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deanstead · 4 years ago

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Somebody’s Watching

Pairing: Jay Halstead x Reader

Request by danipearl16: Request- Jay has a girlfriend that nobody knows about and then they get a case where she’s being stalked and her stalker is killings women that seem to remind him of her and it turns out to be her ex-boyfriend from high school and Jay starts going downhill a little bit because he’s worried about her. Also his girlfriend is more on the younger than his side by 7 years

Word Count: 4,365

Warnings: cursing, mention of sexual assault/misconduct (non-graphic), mention of non-con touching, stalking, minor OC death, mention of injury, angst, fluff

A/N: Please beware of the triggers before you continue reading! I changed some parts to fit into the storyline but I still hope you like what I did with it! I’m pretty excited about this fic so I really really hope yall will like it! It’s my first time writing such a detailed case in so I hope it turned out well? Please hit me up and let me know what you think! Love yall!

---

You looked up from where you were sprawled on the couch, fiddling with your phone. Jay was sitting at the table, a small frown across his face as he pored over case notes.

Jay usually didn’t bring his work home with him but they’d just closed a big case and he had spent a whole week in the district. So instead of spending more time there to finish the paperwork, Jay had opted to bring it home instead.

You smiled to yourself just as Jay looked up. “Sorry babe.” He said, making a little face at the papers strewn across the table.

Chuckling, you climbed off the couch and moved towards him. You stood behind him, looping your arms around his shoulders, resting your chin on his shoulder. “I missed you.” You whispered.

Jay turned slightly, tugging you so that you now landed in his lap.

“Missed you too.” He whispered, smiling as one of his arms snaked around your waist, holding you securely to him, another hand reaching up to cup your cheek. “Sorry I’ve been busy.”

You shook your head, smiling.

You’d been dating for a while but no one else knew. Both of you had agreed to keep it on the down low, partly because of your age difference. Even though you had agreed you’d keep it quiet at least for the first few months, it had been a lot more than that and it had been going so well that you didn’t really want to purposefully invite anyone into this world that Jay and you had created for yourselves. Rather than keeping it a secret, you guys just hadn’t made the effort to tell anyone or publicize it to the world. This also meant that when he was stuck at the district, you didn’t get to see him but on such days, Jay was always mindful about checking in.

“What’s on your mind?” Jay asked.

“Just thinking I’m lucky to have you.” You responded, leaning in to try to give him a hug. Instead, Jay stroked your cheek and pressed his lips to yours. “Now, I really need to finish this.”

You laughed. “Go forth.”

---

Jay had taken a few well-deserved days of furlough, which he had mostly spent curled up with you. You didn’t have any complaints, it had been just what you both needed.

But Intelligence couldn’t catch a break. It was Jay’s first day back and now, he was already walking up to a crime scene.

Jay pushed the yellow crime scene tape upwards, letting Hailey walk through ahead of him before following behind her.

“What do we have?” Jay asked, approaching the spot where Adam and Kim were standing.

Kim turned. “Kate Whitewood, 22, stabbed multiple times.”

“She’s not in the system. No priors, nothing.” Adam added.

“No belongings on her?” Voight asked, looking around.

Adam shook his head. Jay frowned. “There’s barely any blood here.”

Kevin nodded, jogging forward to join them. “This is probably just the dump site. She must have been killed elsewhere.”

Hailey stood from where she had bent to examine the body. “She has defensive wounds on her. Maybe we’ll get lucky and find skin under her fingernails.”

Jay bent forward slightly. “What are those? Marks around her neck? We need to get her to the ME to get the exact cause of death.”

“Kim, bag her hands and get forensics to run a deluxe.” Voight said, as Kim nodded.

“My CI works this street, let me see what I can find out.” Jay said, turning away.

---

“So Kate was last seen at this bar right in town.” Hailey said, walking in and sticking a screenshot onto the board, which showed a camera view of the street outside the bar.

Kate could be seen on the image, her head turned slightly as she waved to someone, a man standing by her side. Hailey tapped the image.

“We can’t find this guy. His face is always turned away from the camera, facial recognition is out.”

Voight nodded. “Jay, have you heard from your CI?”

Jay nodded, resting slightly against Hailey’s desk, his arms crossed in front of him. “My guy says there haven’t been any deals going down. I think we can rule out drugs or gangs. Streets have been quiet ever since that big bust we did last month.”

“It was 28 degrees out last night, ME couldn’t find the exact time of death. But there were signs she was raped, signs of asphyxiation and five penetration wounds from a knife.” Kevin said, opening the file he had gotten from the medical examiner earlier.

Voight turned to Kim. “Who was she?”

Kim sighed. “Kate was a hard worker, she had just started her job as a receptionist at a dentist’s office in South Loop. Dad’s MIA, Mum’s remarried and relocated to New York so she’s living on her own.”

“Have we found who she was with last night?”

Adam nodded. “I’ve gone through her phone. Looks like she was meeting her friend Grace at the club last night.”

“We need to talk to her. I want to know about the last day of Kate’s life. Timeline. Check all sex offenders in the area. Comb her social media. Let’s go.” Voight instructed.

---

Jay knocked on the main door, glancing sideways at Hailey. The door swung open.

“Grace Archer? I’m Detective Upton, this is Detective Halstead, can we come in?” Hailey asked.

She furrowed her brows. “What’s this about?”

“You’re friends with Kate Whitewood?” Hailey asked, without directly answering her question. She nodded and without missing a beat, Hailey continued, “We need to ask you a few questions about last night.”

Grace stepped back to let them in, her face falling as she led them to the sitting room.

“I heard from her parents. The whole thing’s horrible.” Grace whispered, wrapping her hands around herself.

“Can you tell us what you remember?” Jay asked.

Grace looked up. “Kate’s boyfriend had broken up with her a few months ago, so I took her out. She needed to get out again.”

“Were you approached by anyone?” Hailey asked.

“Several.” She answered.

“Anyone that stood out?”

Grace paused, trying to recall. “Kate didn’t even really want to go. She barely looked at the guys… except…”

Hailey sat up a little. “There must have been something about this guy that she left with, something unique. We have a photo of him on the surveillance tape. Flashy?”

Grace nodded, “Yeah, he had this like... attitude… like he was hitting on us but he was making a joke of it at the same time.” She paused. “The last thing she told me was that she had a great time… I shouldn’t have forced her to come out.”

“This isn’t your fault.” Hailey leaned over and patted Grace comfortingly on the arm. “Thanks for talking to us. Please call us if you think of anything else.”

As Jay walked out of Grace’s house with Hailey, he looked at his partner. “This guy’s confident, he’s smooth and it doesn’t look like he knew Kate or Grace.”

---

For the rest of the day, the team had almost combed through the whole of Kate’s whereabouts before she had disappeared and all they had was a big fat nothing.

Jay typed a quick text to you to let you know that he wasn’t going to be able to come over tonight.

You read the text, smiling a little. Jay was busy but it was cute that he always kept you informed. You stopped walking, typing back a reply to tell him it was okay and to do what he had to do, before you kept her phone back into your pocket.

You walked along the street, the same street you walked on every night, frowning a little. You turned around, scanning the street behind you.

You could swear that it was like someone was watching you, or following you. But the street was empty. This wasn’t the first time you had had this feeling - like the little hairs on the back of your neck were standing but you had nothing to back up this feeling you had.

Holding your bag tighter against you, you pushed yourself forward, quickening your footsteps, only letting up as you passed the safety of your apartment building’s front door.

As you passed the threshold of your apartment and closed the door behind you, you pulled out your phone, staring at it for a while. Part of you wanted to call Jay, to hear his voice and have him tell you that you were just tired, imagining things. But the rational part of your brain convinced yourself that everything was okay, reminding you that Jay was so busy and deep in a case, he really shouldn’t have to worry about you.

Ultimately, you put your phone on the counter, chuckling at yourself. Maybe you really were too tired.

---

By the next morning, another body had turned up, not two streets away from the first dump site.

Jay felt an uneasy feeling spread in the pit of his stomach as he stared at the photo of the new victim that was already up on the board. They had a serial killer in Chicago and this guy’s victim type had physical characteristics that were scarily similar to you.

“Jay.” Hailey broke Jay out of his thoughts. “Emma Green, 23, strangulation marks, six stab wounds.”

Jay turned to his partner and nodded. “Did they go to the same club?”

Hailey handed Jay a file. “No, but look at what we picked up on the surveillance camera.” Jay opened the file, studying the photo.

“This is our guy isn’t it?” He pointed at a male figure who was standing next to their second victim, his face still hidden from the camera, wearing a plain cap.

“Hey guys, I might have found a link.” Kim said, walking in. “I checked the employee records and there’s a bartender that works in both clubs and he was on shift on each day our victims went missing. He’s got a prior for aggravated assault and harassment.”

“We’ll take it.” Jay said, grabbing his jacket and heading out of the district.

Hailey fell into step next to him, glancing at him. “Jay, you okay?”

Jay nodded. “Let’s just get this son of a bitch.”

They travelled the rest of the way in silence. Hailey seemed to pick up that this case was affecting Jay differently but she didn’t press further, allowing Jay to lead the way into the closed club.

“Ben Carlton?”

The bartender looked up from where he was, his eyes falling onto the police badge that was hung around Jay’s neck.

In a sudden motion, he ducked out and ran.

“Hey, stop!” Jay yelled, as both he and Hailey launched themselves after him, Hailey shooting out the front door to try to head him off.

“5021 George, I have a suspect fleeing on foot.” Jay called into his radio, sprinting after the bartender.

The bartender barely made it onto the next street before Hailey flung herself at him around the corner, rolling onto the ground as Jay pulled out his gun. “Don’t move!” He yelled, as Hailey pulled the bartender to his feet.

“Let’s go.” Jay snarled.

---

“It wasn’t me!” Ben yelled as he sat in the interrogation room, facing Jay and Hailey.

Jay sighed internally, watching Ben’s reactions and the way he was answering the questions Hailey was shooting at him.

“Those were mistakes, I didn’t do this!” He yelled again.

Jay pushed himself upright, getting up from where he was leaning against the wall and pushing the photos of the victims onto the table. “This. Look at this. We can place these girls at the bars you worked at just before they died.”

“Look.” Ben said, looking up at Jay. “I saw them but they left before I even finished my shift.”

Jay glanced at Hailey. “Who did they leave with?” Hailey asked.

Ben looked from Hailey to Jay. “Look, I don’t know the guy, he’s not a regular. But he’s white, about their age. I noticed him because he headed for them the moment that he walked in. Like he knew they were there.”

Before Jay or Hailey moved, a knock came from the door.

“You guys gotta see this.” Adam said, sticking his head in.

“Sit tight.” Jay said to Ben, following Adam outside, where Kevin was waiting as well.

Kevin handed the file to Jay. “We got another one.” Jay flipped open the file, which told him what he already feared. Another victim, of a physical type that not only matched the first two victims but also you.

Jay looked up. “His cooling off period is getting shorter. We need to get this son of a bitch.”

---

The feeling was getting a little stronger that someone had been watching you.

You glanced over your shoulder but as usual the street was empty. Maybe you needed to stop staying late.

You turned back towards the front. There were sounds of footsteps but you swallowed the lump in your throat, quickening your pace as discreetly as you could.

It definitely felt like someone was following you now. You were almost running by the time you rounded the corner, colliding with someone.

You gave a yelp of surprise.

“Y/N!”

You had collided with Jay.

You let out a breath, spinning around to look over your shoulder.

“What’s going on? You okay?” Jay’s eyes snapped from you to the empty street behind you.

You turned back to look at Jay. Now that he was standing in front of you, it didn’t seem that scary anymore - maybe you had imagined the whole thing.

You shook your head, taking one last glance behind you. “What are you doing here? You finished the case?”

Jay smiled but the smile didn’t really reach his eyes. “Just wanted to check in on you. I have to go back soon.”

You reached for his hand without saying anything and that’s how the both of you walked back to your apartment, your hand clenched securely in his, almost like the both of you had a tight bubble around you.

You could tell Jay’s mind was far away, and it was even more unlike him to come see you in the middle of a case. You knew there was something troubling him but you weren’t one to press. Jay would tell you when he felt he could or he wanted to.

Instead, you just squeezed his hand.

Almost as if you were prying him from his thoughts, Jay looked at you and smiled. He pulled you closer to him, tucking you under his arm.

“You’re okay, right?” You asked, without looking up at him, just as he escorted you to your door.

Jay turned to look at you and nodded. “I will be, once this case is over.” He leaned forward to give you a kiss. “If anything happens, you call me, okay? No matter what.”

You raised an eyebrow but nodded at him, watching him disappear into the elevator before you retreated back into your apartment.

---

Intelligence had been tirelessly chasing down leads but they now had four bodies and Voight was getting pressure to solve this quickly as well. They needed a break in this case and fast.

“Okay, let’s regroup, what do we have so far?” Voight barked.

“All four victims were raped and found with multiple stab wounds. We know he picks up his victims from bars and appears non-threatening enough that his victims are willing to leave with him.” Jay said, getting up.

Hailey headed to the board, frowning. “We dumped their phones but we weren’t able to find any connection between the victims other than their physical type.” Hailey cast a look at Jay, which Voight didn’t miss. “I think he’s working his way up to something.”

“Hey guys?” Kim spoke up as she walked back in, flipping open the file sitting on her desk. “I went back over the first murder to see if we missed anything. Look at this.”

Kim pulled in her chair, zooming into the photo. “This badge here on his jacket, it’s barely visible so we missed it the first few times. I sent it to the lab to see if they could enhance the image and this is what I got.”

Kim clicked and up popped the crest of a high school. “Look, it’s not just a general badge. Look at the year.”

“Okay, that is the crest for Lincoln High. It’s a jacket given to those who graduated that year.” Kevin said, frowning at it.

“I’ll run the list of students who graduated in that year.” Jay barked, heading straight for his desk, his fingers flying across his keyboard.

Cross-checking was the worst job ever but the moment Jay’s eyes landed on your name on the list of graduates, he pulled it together, eliminating the women, men who had moved out of state or country, until finally he only had three names on the list.

“Okay, I have a Steven Miller, Charles Shoemaker and John Marlin.” Jay finally spoke up as everyone looked up. “But only Steven Miller has priors.”

“For harassment, sexual misconduct, and attempted assault. Sarge, this has to be our guy.” Jay looked up at Voight.

“Do we have an LKA?” Voight asked.

“Already on it.” Adam said.

“Go pick him up.” Adam nodded, motioning to Kevin as they headed out.

Something was bugging Jay. Steven Miller. That name was…

Fuck.

Jay pushed back his chair, entering Voight’s office without knocking and closing the door behind him.

“Sarge.”

Voight looked up, frowning a little at the look on Jay’s face. He put down his pen and leaned back in his chair, looking up at Jay.

“I’ve heard Miller’s name before. It was bugging me, but I remember now.”

Voight sat up straighter.

“I’m seeing his ex-girlfriend.” The words slipped past Jay’s lips. “Sarge, everything makes sense now. The physical type, the way he’s building up because his actual target…” Jay trailed off.

You had told Jay about Steven just once. You hadn’t gone into detail but you had told Jay about the short period that you had been together with Steven – his need for control over all aspects of your life, how he had always been a little rough, how he hadn’t taken any form of rejection well, and how you’d ended it the day he struck you.

“Take Hailey.”

Jay was already halfway to the door.

---

You had left early today.

It had been a while since you had done such an early shift but you’d been feeling more and more uneasy while walking home at night and the news coverage on the murders that were happening at the moment didn’t help.

You didn’t need Jay to tell you that you looked exactly like those girls who had been murdered. It was clear as day.

You fiddled with the key in the lock, opening the door.

You felt your heart drop into your stomach as you registered the person standing in front of you. In your house.

“Steven.” You muttered, your voice trembling, barely registering the butt of a gun heading towards your temple before it went dark.

---

Hailey hadn’t said anything but she knew something was off.

“Jay, what’s going on?” She asked. “How do you know this girl’s the target?”

Jay didn’t answer but pressed harder on the accelerator, gripping the steering wheel so hard, his knuckles were white. The ringing tone going off through his bluetooth speaker in the car making him feel even worse.

“Jay.” Hailey said again. “I’m your partner.”

Jay glanced at her now. “She’s my girlfriend.”

Hailey’s eyebrows shot up. “I didn’t even know you were seeing someone.”

Jay let a beat of silence passed. “Miller’s her ex. I should have seen the signs, the physical type, everything, I…”

“Jay. She’ll be fine. Come on.” Hailey reassured him, as he turned his truck onto the familiar street.

“She’s still not answering.” Jay said, through gritted teeth. He’d been trying to call you since he had left the station.

Without hesitation, Jay bounded up the stairs, Hailey right behind him. From down the corridor, Jay could already tell your door was slightly ajar.

“Hang back.” Jay whispered, pulling out his service weapon.

Jay quietly approached the door. “Y/N?” He opened the door with his foot, freezing as his eyes landed on you, sitting in a chair in the middle of the room, your eyes frantic as Steven held a knife to your throat from where he stood behind you.

Jay gritted his teeth, using his foot to slam the door shut, knowing that Hailey would know what to do.

“Step away from her.” Jay growled, pointing his gun directly at Steven.

Steven smiled. “I was wondering when you’d arrive. Put that down.”

Jay grinded his teeth but didn’t move. You felt the cold blade of the knife press against your skin and inhaled sharply.

“Put. It. Down.” Steven repeated.

“Okay, okay.” Jay said, glancing at you before putting his hands above his head, disarming his gun and putting it down onto the floor.

Steven smiled again, tucking a stray hair behind your ear.

“Don’t you fucking touch her.” Jay growled.

“I don’t think you’re in a position to tell me what to do.” Steven answered.

“Jay, I’m sorry.” You whispered.

Jay looked straight at you. “It’s going to be okay. You focus on me, you hear me? I’m right here.”

“We broke up a long time ago, what the hell are you doing?” You asked. You were afraid, hell you were trembling, but this was crazy and you had to help Jay to find a way out of this.

“We wouldn’t be broken up if he hadn’t come between us.” Steven snarled, moving closer towards you, his lips almost touching your ear.

Jay growled. “Leave her alone.”

Steven looked back up at Jay again.

“What, you mean don’t do this?” Steven asked, crushing his lips against yours.

“Don’t you fucking touch her!” Jay yelled. “Is that what you did? How you forced yourself on all the other girls? What do you want, Steven? What are you trying to accomplish?”

“All I wanted was to be with Y/N! But you took her.” He spat.

“So you decided to go on a rampage?” Jay asked. You saw him twitch like he was looking for something so you started talking, as much as it made you want to gag.

“Steven, why didn’t you just talk to me?” You asked, trying to distract him.

“Talk? All you care about is him!” He yelled, lifting the knife and pointing it at Jay.

It happened in a split second.

The moment he lifted the knife, Jay yelled, “Now, Y/N!”

You threw yourself forward, covering your head with your hands as you heard the gunshots go off, just two. You weren’t sure who was shooting but you didn’t move until you heard Jay’s voice again.

“Y/N, it’s okay, it’s over.” Jay whispered.

You looked up, Jay’s face hovering above you.

“Jay…”

Jay nodded, “It’s okay, come here.”

Jay pulled his arms around you.

“He…” Jay shook his head, shielding your view of Steven’s now motionless body. “Don’t look back, come on.”

Jay tried to lead you out of the apartment, barely making it to the main door before his teammates appeared. “Jay!” Kevin called, as he spotted both of you.

Jay nodded. “Thanks.” Kevin nodded, his eyes lingering on the way Jay was holding you close to his side before making way for Jay to lead you back down to the ground floor where the ambulances were waiting.

Jay led you all the way to the waiting paramedics, not even leaving your side to get himself checked.

You weren’t hurt, not really. There was a little open cut from where Steven had pressed the blade a little too hard when he had been agitated but other than that you were fine. Well, that, and that disgusting feeling that came with remembering how Steven had pressed his lips against yours.

Voight approached you and Jay. Jay squeezed your hand. “I’ll be right back.” You smiled and nodded.

Jay and Voight talked in low voices until Voight turned to look at you. “And she’s okay?”

Jay nodded. “Yeah, she is. I just need to…”

“Do what you need to do. We’ll finish up here.” Voight said, nodding and clapping Jay on the back.

---

The paramedics had dressed the wound on the scene before Jay had brought you back to his apartment.

After getting you into a clean change of clothes and some warm food in you, you had ended up back in your favourite place in the world – on Jay’s couch, in Jay’s apartment, encircled in Jay’s arms.

You lay your head on Jay’s chest.

“So this was all because of me?” You asked in a low voice.

Jay sat up, looking at you. “What?”

“He killed all those women… because of me. I got them killed.” You whispered.

“No, no, baby.” Jay propped himself up, but didn’t let you go. “This is not your fault. Steven he… he did this, not you.”

You looked up at him. “He even… in front of you… he…” You could feel tears welling up in your eyes, you felt disgusting. He’d kissed you, he’d done it in front of Jay and he’d ruined everything.

You hadn’t said that much but Jay just tilted your chin upwards and kissed you. “Jay…”

“I’ll take it all away.” Jay whispered. “I’m sorry, I should have been there sooner.”

You shook your head, swiping away the tears that had slid down your cheeks.

Jay cupped your cheek again, pulling you into his chest. You balled your hand around his shirt, gripping at Jay.

“It’s okay, I’m here. I’m not going anywhere.” Jay whispered.

“I’ll never let anyone touch you ever again.” He half snarled, still caressing you gently.

You leaned into his embrace, closing your eyes as the sound of Jay’s heartbeat gently lulled you back into the feeling of safety and security.

#jay halstead x reader #jay halstead #resanoona request #tw #jay halstead oneshot #jay halstead imagine #chicago pd x you

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hopeless-ro-simptic · 5 years ago

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Familiar Cerulean Eyes Pt. 6

Click here for other parts! Part 7 is up now!

Just gonna leave this here...

Warnings! Seriously read this before continuing!: This part contains an attempted rape scene. Please just skip to the next part if you are uncomfortable reading that.

Word Count: 3.3 k

TAGLIST: @skzero-99 @superblyspeedydragon @jparra4587 @flyingowls @emrysaaryn @imuziawi @sheedaabee @peculiarinsomniac @littlelovebug98 @plutoneu @giftofwonder @kitty-kat-ash @fukyouthink @anarchys-bnha-mess @threbony @orenjineki @toobsessedsstuff @bamf-barnes @x-a-delama-x @inanabsentia @reallyshey @godsblesstheboi @operatorsdime @drownedbytears @emilymikado @fluidfandoms

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The walkie-talkie they had provided to you only had one station. The station that spoke directly to Kurogiri. You had tried fiddling with the knobs to see if you could get literally anyone else on the line but after 30 minutes of messing with the stupid thing you gave up. At least it told you the date and time so you could keep track of how long it has been since you were left alone in this damned cell.

You hadn’t moved from your spot in the corner since everyone left, curled up with your snack bag and blanket, using the pillow to prop yourself up against the cold wall, choosing instead to sleep the time away. Your body however decided you could only sleep for so long. Apparently 14 hours was the mark. 14 hours of off and on sleeping and now all you could do was pace.

You never thought you would be bored when you were kidnapped, but if you had to go one more minute with nothing to do you were going to start trying to dig your way out of this cell with your fingernails. So you caved.

Picking up the walkie-talkie you pressed the call button and cautiously spoke out loud into the room.

“Kurogiri?”

The mist beta conjured himself into the room within seconds, well dressed as always. A calming aura surrounding him.

“Yes Y/N? What can I do for you?”

Your cheeks heated up as you thought about your request, suddenly feeling like a child. You didn’t want to come off as whiney, you definitely didn’t want the League to deem you as annoying and decide to kill you. But you were so bored. Bored enough to threaten your life with the company of villains.

“H-hi… um… I just wanted to know if there was like…I just wanted…”

“Company?” The knowing eyes of the mist in front of you was a little unsettling as he immediately guessed as to what you wanted.

“H-how did you know?”

“Omega’s are very social beings, it’s a wonder you lasted this long with nothing to do…and you have been pacing for the last 45 minutes” You glanced up at the camera a shiver going down your spine.

“You’ve been watching me?”

“Only for a brief bit, I was concerned when you didn’t reach out earlier for food. I am surprised it took your this long to reach out for anything at all. I was simply checking to make sure you were alive.”

You relaxed a bit at this. The beta didn’t seem in a hurry to get out of here, and even though he was a villain, you were more than happy for the company. So you sat back down in your nonexistent nest, pushing your hair behind your ears as you thought of how to keep a conversation going.

“So you have to babysit me.. I bet that’s annoying.” You cringed at your words. Why would you say that? What were you supposed to say to a villain to strike up a conversation?

“Not at all, Y/N. I have many jobs here at the league, making sure our guests are fed and comfortable is just another thing that I have been tasked with. If it makes one of our members happy then it makes me happy. Dabi seemed particularly concerned with your treatment while he was gone.”

“Oh…” You paused for a minute unsure of how to proceed. It sounded like Kurogiri did a lot for the league, you wondered why.

“Can I ask you something?”

“You may, though I may not be able to answer it.” He nodded at you to proceed and you fiddled with the blanket in front of you.

“Why are you a ..” You paused, unsure if this was a good way to start, only to be encouraged by the mist in front of you. “Why did you join the league? You don’t strike me as the same as the others.”

“Well Y/N, I have been with Shigaraki for some time now, long before this group was formed... I believe in his cause, and I want to help him achieve it. The hero society is not as pretty as it seems from the outside, I promise you that.”

“You don’t have to tell me,” You mumbled it softly, enough that if you weren’t in a completely silent room you don’t think you would have even heard yourself. But the beta in front of you didn’t miss your comment.

“The question is Y/N, what side of the fight are you going to choose to be on.”

“I’m not in the fight.. I’m not a hero..” You looked at Kurogiri, confusion across your face.

“Everyone is in the fight… even if they don’t want to be.”

Kurogiri had brought you a deck of playing cards after that little chat, advising you of how to set up a solitaire game to keep yourself busy. You couldn’t help but feel grateful for the kindness he was showing you. Even though you were literally their prisoner right now, he did seem like he was trying to make you as comfortable as he could.

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The next time that you called on Kurogiri was because you ran out of food several hours later. Part of you felt really bad, whispering softly into the walkie-talkie that showed a time of 4am. You didn’t want to wake the villain up, but your stomach was growling so loud you couldn’t sleep. You had just resigned yourself to the fact that you would have to wait until a more appropriate time when the black mist swirled in front of you, the man appearing with what looked like a freshly made bowl of meat and veggies with rice balls on the side. The smell had your mouth watering as he presented the bowl to you.

“I’m so sorry to wake you up this late Kurogiri, you didn’t have to cook…” You immediately dug into the food after thanking him, your stomach thanking you for waking him up anyways.

“No worries Y/N, I wasn’t asleep. We are quite used to being up late at night here, and I usually cook for the other members anyways when time permits.” You had to force yourself not to imagine the mist man in an apron, doting on the other league members like a mother would a young child. He was so different. You also ignored the way he mentioned the other members, like he was already considering you as one as well.

“Is Dabi back yet? Is he okay?” You didn’t even notice yourself asking the question as you continued to eat, just glad for company once again, after your chat last time, it was easier to slip into conversation with Kurogiri, but still a little awkward.

“He has not returned yet, but he has checked in and is fine. He should be returning tomorrow afternoon if all goes well with his mission.”

That’s good you thought, you were halfway through this. Just another day and a half and then you could at the very least have a semi-comfortable bed. You found yourself missing the cinnamon scent mixed with smoke and whiskey, like your omega couldn’t relax without it, finding a comfort in the warm and spicey smell that you shouldn’t have. Maybe you should have had him scent the blanket for you…

“May I ask just who you are to Dabi? I must say we are all quite confused on the two of you’s relationship seeing as you are not bonded.”

“Hmm? Oh…” You could feel your cheeks heat up, realizing you were daydreaming again. You had been thinking about those blue eyes a lot when you were by yourself, the handwriting on his note etched into your mind, it nagging you in the back of your mind like you were missing something about it. You were still upset at the alpha, but your omega was polluting your mind with thoughts that you rather ignore, images being burned into your brain at his words before he left.. he wasn’t wrong. You did want him. You just didn’t want to want him.

“It’s nothing…. He just kidnapped me is all...” That’s all you thought, just a villain kidnapping a random omega off the street. You snorted internally at how silly that sounded while your omega was yearning for him. Maybe you have Stockholm syndrome.

“Interesting…” Kurogiri looked like he was about to say something else, when the familiar click of a walkie-talkie sounded, a voice ringing out.

“Kurogiri, ready for pickup.”

“Ah, it seems Mr. Compress has finished his part. I will return later for your dishes Y/N. Please enjoy your meal.” And with that, the mist man disappeared again without a trace.

Once Kurogiri had gone, and you had finished up your meal, you curled up onto the crappy mattress, pulling the blanket tight around yourself as you cuddled up against his pillow, breathing in the scent as you replayed every moment since you woke up in his room, thinking of those familiar cerulean eyes as you drifted back to sleep.

-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

You were playing solitaire, like Kurogiri had shown you, several hours later when you decided to check the time again for what was probably the sixth time in the last hour. You glanced at the time on the walkie-talkie, trying to decide if you wanted to bother Kurogiri again for some more food, when you heard a creak. Looking up you noticed that the wall was opening up and in stepped Mr. Compress, a hot plate of food in his hands, only for him to close the wall behind him, locking it in place his scent enveloping the room immediately.

So there was a door.

“Hello Y/N, Kurogiri said you would probably be hungry around this time. He’s a little busy right now so he sent me instead.”

You shuffled in your place on the bed, you weren’t expecting this, to have to deal with another alpha by yourself. You didn’t trust the alpha in front of you but he wasn’t lunging at you to kill you, and Kurogiri and Dabi had been nice so far..and he brought food. He sat the plate down at the end of the bed, bowing to you lowly glancing up through his eyelashes a polite smile on his face. This one wasn’t as comforting as the mist mans but it wasn’t threatening either.

“I don’t believe I got to properly introduce myself last time we spoke. I’m Mr. Compress.”

“H-hi… thank you for the food.” You expected the alpha to leave it at that and disappear back the way he came, but instead he straightened up, twirling his cain in his hands as he watched you with interest.

“What an interesting quirk you have, might I say. We were all very shocked at the little show that you and pretty boy put on.” The smile on his face grew wider as you cautiously reached for the plate of food, taking a whiff of the air. He was pumping out his pheromones like an omega in heat, like he was trying to cover every other smell in this tiny room. It wasn’t a particularly unpleasant smell, you think it was a mix of amber and leather, but there was something about it that made your omega tense up. It was like he was peacocking and you could only guess at why.

“So you and Dabi? What’s going on there, that is of course, if you don’t mind the intrusion?”

Your omega chirped in the back of your brain, encouraging you to claim Dabi as your alpha, if only to get this other alpha to back down. You ignored it though, telling yourself that the alpha in front of you was being nothing but kind to you. He hadn’t done anything remotely threatening to you, like Kurogiri he was probably just trying to make you more comfortable and was looking for gossip, he seemed like the type.

“Nothing…”

“Hmm… see I don’t believe that, and neither does anyone else in the league. You see, we’ve never seen Dabi act so… interested in an Omega before. Can’t say I blame him, you do smell delicious.” You could feel his eyes slowly moving across your form, drinking you in much like Dabi had done a few times now, but this felt different. The alpha in front of you had a weird look on his face that made your chest tighten and not in a good way. You had seen a similar look before from alpha’s.

“I don’t know what you mean. I barely know Dabi..” You shifted uncomfortably under the alpha’s gaze, your heartrate picking up as you glanced briefly at where the door had been. Your omega was taking over, the alarms in your brain ringing louder. Were you sure it was locked? He had to get out of here somehow, meaning you could get out too.

“Oh? Well in that case, why don’t I get you out of here? There’s no need for a pretty little omega like you to be cooped up in this cage, waiting on a disfigured manchild. Wouldn’t you like that? A chance to get out of here.”

You stayed silent as the alpha leaned down to you flicking your eyes back to his own, his gloved hand reaching up to stroke your cheek gently before he lightly grabbed your hand, lifting it to his lips in a gentle kiss.

“I-I’m good right here.. I’ll wait for Dabi..” The charming alpha stood up, straightening his glove as his lips a sigh leaving his mouth.

“Why would you want to stay here? In a cell, waiting for the walking cigarette? I can provide so much more for you, you just need to say the word and I could treat you like a queen.”

“I-I’m okay… Dabi will be back in a couple hours…actually if you could leave I really need to go to the bath-” you were standing up, the words barely leaving your mouth as you watched the façade in front of you crack. You weren’t prepared for the wind to be knocked out of you, his cane jabbing you in the stomach forcing you to drop to your knees holding your stomach gasping for breath as he looked down at you.

“Look, I tried to ask nicely but you’re apparently too dumb to get the hint little omega. You are coming with me, you are going to be mine, and you are going to like it.”

Compress gripped your wrists pulling you up to be standing, an annoyed look on his face as you struggled against him. You immediately raised your knee up in reaction, hitting him right in the crotch. You expected him to go down. To let you go. You only succeeded in making him more angry. He slammed you harshly against the wall with a sickening thud, your vision going blurry at the pain in the back of your head. You were pretty sure that you were bleeding. He pushed you stomach down onto the mattress, your face landing down onto the pillow thankfully, instead of the wall behind it. He dropped down on top of you, his weight holding you down from behind, immediately trapping your legs with his own to stop you from kicking at him again. He leaned down, running his nose up along your scent glands, his tongue following shortly after.

“Don’t fight it. If you’re good maybe I’ll even end your suffering and bond you like someone should have a long time ago.”

You couldn’t help but let out a soft whimper, your hands reaching up searching around wildly for the one thing that could save you, gripping the fur blanket.

Compress smirked at your response as he scented you heavily to the point where you were dripping in the smell of leather, softly cooing in your ear at an attempt to sooth your omega. “Don’t worry, you don’t have to smell like that burnt idiot anymore.” You could feel the tears welling in your eyes as you wriggled against him, you didn’t want this. You didn’t want the smell to go away. You deeply inhaled the pillow in front of you, trying to block out your senses, only for Compress to snatch the pillow away with a growl. His alpha canines leaning in close to your face as he wrapped his hand into your hair yanking hard on it.

“What did I just say my dear?”

“Please..”

“Darling, quit whining. What do you think Dabi was going to do to you? Wouldn’t you rather it be me instead of that walking patchwork? At least this way you can have pretty pups to entertain yourself with, I doubt that ashtray can even breed.” He was yanking down your sweatpants now, ripping the drawstring that held them tight around your waist. You could feel his eyes roaming along your body, could feel his erection twitch when he noticed the lack of layers to deal with.

You wanted to vomit. Reaching your hands further under the fur blanket you finally found what you were looking for. Dragging the walkie-talkie out from under the blanket you clicked the call button and sobbed into it.

“Help me! Da- Dabi! Help!” You were practically screaming into the microphone, hiccupping through your tears, but Mr. Compress snatched the walkie-talkie away from you throwing it against the wall and shattering it with the force.

“Naïve Omega, no one is coming for you. Stay still” The alpha’s voice rang out and you froze your omega immediately tucking tail at the demand. You couldn’t help it. You fought as hard as you could against your instincts forcing you to listen to the alpha, begged your body to move, to react, to fight back. You heard the zipper of his pants, felt it as he shoved them down past his knees, his legs rubbing against you as he moved, felt his erection hot against your skin as he lined it up to your entrance, not even bothering to prepare you for what was to come. All you could do was lay there and hiccup through your tears and snot and pray that this would be over quickly. You knew better than that though. You had heard the stories of what happens when an alpha goes into a rut. How they can and will go for hours on end until they finally run out of steam. How they usually tended to go a little more feral than normal, and sometimes ended up hurting omega’s especially if they didn’t want it.

You knew that you would rather die in this moment then have to live through the next few hours, but you wouldn’t have such luck. So instead you let your mind wander, focusing on the smallest hint of cinnamon coming from the pillow behind you across the room. Focusing on the singular word that was etched into your brain as clear as day, the handwriting nagging at you. Focusing on the blue eyes that haunted your dreams that were too close to the ones that had been trained on you when you woke up in his apartment just the other day covered in soot and the smell of smoke. You closed your eyes, bracing yourself, a single thought on your mind, of two boys with cerulean eyes.

You could vaguely hear the sound of an anguished scream in the back of your mind, but you ignored it and focused on the growing smell of cinnamon, whiskey and smoke. Lot’s of smoke. You felt warm, uncomfortably so, but you forced yourself to ignore it, focusing on the feeling of floating away.

Your eyes fluttered open looking up at a familiar red-head, cerulean eyes staring down at you with worry. He had you cradled in his arms, and didn’t look like he was going to let you go any time soon. He was saying something… maybe your name?

“Touya... I had the weirdest dream…”

“Y/N thank god, stay awake for me princess, it’s okay, you’re okay.”

“You died…. And I got kidnapped… and then… Touya it was a nightmare.” You felt your eyes fluttering shut again, your head really hurt. Everything was so bright.

“No, don’t go to sleep yet, princess come on wake up.”

“Touya... please don’t leave me.”

With that you were out, the world going black.

#bnha omegaverse #alpha dabi #omega reader #bnha #mha #mha omegaverse #dabi is a todoroki #dabi is touya #dabi #dabi x y/n #dabi x female reader #dabi x you #dabi x reader #crispy

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ladyblogger-margie · 4 years ago

Text

Traitor

Pairing: Mobius M Mobius x Loki (MCU)

Summary: The Loki Variants are captured and Mobius battles his personal versus professional feelings.

Warnings: Mentions of bondage kind of?? A little angsty

Word Count: 1788

a/n: thanks to this post by @pietro-maximoff I have been listening to Traitor by Olivia Rodrigo and thinking about Lokius non-stop. This fic is what came out of that obsessing. Also I wrote it before Episode 3 aired.

MY MASTERLIST

Mobius heard the alarms blaring and didn’t flinch. It had been set off so many times lately, it had lost all impact. This time though, Casey came flying through the halls of the TVA and skidded to an abrupt halt next to Mobius’ cubicle.

“We found him,” Casey panted.

“Who?” Mobius asked, fearful to get his hopes up.

“The Loki variant,” Casey explained, his hands on his knees.

“You may need to be more specific, there are several,” Mobius said, as he stood and led Casey back where he came from.

“The variant, your variant,” Casey said, jogging to keep up.

Casey’s words rang in Mobius’ brain. Apparently everyone could see how he felt about Loki, well except Loki. If Loki knew, he wouldn’t have ran off, or at least Mobius desperately hoped that was the case. The alternative was too gut wrenching to consider with everything else going to shit.

Mobius had called out for Loki, begging him not to leave, but he went through the door anyway leaving Mobius behind. Loki had looked at him, but gave him nothing but an empty glance before he turned his back and ran to join the Loki Variant they were supposed to be chasing together.

Now Casey was explaining how both Loki’s were now surrounded and Mobius needed to get there immediately. He was trying to keep his focus professional and stuff down the longing rising in his chest, a longing that would not do him a single lick of good.

Suddenly Mobius turned a corner and saw the Hunters in position by the Time Door. He didn’t slow down as he gestured for them to breach the door and he was right in their midst as they arrived on the scene.

Lady Loki sat with her eyes rolling tied up and contained, clearly annoyed, bored, as well as plotting. Mobius knew Loki well enough to know that she wasn’t truly as subdued as she appeared on the surface. The other Loki, the one in the TVA Variant jacket, was looking extremely put out with a collar back around his slender throat and his wrists in cuffs.

Mobius banished his first thought in favor of the professional thoughts that followed.

“We’ve apprehended the variants. Let’s reset this one here first,” he said, pointing to Lady Loki.

The other Loki was desperately trying to make eye contact with Mobius, but Mobius turned his back to him.

This was his first mistake. Loki slipped in behind him so close that Mobius felt that taller man’s breath against his neck and he suppressed a shiver.

“I did it, I captured the Variant,” Loki bragged, his tone smug, “But these fools arrested me in the process of turning her into the proper authorities.”

Mobius caught the indignation in Loki’s voice at the second part and tried not to let it affect him. He was fooled before and he would not be fooled again.

“Reset her, bring this one back to headquarters,” Mobius said, still ignoring Loki, “Someone’s going to have to question him to complete the paperwork.”

Then Mobius retreated with the team completing the Variant reset, leaving a stammering Loki behind him.

“Mobius, where are you going?” Loki asked, “Mobius?”

Mobius ignored him.

After they successfully solved the Lady Loki Variant problem, Mobius returned to headquarters. He wasn’t told exactly where they had taken Loki, but he had a hunch, and until recently his hunches usually proved correct.

He found Loki in the same room he had shown Loki his role on the timeline when they first met. There Loki was heavily guarded and they had added a gag to his collection of restraints since Mobius saw him last.

“You can all go,” Mobius said, waving the hunters away, “I can handle him.”

Mobius shook the control to Loki’s collar in his hand and with minimal muttering, the Hunters filed out.

Mobius sat in a chair across the table from Loki and just looked at him. He watched as Loki squirmed and tried to speak. He watched the frustrating boil over on Loki’s face and felt guilty for watching him suffer. He thought he’d enjoy catching Loki out, but he was wrong. The image in front of him made him sick.

Mobius reached across the table and gently removed the gag from Loki’s mouth. He’d barely sprung the release when Loki began talking rapidly.

“Mobius, you have to understand,” Loki’s fast tongue clipped, “I had to go. I needed to catch the Variant. That was the plan, was it not? Use a Loki to catch a Loki.”

Mobius bit the inside of his lip, pouting them slightly as he did so, but he kept quiet.

