#the author always does him so dirty... making him a coward...

[theultimateultimateweapon]

Kirby Star Allies: The Universe is in a Big Pinch!? (Chapter 5)

Flamberge’s sword swung down and struck the earth, burning a line of fire.

Kirby and Burning Leo rolled away.

"It's no use! You can't run from my sword forever!"

Flamberge's attacks were increasing in strength.

Burning Leo staggered and stood up. "If it's a game of heat you want… I… won’t lose!" He blew fire with all of his strength. However, it was nothing compared to Flamberge's flames. It was like holding a candle to the sun.

"Ahahaa! Don't make me laugh!" Flamberge thrust towards him.

"Woaaah!" Burning Leo was blown away and fainted.

Waddle Dee, Jammerjab, and now Burning Leo were unable to fight at the front line.

Only Kirby was left.

Kirby staggered and tried to approach the fallen Burning Leo. Without a copy ability, he couldn't protect himself, let alone fight for the others.

However, Flamberge saw through Kirby's idea. "I won't let you do that! Fireball Circus!" Numerous fireballs rippled out of her sword.

"Woaaah!"

Although he was able to jump down and avoid the direct hit, the heat of the fireball inflicted serious damage on the weakened Kirby.

He couldn't stand straight anymore. He could barely keep his eyes open. Still, Kirby didn't give up.

"I can't lose here… I can't…" Kirby's mind wandered. "Waddle Dee… I have to… help him…!" Thinking of Waddle Dee, alone and weak, he couldn't fall now.

"Sorry pink stubby guy! It's over, give up. Like I promised, I'll destroy you!" Flamberge, sure of her victory, held up her sword. "This is the end! Berge finish…!"

At the moment she cried out her attack, someone jumped out from the cliff.

"…Eh?" Flamberge blinked her eyes. She stopped her attack.

King Dedede and Waddle Dee appeared in front of her!

"Hm? Is she a problem?" King Dedede asked with his hammer in hand.

Bandana Waddle Dee immediately replied. "That's right! She's one of the Three Mage Sisters, she fights with fire…"

"Details don't matter. You're telling me I can clobber this guy?"

"Yeah, go for it!"

"Alright!" King Dedede swung his hammer up and strutted up to Flamberge.

Flamberge faltered at the unexpected appearance of a new enemy. "Wh-wh-what, you?! Who do you think I am…!"

"I don't caaaare!" King Dedede swung to his heart's content! The hammer made a clean blow against Flamberge!

"Kyaaa!" Flamberge was blown away and dropped her sword as she collapsed.

"Just what I expected from my king!" Waddle Dee was thrilled and applauded.

King Dedede, pleased, approached the fallen Flamberge. "I'm not finished with you! I'll make sure you never come back and mess with us again! Eat this-!"

However, Flamberge jumped up before the final blow. "H-hnn! I'll withdraw now! Jambuhbye!" Flamberge disappeared in the blink of an eye.

"Hmph. She made a quick escape." King Dedede said bluntly.

Kirby, holding his breath while watching, finally raised his voice. "King Dedede!? What are you doing here…!?"

"Hmph, did I surprise you? I was summoned by the power of a mysterious palace so I could strike evil." King Dedede said, but Kirby had no idea what that meant.

"Huh, okay. I guess…" Kirby jumped on Waddle Dee. "Waddle Dee! Thank goodness! You're safe!"

"Yeah. King Dedede rescued me."

"Why is the king here? And where'd you get that bandana and spear?"

"Oh that's…" Waddle Dee talked about what happened in the mysterious palace.

Kirby looked into his eyes and asked. "King Dedede came from Dedede Castle to this planet in the blink of an eye? Because you called for him?"

"That's right. That palace must have the power to instantly call someone from far away."

"Awesome!" Kirby's eyes were shining.

"Let's go back and call for Chef Kawasaki right now!"

"Why Chef Kawasaki…?"

"I'm dying to eat. He could make us something!"

King Dedede said to the carefree Kirby. "Even if Chef Kawasaki were here, he can't cook without the right ingredients. Instead, we need to chase after the Three Mage Sisters before they escape!" King Dedede swung his arm around. "From here on out I'm at the peak of my strength! Let's go!"

Kirby looked up at the motivated king and said, "King Dedede, are you going to help us?"

"Nope!" The king laughed invincibly. "You're helping me. I'm the leader."

"…It doesn't really matter who's the leader. Anyways, let's fight together."

Kirby called out to Burning Leo and Jammerjab, who had fainted earlier. The two regained consciousness and got up.

"Oh, is that…? Why is King Dedede here…?"

Explaining the situation gave the two a chance to rest up.

After listening to the story, Burning Leo spoke. "Heh… well that sure is strange. Anyways, I'm glad King Dedede is with us. I'm sorry, but I can't fight anymore." Burning Leo had been hurt and was in a weak state.

Kirby nodded. "Yeah, you should take a rest. Thank you for fighting with us so far. We'll continue to do our best."

"Kirby, me too, I…" Jammerjab said. "I don't think I can go on. I can't move my body anymore."

"Jammerjab…" Kirby hugged the wounded Jammerjab tightly. "It's okay. Take a rest, Jammerjab."

"But…" Waddle Dee said. "Without Jammerjab, how will we know where to go? We don't have any directions…"

"I've got it." Jammerjab said with determined eyes. "Kirby, inhale me."

"Eh?"

"I don't have the power to fight anymore, but you can use my copy ability. Surely if I can lend you my power…"

"Okay!" Kirby jumped up. "Jammerjab's copy ability can help us get there. Then let’s get to it!"

King Dedede said. "If you're going to inhale him, get on it with it already. We need to get to the enemy's base!"

"Wait a moment, your majesty." Waddle Dee cried out. "The enemy is extremely strong. Maybe we could ask one more person to help us?"

"Help us? I don't want any help. All I need is…"

King Dedede snickered but Kirby spoke up. "Yeah, let's call Meta Knight! If we have him, nothing will scare us!"

"Meta Knight? I don't want him here…" King Dedede looked unpleasant, but he knew Meta Knight's strength well. He pretended to be reluctant but continued. "Well, he is a big fan of fighting so he'd be angry if we left him out. I don't want him in a bad mood, I guess we can call him in."

"Then let's go to the palace!"

The party went down the mountain to the mysterious palace.

No one was at the palace. The rogue who attacked Waddle Dee must have escaped.

"It was around here, I was about to be beaten by a rogue and I desperately called out for the king. Then, he suddenly appeared."

Kirby nodded when he heard Waddle Dee's explanation. "Alright, then I'll try calling him. Meta Knight! Come here, come here, Meta Kniiiight!"

Burning Leo was dumbfounded and said. "You can't just call him that way. You have to call him with all your heart…"

But at that moment, Meta Knight suddenly appeared in front of everyone. He was wearing his usual mask and cloak while holding a large mug. Apparently, it was tea time.

"Woah, he's here, he's here! Meta Knight!" Kirby was flying around with glee.

Meta Knight was frozen with the cup still held towards his mouth. Even the lone swordsman seemed confused in this situation.

"Yahoo, Meta Knight! You may be surprised, but this is a mysterious palace. You can call for anyone just by shouting their name. We just called out yours!" Kirby explained this with enthusiasm of course, but regardless of how he said it, it was barely understandable.

Meta Knight stood up without words.

King Dedede said. "You don't look like you understand. Well I don't blame you, neither do I. By the way, you were looking for Kirby. Satisfied?"

"Oh yeah. I just remembered!" Kirby burst out.

"Meta Knight, you bought too much ice cream, right? Do you want my help eating it? I'll do it! I was busy trying to fight the Three Mage Sisters but if Meta Knight really needs me…"

"…Kirby." It seemed he finally got adjusted to his surroundings while watching Kirby ramble. Meta Knight finally opened his mouth. "If this is no dream, do you mean I was instantly moved from the battleship Halberd to here…?

"Yeah! That's it!"

"I don't quite understand it, but it's a terrifying power."

"Yeah! Anyways, let's get to eating that ice cream. Rest assured, I can eat as much as I want…"

"Where are we? Please explain everything in detail." Meta Knight once again ignored the ice cream topic. He knew if he let Kirby start talking about food, they would never get back on topic.

Waddle Dee replied. "This is Sizzlai Moon. We were chasing after the Three Mage Sisters to help a kidnapped friend and we ended up here. The Three Mage Sisters are powerful foes, we were hoping you would help us fight them…"

After hearing Waddle Dee's story, Meta Knight finally understood. He spoke up. "Is that so? Good, I was also looking for Kirby."

"ICE CREAM!"

"There is no ice cream." Meta Knight stressed each word. "The Three Mage Sisters may have destroyed the Fortress of Shadows, Jambastion, and fled Popstar, but their evil is not over yet. Rather, the real battle starts from here on out. That is why I decided we need Kirby's power."

Meta Knight continued to drink from his mug. "Kirby, in your testimony, the Three Mage Sisters seem to be following someone's orders."

"Yeah. Par, uh, Parmi, er, Parmesan Cheese said so."

"…Ms Zan Partizanne." Jammerjab interrupted.

When Meta Knight asked "Who are you?" Jammerjab hesitated to answer. "I'm Jammerjab. I used to work for the Three Mage Sisters."

"But now we're friends." Kirby said. 

Meta Knight nodded. "I see. It's reassuring to have someone who knows the enemy. I've been trying to find out more about our opponent, and I don't think this will end without defeating the one behind the Three Mage Sisters. Jammerjab, tell me what you know. Who is the mastermind? What do they want?"

"Well…" Jammerjab replied in a dark voice. "I was a low ranking soldier, so I don't know much. But the one we were serving… he's a great mage priest."

"A mage priest?" Kirby and his friends looked at him as if this was the first time they'd ever heard those words. "The Three Mage Sisters, they work for him?"

"Yes. At the command of the mage priest, we were collecting the Jamba Hearts that were scattered across the galaxy. We were told we needed them for a ritual."

"Ritual? What ritual?"

"I don't know… I just heard that it was a sacred ritual the mage priest was performing, but the details are…"

King Dedede was frustrated and spoke. "We could reach the mastermind before we get to the end of this story. Let's just go to the enemy's base already!"

"Yes. Jammerjab, tell us where this mage priest is." When Meta Knight spoke up, Jammerjab looked down and replied in a soft voice.

"…The Divine Terminus…"

"The Divine…?"

"It's a celestial body at the edge of the galaxy built by the mage priest. There is a sacred altar there, that's where the mage priest is performing the ritual… that's what I was told."

"Let's go there!" King Dedede raised his hammer with enthusiasm. "Then, I'll get in there and crush that altar. I'll stop the mage priest and everybody so that they'll never mess with us again!"

"Hm. This is useful information. Thank you, Jammerjab." 

As Meta Knight spoke, Jammerjab looked up thoughtfully. "Be careful. The mage priest is terrifying."

"It's okay! If we work together, nothing can scare us!" Kirby replied, full of confidence.

Jammerjab couldn't help but worry as he spoke. "…Yeah, I know how strong you and your friends are, Kirby. But, there was a rumor whispered among our soldiers."

"A rumor?"

"If the mage priest succeeds in his ritual, tremendous things will happen…" Jammerjab shook. "No one knows exactly what it is, but all the soldiers were excited. I'm sure they thought it was something awesome that would make everyone happy. But…"

Jammerjab fully believed in the Three Mage Sisters and the mage priest without the shadow of a doubt, but now, his heart was changing. He made friends for the first time in his life and his hard heart was beginning to open up little by little.

Was the mage priest really right? Would the ritual that required everyone to collect the Jamba hearts, which made everyone evil, really bring happiness?

In Jammerjab's heart, the doubt was growing bigger and bigger.

Meta Knight watched Jammerjab's pained eyes and spoke. "We will keep your advice in mind. We will check on the mage priest's scheme, and if it is evil, put a stop to it."

"…Okay." Jammerjab nodded firmly and turned to Kirby. "Alright then, inhale me, Kirby."

"Yup!" Kirby opened his mouth and took in a deep breath.

Jammerjab flew into Kirby's mouth. Immediately, he gained the copy ability staff. A red hat with a gold ring appeared on his head and he held a long stick in his hand. 

Kirby held his staff up and ran out of the palace. "Come here, Warp Star-!"

In response to his voice, a yellow star flew through the sky.

Meta Knight took out a small communicator and spoke. "Before we leave, I need to tell my men about the situation. Burning Leo, I'll tell them to bring the battleship Halberd here to take you to Dreamland."

"Oh, really? Thank you!" Burning Leo smiled. "I was worried I'd get stuck here until you guys come back, I'm sick of this place. I'll be back in Dreamland before you know it… but first."

Burning Leo spoke to Kirby. "I'll give your staff my fire power."

"Yeah! Please do, Burning Leo."

Burning Leo blew a flame on Kirby's staff. The stick was embraced with a bright light and blew up in flames on both ends.

"Sizzle Staff!" Kirby shouted as he swung around the stick.

Meta Knight said. "Two copy abilities combined…? Kirby, can you do that?"

"Yeah, it's a friend ability. The staff and the fire combined are powered up. Meta Knight and King Dedede, you should try it."

"Can you add the power of fire to my sword?" Meta Knight half-heartedly pulled out his treasure sword, the Galaxia.

"Let's do it!"

Burning Leo blew a vigorous flame. The Galaxia shone with a dazzling light and sprinkled flames.

"Wow… this is amazing. I feel Galaxia's power getting stronger."

When he heard this, King Dedede shoved the hammer in his hand towards Burning Leo. "Mine too!"

"You got it!" Burning Leo blew out fire again.

The king's hammer was also surrounded by flames, increasing its attack power!

King Dedede shook his hammer lightly and a smile creeped onto his face. "Hmm, this is nice. This shine, this heat! It suits me."

Burning Leo also called out to Waddle Dee, behind the king.

"Waddle Dee. You didn't have that weapon before, did you?"

"Eh? Oh, this spear…" Waddle Dee clumsily showed off the weapon he didn't know how to use. "I was attacked in the palace earlier, he went after me with this."

"Hey, not bad. I'll add my fire power to the spear too!"

"Eh!? Uh, no, I'm okay. I barely know how to use it. If you give it fire, I'll just get burned."

Bandana Waddle Dee confessed honestly, but Burning Leo laughed.

"Ah, so sloppy! Why not just go with me back to Dreamland? Isn't it useless to follow them around?"

King Dedede interrupted before Waddle Dee could answer. "Don't listen to this guy. Waddle Dee, you work for me. It's your job to follow me wherever I go."

"Ah, yes!" Waddle Dee nodded sharply.

Even though the rough king threw an occasional tantrum, Waddle Dee respected him more than anyone else. He loved being able to support the king.

Kirby and his friends finally boarded the Warp Star.

"Then, let's go! See ya!"

"Do your best! I'm supporting you-!" Burning Leo waved.

The Warp Star, carrying four people, left Sizzlai Moon and finally set out for the end of the galaxy.

(Chapter 4 - Table of Contents - Chapter 6)

[drakenology]

All Yours! - Kirishima Eijiro

“i’m all yours!” 

author’s note: this is pure filth ok? kiri is always written as a gentleman and I wanted to make him a slimey little cheater. tbh it was kinda hot. hope you guys enjoy this.

warnings: smut, angst, infidelity, fluff, fem!reader, phone sex , characters aged up! made up wife yall can give her a name if yall want lmao “she’s” just for the story. 

How can I put this? Sure, I loved my wife. She was with me when I was a nobody. Supported my dreams even when it meant I couldn’t be with her. But I can’t shake this feeling of regret. It’s almost as if I have married the wrong person. We stopped being intimate. She tenses up everytime I approach her. She doesn’t even look me in my eyes. She doesn’t love me anymore, I’m sure. I don’t think I loved her as much as I did when we first met. I was scared to tell her, scared to leave her. To be honest, I think we were both too chicken shit to sign those divorce papers.

Me and Katsuki talk about it all the time. He hypes me up over a few beers and when I get home I just lay dead next to her in bed, a huge wall separating our bodies from each other’s warmth even though we were so close. Our marriage was dying, withering away as we watched it fade. I don’t even bother telling her I’m leaving. I’m sure she has company over to fuck her while I’m gone. I caught her once.

He was amongst the higher ranks of Heros; I’ve seen him around before. He was on top of her, kissing her in the spots I used to kiss her. She seemed to be enjoying herself until I walked in. I was pissed. I pulled that guy off her and my mind went blank. I collect myself as she held me back from him. All I remember is her screaming. 

“It’s over! Don’t you get it!?” The pain in my knuckles snapped me out of it as I listened to her defend a man she hardly knew over me. He was knocked out on the ground, the pig naked and sweaty sporting a new blackeye courtesy of yours truly. I’ll never forget those words. We’ve been cheating on each other since that night. 

Tonight I was going to a bar with Katsuki and Kaminari, who wanted to get a few beers and maybe catch up a little. The both of them were pretty happy in their relationships. I never thought Bakugo would settle down. I’m watching my friends get into new and healthy relationships, while mine finds its impending doom. 

“Cheer up, Eijiro. I’m sure you’ll work up the courage to leave. It’s not working anymore, bro. I can see it in your eyes.” Denki says, taking a sip from his beer. I sigh and nod, only able to impishly agree. I was pretty upset. I spent a lot of good time with her. We made good memories. But it just didn’t work out. What went wrong? What happened? 

Bakugo grumbled about how I need to get over it, “Every woman in this joint would throw their fucking panties at you to have one night fucking a pro hero, don’t you get it? To be honest you should have left her that night you caught her cheating on you with that fucking side kick. Stop bein a coward and get it done.” I looked at him in shock but nonetheless he was right about me being a coward. I’d rather stay with her than try with someone new. Or so I had thought.

Time seemed to freeze when this woman walked into the bar with a few girls I was in the same class with in UA. She was quite possibly the most beautiful fucking woman I’ve ever laid eyes on. She seemed so confident and walked with her head held high. She knew she was hot, and wanted to make sure everyone in the bar knew. She wore this skimpy little dress in red, red lipstick on her full lips to match. Why does she seem so familiar?

She walked by our table, her perfume seeming to lure me towards her to follow her wherever she went. I was drunk and looking for something or anyone to distract me from what was going on at home. It felt wrong but something in me couldn’t resist. I couldn’t help but stare at her long legs in that dress that seemed to hug and squeeze at every curve in her body. I just wanted to grab her and nail her on the nearest surface in this fucking bar. 

“Yo, you’re drooling, dude.” Denki says, waving his hand in front of my eyes. I grabbed his wrist and pushed his hand away from my view. Something about this woman made me want to know more about her. I guess I could start with her name. I stood up from my seat and approached her, telling the guys I’d be right back. My hands got clammy as I got closer. I’m not gonna lie I was nervous as fuck. She was having a conversation with someone at the bar, her head slightly tilted to the side to better hear the person over all the music and outside chatter. I sit on the other side of her and tap her shoulder. 

“Hey. Can I buy you a drink?” I ask. She turned to me and smiled brightly, her teeth almost twinkling. 

“Sure! I’m Y/N. What’s your name?” She shouted over the music. I was a little shocked she didn’t know who I was. It’s hard to even go grocery shopping without being recognized. It was almost refreshing. 

“Eijiro Kirishima.” I say, holding out my sweaty hand to give her a hand shake. She took my hand and shook it, giggling as she noticed the wetness of my palms.

“Nice to meet ya, sweaty hands.” She said teasingly. God she was pretty. It was like no one was here except the two of us. She ordered the drink she wanted and I paid the bartender after we got our orders. We talked for what seemed like hours. It was almost easy with her. She was open and honest. She had nothing to hide and she was real. It’s hard to find that in people nowadays. 

“You’re pretty handsome, sweaty hands. You must have some girlfriend waiting for you to come home tonight, don’t you?” She questioned. I froze, thinking of my wife as I take a big sip of my drink. 

“I’m uh.. actually married. But she and I are separating.” I said, looking down at my drink. 

“Are you just telling me that so I’ll sleep with you? Or are you serious?” She asked, squinting her eyes at me to see if she can detect any lies. 

“I wish I wasn’t serious. I did love her at one point but..” I swallowed the lump in my throat, feeling pathetic. I was about to cry in front of a girl I’m trying to fuck. How manly. 

“Hey. You don’t have to explain much more, ok? I understand and I believe you.” She said, her small hand resting on my shoulder in reassurance. I look her in the eyes and smile. Why was she being so nice? 

“Hey, here’s my number. Call me anytime, sweaty hands.” She giggles, kissing me on the cheek. She finished her drink and pulled a pen from her purse. She wrote her number on a napkin and kissed it, leaving a red lipstick kiss on it. Y/N handed it to me and left, swaying her hips as she walked out the door.

Fuck.

“She was HOT! Way to go, Kirishima!” Denki said, surprising me. He pats my back and orders another round of beers for me and Bakugo, who was cheering me on back at the table. We sit for a while and go home a few hours after. I call an uber being that I’m too drunk to drive. When it gets to me, I get in and take the number out of my pocket to lock it in my phone. Should I even be considering this? 

Fuck it. 

I text her. I couldn’t wait to talk to her. 

“Hey sweaty hands. Took you long enough to text me.” She texted. I could almost hear her voice through the text as I text her back with shaky hands. 

“What are you doing?” I text, sitting back in the seat. She doesn’t respond for a while until I’m about to get out of the car. 

“3 Attachments.” The message read. I nearly fall over at the thought of what those attachments are. I unlock my front door and sneak back inside. My wife was already asleep, thank god. I couldn’t take her nagging when I was out late. I go to our room and sit on the bed, opening her message. God. She was naked with a blanket covering her more intimate bits. She was laying in bed, her nipples poking through the thin blanket as she pulled her features into a lewd look. She looked so good. 

“Thinking of you.” She said. My pants grow tight as I think of what she looks like under that blanket, my mind trailing to all the dirty things I’d do to her. How pretty she’d be with my dick in her little mouth. What was she doing to me? I send her a text back, 

“You’re such a tease.” I feel my wife stir in bed as I slowly try to climb in without waking her. I sigh as she turns back over and goes back to sleep, turning my attention back to my phone. 

“I want you, Eijiro. I wanna help you forget all about her.” She texted sending me another sultry image. “She won’t please you like I can.” I gulp and get up from my bed and rush to the bathroom. 

“Is that so?”

“Yeah.. I wanna show you.” She texted, tempting me to risk it all. I facetime her without thinking. Fuck I hope my wife’s still sleeping. Y/N answers, already naked and spread out on camera for me. Dirty girl. God she looked heavenly. She wore nothing but these pink thigh high socks

“I’m so wet for you, Kiri. I want you so bad.” She whined, playing with her wet folds teasingly as if she was waiting for me to tell her what to do. I practically drooled at the sight of her so lewd like this for me, her face full of desire for a man already taken. This wrong feeling just felt so right. 

“Don’t be shy, love. Show me how you please yourself.” I said, my cock twitching in anger at the lack of attention. I licked my lips as I watched her finger her pretty pussy for me, her sweet moans filling my ears as I completely forget about everything around me. I could watch her fuck herself all day. 

“Kiri- I-I wish you were here. You’d do a much better job than me- ah!” she whined, adding another finger inside her needy little hole. I pull out my cock and start to stroke it feverishly, wishing her pussy was wrapped around me instead. 

“Yeah?” I huffed, Y/N moaning in response. I pant as I stroke myself, enamored by this woman spread out before me. I can’t wait to really taste her. 

“I’m all yours, Eijiro! Whenever you want me. Ughhh god, I can’t wait to have y-you.” She mewls, her pace quickening.

I smirk and follow her movements, mimicking her rhythm to at least simulate the feeling of her pretty pussy wrapped around me. Her moans rang in my ears, the sound of her wetness squelching around her fingers as she fucked herself open for me. I pant, feeling close to cumming all over myself as I watched her legs start to shake, a sign that she herself was close too.

