#the frustrating ordeal that is speaking two languages and none at all at the same time

[moonieloves]

nico the italian speaker

so i was talking to a friend about whether nico speaks italian or not and these are the conclusions we reached.

would have nico spoken italian when he first got to the us? yes, of course he would have. i feel like maria di angelo would have put a lot of weight into carrying on with traditions, and all that stuff. up until this point, italian is all nico ever knew. somebody might argue about him speaking venetian dialect, which i think is highly likely, but the point is sometimes the language in which lullabies were sung to us sticks. once you call the person that gave birth to you 'mamma' the first time, you don't really change it up.

did bianca speak italian? obviously. i also think that she would have been taken by the american dream quicker than her other family members, and she would have been the one to speak english with nico the most.

the lotus casino must have been were nico really learnt english, i reckon. before that, there always was someone to talk to in italian if he felt too lazy to express his feeling in this other, strange-sounding idom. now, though, there's no one else, and bianca sometimes slips up but she mostly sticks to english. the occasional italian word sometimes comes up in conversation when they can't remember what the correspective in english is, but that's about it. bianca wants them to adapt, and adapt nico does.

by the time they get to westover, nico has mostly forgotten how to speak italian, even though he still understands pretty much everything. even when bianca talks to him in italian, he answers in english. maybe he lost the ability to speak italian too quickly for it to be normal, but he's like ten, and not aware at all that he spent the last eighty years practicing his english with strangers in front of vintage video games. he really doesn't care, he just knows that this new sparkly world that is revealing itself in front of him speaks english in a nonchalant, given-for-granted way, and so he tries to do the same.

bianca was literally the only other person that even knows he supposedly speaks a whole other language. when she dies, everything wipes itself out. it hurts too much to remember how her voice sounded a bit deeper in italian than it did in english, and so he forgets it all together, along with his own ability to understand italian. the memory stays, but now that her words don't make sense in his head anymore, not really, he doesn't have to feel pain pulse inside his ribs that badly.

oh, it still frustrates him sometimes. sometimes, he won't remember how to name a certain object in italian, nor in english, and he is left to angrily sputter around. sometimes he can't wrap his mouth around the pronunciation of a certain word, because he just learned to do things another way even if he doesn't really remember. his english vocabulary could really use some improving, and his italian vanishes a bit more every day. but by the time hoo happens, i'd say, most of his accent has washed out, and he sounds properly american now. for the most part. he still dreams in italian sometimes, even if he doesn't understand half of it, and maria di angelo will always be 'mamma' in his head.

[trials-by-blood]

Male with Gender Neutral S/O. S/O is protective over their Yautja. One day, on the mothership, a female gets interested in the male. S/O firmly shows the male is theirs. Male is very impressed by their antics. (If possible, make it naughty ish. Like pulling on Yautja tresses. I apologize if that makes you uncomfortable. I don’t know what you’re rules are.)

Okay so, It’s done! Like another prompt, I decided I should consciously try to be concise and cap it off before going over 2500 words or else it could go on and on. Unfortunately, this couldn’t be naughty because I’ve made the decision to keep this blog at a PG-13 rating. I wound up RBing my original post (The one announcing open asks) with a loose outline of my rules after receiving this very ask. Yeah, I kinda had that “Uh-oh, I forgot the most important step” moment. 

This one sort of ran in a few unexpected and at times turbulent directions. I hope you enjoy this reply although it veered a little off course.

-Ghardeh-

The ooman was always a pain. Ghardeh called them H’ko. It was literally the word for no. Why did Ghardeh call the ooman this? Because it was the first word in Ghardeh’s language that they had learned and one they loved to use. No, no, no. “No” to proper clothing in the current yaut fashions, “No” to any food item they found suspicious, “No” to bathwater heated too hot, “No” to sleeping in the kehrite as unblooded should, “No” to observing Ghardeh’s hunts via a live stream transmitted from the eye lenses of his helm because they did not like the idea of possibly witnessing their companion’s death in real-time. A definite “NO” to learning to hunt as well. They didn’t have any interest in hunting to prove themselves. 

H’ko, H’ko, H’ko. Ghardeh had heard the word in that terrible accent so many times he’d begun mockingly repeating it back to the ooman out of frustration, eventually, it became their pet-name, and later it became a term of endearment. Ghardeh had long given up on the notion that H’ko would ever become a warrior, but that was fine, the ooman was proficient in mechanics and electrical work and it was a respectable profession for an ooman.

Bound for the Clan ship, Ghardeh did not worry much about the ooman’s safety. His clan worked with oomans regularly and in H’ko’s case, as they weren’t a warrior and wore typical ooman dressings, the people would regard them with the same scrutiny as the unblooded: well beneath the gaze of warriors. And yautja women? Well, they ignored their male counterparts ninety percent of the time too, doubtful they’d even register H’ko’s presence at all. Other yautja should simply pretend H’ko didn’t exist as they tagged along safe and sound under Ghardeh’s left arm, and if anyone spared them a second glance it would likely be assumed that H’ko’s role was that of a hired repairer and no more.

Ghardeh had prepped H’ko very sternly and more than once for this visit. Speak to no one above their rank. Do not make prolonged eye contact as it is seen as a challenge. The breeding season is near so if a female propositions, allow Ghardeh to decline and do not intercede. That last instruction was very important. 

Ghardeh had known that humans were often monogamous, and when asked H’ko confirmed that they would prefer not to share Ghardeh’s romantic attention with others. This was one of the many compromises in their unusual partnership. Ghardeh would sleep and engage in sex acts with H’ko and only H’ko, but they had agreed to allow Ghardeh to donate reproductive material non-sexually to females if it was asked of him. Ghardeh had to explain to the ooman: if you are a strong warrior and a fine hunter, it is your duty to contribute your traits to the next generation. They had accepted that aspect of yautja culture begrudgingly, taking a long time to think through and voice all concerns about it just as Ghardeh had done as well when it became apparent that his ooman companion did not enjoy the notion of their mate being dragged to a stranger’s bed chambers if a proposition was accepted. The ordeal of Yaut mating practices also seemed to upset them. A female will usually test a warrior to be absolutely certain that she’d chosen a sire well. This often involves dangerous feats or enduring a physical altercation. H’ko had been unhappy with the very common occurrence of males limping their way home after a failed encounter with a choosy woman.

Ghardeh was merely reviewing all of this information in his head whilst he lied on his back and massaged at the stress crease in his forehead with his knuckles. Tucked against his left side and in the crook of his arm was H’ko, snoring and blissfully unaware of Ghardeh’s anxiety. H’ko would be relatively safe for sure, but something always went wrong when he tried to bring them aboard the Clan Ship. Last time, H’ko accidentally got dragged off with another group of oomans after being mistaken for a member of an ambassadorial tour group. None of the actual ambassadors had the gall to inform their extraordinarily intimidating guide that H’ko was just some random person who was grabbed, scolded for wandering off -which they had, but not from that group-, and herded along with the rest of the soft little aliens. Ghardeh was tempted to tether H’ko to his own body this time, so they couldn’t move more than ten feet from him.

Ghardeh sat up and scrubbed a knuckle against his closed eyes as he prepared to leave the bed, then let a hand fall on H’ko’s shoulder to gently shake them awake. It was time to dress, eat, and prepare. 

Docking went smoothly, and disembarking was uneventful as well. They were greeted by Chulonte, a friend and hunt brother who knew H’ko well and even dipped his head slightly to acknowledge their presence.

“The meeting place has been reserved, we should go now, the others have already gathered,” Chulonte told them briskly before turning away and leading them on.

Ghardeh leaned toward H’ko and dropped a hand on their shoulder. “We’ll acquire a midday meal after the meeting, just the two of us.”

Ghardeh was pleased when H’ko gave him an earnest closed-mouth grin. H’ko liked when they ate alone yet in public. Called them “dates”. 

-Taylor-

Ghardeh was in the meeting with his equals, a loose coalition of hunters each with their own private hunting vessels who always coordinated with one another so that their time hunting on various worlds did not overlap. Apparently, there were laws in place to prevent over-hunting on some planets and to avoid over-exposure on others. Taylor was told to wait outside with Chulonte’s hounds. They were big ugly scaly beasts. One had a face like a cross between an English Bulldog and a cod, the other was nothing but a fangy maw of teeth and horny protuberances growing from its back but they were rather friendly, at least toward Taylor. Taylor wasn’t completely fluent in the Yautja dialects but it had seemed that, as a favor to Ghardeh, Chulonte had given his hunting hounds a command to guard the tiny human among them. The animals hovered close to where the human sat and would stand from their seated positions if any passerby veered too close. Taylor chanced a hand at petting them, Bulldog Face kept dropping his enormous head into the human’s lap for more attention, Spikey Back wasn’t into it and lied down just out of reach.

A group of women began to form nearby, but not too close, as Spikey Back had stood and shown the lot of them his teeth when they tried to form a cluster too near to where Taylor sat waiting for Ghardeh. Taylor could hear this and that which was said among the women. Some of the discussion was pretty damn raunchy. They were here to find action and had planned to greet the hunters when they conclude their meeting and disperse. They said things about what they wanted to do to the hunters they had chosen, sometimes what tests of strength and resilience they were expected to endure, but more often the discussions leaned heavily into overtly explicit themes. The woman who wanted Chulonte wanted to see if he could track by scent as accurately as his hounds could and if he succeeded in this test she would, and Taylor could only partially decipher the phrase, “??? him so ??? that his spine comes undone from his pelvis”. It made Taylor’s skin crawl, especially when all of the women laughed approvingly at what the other had said. Taylor hoped it was a lesser evil in being just a filthy joke but given how tall and strong they appeared, and how dangerous Ghardeh had told Talyor they were, they wondered if they really could injure their partners in such a way. It certainly seemed possible.

Taylor felt tension building in their chest. They heard them name off nearly all the hunters they’d seen enter the meeting room and every brutal ordeal they wished to subject them to, and it was only a matter of time before Taylor heard Ghardeh’s name. It happened, and when it did, the human’s pet name was mentioned as well. 

“Ghardeh is a difficult one to persuade, too difficult to bother with up until now. He now has rank advancements, clearly enough to afford him a live trophy. That’s worth some regard, but how to get rid of H’ko long enough to have adequate time with the man?”

“Seems like Chulonte’s dogs make fine enough guardians for it. Let us coordinate our liaisons then-”

Taylor couldn’t keep their mouth shut. They’d been infuriated by three ugly words. Live Trophy and, It.

“I am NOT a Live Trophy! And Ghardeh is NOT available for your abuse!” They shouted, causing both of the hounds to jerk to attention and search for a threat to their charge.

-Ghardeh-

Ghardeh had correctly predicted that the meeting would go very much as it had in all of the previous seasons, a few smooth agreements, a few disputes, a fight or two, and then they’d leave and continue about their personal business. He left that meeting room with lunch on his mind and the expectation that H’ko would be clamoring for a meal as well, he had not anticipated being met with the sight of them dangling from the grip of Dar-bak’di, the most fearsome of the local young women who roved in a pack during the breeding season. H’ko was kicking and gasping for air as they flailed in her grip, Chul’s hounds were being bribed into complicity by the other women offering them whatever morsels they had in their bags, and Dar-bak’di was making a show of how easily she could destroy a mere ooman. Now it was Ghardeh shouting H’ko! H’ko!

It took a great deal of convincing to get Dar-bak’di to release H’ko, and the limit of her mercy was to drop the gasping ooman on top of Ghardeh and call them both abominable, in addition to accusing Ghardeh of something akin to bestiality. Dar’bak-di had smelt Ghardeh’s amorous n'dui'se all over his ooman companion and she refused to believe it when she was told that H’ko was a legally hired mechanic. To perform mating practices with species classified as prey was frowned upon, but not against any written law. The truth of the matter was, H’ko was unbelievably lucky to survive the encounter and had, hopefully, learned something from it. 

-

The ooman did not argue or make a fuss on the way home, and whether they liked it or not they were carried. The bruising around their neck was already blooming into hot red blotches. Ghardeh said nothing of it but make no mistake, he was furious. He’d told H’ko in no ambiguous words not to engage in conversation much less an altercation with yautja women! And what did they do, start a fight they could never under any circumstances survive on their own.

Upon his Vessel, Ghardeh placed H’ko in bed and with the intention of letting them sleep the ordeal off. After leaving the room, he went to the galley to serve himself a drink before grabbing the kit to treat severe bruising, but heard the soft soles of H’ko’s feet padding behind him.

“Go back to the bed and rest,” Ghardeh told the ooman flatly without turning to look at them as he poured a glass of c’ntlip.

“They were saying terrible things,”

Ghardeh sighed and set aside the decanter before taking the first sip and responding.

“They’re lonely and horny, of course they were speaking in lewdisms. I warned you that they would speak this way about whatever they set their longing eyes upon.”

“But it was about you and-”

“I don’t care what was said about me! You disobeyed the most important instruction I have ever given you! You could have been rent to pieces! You directly challenged an individual no less than twice your height and perhaps four times your weight! Worse still, she was legally in the right to throw you through a wall if she wanted to!”

“She called me a Live Trophy!” H’ko shouted through a snarl.

The tone immediately triggered Ghardeh’s expression to twist and eyes to darken as he postured for a fight -albiet only a verbal one- but the words gave him a reason to pause as he processed what was said. Live Trophy, it was nothing else but a slur, and H’ko’s anger was justified. H’ko tended to show a fear response with tears and soft whines when they were angered, though, which Ghardeh was always bewildered by. A show of anger more familiar to Ghardeh had come first this time, perhaps because his own mannerisms had begun to rub off on the ooman, so a second pause was taken to scrutinize H’ko’s face. Ah, the grimace and tears were building behind the facade. Ghardeh deflated.

“She called you a Live Trophy?” he asked, softly this time as not to elevate H’ko’s anger further.

It was too late to abate the ooman’s upset. Fat droplets ran down their rounded face and they stopped making their oh-so-important eye contact as they nodded to confirm that, yes, they’d been called a live trophy.

Ghardeh moved in to close the distance between them in two strides before dropping both hands on his ooman mate’s shoulders with a great sigh. 

“We will treat the bruising on your neck, then we will prepare a meal on our ship, then we should talk about what happened.” 

H’ko did that typical human thing by saying nothing and gripping the yautja around the waist in an embrace. Ghardeh tried the rumble affectionately, but frankly, he was now furious beyond belief for all new reasons. Live Trophy. Had he known such a term had been thrown at his companion, he’d have been inclined to challenge her too.

“You were brave Tay-Lar, for defending your honor.”

“Really?”

“Yes,” Ghardeh said with a genuine growl of approval this time, stroking the back of his companion’s round head.

[winetae]

wall to wall (m.) 01

↳ in a pornographic movie, refers to a series of sex scenes with no plot.

⇁ female reader x hoseok 

⇁ smut, porn star!au

⇁ sex work, insecurity, jealousy, slut shaming/objectification (not the sexy kind), role played scenario that includes: d/s dynamics - dom!hoseok, porn star level dirty talk, stuff that should never happen in a kitchen bc hygiene, daddy kink, impreg kink, rough sex, spanking, a lot of finger sucking, this fic is a poor attempt at social commentary

⇁ 22.5k

. . .

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 | inspired by the piece ‘slut-shaming: pornstars are humans too’ & the life after porn documentaries on netflix. thank u to jordan, eva, amy, venus, addie and lu for being a part of this collab !! *inserts a million heart emojis and a big fat NUT emoticon*

re:warnings, the slut shaming is done by others and can also be considered as internalized oppression. it’s something the reader struggles with and eventually works to overcome. this first part isn’t as smutty as the second but regardless i hope u can bear with me lol. ty, as always, for giving my writing a chance. i hope u enjoy it or at least take something from it !

wall2wall can be read as a sequel to my fic money shot. same disclaimer applies: this story does claim to accurately portray the world of adult entertainment

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SCENE 01 - YOU’VE GOT MALE. TAKE 01. ROLL A.

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Today is just one of those days you wish you had slept straight through. Maybe if you had, you wouldn’t be dying from the sheer dullness of having nothing to do.

You huff out a sigh, bored out of your goddamn mind.

Head cradled in the crook of your left palm, you use your available hand to refresh your instagram feed. Much to your disappointment, nothing new shows up. The same video of a dog chasing its own tail plays on but you pay it no heed, the novelty having worn off after the first few times.

The next half hour passes by in a similar fashion, each result proving to be as unavailing as the last. You’d think that after a while you’d give up and find a new distraction to pass the time but whether out of habit or boredom-induced insanity, you persist with your fruitless attempts.

Today really fucking blows, you think glumly, the curve of your mouth thinning into a grimace. As the adorable corgie keeps the infernal cycle going, yapping and running around incessantly, you’re struck with a terrifying thought. Maybe this is how you will die - condemned to live your life stuck in the worst sort of monotony imaginable.

What you had expected to be a “quick and easy” shoot has turned into a tedious ordeal that you don’t see ending anytime soon. And whilst on-set complications and prolongations are frequent enough that they’re almost expected, today really takes the cake. Even during your rookie days, you can’t recall running into delays of this scale.

To top it off, the weather app announces a record-breaking heat - which in itself is bad enough. As luck would have it, it gets worse. The place rented out for today’s filming lacks proper air conditioning, equipped instead with electric fans that look like they’ve been around since the 1980s.

A quick glance into the vanity mirror confirms that you look as frazzled as you feel. Because of the humidity level that weighs down the air, your hair is in a right state. You fight a grimace off your face. The straggly hair coupled with the oily sheen on your face...it’s far from your best look, to say the least.

And to think thousands of people will get to see it up close in 1080p resolution... It’s a terrifying concept.

You’re already dreading the upcoming sex scenes that you’ve yet to film. It’s always a messy affair - fluids of all kind end up literally everywhere - but the sweltering heat undoubtedly makes it ten times worse. A shudder works its way down your spine.

Frankly speaking, the mere thought of having hot and wild sex in these less than ideal working conditions kills your libido. Under the glaring studio lights, surrounded by sweaty crewmen and pressed up an equally feverish body - it’s basically the porn equivalent of a fuckin’ barbecue party.

Yeah, no thanks. You’d rather be at home, with the air conditioner at full blast, nestled in the comfy cushions of your sofa as you marathon a series of your choice on netflix. Only the promised sum of money keeps you from bolting and calling it quits altogether.

“So when are you gonna drop the new boy toy?” a voice buzzes in your ear not unlike a pesky fly.

Tempting as it is to ignore it, you peel your eyes away from your reflection just in time to catch Seokjin shoot you the most unimpressed look in his repertoire, one perfectly groomed eyebrow arched in judgment.

In the background, an old ceiling fan whirs on but does nothing to cool you off. If anything, its constant rattling only exacerbates your growing headache.

“What are you talking about?" You flick a piece of imaginary lint off your dressing robe, your tone neutral.

Seokjin’s brown eyes see right through your feigned air of indifference. Months of working by your side have made him an expert at reading your body language, be it naked or clothed. A wolfish grin adorns his face as he swoops in for the kill.

“Oh come on. You know exactly who I’m talking about. Jongmin. He’s short - comes up to right about here.” Seokjin holds a hand up to his chest to illustrate his point, deliberately shaving off a few inches off your boyfriend’s height in order to antagonize you.

You bite the inside of your cheek, careful not to spit out the retort that’s perched on the tip of your tongue. It takes a great deal of effort to unclench the muscles in your jaw but you manage to school your features into an expression of polite confusion.

Seokjin frowns, dissatisfied with your lack of response. You don’t need to be a mind reader to know that he’s currently thinking of new ways to provoke you.

When the silence stretches on and he’s yet to riposte, you allow yourself  to relax again, believing that he’s given up on being an asshole.

To your chagrin, you’re sorely mistaken. The last of your self-restraint is finally put to the test as his next words do nothing to quell your irritation.

“Jongmin.” He repeats slowly, like you need it spelled out for you. “He follows you around everywhere like a lap dog. It’d be cute if it wasn’t so, you know, pathetic.”

“His name is Jimin,” you correct for the nth time.

Instantly, you reprimand yourself for playing into his games and granting him the attention he so craves. Fulfilling his twisted desire is the last thing you hope to achieve. Staying silent would be the sensible thing to do but your brain completely bypasses the memo. The moment your mouth opens it’s impossible to quash the urge to justify yourself.

Maybe it’s your pride coming into play. Maybe it’s Seokjin’s uncanny ability to get under anyone’s skin at will. Whatever the case may be, you stammer out, on the defensive, “And he’s not my 'boy toy'. We - it’s not - we’re dating.” But the word feels like a weight on your tongue. You swallow.

The statement earns you a scoff of incredulity. “Dating? Him?”

You finally set your phone down and aim a glare his way, abandoning all pretense at being indifferent because—Jesus. Is the idea of you dating that unfathomable? He’s never been this worked up over any of your other relationships. Granted, none of them have ever lasted this long but is it really any of his business who you choose to see in your free time?

“I don’t get what your problem is. What’s so wrong with me dating?”

“Have you seen who you’re dating?”

“And what’s that supposed to mean?!”

While this isn’t the first time your agent lets a judgmental comment slip from between his pearly white teeth, it’s usually not laced with spite. Seokjin is never outright hostile, preferring sweet words of manipulation and thinly-veiled insults to shows of aggression. The attempt to get a rise out of you does not go by unnoticed. His anger, this time, feels personal.

You wrack your brain, quickly sifting through your recent memories to try and figure out why he’s chosen to be such an ass today. You’re certain that you’ve filled out all the necessary paperwork required to proceed with today’s filming, and yes, after thinking it over, you know that you went to the obligatory medical checkup last week. So there really is no reason for him to bitch at you unless—

The proverbial light bulb flickers on and it all suddenly makes sense.

You’re willing to bet a hefty sum of money that the high-paying gig you turned down two weekends ago is to blame for his abnormal crotchety behavior.

Yes, that would explain it.

Due to Seokjin's well-known propensity to hold a grudge for longer than average, the odds that he’s still hung up over the lost deal are pretty high. And as much as his disappointment and frustration are understandable from a business standpoint, you don’t appreciate being used as a verbal punching bag for him to expel all those pent-up feelings.

Seokjin hums, a knowing smirk pulling the sides of his mouth upwards. Fleetingly, and not for the first time, you find it a shame that his cockiness tarnishes his otherwise handsome face. “I give it another couple of days until you get bored. How long has this gone on for? A month? How are you not yanking out your hair from the sheer boredom of dating...that."

A muscle in your jaw ticks.

“He’s not Voldemort, you coward. Would it honestly kill you to say his name?” Seokjin’s expression begs to differ. You cut him off before he can add fuel to the fire. “And I won’t get bored. Jimin’s - he’s a perfectly nice guy. We’ve been seeing each other just fine—not that it’s any of your concern.”

“Yes, he’s nice,” Seokjin concedes easily, brushing off any attempts at putting an end to the conversation. He grins, wide and smug, like he knows you can’t refute what he’ll say next. “Perfectly nice and boring. The kind of guy you’d bring back home if your parents were straight-laced folks that wanted to marry you off to a choir boy. Seriously, how the fuck did a guy like him end up in the porn industry? He belongs in a church or, I dunno, maybe some neighborhood book club - not behind a camera filming you getting flogged by a daddy dom.”

You sniff. “Just because he tucks his shirts in doesn’t—”

“It’s not just the shirts, honey.” He leans over to pat your hand in a gesture of consolation. Used to his antics, his attempt is easily blocked by a swat of your hand.

You muster the dirtiest look you’re capable of, the kind of look that sends men to early graves, but he simply smiles in response, completely unfazed.

Any person with the minimum amount of tact would know to politely change the subject. It’s unfortunate that your agent does not belong to that pool of individuals, choosing instead to be selectively blind to overt social cues.

He continues on, unperturbed, like he has a point to prove. “Believe it or not, I know you. Sometimes, for whatever reason, perhaps a lapse in judgement but who the fuck knows, you like to venture out of your comfort zone and experiment. Like with the chickenshit gingerbread spice concoctions they come out with at Starbucks to celebrate turkey season and Christmas or the cream cheese makis they make for the white crowd who want to eat sushi but don’t like anything other than white rice and seaweed. And, trust me, while I’m all for diversity and broadening your personal experiences, don’t you think there’s a reason why you always go back to your preferred choice of an iced latte with two sugars?”

“Did you just compare Jimin to a gingerbread latte?”

Okay, so admittedly you’ve made some questionable food and beverage choices in the past, but the comparison is a fucking reach. 

“You’re absolutely right." Seokjin gives a firm nod of his head, his expression serious. "Now that you mention it, he’s definitely a vanilla soy. Bland and boring. Targeted towards the middle-aged soccer moms that think veganism is a trend, not a lifestyle. Wants to be a people-pleaser but misses the mark.”

“I didn’t know it was Share Your Unwanted Opinion Time,” you grind out from behind a strained smile. “If I had, I would have said something about your receding hairline earlier.”

It’s a low blow but the way Seokjin’s plump lips curl in displeasure makes the dig worth it. One of his hands automatically shoot up to flatten the bangs that are usually slicked back with copious amounts of gel.

Offended, he spits, “It’s not receding! There’s a difference between premature balding and a bleach job gone wrong.”

"I'm not sure people care to differentiate. Looks like a receding hairline to me." You shrug while picking at your nails. “You’re nearing that age, too, so.”

“You just try looking this good at 30. Fucking try.” 

He waits for a reply but your interest has already waned. You scroll through your phone, bored once more.

Seokjin makes a disgruntled noise in the back of his throat at the clear dismissal. You swear you hear him grumble under his breath - something along the lines of never going blonde again - but can’t find it in you to care, not when he’s finally ceased his nagging.

