dreamsinthewitchouse [Stucky, 2k words, Mature]

When they move, it’s into Steve’s direction, and two things become clear at once.

One, the person has only one arm. Two, they’re covered in blood.

OR:

Steve is a nature photographer in an unfamiliar forest. Bucky is a maenad who saves Steve from their bloodthirsty siblings.

Fic & moodboard for Stucky Week 2021, Day 5: Alternate Universe

🌻 pillow feathers by wearing_tearing [Stucky, 2k words, Mature]

“Steve,” Bucky whispers, trying to tug at one of the blankets wrapped around him.

Steve snuffles and scowls in his sleep, bringing his legs up to his chest and effectively stopping Bucky from tugging anything. He also rubs his face against Bucky’s pillow, making a little soft sound in the back of his throat.

“Fuck, but you’re cute,” Bucky murmurs, lips twitching.

🌻 odd ways by peterbparker [Stucky, 2k words, Teen]

“And it would have been an amazing night with my son if he wasn’t distracted by the hot guy on the other side of the room,” Sarah sighed, shaking her head. “He’s been looking over at you for the past fifteen minutes.”

Bucky choked on the mouthful of beer he had just taken. 

“What?” he croaked. Things were starting to make a little more sense now. 

“Right?” Sarah said, waving her hand towards her son. “He completely ignored my garden stories because he’s been making eyes at you so I decided to come over and introduce myself.”

or; Sarah Rogers being a nosey mother, Steve Rogers blushing a lot and wishing the earth would swallow him whole, and Bucky Barnes being confused and amused for 2000 words

[trentaafcsblog]

February 14th

Anyone You Like

Warning - this is really shit, I’m so sorry! 

“Happy Valentine’s Day, my love” he whispers as he snuggles up next to you, pressing a kiss onto the tip of your nose and smiling when you start to stir from your sleep. His heart going all fuzzy as your face scrunches up and you lift your arms above your head to do your classic morning stretch - something so simple but he was literally obsessed with it, having seen you do it pretty much every single morning for the past six years. 

“Hi” you’re saying when you finally open your eyes, burying your head into his chest as he brushes your hair away from your face and wipes the sleep from your eyes, mumbling an ‘I love you’ when you lean up to kiss his lips before stopping yourself from going any further.

“What’s that?” you’re asking as you shuffle out of his arms and pull the duvet away from your face, looking up at the ceiling and realising that it’s completely covered in red and white balloons with pieces of gold ribbon dangling off them. Your lips going all pouty as you sit up to get a better look at everything, noticing the rose petals that are sprinkled on the floor and the huge bouquet of red roses that are waiting for you on your bedside table, a little card in the top that reads ‘I love you forever and always’ - a saying that you’d picked up along the course of your relationship and something that had a much deeper meaning than people probably realised. 

“Babyyy” you’re cooing as he goes all shy and giggly, hiding his face under the covers because neither of you were ones to make a massive fuss like this, particularly on Valentine’s Day because you don’t see the point in celebrating each other on one specific date when your love for one another grows more and more with each passing day. “I love you so much” you’re saying as you try to pull the duvet away from his face, fighting a losing battle when he rolls over and prevents you from seeing his blushing cheeks, leaving you with no option other than to lean across him and attack him with kisses until he’s forced to look at you. 

“Stop” he giggles when he gives in and reappears from under the pillow, looking up at you hanging over him with the same look in his eyes that he had when he first realised that he loved you, one that let you know that he was yours until the end and that he’d go to the ends of the earth to see the little smile that’s now on your face. Just staring at one another for a few seconds, still in shock that you get to call the other person yours after all this time. Wondering what the hell you did to deserve one another and be lucky enough to experience all of life’s journeys with them, and all of the challenges that you thought would break you both - yet here you are now, probably the most content you’ve ever been, with a future ahead of you that you could only have ever dreamed of. But your little romantic moment quickly comes to an end when his tummy starts rumbling, just like it always does when it gets past about 7am, knowing that food probably occupies his mind more than you do as you lay there and roll your eyes at him. 

“Just you wait until you see what I’ve done” he winks before springing out of bed, heading downstairs and reappearing a few minutes later with a huge tray piled up with all kinds of plates and bowls. Orange juice sloshing over the side of one of the glasses and making you cringe when it leaves a trail of little splashes all over your white carpet. “It’ll come out, don’t worry” he’s telling you before putting the tray on your lap, clearly not as bothered about the mess that he’s made as you are, dreading to think about the state of the kitchen going by the array of different breakfast items he’s brought you. Waffles, croissants, mini pancakes that he’s cut into the shape of hearts with a cookie cutter that he found at the back of one of the kitchen drawers, a fruit salad, vanilla yoghurt, a random bowl of baked beans and some nutella and syrup to dip things into. “Looks delicious” you grin before scooping some of the chocolate up on a strawberry, getting him to open his mouth before you’re popping it in and he’s teasing that that’s the most romantic thing you’ve ever done for him, which of course earns him a gentle smack on the chest and a threat to flip all of his hard work on the floor, knowing that it’ll make a lovely contribution to the orange splatters that now decorate your lovely white flooring.

“I got you a card as well” he’s telling you with a mouthful of croissant, the flaky bits of pastry flying all over the duvet from where he’s trying to talk. “Just as well I got you one too” you wink before handing him the red envelope with his initial and a little kiss on the front. “Nice to know you’ve made it all cute” you joke as you look down at his to see ‘the missus’ scrawled across the front in a pen that looks like it ran about about five years ago. “Excuse me, I was busy doing all of this” he’s telling you as he points at the ceiling and the tray of half-eaten breakfast, most of which he’s consumed himself despite claiming that it’s for ‘the pretty lady’, replying with ‘I know, I know, I’m just kidding’ as he hums and slides his finger under the flap of the envelope to open it up.

“That’s cute, innit” he’s saying as he nods towards the card that he’s got you. A teddy bear couple on the front, one of them holding a bouquet of flowers and the other one going all shy and blushy in response. “Yeah, I take it you’re this one though” you tease as you point towards the blushing bear, not even bothering to fight back because he can’t argue with that, not after the state he got himself into this morning when you saw what he’d stayed up doing all night. 

“Thank you so much” he’s whispering once he’s finished reading your card, leaning across to kiss you whilst trying to disguise the fact that he’s crying at what you’ve written inside. “Thank you so much for mine, who knew you had such a way with words?” you smile as he rolls his eyes at you, propping your card up on his bedside table so that it acts as a little reminder to read it again before he goes to bed. Pulling you into his side and pressing a series of kisses onto your forehead as the two of you lay there in each other’s arms, tracing patterns along each other’s bare skin with your hearts going all fluttery each time the other person looks at you, never wanting this moment to end.

***

“Wow, what’s going on in here, mister?” you’re asking when you come walking into the kitchen to see him leaping around and trying to juggle about six different frying pans. Completely ignoring your question when he sees what you’ve come down to dinner dressed in. The most beautiful red silk dress that hugs your figure perfectly, paired with the pair of Louboutins that he bought you for your birthday a couple of years ago and a little black clutch bag to match - not that you particularly needed it when you were spending the night at home, but he loves how you still go to so much effort to look all pretty for him, even though he’d love you just as much if you turned up to the kitchen in your Minnie Mouse pyjamas that are littered with about twenty different holes. 

“I would come and give you a kiss but I’m quite busy if you can’t tell” he’s saying as you giggle at him. “Come and sit here to keep me company though, I poured a glass of your favourite drink so don’t say I don’t look after ya” he winks as you coo and make your way over to the kitchen island, clinging onto the worktop to steady yourself because it’s been ages since you last wore heels and you don’t want a repeat of five minutes ago when you nearly went arse over tit halfway down the stairs. 

“Is that my favourite pasta?” you’re asking as he nods his head nervously, now realising why he spent most of today’s movie marathon on fancy restaurant websites trying to find a recipe for something that you couldn’t quite get a glimpse of thanks to the angle of his phone, but it turns out that it was your favourite dish. Immediately feeling guilty for scowling at him and telling him off for being rude when you were meant to be relaxing and watching all of the soppy love films on Netflix, completely oblivious to the fact that he was actually busy trying to memorise about twelve different recipes so that he could pretend that he knew it off by heart, particularly as it’s your favourite. 