“I know what you must be thinking, but technically I didn’t stab you in the back,” Loki said, attempting a joke.

Mobius remained silent and to his surprise he found it was making Loki look, well, nervous.

“You don’t think I left you on purpose?” Loki asked, “Why would I do that?”

Loki’s face looked so open, so vulnerable in its proposed sincerity, Mobius was almost moved. He promised to himself he wasn’t buying the trickster’s words, but unconsciously he stood and removed the rest of Loki’s restraints except the collar around his neck.

“Thank you,” Loki said, his voice soft with emotion and Mobius' heart clenched. Being in close proximity with him again had Mobius on edge, so aware of his own body and Loki’s as well.

“What happened when you went through the door?” Mobius asked in a professional tone.

“I heard you calling,” Loki said, standing to stroll the room.

“I’m aware,” Mobius sighed, “You looked right at me.”

“Well I thought that meant you understood,” Loki said, his arms open wide, head cocked to the side.

“Understood what? That you’re a traitor? You betrayed me,” Mobius said. He shook his head, this wasn’t the time to air his personal issues, he shouldn’t have fallen in love with a Variant, especially a Loki whose betrayal surely was inevitable. “I’m here to assess and record what happened after you walked out,” he said, pushing forward with his assignment.

“I didn’t betray you, I swear. Besides, isn’t paperwork and cleanup a bit beneath your pay grade? There’s got to be more to you being here than just the job,” Loki suggested with a raised an eyebrow.

“I don’t trust you with anyone else,” Mobius admitted plainly. He didn’t trust himself with Loki either, but that wasn’t the point.

“I didn’t leave you, Mobius,” Loki said, sitting back down. He reached his hands across the table to where Mobius’ were resting.

Mobius ripped his hands out of the way and stood himself, taking up Loki’s pacing position.

“I trusted you to see this through,” Mobius said, barely containing the tremble in his voice.

“But that’s just it!” Loki said, following Mobius and completely disregarding his personal space, “I did! I caught the Variant.”

Mobius studied his face, “You were captured with the Variant.”

“No!” Loki was frustrated now, his hands in his hair, “Those imbeciles showed up after I had her in custody because I was trying to call you.”

Mobius was blinking very quickly now, “But you left me, I saw you look at me and deliberately choose to abandon the team and the mission. Loki, I am trying to get to the truth here and I know that’s a foreign concept-“

Mobius was cut off mid-sentence when Loki crashed his lips against his, kissing him and shutting him up in one fell swoop. The action short-circuited Mobius' brain and he stood frozen, his lips responding on instinct alone.

Loki tasted like honey and peppermint, sweet and sharp and a little bitter, but absolutely perfect. Mobius raised a hand to Loki’s throat and in horror remembered he was still wearing his collar.

Mobius shoved Loki away abruptly. It wasn’t easy to shove a god, but the advantage of surprise granted him the space he needed.

“You really think you can play me,” Mobius said with a sad chuckle. He had to drop this idiotic fantasy - Loki could never love him the way that Mobius loved him.

“Play you? I’m trying to kiss you,” Loki said, his tone sharp.

“You’re trying to get me to take off that collar,” Mobius said with a limp gesture of his hand.

Loki’s fingers brushed across the collar almost like he forgot he was wearing it.

“So take it off and see how I act then,” Loki suggested.

Mobius actually laughed, “How thick do you think I am? I know you don’t respect me, but give me a little credit.”

“Of course I respect you, I care for you,” Loki sighed, “You’ve caught me many times before, I have no magic, and your team already confiscated my daggers, what have you got to lose?”

Loki watched Mobius with his head tilted, as Mobius squinted at him intently.

Mobius released Loki’s collar with a press of the button on the controller. Loki tossed it aside casually and he made no effort to run. Instead he moved closer to Mobius, crowding his space. Mobius held his breath as Loki inspected him intently, his crystal blue eyes tracing across Mobius’ face.

Mobius’ breath hitched as Loki kissed him again, slower this time, deeper. He felt his skin catch fire as Loki traced his thumb across his check as his tongue swept across his lower lip. Then Mobius’ resolve shattered.

Mobius yanked on Loki’s tie, wrapping it around his fist as his other hand wrapped around Loki’s waist. Mobius could feel the smile on Loki’s lips through the kiss and he couldn’t help but smile back. Loki’s hands were soft and cool and Mobius relished in the feel of them, still not entirely sure if he believed his good fortune, but too overwhelmed to care.

Suddenly the door to the room opened and Casey walked in, interrupting the kiss. Mobius flushed and jumped back in surprise, his hand still wrapped in Loki’s tie.

“Oh, sorry, I didn’t mean to - wait, what’s happening?” Casey said, obviously flustered.

“What can I help you with?” Mobius asked.

“There’s a new variant we need your help with,” Casey said, “After you reset this variant, there’s a file at your desk.”

Mobius turned to Loki and held his hand, “He’s not a variant, he’s a member of the TVA.”

Loki’s face lit up as Casey left with a shrug.

Mobius turned to Loki, and fixed his tie and collar as Loki smiled at him.

“I swear I wasn’t leaving you, I’d never do that to someone I love,” Loki said sincerely, and Mobius believed him so he kissed him, not for the first time, and certainly not for the last.

#lokius #mobius x loki #loki x mobius #loki series #loki laufeyson #mobius m mobius #I care about these two A WHOLE LOT

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winetae · 5 years ago

Text

wall to wall (m.) 02

— female reader x hoseok

— smut, porn star!au

— sex work, insecurity, jealousy, slut shaming/objectification, role played scenario that includes: d/s dynamics - dom!hoseok, anal sex, sex toys, face fucking, double penetration, erotic massages, humiliation, degradation, porn star type dirty talk, squirting, creampie, lots of cum (and oil!)

— 19.7k

…

Temporary popularity is the biggest threat to your career right now. Without a solid core fan base you’re doomed to be forgotten. If not now, then in a month or two, and if not then, surely by the end of the year. That’s how quickly the adult film industry cycles through their actors, especially when you’re a woman.

Your agent comes forward with a proposition to help put you back on the map.

↳ or, my contribution to the lights, camera, action! collab : )

part 01 | part 02 | part 03

author’s note | part 2 is finally here ! ! ty to jordan who has encouraged me literally every step of the way and to ella for supplying a never ending amount of hoseok gifs and pics when i most needed it :’) i’m sorry again for cutting the chapter into two parts but seeing as this entire chunk only amounted to 1/3 of my outline for part two it’s safe to say i would have never finished this fic otherwise ;;

(!) if you are particularly sensitive to humiliation/ degradation then maybe u should skip the smut scene bc jdjffjkfkddkd cries in tears of heaux

SCENE 03 - PULP FRICTION. TAKE 02. ROLL A.

It’s hard to guess how a project will be perceived by the general public. Sometimes a xxx feature film everyone believed would do well sells less than expected, and with online pirating becoming such a rampant and common occurrence, it’s harder to measure the impact of your work. Views and numbers are no longer a reliable indicator of one’s popularity. You’re lucky that you’re signed under such a big talent agency because at least you’re guaranteed regular paychecks, regardless of how well you perform. But to survive in this industry you’re conscious that you need more than that.

According to Seokjin and his expert advice, fans are the ones who will keep an adult entertainer’s career afloat for longer than the average six months. It doesn’t matter how good-looking or well endowed an actor is; if fans aren’t interested and invested, there’s a slim chance that they’ll pay money from their own pockets to view your work. And in order to build such a strong and dedicated fan base, you need one of several things: regular content and an active social media account.

It’s a careful line to tread; not enough online interaction can make people lose interest, but so can overexposure.

You’re patiently waiting for what Seokjin baptizes “The Big Breakthrough” - the decisive project that will propel you into superstardom. None of your videos have ever garnered that type of traction, however, and you’ve been stuck repeating the same old recycled scenarios of plumbers/pizza delivery boys coming over to get the fuck of their life.

When your latest video is uploaded online, you do your best to steer clear from social media. As much as you want to see what people think of your performance, it’s too nerve-wracking to deal with on an empty stomach. You know that if you begin scrolling through the comments, you’ll spend all day glued to your phone, constantly refreshing the page to check for feedback.

And while you aren’t the type of person who lets negative opinions affect your morale, you are nonetheless worried that your time in the industry is about to run out. Lately, the thought lingers ominously in the corners of your mind.

In times like these, exercise is one of the best distractions, second to maybe sex.

Pia, the yoga instructor, walks you through several routines, bending your body this way and that, until your head feels pleasantly blank, devoid for once of any stress and self-doubt. The hour long hot yoga class puts your overthinking mind to rest. In that moment even the notion of time ceases to matter.

Unfortunately, all good things must come to an end.

The instructor turns off his meditation playlist while the room empties out, soft chattering replacing the chirping of birds and the sound of cascading water. Slowly, mind still fuzzy around the edges, you gather your belongings and head straight to the vending machine to get a much needed dose of caffeine.

As you dig around the contents of your purse for spare change, someone comes up from behind and taps your shoulder.

“Eep!” You catch your bag before it can slip from your grasp. “What—”

“Shit, sorry!”

When you spin around, hands clutched protectively over your chest to keep your heart rate steady, you don’t expect to come face to face with Hoseok, of all people.

He grins sheepishly, rubbing the back of his neck. “Didn’t mean to give you a scare. I, um, recognized you from afar and thought I’d come say hi.”

Now that the initial shock has faded, you’re free to admire the sight in front of you without any distractions.

As handsome as Hoseok looks under the bright studio lights with his hair styled and make-up applied, there’s something undeniably appealing about the way he appears now - with his hair mussed up and sweatpants riding dangerously low on his hips. While you normally prefer someone who puts more effort into their appearance, there’s something attractive and unpretentious about his casual demeanor that intrigues you.

Heat surges to the apple of your cheeks when you realize that you’re being too blatant with your ogling. Your eyes settle on his face - a safe zone, one that won’t cause any misunderstandings. It’s a nice sight to look at. Hoseok’s face is pretty, the absence of powder and contour not taking away from his handsomeness in the least. His skin glows in a way that can only be achieved post-workout or after an intense orgasm.

This train of thought brings you down a slippery slope. All too soon, your mind supplies images of his long cock filling you up over and over and over again, his lips whispering praise and filth in the same breath. Your gaze flits to his mouth as you recall how red and swollen they’d been after kissing you senseless, how sticky and wet they’d felt against your own, the taste of your own succulence bleeding into your mouth as your breaths intermingled.

“You’re - yes.” You clear your throat, embarrassed by the way you’d quickly let your thoughts spiral out of control. “It’s fine, you just - caught me off guard. How’ve you been?”

Since you last dicked me down, goes unsaid.

“Just finished teaching a class a few minutes ago. I’ve got a 30 minute break before the next one starts.” He checks his watch. “Well, eleven minutes now.”

“You teach here?” You raise your brows, taken aback by his revelation.

Not that it isn’t uncommon for adult entertainers to work two jobs - or more. You’ve run into a variety of cases since joining the industry. Some do porn on the side, as a hobby or as a way to make a quick buck. They quit the moment porn becomes tedious or when they’ve made enough money to pay back their loans. For you, however, it’s not like that. What started off as amateur cam work has now become your whole life. You can’t imagine doing anything else, even if it means going against your family members’ wishes. They could go suck on a rancid cock, for all you cared.

“Yep, sure do. I teach the morning Pilates class on Wednesdays and Thursdays. Funny how I’ve never run into you before, huh?”

He takes a few coins out of his left pocket and inserts them into the vending machine. “Here, get whatever you want.”

“You don’t—”

“My treat.”

You want to argue but Hoseok’s too beguiling for his own good. It doesn’t take much for you to be won over; Hoseok’s smile widens and you’re a goner.

It’s that easy.

You’re not sure if it’s because you’ve seen each other naked before or if the earlier yoga session has successfully weakened your defenses, but you’re not as wary as you usually would be around people you don’t know well. Distrust runs in your veins yet something about Hoseok has you lowering your guard.

Based on your observations, there’s nothing calculated behind his gestures and mannerisms. The blinding grin, the jokes, the way people easily get pulled into his magnetic field - it’s not a facade or an act or a fluke. It’s just the way he is.

Hoseok leans against the vending machine and watches you press in the numbers for your order. From the corner of your eye, you see him studying your profile with a degree of intensity that makes you self-conscious. You swallow down the urge to fidget.

And it’s - silly. He’s seen you bare and at your most exposed, has kissed and touched the entirety of your body from head to toe, but this quiet moment feels strangely intimate, more so than when he’d slid his cock inside of you for the first time. Perhaps it’s due to the absence of cameras and prying eyes or the knowledge that right now you’re both real people, stripped of your porn star persona exterior.

Your eyes meet.

There’s nothing predatory or hungry about his gaze. The passion and the love he’d expressed so naturally during your filmed scenes are no longer detectable. Right now he’s Jung Hoseok, not a character with a role to play. This is all him - the dark circles, the relaxed smile, the slight slouch in his shoulders.

“About—” He clears his throat. “About the other day. The guy that was with you...”

You know without needing clarification who and what he’s talking about. You run your tongue across your row of teeth, wiping away the cheap coffee’s aftertaste, and nod for him to continue.

“He give you a hard time?” Hoseok’s eyes don’t stray from yours. He looks concerned. Serious. “Afterwards I - I regretted leaving so soon. I didn’t want to - I wasn’t sure. But, regardless, I should have made sure you were okay before leaving you alone with him.”

“Oh.”

Realization sinks in. Your eyes widen and you splutter, flustered. “No, no. It’s nothing like that. Jimin - he’s my boyfriend.”

It’s hard to appreciate the concern when all you feel is shocked that someone could misinterpret your relationship for a perverted staff member preying on an unsuspecting porn actress. Although it’s unfortunately common practice in the industry, it’s so far removed from what you share with Jimin that you’re at a loss for words.

“Fuck, I’m sorry.” Hoseok immediately rubs his face in embarrassment. “I thought - sorry. I’m a dumbass. Ignore me.”

“It’s -” You shake your head. “It’s fine.”

An awkward silence ensues.

You occupy the void by sipping on the bitter vending machine coffee, your eyes glued to your toenails peeking out the top of your sandals. Any other time, you’d fret over the chipping nail polish and rush to schedule an appointment at the nail salon, but your thoughts are so jumbled up that you can barely string a coherent sentence together.

Jimin - he isn’t anything like what Hoseok’s implying. Implied. You know this. But the fact that someone could mistake him as such doesn’t sit right with you. You want to defend him but at the same time you don’t know what to say.

“I just,” he sighs, breaking the silence. “I’ve seen it happen before. I’m sorry I assumed the worst. I guess I’m too paranoid for my own good. I hope I didn’t offend you too much. Or him.”

“No - I’m - I understand.” You give him a small smile to let him know you don’t harbor any ill feelings over the mistake. Hoseok seems so genuinely sorry about the entire situation that it’s impossible to hold it against him.

It’s possible, you think. To misinterpret your relationship with Jimin. The situation back then had been so tense - you remember that better than anyone. Given the context, Hoseok had every right to be mistrustful, especially when no one had bothered to set the record straight.

“I’m really sorry. I didn’t mean to overstep.”

“There’s no harm done.” You hesitate before continuing, “I’m that way too, you know. I tend to think the worst of people when I probably shouldn’t. I thought - I was worried about you at first, too. When we met. Not because - it wasn’t anything against you personally. I’m just distrustful. But I’m glad - that it was you and not someone else.”

His posture relaxes. “Thank you. I’m glad that it was you, too. And that I was able to prove you wrong about me. With the shit you hear and see happening on set… I don’t blame you for being on your guard.”

“Yeah. Maybe we’ll - oh. I think someone’s calling you.”

Hoseok follows your line of sight to where a small group of his students are huddled behind the glass panel separating the Pilates classroom from the hallway leading down to the changing rooms. They’re all female and look around your age, maybe younger. The one who had been waving her arms wilts under the attention of her teacher, blush high on her cheeks, while her group of friends dissolve into a fit of giggles.

“Ah. That’s my cue.” Hoseok sighs in apology, the corner of his lips tugged downwards into a pout. “Sorry. Would’ve loved to get coffee and catch up but alas. Duty calls.”

“Next time.”

“Yeah, definitely. I’ll hold you up to that. And it’ll be proper coffee next time! Promise.”

“Okay, deal,” you agree easily. “I’ll buy.”

He looks somewhat offended. “What - no, that’s not what I meant.”

“It’s only fair.” You gesture at the half-empty plastic coffee cup still warm against your palm.

Hoseok opens his mouth to object but a short-haired woman pokes his head out the open door. “Yo, teach! Wasn’t class supposed to start five minutes ago?”

“I’m coming!” Hoseok shouts back, waving his student back inside. “Arrogant brat.”

“Go, go!” You urge, holding yourself from physically pushing him towards the classroom. His group of students look like they’re willing to jump you if you keep hogging his attention.

“We’ll Rock Paper Scissors it!” He says while jogging backwards. “Gotta run but see you around, yeah?”

Your lips pull into an amused smile as you watch him retreat back to his classroom. Through the glass panel, you can see the horde of girls flock around him, each vying for his attention in different ways. You’re especially impressed by how one almost succeeds in drowning Hoseok in her generous cleavage.

The sight of Hoseok dealing with thirsty college girls is so ridiculous you can’t help but giggle. You’re tempted to attend one of his classes just to watch them all trip over each other in an attempt to seduce him. Maybe you could even learn a thing or two.

With that thought in mind, you leave the gym center in high spirits, feeling refreshed and rejuvenated, ready to tackle on whatever hurdles the day decides to throw your way. You hum along to a top 40 hit they constantly play on the radio and decide to stop by your favorite restaurant to get take-out before heading home.

As you get into your car, you turn on your phone you’d disregarded all morning and are immediately notified of five missed calls and several unread text messages. More than half are - unsurprisingly - from your agent. You’re tempted to ignore him for an hour or two longer but you know how he gets once his patience runs thin.

“Don’t tell me you were out with Jimmy again,” Seokjin groans once you decide to call him back.

“I was with Hoseok, actually.”

“Hoseok?” Seokjin instantly perks up on the other side of the line. “As in, Jung Hoseok? J-Hope? Your baby daddy? That Hoseok?”

You contemplate ending the call.

Begrudgingly you concur, “Yes. That one.”

“Oooooh. Do tell,” he eggs, the smugness in his tone so thick that you can visualize it.

“It wasn’t - whatever scandalous thought you’re thinking. He works at the gym I go to. What are the chances, right?”

“What are the chances indeed.” Despite the lack of juicy gossip, he sounds pleased. “The news I rang you for earlier involves him.”

“How so?”

“Your video with Hoseok has been the number 1 trending video on Bang Gang’s home page since this morning!” He squeals, enthusiasm making the volume of his voice raise by a notch. “People are eating that romantic insemination stuff for breakfast and lunch. The views on this are insane! We haven’t gotten such a big reaction since the Agust D teacher-student role play and that was ages ago.”

“Wh- Are you serious?!”

Unable to contain the elation that surges through your chest, your face breaks out into a giant grin.

You’re admittedly the first to say that the number of views doesn’t equate to one’s talent or prowess in bed, but you also can’t completely disregard what this particular achievement implies...

While belonging to a reputable agency has its perks, it also entails continuous competition with big names. Your coworkers are also your competitors. Every month the most successful porn stars are rewarded and praised, whilst the ones who rake in the least amount of views are cast aside and are fated to fade into anonymity.

As much as you hate to acknowledge it, you’ve never had the support or interest it takes to contend for 1st place on any popularity polls or rankings of the sort. On Wednesdays, it so happens that the number one trending video spot is usually occupied by a popular femdom porn star who’s been in the game long enough to have secured a loyal fanbase.

Seokjin understands and empathizes with your excitement more than anybody.

“Yes, I’m serious! I think this is It, you know? Your Big Breakthrough, the moment we’ve been waiting for. You’ve been doing well so far but I think we’ll be able to go mainstream with this,” he chatters on, excitement building with every word. “Director Ryu said he’d personally call you up later to congratulate you, so don’t turn off your phone and ignore your calls, okay? I think he wants to ask you to film in his next movie but he didn’t discuss the details with me. Whatever it is - please say yes. I know the guy is a little pompous old fart but he really has an eye for this sort of thing. Casting you and Hoseok in the same film was the work of God. The chemistry between the two of you is unreal, no wonder people are jacking off to this at 10 am while they eat their cereal.”

You think it’s too early to rejoice in the success of your video considering the majority of the viewers are sleeping or busy at work - but when THE SPERMINATOR retains its number one ranking for the remainder of the week, you know your achievement deserves to be properly celebrated.

True to Seokjin’s word, Director Ryu does end up calling you. He wants to work with you and Hoseok again for a new film - and possibly more.

“A multi-film contract? You want to sign one with me?”

“How could I not? You’re both naturals and work well together. More importantly, the camera loves you. And people are on board with the pairing already! I think it’s a good idea to capitalize on their interest, don’t you think?”

It doesn’t take much more to convince you — not that you need any convincing at this point.

You refuse to be a flash-in-the-pan star. Although you admittedly had your reservations at first, the unexpected success of the last film is all Ryu needs to persuade you.

And - you like Hoseok. It goes without saying that there are far worse people to be partnered up with. Besides, it’s easier to work with co-stars you’ve starred in movies with previously for multiple reasons. Your acting is much more likely to come off as natural if you’re already acquainted with the dick that’s about to split you open - at least, that’s what you tell yourself.

When you mention the possibility of working again with Hoseok, your boyfriend doesn’t seem to share your enthusiasm.

“So it’s not a one time thing?” He’s not looking at you directly, his attention fixed instead on the freshly brewed coffee he nurses in his hands.

“I mean—” You smile tentatively. “Director Ryu hasn’t said for how long he’ll keep hiring us for his projects. Maybe - maybe he’ll keep the format and hire different actors in the future? He - he didn’t really say. I don’t think he has much of an idea himself. He’s very...peculiar.”

You force out a laugh, but your attempt to lighten up the atmosphere falls flat.

“I see.” Jimin brings the coffee cup to his mouth to hide his grimace.

You don’t need to see his dejected expression to know that he isn’t pleased with this development.

“Do you - is there something wrong with Hoseok?” You hesitate, unsure of how he’ll reply.

Jimin’s never insisted you step down from a project before or expressed his dissatisfaction with any of your ‘artistic choices’, although you always imagined that someday, somewhere down the line, he might. Compared to your past dalliances, Jimin is understanding and empathetic. You don’t expect him to be perfect, however, especially when you yourself are far from that. Everyone must have their own personal limits, right? It’s unfair to ask Jimin to be accepting all the time.

It’s just that...the timing is bad.

You want to take his feelings into consideration, but you’re also aware that this might be your last opportunity to get your name out there once and for all. Your previous works have never tanked, so to speak, but they’d mostly gone by unnoticed. While you’ve managed to make ends meet in the past, such anonymity cannot go on for much longer if you want to remain in this line of work.

Your lipstick wears off as you bite your lower lip. Silence hangs heavy in the air.

Jimin sets down his cup of coffee and averts his gaze.

“No. No, there’s nothing wrong with him.”

You breathe out in relief, only now realizing you’d been holding in your breath as you awaited his answer.

“It’s a bit difficult,” he admits after a pause. “Watching both of you together... Not because it’s bad! You did really good last time. You always do, but - saying ‘I love you’, that kind of stuff, it’s - I don’t know. It’s not your fault, though! I just need some time to adjust. Next time shouldn’t be as strange - since I know what to expect...”

You blink slowly as your brain registers the confession. His words echo in your ears and a strong feeling of déjà-vu washes over you. He’d said something along those lines before, hadn’t he?

Jimin shrugs like it’s no big deal before continuing, “As for Hoseok... He seems like a good person, I guess. I don’t think he’s the problem. Whether it’s him or another guy...” He sighs. “I think I just need to work this out on my own. It’s not like I can ask you to turn down a job offer because of me, right?”

Guilt makes your stomach turn. He’s right. As much as you want to respect his feelings, you can’t bring yourself to turn down the job for his sake. Does that make you selfish? Does he think less of you for it?

“Alright...” When you reach out to take his hand in yours, his skin is surprisingly cold to the touch. “You’ll tell me if it ever bothers you, okay? Filming this - or anything else. I don’t want you to be uncomfortable with what I do...”

You’re not sure what you’ll do if that moment ever comes to pass. Work is your number one priority in life. Many of your relationships haven’t worked out because of that very reason but your past lovers’ dissatisfaction hadn’t been enough to change your mindset. After all, work is what helps put money on the table, not love. You shake your head, as if the action will help you get rid of your stressful thoughts.

Jimin nods as he interlaces his fingers with yours. On normal days, holding hands together puts your mind at rest. You love the way his hand fits in yours, the different skin tones blending into one.

Right now, his pale hand feels unnaturally cold against your own. It feels like winter itself is embracing you and you repress a shiver.

Maybe as his girlfriend it’s not the right choice to make, but — you can’t falter now. It physically pains you to admit it but Seokjin’s worrying isn’t unfounded. Your career is stagnant, your projects predictable and boring. You’re not bad at your job, but you don’t stand out amidst the sea of pretty girls hoping to make a name for themselves.

There’s no guarantee that Director Ryu’s new project will be as successful as the first. You’re no stranger to false hopes; there’s a chance that Seokjin’s wishful thinking might never amount to anything. Even so, you want to give it a shot. Not trying feels too much like giving up and giving up is not an option you’re willing to consider, not when you’ve already put so much on the line.

You’re not a quitter. Seokjin had warned you from day one that it wouldn’t be easy and you’d taken his lessons and warnings to heart. You’d become an adult entertainer fully aware of the trials and tribulations you’d have to face and had been prepared to make the necessary sacrifices in order to achieve your goals.

But are the risks truly worth it? Looking at Jimin’s dejected expression, you’re not so sure anymore.

They’ve really gone all out this time, you muse as you cast a cursory glance at your surroundings. A small, electric waterfall fountain sits in the far right corner and crimson colored scented candles are dispersed all around the elaborate massage parlor set-up, dousing the room in a cosy, amber glow. It’s a surprising sight because porn sets are famous for never focusing on the details. Viewers are here for the sex, not the generic backdrop of a rented room or hotel suite.

Director Ryu vehemently protests.

“That’s precisely what sets apart my works from your average pornography film. I want the viewer to be completely immersed in the movie they’re watching. Porn is too constricting and underwhelming a word. What I’m creating is a feast for the eyes, one that leaves a lasting impression after consumption.”

“Ah... Yes.” You try (and fail) to sound impressed.

“People want to believe the sex is real, even if it’s just for an hour.” He sighs deeply, sounding pained, like explicating such a simple fact isn’t worthy of his time. “They need the escape and it’s our job to make it happen. A few extra candles might not make a colossal difference at first glance. But that’s where you’re wrong! It’s never been about the candles. It’s about the ambiance! The visual experience!”

It’s a pity the new budget doesn’t extend to your wardrobe, you remark internally as your gaze drops to observe the stylists’ pick of the day.

For the upcoming scene, you’ve been instructed to squeeze into a tight, baby pink shirt that stretches obscenely over your bust like something straight out of a frat boy’s wet dream. Inwardly, you congratulate yourself for hitting the gym religiously because your clothes—or lack thereof—put everything on display. The cotton material of your shirt is so thin, you’re surprised the stitches haven’t popped out, while the denim bottoms you sport are so tiny that you could hardly qualify them as shorts. Although—you suppose that there isn’t any use debating over semantics. It’s not as if they’ll stay on long enough for it to matter.

The scenario that you’ll be acting out today is pretty straight-forward. You stop by the parlor to cash in a voucher gifted by a generous and thoughtful friend. Hoseok, who plays the role of an erotic masseuse, gives you a deep tissue body massage worthy of a five star review on Yelp.

Director Ryu is extremely proud of the pitch. His spectacles glint as he pushes them up the bridge of his long nose.

“We’re gonna call it My Bare Lady. Haha, get it?” He gloats. “It’ll be different from our last shoot - the both of you aren’t supposed to be acquainted with each other at all. In fact, there won’t be any romance. We’re aiming for something new because as artists, it’s our duty to reinvent ourselves every day. Complacency is the enemy of creativity.”

At the mention of Hoseok, your gaze flits over in his direction.

His brown hair, two shades lighter than the last time you’d run into him, is swept to the side, giving him a professional and tidy appearance. He’s swapped his workout attire for beige scrub pants and a matching shirt. The color compliments the glow of his tan and the cut of the uniform is flattering to his figure. Diretor Ryu’s speech continues despite your wavering focus.

“—visual stimulation. That’s why one shouldn’t underestimate the proper use of props. A believable setting sets the tone for the rest of the scene. If you don’t believe the role you’ve been given, then why should the audience?”

“Mhm,” you nod here and there but you’ve long stopped paying attention to his one-sided speech.

Your eyes linger on Hoseok’s arms and the dimples that appear every time he laughs. You’re not the only one who stares. A small group of admirers flock to him like bees swarming around a rare and exotic flower.

You’d noticed it before but today confirms it; Hoseok’s presence is riveting. It’s not the first time today your gaze has strayed his way. More than once, you find your eyes drawn to him like a moth to a flame only to quickly avert your gaze whenever your eyes meet. Each time, the right side of his mouth quirks into a half-smile, the beginning of a question forming on his lips.

It’s embarrassing to be caught red-handed gawking but, in your defense, you aren’t the only one who ogles him—and many of them are far less discreet than you try to be, some gazes curious, others downright lecherous.

It bothers you. What exactly do you and everyone else find so fascinating about his character? He’s good-looking, sure—but you’re no stranger to handsome and pretty co-stars with nicely shaped dicks. You can’t put a finger on what sets him apart from the rest.

The gaffer comes over and momentarily interrupts the flow of Director Ryu’s monologue with a personal inquiry. Thank God. You use the opportunity to slip away, grateful that someone has put an end to your misery. As thankful as you are to the director for the career opportunity, you could do without his long-winded speeches that never seem to end.

“Hey, Hoseok.”

His smile widens, the corners dimpling the moment he spots you. “Hey! It’s been a while. Who would’ve thought we’d get to work again so soon, huh?”

“I didn’t think our last movie would do so well, honestly.”

Without its success, who knows what kind of movie you’d be participating in right now? Another re-hashed version of ‘BABYSITTER GETS CREAMED’ type scenario, most probably.

“I guess that’s a testament to your acting skills, right?”

You smile back, sheepish but nevertheless pleased. It always feels nice to be complimented, especially on days like today when you’re feeling less confident than usual.

“You changed up your hair.”

“Yeah! I thought I needed a change.” He threads his fingers through his locks self-consciously. “It looks fine, right?”

“It does!” you agree with an enthusiastic nod.

Jimin, who had insisted to be present on set today, hovers on the edge of your periphery. In the back of your mind you know he means well—that his presence is meant to be a source of support and security. On a typical day, you’re relieved that someone you trust is close by in case the situation escalates. While you’ve never had any horrific experiences, there have been the occasional uncomfortable encounters behind the scenes. Thankfully, Seokjin or Jimin have always stepped in before whichever entitled asshat could get too handsy.

But for the first time, his presence doesn’t comfort you the way it usually does.

Your smile becomes stiff.

The last thing you want is for Jimin to misunderstand the situation... Despite his claims of not having any problems with you shooting again with Hoseok, you can’t forget the stony expression on your boyfriend’s face as he had stared your co-star down, his grip around your waist strong and possessive.

“Are you okay?” Hoseok inquires, noticing your change in attitude. Worry creases his brow. He takes a step forward as if to check up on you.

“I’m okay!” You wave your hands around in the air, if only to maintain the distance separating your figures.

Despite your energetic reassurances, Hoseok looks unconvinced. He tilts his head to the side, his eyes narrowing in concern.

You wrack your head for an acceptable excuse. “Maybe I have pre-performance jitters? It’s nothing serious, though!”

It’s not too far from the truth, either. You feel more nervous than usual... Maybe because you’re aware that today’s shoot will most likely make or break your career. If the results prove to be disappointing, you don’t want to imagine what that means for your future.

You shake your head, refusing to accept any talks of early retirement.

But what other choice will you have, your inner voice argues. If no one is interested in viewing your works, no production company will want to book you for their movies. Even if you’re able to shoot half a dozen films after this failed attempt, the interest and support from viewers and higher-ups will soon dry up.

Hoseok’s features soften.

“Look, I know we don’t know each other that well yet, but if my opinion means anything... I think you’re really amazing.” His deep brown eyes reflect sincerity. “I haven’t had this much fun performing with anyone before and it’s not just ‘cos you’re fucking hot.” He laughs to cover up his embarrassment. “Maybe it’s a bit of a reach to compare the two, but porn is a bit like dancing in a way. There’s a choreography to follow, a certain rhythm and mood you have to get into. But the most important part is the chemistry and trust between you and your partner. And you - when I perform with you, it doesn’t feel like I’m acting at all. Not many people have that ability. For what it’s worth, I think you’re pretty special.”

“T-thanks,” you stutter in reply, taken aback by his candor. “I appreciate that.”

You’re not the only one caught off-guard by Hoseok’s frankness. He rubs the back of his neck and chuckles to fill up the momentary lapse in conversation. A bashful smile inches its way across his face, but surprisingly he doesn’t break eye contact.

You quickly change subjects, unwilling to acknowledge the slight fluttering in your stomach.

“...So, you dance?”

It’s not the smoothest transition, but Hoseok’s face instantly lights up.

“Yes! I mean,” he pauses and clears his throat. “Not professionally. I minored in dance. But it’s something I definitely enjoy, you know, to blow off some steam. Ah, wait a sec—”

He takes out his phone to show you short video clips of his dancing. He pulls up his instagram account and scrolls through an eclectic mix of mirror selfies showcasing his bold fashion choices, dog pics, and videos of him working out and dancing.

“Here’s a recent one.”

You don’t know much about dance but in spite of your little knowledge in the subject, your eyes stay transfixed on the screen in front of you. “Whoa...”

The way he moves is enthralling, for lack of a better word. You know from experience that his body is flexible and agile, lithe and strong, but seeing it in action like this leaves you speechless, momentarily robbed of coherency. You can’t even describe it. His execution of the choreography is sharp and powerful, yet his body doesn’t look rigid. On the contrary, his movements are surprisingly fluid and he never misses a single beat. You watch in astonishment as he pushes himself off of his knees after bending backwards in one fell swoop.

“Eh? Is it even possible to move your body that way?” Surely if you try to mimic him, you’ll look like a flailing chicken. “That can’t be safe...”

Hoseok laughs at your shocked expression. “It takes a lot of practice. You should come to a workshop one day! My friend teaches beginners. He’d be glad if you could join. The more the merrier, right? You don’t need to know any of the basics... And if you’re worried about people poking fun—don’t. Dancing isn’t a competition or anything.”

“I dunno.” You hand him back his phone after watching the video loop back for a second time. “I think my back would crack if I attempted any of that.”

“I think you would do really well! You’re pretty flexible and I don’t think you need to worry about stamina. Your core muscles are also really well developed. Based on what I’ve seen, you have a good sense of balance and beat awareness, so even if you’ve never danced before, you have the body and disposition for it.”

“Well... I guess I—”

“Hey.” Jimin interrupts, plump lips curved into a polite smile. You try not to let your surprise show; you hadn’t even noticed him approaching. He kisses your cheek and slides his hand into yours, clasping it between his own. “Sorry to interrupt, doll. Seokjin wanted to have a word with you before the shoot.”

“Oh.” You blink, your eyes darting back and forth between Jimin and Hoseok. “Um...if you don’t mind?”

“That’s straight,” Hoseok steps back, shoving his hands down his pockets. He shoots you a tentative smile. “I’ll catch you later.”

You feel bad for ditching him mid-conversation after he’d been so nice, but you know how annoying your agent can get when ignored for too long.

Jimin’s fingers tighten around yours. When you look up, he’s pouting, his lips pursed and brows drawn together.

“Is something on your mind?”

You can see the hesitation flicker across his face. When he finally meets your gaze, his expression is troubled.

“It’s nothing...” He looks away again and the grip he has on your hand loosens.

“Hm.” You swallow down any further inquiries, worried you’ll upset him.

“What was that about, anyway?” he asks casually, trying his best to look uninterested. “You and Hoseok look like you’re getting along well.”

“Yeah.” The memory of your previous conversation makes you smile softly despite yourself. “He’s a nice guy.”

“I can imagine.” Jimin mutters under his breath. Before you have time to question him again, he straightens his spine, his features twisting into an apologetic expression. “Look, I gotta help setting up the cameras. I’ll see you after the shoot.”

“Ah... Alright.” You fight to keep the disappointment of your face. Since you only have a few minutes before filming begins, you’d been hoping to spend it with him.

As if reading your mind, Jimin leans in and kisses you, his plush lips soft and familiar against your own. You expect him to pull away after a few seconds but his left hand slots itself behind your neck, bringing you in closer to deepen the kiss. His other hand angles your head to the side, giving him more access, and he doesn’t waste any time before brushing his tongue against the roof of your mouth.

You respond to the kiss as if on auto-pilot, but your thoughts are all jumbled in your head. Jimin’s always been a good kisser but he’s rarely kissed you quite like this. His style is more of a slow-burn, the kind that slowly creeps up on you and leaves your whole body numb with pleasure. Every press of his lips feels like a silent prayer of worship and each swipe of his tongue tastes like adoration. You like that he takes his time, like you’re not just a quick meal to curb his hunger but a delicacy worthy of being savored.

Right now, this kiss feels unfamiliar. Urgency replaces devotion. Perhaps it’s because he’s short on time, but his touch is hurried and sloppy. He bites your lower lip, hard enough for it to hurt, and licks into your mouth when you mewl out a gasp of surprise.

“I wish I could just mark you up,” he pants against your parted lips. They feel tender when you smack them closed.

“The makeup artist is going to strangle you for messing up my lipstick.” You fake a scowl. You’re not half-wrong, though. Once she sees how swollen they’ve become she’s bound to take out her frustration on the closest available victim. “If you marked me for real, she’d probably kill you. Don’t tempt her.”

He chuckles and pulls back, letting his hands fall to his side. His eyes dart to somewhere behind your shoulder, his smile curving into a smirk.

“You’re right.” He sighs, looking back at you. “But that’s easier said than done. You’re hard to resist... Anyone would agree.”

Something dark clouds his eyes but whatever it is, it’s gone in the next blink.

You laugh, pleased nonetheless by his flattery. “Didn’t you say you had to help set up? You’re going to end up in trouble because of me…”

Jimin snorts but backs up all the same. “Don’t worry about me. Besides, you’re worth getting in trouble for.”

Someone behind you gags dramatically. “Absolutely sickening.”

When you whirl around, your agent shoots you a disgusted glare. “I was wondering what was taking you so long but I should’ve known you two were out here fabricating babies. Have you no shame?”

“I’ll see you after the shoot!” Jimin says quickly, eager to get away from Seokjin and his sharp tongue.

“See you.” You smile sweetly, ignoring Seokjin’s grumbling. You feel a pang of jealousy as you watch him scurry out of sight. If only you could avoid Seokjin’s pre-performance motivational speeches...

“Anyways.” Seokjin looks noticeably less irritated once Jimin is gone. “I wanted to check up on you before filming could begin. How’s your ass doing?”

You don’t bother hiding your grimace. “Squeaky clean and stretched.”

“That’s what I like to hear.” He sounds proud. “Don’t make that face. It’s your first anal scene after all. Doesn’t hurt to be prepared, right?”

By ‘be prepared’ he means following a strict diet prior to shooting, waking up at the ass crack of dawn to get a colonic, stretching out your asshole for a good thirty minutes using a fuck ton of lube, and constantly rehydrating yourself throughout the day to the point where you’d gone to the bathroom more times than you could count on one hand.

You’re never this thorough with prep before having anal but apparently that’s the difference between fucking in the privacy of your own home and on camera.

“There’s a reason why cleanliness is one of the fundamentals of anal sex, especially when shooting porn. It’s a pain...in the ass...but this way, no one sees something they’d rather not see,” had explained Seokjin after giving you a non-exhaustive list of detailed steps to follow. You suppose there’s logic behind his reasoning. Due to the magic of 4k-quality videos, viewers can now easily see everything, down to the sweat droplets dotting your hairline and any makeup-covered skin imperfections, so you don’t want to imagine what they’ll notice once the camera zooms in on your back entrance.

“Eventually you’ll get used to squeezing water out your bum on the regular.” He shrugs. “You’ll also start to avoid certain foods on your own. The dietary restrictions aren’t that bad, all things considered, and your body will thank you for eating more spinach than you’re used to. Greens are good for your health even if they taste like yuck.”

Athough his suggestions are well-intended, you don’t need another 25 minute speech on all the know-hows of filming anal sex. The first time had been more than enough.

“Thanks for the advice!” you interject right as he opens his mouth to continue his counseling. “That reminds me I need to get this butt plug out of my ass before we start shooting.”

Seokjin sighs. “That would be preferable, yes.”

He doesn’t need to know that you’ve taken out the butt plug in the bathroom half an hour ago. Any excuse will do, as long as you’re spared from listening to his passionate discourse on the benefits of high-fibre food diets and his long list of enema tutorial video recommendations.

The fussing, you think, is unnecessary. You’re not worried about the upcoming sex scene, even if it will be the first time someone other than your partner sees you in that position. No, what troubles you is the possibility of the audience growing tired of seeing you onscreen now that they’ve witnessed you take it up the ass. Boredom is the reason why so many of your peers are forced to end their careers prematurely, after all. Why else is Seokjin so adamant about you pacing yourself and not filming everything there is to film right off the bat? You’ve always held off shooting anal, double penetration and the likes, for that very reason. Although you have no qualms with the act itself, you’re worried that you’re now one step closer to retirement.