"Filming in twenty!" someone shouts from outside the door.

"They’re running behind schedule," Seokjin notes after glancing down at his gold wristwatch. "How can they take more than an hour to fix the lighting? Tch. Bunch of fuckin’ amateurs."

He aims a glare in your direction as if their incompetence is somehow your fault. 

You have half a mind to glower back but miraculously withhold your sentiments. Admittedly, he isn’t wrong - the team you’re working with today keeps committing blunders even rookies wouldn’t dare perpetrate - but you’d rather get your driving license revoked forever than to acknowledge that Seokjin’s right and inflate his already unnaturally huge ego.

Something heavy plops into your lap. When you look down, the glossy surface of a magazine reflects the harsh lights suspended over the vanity table back at you.

“I didn’t want to resort to this but you leave me no choice,” he says in response to your look of confusion.

“What’s this?”

You hold up the magazine expecting the worst. It’s heavy in your hands, the pages thicker than the gossip rags you’d find in a dentist’s waiting room. 

“’s the newest issue. Came out this morning. I’d actually like it back once you’re done because I haven’t finished reading it and God knows how hard it was to get my—hey, you can stop flicking aimlessly, I saved you the trouble and bookmarked the page,” Seokjin explains a bit impatiently.

When you shoot him a glance, his attention is trained on your face, not the magazine. He barely blinks. Like a snake honing in on its prey. And that kind of intense focus - that can’t be good. After all, you’ve known Seokjin long enough to suspect that whatever trick he has up his sleeve will give him the advantage he needs to deliver the killing blow.

Gingerly, you flip through the pages like you’re afraid the magazine might self-destruct in your hands. Which would be a waste, in your opinion, since Exquis is a damn good magazine - perhaps less intellectual than Playboy, but definitely classier than Hustler. Its reputation speaks for itself. Known for hiring the best photographers and carefully combing through their models, it’s selective, only picking the cream of the cr—

Everything around you stills.

Your eyes narrow at the spread because there, on the page Seokjin’s taken great care to bookmark, a model poses provocatively on a lounge chaise near a crystal clear pool. It’s similar to a shoot you’ve done in the past but you can tell right away that the quality of this is above and beyond anything you’ve ever done. The lighting is better, heck even the barely-there-swimsuit looks like it costs ten times more than whatever you had been told to throw on at the time.

The vexation you feel only worsens once it finally registers who the model is. Her youthful and pretty face carries a permanent haughtiness that not even makeup or acting can entirely mask.

The pages crease in your hold as you flick through the rest of the spread dedicated to the up and coming talents. With every new page that has her plastered on its glossy surface you feel your stomach sink. 

2...3...4...

“Five pages,” you curse under your breath. For a magazine this renowned, it’s...a lot. Commendable, even. Your nose crinkles. “Well, fuck. me. sideways.”

Seokjin gloats, reveling in your outrage. “Hmph. I told you, didn’t I? Passing up the opportunity to work with Kim Namjoon would come and bite you in the ass.”

“Aha! So you have been a little bitch because I refused to shoot with Namjoon.” You whirl around in your chair and use the magazine to jab him in the chest. He easily steps aside, avoiding your attempt at wrinkling his trademark Armani button-down shirt.

“It was the chance of a lifetime and you knew it.” He turns his nose up and sniffs.

“That’s what you said about filming with Min Yoongi last month.” You roll your eyes. “I can’t take you seriously if you’re gonna say the same thing every time a new guy shows up.”

“Shooting with Agust D did help you gain some mainstream popularity. You’ve gotten love calls for catalog printings and your name is now automatically on the invite sheet for every C-list event in town. Namjoon would have given you another needed boost.” Seokjin folds his arms, lecturing mode switched on. You struggle with the instinctive urge to tune him out. “Sure, he’s got a niche audience, but he’s famous in his field and it would have helped expand your fa—“

“Not to kink shame or anything because we don’t do that, but Namjoon is a freak. And don’t deny it, I’ve seen his videos.”

“He’s specialized in particular—“

“You were the one telling me not to film all sorts of shit right off the bat,” you cut in, refusing to back down from your stance. There’s no way you’ll let him sweet-talk you out of this one, not after the multiple videos of Namjoon you’d binged one weekend. “Stick to one story.”

“Well, we’re not exactly ‘right off the bat’ anymore, are we? We’ve passed that stage. Right now is a crucial time in your career so you’ve got to make it count. Filming rehashed videos of the same pizza delivery guy scenario gets boring and fast. As pretty as you are, you’re not offering anything new to the table, are you?”

Fuck him. He’s right and you know it. 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.

Still. “I refuse to work with a guy whose porn alias is Cock Monster.”

“Beggars can’t be choosers.”

“Well I said no,” you insist stubbornly.

“Well if you had said yes, maybe it would be your ass cheeks getting their own two page spread in Exquis instead,” jabs Seokjin, hitting you where it hurts. 

Ugh. The reminder that Joy’s bested you yet again riles you up even more. That, coupled with the likelihood of your career ending imminently, makes you stop and think.

Your agent goes on to say, “Don’t you want the AVN for best newcomer? Where did that competitive edge go? At the rate this is going, Joy’s going to steal it from right under your nose.”

“Like fucking hell,” you hiss. The magazine bends under the strength of your grip. “That one’s mine.”

You absolutely refuse to lose out to her. Every fiber of your being rejects the idea of letting her one-up you again.

“Not if you don’t start branching out. The last time you did anything substantial or interesting was about a month ago. It’s already old news. People are going to forget you shot that sequence altogether if you don’t do anything that puts you back on the map.”

A pause. “…I really don’t want to film with someone who willingly named himself Cock Mons—”

“Fine.” Seokjin heaves a resigned sigh. “You don’t have to fuck the monster willy. Willy monster? Hm. Wouldn’t it make more sense to name himself Monster Cock and not Cock Monster? Wonder why he does th—”

You suppress a snort. “Please spare me while you can. It’s amazing, that talent for making everything sound a lot worse than it already it is.”

“Why, thank you.”

“It wasn’t a compliment.”

“You trying to insult someone who’s willing to find you someone else to work with? I can always ask Monster Meatstick if he’s up for—”

“No! No, that’s - not necessary.” You force out a smile that wouldn’t fool anyone into thinking its genuine. “Why would I ever insult you? You’re the best agent one could ask for.”

“That’s what I thought.” He takes your compliment, forced or not. When he smiles, smugness rolls off of him in waves. “One day you’ll realize you’re taking my talent for granted. I’ll find you another onscreen partner even though you don’t know what you’re missing out.”

“Thank you.”

“But!” He interjects and this time you don’t bother swallowing down your groan, already dreading the stipulations he has in store for you. “You have to promise to hold up your end of the bargain and try your best.”

Indignation colors your face. Your mouth falls open, retort at the ready. “When do I ever slack off on the job?! I’ve never given a half-assed blowjob in my life - and trust me, the temptation was there. Do you have any idea how hard it is to stay focused when the guy can’t cum on command? I once had to get my jaw realigned.”

“I’m not saying you’re slacking off,” he backtracks, switching tactics. His expression is soon replaced by the business-like smile you’re used to seeing on the regular. Tone buttery and appeasing, he tries to convince you through flattery instead. “You work hard and do a good job… I wouldn’t have signed you on otherwise. The problem isn’t with the quality of your work but with - all the rest.”

“The rest?” you parrot back dumbly, trying and failing to comprehend.

Seokjin scowl returns, unable to keep his genuine emotions under wraps.

“D’you honestly think you’re at a point in your career where you can pick and choose your jobs like this? Ever since you started dating that - that thing - your workload has significantly decreased. And not because you lacked opportunities. You had them but you turned them all down.” Visibly getting worked up over the issue, his voice rises an octave, then two. “What should’ve been a good spring board, only brought you back to square one. I know I can’t force you to take jobs if you refuse to, but I can say that your potential is going to waste. I’ve never seen someone sabotage herself like this before and it’s driving me up the wall. While I get that you’re under the delusion that you’ve found true love or whatever Disney fantasy Jungmin has sold you, you can’t turn down projects over and over again without there being serious repercussions. You’re smart enough to know this. I shouldn’t have to remind you.”

Seokjin’s chest heaves as he takes in several big gulps of air, visibly out of breath after his monologue.

For him to explode like popcorn kennels in the microwave... You reckon he’d let his feelings pile up inside him for a while, silently stewing.

You’ve never seen your agent look so visibly distressed. He’s normally the picture-perfect image of composure so the sight that greets you is enough of a shock to render you speechless.

Deep down, Seokjin probably means well. There aren’t a lot of agents like him; you’re one of the lucky ones. Most girls are discarded by their agencies as quickly as used tissues once they get milked for all their worth. 

Thankfully it’s never been that way with Seokjin. He claims that he’s in it for the long run. According to him the quick buck isn’t worth seeing the light die out in girl after girl. Perhaps that’s why he takes the task of ensuring your safety so seriously. How many times has he warned you to steer clear of this or that seedy director or ban you from attending drug-heavy parties? While his behavior can come off as overbearing on the worst days, at least he cares.

Sadly, it’s more than you can say for most.

In a way, he’s the only one in this business rooting for your success—if only because his paycheck depends on how well you perform. You like to pretend there’s more to it than that.

“I’m not - what’s Jimin got to do with any of this?” you splutter, still digesting the long tirade you’ve just been subjected to. 

“Are you serious? That’s all you got from what I said?”

“Well, no, but I still fail to—”

“Do you think me a fool?” He crosses his arms tightly across his broad chest. “The only scenes you’re willing to shoot are when he’s on set. Are you a kid or something? Since when do you need supervision to shoot a sex scene?”

“N-no. It just worked out that way, okay?” In reply to his dubious expression, you force yourself to explain. “Okay, okay - I get it. Maybe I might’ve lessened my workload recently but it has nothing to do with Jimin, alright? My vagina needs rest from time to time. Just because it’s my job doesn’t mean I don’t need a break. I’m human too, not some blow-up doll.”

“You expect me to believe that he has nothing to do with it? You were perfectly fine before he entered the picture. And now that you’re all loved up you only pick—”

A knock, so timid you barely catch it, cuts off the rest of his sentence.

“Yeah? Come in, I’m decent!” you yell - not that you care whether someone sees you naked or not. The concept of modesty has long been lost on you. Some might call it shamelessness or vanity, but you take pride in how you look. And why wouldn’t you? Your body is your bread and butter. You spend hours in the gym every week so that your ass looks good no matter what camera angle.

“It’s me.”

The door opens a crack and the speaker tentatively sticks his mop of hair through the small opening. As soon as you recognize him, your heart leaps at the sight and you quickly tighten your robe together.

“Oh, speak of the devil,” Seokjin mutters under his breath.

You resist the urge to throttle him and plaster on your brightest smile instead.

“I wanted to see how you were doing. Sorry I took so long... I would’ve come earlier but they needed my help.” Jimin scratches a spot behind his ear, sheepish. “Someone tripped over the cables and smashed a camera lens so we had to find a replacement. The director threw a fit and wanted to call it quits so we’ve been trying to calm him down this entire time. He did - eventually, anyway, after he called his dealer on set.”

A disapproving frown tugs at his mouth corners and mars his otherwise perfect appearance.

You take a moment to swoon internally. You’ll never get tired of admiring your boyfriend. Unlike the majority of the on-set personnel, he doesn’t reek of weed or booze or stale cigarette smoke. His ironed clothes and immaculate appearance always make it easy to spot him amidst the hungover crew.

“That’s fine! I kept myself busy.”

Jimin returns your smile, his eyes creasing into beautiful half-moon crescents. You don’t know what kind of love-struck expression covers your face but next to you Seokjin makes a noise that sounds like a cross between a gag and a cough.

“Oh! Here, I brought snacks. I didn’t know what you liked so I just grabbed everything I could get my hands on.” He holds up a paper plate stacked with treats no doubt stolen from the catering service. “I know I kind of went overboard but I wanted to make sure you kept your sugar level up.”

“That’s sweet of you,” you coo, reaching to take the plate from him. He’s piled on the sweets so high that it’s a miracle nothing has toppled over yet. You aren’t especially hungry but take a bite out of a chocolate candy to show how much you appreciate the effort. Its gooey consistency melts on your tongue, the taste so sweet it sticks to your teeth.

“How adorable,” chimes in Seokjin, his hand grabbing a licorice stick from the mountain of candy before you can swat him away. “Thanks Jongmin.”

“Jimin,” he corrects good-naturedly, his smile not budging an inch. You think, privately, that’s what you like the most about him. Not many have the ability to block out Seokjin’s bullshit so effectively.

“Mmh,” your manager says around a mouthful of candy. “Seokjin. Pleasure.”

You elbow him while gritting your teeth. “Can you...give us a moment?”

Seokjin swallows down the treat and opens his mouth in protest. He has the audacity to look betrayed. “You’re kicking me out of our room so the two of you can get it on? Really?” 

Jimin’s cheeks flush and you quickly cut in before your agent can make matters worse.

"I just want to talk without you breathing down my neck. Weren’t you going off earlier about how I didn’t need adult supervision anymore? Well?”

“Fine. Fine! But you owe me. Again.” He grabs his portable phone charger from the vanity table before making his exit. “And don’t forget what we talked about!”

What a fucking drama queen. You have no idea why he always insists on making a scene when you know for a fact that he would’ve left of his own volition in five minutes anyway. For reasons he has no trouble disclosing, he can’t stand Jimin’s presence.

“I won’t,” you grumble just so that you can get him out of your hair faster.

The door slams shut with more force than strictly necessary. Silence hangs in the air for a brief moment before Jimin turns his warm gaze towards you.

“What was that about?” 

“Uh, nothing. You know how he is...” You play with the ends of your braided hair. “He can’t go very long without throwing a tantrum.’

“He seems very protective of you,” remarks Jimin, a thoughtful expression painting his angelic face. “I think that’s why he’s not that fond of me.”

“Nonsense,” you rebut immediately as you take his hands in yours. “Who could ever not like you?”

Jimin allows his lips to quirk into a small, self-deprecating smile that you promptly erase with a kiss. His lips feel pillow-soft against yours, and you let yoruself indulge in the feeling before pulling back.

You sigh, remembering the scene you’ve yet to film. “If only my co-star was you.”

He laughs at that. “Seokjin would probably throw a fit, huh?”

.

.

Jimin treats you to dinner that night.

He chooses the restaurant. It’s a small, quaint place, tucked into a hidden corner just minutes away from the bustling main street of the shopping district. It’s not the kind of place people stumble across by accident but judging by the occupied tables, business is doing fine by reputation alone.

The owner comes out to greet Jimin by name. They exchange warm greetings, the woman asking him how his brother’s been doing and whether he’ll stop by anytime soon.

“Ah - I’m not sure... You know how he is... I’ll let him know you said hi.”

“Tell him I’ll give him an extra serving of ribs. That was his favorite, right?”

When her eyes trail over Jimin’s shoulder and spot you, she grins so wide you’d think she won the lottery or something. “Park Jimin! You’ve gone and found a girlfriend! And so pretty, too. Ah, really...time sure flies by. I remember when you first started coming here - and now!”

You smile back, greeting her with a polite handshake. The owner is quick to usher you into a small booth in the back. She hands you the menus while patting Jimin on his shoulder. “I’ll get you drinks. It’s on the house.”

“You don’t have to do that!” protests Jimin, shaking his head. “Really. It’s not—”

“Nonsense.” She waves a hand at him. “You’ll get two more if you keep that up, Park Jimin.”

Once she knows she’s earned Jimin’s compliance, she leaves with a satisfied smile. You can tell by their genuine interactions that she’s close to Jimin. Family, perhaps? Either way, this isn’t a place Jimin tracked down on yelp. He flips through the menu with ease, like he’s done it hundreds of times before. 

“Sorry about that,” he says once she’s out of earshot. “I used to come here all the time with my family when we all still lived here. They moved and live in a different town now so we haven’t had a meal together here in years, but. I still come here. The food is good, of course, but - I dunno. I have good memories here so I thought I’d share it with you. It sounds stupid now.”

He laughs quietly, cheeks flushed a pretty pink. 

“I love it.” You can’t help but smile, cheeks hurting from the force of it. Invisible liquor runs through your bloodstream, a ball of warmth unfurling in your belly. “Thank you.”

A pause ensues. It’s one of those moments in which you’re unsure if you’ve said too much or not enough. Being here with Jimin means a lot. You’re not the most verbose person but you hope that Jimin can feel your sincerity.

Maybe your stare comes off as too intense because Jimin breaks the eye contact and clears his throat.

He fiddles with his earring and says, “The food is really good!”

Pink dots his cheeks as he attempts to change the subject. “I don’t know how long the place has been around for but the food is exactly the same. Apparently it’s the sauce they use? Auntie still won’t share the recipes with me and I’ve known her since I was a kid.”

He chatters on, gaining confidence when he notices you’re not put off or bored by his numerous anecdotes. As time passes by, he’s visibly more relaxed. His laugh is more natural, less restrained, like he’s using all the muscles in his face and not just the ones near his mouth.

It’s a stark difference from the first date, you think. Back then he had come off as quite shy, preferring to let you lead the conversation, only offering up tidbits from time to time. Now the conversation flows easily. Nothing feels forced or awkward and - it’s nice. The normalcy of it. Like a hot cup of tea before bed or the scent of the fabric softener your mother uses. It’s something you find comfort in, that you can see yourself coming back to and not growing tired of.

Seokjin can say what he wants - that Jimin’s too uninteresting, that you’re too mismatched of a couple - whatever. 

Jimin likes you for you.

When you’re out on dates or when the two of you talk on the phone late into the evening, he rarely brings up your job. Instead, he asks you questions about your favorite TV shows, your dipping sauce preferences, the first album you purchased. These small details might seem inconsequential to others but to you, they’re a welcome breath of fresh air.

For all the talks of Jimin being too average and too normal, men like him are in reality surprisingly hard to come by.

Because what you haven’t failed to notice since you began your career as a porn star is that people love the idea of you. People who avidly watch you from their laptop screen in the comfort of their own home think that you’re some type of sex goddess - that you’re basically up for anything. In their minds, you’re a fun girl who loves sex, all kinds of sex, any kind of sex, and who doesn’t have any qualities or attributes other than making people cum until their limbs go numb.

Your feelings? Not really important. Feelings would make you human and being human would ruin their favorite fantasy.

That’s what takes you a while to learn - you don’t get paid to have sex, you get paid to sell dreams.

It doesn’t bother you at first. In a way, you think, it’s like acting. The porn star people jerk off to daily is a character you play, a mask you can take off at your leisure once the camera director yells ‘cut!’.

Very quickly, you learn people don’t share the same sentiment. To them, the line that distinguishes you from your job persona isn’t blurry - it simply doesn’t exist.

In the beginning, you’d stayed optimistic. Once people get to know you past the image they’ve built up in their heads, surely they’ll realize you’re not a sex-craved addict who only has dick on the brain, right? But with every new date you accept to go on, the reality of your situation only leaves room for disappointment and barely reigned in revulsion.

Even in non-romantic situations, people let you down. Old classmates, neighbors... It pisses you off that they assume you have no self-worth just because you’re a sex worker. Stevie from 308 down the hall once tried throwing crumpled bills at you, expecting you to crawl over to him for a fifty. The memory is enough to set your blood boiling. You can’t wait until you earn big enough bucks to move out of your shitty apartment into a nice high-rise penthouse, away and above all the scum of the Earth.

“You okay?” asks Jimin, noticing the crease that burrows your brow. “The food alright?”

You blink several times, belatedly realizing you had zoned out. Guilt and embarrassment well up within you.

“M’yeah,” you swallow down the spoonful of stew stuffed in your mouth. “Sorry.”

Jimin chews his bottom lip. Finally, he settles with, “Tell me if I’m boring you.”

“No, no! You’re not.” His evident doubt does nothing to alleviate the sudden nausea swarming your lower belly. “I’m serious, Jimin. I’m - Sorry if I gave off that impression. I just - I have a lot on my mind but you’re lovely. I’d tell you if you were - you know. Promise.”

“Would you? Sometimes I think you’re too nice.” It’s not delivered as an insult, but it doesn’t exactly sound like praise, either. 

You force out a snort. “Heh. Wish you’d tell Seokjin that.”

“He’s not too cross with me, is he?” Jimin’s expression looks awkward, like he’s forcing his facial muscles to stay relaxed and mien nonchalant.

“Wh- oh, you mean because of earlier? He isn’t. That’s not him being angry. It’s not even you. It’s me. We just have - a slight difference in opinions, I suppose. If you can even call it that.”

“He doesn’t want you to date me,” concludes Jimin.

The frustrations you’d repressed earlier in the day come back. Why does Seokjin’s opinion matter? You huff, putting your spoon down.

“He’s not my dad. And even if he was, I’m grown. I can make my own decisions.” You roll your eyes. “Don’t worry about him. He’ll get over it... It’s not like it’s any of his business in the first place.”

“Still...” Jimin says, unsure. “He’s your agent. I wouldn’t want the relation between you to sour because of me.”

“Honestly, I’m convinced it’s not even you he has a problem with. We talked about it today and I think he’s getting antsy because, um, you know, I haven’t accepted any big offers lately. Like, I’m staying too much in my comfort zone or something. He says that in the long run that can be detrimental to my career.”

It’s a bit strange, discussing your work with Jimin. You both work in the same industry, Jimin as a second camera assistant and you as an adult entertainer, but outside of filming sets, you rarely acknowledge what the other person does for a living.

“Oh.”

“Yeah. He wants me to branch out and try new things.”

“What, you mean anal? Gangbangs?”

“Um, yeah. All that, probably...” You have to blink several times because of the shock of hearing Jimin say that so casually. “...Is that okay?”

“Huh?” Jimin in turn blinks at you, like your question doesn’t properly register. “Oh, yeah, sure. I’m fine with it. You said it’ll be good for your career?”

“Apparently.”

“Then, yeah.” He shrugs like he isn’t bothered by the news at all. “Of course that’s okay.”

A part of you wants to push the issue, ask him why he’d be fine with his girlfriend filming intense sex scenes with random men, but that inner voice is snuffed out before the poisonous thought has time to take root.

Isn’t this what you always wanted? A boyfriend who is accepting and understanding of your profession?

You wash down your worries with a gulp or two of soju, determined not to let your own insecurities ruin the rest of your night.

.

.

Less than 24 hours after you’ve agreed to work on a worthwhile project of Seokjin’s choosing, a slew of texts blow up your phone. 

Unsurprisingly, it’s your agent. A quick scroll through your phone reveals that your agent has left you with no less than 15 messages, 1 voicemail, and 3 e-mails.

It’s...a lot. You’ve grown to expect that kind of fanfare with him. Like any man who deals with legally binding contracts on a daily basis, Seokjin ensures that you keep your word. He can be extremely persuasive when he sets his mind to it. You’ve seen men and women alike succumb to the force of his magnetism. Back when your filmography had solely consisted of amateur sex tapes shot in bad lighting with low-grade filming equipment, Seokjin's charms alone had been sufficient to win over lukewarm casting directors and book you jobs.

SEOKJIN : hey!!!!!!!!

SEOKJIN : ???

SEOKJIN : wow. you’re leaving me on read.........the audacity. 

SEOKJIN : i raised you on my back and this is how you repay me?

SEOKJIN : do you not respect your elders in your household?

SEOKJIN : i swear if you’re blowing me off for jimmy instead of answering your calls .........

SEOKJIN : or blowing jimmy. either one.

SEOKJIN : ok it’s been 10 min. i’m chill but not that chill.

SEOKJIN : can you please stop sucking dick and read your emails. it’s important.

YOU : ever heard of multitasking? god gave us two hands for a reason

SEOKJIN : oh. nasty.

SEOKJIN : way to ruin my lunch.

SEOKJIN : well. suck down that nut sauce asap

SEOKJIN : cos what i sent you needs your undivided attention

YOU : i’m nasty?? me????

YOU : you don’t hear me saying nUT SAUCE you freak

SEOKJIN : nutté sauce

SEOKJIN : there. fixed it.

YOU : ...that’s not even a thing

SEOKJIN : well it should be!

SEOKJIN : adding accents makes it instantly classier, don’t you think? nutté sauce. has a nice ring to it.

SEOKJIN : honestly. sounds like some fancy four star french starter now.

YOU : ???? it absolutely doesn’t but ok

SEOKJIN : imagine. during a scene you just yell out

SEOKJIN : “i’d like a serving of your nutté sauce to go”

YOU : dicks would shrivel up on the spot

SEOKJIN : what? i think it’s brilliant!

SEOKJIN : my talent is wasted as an agent. should’ve been a scriptwriter instead.

YOU : yes i’m sure the oscars are weeping over the missed opportunity

He takes your sarcasm at face value, feeding you more ridiculous variants of faux french cum lingo—that which you very wisely choose not to reply to. Instead of humoring him, you open the .pdf file he’s sent your way, ignoring the near-constant buzzing of your phone as he’s no doubt pestering you for an immediate answer.

Had it not been necessary for business, you’d have blocked his number ages ago. In fact, after that nut sauce comment you’re seriously reconsidering, business obligations be damned. 

To his credit, the film project he suggests you work on doesn't sound half-bad despite its questionable title. Why anyone would choose to name it THE SPERMINATOR is beyond you.

As you read through the proposition, you’re surprised to find it’s tamer than the initial imaginary scenario you’d played out in your head. Expecting to read through a long list of unnameable kinks and dicks, the scene description is rather domestic all things considered.