“I made my own garlic bread too, look” he’s saying proudly as he points towards the oven. “And a salad, and some of that fancy bread that you dip in the oil and vinegar, well actually that’s a lie, I bought the bread but I mixed the oil and vinegar together and cut the bread into little stars” he’s telling you as your heart almost bursts at the seams. Looking over at the plate of little bread stars across the other side of the kitchen and just dying to squish him for being so cute, especially since he’d cut them all freehand without using any sort of template - something that he was incredibly proud of himself for, even if a couple of them had very wonky edges and a few missing points.

“Aaand I made a chocolate cheesecake as well” he says smugly as you raise your eyebrows in slight disbelief. “All whilst I was getting ready?” you’re questioning as he nods his head. “Don't look so shocked! You were getting ready for about three hours so I had plenty of time to do everything, even if I did spend about an hour trying to work out how to use a garlic crusher” he’s smiling as you laugh at him, loving how he was still pretty inept in the kitchen despite managing to conjure up a romantic meal for you. 

“Let me take the pretty lady to her table” he’s saying with a posh voice as you slide off the bar stood and link your arm through his, letting him lead you over to the dining table that you didn’t even notice when you came in. “Oh my god” you’re cooing as your eyes scan over the little tea lights that he’s shaped to look like a heart, rose petals scattered across the table and a collection of Polaroids that the two of you have taken across the years dotted around too. Trying to swallow down the lump in your throat as he pulls the chair back and helps you get comfy before disappearing off and coming back to bring you all of the food that he’s prepared.

“This looks amazing” you whisper as you reach across the table to hold his hand, mouthing a little ‘thank you’ at him as he lifts your hand up and presses a kiss onto your skin. “Don’t go all shy and emotional on me now, missy, it’s not our first date” he teases as you giggle at him and wipe away a stray tear. Being cut out of your emotional moment when he forces a little star of bread into your mouth, the oil and vinegar dribbling down your chin as you give him the evils and try to pat it away with one of the paper napkins that’s he’s folded into a square - covered in little Christmas puddings because ‘what’s the point in buying ones for Valentine’s Day when we can use what we’ve already got?’ Tempted to do the same thing back to him but you’re managing to resist the urge to start a food fight on the most romantic day of the year, instead dipping your fork into your bowl of pasta and twiddling several strands of linguine around it before putting it into your mouth. Clinging onto the table when you start to chew, your eyes blowing wide as you stare straight back at him and wag your finger in his direction. Waving your hands above your head and clapping before swallowing and letting out a little cheer. “Is it that good?” he laughs as you start shovelling more of the pasta into your mouth, giving him the all important answer he needs as he breathes a sigh of relief, knowing that all of his not-so-sly google searches and telling offs during your movie day have paid off.

“Thank you so much for all of this” you’re saying as you tuck into your slice of cheesecake, admiring the little hearts that he’d swirled into the top of the chocolate mixture before doing the all important taste test. Nodding your head and smiling at him to reassure him that it tastes incredible before he’s reaching across the table to hold your hand again. “Thank you so much for making me realise what love is” he’s saying as you try your best to fight back the tears. Never really hearing him come out with things like that unless he’s drunk, probably because he gets too shy and embarrassed and worries that you won’t feel the same way, despite spending the past six years of your life with him and reassuring him every single day that he’s the one for you, so hearing him have the confidence to tell you how much you mean to him means the absolute world. 

“Thank you for making my life a million times better and holding my hand through all of what life’s thrown at us” he’s telling you as you tilt your head to the side and just admire the man you love with your whole heart going all soppy, clearly having added something to his pasta that evoked this kind of emotion. “And for keeping my feet on the ground and being there when things haven’t gone quite as I’d planned” he’s saying as you sniff away opposite him, your thumb rubbing circles on the back of his hand as he carries on. “There’s genuinely nobody else in the entire world that I love as much as you” he’s adding, his voice breaking half way through, making the rest of the sentence all shaky, as he does his best to try and hold himself together, despite just wanting to burst into tears at how much he means each and every one of those words. 

“I love you so much” you blub before getting up and making your way around the table to him, sitting down on his lap and burying your head in the crook of his neck as his arms snake around your waist and pull you close to him. His fingers tracing gentle patterns on the sides of your hips as you play with his hair, occasionally pressing the odd kiss to his skin which makes his grip around your body become even tighter. A comfortable silence washing over the two of you as you sit there in a completely love-filled state, neither person knowing quite what to say, but going by each other’s reactions a few minutes ago, it’s clear that this is what love feels like.

“I got you a present” you’re saying as you pull away from him, breaking the silence and climbing off his lap before disappearing off into the hallway. Picking up the little white gift bag that you’d left at the bottom of the stairs when you came down for dinner, your fingers looping through the silk handles as you make your way back to him. “I thought we said no presents?” he’s questioning as you scoff at him. “Says the man who decided to decorate the bedroom and cook me dinner” you’re replying as he gives you a shy smile at the thought. “It’s just a little something but it shows how much I love you and I know you’ve wanted it for ages” you tell him as he pulls one end of the bow, watching it unravel before he’s dipping his hand into the bag and fumbling around amongst the tissue paper. Pulling out several sheets of white tissue paper littered with tiny scarlet red hearts before he’s eventually reaching the box inside. Looking at you with a confused expression as he lifts the rectangular black box out and gives it a little shake, something rattling inside as he pauses for a second to think about what it could be, ruling out the possibility of it being a bracelet or a fancy watch, not that he’d ever want you spending that much money on him, of course.

“Just open it!” you’re giggling as you push him to open the gift, the anticipation getting to you more than it is him as. “I’m scared” he laughs nervously, waiting a few seconds before he’s beginning to lift the lid off. “Don’t be” you’re whispering as he looks at you one final time before fully taking it off. 

His jaw dropping as he admires what’s inside, his gaze flicking between you and the inside of the box as he tries to process what you’ve given him. 

“We’re having a baby?” he asks as you nod your head, your reaction taking a while to process in his mind, but after what feels like forever he’s letting out a breathy laugh, one that combines happiness and slight disbelief. And then the tears are coming too, his hand covering his face as he sobs into his palm. Making your way back over to him and wrapping your arms around his neck as you rest your head on top of his, letting him come to terms with the fact that you’ve blessed him with the best gift of all.

“Thank you so much” he’s crying as he takes the pregnancy test back out of the box, admiring the two little lines that are showing on the screen - confirming that there’s another life inside of you, made up of both you and him. “No, thank you so much” you’re sniffling as you cup his face and press a little kiss onto his lips. Staring into his teary eyes before they’re fluttering shut when your foreheads touch and the tips of your noses brush over one another. Neither of you knowing quite what to say as you settle back down on his knee again, just holding him close to you until he pulls away every few seconds to look at the pregnancy test again, feeling as though this is all one big dream and someone’s going to wake him up and take it away from him at any given moment. But it’s not. You’re living the dream, and it’s about to become a reality in just a matter of months, a reality that you’ve been craving for the past six years and one that you wouldn’t want to experience with anyone else, and now, it’s one step closer to becoming yours. 

 February the 14th. The day your lives changed forever.

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I hope you enjoyed this little imagine 🥰 please let me know who you imagined it with because I’m nosy and I’d love to know hehe, I hope you’ve all had the best Valentine’s Day (regardless of whether you’re in a relationship or not) and remember that I love you all to bits x

[imaginesmai]

Sebastian Stan - We’re a team

Mixing two requests, @squishybebe​ about an interviewer being rude to the reader (I know you said flirtry, but this is what came out, I’m sorry!) and an anon about his son interrupting a meeting. I hope you all like it!

Plot: no interview is boring since having your adorable four year old son, who needs his father as much as he needs him.

To say that Sebastian was bored was an understatement. It had reached a point where he had just resigned himself with looking at the guy in front of him and nodding a little when required.

The questions were too predictable; how did it feel to be playing one of the characters in something as big as the MCU, how was it to work with great actors like Evans or Downey, and how had it been his work out routine that had gotten him fit for the films. The interview wasn’t anymore about his new film, Endings Begging, but more about gossip. Even if he didn’t talk much, the guy was answering himself as he did the question.

“And did you have to cut on any type of specific food, like burgers and other stuff?” he asked and didn’t stop to let him answer. “Because I’ve seen your TV spot about ‘cheat day’ and you seemed pretty eager – you actually ate it after it cut off?”

Sebastian gave him a tight smile, as the guy started talking again about the obesity in the united states. He had caught the camera guy dozing off a few times, and his manager was no where to be seen anymore. From all the interviews he had done, that was without any doubt the most boring.

