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spookyserenades · 2 days ago

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Sanctity - Chapter Two

Pairing(s); BTS OT7 x Reader

Genre/Themes; Vampire!AU, yandere!AU, horror, themes of the supernatural and mythology, historical topics, vampiric powers, religious themes, violence, romance

Rated; 18+ for swearing, violence/gore, toxic behavior including stalking, torture, and manipulation, future sexual themes. Reader discretion is strongly advised.

Word Count; 20.3k

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WELCOME BACK! I love you all. I'd like to highlight some warnings here for this chapter straight off the bat: there are major dub-con moments in this chapter of sexual nature. Multiple character deaths, suicidal thoughts, abuse, and quite a bit of graphic gory scenes are included in this update. Please know this is a work of HORROR FICTION as well! This got especially macabre because it's like ice age in New England LMAO. I hope you all enjoy this update and kisses from yours truly, Dana <3

WARNING! There are instances of DEATH, gore and dubious consent. This work of fiction does not remotely reflect members of BTS in reality. The boys are written to be toxic in Sanctity (yandere). Please be warned if this is triggering to you.

Previous Chapter // Next Chapter

How much time passed, Y/N did not, nor would she ever, know. Bit by bit, the first thing that returned to her was her sense of smell– something thick and smoky filling her nostrils, maybe an offertory incense blend from the chapel. The second sense was her hearing, and still expecting the Sanctuary’s bell tower to wake her up, her body went stiff when she heard old-timey music and several different male voices. Shit– the next thing she was aware of was her recent memories.

Eyes flying open, she was laying down on some kind of upholstered settee, still wearing the velvet mini dress from dinner, which was almost hiked up around her hips. Horrified and woozy from both her blood being drained, multiple glasses of wine and liquor, and her state of exposure, she sat up abruptly. Staring down at her freshly polished toes, bare and lacking the fancy heels she was wearing earlier, Y/N froze at the sound of her name being called while she pulled her dress back down, her mind jumping to a conclusion that one of them actually touched her while she was unconscious.

“Finally awake? You’d think after that meal, you’d at least be able to stand on your feet once Seokjin bit you. He hardly took anything,” Jeongguk approached her first, holding a cue stick and staring down at her with a smirk. He had ditched his sports jacket, the first few buttons on his white shirt pulled free and his tie hanging limply around his neck.

Scrambling to a fully seated position, Y/N saw that her shoes were nowhere to be seen, and she had been carried by someone into the billiard’s room adjoining the space where they had dinner. Perhaps one of the vampires removed her shoes so she couldn’t use the stilettos as a pointed weapon. Sick to the back teeth of being teased and manipulated, especially when she felt her neck and wrist throbbing and saw how perfectly healthy Jeongguk had become after drinking her blood, her eyes narrowed nearly shut.

“I’m sure it was the fucking wine glass he slit my wrist into was what prevented me from having normal goddamn footing,” Y/N fumed as best she could with a completely dried-out throat, Jeongguk’s smirk widening and showing his teeth at the outburst.

“What a filthy mouth you’ve got, ma chérie,” Hoseok teased through laughter, all while leaning over a massive pool table and aiming his cue at a white ball. The new nickname from the ex-pirate, whatever language it came from, had her feeling belittled and repulsed– even if Hoseok’s drawl was soulful and spellbinding. It was as if in her slumber, she had managed to grow an even stronger spine.

“My name’s Y/N, not whatever you just called me. Not pet, not ‘little girl,’ not ‘dove’. If you’re all going to torture me, at least afford me the favor of not patronizing me,” Y/N stood, making sure to make pointed eye-contact with both Hoseok and Jimin; the latter of which was lazily draped on another settee across the room with a cordial glass and a lit cigar.

“Ah, true colors. I hoped you were as meek as you pretended to be yesterday afternoon, but it seems my initial suspicions were correct. How tiring,” Seokjin was by the fireplace, not sparing her a glance as the flames illuminated his side profile. He appeared to be the only one with his suit still flawlessly intact, one of his hands buried in the pocket of his slacks while the other braced his weight on the marble mantle.

“Who carried me in here?” Y/N ignored Seokjin, trying to find her shoes. For some reason, her bare feet on the marble had her feeling more vulnerable than her disheveled dress.

“No one violated you, girl,” Seokjin snapped, all while ignoring her request to remove pet names from his vocabulary. The fog of Jeongguk entering her mind and offering up her secret thoughts to the eldest vampire made Y/N wince, spurring her foolish outburst to go beyond the reach of her control.

“That wasn’t my question,” Y/N’s hands balled into fists, so blind with rage and the instinct to battle for her life that she snapped. “Stay out of my head, you!”

Y/N all but spat at Jeongguk while pointing at him, the young vampire still wearing that infuriating grin, Y/N storming past him with her feet slapping against the Italian marble to confront Seokjin. Again, a part of her was screaming that Jeongguk could be her kin as he watched, with his youthful appearance– the only thing that had her storming by was the demonic color of his irises.