Your shoulders sag in relief. You enjoy sex as much as the next person, but even you have limits you’re not willing or eager to cross. You’re a human being, first and foremost, and, contrary to popular belief, not competing in the sex olympics.

From what you’ve read so far, nothing in Seokjin’s offer seems too strenuous or perverse. The scene in question is centered around a young, newly married couple trying to conceive for the first time and the sex acts are described as “romantic insemination” - whatever the fuck that means. The only complication you can think of is that you’ve never played the part of a married couple before. None of your previous films specifically target couples or women. Is romance something you can sell accordingly?

You’re quick to shake the concern off once you remember that no one cares if your acting is shit or not. All you probably have to do is yell out ‘Daddy’ a few times mid-thrust and call it a day.

Honestly, you’re a bit disappointed in Seokjin for choosing such a safe, no-risk project - especially since he constantly advocates the risk-return trade off as the way to live by. But you’re not about to start complaining. You’d rather shoot this type of innocuous scenario than ridiculous, hentai-like scenes involving freakish get-ups and toys of monster proportions not realistically made to fit in a vagina.

The deal is perfect. Almost too perfect.

Subconsciously, you must realize something is wrong. Maybe Seokjin’s many lessons have finally rubbed off on you because there’s a persistent voice in your ear warning you that the film proposition is a trap, one that you’ve unfortunately walked straight into.

Your wariness increases when he refuses to send you the script upon request. Alarm bells ring off but by then it’s too late.

“The thing is... Director Ryu wants to try a new type of project," Seokjin says over the phone once you call him up for answers. "He thinks he’s going to pioneer a new genre of porn and revolutionize the industry - his words, not mine.”

“What the hell does that even mean?”

“How do I explain this without you getting the wrong idea..."

“Is this meant to reassure me?!” Dread drips from your tone. You should’ve suspected something was off from the very moment Seokjin suggested to shoot vanilla porn as your next big project. What a joke.

“Calm down, it's not as bad as - whatever you're thinking.” Too bad that his attempts to calm you down have the opposite effect. “He’s been wanting to try out a new improvisation format for his porn movies.”

“Come again?”

A beat of uncomfortable quiet passes. Reluctantly, Seokjin explains, “Which means - there isn’t an actual script to go off of. That’s why I couldn’t send it to you - because there is none. He wants it to be as realistic and natural as possible so he’s looking for actors who can go with their gut and create their own scenario instead of ones who need to be directed.”

Your resounding silence speaks for itself.

Sure, sometimes they provide scripts to act as guidelines, roughly giving the actor an idea of how the scene will unfold, but no one is expected to follow it word for word. Most porn films rely on improvisation rather than scripts because of how notoriously bad porn stars are at acting and memorizing more than a few lines at a time, and the introduction scene never lasts very long anyway for it to make a noticeable difference. Besides, after filming a handful of movies, you’ve noticed the dialogue is more or less all the same.

What bothers you is that this director wants you to carry out a movie that relies heavily on improvised dialogue. Convincingly.

“C’mon,” Seokjin tries when you refuse to deign him with an answer. “It’ll be fun. You like acting, right?”

“Seokjin...” You pinch the bridge of your nose and try to keep your composure in check. “How do I break this down for you? I think you’re forgetting the most crucial detail here - I can’t act! The closest I've ever gotten to acting is faking an orgasm and I’m pretty certain that doesn’t count."

“And you do that very well!" says Seokjin encouragingly. "You'll be fine. Don’t stress over it. Your scenes with Min Yoongi last time were perfectly acceptable!”

“That’s the thing.” Stress makes your voice raise a half-step. “He did, like, 90% of the acting! Back then, all I had to do was moan and act like a slut! Which hardly counts - I was being myself. Whatever this - thing - you’re attempting to rope me into - I’m not qualified for it.”

“Sweetheart, we’re not aiming for the fucking Oscars here.” When he laughs, it’s practiced enough to sound sincere. “At the end of the day, it’s still porn. Nobody’s expecting you to be the next Meryl. And besides,” he presses on, clearly refusing to change his mind. “This is exactly what you need right now. Something fresh, something new. If you pull this off, you’ll gain exposure.”

“If I pull it off. Big if."

“I know it sounds like a gamble. I get it, I do. But remember what I always say? High risk—”

“Yes, yes. High reward. I get it.” Your frown deepens. “There’s no way to know this will work, though.”

“A good co-star already guarantees you half of the success. And luckily for you, the guy they signed on seems like the real deal. He’s hot, you’re hot. People will pay money to see you two fuck regardless of how good or bad the acting is.”

“Well. That’s reassuring,” you say, voice as flat as a board. “Although I suppose watching porn on mute is always an option if it comes to that.”

“It was a joke!” What worries you is that it doesn’t sound like it is. “You have nothing to worry about. I’ve seen some of your co-star’s tapes. He’s got a mouth on him, if you know what I mean. Just let him lead and it’ll go swimmingly.”

“It’s one thing to follow someone’s lead during sex but you want me to - to improvise for God knows how long! That’s just asking for a disaster to happen.”

“You said you were up for a challenge!” Seokjin throws your words back at you, his tone accusing.

“And you said this would be beneficial for my career! How is making a fool out of myself going to help me any? I don’t want to be remembered as the girl who can’t act to save her life.” You want to cry in frustration. If you had wanted to act you would’ve chosen that as your major in college. “I don’t - I can’t do this. I’m not - this isn’t what I signed up for! How do you expect me to convince viewers what they’re watching is real...”

“Just—” Exasperated, he takes a deep breath. Exhales. “Trust me. When have I ever been wrong about film projects.”

Is putting your career at risk really worth it? You’re not sure anymore.

On the bright side, it’ll finally get Seokjin off your back, you reason, trying to remain positive. That in itself is worth celebrating, right?

Fine. You’ll agree to it out of pettiness. Once Seokjin realizes what a terrible idea this entire ordeal is, you won’t hesitate to rub it back in his face. He’ll never hear the end of it.

"Who am I working with, anyway?”

"Ah, hm, well." Hesitation creeps up his voice for the first time, putting you instantly on edge. "...You won't know him. He's new to the scene - got started a month or two ago, I forget."

"Great. Not only am I being used as a lab rat for this director to experiment on but you're also pairing me with a fucking rookie. Jesus.”

"He’s not half bad! He’s not bad at all, actually. I wouldn't be insisting if I didn't trust him not to blow his load early."

"Aren’t I lucky,” you deadpan. “So I don't have to worry about him busting a nut before the director gives the signal?"

“All you’ll have to do is act like a married couple with baby fever,” he talks over you, ignoring your overflowing sarcasm. “And how hard can that be? You’ve been loved up with Jumin for a month now - that’s plenty enough practice if you ask me. I know you’ll be able to sell that romantic shit to the public without too much trouble.”

“It’s Jimin,” you correct from force of habit.

You’re promptly ignored — not that you expected anything less from him.

"Just give it a thought? And get back to me when you make up your mind. The sooner the better. The offer won't stay on the table forever." Even over the line, you can picture Seokjin raising his eyebrows at you, expectant. “If you’re serious about this job, you know what you have to do.”

You both know that you’ll accept the offer. Seokjin’s got you all figured out. As much as you don’t like being pushed around, the need to prove yourself is your main driving factor. The acquaintances who sneer at you, the family members who’ve shun you, the peers who expect you to burn out after the five month mark—you’d rather roll over and die than prove their misconceptions right.

It’s a matter of pride when you sniff and reply, “I’ll think about it.”

But the decision is already made before the call ends.

.

.

SCENE 02 - THE SPERMINATOR. TAKE 02. ROLL B. 

.

Eight days later you find yourself squeezed into a brazenly short dress that zips in the front, more fit for a night out in a club than a dinner at home. It’s so ridiculously tight, you feel like a prey being swallowed down by a snake. There’s no room to breathe. You can’t wait for the scene to start, if only so you can dispose of the piece of fabric and never wear it again.

Unfortunately, your outfit gets worse because thrown over the clubbing attire is a frilly apron with small hearts embroidered along the hem. The mismatch is jarring. You’re not sure what look the stylist is going for but the end result is very...peculiar.

You comfort yourself with the knowledge that it could always be worse.

A quick glance at the digital clock on your phone confirms that you’re running on time. Good. After your last gig, the last thing you want is to spend hours waiting for the personnel to set up the cameras and sound equipment correctly.

Thankfully, today’s team works like a well-oiled machine. All that’s left are the last-minute preparations before the shoot begins.

Your false eyelashes are still drying when Seokjin elbows you sharply in the ribs. You crack open an eye to glare at him. “Ouch - ah, seriously? What is it now?”

“That’s him, that’s him!” Seokjin whispers under his breath, his gaze glued to a point somewhere beyond your shoulder. “Wooow. Aren’t you a lucky bitch? I’d gargle his nutté sauce for breakfast, if you get what I mean. He looks way better in person, damn.”

“Firstly - please never say that out loud again.” You fake a gag. “How do I buy myself a new set of ears?”

Seokjin ignores your dramatics. He shoots you a look. “You let that last guy draw a starfish on your face with his crème de la nut but did you hear me go sick?”

“That’s not the same and you know it!” Your jaw drops in indignation. “And can you stop trying to make nut cream a thing for the love of—”

“What’s this about nut cream?”

You whip your head around, mortification already etched onto your features. Your mouth opens, defense at the ready, only for your throat to clamp up.

“Oh.” You blink up in surprise because - well, Seokjin’s earlier assessment isn’t embellished. The guy is fit as fuck.

You’d seen photos in passing, had even googled his name out of curiosity, but the two-dimensional version of him pales to his real life physique. There’s a sharpness to his features that the camera fails to pick up on, a vibrancy that gets lost in the medium. 

“Hey. I’m Hoseok.” His grip is firm, assertive, and your eyes naturally wander over his form. The loose muscle tee he’s thrown on puts his toned arms on display and makes it easier to admire the seemingly endless expanse of sun-kissed skin. He’s neither too thick nor too spindly, his muscles lean and firm instead of bulging. Strong but not intimidating. “I look forward to working with you.”

“Likewise.” You swallow, mouth dry.

You expect him to leave it at that like most of your past co-stars usually do. Or worse - for him to abandon all pretenses and cross lines that aren’t meant to be crossed. As someone who has experienced it all - from standoffish to creepy and vile - nothing surprises you anymore.

But unlike your, admittedly low, expectations, his gaze is warm and friendly. He speaks smoothly, leaving no time for an awkward silence to instill itself.

“Yeah, I know who you are! I saw a video or two of yours before - you were featured on the agency’s main page last month, right? Fuckin’ genius, by the way. Best stuff I’ve seen in a long ass time.” An easy grin sits on his face, nothing about it fake or contrived. “I hope we get along today. I haven’t done much work myself - yet anyway - but I hope this can be a good experience for the both of us.”

“You’ll be in good hands,” Seokjin assures, patting your shoulder like a proud parent. “_____ here is the best talent I’ve signed on.”

“That I can believe,” Hoseok chimes, his smile never waning. “I’ve heard good stuff about you. I won’t lie - it reassured me a fuck ton when I heard I’d be working with you. The stuff we’re doing is, well, it’s a bit of a gamble at this point, but I’m sure it’ll go well because I’ll be working with you.”

For a brief, embarrassing moment, you’re robbed of words, unable to respond to his flattery. From experience, you know to be wary of guys like him. Whenever someone lays it on thick they always have an ulterior motive. But what could possibly be his?

“Seokjin’s saying that because I’m the only one who can stand his nagging,” you finally say, your shoulders stiff. Maybe it’s because you’ve just met, but it’s hard to figure him out and it doesn’t help that you’re naturally wary of strangers.

“Oh hush. You love me.” Sensing how guarded you’ve become, Seokjin mercifully offers you an out. “It was nice meeting you, Hoseok. Wish we could stay and chat but she has to get ready to film the pre-interview portion.”

“Oh yeah, that’s cool. Catch you later.”

You offer a quick smile he returns tenfold, its brightness momentarily dazzling you.

Slightly dazed from the intensity of it, you stagger behind Seokjin, sun spots dotting your vision. Your surroundings blur together as your mind tries to recover from the interaction.

“Sooooooooo?” Seokjin sing-songs once you’ve walked far enough to be out of earshot. His brows are raised knowingly, an infuriating type of smugness clinging to his features. “What did I tell you! He’s hot enough to single-highhandedly melt a glacier, huh?”

You scoff, not willing to admit anything. “He’s okay.”

“Oh c’mon. He’s baby daddy material for sure. Which works out well for you since he’s gonna pump one into you later.”

For once the grimace that crosses your face isn’t exaggerated. “Please. Stop. Talking. I’m this close to heaving out my lunch.”

You’re not even joking with that one. Attractive as Hoseok may be, any talk of baby-making is enough to dissipate any smidgens of lust.

The reminder of what the upcoming scene entails and the expectations people carry crash down on you like a pile of bricks. Although you’ve done your best to ignore the fact you’ll be acting today, the meeting with Hoseok yanks you harshly back to reality.

You’re going to act. As a married couple. Trying to conceive a baby.

Three things that have never, ever been on your bucket list are now about to be crossed out in the span of the same afternoon. To that you can only say - what the fuck is my life.

Like a mounting wave before the inevitable crash, panic crests within you. You feel it gradually build and build, flooding your lungs and every crevice of your body with overwhelming anxiety.

Seokjin sighs. “How are you going to make it through today? The whole point of the sex scene is to get you pregnant. Or fake pregnant. You know what I mean.”

“Um...” You try to laugh but it comes out shaky. Seokjin shoots you a concerned look. “I’ll be fine! Really! I can do it. It’s just acting like you said, right? It’s not like he’s actually gonna knock me up in real life. So. Totally fine. It’s fine. Perfect.”

Seokjin’s concern grows. His eyebrows pinch together and his expression turns serious. He asks with no trace of mockery, “Are you okay?”

“I’m okay!” you reply. It’s too rushed of an answer to convince him. Your palms feel clammy and you wipe them off your damned apron. “Just. Nervous. Y’know.”

His steps slow to a halt and he places a warm, heavy hand on your shoulder. The weight, familiar and comforting, grounds you to reality. “Hey. What’s there to be nervous about? You got this.”

“Yeah.” You nod. Maybe if you say it enough times you’ll trick yourself into believing it. “I’ve got this.”

“Look. Let me be honest for a second. I’ve been an agent for eight years now and I’ve seen a lot of talents come and go. No pun intended.” You smile back at him weakly. “You’ve got something...extra a lot of them lacked. I knew the moment I saw you on film you’d go far. The energy you bring onscreen is insane. I know today might seem new and strange - but so was your first ever professionally shot film, right? And you got through that fine. You’ll do great. I know it. And, not to toot my own horn, but I’m always right.”

That earns him a laugh. The nerves are still there but thanks to his pep talk it’s easier to breathe.

Despite being a big pain in the ass, Seokjin is exemplary at his job. Without him, you’re acutely aware you wouldn’t have gotten half as far as you have. Having him by your side is a reassurance in itself.

Someone calls your name, pulling you from your thoughts. When you turn around, you’re face to face with the round, bespectacled face of Director Ryu. You reckon he’s in his early forties but he acts younger than his age. It’s your first time working with him but so far he’s been nice enough, if a little full of himself. Not that you’re unaccustomed with working alongside conceited colleagues.

“Oh good, you’re back. You can get seated for the interview bit.” He points over to a chair placed in front of a pale yellow wall. From close up, you can see a paint job is in order, the old coat chipping off in several places. “Alright, this won’t last long - just need you to answer some questions on tape and we’ll be good to go.”

“Sure thing.” You nod and follow his directions, sitting still while the hair and make-up artist steps up to give your lips a final touch-up.

Strictly speaking, the before and after interviews aren’t a necessity. In your experience, directors mostly film the short question-and-answer sequence when you’re set to film hardcore sex scenes as a way to show viewers everything is consensual and that you thoroughly enjoyed the experience despite whatever might have transpired on screen.

You reckon the director wants to film you today to document the process behind his “groundbreaking film project”. Cue roll of eyes.

Somebody needs to tell him he isn’t inventing anything, you think while watching him fiddle with the camera until he’s completely satisfied with the angle. All he’s done so far is add unnecessary pressure on you. You hope Hoseok is faring better because the amount of performance anxiety you’re experiencing is an instant boner killer.

“You nervous?” the director asks once he’s done adjusting the camera lens.

While by some standards you’re still considered a newbie in the industry, you’ve done this enough times to fall into a routine. Wake-up, breakfast, get ready, arrive before call time, fill out all the paperwork and get ready to shoot your solo stills. It’s familiar enough that you’ve long stopped getting pre-performance jitters.

Today’s rush of anxiety is as surprising as it is unwelcome. They don’t want to hear that particular truth though, so you keep your reply sweet and bubbly.

“Nah,” you grin, wide and easy. “I’m super excited to film today!”

“Oh yeah? Is it perhaps because of your co-star?”

Your smile freezes for a second. Somewhere over the director’s shoulder you can see Seokjin nodding enthusiastically while giving you the double thumbs up. “Hoseok? He’s hot, sure.”

“Ooh. Already on a first name basis?”

“Hm?” you let out a noise of polite confusion, only belatedly realizing that his viewers know him better as his porn alias, J-Hope. But there’s no way in hell you’re going to yell that out loud while he’s fucking an orgasm out of you. Not only does it sound ridiculous but it’ll shatter whatever carefully crafted illusion you manage to build. “Um, yes. We’re getting to know each other. He’s very friendly.”

“I’m sure he is.” And there’s an implication there that doesn’t sit too well with you but thankfully Director Ryu chooses to move on and put that particular subject to rest.

“You ever shoot an insemination scene before?”

“Not yet.” You make sure to keep the smile on your face even if your cheeks are beginning to hurt. “I can’t wait to get to it. It’s a fantasy I’ve always had but never tried out for myself. I’m excited to film a first on camera!”

The director has yet to call you out for your bullshit so you slowly start to relax. Acting is a bit like lying, isn’t it? Maybe you can get through today after all.

You breeze through the rest of the questions, forcing out practiced laughs here and there all whilst keeping your voice syrupy sweet. It’s quick work, especially when you know what to expect. Before you know it, it’s already time to film the pièce de résistance. Everyone that’s allowed on set during filming filters into the kitchen, conversations between crew members dying down as they use their last recreational moments to check their phones.

The director’s filming style exempts you from shooting the customary pre-shoot sex stills which are essentially promotional pictures of you and and your partner in every sex position that you’ll be filming for real later on. You’re thankful for that, at least. Even with all of your on-camera experience, staying perfectly silent and still with someone’s dick inside you is no easy feat. It’s worse when you have to keep eye contact with your co-star and fake sexual gratification because the shot calls for it.

Hoseok waves at you from the other side of the room, the hair and makeup artist dusting some powder across the slope of his nose.

How can he look so relaxed?! You’re barely holding your lunch down. Honestly, it’s a miracle you’re able to now tat the butterflies are back in full force, making a mess of your stomach.

You feel queasy but try not to make it too obvious even as Seokjin comes around to check up on you. The last thing you want to do is make a scene, especially when your onscreen counterpart's demeanor is making you look amateurish in comparison.

Maybe Hoseok is a better actor than you’re able to give most porn stars credit for because try as you might, you fail to detect any nervous undercurrent in his tone. For someone who is supposedly starring in his first major project, he doesn’t seem all too bothered about how it might play out.

How does he do it?! In all honesty, if Seokjin hadn’t informed you of his rookie status, you would be none the wiser.

There’s an ease with which he carries himself, a fluidity in his movements that belies no anxiety or awkwardness. Even from this distance you can tell that there’s never a hint of hesitation in his movements or speech; he doesn’t seem self-conscious in the least. He talks and moves with the assurance of someone who has been in the industry for months, not weeks.

In that moment you envy him. You’re so nervous about the upcoming scene that it’s hard to feign an air of professional detachment.

His boisterous laugh is loud enough to carry across the room and interrupt your line of thought. When you look over at him again, you find him folded in half, hands clutching his sides, and wearing a grin so bright it eclipses the entirety of his face.

“He seems nice.”

You jump, startled by Jimin’s sudden appearance. You hadn’t even heard him draw near. With a sheepish expression, you turn to look up at him only to find him already staring off into the distance. There’s a strange look painting his face, and a small crease in his brow that usually isn’t present. When you follow his line of sight, you’re met with the image of Hoseok talking animatedly to the the small crowd that’s flocked around him.

“Yeah.” You aren’t sure what else to say. Although there’s no sarcasm attached to his words, you can’t help but find Jimin unnaturally tense.

Which makes sense, you concede guiltily. A mere stranger is minutes away from dicking down his girlfriend. You’re not sure how you’d feel if you were to stand in his shoes.

You breathe in deep, silently willing away the knot of distress in your belly. There’s nothing wrong with what you’re doing. It’s just a job. A profession that Jimin has always been fully aware of, even before you’d begun dating.

Even as you remind yourself of the facts, it does little to dispel the lingering feelings of doubt and guilt.

“Hey.” Jimin frowns at you in concern. “You alright?”

“Yep!” you say then immediately sigh, knowing that lying to your boyfriend is pointless. “I’m just a bit nervous.”

“Nervous?” Jimin’s worry grows, the crease in his brow deepening. “What about?”

“Just—” You gesture around with your hands. “All of this.”

“Oh.” He looks genuinely surprised. “But you don’t usually get nervous... Is it the impregnation thing you’ll have to do? I know you’ve said you’re not a big fan of that. Or... Is it something else?”

“I don’t know,” you answer truthfully. It’s a bit of everything yet at the same time nothing you can clearly pinpoint and put a finger on. In all logic, you know that you’re feeling disproportionately stressed out but you can’t stop yourself from feeling how you feel. “It’s not that I don’t want to film. I just - I’m worried I won’t do well.”

Jimin takes your hand between his, running a thumb in soothing circles across the surface of your skin. He repeats the motion several times until your heartbeat is completely synced to his touch.

“You’ll do great. You always do.” The lines of his mouth bend into a smile. “I’ll be on the sidelines cheering you on.”

“My very own cheerleader.” You allow yourself to relax and and smile back fondly.

As much as you worry about Jimin being upset with you filming sex scenes with other actors, he’s never been anything less than the supporting boyfriend you’ve always dreamed of. Seokjin calls Jimin’s constant presence on set maddening, but you’re thankful that your boyfriend sticks by your side while others might flee or shame you.

Suddenly, you’re overcome with emotion. Maybe it’s the stress, or maybe today you’re more hormonal than usual, but your eyes threaten to well up as you grip his palm tightly in your own. “Jimin, I—”

“Okay, lovebirds!” Seokjin claps his hands once, effectively ruining your moment. “Hand-holding time is over. We’re moving onto the more R-rated stuff.”

“Seokjin!” you hiss, upset over his horrible timing.

“It’s fine.” Jimin shakes his head. “He’s right, shoot’s about to start anytime soon. I need to get ready, too.”

“Right.”

Reluctantly, you let go of Jimin’s hand.

“Don’t pout.” He laughs and presses a quick, chaste kiss to your mouth. “I’ll wait for you after filming and we can go grab dinner. Italian sound fine?”

“Yes, yes, yes.” You bob your head eagerly. “I’m literally dying for carbs. Italian sounds more than perfect.”

“Good.” 

You can’t resist sneaking in one last peck before Jimin retreats behind the cameras and you’re pulled to stand in front of a granite kitchen tabletop. Director Ryu is waiting for you, Hoseok already by his side.

From close-up, your co-star looks even more striking. The make-up artist’s work highlights his features without going overboard. The lines of his face are sharp, like every single one has been meticulously drawn. What usually would give someone a hostile and unapproachable impression is balanced out by the liveliness that lights up his eyes and his wide smile that looks almost too big for his face.

“It’ll start in the kitchen and then we’ll work out way to the bedroom.” Director Ryu points down the hallway. “I was thinking of keeping it all in the bedroom but nothing screams domesticity more than kitchen scenes, right?”

“Uh-huh.” You give a polite nod. Next to you, Hoseok coughs into his fist.

“Depending on how this goes we might have to take several takes - just keep that in mind.”

That’s nothing out of the ordinary. Sex scenes are never filmed in one take. There’s always one thing or another - a smoke break, a flaccid dick, a lighting fixture that needs to be changed. A 45 minute porn movie is the result of the editing team that painstakingly goes through, cuts and assembles hours of footage.

“Remember,” Director Ryu instructs, one hand cocked on his hips. “You’re still stuck in that honeymoon phase. All the two of you want to do is fuck like horny bunnies but your husband’s been away all day. Both of you have been waiting for this reunion for hours and hours. I want to feel that level of tension, got it?”

Hoseok nods like a dutiful student, his expression comically serious. You’d laugh if it wasn’t so inappropriate.

“Yep. Ok. Got it.”

You just want the director to stop talking so that you can get this over with quickly. The monologue is just delaying the inevitable.

Director Ryu spends extra minutes setting up the scene, emphasizing how in love and passionate the two of you should behave, describing how long you’ve been wanting to try for a baby, going into explicit detail about what the sex scenes should convey to the viewers. He just goes on and on and on with no end it sight.

At this point even Hoseok is growing restless. His feet refuse to stay still and his eyes dart around the room as if his attention is drawn elsewhere. It’s Hoseok’s constant fidgeting that draws Director Ryu out of his monologue. He finally senses that there’s a unanimous decision to start filming and retires behind the camera to settle himself in his appointed chair.

Hoseok shares a long look with you. “Is he always like that?”