And the worst thing wasn’t that he was stuck there with his tight jeans, it was that he had brough you and Luca to the plato in hopes of finishing soon and giving you a tour around. Your little boy had just turned four and everything with lights and colours was amazing to him; as long as he didn’t have to stay in the same place for more than a few minutes. He got angsty and started crying, and he already felt bad enough when the clock reached the hour in there.

“Would you say you’re a role model for little kids?” the interviewer attacked again. “With your violent characters and –”

He was cut off by a thud, and everyone’s attention went to the clear glass door, including Sebastian’s, his heart quite literally rocketing out of his chest when he saw who was outside the door. Before he could even react, Luca was jumping up and grabbing the handle, the door effectively swinging open so fast that it could have broken if he wasn’t a little kid.

“Daddy!” Luca screeched, his face red and tear-streaked.  “Daddy!”

You appeared behind him the next second, looking around wildly until you found your kid. He was way too fast for you to catch, and Sebastian watched as his four-year-old kid rounded all the tech equipment and ran into a woman’s legs. She stumbled and glared at him with such fire that Sebastian felt felt anxious, but Luca didn’t seem fazed, as he rushed over his dad with his arms raised.

It was then when he noticed the what the problem was, sympathy forming in his chest as Luca slammed into his legs. You were apologising softly to the people he had ran over as you jogged towards the pair.

“I – I had an accident!” Luca sobbed with such a despair that Sebastian felt his heart ache.

The whole team were all looking at him with their eyebrows raised, the interviewer going as far as scoffing and trying to look around for someone to fix it. You landed on your knees beside them and, even if Luca had ran from where you were playing with him, the little boy reached a hand for you to take.

It had been a month since the last incident, and Luca felt really proud of it. No more wetting the bed at night when he had to sleep alone and no more staining his favourite trousers when you took to long to go home. He reminded you every day that he was already a big boy, and that soon he would be wearing a cool suit like daddy when he goes to the ‘flashy place’.

Luca sobbed even harder when Sebastian rubbed a comforting hand against his back.

“Um, can someone – take care of this?” the interviewer chuckled, looking directly at you. “We were working here, and you’re kind in the middle of something.”

“Yeah, sorry. I’m sorry” you blushed in embarrassment, trying to pry Luca from Sebastian. The boy had an iron grip on his father. “It’s just – he ran out of the room, I’m sorry. I couldn’t hold him.”

“Yeah, well, you should. You can’t let him run off like that, he’s going to become a brat” the interviewer talked, missing how Sebastian was sending him glares with his eyes. “What kind of mother can’t hold his son?”

“Why don’t you keep your opinions to yourself?” Sebastian scoffed. “Come one, we’ll get you cleaned up, yes?”

His voice was softer when he talked with Luca. He placed his hands under Luca’s armpits and hoisted him into his lap, not caring about the expensive sweater he had chosen for the interview. Wiping the tears away from his son’s face, he pressed his lips against your cheek and assured you that it was fine. He watched Luca’s index and middle finger disappear into his mouth. Usually, he would tell him off, but even he felt anxious with so many people looking at them.

The guy got up too when Sebastian neared the door, wide eyes and gripping his notebook. He gestured to the camera to stop recording for a second and ran towards you.

“Why are you leaving? We aren’t over” he said as Sebastian looked back to him. The interviewer took a few steps back when he noticed the angry scowl on the actor’s face. He looked between you and him, hesitant. “She can – she can take care of… him. You know, let the man of the house work. You can’t… leave.”

He attempted to joke with Sebastian, chuckling, but he wasn’t having any of it. Instead of laughing and handing you Luca, he secured his grip on him and gestured you to open the door.

“I can and I will, actually” he answered as he bounced Luca up and down. “What you can do is never talk about my wife like that again, she’s as much as a parent as me, and she doesn’t need to take care of anything so that I can work. If you ever do it again, you can have a chat with my layer next, who will be very happy to hear from you”

Leaving the man open-mouthed, you left the recording room behind Sebastian closing the door behind you. You hadn’t looked up from the ground, only to check periodically on Luca, who was calming down now that he had his daddy with him. Still, there was a small proud smile on your face.

“Daddy?”

“Yes bubba?” Sebastian replied, looking back to check that the door was closed.

“Mad?”

Sebastian smiled softly as he stepped into the hallway, reaching with the hand that wasn’t holding Luca to yours. He gave it a soft squeezed, answering to your unsaid question and Luca’s one at the same time.

“Nah, it was being too boring without you. I’m always up for any of you if you need me”

Luca hid his face on Sebastian’s neck as you made your way to the spare room where you had been playing with Luca. The floor was covered in books, stuffed animals, and a few dolls that he had been playing with, mixing them in some childish fantasy about a castle and a lost prince. You didn’t say anything as you entered the room and let Luca on the floor. Bringing your travel bag, with spare clothes, you cleaned Luca in the small bathroom and changed his clothes between the two of you, putting the stained ones in a plastic bag.

You didn’t say anything as Luca talked the silence away with his ramblings about what his daddy had missed in the hour he had been away. He showed him the drawing he had done and Sebastian told him that he could go and play for a while.

Luca skipped away as you leaned against the sink.

“I’m sorry for letting him run away” you started, quite embarrassed that your four-year-old had crashed Sebastian’s interview. “When I realized what had happened it was too late, and he was already calling out for you.

“No, that’s – I don’t want you to apologize draga mea” Sebastian frowned. “I’m the one who has to apologize, I should have cut the interview sooner”

“You don’t have to cut any interview for us” you smiled at him. “I should have had a better hold on him. Your work is important, Seb, and we can’t go crashing –“

“No, my work isn’t important” he interrupted you, and with a long stride he was in front of you. “You’re important, cause you’re my family. And it’s fine if you interrupt an interview because Luca or you missed me, I can handle a few angry words from the team. But what I can’t handle is you thinking that it’s your duty taking care of everything, alright? We’re a team”

“Quite a team” you chuckled, looking down at the bag with the stained clothes.

“Yeah, but you’re my team, so that’s fine”

You didn’t say anything else and Sebastian leaned in for a kiss, in that small and shitty bathroom. Indeed, you made a good team.

Want to read more? Check out my side blog @imaginesmaimasterlists​, where I keep all the masterlists! Feedback is always appreciated

[lifeofkaze]

When Stars Ignite - Chapter 10

HPHM Rockstar AU

A/N:

General Warning: This whole fic has a general warning of being NSFW / 18+. We will give specific warnings for every chapter in itself, but several adult themes will be more or less present in every chapter, may it be explicitly or in mention. These include sexual topics, drug abuse, (ab)use of alcohol, smoking and a whole lot of cursing.

Specific Warning: None, wow 😂

~~~

Find the masterpost here, the previous chapter here and the next one here. The songs featured before every chapter can be found on this pretty badass playlist here.

~~~

This work is a collaboration with @the-al-chemist

Taglist: @slytherindisaster @night-rhea @carewyncromwell

I make my livin' off the evenin' news

Just give me somethin', somethin' I can use

People love it when you lose

They love dirty laundry

~ Don Henley - Dirty Laundry ~

Ethan’s plan to raise Equinox’s standing within the record company was very clear. While their nights were spent performing on stage, Ethan had made sure their days were filled with a tight schedule of PR appointments.

Where they’d had plenty of time to relax, socialise and explore on their previous tours, every day was now jam-packed with meet & greets, photoshoots and interviews. Even when they were off duty, Ethan was constantly reminding them to take pictures and film stories to publish on social media.

“People aren’t following you because they like your music,” he never got tired of saying. “They want to see who’s behind their favourite rockstars. Give them a look at your private life and you’ll be everybody’s darlings in no time once again.”

Some of them were more reluctant to put themselves out there than the others. While Lizzie and Skye didn’t mind the odd goofy backstage clip, Lizzie noticed Merula and especially Orion were increasingly drawing back into themselves.

Lizzie and Orion made a point to avoid talking about band business when they were spending their nights together; not that they were talking much at all. But the concerned crease that she could see more often than not on Orion’s forehead these days wasn’t lost on her either.

The worst part of Ethan’s strategy, however, were without a doubt the countless press appointments. All in the spirit of keeping the enemy close, Lizzie had lost track of how many interviews they had given since their U.K. tour had started. The publications they were working with ranged from reputable magazines and newspapers to the trashiest of tabloids. At least, most of the stories those were coming up with were just too hilarious to be actually believable; Lizzie shuddered to think what dirt they could uncover if they’d ever decide to dig for real.