“Fuuuuck, Ah! I-I’m g-gonna cum for you, Kiri. Please let me cum.. please?” She begged, the sound nearly broke me. The fact she was begging me to let her cum as if I owned her really turned me on. I huff, holding myself back further as I sweat profusely.

“G’head, baby. Cum for me. Let me hear you.” I pant desperately, wanting to let go myself. And she did, her pathetic little screams echoing in my ears like a symphony. I cum just about the same time she does, my seed spilling all over my hand and lower stomach. I hear her cooing praises at me as I moan and gasp for air in front of her.

“Mmm, I wanna lick that up for you, daddy. You’re so big.” She said, licking her lips at the sight of me. I sigh in relief, telling her how gorgeous she is as I clean myself up. She stood up and grabbed her phone, winking as she told me,

“I guess this is to be continued, huh?”

[vincememes]

banana fish starters

WARNINGS: IMPLIED SA, VIOLENCE MENT, DRUGS MENT spoiler warning .    to make it less long, the rest is under a cut.

feel free to adjust pronouns / names as needed !

ASH LYNX

❛   even if i did know something, what good would it do?  ❜  

❛   even a stupid street punk like me knows that  ❜  

❛   i envy you … being able to jump like that.  ❜  

❛   what could be more relaxing than three days away from these guys?  ❜  

❛   i wish i could hate you. i need someone to hate.  ❜  

❛   someone is dead. not that you’d give a damn one way or the other.  ❜  

❛   treating him like you’re giving the pope a bath isn’t going to help.  ❜  

❛   aren’t there any decent parents in this world?  ❜  

❛   that guy always regarded me as a human being with a real heart, not some sort of tool.  ❜  

❛   this little act of charity, you’re going to regret this.  ❜  

❛   i tried to forget.  ❜  

❛   stay with me... i won’t ask "forever". just for now.  ❜  

❛   well, i already know you’re a sick man.  ❜  

❛   ready to lose your life over a pizza?  ❜  

❛   my name... has become the signal for a massacre.  ❜  

❛   what on earth... have i become?  ❜  

❛   what do you think i am...? i’m a murderer... okay?  ❜  

❛   i told you before. i kill people.  ❜

❛   they paid the price for their decisions— that’s all.  ❜  

❛   what the hell do you know?!  ❜  

❛   let‘s say i am ‘exceptional’. the problem is, i never, ever, my whole life wanted to be.  ❜  

❛   you said i am not like ordinary people.  ❜  

❛   there’ve been countless times in my life when i thought i’d be better off dead.  ❜  

❛   that nothing could be worse than what was happening to me right then.  ❜  

❛   at times like that...death looks sweet and peaceful, and unbearably enticing.  ❜  

❛   war is always good business for those in power.  ❜  

❛   sorry to destroy your youthful innocence.  ❜  

❛   you have any idea what those guys made us do?  ❜  

❛   don’t tell me you still believe the pen is mightier than the sword.  ❜  

❛   if you ask me, the white house can go screw itself.  ❜  

❛   i wonder if i’m dying somewhere.  ❜  

❛   i wasn’t expecting the law to protect me.  ❜  

❛   i’ve ignored it all my life... i sure as hell don’t plan on hiding behind it now.  ❜  

❛   just keep them away from me— please!  ❜

❛   this town’s my backyard, remember?  ❜  

❛   sunrise and sunset are about the only times this junkyard of a city looks good.  ❜  

❛   even if i said no, you wouldn’t go back anyway.  ❜  

❛   if you went home i’d probably worry if something happened to you.  ❜  

❛   so it’s better you’re right here, where i can keep an eye on you  ❜  

❛   some people never change.  ❜  

❛   vulture got together with the viper. you make a great pair.  ❜  

❛   why now after all this time— does it have to be you, of all people...?  ❜  

❛   i don’t stand a chance. i’m dust against him.  ❜  

❛   over my dead body. if anybody hurts you... it’ll be over my dead body—  ❜  

❛   i don’t care who it is. i am not letting anybody hurt you.  ❜  

❛   do i scare you?  ❜  

❛   dont give me your stupid advice.  ❜  

❛   i’m happy, goddammit!    ❜  

❛   i know there’s at least one person in this world who cares about me. who doesn’t want anything from me.  ❜  

❛   do you have any idea what that’s like? i never did... not once in my entire life—until now.  ❜  

❛   and that’s worth more to me than anything else.  ❜  

❛   go back home! don’t look at me!  ❜  

❛   i don’t want you seeing me like this!  ❜  

❛   my hands are dirty with other people's blood.  ❜  

❛   i don't even know how many people i've killed.  ❜  

❛   i'm bad news.  ❜  

❛   i wish i could’ve been like you.  ❜  

❛   it’s just that… i always picture the worst-case scenario, that’s all.  ❜  

❛   guess it’s because i’m a coward.  ❜  

❛   i just can’t relax. it’s turned into a habit.  ❜  

❛   i was so scared i couldn’t speak, i couldn’t cry, and i screamed in my head, but... nothing came out.   ❜

EIJI OKUMURA

❛   if i ever lose you too... i'll go crazy.  ❜  

❛   come back safely. i'll be waiting for you, forever.  ❜  

❛   if you feel responsible, the same goes for me.  ❜  

❛  my words might not mean anything now, but just remember one thing.  ❜  

❛   even if the world turns on you, i'll always be on your side.  ❜  

❛   humans can change their destiny.  ❜  

❛   if i'm going to die anyways, at least i'll die trying!  ❜  

❛   don't apologize. that's something for people like me to do.  ❜  

❛   i'd do anything for you.  ❜  

❛   i know we'll meet again, no matter how far apart we are.  ❜  

❛   you're the greatest friend i'll ever have.  ❜  

❛   you're not alone. i'm by your side. my soul is always with you.  ❜  

❛   you asked me over and over if you scared me. but i never feared you. not once.  ❜  

❛   i'm really glad i came here.  ❜  

❛   i met lots of people. and more than anything, i met you.  ❜  

❛   that’s when i decided. i would always believe in you, no matter what.  ❜  

❛   no matter what happened, he would always have at least one person...  ❜

❛   i am very worried because i haven’t seen you and i don’t know if you are okay.  ❜  

❛   but so what? we are friends. isn’t that enough? what else do we need?  ❜  

❛   actually, i always felt that you are hurt, much more than me - that your spirit is wounded.  ❜  

❛   i know you are much smarter than me, and bigger, and stronger - but even so.. i always wanted to protect you.  ❜  

❛   but what did i want to protect you from?  ❜  

❛    i think i wanted to protect you from your future.  ❜  

❛   because your fate was sweeping you away, like a flood.  ❜  

❛   but i’m not saying “goodbye” to you... because this isn’t goodbye.  ❜

❛   are you going off on your own again?  ❜

❛   somewhere far away.. without a word?  ❜

❛   i want to see you. i wish i was with you right now.  ❜ 

YUT-LUNG

❛   a bloody history is inevitable when you are the one ruling.  ❜  

❛   what's wrong? you hated him, right? guess what? so do i.  ❜  

❛   no need to glare. i won't eat you up.  ❜  

❛   there's nothing you can do to help.  ❜  

❛   and what can you do to help?  ❜  

❛   you really irritate me.  ❜  

❛   you make people want to protect you or make them want to tear you apart and crush you.  ❜  

❛   so, what to do with you now.  ❜  

❛   i heard you tried to escape again. you have some spunk.  ❜  

❛   we have hired him, his target is your friend.  ❜  

❛   i have other things for you to do for me.  ❜  

❛   we still have two more scorpions.  ❜  

❛   i am a monster, too.  ❜  

❛   i'm not hearing any good news.  ❜  

❛   you become all tame when you’re around them.  ❜  

❛   you’ve degraded from a lone lynx to a content pet cat.  ❜  

❛   depending on your answer, i may not forgive you.  ❜

OTHER CHARACTERS (shorter, max, sing, shunichi, etc.)

❛   his face when he laughed was cute, and childlike, and totally angelic.  ❜  

❛   it's my problem too! if you go alone, you'll just be killed.  ❜  

❛   you'll die for nothing!  ❜  

❛   i won't let you go alone.  ❜  

❛   i'm sorry, but believe me when i say this: i'll die before i let them lay a finger on you.  ❜  

❛   i can't anymore. set me free. i'm in so much pain.  ❜

 ❛   we need to stay apart so at least one of us survives  ❜   

❛   if the former boss gets hit then it's the duty of the new boss to make the drop.  ❜   

❛   if we don't fight back now, we'll forever be expendable tools. ❜  

❛   you asked me to look after them.  ❜  

❛   yes, honey.    ❜  

❛   that’s for you to decide for yourself..  ❜  

❛   what’s wrong? you can’t punch me from that far back.  ❜  

❛   this will be the last time i give you a word of advice.  ❜  

❛   time is an ironic thing. for us, it means to age. but for people like him, it means to grow.  ❜  

❛   i love all women. they're beautiful and strong. like life itself.  ❜  

❛   it would only be making another one of us. ❜  

❛   one more wretched being, unloved and unloving, whose only sustenance is hatred and nihilism.  ❜  

❛   don’t fight your memories, cuz you’re never going to win.  ❜  

❛   i guess home isn’t something you want to remember if you ran away from it.  ❜  

❛   in one second i knew he could read everything on my mind.  ❜  

❛   i wondered when this boy had started to watch out for his soul, then i knew how much he had suffered.  ❜  

❛   you are the most beautiful and the most dangerous, of all the beasts i have ever known.  ❜  

❛   rather than hate and be triumphant, you chose to love and be destroyed.  ❜  

❛   i staked my life on that choice. please try to accept it.  ❜  

❛   one who does not love cannot be loved, either.  ❜  

❛   you at the very least knows what it is to love.  ❜  

❛   how can you expect someone who suffered so much to have any respect for authority? ❜  

❛   fine line between offender and victim it’s hard to know where to draw it.  ❜  

❛   there’s something about you that i just can’t hate.  ❜  

❛   'cause you’re hurt your soul’s bleeding-even now.  ❜  

❛   you’re just like me that way.  ❜

[itmighthavebeenintentional]

We've Got Tonight - Ch 7 (end)

Summary: “It’s not your job to do this, Andy. You make people happy. I was in the diner all of ten minutes, and you knew exactly how to get me to smile. You do normal, real things like garden and sing karaoke. Saving the world is my job, Sam’s job. Sometimes it’s even Cas’s job, but it’s not yours.”

Inspired by Bob Seger’s “We’ve Got Tonight”

Warnings: Major Character Death, More Major Character Deaths (sort of?), higher than show level violence, blood, light smutting, language, demons, apocalypse, inferred suicide, cult activity.

18+ ONLY, MINORS DO NOT PROCEED

Author’s Note: You stuck around this long. Thank you. I appreciate you. And I'm really, really sorry.

Image and major edits by the incomparable @there-must-be-a-lock . Heavy editing and cheering by @thoughtslikeaminefield . Thank you both so much.

In case you missed it: Chapter 6 ItMightHaveBeenIntentional’s Masterlist

...

We’ve Got Tonight

Chapter 7

“Andy, are you okay? We took care of that crackpot apocalypse cult, but Cas isn’t making any sense. Why is he telling me to check in with you? How did you know about all this?”

“You got all of them? None of them got away? Does Cas still have the second address, Dean?”

“What does...No, Cas, I don’t...Jesus, alright! Yes, Andy, Cas has the address. Why? What the hell is going on? Are you gonna give me some answers, or-”

“Just come to the address, Dean. I’ll be here.” ...

The embers of the fire smoke sullenly in the steady drizzle. The flames died down a while ago, leaving only chunks of wood and ash, but still Dean stands sentinel over the remnants of the pyre.

His hands are shoved deep in his pockets, his face a stoic mask. There are streaks of blood down the front of his shirt from the fight earlier in the night, smears of dirt and soot across his skin that are beginning to run down in rivulets of dirty rain water. His eyes are red and a little wetter than the weather warrants. His clothing is soaked and chilled, but he stopped feeling the temperature a while ago.

He hasn’t moved in hours.

“Cas, I know he had that one night with her, but, I mean...can you at least explain how she knew about that ritual? Why would she do this to herself? And why did she need a hunter’s funeral? Was she a hunter? I didn’t recognize her.”

Cas stares miserably out of the Impala’s windshield, watching his lost friend without a clue of how to comfort him. Sam sits in the backseat, bewildered and completely unaware of how close he came to losing everything. Cas finds himself irrationally annoyed with Sam’s ignorance, despite being one of the main sources.

“I can’t tell you, Sam. She didn’t want me to, and I agree with her. But you should be very grateful, all the same. She saved you and your brother. She saved all of us.”

“Cas, I don’t-”

“That’s right,” the angel agrees suddenly, his brusque tone shutting down Sam’s questions. “You don’t. I’m going to check on Dean.”

…

“I just want to register for the record that you are a damned coward. Don’t give me any of that benevolent wisdom bullshit. You are a sick, sadistic, neglectful bastard, and I’m finding it hard to think of a single good thing you’ve ever done.”

The irate woman glares down at Chuck in his worn vinyl booth until he begins to squirm under her gaze. His eyes flick away from hers, then back suddenly, as if he’s afraid to let her out of his sight for too long.

“You still got a little time with him. Better to have loved and lost than to-”

She leans down in front of him, resting her hands on the table and bending until her nose is inches from his. He can smell the lavender and clover that she told Dean about, can smell the blood and the scotch, but most of all he can smell the smoke.

She continues to stare him down silently, her wrath evident in every line and angle of her body. His irritation rises, and his lips thin with displeasure until they almost disappear into his beard. He clicks his tongue at her, cocking his head to the side.

“I could have just let things run the course that they naturally did the first time, including your ‘highly successful’ deal with Crowley. Aren’t you humans always moaning about getting second chances? I gave you the chance to fix everything that went wrong the first time!”

“Considering I had to die both times for the world and the Winchesters to still be safe, I’d say there were still some holes in the overall plot line.”

He glares at her, resentful and sullen, unwilling to budge. “You made your choices, both times around. Free will, and all that? I could have just let you all die, let you live with the consequences of your choices just like every other human in history. I didn’t have to give you that rewind, you know.”

“Then why did you?!?”

Her furious outburst echoes around the empty tavern. She takes a deep breath, forgetting for a moment that she no longer needs to breathe at all, but the action serves its purpose, and her anger is temporarily eased. He takes advantage of the quiet to push his point, trying one more time to get her to see his side.

“I wanted to give you, them, another chance. I couldn't see many ways out of this...tangle. So I put everything out there that I could think of to help you, and I hoped you’d make the right choice. And you...did?”

But this woman, this impossible, irritable, flawed human, is clearly unimpressed that this is the first time in existence that he’s bothered to explain his reasoning to anyone.

“For the record, regardless of where it sends me, you are a complete dick.”

He holds her gaze soberly, his expression going neutral with only a tinge of regret, before finally raising his hand in a sort of farewell gesture. Then she’s gone, and he is alone once more.

“For the record,” he mutters as he lowers his hands to the typewriter in front of him, “you’re not wrong.”

….

“We’ve Got Tonight” by Bob Seger

I know it's late; I know you're weary. I know your plans don't include me. Still here we are: both of us lonely, Longing for shelter from all that we see.

Why should we worry? No one will care girl. Look at the stars, so far away.

We've got tonight, who needs tomorrow? We've got tonight, babe, Why don't you stay?

Deep in my soul, I've been so lonely: All of my hopes, fading away. I've longed for love, like everyone else does. I know I'll keep searching, even after today.

So there it is girl; I've said it all now, And here we are babe. What do you say?

We've got tonight, who needs tomorrow? We've got tonight, babe, Why don't you stay?

I know it's late; I know you're weary. I know your plans don't include me. Still here we are, both of us lonely. Both of us lonely.

We've got tonight, who needs tomorrow? Let's make it last, let's find a way. Turn out the light, come take my hand now

We've got tonight, babe, Why don't you stay? Why don't you stay? .....

End

[cherrysha]

Atonement

feitan is back!! because he lives in my head rent free. for some reason when i write him i just be thinkin of moral and ethical struggle... prolly cuz the idea that a man who tortures for fun can also love is a concept that is kinda weird to think abt. BUT!! its possible, so i write. Also i had to take a break from pwp and this just popped into my head.

Summary: Feitan has a moment of introspection

word count: 1130

My requests are open atm

Warnings: torture, death, blood, yandere themes, kidnapping, a reference to drugs, religious imagery

Does he know its wrong? He’s been in the business of theft, of murder, for years now. The misconception most have about what is wrong and what is right, is that it’s not subjective. There’s wrong and then there’s right, maybe a shade of gray in between. But who was he to decide which was which? And the general population was so enraptured by the ethical ideals of modern-day society, blatantly ignoring any hypocrisy that came along with it, that their opinion didn’t matter much either. They believed what everyone else believed. Nothing more than brainless sheep.

You’d probably wake in the next few hours, maybe even sooner, he couldn’t tell. What was different from this? Theft was theft, and if society already condemned him for his previous actions, then this was something that was acceptable for him to do.

A human can bite off their own finger with so little resistance it’d be like biting through a carrot, but our minds have restrained us from ever even trying. Is that how it worked? Fear of damnation too much to even try to have heaven here on earth? Temptation was the sin of Eve, but it was just a natural consequence of the human condition. Something as normal as breathing, and part of him couldn’t help but to feel bad for her. He leaves to finalize his spot in hell; To make his own heaven. It’d be worth any pain in the supposed afterlife.

Feitan watches the man struggle, grunts coming from his taped mouth as he tries to get away. The idea of engagement, of marriage, was enough to make him scoff as well. The blade sinks in effortlessly when he finally plunges it into the man’s side. He screams against the tape, of course. If it weren’t for the pure hatred in his heart, or the notion that this man had at one point claimed you, he wouldn’t have bothered with someone so weak. There was no sport in hunting easy prey. It’s a task that must be done, but right now it serves as a way to pass the time until you eventually woke up.

When Feitan has him bound to the table, he finally speaks

“There is this misconception,” he says, slowly maneuvering around the table to his tools, “That sharper knives are more dangerous.”

His eyes are wide with panic. Feitan’s already forgotten his name, he’s hoping you would as well with time.

“But in truth, the duller ones are what you should fear.” Feitan slowly drives a blade into the meat of the man’s exposed shoulder, as if to demonstrate how it fails to even cut through the skin. It only finds its way into his body when the right amount of pressure has been applied. He screams again, and Feitan can see what you liked about him. The deep baritone was manly, his physique was as well, but it was all just surface level. He couldn’t fault someone as trusting as you to fall for the ruse.

“The duller the blade, the more jagged the cut.” He sighs, as if he’s giving a lecture in a room full of unworthy students.

“It takes longer to heal. But you don’t have to worry about that.”

He shouldn’t be wasting his breathe, he knows that. But there’s this desperate need to prove something. To prove that he, himself, is stronger in every way.

This man wouldn’t even last Feitan an hour and, in truth, it wasn’t much fun to flay the skin off of someone that’d already given up hope of any salvation. He did it anyway, taking a sharper knife and sliding it under the taut skin of his stomach. Just to satisfy his curiosity. Would the blood loss win, or would he die from shock first?

He’s sweating from the pure agony he’s in, panting heavily through his nose. Feitan takes a break just to watch. As always, his mind drifts to you. He’d felt love in small doses in his life; he knew what it was. A warmth in the heart that didn’t present itself as the squelch of his knife into something firm. A happiness that wasn’t caused by the light dimming from his opponent’s eyes. Your smile, the softness of your skin, the glow that radiated from your very being in the summertime. His summer sun in all its glory, and yet he knew better. He gets up, curiosity pulling him to his feet once more.

Deftly, he rips the tape from the man’s mouth and he weakly stares up in confusion.

“Would you rather me kill you, or the girl in the other room?” his voice is sharp, full of an authority someone as weak as him held no power against.

“What d’you-“

“You were engaged right? Would you rather I slit her throat or yours? There’d be no pain.”

Its in his eyes, Feitan can see the choice as clear as day. The shock morphs into guilt, and before his dirty lips can finish speaking your name his throat is gushing like an open faucet.

Feitan bends down, as if to tell him a secret he’s only capable of learning on his deathbed. “I’ll use the fifteen seconds that you have left to tell you that you are nothing more than a coward. A blemish to society, and your death is just as meaningless as your life.”

Feitan stands straight again and patiently waits for the blood to finish pouring out of the wound. Its not his best work, or even his most satisfying, but its enjoyable nonetheless.

He washes it from his hands, scrubs the red stains to rid himself of any traces of the dead body. Two hours maybe? He’s not exactly sure when you’ll wake, but he comes to you anyway. Just to watch as you peacefully slept on his bed. He knew better than this; To love and be loved was a weakness. But he discovered that maybe it was just fear that held him back. A fear of loss, of rejection, a blanket fear of the unknown consequences loving you would have. Men like him served a purpose in society, a separate entity from the normal everyday citizens on the street.

You stirred as the drugs started to finally dissipate. Lashes fluttering as you sleepily opened your eyes.

People like him couldn’t afford to be cowards. Fear was a construct, and it served little purpose with the lifestyle he chose to lead. He’s enraptured by you, soul irrevocably woven with yours, even if you don’t know it yet. If you rejected him, it was just fear. Not of him, but of the unknown. That was to be expected of someone as fragile as you.

He watches as you try to sit up, body falling limply to the bed when your arm gives out. In time you’d know him, love him the same way he did you.

[jeongyunhoed]

Past-Present-Future Black Dahlia

Two major tragedies bring Lee Mirae closer to the edge as she goes through the stages of grief in a more violent manner that would affect not only her relationships with her boyfriend Jeong Yunho and her half-brother Choi San, but also has her becoming closer with the immortal mutant Kang Yeosang. Fueled by rage, grief, and pain, along with a very rude awakening that has Mirae spiraling out of control and questioning everything she holds dear.

Group: ATEEZ Member: Yunho Pairing: Jeong Yunho / OC Genre: Action, adventure, angst, fantasy

Watch Out! : Violence, blood, death, grief and loss, major character deaths, use of weapons, some jealousy (but no cheating ofc), implied smut (not sure if there is any but i’m putting it out there nonetheless), mental illness (probably?), gambling and alcohol

Anything else? : Mentions of other idols of course as well as other characters. SuperM, Dean, Chanyeol, Zelo, soloist Park Jihoon to name a few.

Author’s Note: Again, interesting things happen when you wing it. Look out for a cool fight scene, I think one of the best fight scenes I’ve written if I do say so myself. It was a challenge to write Yunho’s though, spoiler alert. But I hope this chapter brings us closer to a possible conclusion, or at least gives us an idea of how things could end. 

Masterlist

Chapter 7

Yunho could see the horizon from where he stood, feeling the wind come east, swooping by him. This was where the portal brought him. One moment he was at the grounds of the school, and the next he was in this town that seemed deserted, looking like something out of an old western movie. It reminded him of the place where cowboys were, and for some reason, it reminded him of his time in Morocco. 

He needed to look for a way out, or a way back, realizing what he heard. Mirae had refused to join them, out of Ino getting Baekhyun out of the way, out of the fact that they probably wouldn’t keep their promise of getting him and San back to her. He knew what was going on, only he didn’t know how to get out and not even his teleporting might help as he didn’t know where to go. 

Yunho closed his eyes, trying to hear Mirae again in the hopes of reaching out to her. He wondered if her refusing Ino meant that she was back, back to being the person he knew her to be, if she was back to being the person who could only grieve without getting people hurt. 

As he opened his eyes, Yunho felt a strange pounding in his chest, as if he was nervous. The surroundings had changed, at least how the village he found himself in changed, as he could still see the same dirt road ahead. Everything was a lot more colorful, shades of blue mixed in with the shades of rust. The rest of the colors seemed to be in the fabrics of stalls near buildings that were castle-like. 

It was like he was back. Back in the place where his immortality, his mutant gene took effect. The only thing that seemed to be missing were the scorch marks and patches of blood, even his own wounds. 