“God, I hope not.” You lower your voice to whisper, “Seokjin - my agent - he says apparently Director Ryu wanted to make a career off of documentaries once he graduated from film school but quickly switched genres once he saw how little filming the mating habits of koalas was earning him.”

“Ah,” Hoseok nods conspiratorially before his features shift into something more serious. “Hey. Before we start, is there anything you’re not comfortable with? I know this scene is supposed to lean towards vanilla but you never know... I’d rather make sure. Just in case.”

You blink, taken aback. Hard limits aren’t really discussed outside of hardcore scenes. Sure, everyone is given a safeword before shoots begin but even screaming out “STOP!” or “Can we take a break from filming?” is enough to put the filmed scene on hold.

“Ah... No. I’m okay. But thanks for asking.” A moment passes and you add, “Is there - are there any words or kinks that bother you?”

Hoseok shakes his head. “Not for this one. Just - if there’s anything you’d rather me not say or do, don’t hesitate.”

You nod in reply, not sure of what else to say. Unfortunately your past experiences with men have made you suspicious of any form of flattery or kindness.

Soon, though, you relax. What reason is there for Hoseok to deceive you? Maybe he still has that rookie mindset. You can relate to the eagerness and the desire to do well you’d had in your early days of filming.

“Alright. Good luck, Hoseok.”

His smile is so bright that it erases your previous doubts. Surely someone with ill-intentions wouldn’t be able to smile like that, right? You return a tentative smile of your own. Something akin to understanding seems to pass between you. Although you don’t know Hoseok and he doesn’t know you, you trust him enough for this scene.

The moment is broken when Director Ryu directs Hoseok to wait outside the camera’s line of vision and you’re left alone in front of the kitchen stove.

Any moment now, you think. A telltale silence falls over the staff members as they all anticipate the director’s signal for the scene to start.

The first few seconds are always tricky. You’re no actress. There’s no switch inside of you that flips on and off as soon as the director commands “ACTION!” and “CUT!”. The world around you doesn’t fade out, your ‘porn star persona’ doesn’t claw its way out from within you and lunge for the nearest available dick. Sometimes, if you’re not attracted to your onscreen partner, you find your mind drifting off, making an inventory of your fridge and wondering what you’ll be able to cook up for dinner with two eggs and leftover rice.

When Director Ryu shouts “ACTION!” and slams down the plate, you freeze up. Usually you have an idea of what to say or do, but the words and actions won’t come to you this time.

Someone behind the cameras lets out a light cough. Oh right, you blink down at the simmering pot of water in front of you. The cameras are recording you making an utter fool out of yourself.

The spike of humiliation forces you into action. You’re more professional than this, damn it. You give the water a tentative stir, movements wooden and stiff. It’s hard to concentrate. All you can do is watch as the water simmers to a boil, the sound of bubbling water like a roaring current in your ears.

A door creaks open, signalling your onscreen husband’s return home.

To your horror, you find that you’re unable to move, as if your limbs had forgotten their primary function.

Before the scene had started, you had envisioned yourself throwing yourself into the arms of your loving husband and welcoming him home with a shower of kisses and words of affection. You had internally rehearsed it, had even thought of what you could say to him between pecks, but the reality is far removed from what you had practiced.

“Darling?” Hoseok’s voice is soft but loud enough for you to hear him over the angry sounds of boiling water. The vowels he uses are rounded, different from the bright pep in his tone from earlier. 

You want to respond but your tongue feels like lead, too heavy in your mouth to articulate and form the proper reply. What are you supposed to call him, anyway? Honey? Hoseok? A nickname derived from his name? What do newlywed spouses call each other? Why couldn’t you give this more thought before the cameras began rolling?

Panic balloons inside you, threatening to burst. For a terrifying and mortifying second, you think that you’ve gone and ruined everything. The muscles in your shoulders bunch up and you half-expect the director to shout ‘CUT!’, give you a public scolding for missing your cue and berate you for your overall ineptitude.

Hoseok’s arms wrap around your middle before you have time to agonize any further. Just as you suspected, his arms are strong, the lean muscles flexing as he readjusts his hold around your waist. What you don’t expect, however, is the unadulterated warmth he radiates. His body burns hot; even through the layers of clothing separating the two of you, his warmth seeps through. But it’s strangely comfortable, not unlike basking in the afternoon sun during the last days of summer. You let yourself melt into his embrace.

“You’re not even going to say hi?”

With your back turned to him, you can’t be sure, but you imagine the pout playing at his lips. He tucks his chin in the crook of your shoulder. If he feels any awkwardness, he doesn’t let it show.

Miraculously, your mouth seems to be in working order again. It takes you a few seconds too long to find the appropriate answer, but it finally comes before the director can cut in to make any remarks.

“If I turn around right now, I won’t be able to keep my hands off of you,” you explain. “And - I don’t want to ruin our dinner.”

Just to keep up the pretense, you add a handful of spaghetti into the pot of water.

Hoseok lets out a hum from behind you. He’s standing close enough for you to feel the vibrations low in his throat.

“I hate it,” he says after a stretch of silence.

You pout. “What? My cooking? What’s wrong with it?”

“No, silly. I hate -” he sighs, buries his face in your neck before looking back up so the camera can capture his expression. “I hate not being with you. I missed this.”

He hugs you from behind before kissing your neck. It starts off innocuous - his lips pressing short, chaste kisses down the column of your throat. Quickly, however, his mouth lingers on your skin.

“Ah - don’t. I’m cooking!” you shriek when his teeth scrape over a sensitive spot under your jaw. Your protests are half-hearted and go by unacknowledged. The pot of pasta could overflow right now and no one would care, least of all you.

Hoseok noses your neck while he tightening his grip around your waist, the movement bringing his hips flush against your lower back. You give the pot in front of you a very unenthusiastic stir, attention focused instead on the way his lips tenderly skim the surface of your skin, testing and teasing. The sensation feels nice - and keeps your mind off of the several cameras directed your way.

“But I went all day missing my princess,” he sighs, open mouthed against your neck. “Spent all day thinking about you.”

“Y-you did?”

“Mhm.” He gives your exposed shoulder a peck. Then another. “Thought about your cute little laugh.”

His line catches you off guard. Your mouth opens but no sound comes out.

Porn is often crude and to the point. You’re used to men complimenting your body parts or praising your skills in bed. You’d never minded, either. But Hoseok’s choice of words make you eager in a different way.

“What else?”

“Well, your cooking, for sure. Without you I’d be eating out of ramyeon packets for breakfast, lunch and dinner.”

You let out a snort.

“That’s true. Your cooking is so horrible it’s offensive.”

“Hey now. Don’t be mean.” He pokes your cheek before pinching your chin to turn your head towards him. “I can cook a decent omelet.”

Hoseok’s a good few inches taller than you so you have to strain your neck to be able to look him in the eyes. The slight discomfort barely registers. You’re too transfixed by the way he stares at you. It’s hard to place the expression because you’ve never seen it on a fellow actor before. Normally, the men you work with stare you down with hungry and lustful intent, but there’s none of that in Hoseok’s gaze.

The expression on his face cannot be described as innocent, either. He licks his lips, drawing your attention to the pretty lines of his mouth delicately curved into a smile.

“I missed the way you feel in my arms.” His voice sounds deeper, this time. “I missed holding you close to me. Kissing you. Reminding you how much I love you. I missed the look in your eyes when - “

“When?”

He smirks. “You sure you want to hear it? What if you can’t keep your hands off of me after? I don’t want to be held responsible for soggy pasta.”

“Hoseok,” you whine, one of your hands reaching down to slap at the hold around your stomach. 

He tightens his hold around you and your breath hitches, suddenly all too aware of how firm his body feels behind you. The smirk on his face widens as he leans forward to confess his next words.

“I was thinking about how I miss the look on your face whenever I make your pussy sloppy with my cum.”

“Hoseok!”

One moment he’s crooning sweet words of affection, the next he’s spitting out filth. The quick back-and-forth gives you whiplash but you can’t say you dislike it. Unlike the tired and overused clichéd porn scenarios you’ve filmed in the past, Hoseok’s unpredictable behavior has the advantage of keeping you on your toes.

“You missed it too, hm?” He kisses your neck, lips soft and warm. “Kept thinking about how pretty you sound. So, so pretty. Especially when I give you what you want.”

“How would you know what I want?” You turn your head forwards so you can pretend to check up on the cooking pasta. “You were away all day.”

Hoseok’s eyes flash dangerously.

“How would I know?” he parrots back, his tone sweet and mocking. Something about it sends tingles down your spine and has you standing up straighter. “I always know what my pretty wife wants. I know because your body can’t lie to me.”

His hands wander, one of them inching up the material of your frilly apron to reach between your breasts. The movement is slow enough for a camera to zoom in and follow its trail. Hoseok rests his hand on your left breast and gives it a squeeze.

“See?” He repeats the action. “Your heart’s racing like crazy.”

You swallow audibly, finding it hard to come up with a witty riposte.

He continues with a chuckle, “You can’t deny it, can you? Your body’s too honest for your own good. It’s okay. You don’t have to say you missed me. I know.”

His self-assured way of talking makes it easier for you to react. This - the cockiness, the playfulness - you’re familiar with.

You roll your eyes and continue to give the pot in front of you a few additional stirs only for your breath to hitch when he starts to grind his hips against your lower back in time with your stirs.

Fuck is your only coherent thought. He rolls his hips so well it’s impossible not to imagine them doing something else. Your bottom lip grows numb from how hard you bite it.

“Of course I missed you.” You keep your tone as light as possible, determined not to show that his words and actions affect you.

Hoseok’s eyes narrow. He removes his hands from around you but keeps his front pressed against your back. He smiles again, dimples poking through.

“You don’t sound convinced... That’s fine.” It sounds like the beginning of a challenge and you soon learn why.

His nimble fingers play with the knot of your apron and you tense, expecting him to make quick work of your clothes and dive straight into dessert, so to speak. Once again, he surprises you by leaving the apron alone, hands falling to his sides.

His knees hit the floor, the noise startling you. Before you have the chance to truly react, he’s quick to pull your hips backwards until your back is arched. The sudden change in position forces you to adjust your stance so as to keep your balance.

“Hoseok?” you start to question but he cuts you off with a tut and light smack to your ass.

“You just keep your eye on dinner like you were doing before.” His fingers play with the hem of your short dress, stretching the fabric until it bunches up around your hips and leaves your lacy thong on display. “You can do that, right?”

Flustered by the position he’s maneuvered you into, with your hips thrust back obscenely, legs splayed wide and pussy on show, you grip the wooden spoon in your hand with more force than necessary. “It’s just pasta. I can manage.”

Maybe you sound less indifferent than intended because Hoseok seems more amused than offended by your feinted nonchalance. He barks out a laugh, his hands spreading the meat of your cheeks aside to get a better view of your lace-covered bits.

Privately, you wish you could witness his reaction. If there’s anything that turns you on, it’s knowing how much someone else wants you. If feels good to know that you’re wanted and desired. Even if fucking is part of your job description, the act needs to be mutually enjoyable for you to be completely satisfied.

“Sure.” The lilt in his voice is so sweet that it borders on condescending. “While you do that, I think I’ll have my appetizer.”

It’s corny, overused and a little degrading - exactly the type of one-liner you’d ordinarily find in porn - but he gives you no time to call him out for it. As soon as he’s done talking, he wags his tongue out and drags it across the red lace, and the repeated up and down motions quickly dampen your panties.

You notice with great frustration that he takes care to avoid your clit, focusing instead on licking broad stripes over slit and, to your surprise, around your rim.  He doesn’t stop until your underwear drips with the accumulation of your essence and his saliva. The soaked lace rubs against you, the rough texture adding pressure to your most sensitive zones, until you can’t tell if the extra sensation is a blessing or a curse. Your hips jerk forward every so often, unsure if you’d rather lean into or escape his torturous games. Because as amazing as Hoseok’s tongue feels, you know your body well enough to be able to tell that this particular tempo won’t bring you to your peak.

An appetizer, he had called it. That’s exactly what the teasing ministrations feel like - a small sampling before the main course. It’s satisfying and maddening in its own way. Good, but not enough to satisfy your ravenous appetite.

He unearths himself from your dripping core, chin shiny with your juices.

“Keep focus,” he instructs as he slots two fingers inside of you. You’re wet enough that they slide in without too much difficulty, the stretch making your stomach clench. “I thought you said you knew how to cook pasta.”

Against your will, you force yourself to focus on the bubbling water in front of you. As much as you want to push your hips back and ride his fingers until you’re pushed over the edge, you can’t take the humiliation of messing up pasta - even if it is for the sake of a porn scenario.

It’s fucking pasta! You have to be seriously inept to mess up such a simple dish...

But what should have been an effortless task becomes more challenging than expected. Hoseok refuses to go easy on you. If anything, your stubborn silence is all the motivation he needs to thrust his fingers inside of you harder, curving them at an angle that makes your knees wobble. You struggle to keep any incriminating noises at bay but despite your best efforts, several muffled moans slip out one after the other.

Somewhere in the back of your mind, the logical side of you points out how dangerous all of this is. What if, during your impending orgasm, your body seizes up and knocks the boiling water everywhere during the process? You quickly switch off the gas stove at the thought. Better be safe than sorry.

Just then, Hoseok adds his tongue to the mix, his fingers relentless in their pursuit of your pleasure. You bite back a curse as the wooden spoon slips from your hold and clatters to the floor.

“Ah fu - Oh God,” you stutter, hands holding on to the edge of the counter for dear life.

You’ve been eaten out God knows how many times in your life, but not many have instinctively known what really gets you going. Hoseok laps at your core, tongue collecting the moisture that seeps through the fabric of your ruined panties, while his fingers scissor you open for his cock.

Your stomach clenches as you imagine how well he’d fill you up. Who the hell would ever want pasta for dinner when Hoseok could feed you his cock instead? Definitely not you, that’s for sure.

It’s easy to picture it. All he’d need to do is stand up, unzip his pants and spear you open with a practiced roll of his hips. Maybe he’d make you toss a salad while he fucks you from behind, slapping your ass whenever you forget to keep stirring the ingredients together. Or perhaps he’d let you ride his dick on the kitchen floor, too impatient to make it to a more comfortable surface.

Your imagination knows no bounds. Once you start, you can’t stop thinking of more lascivious scenarios, each one more daring and debauched than the last. The heat between your legs becomes unbearable and still, you ache for more.

Hoseok pulls away from the apex of your thighs and snorts, the sound pulling you out of your depraved thoughts. The pace of his thrusting slows down without stopping completely, his fingers still pressed deep within you. Your arms tremble as they try to keep you upright, knuckles white from the strength of your grip around the counter’s edge. You exhale shakily.

A whine works its way into your voice. “Why - why’d you stop?”

Ignoring your protests, he pops his fingers out of you and indulges in one last lick of your swollen pussy, before gathering to his feet. He rolls down your dress back over your bum and peers over your shoulder, acting as nothing had ever happened.

“Thought you said you’d take care of dinner, hm?” Hoseok has the gall to hum in disappointment.

Your mouth opens in outrage. “You!”

Hoseok pouts. “I thought we said you wouldn’t blame me for any soggy pasta.”

“You’re impossible,” you say without any real heat to your words.

“But you love me that way.”

He smiles as he leans in to kiss you, lips sticky and warm. You follow the pace he sets as best you can, unaccustomed to the way he takes his time - like you’re a delicacy that demands to be savored and not gulped down. On-screen kisses are usually rushed, messy, with too much tongue. They’re a scripted affair, more for show than out of real affection. When men tuck back your hair behind your ear or palm your cheek, it’s only to better angle your face for the camera.

There is something intimate about the way he holds you, the way he looks at you. Inwardly, you can't help but admire his acting skills. There’s something tender about the way he handles you that’s distinctly different from any of your previous onscreen partners. Sure, you’ve shot vanilla sex scenes before, but never of this variety. None of the male actors’ performances have made you wish, even fleetingly, foolishly, that the scene was real.

Hoseok pulls up for air before your mind can wander off completely, his panting mouth a hairsbreadth away. Lips touching but not quite.

Blearily, you blink your eyes open. You’re close enough that your noses brush against one another, your breaths mingling together. Hoseok’s eyes remain closed throughout, like he doesn’t want the moment to end. He looks so content that you can’t bring yourself to do anything else but melt further into his embrace, gaze drinking in the minute details of his face - like the tiny moles dotting his cheekbone and upper lip and the pretty curve of his eyes.

“And cut!”

You both jump away from each other, startled. For a second there, the storyline you’d been instructed to follow had slipped from your mind. You’re unsure if the lapse in judgement is good or bad but you don’t let the question linger in your thoughts. You’ll have plenty of time to dissect your performance at a later time.

“Good, good. That wasn’t what I was expecting but I don’t think anyone has any objections?” Director Ryu claps his hands. “Fifteen minute break sound good everyone? Then we’ll relocate to the bedroom to shoot the next part.”

There’s a general hum of agreement from the crew members. Chairs and various other equipment scrape the floor as the personnel prepare to migrate to the other room for filming. Jimin’s gaze meets yours briefly but all he can do is smile weakly in your direction before he’s ordered to help push some of the equipment down the hall.

Someone comes up to you with a bottle of water while another steps closer to blot the beads of sweat near your hairline and reapply a layer of lipstick. The make-up artist knits her brows in concentration until she’s satisfied with the touch-ups. She then moves on to Hoseok, make-up palette and brush at the ready, and grumbles loudly about the sticky residue covering his face. You hear Hoseok bellow a laugh, the sound so infectious that even the make-up artist joins in. 

You sip your water through a straw, careful not to smudge your freshly applied lipstick, and check your phone for any missed messages.

“Was all of that okay?”

“Hm?” You look up and are surprised to see Hoseok stare at you expectantly. “I, uh, know some girls aren’t into ass play. I’m sorry. I should’ve asked before jumping the gun but I figured - since you said there wasn’t anything major you were adverse to filming...”

His voice trails off.

“I liked it.” The admission is an easy one. “It did take me by surprise, but - I don’t have any complaints.”

“Ah, really?” Hoseok’s mouth corners upturn in relief. “That’s good to know. I was thinking - for the next scene - what if - I mean, are you okay with calling me Daddy?”

You tilt your head as you mull over the proposition.

“Daddy?”

“It’s not - you don’t have to. But listening to Director Ryu go on earlier made me think of something we could do. I think it fits well with the general idea. What do you think?”

“I’m fine with it.” Using the title doesn’t make you squeamish so you shrug in compliance. It’s not the first you’ve had to incorporate a daddy kink into the scene and it likely won’t be the last. You don’t see why you wouldn’t or shouldn’t do it with Hoseok. “I’ll follow your lead like I’ve been doing.”

It’s only as you’re following him towards the bedroom that you recall that you’ve yet to get to the crux of the scene - the damned impregnation kink. Even though you’re considerably less nervous than you’d been an hour or two ago, the thought of begging someone you barely know for something so intimate makes your stomach flip-flop. You don’t even have unprotected sex with Jimin and he’s your boyfriend.

Speaking of Jimin, you try to sneak in a peck or two before filming but Director Ryu intercepts you before you can make a beeline to where Jimin’s stationed behind a camera.

“How are you feeling?” The overhead light reflects off his round glasses and makes it impossible to hold eye contact unless you want to become semi-permanently blind.

“Good---”

“Wonderful. Well, we’ve positioned cameras here, here, and over there. There’ll be another camera man who’ll film with a handheld camera for closeups. Just keep that in mind. I know we’re giving you free-range to do what you feel is best and most natural but I’d hate to ask you to re-shoot because the camera couldn’t capture the both of you properly.”

You nod and he continues, “Also - please remember that you’re acting as a horny young married couple. I remember at that age I was up for anything, you get what I’m saying? People think just because you put a ring on your finger the sex automatically becomes stale. Fuck that. Show people married couples are freaks in the sheet.”

“Uh... Alright. I’ll keep that in mind.”

He claps a hand over your shoulder. “That’s the spirit.”

Freaks in the sheet? What did he expect you to do? Try out all the sex positions in the Kama Sutra?

“What did he want now?” Hoseok leans over to whisper once you’re seated comfortably on the bed. You’re hoping the mics don’t pick up the conversation but would rather not take the risk of being overheard bad-mouthing the director.

Shrugging, you say, “Just that this scene should be spicier.”

Hoseok raises his brow, lips quirking into a smirk. “That so?”

The same cockiness you’d caught a glimpse of during your escapade in the kitchen is back and the memory you associate it with makes the back of your neck prickle with heat. You clear your throat and avert your eyes.

Thankfully Director Ryu interrupts before Hoseok has the chance to fluster you further. You follow each of the director’s voiced directives until you’re comfortably seated on Hoseok’s lap, dress hitched around your waist because of how far your knees are spread on either side of Hoseok’s thighs. There’s a quick, last minute adjustment as Director Ryu ensures that the camera in the left corner picks up on everything it’s supposed to.

Satisfied, he lets you take the reins from there, then gives the cameras the signal to begin rolling.

You don’t waste a moment, taking his earlier commentary to heart. It’s your turn to pepper kisses all over Hoseok’s golden skin, leaving faint traces of rouge behind like an artist signing their own painting. You stop a few times to admire your work. Lip prints and lavender bite marks color his skin and the sight awakens a possessive streak you didn’t know you had.

Your enthusiasm to mark him up gets a little out of hand.

"Mhm." Hoseok grunts when you lick over a sensitive spot under his jaw. "Slow down, princess. There's no rush. We have all night."

He cups his chin between his hands so you have no choice but to relent and direct your gaze up at him. You’re pleased to see that he’s not completely indifferent to your touch; despite his instructions to take it slow, the smoldering look in his eyes tell a different story.

He runs the pad of his thumb over your lower lip, the pink flesh no doubt swollen. You take the digit in your mouth, unprompted, and run your tongue against its underside, wishing that his cock could fill your mouth instead.

Hoseok makes a noise low in his throat, not quite a growl but close.

"And I intend to take my time with you." The look he levels you with promises a night full of mind-numbing pleasure. Ribbons of heat curl around the base of your spine. "Want to make you feel good."

"You do," you agree, words muffled around the thumb you refuse to let go of.

You take a hold of his wrist and free your mouth, only to quickly replace it with his forefinger and middle finger. The stretch of two digits makes you moan lewdly.

Hoseok’s eyes darken. He lets you play for a few more seconds before he takes back control, his fingers pushing deeper into your mouth until they hit the back of your throat. You swallow down a gag, but his fingers don’t let you rest for long. He drags them over the flat of your tongue, watching as spit dribbles down past the sides of your mouth, and repeats the motion, pumping into your mouth steadily like he would a cock.

As nice as it feels to be filled with his fingers, whether in your cunt or mouth, you’re ready for more. Subconsciously, your hips grind down in his lap, shifting this way and that until you’re perfectly seated over his hardened length.

Drool is pushed out of your mouth as Hoseok squeezes a third fingers in with the other two. You suck harder, hoping that all your efforts will spur Hoseok into finally fucking you. The knowledge that he has to, at one point or another, keeps you from whining and begging pathetically for his cock. You can exercise patience if you put your mind to it; you’re sure of it. 

Your on-screen husband decides to test that resolve.

His other hand starts to wander south, his fingers toying with the short hem of your dress that’s been rucked up even higher with all your rocking and grinding. The movement of your hips slow, your brain unable to keep up with the stimuli coming in all directions.

A crack resounds in the room, the sharp sound startling you more than the sting that accompanies it. Hoseok’s palm rubs over the heated area, only inflaming it further.

“And who told you you could stop?”

The second slap is notably harsher than the first, and your hips automatically lurch forward hoping perhaps to lessen the impact of the sting.

You know he doesn’t expect a verbal answer; his second hand keeps your mouth plugged up, making any attempt at talking unintelligible. It doesn’t stop you from trying, only because you know the muffled protest are greatly appreciated amongst viewers. And if the way Hoseok’s digs his fingers into your smarting ass cheek is any indicator, you’re confident that he also enjoys your squirming and messy display.

“Keep moving, princess. I need both your holes nice and wet.”

The way his voice dips an octave makes your stomach twist in arousal. You long to tell him that you’re sufficiently wet enough for him to slide his cock inside right away but all you manage are pitiful garbled words.

He raises an eyebrow at your delayed response and your hips move before he can smack the globes of your ass for a third time. You have an inkling he’ll only hit harder with the intention of leaving marks of his own all over your skin.

It’s a careful balancing act, but you figure it out as you go. Bounce too fast and the fingers in your mouth will make you gag. Move too slowly for his liking and he won’t hesitate to add to the collection of handprints on your ass.

You lose track of how long he makes you play this game. Your mind focuses on sucking while keeping your jaw slack enough to accomadate the width of three digits. Drool pools down your chin, and you’re certain whatever the make-up artist had done to your lips is now ruined. Worse off are your panties. At the stage they’re at now, you’ll have no choice but to throw them out. Hoseok’s pants might need be as unsalveagable as your thong, you think inwardly, judging by the large, dark wet spot you’re currently sitting on.

“Mmh, good girl.” 

He gently slides his fingers out, strings of saliva attached. He hums in satisfaction at the lewd sight and rubs his fingers across your swollen lips and shiny chin, spreading the fluids and what’s left of your lipstick over your mouth. You swallow, mouth sore from being used roughly for so long.

“This hole is sufficiently wet, I think,” he appraises, eyelashes fluttering before he casts a long look down your body until it reaches where you’re seated on his clothed erection. “Let’s check this one too.”

The way he smirks at you but makes no move to check himself lets you know that he expects you to do the work.