Like on so many days before, Equinox were scheduled for another interview before one of their rare days off. It was for a feature story with a magazine well respected in the industry, all with an accompanying photo shoot and the whole conundrum. It wouldn’t have sounded so bad, had it not been for the journalist who had been chosen to conduct the interview.

Lizzie had met a number of reporters over the course of her career, but none who ground her nerves as Rita Skeeter did.

Beloved by her readers and dreaded by the subjects of her stories, Rita Skeeter was one of the most sharp-tongued critics British journalism had to offer. She had a singular gift - although some called it a curse - to wiggle even the slightest of juicy information out of her unheeding interview partner. Many a career had taken a dive after an unfortunate encounter with her.

If you wanted utmost attention, Rita Skeeter was the right woman for the job; but you had better get your guard up.

The blonde woman was currently watching Andre preparing them for the interview and the shoot afterwards; usually the magazines brought their own stylists, but Ethan liked to keep as many things under control as he could. Having Andre in charge of their looks guaranteed they would give off just the impression Ethan wanted.

Andre was in the process of applying Lizzie’s make up, the tip of his tongue showing between his teeth while he concentrated. She winced as her eyes started tearing up from the wand of the mascara.

“I don’t get why this much makeup is necessary,” she complained, drawing away from Andre to blink her tears away. “I get it with Merula, she’s singing and in focus, but I’m behind the drums, no one’s paying attention to me. Give her the spotlight and leave me in peace,” she added glumly as she saw Andre approach with a curling wand.

Andre tutted as he opened her ponytail and loosened her hair with practised hands. “Stop arguing, you know it’s useless. And besides,” he added with a wink that showed off his glittery eyeliner, “loads of people are paying attention to you; you’re just not looking.”

“I have to agree with Mr. Egwu,” Rita suddenly said. She had been leaning against one of the dressing tables on the set and watched them being dolled up. Andre usually held their wardrobe in dark colours, black and white, so Rita’s bilious green dress stood out like a flare in comparison. She pursed her bright red lips as she looked Lizzie up and down over the rim of her half-glasses.

“You’re a favourite with my readers, Miss Jameson… Lizzie, I may call you Lizzie, right?”

Without waiting for Lizzie’s answer, she continued. “You have a bright personality and some decent looks; you are the little sunshine of this group and everyone likes themselves a good ‘girl next door in the big wide world’ trope.”

She raised her hands at Lizzie’s sceptical look and laughed; it sounded incredibly put on. “I’m not a fan of putting people into drawers either, but it’s what the people want to see.” She tapped her finger against her temple. “It’s how my readers think.”

Skye snorted in the background; she was already done with her styling and sat on one of the tables, legs dangling in the air. “That’s the most ridiculous thing I’ve ever heard.”

Rita giggled. “Of course the rebel of the group would say that, I expected nothing else; after all, there’s true rockstar blood running through your veins, Skye Parkin.”

Not wanting to draw any unnecessary attention to herself, Skye fell silent.

When everyone was ready, they moved over to where two comfortable looking sofas and an armchair were set up for them. Lizzie sighed inwardly as she took her place between Skye and Everett. Rita Skeeter was known to make her interview questions up on the spot; Lizzie just hoped they wouldn’t be too off the rails.

Rita leaned back into her armchair facing them and placed a dictating machine onto the small wooden table next to her. It was no secret that the infamous reporter liked to keep her own notes, kept apart from the material belonging to her magazine; she usually kept the dictating device running long after the cameras had turned off.

“So,” she began speaking to an invisible audience with a sickly sweet voice, “I’m honoured to be talking to England’s hottest export when it comes to rock ‘n’ roll - and I mean that in more ways than one.”

She turned her attention towards them. “It’s so good to have you here today, how are you all?”

They all muttered some noncommittal phrases before Rita started with her first question. Like always in the beginning, it was more of a general palaver as both parties were taking the other’s measure.

If the questions weren’t directed at anyone in particular, it was usually Everett answering them. He loved the attention he got from Rita and contrary to the rest of them, he almost seemed to feel comfortable around her. The pictures Lizzie had seen of him and Rita in Skye’s tabloid came to her mind again, and she wondered if that might be the reason for Everett’s talkativeness.

As the interview continued, Rita’s questions were gradually becoming more detailed, focused on several aspects that she deemed sell-worthy. She watched every one of them closely as they answered, and they picked their words carefully.

“One thing I noticed about this last part of your tour is your very increased availability,” Rita said. “I don’t remember seeing you do so much fan service and public appearances before. What’s the reason behind this?”

It was Orion who answered her question. “The most important thing to us is to make sure our fans are having a good time. Without them, we wouldn’t be where we are now; it’s not a lot, but this is our way of thanking them.”

“Is this the reason for your upcoming special show tomorrow? Reserved for the indigent foster care children?”

Her eyes flicked between Merula and Orion. “It’s no secret you two have a history with the system. One orphaned at such a young age, the other the daughter of convicted criminals, bound to be raised in the shadows of her parents’ deeds. Two unlikely siblings, not bound by blood but by trauma - how does it feel to risk a look into your own past?”

“It’s a show like any other,” Merula replied bluntly, crossing her arms in front of her chest. She scowled at the blonde reporter. “No need to make a big deal out of this.”

Orion inclined his head in Merula’s direction. “What Merula wants to say is, we make no difference in what good cause we are supporting, as long as we can put a smile on the faces of those who need it, even if only for a little while. We do have our past in the care system, that is common knowledge, but as Merula pointed out already, this is in the past. If you want to continue on your path, it is no good walking with your gaze turned backwards. We live in the here and now, so it’s what’s in front of us that matters.”

The slight twitch around the corners of Rita’s mouth was almost too quick to catch, but Lizzie had seen it nonetheless. Apparently, Orion had given her the exact bridge to her next question she had hoped for.

“If you want to speak about the here and now, I’ll be too happy to fulfill your wish,” she cooed. “Now that we’re speaking on a more personal level anyway, I just have to ask. You guys are living everyone’s wildest dreams, a life all of us mere mortals can only imagine.” Her eyes sparkled behind her glasses. “It’s only us here, you can trust me; what about the juicy stories? Any tales of sex, drugs and rock ‘n’ roll you want to share with the world?”

Lizzie subconsciously bit the inside of her cheek, hoping Rita hadn’t noticed before she got herself under control again; this woman was a bloodhound when it came to scandals. If she ever found out what was going on between Orion and her, Lizzie might just as well bury herself alive.

Luckily, Orion wasn’t fazed by her question. “The only passion we share is the love for our music,” he smiled noncommittally. “As professional musicians we try to keep our public and private lives separated.”

Rita’s eyes gleamed as she leaned forward. “You try to keep them separated?”

Before Lizzie couldn’t help it, her eyes flickered to Orion again.

“We have been friends for years, of course our lives intervene in places. The friendship between us we show to the world is genuine and not for show.”

“Friendship, huh?” Rita’s nostrils flared as her eyes swept the round. “Come on, we’re all adults here. So many gorgeous young people spending their time together all day, everyday? Don’t tell me you’re all staying up drinking apple juice and playing board games.”

Her attention shifted so suddenly that Lizzie was taken by surprise. “What about you, Lizzie? Any stories to tell?” She looked her up and down critically. “If you ask me, you and Jason would make quite the pair. The golden girl and the bad boy? People live for stories like that.”

Everett sighed wistfully. “Just call me Ev, Rita, everyone does. But yeah, that’s what I’ve been telling her for years now, but so far to no avail. Perhaps she’ll listen to you.”

Lizzie was relieved when he immediately started laughing his words off. “I’m joking of course; Orion is right. The band is our job and our management wants us to keep things professional. There’s other ways to live the rockstar lifestyle,” he finished with a wink.

Rita pursed her lips in a knowing smile. “That I believe in a heartbeat. Fill me in guys, between us, how is it with the ladies? The bad guy with an angel’s voice and the soulful songwriter and his magic hands… you must be spoiled for choice.”

Everett grinned and leaned back against the sofa. “I can’t complain, is all I’m saying.”

“How about you Orion? Dark eyes, messy hair, all those tattoos - your fans must love this,” she winked with a sly smile, “At least I know where I would try to go after a show if I was a little younger.”

Lizzie tried very much not to roll her eyes.

“Even if they do, I wouldn’t know of it,” Orion answered serenely. “While I love all our fans dearly, my relationship with them ends when our show does.”

“So no stories behind your many tattoos? No tales of long lost love?”

“I didn’t say there are no stories,” Orion replied, “only that they have nothing to do with any fans of ours.”