At first, she was blasting by the youngest vampire and barreling towards Seokjin, however, a palm covered in buttery leather wrapped around the base of her throat that stopped her in her tracks effectively, harshly. Met with cold, glowing red eyes, Y/N could hardly crane her neck up at Namjoon towering over her, Seokjin sighing from behind Namjoon.

“If you must know, pest, I brought you in here. Watch your tongue and know your place,” Namjoon’s fingers flexed against the sides of her throat, dark hair in his eyes when Y/N felt the rush of blood in her arteries frantically trying to find a place to go. Paired with the sting of the leather rubbing against Seokjin’s earlier bite, Y/N heeded Namjoon’s warning and nodded as best she could just so he would let her go.

“Did you not see what Namjoon-ah could do during dinner? If his power can affect Jimin that strongly, what do you think it can do to you?” Seokjin cut in softly, snapping his fingers once. With the sharp sound that contrasted the vampire’s dulcet tone, Namjoon released Y/N’s throat immediately, leaving her to double over and gasp for breath. “Let’s make one thing clear. You can curse at us as much as you please, but do not think you are above being punished for rash actions. I can promise you, I am not a merciful man– Namjoon-ah even less so.”

Y/N felt defeat again, the spark of rebellion in her extinguished thoroughly. The shiny black shoes and pressed pants in front of her seemed blurry, Namjoon towering over her like a steel wall. When she could straighten up again, Y/N flinched at the vampire’s expression: hateful, but the mean smile on his face created sweet little dimples on his cheeks, which contradicted just about everything else about the vampire. His expression, in the best translation Y/N could come up with, was someone contemplating just how to tear another piece by piece with relish.

“Will you drain me dry like your last acolyte?” Y/N rasped, addressing Seokjin but still staring straight at Namjoon, as if one small movement from her would have him lunging.

Hearing Jimin’s light snickering from across the room did nothing but heighten Y/N’s humiliation about being put in her place once more. Glancing at him, she spotted Yoongi in the corner, a sketchbook in his lap and apparently not paying any attention to the spectacle. Also disinterested was Taehyung, leafing through a newspaper and puffing on a cigar he was sharing with Jimin.

“Maybe,” Seokjin hummed, letting Namjoon fall back into the shadows beside an old phonograph still playing age-weathered music. “Maybe not. Behave, and there’s no reason to fear for your life.”

“She wants to shorten her sentence, Seokjin,” Yoongi finally interjected, fingertips covered in inky charcoal. Darkly, Y/N thought that perhaps Yoongi might be the one with the most sense, and that wasn’t saying much.

“Ever play pool, Y/N?” Hoseok asked suddenly, injecting enough snark into the girl’s name rolling off of his tongue to have her grimacing.

“Doubt she’s ever even played checkers, Hoseok,” Jeongguk replied, yanking his tie dangling over his shoulder and tossing it on the floor. While leaning over the table to take his own shot, Y/N’s vision focused on the lean, hard-muscled frame Jeongguk had: the thin button-down he had on strained against his toned arms and his sides as he lined up the pool cue between his index and middle fingers. Namjoon aside– there would be no way she could ever be a match to Jeongguk alone.

“Is it permitted for me to retire now?” Y/N spoke through gritted teeth, muscles in her legs twitching when the petty side of her personality threatened to theatrically curtsy. Distantly, Jeongguk’s mouth corner curled up in amusement– catching the mental image she conjured.

“Say goodnight first, won’t you now?” Jimin trilled, voice curling seductively over the mosaic ceiling, and right when Y/N thought that she had recovered from Namjoon’s chokehold, Jimin was casting another deeply-rooted spell on her. “Taehyung has a question, don’t you?”

Taehyung. The one who so casually dared to impersonate someone close to her, to pretend to be Joseph. While she dreaded nothing more than even looking at the very vampire, Jimin’s roots were so quickly penetrating her bones she found with horror that she was no more than a puppet on a string for him.

Not even seconds later, Y/N was stumbling over her own bare feet to get to the seating area where the two young vampires were– Yoongi still off to the side, Taehyung lowering his newspaper and passing the lit cigar to Jimin. While hyper aware of Jimin’s hold on her, Y/N’s attention was conquered by Taehyung’s intense, stony expression. Clearing his throat, the shiny gel that was previously taming his midnight waves during dinner was cracking, leaving piecey curls hanging in his face.

“Tell me, now. Was my answer sufficient?” Taehyung began, tracing his pointer finger over his moistened lower lip, almost cherry red in color thanks to her blood affording him a complexion.

Y/N’s eyebrows knit in confusion, every nerve in her body pulsing with a dim throb the longer Jimin kept her docile and hypnotized.

“Huh?” Y/N’s eyelids were heavy, so she found herself batting her eyelashes more frequently than she normally did. “I didn’t ask you anything.”