You let your hands trail down your body slowly, cupping your breasts as you do, enjoying his hooded gaze and the way his cock twitches beneath you a bit too much. When you reach the hem of your dress, you lift your hips up to pull the fabric up to your navel giving an unobstructed view of your lace-covered pussy.

Hoseok stare intensifies but you don’t feel any embarrassment from the scrutiny. “Well you certainly look ripe.”

His fingers toy with the delicate string of lace around your hips. He lets the material snap against your skin a few times before he grows bored or impatient with his own game and gives the lace a harsh yank. It tears easily and the leftover scraps fall into his lap.

“... But just to be sure -” His hands grip your waist and manhandle you onto your hands and knees. Your head spins from how suddenly he’s moved you around to his liking that your arms give out and you fall face first into the clean smelling bed sheets. “Gotta give my favorite hole of yours a better look.”

His hands hoist your hips at a higher angle so that your soaked center is visible for the cameras to pan onto. Hoseok slides in two fingers easily, then a third. Loud, obscene noises echo in the otherwise quiet room, noises that are quickly joined by your unabashed moans of pleasure.

Your core is on fire. Hoseok’s fingers are just as good as you remember them to be. No, better. The three fingers pump into you in measured strokes, the drag slow enough to keep you dangling over the edge without pushing you over.

Hoseok spanks your ass, hissing between his teeth as you clench around his fingers, no doubt imagining your inner walls hugging his cock instead. 

“Christ. You’re always such a soft, wet little thing down here,” he croons in dulcet tones. “I could play with you all day.”

You thrust your hips back, shameless.

“Please! Please Daddy, I’ll be so good, I just - please - I nuh, need it. Need your cock fucking me full. I’ll take it so good, you know I will. Want you to - please! Daddy, I need your cum.”

“Shit.”

He fumbles in his haste to flip you onto your back. He crawls over your body, and you watch fascinated as he dives down to kiss you like a man starved. He looks almost feral, pupils so dilated the brown of his eyes is almost gone.

Heat blooms in your stomach as he kisses you deeply. The press of his lips against yours renders you a little less coherent as time ticks on, every brush of his tongue making you a little more dizzy with want.

Everything about him burns. It feels like being kissed by the sun itself. Every caress, every lick and nip leaves you feverish all over, like your drunk off his touch.

"Let me," he says, pinching the zipper of your dress between his thumb and index finger.

You wrap your hand around his and guide his movements. His gaze never leaves yours and it makes shivers run down your back. Even though you're the one controlling his movements for the time being, the look in his eyes makes it abundantly clear that the control you wield is only temporary.

When your dress finally falls open, you try not to preen too much under the reverent look that falls over Hoseok’s face. Your back arches a little off the bed, pert breasts thrust towards him - an appealing offer he doesn’t dare refuse.

Hoseok circles a thumb around your nipple, rubbing and flicking until it hardens into a stiff peak.

You wonder, distantly, how this looks like from the outside looking in. The man in front of you is a stranger in all senses of the word. Yet the way he touches you - like there are years of built-up affection behind every gesture - makes you second guess everything you know.

"Fuckin' love your tits.” He sighs, awe reflected in the dark of his eyes. "Love playing with them. Love how wet it gets you, how hungry your little pussy gets."

"Please,” you mewl, his words igniting a new wave of heat. It rolls over your body, leaving no extremity untouched. You burn from the inside out with raw desire.

You squeeze your own breasts in a bid to get him to touch you more. Hoseok merely chuckles, finding your desperation entertaining. One of his hands reach down between you to play with the wetness that clings to your core like a second skin and it takes everything inside of you not to rub yourself against him like a bitch in heat.

"What is it, princess?" His lips quirk into a smirk like he already knows the answer. "You're looking quite needy. How did you manage to hold it in all this time?"

“Stop teasing,” you growl, the lack of friction making you irritable. "I need your cock. And why - why do you have so many fucking clothes on?”

He chuckles, chest vibrating in amusement.

“Take them off,” you insist. Then, you grudgingly tack on a “Please” for good measure.

As hot as Hoseok looks like in his “work clothes”, he looks infinitely better naked, you decide as he chucks off his button-down shirt and gets started on his leather belt. With each new piece of clothing that gets discarded, the anticipation building inside of you skyrockets.

You take a moment to soak in his lithe figure, not bothering to hide how affected you are by the view. He’s nicely sculpted; you can tell right away that he takes care of himself. Swimming or dancing maybe? You hesitate between the two. His muscles are lean, nothing like the bulging biceps and thick forearms typical of the stereotypical gym rat.

Hoseok’s dick is, unsurprisingly, as pretty as the rest of him. It’s long and curved, a prominent vein running along its underside. The thatch of pubic hair that rests above his dick is neatly trimmed, the dark hair contrasting with the tan skin of his abdomen and the rosy hue of his erect length. Your eyes swoop down his thighs, licking your lips unwittingly at the alluring sight presented to you.

“Daddy,” you say, the whine in your voice unmistakable. “Want your cock.”

For a brief moment you’re tricked into believing he’s given in to your demand, but find yourself disappointed when he contents himself with rubbing his hardened member between your thighs, the glide slippery thanks to the copious amount of your essence that’s pooled there.

“Like this?” Hoseok asks, tone too sweet to be anything but mocking. The head of his cock bumps into your swollen bundle of nerves one, two, three times. You keen, your hips canting upwards in a bid to get more friction. “Want to rut against me until you get nice and creamy?”

He uses his right hand to spread your slick lower lips so that he can nestle his cock snuggly between them. He rolls his hips, the undulations fluid and dirty, and smirks at how you moan brokenly beneath him.

Your stomach clenches. “Need it in me."

"You'll get it," he promises after kissing you sloppily, lips sucking on your tongue. His breath is ragged but his voice steady, firm. "I'll give you everything you need. Make you cum so many times you know who owns this sweet pussy."

He speaks so surely, carries himself with so much confidence, that in the moment you can't help but believe him. The line between staged and reality blurs and you find yourself nodding eagerly, begging him as best you can to give you what you want.

The first tentative push of his dick wipes you clean of coherency. He slowly eases himself into you, reaching forward to lace his fingers with yours. It’s - more intimate than you expected. He squeezes your hand tightly in his when he finally manages to bury his entire length inside of you.

“Perfect.” He kisses the side of your temple before drawing back, his hard cock dragging deliciously against you. With a fluid hip thrust, he slides back in and you feel the stretch moreso this time around. The curvature of his cock has him pressing up against your walls in a way that robs you of breath.

"Daddy! Hh - ah, oh God. You're too b-big."

"Mhm, that's right. Daddy's fat cock is splitting you open. I'll plug you up with it later so none of my cum will leak out."

Every time he pulls back, your pussy clamps down tightly around him, unwilling to be empty even for a second.

Hoseok’s nostrils flare in arousal. He grabs your left tit and squeezes, using it as a hold to better fuck into you. With his body hovering above yours, his hand staking claim of your breast, and his cock drilling into you, you have nowhere to go. Pinned to the bed and unable to do anything but take everything he delivers, you wrap your legs around his waist and moan.

"Daddy's gonna fuck some babies into you,” he rasps, his eyes dark pools of lust. "Gonna breed your sweet pussy over and over. You'll be so full of my cum that you'll be pregnant with my babies for sure."

“Oh fuck. Yes, yes - oh my nhhg.” You sob as Hoseok drives his cock into you with more force. While the piston of his hips isn’t rushed, he pulls out to the tip only to slam back in to the hilt every time. The stretch burns in a good way and the sound of your moans are rivaled only by the wet, obscene sounds from your coupling.

"Fuck. Your cunt just - shit." He cracks down a hand against your ass and you shriek, not expecting it. "You're so tight, holy shit."

"Want it. Want you to fuck me good."

"I will," he says lowly, the promise reverberating deep in his chest. "I'll fuck you until you're begging me to stop. Fill you up so much, you'll be bloated with it."

And it should freak you out, the imagery he paints with his words, but the thought of laying there and him fucking you so well that you won't be able to feel your legs has you gushing out more wetness.

"Mmmh.” Maybe he can feel how soaked you are because he comments, “This is my favorite hole of yours, princess. Always so fuckin' drenched. I bet we’ll have to throw out the sheets again." He chuckles. "You must be hungry for it, right? I made you wait so long. No wonder your pussy is clenching like that. It needs a big, fat cock to milk dry."

“I missed it,” you cry, body skidding a little higher up the duvet each time he fucks into you. Your eyelashes flutter, lids heavy. It’s hard to concentrate, let alone form words, when your brain feels like complete mush. “I - I need your cum. Daddy, please.”

"Don't worry, gorgeous. I've got you. Daddy will feed your cute pussy his cock."

"Th-thank you, Daddy."

"Love you," he murmurs. It’s a quiet confession, lost somewhere in between the mattress creaks, the loud slaps of Hoseok’s hips slamming against yours, and the string of whimpers and groans pulled from your throat. It’s quiet but you hear it.

One of your hands reach up to pull him down by the neck so that your lips meet. He kisses you open-mouthed. It’s a filthy kiss, one that makes you moan into his mouth. You’re certain that if you had been standing your knees would have wobbled.

When you let up for air, Hoseok’s staring you down, his red-bitten lips plump and shiny.

"Love this pussy. So sweet and wet for me. Always for fucking swollen, like it's waiting to get a pounding. Love that. Love how eager you are to be bred by my thick cock."

The impregnation kink is - a bit much. You've never really imagined having kids, at least not anytime soon. You can’t even keep your plants alive for fuck’s sake.

But the way he suggests it is nothing like what you had imagined. His suggestions are - vulgar and primal. Like the urge to fuck you full of his cum is biological and he can’t smother it.

For a moment, you let yourself entertain the thought of being his breeding bitch - of laying on your back and letting him fuck load after load of cum inside you until your pussy physically can't accommodate any more. Of not having any other worries or thoughts but take his cock every moment of the day.

"You just got tighter.” He curses under his breath, voice thick with arousal.  "Such a warm little hole. Taking everything I give it. You'd take anything if it meant getting bred by me, right?"

“Yes, yes,” you chant, pleasure coiling inside of you. “Give me more! I need it."

"Shit. You can't handle more, princess," he tries to reason. "Daddy needs to be gentle with you. Your hole is so small, it'll hurt if I go harder."

"Daddy promised to fuck me.” You whine, uncaring if you sound too bratty and demanding. "B- Breed my hole. It's yours. Puh-please use me."

"God." Hoseok groans, his features twisting in what looks to be pain or pleasure. With tremendous effort he pulls himself out of you and your eyes widen in panic.

“What? Daddy why? I thought—”

He shushes you, reaching somewhere overhead to grab a fluffy pillow. "Just wait a sec, okay? There you go.”

The pillow is placed underneath your hips, keeping them elevated. When Hoseok takes his glistening cock in hand and directs it back in, you both moan in unison.

"Oh fuck, I’m gonna, ah,” you gasp as your mind goes blank with pleasure. The new angle is heaven on earth. It’s almost too much, too quick, but Hoseok’s firm grip on your hips prevents you from alleviating the pressure.

"Take it." He grunts, brows knit together. Every powerful snap of his hips makes your breasts bounce, your breath hitch. Without his hands keeping you pinned down, your head would have collided with the headboard by now. "Be a good princess and take your fucking."

He gains momentum, the new angle facilitating the slide of his cock. He drags the flat of his palm down your thigh and takes a hold of your knee before hoisting it up over your shoulder. The stretch burns the back of your calves but you’re so fucked out, you can’t even find the words to complain.

When you glance up, it’s to fall upon the sight of Hoseok brushing his sweaty fringe out of his face. His cheeks are flushed pink, his skin dewy from the film of perspiration wrapped around his body. Beads of sweat trickle down his heaving chest but he chooses to forgo a quick break. On the contrary, he pushes in deeper like he’s determined to carve out a permanent space for his cock.

"Just gonna keep you here,” he huffs, his eyes the shade of cloudless night sky. “Everyday I'll fuck my cum back inside of you so that you'll always stay full. Want to fuck you forever. Don't want this to end."

"Want it too," you sob, orgasm hovering just on the periphery. "Want you to keep me full forever. Ugh - oh fuck! Hoseok- I'm—"

"You gonna cum around my cock, princess?" He angles his hips downwards, relishing in the wanton cry it elicits. "Gonna give me everything?"

"I'm yours," you profess, jaw slack with pleasure.

It doesn’t take much more for the orgasm to crash over you, Hoseok fucks you through it, groaning as your inner walls spasm around him. He breathes out curses, lip drawn tight between his lips, and doesn’t wait for the last waves of your orgasm to abate to chase after his own end.

In the throes of your pleasure, it doesn’t register then that Hoseok has been holding back all this time. If you thought he had been fucking you hard before, it’s nothing compared to now. He growls and bends forward, forcing your leg to stretch even more, and pushes in and out of you at a pace that makes you scream.

You don’t even have time to come down from your first high that you’re already thrown towards your second. Hoseok plugs your mouth up using two digits, his fingers a firm pressure against your tongue. Your eyes roll back, too overwhelmed from the feeling of being stuffed on both ends.

“God, I could fuck your holes all fucking day.” His rhythm begins to falter as the pressure inside of him grows, his movements frantic and less controlled than they’ve ever been. “How about that? I’ll fuck my princess’ mouth properly next time, stretch it out nicely. Then you’ll let me have your ass, hm?”

Shit, shit, you whimper around his fingers, spit bubbling down the sides on your mouth. It’s scary knowing you have no way to stop the oncoming destruction.

“Yeah, I can tell you love that. You’re gonna cream my dick again, aren’t you?” You can’t tell if the sound he makes is a laugh or a grunt. All you know is that you feel like you’re about to burst. “C’mon, be a good girl and milk my cum out. You better get every last drop.”

There’s an underlying threat in his command. You do your best to obey his words, not wanting to disappoint.

Hoseok pushes his cock in as deep as it can go and grinds his hips into yours. His cock reaches so deep that you swear he might hit your cervix. And considering the nature of the scene you’re portraying, maybe that’s what he intends.

He swipes his fingers through the mess of your cunt, zeroing in on your sensitive clit. He swirls some of your fluids over it before giving it a sharp pinch that makes you cry out. Your hips fly off the pillow but Hoseok is quick to pin you back down. The never-ending drag of his cock along your walls paired with the rough ministrations to your clit is all you need for the pressure inside you to snap.

Above you, Hoseok moans, low and throaty, as he finally dumps rope after rope of warm cum inside of you. He throws his head back, exposing the collar of purplish bruises you sucked onto his skin earlier. Something about the view satisfies you immensely - not that you’d dare voice these thoughts out loud.

Hoseok’s strength gives out and he sags onto your body, his breath warm against your skin. He feels hot, like a furnace, but strangely it’s not uncomfortable. It’s almost like having a personal heating pad; the soreness of your muscles melts away with each passing moment.

Much to your displeasure, your post-coital bliss doesn’t last forever. He's given the signal to pull out and obeys, careful to keep your hips propped up so that his load of cum won’t slosh out. He’s still got a role to play, after all, and the end goal is to get you pregnant.

A cameraman walks forward to zoom in on your swollen and used pussy - physical proof of your exploits. The haze lifts. You become more aware of the people standing on the outskirts of your vision, lighting or sound equipment in hand.

“And that’s a wrap!” Director Ryu calls, his cheeks stretched to accommodate the width of his grin. “Good job everybody!”

You breathe out a sigh, glad your day is finally over. Seokjin walks up to you with a robe for you to throw on and you nod in thanks, slipping the satin gown over your sweaty body.

Around you, the staff start milling about, putting the equipment away and gathering their belongings. You pay them no heed, your attention focused on getting changing into showering and changing into comfortable clothes. You’re in the middle of taming your messy hair when your stomach erupts into growls, reminding you of your hungry state. What you’d do for a big slice of piz—

You remember your date with Jimin and speed up, not wanting to make him wait around for you any longer. It’s not hard to spot him - he’s waiting outside of your dressing room, can of coke in hand.

Something about his smile feels off.

Maybe it’s the way his eye corners don’t crease or the slight strain the curve of his mouth that betray him.

Your expression falls. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing - it’s nothing, don’t worry,” he says after a short, tense moment of silence. The look on your face must have reflected your feelings of doubt because he proceeds by reaching out and pulling you tight against him. Pressed up against his shirt, you can smell the faintest trace of the fabric softener he uses and its scent, familiar and sweet, mollifies you somewhat. “You did amazing today, baby. As usual.”

The compliment you’ve been waiting for makes the sides of your lips rise automatically. “I did, didn’t I?”

“Almost too well.” He hums, one of his hands stroking the back of your head.

“Well, I can’t take all the credit, “ you admit. “The results wouldn’t have been half as good if Hoseok hadn’t been my partner. He’s new in the game but he doesn’t act like it, does he?”

“He doesn’t, no.” Jimin agrees. “He’s... he’s something, alright.”

Your grin widens. All your worrying had been for nothing, in the end. The shoot had gone without a hitch, all of the set members coming up to you with praises of a job well done. You can’t recall the last time any of your performances had elicited such a response post-filming. Even Director Ryu looks particularly pleased, a permanent grin etched onto his features as he reviews the tapes. The knowledge that you’ve done well fills you with a pleasant giddiness that warms your insides and makes your cheeks hurt from how wide your smile stretches.

“Oh good, you’re still here.” Hoseok beams. A damp towel hangs around his neck and the ends of his hair are wet like he’s just gone and doused his head under the bathroom faucet. “I was worried you had left. I just - thanks for earlier. I had a lot of fun! If the chance presents itself, I hope we can work together again.”

“Thank you.” You want to praise him too, know that his performance deserves it, but your next words are cut off before they have the chance to form. Jimin steps closer to you, his grip on your hip tightening suddenly.

When you glance up to check on your boyfriend, he’s sporting a serious expression that you’ve rarely seen before. He doesn’t look angry, but it’s clear as day that he isn’t too pleased with the present situation. His face is closed off, cold, unwelcoming - so drastically different from the usual cherubic sweetness you’re accustomed to seeing.

You’re at a loss for words, unsure of who to address first. What’s going on?

Hoseok senses the sudden change in atmosphere and chooses to tactfully retreat.

“Good work, man.” He nods at Jimin and then shoots you a wave. “See you around sometime, ______ !”

Your eyes follow his exit before you turn to face Jimin again, hoping the smile on your face masks the worry you feel bubbling on the inside.

“Jimin what - I mean, are you sure you're okay?”

Jimin returns a strained smile of his own. “I’m fine.”

Your gaze lands on his right hand that’s still squeezing your waist. It borders on uncomfortable but you try not to let it show. You must not do a very good job at schooling your features because Jimin quickly apologizes for his behavior.

“Sorry.” Jimin lets you go once he notices your discomfort. “I just - I don’t know. You’re right, I’m not acting like myself. I think...seeing you say that stuff and act that way just - I’m not sure why, I guess - Since usually the sex isn’t like that, it caught me off guard.”

“You didn’t like that I acted like I was in love with him.”

“Would anyone?” he shoots back, smile sardonic. “It just looked so convincing in the moment. I guess it got me worked up.”

Sure, Hoseok is hot. If you had to work with him again, you would in a heartbeat. It’s not often you land a colleague you’re so sexually compatible with, who also happens to be so well-mannered and good-looking. It’s like hitting the jackpot, really.

But - just because you’d fuck him again for professional reasons, doesn’t mean that you’re interested in him beyond that.

“Jimin. I don’t want to be with anybody else but you.”

“Yeah. Yeah, I know.” The muscles in his face relax. “I love you.”

“Love you, too.”

.

.

It’s not until later, as he fucks you uncharacteristically hard in the backseat of his car parked in the back lot of the film studio, that you begin to wonder if things really are as idyllic as you believe them to be.

.

.

.

[wthelvetica21]

Linked Souls / Timeline Splitting Delirium : Part 3

(at a set of cheap apartments)

Lewis: Well shit man, YOU talk to him not me since he’s… you know... ehh

zero_one: A version of me from another timeline. *sigh* We talked about this Lewis I CAN’T interact with any none merged versions of myself or our reality will collapse. It’s… really complicated to explain in layman’s terms. 

(zero_one said as he pushed his fingers together nervously)

Lewis: Who told ya that? That smooth talking German guy in the pink?

zero_one: You mean Tesla? Yes. I was about to say that’s rich coming from you but... I don’t know. 

Lewis: Fine, but can we call someone like Armstrong or even Arthur to be backup? Cuz I ain’t goin’ in there alone. It’s awkward enough to know you used to be like… no offense but a…

zero_one: An alcoholic…I’m fully aware of that. Listen I can’t really remember anything from my past life Lewis but I can recognize myself when I see it and it’s just… upsetting to say the least.

- Lewis couldn’t just tell but feel the emotions going through zero_one right now. It’s a mixture of fear and resentment. Even though the symboite part still represses his emotions somewhat he really didn’t want to be here as much as Lewis. He felt really bad for him. 

Lewis: I’m sorry man, I didn’t know. Arthur and Vivi might be more on the same wavelength with you on that part. Kinda sorta but… sigh 

(sarcastically : Well shit, great job in making him feel better. You’re a great friend indeed Lewis Pepper. Like with Arthur and…) 

young modulated male voice: Huh? Another distortion? What’s going on here?

-Both look behind them and see a double of zero_one. His circuit line markings were different and is slightly shorter but Lewis couldn’t really tell to actually care.

zero_one: This… can’t be could it? (Uhh it’s most likely NOT a good thing if he just shows up out of nowhere.)

Lewis: Oh hell no, it’s like fu*king deja vu here. This alternate timeline bullshit with the hungover drunk guy in that apartment is confusing enough. Now this shit? Dammit!

prime!zero_one: I’m sorry what? Huh. another variant of me? … Wait a moment…

-Out of nowhere Lewis could hear two synthetic sounding voices speaking at once

synthetic voice 1: host identification code : v13DG/SD : code name zero_one v / threat level : 0 / aberration detected within zero_one v’s code / completion status : unknown percentage

synthetic voice 2: host identification code : a01WIW/YL : code name zero_one a / threat level : 0 / zero_one a is from the prime timeline / aberration detected within zero_one a’s code / completion status : 100%

zero_one: huh? (A aberration? But how come? Now I can’t really blame Lewis for getting frustrated about this whole… ordeal.)

prime!zero_one: That’s a relief, I’d assume as much but who’s that next to you? 

synthetic voice 1: subject identified as Lewis Pepper from Vivi Yukino’s universe / threat level : 2 / empathic link detected with zero_one v.

Lewis: sigh (mumbles Juro que esta mierda me está volviendo loco)

(Spanish : I swear this shit is driving me crazy.)

(Oh my God this shit couldn’t get anymore freaky. Wait… A version of Vivi is here too?)

zero_one: Yeah... he’s not a...

prime!zero_one: No worries, I’m a little more concerned about…

-Shortly all three of them winced as they heard…

DrunkGuy: BLEAHH!! *cough cough* Serves you right dumbass for over doing it, *cough* again. What the hell where you thinking?… ugh… I feel like shit...

- All three paused in stunned silence because of second hand embarrassment. It was particularly bad for the zero_one Lewis came to know. He couldn’t even imagine him having a drinking problem this bad since he’s so polite and friendly. But Lewis could remember that Lance had an alcohol problem too for a while before Arthur was put into his custody at 16. And then he could remember zero_one saying something about finding purpose in his boring life while he was having a panic attack last night.

prime!zero_one: umm. That. (he said flatly pointing at the apartment door.) I could go with your ghost friend to talk to him for you since he’s from my timeline or… at least I think so.

zero_one: Much appreciated (he sighed in relief) I’ll be behind the building listening in.

prime!zero_one: You’re welcome. As long as you still have your face shield up and he doesn’t recognize you any further distortions won’t come… At least hopefully. But this… well. Is no doubt going to be awkward. 

Lewis : sigh… I know, I know. What is this shit? Second hand embarrassment Tuesday?

Both zero_ones in near unison: Actually today is Thursday.

Lewis : ehhh fu-king… DON’T START THAT SHIT OKAY!

*SLAM*

DrunkGuy: NOPE!!!

- Lewis hears the door slam from behind him

Lewis : huh… sigh Seriously? (rolls his eyes) You ain’t slick dude, like at effing all. Might as well get over this and he forgot this anyway. 

- Lewis says as he holds a burnt orange hoodie. The bartender says he tends to forget it a lot when he goes past 6 to 8 drinks every night. He then shifts back to his more human form.

- About an hour and a half later after the two are done with their talk with the hungover DrunkGuy; both Lewis and prime!zero_one have the body language of someone who just got a root canal.

zero_one : uhh… How did it go?

Lewis : sigh (Shifts back to his ghost form) Let’s not talk about for now Z. I’m tryin’ to process what I just saw and heard. Uhh…

 (Don’t you f*cking start man, this issue is zero_one’s or this one’s at least. He should count himself lucky he didn’t see the state of that room… or oh OH FU_K now I have that image burned into my skull!)

prime!zero_one : I believe it’s best I don’t interfere with this affair any further. (he said scratching his head)

Young Man’s Voice : Hey, did you over do it again? Seriously man do I have to drag your flat ass to rehab? My God and here I thought I had a binge drinking problem.

prime!zero_one : Oh… shit… let’s get out of here… let’s get out of here… both of you.. (he says under his breath)

prime!zero_one shoved both of them towards the corridor to the parking lot so they wouldn’t be spotted by a young man with a black hoodie and curly hair nocking on the door.