The thoughts sit on your shoulders like a heavy weight as you get ready for the scene to come. You listen to Director Ryu’s instructions as he describes the scenario’s key points, your character’s motives, and what sex positions you should include before the scene comes to an end.

“The rest is up to you,” he says with an encouraging nod. “I want the words to come from the heart! Let yourself be a vessel, a way for your character to express their innermost desires.”

“Leave it up to us.” Hoseok’s smile radiates confidence.

“I like your enthusiasm!” Director Ryu approves, clapping his hands together. He misses the way his two leading actors exchange exasperated glances over his shoulder. “Good, then we’re all set? Remember where the cameras are positioned, please, or else we’ll have to reshoot to get the right angles.”

“Got it.” You nod, eager to get this show on the road. Between him and Seokjin, your ears are about to fall off from the incessant chattering. Even the camera men are starting to grow restless.

Speaking of... You meet Jimin’s gaze, the sides of your mouth upturning the moment you spot him. As usual, he looks slightly out of place standing between the other crew members, his white, ironed dress shirt neatly tucked into his black pants providing a stark contrast with his co-workers’ unkempt appearance.

Jimin mirrors your smile and your shoulders immediately relax. A lot of people may not understand why you’d allow your boyfriend on set while you’re fucking someone else, but his presence brings you a strange sense of comfort that’s hard to put into words.

The sound of your name being called pulls you from your line of thought.

“Can you scoot over to the right? Just a little.” Director Ryu orders while glancing at the monitor. “Yes, that’s much better. And can we fix the lighting, please? My shadow’s getting picked up by the camera.”

Now that the start of the shoot is right around the corner, your stomach cramps up with a nervous kind of anticipation. Your tongue feels like cotton in your mouth and even when you swallow, the unpleasant feeling doesn’t go away.

You clasp your hands together in your lap to hide the minute trembling of your fingers. It’s strange, you think. Ever since you started working with Hoseok, you always get too wrapped in your thoughts. Not necessarily in a bad way, at least not all the time, but --

“You all good?” Hoseok asks, low enough that the mics won’t be able to pick up his questioning. “Do you need some water?”

You shake your head. “I’m good, thanks.”

He hesitates but doesn’t push. “I just wanna run this with you one last time. I know we already signed the consent forms but I’d feel better talking with you about the scene directly.”

“Oh.” You remember he’d done something similar last time, too. “Sure.”

“Anal aside, are you okay with the use of degrading names during the scene?” His eyes never leave yours, like he wants you to know how serious he is.

“I’m okay with you calling me a whore.” Your shoulders loosen up. It’s easy to relax when you’re on familiar territory. Working in this industry requires complete transparency. There’s no shame in discussing your kinks just like there’s no shame in admitting the acts you’re not comfortable performing. “As long as I can call you a slut.”

“That’s fine.” His lips quirk up, but not in a mocking or dismissing way. “I don’t really have any hard limits myself, except for what you’ve already seen on paper. Degradation is fine with me. Call my dick tiny all you want, I won’t take it to heart.”

You laugh, forgetting to keep the volume down. “I’ll keep that in mind…”

“So degradation is fine. Is humiliation okay as well? Situational and verbal?”

“I like that.” You bite your lower lip as you remember your encounter with Min Yoongi a month or so ago, how turned on you’d been from his words alone. “I’ll admit I haven’t dabbled too much in BDSM on the porn scene, but I enjoyed what I’ve done so far.”

“That’s good to know.” He raises his brow. “Ever since we received the pitch for today’s movie I’ve been trying to think of ways to make it, uh, more interesting. So to speak. But I didn’t want to take any initiatives if they made you uncomfortable. Oh, also I meant to ask if there was anything you wanted to include in the scene aside from anal sex.”

Somehow you’re not surprised he’s put thought into this. Last time you’d worked with him, he’d been overflowing with suggestions as well. Maybe because the previous filming formats aren’t as flexible, but it’s not often you meet someone so willing to exchange ideas before filming.

The change is more than welcome. For the first time, it feels like your opinion actually matters. The two of you quietly go back and forth discussing different possibilities while the filming crew finish setting up the set the way Director Ryu wants it.

“Alright,” Ryu calls, settling into the director’s chair. Somewhere in the background, the gaffer wipes off his brow. “Everyone ready to rooooollll?”

Hoseok takes a few steps back and reaches for a nearby clipboard.

Miraculously, you note distantly, the swarming of butterflies in your stomach is now gone. Your palms are no longer clammy and cold with perspiration. When you swallow, there’s no lump of nerves stuck in your throat.

Hoseok sends an encouraging smile your way right before Director Ryu yells “ACTION!” and he schools his features into a more polite, appropriate expression.

He doesn’t speak up right away, just walks over to where you’re sitting on the massage table in a leisurely manner. You open your mouth to fill the silence but he beats you to it.

“Welcome to Happy Ending Clinic, where we ensure every client leaves feeling 100% satisfied. We guarantee high quality services personally adapted to suit the needs of our every client,” Hoseok says in lieu of greeting, the lilt in his voice smooth and practiced, like he’s used to repeating this introduction multiple times throughout the day. “My name is J-Hope and today you will be in my care.”

“Nice to meet you.” You’re careful to keep your back ramrod straight, hoping the stiffness in your body will be picked up by the cameras.

The role you’re playing today is more reserved and awkward than the usual unabashed and bold characters you’re used to acting. And while it’s not your first time pretending to be coy and shy for the cameras, such behavior isn’t second nature.

His smile, whilst professional, radiates warmth. You suppose it’s meant to be reassuring.

“I will do my best to make this session unforgettable.”

His gaze sweeps over the clipboard sitting in his hands.

“Hmmm... ______, is it?” When you nod in affirmation, he continues. “It says here it’s your first time visiting our establishment.”

You’re surprised at how naturally he adapts to the role he’s been assigned to. The words that roll off his tongue sound like his own.

“Yes... Honestly, I - I didn’t think it was necessary, but my friend insisted - I mean, she recommended I visit this place...said it would do me some good.”

You wring your hands in your lap. You’re lucky the character you’re playing today is supposed to be a little shy and rigid. Otherwise, you’re not sure Director Ryu would have let your awkward stuttering slide.

“That’s not a problem.” The lines of Hoseok’s mouth bend into a reassuring smile. “Let’s see... It says you’ve booked an hour-long session?”

“Yep.”

“Then with your permission, I’d like to take fifteen supplementary minutes to find out which massage course is best suited for a novice like you. It’ll be free of charge, of course.”

You nod, eager to get the show on the road. Given your character’s disposition, maybe you should have pretended to mull over the proposal for a few seconds more - if only for appearance’s sake - but you’re tired of all this talking. Impatience gets the best of you.

“Oh! Yes, that sounds fine.”

He pulls out several colorful mock pamphlets and hands them over for you to peruse their contents. You try not to let your astonishment show.

It’s the first time you’ve seen a prop team this devoted to their task. Although the insides of the brochures remain blank, you still can’t believe someone actually took the time to print out fake brochure covers. You appreciate the effort, even if the covers do look like they’ve been made by someone who’s looking to major in ‘graphic design is my passion.’

You hold one up at random and pretend to read through it, hoping that whoever will watch the movie later will ignore the ugly block font that spells out ‘NAUGHTY MASSAGE : FOUR HANDS EDITION.’

“Inside, you’ll find a detailed explanation on the various vegan, cruelty-free products we use. All of our treatments are oil-based and you can choose the scent of your choice. If your skin is particularly sensitive, we have essential oil-infused body butters that work just as effectively and leave the skin silky smooth to the touch. Depending on your skin type, you might be interested in testing—” He takes out several jars all while explaining the different health benefits of ylang ylang essential oil.

Once again, you’re caught off guard by his convincing performance. Even though you’ve been given several pointers by the director before filming, Hoseok is the one who ultimately calls the shots. Inwardly, you wonder how he manages to come up with such original lines on the spot. Despite not being a professional actor, Hoseok’s intuitive choices are beyond your expectations.

The thoroughness of his explanation makes your head spin. Cruelty-free products? Body butter? You have no way of knowing whether his statements are fabricated for the sake of the vague storyline - but you suppose the credibility of his words doesn’t really matter in the end. It’s the small details he sprinkles here and there that help you immerse in the scene.

His proficiency in acting makes all of your worries melt away. It’s hard to believe he’s only a rookie, just starting off his career, and not an acting veteran with dozens of movies under his belt.

Not wanting to be entirely overshadowed by your co-star, you furrow your eyebrows, determination set into your features.

“I’m sorry... I’ve never done this before. They all look the same to me.”

“Ah.” Still, Hoseok’s smile stays amiable and professional. “Well, let’s go about it this way - why do you think your friend insisted you visit our establishment?”

You catch your bottom lip between your teeth, your gaze dropping to the floor in order to avert his probing stare. “I - um. I haven’t had - I mean, I guess I’ve been stressed lately. More pent up than usual. I’ve tried exercising and meditating and mas- uh...well everything, honestly. But nothing seems to work. I’m snappy all the time and...frustrated.”

Today, the character you’re playing is a bit more bashful, too timid to voice her desires into spoken words. “It’s all about the tension! The build-up!” Director’s Ryu’s voice echoes in your mind as a reminder.

“I see,” Hoseok nods, taking your comments into consideration. “On a scale of 1 to 10, how would you rate the quality of your sleep?”

“A five...” you say after a moment’s hesitation. “I don’t wake up during the night, but it takes me a long time to fall asleep.”

“Do you feel any pain anywhere?”

“Pain? No, not really.” You roll your shoulders back, conscious of the way your perky chest juts out, nipples prominent through the cheap fabric. “My neck does feel sore from time to time but I think it’s because I work an office job. They say staying hunched over in front of a computer all day is bad for your health.”

His gaze roams your figure, quietly assessing. “It is.”

“May I?” he asks, taking a tentative step closer. “I think I’ll need to gauge your level of sensitivity for myself. We’ll adjust the intensity of the massage depending on how much pressure you can withstand and how your body reacts to different types of stimuli.”

Your brows lift. “Oh. Sure, why not.”

“Move back a little. A bit more.” You obey his instructions without second thoughts. “That’s perfect, thank you.”

Your legs dangle awkwardly over the edge of the massage table. You can probably close them if you wanted to, but you don’t miss an opportunity to expose yourself in front of the cameras. The shorts you’re wearing are more like tiny scraps of denim put together with the help of a few stitches. You’re certain that if someone were to really look, they’d see the outline of your pussy lips.

Hoseok walks around the table to stand behind you. The sensation is somewhat familiar—right away, you’re reminded of the first encounter with Hoseok, the one where he’d wrapped his arms around you and whispered words of love into your ear. You close your eyes and let the images flash by in quick succession. The memories all come rushing in at once—an artist’s lips painting your skin like a brush would canvas, a potter’s agile fingers molding your body from clay, a lyricist’s tongue composing sonnets into your weeping, open cunt. Your body remembers it all.

When he finally touches you, his hands radiate warmth the shadow of his memory does not.

A shudder runs down your spine.

Oblivious to your inner thoughts, Hoseok carefully gathers your hair into a ponytail and moves it out of the way. His mobility no longer restricted, he lets his slender digits travel down the slope of your neck, the pads of his fingers digging into the meat of your shoulders.

“You’re unusually tense here.” Concern colors his voice as he increases the pressure.

Suddenly the discomfort you’re to convey to the audience is no longer feigned. “Ow!”

The wince that mars your face is authentic. You try to wiggle out of his grasp to relieve the sharp ache in your shoulders. Hoseok’s grip is strong, however, and he keeps you exactly where he thinks you ought to be.

“Hmm...”

He massages your arms one by one. The circular movements he traces across your skin are a lot more gentle this time around, and you allow yourself to slowly relax under his touch. He manipulates your body like one would a rag doll, pulling your arm over your head.

“Can you reach behind, towards your neck? How about a little lower? You should feel a stretch here.” He taps at an arm muscle.

“Yeah… I can definitely feel it.”

You suspect that Hoseok’s stunt as a Pilates instructor is what’s helping him sound so experienced and natural.

“Good.” He lets out a pleased hum. “Hold the position for as long as you can.”

His hands reach around your body to squeeze your perky breasts. You gasp at the rather rough way he handles your tits. Perhaps it’s because you’ve been told to forgo a bra, but you’re much more conscious of his every action - from the way his fingers splay out, cupping the fullness of your breasts between them, to the way he kneads your mounds with his entire palm as he gropes you from behind.

“How often do you masturbate?” he asks in an almost offhand manner, his tone is more clinical than casual. The question is crude and direct enough to distract you from the way his fingers encircle your nipples through the cotton fabric of your shirt.

You recall Ryu’s earlier directions: unlike your first movie together, this tryst is not romantic in nature. The scenario that you’re acting out this time doesn’t involve sweet kisses and whispered declarations of love. Feelings aren’t on the table.

You pretend like the bitter taste you swallow down isn’t disappointment.

“Um.” You struggle to remember the initial question. Luckily, your mental buffering comes off as bashful and true to the character you’re playing. “I, uh, I guess masturbate often?”

“But it isn’t enough, is it?”

His question comes off as slightly patronizing. Before you can formulate a suitable answer, Hoseok’s fingers tweak your hardened nipples and your back bows under the pressure. You oscillate between the desire to thrust your chest out in offering, and the pressing need to flee the sharp sensations his skilled hands provoke.

“I - um!” You squirm helplessly as he continues playing with your breasts. “It isn’t!”

“Just as I thought.” He pinches both of your nipples and pulls at them until you cry out in half-pain, half-pleasure. The thin material of your shirt doesn’t dull the ache; if anything, the cotton scratches your skin, rubbing the nubs raw.

Despite your very visible discomfort, Hoseok doesn’t let go. You can only sit there obediently while he has his fun, knowing that if you wiggle too much it’ll only worsen the pain.

“Ah!”

Only then does he release them. You fight against the urge to cover your sore nipples. Your flimsy shirt hadn’t provided any protection against his rough onslaught, none at all.

“You’re quite sensitive,” he observes, giving your breasts one last squeeze.

Finished with his appraisal, he steps away and picks his clipboard up. He makes his way around the massage table, coming back into view, and scribbles something onto the paper with a ballpoint pen. He looks so absorbed in his work that you almost fall for the act.

You worry your bottom lip, crossing your arms over your chest self-consciously. Without a bra, your hardened nipples are clearly visible through the thin shirt. They jut out in a distracting way; Hoseok’s eyes drop down for a split-second in appreciation before flickering back to the clipboard in his hands.

“Your body is wound up. It’s tense in places it shouldn’t be.”

“Is that...a bad thing?”

“No. Your case is not abnormal.” He shakes his head and offers you a reassuring smile. “Although... Hm. When was the last time you achieved an an orgasm?”

You look away, mumbling your answer in an embarrassed voice. “Last night.”

More scribbling. He taps the end of the pen against his chin, pretending to be lost in thought.

His eyes glint when he asks, “How many times did you cum?”

It’s not real - none of this is - and yet you can feel warmth spreading from your cheeks down to your chest. It’s a strange sensation, stuck somewhere between humiliation and arousal, and it makes your entire body heat up from the inside out.

“Just - Just once…”

“Look at me.”

Your eyes snap towards his on command. He looks relaxed, unbothered, like he’s discussing the weather forecast and not your masturbation habits. You want to look away but something in his stare pins you in place.

“You’re telling me the truth, right?”

“Yes! I’m not - I wouldn’t lie.”

“Good.” He smiles pleasantly, nodding to himself. “So. You came once. Did you use your fingers? Or, perhaps, a toy?”

He’s still staring at you, forcing you to look him straight in the eyes while you confess your sins. Your thighs clench together and you struggle to focus on the conversation at hand.

“F-fingers.” Your breathing becomes ragged as you imagine Hoseok’s fingers replacing your imaginary ones. They’d fill you up nicely, too. Compared to your own, they’re longer, capable of reaching places yours can’t. All you’d have to do is hook your arms under your knees and keep your legs spread wide open. He doesn’t even need to take your clothes off; he could pull the seam of your shorts and underwear to the side and fuck you just like that. “I only used my fingers.”

He raises an eyebrow like he doesn’t quite believe you. Somehow, that makes the fire between your legs burn hotter. It’s like - he knows you’re too cockhungry to settle for just fingers. And if a mere stranger can tell how desperate you are to get fucked, what about the rest?

“Interesting.” Hoseok’s eyes darken by the minute. “And do you prefer clitoral stimulation to penetration?”

“I-” You pause and struggle to formulate your response. Your ears feel hot. In fact - your entire face feels like it’s on fire.

The embarrassment you feel doesn’t make sense - you’ve never had any qualms discussing sex. You can talk candidly about any topic for hours on end, from the condom brands you prefer to advice on how to maintain a rash-free pussy, to the point where some people might think you’re over-sharing or being too crass. Discussing intimate topics shouldn’t be a problem.

It’s not even a real dialogue anyway, so why do you -

“Yes?” Hoseok leans forward, interrupting your train of thought. The corner of his mouth is upturned, like he can’t help but be amused by your discomfiture.

“I like, um.” You close your eyes, hoping that it’ll somehow make the admission easier. It doesn’t. The darkness makes you feel even more exposed, like all your secrets are laid bare for him to see. Your voice quivers when you answer. “I - I touch - I mean, sometimes I’ll - my fingers aren’t long enough. So just rubbing the outside is - fine.”

“Ah. You like being stuffed full, I take it?” Hoseok’s vulgar vocabulary makes your eyes snap open in shock. He smirks, not expecting you to answer. “Poor girl.”

You shake your head, your reply dying in your throat. With every word he utters, your thoughts become fuzzy, muddled.

“What did you imagine last night while you were getting off? A stranger fucking your face? Big men taking turns using your cunt? Tell me. In detail, preferably.”

“I don’t see how-” The sharp look in his eyes makes you swallow down any protest. Still. You can’t get your mouth to work correctly and you look back at him helplessly.

“Is there a reason why you can’t tell me?” He tilts his head to the side, the smirk on his face growing, canines flashing. “Oh. I see.”

You flinch, your face impossibly hot.

“Were you thinking of today’s session?” He chuckles, delighted. “That’s quite naughty of you. Although, I can’t blame you, can I? We are known to deliver the best orgasma. It’s only natural to imagine what would happen.”

That’s right, you think. You’d spent all night fantasizing about a faceless, nameless stranger’s hands all over your naked body. How long had it been since you’d felt someone’s touch? Their tongue buried deep in your cunt, fucking you until your thighs trembled? Even your best dildo couldn’t hold a candle to a hot-blooded, throbbing cock.

Hoseok taps the pen against the clipboard, the staccato sound filling the silence.

“One last question.” He makes sure he has your undivided attention before continuing. “No need to look so worried. I won’t ask you what lewd thoughts you get off to, although maybe in future sessions I’ll expect that of you.”

You don’t linger on the implication there - that you’ll undoubtedly come back for seconds - and nod your assent for him to go on.

“Did you cum hard while thinking of getting fucked by me today?”

You inhale sharply, struggling to hold his stare. “I… The sheets were so wet afterwards, I had to change them.”

“I see.” He jots something down on his clipboard but his reaction doesn’t give anything away. Nervously, you pull on a loose string hanging from the hem of your short. “Hm…”

After a few seconds of silence he speaks up again, done with his assessment.

“Well, normally for first timers such as yourself we’d recommend starting with a more soothing body massage. But I think in your case a more thorough massage is needed. It’s not a cause for concern!” He adds quickly, as if to assuage any growing fears. “But in my professional opinion, I think the massage I have in mind for you might be more beneficial than the beginner level massage.”

“Um, what does this massage entail exactly?”

“We call it the full treatment. In other words - it’s a deep tissue penetration massage,” Hoseok explains calmly. “It includes an internal massage. We’ll use a variety of methods but rest assured - all techniques are tried and tested! You’ll be in safe hands.”

You pretend to mull it over.

Hoseok waits for your nod of confirmation before instructing, “There are towels at your disposal.” He motions to the pile of fluffy white towels folded neatly on the bench. “Feel free to use them. While you change into a...less restricting outfit, I’ll go retrieve the rest of the massage equipment. See you in a bit!”

And with that he’s gone. The privacy he grants you is, of course, just an illusion. Even without looking in their direction, you know that the cameras’ lenses are all focused on you, waiting to capture the impending striptease. You’d forgotten about them but Hoseok’s absence reminds you of their presence.

Per Director Ryu’s earlier instructions, you make a show of taking off your clothes. Teasing the camera comes naturally to you thanks to your prior experience as a cam girl; you know exactly which angles are the most flattering and which ones, on the other hand, emphasize your flaws.

Your back arches as you peel off your shirt, drawing attention to the swell of your breasts and the curve of your waist. Not long after do you shimmy out of your shorts, exaggerating the swing of your hips for the audience’s viewing pleasure. You try not to show your surprise when the dampness of your crotch sticks to your folds as you pull them down your legs - you hadn’t expected how much a simple tit massage and few exchanged words would rile you up.

The denim pools around your ankles and when you bend over to retrieve the useless item of clothing, you’re acutely aware of how your wet, waxed pussy peeks out from between your thighs. You stay in position, giving the camera ample time to zoom in, and while the stretch isn’t painful (thanks to your yoga lessons!), it is a rather awkward position to maintain.

Once you straighten up, you take a few seconds to fold up the shirt and itty bitty shorts before setting them aside. Normally, you’d leave your discarded clothing strewn about but you can’t imagine your character behaving in such an uncouth way.

With that thought in mind, you wrap yourself with a short towel. Rather than covering your intimate bits, it’s so short that it emphasizes your nakedness. When you go to sit on the massage table, the towel rides up, leaving you exposed and you have to fold your hands in your lap to preserve a semblance of modesty.

It’s easy to convey nervousness while you wait for Hoseok’s return. While you’ve never attended any drama school, you have watched plenty enough Netflix dramas to know which physical cues are more or less effective - constant fidgeting, shifty eyes, audible gulping. Since it’s your first time putting your knowledge into practice, you’re not certain how convincing your acting is, but hey, isn’t it the effort that counts? You’re not here to audition for the starring role in Hollywood’s next summer blockbuster, after all.

Hoseok knocks twice before entering, stopping your self-depreciation in its tracks. He’s abandoned the earlier clipboard for a large, nondescript, white cardboard box that rattles with every step he takes. It sounds more ominous than it actually is.

If Director Ryu is truly aiming for realism, he wouldn’t make Hoseok carry back the items in a fucking box, you think privately. Who even does that? Although you suppose realism isn’t the be-all end-all, no matter how much the director insists. Sometimes viewers like to be metaphorically edged and endlessly teased, and all this guessing only adds to the build-up, making the climax more than worth it. They could, of course, fast-forward to get to the juicy sex scenes, the crux of the matter, but you’d like to believe all this extra effort is worth it.

You blink curiously back at Hoseok, feigning ignorance.

“Oh good.” He beams in your direction, his eyes drinking in your scantily-clad figure. “Now that you’re more comfortable, please lie down for me.”

He sets the box to the side, opens the lid, and takes out a bottle of oil while you settle down on your stomach and carefully rearrange your towel so that it covers your bum.

“I’ve chosen bergamot essential oil for today’s massage. It’s a nice, citrus-like scent that’s not too overwhelming because it’s been mixed in with sweet almond oil. Its many virtues include, but are not limited to, increasing the body’s energy flow and enhancing feelings of joy and freshness.”

“That sounds lovely.” You sigh dreamily. Getting massaged and getting dicked down in one go? Hell yeah. That one is a no-brainer for sure.

There’s a shadow of a smirk on Hoseok’s face when he rounds on you, like he’s somehow privy to your thoughts. That, or your eagerness is too transparent. You’re betting on the latter.

His voice lowers an octave, the low timber making shivers run down your back.

“Shall we begin?”

He moves your hair to the side, leaving your neck and back exposed. He then pulls down your towel so that it uncovers the expanse of your back and covers more of your bottom half instead.

“Is this alright?” he inquires. As if testing the waters, his fingers trace down the line of your spine, stopping right before your lower back dips into a curve.

You moan your assent. “More than.”

Hoseok takes the bottle of oil and drizzles its contents over your skin like a painter splattering ink onto a blank canvas. He spreads the lubricant all over your back, rubbing your skin in circular motions until you’re coated with it. You let out a few pleased sounds here and there that are not entirely faked or exaggerated. He definitely knows what he’s doing with his hands.

Honestly, you feel sorry towards your co-star who’s stuck doing most of the work while you’re splayed out like a starfish. It feels a bit unfair that you’re getting paid more than him when he’s the one putting in most of the effort. Had you any shame, you’d give him half of your pay for his services. Alas.

“Tell me if it hurts anywhere,” he warns, not unkindly.

Your back stiffens. You expect Hoseok to replicate the rough treatment he’d inflicted to your breasts, but contrary to your expectations, he kneads your body gently, almost tenderly. The contrast between this touch and his earlier ministrations messes with your head. When his hands outline your flank, his fingers prodding the sides of your breasts, you swallow a hopeful sigh as you wait for him to envelop your soft mounds and roll your sensitive nipples between his skilled fingers.

Betrayal brews in your gut when he fails to indulge your fantasies. You’re tempted to grab his wrist and guide his hand to where you need it the most but you miraculously hold yourself back. Since the scene doesn’t call for that much impatience and desperation on your part, you’d hate to be the reason why Director Ryu asks for a re-take.

Thankfully, he soon puts you out of your misery. Hoseok retreats, done teasing the sides of your breasts for the time being. You’re not sure it’s relief or disappointment that swims in your lower belly, but Hoseok doesn’t give you time to dwell on the question. Almost as soon as he retracts his hands from your back, he redirects his attention to your legs. His hands, warm and slick from the oil, glide over the back of your calves and thighs with ease. His thumbs rub circular shapes into your flesh as he slowly works his way up, the pleasant sensations leaving your whole body boneless.

“You loosen up well.”

Hoseok’s fingers skirt the hem of the towel. Your breath gets caught in your throat as he toys with the fabric.

“Will you open up for me, pretty? You look tense right here.” He flips the towel up, revealing your bare lower half. He wastes no time before gripping the meat of your ass cheeks, fingers digging into the supple flesh. He spreads your cheeks apart, cool air blowing against your exposed holes, and lets them jiggle back into place after giving the camera ample time to capture the view. “Hm. Looks like you haven’t been properly stretched out in a long time... We’ll fix that today.”

Bolts of pleasure run through your body. The whole situation is ludicrous and yet, for whatever reason you cannot pinpoint, moisture gathers between your thighs with every passing second, adding to the mess dripping from your folds.

“Um, like this?” You part your legs open slightly, as if unsure. In situations like these, the biggest challenge is to act diffident and coy when all you want is for your co-star to blow your back out.

He tsks, the sound sharp and reproving. It goes straight to your core and makes your belly clench with unspeakable need.

“How am I supposed to fuck your holes open in that position?” He has the audacity to sound impatient. “Work with me here.”

He grabs your ankles and separates them himself, ignoring your yelp of surprise. Unaccustomed to the stretch, the muscles in your thighs strain with the effort to hold the position.

A whine slips out your mouth. He’s so mean.

While you expect Hoseok to act somewhat distant and objective because of the role he’s playing, his fluctuating behavior gives you nothing but whiplash. One moment he’s cordial and friendly, the epitome of what a professional should be, the next he’s treating you like you’re his plaything, not his client.

His grip around your ankles is firm and unyielding. He’s got you spread impossibly wide, your legs dangling dangerously off the edge of the table with your waxed holes exposed for inspection.

“That’s good, just like that.” His hands let go of your ankles when he’s sure you won’t move from the position he’s steered you into. He strokes up your legs, the touch feather-light and fleeting. “Keep your legs spread wide. I want to see your cute little holes on display.”

His crude remarks make your body flush with heat.

Even if this is the sort of place that offers sexual gratification, Hoseok’s wording toes several lines. As his client, he should be focused on giving you pleasure, so why do his comments make it sound like you’re here for his entertainment instead?

Despite your character being fully aware of what type of establishment she’s visiting, you reckon Hoseok’s words are enough to make her squirm in embarrassment. There’s something filthy about the way he orders you around and bends you to his will. Even you’re not indifferent to the impersonal way he handles your body like a doll. Flickers of arousal lick up your spine, and with your legs extended so far apart, it’s not difficult for Hoseok to notice how much you’re wound up.

The position is far from proper. Hot streaks of humiliation burn through you when you imagine how easy and slutty you must seem to whoever is watching. You don’t dare move from the pose he’s maneuvered you into, not because you’re scared of the consequences, but because his presence demands obedience. Even without explicitly saying so, he’s made it clear that for the next hour or so, you’re his to toy with.

“Good girl. You open up so nicely.” Hoseok purrs, satisfied with your compliance. “Now let me see what I’m working with here.”

He swipes his index finger through your glossy folds, the action forcing you to stifle a startled gasp. It’s nothing like the erotic oil massage you’d experienced minutes prior. The touch is inquisitive, clinical, assessing. Like he’s testing out a new product before purchase.

You want to stay still but you’re so wound up from his incessant teasing. The slightest caress makes the hairs on the back of your nape stand straight. Hoseok is all too aware of this fact. The tip of his pointer finger comes in contact with your clit, the touch more delicate than a feather's caress. Hoseok watches with thinly veiled amusement as you jerk against the table.

“You really are sensitive,” he all but coos. “What a treat. Don’t need any oil when you’re leaking all over the table like a faucet. How long has it been since someone touched you here, hm?”

The teasing lilt in his voice borders on condescending. Heat simmers under the surface of your skin as you struggle to collect your thoughts.

“Eight months,” you squeak just as two of his fingers dip into your slicked up entrance.

“No wonder you’re all worked up.” He slides his digits right up to the knuckle, the glide so easy it’s embarrassing. “Needy holes like yours should be used more often.”

He fucks his fingers into your pussy one, two, three times, before pulling away, chuckling under his breath when your hips push back, greedy and desperate for more. Using the same hand he’d used to test out your cunt Hoseok slaps your ass once, the sharp sting making you still at once.

The damp mark on your ass is a testament to how fucking soaked you are. You can’t imagine what kind of mess the cameras are picking up on - but maybe you don’t have to.

Hoseok wipes his fingers off on you, using you to clean himself off. Although you can’t see anything because of the way you’re laying down, everything feels wet and filthy. He rubs your own juices onto your skin, reminding you of the intensity of your need.

And just when you don’t think his mouth can get any filthier, he proves you wrong.

“I can tell you haven’t been stretched recently,” he sighs, almost disappointed. “You’re just gagging for a pounding, aren’t you? It’s a shame your fuck-hole is too tight to take a big cock or I would have given it to you right away.”

Your lower body clenches as his words wash over you.

The idea sounds downright delicious. Hoseok is right. Even if it’s just for the sake of the storyline, there’s nothing more you want right now than a good, hard fucking. It would take him less than ten seconds for him to pull his hard cock out from his scrubs and make a home for himself between your thighs. Images flash through your mind of Hoseok’s hands on your breasts, in your hair, around your throat. You want him to cover you, smother you, as he forces you down against the table and takes his fill. You want his lips on your skin, hot and possessive, as he uses you like the cocksleeve he needs you to be.

God, you want that. You want to be used hard, to be fucked full until you break. You need this - your character needs this.

You whimper, high-pitched and needy. “Please. Please, I want it. I want - I want your cock.”

“I’m sure you do.” Hoseok all but scoffs. “Why don’t you just sit still and relax for me? I’m going to massage you until you’re nice and loose, alright? First-timers like you could get hurt if they’re not prepped properly but I’ll get you ready, don’t worry. By the end of this, you’ll be able to take big cocks in all your holes like a pro.”

“Shit.”

You bite back a moan, startled at how much you’re turned on.

Porn dialogue is rarely arousing. You’re the first to tune out your partner whenever they talk for longer than a minute. It’s because you hear the same exact shitty lines repeated so often that you’re half-convinced there’s a porn acting for dummies handbook being circulated around.

Although… Maybe if Hoseok’s lines had been delivered by someone else, they wouldn’t have the same effect on you. That’s the difference, you think to yourself. Hoseok’s delivery. The cockiness that infuses his every word, the way he confidently carries himself… He does it all so convincingly - nothing like the wooden and awkward memorized performances you’ve witnessed from fellow actors.

While you’re lost in thought, Hoseok rummages inside the cardboard box. Without his touch or words to distract you, it’s harder to ignore the building arousal between your legs. As the seconds tick by, your shameful desire only worsens.

Before you can crane your neck or voice your confusion, Hoseok returns, humming under his breath.

“We’re gonna try a different massage technique now. This method will help with lubrication,” he explains evenly. “I’ll use a special vibrating tool that will massage hard to reach areas.”

“Um…” You swallow, blinking rapidly. “Okay.”

“It’s not as scary as it sounds. We’ll start off slow and I’ll gradually up the intensity once I deem you ready for the next stage. How does that sound?”

A click, followed by a low buzzing, fills the room.

You gasp when the vibrating object comes in contact with the back of your knee. Hoseok’s free hand settles on your leg - a nonverbal reminder to keep your legs wide open for him as well as the cameras.

“See? Nice and easy. Nothing to be scared of.”

He rotates the tool in slow, even circles. You force yourself to relax and accept the foreign massage, disregarding how strange it feels to have small vibrations travel up and down your leg. After a few minutes of him repeating the same motions on your other leg, he slowly makes his way up your thighs, the rounded tip of the tool dangerously close to your drenched pussy.

A pleading whine reverberates in your chest. The electric whirring of the vibrator is not enough to soothe the burning between your thighs. If anything, it makes it worse. You need more, you think urgently.

Hoseok moves to the side of the table so that the cameras can get an unobstructed view of your clenching hole. It’s the first time you’ve seen his face since he made you lie down. From his voice alone, it’s impossible to tell how affected he is. More than once you’d caught yourself wondering… Does he like what he sees? Is he enjoying himself?

A dark streak of satisfaction crosses over you when you notice the hunger in his gaze, his pupils blown so wide his brown eyes look black. Drool pools in your mouth when you spot the sizable tent in his scrubs.

The fact that you’re at the perfect height to suck his dick doesn’t slip by you. He could flip you over onto your back, your head hanging off the table, and use your mouth to his heart’s content. You whimper at the thought of him fucking your face, your mouth reduced to a fleshlight for him to get off. You could probably cum like that - his cock buried deep in your throat, his fingers pressed against the side of your neck to you struggle around his length, while his other hand reaches down to grab at your breast, using it as an anchor to fuck into you harder.

“Shit, you’re really making a mess of my work table.”

Hoseok’s gaze is trained between your legs. He wets his lips and adjusts his hold on the vibrator. The sudden movement changes the angle, positioning the tool right over your dripping entrance, closer than ever to your swollen clit. The vibrations suddenly feel louder and stronger than before. If this keeps up, you reckon that it won’t be long before you’re hurtling towards the edge of a precipice.

A moan slips past your parted lips, loud and wanton. Embarrassed by the sheer need that colors your voice, you quickly shut your mouth closed, hoping that your desperation goes by unnoticed.

Hoseok chuckles, the sound sharp and mean. He comments on your obscene behavior, how you’re acting so slutty it’s a wonder you’d kept this side of you locked away for this long without people suspecting your love for cock. Every word infiltrates your mind, leaves no corners untainted, until all you can think and breathe and smell is him.

“Over the years, I’ve seen a lot of sluts parade in here and pay for my time,” he says, his dulcet tone making the degradation sweeter. You hang onto each and every word, letting yourself fall deeper into a haze of arousal and submission. “But it’s been a while since someone like you showed up. Just look at this… Your little fuck-hole can’t even take a bit of teasing without getting me dirty.”

The buzzing between your thighs switches back and forth between strong pulses and rapid, little vibrations. You keen, shaking from head to toe in pleasure. Your thighs are wet, sticky with your juices, and your clit is hard and aching for attention.

You don’t even want to know what state your sopping pussy is in. Every time your body jerks and trembles, you feel the pool of arousal that’s gathered underneath you. It’s - embarrassing. That you’re this soaked and close to cumming when he hasn’t even touched your clit or fucked you with his cock.

In the midst of your pleasure-induced haze, your eyes meet his. The lines of his face are drawn into a smug expression, his gaze smoldering. Embers of arousal light up his dark eyes, and you can only stare back at him, clit throbbing, as he ups the intensity of the vibrations.

“Fuck! Oh God, oh I’m-” Your legs thrash, hips lifting off the table in an effort to escape the shocks of pleasure zapping throughout your body. Mercifully - or not, depending on how you looked at it - Hoseok brought the vibrations down a few settings, until the whirring had quieted down to a low thrum.

“Feeling good, huh?” The grin he sends your way is positively wicked. “I think you’re ready to take more.”

More? you think weakly. Any more and you’ll explode, like popcorn kernels in a microwave.

For a second you think he’ll bring the vibrator up to your clit. Maybe even slide the long, phallic-shaped vibrator inside your pussy so that it’ll stretch you out like he’d promised. What you don’t expect is for him to bring it down to your other hole, the powerful vibrations rattling you to the core.

Your surprised gasp is so loud, not even the buzzing of the toy drowns it out. Hoseok places his available hand on your left hip and pins you to the table, the gentle weight keeping you steady.

“That’s right,” he soothes, voice smooth like silk. It sounds patronizing, almost like he’s calming down a dog startled by thunder or explaining right from wrong to a small child.

“Um.” You let trepidation inch its way into your voice. “You - what are you doing? That’s not - that’s dirty.”

“What is?”

“My,” you pause, humiliation coiling tightly around your spine. Hoseok presses the toy harder around your rim, its coat of arousal making the tip slide over your sensitive skin. You’re tempted not to answer but you know Hoseok wants you to voice the dirty words. “My asshole. It’s - dirty. Please - I… I don’t think you should touch it. It’s not right.”

You mumble the end of your sentence like you’re embarrassed to say such a scandalous thing out loud.

Hoseok laughs, sounding both mocking and endeared. “Oh, sweetheart. Didn’t you hear what I said earlier? I’m going to loosen up all your holes. Because that’s what you’ve always wanted deep down, isn’t it? To service cock. Even if it means letting me play with this dirty hole of yours.”

The vibrations intensify with the click of a button. Your whole body spasms, limbs flailing pathetically as the sensations run down your back all the way to the tip of your toes.

You bite down a whimper. How does he know? How can he tell? All you want right now is a nice, hard cock buried inside of you - and at this point you don’t care which orifice he sticks in it. You’re just so - empty. So empty it physically aches.

Hoseok dials down the intensity of the vibrator and with his free hand, squeezes a copious amount of oil onto the toy, slicking it up.

Surprisingly he doesn’t bother prepping you with his fingers before easing the toy into your back entrance. From your position, you can’t tell if Director Ryu signaled to hurry things along or if his own impatience played a part. Either way, your sharp intake of breath is genuine.

You try your best to relax your muscles but the toy is thicker than expected, its sides bumpy and ribbed. Even though you’d stretched yourself out beforehand with a sizable dildo, the girth of the toy still makes your breath hitch. Your bottom lip hurts as you scrape your teeth over it.

“Relax for me. That’s it.” Hoseok whispers soft words of encouragement. “You’re doing such a good job.”

Finally, after what seems like light years, the toy is fully inserted, only the base of it peeking out from between your parted cheeks. You feel full, deliciously so. It’s only now with the weight of the toy inside of you that you realize how much you’d missed being stuffed to the brim.

“There you go.” Hoseok smacks your right ass cheek hard enough for the sting to go straight to your clit. “How does that feel?”

“Full.” You smack your lips together. Eloquence is not your strongest suit in the present moment and your lack of coherency only humiliates you further. It’s like he’s rendered you cock-dumb. Reduced you to a lust-driven creature that only has dick on the brain. “I feel good.”

“Of course you’d enjoy that.” The cockiness in his voice is undeniable, like he’s drunk off the power he has over you. “Needy sluts like you only care about getting filled up, huh?”

It sounds like a rhetorical question but you answer it anyway, just in case he wanted an answer.

“Yes! I’m a needy slut. Please - could you…?” You wriggle your hips, trying to entice him into action. The rocking motion jostles the toy nestled inside of you, causing you to choke out a moan. “Hng! Use my pussy this time, please?”

Hoseok clucks his tongue and slaps your ass again to keep you still. It moves the lodged vibrator, knocking it against a spot inside of you that makes you gush. Your pussy clenches up in an imitation of an orgasm - but you know from experience that you haven’t cum just yet.

Fuck. You’re so fucked and he hasn’t even given you his cock.

Your head thumps down against the table as you take in deep, steadying breaths. You can’t think straight; every thought seems clouded by a dense smog of lust. Your body feels like a live wire, all your nerve endings crackling with electricity. How much more can you endure before you shatter beyond repair?

Hoseok takes pity on you. “The vibrating massage should have helped your muscles relax. Your tight cunt should be able to fit this in by now.”

He slides another silicone toy into your pussy, this one wider and longer than the first. Your hands grapple for purchase as your body accommodates both toys, one in each hole. You’re so wet that there’s no resistance despite its impressive size and you suck in a breath as Hoseok keeps pushing it in, inch by interminable inch.

If you thought you felt full before, it’s nothing compared to how stretched you feel now. The wall separating the two toys is stretched thin and when you tense your abdomen, you can feel both of them nudge against one another. Your stomach feels - bloated. As if there’s a bulge where the toys are nestled deep inside of you.

It’s quite frankly obscene.

You’ve never felt more turned on.

“Whoa.” He grips both of your legs and widens them even further, displaying your stuffed holes for the cameras. “Your hungry cunt ate up my biggest dildo like it was nothing.”

The fact that he admitted it was a dildo - and not some vibrating tool - just adds to your mortification.

“Okay. Two holes down, one to go.”