Trying to steer the conversation to a less dangerous topic, he started explaining the stories behind some of the less meaningful tattoos on his wrists and arms. Lizzie knew each and every one of them by heart, the pictures as familiar to her as Orion’s smile when she ran her fingers over his painted skin.

What he didn’t mention was the biggest of his tattoos and her favourite one; the giant dreamcatcher running along the whole length of his back. Thinking about the intricate lines made a little smile appear on her face.

She didn’t even notice Rita asking her way through the rest of her friends until the reporter’s attention turned to her.

“All of your friends seem to be quite the fans of body art; what about you, Lizzie? Do you have any tattoos as well?”

Lizzie flashed Rita the brilliant but noncommittal smile reserved for the people she just couldn’t stand. “I do have one, yes.”

Rita raised an eyebrow when she didn’t continue. “And where might that be?”

Lizzie chuckled in response. “That will stay my little secret.”

Her gaze was fixed on Rita, but out of the corner of her eye she could see Orion fighting hard to suppress a grin. Of course, he knew exactly where it was.

Rita blinked, clearly irritated by her answer, the same empty smile that was on Lizzie’s face never leaving her red lips.

“Very well, keep your secret - for now. I’ll find out eventually.”

Her smile broadened, a dangerous glint shining in her eyes. “All secrets have their way of ending up with me, one way or another.”

Rita stood up from her armchair to get herself something to drink. When she turned her back on them, Lizzie slowly breathed out, relieved to have the blonde’s prying eyes taken off her.

As the others got up to leave the set as well, Orion and Lizzie’s eyes met for a moment. A smile was playing around his lips as they dropped to where her tattoo was hidden from everybody else’s sight.

She felt her lips curve into a smile of her own and she crossed her arms in front of her chest, her hand resting over the small spot on her ribcage where the words that resonated with her so much were inked into her skin. Seeing what she was doing, Orion couldn’t contain his grin any longer. Judging by the twinkle in his eyes, the memory of when he had first seen them was playing just as vividly in his mind as it did in hers.

[thevelvetseries]

Voice In My Head (Part 1)

Summary : This is the story about Ashley Ackles and how her life turned upside down.

Pairing : Jensen Ackles x Daughter Reader / Danneel Ackles x Daughter Reader

Warnings : Fluff, Angst, Eating Disorder, Self Inflicting Cuts, Self Hate, Attempted Suicide, Minor Drug Use.

Series Masterlist / Main Masterlist

It’s hard to know where to begin telling you about this. I wonder if there’s any such thing as beginnings.

3 MONTHS AGO...

At this point in Ashley’s life everything had been normal. She was an A+ Grade student with a bright future ahead of her. She had her loving family surrounded around her and had good health. She had her 5 best friends Veronica, Selena, Bram (Abraham), Taylor and Matt (my boyfriend). She had been friends with Veronica and Selena since they were in kindergarten, she then met Bram in middle school then Taylor and Matt in High School and they six of them because the best of friends. They do everything together. They travel to school together every morning, go to the mall every Friday after school and talk about what friends usually talk about.

This is where our story starts. Ashley, Veronica and Selena were walking down the school hallway from just having gym class and was going to meet the boys for lunch. Once they get to the cafeteria they wait in line to get their food before going to find Matt, Taylor and Bram sitting at there normal table. I sit next to Matt and give him a quick kiss before starting my lunch. We were all eating and taking about the party that was happening on Saturday at Justin’s house. Justin is one of the school popular football players and always had parties whenever his parents went out of town for a weekend. Who knew this was going to be the downfall in Ashley’s life, the moment that changed her life forever.

“So who’s driving who Saturday?” Matt says while drinking some of his water.

“I don’t mind driving, it’s not like I’m gonna drink anyway.” I say while biting into my chicken salad sandwich.

“That makes sense too, you have 7 seats in your car.” Veronica said with a little laugh.

We spent the rest of lunch just talking and eating before finishing the rest of the day and heading home. Since tomorrow was the party we decided to skip the mall this week. Me and Matt went to my house today to do homework and watch TV. I pull my car into the driveway. Mums car wasn’t there meaning she was picking my younger siblings up from school and dad was away at work filming, he was coming home for the weekend though. We get out of the car and head inside get some snacks and head up to my bedroom. We were sitting on my bed with our work spread around us.

“Ok. What did you get for number 16?” Matt asked while fiddling with his pencil.

“Wait. There’s no number 16” I say while going through my papers.

“Hmmmm hmmmm” Matt started humming, in the cute annoying way he always does.

“STOP!” I say while pushing him a little.

“I’m just making sure your awake.” He said with a little smile forming on his lips.

“I’m awake, there’s just something about studying in a bed.” I reply. Since when we normally study together were on the floor with pillows.

“Well I guess I shouldn’t be complaining right. I’m in bed with a smoking hot, intelligent girl.” Matt started off saying before I interrupted him saying “women” which he corrects himself “women”. Then I continue saying “and your on the bed, not in it.” I say with a little smile.

“And I’m worried about math” Matt said.

We continued working for a little more, during that time mum had come home from picking up my younger siblings from school, and we had started working on the the subject we needed to get through, when I remembered something. I got off the bed Matt watching the walk across the room and going into my closet coming out with a black piece of fabric. I chucked them at him.

“You left your boxers here Monday”. I say with a smile.

“Oh no. I left them on purpose. You know to remind you of the wonderful night we had.” He said before grabbing my waist and kissing up my neck, which is when I begin to start giggling. Suddenly there was a knock on my bedroom door.

“Come in” I spoke loudly trying to stop giggling.

“Hello.” Mum said when she entered. “How’s the studying going” she asked.

“It’s going well. Nearly done” I reply,

“Good. Matt you joining us for dinner tonight?” She asked.

“No. Not tonight mum is making her famous spaghetti tonight.” He replied.

“Ok, also remember you father will be home tonight. So we are having his favourite” he should be home around 7.” Mum said before leaving the room.

Matt ends up leaving around 6pm to head home. I packed up all my work and put it away before heading downstairs for the night to spend time with my family. We were all in the living room when we heard the front door open and close. Dad was home. He had just finished filming season 14 of his show and was finally on hiatus. While dad was putting his luggage on the floor we all got up and welcomed him home before having dinner.

“So how was everyone’s day” dad asked. That’s when Zepp, Arrow and JJ start telling three different stories at once.

“Wow wow wow. Slooow down. One at a time. One at a time.” He interrupted. The one by one the all went through what happened to them. While this was happening I continued to eat my food, mums food is always delicious. Especially her spaghetti.

“Ashley, what about you?” Dad asked before taking another mouthful of his dinner.

“Not much really. Went to my lessons. Had gym. Had lunch, we didn’t go to the mall this week since there’s a party tomorrow night and then Matt came over after school so we could study together.” I said.

“What party?” He replied.

“Some guy called Justin. Don’t worry I won’t be drinking, I’m driving us all there and then home. So all I’m drinking is soda.”

“Well that’s ok. Just make sure you get home at a reasonable hour please. I don’t want to be up all night worrying because you’re not home.” Dad said while taking a forkful of his food.

“I promise I’ll be home before midnight.” I replied.

“That’s all I ask.” He replied.

For the rest of the night we spend together as a family. We all relaxed in the living room watching movies and snacking on popcorn and different snacks. It was nice. We don’t get to do this often since dad is away at work for too many months during the year. We all started to go to bed around 11pm, before I went to sleep I got my outfit ready for the party tomorrow night and went off to sleep.

BEEP BEEP BEEP BEEP

I could hear the beeping of my alarm like it was in a tunnel getting louder and louder. Slowly I started to wake up, I reached out my arm and turned off my alarm and started to get out of bed. I put on my slippers and my dressing gown on and headed into the bathroom and started getting ready for the day ahead. Around 8am I was finished and made my way downstairs. While walking down the hallway of her house she could smell the sizzling delicious smell of bacon cooking coming from the kitchen. When the kitchen comes into view she see her dad and mum standing in the kitchen cooking breakfast together. I make my way over to the kitchen table and start to pour myself a glass of orange juice that was already on the table.

“Morning sweetie.” Mum said when she saw me walking across the room.

“Morning.” I say before drinking half of my glass.

“How did you sleep last night?” Mum asked

“I had a good night sleep.” I replied.

We went along with our morning. Around 8pm I was all ready for the party and texted everyone I was ready and was about to leave to pick everybody up. I made my way downstairs and picked up my car keys from the bowl and walked into the living room.