Yunho remembered the days of hiding out, disguising himself countless times to blend in. But he also remembered the times his teleportation would fluctuate whenever he was hiding in dark street corners at night, unintentionally scaring off children. He felt a nervousness that he hadn’t felt in a while, a feeling of dread as he looked around the deserted village. 

“This is taking you back, isn’t it?” 

Ino suddenly appeared in front of him along with Ten. Yunho stopped in his tracks. “Mirae made the wrong decision in refusing to join us. I have to admit, I feel disappointed,” The elder male said. 

“You feel disappointed? What about Mirae? What about Hyuk? What about Chanyeol? What about us? You betrayed us, betrayed our trust!” Yunho’s voice was raised. “You think you have the right to feel betrayed? You?!” 

“Hyuk and Chanyeol’s deaths were the price to pay in order to move our agenda forward. It’s time mutants really had some influence in the world. We’ve got powers, everyone else does not. If a few mutants dying is part of the process, then so be it,” Ino insisted. 

“So all this time, the Ino that we know, the Ino that Mirae knows, is bent on power after all…” Yunho said quietly. “Then Mirae is right to want to get at you too. As a matter of fact, everyone else that’s in here does.” 

“It might be so, but just like Hyuk and Chanyeol, it is also a price to pay to move forward a greater cause, for mutantkind,” Ino said. 

“What does that make you? Are you the leader for all of us?” Yunho glared at him. 

“Uh, we’ll get around to that,” Ten pointed out. “We’ve yet to elect the leader of this...whatever this is.” 

“Well, I am quite powerful, Yunho. I thought you knew that,” Ino said. 

“What is this world coming to?” Yunho looked down. He tried to get to Mirae again. “Where is San? Where did you put him?” He asked. 

“Tsk tsk tsk, I can’t tell you that,” Ten smirked. “As much as I can’t tell you what you remember from looking at this place. Brings back memories, doesn’t it? That last mission you had, your life since that day. People you’ve met, people you’ve… killed. And as a result of your mutant ability too. Don’t think we don’t know where you’ve been.” 

“Old habits die hard,” Yunho replied, but he could feel a little tinge of discomfort at his words. 

“That, it does,” Ten was grinning. “I suppose by the way you’re just standing still, you know there is nothing you can do right now.” 

“There’s always something. Ino knows it too,” Yunho glanced at the elder male again. “All I know is, at least I’m not the one running away from Mirae.” 

Ino’s face remained stoic. “I’m no coward, Yunho.” 

“Yes you are. It doesn’t change the fact that you made everyone else do the dirty work, just like you allowed Baekhyun and Jongin to tamper with the Danger Room. You didn’t let them in, they had to figure it out for themselves. Just like how you did nothing when you knew something was wrong,” Yunho pointed out as if to taunt him.

“There is a fine line between strategy and cowardice.” 

“And you’ve blurred that line.” 

“Are we going to continue this little repartee?” Ten asked, rolling his eyes. “We have to go back. They’ll need you to start operations.” 

Yunho smirked. “There is always a way, Ino hyung. I’m not running away from Mirae, you are.” 

Ino and Ten returned to the portal, Yunho catching a glimpse of where they were going. An island. “We’ll be back,” Ten said over his shoulder, and the portal disappeared. 

~ 

Powdery white snow fell on San’s head as he tried to figure out where he was while keeping himself warm. He wasn’t sure what happened. One moment, he was at the grounds of the abandoned school, running towards Mirae who had called out to him, the next moment he was at a forked road of what was a snowy mountainside, without his harpoon on him. 

San wasn’t sure where he was either. He didn’t know if this was still part of the place that they were in, or if this was somewhere else entirely. All he knew was that he needed to go back to the grounds of the school or at least to the place where everyone else would be. 

He stood in the middle of the forked road. It seemed unlikely that cars or even people would be coming any moment, and it made him think of the possible outcomes if he chose one road. If he chose the one going up, he might have an idea of where to go. If he chose the road going forward, he would see what else he would have to deal with if he decided to go. 

San thought of Mirae, what she would do in a situation like this, and without another thought, he ran up the road going upwards, looking up from time to time to see how far he had to go. It wasn’t going to be that far, but he knew he didn’t have much time. San kept running, only to skid to a halt, almost falling over when he realized he dodged a dart. Looking at it closely, the dart looked very familiar, almost too familiar. 

“Choi San!” 

He felt a chill down his spine at the call of his name. The voice sounded just as familiar and looking at the dart and out from the view where he heard his name, he realized just how familiar the place he was in was. The more his name was called by that same voice, San broke into a run again, taking large strides up the road that would lead to the mountaintop. 

“I can’t be back here, I just can’t,” San muttered, unable to shake off the sudden pang of dread that came over him upon seeing the dart and from hearing the voice. His thoughts immediately went back to the road ahead and seeing that there wasn’t much distance left until he reached the top, his eyes and fingertips glowed. San jumped on to the side, his hands immediately boring holes into the rock with a faint crack as he climbed his way up, his feet then making use of the holes he made with his hands.

As soon as he reached the top, he saw a frozen pond, along with visibly empty tents and a broken down car. “Choi San!” He heard the voice call out to him again, and San whipped around, on alert of what may come at him from here. He could only feel the chill from the wind where he stood. 

“Gives you goosebumps, doesn’t it, the place where you came from, or, where you first ran away to.” 

San turned around. From the rocks appeared Taeyong, smirking. “Where am I?” He asked. 

“Ten thought we’d bring you back to a place familiar to you. We know more about you than you think, you know, and I didn’t even need to read your mind to know what’s happened to you before you uh, found your sister.” 

“I don’t have anything to prove to you, if you know what I’ve been through then you know what I’ve been through,” San said. “If you’re trying to get into my head right now, you’re not doing a very good job.” 

“Oh really?” Taeyong raised a brow. 

“Yeah,” San was smirking. “For instance, you probably don’t know the exact details of what happened in this place.” 

“You are insulting my intelligence,” His expression stiffened. 

“Good, because that means you really don’t know,” San reached into his pocket. 

“If you’re thinking of trying to kill me, think again,” Taeyong pointed to his temple. “Then again, it might be fun to see you try.” 

“Why don’t we try it then?” San grinned, quickly ducking out of the way when he saw shards of ice go his direction, crashing into the nearby trees. He kept running, skidding against the snow to kick the powdery ice into the psychic’s face, catching him off guard and making him fall over. “What’s the matter? Can’t keep up?” He taunted, picking up the buried chain he remembered close to the car, cracking the string of metal like a whip towards him. 

Taeyong kept backing away, sending the car up from its place and towards him. San’s eyes glowed bright as he whipped the vehicle away and making it fall to the ground, the car overheating as it fell back close to the edge of where they stood. 

Taeyong dismantled the tent, revealing what else was inside, the poles used to hold it up charging towards him. San whipped the metal poles away, catching one in time. “You’re being quite generous,” San grinned, striking the ground with the pole and sending a wave of energy. Taeyong fell over, turning into his diamond form. 

“You’re leaving me with no choice,” He said, getting back up and charging towards San, who quickly moved to wrap the chain around his neck, tugging on it tightly.

“You underestimate me. You forget to realize I am Mirae’s brother. I learned a few things from her,” San kept his hold on the psychic’s neck, squeezing the chains tied around him tightly. “Go ahead and turn back to normal, I dare you.” 

Taeyong coughed and sputtered while San kept his hold on the chains, until he burst into laughter. “Go ahead and try and kill me, my brother’s going to come after you.” 

“I’ll take that chance,” San’s eyes were still glowing and he pushed Taeyong back, the chains still on his neck as it exploded. He tossed a black disk he found in his pocket towards the explosion quick enough to whistle, the explosion growing bigger until it dissipated, with the psychic’s body on the ground. Or at least, remnants of him in his human form. San figured he tried to change back when he let go of the chain only to be met with the explosive disk he threw.  

The ground under his feet began to rumble, and San looked up, sensing the presence of more snow coming from above. The layer of snow from the peak of the mountain where he was broke off and began to slide downhill, towards where he was. San picked up the fabric used for the tent, smirking to himself at the items that he saw came from under it and jumped off the edge, using the fabric to glide down the mountain and onto the forest below. 

The rumbling grew louder as he saw the avalanche had settled onto where he was earlier. San landed on the ground, stumbling as he hit the snow, looking back up from where he came from. All he had to figure out was how to get out of the place. He wondered where Yunho was, and where the rest of them were. He needed to run. 

From a distance, he heard someone yell, followed by a strong gust of wind coming from the north. The sky had turned cloudy, coupled with thunder and lightning. “Taeyong!” San heard a booming voice from the same place. 

“Must be Taeyong’s brother,” San muttered to himself as he kept running, seeing a clearing ahead. The closer he got, the more he saw where it led to. A harbor, only the ocean was an inky black. 

~ 

Mirae stared at the ruins of the school. Now that Ino had disappeared, she had been staring at the buildings that had disintegrated because of her powers. Destruction was all she seemed to think about now that she knew who to look for. She could hear Yunho’s thoughts, having encountered Ino as he was trapped in a village Ten had created. Ino was a coward no matter how much he’d deny it. 

If they wanted a monster, they would get a monster. 

“Mirae?” Hongjoong was standing close by. 

“My dear?” Yeosang had called as well. He groaned in his place, parts of his dark hair already turning white. “I need to feed, we’re running out of time. Project Apocalypse will be activated.” 

“Save it for when we see them again then,” Seonghwa pointed out. 

Mirae didn’t speak, and Wooyoung could tell what she was feeling. It made him step forward as well. “Mirae? I know you’re hurting, and I can tell how you’re feeling…” He tried to say it as carefully as possible. 

Her eyes were welling with tears. What am I without Hyuk? Without Chanyeol? Without Jihoon? Without Yunho? Without San? She thought, as she observed the cracks in the ground. “Like a monster,” She muttered. 

Wooyoung shook his head. “No. I know you feel like you’ve lost everyone you love, but I can tell you. I promise you, Mirae, you didn’t lose everyone-” 

“It’s so easy for you to say that, isn’t it?” Mirae glanced at him. 

“No, it’s not. Well, in a way, it is, but that’s not the point,” Wooyoung said. “I’ve sensed what is most likely going to happen, and we’ll get them back, Yunho and San.” 

Mirae looked down again, her eyes and fingertips glowing. Hongjoong exchanged looks with Wooyoung, and he approached her, the rest of them carefully following behind. “My dear, your shadowy friend is right,” Yeosang spoke. “I know how you feel.” 

“No you don’t,” Mirae shook her head, facing them. “You have no fucking idea how I feel right now.” 

“That’s fair, maybe we don’t,” Hongjoong said. “But Wooyoung’s point still stands. You didn’t lose everyone as much as they’re trying to make you think. You still have Yunho, you still have San, you still have executive Kang, whatever he is to you,” He turned to the vampiric-looking mutant, frowning slightly at the changes in his appearance. “You still have us too.” 

“We followed you here. Teamwork like ours, it’s not something that can just go away, we’ve all been through the same thing in that sanitarium, remember?” Seonghwa said. “Junhong is still here too. He’s waiting for us in the van right now. Mirae, you’re not as alone as you think you are, as they think you are. You still have us.” 

“Mirae, please,” Mingi’s expression fell.

“We, all of us, haven’t been together again for a while,” It was Jongho’s turn to speak. “We’d honestly still be lost if it weren’t for the three of you finding us again.” 

Yeosang put his hand on her shoulder, Mirae sensing the coldness of his touch even through her clothes. “For so long, I have pushed away so many people, thinking that this was the only way to survive. That was until I met you. All of us here are with you, my dear. Even your technology-affiliated friend who is waiting for us outside. We will get Yunho and San back, I promise you. I only ask that you not make the same mistake towards everyone else who has grown to care for you.”

“Come with us. Please,” Hongjoong said quietly. “...We need our leader back. Just like old times.” 

“I wish it was that simple,” Mirae said.

“And it is. It can be simple, my dear,” Yeosang said. “Come with us, my dear Mirae. I promise you, you have not lost everyone you love as much as they’re trying to make you think you have.” 

Mirae glanced at all of them, seeing how their expressions were all hopeful that maybe, just maybe, their words had gotten through to her. The more she thought about it, the more she realized that she wasn’t feeling that bubbling anger inside her, as if it was slowly getting replaced by a feeling of calm that she couldn’t quite comprehend. The feeling of calm was similar to what she felt after that time Jihoon died, along with her adoptive parents.  

It made her think of them. It made her think of what Chanyeol and Hyuk would’ve done. A part of her wanted to stay angry, but another part of her, a bigger part of her, knew that Chanyeol and Hyuk would never want her to turn out the way she was acting right now. She knew not even Jihoon would be cheering for her with all the damage she had caused so far. It seemed to be a relief that not even her home, back in the city, was damaged yet at this point. 

“One of these days, we’ll do a mission again, just the three of us.”

“Yeah, someone needs to watch your back this time. You nearly got your powers taken away.” 

“Lee Mirae, you’re getting sappy.” 

“Even with the way things ended back then. I’m glad the three of us found each other.” 

Mirae closed her eyes, remembering the last conversations she had with them. Hot tears trickled down her face. “I really wish it was that simple,” She whispered. “I want them back.” 

Yeosang could only keep his hand on her shoulder, unsure of whether to go nearer but sensing that Hongjoong was already doing the same. “I know you do. Hyuk hyung, Chanyeol hyung, I know you want them back, but they're in a much better place now, don’t you think?”

“Just as much as I want them back too,” Mirae said, making the rest of them stare at her, realizing what she meant. 

~ 

Yunho stopped in his tracks as he stepped out of one dark place to another in the village he was in. He heard her thoughts, heard what was going on with her. A small smile played across his lips, realizing what she said, why she was reaching out to him at this time. She was back, at least it seemed like it. 

Yunho ran towards another shadowy alley, trying to teleport, picturing the abandoned school, only to end up in another alley just by seeing the colored kaftans hanging from the two-floored houses he was surrounded by. 

Before he could teleport again, Mark appeared and kicked him out of the alley. “Jeong Yunho is it?” He said, seeing Yunho slide down the road, a scratch evident in his face only for it to heal completely. “A fellow external, this is excellent.” 

“Yeah, what about it?” Yunho got back up on his feet. “You do know we can actually kill each other, right?” 

“I am very well aware. Yeosang’s already weakening, it’s your turn,” Mark kicked him again and disappeared, reappearing behind the taller and punching him. Yunho stumbled to the side but quickly got back up, figuring out where Mark would reappear next. 

Yunho smirked. “Two can play this game,” He closed his eyes, letting his instincts guide him on where the other male would reappear. Before he knew it, he reappeared in another alley, and in another, and another, realizing that the sky was getting dark. “Let’s play hide and seek then! You hide and I’ll seek!” He called out, teleporting from one spot to another, stopping at the empty fountain. 

“With pleasure,” Mark reappeared, only for the taller to grab him by the collar, both of them teleporting from one spot to another in the midst of their scuffle. Yunho kept his grip on Mark, punching him several times until kicking him, the two of them reappearing and landing on opposite directions. “We have all night, Yunho, give up already?” 

“I’m just getting started,” Yunho charged towards Mark, only to vanish halfway through the run, reappearing in a puff of black smoke behind the shorter, tackling him into a headlock. “Losing your touch already, old man?” He taunted, the shorter coughing and sputtering. “Try and teleport, I’m going with you all the way.” 

Mark groaned and sucker punched him, but Yunho kept his hold on him as they teleported from one place to another. “You realize while I’m here, the rest of my friends are already trying to activate Project Apocalypse as we speak,” He coughed, trying to break free but his strength was waning. 

“Trying, they’re only trying,” Yunho kept his hold. “You tell me where the hell am I and where San is and I might just let you live,” He threatened. “You should be familiar with what happened here, since all of you know things about me.” 

“That I am,” Mark sucker punched him again before trying to poke his eyes. Yunho ducked in time to throw him off, running into another shadowy part of the place and disappearing. “This is testing my patience,” He cracked his knuckles and reappeared inside what looked like the inside of a blockhouse that he knew was still within the village. 

Mark looked around, trying to sense a presence within the confined walls of the fortified space. “You really think Mirae’s going to go back to you?” He called out. “She’s far down the rabbit hole of her rage. But I am amazed that Yeosang got through to her more than her own boyfriend,” He said, removing the blankets and the sheets from the nearby beds. “Based from your thoughts and memories, she thought you were looking the other way. I can’t blame either of you, though. Both of you seem to be much better apart than you are together-” 

Yunho had reappeared behind him, kicking him before he could teleport and knocking him down, the taller quickly kicking his leg to keep him down. “You were saying?” He asked. “Get us out of here, why don’t you?” 

Mark smirked. “Bold of you to assume I will easily give in to that.” 

“Want to bet?” Yunho kicked his other leg down, hearing the bones crack. “You teleport, I teleport with you.” 

“Alright, alright,” Mark groaned, the pain in his legs still present as he faced the taller male. “It’s clear that we are evenly matched at the moment,” He crawled to his feet, only for Yunho to pull him back down by the ankle. 

“I don’t think it’s even at the moment,” Yunho kicked his leg down again, making him yelp in pain. “You’re going to take me to Mirae, and you’re going to bring San back, do you understand? But first, I need information.” 

“Do you really think torturing me is going to get me to tell you where Project Apocalypse is located?” Mark gave him a look. 

“We’re both immortals, we’ve got the rest of our never-ending lives, and we’ve got the time, you might as well tell me,” Yunho drove his foot further into Mark’s leg. “I’ve certainly got the time to break these bones over and over again.” 

“Alright! I will have to concede in this battle,” Mark spat. “If you had any knowledge in how plans like these work, you would’ve already figured out by now that the rest of the country will be seeing our entrance soon.” 

“Mhmm,” Yunho got the idea, but he still drove his foot down on Mark’s broken leg. “Where there?” 

“The city, where else? Seoul itself is about to see once more what happens when powerful mutants like ourselves can take power.”

[hinadoria]

Title: like nobody’s business

Author: hinadoria / Twitter: @bunniepunk / AO3: bunnypunk

Rating: Teen

Warnings: Mild amounts of swearing

Summary: Shen Yuan had never known what to do about crying people, much less crying men asleep in his bed at ass o’clock in the middle of the night. God, if Jiu-ge knew about this, Shen Yuan would be six feet under. No, he’d be yeeted directly into hell’s abyss. Arguably though, this was all Jiu-ge’s fault.

AO3: Link

It started when his old roommate Shang Qinghua decided to get hitched at Shen Yuan’s 25th birthday party. Disregarding the fact that it was his birthday party in his apartment that he was paying for (Shang Qinghua was only there to keep an eye on him at Jiu-ge’s ever insistent demands), an increasingly hammered Shang Qinghua had decided it was the perfect time to propose to his disappointingly sober boyfriend.

“My LORd, have yOU EvEr ThoughT about Getting HitchED?!” he shouted in Mobei-Jun’s face. Shen Yuan saw the wince on Mobei-Jun’s face before he could smooth it away. Airplane-Bro had that effect on people. Even his boyfriend was no exception.

However, Mobei-Jun had silently pulled the biggest ring Shen Yuan had ever seen out of his pocket like it was a dimension to worlds unknown. Shang Qinghua yanked it out of his grasp, put it on, and immediately started sobbing loudly in his boyfriend's arms, effectively ruining the atmosphere.

If it wasn’t because Shen Yuan was already secretly plotting to escape to his room, he might have been significantly more miffed at this sequence of events.

After all, he had never been one for big, lavish events like a formal birthday party. He’d much rather spend it in the comfort of his room, maybe playing videogames with a few close friends. However, Jiu-ge had insisted, in that stubborn way of his, taking no arguments. As a result, Shen Yuan wasn’t sure he even knew half the people at his own party.

This all didn’t mean he was completely free of indignation, however. Shen Yuan cleared his throat pointedly, but was ignored by both the affectionate couple and the crowd of people politely applauding.

It was a testament to Mobei-Jun’s excitement, if he was a man that felt such emotions, that he leaped up onto the table, which creaked dangerously with his weight.

“I’d like to thank my dear friends and my soon-to-be best man who supported me through this time. Whom I wouldn’t have met without Shen Yuan’s recommendation to work at Cang Qiong’s internship program under Shen Jiu. So a heartfelt thanks to them both,” Mobei-Jun proclaimed.

The attention of the party turned to its host, who began to turn hot under all the attention.

Damn, it wasn’t as if he was Mother Teresa.

He had simply wanted to stop hearing Jiu-ge’s nagging complaints about a lack of competent interns at his company. And he knew that Airplane-bro’s boyfriend was just about to graduate. It was simple math.

Either way, he had to resolve this situation before Mobei-Jun broke the table or worse, made him give a speech. He quickly grabbed an abandoned glass from the table and raised it high. With raucous cheer, the party returned to full swing, and Shen Yuan strategically retreated to his bedroom.

The next day, Shang Qinghua had all but been moved out of his apartment (Mobei-Jun worked fast and efficiently. Shen Yuan had been begrudgingly impressed). In the midst of his soporific haze, a loud banging came from his front door. Reluctant to get up, Shen Yuan nevertheless used every last bit of his willpower to do so. When he opened the door however, he immediately found himself in deep regret.

A pale Jiu-ge, like Bloody Mary summoned from a dirty elementary school bathroom mirror, stood at his door, foot tapping a mile a minute. He stormed past Shen Yuan into his apartment and curled his mouth in distaste at the mess.

“This apartment is no longer acceptable. I’ve put up with it until now, but this is the last straw. It is imperative that you move out immediately to a place not infested by the stench of the poor,” Jiu-ge demanded. Shen Yuan would never tell him it was probably the week-old ramen stewing on his kitchen counter.

“But I don’t want to, Jiu-ge, please!” he whined. Like most things regarding his older brother, would eventually yield, but would put up a valiant effort nonetheless. No one had the right to accuse him of being a pushover, after all.

Jiu-ge sat down at his oily counter with a sigh, hands flying up to bury themselves in his messy hair.

Shen Yuan immediately felt guilty.

His brother looked a lot less put-together than he usually was, now that he was looking more closely. His shirt was unbuttoned and his makeup was smudged, both facets of his appearance he usually controlled with meticulous determination.

“Please don’t fight me on this, A-Yuan.” His brother looked back at him, and Shen Yuan could see the weariness in his eyes.

“Is everything okay?” asked Shen Yuan. He tapped his fingers nervously.

“It will be,” Jiu-ge answered immediately as if he had expected this question. “Once I get a good night’s sleep.” Shen Yuan moved to sit by his brother.

“Mobei-Jun proposed to Shang Qinghua yesterday,” he offered. This made the crease between Jiu-ge’s brows deeper further.

“At your birthday party?”

“I know, I was shocked too!”

“Rude bastard. I knew nothing good could come out of that tight-knit group of rascals the company foisted on me.”

“Don’t be like that. I bet you secretly appreciate their help, big softie.” Shen Yuan poked at his brother’s cheek, and giggled when Jiu-ge pretended to bite at him. A small smile appeared on his brother’s face, and Shen Yuan rejoiced at the sight. He felt like he deserved an award for Best Brother of the Year.

“I suppose they suffice at times.” Jiu-ge wrinkled his nose like he had thought of something particularly disgusting. “Well. Almost all of them,” he huffed. He shook his head when Shen Yuan looked at him in question. But Best Brother of the Year did not do things half-heartedly.

“I know how to cheer you up even more,” Shen Yuan decided then and there.

That was how Shen Yuan found himself moved into the expensive nouveau-riche apartment complex next door to his brother on the third floor. All things considered, it wasn’t too bad. Jiu-ge was too busy to check up on him more than once a week in person, although the daily calls to his office phone were still a requirement.

Shen Yuan had always been a homebody, there was no denying that. As long as he could coop up in his room reading and editing trashy novels, he didn’t care for the particulars of time or place, even if leaving his apartment and chancing upon another human made him feel like Oscar the Grouch having been caught outside of his trash can and committing a crime.