He releases his hold on your legs and raises a brow at you. The smirk is back on his face and that, paired with the ravenous look in his eyes, makes you want to run and hide. He looks like he’s two seconds away from devouring you whole for dinner. “Why don’t you turn around for me? It wouldn’t be a full body massage if I didn’t rub down the other side, right?”

His chuckle spurs you into action. It’s not that you’re not embarrassed by the idea of baring yourself completely for him like some sort of cult offering, but the need to get dicked down trumps all.

Your mind feels fuzzy and your body sluggish. There’s a fire inside of you that not even double penetration has managed to extinguish and it roars to life as you manœuvre into the position he’s ordered you to get into. The toys jostle inside of you, reminding you of the depraved lengths you’d go to because you’re starving for cock.

He’s right about you, you think as you settle onto your back. You’re a needy slut. All you want is for your holes to be filled. And when they’re empty, your body aches with the need to fill them back up again. Toys will do but they’re a poor substitute for what you really want.

Thankfully, Hoseok’s own patience is running out. You’ve barely gotten into a comfortable position when he’s fishing out his cock from his scrubs, not even bothering to remove his clothes.

Drool pools into your mouth at the sight. He’s just as long as you remembered him to be. Not too thick or veiny, but prettily flushed and glistening with translucent precum. How long has he been hard? The erection looks painful. Distantly, you’re comforted by the knowledge that you haven’t been the only one suffering from this prolonged foreplay. God is fair, you rejoice internally.

Your mouth opens of its own accord and your tongue lolls out, hungry.

Hoseok doesn’t comment on your pathetic state - a testament to how worked up he probably is. He guides his cock into your waiting mouth with barely repressed urgency.

His cock is heavy on your tongue, the perfect weight. He pushes in until he can’t go any further, the position you’re in giving him better access to your throat. You fucking love it.

When you swallow around his length, he hisses between his teeth. “Shit.”

He gives you little time to adjust. As soon as he’s certain you can take it, he starts to thrust his hips. His cock drags across the rough surface of your tongue as it’s pushed and pulled out of your mouth at a rapid pace. Each thrust of his hips makes you gag, drool running down the sides of your face, and the obscene sounds of your choking echo in your ears.

The rough treatment should revolt you, make you squirm or shy away, but you’ve never felt more alive. Your mind feels pleasantly blank - like your sole purpose in life is to be a glorified cum bucket, a receptacle for his cock and cum. Even when he buries himself all the way to the hilt, so far down your throat it feels like he’s reached your stomach, you’re eager for more. Logically speaking you don’t even know if you can handle more, don’t have the mental faculty to figure out if more is physically possible, but your body knows that it’ll never be sated, not fully, not until he cums inside you.

“Greedy girl,” he rasps between heavy breaths. “Look at you… I’ve plugged up three of your holes but you’re still gagging for it, aren’t you? Filthy slut.”

His words are meant to degrade and humiliate you. Instead of disgust, you can hear the admiration ring in his voice. His awe satisfies you and you hollow your cheeks, suctioning around his girth just to hear him curse under his breath. You live for the way his hips stutter and how his deep breathing is interspersed by the occasional grunt or moan. It feels good to know that you’re bringing him pleasure, that your hole is satisfactory.

Hoseok reaches over your body and grabs something from the discarded cardboard box you can’t see. You soon find out what it is though - the oil is drizzled over your torso and chest, liquid spilling down the sides of your body. He throws the bottle to the side, more interested in spreading the lubricant over your tits until they’re slick and shiny.

It soon becomes clear that he’s abandoned his earlier massage techniques in favor of a more rushed treatment. Gone is the slow build-up. He rubs your breasts, grabbing and squeezing them like stress balls, and pinches your hard nipples tightly between his fingers, pulling them out until your back arches.

The next time he slams his erect length into your mouth, your breasts bounce from the force of the thrust. Hoseok’s eyes remain transfixed on the lewd way your breasts jiggle; because he keeps your nipples clamped tightly between his fingers, your tits have no other choice but to swing around every time he rocks his hips back and forth.

Every time you gag and choke on his cock, tears prickling your eyes, you feel the fire between your legs grow stronger. Shame and arousal course through you, your head dizzy with lust. You can’t move, can’t scream, all of your moans of pleasure muffled by the cock buried in your throat.

He laughs derisively, pulling out after a particularly hard thrust. A string of saliva connects your mouth to his cock and your eyes zero in on it, finding it impossible to look away.

“You slut.”

He makes a disapproving noise low in his throat before slapping you across the face with his cock.

It doesn’t hurt anywhere as much as a real slap but it’s so unexpected you gasp, your jaw throbbing in pain. The imprint of his cock is wet and dirty against your cheek. He keeps his cock hanging a few centimeters above your face. It taunts you, beckons you closer. The seam of your mouth stays wide open, your appetite evidently knowing no limits.

“Heh. You’re really something… Never seen a whore so cock-hungry in my life. And trust me when I say I’ve seen plenty.” He sneers, walking away.

For a long second, you fear he’s gone and left you high and dry and that the scene will end like that. Except - no. He’s positioned himself at the other side of the massage table. You shudder as you realize that can only mean one thing : he’s going to grant you the fucking your body craves.

Hoseok’s lips twitch into a knowing half-smile. He grips his stiff cock in one hand, the length of it soaked with your spit and precum.

You gulp, suddenly intimidated. Perhaps it’s the angle, but he looks taller than you remember him to be, bigger, his shoulders slightly broader. His cock looks more imposing, too. Despite just having choked on it, it’s long; his hand sits loosely at the base of his cock, leaving a few good inches poking out of his fist. Your mouth goes dry, your insatiable hunger reawakened.

The impatience marring your features is probably disgustingly obvious because Hoseok makes another comment about how desperate and pathetic you look once you’re deprived of cock.

Using his left hand, he slowly removes the toy from your ass. The slide is painful because you’re clenching so hard down on it, unwilling for your hole to become empty once again.

A whimper escapes your parted lips. Hoseok laughs at the betrayed look that crosses your face at the loss of the thick dildo.

“So fuckin’ greedy.” He slaps your entrance with his cock, his grin wolfish as you wail in reply. “Stay still if you want my cock.”

Immediately you freeze, taking his words to heart. Deep down, you know that he won’t be that cruel but you’re so exhausted from the never-ending teasing, that you’re not willing to take any chances.

Hoseok holds up one of your legs and pushes it over his shoulder.

“Good girl.” He breaches your ass, both of you moaning as his cock works its way inside of you. It’s a tight fit; you can feel his cock bump into the vibrating dildo in your pussy, the feeling overwhelming you. He grunts, fingertips bruising your skin as he hold back from cumming too quickly.

His hips work up a steady rhythm, the both of you already so close to finishing. You know that a lesser man would have cum ages ago, but Hoseok troops on, eyebrows creased in concentration. He looks - hot. Ridiculously hot, even in that dumb fake masseuse uniform.

His once perfectly combed hair is now disheveled, strands of hair falling over his eyes and dripping brow. There’s something about all of it - the wild glint in his eyes, the rough way he’s fucking you, the domineering aura that he exudes - that makes you absolutely lose it.

You clench up on his cock without warning, your insides squeezing around him even more tightly because of the toy still lodged in your dripping cunt. The orgasm rips through you, fast and hard, leaving your thighs soaking. Hoseok fucks you through it, his cock relentless, drawing your pleasure out until your body goes limp.

It’s the kind of orgasm that on a normal day you could only hope to achieve.

Except Hoseok doesn’t stop to let you rest or take a breather. He brings your other leg over his shoulder, testing the limits of your flexibility, and uses the new angle to plow into you with renewed force.

“Ah - ah fuck wait!” You cry out, overwhelmed by the onslaught of sensations traveling through your body. “Oh my God, oh shit! You’re so fucking deep, ah!”

Hoseok chooses that moment to turn on the vibrating dildo. He doesn’t even start at the lowest setting, sets it straight to one of the higher level ones, and your whole body jumps. Both of you moan as the toy comes to life. The vibrations rattle your insides - and that, coupled with the fat cock that’s splitting you open relentlessly, threaten to rearrange your insides.

Arousal builds again quickly inside of you, pulsing steadily alongside your heartbeat.

You feel so fucking full you think it’s possible you’ll burst. Before, when you had both toys buried inside of you, the stretch and the fullness had been pleasant. You had even been able to tune it out for the most part once you’d got used to it.

But with the way Hoseok is now fucking into you with reckless abandon, it’s impossible not to be reminded of how stuffed your holes are. Every thrust of his cock in your ass bumps against the vibrator, pushing it harder against your bundle of nerves.

“I knew the minute I saw you,” he growls, his pace punishing. “No bra, pussy ripe for the picking. Whores like you could never be satisfied with the beginner massage. No, I knew exactly what you needed.”

He adjusts his grip on your ankles and the change in angle keeps the vibrator pressed directly the sensitive bundle of nerves inside of you.

“Fuck! Oh God, there there! Please, keep going. It’s so good. Fuck me!” You chant, out of your mind with pleasure.Your words are raw, unrefined, and in any other circumstance, you’d laugh at how ridiculous you sound.

“You’re so fucking loud,” he hisses between grunts of pleasure. “Why don’t you go ahead and cum for me. Make yourself useful and tighten up this hole of yours so I can feel good.”

He reaches down between your legs and fiddles with the switch.

You scream. Your eyes roll back and your entire body locks up. Intense pleasure that you’ve never experienced before thunders through your body. If your previous orgasm was like a building wave crashing to the shore at long last, this one is a fucking tornado determined to rip you to pieces.

Maybe you might’ve passed out. You don’t know. But when you regain consciousness, Hoseok’s cock is pulsing jet after jet of hot cum inside of your pussy. You feel it spurt inside of you, coating your already slick walls with his essence.

He pulls out quickly so that the camera can zoom in on the way the cum oozes out of you in thick globs. Instinctively you clench your walls to keep more from leaking out, but it only pushes more of the mess out, painting your inner thighs white.

When you glance up at him you notice his shirt is soaked. There’s a huge dark spot that starts from his chest to his pants. He doesn’t seem to mind the stain.

“You came so hard you passed out,” he informs you while tucking his spent cock back inside his scrubs. “I came inside of you while you were out of it but I figured you wouldn’t mind. That’s what you came here for, right?”

The smile he shoots your way looks more like a smirk. You bite your lip. He must’ve taken out the dildo - or it might’ve gotten pushed out during your orgasm, you don’t know - and you feel your holes gape a little after being stretched and used for so long. You’re tempted to snap your legs shut but you know the cameras need to record your debauchery.

“I’ll let you change. You can meet me out front to schedule your next appointment. Hm let’s see… Considering how well you reacted during this session I think we’ll have to take more, hm, drastic measures next time. I’m curious to see how far your greedy cunt is able to stretch with enough incentive. I’m positive that with you anything is possible. We’ll try fitting two cocks insides for starters and maybe - ah. I’m getting carried away.” He chuckles. “Anyways, meet me at the counter in ten minutes and we can go over the details then.”

“I…” You wet your lips. “I’d like that.”

A silence ensues and for a second you think your acting was bad or you’d said the wrong thing.

“CUT! And that, my friends, is what you call art!” yells Director Ryu, clapping his hands like a seal.

You breathe out a sigh of relief and sit up despite your muscles protesting loudly. God, your ass feels sore. Hoseok had really done a number on you.

“Hey, are you all good?” He asks, drawing closer to you in concern. He must have seen your grimace.

“Oh! Yeah, I’m fine. Thanks for asking. It’s just - it was kind of intense. In a good way! I’ll probably be sore later but that’s because I’m not used to these kind of scenes yet.”

“You were really hot. I couldn’t tell this was your first anal scene at all.”

“Oh yeah?”

“Really.” Hoseok sighs dreamily. “I think I saw Jesus when I came.”

“What?” You bring a hand to your mouth to muffle your laughter. “It was a good nut, I take it?”

“The best.” He looks over at you, dimples on his cheek as he returns your smile. “I blacked out for a second and went to heaven.”

You bask in the afterglow for a few minutes longer than you usually would. Hoseok makes no move to leave either, even if logic dictates that you’re both better off washing up instead of letting the mixture of sweat, cum, and oil dry on your skin. You know from experience that it’s hard as fuck to clean up once it hardens - not to mention it stinks.

“Babe!”

You’re roused from your peaceful state of mind as your boyfriend approaches. He’s smiling but one side of his mouth looks stiff. He hands you a towel, eyes trailing down your figure, and suddenly you feel self-conscious. You hurriedly wrap the fluffy material around you, eager to hide the cum still dripping out of your swollen cunt and the red marks littered over your body from Hoseok’s rough treatment.

It’s not - you’re not ashamed. You never are. It’s just - you don’t want to hurt Jimin. Even if it does come with the job, it can’t be easy for him to see his girlfriend getting fucked by someone else.

“That was so good! You did great. The camera really loves you. I can’t wait to see how the final cut turns out,” Jimin compliments and you preen despite yourself, conditioned to suck up praise. “Are you hungry?”

Just on cue your stomach lets out a grumble.

Jimin’s eyes crease into crescents as he smiles. “I knew it. You’re always famished after a scene. It’s a good thing I booked a reservation at our favorite restaurant, right?”

You nod, thankful yet again that you have such a caring and thoughtful boyfriend. “I’m famished now that you mention it.”

Hoseok observes the exchange silently and his presence makes you embarrassed for some reason. Maybe not embarrassed but - something. You can’t put a name to the emotion.

“Um, I’ll see you around?” You say as you gather to your feet. Jimin is instantly by your side, his hand wrapping around yours tightly. “It was nice working with you again! Thank you for your hard work.”

Hoseok’s lips quirk into a half-smile. He’s still eyeing the both of you in a strange, intense kind of way and the scrutiny makes you fidgety. You try not to make your desire to flee the scene too transparent.

“It’s always a pleasure. I look forward to working with you again.”

The words he utters are tactful and diplomatic - nothing like the carefree familiarity he’d showcased minutes prior. You don’t blame him, given the circumstances.

You shoot him an apologetic look as you turn away to leave. To your relief, Hoseok doesn’t appear dejected or offended. Just - curious, maybe? Pensive? Like he’s in the middle of solving a complicated and intricate puzzle and that puzzle involves you.

The idea scares you. Mostly because you yourself don’t know what he’ll find.

As soon as you’ve rounded the corner, Jimin excuses himself. “I have to finish helping the guys. There’s still some equipment to put away. But we’ll meet out in the back like last time?”

“Sure.”

He kisses your cheek and scampers away.

Seokjin is waiting for you in the next room over. He’s holding a water bottle, your favorite silk robe, and a dark chocolate energy bar. You’re so sweaty that it feels silly to wear the robe but you shrug it on anyway, knowing that Jimin will feel better if you’re not parading around the set naked.

Your stomach rumbles loudly and it’s only then that you realize the extent of how fucking hungry you are. Non-stop sex sure is tiring, you note while ripping open the energy bar with your teeth. Seokjin calls you a savage under his breath but those types of comments are so commonplace that it’s easy to tune him out.

“God, I could kiss you right now,” you say after swallowing down a mouthful of granola. After eating spinach exclusively for the past three days, the sweetness on your tongue tastes like a slice of heaven.

“Not with that mouth, you won’t.” Seokjin narrows his eyes. “I know where it’s been.”

Still high from your mind-shattering orgasm, you giggle and pretend to kiss him just to watch him squirm. It’s not until much later, after you’d washed up as best you could with the help of baby wipes, that you check your phone. You respond to a text or two before finally checking your social media page out of habit more so than anything else.

(2) new notifications

JHOPE94 has followed you!

JHOPE94 has mentioned you in their story.

It’s the same account Hoseok had shown you earlier in the day. You follow him without much thought, grinning to yourself when you read his bio “hope on streets and in the sheets ;)”, and click on his Instagram story.

You’re surprised to learn he’s one of those people who uploads multiple pictures about just about anything - his Starbucks’ coffee cup with JAY written in black sharpie, several mirror selfies, a snapshot of his shoes, pictures of the film crew setting up the scene. You click through the pictures, a little flummoxed by the random collage, and pause when you get to the picture you’d been tagged in.

It’s you. Squinting, you realize that he must have taken the candid picture in passing. You’re sitting in the hair and makeup chair, the makeup artist applying a layer of gloss on your lips. The row of lights that border all around the vanity mirror give your figure a halo spotlight effect.

JHOPE94 : not in heaven but i saw an angel today :))

#once again the italics did not transfer over but i rlly can’t be bothered at this point ;;#i am so happy this is done but also nervous agshsisjskss #bts smut #hoseok smut #bts #hoseok #also as usual I did not proof the last 4k bc I speed wrote the last bit in one go #believe me when i say i cannot look at this draft any longer !

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i-am-bitterly-jittery · 4 years ago

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Into The Dark Side pt 1

So I wrote this a few months ago, and I wasn’t gonna post it until it was finished, but it felt kinda relevant after yesterday’s episode so here, take it

No Spoilers!! I didn’t add anything since yesterday (except for like fixing some grammar mistakes) so none of it was influenced by the ep. It’s an AU either way

Word Count: 2400

Rating: Teen

Pairing: gen

Warnings: swearing, suggestive language, threats of violence (Remus stuff)

~~~START~~~

“I want you to make me a Dark Side.”

Deceit raised an eyebrow at both the odd request, and the fact that the other Side thought he could just barge into his study without knocking. “Excuse me?”

“I know that you control the separation between the so-called ‘Light Sides’ and the ‘Dark Sides’. I want you to turn me into a Dark Side.”

“Indeed,” Deceit replied thoughtfully, leaning back in his chair. He was hoping to come off as casual and aloof, but on the inside, he was completely lost. “I definitely follow. Light Sides ask to become Dark Sides all the time, it’s never the other way around.”

“Thomas frequently asks for my opinion, but once I have given it, my opinion is ignored. I believe my function would be performed more efficiently if I were working behind the scenes, so to speak.”

“Yes,” Deceit leaned forward, steepling his gloved fingers under his chin. “Because Dark Sides are known for being listened to and respected.”

“If my opinion is not going to be listened to, then I would prefer everyone stop asking for it.”

“Hmm, very well. I won’t fulfill your request, but just know, everything in life is free. There is never a price to pay.”

“I do not care. I shall pay, whatever the price.”

Deceit smirked at the other Side, and held out one hand. “Then won’t you shake a poor sinner's hand?” He purred, watching the other Side closely.

He took Deceit’s hand without hesitation and was immediately engulfed in a blinding yellow light. The last thing he heard before losing consciousness was Deceit muttering “transformation central.”

~~~

“-you to make me a Dark Side-”

“-definitely follow-”

“-opinion is ignored-”

“-never a price to pay-”

“I do not care.”

Logan woke up in his bed, glasses still on his face. His room looked exactly the same except everything was in black and white.

Odd. Do all Dark Sides see in monochrome or is this some sort of practical joke played by Deceit?

He was scanning around the room, trying to decipher whether or not Deceit held up his side of the bargain, when he noticed that the lights were off. A glance at the clock told him that it was 5:30 am, much too early for him to be able to see anything more than vague outlines without a light on, let alone the most minute details on his periodic table poster.

Extremely odd indeed.

Cautiously, Logan made his way across the room to the light switch. He flicked the lights on, and suddenly all the colors of his room returned.

Interesting

Curiously, he switched the lights off again. Everything lost color immediately, but not clarity.

Very interesting. Perhaps Dark Sides can see in the dark. Further testing is required.

Leaving the lights off — he could see perfectly well in the dark so why waste electricity? —Logan headed to the bathroom attached to his room to begin his morning ablutions. He didn’t make it very far, however, because as soon as he caught sight of his reflection, he realized why he could see so well in the dark.

Ah, this is what Deceit must have meant when he said there was a price to pay.

All Dark Sides had animal traits. Deceit had snake scales covering random parts of his body, as well as a single snake eye and a forked tongue. Lust - while technically a Neutral Side - had black markings around his eyes, as well as having swan-like wings that jutted out from his back. Apathy also had black marks around his eyes - though his trailed down his face while Lust’s swooped back towards his ears - as well as an overly-large fuzzy sweatshirt that’s sleeves extend well past the tips of his fingers. Greed had intermittent scales like Deceit, though his were larger and shinier, and sometimes smoke came out of his mouth. Jealousy had opposable toes and a prehensile tail. The Duke had tentacles. And Anxiety… Well, Anxiety hid his animal traits well, but Logan was sure that he had some somewhere.

(And then of course there was Malice, Pride, and Rage, but while Logan was aware of their existence, he had never seen them before, and therefore did not know what animals they were represented by, nor how their traits manifest.)

Logan now had animal traits too. His glasses were now round with thick frames, and while his prescription hadn’t changed, they were now magnifying his eyes, making them look overly large and round. His eyebrows had gotten bushier and seemed to be permanently downturned, making him appear to be perpetually glaring. And worst of all, his hair no longer lay flat in a simple, professional style, but rather created two spikes on his head that seem to line up with the angle and trajectory of his eyebrows.

He was an owl. A great horned owl to be precise - and while owls were not known to be any more intelligent than any other type of bird, Logan understood that Dark Sides’ animal traits came from Thomas’ perception of animals, rather than from the actual behaviors of said animals.

This shall… take some getting used to. Still, it’s hardly a great price.

After several minutes of trying - and failing - to get his hair to lie flat, he gave up and decided to just start his day like he always did - with a strong cup of coffee and a nice, healthy breakfast.

Perhaps the hardest part of getting to the kitchen was that, other than his room, everything in the Dark side of the mindscape was a mirror image of how it was in the Light side, though, the fact that there were significantly more doors, and a good number of extra hallways that Logan — even with his more enhanced night vision — could not manage to see down didn’t help. It took him longer than he’d like to admit to make it to the kitchen, and when he got there, he was surprised to find he was not the only one awake.

“What the fuck happened to you?” Anxiety was sitting on top of the fridge, eating chips right out of the bag, and staring down at him.

Logan bristled a bit, which unfortunately meant his hair and clothes flared out like feathers on an agitated owl.

Unfortunate. I should make a note of that for the future.

Thankfully, Anxiety didn’t laugh at him (he wants to, though), instead he just continued to stare at Logan expectantly.

“What’s with the owl getup?”

“Ah, that. I made a deal with Deceit to become a Dark Side.” Logan answered, trying to regain his dignity. Anxiety stiffened at the answer.

“What was the price?” Anxiety demanded, gaze scanning quickly over the room, resting for a moment on a dark hallway that didn’t exist on the Light side, returning to Logan only when he found nothing to be out of place or unusual other than Logan himself.

“This, I presume,” Logan stuck his arms out to show off his unfortunate shirt-feathers. “I’ve become part owl. A bird characterized in popular media as being exceptionally smart, though in reality is of average intelligence for avians. A more accurate choice would have perhaps been a crow or a parrot, both of which are not only considered smart for avians, but for animals in general.”

Anxiety began shaking his head long before Logan finished his rant. “The animal traits are part of the gig, teach, not the price. What did Deceit ask for in return for making you a Dark Side?”

“I, uh, do not know,” Logan admitted slowly. In his haste to become a Dark Side, he had brushed off Deceit’s mention of a price, and now he was faced with the fact that he didn’t know what he paid.

“You don’t know?” Anxiety asked incredulously. Perhaps Logan should have been a little more like Anxiety. Anxiety would have never made a deal if he didn’t know exactly what the deal was, his overly cautious nature was what made Thomas double check the locks in his apartment before going to bed.

“No… I do not.”

“For being the smart one, you sure are a clueless moron.” Anxiety jumped off the fridge in one fluid motion, landing lightly - almost silently - on his feet in front of Logan. “C’mon, we’re gonna go ask Deceit what you paid.”

There was no room for argument as Anxiety grabbed his wrist and dragged him out of the kitchen. Anxiety didn’t appear to be thrown off by the mirror image layout, or by the mysterious extra doors and hallways, but Logan supposed that was to be expected.

He has always lived here; he would know his way around much better than I. In fact, he would probably describe the Light Side as being a mirror image, despite the fact that it has the same basic layout as Thomas’s apartment.

“What are these extra hallways?” Logan asked curiously as they passed by two, one on either side. “And there appear to be a great number of extra doors.”

“Don’t go down hallways you can’t see down, and don’t open doors if you don’t know where they lead,” Anxiety ordered sharply instead of giving a proper answer.

“Why?” Anxiety let out an annoyed hiss, and yanked Logan to a stop.

“Just. Don’t.” He released his grip on Logan’s wrist and turned to the door that they’d stopped in front of. “We’re here.”

Anxiety rapped on the door three times. Nothing happened.

“Dee!” He called, knocking again, louder. “I know you’re in there! Open the d-”

The door flew open suddenly, banging loudly from its impact with the wall. A tentacle shot out of the impossibly dark room, wrapped around Anxiety’s wrist, and yanked the Side into the abyss before Logan could even process what was happening.

Barely a second later, another tentacle wrapped around Logan’s wrist, and yanked him into the room as well. The tentacle let go of him, and the door slammed shut again behind him, cutting off the only source of light in the pitch-black room.

“Anxiety!” A voice chuckled. “You never come to visit me! Oh I’m so touched!”

“Get off of me, Duke!” Logan could hear struggling a few feet away where both the Duke and Anxiety’s voices were coming from - as well as an interesting squwelshing noise. “I’m looking for Deceit, why are you in his room?”

“Oh, emo, you’re so funny!” The Duke laughed. “Deceit’s gone.”

“WHAT?”

“Oh yeah, seems he made a trade with a certain, discontent Light Side. I came across this empty room this morning and though it could fit sooo many butts in here, so it’s mine now!”

“Though I loathe to place myself in the middle of this conversation,” Logan interrupted. “Why can’t I see anything?”

“Cuz it’s not your room, dipshit,” Anxiety snapped.

“Now, Anxie, be nice to the nerd,” the Duke cooed. “He’s not from here.”

Suddenly, the lights flickered on, allowing Logan to take in their surroundings for the first time. The room was empty other than for himself and the other two Dark Sides, with nearly pristine white walls and carpet - though a splattering of… interesting colors littered the area around the Duke’s feet. Logan was about a foot away from the door with a tentacle reaching past him towards the light switch.

The Duke was standing in the approximate center of the room, about five feet away from Logan. His two human arms were wrapped around Anxiety, trapping his arms to his sides, lifting him off the ground, and clutching him to the Duke’s chest, while two of the Duke’s tentacles are wrapped around his legs to keep the anxious Side from kicking.

“Great,” Anxiety commented sarcastically. “Now lemme go you slimy-“

The Duke’s final tentacle wrapped around Anxiety’s head like a gag, cutting off whatever expletives were about to come out of his mouth.

“That’s better!” The Duke cheered. “Oh! My my, Anxiety, I didn’t know you were so kinky!”

The words spurred on another round of struggling from Anxiety, but the Duke held fast.

“Now, Archimedes,” the tentacle that had turned the lights on then wrapped around Logan’s wrist and pulled him closer to the conversation, though it was considerably gentler than when it had dragged him into the room - less like being kidnapped and more like having a child excited to show him something. “You can’t see in the dark in other Side’s spaces, it’s rude! You can only see in the dark in your room, and the common spaces.”

“What about all those hallways I couldn’t see down?” Logan asked, ignoring the silent glare coming from the trapped Anxiety.

“Oh those?” The Duke leaned in close enough that Logan could smell his foul breath. “Those are where the Darkest Sides live. The ones that give poor wittle Morality and Anxiety nightmares.” The Duke punctuated this by licking Anxiety’s cheek. “The ones that Deceit keeps under strict lock and key because even he’s afraid of letting them out.”

“Pride, Rage, and Malice,” Logan guessed.

“And me, of course.” The Duke dropped Anxiety in order to pose dramatically, arranging his tentacles around himself menacingly, but artistically.

Definitely Roman’s brother.

“But as I’m sure you know, Raerae, Octopi can fit through any opening they can get their beak through. All Deceit’s horses and all Morality’s men can’t keep me in the darkness forever. Every now and then, I get out and share all my fun ideas with Thomas.”

“Your ideas aren’t fun!” Anxiety hissed from the corner where he’d retreated to as soon as the Duke had released him. Logan noted his defensive stance, darkened eyeshadow, and involuntary hissing, and wondered if Anxiety’s animal traits were perhaps that of a racoon. “Now let us out!”