“I’m about to leave. I’ll try and get home before midnight ok. I’ll text you when we leave the party so you don’t have to worry ok.” I say from the doorway to my dad.

“That’s ok sweetie. We’re not going anywhere tonight so we’ll be home.” He replied.

I got in my car, I collected everyone from their houses and made it to Justin’s house. I parked my car on his street and we all made our way inside.

“Um.. 11:45 at the car.” I say so we all agree on a time to head home.

“Now let’s have some fun.” Matt said while he came closer to me to give me a kiss under my ear, which caused me to giggle.

We all spent our night dancing around the backyard drinking. I only have 1 drink and stayed drinking cola and water for the rest of the night. The party was in full swing and everyone was drinking and dancing and were having a good time. It currently 11:45pm when we got in the car and left the party.

We all got in the car still laughing and having fun from the night that had just happened. I drove for about 10 minutes to Veronica house where I was dropping her off and Selena since she was staying over at her house next was Bram, then it was just Tyler, Matt and me. I was currently sitting at a red light singing along to the radio and just being our normal selves. After about 2 minutes light changed to green and I slowly started to move. When I reached the middle of the intersection of the road, out of the corner of my eye I could suddenly see bright white lights coming straight to us and hitting the car from the passenger side. The place were Matt was sitting. At first I didn’t know what to do. Blood was coming down my head from where I hit it on my door window. Matt wasn’t moving or talking and sight was getting shorter and shorter. The last thing I remember before I passed out was that I could see flashing lights and hear sirens.

Voices In My Head Taglist

@scatchia @spngirl05 @myopiamystical @dracosassismine @maia-skye @vicmc624 @blqcklust @cassiwalkinatural @ray-l-00@superspackles @mamanoota5 @bea789 @pooks06 @m1s10@youngnickeleggseagle @overthinkingsoulcat @kettnerjanea@vildemc @izzy0731 @blogaboutmylife2 @101stshippersquad@spnfamily-j2 @hgs2018 @desiredposion @weightlessdevil@alliedimlerr @lifeofanerd164 @hettolini @spneditsdestiel@smoothdogsgirl @weirdoforeves @lovingbrock @dannyo000@supergirl000983 @jensenandjaredsgirl0516 @sarsmilesah@thisshallbegrand @thehalediaries @generallyclumsy​ @hoboal87​ @snowangle1994

[fellulahh]

Lucifer x MC x Satan Fic, Part 7/???

Read Parts 1-6 here!

-

Chuckling at his words, MC turned around and began making her way down the hallway. Satan leant against the doorframe watching her leave, noticing the new spring in her step.

Oh how he wished he was the one that caused it.

-

Satan’s chest was heaving as he couldn’t believe the sight before him. His heart felt like it had stopped as his eyes watered.

“What are you doing here?” He asked barely above a whisper, feeling his body grow weak.

“Why do you think, Satan?” MC teased as she slowly sauntered toward him, unbuttoning his shirt that hung on to her body.

His eyes slowly trailed down her body, noticing she was undressing herself. He had to blink, not believing this was real. “But what about Lucifer?” He asked quietly, snapping his sight back to her tantalising expression.

“I don’t care about Lucifer.” She insisted, placing both hands on his cheeks. Satan’s mind went crazy as she leant in. He could feel MC’s lips brush against his while his skin grew warm. “I only care about you.” She whispered before kissing him.

-

A loud knock rudely awoke Satan from his slumber. He quickly jolted in his bed after being torn away from his dream. A layer of sweat had developed on his forehead as he sat up in bed, finding himself clutching the shirt that MC had worn just days ago.

Glancing down at it, he forgot all about the knock at the door as he realised he’d fallen asleep hugging it. “What has gotten into you?” He whispered to himself in horror.

“Satan?” MC’s voice called from the door, “are you in there?”

Hearing her voice frightened him. He’d just dreamt about MC in a dream that wasn’t particular appropriate!

Completely flustered, he quickly threw the shirt across the room onto the armchair. “Just a second!” He called, growing embarrassed.

He didn’t know if he could face her after just having a dream that she’d kissed him. Satan was completely sheepish as he threw on a discarded checked shirt than he found by the side of his bed.

Rushing to the door, he tried to compose himself as he opened it. “MC!” He put on a chirpy voice when he saw her, “what are you doing here?”

Satan was partially hidden behind he door as he peeped his head round. He felt completely mortified that he had to hide the uncontrollable bulge in his bottoms.

“Are you okay?” She chuckled at him as her eyes began to wander down his exposed torso, “you’re all red.”

‘You must be blushing!’ He thought to himself.

“Sorry I just...it’s quite hot in here and I just woke up from a...scary dream.” He trailed off as his eyes diverted from hers. “You seem happy today?” He quickly changed the subject.

“Yes well, lets just say things have improved since that night.” She nodded, referring to the drunken state she was in when she confided in Satan. “I’m feeling much better.”

“Yes I heard you and Lucifer seemed to have patched things up.” He smiled cynically as he leant against the door frame.

“Well I wouldn’t say that. He just...I don’t know really.” She breathed, “I don’t know what to think.”

“Did you want to talk about it?” He asked concerned, gazing deep into her eyes.

“No.” She shook her head, “that’s not why I came here actually.”

“Really? What did you want?” He asked, pleasantly surprised.

“Well you and I are the only ones who don’t have a class at RAD today.,” she spoke slowly, “so...” she grinned wide before pulling out something from behind her back.

Satan narrowed his eyes as he studied the DVD in her hands. “What’s this?” He chuckled amused.

“Beauty and the Beast!” She laughed excited.

“It’s a film?” He questioned amazed, taking the DVD in his hands.

“One of my favourites.” She grinned cheekily, causing him to flash her a genuine smile. “So what do you say? You want to come to my room and watch it with me?”

Satan began to doubt himself. Was he dreaming again?!

“I’d love to.” he breathed, appreciating the human in front of him.

“Alright, I’ll go and get it set up - just come down when you’re ready.” She smiled at him before taking the film back and turning around to make her way down the hall.

Satan had to try his best not to let his heart flutter. Smiling to himself, he slowly shut his door before shaking his head.

‘She’s so adorable’

Buttoning up his shirt, he made himself look more presentable. He gave his hair a quick brush, cleaned his teeth and pepped himself up in the mirror.

He had to stop himself from overthinking. MC had remembered what his favourite book is from their morning together...

Not wanting to waste anymore time, he quickly grabbed his D.D.D from his bedside table before leaving his room. As he neared MC’s bedroom, he could see her in the doorway trying to work the television.

“Need some help?” He chuckled as he entered, noticing her struggling.

“I don’t know what’s wrong with it - Mammon was the last to use the remote so no doubt he broke it!” She sighed.

“Here.” He spoke softly, taking it from her hands. Just like magic, it immediately worked. MC narrowed her eyes at him while he looked smug that he’d saved her. “Don’t give me that look.” He chuckled, noticing her glare, “all I did was help you!”

“Yeah and you made me look silly in the process.” She laughed embarrassed at how quick he solved the problem. Stepping through the room, MC made her way to the bed, plopping herself down on it before lifting her feet up.

Letting out a sigh, Satan copied her actions. He climbed on the bed beside her, ensuring to leave plenty of room between them. Lifting the remote, MC pressed play. “I hope you love this as much as I do - I adored this film as a child. I know the lyrics to every song!”

“Wait there’s music in this?” Satan chuckled in disbelief, turning his head to face MC.

“Trust me - you’ll be singing half the songs by the time we’re finished.” MC laughed as she rolled onto her side to sink into the bed.

When he felt her body get closer to him, Satan bit his lip. Turning his attention to the television, he made himself comfortable as he began to watch the movie with her.

Admittedly, he was a bit pessimistic about watching the film version of the book but he genuinely enjoyed it. Especially seeing Belle - watching her sing as she delicately walked through the French town reminded Satan of MC. She was just as gentle and kind, if not even more so than the character.

And then there was the beast. Seeing his monstrosity be brought to life through cartoon really made him think. Could MC ever see the beauty underneath with him? Could she see past the wrathful distortion that he possessed? Or was he being completely silly imagining that she could?

Although his mind wandered as he compared himself to the protagonist, Satan couldn’t help but snigger every time Gaston came onto screen.

“What are you laughing at?” MC asked confused, turning her face toward him.

“Nothing, he just reminds me of Lucifer.” He laughed while pointing at the screen, “I mean they’re both proud, pompous fools.”

“Satan!” MC gasped, playfully slapping his arm, “Lucifer is nothing like Gaston.”