The point was: it had all been going just fine and dandy, until one day a shout disrupted Shen Yuan from his editing of one of Airplane’s terribly written papapa scenes. He roughly yanked open his curtains, hearing a rip in the plush blue velvet. Whatever, what Jiu-ge didn’t know wouldn’t hurt him.

The scene which greeted him was one of darkness, which okay, he wasn’t quite expecting that but fine, it wasn’t the first time he had lost track of time doing this and that. Shivering, Shen Yuan stepped out onto his balcony and peered over the rails to see a very attractive, very drunk man holding a broken bottle of what looked like Xin Mo liquor.

“Shen Jiu, there you are, you fucking bastard. Fucking coward! What, too afraid to come and see your disgusting student Binghe on this beautiful night? You always thought you were above us mere mortals, didn’t you? I hope both sides of your pillow are always ice!”

Yikes, Shen Yuan thought privately.

This dude was hammered. Despite everything a laugh bubbled its way up his chest. He didn’t know his brother was so unpopular at work but with a sour face like his, he should’ve expected. Briefly, the thought of pretending to be his brother just to hear more of the entertaining insults crossed his mind, but before he could open his mouth the man, probably named Binghe, went on.

“I bet you think you wake up just looking like an angel descended from the heavens! Well let me tell you, scumbag, that I curse you and your descendents to always have shaky eyeliner! Let’s see you keep up that hoity-toity look and scream at me when you come into work looking like a clown!”

Shen Yuan covered his eyes in horror. Not his eyeliner! He had to look sharp for the ladies.

“I fixed that stupid assignment one million times! Your nitpicking doesn’t even make sense anymore, you blind geezer! Come down here, if you’re not a coward and I’ll show you ...” Binghe paused, looking like he was gonna hurl.

“Show me what? You can’t leave me hanging like that, I won’t be able to sleep!” Shen Yuan shouted out, against his better judgement. He had already been collecting Binghe’s flavored insults to use against that traitor Shang Qinghua next time he saw him.

Binghe looked back up, with what seemed like confusion in his eyes, though it could have just been bleary drunkenness. To Shen Yuan’s horror, it looked like Binghe had tears in his eyes.

“All I wanted was for Laoshi to acknowledge me,” Binghe sobbed out. At this point Shen Yuan had missed his chance to tell the poor man that his brother was out of town on a business trip, and that Binghe was shouting at a stranger. He felt something in his chest squeeze at Binghe’s watery puppy dog eyes.

“Why does everyone look down on me?” Binghe cried. “I try so hard, over and over but all you do is scorn me … again and again! What do I have to do, just tell me, and I’ll do it. Anything! Just …” At this point the boy was choking on his sobs. Shen Yuan felt something shattering. He found himself walking down the stairs. He was going to go down and fetch him before the police were called, that was all, he told himself.

By the time he arrived on the cold grass ready to coax the drunkard, he found him passed out, clutching the broken bottle so hard his hand was bleeding. Shen Yuan sucked in a sharp breath.

“Alright buddy, let’s get you warmed up,” Shen Yuan said as he pried the glass from Binghe’s hand and used all his strength to haul him up and to the elevator.

He got several strange looks as he dragged an unconscious man across the fancy lobby, but Shen Yuan just snorted and ignored them. The people here had sticks so far up their ass they were getting free prostate massages. Shen Yuan stifled his laughter at his own wit in Binghe’s dead weighted shoulder and got a few more strange looks by the lady in the elevator. Halfway to Shen Yuan’s room, Binghe woke up and stared at Shen Yuan like he was an alien.

He struggled a bit and whined, “Laoshi, please don’t dropkick me into the Panama Canal, I promise I’ll be a good boy.”

Shen Yuan laughed and patted Binghe’s hair. “Go back to sleep, rowdy boy. We’ll talk in the morning.” It probably wasn’t because of his words, but Binghe managed to walk a few steps on his own before becoming dead weight on Shen Yuan again. He felt the breath knocked out of him.

“For someone who’s such a crybaby, you sure are … heavy!” Shen Yuan panted as he managed to drag Binghe into his apartment and throw him onto his bed. He shoddily wrapped up Binghe’s bleeding hand with several bandages. Novels may have taught him a lot, but he had surprisingly little practical knowledge when faced with a gash like Binghe’s in reality.

The fatigue of the night finally caught up with him as he saw Binghe’s peaceful sleeping face and he barely managed to do his nightly routine before sliding into his bed next to the unconscious person.

Shen Yuan was just about to drift away into sleep until he heard sniffling coming from the other man and turned around to see Binghe crying in his sleep.

And so was his current dilemma. Shen Yuan had no idea how to handle crying people. He stared dumbly for a few moments before kicking himself to do something, anything!

Shen Yuan wouldn’t do this for any random stranger that came knocking to his door, but luckily he had gleaned several useful tidbits of information from Binghe’s drunken speech. For example, he was likely one of Jiu-ge’s new interns at the large Cang Qiong Company he worked at, under the Qing Jing subsidiary. Second, Jiu-ge seemed to be giving the poor boy an extremely hard time, and Shen Yuan knew better than anyone just how sharp his brother’s acerbic tongue could be. Shen Yuan felt mildly responsible for cleaning up his brother’s mess.

Also, Binghe was terribly cute. He reminded Shen Yuan of the little puppy he used to play with in childhood, named Bingbing, after his favorite actress.

It was a combination of these facts, or none of them, that ultimately made Shen Yuan do what he did next; wrap his arms around Binghe and gently stroke his hair, murmuring comforting words to him until he stopped crying.

Somewhere along the way he found himself asleep as well.

Binghe awoke from his drunken stupor sometime between ass and fuck o’clock in the morning. His hand was covered in messily wrapped bandages.

When he saw the face of the person fast asleep next to him, he flinched backwards so hard he almost fell out of the bed.

What did I do last night? He wailed miserably in his head. A worst case scenario flashed through his head, and he made sure that both of them were clothed before exhaling a sigh of relief. That was the last time he let Mobei-Jun get him drunk, bachelor party be damned.

The last thing he remembered was accepting a glass full of alcohol in the bar he’d been dragged to, but everything afterwards was a blur. He didn’t remember how he walked all the way to his boss’s nouveau riche apartment, and he certainly didn’t remember how he ended up in bed with the man he was most fearful of.

There was one thing Binghe knew with full certainty, however; he had to escape this apartment immediately before he lost his job or worse: his life.

He had barely turned around and registered vaguely that the apartment was a lot sloppier than he’d expected of his avaricious boss before a sleepy hum made him freeze in his tracks.

“Mmm… Binghe?”

Binghe froze. Shen Jiu had never called him by name, it was always something along the lines of “scum” or “lad”.

Filled with trepidation, he turned to face his boss against his better judgement.

A sleepy smile stretched its way across the face of the person in front of him just as the morning’s rays peeked through the rip in the curtains and fell across his face.

Angelic, Binghe’s mind vaguely registered. Maybe he hadn’t come to his boss’s apartment after all. Maybe he had died and entered a realm different than the one he’d been in. Maybe he was already in heaven.

The angel’s face scrunched up cutely at the offending rays across his face. He glanced at the curtains before letting out a forlorn sigh.

“Jiu-ge’s gonna kill me for that …” sighed the angel across from Binghe.

Jiu-ge? Who’s that, I’ll fight him so you never have a frown on your pretty face ever again, Binghe thought blearily.

Mr. Angel noticed he was awake and smiled a crooked smile.

“Good morning. You were drunk and screaming outside my window last night, so I thought I’d do a public service and take you in before you hurt yourself, “ the angel laughed nervously. “Binghe is your name, right?”

Binghe nodded, feeling like his body was not his own. Then he had a thought.

“Wait … how do you know?”

The angel’s lips thinned, looking like he was trying really hard not to laugh. Oh, that was not a good sign.

“Well … You dropped your name in the middle of shouting about how you wished your boss’s food was too salty, among other things …”

The wave of relief that was about to pass through Binghe at realizing this person was likely not his boss aborted itself as it was overtaken by sheer waves of mortification.

Binghe covered his face with his hands, letting out an ungodly groan of embarrassment.

“Binghe… I’m saying this for your own good.” Mr. Angel looked into Binghe’s eyes seriously. “Do you know how to use swear words?”

Binghe immediately pouted, feeling like he was being made fun of. He couldn’t find it in himself to be truly annoyed, however, at the angel’s bell-like peals of laughter smothered by his hand. It was such a stark contrast to his boss’s restrained expressions.

“Ah! I forgot to introduce myself. I’m Shen Yuan, Shen Jiu’s younger twin brother.”

And there was the horror again.

Just as Binghe was about to bid farewell to his short, inconsequential life, Shen Yuan continued chattering. “You’re lucky Jiu-ge’s out of town on a business trip, and that you weren’t actually serenading his window but mine. If he was here, I don’t know if I could have even stopped him from personally throwing you into a jail cell.”

Binghe felt like he had gotten off of a life-threatening roller coaster ride. Stiffly, he rose from the bed and bent ninety degrees into a bow.

“Thanking Shen Yuan for his kindness in rescuing this lowly one from his predicament!” Binghe grew so nervous he immediately started speaking as if he were in a period drama. “In order to repay my honorable benefactor, this one will prepare breakfast!” He rushed away before Shen Yuan could speak a single word.

Once Binghe found the kitchen, he allowed himself a mini-freakout session. He! Was in! His boss’s younger brother’s bed! And the younger brother was an angel! Even though Binghe was fairly certain nothing untoward had occurred between the two of them the night prior, he felt every inch of his nerves tingling. He was also fairly certain that any other person that lacked Shen Yuan’s generosity would have immediately called the police on him at the least.

This was the first time anyone had done something so selfless for his sake.

Unbidden, a flush streaked across his cheeks, and Binghe slapped at himself to get out of it. Shen Yuan was his benefactor, and it would be wrong to have indecent thoughts about someone so innocent. There may not be much Binghe was good at, as he had learned from his internship under Shen Jiu, but the least he could do was cook him a decent breakfast.

Shen Yuan was roused from his half-wakeful state by the smell of something good coming from the kitchen. Which was weird because last he checked, there was nothing in there but dust and half-eaten ramen. (Yes, he had a problem.)

Wait … Binghe!

It was a little belated, but the nagging voice in Shen Yuan’s head that sounded suspiciously like Jiu-ge berated himself for falling asleep again while a stranger was in his apartment. A cute stranger, but a stranger nonetheless.

Shen Yuan, the voice nagged. One of these days you’re going to get yourself murdered in cold blood …

Alright, shut up, you. No one wants to hear this in the early morning, Shen Yuan bickered back.

“Sir?” Binghe’s voice nervously called from the kitchen entrance.

Shen Yuan immediately relaxed back into what he thought was a cool pose.

“There’s no need for formalities, Binghe. After all, you’ve already slept in my bed.”

Binghe’s ears flushed red at his words, and he swayed back and forth like a maiden on the morning after her wedding night. Shen Yuan stopped this strange line of thinking once he realized how weird it was.

“I made you breakfast as a thank you for er… handling me last night,” Binghe said softly.

Well, that didn’t help his strange thoughts. The last conscious thought Shen Yuan had was that he’d better go and eat the poor shy guy’s food since he had made it already.

He didn’t recall getting up or sitting down at the kitchen table, but the next thing he knew he was staring down at an empty plate, stomach full of delicious food.

“I don’t know what to think. This is the first time this has happened to me.” It wasn’t, but Shen Yuan had always had a flair for the dramatic. “If you can cook so well, why are you wasting your time under my brother’s wing? You should go be a professional chef, and share this magic with the rest of the world.”

It wasn’t empty praise. Shen Yuan genuinely believed he’d be blessed if he could eat like this every day for the rest of his life. His terrible habit of crappy eating would be forever changed.

Binghe was so red he looked like a tomato.

Abruptly, the sounds of a phone ringing disrupted the nice atmosphere. Binghe’s face paled.

“Oh no, I left Mobei-Jun at the club last night. He must be wondering where I am. The bachelor party got kind of crazy.”

Hm? Mobei-Jun? Shen Yuan slapped his forehead in realization. Of course! Binghe was a part of Jiu-ge’s interns, of course he knew Mobei-Jun. Shen Yuan had no idea how he had failed to make that connection. He might even be the best man Mobei-Jun had mentioned, since he was pretty sure the third intern was a woman. Sha Hualing, he believed her name was?

Either way, Shen Yuan hadn’t realized he and Binghe were so closely connected. Besides, he hadn’t felt comfortable calling Binghe a stranger, now that they no longer were.

Maybe he’d get a chance to see Binghe in a tux at the wedding? That would be so cute! Of course, he’d have to help keep him away from the champagne, especially since Jiu-ge would also be there. That was a nightmare waiting to happen.

While Shen Yuan was off fantasizing, Binghe had gathered all his stuff and prepared to leave. He hovered nervously around the door.

Shen Yuan snapped out of it to bid him goodbye. Binghe smiled shyly.

“Maybe I’ll see you around again sometime?” he asked.

Shen Yuan hid a smile behind his hand, and adopted a lofty expression.

“This immortal does not often descend from his honorable peak. However, if fate wills it to be so, then so shall it be,” he said, imitating Binghe’s earlier style of speech.

Binghe laughed, but kept hovering near the door as if he was waiting for something.

“Alright, your friend must be wondering where you are. Go on, now.” A flash of disappointment crossed Binghe’s face, but he obediently left, looking back like a puppy several times as he did so.

It wasn’t until much later that Shen Yuan would realize he had forgotten to explain that he was friends with Shang Qinghua, and that they would likely see each other again at the wedding. By the time the wedding itself rolled around, it would prove to be an ordeal of its own.

But that would remain a story for another time.

[fierypen37]

The Oasis: Chapter 19

Chapter 19

 Woken the dragon. Vis had always said that growing up, whenever she annoyed him—which was often. Now, staring down the barrel of his silver revolver, Daenerys felt another dragon wake inside her. A wild thing of rage and betrayal, ready to burn all who stood in her way. For herself. For Jon.

Viserys’s features were a narrower, masculine echo of her own. The expression he wore was one she recognized, composed but triumphant. Daenerys didn’t dare break eye contact, but she felt Ramsay looming behind her. On the edges of her periphery, she saw the car lurch and one, two, three bodyguards emerge. Ramsay jabbed the back of her head with the gun.

“Kneel,” he said. Daenerys did so. The bumpy asphalt dug into her knees. Five armed men twice her size and all she had was a two-bit nail.    

“Why?” she said, the word trembling in the air. Viserys’ face creased into a moue of displeasure.  

“I didn’t want all this, Dany. But you refused to cooperate.”

“Cooperate? What in the seven hells are you talking about?”              

“I thought you understood. The goal was to get it back, get everything back, no matter the cost!” Daenerys’ lips felt numb. She licked them, striving for patience, for calm. The tone she found was an old one, from when he would rage and throw things, railing at the unfairness of the world. A soothing medley.  

“To get our home back. I know, Vis. There’s been government red tape around Dragonstone. You’ve been to the meetings. We’re working on it.”

Dragonstone was their home, that was the thing that unified the two of them—the last Targaryens against the world.

“But the Dragon is mine! My birthright! A throne not meant for a sniveling girl who couldn’t keep her legs closed.” Gods, he was beyond his usual self-absorbed bullshit. This was some god-level projection coupled with delusions of grandeur. Daenerys went cold. Just like Dad. Still, the fire in her belly pushed words out before she could stopper them.  

“Dragon is mine, Vis. I built it. With my sweat and blood, I built it from the ground up. Breaking Chains as well.”

“Everything that is yours is also mine. I made you,” he hissed and prodded her forehead with the barrel of the gun, “If only you’d cooperated. Daario would--”

“What does Daario have to do with--” she began. Viserys slapped her so hard her cheek tingled and her ear rang.

With sudden blinding clarity, she understood. Viserys had taken loans from Stormcrow and had—she clenched her eyes shut at the fresh wave of betrayal. Two hot tears eked out. Daario had taken her as payment. Why else would Daario look so confused when she broke it off? Why else would Viserys demand she return to him, no matter the circumstances?

“You sold me.” Vis was unmoved.

“It worked out fine for you, didn’t it? You were even going to marry him. It was Daario who gave me the idea. He kept whining about the increased expense of your security detail after the death threats from the Harpies. They’re nothing but Ghiscari scum, they had no real power to make good on those threats.” Viserys’s lilac eyes took on a glazed, feverish shine.

“But then—ah ha!—think of the news coverage. The philanthropist CEO, Daenerys Targaryen, dedicated to bettering the downtrodden, slain by very villains she fought. So tragic. So cinematic. Dragon’s stock would go through the roof! Televise the funeral, rake in donations, weep a little for the cameras, and then . . . Dragon is mine and only mine. As it should be.” The tinny taste of blood leaked from the opened cut in her lip.  

“You’re insane,” she whispered. Viserys’s eye twitched and he gestured. Ramsay hauled her up by her bound hands. Pain shrieked through her shoulders and she bit back a cry. Ramsay drew a long, wicked knife and set it at the base of her throat.

“Oh yes, sweetling. We’ll get to play,” he whispered in her ear. Viserys stalked closer, patting Daenerys’ cheek with deceptive gentleness.

“You made it very difficult for me. You and this Jon Snow. It was a stroke of luck Ramsay extracted the name out of that Lorathi woman before she died. Such a little slut, aren’t you? How long had you been fucking the masseuse? He trotted after his bitch like you were in heat. I staged it to echo Dad’s death. Dirty and pathetic in an alley. My origin story, right? After my sister, my only family, dies tragically, I take up the reins of the company. Then you thwarted me. I admit, the machine guns on Loom Street were a bit much, but I was just so angry. Selmy was a good man, I trusted him. I do regret that.”

“You shot him in the street like a godsdamned dog! He--” Ramsay grazed her throat suggestively with the knife and Daenerys swallowed her choler.

Viserys plunged on as if he hadn’t heard her. Perhaps he didn’t.

“And then poof--” he snapped his fingers, “you dropped off the face of the earth! It wasn’t until I found the footage. You and Snow were still together. You sunk your hooks in deep, you wicked girl. Still, it’s a big world, and Snow had connections to Stark wealth, nearly as prodigious and ancient as the Targaryen’s. Lucky for me, Ramsay is a northman too. Loathes the Starks.”

“Self-righteous cunts,” Ramsay agreed.

“He thought to look for something smaller, more remote. And there it is, plain as day on public record microfiche, a deed for a house billed to Eddard Stark—Jon Snow’s father.” Jon. Dead. Burned to ash. A fresh wave of grief buffeted her.          

“Viserys, please,” she croaked, “I’ll step down. I’ll cede Dragon to you, I swear it. Just don’t do this.” He had the gall to look sad about it. He bent and kissed her forehead.

“I’m sorry, sweet sister. It has to be this way.”

Daenerys glared him down. She tucked the nail between her fingers. There was only one chance to use it. She dragged in a deep breath, her heartbeat thudding loud in her ears. Wait. Wait for the right moment. Viserys snapped his fingers, gesturing for one of the burly guards. Too much of a coward to pull the trigger himself. The shadow of a snake.

“You are no dragon,” she said, mutinous.

Bam!

Bam bam!

Daenerys blinked dumbly as one of the bodyguards crumpled, bleeding from behind the ear. Viserys was cursing and shouting, ducking behind the remaining two, who shot blindly into the thick woods surrounding the tarmac. The noise and smoke filled her senses. Shots went wild, cutting holes in the sedan like cheese. Shattered glass tinkled on the ground. Ramsay cursed. He dropped his knife to draw his gun, yanking her tight against him.

“You wouldn’t know anything about this, would you?” he hissed in her ear. I wish. Even if there was a park ranger or police officer who happened by, they would have announced themselves. Her security team was hundreds of kilometers away. And Jon was—Daenerys bit her lip.

The gunfire ceased. Her ears rang from the noise. Daenerys craned her head to look for Viserys. She saw his expensive leather shoes beneath the shattered door of the car, cowering. Where were the guards?

“Got him, Boss!” a rough voice said. Him? Her mystery defender? Her knees gave out when the burly men emerged from the brush.

“Jon?”

 ~

 Fuck. He was a fucking idiot. The calvary was on its way, all he had to do was stall. He could have picked off another one of the thick-necked fuckers, scared that chickenshit Viserys into spooking. On the other hand, seeing a gun pointed at his heart-and-fucking-soul made him a little twitchy. Jon had pushed the Old Bear’s beat-up truck to its limits to reach the airstrip, praying his hunch would pay off. And now all it did was get him a front-row seat to watching Dany die.              

The hunting rifle jammed, but he’d broken one of the goon’s jaw for his trouble. The utility knife was rolled in his sock, not that it did him much good at the moment. Goons One and Two had his arms in a lock behind his back, dragging him down the shallow hill to the tarmac. Dany’s sobs tore already pulverized heart into tinier shreds.

“Jon, Jon, I thought you were dead!” she said, her voice thick with tears. Jon flicked his gaze over her from her braid to her ziptied wrists to her bare feet. A bit battered, but whole, still—thank the gods. He turned his baleful gaze on the source of their misery. Viserys—the skinny little fuck—sneered at Jon. What kind of sick fuck wanted to assassinate his own sister?

“The unkillable Jon Snow.” Starks are hard to kill, Dad always said.

“The chickenshit Viserys Targaryen,” Jon shot back. Viserys made a curt shooing gesture.

“Gods. Let’s get this over with before anything else goes wrong. It’s going to cost me a fortune to clean all this up.”

“Boss, can’t I just shave off a--” The bug-eyed fuck who held Dany brandished the knife, nicking the curve of her jaw. Dany gasped, and Jon saw red watching the blood seep from the cut.

“Come try and shave off a bit of me, you little shit!” Jon shouted, lunging. He made a show of thrashing around until Goon Two backhanded him hard. He tasted blood, his ear rang. Jon sagged in their grip, snagging the knife with his fingertips.

“Shut the fuck up!” Viserys bellowed, shocking them all into silence. He jabbed a finger at the bug-eyed fucker.

“Ramsay, we’ve been over this. If you’d pulled off the job like you were supposed to, my sweet sister would be yours to play with as long as you like. As it is, I need her dead. Now. We have a schedule to keep.”

“What about the boyfriend?” Goon One said. Viserys scowled.

“He’s a complication. If he’s here in one piece and armed, he’s called the authorities.” Jon allowed a grim smile. If they made it out of here, Viserys would spend the rest of his pathetic life staring at the walls of Iron Island Penitentiary.

“We better move fast,” Ramsay said gleefully. Viserys kicked aside the body of one of his guards, fishing a pistol from a pool of blood with a moue of distaste.

“Yes, exactly. Any last words, Daenerys?” he said. Daenerys looked at Jon and in her violet eyes, he saw everything he ever wanted. Home. Gods, she was so beautiful.

“I should have told you before. I love you,” she said.

And the world exploded.

 ~

 “I love you.”

Daenerys slammed the nail up and back with all of her strength. It stuck and Ramsay’s shriek rang in her ear.

“You fucking bitch!”

Daenerys ducked down, scrambling away from a staggering Ramsay. Gods. She’d been lucky. Through the sieve of his clutching fingers, she saw the head of the nail stuck in Ramsay’s left eye. Blood and snot poured down his cheeks from his blinded eyes. A flurry of movement. Jon, struggling with the remaining bodyguards. Viserys advanced on her.

“Gods, you’re such a troublesome little cunt! I’ll be glad to be rid of you!” Spittle clung to his lips, his face an inhuman rictus of rage. Daenerys crawled back on her hands and bare feet, feeling the hot bite of the shattered glass.

“Vis, please!” Daenerys screwed her eyes shut.

The loud rapport of the gun.

Bam! Bam! Two shots. A heavy weight landing hard on her. Daenerys snapped her eyes open.

Jon.

Jon: between her and Viserys.

Jon: sticking a knife in Viserys. A struggle. Jon was stronger, skilled. He wrenched the gun away from Viserys. Snaked an arm around his neck, squeezing. Vis fell facefirst. She heard a crunch.