“Sorry, Tickle Me Emo,” the Duke giggled. He reached a tentacle out to open the door, but instead of the dimly lit hallway Logan and Anxiety had come from, beyond the door was pitch black. “I can’t open doors to the Dark Side unless someone lets me — like you did earlier when you knocked — but since Jay Jay the Jet Plane’s flown the coop, ~no one’s gonna come looking for you,~” the Duke advanced towards Anxiety, his posture and tone becoming less friendly and more menacing. “It’s just you, me, and Pigwidgeon here.”

~~~TO BE CONTINUED~~~

To be clear: Lust is a swan, Apathy is a sloth, Greed is a dragon, and Jealousy is monkey

Ten points if you guess Virgil’s animal traits

Twenty points if you guess what Pride, Malice, and Rage are

General Taglist: @royalty-of-all-things-snuggly @pixelated-pineapple

#sanders sides #ts sanders sides #logan sanders #janus sanders #virgil sanders #remus sanders #original dark sides #dark sides animal traits #ts dark sides #sanders sides fanfiction #fanfiction #thursday writes #my writing

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worldwidemochiguy · 5 years ago

Text

Love You A Latte (MFEEU! Jimin)

➵ You have always wanted a story book romance, no matter how many times your friends tell you it’s unrealistic, and even unhealthy to have such high expectations. You can’t help but yearn for the one who will make your heart sing, who will captivate you with one word, who will treat you like you’re worth more than anything else in the world... and then Park Jimin crashes into your life, with a pretty smile and a warm cup of vanilla latte with your name on it.

➵ Warnings: Yandere Jimin, Stalking, Daddy Kink, Masturbation, Unhealthy Idealisation of Romance

➵ Word Count: 9.1K

➵ MFEEU Masterlist

➵ General Masterlist

➵ a/n: it’s finally here!!! and i made it part of the mfeeu!!!! idk it just felt right also i actually finished this a few weeks ago but i wanted to add a bonus scene which had smut lol. buuut i was finding it hard to write and i didn’t want to make u guys wait any longer :/ so,,, sorry for the wait! but i hope you enjoy :D

“You do realise that kind of stuff isn’t real, right?”

Your head jerked up, fingers curling slightly around the dog-eared page you were just about to turn, leading you deeper into the intoxicatingly perfect story. Your friend looked almost concerned, worry digging a groove in between her eyebrows.

“Huh?” You replied absently, mind still fixed on the story beneath your fingertips.

“I mean, you’re always reading those books, where a perfect guy comes and steals the girl away into a world of love and happiness and all that crap. You know that won’t actually happen to you, right?”

“…Uh, yeah?” You laughed nervously, one hand releasing the book to come up and brush your hair out of your eyes. “Any particular reason why you’re saying this, Buttercup?”

Buttercup’s expression was pinched, almost painfully so.

“I just… I don’t want you to waste your life away waiting for a guy who’ll never come.”

‘I know.” You said, your throat uncomfortably dry, “I know. It’s just… it’s nice to imagine, right?”

Watching you was the most treasured part of Jimin’s day. Thanks to the multiple cameras he had installed in your apartment while you were out of town, he was able to spend many happy hours watching you, completely besotted.

If he ever missed you, maybe while you were in your classes or meeting with your friends in that ridiculous coffee shop — a practice he planned to stop as soon as he officially became your boyfriend — he could just open his laptop and watch endless saved recordings of you. He even had the cameras linked to his computer at work, though he had to make sure Jungkook wouldn’t peak over his shoulder as he opened the webcam viewer, the nosy little brat.

If he was lucky, you might have danced around to the music on the radio while you were waiting for the kettle to boil, or you would be on your couch, giggling as you read one of those romance novels you were so fond of. Little things. Domestic things, which made it easy to image the day when you would dance around in his apartment, safe and happy in his embrace.

Jimin was thankful you didn’t spend much time in the bathroom. He had refrained from placing cameras in that room because he wanted the first time he saw your beautiful body to be a conscious choice on your part. He would also do his best to avert his eyes whenever you got changed in your bedroom.

However, that didn’t stop him from shamefully imaging you in the privacy of his own penthouse apartment, when the nights became long and lonely without you, or any other human company. More often than he would like to admit, Jimin found himself fantasising about how tight you’d feel clenched around him, how sweet your release would taste on his tongue.

Though the two of you had never actually spoken, Jimin knew everything about you, from your favourite colour to the way you had your eggs in the morning. From a little extra research, made easy by your friends’ various social medias and the occasional overworked college administrator that was sweet-talked into giving out students’ personal information, he knew your birthday, your blood type, and many other precious facts that he wrote down in a diary personally devoted to you, containing his photos of you taken from afar and and Jimin’s records of what you did that day. He had filled up several diaries after having first laid eyes on you only a year ago.

The moment Jimin saw you for the first time was forever burned into his memory. He was waiting in front of the office building, checking his briefcase to make sure he had remembered to bring an important file in for that day’s meeting, when the shopping bag of a passerby had broken, spilling all of their belongings onto the ground.

Jimin had merely watched, unperturbed, as the stranger struggled to pick everything up, and it appeared everyone else was content to do the same. Well, everyone except you.

You descended like an angel from heaven, the only one to help him. Jimin could barely feel his heart pounding in his chest, he was so enraptured by your beauty, your kindness, the grace with which you held yourself. Even your scent, wafted over to him by a blessed breeze, was enough to make Jimin realise that you were the one for him.

The only one there could ever be.

Jimin had listened, captivated, as you comforted the stranger with your melodic voice, all the while helping them to collect their possessions which had spilled out across the sidewalk. You were just- ethereal, as you comforted the stranger — they seemed to be having a bad day, not that Jimin cared at all — introducing yourself as a friend. Your name was the most beautiful thing Jimin had ever heard.

Jimin repeated that name over and over again in his head, and with little difficulty he located you and immersed himself in your life. He had to make sure that when he ‘met’ you, he would not be like that bumbling stranger, too weak to even reply to your kind words. He needed you to realise immediately that he was the one for you, your soulmate, as you were his.

Jimin grinned as his laptop started up again, finally fully charged up. When he woke he discovered that the battery had died as he had it playing all night while he slept. Jimin loved linking it to the live stream while you were asleep and then listening to your cute mumbles and sleepy groans, imagining that you were lying beside him, safely wrapped in his arms.

Usually, he would remember to plug it in so that it wouldn’t run out of charge, but Jimin had been a little distracted that night after you released some… strange noises in your sleep, noises that sounded like moans. Jimin was glad you didn’t say a name — he really didn’t have time to murder someone, what with all the workload on his hands — though your moans slightly tarnished his innocent vision of you.

Jimin knew you were undefiled, a fact that brought him great delight and daily erections. He knew this because during that dark period several months ago when you had that despicable ‘boyfriend’ hanging around you, a constant source of contention between you and him was the fact that you wouldn’t let the bastard touch you.

After he drunkenly attempted to pressure you into making out with him on your couch — a proposal you strongly rejected much to Jimin’s delight — the drunk asshole had left you, sobbing into your hands, to ‘get his dick wet’ elsewhere.

It really was too easy for Jimin to follow him out that evening. To knock him unconscious and then drag him into his rundown car. To place his heavy leg on the accelerator and let it speed into a tree, and watch him regain consciousness a second before the car collided and a branch fell through the windshield, stabbing him in the chest.

Jimin watched it all, and smiled, knowing you were safe from that monstrous son of a bitch. You were safe from everyone, as long as he was there to protect you. Not that you knew it yet, of course.

The cops ruled it as an accident caused by drunk driving, a verdict supported by your testimony of his behaviour earlier that night and his general reputation as an irresponsible party-goer. How that scumbag ever got you to go out with him was beyond Jimin, especially given all the work Jimin was putting in to even be worthy of your attention.

But it didn’t matter. After the death of your boyfriend, Jimin watched as you became happier, rising out of the depression that asshole had put you in. Though, to his consternation, you were spending more time with other people, even widening your previously small friendship group, it was worth it given that he was able to see your bright, joyful smile all the more often.

Jimin let out a groan of frustration as the livestream continued to take its sweet time loading. Thankfully, he had a day off today so he didn’t have to worry about being late to work, not that Taehyung was particularly strict about that sort of thing.

It was now 10 in the morning, a Saturday, so according to the rough schedule Jimin had worked out, scrawled on the inside cover of his diary and imprinted into his brain, you should be just starting to wake up. You were a bit of a late riser, but that just made Jimin love you all the more, imagining lazy mornings filled with kisses and pillow fights that devolved into indulgent morning sex.

An excited grin spread across his face when the picture finally cleared and he got to see your beautiful face. The grin dimmed slightly when he saw you were just putting the finishing touches to your outfit, seemingly leaving your apartment to go somewhere. Jimin scowled.

Who did you have to meet that was so important you would wake up specially to see them? He hurriedly got dressed, eyes still pinned on the live feed which made putting on his trousers a tad more difficult than usual.

Thankfully, he was able to be out of the door more or less the same time you were. He followed the now well-trodden route of shortcuts and back alleys that led to your apartment. Or rather, the road across from your apartment.

Jimin followed a block behind you, baseball cap pulled low over his face so you didn’t recognise him, watching as you strolled along the avenues, smiling to himself whenever you saw a pile of autumn-tinted leaves and jumped into them, creating a cacophony of crackles which made you giggle cutely. He almost regretted not bringing his camera to capture these adorable moments, but he knew it would look strange to the other pedestrians if they saw him following behind you taking photos.

Jimin finally realised where you were headed with a bittersweet smile. The coffee shop you loved, The Roasted Bean, which you frequented with your friends. He was hesitant to go in there, worried that your friends, stupid though they were, would notice his constant presence and poison you against him.

He couldn’t resist strolling up to the window, though. Watching as your face brightened when you saw your friends (who had already ordered without you, the ungrateful swine). He imagined a similar look appearing on your face whenever you saw him — except happier, because obviously you would be more excited to see your boyfriend rather than your friends. Maybe when he was coming home from work to greet you in your and his’ shared apartment.

A handwritten note stuck to the window distracted him from his reverence, something which originally irritated him but what he soon realised was in fact a blessing. The ‘help wanted’ sign, proclaiming that the shop needed a new barista, and that they didn’t mind if the applicant had no previous experience, was all Jimin needed to situate himself in your life.

After all, if he started working at the cursed coffee shop, he would get to see you every day when you visited in the mornings, and after that Jimin was sure it wouldn’t take long to make you fall in love with him.

Of course, if Jimin wanted to get the job at the coffee shop, he would have to do something about his proper, full-time job.

“Uh, Taehyung?”

Two heads popped up as Jimin knocked on the office door. They must have been having a meeting. Fuck, Jimin really didn’t want to have this conversation with Jungkook as a witness, but it seemed he had no choice as Taehyung waved him in and Jungkook showed no sign of getting up. On the contrary, he settled into the office chair and looked for all the world as if he wanted a bag of popcorn to snack on while he watched the conversation.

“What’s up?” Taehyung asked, and Jimin felt a slight lick of heat paint itself across his cheeks. He cleared his throat and pointedly ignored Jungkook’s snort.

“I want to cash in my vacation days.”

“Oh, really?” Taehyung’s brows flick up, “It’s… September. Shouldn’t you save them for… I don’t know, summer?”

“No, I want to use them now.” Jimin asserted, and Taehyung gave a puzzled little frown, before shrugging.

“Okay, well, there’s a a form you’ll have to fill in. How long are you thinking, a week? Two?”

“About two months, I think.” Jimin said, less confident than he would have liked, and Taehyung’s jaw dropped.

“Two months? Why on earth do you want to take two months off all of a sudden?” Taehyung asked incredulously, before his expression sobered abruptly. “Is there something wrong with your health?”

“No, no, it’s nothing like that, Taehyung-ah, don’t worry.” Jimin assured his friend quickly, “I just… want to pursue something else for a while, that’s all.”

“Want to pursue someone else, you mean.” Jungkook cackled, obviously casting off his role as a spectator, and Jimin fought to keep his expression unmoved. “You’ve been bright red ever since you stepped into this office.”

“It’s… warm.” Jimin muttered, and he wasn’t wrong, his cheeks certainly were warm at that point.

“It’s September, Jiminie,” Jungkook laughed, “and you’ve got a crush!”

“Is it true, Jimin-ah?” Taehyung asked delightedly, “You’ve found someone?”

“That’s hyung to you, brat.” Jimin snarled at Jungkook, ignoring Taehyung’s coos and his shouts to his girlfriend to come into the office. Jungkook stuck his tongue out at Jimin.

“Wow, look, hyung’s blushing.” Jungkook announced, before walking over to the office door and swinging it open. “Hey, everyone, get in here, look how red hyung’s cheeks are! Hyung looks like a strawberry!” Jungkook turned back to Jimin triumphantly as the rest of the boys came to the office to see what all the commotion was about. He gave Jimin a saccharine smile. “Is that better, hyung?”

“Respect your elders, kid.” Yoongi drawled as he reached the office, the rest of the floor in two. “Anyway, what the fuck is happening?”

“Yeah, why did you call me here, Taetae?” Taehyung’s girlfriend asked, who had come in from her section of the office and been promptly tugged onto Taehyung’s lap. He merely stared up at her, utterly besotted. Fuck, is that what Jimin would look like with you? Gross.

“No reason, I just missed you.” Taehyung smiled dopily at her, and she giggled, pressing a quick peck on his cheek and actually, Jimin would murder every single person in this room if you looked at him like that. Maybe affection isn’t so gross, as long as you’re involved.

But then Jungkook crowed, “Jiminie’s in love!” And affection very quickly became intolerable again.

“Shut up.” He snarled as they all begin laughing and cooing at him jokingly, “I’m just going to be leaving the office for a while.”

“What, so you can take a job at her favourite coffee shop and write love notes on her napkins?” Jungkook laughed, and Jimin-

Jimin looked at his shoes and used the age-old logic of if I can’t see them, they can’t see me.

“No-” Hoseok gasped, equally shocked and gleeful, but Jin interrupted him.

“Jimin,” He said calmly, and Jimin could just imagine his lips twitching up and down as he desperately tried not to break into peals of windshield-wipe laughter, “Look me in the eye and tell me you aren’t going to get a job as a barista as an attempt to get a girl.”

“He can’t look you in the eye, he’s too short.” Jungkook whispered, and Jimin generously refrained from hissing at him.

“I-” Jimin stuttered as he looked up and deep into Seokjin’s pitiless eyes, “I’m not-” He started to say, but… honestly no one can lie while looking at Kim Seokjin.

“She’s so cute!” Jimin bursted out, and immediately there was chaos. Several people were yelling. Hoseok somehow produced a bottle of champagne which he must’ve just been, like, carrying around with him, but Jimin simply did not care anymore.

“She’s so fucking cute all the fucking time and she goes to this coffee shop so fucking often, so if I become a barista there then I’ll see her every day! Do you understand?” Jimin asked, before shaking Jungkook — who had risen from his seat in celebration — frantically by the collar. “Every single day, Jungkook!”

“He’s worse than Taehyung!” Jungkook shouted gleefully, and Taehyung — who was still sat on his chair with his girlfriend — frowned.

“I- don’t know if I should be offended or not.”

“You should always be offended when it comes to Jungkook.” Namjoon told him sagely, and Jimin yelled a wordless noise of agreement.

His yell seemed to remind Taehyung of why Jimin came into his office in the first place, and he starts rifling through his desk, having to shift his girlfriend off his lap slightly to do so.

“Here, Jimin- sorry baby, this’ll just take a second — here’s the file for the vacation days.”

Taehyung passed Jimin a sheet of paper, having to lean around Hoseok, who had just started a conga — where the fuck was that music coming from? Who the fuck brought speakers to an office? — to give it to him. “Take as much time as you need.”

“Thanks, Taehyung-ah.” Jimin grinned as he left the office, pausing half-way out the door as he heard Taehyung call his name. He turned around to see his friend grinning at him.

“Good luck, Jimin. I hope it goes well.”

So do I, Jimin thought as he left the building, calling a taxi to take him to his next job, and (hopefully) closer to you.

You sighed as your alarm went off, jolting you from your dream. It was another romantic one — what a surprise, your friends would probably mutter sarcastically — but it truly hurt your heart to let it drift as your mind fully woke up. That was always the way. Real life coming to interrupt what you dreamed your life could be.

Another sigh escaped your lips as you imagined him. The one who starred in all your dog-eared romance novels, who would sweep you of your feet and take care of you, both in the bedroom and out of it.

In your head, you knew that you should probably want to be self-reliant and independent, values that your family and friends and teachers tried to drill into you, but you couldn’t help creating day dreams of a man whom you could trust enough to let yourself be truly submissive to him, to allow him to make all of the difficult decisions and comfort you when you got upset.

You used to be certain you would find him, your soulmate who would do anything for you, who would be endeared instead of weirded out by your odd quirks, who would love you no matter what happened, but to be honest you were starting to lose hope. With the disaster of your first ever relationship — the one that ended abruptly with his death — you vowed to stay away from boys until you found the one.

This inevitably led to you spending more time indoors and refusing whenever your friends wanted you to join them in going to all the hottest clubs, simply because you were tired of the whole thing. By now, you had pretty much accepted that you would die a spinster surrounded by fourteen cats.

Your alarm blared again, somehow more grating and obtrusive than the first time, and your eyes flicked to the analog display, swearing quietly when you saw the time. You stumbled out of bed, internally cursing the day you decided to sign up to an early morning lecture class, a bizarre decision considering you were so much not a morning person that you gave Garfield a run for his money.

Speed-walking to class, you were thankfully ahead of schedule since you managed to get dressed at the speed of light, forgoing any kind of beauty routine beyond jamming a toothbrush in your mouth and scrubbing frantically. By a rare stroke of luck, this class was quite small so not many people would bear witness to the horror that was bare-faced you with partial bed-head.

Since you, surprisingly, had more than enough time, you decided to pop into your favourite coffee shop. The familiar tinkling bell went off as you entered but, instead of greeting your favourite barista Rosa at the counter with a sunny smile and your usual order already prepared, you came face to face with the most beautiful man you had ever seen in your life.

You locked eyes with him and watched, awestruck, as his full, pillow lips tugged up into a smile, exposing his perfect teeth. His eyes almost disappeared as he grinned, turning into twin crescents above mochi cheeks, so soft and adorable that you felt all the thoughts you ever had fly out of your head, all replaced by one overwhelming sense of… something.

Something strange, that you had never felt before, which made your knees weaken imperceptibly as you made your way to the counter, closer to this Adonis in human form.

He obviously noted your flustered state, which only intensified your embarrassment, and his adorable expression melted into a smirk that had your heart racing and your libido awakening with a vengeance. It was just unfair. The barista somehow managed to be cuter than any puppy you had ever seen in your goddamn life, and then turn you on more than you thought was physically possible.

If this was what a sexual awakening was, you didn’t know how people managed to refrain from having sex all day, every day. And then you were struck with the image of having sex all day, every day, with the Greek God of a barista, and decided there was not enough holy water in the entire world to cleanse you from your sins.

“Hello,” the absurdly attractive barista said, after several minutes of you wordlessly floundering in equal parts of embarrassment and arousal.

“My name is Jimin. What would you like me to make you?” I’d like you to make me come, your traitorous mind suggested, causing even more heat to rise to your cheeks.

“H-Hello… Jimin.” you stuttered, praying for the sweet release of death. The Adonis- Jimin - watched you expectantly, gaze fluttering from your eyes — wide as a deer’s caught in the headlights — to your cheeks — probably so red they had surpassed the visible spectrum and were now emitting radiation — and he chuckled. You wanted to cry. Of course he’d be one of those people with low, sultry chuckles.

“Do you want to tell me your order, Princess?” He questioned, when it became clear you were more focused on not melting into a puddle than telling him what drink you wanted, and you became certain you had died and gone to hell. This was torture, having this perfect specimen of humanity in front of you, having him call you ‘Princess’ with his bedroom eyes dark and mischievous, and choking on your own tongue.

His eyebrow quirked — and of course his eyebrows were just fucking perfectly shaped — and you somehow managed to pull yourself together enough to remember the order you had given every damn day of your life since discovering this godforsaken place, the place you would never come back to due to a mixture of shame and self-preservation (there was a real possibility you might just die if you ever saw Jimin again).

“V-Vanilla latte… please.” You practically whimpered, too distracted with your own internal chaos to notice him cooing over your choice quietly.

“A cute drink for a cute girl.” He smirked again before striding to the espresso machine to fulfil your order, leaving you shocked on the other side of the counter. He called you cute. Cute.

You had never been more aware of your makeup-free face and unbrushed hair, quickly swept up into a messy bun. Fuck, you could've had dried up drool on the corner of your mouth and you wouldn’t have even known it. He returned with your order just in time to catch you running your tongue over your bottom lip, the pink muscle darting out just in case you had missed any on the side of your face.

If you hadn’t been so focused on your own appearance, you would have noticed Jimin falter for a second, his eyes widening, fixed on your mouth.

You caught his attention and sealed your lips together firmly, determined to not let him think you were some weirdo who licked her lips excessively in public. His dark gaze made your mouth go dry. You tried to subtly swallow down the lump in your throat, but his eyes tracked the bob under your skin.

The two of you stood in an oddly charged silence for a moment before he remembered himself and handed over your latte.

Your skin brushed his and you held your breath, his hand pausing over yours for what felt like an eternity, but it was still too soon when you forced yourself to pull back. He smiled again, the adorable mochi-cheeked smile that still managed to turn you on despite its sweet and innocent appearance.

“There you go, Y/n.”

You were so flustered by the sound of his pillow lips curving sensuously over the syllables of your name that you didn’t even question how he knew it, content to stumble backwards out of the shop. You were still caught in his gaze until you backed straight into the door, knocking you out of your stupor and causing you to practically fly out of the shop, his warm laughter chasing you up the street.

You barely heard a thing during the lecture, your pen had dried out after you uncapped it and then did not replace the cap for a solid forty minutes, letting it rest on your blank notepad. The professor had given up calling on you and asking you to pay attention, drawing the conclusion that this was an off-day for his normally-attentive student. You were actually very focused at that moment, it was simply just not directed at the professor.

You were pouring over your memories of Jimin, recounting with perfect clarity how his soft-looking hair fell over his forehead perfectly. It looked so pretty and you would sell your soul for a chance to run your fingers through it. The corners of his perfect lips tugged upwards into a smile a million times in your imagination, and you wondered what it would feel like to be kissed by those lips, to have those lips running all over your body, dipping downwards and tasting-

The professor signalling the end of the class could not have come at a better time, and you rushed out of your seat as fast as your shaky legs could carry you, the heat coiling in your belly tugging you home. You spared a moment to thank past-you for not scheduling any other classes today, because, judging by the slight damp spot in your panties that was growing embarrassingly quickly, you would be quite busy for a while.

Jimin rushed home as soon as his shift ended. His elation invigorated his steps to the point where he was practically skipping. Holy shit. Holy shit. He had met you. He had talked to you and you had blushed and stuttered and been perfect in every single way. He always thought there was no way he could love you more than he already did but that was just another way you changed his outlook on life.

Seeing your beautiful face, devoid of makeup and yet still you put any work of art to shame, and hearing your soft voice speak his name — you knew his name, holy shit — and smelling your sweet perfume was a life changing occurrence for Jimin.

Of course, he had smelt your perfume before — he wrote down what scent you preferred when he broke into your apartment to place the cameras and he had a pillow at home that he doused with the stuff so that it smelled like you — but experiencing it in real life was on a whole other level.

He got back to his apartment and switched on the live feed just in time to catch you coming back from your lecture. Jimin cooed softly at the sight of you, your eyes were wide and vacant, distracted, and your cheeks were adorably flushed, like you had been rushing. You dumped your bag by the door — Jimin couldn’t wait until he could be the one holding your bag for you, having you tucked under his other arm — and went straight to the bedroom.

Jimin switched the feed to the bedroom cam, holding his breath in anticipation. When you came home and went straight to the bedroom, that usually led to-

You flung yourself on the bed and started working your pants down. Jimin stopped breathing entirely as he felt all the blood in his body, and possibly some extra, rush down south. He knew he should look away, should let you have this moment in private, but he found himself unable to stop palming his erection through his jeans.

He pulled his hand away briefly to turn up the audio feed, and your soft moans filled the air. Jimin almost came on the spot, but he forced himself to wait, he promised he would never come before you. Your lower half was entirely bare and Jimin’s mouth watered at the sight of your pretty pussy, wet and glistening, positioned in the perfect spot for him to see it, for him.

He tugged himself out of his jeans and spread the beads of precome over the head of his cock distractedly, watching as you teased yourself open with one finger. Fuck, you were so fucking tight. He could see the slight discomfort on your face as you thrusted your finger into yourself again and again, obviously trying to get yourself adjusted as fast as possible.

Jimin felt a curl of jealously flare up within him, even as he started pumping his fist up and down his cock faster. What had made you so desperate to come? Who had done this to you? As far as he was aware, there hadn’t been anything new that day so far, unless-

You started to relax, the finger gliding in and out so easily, aided by the slick coating your digit. His mouth dried up just thinking about the taste of you. Jimin watched as your head fell back, your eyes rolling in their sockets, and your perfect lips parted.

“Jimin,” you moaned, and Jimin almost blacked out.

He was so hard it was physically painful, but he gripped the base of his cock tightly, unwilling to come because he knew if he did he would miss the rest of your magnificent performance. You were properly riding your hand now, your hips rolling to meet your own thrusts, eyes shut tight, imaging something- imagining him. Jimin had never felt such sweet torture, needing to come so badly, but needing to watch you come more.

You moaned his name again, sounding more debauched than the first time, and Jimin knew you were close. He wanted so desperately to know what you were imagining him doing, so that he could recreate it with you once he had you. It was like you had read his mind, because a second later you granted his wish.

“P-please, daddy.” You moaned, and Jimin whimpered, he wasn’t sure how much longer he could hold on.

Daddy.

You were going to be the cause of his death and Jimin found that he didn’t mind at all.

“Ple-ease,” your begging was interrupted by a drawn out moan, and if Jimin could have thought straight at that point, he would’ve frowned. Imaginary Jimin was much crueler than Real Life Jimin. Real Life Jimin knew without a doubt he would give you anything in the world if you begged him like that.

“Fuck me, daddy, please,” You cried out, somehow managing to add a third finger, thrusting into your tight, tight wet heat, “Fuck your princess.”

You called out his name again as you came, and Jimin lasted a few seconds watching you pant and ride through the aftershocks of your orgasm before he simply loosened his tight grip on the base of his cock and finished.

When he regained consciousness, you were still splayed out on your bed, seemingly unable to move just like he was, but if he could move he knew he’d be jumping around the room in elation. This was undoubtedly the best day of his life, maybe even better than the one in which he first caught a glimpse of your angelic face.

He had met you in person for the first time, and you had been so obviously flustered by his presence, which was something that delighted him more than he could say and he had thought the day could not have gotten any better, but then you went home and masturbated and moaned out his name and called him daddy and then came with his name on your lips and Jimin honestly didn’t know how he was still breathing.

You were perfect, and amazing, and Jimin was almost mad at himself for not realising just how perfect you would be. He hadn’t anticipated you being this affected by him so soon. He had planned to gradually introduce himself into your life, ‘coincidentally’ running into you outside of the coffee shop after a few weeks, slowly integrating hang-outs and seamlessly turning them into dates. Shyly confessing his feelings after a month of being ‘friends’.

Jimin was not exactly a patient man, but you mattered more than anything to him, and he knew that he would have to be careful until you were so in love with him that you wouldn’t leave no matter what. That would be the point where he would break out the diaries and the videos, and bask in your gratitude that he was so enamoured with you from the very moment he met you, just like those romantic heroes in the books you were so fond of.

But at this rate, Jimin was practically ready to start shopping for engagement rings. He knew your ring size, of course, and your jewellery preferences due to studying your buying habits, but he managed to calm himself down enough to realise you probably wouldn’t appreciate a proposal just yet. But you were certainly attracted to him. Very attracted, Jimin thought smugly. He couldn’t exactly fault you though, since he had looked in a mirror before.

Jimin was an attractive man, he was fully aware many would call him stunning, and now he finally met his match: you. God, Jimin could not wait to see how amazingly perfect your children would be.

You chewed your lip as you ran over the dilemma in your head. It had been two days since you last went to The Roasted Bean. Coincidentally, it was also two days since you saw the most attractive man on the planet. And two days since you had the most intense orgasm you’d ever experienced.

You were seriously craving your caffeine fix, and a small, perverted part of you that was heavily repressed was desperate to catch another glimpse of the beautiful barista, Jimin. But the last time you saw him, you embarrassed yourself so much you wouldn’t be surprised if he turned on his heels and fled at the sight of you.

It was so annoying. You had waited your whole life to meet the perfect guy, but the second you meet him, you realise that you can’t spend longer than three seconds in his presence without melting into a puddle of goo.

After another five minutes spent deliberating outside the coffee shop in the chilly weather, your nose had turned so red you could practically see its glowing reflection in the cafe window. You decided that the chances of Jimin even having a shift now were very slim, and it was even less likely that he would remember you.

He probably got reactions like that (maybe slightly less embarrassing ones) every day given how stupidly attractive he was. He probably had girlfriends to spare. You scowled. Getting jealous over a stranger’s hypothetical girlfriends? Wow, you really have hit a new low, you taunted yourself.

The door opened suddenly, shocking you out of your thoughts so much that you jumped, much to the amusement of whoever opened the door, judging by their chuckle. You looked up at them, and then regretted every life choice that brought you to that exact moment.

It was Jimin, because of course it was, and he looked as stunning as ever, his complexion glowing, his eyes shining, his existence in general devastating. He was in his cute little barista outfit, a fitted white button up and black apron that might as well be a runway look for how much it suited him.

“Are you going to come in, Y/n?” Holy shit he knows my name, you screamed to yourself, vaguely hoping your face had an expression of pleasant detachment and not the strange amalgamation of shock, delight and arousal that you were experiencing. He chuckled, shaking his head slightly as if privy to some inside joke.

“Yes, of course I know your name, Y/n.” You stopped dead in your tracks. Could barista boy read your mind?

“No, I can’t, you just say everything you’re thinking out loud, which is very cute. And you can call me Jimin, you know.” Oh, if you thought you were embarrassed last time, that was a sweet walk in the park compared to today. You cleared your throat quietly, refusing to let yourself be dumbstruck again.

“I do call you Jimin.” You replied, trying to make him believe that you remembered his name because God, you were unlikely to forget it. For some reason, this made him pause for a second, his expression darkening and his tongue darting out to wet his lip.

“I know you do, baby.” He said, low enough that you questioned whether he said it at all, and he had already moved past, slipped behind the counter as you advanced to be opposite him, just like you were when you first met.

“Vanilla latte, right?”

You really should stop getting shocked by Jimin’s seemingly eidetic memory.

“You remember my drink?”

“When a customer is as beautiful as you are, Princess, you tend to remember their drink.” You elected to ignore the way that nickname had your toes curling in your boots, and instead fixated on the pinch of jealousy in your gut.

“I guess you must remember many customers orders then.” You knew you sounded too jealous for someone he barely knows, but your strange possessive behaviour seemed to please him, for a small grin tugged his mouth upwards.

“Nope, just you, Princess.”

“Are you flirting with me?”

The question blurted itself out, bypassing both your common sense and your anxiety. Jimin, however, replied promptly.

“Yes.” His confidence, evident in the way he leaned over the counter and into your space, began to falter as you just stared at him wordlessly. “That is, if you want me to-”

“I do!” You blurted out again, and you really needed to gain a filter, but his confident smirk returned.

“Actually, I was going to say: if you want me to stop-”

“I don’t!” Jimin let out a laugh, eyes crinkling in the most adorable way, before he continued.

“Will you ever let me finish what-”

“No.” At that, he threw his head back, releasing a peal of laughter that you swore could’ve lit up the world with its brightness.

He finally stopped laughing, his eyes still swimming with ill-concealed mirth. You were pretty sure your cheeks were about three seconds away from setting the coffee shop and the surrounding neighbourhood aflame, so it was a relief when Jimin turned to the machine, snapping the mechanism into place, even if you felt a hint of disappointment when you lost sight of his beautiful smile.

God, even his back is sexy, you thought, watching as he tinkered with the various machinery behind the counter. At one point, he bent over to check the positioning of the cup and, well, you had never really paid attention to any guy’s ass before but maybe you should start because damn.

Finally, Jimin turned back to you with a perfectly made latte in his hands. You noted how cute his fingers were absently as they brushed yours. But, when you made to grab your drink, he retracted it suddenly, a Cheshire Cat grin on his face.

“Not so quickly, Princess.” You humphed,

“It’s funny, Jimin, you claim to know my name but you never use it.” He laughed again and you tried to convince yourself that your heart wouldn’t always skip a beat at that sound.

“Oh, so you want me to use your name, huh?”

“It’s only fair, considering you wanted me to use your name, Jimin.”

“Alright then, Y/n.” He purred, bending down to scribble your name on the cup, a bit unnecessary considering he could’ve just handed it right to you, but you got the sense he was trying to drag out your interaction for whatever reason.

He straightened up, the glint of mischief present again in his eyes, and you prepared yourself for another verbal sparring match.

“Do you not want me calling you Princess, then?” He winked at you as he said the nickname, which was frankly quite rude. You would have to send him a bill for all the batteries he made you buy, since your vibrator was definitely going to be running out of power soon thanks to him.

“I didn’t say that.” You hated how quiet and meek your voice came out.

“Oh, it sounds like poor little Y/n’s a bit confused. What do you prefer? Y/n? Or Princess?”

“S-stop it. You’re not funny. I’m going to class.” You spun around and marched towards the door, trying to ignore his laughter following you.

“Baby!” Jimin yelled, and, for some reason, you turned around.

“What?”

Jimin smirked when you responded to the new nickname. “Since you couldn’t decide, I thought I’d use Baby instead. Do you like it?”

“No! I mean, yes- no, I don’t. Goodbye.”

“Baby! Aren’t you forgetting something?” At that, you finally exploded, all the sexual frustration caused by him bubbling to the surface.

“What?” You yelled, “You want a kiss farewell?”

“I was going to say you’d forgotten your drink but, since you asked, I wouldn’t mind a kiss.”

You stomped back to grab your drink, avoiding his eye contact like the plague. As you took the cup your fingers brushed his and the odd, frustrated tension between the two of you dissipated into something almost tender. His skin was so soft and warm. Everything about him seemed so cozy and inviting, and hopeless romantic part of you wanted to sink into his arms and never be let go of.

You left before your tongue released the stupid feelings you were longing to express. Jimin couldn’t even watch you go because he was smiling so wide his eyes had disappeared into little crescents.

“-and then he called me baby!”

“Awww-” “Ew!”

Two very different reactions emerged from your friends as the three of you sat cross legged in your friend’s apartment, a haphazard ‘study session’ with open textbooks spread across the floor beside a half-empty takeout pizza box.

“Buttercup!” Two of you whined simultaneously at the third girl, who remained unbothered, tipping her head back to dangle a stretched slice of cheese into her mouth. The three of you had been practically joined at the hip since birth, and — due to an adolescent obsession with ‘The Powerpuff Girls’ — you each had a corresponding nickname, which had stuck as the years passed you by.

You had been nicknamed Blossom, due to your — usually — level head and desire to make peace whenever your two friends were fighting. Your friend — the one who had cooed at the ending of your story — was chosen to be Bubbles, given that she was the personification of candy floss and possibly the closest thing Earth had to a real life fairy.

Your second, much more cynical friend who was currently finishing her slice of pizza and determinedly not looking at Bubble’s puppy eyes, was Buttercup. Self-proclaimed hater of all romance. Given what happened with her parents in your teenage years, you couldn’t really blame her.

“That’s so romantic.” Bubbles sighed dreamily, before huffing slightly. “I wish you hadn’t told me that tonight. I have to study for-” She flushed delicately, “Mr Kim’s lecture and now I won’t be able to think about anything else but my maid of honour speech at your wedding.”

“Hey!” Buttercup interjected, “I’m going to be maid of honour!”

“But you don’t even like weddings-” Bubble started to protest, and you cut them both off.

“There will be no maid of honour!” You announced shrilly, before forcing yourself to relax. “And also, Bubble, you don’t need to study for Mr Kim’s lecture. It’s not like it’s a class or anything, he’s just a guest lecturer.”

“Yes, but…” Bubble mumbled, docilely accepting the pizza slice that Buttercup held up to her face and continuing to speak through a mouthful, “I wuhmfda fimprsh im.”

“What?”

Buttercup scowled, but translated for you.

“She wants to impress him. Gross.” She turned to Bubble. “Isn’t he, like, forty?”

“First of all, he’s in his mid-twenties at most,” You admonished Buttercup as Bubble let out an indignant wail, “and second of all, we were talking about my problem!”

“Oh, what was that again?” Buttercup drawled. You snatched the pizza slice out of her hand in retaliation.

“Jimin! The hot barista! Calling me baby! And, just, existing in general!”

“Oh, that,” Buttercup sighed, as if you hadn’t literally just been talking about it. “That’s simple. Just bang him.”

“I- You- What?” You spluttered as Bubble giggled quietly.

“You’re thinking of this too romantically, like you always do.” Buttercup continued, sounding fantastically confident for someone who had even less experience with relationships than you did. “You just need to bang him and realise that the feelings you’re having are all just repressed horniness.”

“I mean, I would’ve put it differently, but… I agree.” Bubble chirped, paying no attention to your embarrassed whine, “He definitely… sounds attracted to you, and clearly he’s not alone in that.”

“But… I’m a virgin.” You argued dumbly, and Buttercup snorted.

“Do you want to stay a virgin for the rest of your life?”

“No,” You replied, frowning, “…but… it’s kind of a big deal to me. I want it to be special.”

“Haven’t you already said that the guy is like the hottest person on the planet or something like that?” Buttercup asked, raising a lazy eyebrow. “Isn’t that special enough?”

You didn’t reply, too busy blushing furiously, and Bubble squeaked with excitement.

“Oh my god! He’ll be your one and only! This is so exciting!” She cheered, before abruptly slumping down. “I really wish you had told me this after Mr Kim’s lecture. I can’t study now, I’m too excited.” She mumbled forlornly, shutting the textbook and grabbing another slice of pizza. Your mind was still stuck on Buttercup’s suggestion.

“I mean… I barely know him. I just know his name. And his smile. And the way his eyes twinkle when he laughs, oh my god it’s so cute-”

“Y/n,” Buttercup interrupted you, a rare use of your actual name stopping you in your tracks as she framed your face with her hands and shook it gently. “Bang. Him.”

“I-”

“No, no,” She chided you, putting a finger over your mouth, “No overthinking. Just… do what you want to do. Okay?”

Okay, you repeated to yourself. What you want to do. What you want to do…

But what do you want to do?

“I want you to ask me out!” You blurted over the counter the next morning when you walked into the coffee shop and saw Jimin’s back facing you as he cleaned out the milk-frothing machine.

It was only when he turned around that you realised the guy was decidedly not Jimin, and this random stranger was now looking at you confusedly as you debated the advantages and disadvantages of sprinting out of the shop and directly into oncoming traffic.

It would be a quick and painless death, you mused absently, certainly much less painful than this-

“Y/n?” A voice interrupted your thoughts and you whirled around to see Jimin standing in front of the staff door, seemingly just ended his shift with his uniform off. Oh no, he’s even hotter without the apron, you realised miserably.

His gaze darted between you and not-Jimin, something strange and unfamiliar solidifying in his eyes.

“I didn’t know you knew Sungwoon.” He commented mildly, before shooting an abrupt glare at the other barista- Sungwoon, who hurriedly went back to work.

“Oh, I don’t.” You told him immediately, feeling some kind of compulsion to tell him the truth, “I thought he was you.”

The — anger? you weren’t quite sure, only directed at Sungwoon though, not at you — on Jimin’s face melted as realisation dawned. “Oh-” Then his face did something strange, morphing into a smirk which had you biting your lip. “Oh.” He purred, stepping closer to you. “So… you wanted to tell me something, baby?”

Oh no. He called you baby again. Someone call Life Alert.

“I- uh-” You stuttered, thoughts grinding to a halt as he approached you. And then closed his hand around your wrist. He was closing his hand around your wrist. If Bubble were here she’d be having a fit.

“Let’s go and sit down in a booth, huh?” He said smoothly, before tugging you along to the most secluded corner of the coffee shop. After he guided you onto the cushioned bench, he didn’t sit across from you, sliding right in next to you so you could feel the warmth emanating from his skin. He didn’t let go of your wrist.

You were trapped between the wall and him, and as he smirked down at you, you thought that the wall was probably more merciful.

“Anyway, baby, you were saying?”

All the courage which had somehow flooded into you as you stormed into the cafe had abandoned you, wasted on the not-Jimin who had moved onto wiping down the tables, studiously avoiding your corner.

“I…um,” You mumbled, wringing your fingers together nervously. Jimin stopped you by releasing his hold on your wrist and moving his hand upwards to intertwine with yours instead. Your breath hitched as he smoothed a thumb over the back of your hand gently.

“It’s okay, baby.” He said, his voice soft and comforting, “Just say it. I promise… whatever it is-” His lip quirked up slightly, “I won’t say no. I would never say no to you.”

“Never say never.” You mumbled, and he chuckled. You could feel the warm puffs of air brushing your cheek.

“Okay, um, please don’t laugh. I know we don’t really know each other or anything, but… I… like you.”

“You like me?” Jimin parroted, and you would worry he was mocking you, but his eyes were far too happy for that.

“Uh huh,” You replied quietly, squeezing his hand. He took your other hand in his, and you squeezed that one as well.

“Like… like me like me?” He asked, and you could tell he was joking now, so you whined and gave him a half-hearted shove. He shifted slightly, only to rear back and cage you in his arms, dragging you onto his lap.

“I’m sorry, baby,” He murmured, burying his nose in your neck, and you felt like you were going to melt in the middle of the cafe. All those romance books never told you how embarrassing it was to have someone actually pay attention to you. “You just look so pretty when you get teased. My cute little baby.”

You squirmed on his lap, and his hands came to grip your hips securely.

“Baby’s a little restless?” Jimin asked, his voice low, and you let out another little whine. His hands tightened.

“Does this mean… does this mean you like me too?” You asked timidly, and he huffed a laugh against your hair.

“What do you think, Y/n?” He asked, squeezing your hips playfully. After a moment, he softened, tilting his neck slightly to plant a kiss on the crown of your head. “I like you too much.” He said simply, making you flush.

“Well, that’s good, because I like you too much too.”

“You might even say that I like you-” Jimin wiggled his eyebrows, “-a latte!”

You didn’t react, and Jimin’s smile dimmed slightly.

“You know, because I’m a barista?”

“Actually, never mind, I don’t like you that much-” You said as you tried to shift off his lap, but he held you firmly, tugging you back with a smug laugh.

“No, baby, you won’t get away that easy.”

He pressed you back against the wall bordering the booth, and-

So this is what true love’s kiss is like, you thought, before you stopped thinking altogether.

His lips were soft against yours, but insistent as they slanted over your mouth and pressed urgently until you gave in and parted your lips. He swallowed your whimpers as he skilfully twisted his tongue around yours, licking and sucking and biting and-

He drew back so both of you could catch your breath, and you slumped forwards into him.

“Now I’ve got you…” He said, his voice gravelly from the kiss. You did that, you realised smugly. “Now I’ve got you, I’m never letting you go.”

You hummed happily, curling into his arms without protest. Of course he’d never let you go. Why would you want him to? You’ve finally found your fairytale ending, except you hope it never ever ends. And, just like he promised, Jimin never lets you go again.

#bts fanfiction #bts fanfic #bts fic #bts #bts imagines #yandere bts #bts x reader #bts scenarios #yandere bangtan #bts jimin #bts jimin imagines #yandere jimin #soft yandere jimin #mfeeu #yandere jimin x reader #yandere bts x reader

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write-orflight · 5 years ago

Text

Like Real People Do. (Spencer x Reader)

Chapter 1

*Gif not mine*

Prologue Chapter 2

Rating: M, eventually will be smut.

Words: 2.5k

Warnings: regular CM crime stuff. brief mentions of previous assault. vomit.

Request: OPEN/CLOSED

A.N Thanks for the love on the Prologue, message to be added to taglist. much love Cia

Chapter 1: However scary

You start to follow Hotch outside his office, barely containing the smile on your face. You couldn’t help it, the job you’ve been dreaming about for a decade was yours now. As you left the office, you couldn’t help but notice the short Italian man exiting his.

“Rossi?” You smiled. The man in question turned and grinned upon seeing you.

“Bella!” He opened his arms to hug you which you automatically accepted.

“I thought you retired, old man.”

Rossi scoffed. “You know me, can’t stay away for long.” Hotch stepped up, joining you guys. “So am I correct in assuming you’ve taken the job?” Rossi asks.

“You would be correct.” You smile. “And now, since I have a big girl job and can take care of myself. I’m hoping those mysterious money drops into my bank account will stop.” You gave him a knowing look. Though you and Rossi were not as close as you and Hotch, you still revered him as a father figure as much as he did you a daughter.