“Whatever you say MC...” he grinned cheekily, turning his attention back to the film while she scoffed. “I mean perhaps you’re right - Gaston actually knows he wants Belle.”

Pausing the film, MC glanced at Satan concerned. “What are you trying to say?” She sighed.

Realising he may have taken it too far, Satan let out a deep breath. “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have said that.”

“I thought I could tell you these things...” she breathed, disappointed that he was mocking her situation.

“And you can!” He assured, rolling over so that they were face to face, “I just...I don’t want to see you get hurt by him again.”

MC’s face softened momentarily. “Neither do I.”

‘Then be with me instead!’

“I want you to be careful around him, MC.” Satan spoke seriously, “Please don’t allow him to keep getting your hopes up.”

“That’s easier said than done.” She admitted.

Seeing her face fall, Satan quickly changed the subject. “Come on let’s not think about that now. Why don’t we finish the film, hey Belle?” He smiled.

“Belle?” She laughed, brightening up again.

“She reminds me of you.” Satan chuckled nonchalantly, reaching for the remote before pressing ‘play’.

Meanwhile MC lingered for a moment in her position gazing at Satan. Her face softened while she smiled at the new name he’d given her. But soon, her thoughts returned to the film and she turned her head back to the television.

[lucywritesreid]

I know what you are

Notes: I’ve been re-reading twilight and watching criminal minds (it’s almost like I’m trying to relive my youth!) and the scene where Spencer doesn’t know what ‘cullen’ is just kills me every time.

 Summary: Y/N is excited about the release of Midnight Sun. Spencer still doesn’t know what all this hype is about. But he’s about to get involved.

 Word count: 1.5k

 “Y/N, oh my gosh! C’mere!” Penelope shouted in glee, pushing herself away from her computer desk and waving her arms around her face. “You need to see this!” You ran across the room towards her and leaned over her shoulder to read what was on the screen.

Midnight Sun, the new release from Stephanie Meyer.

“Holy shit!” you laughed and squeezed Penelope’s shoulder at the same time. “I didn’t know this was actually coming out!”

“I don’t believe it either y/n but I know I’m gonna need a marathon watching session beforehand!” You both giggled and carried on reading all the details on the screen. Sure, you were both grown women, but you’d be damned if that meant you weren’t excited about the hot vampires and werewolves. “Okay,” Penelope looked up at you, a serious expression across her face. “On the count of three we both need to say which team we are on. 1, 2, 3…”

“TEAM EDWARD!” 

The happy news of the book release followed you for the rest of the day. Penelope couldn’t help herself making twilight puns whenever she spoke to you. You’d managed to get JJ on board with your excitement, although you were slightly disappointed when she declared her support for Team Jacob.

“Listen guys… I just like looking at them with their shirts off. The vampires, not so much,” she’d shrugged, and you’d happily accepted her explanation. Emily was slightly more reluctant about getting involved, but couldn’t resist looking at all the pictures of ‘topless werewolves’ that you googled during your lunch break. You were still discussing the saga towards the end of the day just as Spencer had walked over to ask if you were ready to go home yet.

“Reid! You haven’t seen the twilight films have you?” Emily asked with a smirk, fully knowing what the answer would be.

“I-I haven’t, no,” he stuttered with a furrowed brow, also guessing where this conversation was headed. “I’m just not really into the whole thing.”

Your jaw almost hit the floor when you looked up at him. How had he not seen them? More importantly, how had you lived together for nearly a whole year and didn’t know he’d never seen one of your favourite film series?

“Well sweet boy you’re gonna have to catch up because there’s a new book coming out and your darling y/n is going to become mega obsessed all over again,” Penelope responded on your behalf. You were slightly smug that someone else was pointing out he should watch them.

He could hardly say no in a room full of witnesses. “Sure thing, Garcia,” he laughed and reached out for your hand.

…

 Two days later, and you’d had the most exhausting day. You’d agreed to start Thai boxing with Emily after work, and although you enjoyed spending time together, there was very little energy left for your evenings. You stepped in the front door and set your gym bag on the floor. It was oddly dark and you reached out for the hall light. That was strange. You knew Spencer was home, he’d left before you went boxing. “Spence, babe? Are you here?” You called out and edged into the front room.

You could hardly believe what was in front of your eyes. Spencer had moved all your furniture to the side of the room and out on the floor lay a large pile of throw pillows and blankets. Every shelf and surface was littered with lit candles, vanilla and cinnamon swirling around the room. You noticed a plate of red velvet cupcakes and two full glasses of red wine on the edge of the blanket. It looked so inviting. And to make the scene even more perfect, Spencer was stood in his black silk pyjamas in the middle of the room, a proud smile on his face.

“Honey, what is this?” you asked, a mixture of confusion and excitement in your voice.

“Well, after you were talking about your new book coming out the other day, I realised that I have neglected that part of your personality. This is one of your hobbies and I want to experience it with you. So, we’re going to watch the twilight films. This is gonna be our set up every night for the rest of the week. I’ve left your pyjamas on the edge of the bed. The matching ones of course.”

You raced across the room towards him, careful not to stand on any of his decorations. “You are going to love this, I promise!” You wrapped your arms around his neck and pulled him in for a kiss, before he pulled away a minute later.

“Go get changed bloodsucker,” he laughed.

….

Twenty minutes later and you both sat cross-legged on the blanket, fully indulged in the film. Spencer’s scepticism was noticeable from the beginning but you knew he was trying his hardest to enjoy himself. To make the experience more enjoyable, you had refrained from sharing trivia about the cast. Instead, you were profiling each of the character’s as you first met them.

The most enjoyable was when the Cullen family first arrived in the cafeteria. “Okay, here we go!” Spencer sat up and cracked his knuckles. “Well, he’s clearly got some kind of hidden trauma. He’s the most uncomfortable one there,” he pointed to a figure on the screen.

“Yeah honey that’s Jasper, you won’t believe the poor things that guys experienced…”

“And her! The one with him. She reminds me of you,” he turned away from the screen and gave you a smile.

“Alice? How come?” your cheeks were reddening. But you were not about to reveal that you’d desperately wanted to be Alice when you first read the books all those years ago.

Spencer shrugged. “She looks happy. Kind. Caring. And next to the rest of them who all look so miserable, she stands out. Just like you.”

The rest of the film was filmed with commentary about the character’s odd movements and behaviours. Spencer declared his favourite part was when Edward covered his mouth when Bella came into the classroom. He couldn’t stop laughing, and you couldn’t help but join him. “There are serial killers who don’t look that intensely at their victims!” he roared.

“I suppose he kinda wants her to be a victim, Spence. He wants to drink her blood.”

“Even so, you think a guy that’s been supposedly a vampire for such a considerable amount of time would be a little more subtle about it.”

You smirked. You couldn’t help but put yourself in that situation. Imagining discovering Spencer was a vampire, a beautiful immortal. How it would feel if his teeth bit down into the softness of your warm skin…

By the end of the first film, you were recreating the end scene. As soon as Spencer saw them going off to prom, he’d stood up from the blanket bed and asked for your hand. “Let’s join them,” and you were quick to follow. You danced around the living room, arms around his neck and his chest firmly pressed against you. You didn’t have to look up at the screen to know that your dancing was far better than the one on the screen. More passionate, more loving.

“I’ve really enjoyed this, y’know…” he whispered softly, inches away from your mouth. “Same again tomorrow?”

You nodded and melted away into his arms as he leaned down to kiss you.

 …

The next day, you were relieved to come home to the same setup as the day before. This time, you had red wine again, but it was accompanied by popcorn. The smell of your favourite candles lingered from the day before. You settled down into your pillow bed, this time choosing to sit practically on Spencer’s lap, your head nuzzled up into his neck. “This one makes me sad,” you sighed softly just after Edward left Bella in the forest. “I couldn’t imagine you doing this to me…”

He reached out and gently caressed your hair with his fingertips, “Never gonna happen,” he kissed your hair, “besides, they’re going to have a lovely reunion in Italy towards the end. Maybe we should go on vacation to Italy in the summer…”

You gasped. Escaping from his embrace you picked up the nearest cushion and gripped it between your fingers. “Spencer! How do you know that?! Did you watch this without me?” You pouted, teasing him by raising an eyebrow.

He looked down sheepishly and said quietly, “I may have read all the books when you went to sleep last night, y/n.”