“Dany,” Jon wheezed.

Jon: bleeding.

“Gods, Jon. Jon, you’re shot,” she whispered, pressing at the sticky red spot growing on his chest, awkward with her hands still bound. His breath was wet, rasping.

“Dany.”

Daenerys cast a wild glance around. It looked like a battlefield with destroyed car, dead bodyguards, Ramsay writhing and cursing, Viserys in an awkward heap. And Jon, her hero, her love, bleeding in her arms. Blood made his shirt sticky, another wound in his thigh. No, no, no. She had nothing, nothing but her empty hands to help him.

“It’s ok, Jon. You’re going to be ok. You’re going to be fine,” she said, frantic. She’d seen the world without him. A bleak, lonely stretch of empty road. She couldn’t go back to that. Panic kept inching up her throat, strangling her. Hot tears coursed down her cheeks.

Daenerys looped her arms around his shoulders and heaved him up to rest on her knees. Jon grunted in pain, though his breathing was better. His beautiful eyes were dark with pain.

“Dany. Dany . . .” His brows puckered in a familiar intent scowl. She bent and rained kisses on his face, wishing there was more to do to help.

“Shh, don’t talk. Just focus on—”

“Dany, I love you. I was a . . . a coward before. I love you. Marry me.” There was barely enough breath to push the words out. A weak sob escaped her. Faintly, she heard the peal of a siren.

“Hold on, Jon. Help is coming! I love you, Jon. I love you. Hold on!”

He closed his eyes and Dany clutched him close.  

[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

.

.

.

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

.

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.

.

.

.

[absolutelythelargestbeefiesthog]

CHPATER 2 OF SKEKVAS THRILLING ADVENTURE BY SKEKVAR AUTHOR, GENERAL, ARTISTE, GENERALLY HANDSOME SKEKSIS

SkekVas met the other soldier skeksis in the basment.

Hello worms!” he said with a big laugh, “We are going to do some killing!”

Skekloch was cool, he was very short and small but he had fun killing and at the end of the day fun is what it is all about. Skekong was not cool. He was a glorified castle guard and envied skekvas for his tall handsomeness and his job as gnereral. He had wanted that job and he was sneaky and snide like skeksin and made snide jabs,

“Im surprised you came back for this job, skekvas, nopt busy enough abroad?” skek ong said.

Skekvas doidnt like skekong for the aforementiponed reasons but also because a small part of him thought that maybe the emperor had not given skekong the work abroad because he wanted skekpng to stay in the castle. Skekong was good looking in a hairy ugly way and skekvas was suspicious of his ambition. 

“Are you sure youre not scared skekvas said, “you are out of plractice fighting stuck at home as the castles guard dog.”

Skjekong was very mad and snarling,

“Stop throwing your weight around, skeloch said, “and lets go squash some bugs!”

Skekvas laughed,

“Yes you are right, but try to keep up with me. Good luck!”

Suddenly! Skekrek came up,

“Hello skekvas,2 he said, 2I have brought you a special weapon to use to fight the biggest arathim.”

“I dont want it!” skekvas said. He found skekrek ve3ry suspicious. Skekrek was a small and a coward and hated skekvas. Why would he want to help? To show skekrek he did not trust him SkekVas squinted his eyes.

“I am trying to help,” skekrek said, “because i am a weakling and cannot fight and am pathetic i made this weapon to help.”

Hmmm?

The weapon was a cool sword,.

“That is a cool sword.” skekvvas admitted,

“Yes it is a special sword for killing arathim.”

“Why woudl you help me, you hate me” siad Skekvas intelligently,

“NBecause my house is in the basement and i do not eant to be killed by bugs.”

“Ok” saiud skekvas becauser that made sense. 

“Ifg this is a trick,” he said, “I will wring your scrawny neck, cut you open and poo in your open gut.”

Skekrek was very scared. He gave skekvas the sword.

Skekvas looked very cool with his new sword and it matched his handsome face. Alsdo his hari was beautiful and flowing. The other two skeksis looked like ugly grmelins next to him. Ugly and small and pathetic. Because he was big and strong and handsome. 

The handoms skekvas led his troop of uglky gremlin soldiers down into the deep dark tunnels which was fine because skekvas was not scared off the dark unlike skekong who was like

‘Ahhh ooh i am sooo scared of this scary darkness oooh i am a big baby!” and stuff like that.

They had to walk for agges and it was really boring except for when the arathim attacked them and then it was really cool because the sword was glinting and making swing-swing sch noises through thre air and looked really cool,

“That sword is really cool!” said Skekloch

“Yes” said skekvas and he cut in half a big arathim.

“How did you get it?” said skekong

“Skekrek gave it to me becaus ei am the best sword fighter.” ssaid skekvas

“RRRRRR” said skekong and he clenched his fists really hard

He was angry because skekrek was supposed to be his ally and he wanted the cool sword.

Hahaha said skekvas and he looked very smug.

They went down in the deep deep cave into the deepest caves when suddenly something

JUMPED OUT AT THEM!

Ah!!! Said everyone except skekvas who was never scared of anything

“Ah!” said the person who jumped out, “dont chop off my head with your cool sword!” said skekle

“What are you doung int his dirty danky cave>” said skekvas disgusted by how dirty and stinky skjekle was. Skekle was a homeless person who just lived in dirt and was gros and he was there because everybody hated him but less than skeksin but enough that he had to live in a hole.

SkekLe said

“I am coming to meet my friends to ask them how the mission against the arathim is going.”

“Who?” said skekvas, and they all laughed except skekle who looked annoyed byt like he didnt want anyone to see he was annoyed,.

“I told skeksil about the arathim and now i want to know if the emperor will let me come home because i have been good and told him about the arathim.”

Skekjvas was mad,

“Skeksin said he know about the arathim and now he is getting all the praise!”

SkekLe was mad,

“I am so mad because it was me who should be getting all of the praise!”

“No!” said skekvas “it is me who should be getting all of the praise because i am the better one!”

Skekvas punched skekle in the head.

I am so angry! Said skekvas, i am going to kiull the arathim so hard and then i am going to kill skeksin by pushing him down a big hole!” 

“You are such a big baby” said skekong, “you are always crying like a big baby because the emperor does not kiss you on your forehead like a baby would be kissed”

SkekVas gave a biug roar and punched him really hard because he wasnt a baby and there is no shame on wanting to receive a kiss on the forehead for a job well done. He punched skekong so hard that skekong smashed through a wall and disappeared. 

All of the skeksis waited for him to come back.

Skekong did not come back.

Where did skekong go? Said everyone.

They all went to the bing hole in the wall and looked in squinting their eyes because they were showing their suspicion. Inside the wall hole on the floor was another big holke and skekong had fallen down into it. As they all listened and swuinted their eyes to listen hard they heard a loud bingbingbang! And skekong gave a shout. Everyone laughed except skeong.

“What is it like in the big hole?” SkekVas shouted

“I am going to murder you!” skekong shouted

“Hahahaha! Ok climb out first!” said skekvas and they all alughed, “I will wait for you!” he said and they all laughed again.

“No” skeong said, “you will come to me because i am in the biggest arathim nest!!!”

Yes!

Skekvas had found the biggest arathim nest! But now what will he do? 

What is his cool sword? Does it just look cool? Or is it a plot piece? 

Read the next chapter to find out!!!!!

[onereallygoodlambonastick]

1, 2, 7, 8, 9 and 10 please

finally some good fucking food, thanks anon;

1. What themes would you like to write about that you feel don’t get explored very often?

Generally speaking, I think the in-betweens, the casual time-skips, and the quick intermissions are the things that get glossed over the most. The “missing scenes”, if you will--the hours after a squabble between a team, the morning before the battle, the months where a child sat idle, the dreams that turned into prophecy. 

I also think the theme of re-connection is not often explored--its always “love on first sight” kind of deal, but what about the enduring kind of love, the kind that stays like an ache in your bones? the one you remember and miss? the one you long for like a phantom limb?

2. What are some common elements of stories you are tired of seeing? What would you avoid writing about? 

This varies wildly between fandoms, but probably the thing they all have in common is: mindless smut. Just straight up down and dirty fucking, with no motive or prompting or characterization. Just the author smashing two guys (usually) at the hips and being done with it. 

That’s fine; we all love to see it. It’s just so dull sometimes. 

I need some intricacy, some intimacy, some ache, some angst, some destructive lines and some ruthless gut-punches, you know? Not a guy coming for the fifth time. 

For the AFTG fandom: I’m tired of seeing people being fine with the way Sakavic treated her characters and coddling Neil & Andrew in the face of it. I don’t hate Andreil, I feel like I should say, but so much of it relies on one or the other sticking people with their knives or fists and that’s such a toxic love, a misconception of what a “good” relationship should be. Now, there are some brilliant fics I’ve read that are just gorgeous with the concept of Andreil--that was what I wished Sakavic had the ability to achieve in her series, while giving dignity to Kevin Day and the rest of the characters that were there and LIVED despite the romance. 

So, obviously, I would avoid doing any of the above I just mentioned, and pray that you will too. Just let these ppl breathe, alright?

For the AoT fandom (yeah i dabbled cuz the manga is just. depressing man): same issue---too much fucking, not enough talking and emoting. Why are there so many goddamned high school AUs? My god. I need a fic that gets down and dirty with the shit going down in the manga and take me through it so I can stand to continue. What about the grief and mourning and the betrayal of it all? Can I get me some of that? Lord, don’t go near the Levi/Eren tag. Y’all just don’t even knock it. Go to Levi/Erwin or something. Or just don’t. Don’t.

For the BNHA fandom (lol. a staple): actually, there’s quite a bit of diversity here so I geniunely can’t complain about much. The sheer magnitude of the English-speaking fandom helps on that end, I suppose. I do think there should be more fics looking at the Shit n Grit of Hero’s society tho, Stain-style. The people the heroes couldn’t save or didn’t want to, the forgotten bodies and the cooling hands, the victims that never got closure, the heroes who got maimed and multilated and couldn’t get back on their feet once the limelight left em. Those sorts of things. I think the fact we see thru the rosy-eyed worldviews of a bunch of green-eared kids deludes people to the fact that People Are Fucking Bad and Disgusting almost all the time. So exploring that, I think, is far more worthwhile. 

But I will also take injury aftermath. I’m not a monster.

For the KNY fandom: EYYY we talk about grief and suffering a lot which if you haven’t noticed, is kind of my Jam! Actually, this fandom prob hits a lot of my sweet spots: role reversals, grief/mourning aftermath, SabiGiyuu, Sabito Lives, the usual! Can’t really say much abt this. Except, there’s a lot of Demon Sex and Rape and, uh. Guys? Can we go back for a hot sec?

For the Code Geass fandom (*rubs hands in glee*): SO this is the fandom I’m most active in aside from AFTG at this precise moment. It’s pretty dead, tbh. My favorite two fics in the AO3 archive was published in 2014 and the author hasn’t written for my fav pairing (Suzaku/Lelouch) since. So. There’s that. There’s also a lot of fucking here! And gross cishet dynamics, but, uh, whatever. I think the Emperor Lelouch/Knight of Zero Suzaku has been overused and abused for rough sex and just general Angst-ing it out. I wanna see how their dynamic plays out like that for sure, but what about when they still had secrets between them a mile wide and had to tell each other half-lies and half-truths? How about them coping with the fact of their betrayals and the death of their loved ones at the hands of each other? Where’s the hardcore shit? 

Think this fandom doesn’t want to dig their fingers in too deep. Shame. 

Another thing: CC is not an immortal seductress. My god give her pizza and some fucking DEPTH. She’s a walking encyclopedia, not some mysterious slut machine! Get your stereotypes and fetishes outta here!

Final thing: TALK ABOUT THE SHIT SUZAKU HAS BEEN THROUGH! He’s not just Lelouch’s boytoy or knight! Stop that! Examine his abuse, his time with the military, his span as a pawn! Look at his motivations and his internalized disgust for himself as a Japanese that was ingrained in him by an oppressive fucking system! Why does he bow? Why is he silent? Speak for him!

7. Favorite description in your wip? (If asked more than once, respond with a new piece each time)

Suzaku watched him watch the discoloring, and Suzaku watched the stillness change into the bare bones of animosity. It was almost kind, the way Lelouch turned his face away and shifted his grip to snatch up the antiseptic.

Neither of them spoke as sharp hands dabbed at the slightly split skin and wet bruising. It stung, but only a little. Long minutes passed like this, Lelouch exchanging swabs for cloths, Suzaku sitting still and watching him work.

Neither of them mentioned the scatter of old deadened skin, puckered across Suzaku’s build like a migration of mutilated fish.

8. Favorite dialogue in your wip? (If asked more than once, respond with a new piece each time)

"You know I can't be seen with you two."

"And I just warned you to not be a coward." Lelouch's eyes gleamed. Again, the challenge was there, and like a fool only Lellouch could make of him, Suzaku took it, open-mouthed and open-palmed.

"Fine," Suzaku said, not knowing what he'd promised himself to: a dinner or a duel. Even though the last time Lelouch picked up a sword it was wooden and he was tiny and cute and clumsy. But Lelouch didn’t need blades to cut. "I'll be there. Does Nunnally still enjoy a good scone?"

"Bring the blueberry ones," Lelouch said, extending the comment like a plank between them, and leapt off the wall, into the white sun. "One for the bastardly son and one for the disowned daughter."

Suzaku followed him out into the blaze of heat, feeling the crude perch of his laughter at the base of his throat. He was so fucking dramatic. "Which one of us do you mean?"

9. What scene was the hardest to write for you and why?

From the same wip fic from above--I’m stuck on the “light” kind-of crackish scene where Suzaku is literally just exasperated with Rivalz and his porn mags. Like I just can’t write it. It’s too.....friendly. And “nice”.

10. What scene was the most fun to write for you and why?

Out of the same fic as above: probably the scene from #8. It was fun to see how coy and rough-mouthed Suzaku could get once he’s together with Lelouch. Just to see them fool around with each other whilst keeping secrets but also somehow be honest was very satisfying and interesting to write out. They are just boys, there. Just boys. In love.

[kuriquinn]

Inquiring Minds Want To Know [one-shot]

Blanket Fic Disclaimer

Original Prompt by: Anonymous

" you know how men rate girls on the scale of their hotness? And that girls do the same? But the difference is that men are scaled not on their hotness, but on the size of their penis" I read this line somewhere and was hoping if you can make a fic related to it? Cause that would be awesome 😂😂”

Author’s Note: As promised during Evil Author Day, my goal is to actually finish some of my WIPs this year. So, here’s one that a lot of people have been asking about. 

Warning: Total crack. Like seriously. It’s going into the Poor Judgement ‘verse along with the other ridiculous stuff I come up with.

Beta Reader: *None but me and my editing software :)

Read it on Ao3 if you’re a registered user!

⁂ ⁂ ⁂

“And, it’s official!” Sakura declares, pouring the last bit of sake into her cup before raising it in front of her. “The Fourth Annual Sexy Wives of Konoha Summit is now in session. Kanpai!”

The rest of the women in the back booth of the izakaya raise their own porcelain cups and chorus, “Kanpai!” before tipping back the alcohol.

“Can I just say, I think our summit is a lot more fun than the Kage summit?” Tenten suggests.

“Definitely,” Temari agrees. “More alcohol, which I’m in favor of.”

“And we probably have more interesting stuff to talk about,” Karui decides.

“Does anyone actually know what they’re talking about?” Ino wants to know.

“Something about tariffs,” Hinata replies. “Or…sheep, I think. Maybe both.”

“Or aliens,” Sakura submits.

“Or aliens.”

“You know what they should be talking about?” Ino wants to know. “Better footwear for shinobi. I mean, seriously, the athletic sandals we used to wear as genin? Do you know how much blood and muck I used to get between my toes? It’s a nationwide crisis, is what it is.”

“Yeah!” Manako agrees. “Screw aliens.”

“Or preferably don’t,” Sakura muses. “Since that’s how you get god-tier ninja prone to insanity and several lifetimes of angst on repeat.” Everyone glances at her curiously and her clears her throat. “Never mind.”

The other women murmur their agreements, clink their cups, and drink deep again.

Ino glances at her watch. “So how long do you think we have?”

“Until Sai instigates a fight between Naruto and Sasuke, and one or both of them go flying out of the Hokager Tower,” Sakura replies sagely.

Temari shakes her head. “You know, there are days when I think I married the biggest pain in the ass, and then I remember who you married.”

“Are those the days you take a break from bullying Shikamaru to stuff him with food?”? Ino teases.

“I wouldn’t have to stuff him with food if the idiot would just eat during the day.”

“Naruto’s the same,” Hinata sighs. “They’re so busy all the time. And it’s starting to affect the children. Boruto’s been acting out more and more since Naruto became the Hokage. And Himawari’s entered to ‘no’ stage.”

“I know how to fix that one,” Karui says. “If she keeps saying no, ask her if she wants something sweet. When she ‘nopes’ herself out of a treat a few times, that will stop.

“Augh! Are you kidding?!” Ino interrupts suddenly. “Are we seriously talking about our husbands and kids?”

“What’s wrong with that?” Sakura asks.

“Besides the fact we always talk about our husbands and kids? Come on, ladies, get it together! Just because we have babies now doesn’t make us any less badass. Let’s live it up!”

“Four more terrifying words were never uttered,” Temari says.

“Gai in a thong,” Manako offers without missing a beat.

Tenten and Karui spit out the drinks they were sipping, while Ino and Sakura groan. Even Hinata gives a bit of a shudder.

“I stand corrected,” the blond woman says, tipping her own drink in acknowledgement.

“I’m both intensely curious and terrified of the thoughts in your head,” Sakura informs the Inuzuka woman. “And I’ve been a medic in warzones.”

“We all have our little talents,” Manako says. “So—what’s the plan for tonight? Drinking games?”

“Obviously,” Ino says. “But how can we make it more fun?”

“We could go to the Hokage Rock and draw all over Naruto’s face. Not like doesn’t have it coming.”

“How can we make it more fun without getting arrested,” Sakura amends, rolling her eyes.

“Who’s going to arrest you? You’re a hero of Konoha.”

“We could do karaoke,” Tenten suggests. “There’s a new place that opened a few blocks away.”

“No one wants to hear me sing,” Temari says, while Hinata desperately shakes her head; she still tends to avoid any kind of public attention.

“All that stuff sounds complicated,” Karui says. “And it involves more walking around than I feel like tonight.”

“Assuming you can even walk at the end of the night.”

“That too.”

“What about Truth or Dare?” Manako offers, all would-be-innocence. “That’s always a crowd pleaser.”

That earns a few groans.

“That’s so predictable,” Ino complains. “We seriously can’t come up with anything else?”

“Well, we could do ‘Never Have I Ever’, but somebody’s husband officially blacklisted that game two years ago.”

Everyone looks at Hinata, who shrugs. “I still don’t know why he did that. Something about village morals.”

“If it involved anyone affiliated with Team 7, I don’t want to know,” Tenten says decisively.

“Now that that’s settled,” Manako nods and leers at Ino. “Truth or dare?”

“Oh my god, are we actually doing this?” she groans, and throws back her sake. “Okay. Fine. Truth.”

“Lame,” Sakura accuses.

“I’ll remind you when it’s your turn.”

Manako, after thinking about it a few moments, grins. “Alright. I’ve got one: if Sai wanted to roleplay during sex, who or what would you want him to role play as?”

Ino’s jaw drops. “Are you kidding me?”

“Wow, she went right for the dirty stuff on the first go,” Tenten guffaws.

“And you’re surprised by this?” Temari quips.

“Anytime now, Ino-pig.”

“I’m going to get you back for this.”

“You’re stalling,” Manako singsongs. “Do I need to come up with a penalty dare?” She grins, sharp canines giving her a wolfish look.

“No!” Ino snaps, rightly wary of any dare the older woman might conceive of. She purses her lips for a moment, cheeks still burning bright, and then holds her head up as if deciding she won’t be embarrassed by this. “I’m the daimyo’s virginal daughter and Sai’s the court artist commissioned to paint my portrait, only as soon as we’re alone he seduces me. Only we have to be completely quiet or we’ll get caught.”

The other women giggle a little at that.

“That seems very well thought out,” Manako says. “Also, kind of tame for what I expected from you.”

“What exactly did you expect, some kind of dominatrix fantasy?” Ino grumbles. “Sai’s very literal. It’s hard to get him to pretend things outside of what he knows.”

“That sounds an awful lot like it’s something you’ve actually done.”

“Forehead, truth or dare,” Ino orders, the abruptness more telling than an actual verbal answer.

Manako sniggers as Sakura rolls her eyes, folds her arms as if expecting a challenge, and replies, “Dare.”

“Coward.”

“Bite me.”

They stick their tongues out at each other.

“Fine. Wimp out. I dare you to…” Ino casts about for a moment, and then smirks. “I dare you to do a body shot off Hinata’s chest.”

“What?!” the Hokage’s wife squeaks as the other women roar with laughter.

“Now who’s going right for the dirty stuff?” Manako jeers. “Although I can’t say I disapprove.”

“That’s not…why would you…?” Hinata looks like there might be steam coming out of her ears.

“Relax, Hinata,” Sakura grumbles. “I’m not going to do something you’re uncomfortable with, and she knows it.” She juts her chin out at her best friend. “What’s the penalty truth?”

“Does Sasuke ever motorboat you?” Ino asks immediately. “Or try to, considering your lack of breasts.”

“Shots fired,” Tenten murmurs to Temari, who nods with a smirk.

“I hate you,” Sakura mutters, mortified. “And no. He doesn’t. Mostly because I don’t actually think he knows what that means.”

“I really, really believe that,” Manako says honestly.

“You have an awful lot to say tonight, Manako—how about you? Truth or dare.”

“Truth,” she replies, sipping from her cup. “I have no shame.”

Sakura raises an eyebrow at that, and then smiles in a good approximation of the older woman’s own merciless smirk. “What is the sappiest, most lovey-dovey, non-sexual thing you and Kakashi have ever done?”

Manako splutters, sake going everywhere as she coughs and tries to breathe.

 “Penalty,” she gasps out, glaring at Sakura.

“So much for no shame,” Temari says.

“I dare you to…” Sakura thinks about it and then grins, “I dare you to let Tenten cut and style your hair with just a kunai.”

There’s a chorus of impressed ohs.

Manako glares. “I just got it back to the length I like since the boys were born.”

“Well, you could always just answer the question from before…”

Manako huffs and climbs unapologetically across the table to sit in front of Tenten. “Well, go on.”

“Bold of you to assume I have a kunai,” the other woman says.

“You own a weapons shop and you’re a shinobi. Of course you have a kunai.”

“I was planning on a night of drinking with the girls, not battle.” When everyone gives her unimpressed looks, she pouts and digs a blade out from the hidden pocket of her pants. “I was going to leave it home…”

“Sure you were,” Karui says, earning Manako’s attention.

“You know, you’ve been uncharacteristically quiet this whole time,” she says, frowning as Tenten begins to consider her back-length tresses.

“Why interrupt good entertainment?”

“Interrupt this—truth or dare.”

“Dare.”

“Take off your underwear and hang it from the light fixture for the rest of the night.”

“Who says I’m wearing underwear?”

“Then your bra. We know you’re wearing one of those, we see the padding.”

“I don’t have padding. All this gloriousness is me,” Karui retorts, cupping her breasts. “And you’re just daring me that because you want to see my tits.”

“Guilty,” Manako agrees.

“Sex and underwear. You’re kind of an unimaginative lot, aren’t you?” Temari wants to know as Karui begins shifting and shimmying her bra out from beneath her sleeveless dress.

“Sex and underwear and impromptu kunai make-overs,” Sakura corrects.

“If I come out of this looking like a porcupine, I’m sending the twins to visit you every day for a month,” Manako vows.

“Oi! Why me? Tenten’s the one cutting your hair!”

“You’re the one who came up with the idea.”