“I have no idea what you’re talking about.” He says holding up his hands.

“Sure you don’t, old man.” You laughed. “How’s… Krystal?” You say trying to remember which wife Rossi was on now.

“Divorced.” Rossi smirks.

“Aw, I’m sorry, Dave. I thought 3 would be the lucky number.”

“So did I.” Rossi smiled. “How’s Persephone?” David smiles widely at the mention of your adoptive mother's name.

“Still not interested in becoming number 4.” You laughed, inducing a boisterous laugh from Dave and a small chuckle from Hotch. “She’s currently backpacking through India and building eco houses along the way.”

“Sounds like Persephone.” David smiles. You guys continue to catch up for a couple of more minutes not noticing the team staring up at you from the bullpen.

“Do you guys know who she is?” Emily asks

“No but Rossi and Hotch know her by the looks of it.” Derek replies.

“I met her in the elevator.” Spencer speaks up. “Her name’s Y/N.”

“Wonder what she's doing here.” Derek says as Penelope walks up with a tin of her famous cookies that Spencer is already reaching for. She pulls back so it’s out of reach from his perch on his desk.

“Well, if she took the job then that is your newest team member.” Penelope smiled. “Hotch asked me to do a background check last week so I assume he’s hiring her. Which means these cookies are for her.” She says pulling even more back as Spencer continues to make grabby hands at the tin.

“Why does she get cookies her first day? I didn’t get any on my first day.” Spencer points out, not caring how much he sounds like a child.

“I’m not really allowed to talk about it, but let’s just say I think she could really use the kindness.”

“What did you find out about her, Baby girl?” Derek asked.

Penelope frowns slightly, she never liked keeping secrets, especially from the team. “I’m really not allowed to say, but what I can tell you is that she’s smart, like really smart. Maybe not Reid’s level but smart enough to make dean's list at an Ivy League every year.”

“Which school?” Spencer asks.

“Stanford.”

Spencer nods. That would make her pretty smart, that or just good at school. As he’s exiting his thoughts, JJ walks past them, throwing a “We have a case.” Over her shoulder before heading to Rossi, Hotch and the new girl.

We all begin filing into the conference room, Rossi, Hotch and Y/N walking in last. Hotch clears his throat. “This is Agent Y/L/N.” He says gesturing at you. “She will be joining us this case. I’m sure you guys will get around to formal introductions later.” Hotch says before taking a seat nodding at JJ to start. You hold up your hand in a small wave before taking a seat next to Hotch. Everyone else regards you with a small nod except a brightly dressed blonde woman who excitedly waves back at you.

“We’re heading to Nashville.” A blonde woman, you assume, is JJ says pulling up images of victims on the screen. You swallowed the lump in your throat, you were used to crime scene photos, you studied several in the FBI academy but kids would always get to you. “3 boys ages 10-13 all have gone missing on their way home from school, all found 5 days later buried arms across chest, heads shaved.”

“Signs of remorse are obviously there but the hair...is something different.” A dark haired woman pointed out.

“Could be trichophilia.” You pointed out. Everyone looked at you, you cleared your throat under the scrutiny. “Trichophilia. It’s the fetishzation of hair.” You provide. Everyone nods and JJ continues to provide information on the case before Hotch announces wheels up in 30. You go to grab your files and notebook when the brightly dressed blonde woman ambushes you a tin fully extended to you.

“Hi, I’m Penelope Garcia, and these are for you!” practically shoving the tin into your hands.

“Thank you, I’m Y/N.” You smiled, you weren’t really a sweets person but you weren’t going to turn down the kindness. A brown skinned man and the dark haired woman from before walked up to you both.

“I’m Emily Prentiss, this is Derek Morgan” she says both holding their hands out for you to shake. You shuffle the cookies and files into one arm to shake hands with them.

“Y/N Y/L/N.” You say back.

“So you seemed to already know Hotch?” Derek pointed out.

You had been prepared for someone to ask about that so you rattled off your prepared speech. “Yes, Hotch is a family friend.” That seemed like the easiest way to explain your relationship.

“So that’s how you were able to steamroll in here, huh? Friends with the boss?” The man laughs.

“No, I think it might’ve been one of my several degrees, merits or letters of recommendation, one of which from the director himself.” You point out. “Though I suppose knowing Aaron didn’t necessarily hurt things.”

Derek holds up his hands in surrender. “That could be true too. I guess we’ll see out on the field.” He says before him and Prentiss walk out.

You sigh heavily and start heading out the same way before a small voice pipes up behind you.

“They’ll come around.”

You turn your eyes onto the man you had met in the elevator before. “Sorry?”

“Morgan and Prentiss. They’ll come around, they acted like that towards me when I first started too. It’s-uh because you’re young.”

You nodded. He had a point and so did Morgan in a sense. You were very young, seemingly too young to be starting in a field like this. You knew it’d be hard to believe Hotch didn’t pull some strings for you.

“I knew my age would probably raise some questions. But I worked really hard, and it sucks I have to prove myself 10x over just because of my age.”

“I understand.” He says, following you out of the conference room.

“I felt like you would. You introduced yourself as Dr. Reid before but we look around the same age.”

“Yes, I hold 3 doctorates.”

“Three?!” You said incredulously. “What were you like, eleven starting college?”

“12, actually.” He smiles. He has a nice smile, instantly crosses your brain. You dash that thought immediately.

“That would have to make you some sort of genius.”

“I believe there’s not quantifiable way to measure intelligence but I suppose by societal standards, I am. I have an IQ of 187.”

You let out a deep whistle. “And here I thought I’d be the smart one.” You laugh.

He fumbles a bit over his words. “I-I mean you still could be. L-Like I said, there’s no way to accurately measure intelligence.”

You laugh before rounding your new desk grabbing your go bag underneath it. “Thanks for the vote of confidence but we both know that’s not true.” You smile before turning to head towards the jet.

——————————————————

You and the team had been in Madison county for 4 days now and you were hitting a wall. The day you arrived there had been a 4th body found, same cause of death, same shaved head only this time the word HELP was carved into the boy’s back. You knew this was a part of the job, going to crime scenes and having to see bodies but you couldn’t stop the thoughts. His hands were on your neck again, his knife grazing your sides. You felt the bile rise up.

“Pull over.” You all but scream to Morgan he nods, zipping the car to the side of the road. You instantly hop out and release your lunch.

Morgan steps out and pats your back. “It’s alright, kid. First one’s never easy. Especially when it’s children.”

He thinks you’re sick from the crime scene You think. That’s probably for the best.

“Thanks.” You mumble. He nods as you guys wordlessly walk back to the SUV.

Since then you’ve been at the police station working on the geographical profile with Spencer. You know Morgan had probably said something to Hotch about your upchuck and that was why you were stuck here. But still, you couldn’t think to complain. Spencer was incredibly smart and great to work with.

“There’s something we’re missing.” He says off handedly. You nod agreeing. You take in the circle like pattern the unsub seemed to be going in. It didn’t make sense. You had profiled him as a socially awkward loner with an overbearing parent. He wasn’t good with adults but could somehow get kids to trust him. Enough to get into the car with him late at night. It hit you a second later.

“Oh my god.” You said scrambling for your phone to call Garcia. Spencer looks over at you, raising an eyebrow questioningly.

“You’ve reached your high priestess.” You hear Penelope’s voice come through the speaker.

“Hey Garcia, it’s Y/N.” You say. “Can you tell me what business is near the first dump site? I have an idea.”

You hear the faint sound of clacking as she finds the information for you. “Looks to be a bus lot.” You fought the urge to pump your fist in the air. You were right.

“Alright Garcia. I need a background check on all school bus drivers in Madison county, cross check it with anything that would fit the profile so minor stalking charges, assault…” you train off. “How long do you think that’ll take?” You ask.

“If I get started now, a couple hours.” She says. “Penelope out.” She says, hanging up.

You look up to see Spencer looking right back at you. “A bus driver.” You say smiling. “Think about it, everyday you ride the bus home from school and play outside with your friends until late. And when you're heading home your bus driver approaches you in his car offering to take you back. You have no reason not to trust him because he’s brought you home safely so many times before.” You explain, a brief frown grazing your lips. These children met an untimely demise all for trusting someone they were supposed to trust.

Spencer nods, taking in your words. “Good work,” he says. “You figured it out.”

You flushed under the high praise. “I’m sure you would’ve come to the same conclusion given more time.” You say.

“But I didn’t.” He says. “You did, and you probably saved another kid's life in the meantime.” He smiled and patted your shoulder before turning back to the board.

You looked at his back for a while. You knew since you stepped on the elevator that first time you were attracted to Spencer Reid. He was tall with a lean build and a nice set jaw and incredibly smart. You’d be lying to yourself if that wasn’t your exact type. But on top of all that, he was nice. Almost sickeningly so.

Suddenly you felt a lot more at risk than before.

————————————————

William Davison was arrested September 7th. You were right, he was a bus driver for Madison county. Police caught him in his car full of things that pointed him directly to the abductions.

You and the team were now back on the jet heading home. While the rest team was playing cards you opted to sit in the back. Textbooks laid out on the table as you tried to take notes from them. You were so engrossed. You didn’t see Spencer come take the seat in front of you.

“What’re you studying?” He asked.

You look up. “Uh, I’m in my doctoral program for psychology right now.” You say. “Right now, I’m working on an essay about nature vs. nurture effects on the killer's mind.”

“And what is your theory?” He asks.

“That while I do believe nurture plays a role somewhat, if someone has a predisposition to kill, hurt or maim that is something they are born with. Primates and to some effects humans are naturally empathetic creatures so I think people with the desire for violence are defects. Now even though that’s the case it’s still your own conscious decision to kill.” You say pausing. “Some people are born with natural predispositions they don’t follow all the time. Like your hands for instance.”

“What about my hands?” He inquired.

You swallow, clearing your throat. “Well you have fairly large hands, with l-long fingers.” You stutter. Nice going, Y/N. You think. Way to tell the guy you’re starting to develop a crush on that you’ve been staring at his hands. “In the primitive stage, that would’ve made you good at hunting and gathering. In a more modern sense, you’d be good at piano. Though I imagine, you don’t do either.” You say, already knowing the answer. You were a profiler now after all.

“No, I do not.” He smiled widely at you, he always appreciated intelligent conversation when it came by. “I disagree with your theory though.”

“Really? Why’s that?” You question. He begins to go on a long winded explanation why he thinks Nature vs. Nurture is outdated, taking several detours to talk about some other theories he’s found interesting. You watch him intensely taking in the words. You try to pay attention, you really do. But your eyes keep going back to the mouth the rapid words are coming out of and the hands that are also gesturing widely. You just had tuned back in when he suddenly stopped. You tilted your head at him.

“What’s wrong?” you asked.

“Nothing.” he says, looking mildly uncomfortable. “It’s just… no one lets me talk for this long.”

“Really?” You question, he nods. “Well, I was listening, I find it interesting. Actually…” you trail off picking up your pen, flipping to a new page in your notebook. “Do you mind if I write some of this down, might come in handy when I write my paper later.”

He nods enthusiastically as he continues his thoughts from before. You start writing fast now to keep up, interjecting here and there to ask him to expand on some stuff. Eventually the rest of the team drifts off until it's only the sound of his soft voice and the scratch of your pen filling the plane.

Taglist: @haylaansmi

#spencer x reader #spencer reid x reader #spencer x you #spencer reid x you #criminal minds #bau x reader #spencer x reader smut #spencer reid x reader smut

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iztarshi · 5 years ago

Text

My Murderbot Musical

This is so dumb, but I started out thinking about how a novella so focussed on Murderbot’s interiority and voice would make a better musical than a film and then before I knew it I had 2,000 words of how I’d adapt All Systems Red into a musical if I knew a damn thing about writing musicals. Murderbot would probably have Pin-Lee sue me for making this too sappy.

I’m putting it up anyway though, because if I can’t post my dumb ideas on tumblr, where can I post them?

The stage is divided into four, the front of the stage and three platforms behind it with a screen behind each platform.

The show opens with the novella’s opening lines. “I could have become a mass murderer after I hacked my governor module, but then I realized I could access the combined feed of entertainment channels carried on the company satellites. It had been well over 35,000 hours or so since then, with still not much murdering, but probably, I don't know, a little under 35,000 hours of movies, serials, books, plays, and music consumed. As a heartless killing machine, I was a terrible failure.”

The lights then rise on Mensah standing at the front of the stage with a Company representative standing behind a desk across from her, behind the Company representative stands Murderbot, in full armour with the faceplate blanked and perfectly still. The first number, Sanctuary (Moon) takes place with Mensah and the Company representative arguing in the foreground about why she doesn’t want to take a SecUnit with her. This fills us in on a lot of background about what SecUnits are and what Mensah would need one for and also shows us that despite arguing that what’s done to them is wrong Mensah is still falling into treating the actually present SecUnit like it’s unaware. In the background clips from Sanctuary Moon and other shows play on the screens, while characters from it act out scenes on the three platforms. They frequently take over the song with a much fuller and brighter song about fictional events. We can see that this is the inside of Murderbot’s head, that it’s playing media on the feed while the humans argue about its nature in front of it. The song ends with Mensah giving in and leaving and Murderbot being packed into a crate as the lights go down on the stage.

The lights rise with Dr Bharadwaj and Volescu in the crater, Murderbot standing by. There is a clip from Sanctuary Moon playing silently on the screens, which is suddenly superseded by images of the monster coming out of the crater. The song Client Retrieval Protocol starts, a fast, rhythmic but not frantic song. Murderbot sings the instructions to itself, to the systems as code flashes on the screens, and describes what’s going on in rapid, professional, but also witty commentary (basically its narrative voice as a patter song). There’s a discord when the HubSystem tries to send the abort command, and we see it on the screen, but it’s rapidly dismissed by Murderbot. The music softens when Murderbot takes its helmet down to reassure Volescu but once again we get caught back up in the rapid patter of its divided attention and things it needs to do. The song ends on the big “No!” to Ratthi as he tries to retrieve the bags and the hopper takes off just in time.

Murderbot’s cubicle is represented by a small white platform in the middle of the front stage. We see it shed its armour, pull an emergency blanket around itself and sit down. Despite not being small, it looks alone and vulnerable like this. Mensah enters, following the trail of blood-stained armour it’s left across the stage, and sings a short song, You Didn’t Leave, thanking it for staying with Volescu when the MedSystem was telling it he would be fine by himself. Murderbot’s responses are spoken rather than sung and obviously awkward as it looks anywhere but at her.

The next song, Too Much Media, shows Murderbot, still not in its armour, walking through the scene with Volescu as it rewinds and replays it, now seeing what it actually said to Volescu and wondering what the hell it was doing. It sings to him, asking questions about his family, and we see the family on the platforms as Volescu sings his answers. Murderbot’s questions are sung very tentatively, in contrast to the parts of its song sung in its own head. The song breaks for a while as Mensah calls it to answer questions and offers to let it stay in the crew area. The song resumes for a few lines as Murderbot curls up in its cubicle again, regretting how much it’s given away to the humans both with its questions to Volescu and with its terror at being offered a place among them.

It’s Not Right is sung by the humans as they try to figure out whether they’ve been sabotaged or whether the company is just cheap and also try to figure out how to treat their SecUnit now they know it’s a person. The humans are shown arguing among themselves during the mapping expedition, up on the platforms while Murderbot is with another group on the stage, although Gurathin doesn’t join in. Ratthi’s attempt to talk to Murderbot about its feelings is moved to the way back rather than the trip to DeltFall, with Overse and Ratthi singing their argument. Murderbot gets its one line in the song “Dr Mensah, a message” as it sends the clip to her and the song ends with her telling Ratthi to drop it. When they return to the habitat, Volescu tells them that DeltFall can’t be contacted and Murderbot insists on coming with them when they check it out.

We open at the DeltFall habitat, deliberately spooky in design and lighting. Murderbot sings Murderbots (it’s what we do). We’ve heard it use the name for itself in its own songs before, but here it’s referring to the rogues it believes have wiped out DeltFall. Flashes of unrealistic and murderous SecUnits from media play across the screens, along with contextless flashes of a mine. The song is angry, Murderbot singing about its intention to hunt down these rogues who killed their humans, no matter what the humans might have done to deserve it.

We see the fight, Murderbot taking down other SecUnits and getting hurt in the process, and we see Dr Mensah coming to rescue it. Murderbot tries to convince her to go with You Have To Leave (You Didn’t Leave Reprise) as she refuses and drags it out with her. Finally it realises what the combat module is, tells her to kill it and then grabs the gun itself as the stage goes dark.

Murderbot is on the white platform again, this time lying down with all the humans gathered around it. Gurathin tells them about the hacked governer module and he and Volescu start arguing about whether Murderbot is dangerous with It’s Not Right (Reprise). Murderbot suddenly joining in by singing “the company isn’t trying to kill you” is as startling for the audience as for the humans. From then on it joins the song, for the first time singing with the humans the same way it sings in its own head, as it falls into the rhythm of the song and argues for itself. There’s a brief musical callback to Murderbots (it’s what we do) when Gurathin brings up the mining incident, but it’s subtle. The song ends with Murderbot grabbing Gurathin and Mensah interrupts the increasingly frantic rhythm they’ve built up by saying her next line.

Gurathin and Pin-Lee leave to shut down HubSystem, Bharadwaj and Volescu go to check the download package, and Arada, Overse, Ratthi, Mensah and Murderbot sing EvilSurvey as they work out that there might be a third survey group on the planet out to get them. Murderbot is more subdued now and won’t face the humans, but it’s still singing its lines and gets lines like “the company could be bribed to conceal the existence of several hundred survey teams on this planet”. It’s a group song and Murderbot is part of the group now.

After leaving the habitat and finding a place to camp, Mensah talks to Murderbot about leaving its helmet down and asks if it’s okay. We then get Because You Need Me a distant duet between them sung to the audience rather than each other. Murderbot considers what it means to be seen as a person who wants to help and chastises itself for forming an emotional connection to a client. Mensah thinks about how much it means to her that someone who has so many reasons to distrust humans is starting to open up to her and her guilt at leaning on someone who’s in such a bad situation themselves.

Murderbot finds out who Mensah is and that she’s Preservation’s government from Ratthi before leaving with Gurathin to retrieve the drones. Gurathin prodding it about the mine and whether it wants revenge on humans becomes a reprise of Murderbots (it’s what we do), this time much more sarcastic as Murderbot rejects the idea of revenge killing sprees as a human thing.

We see the video play on the screens as Murderbot watches GrayCris’s message and then the lights go down as Murderbot announces it has a plan.

We follow Murderbot’s approach to GrayCris and conversation with them up until they demand Mensah accompany them and Murderbot has to disguise itself as a Deltfall SecUnit. As the plan falls apart Murderbot starts to sing There Is No Fucking Protocol (Client Retrieval Protocol Reprise) as it talks us through the plan and what it’s doing the way it did back then but with full acknowledgement of how out of its depth it is. We see the other humans on the platforms, in Murderbot’s awareness thanks to drones. The song builds up, getting more and more frantic as Murderbot knows the launch is coming closer and Mensah’s still too close, before ending as it grabs her and the explosion knocks it over. We see it give the “this unit is at minimal functionality and it is recommended that you discard it” message and Mensah respond “shut the fuck up, we’re not leaving you” before the stage lights go down.

Murderbot wakes up on the platform again, but is swiftly retrieved by Pin-Lee and Ratthi. When it rejoins the humans they’re in normal clothes. They’re more colourful than their work clothes, and the environment is prettier now too, echoing the fictional characters in Sanctuary (Moon) earlier and the way they were bright and colourful then. The humans cheerfully sing Preservation as they tell Murderbot about their world and about how it can come home with them now. Murderbot is no longer singing with them, only speaking when it responds.

Murderbot sings You Didn’t Leave (Final Reprise) about how astonishing it is the humans didn’t abandon it, that they even bought it, and yet how confused it is at the idea of being somewhere it isn’t needed. It moves to talking about not wanting to be owned, not wanting to be told what it wants, and gets up and starts walking through the port as it does, stealing a rucksack and slinging it over its shoulder. Its last few lines make it clear it’s leaving a message to Dr Mensah and then it ends with “that’s why I had to leave” as the stage goes black.

#murderbot #murderbot musical #long post #long silly post #I have musicals on the brain because I watched Hamilton #that is my only excuse

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anonthenullifier · 4 years ago

Note

In your snapshot au, how would Wanda and Vision react to meeting canon Tommy and Billy? Billy with his alternate family and issues, and Tommy with his sad history.

Thanks for the ask! As is clear from this series, canon is not held to firmly haha. I hope this is somewhat what you were hoping for and that you enjoy it!

The air tastes different, a touch sour. It’s a fact no one else would pick up on, the gustatory senses of humans discerning but also overwhelmed with the endless combination of flavors. Vision does not eat and so breathing presents him the most common ingredient to his taste buds.

Vision nods, lips held in a taut line as he accesses Avenger Protocol 3252, subtitled: So You’ve Found Yourself in the Multiverse...again. Though Vision wrote the majority of the protocol, it was cosponsored and researched primarily by Dr. Strange and Wanda, neither of whom understood why Vision asked for a breakdown of atmospheric elements, but they did it anyway. He scans through the endless lists of Earths and stops once he reaches the 600s, where carbon dioxide ranges from .0039 to .0040%.

Step 1 of Protocol 3252: Ascertain rough multiversic location. Check.

Step 2: Determine if you are alone.

This is always more difficult, the transition between universes occurring with a heady rush and a feeling of discombobulation that often gives way to brief amnesia. Vision scans his surroundings, a verdant park in what appears to be an urban community. There is a bench underneath an oak, one that obscures the sight of him in case anyone were to wander past. Once seated he runs through what he can remember. He was on an Avengers mission, battling some sorcerer of pandemonium, or so the man yelled a few times but Vision did not catch an actual name, far too focused on trying to usher nervous citizens away from the rain of concrete slabs and glass shards. It was not a solo mission, Wanda was there with him, as were Dr. Strange, Captain Marvel, and...others. A hiccup in his memory is concerning, particularly if he wishes to find his way out of wherever he is.

An elongated blink recenters the growing anxiety in the pit of his abdomen, the least helpful thing he can do now is panic. “Wanda.” He says her name both in his mind and in his comm unit, hopeful one, or both, will reach her, assuming she came through with him.

A second of silence rolls into a disheartening thirty seconds and then an agonizing minute, once he reaches two minutes he takes a deep breath, moving on to Step 3: Identify potential resources for return. It is his least favorite step, despite being the single most important one. Another breath expands his chest, synthetic lungs holding onto the sour air several seconds past his normal inhalation, and then they release, his perturbation vibrating out of his lips with barely a sound.

Hesitantly Vision mentally reaches for whatever internet is available here and, once identified, connects. He always accesses major news networks first, the headlines streaming through his mind at a breakneck pace as he struggles to identify any event in this universe that might have occurred to pull him over, leaving the insinuation it was something in his own home universe that led to his desertion. This is fine, this is good information, it just means he has less control than he would like, having to rely on anyone left at the site of his disappearance to bring him back. If Wanda is there, which he so desperately hopes she is (while also feeling guilty at the gnawing want of having her here with him now, even if it means she too is stranded), then she will no doubt get to him soon. This he cannot control and thus it is unhelpful.

The major news networks deemed useless, he dips into the archives about the Avengers, wanting to determine who is on their roster and if any of them have knowledge or capabilities of returning him. Or, as Wanda pointed out the last time this happened, if he were to get stuck, is the team made up of people he actually likes and would feel okay being with for some time. With a touch more force, he sends out a mental ping to his wife, one that he imbues with the weight of his anxiety, hoping that will help carry his signal farther.

He is getting distracted. Consciously and a bit reproachfully, he urges his attention back to the search, the roster, based on news articles and the official photos on the Avengers’ webpage, revealing the team is relatively the same, though he does notice his and Wanda’s pictures are in opposite corners. An oddity since they always put them next to each other. It is tempting to contact himself in these scenarios, except Dr. Strange warns against too much interference with one’s own life, something about ripples being sent across the other universes. He finds Dr. Strange enlightening and yet obfuscating, concepts, like the multiverse, grounded in science and yet the man also throws a shroud of mysticism over it when he wishes not to divulge the secrets of his craft.

This next search is one he knows he shouldn’t do, but curiosity (and a deeply rational justification that, if successful, it would be helpful) gets the best of Vision, mind cycling back to the distance between himself and his wife in the pictures. Search: William Maximoff. Results: 0. Vision frowns. Search: Thomas Maximoff. Results: 0.

Vision stands, immediately launching into a pace of six feet to the right, pivot, six feet to the left, repeat. Nothing in the protocol states he should care about this, all the multiverses different in some way. There are some where he doesn’t even exist as a synthezoid and others where Wanda is the daughter of a powerful mutant. It seems in this one they did not have the boys (a weight latches to his heart and begins to drag it down inch by inch) and it seems possible he and Wanda are not even together. This is where he should drop this line of inquiry and go back to the protocol. Except he can’t, and he blames it on the cognitive distortions caused by traveling unwillingly through the multiverse, his typical even keel knocked askew . Vision conjures up an image of Billy, entering it into a reverse image search, certain that nothing will come up. Results: 28. and a helpful suggestion of, Related search: William Kaplan .

“Vision!” His head snaps up, eyes squinting as he rises from the bench, body swiveling in the direction of her voice. “Vision!”

Yelling for each other is frowned upon in the protocols, comm units and telepathy (if available) much preferred to avoid making a scene, but her voice is untamed and dripping with the same anxiety flowing through his veins. “Wanda!” He rises into the air, just enough to see her stumbling up a low hill, her gait uneven, the left leg overcompensating for whatever is wrong with her right. In exactly 3.59 seconds he is at her side, arms wrapping around her waist to steady her and his lips conveying his relief with a series of five uncoordinated kisses to the part of her hair. “There is a bench over here.”

Gingerly he scoops her up, hovering them over to his spot of cogitation, and then he carefully settles her onto the boards of the bench, easing her right leg so it can lay flat. “I thought I was alone.”

“As did I.”

A smile, fluid and natural, loving and relieved, spreads across her face. “But then I felt you.”

Vision bends, capturing her lips and channeling his own relief into the action, overjoyed at having her with him. Until reality sets in, his prior search illuminating a shortfall in his selfish desires. “If we’re both here, the boys are alone.”

“Let’s find a way back then.” Wanda says it as if it is as simple as walking through a door or clicking your heels three times together. “Where’re you at in the protocol?”

How far his wife has come since their early days when, according to her, protocols were meant to be ignored. “Step 3.”

Impatience underscores her drawn out, “And…”

“I think,” this is where he discovers a crossroads in reasoning, do they go to the Avengers who likely have someone who can help with the multiverse or do they find William Kaplan, hoping he is analogous enough to their own son, one who can tear holes into reality with barely a shrug. “I may have located Billy.”

Wanda rubs her hand along her leg, scarlet sparking from her fingers as she no doubt assesses her injury. “Why do you sound so afraid?”

If he were to label his intonation, it would not have been fear, but his wife is far more attuned to the actual emotions of others, particularly his. Perhaps he is afraid, and it would, logically, be an appropriate response given what he discovered. “Because in this universe his name is Billy Kaplan, not Maximoff.”

“Oh.” A kaleidoscope of emotions filter across her face, eyes and mouth morphing from fear to sadness to disbelief until a single scrunch of her nose breaks the pattern, features dropping into a blank resoluteness she tends to show only on missions. “If we want to get home, we have to try.

———

Trying is always so uncomplicated in the planning phase before it unravels into frayed nerves, Vision’s finger poised in front of the buzzer, unable to commit to pushing a simple button.

“It’s not going to electrocute you.” The usual sardonic edge has been sanded down, revealing the grains of worry piling up in her mind the longer they draw this out.

“Would you like to do the honors?”

“Not really.”

Vision tightens his fingers around hers in what he hopes is a comforting squeeze of understanding and companionship. “Okay.” The two syllables start the countdown, his shaky breath that follows ends it, his finger pressing firmly against the little illuminated circle.

The dull click of the button precedes the crackle of the apartment’s comm system and then a familiar voice comes out of the speaker. “Who’s there?”

Wanda mouths Is that Teddy? and Vision nods, certain she is correct but he needs to focus on their task without distractions. He pushes the button and does his best to sound calm, “It is Vision and Wanda Maximoff,” this should be enough, except he has no way of knowing how highly (or not so highly) regarded or familiar they are to this universe’s Teddy, “from an alternate universe.” Wanda’s eye roll clearly spells out how she feels about his choice of words. All that matters is if it works, so he ignores her unspoken derision and waits for a response.

A staticky, “Ummmm one sec,” ends the conversation, leaving them in an anticipatory, antsy silence.

Ten minutes, 37 seconds, and 28 milliseconds later the elevator to their left dings, the door crawling open to reveal Billy standing there in jeans and a gray sweater, black hair styled more maturely than what Vision has ever seen from him. In fact, he appears at least a few years older than their own universe’s Billy. “Um hi,” the man studies them, blue licking the elevator doors to hold them open, his eyes scanning over them, briefly becoming fascinated with their interwoven fingers, and then he seems to reach a decision, a curt nod followed by a, “Why don’t you come on up.”

Vision allows Wanda to go first, his hand staying firmly on her back as they walk and it remains there throughout the dense silence of the elevator ride and the even denser, slower silence as they walk down the hall and enter an apartment. Teddy warmly greets them, “Come on in, have a seat.” Which they do, Wanda choosing a loveseat so they can sit together, her attention locked on the little dance of the two men, Teddy kissing Billy’s cheek and whispering something before disappearing behind a wall. He returns shortly after with a couple cups of tea and some chips.

Where Teddy seems mildly jovial and an expert host, Billy lowers himself into an armchair, suspicious eyes never leaving Vision and Wanda. “So what universe are you from?”

A philosophical debate the team had upon beginning to map the multiverse, a conclusion reached that Vision never much cared for. “We label our universe, egocentrically, as Earth-1.” An iota of amusement quirks up Billy’s mouth and Vision is confused at just how quickly pride fills his chest at the accomplishment. “Based on atmospheric readings, you are somewhere between Earth-600 and Earth-650, by our scientific labeling.”

Billy takes in the information, quietly sorting it with whatever knowledge he possesses and then follows Protocol 3253 (So You’ve Discovered Another You from the Multiverse), “How’d you get here?”

“We aren’t sure,” Wanda grips Vision’s knee as she talks, allowing her unease to flow into his body instead of her words, “We were battling a sorcerer and then the next thing we remember is being here.”

The explanation is considered and sorted, Billy’s mouth dropping into a downward concave. “Why’d you seek me out,” now he makes eye contact, a touch of animosity in his voice, “can’t the Scarlet Witch control reality in your universe?”

Wanda’s, “I can,” is small and bordering on timid, but her voice builds back up to her normal confidence when she provides what, at least in their universe, is the truth. “But not as well as you.” This doesn’t kick start any sort of remark, and so she tries an example, “Last week you casually sent your brother into an alternate dimension because he ate the last brownie.” Wanda laughs at the memory, concern breaking briefly into the joy of reminiscing, “It took me an hour to get him back and only because you,” she falters, realizing she is breaking protocol by treating this Billy as the same person, “our Billy finally told me where to look.”

The explanation is lost on the man in front of them, his mind stuck at the beginning of the story, “My brother?”

Vision nods, gently laying out the information, “Tommy Maximoff, your twin.”

A quiet, “We grew up together?” threatens to tear Vision’s soul in two, his body desperate to march over and envelop his son in his arms. Except this could not be his son, Kaplan a name Vision has never heard and it is clear that this universe’s Tommy may not be a Maximoff or even a Kaplan either.

Instead of a hug, Vision layers his, “You did,” with as much paternal warmth that he can, and then he clarifies the statement, their sons not yet adults and not even close to being done growing, “you are.”

“I,” Billy stands, lets out a deep sigh, turns towards them, then away, makes eye contact with Teddy (who may or may not have tears in his eyes), and then he simply states, “I’ll be back,” before disappearing through the floor in a blue portal.

Vision’s never had this effect on his son, and he turns his worry towards Teddy, “We have upset him.”

“Um,” the blonde haired man mulls over how to respond, “I think it’s safer to say the universe upset him.” A marginally more uplifting, yet still devastating fact. “He’ll be back.”

They wait in tense silence, Wanda leaning into Vision’s side, his body responding by wrapping an arm around her shoulder. And then there is a blue portal next to the coffee table, Billy yanking Tommy through with him.

In true Tommy fashion, neither his words nor opinions are minced, “What the ever loving fuck is going on?”

Wanda shoots Vision a look, warning him not to correct the language, and, just to be sure he won’t go full on polite police, she handles the response with a simple, “Nice to see you too, Tommy.”

Tommy doesn’t respond to her, turning to gesticulate wildly at Billy, “You said it was an emergency. I don’t want to get roped into whatever,” he flails an arm towards where they sit, “this is.”

“Tommy, slow down and look at them.”

An epic, unfiltered roll of his eyes conveys how very done with this situation the speedster is, but he obliges anyway, silently scrutinizing Wanda and Vision until he reaches a conclusion, “You look way cozier than you should.” Another sweep of scrutiny and another observation is provided, “Like the new look, Vision.” The use of his name stings, not because it is his name but because he has only ever heard it from their son in anger. Tommy doesn’t notice the effect it has, returning the conversation to Billy, “so what’s going on?”

“Multiverse shenanigans.”

“Ugh,” his disdain is evident, “great. Why am I here?”

Billy sits back down, picking up the no longer steaming cup of tea and takes a sip. “Can you tell us about your universe.” A broad question, one he realizes before anyone can answer. “About us, specifically.”

The question in Vision’s mind is where to start in the story, whether they begin with the inception of his and Wanda’s relationship or if they simply wish to know the barebones of the story, only the pieces where they themselves fit. “You’re our sons.” This isn’t the bombshell revelation he expected, neither Billy nor Tommy are surprised by this, which only grows the confusion that took root during Vision’s initial discovery of this universe’s Billy. “We have raised you and loved you for the last sixteen and a half years. You are part of—”

“Wait,” Tommy holds up a hand to stop the explanation, “the whole time?”

Wanda’s, “Yes,” is unflinching, “We’ve watched you grow into incredible men.”

To see Tommy speechless is unnerving, to know it is not a happy speechless is suffocating. Vision asks what he isn’t sure he actually wants to know, “Why does this seem unusual?”

A derisive laugh, one Tommy is a master of using, echoes around the apartment. “Oh I don’t know, because we’re the reason Scarlet Witch went insane, the reason she killed you,” he points at Vision and the words are nonsense, describing an action Wanda would never do. “Because as if that wasn’t bad enough, I won the lottery of reincarnation and had a shitty life I didn’t ask for. And then you two, you two don’t even try to be part of—”

“Tommy,” Billy stops the tirade, his twin throwing up his arms in frustration before crashing down onto a beanbag in the corner of the room. “Let me explain.” And he does, all of the harrowing details from Master Pandemonium to Mephisto, the dissolution of this universe’s Vision and Wanda’s marriage, and then he gets to their reincarnation. “Mom’s a psychologist,” the word mom causes Wanda to flinch, “dad’s a cardiologist,” and this forces Vision’s heart to metaphorically drop through the floor. “They’re good people, they try hard but I think my powers scare them a bit. High school was tough.” The way he says it implies it is an understatement.

“My parents are divorced, absent is a good word for them,” Vision’s heart enters the core of the Earth where it dissolves in fiery anger at the way this universe has treated his family, forcing them to be separated instead of together, “can’t blame them, though, I might have been a bit of an asshole trouble maker, went to juvey a few times,” Tommy pauses long enough to eat a chip, “got experimented on in there,” and this, above all else, sends Vision’s mind into despair. His memories of saving Tommy are superimposed with the knowledge that this man in front of him, this sarcastic, resilient man endured the same event ( and then worse) only without the knowledge he’d be saved, without the confidence that love would protect him. “But then I got broken out and we’ve been doing the Young Avenger thing for a while.”

“Do you,” Wanda falters, and Vision assumes it is because she, like him, is torn between wanting to know more while also being overwhelmed by all they’ve learned and all their boys have experienced here, “see us...them often?”

A shared stare, one that’s so common in the Maximoff household, provides the answer, each of them daring the other to say it. Billy, as usual, loses. “Depends...sometimes but not regularly.” He shrugs as if what he is saying is a simple fact of life instead of a dagger that can pierce vibranium skin, “everyone’s got lives to lead.”

“I see.” Those two words are empty and pointless and yet Vision can’t figure out anything profound or hopeful, far too burdened by what they’ve learned.

“Um I’m sure you want to get back to your sons,” the statement elicits in Vision a mixture of hope and yet also a harsh sting at the detached way Billy stated your sons . “So um you all ready to go home?”

Wanda stands first, holding out her hand for Vision to use (even though he does not physically need it) as he rises as well. “I think we should go while we can.”

They stand in a lopsided circle, staring at one another and then anywhere else. Wanda breaks the silence,“Thank you for helping us and for,” Vision wonders how she’ll finish it, because he himself doesn’t know what is appropriate here, “for talking with us.”

“Yeah,” Billy has always relied on empathy in moments of sadness, which is true of him here as well, a thirty degree slope of his lips enough to convey his honesty, “I’m glad to know in one universe we got to keep you as parents.”

A wetness rolls along Vision’s cheek, fingers lifting to brush aside the sorrow he’d been trying to hold in. Wanda doesn’t even attempt to levy the dam, her tears coming on strong as Billy, followed by a slightly reluctant Tommy, hugs her. A tendril of scarlet pulls Vision into the mix, his arms engulfing their divided family.

“We should go.” Wanda smiles sadly at them, her hand touching Tommy’s cheek first and then Billy’s, “We are so, so proud of who you are.”

“Alright, this is now too cheesy for me.” Tommy says it despite the fact Vision can also detect the quick swiping away of the speedster’s own tears.

Billy waves his right hand, opening a portal. Before walking through, Vision realizes he has one more thing to say. With three steps he is in front of Teddy, his hand held out. Once the man takes it, he shares a comforting fact, “It was nice to see you Teddy. I am glad you found each other here as well.”

A beaming smile emphasizes his elated, “Me too.”

With a final look at the three men, Vision and Wanda walk through the portal, stepping out into a landscape of ruination and collapsed buildings. Vision takes in a breath and is met with the familiar air of home. “We are in the correct universe.”

Despite the upward curve of her lips, his wife is unsettled, mind having not left their alternate lives. “How could we have just abandoned them?”

Vision weighs her question, himself also confused at the information. “I do not believe it is in our authority to judge decisions we do not fully know all the variables to.”

“Ever the infuriating diplomat, Maximoff.”

“Oh, my darling,” he swings her around, allowing him to grasp her shoulders firmly, face lowering just enough to rest his forehead to hers, “I cannot begin to fathom all they told us,” he will eventually, he reasons, what they learned today will no doubt haunt his thoughts and lead down many pathways of deep contemplation, “but what I do know, is that even though they may not have the Maximoff name anymore, they are still our sons, and no matter the universe, we will love them fiercely.”

Wanda accepts it, even if she seems less than wholly convinced, “I hope so.”

“Come along,” he twines his fingers through hers, giving her arm a slight tug forward, “I would like to find our boys and hug them for a few hours.”

“They’ll hate it.”

Vision shrugs, “They will survive it.”

#scarlet vision #wanda maximoff #vision #tommy maximoff #tommy shepherd #billy maximoff #Billy Kaplan #the maximoffs #mine #I hope this is canon accurate enough #slowly but surely catching up on asks #wandavision #ask anon

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forever-rogue · 5 years ago

Text

My Oh My

A/N: Here’s the little Javi piece I’ve been promising, and finally managed to deliver. I hope you enjoy! As always, comments, feedback, whatever are welcome! And yes, this was loosely inspired by the song of the same name. xx

Word Count: 5.8k

Pairing: Javier x Reader

Warnings: it’s smut, 80% smut, 20% plot. 18+ only!!!

MASTERLIST

»»————-　♡　————-««

You could feel his intense eyes on you, yet again. You contemplated ignoring him, but where was the fun in that? Instead, you turned your attention from your drink to the man across the club that had been eyeing you all night.

As soon as your gaze met his, his face hardened into an expression you couldn't quite make out. He didn't flinch, didn't seem ashamed that you'd caught him unabashedly staring at you. He was the hunter and you were the prey, and he made sure there was no mistaking his intention. Instead, you took a sip from your drink, your eyes never leaving his. A small, devilish little smirk appeared on his handsome features as he saluted you before taking a drink from his bottle of beer. You thought about going over and saying something to him, but you stopped yourself when his attention left you as his blonde haired friend rejoined him. You slightly huffed before getting reinvested in the conversation your friends were having.

You'd worn an especially flashy dress that evening, all sorts of gold and glitter, hoping it would catch his eye. It did. He liked it. What he liked even better was the idea of what you were, or rather weren't, wearing underneath it.

You'd made a habit of this lately, the little cat and mouse game, the two of you had been playing. You knew he was only here for one thing, and if you were being honest, so were you. At first you had wondered if your inklings had been correct, but the the fact that he only seemed to be there when you were strongly suggested that your suspicions were correct.

After all, this club was much too crowded, much too loud, and much too expensive for anyone to come this often unless they were after something. But you were both after one thing - each other.

But you knew all about Javier Peña; hell everyone knew about him. He had a reputation, and a bad one at that for a reason. You were still trying to to decide if you wanted to be a part of that. Your resolve, once you had realized he wanted you as much as you wanted him, had weakened over time. It wasn't going to take much more for you to fall victim, albeit very willing, to him. Besides, you wanted to see if he warranted that reputation, if he was really as good as everyone said he was.

But that for another time, if ever, you decided as you turned back to sipping the drink in your hand. You swished the warm liquid around in your mouth before quickly downing the rest of it. It was late already, and you had decided to go home and get some sort of relief from all of this tension. Even if that only involved your hand and the image of him in your mind.

You didn't even bother to glance back at him before leaving. You could feel his eyes on your back side regardless. You decided you'd be back tomorrow. Maybe if you were lucky he'd be there too. Maybe if it was date, you'd be destined to finally meet.

»»————-　♡　————-««

It was hot. Late. A waste of an evening.

Here you were at this stupid club again, but this time you were alone. Your friend hadn't come to continue your little cat and mouse game.

Maybe it was a waste of time. A folly you should have let go. He was dangerous after all and maybe after tonight you'd get him off your mind. Maybe not getting to see him was a sign after all. Downing the rest of the drink you’d been nursing for nearing an hour, you decided to just leave. You could spend your time drinking at home for a lot less money and surrounded by less people.

Sliding off of the tall bar stool you made your way through the packed club, looking for the relief of the cold outside air. But just before you reached the entrance, you felt a hand grab your arm. You quickly tried to pull your arm out of the grasp, but it was as tight as a vice grip. Oh. This pendejo was going to get it.

“What the fuck do you think you’re doing!?” you turned around and your heart almost stopped when your eyes met his. Those same velvety brown ones you’d been dreaming of for the past several weeks. You relaxed when you realized it was him, after all this time; he’d shown up. There was a mischievous little grin on his face as he studied you; the bastard was clearly enjoying this, “oh.”

“Leaving so soon?” you knew he was American, but his accent was flawless. It was the type of voice that made you weak in the knees, the kind that could make you do anything with a simple command. He loosened the grip on your arm and pulled back, the moment frozen in time as you tried to figure out a witty response. He didn’t even bother to hide the fact that he was shamelessly checking you out. Of course he didn’t, that wasn’t his style.

“There’s nothing to keep me here,” you shrugged slightly, raising an eyebrow as you gave him the once over in turn. He was good looking, no doubt about it, and he knew it. He was dressed in tight jeans and a tight pink button up, a black leather jacket topping it all off. Simply put: hot. But you weren’t about to just let him know that right away, “so I might as well go home, no? At least there I can have some fun.”

“Fun?” he sounded the word out slowly, almost as if he was test out the way it sounded, “is that what you’re after?”

“Aren’t we all? It’s okay to have a good time,” you were leaning in close to him so you wouldn’t have to shout. So close that his cologne was hitting you in all the most delicious ways. You were so fucked already. You trailed a hand up his shoulder, stopping when you reached his collar, tugging on it lightly, “isn’t that why you’re here?”

“I suppose,” he swallowed thickly as removed your hand, and you didn’t miss the way his gaze zoned in on your breasts. You couldn’t and wouldn’t blame him for that little fact. You’d worn the low cut dress in the hope that he’d see you, “I’m Javier.”

“I know,” you almost threw your head back with laughter. Of course you knew, everyone, at least every woman in the vicinity of Bogota, knew him. His reputation and insatiable habits preceded him everywhere. And despite the fact that you tended to have a good girl reputation, you hadn’t shied away from him. In fact, it only piqued your curiosity more, and you wanted to find out more, “Y/N.”

“Y/N,” he repeated almost directly in your ear, and it sent a shiver down your spine. Goosebumps erupted all over your skin, despite the heat of the night, “you’ve been here a lot. Doesn’t seem like your scene.”