End of Transmission (3/3)

Lewis : Okay… I was wrong about shit not getting weirder and weirder… But I don’t give a damn anymore at this point. I ain’t gonna press the issue further with Z for now. I know he has his shit together unlike his so called “prime self” but it’s still kinda freaky as fu_k to see a double of him walking around that isn’t bonded to that mask… well sorta because of that fake on his face. I can’t even imagine if I saw my human self here too; the person I used to be. Dammit, it’s best not to screw with the past even further, I need to look towards the future. 

I wonder what Vivi and Mystery are up to in Japan? Z mentioned that he got a call from Vivi with my cell phone saying they found who they where looking for.

[e-l-c-kingor]

C'mooooon what did Zsasz dooooo

Pushing up his glasses to rub his eyes in frustration, he swears, "zur Hölle damit- Fine! Just- Please stop asking."

"It's... Somewhat of a long explanation," he sighs, sinking somewhat in his chair. "However, I'll give you the bare minimum needed to understand and no more."

"When I was 33, after quitting my jobs at Gotham University and spending a year and a half back in Bloomington, I departed on an impromptu self guided tour of the country in the hopes of escaping the past and present negativity within my life. Eight months later, I grew tired of staying in one country and ventured into Mexico, and later the rest of the world from there, exploring the cultures, collecting books, and learning new languages.

"Three years later as I arrived in Asia, I began growing tired and burnt out from traveling, my discomfort with the near constant uncertainty rapidly overtaking my thrill for adventure and want for new information. I had planned to wander for a few weeks before returning home, a plan I delayed once I reached Russia and decided to pursue just one more language. I don't regret that part of the decision, rather the man I met whilst carrying it out. I- I had no inkling as to who he was, he simply introduced himself as Victor when it became apparent we'd be in neighbouring hotel rooms for a time. I think that much was truly coincidental, but... He was- I-I suppose he wasn't truthfully any different then, simply farcical... I spent most of my leisure time with him, thinking I was getting to know him while he certainly learned about me. He... He was polite, and charming, and handsome, and he listened to me prattle on about myself and my interests and- I genuinely thought-..." He stops himself, squeezing his eyes shut for a moment.

"...After about three months, I was able to speak fluent Russian- I had always been quick on the uptake with languages- and thus I booked my flight to Kazakhstan, then Indiana. Much to my surprise, I saw none other than Victor at the airport, and again in the seat next to mine on the plane. We- We conversed the whole flight, of course we did, him telling me how much he enjoyed speaking with me, how much he admired my intellect, how much he treasured my company... He 'confessed' outside of the airport once we landed a day later. The idea someone like him could love me, I was-" he lets out a quiet, empty laugh- "I was over the moon! I jumped at the chance when he asked me to travel with him, more than happy to follow him like a lost dog wherever he went.

"I didn't fully believe him when he finally told me he was a mercenary, not until he showed me the contract and threatened me to stay with him or else. I- W-Was just a tool from then on, some errand boy he could send to do research, to find the easiest ways in, to persuade people to his whims. I had no choice but to follow him as we traveled through the Middle East- I tried learning Arabic and later Hebrew to distract myself, but he wouldn't leave me alone long enough. I was only able to grasp reading and a few spoken words. Especially when he suddenly pulled me out of a lesson and dragged me to the airport one day, telling me that we were headed for Japan. Fine, I figured. More cultural and language studies to distract myself with."

He pauses again, biting the inside of his cheek and thinking before saying, "I was frightened and anxious to begin with, but I was beyond horrified when I walked in on him killing a man in our hotel room. I didn't care who he was, and Victor didn't bother to tell me, rather-" he grimaces and squeezes his right upper arm, just below his shoulder. "He slammed me down to the floor and dragged me into the restroom when I attempted to flee. He kept me locked in the room after that, keeping the wound sterile but doing nothing else to help it heal properly. He- He told me I could continue my studies, but only in the hotel room and only with a woman he brought in one day. I don't know how well they knew each other, or if they worked together, but- I was at least conversational by the time we left for China.

"I- I had time to think whilst I was locked away, and more once he did the same again. It was a month before he let me out to walk around, only after I promised to not leave his side. It- It took around two weeks, but I eventually managed to slip away and board a flight to India, then another to Australia shortly thereafter. I spent a week in Sydney trying to calm myself down again, hiding in yet another hotel room, before I had the courage to go look for flights to the States. It was- I attempted to distract myself with work and new interactions once I'd returned to Gotham, but Christ, I... I'm sure I still have some unresolved trauma from the whole ordeal, but-"

He takes a shaky breath and, pointing to the door of his office, says, "that's all. End of story. Please leave."

[cyoza]

adrenaline; part four

Hello guys,

I've been suffering with a bit of writer's block which I'm sure is down to all the reading and lectures I've had to complete at uni but i am back on the grind (somewhat) so here we go!

It's kinda of a filler chapter to sort of moving it along for continuity but i felt it was important to have because I didn't want to be jumping all over the place. And I initially wanted this to be one chapter but it turned out to be way too long altogether (in my eyes for how uneventful it is) so I've just got some fact checking to do and I should be uploading another chapter tomorrow (hopefully) to move it along.

So that's it! Sorry for the long note but I thought some clarification would be good!

As always, show some love if you love. Thank you!

part one 

part two 

part three 

part five 

part six 

*******************************************************************************************

‘Tell us again, what happened?’

Jason gave Kory an exasperated sigh. He leaned back on the sofa in the living room and crossed his arms behind his head, looking every bit as tired as everyone felt. It had been about a week since the ordeal with Deathstroke. It seemed the event had triggered him back into hiding meaning that things had settled down on that front, at least for now. However, the same thing couldn’t be said for things back at the tower thanks to the new addition to the, as Dick had called it, ‘family.’

‘Like I said already, about a billion times. I was out for a walk and minding my own business. Next thing I know, I hear this lady screaming. So I go to check it out and some asshole is mugging her. Being Robin and all, I couldn’t not help her so I went to do just that. But then outta nowhere, mugger guy flies across the alley and Superboy here is standing in his place. He fights the guy and gets her purse back so problem solved and none of it is my business anymore. I go to walk away but then there’s gunshots and Superboy falls down so I call you guys and you know the story from there.’

Contrary to Jason’s words, this was only his third time relaying the tale, each time with a different group of people but hopefully this was last as everyone was present for the recounting. ‘Superboy’ as he’d so eloquently named him due to the dark Superman logo t-shirt he was wearing, lay in the infirmary with two bullet wounds and an infection none of them could identify. They were at a loss and it seemed like their patient was only getting worse which wasn’t at all helping the levels of tension in the tower. Everyone was growing more frustrated with not only the situation but with each other by the minute.

‘I don’t understand, we couldn’t even get a needle to pierce his skin so we could get his IV into him- how did he get shot?’ Dick mused, running a rough hand through his hair.

‘I don’t know man, I’m just telling you what I heard.’ Jason’s laidback position on the sofa stiffened, his eyes flashing like he was suddenly on guard. It was of no surprise to anyone that he was still on edge over what happened to him, being more reserved than ever and frequently disappearing for hours at a time to walk alone in the city. So it was almost predictable that something was going to happen with him. But, no one could have predicted that it was going to be this.

‘I know and I’m not trying to dispute what you’re saying. It just doesn’t make any sense.’ He exhaled a sharp breath, folding his arms.

The sudden high pitched screech of the security breach alarm reverberated around the room, capturing everyone’s attention. Dick reacted, first running to the intercom screen located at the front door to see a woman and what appeared to be a dog. Her body language didn’t seem dangerous but instead anxious, constantly moving her mousy hair back and shifting from one foot to the other.

‘Who are you? State your business.’ Dick spoke calmly but strongly; no matter how little of a threat she seemed, the protection of the team was paramount.

‘My name is Eve, I was brought here by my dog. I think you have my son Conner here. Please, let me in. I need to know if he’s okay.’

******************************************************************************************************

Conner Kent’s history was as big of a mindfuck as Kory’s. Yet everyone had adopted him with open arms anyway, another alien addition to the team - why not? And this was only made possible through Kory who had again saved another life. Unsurprisingly, she brushed it away as if it were nothing seeming to just add it to the tally of people alive thanks to her.

Still, Dick often wondered where they would all be without her. Definitely worse off than they were now.

In the few weeks since she had healed him, Kory and Conner had bonded in the ambiguity of their identity. Kory had told him on various occasions of how Conner reminded her of herself - being new to his powers, confused about his identity, unsure about his place on earth. But Dick had a feeling it went deeper than he knew, that they connected on a level that he was unaware of and he was lying if he said it didn’t fill him with a sick sense of insidious jealousy.

So there he sat in his office, thinking of that rather than the tactics of a possible Slade attack. He thought of all the times that he’d sought her out only to find her with Conner and have her brush him off to hang out with him. It was utterly ridiculous but he reminded him of everything Dick wished he was; he was soft and stable despite hardship, he didn’t have a shadow of darkness that clinging to him but instead existed on pure light - just like Kory.

It wouldn’t be so crazy to suggest that they would make a perfect fit.

He felt a particular spark of vexation when he remembered one specific evening where Kory had insisted they take the night off and had taken them to the sports bar on the corner of their street. He remembered how close Conner and her been together as he held her bag when she’d leaned over to take her shot. The striking red of her dress slipping away to show the alluring mahogany of her skin underneath, her hip pressing against his leg. He thought he was going to explode with anger and clock Conner right in the face but he held himself back on account of knowing how redundant that would be and the shitstorm he knew would cause after as a result. So he could do nothing but stew in his own futile anger until further notice.

‘Hey, how’s it going in here? How are the plans going?’

Kory sauntered into the room without knocking and settled herself on the edge of his desk, effectively obstructing his access to the keyboard of his computer. She flashed him a small smile as he looked up at her and he felt all the aggravation dissipate from his body, revelling in her proximity.

‘They’re going. I just hit a uh, mental snag.’ He admitted, not technically lying.

‘Well then, I guess, this might be a good a time as ever to do this then.’

‘Do what?’ Dick felt his heartbeat leap into a rapid pace, his mind conjuring multiple possibilities of what she could possibly say next; all of them awful.

‘Dick, look, uh listen, I have to go back to Tamaran.’

His blank expression had Kory’s heart sinking to her stomach. She hadn’t necessarily meant to catch him off guard but with the hurried pace of his blinking, she knew without a doubt that she had. She’d hoped with how absent she had been the past few weeks that he would notice her distance and either assume that was something was wrong and bring it up or at the very least be prepared for her to bring up a difficult conversation. But it didn’t seem as though either was happening.

‘Kory. what the fuck are you talking about? We need you here!’

‘You guys don’t need me, Dick, now that Connor’s here at least. It would be beneficial to have me but you don’t need me here.’ She let out and sad sigh and continued. ‘I have ordered some light therapy lamps with solar panels as the source. I researched them and they’re very good for something called Seasonal Affective Disorder but I figured they would help with Connor’s healing, on account of the solar energy. We’ve already tested it to know it’ll work so there’s nothing to worry about on that front.’

‘Oh Of course, super fantastic Conner, of course we can count on him to save the day! Come on, Kory! He’s just a kid!’ He scoffed.

‘What are you talking about? He’s not just a kid! Not to mention he has a multitude of powers and Slade doesn’t know about him. If anything he is your best bet at defeating him, especially with the way you’ve been training him these past couple of weeks.’

The more she spoke, the more Dick’s mouth flapped open and closed, clearly wanting to comment but knowing where to begin processing the information. The gradual scarlet highlight of his cheeks and ears let her know that this was going to be way harder than expected. So she continued speaking, hoping to get him breathing again and prevent whatever infarction was going to happen from his lack thereof.

‘Look, it would only be a maximum of a couple of weeks seeing as it doesn’t take very long to get to Tamaran from Earth, now my ship’s repaired. I’ll just go home and clear this whole situation up. Which shouldn’t be hard considering... I...am...royalty.’ Kory spoke the last word as if she didn’t at all want to, a hint of resentment coating it.

If she thought Dick’s reaction before was alarming, it had nothing on the spread of alabaster across his face at that moment .

‘Y-Wh-? Royalty? W-what you mean?’ He spluttered.

‘What else can you take from that? It is exactly what is says on the tin. I am Princess Koriand’r, next in line to the throne of Tamaran. So I need to go back and make sure that part of my past doesn’t come back to haunt us. Especially when we’re already in such a difficult position.’ Kory followed on but her reassurance seemed worthless because Dick looked on the verge keeling over.

‘Kory, I don’t like this. Please, please don’t do this. Please don’t leave me now. Don’t leave us now.’ He pleaded, leaning forward in his chair to grasp her thighs, desperation seeping through every cell of his being.

But Kory just clasped his head in her hands, pressing her lips to his quickly but gently before stroking her thumb across his jawline, a look of resolve on her face.

A look that said there was no changing her mind and he knew it.

Yet, there was a feeling of deep uneasiness in his stomach that if she left now, she wouldn’t come back to him. With his history, it was difficult to trust his gut instinct but this time, it felt so very real. The feeling of discomfort came with something deeper, not necessarily bad but definitely scarier. On some level he knew what it was and that he had felt it before a long time ago but he wasn’t prepared to address now, precisely when he could be losing her.

‘I’m sorry Dick.’ She whispered. ‘I have to do this. There are over 7 billion people on this planet and they could possibly die because of my actions -or lack there of- I can’t let that happen. I’m leaving in the morning and I’d really like it if you would say goodbye but I’d understand if you didn't.’

She let him go abruptly and stood towering over him, looking every bit the Princess she was. She gave him one last longing gaze before turning and Dick could do nothing but watch as she walked away from him, feeling his heart break a little more with every click of her heel.

As if she was stepping on his heart with each stride, cracking it further each time.

[hellevator-mp3]

you’re my wish (maybe it came true) || Part 1

Pairing(s): Changlix (so far)

Genre: Mainly fluff, ig??

Word Count: 1,700+

Warnings: None

Author Note: so, as anyone that follows my ao3 would know, this is just a random idea that i got, and it’s the only thing, really, that i can write for now bc it requires no planning??? (but don’t worry, the other au’s will be up soon!) and it was inspired by a soulmate body switch fic that i read, and also the get cool mv!

felix most certainly gets more than he bargained for, after his most anticipated wish comes true in the most unimaginable way possible

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felix's daily mantras ranged from 'it's not that scary', to 'you can do it', even as far as 'it'll be okay'. the one that he never thought he'd use - and in a dream, nonetheless - was 'this can't be real'. but it was, at least in his dreams. he stood in the center of what looked like a school classroom - maybe ms. lee's? - facing off with a machine, with the words 'fortune teller cards - tear here' written on a plaque, with a slot just underneath it. before the curiosity had too much time to eat away at him, his dream self stepped forward and pressed the button just  a foot or so above the plaque, listening to the quiet churning inside the machine before what looked like a raffle ticket was spit out, into felix's waiting hand.  

his eyes widened at the words 'your wish has been granted', before confusion took place of wonder and he stared at it harder, wondering which wish it was. he had many - when his parents struggled, he wished to be strong and able to take away their problems. when the kids at school teased him for his looks, or the fact that he was shorter than 97% of the male population at the school, he wished to be someone bigger, someone taller. when his best friends all began finding their soulmates and getting into relationships, he wished that he could be like that, finding the one he was meant for, whoever that may be.  he wasn't allowed more than a few moments to think about it, before a loud, shrill shriek broke the serenity of the room, and he jolted up in bed.

an unfamiliar room greeted his arrival back into the waking world, and he scrambled out of bed to the mirror hanging on the wall, praying that maybe this was the wish that he wanted to come true the most - to meet the one he was meant for.  he stared at a strangers face in the reflective surface, at the sharp jawline and soft cheeks and bangs that he knew he could never pull off, and suddenly realized that he, felix lee, was inhabiting the body of his soulmate.  scrambling to the door and searching for a bathroom, felix realized that his soulmate must be older than he was, since it appeared that he lived in an apartment by himself, given that there were no other signs of life in the space that he found himself in.  just down the hall from the bedroom was the bathroom, where felix threw himself in front of the mirror to make sure that it wasn't a trick, even though he knew from the start that it wasn't.  his soulmate couldn't be much shorter than himself, maybe a few centimeters, but the strong jawline and stern face made him seem much bigger than he actually was.  felix turned his face this way and that way, taking in all the features of his soulmates face, making different faces towards himself in the mirror, and even playing with the piercings that hung from his ears.  it wasn't long before nature called, and he did his business before wandering out of the room to find something to eat, wondering about the morality of taking a shower while he was in a body other than his own.  he decided that if he a: had to go somewhere, or b: was still in this body the next day, he would take a shower.  

it wasn't long before he was exploring the rest of the apartment with a bowl of dry cereal in hand, munching on small fingerfuls at a time.  with sugar coated fingertips, he picked up a frame and took in the picture nestled inside - the same body that he was in stood at the center, with two people that were shorter than him on one side, and two taller on the other.  all of them wore bright grins, the happiness reflected in the photograph filling felix's own chest and making him smile as well, tracing his finger over the edge of the frame before setting it down.  he moved on to the next one, that appeared to be a family photo.  felix's soulmate sat in the center, seated in an ornate chair with a woman sitting on the arm of it, and a man standing just behind them, with his hands on their shoulders.  the smiles in the photo seemed fake, moreso for looks that actually being happy to take pictures with one another.  felix was reminded of the family photos that lined his own dresser in his dorm, pictures of his family on the beach and on a trip to the mountains and even once, when they went on a boat.  he could easily picture their faces in his mind, all sunburned smiles and a pure happiness radiating from the picture.  with a small sigh, he put the photo down and continued his amble around the room, stopping to examine the bookshelf full of records and cd's, most of the artists in a language he quickly recognized as korean, but could barely read.  it took him back to the time his mother had insisted that he learned her mother tongue, but he had refused, saying that he would never need it.  however, he did pick up the alphabet, and was using his small knowledge to sound out the words and try to pick out some words that sounded like their english counterpart.  after a few minutes, he gave up and moved on to the next area - the couch, with a coffee table in front of it and a laptop propped open on it's surface.  

sitting next to it was a phone, still hooked up to the charger.  felix set his bowl of dry cereal down, scooping another mouthful into his mouth as he fumbled with the phone, realizing quickly that it had a fingerprint sensor, and that his soulmate - thankfully - had his index finger put in.  it didn't take much for felix to find the app that would allow him to call his own phone, fingers automatically dialing his familiar number.  a second of hesitance led to him deleting it, before retyping it, a cyle that repeated itself numerous times before he finally hit the call button, holding the phone to his ear as he shoved more cereal in his mouth, waiting for the click that would let him know that he was connected.  it rang once, twice, three times, before he was sent to voicemail.  frustrated, he tried again, and then a third time, before finally giving up.  after piecing together that his soulmate was in south korea, and that his own body was in his home in australia, felix looked up the time differences and frowned.  he was only two hours behind the other, meaning that it was nearing noon in his home country, while it was only 10 am for him.  

sighing, felix flicked through the apps on the phone, tapping on facebook and then to his soulmate's profile, scrolling through in an attempt to piece together more about the other.  from what he saw, the other - seo changbin, he found out soon enough - was older, and didn't spend much time on facebook.  there were a few posts here and there, including a sudden influx for his birthday.  before long, felix had also located his twitter, finding a substantial amount more there than he had on any other social media - links to his soundcloud, rants about the industry that he worked in, and even friendly banter between himself and some of his friends, and even some of his followers.  as he was reading through a thread that the other had posted, a notification slid down from the top of the screen, indicating that an unknown number was calling, and prompting felix to accept or decline.  recognizing his own phone number, felix accepted and held the phone to his ear, listening to his own voice spouting a language that he knew he didn't know.  he told the other to calm down, slow down, and to find chris.  

chris was their best shot at a translator - having learned korean from a young age, chris was considerably better than felix, and was almost considered fluent.  there was shuffling on the other line, before a click signaled that he had been hung up on.  with yet another sigh, felix found himself leaning back on the back of the couch, staring up at the ceiling with the phone hanging limp in his hand.  there was a silence that seemed to stretch on forever, before the phone rang again, and felix accepted without even checking the number.  he heard his best friend's voice on the other line, speaking quickly with the other.  in english, felix called for his attention, and tried his best to explain what happened, about his wish and suddenly ending up in a strangers home.  he blamed the whole ordeal on himself, but was stopped in his tracks by chris.  "did you not see what day it is?" the elder asked, prompting felix to check the date on the computer, finding that it was his 20th birthday.  his mouth dropped open, remembering what his teacher had taught them about soulmates, and everything clicked into place.  

it wasn't long before felix and changbin were exchanging plans, filling one another in on the things that needed to happen until they switched back.  changbin requested that felix post a track that he had been working on, and actively promote it on social media until changbin was able to do it himself.  in return, felix asked that changbin keep his blog semi active, asking chris to help with translations of the content and such.  along with that, felix had a dinner with his family later that week - just in case, he filled changbin in on what that would entail, before changbin threw back that he had dinner plans with his friend group the day after.  they spent hours sharing information and plans, filling one another in on the things that needed handled.  

when they finally hung up, felix lay back on the couch with another long sigh, and a mantra of 'what did i get myself into?', followed shortly after with a loud groan.

[rainythefox]

Nightfall (Resident Evil WeskerxClaire fanfiction, CH.4)

Synopsis: Pre-Resident Evil 1/Pre-Resident Evil 2, slight-AU. Claire Redfield comes home to visit her brother Chris for the holidays but gets caught up in a dangerous game of cat and mouse with Albert Wesker, the Captain of STARS, after stumbling upon dark secrets. She can’t call the law; Wesker is the law, and she can’t tell Chris. She is trapped…ClairexWesker. Slight ChrisxJill. (An old FF.Net multi-chapter fic of mine that I’m revising and publishing to AO3)

Rated M for Adult Content/Violence/Sex/Language

Genre: Suspense, Romance, Thriller, Mystery

https://archiveofourown.org/works/17794784/chapters/41982563

Chapter 4: Wrong Place, Wrong Time

Redfields were known by two distinct traits: Stubbornness and fearlessness. Anybody else would have gave into Wesker’s piercing gaze and dark grin, or died out of fear, if Claire’s heart was any indication. But because of her dominant Redfield traits, she defied him almost immediately. She glared up at that smug expression on his face as he patiently waited for her to speak. She refused to answer him. After what she saw, she wouldn't answer a crooked officer. Silent minutes went by, the cold air creeping into Claire's clothes and chilling her skin.

"Well?" Wesker purred. The fact that he was amused by this sickened Claire.

William stepped back from them, anxious. His head swiveled, looking around, as if expecting them to be caught any moment. Claire, again, remained silent, her eyes unwavering from his, openly challenging him. She didn’t try and push away from the tree, push against his hold, knowing his strength overpowered hers by a mile, despite Claire being fit and athletic. Her pulse threatened to burst from her veins, the nausea ate at her stomach and panic swam through her nerves. But still, she glared at him. Still, she showed defiance.

Wesker’s grin disappeared. Warm metal tingled the flesh of her neck, and her breath caught in her lungs as she realized the recently fired handgun was now pressed hard into her throat. Her defiance melted away as she gasped, her eyes instantly watering.

"Do not try my patience, Ms. Redfield. Answer me, if you want to remain alive," Wesker warned.

"I came here to run on the trails! Last I heard, it wasn't against the law! What the hell are you doing out here?"

Frustration laced her voice, and Claire wasn’t sure if she was more upset that she gave in or that she was actually scared.

"Business that is none of your concern.”

Claire pushed on him, but Wesker’s strength didn’t allow her to budge, and the gun remained wedged under her jaw, pressed right against her pulse. "It is my concern seeing as how I’m a fucking witness to you killing an innocent man. Just wait until I call the law on you!"

Her threat earned her another dark smirk from Wesker, but his friend choked on his laughter nearby. Claire then noticed the white lab coat the other man wore beneath his larger coat and the ID that hung on his breast.

"Did you hear that, Al? She's gonna call the law on you!" he mocked.

Wesker chuckled, a low, venomous sound that rattled her bones. "I'm only one position shy from running the whole police department myself. Do you really think you can use the law against me, dear heart? I am the law."

"Let me go or I’ll-"

"You’ll what?" Wesker whispered.

The cool rasp of his voice chilled her as it tingled her ears.

"Looks like you were in the wrong place at the wrong time, little lady," William said, and then sighed. "C'mon, Albert. No sense in wasting anymore time. Let's just kill her and get it over with. I've already paged Sergei to send a cleanup crew.”

William's words cut her like a knife. Wesker's grip on her didn't loosen, even as she suddenly pushed against him, fighting to break free and get away, panicking. The gun barrel pushed harder into her throat. She whimpered, her fighting spirit succumbing to the deadly steel.

"Where's the fun in that? She can come with us."

William’s eyes went wide and he waved his arms and shook his head. "No, no, no! Hell no! Bad idea! Sergei will wring our necks if he finds out you let a witness live! And I don't even want to think about Spencer!"

"You worry too much, Will," Wesker replied, side-glancing the other man. His eyes then found Claire’s again and he smirked. "She needs to be taught a lesson."

"No, she needs to be shot in the head and tossed beside ‘ol Fin's body!" William retorted. He gestured to Claire with an apologetic smile. "No offense!"

"There's a pay-phone at the entrance to the hiking trails. Call Annette and tell her to come pick up your car."

William glared at Wesker. "Why?"

"Because you are going to drive Ms. Redfield's truck back to her house. Annette can pick your car up while Sergei’s men handle the scene here."

William groaned, grabbing his hair in frustration. "You and your sick, twisted games, Albert. Fine, give me a quarter!"