“My turn,” Karui interrupts as she drapes her brassier from the lamp above their table. Across the room, the few patrons still remaining murmur at the scandal. “Temari, truth or dare.”

“Dare,” Temari says.

The former Kumonin takes a few seconds to think about it, and then reaches for her purse to remove a tiny vial.

“This is Killer Wasabi,” she says with a smirk. “The hottest sauce available on the continent.”

“And you just happen to carry it around?” Ino asks.

“It’s not my fault the food in Konoha is so bland.”

“And yet I’ve never seen you refuse any of it.”

“That would be rude,” Karui says, affecting primness before her expression becomes mischievous again. She returns her attention to Temari. “This recipe was created by the first Raikage, and then passed down from teacher to student across the generations. It’s so hot it can make a grown man pass out if consumed in large quantities.” She places the vial on the table. “So that’s what I dare you to do. Take a swig of this straight.”

Temari blinks.

“That’s it?” she deadpans.

“Bii-sensei challenged the Fourth Raikage to take a gulp of it straight from the bottle and the man cried.”

“Shit. He didn’t even cry when he got his arm cut off, I heard,” Manako murmurs.

Temari considers the tiny vial, shrugs, and then upends it into her mouth.

Everyone stares.

“You’re not…you’re not human, are you?” Tenten murmurs.

“Are we sure it’s your brother that was possessed by a demon and not you?” Manako wants to know.

“Not possible,” Karui declares. “That’s just…not possible!”

“I went to the dentist today and can’t feel my tongue,” Temari confesses, earning groans and shouts from the others.

“Cheater!”

“Treachery!”

“You suck.”

“You didn’t ask,” Temari says with a shrug and turns to Tenten. “Truth or dare?”

“Truth.”

“How old were you when you lost your virginity?”

“Temari!”

“I’m just continuing the trend of inappropriate questions,” the former Sunanin shrugs.

“Fess up, Tenten!” Ino cheers, spilling a bit of sake as she chugs it.

“Personally, I wouldn’t trust any dare Temari comes up with,” Karui says.

“Fine,” Tenten hedges. “I was seventeen.”

“Really?” Ino purrs. “Who was it?”

“I’m not telling,” Tenten says primly.

“Was it Neji?”

“Don’t be insensitive!” Sakura hisses, smacking her.

“Ow! Watch it with the hamfists!”

Tenten is quick to change the subject. “Hinata—truth or dare?”

“Truth,” Hinata murmurs warily, as if not sure which is likely to be the worse choice.

“What was the most embarrassing thing you’ve shouted during sex?”

Hinata squeaks, pressing her flushed face into her hands.

“You’re going to give her a nosebleed,” Karui says.

“She could have chosen dare.”

“Do you actually expect her to answer that?”

Hinata mumbles something into her palms.

“What was that?” Ino asks. “Didn’t quite catch that.”

“‘Cauliflower’,” the Hokage’s wife mutters, only a hair louder but still audible.

Her friends all stare at her for a beat, trying to parse what they just heard, and then—

“EEEHHHH?!?”

“Seriously?!” Ino shrieks.

“What the hell, really?” Manako laughs. “What even…?”

“I was pregnant,” Hinata mumbles. “And craving.”

“Apparently,” Temari drawls.

“How did hubby take that?” Manako asks.

“He…he, um, went to buy some.”

“Actually?” Sakura want to know. “Or do you mean he sent a clone?”

“Um. No, he actually…he got all flustered, and confused,” Hinata admits. “And ran off to the market. He came home with about two dozen of them.”

“Cauliflowerus-interruptus,” Manako shakes her head. “I hope it was good cauliflower.”

“It’s cauliflower,” Tenten drawls. “There’s no way that’s better than sex.”

“Hey, food can be better than sex,” Karui protests. “And not only when you’re pregnant.”

“Well now I know what we should ask you next time you choose truth…”

“Except it’s not your turn to ask.”

All eyes go to Hinata.

“Hinata, ask me something so that I can go next,” Manako orders.

“If you go next, I won’t be the one answering,” Karui promises.

“Um…” Hinata bites her lips, and then nods and asks Manako, “Who was your first love?” she asks.

“Izumi Uchiha,” Manako replies without any hesitation or embarrassment.

“What, really?” Ino asks, eyes wide.

“Did I stutter?”

“That’s…that makes sense actually,” Sakura says. “You told me once that you’d loved an Uchiha, but I thought…I mean, you kind of implied…”

“That it was a guy?”

“Pretty much.”

“Contrary to popular belief, not all Uchiha are men,” Manako replies.

“You wouldn’t know it the way the history books are written,” Sakura mutters.

“Temari! Have I got a dare for you—”

“Truth,” the other woman says instantly. “As if I would be stupid enough to choose one of your dares.”

“I’m wounded. But alright, fine. Let me asks you the most important truth I can think of.”

Temari raises an eyebrow, but her face remains as stolid as ever. “Fine.”

But Manako doesn’t speak. Instead, she holds the tips of her index fingers together and then slowly starts to pull them apart. 

For a moment no one knows what she is doing, but as the distance grows between the fingers—three inches, four inches—comprehension dawns on everyone.  

“Oh my god!” Sakura sputters, before pressing her hand against her mouth to muffle her laughter. 

Temari doesn’t answer or change her expression as Manako continues to move her fingers apart—five inches, six inches—and Hinata squeaks, cheeks filled with so much blood she appears about to faint. Seven inches, eight— 

“Okay, now I’m actually getting worried for you,” the older woman says. 

“You have no idea,” Temari replies, leaning back with her arms crossed and a satisfied smirk on her face.  

“I can’t hear this!” Ino wails. “He’s like…ugh, he’s like my brother and you just…that image! I will never get that image out of my head.” 

“Shit,” Karui says. “How are you still walking upright, woman?” 

Even Tenten looks impressed.  

“Okay, we have to get this out of the way right now, so no one else decides to draw it out over a bunch of Truths,” Ino says. “Over and done with. On a scale of one to ten—” 

“On a scale of one to Shikamaru,” Manako sniggers.  

Ino shoots her a dirty look. “On a scale of one to ten—” 

Sakura interrupts. “The average length is about five inches. It’s beyond the norm to have a penis larger than—”  

Hinata yelps in protest, and Karui gives her an unimpressed look. “You’ve had two children and copious amounts of sex, and the word ‘penis’ bothers you?” 

“It’s…it’s not a very nice word,” the Hokage’s wife mutters, embarrassed.  

“It’s not a very nice-looking body part, but it gets the job done.” 

“Especially if you’re Temari, apparently,” Tenten chuckles.  

“She’s got a point, though. Sometimes I wish I was only into women, so I didn’t have to look at a penis,” Manako says. “It’s one thing to know it’s there—and hey, I benefit greatly from having a partner that has one—but given the choice…” She seesaws her right hand up and down. “Honestly, I could do without.” 

“You’d still be with Kakashi even if he didn’t have a dick?” Karui asks, surprised.  

“Of course! You don’t know what that mouth is capable of—” 

“Does he even have a mouth?” Sakura wonders. 

“—and even if that wasn’t the case? Dildos exist for a reason. Whether you have a dick or not,” Manako decides. The raises an eyebrow at Karui. “Are you saying if Chōji was in an accident tomorrow and lost his balls, you’d stop being with him?” 

“What? No! And besides, what accident would that be? He barely even goes out on missions anymore.” 

“Actually, there are several ways a man can lose—” Sakura begins. 

“I wasn’t actually asking,” Karui rolls her eyes. 

“I think we’re all getting wildly off-topic here,” Ino interjects. “Now! On a scale of one to—” 

“—Shikamaru,” Manako and Tenten say at the same time, grinning irreverently. 

“—where do our guys fall?” 

“I think that’s an inaccurate rating system,” Sakura protests. “Size can’t be the only factor.” 

“Yeah, what about girth?” Manako wants to know. “It’s all well and good if a guy’s eight inches long, but if his dick’s as thin as a pencil, it’s pretty much useless.”  

“And what about stamina? It’s not like it moves on its own,” Karui adds. 

“Oh! And proper aim! Or, you know, additional use of fingers. Nothing worse than sex with someone who thinks penetration is the only way to get a woman off,” Tenten adds,  

“Gods, this is turning into some kind of quadratic equation,” Ino complains.  

“It’s not that hard,” Sakura protests. There are several laughs at that, and she rolls her eyes. “Pun not intended. But anyway, let’s say we have four categories—length, girth, stamina and miscellaneous—” 

“What about…” Hinata begins, her voice barely above a whisper, and then she adds, “What about the feelings you have for your partner? That…I’m sure that makes a difference.” 

The other women consider, and the nod in agreement. 

“Alright, so we have five criteria, so if we put those out of ten, average them out and then assign them a value on the spectrum of one to—”  

—Shikamaru,” Karui, Manako and Tenten chorus. 

“Stop that!” Ino snaps.  

“—then it would be more accurate,” Sakura finishes.  

“If you’re still able to do math, you’re not drunk enough,” Temari informs Sakura.  

“You have no idea what I’m capable of when I’m drunk,” Sakura retorts. “And besides—I don’t get drunk.” 

“Oh, so that wasn’t you Sasuke was carting home from dinner last weekend, slung over his shoulder and staring at his ass?” Ino challenges. “Hm, must have been some other pink haired lush with a mutant forehead.”  

They glare at each other.

“9/10,” Sakura says at last. “There’s some stuff Sasuke’s a bit shy about or doesn’t bother with, but everything else makes up for it.”

“9/10 for Sai, too,” Ino agrees.

“You’re just saying that to compete with me.”

“Says you! My husband happens to be an excellent lover.”

“Except when he accidentally says something insulting and ruins the mood, I’m guessing,” Sakura says. “He does it in normal conversation, so I’m pretty sure he’s done it during sex too.”

“Stop thinking about my husband having sex!”

“Can’t think about her husband, can’t think about her not-brother…who can we think about having sex?” Manako wants to know and Tenten sniggers.

“Choji’s an 8,” Karui says, interrupting the argument. “But that’s just because he keeps wanting to bring food into bed. And then one or both of us gets distracted.”

“Ugh!” Ino cries. “Stop telling me things I can’t unhear!”

“Shikamaru’s an 8 too,” Temari says, earning surprised glances. “And only because he falls asleep a lot.”

“Oh, Naruto does that too,” Hinata agrees. “They’re both so busy at work.”

“So Naruto’s also an 8?”

“No. He’s a 10.”

“No way Naruto’s a 10,” Sakura insists.

“Yeah, he’s got to have something wrong with him,” Ino agrees. “ I mean…he’s Naruto.”

“10,” Hinata maintains firmly, and whether it’s out of loyalty or reality, everyone senses it’s better not to ask.

“Well, Kakashi’s an easy 10,” Manako says. “But that’s just because he has more experience than any of your men.”

“Whatever, you old crone.”

“Now that we’ve established all of that,” Temari interrupts, “I believe it was my turn to ask…” She trails off, considering her next victim, and then smirks at Hinata. “Truth or Dare?”

“T-truth.”

“Was your wedding night the first time Naruto saw you naked?” Temari wants to know.

The other women burst into laughter.

“Why are you doing this to me?” Hinata groans.

“You could always choose dare.”

“Which would be…?”

Temari considers, and then nods to herself. “Pick someone in this room and lick their cheek.”

“I volunteer,” Manako says immediately.

“You would,” Sakura mutters.

“You’re full of hair,” Ino points out. “She’d probably get a hairball.”

“That’s cats,” Manako sniffs, shaking her head.

“Stop moving if you don’t want me cutting off an ear,” Tenten warns her.

“It wasn’t.”

The words are so quiet, they almost go unnoticed.

Almost.

“It wasn’t?” Temari repeats, staring intently at Hinata.

“You mean you gave it up before you got married?” Ino blurts out. “Wow, Hinata, I never knew you had it in you—”

“No! That wasn’t—we didn’t—Temari asked about the first time he saw me naked, not when we slept together,” Hinata complains, normally pale skin darkened by a blush and her pale eyes flashing with a hint of temper. “And that night wasn’t the first time. We were out on a mission once when we were chunin and I was meditating by the river and I didn’t have clothes on.”

“And he barged right in?” Sakura supplies. “Pervert.”

“He didn’t know I was there,” Hinata protests.

“Sure he didn’t…”

Hinata folds her arms and frowns. “Ino, truth or dare.”

“Oi! I make one comment and now you’re going to pick on me?”

Hinata raises an eyebrow.

“Truth,” Ino says, not quite trusting the usually innocent Hinata; it’s always the quiet ones that are the most dangerous, after all.

The Hokage’s wife ponders, and then a truly uncanny smile appears on her face, one that would look more at home on Naruto than her. “I heard somewhere that you perfected the Yamanaka technique of switching souls within bodies. So have you ever—I mean, on purpose—switched with Sai…you know…during?”

Ino’s jaw drops.

As does everyone else’s.

Sakura is the first to speak. “Well, I never would have saw that one coming.”

She almost sounds impressed.

“You have a dirty, dirty mind,” Manako says. “Good for you.”

“I think you broke Ino,” Temari points out, and everyone glances at the other blond woman who looks as if her brain has short-circuited.

“I think that’s a yes,” Sakura says, eyes gleaming with mischief. “She only over looks like that when she’s been caught out.”

“No way,” Karui says in awe. “So you’ve actually—?”

Ino snaps out of. “You’re all being ridiculous.”

“That’s not a no.”

“Stop it!”

“That’s a yes!”

“No it’s not!”

“So you actually know what it’s like to have sex as a guy?” Manako wants to know. “This I have to hear.”

“No, I don’t—stop putting words in my mouth! Truth! I choose a penalty truth!”

“Well-played,” Temari informs Hinata, who smiles sheepishly, before asking Ino, “If you could sleep with any of the Kage, past or present, who would you choose?”

“Nice one,” Sakura approves.

Ino thinks about it, and then says, “Kurutsuchi.”

Everyone gasps at that.

“Seriously?” Manako asks.

“Did I stutter?” Ino shoots back, echoing her words back.

“I thought you were completely straight,” Tenten says, surprised.

“I am. But given the fact that everyone else is or was either ugly, old, creepy or evil, I stand by my choice. Especially since Hinata said sleep and didn’t necessarily say have sex with.”

“Boo,” Sakura accuses. “You’re not supposed to logic your way out of an embarrassing truth. In fact, you’re not supposed to be sober enough to logic your way out of an embarrassing truth.”

“I’m just that good,” Ino sniffs.

“In your own mind, maybe…”

“Shut up. No, wait. Don’t shut up. Truth or dare?”

“Didn’t you already ask her?” Karui wants to know.

“Shh! It’s bound to be a good one,” Manako interrupts her. By now, her hair has been chopped off into an uneven, bristly pixie cut, and Tenten is grumbling as she pushes long locks of hair off of herself.

“I hope the manager of this place doesn’t mind cleaning this up,” she mutters to herself. “Maybe I can give him a discount at my store or something…”

“Okay, okay, I’ve got one, I’ve got one,” Ino interrupts, waving her hands to make everyone else shut up. “Okay—Sakura. Imagine you get Sasuke to agree to have a threesome with you and another guy—"

“Tch! Sure, in a parallel universe,” Sakura snorts, and then pauses, blinking. “On second thought, having met the Sasuke from a parallel universe, I think he might actually be into that sort of thing.” 

“Wow,” Temari says with a blink. “I don’t know whether that’s hot or disturbing.” 

“Hot,” Tenten decides. 

“Disturbing,” Karui says at the same time. 

“Both?” Hinata suggests tentatively. 

“Both,” Manako says with a definitive note in her voice.  

“All of you shut up, I haven’t finished my question!” Ino snaps, and the other women glance back at her. She renews her grin at Sakura. “So—say you get Sasuke to agree to a threesome with another guy, but it has to be a guy from your genin squad—” 

“Ino!” 

“—who would it be?” 

“That’s not fair!” Sakura protests. “Three of them are married—”

“Kakashi and I aren’t married, we’re living in sin,” Manako interjects.

“—to people sitting in this room!” 

“Well, fine, if you’re going to whine about it—for the purposes of this truth we can include members of your chūnin squad, too.” 

“That’s no different!” 

“If you don’t tell the truth, you have to do the dare,” Ino sing-songs. 

Cheeks burning and expression mutinous, Sakura spends a few seconds considering the lesser of two evils, and then sighs. “Fine. Kakashi.” 

There’s a burst of uproarious laughter and squealing. 

“No way!” Ino protests. “He’s so old!” 

“He’s not old, he’s experienced,” Manako corrects with would-be-haughtiness. “And a girl could do worse.” 

“It has nothing to do with that!” Sakura cries and goes, if possible, even more red. “It’s the choice that makes the most sense! If it were Naruto, he and Sasuke would forget all about me and start some ridiculous competition—probably measuring their dicks or something—” 

Everyone laughs, and even red-faced and perpetually embarrassed Hinata cocks her head to one side as if to say, ‘fair point’. 

“—and that would end in a fist-fight. Then there’s Sai, who would have a comment for everything, and Sasuke would take it as criticism, and that would end in a fistfight,” she goes on, ticking options off her fingers while Temari snorts and takes another sip of sake.  

“—and Yamato-taichou would be so unbelievable uncomfortable he would pass out—” 

“Also, didn’t Sasuke stab him once?” Temari wants to know. 

“—yeah, exactly! I doubt he’d want to get it on with the guy who stabbed him.” 

“I don’t know if that would make a difference. Sasuke’s stabbed Naruto half a dozen times, and Naruto would probably still be down to fu��” 

“Manako, if you finish that sentence, I will slip cocoa into your food and watch you asphyxiate to death in front of me,” Sakura vows, glancing over Hinata with the urge to press her hands over the other woman’s ears.  

“Doesn’t setting off a severe enough allergic reaction that is causes anaphylactic shock violate the Medic-Nin’s Oath?” Manako challenges, and then makes a face. “Huh. Say that ten times fast.” 

“There are loopholes,” Sakura replies primly. 

“Sure there are…” 

“Why are we focusing on Sakura becoming a murderer, and not on the fact that she wants to bone her former jōnin instructor?” Karui wants to know. 

“I never said I wanted to bone him! It was Truth or Dare question!” 

“Hmph. I personally would have gone with the Dare…” 

“I don’t know,” Ino muses slowly. “I guess it could be interesting. I mean, he does read those books all the time.” She shoots Manako a questioning look. “Or does that not carry over?” 

The older woman grins wolfishly. “Oh, it does. It really, really does.” 

“La-la-la, I can’t hear you,” Sakura sings. Forget putting her hands over Hinata’s ears, she’s clapped them so hard to her head that she feels a bit of suction between palm and ear.  

A sudden explosion rips through the air, sending a shockwave through the entire restaurant; it’s strong enough to knock Karui’s brassier from the lamp fixture. Outside, violent purple and fiery orange light up the night, behind the ruins of the Hokage tower.

“I guess that’s our cue,” Sakura sighs, getting up.

“Husband wrangling time,” Ino agrees.

“Who’s getting the bill?” Karui wants to know.

Everyone exchanges glances, and quickly stick their forefingers on their nose, except for Manako, who’s investigating her shorn hair. Noticing them all, she groans.

“Oh, that’s nice. Pick on the girl without super ninja reflexes.”

終わり

________________________________________________________________

So, there you go. It’s complete and utter crack, and totally just written for the sake of dialogue more than anything else. And all the sex info you never knew you wanted to know :P

Hope you guys had a bit of a laugh!

(Also, it occurs to me that Manako is the Naruto’verse equivalent of Captain Jack Harkness…)

I want to know what you think of my story! Leave kudos, a comment or if writing comments isn’t something you’re comfortable with, as many of these (or other emojis) as you want and let me know how you feel!

❤️️ = I love this story! 😳 = this was hot! 💐 = thank you for sharing this 🍵 = tea spilled 🍬 = so sweet and fluffy! 🚔 = you’re under arrest! the writing’s too good! 😲 = I NEED THE NEXT CHAPTER 😢 = you got me right in the feels 🤯mind blown 🤬god damn cliffhanger 😫 whyyyyyyy?!?!?

 栗

[themattress]

OUAT AND ME: SEASON 4

Story - The story for the first half of the season is the Frozen Saga and the story for the second half is the Operation Mongoose Saga. The Frozen Saga is about Elsa from Arendelle crossing over into Storybrooke in search of her sister Anna, bonding with Emma in the process and helping her face another Snow Queen who has a secret connection to both of them, while the Operation Mongoose Saga is about heroes and villains alike searching for the elusive author of Henry's storybook so that he can give them their happy endings.

The Frozen Saga is noteworthy for being the last time that OUAT was big in the mainstream, due to the ubiquitous nature of the Disney phenomenon it was capitalizing on not even a year after its release in theaters. And despite the initial apprehension of many, it's actually the Frozen elements that are the strongest part of this story. The flashbacks tell an interconnecting tale serving as the backstory of the present-day events much like the flashbacks of the Dark Curse Saga did, making excellent use of both Frozen and OUAT's established mythology. And the present-day story is all about the unexpected yet perfectly natural bond between Emma and Elsa, and it's honestly one of the strongest depicted friendships the show has ever had. The way the two of them are further linked through the Big Bad is also ingenious, bringing about a great feeling of cohesion to the narrative.

In fact, rewatching this arc after Frozen 2, it's kind of funny how I actually prefer it as a sequel to the original movie than the actual sequel! Like Frozen 2, this arc deals with why Elsa and Anna's parents left on their fateful voyage, the discovery of a secret from their mother's side of the family, a revelation of what the source of Elsa's power is, Elsa making peace with herself while Anna learns to be more independent and ends up marrying Kristoff, and a location called the Enchanted Forest. But it does so in a way that feels more true to the characters from the original film and avoids all of the pratfalls that Frozen 2 stumbled into. There's no over-its-head political message, no sisterly separation ending, and no Olaf.

Unfortunately, there are two subplots that put a damper on things. The first subplot starts off well enough, with Rumpelstiltskin returning to his former villainous glory as he sneaks and schemes and manipulates his way through a plan to obtain the power of the Sorcerer's Hat of Fantasia fame, but it sadly fails to stick the landing in a way that matches the build-up and there end up being no lingering consequences to it when there really should have been. The second subplot is horrendous, focusing on the increasingly skeevy romance between Regina and Robin Hood while also pushing Regina forward on a ridiculous quest to find the Author of Henry's storybook. Why? She believes some cosmic rule is preventing her from having a happy ending  because she was written as a villain in the book (and not because, y'know, she was actually a villain in the past), and if she's rewritten as a hero she thinks that will change. Yes, that is the absurd idea that this whole subplot is founded upon, and the fact that everyone goes along with it as if there is an ounce of logic behind it is cringe-inducing.

Sadly, that subplot ends up becoming the plot of the Operation Mongoose Saga, which on the one hand gives Season 4 more connection between its two arcs than Season 3 had, but on the other hand it's so fucking stupid. Now, whenever it's Rumple leading around his villainous team, "the Queens of Darkness", to find the Author before the heroes can, things are fun and watchable in spite of the plot's stupidity. But whenever it's Regina and Robin's continued relationship angst or a horrendous new subplot about Snow and Charming having secretly been villains in the past by causing Maleficent to lose her child, it's tiresome and insulting. The finale, a two-parter actually named "Operation Mongoose", is highly enjoyable, but it can't fully wash away the taste of what came before it....or what it sets up to come after it.

Characters - Heroes and villains everywhere, and not always where you expect.

* Remember how in Season 3, Emma had a great character arc in the Neverland Saga but then it came to a halt in the Wicked Saga until the two-part season finale finally picked it up and resolved it? And that the Wicked Saga did her dirty by building her up as the only one who could defeat Zelena only for Regina to defeat her instead? Season 4 does kind of a repeating of these problems, except this time around they are a lot more glaring.