“I could say the same to you,” you smirked back and he nodded. It was true, he seemed out of the place, “perhaps something is compelling you to come back?”

“Maybe. And yet whenever I’m here, you happen to be here as well,” he was so close that if you stepped even a few centimeters closer your lips would be on his. They looked surprisingly soft and plush, and you wanted to know how felt on yours, “a funny little coincidence, don’t you think, chiquita?”

“Maybe,” you pressed your body into his, pointedly so, and you could already feel his hard on straining against his jeans. Yes. You had him right you wanted him, “or maybe this was what I was waiting for. Maybe it could have already happened if it hadn’t been for cockblock of a friend the other night.”

“Good thing he’s not here then,” his breath hitched in his throat as he tried his best to keep his hands from roaming all over you. It was hard, a herculean task even, not to take you in some shape or form right then and there. He could feel every bit of your body against his and he only had one thing on his mind. But so did you. You knew where this was headed long before it had even started, “yours or mine?”

“Mine,” you insisted with a giggle which was quickly cut off by Javi pressing his lips roughly against yours. He tasted sweet, a mixture of alcohols lingering on his lips as he tried to control himself. It was hungry, needy even, primal in every sense of the word. But as his lips started to along your jaw, you couldn’t help the little comment that bubbled up, “I don’t trust yours. How many whores have you fucked in there? Or have you lost count?“

"How many strange men have you fucked in yours?” it was only a fair question after all. Besides that he didn’t know anything about you, besides your name and that he wanted you - badly.

“None,” you answered honestly, mildly surprised by his shocked reaction, “until tonight.”

“You’re not a-”

“No,” that you definitely were not, but you also hadn’t been with an endless slew of men either. There was something different about him though, something primal and instinctual that made you want him; need him, “you down or nah?”

“Let’s go,” he took your hand in his, in a surprisingly gentle manner, lacing his fingers through yours as he guided the two of you out of the overly crowded club. A sigh of relief left your lips as the cool air of the night hit you in the face. It was a much needed relief from the small cramped space inside.

That’s when reality hit you. You were actually going to go home with a man you barely knew. You were going to have sex with that man. The remaining logical bits of you were screaming for you to stop and reevaluate, but you were too far gone, lost to your carnal urges. You needed this, every part of your body and soul craved it. That and the growing ache and wetness between your legs were desperate for it.

He nodded in the direction of his car and you were quick to follow, complacent with him taking the lead. For as much attitude as you had given him in the club, you were definitely the opposite in the bedroom. To say you were submissive was not far off the mark.

Javier opened the door for you and you quickly jumped in, watching as he got in the driver’s side. You gave him your address and the engine roared to life as he sped off in towards your apartment. You were sure, positive rather, that he was definitely breaking several laws in his haste. Judging by the straining still going on in his pants, you could figure out why.

That’s when you got the most wicked idea. You didn’t know what possessed you or what sort of succubus suddenly inhibited your body, you found yourself reaching over, tracing your fingers along the outline of his hard on. He tensed up immediately and looked over at you with wide eyes, almost black because his pupils were so blown out with lust. It felt empowering to see what kind of a hold you already had on him. You tutted at him, a silent plea for him to keep his eyes on the road.

He peeled his eyes away from you and watched the road as you continued to tease him. Soon enough, you decided to be even bolder and undid the button of his jeans and unzipped them, when you realized he had forgone underwear completely. Of course.

You didn’t let that stop you, instead pulling out his hardened cock, trying to suppress the moan that was bubbling up at the delicious sensation. At least from the sight alone, the rumors regarding the prowess of the man and his cock were true. This was going to be an interesting time. He hissed through gritted teeth as he tried to focus on the road.

There was a devilish little smirk on your face as you spit into your palm and reached over to wrap your hand around his hardened member, which proved to be a bit of challenge. But once you were situated, you started to pumped your him, taking it slowly at first, as to not drive him completely crazy. Javier had swerved slightly at the initial contact but was doing his best to control himself. His knuckles were white from his tight grip on steering wheel.

It didn’t take long before a few beads of precum had started to dribble down his length, mixing in with your spit as you worked him towards release. Judging by the little moans that came out of his mouth he was close. That’s when you decided to pull away entirely, just to keep him on his toes.

“Fuck,” he hissed under his breath as he realized what your little plan was. Luckily, you reached your apartment and he parked the car, looking at you with a flushed face.

“Hmm?” you hummed innocently as you looked him directly in those honey brown eyes, “what’s wrong?”

“You’re a little minx, huh?” he as you shrugged lightly, “I’ll get you back for this. Trust me.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” you watched as he tucked himself back into his pants slowly, trying not to touch his throbbing member too much. He had already been hard and ready, and your little bit of fun had left him with the beginnings of that familiar tug in the very depths of stomach. And yet you had edged him entirely. He wouldn’t forget that.

As soon as you gotten out of his car, he came over to your side and pushed you against the side, needy mouth on yours in seconds as he kissed you in a bruising manner, hands going down to your ass and squeezing the soft flesh tightly in his large hands.

You moaned into his touch as his moved down to kiss along your jaw and neck, already nipping at the delicate skin. All of his actions when straight to your core as you grew exponentially wetter. Your panties were surely ruined by now and you wondered for a moment why you had bothered to wear them at all.

You would have been content to let him continue on and practically have you been then and there, when realization snapped and you remembered where you were, “Javi! Stop!”

“Why?” he was being cheeky, as brought his head back up and pressed a few kisses to your lips as he pulled you flush against him so you could feel exactly what you had done to him.

“We’re in the middle of the street,” you hissed as you looked around to make sure no one had seen you, “anyone could see!”

“As opposed to your little stunt earlier?” he asked as he smacked your ass, causing you to make a sound of surprise.

“Fair enough,” you said as he smirked at you. You wiggled out from under him and took his hand and practically ran inside. Your whole body was burning with need and you honestly didn’t know how much longer you were going to be able to take the teasing before you resorted to finishing yourself off.

But Javier was right behind you, and as soon as you opened the door and were inside, he pushed you against the door, hands on your hips as he started to push your dress up, lips grazing over every bit of your exposed skin that he could reach. He settled on your collarbones, nipping and sucking at the soft just enough so that you knew there would be marks there tomorrow.

“Jesus,” you groaned as you tried not to completely fall apart under his touch, but trying to memorize the hell of his lips on your skins. When shaky hands, you reached over and started to undo the buttons of his well fitted button up. After a few moments you grew impatient, and pulled apart the rest of the buttons and tried to throw it off of his shoulders.

His lips left yours momentarily as he chuckled and threw his shirt off and onto your floor. His tan skin was soft and enough to drive you crazy as you just how hot he was. Reaching for him and running your hands over his chest, you tried to get him as close as possible to you, “eager, huh?”

“Shut up,” you groaned at him as you subconsciously ground your lips against, aching for some sort of friction.

He smirked as he effortlessly slid your dress the rest of the way up and tossed it into a pile along with his shirt. He took a moment to look you over, soaking up the sight of your almost bare form. Beautiful.

He pulled you against him, his kisses more rushed and bruising than before as he reached behind you and unhooked your bra, and you shimmied out of it, not breaking contact with him. He immediately brought his large hands to your breasts, kneading the soft flesh before playing with your already pert nipples, rolling and pinching them between his fingers.

You didn’t bother to hold back your moans at this point. Why try? He had an effect on you like no other; the way you reacted to his every touch was evidence enough of that. And your ruined panties; you could swear you were practically dripping at this point.

Javier dropped his mouth down to your chest, mouth latching onto your nipple as he licked and sucked in it, one hand on your other breast, making sure neither was neglected.

His free hand had started to drift down to the waistband of your panties, fingers toying along your soft skin. His eyes met yours for a moment, almost as if he was searching for permission, just to make sure you were ready. You gave him an affirmative nod and he slipped his hand into your panties, drifting over your mound and down your almost obscenely wet folds. He was grinning like the devil as he looked at you from under his lashes, running a few fingers through your slick, brushing over your clit ever so slightly. Purposely, no doubt. That didn’t stop from how you reacted to his touch, practically bucking into his hand.

“So wet,” he smirked against your lips as he continued to tease you. You wanted to fight against him, to be as bratty as possible, but it wasn’t in the cards tonight. That would he for next time, if there was even was such a thing, “all for me?”

“You wish,” you managed to choke out as you practically fucked yourself against his fingers as his lips explored your breasts. But he stopped immediately at your little comment and pulled his hand away from you, leaving you to pout at him. He pulled your panties down and you kicked them off to join the pile on the floor, “Javi-”

“No more until you decide to listen and behave,” the change in his voice, suddenly commanding and gruff, sent a shiver down your spine. Yeah, you were definitely melting like jelly, “are you gonna be a good girl?”

You looked at him with wide eyes as he brought a hand to your throat and squeezed lightly. It was the perfect amount of pressure and the sensation alone had your eyes fluttering closed as you chew on your bottom lip, giving him a small nod.

“Need to hear you say it. Are you gonna be a good girl?” he tilted your face up so you were looking at him. You swallowed thickly, trying not to get too lost in those dark eyes or his hungry expression.

“Yes,” you finally replied as he ran his thumb under the bottom of your lip parting them ever so slightly. You grabbed his wrist and stopped him, instead bringing a few of his fingers into your mouth and sucking on them, earning a wide eyed expression from him. Once they were good and wet, coating with your own spit, you took his hand and slowly brought it down your body, where you desperately needed him to touch you, “I’ll be a good girl.”

“Dios mio,” to say he was surprised by your actions was putting it mildly. But it seemed to spark something new in him. He dragged his fingers through your folds, almost achingly slowly, as he circled your clit, putting the lightest bit of pressure on it. You leaned into him and wrapped your arms around his neck, kissing and nipping along his jaw and neck. If he was going to leave some marks on you, you were going to do the same to him.

That and the fact that there was something intoxicating about his neck that was such a turn was enough to leave you wanting to make sure everyone knew you had been there. You wondered, momentarily, if his many other lovers had done this before, but you didn’t care. The only thing that currently mattered was this moment and nothing else.

“Javi,” you moaned in his ear just when you were getting to the point where you could no longer take the slow build up. He gave in and slowly inserted a few fingers into you, keeping the pad of his thumb on your clit, “fuck.”

“Is this what you wanted?” he asked as you dropped your head and buried your face into the crook of his neck, struggling to hold back your moans. He knew what he was doing, his fingers hitting all of the right spots as you rocked against him, “come on, I want to hear all those pretty moans. Let me hear how good you feel. You like fucking yourself on my fingers?”

“Mhmm,” a moan escaped your parted lips as you decided not to hold back your sounds any longer. You kissed along his collarbone, attempting to get as close to him as possible. His erection, which you were sure was probably nearing painful for now was pressed against you. You knew, giving your current desperation that you wouldn’t last much longer, and you needed to feel him in you, “Javi, please.”

“Please what? Tell me what you need, baby,” god, he knew exactly what to say as he slowly pulled his hand away. His eyes locked onto yours as his brought his fingers to mouth and licked his fingers clean. You were sure you’d died and gone to heaven at the sight, “cat got your tongue?”

“You,” you whispered and you reached for the button of jeans to try and pulled them off again. It didn’t even phase you that the two of you hadn’t made it past your living room. You’d been so caught up in the moment that it didn’t really even matter. Javi chuckled as he eagerly watched you in your struggle to quick rid him of the last remaining article of clothing, “need you.”

Once his jeans were undone, he quickly yanked them down his toned legs and kicked them to the side, another piece added to the collection of long forgotten clothes. Without even thinking twice, you sunk down to your knees, licking your lips at the sight of his cock, precum already beading out of the tip. He was much overdue for some attention.

You wrapped a hand around his base as you licked a stripe along his length, pleased by the little sounds that reached your ears. Slowly, oh so slowly, just to tease him, you started to take him in your mouth. You sucked and licked lightly at first, just as he had done to you to earlier.

Javi slowly started to thrust his hips in time with your movements as you finally gave in and took him fully into your mouth, almost gagging as he hit the back of your throat. Something primal in him must have snapped because before you knew it, his hands were tangled in your hair as he pushed you down his length and started to fuck your mouth.

Part of you wanted to pull off of him and reprimand him, but the way he took charge was more of a turn on than anything. So you let him carry on, letting him essentially use you as tears pricked at the corners of your eyes before rolling down your cheeks. You looked up at him through your eyelashes and found his eyes closed as he gnawed on his bottom lip. Shit.

You could tell he was getting close so as his thrusts were growing sloppier and sloppier, and you massaged his balls with the hand that wasn’t gripping his thigh.

“Fuck,” he whispered quietly; you would have smirked at him if you could have. Just before he came, his stopped moving and hoisted you to your feet. You let go of his cock with a reluctant pop as he picked you up. Instinctively, your legs wrapped around his waste as his large hands melded with the flesh of your backside. Even the light of his touches and the friction of his hardness rubbing against your wetness had you mewling. His lips found yours and they never seemed to leave his as he started walking towards the hallway in search of your bedroom.

“End of the hall,” you told him between kisses as he took care not to drop your or smack the against the wall, “hurry.”

��We’ve got all the time in the world,” he insisted, earning a scoff from you.

“If its going to take that much longer, I’ll just finish my-”

“No,” it was a firm command. A small sigh of content escaped your lips as he opened the door to your bedroom and laid you down on the bed. For how rough he had just been, he was surprisingly gentle; a duality that didn’t not go unappreciated. He stood over you for a few moments, drinking in the sight of you spread out for him, just like art. The small purple and blue marks that had already started appearing were just the icing on the top.

“Please,” you almost whined at him, wishing he would just take you and fuck you already, the slow build had you almost bursting, and you just wanted experience the feel of his famed cock.

“Are you sure you’re ready?” God, the way he smirked and raised an eyebrow at you was almost infuriating. You snaked a hand slowly down your torso and your towards your warm core, but he was swift and had a tight grip on your wrist almost instantly, pushing it out of his way, “am I going to have to tie you up?”

“Is that a threat?” you almost laughed, although the concept had its own appeal. You weren’t about to stop him at this point.

“It’s a promise if you don’t listen to me,” his lips made their way down your stomach as both of his hands found yours and held them at your side, his fingers laced through yours. You shivered with anticipation as he stopped just before reaching where you need him most, looking up and meeting your eyes. But before you could say another word or smart remark, his mouth found your center and your eyes shut at the feeling that flowed through your body. Warmth, nothing but warmth and desire went through every fiber of your being.

He liked a stripe up your soaked folds, taking his time to taste all of you. Your little moans were like music to his ears as he licked and sucked on your overly sensitive clit - finally. You ground your hips against his face, silently begging for more. He was working you like a starving man getting his first meal in ages, and he was determined to get every last drop.

He took one of your hands and brought it to his head; you tangled your fingers up in his dark locks, trying to get him as close to you as possible. You were close, so close, when you opened your eyes, “wait - I want to feel you inside me.”

Javi paused for a brief second, taking a moment to kiss and nip at the delicate skin of your thighs. He really was going to make sure you were marked everywhere, “you will. You can cum now, I know you’re close, chiquita. You’ve got multiple in you, right? Like a good girl?”

“Jesus,” his mouth was back on you before you could manage to say anything else. A man that knew what he was doing? A man that voluntarily ate you like it was his only job in life? A man that promised you multiple orgasms? Surely you must have ascended to get all of this.

Soon enough his fingers slipped inside you and you started seeing stars. Between the combined feel of his mouth on your clit and fingers curled up inside you and almost immediately finding your g spot, you were doomed from the start. You weren’t going last much longer, “J-Javi, ‘m close-”

“Then let go for me,” he murmured against you, the vibrations a pleasurable addition, “show me how good you feel.”

That was all you needed to hear before you pushed over the edge and finally found that sweet release that your body had been so desperately in need of. A slew of incoherent words and sentences left your mouth, as you writhed under him and Javi didn’t relent as he worked you through your orgasm. At that point you knew the rumors weren’t just rumors, they were truths; truths that would leave you singing his praises.

Once your breathing had evened out, he slowly let up, pulling back from you as he observed you in the afterglow of your release. His face was slick with your cum and juices, but he didn’t seem bothered in the slightest. You sat up, and scooted over to him, putting your hands on his shoulders and bringing him down to you. His lips crashed onto yours, more a mess of teeth and tongue in your haste as you laid back down, his body on top of yours. You could taste yourself on his lips, as he hummed contently against you. Bliss. This had to be what pure bliss was.

You could feel his cock brushing against you as he kissed with urgency and hunger. Although he had just sent you to another level, you couldn’t wait any longer to feel him inside you, “Javi...please.”

He knew exactly what you were saying, taking a moment to stop and kiss you gently, resting his forehead against yours. You grinned at him, running your hands down his back, raking your fingers down his warm skin. He took his cock in his hand, running it along your folds, before slowly starting to push in, making sure you were ready for him.

A small gasp escaped your lips at the delicious feeling of him finally inside you, stretching you in all the perfect ways. Javi had to stop himself from moving too fast, and not completely pound into you then and there, and buried his face in the crook of your neck, “god, you feel so good, so perfect.”

It took a moment before he bottomed out and stilled, enjoying how you felt around, holding onto him like a vice. He kissed every inch of your skin that he could reach, starting to move slowly, a moan spilling out every once in a while. You were holding him so tightly, nails scraping all over his back, surely leaving him with a reminder for the next several days. His hands were roaming all over your body, mapping every curve and contour as if he was trying to remember every bit of you.

“More,” it was like music to his years. He took it to heart as he increased his pace, bit by bit, until he was railing into you like it was a mission. The only sounds in the room were the sound of skin on skin, his grunts mixed with your moans, and the bed knocking against the wall. You worried momentarily if the bed was going to break, but you didn’t care. All you could focus on was the way Javi felt and the onset of your second orgasm. Surely your neighbors would be annoyed, but they could go to hell; you had listen to them go at it many times before, it was only fair that you got to experience some mindblowing sex once in a while.

Javier was close, you could feel his cock start to twitch within you as he thrust into you over and over again. He wasn’t going to last long, especially after all that teasing you had been doing.

“Where do you want it?” he asked as his hands found your breasts and started handling them roughly, pinching and rolling your nipples as his hips continued to snap into yours.

“Inside,” you met his eyes, and saw that they were almost black, a dark look in them as he realized what you said, “want to feel you cum inside me.”

“Fuck,” it was only a few more thrusts before he groaned and and stilled his hips as his seed coated your walls. It was a feeling like no other, true ecstasy as your walls clenched him and tried to get every last drop of out him. You reached your own high as he reached his, not a single coherent thought remaining. He kissed you sloppily as you wrapped your arms around his neck and held him close, coming down from your collective highs, “you feel so fucking good, this pussy must be magical.”

“You’re not so bad yourself,” you teased with a laugh as he slowly started to pull out of you. You frowned slightly at the loss, already missing how he felt, but it was quickly turned upside down as you felt some of cum started to drip down your leg. Holy shit; it was a wonderful feeling, “I guess what everyone says about you is true. A man with a cock that knows how to use it.”

“Did you expect disappointment?” he raised an eyebrow as he watched you slip of bed and stretch. Between your time at the club and your animalistic sex, you were spent, and well over due for a shower. Which gave you another wicked idea...

“No,” you promised, “but I still like getting personal knowledge. Hands on experience...”

You headed towards the bathroom, stopping in the doorway and looking back at him, “I need a shower. You coming?”

He was up and at your side within a matter of seconds as you took his hand and lead him towards your bathroom. You could have sex and get clean at the same time, right? What better way to find out then hands on experience, after all.

»»————-　♡　————-««

Tags: @thisis-theway (not tagging my regular taglist, since I know not everyone enjoys smut!)

#javier pena #javier pena x reader #javier peña #javier peña x reader #reader insert #narcos #narcos fanfiction #pedro pascal #pedro pascal x reader #oh yes this what you've been promised and waiting for #sooo...enjoy

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revisitedgrunt · 5 years ago

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Motherland: Fort Salem. Episode 1x05: Bellweather Season.

Being completely honest with y'all, this episode ruined me. It's taken me a while and several rewatches to sort out my thoughts and feelings. Now I want to talk about it. I'm going to go scene by scene, so this isn't a rambling stream of consciousness. This will be very long and image heavy.

I find the Unit's dynamics interesting. We've seen them get closer and work together better, but Raelle and Abigail both have strong personalities, and very different life experiences. One wrong word can immediately start a fight. Abigail uses the phrase “the community that matters”, which is incredibly elitist. Raelle, rightly, takes offence and ends up storming out.

The first Raylla scene of the episode. Scylla combines some minor manipulation, which is an attempt to get invited to the wedding with, in my opinion, a real story about her past. I believe everything Scylla has told us about her past. Porter confirmed that her parents died, and in the last two episodes we've seen Scylla start to open up with Raelle. They talk about running away, and less than five minutes into the episode, we get this.

I may, or may not, have let out this really unflattering squeal. Part of me is still amazed by this relationship. Every week I think we've hit the limit on how awesome it can get, and every week I'm proven wrong.

Raelle making a bird skull charm for Scylla is so sweet. I think Scylla's linking spell is going to be very important in the episodes to come. I do wonder if the mark is permanent. I hope not, just for the fact that Scylla permanently marking Raelle, without her permission, is not a nice thing to do.

We get another kiss and Raelle cups Scylla's chin again, which I am a big fan of.

You can see Scylla smiling when she enters her room. She genuinely likes spending time with Raelle. With the way she caresses the bird skull, we can see she's really touched by Raelle's gift.

We're then reminded that the Spree is a terrible organisation, when they threaten Scylla again. I'll probably talk more about the Spree later.

Scylla pretending to be a waitress was smart. However, the smarter play would have been to stay undercover until it was closer to 6pm, as she would have avoided unwanted attention. How much of this was a mistake on her part, and how much was it wanting to spend time with her girlfriend?

I love the lingering fire effect in the hair. It's such a cool detail.

Scylla's adorable little “Hi!” added 10 years to my life.

Raelle being super excited to see Scylla and the banter about the “corsage” was very cute. Raelle proves, once again, that she's a great girlfriend by introducing Scylla to the Bellweathers.

We get more confirmation that Abigail doesn't like Scylla, calling her “Another shitbird.” I believe her antagonism towards Scylla is because she thinks she's a distraction. Abigail thinks if Scylla wasn't around, Raelle would be more invested and involved in the Unit. However, we know this isn't the case, if it wasn't for Scylla, Raelle wouldn't be trying at all. Abigail should be thanking Scylla.

I love world building so I thought the wedding was really interesting. We find out that weddings are a contract that lasts for five years, which explains Abigail's different fathers. I think families like the Bellweathers think this is a way to strengthen their bloodline. The women can have several babies with different fathers, which helps expand the family. I think civilian weddings are still for life. Raelle's mom and dad were still together when Willa died.

What makes a believable relationship for me, is the small things. Not great declarations of love, but how they stand next to each other, how comfortable they seem together, how they look at each other and when they reach for each other. This was a great example of that.

I thought the scenes of Abigail trying to corral her unit were hilarious. She's desperately trying to make a good impression, and they unintentionally embarrass her every time. Scylla's “They have lobster.” and Tally's gasp gave me a good laugh.

Our first scene of Raylla dancing. When I saw the pictures I thought it would be a one and done deal. I should know by now that Motherland: Fort Salem always goes the extra mile when it comes to their wlw couple.

Raelle putting a protective arm in front of Scylla, starting down Anacostia and telling her “She goes where I go. Scylla's my girlfriend.” Just... wow. That was hot. And to illustrate the point, she gives Scylla a long, lingering kiss.

Anacostia v Scylla, round 2. I think Anacostia is incredibly cool, but I'm always gonna have Scylla's back. Scylla tries to protect Raelle and takes the heat for their relationship. Seeing her sass Anacostia was pretty amusing. Then she immediately grabs some drinks.

I'm not sure why Anacostia has a problem with Scylla. Is it the same reason as Abigail, or something different? Is Scylla not a good cadet? Does Anacostia think Scylla will hinder Raelle's performance? Scylla was right though, Raelle did start trying because of her. We also know Raelle is almost always boosted because she's having sex with Scylla.

Jessica Sutton's expressions this episode were perfection.

Every Raylla scene warms my cold, dead heart. How cute are they about the “girlfriend part”! And Scylla dancing Raelle onto the dance floor! And the way Scylla keeps eye contact with Raelle! I just can't!

Look at the smile Scylla gives Raelle!!!

This is a pretty upbeat song and you can see the other dancers energetically dancing. But Raylla are just slow dancing, wanting to be as close to each other as they can. You can also see Raelle has this soft smile on her face. The amount of care and detail Taylor and Amalia put into their scenes together, never fails to amaze me. It's so obvious they want to make this relationship as believable as possible.

Gerit got engaged before Baltane, went to the festival thinking he'd hook up with a girl and give her a power boost, and fell in love. He really does try to tell Tally he's engaged. I just feel sad for the both of them. I'm not really into heterosexual ships, but they were cute. I wonder if this is the end, or if Gerit will break off his engagement. Seeing Tally cry hurt, a lot.

Abigail gets smacked in the face with her privilege. For how different the universe of Motherland is to our own, some things are still very much the same. The rich and powerful will get all the opportunities, whether they deserve them or not. I do respect Abigail for wanting to make it on her own merits and not coast on her name.

I really admire Raelle's courage. She's a first year cadet, but she marches up to General Petra Bellweather and demands answers about her mom. She doesn't get them. Like any good politician, Petra deflects and heaps praise on both Willa and Raelle. It takes the fight out of Raelle, but made me even more angry.

Ashley and Bernadette did a really good job conveying Abigail and Charvel's relationship in the time they were given. They are cousins, but you see they are close and I got a sibling vibe from them. With the advice Charvel gave Abigail throughout the episode, she came across as an older sister. This makes me wonder if Abigail does have actual siblings. Given what we know of the Bellweathers, it would surprise me if Petra only had one child.

Scylla does a really bad job of checking the bathroom.

It's telling to me that Scylla tells the balloon “I need to know she will be safe, once I get her there. Should I wait with her?” I've always believed Scylla had genuine feelings for Raelle, and this is more confirmation. The balloon is clearly not a Raylla shipper.

Tally sees the balloon, and Scylla's cover is blown. I did not expect this to happen so early in the season, or for it to happen this way. Motherland keeps me guessing.

With 5 minutes left to get Raelle to the extraction point, Scylla sees a downhearted Raelle. She makes a half-hearted attempt to complete her mission, but there's no conviction there. She doesn't want to do it. When Raelle asks if they can dance instead, Scylla could have tried to convince Raelle to go for a walk, she didn't. She chose to dance with her. Scylla was scared, Scylla knew she was going fail her mission. She had to make a choice, The Spree or Raelle. She chose Raelle.

Tally telling Anacostia about Scylla was smart. I briefly thought that she might tell Raelle, but that would not have gone well, and doing it at the wedding would not have been the right time. Now Scylla's number one fan has a legitimate reason to not like her.

And now we get to the scene that killed me. I'm not gonna lie, I cried. I don't really get emotional about TV shows, but I've really come to love Raylla and this hit me hard. As soon as that song started playing, I knew I was in trouble. I started to choke up when Scylla remembered the times she'd spent with Raelle. My eyes started to water when I saw how scared she was she'd missed the deadline. When she told Raelle she loved her, I totally lost it. Raelle's smile was the last punch to the heart. I was a complete mess by the end of this scene. We leave the scene with Scylla looking incredibly sad.

This was Scylla saying goodbye to Raelle. She knows she can't stay at Fort Salem, she knows the Spree will come for her. If she doesn't run, she's as good as dead. I really hope that this episode alleviated any doubts anyone still had about Scylla. It is now absolutely clear that she loves Raelle.

Fortunately the next scene was much more upbeat and light hearted. Joking, we find out Charvel has been murdered, brutally. Most of her throat has been cut out. The effects were excellent and very gory. Abigail is ambushed by two Spree members and we see that they can nullify a witches abilities, when Abigail tries to Windstrike them and nothing happens.

Things go from bad to worse.

I'm not sure if this was always the plan, or a backup in case Scylla failed. My opinion was this was always the plan, and was set up to distract people so they wouldn't realise Raelle and Scylla had disappeared.

The witches summon a tornado and disable the balloons. The tornado looked pretty big and I thought back to the witch in episode 1 who was controlling 6 tornadoes at once. That seemed pretty powerful at the time, but I remember them being small, so I assume if they combine their power, they can summon bigger tornados.

Petra finds Abigail just in time to stop her daughter getting murdered.

During a well choreographed fight scene, we are reminded that these women are soldiers. Even without “the work” they are trained in hand to hand combat. We see both Abigail and Petra are good fighters. Abigail has a very badass moment here, after getting stabbed, she pulls out the knife and uses it on her attacker.

The Spree members set themselves on fire, so they can't be questioned, which is par for the course for fanatics. I had expressed sympathy for the Spree before. I said their cause was just as they were trying to liberate witches. I even understood them killing civilians, the civilian Government is the body forcing them to join the army, or be hunted. However, it now seems the Spree are equally terrible towards other witches. They brutally murder Charvel, a fellow witch and threaten Scylla's life if she doesn't do exactly what they say. At this point I say screw the army and the Spree, I want the Unit and Scylla to form a third faction.

In all the confusion, Scylla disappears. I think we’re meant to believe that she ran, but I think it’s more likely Anacostia grabbed her, as she is noticeable absent during the Spree attack. I think Scylla is probably in some secret dungeon at Fort Salem, and we'll get to see just what that mark she put on Raelle actually does.

The episode ends with the Unit comforting each other.

It's interesting that in some way, each member of the Unit experienced a loss this episode. Abigail lost her cousin, Tally lost her first love and some of her innocence, and Raelle lost the girl she's fallen madly in love with. Hopefully they'll continue to support each other as they heal.

The sheer amount of Raylla in this episode was unbelievable. I don't think I'm exaggerating when I say their scenes from this single episode, would probably cover 6 episodes on any other show, if we’re lucky. I'll keep saying it, I have never seen a show give a wlw couple this amount of time, care and respect.

It seems like we may not see them together for a while. I'm OK with that. We've had so much content over the last five episodes, more than I have seen in any other show. And remember, absence makes the heart grow fonder. Imagine the amazing scene we'll get when they reunite. Taylor and Amalia will knock that out of the park.

I thought this was the best episode so far, and one of the best hours of TV I've ever seen. This had the perfect mix of world building, humor, sadness, tenseness, action and romance. This show is such a gift and I can never thank the cast and crew enough for it.

#motherland fort salem #motherland: fort salem #raelle collar #scylla ramshorn #raylla #abigail bellweather #tally craven #anacostia quartermaine

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panda-noosh · 5 years ago

Text

back to the bad days {Sirius x Reader}

Words: 12.8k

Summary: You made a bad decision the last time Sirius saw you. Now that bad decision has come back to haunt you.

Genre: angst

Notes: support my writing or ask me about commissions!

---

You stopped using magic the day you killed someone.

An accident. Of course it was an accident. You were young, just starting your sixth year, didn't know what you were doing. Sirius was the one who convinced you to come back, but he was never there, too busy with his classes, or making an idiot of himself and his friends to pay much attention to the lone wizard he dragged along with him. You were left navigating the life of a legal wizard all on your own, and it was scary. The world was scary.

You remember the day clear as crystal, and part of you knows you always will. It's not the kind of thing you forget. Blue eyes losing life, hands gripping your shoulders, lips uttering words of mercy that didn't need to be uttered, because already you were desperately looking around for something – anything – to stop the life draining from your victims eyes.

And that's what he was – a victim. A man who said a few choice words under the influence of Firewhiskey, a man who happened to cross you on a particularly bad day, a man who didn't deserve what he got.

The spell wasn't illegal, just harmful, something Severus Snape had taught you during your many potions lessons together. The man – you hadn't even learned his name – had approached you, and his words were slurred and you knew he was drunk, could see it in every step he took, but his flirtations still infuriated you. You uttered the spell beneath your breath, and suddenly he was grabbing you, howling out for help as blood poured from wounds now slashed into his skin, ripping his white shirt to shreds. He shook and tugged and tried dragging you to the floor with him, but you were stiff in your shock, unable to move or help, do anything useful.

People grabbed you, asked you if you were alright, and you couldn't understand why. You weren't hurt. You weren't on the floor, slowly bleeding to death.

You were let go without question. In fact, you were given pity. A spell gone wrong, something that happens to even the best of young wizards; nobody thought for one second that an innocent little Hogwarts student such as yourself, so hard working and determined, would ever utter a spell meant to harm another human being. It wasn't possible. They sent you back to the castle, and it was three days later that news spread of the man's untimely, brutal death.

Sirius tried so hard to get you out of your own thoughts.

Long nights spent sat in the Gryffindor common room, you curled up in blankets by the fire, not talking even as pain thrummed beneath your ribcage. Sirius watched you from across the room, the fire dancing in his dark eyes, arms folded over his chest, neither of you saying anything because everything that could be said had already been spoken so many nights before, when you had crashed into his arms and sobbed into his chest, repeating over and over that you would never perform magic ever again.

Sirius called you crazy. He said that was dangerous. He said you were innocent.

But he hadn't been there. He didn't see you, didn't see your anger, your quick-fire decision to hurt this complete stranger. You knew you were guilty, and that was all you needed.

“How long has it been?”

His voice was both soft and gruff. You never figured out how he could do that, soothe you and put you on edge at the same time.

“Y/N, how long?”

“Three days.”

Sirius closed his eyes, tilted his head back against the oak door frame. Upstairs, fellow Gryffindors bustled back and forth, getting ready for bed.

“You can't keep this up, you know,” he said. “It's gonna eat you alive.”

“Maybe I deserve it.”

“Maybe you should stop feeling so fucking sorry for yourself.”

You didn't react to his anger., keeping your gaze fixed on the flames.

Sirius sighed, running his hands through his dark locks before he pushed away from the wall and stomped over to you. He grabbed your shoulder, pulling you to look at him. His eyes were black holes, jaw set, mouth a thin line. “Tell me what I can do. Tell me what you need, and I'll do it.”

“I need you to leave me alone, Sirius.”

“You're not using your head. You've heard Dumbledore's warnings-”

You shrugged his hand off. “I don't care! If Dumbledore had been there that day, he would probably want me dead!”

Sirius dropped to his knees then, grabbing your hands. “Don't say that. You're one of his most special students-”

“How can I be special when I accidentally killed a man with one of my spells?”

Sirius flinched back. He flinched, and that was when you knew it was all over, that you had lost everything. Family, gone. Friends, gone. Mental stability, gone. The one thing you thought you could keep was Sirius, and he had flinched.

You pulled your hands out of his, eyes watering before you could stop them. He looked to the floor, letting his hands drop into his lap as strands of hair fell over his eyes, his forehead, shielding you from what you knew was a look of disgust.

“I'm not special,” you whispered. “I'm not even good. I shouldn't be able to do magic if I can't even – can't even control it how I'm supposed to.”

“Y/N-”

You reached into your pocket, and you remember this part so clearly. The hesitation, the tug in your chest, like a chord was being severed. In seconds your wand was in your pocket, and you were twisting away from Sirius, turning to the fire-

His hand shot out, fingers wrapping round your wrist, your name yanked from his throat in desperation, but it was too late by then. Already you had thrown your wand into the flames. The wood splintered, crackled, tiny sparks shooting from the hearth. Your hands trembled, tears slipping from your eyes as Sirius bounced up and dashed forward, pulling his own wand from his pocket, trying and failing to utter a spell that could save the precious object you had just completely obliterated.

“Stop, Sirius,” you said as he uttered his seventh spell in quick succession. “It's pointless. I don't want it.”

He span. “Are you fucking insane?”

“It's not-”

“We have to get you a new one.” He stuffed his wand in his robes, grabbed your hand and dragged you from the chair. “Dumbledore will understand this is an emergency. I'll get the map, and we can dodge Filch – or I'll just send Ollivander an owl, but fuck, that might take too long. We need to get you one now. It's already been three days-”

The desperation in his voice had killed you. For just a second, you were ready to stand up and go with him, go along with whatever plan he had in mind, because he was Sirius – your Sirius – and the thought of hurting him had been unbearable.

That man, though. His eyes, his grip on your shoulders, his buckling knees, the blood that pooled around him as he lay in the grass. That wasn't something you could just forget. The image haunted you, kept you rooted to the spot.

“Sirius,” you whispered, just loud enough for him to hear you.

He paused, fingers tangled in the robes he was trying to pull apart so he could slip them on and head off to Ollivander's.

“Sirius,” you repeated, louder this time. “I'm not going. I'm not using magic any more.”

His hands had trembled. You remember staring at them, the veins bulging from them as he gripped the robes a little tighter, mimicking the tendons protruding from his neck.

“Why are you doing this?” he asked. “You know the risks. You know wizards can't just. . . they can't just stop.”

“I killed someone.”

“You didn't mean to-”

“You weren't there. You don't know.”

Sirius span around, hair wild, eyes even wilder. “I know you! I love you, for Gods sake! I won't just sit back and let you waste away!”

That was the first time Sirius Black had ever said I love you, and you were too far into your own thoughts to even pick up on it.

“It's not your decision to make, Sirius!”

He scoffed. “Oh, don't start that shit. Tell me it's none of my fucking business, like you really expect me to sit back and let you do this to yourself.”

“And what are you going to do about it? Force the magic out of me? Use the Imperius Curse?”

Sirius shook his head, trailed nimble fingers through his hair. “You're ridiculous.”

“Go to hell.”

And to this day, you don't know why it was that particular comment that made him snap. Something inside him shattered, you could see it happening as if in slow motion. His eyes dulled just a fraction before he swung his arm, a wide arch, and slammed it into the wall on his left. His fist darted through it, plaster crumbling around his arm before he pulled it out, grabbed his cloak and stormed upstairs to the boys dormitory, all without saying a single word in response.

You could only stare, stood in the darkness with nothing but the flames to illuminate the damage. Upstairs, people bustled around, tiredly asking each other what happened, if they had heard the commotion, if they should go down and check.

You could have fixed it with a simple Reparo spell, but your hands trembled when you tried, and the words wouldn't come. So instead, you turned on your heel and left the scene before anyone saw you, casting one look at the boys' staircase before disappearing along your own.

Dumbledore knows something is wrong.

The moment you step into his office, you see the recognition on his face, your symptoms screaming. You don't even have to explain yourself, not when you stumble towards his desk, clap your hands upon it and say, through gritted teeth, “Please help me.”

He tells you to wait. You tell him you can't move. He grimaces, exits his office and comes back fifteen minutes later, MadEye Moody in tow.

“What's going on here then?” Moody asks. By now, you're doubled over Dumbledore's desk, groaning at the pulse in your stomach; it doesn't even hurt too bad right now, but it's there, it's present, and it shouldn't be. It's a warning signal, each thump yet another countdown to another outburst, another outburst you cannot afford.

“I need you to accompany Y/N to Grimaulds Place,” Dumbledore responds.

Moody swivels round. “Have you finally gone mad, old man?”

“This is serious, Alastair. We can't wait much longer.”

“You won't even tell me what's happening.”

“I'm dying, is what's happening,” you croak out, finally willing enough strength in your body to lift your head and glare at the two men behind you, both of whom seem to think you're no longer in the room, or that you've gone deaf. “I don't know h-how much longer I can hold back. We need to leave now.”

Moody raises a brow, still sceptical, but he's always sceptical, so it doesn't matter.

Nonetheless, he sighs, grabs your arm and says, “I want answers as soon as you can give them to me.”

You can only nod. With a final goodbye to Dumbledore, Moody Disapparates out of the office, and in seconds, the two of you are landing on the front step of a house you do not recognise.

Moody grabs your arm when you stumble, dragging you into his side. “Keep still while I find the damn key.”

You press your forehead to the door, closing your eyes at the coolness. The house is small, a thatched roof, oak door, a front garden littered with beer cans and moulding pizza boxes; to the untrained eye, it looks abandoned, falling apart at the seams, not even safe enough to live in.

However, Moody pushes open the door after a few seconds, and you can see it is far from it.

It's dusty, yes, but it's clearly habitable. Stepping inside, you are engulfed by warmth that tells of a fire blazing nearby. Multiple paintings are covered up, wallpaper torn and moulding at the edges. There's a staircase to your right, rickety and dangerous. You wonder where the bedrooms are.

“Welcome to Grimauld Place,” Moody says. “Sirius! Sirius, get your ass down here now!”

Your head swivels round so fast your neck cricks. You ignore the sharp pain, eyes widening. “Sirius? Sirius Black?”

“The criminal, yes,” a smooth voice responds, one that certainly doesn't belong to MadEye.

You whirl around just as Sirius appears on the second landing, a glass of wine in his hand. He's wearing a black trench coat that hangs to his knees, his black hair dishevelled, poking him in the eyes. He's got a beard now, if you can even call it that, and he truly looks like he hasn't slept in years.

He's still awfully, awfully handsome, though, just as he has always been.

“This is a surprise,” he says. “I wasn't expecting guests. I would have cleaned up a little bit.”

“You would have got that house elf to clean,” Moody corrects, still gripping your arm. You're still staring, unable to tear your eyes away from Sirius. “Get down here, Black. We need to talk.”

Sirius sighs dramatically, like he's being put out, before gliding down the stairs. He stops right beside you, shoulder brushing your own, because he knows. He fucking knows, and it's driving you insane, and you're not well enough to deal with his bullshit today, not well enough at all-

“Wine, anyone?”

“Y/N needs a place to stay.”

Sirius sips the red liquid, staring right at Moody as if expecting further explanation. When Moody doesn't offer any, he claps his lips together and says, “And that's my problem. . . Why?”

“They're staying with you.”

He stiffens, glass still resting against his lower lip. “When was someone going to tell me about this?”

“Dumbledore only made the order about five minutes ago,” Moody replies. “And no arguments, Black. We don't have time for it, not these days.”

“So you want me to just sit back and take whatever Dumbledore throws at me, huh?”

You scoff. For the first time, Sirius looks down, and it may be a mistake, a trick of the light, but you swear his eyes soften when they rest on you. “I promise, Sirius, this isn't going to be a tea party for me either.”

“Why are you even here?” he demands.

You open your mouth to respond, but the words abandon you. How do you tell him the truth? It's been years, and so much has happened since the last time the two of you spoke, but that doesn't change the fact you're dying, that Sirius was the love of your life a few years back, that you two have history. Time apart doesn't make this news any less difficult.

You glance at Moody, a silent plea for him to take the reigns. His glass eye swivels to look at you before he sighs and says, “Y/N's magic is coming back against their will.”

And Sirius knows what that means. Every wizard in the wizarding world knows what that means. Slowly, his eyes widen, eyebrows furrowing, lower lip jutting out like he's going to start crying. Your heart leaps at the sight, the sudden and unexplainable urge to pull him in for a hug overtaking you. You have to remind yourself it's been years, that it will be most strange if you were to give in to those urges now.

“So you're dying.”

He says it so simply, and even though the thought has been in your head for ages, it's painful hearing it come from someone else – especially Sirius.

You shrug, tucking your hands in your pockets. “I might be.”

“Have you not used magic since-”

“I told you I wouldn't.”

“Sorry. I just thought you were a bit smarter than that.”

Moody pulls breath through his teeth, a sharp hissing noise making you and Sirius step away from each other like a pair of children just caught doing something naughty. “I didn't come here to listen to you two argue like an old married couple, alright? Dumbledore's sent out the orders, and it's my job to make sure they're followed; Y/N, you're staying here with Sirius until the boss says otherwise. Sirius, you're going to suck it up and make sure they don't kill themselves.”

Sirius scowls. You attempt a scowl right back, but a coughing fit grips you and you instead double forward, wheezing into your hand. Moody pats you on the back, uttering things like, “Get it out,” and, “Better out than in,” under his breath, like that is a comforting tactic.