He held out his hand. Wesker scowled at his partner-in-crime, and then received the coin. William went on ahead of them on the trail, walking for the parking area while cursing and complaining.

Wesker let Claire go. She inhaled a shaky breath as he stepped back, but the gun remained pointed at her chest. He used the gun to motion for the trail. Claire wanted to run for it, but knew all that would get her was a bullet in the back. Instead, she refused to move, her back still hugged against the tree.

He grabbed her and shoved her towards the trail. Claire stumbled, but easily caught herself. She glared over her shoulder at him, but was met with a cold smile and a gun barrel in  her lower back. Reluctantly, she followed the trail back to the entrance, far behind William. She was scared, angry, and confused. Her mind raced for a way to escape. She had no idea what Wesker was planning to do with her, and didn't want to find out either.

"You're not going to get away with this. I will tell Chris and everyone at the police department and have you arrested," she threatened.

Wesker chuckled softly behind her, and she shivered. "You’re brave for someone who has a gun to their back. I love your fighting spirit, dear heart. But why waste energy barking empty threats? You won’t get away."

"I'll find a way."

"I look forward to you trying."

"Why did you kill that man?"

"Because he knew too much. And if you keep asking questions, you’ll end up like him as well."

Claire glared over her shoulder at him. "And what if someone else comes through here besides me? You gonna kill them too?"

"I actually had these trails closed off. But if there is someone careless enough to disregard the signs like you, then yes, I will kill them. And I won’t lose any sleep over it either,” Wesker answered.

His tone was colder than the wind as it brushed by, dusting snow around them.

Claire shivered, holding herself. "What’re you gonna do with me?"

"You will find out soon enough."

By the time they reached the vehicles in the parking lot, it was snowing again. Claire lost track of time, but knew it hadn’t been long enough for Chris to start worrying about her. As much as she wanted him to come find and rescue her, she knew that would only end up getting them both killed.

William finished with his business on the pay-phone and hung up. He walked over to them, looking as though the snow and icy wind bothered him. He rubbed his palms together for warmth.

"Alright, Annette’s on the way. She’ll take the BMW back to the Pharmacy. So let's drop off her truck and you can give me a ride over there. We better hurry. Sergei’s men will be here any minute. Hopefully, my dear wife can come up with a convincing reason as to why my vehicle is still here."

Wesker nodded. He grabbed Claire's arms, pulling them behind her back. Claire struggled, yelling out. Metallic braces squeezed shut on her wrists, pinching skin, and with a hollow clack, the handcuffs locked.

"Hey! Take these things off of me!" Claire demanded.

"If you want to survive this ordeal, Ms. Redfield, then you better cooperate. Now, where are your keys?"

She stopped fighting, glaring at the two men. She bit her cheek, head lowering. "Front right pocket."

The tall STARS Captain stepped up to her, their bodies inches apart. With an amused, taunting smirk, he shoved his fingers into her front pocket of her jeans. Claire bit her tongue, her eyes glaring daggers into his. Wesker fished the keys out and tossed them to William. He caught them with quicker reflexes than Claire thought he’d have and, without another word, unlocked the Dodge truck and climbed in. Wesker pulled Claire over to the passenger side of the Jaguar. The luxury car’s lights flashed for a second with a soft chirp, and unlocked. Wesker opened the door and pushed her inside. The interior was clean with leather upholstery, and still smelled like new car. Claire leaned forward a bit to keep from pressing on her cuffed arms. Wesker slipped into the driver's side and started the car. William followed behind them in Chris's truck as they left the Arklay Mountain Trails.

"Do what you want with me, but when I get the chance, I will tell Chris," Claire said, glaring at Wesker.

Wesker pressed the clutch and shifted up a gear as the car gained speed on the highway. He barely glanced over at her. "It would be a poor decision on your part. You wouldn't want Chris to end up dead, would you?"

"You’re bluffing. You wouldn't risk getting caught."

"I assure you, I’m quite serious. You misunderstand me, Ms. Redfield. I control most of the city. Telling anyone…Chris, Jill, the law, your friends, will result in your death as well as your brother's. What happened to Mr. Finley back there will never be brought to light. He died in a car crash, you see. Committed suicide, or simply disappeared. His fate is whatever I decide to make it. You and your brother are no different, same with all the others who thought they could expose me."

"You're crazy if you think I’m just gonna stay quiet! I’ll fight you every second. I will find a way to expose you.”

Wesker’s cruel smile and amused, purr-like chuckle was enough to boil Claire’s blood. "I admire your tenacity, dear heart. I expect you to fight, and I will enjoy every minute of it. However, depending on how far you’re willing to save your brother's life, you might just be able to buy your freedom back from me."

“Why should I believe anything you say, you bastard?”

"It isn't as though you have a choice now, is there?"

Claire fell silent, her eyes falling. Her situation seemed hopeless, she was trapped. Wesker laid down the terms already. If she wanted to stay alive, and keep Chris and her friends alive, she would have to listen to him. But that wouldn’t stop her from fighting. She would find a way to expose Wesker to the public, to the right side of the law. She would have to plan her moves carefully to make it out alive. This was going to be a game of cat and mouse, and she was the mouse.

Claire couldn't believe it. She was shocked, speechless. William parked Chris's truck in the driveway while Wesker unlocked the handcuffs and freed her. Wesker’s Jaguar idled behind the truck, its black body sticking out amongst all the white of the snow in the neighborhood. William walked over to steps of the porch, peering up at Wesker and Claire, fidgety and eager to leave.

They were just going to drop her off and leave.

Claire rubbed her sore wrists, freshly freed from metal braces. "That's it? You’re just gonna drop me off and go? Not a very bright way to keep me from talking.”

Wesker snapped his fingers at William. The thinner man grumbled and tossed Claire’s keys to him. "I told you what to expect in the car. That's just it, Ms. Redfield. I’m giving you absolute freedom right now. You can tell anyone in the world what you saw on that trail. Doing so, however, will result in dire consequences that you are fully aware of. The choice is up to you. Either protect your family by keeping quiet or destroy it by talking."

She wanted to believe that he was bluffing. That he was just trying to intimidate her into keeping her mouth shut. It was working, but it still made her believe that she could find a way to expose him.

"And believe me, he’s not bluffing, sweetheart. He’s done this before…lots of times," William said. "Why? I do not know. It only seems to waste time and gives me a headache."

Wesker handed Claire her keys, their fingers brushing. Claire felt some kind of static ripple through her flesh from the touch. "This is far from over, dear heart. So, if you want your life to remain as it is, then you’ll stay quiet about this whole ordeal. It would be such a waste to have to make it look as though you and Chris got into an accident."

She narrowed her eyes at him, her stomach flopping from nausea. "I get it. Now leave."

Wesker slid his sunglasses back on, a ghostly smile forming. He turned and followed William to his car. "It's your call, Ms. Redfield. Tread carefully."

Claire watched them get into the Jaguar and drive off, heading for the city. The sickness that flooded her hit her like a freight train. She ran inside the house into the bathroom, feeling as though she was going to vomit. Her head spun, and her blood was icy cold despite her skin being hot. She recalled how that man’s head blew open from the gunshot, how the loud boom didn’t completely cover the sound of shattering bone and tissue. She threw up the breakfast she had earlier that morning, groaning. The telephone rang in the kitchen. Claire spat and rose slowly to her feet, head pounding. She answered the phone, hoping it was Chris.

"Hello?"

"Hey, there ya are! Thought I’d call in since I haven’t heard from you. Was starting to worry. How were the hiking trails?”

She swallowed hard, feeling a sense of guilt and pain. "Oh, it was…fine. Lots of snow out there."

"Are you alright? You sound upset."

She forced a fake smile, even though her brother couldn't see it. "I'm fine. I just saw a dead deer along the trail. Kinda freaked me out. That and I think I was out in the cold for a bit too long. I feel sick."

"I tried talking you out of it, didn’t I? Who goes running in the woods with snow everywhere in twenty degree weather? You do apparently! Make yourself some soup and rest. I should be home a bit early tonight."

"Alright, take care, Bro. Love ya."

"Love ya too, bye."

She hung up, getting lost in thought. She sat the phone back down on its receiver, walking for the couch and slumping down on it. Her mind raced with so many things. She had to find a way to expose Wesker, but she just didn't know where to start. She couldn't risk Chris's safety, or her friends' safety, not even her own safety. But she couldn't allow Wesker to get away with this, to control her or continue to hurt innocent lives. She was at a complete loss.

She couldn't call the law. Wesker controlled the law. And she saw first hand how he could manipulate and deceive the truth. Whatever conspiracy he was caught up in also gave him more room for control. She would have to do some investigating to see what kind of shadows Wesker was involved with. If she couldn't call on the law for help, then she just might have to do it alone. The only man above Wesker at the police department was the Chief of Police…Brian Irons. Claire wondered if she could go talk to him. Sure, Irons was a jerk at times, but he knew how to keep a city in line. Claire heard stories of how he had arrested crooked cops before.

Then again, she didn't want to risk Wesker finding out and killing her brother. She remained lost in thought until she heard a car pull up in the driveway. Shaking out of her trance, Claire realized she had been in deep thought, confused and worried, for several hours. Peeking out the window, she saw Chris get out of Jill's car, and then Jill pulled out to go home herself. It was dark outside, and it was lightly snowing still.

Chris entered with a smile on his face, brushing off snowflakes from his uniform and hair. "Hey Sis, feeling better?"

"A little," she replied, trying to sound calm. "How was work?"

Chris took his coat off and hung it up, and the siblings moved into the kitchen to talk. Claire leaned restlessly on a counter, watching her brother as he took of his utility belt and weapons.

"Very hectic! Tomorrow should be much more laid-back. We plan on catching up on some paperwork. But with Barry in charge, I highly doubt we get much done," Chris said.

Claire perked up. "Barry? What happened to Wesker?"

"Day off. He was late today, but I'm sure for a good reason. I'm just glad he put Barry in charge. Usually, he has Enrico come in to cover him, but I guess Enrico has a lot of work with Bravo Team."

She did not like the fact that Wesker would be off of work tomorrow. That meant she wasn't safe, because Chris had to work. She swallowed softly, playing with a nearby pen she found on the counter.

"Anyone else off tomorrow?"

"Yeah, Brad is." Chris then peered at her curiously, as if catching the strange tension coming from his younger sister. "Claire? Are you alright?"

He sounded worried, and so Claire quickly thought of an excuse. She smiled faintly, nodding. "Yeah, I'm fine. I was just thinking about college. I think I had a project I needed to finish not long after winter break. I better call up my roommate and ask to make sure."

Chris looked as though he didn't fully believe it, but dipped his head nonetheless. "Okay."

"Oh, by the way. I'm gonna go out with some friends tomorrow. I'm tired of hanging around the house waiting for my oaf of a brother to get home," Claire replied, forcing a playful smile.

Chris worked on untying his boots. "Good. Just be careful. This might come as a surprise to you, but it's supposed to snow some more tomorrow."

Claire rolled her eyes. "Smartass. If it keeps snowing like it is, then we'll be trapped inside."

Chris laughed. "It's Colorado. What do you expect?"

"I know," she said.

And though Raccoon City was located to the far east of the state, near the border of Kansas, there was still plenty of snow to go around.

"Why are you still wearing your clothes from earlier? I thought by now you’d be in your pajamas laying on the couch with a blanket and watching old horror films," Chris asked.

"Oh, just in case I needed to go somewhere," Claire answered rather quickly. "Well, I’m gonna jump in the shower. It's time for pajamas now!"

Chris vaguely nodded at her, sitting his boots aside. "Alright, I'll cook some dinner."

The next morning after Chris left for work with Jill, Claire was quick to get ready and get out of the house. She didn't want to stick around in case Wesker came after her on his day off. Though she really didn't have any friends here in town to hang out with, she was determined to stay in the public and away from any chances that Wesker could nab her.

She regretted being bull-headed and going jogging on the trails. If she hadn't of gone, she would be safe and out of Wesker's grasps. William was right. She had been in the wrong place at the wrong time. Damn her luck.

She wondered about William's involvement. She had no idea who the man was or what he did. She could tell he was a researcher or doctor of some kind. And though his behavior was odd, she could tell he was quite intelligent and perhaps just as dangerous as Wesker. William and Wesker knew each other very well, obviously. Without a last name though, Claire wouldn't know where to start with William.

That's it…I'm going to see Chief Irons. He's the only person who can stop Wesker…

Claire jumped into the Dodge, driving straight for the police station with a speeding heart. Traffic was slow because of morning rush and the weather, but she was prepared to deal with it. When she arrived, she parked the truck in the public area, and entered the grand building. She at once regretted her decision when the vast main hall engulfed her. Police officers, investigators, civilians, the press, and police dogs were all over the main hall. Claire could hear phones ringing constantly, and voices echoed across the vast hall.

She got directions for the Chief's office. She was relieved she didn't have to sneak past the STARS office to get to it. Located on the second floor near some old art exhibit rooms, she was able to find the door easily. The emblem on the door read: Chief of Police: Brian J. Irons.

She shook, her nerves getting the best of her. Her heart thumped quickly in her throat. She took a moment to gather herself and to think this over, taking in a deep breath. Did she dare talk to the Chief and risk her life and Chris's life? Or did she dare to stay quiet and let Wesker intimidate her into a cowardly puppet until he finally killed her and Chris?

Grinding her jaw, and stomping her foot, she huffed. She had to do this. She knocked on the door, ignoring her nerves. She listened, hearing only faint movement. "Come in!"

She slowly entered, closing the door behind her. There the Chief was in his large office, sitting at his desk. Brian Irons was in his late forties, plump, with grey hair and a greying brown mustache. He wore dark gray slacks with a white button up long sleeve shirt and a blue tie. She could see the jacket that went with his outfit hanging on the nearby coat rack. Irons smoked a cigar, typing away on his computer. The smoke from his cigar lofted around in the air like a fog.

He stopped as he noticed her, as if surprised to see a stranger in his office. Claire glanced around the room for a moment; dark chills coming over her. There were taxidermy animals on display all over. She saw several native wildlife mounted each way she looked. There was a cougar, a black bear, a fox, a coyote, a wolf, and a bobcat. There were smaller animals like raptors, owls, raccoons, and even the large skull of an alligator. Mounted on the walls were several heads of bucks, bears, and even a bison and elk. All of the animals seemed to stare with lifelike intensity, and it made her shiver.

Irons raised an eyebrow, looking guarded. "Can I help you?"

"Uh, yes. I came to report a crime that one of your officers covered up."

Irons’ eyes flashed and he motioned her to take a seat in front of his desk. She slowly sat down, not liking at all how Irons stared at her. She felt like one of the taxidermy rabbits stuffed on the edge of a table nearby.

"You look familiar," he stated, beady eyes glaring.

"Chris Redfield's sister. I'm Claire."

"Oh, I see," Irons replied smoothly, puffing on his cigar and leaning back. "So, this sounds serious, Ms. Redfield. Please do explain. I cannot have any crooked cops running around in my city."

"I was out jogging on one of the Arklay trails yesterday morning. I came across Albert Wesker. He was with a man named William. I saw them kill a man before they caught me. Wesker is blackmailing me to stay quiet or he’ll kill Chris and me. He needs to be stopped!"

Irons paled in the face, eyes widening. He blew out smoke from his cigar, snuffing it out in the ashtray nearby. He sat up straighter in his chair, much more rigid than he had been when she entered his office. Claire saw him press a button on his nearby telephone. The smooth motion confused her, and she nervous of his quiet reserve.

"That…is a lot to take in," he finally said, tapping his fingers on the desk.

"What are you going to do about it? Our lives are in danger!"

The Chief held up his hand to silence her. "I assure you, Ms. Redfield, you came to the right person. You’re very lucky that you did not go to anyone else with this. We can't let this dangerous situation be handled by the wrong people."

She didn't like how he was talking. She gripped the arms of the chair to where her knuckles turned white. Irons casually laced his fingers on his desk, studying her closely, a dark aura coming over him.

He slowly shook his head. "I hate to say this, but it sounds as though you were in the wrong place at the wrong time."

"W-What?" she grunted.

She started to get up, but the Chief suddenly aimed a handgun at her. She froze in place. Fingers clenched on her chair as she was halfway to her feet. She slowly lowered herself back into the chair as Irons got up. The horror of yesterday replayed as she was yet again held at gunpoint by an officer of the law, tainted and cruel. Irons gave a dark smile, walking slowly around his desk.

The Chief of Police was in on it too. He was crooked just like Wesker was.

“You should’ve stayed quiet. I’m not gonna let some college girl ruin my all my hard work.”

Before she could challenge him, her temper rising, her heart crushed, he whipped the pistol into her head and everything went black.

Claire groaned, slowly opening her eyes. Her eyesight was fuzzy at first, and she blinked the tears away. Her head pounded, and it hurt to move her neck. She looked around, but as she tried to move, to get up, she felt her hands were handcuffed to a metal desk. She was in a different room, full of old museum artifacts and paintings. She saw a small section blocked off by a metal fence and electronic door. Voices reached her ears, and she instantly awoke, turning her sore neck to look. She saw the Chief talking to a familiar man.

“I want an explanation, William! Right now!”

“You want an explanation, you take that up with Albert,” William answered, crossing his arms with a scowl. “I’m not here to talk in circles with you, Irons.”

“That’s Chief Irons to you, you lab monkey! I’m the one that gives you security down there in NEST! I’m the one who covers up everything in this goddamn city!”

Despite Irons’ temper, William didn’t look at all intimidated, slightly rolling his eyes. “Whatever you say, Chief. I’ll take the girl from here.”

Irons grabbed William by the lab coat, nearly picking the smaller man up off the ground. “You listen to me, you little-”

“And you listen to me,” William snapped. “You might be in a higher position than him in the public’s eyes, but Albert has control over you. He holds your contract. You do as I say, and what he says. You wouldn’t want me to make a complaint to my best friend or dear ‘ol Spencer, would you?”

Irons shoved William away, red-faced and tense. “Sergei specifically told me that the trails were closed for you and Albert to take care of Finley. Now I have one of the STARS members’ sister here as a fucking witness? What the hell is Albert thinking?”

“I often don’t know,” William casually joked as he straightened his coat. “But it’s none of your concern, regardless.”

Claire tugged at the handcuffs, but they wouldn’t budge on the metal desk. She couldn’t believe this. She made a mistake. Irons was in on all of this. She wanted to throw up. She fleetingly wondered how long she was knocked out. She hoped Chris was alright.

Irons pointed back at her, fuming. “Get her outta here. Take one of the secret passages down to the sewers and away from the public eye. I’m going to go have a talk with Albert right now.”

William snorted as he pushed by the larger man. “Ya, good luck with that, genius. He’ll rip you to shreds.”

“You and Albert are treading on thin ice, William. Spencer and Sergei will hear about this! You’re lucky I didn’t kill the girl myself!”

William unlocked Claire’s cuffs from the desk. He stood her up, but reattached the handcuffs together, keeping her arms bound in front of her. He gripped her arm and started pulling her towards the exit behind the Chief of Police.

“No, you’re lucky you didn’t kill her yourself. Albert would’ve killed you and dumped your body in the sewers next. But, yeah, have a little chat with him, let me know how it goes bud, alrighty? Ciao.”

Irons mumbled curses at their backs. Claire was too shocked to really do anything as William led her into a narrow hallways that led them right by a huge stuffed Bengal Tiger. The next door led them back into the Chief’s office, but instead of taking the door that Claire came through earlier back into the police department, William tugged her to a hallway behind Iron’s desk that led outside. When they reached an elevator, William let her go long enough to push a button.

Claire bolted for it. William snagged her arm and pulled her back into the elevator just as the rusty cage moaned shut, trapping her inside. She fought his hold, needing to get out of there. It was time to escape, to find Chris and get the hell out of the city.

"Let me go!"

"Are you stupid?" William hissed, shoving her into the wall as the elevator descended.

"I need to stop him! And you!"

"You can't! Albert controls the city. He's in charge over Irons for crying out loud! If you want to live you better start listening to him. You're lucky he didn't just kill you on the trail and make it look as though you disappeared forever."

She stopped fighting him. Claire felt tears sting her eyes as the realization dawned on her. She snapped, breaking from William’s hold. She clasped her cuffed hands together and whipped them upward, catching William in the face.

He yelped as she pushed passed him, going for the elevator’s control panel.

"You go back, and Irons will kill you," William said.

She halted before the control panel, the button pad glowing as the old gears faintly grumbled as they turned to lower the elevator.

Claire clenched her fists in front of her, pulling on the handcuffs. "Then he will be found out."

William covered an eye, glaring at her. "You want to take that chance?"

She couldn't take that chance. She was trapped. She turned back to William. She got herself into this mess, and may have just cost Chris his life. She slowly walked over to William, emotions flooding over her as she realized there was no escape now.

"Ugh, that freaking hurt," William groaned. "Now, if you want to live, please follow me and no fighting! I’d hate to have to inject you with an anesthetic and drag your body down there."

"Where are we going?" she demanded.

The small, rusty elevator shook as it landed in place, dinging as the metal doors moved open with some complaint.

William sighed, rubbing his eye. A drop of blood leaked from his nose. "You'll find out soon enough. Which means you will be in even more trouble. Albert is not going to be happy about this…at all."

[theonlywriteway]

Kidnapped - Part Two

Pairing: Jungkook x OC (Laura)

Genre: Drama, Gang!au

Warnings: Foul language 

Two torturous days passed and Jungkook still had not located his girlfriend or even acquired any sort of clue. To say he was losing his mind was the biggest understatement ever told. His days were spent talking to friends and foes alike; wanting to gain any piece of information he could no matter how small. If he wasn’t out looking – which rarely happened –he was at home, pacing the floor from wall to wall.

His nights were no better. His dreams continuously showed him the worst possible scenario that could have been forced upon his girlfriend. Even then the scenario looped, replaying until he woke up in a cold sweat. He never went back to sleep after that.

It was afternoon of the third day. Rain relentlessly pounded the ground beneath it, and angry winds thrashed everything in its path. No one was out; rather taking refuge indoors until the storm passed. Jungkook was no exception, though it wasn’t by choice that he stayed caged inside.

“If you go out there and get sick, you won’t do Laura any good.” Namjoon, being the leader, always looked out for the wellbeing of his members; even if his members didn’t always agree.

“It won’t do her any good either if I just sit on my ass all day and don’t do anything at all!” Jungkook roared. He reached breaking point, both mentally and emotionally. Everyone knew to tread lightly, but even the smallest look would set Jungkook off.

“Instead of pacing and being a jerk to us, why don’t you actually put your anger to use? We all care about Laura, so come over here, sit your ass down, shut up, and let us come up with a plan to help you get her back.” Leave it to Yoongi to be the tough love type guy.

“But – “

“Shut it and sit.”

Jungkook grumbled, but nevertheless listened to his commanding friend as he dragged his feet to find a vacant seat in the living room. He knew he was being a jerk, especially to the people who deserved it the least, but he was having a difficult time coping. He realized though that the best help he could give his girlfriend right now was to put his trust in his friends.

Once everyone had settled into a circle in the middle of their small living room, Jin began speaking first, “Have you tried calling back the number that called you?”

“I have but it’s turned off. So I can’t track it either.”

Now Hoseok’s turn: “Have you gotten any valuable information from other gangs?”

“Not really. The gangs we are associated with don’t have any information we don’t already have. The gangs associated with The Kings won’t tell us anything. But with the way they reacted when I questioned them, I don’t think they know of any secret hideout either.”

For the next hour, the conversation held a similar pattern. Someone would suggest an idea, while Jungkook immediately refuted it. Either it was something he already attempted, or there were serious flaws to the proposition.

“Argh! We aren’t getting anywhere. This is useless.”

And it was true. They sat in silence, eyes cast downwards to the floor. Their minds whirring away, but as time passed, their ideas became more and more ridiculous. They met a dead end.

A shrill sound broke the tense atmosphere. Jungkook scrambled for his back pocket, pulling his phone out and answering the call without checking caller id. He hoped that whoever was on the other end would help him.

“Hey there Kookie, how’s life been going for ya so far?”

Jungkook tensed at once. All muscles seized and became rigid. White knuckles surrounded the phone in his hand, and his eyes expanded in size. His friends watching knew exactly who had called.

“Where’s my girlfriend you piece of shit.” Jungkook growled low and menacingly into the phone, sounding more animalistic than ever.

“Oh boy, someone sounds a little upset. Wanna talk about it?”

“Fuck off asshole.”

“Now, now Kookie, is that any way to speak to someone who has your precious girlfriend? I have to say she’s been lots of fun. I don’t think I ever want to give her back.”

“Listen here you sh-“Jungkook broke off once he caught Namjoon’s glare. He was being too hot headed, and his leader was signaling him to calm way down.

Jungkook took a breath, closed his eyes, and tried again. “What do you want?”

“Oh Jungkook my boy I’m glad you asked. I’ll call you tomorrow with the details.”

Click.

Jungkook stared dumbfounded at his blank phone. Confusion and rage intermixed to form a volatile reaction of emotions bubbling within him. As he explained the conversation to his friends, he was attempting to figure out the reason for the short call. Taehyung voiced the same thoughts, “That’s a stupid call. What’d he do that for?”

“He’s taunting us. He wants us to know that he can call at any time; that he holds more than just Laura over our heads.” Namjoon gazed over at Jungkook with sympathy lacing his words. He knew just how much more pain Jungkook would be in now.

Immediately Jungkook stood, stormed out of the room, and slammed a door to let everyone know he locked himself in his room. A collective sigh came from the remaining people in the living room.