You tapped him on the shoulder with the cushion. “No fair! I can’t see your genuine reactions now when you know what happens!” It was hard to fake being annoyed at someone so heartbreakingly adorable. “What will I do now…”

“We,” he interjected, “will finish these films and you can enjoy my now well-informed commentary.” He smirked. “And then we’ll get round to booking that holiday.”

You set down the pillow and went back to your previous position with your head on his shoulder. “Okay, fine. But you have to promise we can have a little vampire roleplay when we go to bed later.”

“Definitely,” Spencer agreed, “you look good enough to eat!” He said in a terrible Count Dracula-like accent.

“That’s not even how they talk in this…” you giggled.

“Well maybe it should be.”

[demivampirew]

The mistake

Henry x Amy (OFC) one shot

Summary: Henry encounters an ex-girlfriend with who things ended badly due to a mistake he made.

Triggers: Crying; heartbreak; cheating; drinking; midly smut ( no description of sexual acts, just mentions of love-making) (and fluff as well)

Henry took Kal for a walk. It was a beautiful sunny morning and the park flowers were looking gorgeous. He breathed deeply, allowing the oxygen to fill his lungs. He was sending a message to Charlie when he noticed that something was wrong with Kal. The dog started to cry and move anxiously, wanted to run, but Henry was stopping him from doing so. The dog didn't give up and after struggling to calm him down, the man decided to release the puppy's leash, to prevent for chocking him after the dog started to run away. He ran after the dog and stopped when he saw him excitedly play with a woman. The Akita was so happy, letting the woman pet him and jumping to lick her face. Henry couldn't see her face. She had kneeled to play with the dog and her hair was on the side, covering her face. But, all he needed to see was her unique curls, red as fire, to know who she was. The animal's reaction was understandable for him now, she was Kal favourite person after him. "Amy" he whispered and realising a big sigh after that. There, just a few meters away, was the love of his life. The woman that he loved above all. The person he wanted to spent the rest of his life with until he made that stupid mistake that took her away from him. Almost a year ago, after finishing filming the first season of his show The Witcher, Netflix set up a party for the cast and crew to celebrate all the hard work put into the series. He and some friends were a bit nostalgic for the old times in which they would drink until morning, partying like "rockstars", so they decided to have on a more crazy night like they used to do. What he did not think beforehand, was that now, after years of drinking responsibly, his tolerance has changed. He got completely wasted and woke up in his hotel room next to a lady that worked on the show as an extra. When he got back to London and got to see her again, she made the recounter hug and kiss to last as long as possible, for he knew it would be the last. There was no doubt on his mind that she would leave after he told her what had happened, but he needed to tell her, he would never be able to live with himself knowing he was unfaithful to the love of his life and lie about it. The right thing to do was to tell her the truth, even if that cost him everything. Looking at her play with his four paws son and knowing that she was there and he couldn't run to embrace her and kissed her hurt enormously, although it didn't hurt as much as it did when he confessed his mistake and saw her crying desperately, battling for air as she repeated: "I don't deserve this" "I deserve better than this" over and over with a crack voice. He always promised her and to himself that he would treat her with anything but love and he'd spend his life doing anything to make her happy but now there he was, breaking her heart into a million pieces without being able to comfort her. She was suffering because of him and he hated himself for that. When she said that she never wanted to see him again, he felt an agonizing pain. After that he spent days just sitting on the couch, watching tv without paying any attention, he lost all appetite. The only thing that made him feel some happiness was the Akita, who didn't leave his human daddy's side. He was there, crying because he knew Henry was sad. It took him months to be able to feel kind of okay, being the release of the show his main source of happiness after his dog and the support of his family. He tried to move on, to find someone else, but the only experience with other woman was short-lived because he couldn't take Amy out of his mind and in his heart, she was still his love and being with someone else felt wrong. So he decided to take a long break from dating. The redheaded young woman stood up and look to her side, seeing him waiting for Kal from some distance. They stare at each other for a minute, before the woman turned to face the puppy and told him to go with his dad. The doggy sat there, looking at her with sad eyes, like knowing she was about to leave. She walked away but went back to Kal, after hearing him cry out loud. She petted him some more and hugged him, repeating " I'll miss you too, buddy". Then she grabbed the leash and walk towards Henry, extending her arm for him to take the leash. They both looked at one another without saying a word. She set her eyes on the puppy and said "Goodbye, my good boy" and then rushed to leave the park. Henry and Kal stood right there, both heartbroken from seeing her disappear. Henry was on the couch with his buddy next to him. Both were upset. He had a Guinness on his hand. He tried to forget her but seeing her that day reminded him how much he still loved her. He would have given everything up just to have her again on his arms. Suddenly, Kal, who had his head resting on the furniture, raised it in a sign of alert. That could only mean that someone was coming to the house. He ran to the door and started barking and moving his tail from side to side. Henry stood up and said, "What's going on, boy?" "Who is it?" By the reaction of his companion, he realized that must be somebody they know, so he waited for a minute in front of the door until the bell rang. He opened the door and saw Amy. They looked at each other for a long moment in silence. Finally, she spoke, asking him for permission to enter the house. He moved aside to let her in. As soon as he closed the door and turned around, she threw herself into his arms, grabbing his face and engaging in a long, passionate kiss. One of his arms was on her waist, the other in her back with his hand on the back of her head. He put some strength into that hug, not to hurt her, but to pull her as close to him as he could. "Am I dreaming?" he thought; the feeling of her sweet lips colliding with his while their tongues danced on each other's mouths was indescribable. He longed for that moment to last forever. They kiss for some time, before she broke the kiss, resting her face on his shoulder. He felt his shirt getting wet and sensed her body moved which allowed him to know that she was crying. He pushed her away enough for him to cup her face with his hands, forcing her to look at him. Her eyes were red and tears were filling them and rolling down her cheek. It felt like a stab, or a million. Seeing the love of his life crying again in front of him was the most painful way of torture for him. " I swear to you, if I could take your pain away and feel it for you, I'd gladly do it. I'll suffer for both of us if that were possible, so you could be happy. You deserve to be happy." he said to her as he pressed his forehead against hers. She kissed him again. He could feel the wetness of Amy's cheeks and the saltiness of her tears. She tried to take off his shirt, but he stopped her, putting distance between both of them. He took a deep breath. Doing that, cost him all the strength he had. "I don't want to do it, not with you like this, baby." he said "I love you more than any other woman I've ever loved. You are the only in my heart and believe when I say that there's nothing I wish more than taking you to bed and make love to you. What I wouldn't give to feel the softness of your naked body next to mine. To let my lips explore your body. To caress that soft skin under my fingers. But I cannot do it now, with you in this state. You're vulnerable and I'd feel like I'm taking advantage of you and that I cannot do, especially to you." he explained. She stood there, looking at the floor. She was caught in her thoughts than didn't even notice that Kal was stroking her legs with his head, comforting her. She kneeled and petted the dog and hugged him. Then, she stood up and just nodded to Henry and left without saying a word. He put both his hands and his head on the door, feeling crushed after seeing her leave once more. He'd probably never see her again and he felt like if he was about to die from the heartache. Two days after that he received a message. Amy still had the same phone number. He opened it and read it "Could you come to my place tonight? I want to talk." it took him almost no time to reply "I'll be there." The woman with the fire-coloured curls opened the door letting him into her house. She invited him to sit on the sofa. She sat next to him, leaving some space between them. "I know why you did it, but I still cannot believe that you would do it. That's not you. That's not the man I love." she said "How would I know that you won't do it again?" she asked. "Because like you said, that was not me. I was wasted and that's not something I'll ever do again. I've learnt my lesson. It cost me everything, but I took a life lesson from that. After hurting you, I know that I'd die before doing something that causes you pain" he confessed. "I love you. I love you so much." She looked at him and the turned her head looking at the space in front of her. A huge sigh left her body before she spoke again " Not so long ago I read a book, The Hate U Give by Angie Thomas. In this book, the main character is having a conversation with her mother and the topic was her father's infidelity when they were younger. Her mother said something that I stood with me "At an early age I learned that people make mistakes, and you have to decide if their mistakes are bigger than your love for them.” ," Amy turned to face Henry again and continued talking "My love for you is bigger than you mistake. But I don't give third chances, so please, don't screw it up" she begged him. "I won't. I swear to you, baby girl, I'll never hurt you again." He replied and moved closer to her and kissed her. He was lucky the love of his life loved him as much and gave him another chance. Kissing her, tasting her sweet lips; smelling her delicious perfume; touching her soft skin as he made love made him feel like if he was on paradise. There were fireworks inside of him. He finally had, once again, everything he could ever need.