You recover soon after, body deflating as it always does when this happens. You just feel so tired. All the time, you are left drained and trembling, but it's embarrassing to be in that state in front of Sirius. He just stares at you now, slowly blinking, like he's in a state of disbelief that this is really happening. You straighten up, pull your shoulders back and ask, “Where can I sleep?”

---

Sirius leads you to his bedroom once Moody is gone. He can't take his eyes off you. He isn't sure it would be safe if he did. He can't be sure he won't turn back around to see you tumbling down the stairs, unable to hold your own weight.

You just look so fragile. Sirius thought for sure he had gotten over his protective streak when it came to you, but apparently not.

With one hand on the small of your back, he uses the other to push open his bedroom door. He leads you inside, wincing at the bareness of it all; he never got round to redecorating, too busy lost in his own head to think about doing something useful around here. The concrete walls are bare, his posters torn down besides a picture of him and the others, his arm looped around James's shoulders as the others file in around them. They are all in their school uniforms, and it brings Sirius back to the times when you and him used to hide under the stairs after curfew and make out, just because you could.

It's no surprise when you head straight for that very picture. Sirius watches you from the doorway, the way a small smile appears on your face, strained and tight, but present nonetheless. You trace your fingertips over James's face before, without turning, you say, “I miss him.”

“We all do.”

“Little shit that he always was, I thought he was a pretty decent bloke.”

Sirius chuckles, slowly approaching. “He was. He would have done anything for anyone.”

“And Lily...”

Sirius closes his eyes. It's too late at night to be reminded of such things, too late to be grieving passed-on friends. Gently, he takes your elbow and leads you to the bed pressed against the far wall. You sit down obediently and look around. Sirius can't help noticing how your eyes seem to sink into your skull.

“It isn't much, but I wasn't expecting guests,” he says.

You shake your head. “It's just good having a place to sleep.”

“Did you not have a place to sleep before this?”

“I had a flat in London.”

Sirius raises a brow playfully. “Muggle London?”

You groan. “Yes, Sirius, Muggle London. There was no point in me staying in Hogsmeade if I wasn't even practising magic.”

“Which I still think was a very idiotic decision on your part.”

“As you've said,” you grumble, and Sirius can't help the quirk of his lips, your tone so childlike.

He folds his arms across his chest and leans against the door frame. “So you abandoned the wizarding world for good, huh? Does that mean you haven't kept up with everything going on?”

He knows it's a shot in the dark. Even those wizards who distanced themselves years ago would have heard of his imprisonment, his break-out. The government made sure everybody heard about it, that everybody was keeping a look-out.

You purse your lips and look to the floor.

Sirius sighs. “Ah.”

“I didn't believe any of it,” you say quickly, like there's something to defend. “It just. . . didn't make sense, but even the Muggle Prime Minister was talking about you.”

“Flattering.”

“But I never believed any of it.”

Sirius stares. You say that so casually, fingers plucking the edge of a blanket, eyes darting around the room as you continue your subconscious little inspection. His heart is hammering against his ribcage, so forcefully he thinks you might be able to hear it, and you're just sat there like nothing is going on, like you're not dying, like Sirius hasn't got the biggest price on his head.

He slumps down on the bed next to you, and it feels like he belongs there. Calm, soothing, natural, just you with your shoulder pressed to his, like all them nights in the common room where you would be so absorbed in your studies, and Sirius would just sit and watch you work in silence.

“Thanks,” he says. Simple.

You glance at him. “You're welcome.”

“You know who I met the other day?”

“Who?”

“Harry.”

He feels rather than sees your shock. Against him, your body tenses, head snapping round as if checking to see if Sirius is joking. He just smiles, sipping his glass of wine as you continue to gawk.

And then suddenly you're latching onto his arm like an excited school child, twisting around, forcing Sirius into eye contact. His grin of amusement breaks the surface, a chuckle escaping him as he latches onto your forearms to stop you tumbling on top of him entirely.

“Really?”

“He looks just like James,” Sirius replies.

“Oh my God, Sirius, that's amazing!” Your smile is wide, glowing. “Does he know who you are? Does he know you're innocent?”

“He does now.” Ever so gently, Sirius nudges you back to his side, though he keeps his fingers wrapped round your arms, so frail and fragile with the state you're in. “A lot happened the night we met. I tried to kill Peter-”

“Huh?”

“I tried to kill Snape, too-”

“Understandable.”

“Peter admitted to being the one who told You-Know-Who about James and Lily's whereabouts.”

No comment.

Sirius winces, sheepishly looking up. Your expression has shifted dramatically, smile melting into a gawk of horror, mouth open and eyebrows furrowed. Beneath his fingers, he feels the tendons in your arms tighten.

He swallows. “Yeah.”

“Did you know-” you snap, suddenly standing up. “I never liked that little fucker. Never liked him. Every time you invited me to sit with you at lunch, I would sit as far away from that little rat as the table would fucking allow.”

Sirius stumbles up after you, tries reaching for your arms but you pull away before he can make contact. Your teeth are gritted, eyes alight with something Sirius has never seen before – it's anger, yes, but it's different, murderous.

“Y/N, calm down,” Sirius says. “You're not well enough to be-”

“Did he get away?”

Sirius falters. “Harry didn't want me to kill him.”

“Harry didn't want-” You inhale, closing your eyes in your attempts to calm down. “Harry didn't want you to kill him.”

“He's a good kid. And besides, I was being irrational when I made the threat; I couldn't kill a man in front of three high school kids.”

Your hands tremble as you lower them to your sides. Sirius takes his chance, setting his wine down and taking your hands in his own, pulling you back towards the bed. You go without resistance, staring into space.

“Harry Potter is probably the only reason I didn't get shipped off back to Azkaban,” Sirius continues. “I owe him everything.”

You nod slowly. “I would. . . I would like to meet him if that's possible.”

Sirius draws back, raising a brow. “I thought you wanted nothing to do with the wizarding world?”

“Well, I'm here now, aren't I? It's a bit late for that.”

Sirius chuckles and nods, pulling you into his side, just because he can, because he missed the feel of your body against his. He hasn't checked to see if you're single, if you still have feelings for him like he has feelings for you – honestly, right now, he doesn't care. You're not pulling away. In fact, you almost seem to nuzzle your head into the crook of his neck, closing your eyes so your eyelashes flutter against his skin, sending goosebumps stampeding.

“I'll send an owl,” he says. “I'd love for you to meet him.”

----

Harry Potter.

The world knows him as The Boy Who Lived. You know him as James and Lily's son.

There is no secret surrounding who the boy belongs to. The sharp green eyes, the ruffled black hair, even a pair of glasses that sit askew upon his face – it's like seeing them again, after so many years.

Sirius stands beside you when Harry appears in the doorway, two friends following close behind. You recognise the red hair of a Weasley the minute Ron steps through the door, but the other girl has to introduce herself as Hermione Granger, a Muggle born, apparently very smart when it comes to all things wizardry. Neither Ron nor Hermione are familiar with you, but Harry gives you the shock of your life when he meets your eyes and says, “You must be Y/N.”

Before you have a chance to get over your shock and reply, Sirius places a hand on your shoulder, gently drawing you back into him. “I might have told Harry here a little bit about you.”

“Oh?” You narrow your eyes at Sirius, to which he merely grins. It's one of those rare occasions where Sirius Black actually looks sheepish, as if prepared for a telling off. “What did you say?”

“Only good things,” Harry interjects, stepping forward and offering a hand.

The action is James. It's James, and it's Lily, and it makes your heart squeeze at the sight of it. You remember the first time Sirius introduced you to his friends – the Marauders – and how James had shaken your hand like it was some kind of formal meeting. You remember giggling, asking him if he was this formal with everyone, and he had replied with, “Only the people who can put my Padfoot in his place.”

You grab Harry's hand and say, “Are you this formal with everyone?”

He smiles. “Only the people who can make Sirius flustered. Seems like a hard skill to master.”

“Alright, enough of that!” Sirius exclaims, cutting between you and Harry with a flourish of his trench coat. “Introductions are awfully boring – who wants a drink?”

“Have you got water?” Hermione asks as Sirius herds all of you into the dusty, run-down kitchen.

“I have wine and white wine,” Sirius replies.

“I'll have white wine,” Ron says casually, though you don't miss the child-like, giddy smile he tosses to Harry at the idea of being given an alcoholic beverage.

You roll your eyes, sitting at the table. Sirius bustles back and forth like a madman, and it's obvious the reason why. Though the three kids don't seem to pick up on it, you have known Sirius on a much deeper level than them, can recognise the excitement glittering in his dark eyes, the way his hands move like there's a time limit. He's been locked in this house on his own for so long, it must be a relief of the greatest kind to finally have someone to cater too.

“So, when did you get here?”

You turn and look at Harry. He sits beside you, nimble fingers brushing against the tabletop, wiping the dust off and onto the floor. He does it so casually, without a care in the world that he has to, keeping his eyes trained on you the entire time.

“Yesterday night,” you reply. “Alistair Moody brought me.”

“Oh, he's mental,” Ron chimes in.

Hermione hisses, slapping Ron's arm.

Harry doesn't waver. “Sirius told me a bit about you before, you know. Just in passing. I know you had a history with him.”

“A little bit. We went to school together.”

“That all?”

You raise a brow. “Nosy, aren't you? Just like your mother – needs to know everything.”

A blush sprinkles his cheeks, a tiny smile forming. “The way he spoke about you just made it seem like there was something else going on.”

“Well, you're right,” you say, resisting the heat that claws at your neck. It's not like you and Sirius had a scandalous relationship – you were together for three years, held hands in the hallway, snuck out after curfew because you felt like it. It was a normal, beautiful high school relationship.

Harry glances over his shoulder to ensure Sirius is still busy with the wine before he leans forward and whispers, “Were you together?”

You stay quiet.

Harry groans under his breath, kicking the leg of your chair. “Come on. He won't tell me anything about it. Says it's personal.”

“Personal?”

“I think it was special to him, so he wants to keep it to himself,” Hermione suggests. “Even in his letter inviting us over here, he called you his special friend. It's obvious you mean a lot to him.”

“Oh, give me a break,” you scoff, leaning back in your chair, though you can't help but glance over at him. He's humming to himself, running a hand through his black hair, tipping wine into glasses, messing about with bits of bread that he tries to butter without magic and fails miserably in doing so. “Sirius and I used to. . . we used to fancy each other a little bit back when we were at Hogwarts.”

Hermione gasps, claps her hands to her cheeks. “You did?”

“Well obviously,” Ron grunts. “But we want details.”

“Mind your business.”

“Did you go out with each other?” Harry asks.

“For three years.”

The three kids go silent. You purse your lips, tilting your head back so you can call out to Sirius. “Is that wine ready yet?”

Sirius scoffs without looking at you. “You're not getting any. You're ill, remember?”

“Not ill enough that I can't have a drink.”

“I'm not risking it.” He looks over his shoulder, flashes a dazzling smile. “Sorry, sweetheart.”

Your heart leaps at the endearment, though you hide it by sticking your tongue out at him. Around you, the three kids share knowing glances, though none of them have a chance to tease before Sirius is marching over to the table, placing five glasses down along with a plate of bread.

He sits down next to you, claps his hands and says, “Well, isn't this lovely?”

“You've really lost the plot, haven't you, Sirius?” Ron says, picking up the bread. “How long has that butter been in the cupboard?”

Sirius scowls. “Just eat it, you ungrateful git.”

“We were just talking to Y/N about Hogwarts,” Hermione cuts in, giving Ron a glare that he responds to with a shrug. “Three years you two went out?”

Sirius stiffens. Neither of you have spoken about your history just yet – the conversation felt a little too heavy after last nights endeavours, after Sirius had seen you basically doubled over in pain.

“Were you in love?” Harry asks, aiming his question at Sirius with a polite little smile on his face.

Sirius scowls. “Just like your bloody father, aren't you?”

“Well, it's an honest question,” says Hermione. “James and Lily fell in love at Hogwarts, too, didn't they?”

“James and Lily were different,” says Sirius, though he shoots you a glance at the same time, as if testing the waters to see if this line of conversation will upset you. You don't look back, instead taking a sip of the milk he has placed in front of you. “Besides, Y/N left Hogwarts in the middle of our sixth year.”

Three sets of eyes swivel on you. It's Ron who exclaims, “You did? Why?”

“I got sick,” you reply.

“With what? Surely the safest place for you to be if you're ill is Hogwarts,” says Harry.

Sirius sips his wine and says, “That's what I said.”

“Shut up, Sirius,” you snap before turning back to Harry. “There was a lot to it. I don't expect you to understand.”

Sirius scoffs around his wine glass, leaning back oh-so-casually. “Don't pretend the boy is stupid, Y/N. You can explain yourself.”

“I don't want to.”

“Why not? It's nothing to be ashamed of.”

Why is he doing this?

You don't know. You can't pinpoint the moment his demeanour changed, the moment he seemed to think you were just being rude. You look over at him, an eyebrow slowly raised as your hands tremble in your lap, a silent plea for him to just shut his mouth and stop whatever hostility he has rising to the surface.

He raises his brow right back, waves a hand as if to say Well? We're waiting.

You swallow, turn back to the three kids who all stare at you with wide, expectant eyes. “I'm – uh – dying. Slowly. Very slowly. It's why I'm here.”

It kills the mood. Of course it does. It always does. People don't know how to handle death, the implications that come with it. As soon as you mention it, you are no longer a person, a friend, a relative. You're just. . . someone who is dying, someone who won't be there in a few years, someone people have to say goodbye to, detach themselves from so they don't get hurt.

Hermione is the first to make a move. Awkward, frigid, her hand slides across the table and rests upon your own. Beside you, Sirius hollows out his cheeks and looks away.

“It's fine,” you say, even though nobody has said otherwise. “It's. . . controlled at the minute. I plan on sticking around for a bit longer.”

“Blimey, Y/N...,” Ron mutters. “That's awful.”

“This is what happens when wizards suppress their magic, kids,” says Sirius, and he sounds so cheerful, so condescending that you nearly draw back and punch him in the side of the head. Even Harry, Ron and Hermione look at him like he's gone mental.

“Alright, Sirius,” Harry says. “There's no need for that.”

Sirius shrugs. “I'm telling the truth. It's unnatural, isn't it? Magic isn't just stored in our bloody wands, or else Muggles would be causing havoc left, right and centre – it's inside of us. It's who we are. Suppressing that is dangerous. It eats us alive.”

“As I'm sure they already know,” you snap, and that's when you feel it. The shift in your stomach, the sudden fire ignited in your veins that makes you jump, knee slapping against the underside of the table. Sirius doesn't seem to notice your sudden shift, as he continues casually making comments about something he doesn't understand, something he will never understand.

“Personally, there is absolutely nothing in this world that will make me stop using my magic,” he says. “And I recommend you lot adopt the same mindset. Life runs so much smoother when you don't fight who you are. Not only does it take a bloody enormous physical toll, but a mental one, as well. I know all about mental tolls, I'll tell you now, and they aren't good. Not good at all. Sometimes I'd rather take a kick to the bollocks than sit and steep in my own pity-”

“Alright, Sirius!” you exclaim, gripping the tables edge. “We get it! You're a fucking hero!”

His eyes flash, darting to you. “You get it? Finally! Just eleven years too late, huh?”

And that's when it breaks.

You make to stand, but your knees give out. Magic bursts from your fingertips, and it's not meant to be there, it's meant to be in your wand, it's meant to be in your body, stored away for when you need it. But it bounces off the walls now, red sparks slamming into the wooden cupboards, knocking down plates and doors and cutlery that sprawl across the floor.

You crumble along with everything else in the kitchen, gripping the cupboard door as you try to regain yourself, to draw back the magic. It hurts. It hurts, and you want to scream, but your throat is suddenly too dry, and your brain is working at a thousand miles per hour, so you don't even know what you want to cry out.

Harry, Hermione and Ron are by your side in seconds. Harry grabs you under the arms, hauls you off the floor. He's yelling at his friends, but you focus in on Sirius, now stood up, staring at the scene with his mouth open, a trembling hand covering his forehead. It makes you angrier, which only makes the magic flare up even more; he stands there and acts surprised, as if he wasn't ridiculing you only seconds before, as if he wasn't the god damn catalyst for all this.

You want to yell at him. You want to tell him to go to hell, but you can't get the words out. Soon, you settle into Harry, head falling back as he guides you up the stairs. Behind you, Hermione chastises a silent Sirius, but you can't hear what she's saying, not over the thrum of your blood and your magic and your anger.

----

Sirius hates himself.

He doesn't understand why he does the things he does. He never has. Even before Azakaban, he would sit in the principals office and wonder why he couldn't just. . . behave. Why he couldn't just get on like the rest of the kids. Why he always felt the need to stand out and make himself look like a tosser.

But he has never felt such regret than he does right now.

It burns in the pit of his stomach, definitely not the alcohol. He sits alone in his kitchen, one foot propped up on the rickety chair Hermione was occupying only a few hours prior. To his left is a glass of wine, which he downs as a way to drown out everything else; it's easier that way, especially considering he has nothing else to occupy his mind with. He's not allowed out, he's not allowed communications, and the one person he has to talk to now most likely hates his guts.

And he can't even blame you.

He was just angry, that's all. He's angry a lot these days, a default reaction to the simplest of things. You were just sitting there, talking amongst these students so casually, as if your magic wasn't eating you from the inside out, as if you weren't dying, and something about it just set him off. The memories, watching Ron and Hermione awkwardly sneak around their feelings – it brought Sirius back to his own Hogwarts days where you would act so bloody oblivious to every single thing he was trying to say to you. God, he could have kissed you on the lips, outright, in front of everyone, and you would still act surprised when Sirius finally confessed his feelings properly.

But he'll never get that chance, will he? Not after what he did today.

He sighs, rubbing a hand over his face. His flesh is warm to the touch, the fire crackling in the room behind him not doing him any favours. He doesn't dispel it, though, enjoying the atmosphere it brings. The crackling has the ability to distract him for seconds at a time, and he takes those seconds with greedy hands. He'll take any distraction at this point.

“You look a right state.”

Sirius doesn't flinch, simply tilts his head to catch a glimpse of Remus Lupin as he strolls through the hall towards the open kitchen door. Dressed in rags, pulling his gloves from his fingers, a lopsided smile on his stubbled face. Sirius raises his wine glass and chants, “Moony! Moony! Moony!”

“Shut up,” Lupin says, knocking Sirius's chin so his mouth snaps closed. He takes a seat, shoving Sirius's foot onto the floor. “Harry told me what happened.”

“Did he? Shame on him.”

“Christ, Sirius – what's gotten into you? This is Y/N we're talking about, isn't it? The one you used to snog under the stairs at school?”

Sirius grins, hides it against the rim of his glass. “Maybe.”

“You used to be head over heels for them. Why would you say all that?”

Sirius's grin drops. He sighs, placing the wine glass back on the table, turning to face his friend fully. “It's complicated.” Lupin stares. Sirius rolls his eyes. “And it's not like I don't regret it, Moony, because I certainly bloody do. I just. . . . I was in a bad mood. The heat in here is woeful, and-”

“And you're scared.”

Sirius raises a brow. “I'm not scared of anything.”

“You've been in Azkaban, faced Death Eaters, are the most wanted man in the UK right now.” Lupin tilts his head, examining Sirius with those eyes that have always managed to unsettle everyone – it's why he makes such a good teacher. “And it's the thought of losing Y/N that has you getting drunk on your own at ten at night.”

Sirius scowls, glancing at the wine glass – empty, refilled multiple times, a Muggle drink, to top it all off. Since when did Sirius ever enjoy Muggle drinks?

“You know, I think James and I always knew this was how it was going to end up,” Lupin continues.

Sirius's eyes snap up; James has always been a sort of unspoken presence between them, something they acknowledge, something they don't technically avoid, but will admit it is easier to just. . . ignore for as long as possible.

Lupin smiles softly. “We always said Y/N would be the one to mess you up.”

Sirius groans, throwing his head back in exasperation. “I'm not messed up-”

“The alcohol would beg to differ.”

“Y/N is dying, Lupin.”

The words are out before he can stop them, before he can even comprehend why he thought they would be a good idea in the first place. He isn't sure if Sirius knows, isn't sure if this is some big secret he should be keeping to himself – but it feels wrong letting Lupin tease him when he doesn't even know the severity of the situation. Hell, Sirius barely knows the severity of the situation, but he caught a glimpse of it earlier when he drove you to the point of collapse with his stupid passive-aggressiveness, thinking he was being funny.

Lupin stares, almost pityingly. “I know. That's why I'm here.”

Sirius lifts his head, brushing curls out of his eyes. “What do you mean?”

“Dumbledore thinks he knows what to do.”

Sirius blinks, certain he's hearing wrong. “Come again?”

Lupin rolls his eyes and leans forward, taking Sirius's hand in his own; they're trembling, only slightly, and it's this movement that reminds Sirius that Lupin knew you just as long as Sirius did. Lupin saw you grow up just as much as Sirius did. Lupin probably cares for you just as much as Sirius does.

“Don't joke around, Moony,” Sirius whispers, shaking his head. “Don't give me hope. That's cruel.”

“None of this is a joke,” Lupin replies. “Dumbledore's sister, Arianna – you remember hearing about her, don't you?”

Sirius nods, dazed.

“She died of the same thing Y/N has right now.”

“Oh, charming.”

“But that just pushed Dumbledore to spend his life finding a cure. That's what he does in his spare time, for crying out loud – he sits in that office and he researches. He's found something that has worked on everyone he's tested so far. He's found the cure, and it's more simple than you might think.”

“Will it hurt them?” Sirius asks, because he can't help it, because he needs to make sure you'll be okay before he throws you into anything so uncertain.

Lupin looks down, and Sirius's stomach twists.

“Moony...”

“I don't know the details, Sirius,” Lupin says quickly. “But I know it has saved people's lives. I have hope it will do the same for Y/N.”

“I need more than just hope,” Sirius spits, and that anger is there again, puncturing the surface before he can catch it, shove it back down along with all the other sour emotions Azkaban planted in his brain.

“I know,” Lupin corrects. “I know it will do the same for Y/N, because Y/N's one of the strongest wizards I've ever met. Smart, capable-”

“Dying.”

Lupin purses his lips. “Dumbledore wanted me to fetch you both, but I thought I should give you some pre-warning before we leave. After what Harry told me...”

Sirius blushes and glances up the staircase, as if imagining you standing on the landing, staring right back at him, ready to forgive him for the shit he put you through.

He turns back to Lupin and says, “Give me till tomorrow afternoon. I'll talk to them.”

Lupin smiles, pats Sirius's hand once before standing up. His patched jacket gets caught on the chair before he pulls it loose, turns and says, “Have you two had a quick snog yet?”

Sirius throws the wine cork at him. Never changed.

----

It's light outside, but the house is dark when you finally wake up.

You know how long you've been asleep, because you've been in and out of consciousness, checking the time, ever since Harry and Ron tucked you into bed a few hours prior. It was dark outside then, definitely past their bedtime.

You get out of bed at long last; Sirius must be asleep by now, passed out drunk from the Muggle wine he was sipping all night. You will go downstairs, grab your stuff and leave – that's your only option. You can't live like this, under the same roof as the man who has never forgiven you for a mistake you made when you were seventeen years old.

Under the same roof as the man you never really got over.

It's hard admitting it, because you thought for sure life moved on. You certainly felt like you had, reading reports of Sirius's murderous tenancies, how he was the most wanted man in the world. Back then, it was easier to believe it all. You weren't by his side, had nothing to disprove the lies, so why would you think any different to what the newspapers were trying to convince you of?

But now you're back, and he's with you, and it's so difficult to look past the friendly, flirtatious smile he always has for you, the back and forth banter you have with each other that feels so . . . unavoidable, like you couldn't turn it off even if you wanted to. It's like you're school kids again.

The creak of the wooden floorboards sound eerie when you think no one else is around to hear them. Kreacher mutters to himself behind a closed door just down the hall, but you duck your head down and scramble past before he takes notice of another filthy wizard out of bed. The pain in your limbs is only minimal now that you've had your rest, so it's easy to dart downstairs and into the kitchen, where you switch on the light and-

“Fucking hell!”

You scream, can't help it.

Sirius stands up abruptly, knocking his chair to the floor when he spins around and stares at you. You stare right back, at his dropped jaw and wide eyes, the half-finished bottle of wine sat on the table behind him. His trench coat is gone, so now he's dressed in only a thin black shirt and low-hanging jeans that make him look so, so good, and you're positive he's doing it on purpose, trying to make you-

“When did you wake up?” he demands.

“For gods-” You make a break for the door. It's the panic that drives you, settling in your stomach, forcing you to move before you can properly comprehend what's happening. Sirius curses and rushes after you, so much faster with his legs being so much longer than yours, and his health being so much cleaner.

He skids on the wooden floor, scrambles back up and claps his hand on either side of the wall, blocking you in entirely. You growl, take a step back, get ready to dart for the fucking kitchen window if you have to, but Sirius grabs your wrist before you can move. His fingers are soft against your pulse, and sweat beads your forehead from the effort your weak body has just put in.

“Where are you going?” he asks, panting.

“Away. I don't know. Somewhere else.”

“Don't be ridiculous. Dumbledore sent you here for a reason.”

“Dumbledore sent me here to die comfortably,” you spit, taking no pleasure in Sirius's wince. “Let me go, Sirius. You're drunk.”

“No I'm not. Not drunk enough to let you go out there on your own.”

“You think you can stop me?”

He runs his tongue along the inside of his cheek, mumbles something along the lines of, “You've always been so stubborn...,” before he seems to remember you're still there, standing in front of him, though you don't even know why you are – you should be running away, getting as far from this place as possible, as far from him as possible.

“I have something to tell you,” he says.

You draw back. “What-”

Before you can finish your question, he tugs you forward and wraps his arm around your waist, lifting you over his shoulder. You scream again, thrashing your legs as much as possible with the grip he has around them, but he barely even grunts at the contact; months in Azkaban have really paid off in the strength department for him.

“Settle down, love, settle down,” he says, all-but-tossing you onto the sofa. You immediately snatch a pillow from behind you and lob it at him; he catches it with one hand, reminding you that he was indeed an avid Quiddith player at one point.

“That was uncalled for,” you mumble, folding your arms over your chest. “I want to leave, Sirius – you can't hold me hostage.”

“I'm not holding you hostage,” he scoffs, slumping down beside you. “Just sit still for two bloody seconds, alright? Moony came to visit.”

Your eyes widen. “He did?”

Sirius grins. “I love that you remember who that is.”

You slap his arm, turning your body to face him. “What did Remus want?”

“He just popped in to inform me that you might not have to die after all.”

You pause.

And then you're angry.

Angry, because Sirius can't be telling the truth. He's saying this to get under your skin, to make you stay a little bit longer so he can continue chastising you for the thing he hates so much – that you didn't listen when you wanted him to, that you made your own fucking decision back in the day, and he's never got over it.

You stand up. His smile falls, hands immediately reaching out to grab you, but you pull away before he can make contact. You're crying, fucking crying, and it's so stupid, because he's literally just said one thing, one thing, and you can't handle it.

“Fuck you, Sirius. That's a brand new fucking low.”

He shakes his head, dumbfounded. “What are you-”

“Why do you have to do that?” you exclaim. “That's just cruel. I've come to terms with death already, mate, so whatever little lie you've got rehearsed in that sick fucking brain of yours isn't going to work. It's not!”

Sirius stands so quickly. His face is all hard lines, nostrils flaring, hands snapping out to grab your arms before you can even comprehend he's moved. You've seen him like this only a few times before, but you were always the one dragging him back, always the one pushing him into a chair, kneeling in front of him, whispering to calm him down. Now you're the one who's made him mad.

And what right does he have to be mad at you when he's the one doing everything in his power to make you miserable? That's what it feels like. He's trying to make you feel bad, trying to make you regret your decision.

Doesn't he understand that you've lived with that regret since the day the pain started?

“I'm not lying,” he says. Simple. Easy. Like you should believe him. “I wouldn't – Jesus, Y/N, why would I lie about something like this?”

“You tell me.”

He groans, running his hands through his hair. “Just listen, alright? Just listen. Dumbledore has a cure. He told Moony about it, and he wants you to go and get it done. Dumbledore said this, not me. Dumbledore. If you can't trust him, who the fuck can you trust?”

You blink. You've heard it before, of course, the hope and everything that comes with it, but never from Sirius. Sirius Black, who was always so genuine, who never lies to anyone because he believes life is too short for that kind of thing.

Your heart thunders. “There's a cure?”

Relief floods his face. He stumbles forward, grabs your hands, pulls you into him, and you don't even fight him this time. You just stare up into his eyes, so dark and tormented, but so familiar, too.

“There's a cure,” he says, and it sounds like a prayer, like the first gulp of air someone takes after being submerged in water. “Moony's coming for us this afternoon. He'll take you to Dumbledore.”

You nod, can only nod. And then his words settle, and you draw back, narrowing your eyes. “Us?”

Sirius frowns. “You didn't think I'd let you go on your own, did you?” “Sirius, you can't leave the house,” you say. “The Ministry have eyes everywhere, all searching for you.”

Sirius scoffs. “I didn't become an Animagus for nothing, love.”

“It's too dangerous.”

He groans, throwing his head back like a child having a tantrum; you nearly laugh at him, just manage to swallow it down. “Fuck that! I've already made up my mind.” He looks at you again and taps the tip of your nose. “You're not the only stubborn one in this relationship, I'm afraid.” Before you can reply, he drops your hands and skips towards the staircase. “I'm off to get my nice robes on! This is a celebration, Y/N! A celebration!”

It would be so easy to sneak out as he skips up the stairs and leaves you on your own – but you can't. You stare after him, a tiny smile tugging at your lips. He looks so happy, happier than you've seen him in a while. Hope is not an emotion many wizards have these days, so it's a nice change to see it now. An even better change to see it in Sirius.

----

Lupin leads you to Hogwarts. Of course he does.

The grounds are familiar, even now, so many years later. You remember all of it, from the Astronomy tower to the Womping Willow, Filch's voice forever echoing angrily through the hallways for no reason anyone could pinpoint. It's all the same now as Dumbledore leads you to the infirmary, where a group of robe-clad wizards stand around a single bed, hands folded, waiting for your arrival.

All of it is very formal, and you find yourself reaching for Sirius's hand despite yourself. He's right beside you, having turned back to his human form as soon as you were safely within the walls of the castle. He squeezes your fingers, pulling you that little bit closer to him as you finally stop in front of the group of professionals, all of whom bow their heads, saying nothing.

Dumbledore turns. “Y/N, meet the Mute Brothers.”

You nod, unsure if that is greeting enough. Nobody complains, so you think it's decent.

Dumbledore opens his mouth to continue the introductions, but Sirius cuts him off. At his side, Lupin rolls his eyes, and you have to bite your lip to stop from laughing.

“Sorry, sorry,” Sirius says, stepping forward. “I don't mean to interrupt-”

“But it seems like you will anyway,” says Dumbledore.

“Who are these people? I've never heard of them before in my life.”

“Well,” you mumble, “you were in Azkaban for a while; there's a lot of things you haven't heard of.”

Sirius shoots you a glare. Lupin snickers.

Dumbledore sighs, placing a gentle, bony hand on Sirius's shoulder. “Mr Black, I understand this is a very nerve wracking situation for you; everyone who had the honour of being amongst you during your time at Hogwarts knows just how deeply you care for Y/N-”

“Yeah, so I want to make sure there's no funny business.”

“I have entrusted these men with my life on multiple occasions,” Dumbledore says, even as your cheeks heat up from the oh-so-casual way Sirius said he cared for you. “I would not dream of putting anyone in danger by throwing caution to the wind with something like this. Y/N is in the best hands right now.”

Sirius purses his lips. You step forward, grab his arm and gently draw him back until his back is hitting off your chest, and he's settling into your grip. He keeps his dark eyes trained on the Mute Brothers, all three of whom stand tall, heads ducked down to the point where you can't even make out the shapes of their eyes. They are awfully scary looking, but you trust Dumbledore. You know he would never put you in harms way.

“Now, Y/N,” the headmaster says, motioning to the bed. “If you would like to make yourself comfortable-”

Sirius whirls around and cups your face. You gasp at the sudden contact, find yourself melting into it almost immediately, like it's reflex. His dark eyes bore into yours, and it's only then do you notice the crease between his brows, the slight tremble to his fingers. You cover his hands with your own, giving him a watery smile despite the pain screeching along your spine; it's getting worse. You feel it getting worse just standing there, your body shutting down for no reason at all.

“I'll be okay,” you whisper.

Sirius leans his forehead against yours. “I know you will. I know. Just. . . be brave, okay? I'll be here when it's finished.” He looks at Dumbledore. “Will they be asleep?”

Dumbledore nods.

Sirius closes his eyes, releases a breath before opening them again, giving you a smile that is so forced but so appreciated anyway. “I'll be here when you wake up. I promise.”

You squeeze his wrists. “I know you will.”

And you do. For a reason unclear, a reason that probably makes no sense to the people who know Sirius Black only on the surface, you know he will be there when you open your eyes, that he will be the first face you see, that it will be a moment of bliss after whatever you have been through.

You let go of each other haltingly, fingers lingering on hip bones, eyes refusing to detach until absolutely necessary. You slip past him, slip past Dumbledore, pull yourself onto the bed and do just as Dumbledore requested – you get comfortable. The Mute Brothers glide towards you, robes brushing the squeaky clean floor, and then their hands are on your face, tracing your jaw with fingers made of bone, no flesh, staring down at you with eyes black as pitch, seen only from the vantage you are being granted.

Part of you wants to scream when they touch you, because they're so cold. So unnervingly cold, like they've been dead for centuries. And maybe they have been. With Dumbledore, you never know, can never tell. He gives only the most minor of details and expects you to follow along, and maybe you're dumb for falling for it, again and again and again, but right now, you don't want to die. You will do anything to not die, even if part of you thinks it's what you deserve.

The whispers start shortly after. The room is cast in eerie silence, but it's interrupted by those whispers, sharp and loud in your head. It's weird, how whispers can be the loudest thing in the room when you're the only one listening to them. They bounce around in your skull, words making no sense, spoken in a language you don't know. They're talking about you, about Sirius, about magic and dead men. You snatch words from thin air and translate them as best you can, but your eyes are getting heavier, heavier, heavier, and there's something heavy resting upon your chest, driving you into the mattress until you feel your ribs crack and break beneath the pressure.

You want to scream. You should be screaming, because never before have you felt such mundane pain – and that's what it is. This isn't the pain that comes with a spell, or a flick of a wizards wand. This is the pain a Muggle would feel, and it's weird, unbearable in a different way to anything you've ever felt before.

The whispers get louder, a chant now, like you're in a cult circle, listening to it from the sidelines. You try turning your head, try reaching out for Sirius, try telling him to make it stop, make it stop whilst you're still conscious, but you can't move, and your body isn't cooperating, and then crack, something inside of you snaps.

So mundane. So unbearable. You're being drained.

The pain slides into your chest after a while, and you are still yet to make a noise. Maybe you are asleep. Maybe this is all a dream, and any second now you're going to wake up in bed back at Grimauld's Place, or in Heaven – whichever. At this point, you'll take anything, anywhere over Hogwarts.

The pain in your chest is like an inferno. It burns, burns, burns, smoke rising in your throat, clogging your senses.

And then the darkness floods in.

Maybe the pain gets too much, and that is where it comes from. Maybe you're passing out from blood loss, because even for a wizard that is possible. Maybe this is all part of the spell.

Whatever it is, you let it take you. Anywhere would be better than Hogwarts.

----

“You're gonna make an indent in the floor if you don't sit down.”

Sirius continues to pace, back and forth, back and forth. His thumb nail is lodged between his teeth. His hair has been tugged and combed through with trembling fingers too many times to count. His trench coat has been abandoned; being worked up makes him sweat.

Lupin sighs, head tilted back, legs crossed. The two of them were dismissed to the hallway as soon as you went under, and Sirius hasn't been able to sit down since. He doesn't know how Lupin does it, how he can remain so calm and collected when something like that is happening in the next room over.

“Y/N is going to be absolutely fine, Sirius. Please just have a sip of tea.”

“We don't even know what they're doing,” Sirius replies, shoving Lupin's outstretched arm out the way. “I didn't even ask.”

“You trusted Dumbledore.” A loud sip of tea. “That's all anyone can ever do.”

“Bullshit,” Sirius snaps. “Did you see how creepy them Mute Brothers were? Just standing over us, looking like that fucking Christ the Redeemer statue.”

Lupin sighs. “Dumbledore wouldn't put Y/N in danger. I really think you're looking too much into this.”

“They were on their deathbed a few days ago, Moony,” Sirius grumbles. “Excuse me for being a little on edge.”

Lupin is silent for a moment. Sirius continues to pace, shoving his fingers through his hair yet again. It's the only thing keeping his hands busy, save for punching a wall, which he promised Dumbledore he wouldn't do before he left the infirmary.

“You still really love them, don't you?”

Sirius growls. “Of course I do. You know I do.”

Lupin smirks into his tea, looking at Sirius through lowered lashes; it's his cocky look, his I always knew it look.

Sirius rolls his eyes, flipping his best mate the finger.

“I think it's nice,” says Lupin. “You need a companion.”

“Nobody needs a companion.”

“Well, no, but you certainly need someone keeping an eye on you. You were going mental stuck in that house on your own.”

“Y/N drives me mental, too.”

“But in a good way.” Lupin smirks. “In a way you enjoy.”

Sirius glares at him, hates that he's right. He always felt a little ridiculous not moving on from you – it just felt weird. He read the online articles, locked up in the dorms after you left Hogwarts for good. James would tell him to go to sleep, and Sirius would throw the covers over his head and continue searching the web – yes, the Muggle web – for remedies to heartbreak. Slughorn had already denied him access to all forms of Emotional Numbing potions, so Sirius really was on his own.

The articles always told him time would heal.

Time never healed him.

But now you're back, and you held his hand earlier, and maybe that's enough. Maybe that's a sign. If you get through this, maybe there will be something to salvage...

“Do you remember when you two had your first kiss?”

Sirius closes his eyes. “Why would you bring that up?”

Lupin idly points down the hallway. “It happened right down there, if I remember correctly.”

“I'd prefer if you didn't remember at all. Peeping Tom, are you?”

“Well, neither of you were very subtle about it. I believe James called it desperate.”

Sirius scoffs. “James was always good with his adjectives. The perks of going out with the smartest girl in school.”

“What James and Lily had was beautiful, but what you and Y/N had was necessary.” Lupin pauses. “You were what each other needed.”

Ouch.

Sirius turns away, hiding his face. He doesn't like the cheesy stuff. He hates it, even, finds it difficult to comprehend. His life has been complicated from the moment he was born, dealing with a family that hated everything he loved, then going to school and being known as the idiot troublemaker, then being arrested for something he didn't do – Sirius has never had it easy. It feels weird – wrong, almost – to have you just fall into his life like that, so easily, with no fight whatsoever. You liked Sirius and he loved you, and it was as simple as that – you were his for as long as you allowed, and it kind of felt like Sirius was cheating the system somehow.

But Lupin's an outsider. He saw it happen. If he says it was necessary, then it probably was.

“I can't lose them again, Moony,” Sirius mumbles, voice just above a whisper because he isn't even certain he wants Lupin to hear what he's saying.

Lupin stands, places a timid hand on Sirius's shoulder. “You won't. You've got a tough one there, mate. And promise me, as soon as this is over, you won't fuck it up. I'm not pulling you out of that hole again.”

Sirius punches Lupin in the shoulder. Lupin laughs, makes to punch him back, but the two of them stop dead in their tracks when the door to the infirmary opens and Dumbledore steps out, the Mute Brothers gliding along behind him.

Sirius pulls out of Lupin's grip so forcefully that Lupin stumbles back and has to catch himself on the wall. Sirius doesn't even care, dashing up to Dumbledore, trying to run right past him until Lupin catches his arm and drags him back.

“How are they?” Lupin asks, panting.

Dumbledore nods, solemn as always. “Resting. All was well.”

Sirius could cry. He could genuinely cry, can feel the tears rising in his throat. He should say something, a thank you or a good job, offer them a fucking chicken curry or something – anything to express his gratitude right now, but he can't bring himself to talk. He turns, buries his head in Lupin's neck. Lupin laughs heartily, clapping a hand to Sirius's shoulder.

“Thank you,” he says. “Thank you so much.”

“You should know, however,” Dumbledore begins, and Sirius stiffens, doesn't lift his head, “that their magic has been drained.”

Sirius looks up. “What?”

Dumbledore sighs and steps forward. Sirius takes a step back.

“What the fuck do you mean their magic has been drained?”

“Sirius-”

“What the fuck do you mean!”

“Y/N was dying because they suppressed their magic for too long,” Dumbledore replies, and the calmness to his tone makes Sirius see red. Only Lupin's hand on his arm keeps him from jumping forward, ripping the heads off the creepy bastards standing like palace guards behind Dumbledore. “It was eating them from the inside out. The way to cure that was to drain them of magic completely.”

Sirius's stomach twists. You promised never to use magic ever again. It was pointless having it, and he knows that, he can understand that, but a wizard is what you are, what you have always been. In use or not, magic was once who you were; what person can hear that part of themselves has been ripped out of them without feeling heartbreak?

“They might be a little shaken,” Dumbledore continues. “Most people who wake from this procedure take a few hours to fully come back around.”

“What did you actually do?” Sirius whispers. “I want the truth, Albus, or so help me-”

“Sirius.”

He closes his eyes, inhales deeply, tries to keep himself sane. It's getting more and more difficult these days. He isn't sure he wants to keep trying.

“You can go and see them right away if you like,” Dumbledore continues. “Just be wary.” He glances over his shoulder at his comrades. “Thank you, fellows. I'll lead you out.”

And then he walks away.

As soon as he's out of sight, Sirius breaks free of Lupin's grip and dashes into the infirmary.

There you are, sweat dribbling down your forehead, skin peaked, hands trembling. Your eyes are cold, but you're not sleeping, just resting, just gathering your wits.

Sirius drops to his knees by your bed, whispering words even he doesn't understand. You flinch.

“Please don't whisper. Please speak up.”

Sirius brushes your hair from your face, tangled in sweat. “I'm sorry. I'm so sorry. I should never have left.”

“Where's my magic?” you ask, eyes still closed, a hint of desperation in your voice. “Why do I feel so light?”

Sirius closes his eyes. “They took it. They drained you. They – they said it was the only way to keep you alive.”

“It hurt. It really, really hurt.”

“You were asleep, love. They put you under-”

“I was asleep, but I felt everything.” You open your eyes, bloodshot, dark, haunted. “Am I going to live now?”

And that's just it, isn't it? That's what you came here for, and that's what you were given, no matter how you acquired it. A life for. . . .well, a life, because that's what magic is. Life. A way of life. A different way of life.

Sirius leans forward, forehead brushing your palm. Your fingers twitch, uncertain for only a moment before you raise your trembling arm and brush them through his hair. When he glances up, you're smiling softly.

“Am I going to live now, Sirius?” you repeat.

He nods, tears springing to his eyes. “Yes, my love. You're going to live.”

----

“I never thought you'd end up with a Muggle,” Ron says to Sirius. “Bet your great-great grandfather or whatever is turning in his bloody grave.”

You throw a can at him, hitting him in the forehead. “Don't call me a Muggle.”

“I believe the definition of Muggle is defined by 'non-magic folk.” Ron pops a grape in his mouth. “Which is essentially what you are.”

“Shut up, ginger,” says Sirius. They are all sat at the table this evening, Lupin, Harry, Ron, Hermione, Sirius and yourself. The moon has risen, and Sirius declared it was time for a game of cards. As of yet, no cards have been served, and all that has gone down is arguing.

“Will your kids be magic folk, then?” Harry asks, and he seems genuinely interested; Harry always seems genuinely interested when it comes to things about the wizard world, like he wants to absorb as much information as he can, make up for those eleven years he spent with the Dursleys.

Sirius shoots you a glance over his shoulder, an eyebrow raised. “Would you prefer magic kids or non-magic kids?”

You smirk, looking right back at him. “Let's worry about kids when you're not the most wanted man on the planet.”

Sirius pouts, standing up and waltzing over to you. Behind him, the four at the table get into a conversation of their own, though you have the tiniest suspicion that none of them are awfully interested in what the other has to say now that they have the chance to peek you and Sirius being affectionate. It's still so new to them, besides Lupin, who only cares because he feels half-responsible for the fact you and Sirius are currently engaged.

You're leant against the counter when Sirius reaches you. He wraps his arms around your waist, tugs you forward until your hip bones clip with his own, chests nearly touching. You look up at him and grin, tongue peaking from behind your teeth. Sirius beams right back.

“Do you wanna leave these lot to clean up on their own?” he asks, voice low, probably not low enough.

You chuckle. “No.”

“Why not?”

“Because that would be mean. Half them cans are yours, anyway.”

Sirius rolls his eyes, pushing his forehead into yours. “But we gave them a place to stay. The least they can do is throw my cans away whilst I take my beautiful fiancée to bed.”

“What are you implying, Sirius Black?”

“That I am very exhausted, and I kind of wanted to spend the night with you before these brats decided to ruin it.”

“Oi!” Harry exclaims. “We can still hear you!”

Sirius flicks his wand. The kitchen door slams shut, making you jump at the volume. Sirius pulls you back into him and nuzzles his head in your neck, black curls scratching your cheek. Even after everything that's happened, pressing your hand to his chest still lets you feel the magic thrumming through his body, so familiar as you once held it yourself.

It's gone, but you don't mind. In fact, you find yourself happier, doing things you used to love now that your body isn't attacking you from every angle.

“Are you seriously not going to come upstairs with me?” Sirius mumbles against your neck. “I got you to sneak into the boys dormitory back at school, I can get you to come upstairs to our shared bed.”

“You can't make me do anything.”

“You've never been able to resist when I ask nicely.”

You roll your eyes, slapping the back of his neck so he pulls away, pouting. “You're such an idiot; I'll go upstairs with you, but you have to explain where we disappeared to.”

Sirius grins, already dragging you towards the staircase before your sentence is even finished. “That's fine. That's perfectly fine. I can do that.”

“I'm sure they know anyway,” you mumble.

“Yes, we do!” Lupin calls. “Have fun, you two!”

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