For most of the Frozen Saga, Emma has a great arc that's essentially her and Elsa's shared journey toward self-love; learning from each other to accept themselves and their innate powers without having to always rely on the approval of a loved one. But then, after a huge broo-ha-ha is made about how Emma must be the one to defeat the Snow Queen....she doesn't, and Anna barges in to help the Snow Queen see the error of her ways before Emma can lift a finger. She isn't even the one to save her own boyfriend from Rumple afterward, Belle does it instead. It makes Emma look like the definition of a Boring Failure Heroine.

And things don't improve for her in the Operation Mongoose Saga. Her roles are being subservient to Regina in spite of the abuse Regina had thrown her way in the previous arc, being unreasonably angry at her parents for keeping a secret from her, being vilified for daring to kill a heinous villain in defense of her son, going back and forth between being a friend or an enemy to her "dark half" Lily, and being hyped as the key to restoring reality to the way it was in the season finale...only for Regina, yet again, to end up taking that role away from her. I think it was Disney's insistence that Emma be tied to Elsa and have that arc in the Frozen Saga, because Adam and Eddy clearly couldn't care less about her.  

* Snow and Charming....SIGH. In the Frozen Saga, Snow is the new mayor of Storybrooke...until the Operation Mongoose Saga, where she suddenly isn't anymore and Regina takes up the mantle again. Through both arcs, Snow reaches new levels of bad motherhood toward Emma while continuing to coddle Regina, which is not touching, it's creepy. Charming, meanwhile, is revealed to have been a long-haired coward during his shepherd days and owes his bravery and swordsman skills to Anna, which neuters just about any coolness he ever had. And then, of course, there's the egg-napping subplot from the Operation Mongoose Saga, where Snow and Charming are revealed to have stolen the egg containing Maleficent's baby, transferred Emma's darkness into it while Emma was still in Snow's womb, and then sent it away in a portal. All because of some nebulous prophesizing and interference from Isaac. And this revelation means, according to the show, that they were villains all along and thus all this time have been pious hypocrites who just do things the easy way rather than the right way. Doesn't Regina look so much better in comparison to them now? Because that's clearly the intent behind this fucking writing decision. Character assassination at its finest.

* Henry sucks, Henry sucks, Henry.....doesn't suck? Yes, for most of the season Henry is lamer than he's ever been, still being treated like a precocious kid character even though Jared Gilmore has clearly entered puberty. But then he ends up as the leading character of the season finale, and shockingly rises to the occasion. It concludes with him becoming the new Author, and this marks a turning point in Henry's character that has been a long time coming, which I will go more into detail about when I talk about the next two seasons.

* This is the season where Regina officially crossed the line into Mary Sue territory. She decides that Marian's reappearance means that she is being punished for being a villain...not because she actually was a villain, but because some Author dared to write her as a villain in a storybook, and that he needs to rewrite her into a hero so that she can get the happy ending that she's entitled to. And in true Mary Sue fashion, she warps the plot and characters around her so that nobody objects to this idea and instead whole-heartedly embrace it.

Every good guy in Storybrooke fights to help Regina get her happy ending, constantly repeating that she "deserves it" and has "come so far" even as she continues to act in ways contradicting that notion. In the end, she doesn't even need the Author since she gets Robin Hood back, gets the adulation of being a "Light Savior" who restores reality back to normal, and has Emma sacrifice herself to the Dark One curse in order to save Regina and her "hard-earned" happy ending. I think the scene that best displays the problem is in the flashback of the episode "Mother", where we see Regina in the past remorselessly murder a groom on his wedding day for no good reason, then immediately go cry over Daniel's grave since this is the anniversary of his death, and then we cut to present-day Regina mention how life always "kicks her in the teeth". Yeah, I kinda think life kicked that groom in the teeth WAY more. So where the Hell is the Author who's gonna give his poor widowed bride her happy ending?

* Rumple, for the most part, is great in this season. In the Frozen Saga, we see him going back to his Dark Curse Saga roots as he plays the role of the true villainous mastermind behind the female Big Bad, dealing and manipulating his way toward one single objective - in this case being to use the power of the Sorcerer's Hat to "cleave" himself from the Dark One dagger. And in the Operation Mongoose Saga, he steps up as the direct Big Bad who leads a team of other villains in pursuit of the Author, under the promise that he can give them their happy endings. It helps that Robert Carlyle is clearly enjoying himself; that fun is infectious.

Unfortunately, there is a problem: Rumple fails to stick the landing in his last three episodes of both arcs. In the Frozen Saga, his failure to absorb Emma into the Sorcerer's Hat seems to drive him bonkers because he then rips out Hook's heart, relying solely on commanding him to do his dirty work all while ranting and raving repetitively about how when the stars in the sky and the stars in the hat are aligned, he will cleave himself of the dagger and he will kill Hook to do so, and that Hook better enjoy so-and-so because it'll be his last and blah blah blah. It's boring and silly, and Rumple's arrogance as he keeps saying it just makes his failure that much more pathetic. And in the Operation Mongoose Saga, his suddenly revealed heart condition ends up taking its toll on him and he is ultimately unable to mount a final assault against the heroes on his own, requiring the far less impressive Isaac to do so instead. The "Light One" version of him that Isaac overwrites him with manages to put up a fight, but that's not nearly as good. Rumple as the Big Bad should have gone out with a bang, not a whimper.

* Hook remains one of the best characters in the ensemble, forced to reconcile his pirate past with his heroic present in both the Frozen Saga and the Operation Mongoose Saga. In the former, his fears of regressing allow Rumple to manipulate him into servitude, which Hook ends up fighting against until Rumple rips out his heart. In the latter, he contends with the way in which he'd wronged Ursula in the past, and with the help of Ariel (whom he also finally does right by), he is able to rectify his mistake and grant Ursula her true happy ending. I'm not really a big fan of his new modern leather jacket, though. The pirate coat was iconic!

* Following such a good Season 3 performance, Belle looks like she's on track to become even better at the end of the Frozen Saga when she finally sees Rumple for who he is and dumps his ass all the way across the town line. It was a powerful scene with some great lines from Belle, and by all logic it should have been the end of her and Rumple as a romantic pairing. They needed to be done after that, with Belle now being free to develop her character entirely apart from Rumple. But of course, Adam and Eddy would never allow that, so all she does in the Operation Mongoose Saga is date a man she doesn't actually love to soothe her heartbreak, fall passed out on the floor, have her heart stolen by Regina and then have it recovered by Rumple which causes her to inevitably crawl back to him at the end of the finale. As the next seasons will show, this damaged Belle's character beyond repair, turning her into the very Stockholm Syndrome-afflicted abuse victim that stupid detractors of the Disney version always claimed she was. This isn't a love story anymore. It's a horror story.

* Robin Hood is a regular for this season in all but title, being present for many episodes in the Frozen Saga and even getting his own focus episode in the Operation Mongoose Saga. If there was any chance of salvaging this horrendously misused character, it died the moment it showed that he still desired a relationship with Regina even after learning that she was the one who killed Marian, which would have stuck if not for Emma and Hook's time travel adventure. I'm sorry, who does that!? That is not realistic human behavior! And it only gets worse when he ends up deliberately and vocally throwing away his honor code by cheating on Marian with Regina while Marian is frozen solid and could possibly die! Oh, but Marian ends up being Zelena anyway, so all's cool. No! All's not cool! Why did this show make Robin Hood into such a lame character!? It's especially a disservice to Sean Maguire, who's a smooth and funny guy in real life and the Robin Hood he plays utilizes none of his charm.

* And then we have the regular in title only, Robin's former associate Will Scarlet, carried over from Once Upon a Time in Wonderland. Of all the screwed-over regulars the show has had, none can compare with Will Scarlet. He does little of interest in the Frozen Saga except for enticing viewers with various mysteries about who he is, why he's here and what's he up to...and those mysteries get absolutely no pay-off in the Operation Mongoose Saga, where he barely shows up and when he does is mainly just Belle's new boyfriend (whom she scarcely interacts with directly!) so that Rumple can get jealous and more determined to find the Author. In the end, Will Scarlet is a nuisance who has fuck-all to do with anything that's going on in the season, leaving viewers scratching their heads as to why he was included to begin with. I can't believe that in his last speaking appearance, the show actually has him deliver the line "I warn ya, I'm scrappy", to which Rumple replies "All right, Scrappy." It's funny because Scrappy, in the TV Tropes usage of the word, perfectly describes Will here.

So, what went wrong? Well, originally the Wonderland spin-off was meant to take place during Season 2 of the main show, with the originally filmed pilot making this explicit. So Will in Season 4 was to be the Will we have after the Wonderland Saga's conclusion, meaning somehow he'd gone back to Storybrooke and regressed back into a selfish, self-esteem lacking, seemingly heartless thief separated from his true love Anastasia / the Red Queen. Highly unoriginal of Adam and Eddy, but whatever, there were still plans to move forward with him as a character on the main show. But those plans failed to materialize and Michael Socha spent a lot of time on set doing nothing, a miserable experience which he was very vocal about afterward. And what was Adam and Eddy's excuse? "It’s just, you know, there’s just so many…there’s just so many people that it’s like, it’s sometimes hard to do that story and sacrifice Regina’s story. That’s just showbiz." It all comes down to Regina. Of course.

In the end it's for the best that the confirmation of the Wonderland Saga as taking place in Season 2 never happened in the pilot we actually got, since Will's existence in this season only makes sense now if it was happening before the Wonderland Saga rather than after, thus my headcanon will always be that Will's fateful break-in to Granny's was after it closed up on the night "Operation Mongoose" ended on rather than the night of the wraith attack.

* Elsa, Anna, Kristoff, Sven, Hans, Grand Pabbie, Oaken, the Duke of Weselton, and the former King and Queen of Arendelle are all lifted from Frozen to OUAT, and for every character that required an actor they got an actor who perfectly brought the animated movie character to life. They are also written accurately as well, with Elsa naturally being the stand-out given how much she gets to do and the bond she forges with Emma. And then there are the new Frozen characters invented for the show: Elsa and Anna's aunts - the deceased Helga and the icy-powered Ingrid, who is also the Frozen Saga's Big Bad, the Snow Queen. Ingrid, played beautifully by Elizabeth Mitchell, is essentially what Elsa might have become if Anna hadn't been so unconditionally loving toward her - her mind warped by her past pain and trauma, embittered toward all normal people, and willing to cross any moral boundary to find a family and place to belong to. Her connection to Elsa and Anna is perfectly exploited, her interactions with characters like Emma and Rumple are fascinating, and her ending where she realizes the error of her ways and sacrifices her life to reverse the damage she's done is the show's most beautiful, emotional send-offs for a villain since Rumple's death.

* The Queens of Darkness are Rumple's cohorts in the Operation Mongoose Saga who also desire the Author to write them a happy ending. The initial group is the trio of Maleficent, Ursula and Cruella De Vil, and it's later revealed that not-so-dead Zelena is also a member.

Maleficent, in spite of being played competently by Kristen Bauer van Straten and having great fashion sense in both worlds, is the weakest of the initial trio, since she is saddled with the mind-bogglingly stupid eggnapping subplot. Ursula isn't actually reflective of the Disney version of the character (Regina already did that in Season 3) and is more like a dark version of Ariel in regards to her backstory. She also isn't nearly as villainous as her peers and naturally she is redeemed rather quickly and easily as a result. And then there's Cruella De Vil, who is not a fairy tale character so everyone feared how she'd come off. Well, she's not only the best of the trio but one of the show's best villains, period. Victoria Smurfit looks, sounds and moves like the cartoon character made flesh, backed up by strong writing that makes her both funny and menacing - especially the latter when it comes to her backstory, a twisted little tale that subverts the show's usual "evil isn't born, it's made" mantra HARD.

Zelena.....SIGH. Like I said before, Adam and Eddy were dropping obvious clues that she wasn't really dead at the end of Season 3, which begged the question why they did a fake-out death to begin with. Apparently, it's because of this season's twist where, with almost no foreshadowing whatsoever, Marian is revealed to actually be Zelena in disguise, having traveled back in time with Emma and Hook and then killed the real Marian in order to take her place. She's revealed to then be pregnant with Robin Hood's child (since he slept with her thinking she was Marian...therefore, she raped him) before being hauled right on back to Storybrooke prison again. It's awful writing, salvaged only by Rebecca Mader's performance.

* We get some welcome returning characters this season, including Sydney Glass, Blackbeard, Ariel, Cora, and against all expectations August Booth. There are some interesting new side characters introduced as well, such as warlord Bo Peep (yes, really), Ursula's father Poseidon played by the great Ernie Hudson, and the Sorcerer's Apprentice, keeper of the Sorcerer's Hat and the Author's boss, meaning he naturally plays a major role throughout the season. The Author himself is Isaac Heller, played by Patrick Fischler, and he turns out to be a surprise villain who abuses his powers to influence events, which an Author is not supposed to do. While I wish he didn't take over the Big Bad position to such a degree in the finale, Isaac is still a very entertaining villain, especially when he's playing off of Regina and Rumple. His sardonic and cynical attitude also make him the perfect foil to Henry.

And then there's this season's biggest waste of a new character: Lilith "Lily" Page. There are three major problems with Lily. First of all, her origin - she's Maleficent's child that Snow and Charming kidnapped, passed all of Emma's natural-born darkness onto, and sent through a portal when she was still in an egg. It's so utterly stupid. Second, she is played by a Latino actress as a child only to have a white actress playing her as an adult. How does that work!? Finally, for all of the build-up she receives, she and her story go absolutely nowhere after she is reunited with her mother. They even make a point of giving her a scene toward the end about wanting to find who her father is, and that never gets followed up on. Even worse, the next story arc is all about Emma going dark, which Rumple had been trying to make happen throughout this arc and Lily was linked to, and yet Lily, her literal dark half, ISN'T involved!? Honestly, Mal from Descendants made a better "daughter of Maleficent" character! MAL!

Atmosphere - The Frozen Saga's atmosphere is very...Frozen-y; I don't really know another word to describe it. At least whenever it's focused on the Frozen characters. The Rumple subplot gets progressively darker to the point of becoming unpleasant, while the Regina subplot is just romantic and existential angst 24/7. These atmospheres don't fit in with the Frozen one at all, which is a testament to how Adam and Eddy are going the wrong direction with this show. Once the Operation Mongoose Saga happens, the atmosphere of the show goes insane, flip-flopping back and forth between family fairy tale wholesomeness to dark and disturbing and depressing to campiness on a level that feels off even for this show.

Episode Quality - For the most part, the Frozen Saga's episodes are perfectly fine and entertaining, although stretching out the 8th episode, "Smash the Mirror", into a two-parter was a horrible idea that cost the show terribly in the ratings. The only two standouts of badness are the 5th episode, "Breaking Glass", which introduces Lily in the flashback story while the present day story is all about Emma just having to sit back and take Regina's verbal abuse in spite of doing nothing to deserve it, and the final episode, "Heroes and Villains", whose only redeeming quality is the scene with Rumple and Belle at the town line, which doesn't even have lasting consequences. For the rest of the episode, we either spend time giving the Frozen cast a rushed, underwhelming send-off, having Rumple continue to abuse Hook while none of the idiot heroes catch on, fixating even more on Regina's angst as she has to let Robin Hood leave town in order to "save" "Marian", and watching a stupid Rumbelle-based flashback introducing the Queen of Darkness trio. In short, the episode is more the start of the Operation Mongoose Saga than it is the end of the Frozen Saga, which feels like a slap in the face to the last thing that made this show relevant to the mainstream.

And the Operation Mongoose Saga's episodes....actually got a lot better on a rewatch!? Don't get me wrong, this story arc is BAD. But when you detach yourself emotionally from the show and its characters, it becomes So Bad It's Good. It's as if the entire saga is Isaac's fanfiction; after all, it truly got started in "Heroes and Villains", and that's the name of Isaac's book in the "Operation Mongoose" two-part finale. Some episodes are unironically fun: "Darkness on the Edge of Town", "Poor Unfortunate Soul" and "Sympathy For the De Vil", but the other episodes are also fun when you just embrace how batshit crazy this whole story is and just enjoy watching how these poor actors are struggling to make something out of the material, and it's just as much fun when they fail as it is when they succeed. "Heart of Gold", the Robin Hood focus episode that reveals the Marian = Zelena twist, is one I have a soft spot for, because between Mader and Carlyle's acting, the scene of that reveal is hilarious.

Overall -  Season 4 is basically the inverse of Season 2. Whereas Season 2 was horribly structured but a lot of strong material in either writing or acting was able to make it stronger than the sum of its parts. Season 4, on the other hand, has a solid structure with two inter-connected story arcs, but the material gets so increasingly shoddy that it doesn't matter. Until Seasons 6 and 7 came along, this was definitely the weakest season the show had to offer. If you don't mind a So Bad It's Good quality, then you should stick with the entire thing. But if you only want something that's actually good, then just watch all of the Frozen material.

[whirlybirdwhat]

East Sea of Monsters - Chapter 16

Zoro has always been different than the rest - with a beast inside his chest that is howling to get out and a connection to other worlds that no one else quite has - but he doesn’t care. (He’s the Demon of the Demon Sea after all)

-

Read the entire series on Ao3 for better quality and authors notes! Gen, creepy, featuring all of the Straw Hats, multi-chapter story. (Tag “Ficart” on my blog should also show some fan art for this fic!)

“The East Blue has a different nickname to those in the Grand Line, and those who hail it as home have a few… unique traits.”

-

Paths - Zoro

In a town such as his, small, mountain bound, and old, there are traditions and rules to be followed. Be polite to your elders, be kind, do not stay out past dark, celebrate Hallowtide, give offerings of blood at the village entrance but only ever your own – and do not fight for the sake of fighting.

Zoro, of course, ignores all of this.

(They say there are many ways to walk about the world, some more dangerous than others. They say that those born on this tiny island have the vision to see them, all of them, the way the world shifts at every touch and the glowing paths of mist that show the way between worlds.)

He walks into to the town, ignoring the cupped stone hands and dagger at the entrance, and searches for the nearest dojo. His clothes are patched and dirty, a wheat straw hangs from his mouth, and eyes dot his limbs, blinking and merging back to skin within an instant. Blood drips from his lips from his latest scuffle, when an uppercut cause the fangs protruding from mouth to pierce upwards. Of course, he hit them back twice as hard.

(They would be known for it – but they are a secluded village, a secluded island, hidden deep within the East. They have walked so many paths between so many worlds, it is hard to know where home is – so they choose to remain stationary. Letting the roots of their souls sink down into the ground, cementing themselves in the earth. Their skin grows stiff and their hair fern like, waving in the wind as they watch the multitude of paths – of strings connecting each plane of reality intersecting into thousands of possibilities. A hand waves through them, and all at once a reality is destroyed)

His feet are barefoot as he walks into the dojo, not out of respect but because he has no shoes to wear. There are bleeding marks along his skin, rocks that dug beneath hardened scales as he tackled his enemy to the ground in his latest scuffle. His pointed ear is pierced – the first of three he hopes – and his sole possession besides his clothes, a single golden earring, lies in his pocket. He can’t find a mirror to put it in his ear. He shakes with every step – his last meal was three days ago, and it was only a bite of bread – but he is determined.

(Zoro, despite being from this particular island, has no vision of these paths between worlds)

He marches up to the dojo, disguises his hunger and hollow face with a snarling grin, and makes the same deal he has made at the rest.

Let me fight your students – If I win, I get a meal and a place to rest my head. If your students win, you can choose what you desire from me.

He has never lost before.

(Zoro has only ever seen one path – golden, gleaming, and right under his feet. It twists and loops and he doesn’t always follow it (where does it start and where does it end?) but it leads him to where he must be.)

He loses.

To her.

(This one path will lead him down the path of greatness, of blood, of death. It is the only path he wants in life.)

He joins the dojo.

(It is the path the planes take him to)

-

Zoro’s different than the other children, everyone can tell. For one – he’s never stationary, unless he’s napping, and his skin does not crawl with bark and roots like the rest of them (though his hair is by far the deepest green.)

He’s different, because there’s a fire in his chest and violence along his claws. Every action has a purpose, and every motion has direction. He’s different, because in the place of roots that grow with the environment is a beast that adapts with the world.

(That conquers the world)

There are shadows along every movement, shadow limbs that follow him (becoming more physical every day), and glinting green scales along every limb that like to merge with the shadows.

Zoro has a hard time figuring out what’s real sometimes (it’s what makes him different, even Kuina can see it.)

-

Kuina’s as strong as an oak, but her father likes to treat her as if she’s a flower. Zoro doesn’t get it as he spits blood from his mouth. She’s strong, stronger than him, so why? Why?

Kuina wins against him for the 2001st time, and Zoro finds a new purpose. He’s not so different, not anymore, and now he has someone to beat.

-

Kuina falls down the stairs, and suddenly Zoro knows why she was a flower to her father.

(But he won’t let that stop him, not now, not ever.)

-

The next years are a blur of training, and a final, final act that separates him from the grown people of this island.

Zoro steps forward, and does not enter the dojo.

Instead, he enters a glade of mist and blood, with golden streams all along. Instead, he steps where one with the vision of kings can only dare see, where red shores tremble underneath soft steps. Instead, Zoro steps forward and becomes lost.

(so very lost)

Its only for a second, but a second is enough before he’s back in the dojo, Koushirou looking at the spot where his pupil, dragon skinned and shadow limbed, just appeared.

“I think,” the man says slowly, like a strong willow tree waving in the wind, “That your place is not here.”

It never was, Zoro thinks, and bows anyway. He has a mission, a promise to keep, and this island, rooted in tradition and katas and sword swings with no innovation or reaching upward, will no longer help him.

But Zoro has never been rooted and the animal (demon) inside him roars with anticipation (bloodlust) as he sets sail into the mist. Zoro does not care, and the sword at his side does not either.

Behind him, the village fades, as if it was never there to begin with.

(Or perhaps, never on the normal plane of existence.)

-

Rumors are fickle things and Zoro has no protest. If people say he is the greatest swordsman in the East Blue, so be it, it just means more challengers.

(He’s only seventeen, how pathetic must these people be by the sword?)

(He doesn’t question the people’s other strengths, like the woman with withering grins and the men who make islands out of footsteps.

He could never fight against them (not yet at least))

The rumors are a way to get to the top.

(Wado Ichimonji is not of this sea, and it does not sing for the dark waters as Zoro does. Still, even a blade as pure as this can become corrupt, and as blood spills over and over and over its gleaming blade, Zoro hears its voice grow darker, stronger, and purer in its darkness. Like a moonless night rather than murky waters.

It is a good contrast – it helps Zoro sleep at night sometimes, when the beast inside his chest will not stop howling)

Occasionally it leads to companions – or once it did at least.

He meets Johnny and Yosaku on bright day on a nameless island. He doesn’t know where he is, and he sure they don’t know either.

“You’re the demon,” They say, and Zoro barks out a laugh. They’re in the East Blue – only cowards aren’t.

All the same, he replies. “Yeah. You?”

It’s Yosaku who answers then, dust falling off his shoulders as he moves and sand pouring out of the holes in his back. “Half – dead. Can you help us?”

“Maybe, if you pay for dinner and booze.”

Johnny smiles, revealing a glint of teeth to sharp and too jagged to be of anything but the depths of the sea and seals the promise.

“Deal.”

-

The year and a half he spends with Johnny and Yosaku is the best he’s lived in all the years he roamed this earth.

They roam the east for what feels like centuries, each day something new. Johnny and Yosaku have the self-preservation that Zoro (hungry for something greater, for a place at the top, a beast inside unsatisfied) could never have and he is stronger than both of them combined - they make a good team, and Zoro hasn’t gone this far without injuries in a long time.  

That isn’t to say Johnny and Yosaku aren’t strong, however, or to say they make the best decisions.

(Yosaku’s of the desert and Johnny is of the sea. They oppose each other in every way but there’s something in the way they move that belies the power that everyone in the East has buried in their bones and blood and what soul they have left.

There’s a time when they stray into the dark waters off the coast of an Island and the soul of it starts boiling and spinning the water into a whirlpool of tremendous might that capsizes their little fishing boat unfit for journeys such as theirs despite the iron imbedded in its hull.