**********

That night Jungkook didn’t sleep for a second, mind rampant with thoughts of the entire situation he found himself in. He attempted to calm himself and rationally think through options, but his mind continuously returned to his desire to rip off the limbs of every King member. He wanted to know what the phone call tomorrow would entail and became antsy with each passing minute. Until then, he stared at his ceiling figuring out the best and most torturous way to kill someone.

**********

The next day everyone was on edge more than usual. Yoongi and Namjoon huddled around the kitchen island, staring idly into a cup of coffee they were gripping too tightly. The other side of the room held Taehyung, Jimin, Hoseok, and Jin staring blankly at the empty television screen, as though they were watching a program only they could see. Jungkook took to his usual route; another day of wearing down the floor. His cell phone gripped tightly in his hand was turned up to full volume.

Louder than the day before a shrill ring echoed in the enclosed space, vibrating manically in Jungkook’s hand expecting an immediate reaction. The call was answered.

“Sleep well?” The taunting voice on the other end irritated Jungkook and grated his every nerve.

“Cut to the chase you bastard.”

“I see politeness hasn’t come to you over night. Oh well, not a matter, I still have the better cards in this little game. Put the phone on speaker – this involves everyone.”

Jungkook clenched his teeth as he beckoned everyone onto the brown sofas. Seven bodies huddled around the single device still sitting on Jungkook’s hand.

“We’re all here. Now tell us what you want.”

“What I want is to increase the stakes a bit. I really want you to feel what’s it’s like to be in complete turmoil. You remember a guy who went by the name of Snake?”

Namjoon answered, “Yah, he used to be the leader of The Kings before you. What of him?”

“He was my brother. You killed him.”

Confusion silently passed between the friends, none understanding the situation or recalling the murder of this particular man.

“We don’t remember killing him. You sure you got your facts correct?” Hoseok voiced everyone’s thoughts, feeling as though some hope could be extracted from this seemingly simple misunderstanding.

“Of course I got my facts right you shits. He was my brother, I remember perfectly. It was in a warehouse in the fall of ’09, the first territory war we had between our two gangs. Your leader shot him dead with a smug ass look on his stupid face.”

Jaws dropped and faces paled as they recalled the memory. Their hope shattered. This was definitely turning into something larger than they anticipated.

The gruff voice continued, “So here’s the deal, I want retribution, eye for an eye. I want your leader on a silver platter. You have two hours to decide if you’re going to give up your leader or not. Give him up and the girl is yours. Think he’s more important and the girl’s life promptly ends. Your choice. I’ll call you back in two hours.”

The call ended, and so did Jungkook’s sanity. He was frustrated, livid, conflicted, upset, but most of all sick. He felt ready to vomit at any second. They had two hours to decide who was more important, who should live: their leader or his girlfriend. Things just blew up in his face.

************

The clock dutifully ticked away two hours, the time passing normally but feeling as though it was on fast forward. Once again the phone held in Jungkook’s hand rang loudly and once again Jungkook answered without glancing at the screen.

“Have you come to your decision?”

Jungkook tried to even his breathing and swallow the thickness building in his throat, “Yes.”

“Oh wonderful, and the final verdict is?”

“We will give you Namjoon.”

Silenced filled both ends of the connection before Jungkook heard glorious laughter through the receiver. His muscles screamed in protest as they were again flexed in fury, wishing this whole ordeal would be finished quickly.

“Good choice Kookie my man. I’ll text you the location for the switch. You have one hour to get there. Only you and Namjoon are allowed to be there. Anyone else and you all die.”

Seconds after the call ended, the screen lit up with an address. It lead to an abandoned farm house on the outskirts of town. Surrounded by nothing but open land and hazy, stale air.

A deep breath heaved itself out from Jungkook’s lungs. For a moment he stood still, closed his eyes, and attempted to get his wits about him. He wanted to go into this with as clear a mind as possible; he didn’t want anything to go wrong.

“Ready to go?”

Jungkook responded to his leader’s question with a simple head nod as he stalked outside towards the waiting car. He stared at his shaking hands as he sat in the passenger seat, not even glancing up when Namjoon slammed the door and started the car.

Forty five minutes of silence passed along with the trees rushing by outside. Namjoon pulled up a few yards away from the destined farmhouse, shut off the car, and turned to glance over at his young friend.

“You okay?”

“No.”

“Why not? You’re getting your girlfriend back.”

Jungkook looked up at that, believing he heard a smile in Namjoon’s voice. Sure enough, a beaming grin was being directed toward him, and he wondered how his leader could be so care free about the situation.

“How are you so calm? This could be a huge ugly trap for all we know.”

“I have trust.” With that, Namjoon left a dumbfounded Jungkook in the car as he began his walk towards death.

A few beats later, Jungkook scrambled out of the car and raced to match pace with his friend. Silence again became their companion as they continued to the farmhouse ahead. Namjoon placed a sturdy hand on Jungkook’s shoulder and with a whispered, “show time” lead them both into the darkness.

It took a minute for Jungkook’s eyes to adjust to the gloom, but as soon as he did, he saw a scene which made his blood curdle. Lying in a messy heap on the floor was Laura. Hands and feet were bruised from chains coiled unforgivingly around her limbs. Clothes were hanging off her frail body by the seams; forced holes became a part of the muddy design. Eyes were closed, hair was mangled, and mouth opened slightly, with blood splattered aimlessly around open wounds. Never did Jungkook want his eyes to bear witness to something even close to this again.

“Welcome friends! So glad you could join us here today. Please, make yourselves at home.”

Jungkook and Namjoon stood stiff, not moving more than necessary. They were hyper-aware, hyper-vigilant.

“Aw, come now, don’t be shy. Jungkook don’t you want to see your precious girlfriend?”

He did. That was certainly no lie, but he still worried about his leader. It ended as a unanimous decision to do this trade, but that didn’t mean Jungkook had to like it. Nevertheless, he continued on as he was instructed to.

“I’ll take Laura out. Don’t do anything to Namjoon until I’m gone.”

“You have my word.”

Eyes followed Jungkook as he made his way toward the crumpled body. He knelt down beside her as soon as he was close enough. Tender fingers delicately stroked her cheeks and moved tangled hair away from her face. Jungkook’s shoulders relaxed slightly. He allowed himself a second of calmness now that he was united with her again.

A clatter of metal sounded beside him. He looked to his left and noticed a single rusted key barely glinting in the light. Swiftly he picked it up and hastened to unlock the chains bruising the once clear skin of his love.

As he tossed away the chains and began lifting the frail body into his arms, Laura’s eyes slowly opened. She opened her mouth further to speak, but nothing came out. After a few failed attempts at forcing out words, she managed to croak out his name, “Jungkook?”

Jungkook glanced down lovingly before determination filled his eyes once more. “I got you, don’t worry. No one is taking you away from me now.”

Jungkook turned to walk out the door he had previously entered. He made eye contact with Namjoon, each giving the other a slight head nod of acknowledgment.

By the time he reached past the threshold of the farmhouse doors, the men behind him began talking. His hands were shaking and Laura passed out once again. He kept walking. He didn’t know how things were going to turn out from that point on, but he kept his legs moving forward.

Jungkook almost reached the car when a loud explosion sounded behind him. He wasn’t sure if it was real or his imagination, but his back became sweaty.

Keeping his head down, Jungkook opened the passenger door, tucked Laura in the seat, and took his place behind the wheel just as gunshots echoed into the afternoon. Only as he started the engine did he chance a look up. Monstrous flames engulfed the building they were in just moments before. Smoke drifted to merge with the fluffy clouds above.

********

Back at home, Jungkook took Laura into his arms and brought her into the silent house. He placed her delicately on his bed, tucked her in, and allowed her to sleep off the stress from the past few days. Silently Jungkook closed the door behind him. As much as he wanted to stay with her, he felt as though his mind still needed to be cleared. So he walked himself back into the living room and flopped his body down onto the sofa. Allowing his eyes to close, he waited for his friends to arrive home as well.

Two and a half hours later the house came to life. Jungkook awoke to obnoxious laughter drifting down the hall. He sat up and watched contentedly with drooping eyes as all of his friends strode into the room.

“Took you guys long enough to get back.” Jungkook eyed his friends with fake disdain.

“We had to take care of clean up. Not all of us were able to come home and chill.” Hoseok ruffled Jungkook’s hair as he took a seat beside him.

“How is she doing by the way?” Jimin and Taehyung were still looking worried despite the successful rescue.

“She’s sleeping on my bed right now. Completely passed out but she’s okay other than some cuts and bruises. How are you?” Jungkook glanced over to the only person still standing.

“I’m alive aren’t I? Nothing to worry about kid, everything’s been taken care of.” Namjoon stood proud with a broad grin on his face, enjoying the outcome of that afternoon.

The boys had agreed on a plan once The Kings’ true motives came to light. Jungkook was to take Laura and leave Namjoon behind, making it appear as though he was really going to be the sacrifice. The other members at that point were to sneak to the back of the large wooden building. Once Jungkook and Laura were far enough, the members planned to set the building on fire.

Gun shots mixed with flames encompassed the entire building and none of The Kings were left alive from the surprise ambush. It was lucky no one died that wasn’t supposed to. They had debris and soot covering their bodies, but that was the worst of it.

Honestly, Jungkook felt disappointed that he wasn’t able to stay and help fight. He wanted to be by his friends’ side and watch their backs while they took down the enemy one by one. But Laura and her safety were important too; everyone knew that.

“Hey, have you treated her wounds yet?”

Jungkook answered Jin with a shake of his head.

“You should probably do that. Then get some sleep. It’s been a long day.”

“It’s been a long day for all of us. I’m going to sleep too. No one disturb me or I’ll kill you.” Soft laughter accompanied Yoongi as he lazily strode out of the room and to his waiting bed. Jungkook followed his lead and went to see how his precious girl was holding up.

“Jungkook is that you?” As soon as Jungkook reached the edge of his bed, Laura instinctively woke up and reached for him. The sight warmed his heart and he vowed no one would ever be able to take her away from him again.

“I’m here. I will always be here. Now let’s get you cleaned up before we go to sleep ok?”

With gentle hands, Jungkook ensured every cut, scrape, and gash were properly cleaned. It took him seven minutes to finish and get both their strained bodies back onto the comfy mattress. They tightly wove their arms around the other, embracing the sense of security neither of them had felt for the past few days.

Jungkook lightly kissed Laura’s head that was secured under his chin. “Goodnight love. I’ll be here when you wake up.”

Jungkook had his world back, and he wasn’t ever going to let go again.

Hope everyone enjoyed that part two! Please feel free to comment or request any time! Authors enjoy reading what you have to say. :)

[theprobabilityengine-blog]

015%

Whatever the warehouse had been originally it had been remodelled so extensively it could no longer serve its original purpose. As he’d noted previously, the entrance to the warehouse was the one corridor that ended in a T-junction, what David was just learning was that the branches of the junction weren’t that long, they turned again a couple of metres down creating what he could only assume were parallel corridors. Although maybe they did meet up somewhere towards the back of the warehouse.

At any rate, he knew that the right-hand corridor led to the loading bay he’d observed when they were scoping the place out. Since it appeared to see the most traffic security would probably tighter that way so they decided to head to the left first.

In the left-hand corridor was five doors, one on the left and three on the right with one more at the end. The door at the end had another electronic lock on it, at least this one seemed to not include a tumbler. The chances the same code they’d used to get in would were here was slim at best. So, left with four possible doors to choose from the question on both their minds was which did they try first?

“What do you think?” Kat whispered.

“I don’t know…” David considered the doors. He was about to try to puzzle out which door was the most suspicious when the doorknob of the second door on the right started moving.

Before David could even think to react Kat grabbed him by the front of his shirt and dragged him into the nearest door. The first one on their right. Unsteady on his feet after being almost thrown into this room David staggered forwards and would have likely collapsed onto the floor if he hadn’t hit a shelf piled with boxes. While the shelf did rattle a little David’s weight wasn’t enough to cause anything to come falling down.

Letting out a relieved sigh David turned around. They were in a storage closet by the looks of it. It was a small 2x3m room which seemed even smaller with the large metal shelves lining the walls filled with unmarked boxes. The only illumination in the room was from a single, naked bulb that dangled from the ceiling. Kat was pressed up against the door. It was cracked open ever so slightly and she was listening intently to whatever was happening outside.

Moving up beside her David listened in too, however the voice was speaking a language he didn’t recognise. Perhaps it was Russian? Although it might have been Swedish or Polish as well for all he knew. When Kat glanced at him, her eyes asking if he could translate, David just shook his head in reply. They heard the voice grow fainter then there was a beeping sound, probably someone using electronic lock David had noted earlier, then the sound of a door opening and closing followed by silence.

They remained tense, wary that these people could come back at any time or a new group could show up. After a few minutes during which all was quiet they finally allowed themselves to relax. David drained from the ordeal, staggered backwards and sat down on an empty space in the shelves that lined the walls. “Bloody hell, this is exhausting,” he exclaimed.

“I know what you mean. I almost wish I was back watching that freaking lab. At least then I didn’t have to worry about being found,” Kat wiped the perspiration beading her forehead with her sleeve.

David took off his glasses and rubbed the bridge of his nose. “Just give me a minute to catch my breath before we head back out…”

Kat nodded and then sighed, “Think they were the team sent to check on the kids?”

He shook his head, “Can’t tell. Even if they were, we have no idea if they were going to do it or coming back from… Still, once we’re done here we should probably take a quick peek and so what’s in there…”

Kat nodded then sat in silence for a while. Then, “I noticed something…” Kat said looking up at the ceiling.

“What?”

“There are no cameras here… like anywhere here not just this room,” she clarified.

David frowned. He hadn’t paid attention to that so he had to take her word for it. It made sense though, if they were caught on camera they should have been captured already. “Are they just lax with security? No… probably not. More likely whatever they do here or the people involved can’t be caught on camera.” His knowledge of computers and cameras were rather lacking, however David felt he knew enough to say that no system was entirely impenetrable. They were probably worried about whatever recordings they made being leaked. “Anyway let’s get going.”

The pair went back out into the corridor after making sure it was empty. Then following the plan, Kat went down to the next door and… flung it wide open.

“Idiot!” David hissed, shutting his eyes and preparing himself for the sound pf startled voices or sudden gunfire. However, nothing happened. In that case this wasn’t the enemies centre of operations…

Opening his eyes just a crack he saw Kat standing in the doorway. Judging from the crestfallen look on her face, the kidnapped children weren’t inside either. Elbowing her out of the way David stepped inside. The room was long and thin. One wall, the wall on his left was made almost entirely of darkened glass. Several control panels and computer screens were installed inside. “This seems like an observation room… One of these things might make the glass transparent.”

Struck with a sudden premonition he turned to Kat and ordered her, “Don’t touch anything!” Kat, who had been about to fiddle with one of the control panels complied, lowering her outstretched hand, an irate expression on her face.

Satisfied his warning had gotten across David went back to looking around the room. He didn’t know what anything in the room did so he wasn’t going to risk playing with any of the controls. There was a binder that seemed to have been tossed casually on top of one of them. Moving towards it he gingerly picked it up, taking care he didn’t accidentally hit anything. Then he retreated, taking a couple of steps back, before he opened the binder to read what was inside.

At the top of the page it read “SUBJECT 1” following that was a list of traits such as gender, age, height, weight and blood group. At the bottom of the page was written “0.3%” in a red pen.

“What is it?” Kat asked coming closer.

“It seems to be information on the test subjects and some kind of statistic… don’t know what for though.”

“Is it the kids?” she asked excitedly.

“This would go a lot faster if you didn’t interrupt me every two seconds, and no, this person was in their thirties.” Sulking silently at being berated, David continued reading, flipping through the pages at speed as he absorbed the information on each one.

None of the subjects appeared to be children for some reason… Subject 2 was in their thirties just like Subject 1. Subject 3 was seventy. Subject 4 twenty-six. The percentages on the bottom of each sheet bothered him. They changed with no apparent rhyme or reason but never went over 5%. He could find no correlation between the percentages and the information recorded on the sheets.

Eventually though he came across something pertinent to Kat’s investigation.

Subject 31. Male. 12.

“I found one,” he told her holding the binder out so she could see.

Kat frowned. “So there were 30 victims before the first child… Are the just grabbing anyone? Not just children?”

Flicking through the rest of the pages David filed everything he read away inside his head then closed his eyes. Processing the information. “No… By the looks of it they were at first but whatever results they wanted they weren’t getting. Then their 31st subject just happened to be a child and the results became substantially better.” The percentage at the bottom of Subject 31’s page had been 84% a huge increase from anything that had come before.

“From there they started narrowing their focus. By subject 54 they appeared to find an appropriate age range, children between 6 and for females 17 and for males 20. Then they’ve been continuing gathering data trying to find the next breakthrough to get the result they need.” The highest percentage written down had been 91.3%.

Kat gritted her teeth. “How many subjects?”

“82.” She let out a frustrated hiss at the answer. “Well there are 82 subjects written down in here but by the looks of it only 81 have been used in whatever experiment they’re running.”

Kat was seething. It was clear she wanted to smash something but she contained the impulse. “Let’s try the next room,” she snarled before stomping outside. David considered the binder in his hands one last time before placing it down and following his companion.

She was looking around trying to decide which door to open next. David poked her in the back and nodded towards the door last door on the right-hand wall. “That was an observation room, whatever they were observing happens through there. Probably.”

“Right.” Walking over to the door she opened it and she stopped moving again. Letting out a frustrated sigh, imagining he was going to have to go through this every single time they opened a door he strode past her and into the room.

Then he saw what was inside and he froze. He blinked. He shook his head. Then he stared.

“What in the…” David murmured, his eyes wide behind his glasses.

[fanfiction-rhetoric]

Incomplete List of Fanfics and Comics

Fanfic Writers on Tumblr

Tactictionfiction

I linked you with the writer's tag for Xander, which contains quite a bit of fanfiction written about the Xander x Corrin pairing. Truly wonderful stuff, some of which I explored in my analysis.

Yukiwrites

While I linked you to the tag used for Xander x Corrin pairings, all of this writer's work is incredible. I used some fanfics in my analysis and encourage those interested to give this user's writing a read. Some entries are NSFW, but fear not: all such works are marked accordingly in the tags.

Assorted Xander x Corrin Fanfiction

Actions Speak Louder NSFW

Hurt/comfort, romance; explicit. Xander returns home guilt-ridden after narrowly winning a border conflict resulting in heavy casualties on each side of the battle. As his internal self-destructive dialogue worsens, Corrin attempts to offer him some comfort and advice.

All Mine, Body and Soul NSFW

Drama, romance; explicit. Finally breaking down and admitting their perhaps-taboo feelings to one another, Xander and Corrin explore their relationship and its pseudo-incestuous implications (despite not being related by blood).

Coming Home

Action, drama; rated teen. Taking a different perspective from the Birthright entry in the Fates series, Crown Prince Xander confronts responsibilities: both of his officially assigned duties and those of his heart.

Diplomacy NSFW

Romance; explicit. It's a hot, hot day in Nohr, and no one can get any relief, especially considering a diplomatic between two countries' rulers must still occur regardless. Despite the serious nature of the affair, Xander, the King of Nohr, and his wife Corrin, the Queen of Valla, find themselves increasingly distracted by the heat, but mostly by the frustration of having not been to spend much time with one another in three months. That's when they decide to try multitasking by combining diplomatic talks with quality time.

The Dusk Dragon

Family, romance; rated teen. Knowing that the royal family members all have some fraction of dragon's blood coursing through their veins, Xander begins to wonder whether he too could transform into a dragon, much like his wife. He enlists the help of Leo to assist him in turning into a dragon.

Dusk into Dawn NSFW

Angst, romance; explicit. Being the destined sovereign of a war-ravaged kingdom is even harder than it sounds, and it doesn't help when affairs of the heart get involved. Xander gazes upon the throne which he will soon take as King when Corrin walks into the throne room, another destined sovereign of her respective kingdom, interrupting his thoughts. After brief conversation of what the future holds, the two confess their once-thought unrequited feelings to one another, and make their own plans for the future.

Fall

Fluff, romance; rated everyone. Corrin has always enjoyed climbing trees to spend some time alone. Unfortunately, she also has a tendency of climbing too high, resulting in her getting stuck in the tree. Wondering why she hasn't been spotted for a while, Xander comes looking for her.

I Love You, Truly

Drama, romance; rated mature. Chronicling the days when Corrin was introduced to the Nohrian Royal Family, Xander becomes her mentor and best friend who helps them both cope with loneliness. The story takes us up to the present day when the relationship between the two deepens. The story's premise is partly informed by canon support conversations.

An Inconvenient Arrangement

Drama; rated teen. None of the kidnapping or regicide occurs as it had in the canon story. Instead, Corrin's marriage has been arranged such that it may strengthen the shaky relationship Hoshido has with Nohr. Corrin and her future husband's personalities mix like water and oil, but the two begin to realize opposites can attract.

The King is Dead

Angst, hurt/comfort; rated mature. Leo became king not long after his siblings, Xander (the intended King of Nohr), and Elise (youngest princess) had been buried after their untimely deaths. Feeling increasingly inadequate for his burdensome role, Leo begins to have hallucinations of his brother, Xander, who only wants to talk.

Left Behind

Hurt/comfort; rated teen. Corrin's son Siegbert is the object of much bullying as of late in and outside school. While his close friends Shiro (King Ryoma's son) and Shigure (Princess Azura's son) support and stand beside him throughout the whole ordeal, he begins to question his true lineage, and whether he truly is Hoshidan. Moreover, who is/was his father?

Letters from a Prince

Angst, drama; rated everyone. Written by the same author as Coming Home (another fanfic link listed above), this short fic serves as an epilogue for the aforementioned story in which Xander has already passed and Princess Sakura, an ally from Hoshido who participated in the war efforts, reads one of his letters directed to Corrin.

Lost in Thoughts all Alone NSFW

Action, drama; explicit. Corrin, a princess of Hoshido, has always known that she was destined to marry a prince from Nohr in hopes to improve relations between her country and his. Her betrothed, among with his sister and many others, suddenly dies before she meets him, resulting in her being betrothed to the Crown Prince of Nohr, Xander, whose stoic and melancholic disposition fills her with a sense of despair, knowing she'll be trapped in a loveless relationship, even though for the greater good. Her world perspective changes as she learns more about his tragic past and communicating with his younger sisters, Camilla and Azura.

Parabolas

Action, romance; rated mature. Corrin decided against siding with Nohr or Hoshido, in favor of a greater cause. Little by little, her siblings on both sides of the conflict come to terms and begin to take arms with her as she battles a greater evil: the cause of the entire Nohr v. Hoshido conflict being among the atrocities. Throughout the ordeal, she and Xander begin to explore hidden feelings as well as unsaid (and unfortunately, said) words.

Path of Thorns

Drama, romance; rated teen. King Garon introduces a new addition to the family, one who refuses to utter a single word, let alone her own name. Ordered to "love her like a sister," Xander takes her under his wing, doing everything he can from teaching her about Nohrian customs/history to outfitting her in Nohrian attire. In the meantime, his suspicions of the young girl's origin grows, as does the increasing fear for his father, King Garon.

Doujinshi and Fan-Made Comics

Big Brother and a Festive Atmosphere

A heart-touching comic in which Kamui (Japanese localization's name for Corrin) has been preparing for Marx's birthday for seven days (Xander's Japanese Localized name), but still feels like she falls short somehow.

Based on Xander's and Selena's A Supports

Just like the title suggests, the comic (which is indeed comical) depicts a situation when Xander attempts to tell a joke to his siblings... and fails miserably.

I Want to be Rescued by My Brother, Xander

No text, meaning that no knowledge of Japanese is necessary to understand the context of the story!

Xander witnesses Corrin being attacked in the heat of battle and shifts his attention to save her before she's overwhelmed by the enemy. Later, Xander observes her now-healed wound, provoking Corrin to wonder how many wounds Xander's taken over his life.

I've Always Thought of Him as My Personal Hero.

A very cute comic chronicling Xander's experiences in being a positive role model and protective figure for his siblings, all the way up to the present day when his siblings have grown up.

Untitled 4-Koma Comic Installment in the Artist's Series No. 5

A 4-Koma is a type of Japanese comic which tells a short story in the form of four panels or scenes. 4-Koma are typically lighthearted and often humorous in nature. All ten 4-Koma vary in story, and are non-contiguous.

A Warm Hand and Tears

After experiencing his first casualty met by his own hand, 15 year old Xander begins to question his purpose in life: is he the one the King, his father, is going to use as a violent enforcer of law, or will he be able to change his fate? Corrin, his adoptive sibling, becomes an influential figure in his life who may have the power for him to continue living, and change his country for the better once he becomes king.

Note: most doujinshi (同人誌) are in Japanese, but the trend of drawing comics based on one's favorite series is slowly spreading to other countries.

NSFW is an acronym for "Not Safe For Work," meaning that the work may contain one or more of the following (among others not mentioned here): nudity, sexually explicit content, course language, crude humor, violence, gore, blood, and situations which require readers' and viewers' discretion such as: triggering topics, controversial political topics, etc. In my experience, perhaps over 90% of the content marked as NSFW is due to nudity and sexually explicit content and all the NSFW fanfics and art above are marked accordingly due to such content; very little violence and language is involved.

While NSFW content arguably makes up only a small part of the published fan-created content, I would find it unfair not to include such work to these lists; after all, the authors' and artists' works are outstanding and deserve recognition. I did not discriminate between SFW (Safe for Work) and NSFW when choosing what to read and view; beauty and scholarship come in all forms.