Johnny, agile in the water, is the one to kill the sea snake with a thousand limbs, saving his companions when the water boils with the blood of demons.

(The water remains the same dark hue, despite the blood pouring forth like a fountain from the split in the serpent’s neck. Zoro pours his sake in the water and does not think of the voices in the distance and the shapes in the fog.)

And there is a time that they wander onto land and become trapped in the swirling maze while hunting for a bounty. It is not the first time Zoro has starved nor will it be the last, but it is the only time that it is a purposeless hunger without solution.

(The only time his companions have become faceless and strangers to him – blood and a meal but not friends, not anymore.)

Zoro does not see it, unconscious as he is at the time, but it is Yosaku who chooses to fall into the earth not knowing anyway out (anyway to survive) in order to have a chance to save them all.

He’s the only reason Zoro’s alive today)

But they do make the burning in his chest just that much easier to bear, make the whispers quieter and the blade stronger, don’t they?

-

He leaves them eventually.

He’s always been different –

(a loner, some say, others monster among monsters, alone, forsaken, unwanted-) but this time it isn’t because of his scales and horns and glowing, shadow limbs and disappearing habits.

It’s because he heard Mihawk was two towns over visiting some pirate ship or other, and Johnny and Yosaku never planned to leave the East (few do – they have all heard of the Veil and how it crushes those without Will-).

It’s because Zoro has been trying to get to the Grand Line, to the Greatest Swordsman, for two years now, and he’s so close to the first step to the top.

So he leaves, and doesn’t look back beyond a casual three hand wave.

-

Mihawk isn’t there.

Asura, the name he gave the voice inside his chest, his head, his limbs and blood, (powerful and mighty) rages.

-

Zoro is alone.

(Again.  Why does it hurt this time?)

(At least he has Asura)

-

He misses Johnny and Yosaku.

(But he doesn’t look back – the past is past.)

He cuts down more foes.

-

Zoro find that the limbs that have followed him since birth (shadowy, never quite present, Asura?) are now solid enough to hold a sword. And so are the faces attached to his head.

A step to the left and the world goes blue and black – suddenly he is in a forge of something other, and there are swords in the remaining limbs.

A step to right and backwards, and he’s on a dinghy in the middle of nowhere with plenty of sake in the raft.

He sends a bottle of it to the sea, and drinks the rest before shining his blades.

(He doesn’t believe in gods but he has seen what lies in the depths of the sea.)

-

It takes concentration to will the limbs into being, so it’s a move he reserves for fellow swordsmen of renown.

Not that there are many in the East – instead, most do what Zoro is doing now, and train their natural attributes.

The fangs in his mouth are sharp enough to pierce through dragon hide now (he’s tested) and his scales are like armor (he’s tested again).

He’s alone save for the beast in his chest, but he’s stronger than ever (he thinks.)

-

The gold path that he’s been ignoring since it killed Kuina is sparking at Shells Town. H

He doesn’t care, but somehow, he manages to get stuck there for a month.

Dumb kelpie.

-

A week passes.

Nothing changes.

-

Another week passes.

Nothing changes.

(Asura’s gone quiet.

He’s thankful – Wado isn’t here to balance him out.)

-

On the third week, a boy appears, dressed in red with blood lining his sharp teeth. He’s nothing quite like Zoro’s ever seen, but the blinding gold isn’t there anymore.

Then he’s being pestered by this boy, this wannabe pirate captain, and he doesn’t care anymore.

-

“My name’s Monkey D. Luffy,” he’s says to Zoro after bullets bounced off of him. “And I’m going to be King of the Pirates.”

Zoro smirks and laughs and challenges him back. “My name is Roronoa Zoro and I’m going to be the World’s Greatest Swordsman.”

“Fitting for the Pirate King’s first mate.”

“Son of the Devil.”

“Isn’t everyone?”

-

Zoro’s in a dinghy again, fading into the fog. Next to him is his captain, who promised to let Zoro run him through if he stands in the way of Zoro’s dream.

Somehow, watching Luffy take in the world with glowing eyes, Zoro thinks that won’t happen.

He’s doesn’t feel so different anymore, not before this man with a soul darker than his, and he doesn’t feel so alone either.

-

On the other side of the red line, a pirate shares the news of Axe-hand Morgan’s sudden death at the hands of an upstart pirate with a straw hat – there’s no bounty yet, but Mihawk's curious about the rumors of the Demon of the Demon Sea who follows him.

It doesn’t take long to find out the truth.

[fairytail-multishipper]

Mind Brand

Mentions of murder and abuse! Please don’t read if you are triggered by these!

Author’s Note: This is me, rewriting a character’s backstory, with a dark twist.

I was born on a small farmstead, owned by the noble Heartfilia family.

As far back as I can remember, I was helping out around the farm, milking cows, collecting eggs, washing clothes. But my mother was always reading books. She didn’t care for work, and no one seemed to care enough to make her. She was a beautiful woman with long, green hair, like mine, but she always had it tied by in a tight bun. She wore a long sleeve, gray blouse with a collar and white cuffs at the end, and long, black skirt.

Most nights, someone would come for her in a carriage, and she’d go off into the city, wearing her fanciest clothes. Sometimes she be gone for days. I don’t know what she did, and no one ever asked. The adults around the farm seemed to know without needing an explanation.

For me, that was just life as I knew it. But when I learned to read and write, I started picking up books to imitate my mother, and they taught me just how alone I really was. In all the stories that I read, parents always loved and cared for their children. They talked to them, hug them, protect them, scolded them. I had never experienced any of those things.

One day, I had finished all my chores early, and out of curiosity, I decided to try hugging my mother. I guess I just wanted to see what kind of expression she would have on her beautiful face. I jumped onto her lap while calling out for her, it shocked her. At first, she didn’t react. But she ended up shoving me away from her, with a disgusted look on her face.

It hurt, and my nose started bleeding, but that was the first time my mother had ever acknowledged me, so I guess, it made me happy. I looked up at her with a smile, my hand holding my nose. I remember thinking she might have started playing a game with me, or something like that.

“If only I wasn’t such a coward... I could have killed it.”

Then she just walked away from me, sobbing as she got further and further away. Those were the first words my mother ever said to me, and I didn’t understand them at the time.

She went to live somewhere else after that... I didn’t see her for two whole years. When I asked one of the adults on the farm about where she went, he didn’t tell me anything. He told me that she was better forgotten.

And then, a couple weeks after my seventh birthday, I finally met my father. He told me his name was Jude Heartfilia, and that he wished that we could have met sooner. That man, he was the lord of the land I grew up on, the man who owned the farm. My mother was with him, too. She stood outside the door with a terrified expression on her face.

My father told me that I’d be going to live with him, my mother, and a sister I didn’t even know I had. I was excited. I grabbed my favorite book, and he walked me and my mother out the door.

We were stopped just outside the house, by a group of ten or more men. Two of them grabbed my mother, making her scream.

“The death of your wife doesn’t look good, does it, Master Jude?” The leader said to my father. “Thought you could grab your dirty little secret and the bastard and make it look like it never happened?”

I didn’t know what was happening, but I saw that my mother was crying. Desperate to make her smile, I asked the two men if they could stop hurting my mom, to let her go.

“No!” My mother screamed. “I’m not that girl’s mother, I’ve never even seen her until tonight! Do whatever you want with her, but let me go!”

I was shocked at her words. Why was she saying, I wondered, tightening my grip on my father’s hand.

“Oh?” The leader replied, looking at my father. “I guess its just a coincidence that the three of you are out here tonight, then?”

My father looked at me. His blue eyes looked just like the one’s I’d seen every time I looked in the mirror. They were sad, full of grief and worry.

He pulled his hand away from mine, and told the men that he didn’t know who I was, nor my mother.

Suddenly, the two men holding my mother forced her to her knees and pulled out a knife. It was different from the ones I’d seen in the kitchen. They told my mother that they were here to clean up a mess that my father had made. They told her that, in order to clean up, she couldn't exist. That she didn’t exist in the first place.

“But, my mother is right there! Your hurting her!” I exclaimed. I didn’t know what was happening, but I did know that my mother did exist. She was the most beautiful woman on the farm. She loved to read. She pushed me once. She did exist.

“I’m not her mother!” My mother continued to scream. “Jude, please! Tell them that isn’t true! You have to tell them! Tell them that I'm your fianceé and we’re getting married!”

They held the knife to my mother’s throat as she cried.

“If only, you had never been born! Then I could hav-”

My mother fell limp in the dirt. I can still feel the blood from her throat slapped on my face. I dropped my book. Those were the last words my mother had ever said.

The man with the knife stepped closer to me, saying that they were almost done.

“No,” My father said. “I have an idea, so that no more blood is spilled on my land.”

Moments before I was killed myself, my father proposed an idea. That if I was sent somewhere far away from the Heartfilia clan, under a false name, I could live a new life.

[storytime-hoe]

Tough Love Ch.1

Pairing: Daryl Dixon x O/C

Summary: Story picks up during season three as the group goes into Woodbury to rescue Glenn and Maggie from the Governor. However, they pick up another prisoner of Woodbury, Emma (O/C). She is a thief who fears friendships after her hard losses. She stays on the move, studying communities from afar and then robbing them blind. She has stayed alive this way for a while until the Governor catches her in the act. Now she finds herself with the group from the prison in a mission to kill the Governor for what he has done to her. She plans on stealing supplies from the prison group after the Governor is killed, but she might be growing a little too close to the groups members, especially one man in particular: Daryl Dixon.

Warnings: Slow burn, language, usual twd violence, mentions of abuse/rape

Authors Note: This is my very first fan fiction so please don't be too mean about it. I'm trying… sort of. I am a little rusty so sorry if this sucks. But like this chapter is a slow start but it will get better I promise. Leave some feed back because I would like to improve my writings. Thank you for reading!

I never thought I would reach a breaking point. I always had something to fuel me, to keep me going. Even when my mom died I got through it because I just knew that I had to. Back then it didn't matter how much pain I was in or how tired I was or how depressed I felt, I kept going fucking no matter what. There was a purpose to keep going back then though, someone I was responsible for: my little brother. I would've done anything for him. But when the time for him to go did come, all I did was nothing.

Once my brother was gone I felt a curtain of darkness consume me. For a while I teetered on the line between giving up and seeing how much I could take. But the second I laid eyes on the Governor I think I tumbled head over heels towards giving up.

I held out against the abuse I was put through in Woodbury for as long as I could. I spent weeks shivering in the small shit room he kept me in. The damn Governor used to come in everyday. I became trained to hear his heavy footsteps entering my room. The moment he came in I could anticipate what he intended to do with me that day. Sometimes he just got his anger out on me through beatings. Other times he liked to grope me or make me take off my clothes, letting himself run his slimy hands over every fucking part of me. The day he did more than just run his hands over me was the day I felt myself become drained of my worth. I felt like I was nothing.

I prayed for the end. I wanted more than anything to be taken away from under the control of the Governor, no matter how my freedom would come about. He had broken me, as much as I hate to admit it. But, I had been through hell and hell changes you. It changes who you are and who you would've been. I would never be the girl I once was. I was torn apart from the inside out. I didn't trust anyone anymore; he made me the cold hearted bitch I am today.

I felt like a pitiful animal, huddled up in the empty room, holding onto myself as if that could protect me. My body shook and muscles spasmed from time to time. Blood was starting to crust over and dry onto my lip from my nose. However, the last beating I had taken was not from the Governor. He had ordered his henchman, Merle, to try and get information about that fucking prison from me. The thing was, I didn't have any.

The Governor always suspected that I knew more than I let on. I was a damn snake, that was for sure, and I knew everything about Woodbury before they even knew about me. It made sense that he would assume I know about his rivals at the prison too, but I hadn't gotten to them yet. Woodbury had enough valuable things for me to take at the time.

That's what I do. I stop by communities that people have built up and I scope out everything about them. I learn the ins and outs; I memorize everything about the place from the faces of the people to the sewage systems underground to the amount of provisions they have. When I find an opportunity, I strike. I come in secretly and take what I need to survive. However, I never take more than I need or too much so that they won't pull through from the loss. I pat myself on the back for that. It's nice of me to be thinking of others. It made me feel like I wasn't a total asshole.

I went on thousands of looting missions and had never been caught before, or if I had I was always able to slip away or talk myself out of any real trouble. I was sly as a fox back then. But the day I hit Woodbury, the precious Governor was supposed to be out. I had everything planned perfectly. He was to go out at sunrise with his men to inspect the pits they kept of Walkers. He had a schedule to keep to and he always did, but not that day.

I should've accounted for his whore. I never should've let it slip up. But he stayed in with her passed time to go on his run. He was still in Woodbury and I had no idea. When he found me in the pantry I was too in shock. I tried to shake the bewilderment that he was there. He looked pissed, but he locked away his angry demeanor and quickly talked to me like I was a wild horse that he was trying to tame. The thing is that I was too stubborn to be tamed.

I attacked him with the only weapon I had, a small knife. He knocked it from me after I put up a hell of a fight. I was proud that his nose was gushing blood by the time he had me restrained. His buddies came in after hearing our ruckus and I was knocked out cold. I must've been captive in Woodbury for weeks. I barely had anything to eat anymore. My muscles, which were at one time toned and impressive, were weakening.

The Governor hadn't come to me in a few days. Merle would come in and give me a small tray of molded food, but that was it. He used to stay and talk with me sometimes, just to get some stuff off of his chest. He would talk about his little brother and how they got separated a while back. I felt bad for him at first, but when he came in one day and told me how his brother was seen in the area, I ridiculed him endlessly for being too big of a coward to go after him. Merle liked his happy little life in Woodbury; he had it all here. So when I called him out for his bullshit he got mad and eventually our little chats came to an end. I wasn't surprised, slightly disappointed, but not surprised. I could almost be content with life when Merle would sit around with me and talk about how much his life has sucked. Even if I did hate his guts, anything was better than being stuck alone with my own thoughts to haunt me.

I held the thin shirt I had to me. My pants and shoes had holes worn into them. My hair was so tatted and dirty that I probably looked like a wild animal at a glance. I hadn't cleaned off in a month probably, maybe more.

I was sniffling in the corner, waiting for it all to end, when I heard the gunshots. They were close. Too close. There had to be a fight in Woodbury. My mind immediately thought of the group at the prison that the Governor was so desperate to get information about. They were here, attacking. Everything in me hoped they would put an end to the Governor, but another part of me hoped they didn't. I wanted to kill him for myself.

Multiple shouts echoed outside of my door followed by a spray of gunshots. I flinched before ducking my head down between my legs and hunkering with my hands over my head for protection as dust and pieces of the cheap room I was in rained down on me.

I thought about calling out to them, thinking they might help me, but I couldn't bring myself to do it. I couldn't trust them, even if these people were against the Governor, they might come in and treat me worse than he has. I couldn't risk facing another person like the Governor, or someone who might be worse. I hated myself for being afraid and I hated the Governor for making me think this way now. He made me an untrustworthy monster and I hated the power he had over me, how he had snuffed out any fire in me, how he had caged my soul and thrown away the key.

Just then the door of my room was kicked open with a terrifying force. My heart hammered in my chest. I shook in the corner, staring at the ground and not at whoever was entering, afraid of what I might see. I heard the movement and clicks of their weapons. I knew what was probably going to happen, I just wanted it to happen already. I was ready to go. I couldn't fight anymore. I was done and ready to join those I left behind. I was ready to join my family again.

"Another one of his hostages." The gruff voice was full of disappointment and had a long southern drawl to it.

I still refused to look at the people who were in front of me, but I could feel that there were only two of them present. The figures inspected be from behind their weapons.

"Where's Maggie and Glenn?"

"Do you know where they keep any other prisoners?"

I didn't answer. I didn't know the answers. Just shoot me. Please shoot me.

One of them grabbed my shoulders roughly, attempting to shake me from my vacant state. I looked up into his face for the first time. He wasn't like the Governor, I could tell instantly. He didn't fake anything like the Governor does. He wore no mask of who he really was. He wasn't a bad person, though his actions would say otherwise. He wanted answers; he was eager to find his people. His soft eyes pleaded with me almost, as if they could will the answers from me.

I opened my mouth, but no words came out, only strangled sounds of my dry throat. I shook my head to get the message across that I had no idea where his friends were.

A look of grief and anger washed over him. He released my arms and stormed away, back towards the other man in the room.

"We jus' gonna leave 'er?" The other man asked, his crossbow still pointed at me cautiously.

The first guy stopped in the doorway and ran a hand over his curled hair, thinking about what my fate should be. "Bring her. She might know a few things about this place. Anything can help."

My stomach lurched at the command. They only wanted me for information just like the Governor did and I was willing to bet they would take the same actions against me to get it. I was being used one after the other. I would've cried if I had any tears left in me.

The guy with the crossbow looked at me through his scope. Shoot me.

His fingers twitched around the trigger that would release the arrow into my skull. Kill me.

He lowered the weapon slightly and looked at me with an understanding. I felt the pull of his gaze like a magnet. I couldn't stop myself from looking him in the face. His squinted blue eyes bore into me as I silently pleaded for him to save me from this shit-show. I didn't want to walk out of Woodbury, I wanted to be put out of my misery right here and now. He could tell what I was asking for. I was miserable and he knew that. That's why my heart broke when he grumbled for me to get up.

My brain screamed to sit still. But my legs found the strength to work and I was following him out of the door in seconds. I wanted to sit in my room, refuse to go, then maybe he would've killed me, but I was not risking staying around to chat with the Governor in the aftermath. I had to choose what I thought was the lesser of two evils.

The stranger with the crossbow led me out into the smoke and chaos that now filled the hall. The first man I spoke to was running for the exit with an injured guy hanging from his shoulder. A young girl followed quickly behind them. Looks like they found their friends, Glenn and Maggie.

I followed after them into the streets, having no other choice. We rushed inside a building where Glenn was dropped to the ground. Each breath he took looked to put him in pain. He didn't have a shirt on, and he held his arm cradled against him. Not to mention the blood that covered injuries on his swollen and badly bruised face. I knew who did this to him without a second thought, and Glenn confirmed it too.

"Daryl," he breathed out in pain as his little girlfriend Maggie wrapped a shirt onto him. "This was Merle."

The guy with the crossbow–Daryl–looked at him in almost disbelief.

"He threw a Walker at me. He was going to execute us," Glenn continued, his face a scrunched up picture of agony.

"My brother's the Governor?" Daryl growled out and took a few aggressive steps closer, visibly hungry for more information.

My eyes widened at the statement. Brother. This was Merle's brother that he had talked so much about? Are you fucking kidding me? I almost couldn't believe it. The thought actually almost made me laugh. Merle was a douchebag through and through, but this guy didn't seem too bad at all. Sure he gave off the usual strong headed vibe like Merle, but he wasn't the creep that checked out every pair of tits that passed him. And when he first looked at me in that room, I felt a sense of calmness. The only thing I felt towards Merle was disgust, and occasionally a bitter hatred.

"He's not the Governor," I offered, my voice a croaking mess from not being used in so long, and they all turned to me, making me shift uncomfortably. It was the first time I had spoken in days and I barely recognized my own voice as I did. "Merle's his right hand man. The Governor's an even worse piece of shit then him, believe it or not."

Daryl seemed torn as he paced around, his mind whirling with mixed thoughts and emotions. "Does he know I'm with this group still?"

"He does now," Maggie said, the venom dripping from her words. Looks like she hated Merle almost as much as I did.

"Rick, we told him where the prison was. We couldn't hold out." Glenn's face twisted with pain again.

"Don't be sorry," Rick said and got up to glance out the windows, his eyes flicking around wildly, surveying the area. "Can you walk?"

Glenn nodded as he was helped to his feet by Maggie.

Daryl swallowed hard and stepped towards the door, ready to take off into the streets again. "If Merle is 'ere I need to see 'em." The eagerness in his voice was unmistakable. My heart lurched out for him. I knew that if the brothers' positions were switched, Merle would be sprinting out of here without a second thought for Daryl.

Rick put a hand on the door to stop Daryl from leaving without thinking clearly. "We need to get out. We are in hostile territory."

"Maybe I can talk to 'em. Work somethin' out."

I shook my head. There was no way Merle loved Daryl like he claimed to if he stayed back in Woodbury all this time knowing his brother was a few miles out in the prison. I felt obligated to tell Daryl that, to help him out and make him realize that Merle was not who he wanted him to be. Daryl was the first person to look at me like I wasn't scum on the bottom of their shoes. When he found me, his gaze might've been filled with sympathy for me, but now our positions were switched. My heart broke at the sight of him distraught over his brother, someone he loved so much, when Merle would never feel the same.

Good thing was that I didn't have to be the one to talk him out of it. Rick did the job for me. "You're not thinking straight. They are hurt and we need to get them back. If we run into Walkers or if the Governor catches up to us? I need you. Are you with me?"

It was strange how much Rick looked to care about Daryl. He was the kind of brother that Daryl deserved, not Merle. I hoped he could see that. I don't know why I cared so much about people I didn't know. Maybe I was feeling that my own brother could have, or should have, found someone better than me? If my brother found someone like Rick to take care of him maybe he would still be alive.

Daryl gnawed on his bottom lip with hesitation. I could see him debating in his mind what his next move would be. He glanced at the floor and back up at Rick. I stood behind Rick's shoulder silently. When his eyes flicked over to mine it was almost as if he were reading my mind again. It was a mistake to go after Merle right now and we all knew that. I was relieved to hear him mumble an agreement to Rick as he looked back down at the ground.

Rick nodded back at him and turned to me sharply, pressing a bowie knife in my hand with a cold look of warning to stay in line. I stared back at him blankly, not letting him read my emotions. Daryl tossed out a smoke bomb and the streets of Woodbury became a sight of chaos and gunfire in the matter of seconds.

People were dropping dead from gunshots that looked to have come out of nowhere. The rush of being out in a fight and danger again coursed through my veins. With each breath I felt a part of me returning; it gave me hope. I felt almost okay again. Maybe the Governor hadn't shattered me completely.

Despite how weak my muscles felt from the amount of time I sat dormant in a cell, I was overtaken with an urge to get revenge. My skin flushed with the anger I felt towards the Governor and, even though I didn't know everyone in Woodbury, I hated them all too. Walkers were flashing across my sight of vision in the clear patches in the smoke. I stood still and watched it all happening around me, drinking in the screams of the falling.

A Walker spotted me from within the smoke and he was slowly coming for me. My sweating fingertips felt around the handle of my knife. Part of me wanted to let the Walker eat me, but I was too stubborn to go down this easy anymore. I refused to be taken down by a Walker. I stared it in the face, daring it to come closer. It did, inching towards me and snapping its teeth in my direction.

It was close enough for me to reach out and touch it when its head exploded all over me. I didn't even flinch as the blood and rotting insides of the creature coated the front of me and the blood ran down my face from my hair. My eyes focused on who was behind the Walker that had killed it. I was shocked to see Rick, who had been so harsh to me earlier, had gone out of his way to save me, not that I needed saving. He held out a colt python in which were his means of killing the Walker. He had a crazed look in his eyes. His head tilted ever so slightly and I found myself looking away from him and for Daryl to save me from his mad friend. However, the archer was nowhere to be seen in the midst of chaos.

"Rick!" Glenn yelled from on top of a truck just before he jumped down to the other side of the wall.

Rick turned his attention away from me for only a second so he could respond to them. Soon enough he was glower at me again. The look he gave me told me this was not someone I wanted to mess with. His crazed eyes were message enough that he would do anything to protect the ones he loved. I understood that. There was a time when I had the same look and feelings as he did. That was a long time ago, back when I still had people to care for and vice versa.

"We have to go. You're coming with us."

Everything about him made me want to run, but I found myself nodding at him. He said before he would need me if I could tell him all I knew about Woodbury. If I could help take Woodbury down I would, even if it meant working with a fucking maniac.