“Master Taehyung was referring to his reply to you during dinner. Was his reply more or less something ‘Joseph’ would say? Was it enough, dove?”

Jimin was staring at his nails, one of his trim shoulders slipping out from under his loose shirt collar, and Y/N– to her mortification– immediately thought that the garment had become quite useless, so why was Jimin even bothering to keep it on at all? To deepen her mortification, an amused snicker coming from Jeongguk had her wishing the stained glass lamp above him would come loose and sever his head from his shoulders. Jeongguk’s laughter only became louder when reading her murderous thoughts, the sound of it lively and boyish– not the laughter of a lethal creature.

Y/N paused, rewinding her memory to dinner. At that time, she really believed that her friend Joseph had been permitted to visit her. Like a bucket of glacial water dumped over her head when realizing her own naivety, she also realized it wasn’t just Jeongguk who could reach into her mind– Jimin could do it, Seokjin could do it and share the way into her head with everyone else. Jeongguk wasn’t laughing anymore.

“Joe– oh. You, I suppose. You said something about never forgetting me and writing frequently, no?” Y/N, under the puppet strings Jimin was using to keep her steady, was able to study Taehyung’s face with rapt interest; her rational self locked away in some dark corner of her mind. “I think that’s when the coherent part of me sensed something wrong. Joseph hates writing letters, and he’d never talk so sentimentally. Yeah, we were close, but like cat-and-mouse siblings.”

“Still, hyung. Jeongguk mentioned he could not accurately understand the girl’s thoughts at that moment. It seems… peculiar,” Namjoon’s voice, all velvet, filled the room, addressing the eldest vampire still watching the flames in the fireplace.

“Peculiar? No. The most sound theory is that her thoughts were too animal and stupid for Jeongguk to hear, Namjoon-ah,” Seokjin wasn’t fond of entertaining mysteries or anything that required him to put time and energy into, particularly if the subject matter surrounded a human being. “Forget it. We always deal with issues promptly, and I’m not deeming the girl’s slow mind an issue yet.”

“I suppose I can’t blame myself for not knowing what your acquaintance would say word for word. Jeongguk only had time to go through a handful of memories.”

Y/N didn’t like Taehyung’s dry, holier-than-thou attitude. He had zero decency to look her in the eye, rather looking through her and down his nose. Y/N sensed he was the type of man who had never heard the word ‘no’ in regards to anything.

“Things have to happen in a timely manner, Y/N, you see? Everything is about timing– that is something I’ve learned again and again– Jeongguk had about half a second to comb through your mind before you would dissolve into complete hysterics. Complete hysteria from you, you’d have a drunk pirate giving you something worse to cry about,” Taehyung continued, giving Hoseok a deliberate, uninterested look when mentioning the ‘drunk pirate’. Hoseok wasn’t paying attention, too busy chalking up his pool cue to bother participating in the conversation.

For a moment, all that Y/N could hear was a whooshing in her ears as Jimin’s hypnosis began to withdraw, her body promptly trembling with exhaustion as she stood before Taehyung. His tan suit, perfectly pressed, complimented his skin tone now that it was darker, his complexion probably resembling the healthiest peak of his human life. The gray veins over his temples were gone, and there were moles here and there splattered across his face.

“That’s all… hmm, Jimin. Why don’t you call up to the second floor to make sure the human’s chambers are prepared for the night,” Taehyung gave Y/N one last cursory glance before plucking up his newspaper again.

Y/N didn’t even hear Jimin waltz his way to an old-fashioned intercom system, murmuring something seductive into the device while his shirt began to pool around his elbows and expose nearly his entire chest and back. She only tuned in when she felt bizarre about standing in front of Taehyung so clearly dismissing her, a spark of hope at the idea of the privacy of her bedroom making her abruptly turn on her bare heels.

“Awww, Juliana. That won’t do. Make sure her sheets are heated, too,” Jimin purred, Y/N getting the feeling that he was purposefully trying to prolong her time spent in the billiard’s room. “There will be a frost, come morning…”

Y/N separated herself from Taehyung’s proximity, trying to edge her way to the closest door, but unfortunately it was the one that was being watched by Namjoon still cloaked in the shadows. As she tried to look for an escape while hoping Jeongguk was distracted to notice her plotting, Y/N silently began to shuffle sideways.

Not that she got very far– as soon as Y/N reached a leather ottoman halfway to an unguarded door, she yelped when she lost feeling in her legs and promptly crumpled onto the piece of furniture. Her arms tried to brace her fall, but those limbs, too, were limp and refusing her brain’s command to move herself.

“Nngh, ow! W-what?! What’s happening to me?” Y/N panicked, voice shrill and bouncing around the lofty room. Her body was completely limp, unable to flinch away even when someone began to arrange her legs by parting them, her dress riding up the back of her thighs again.

Ascertaining who was touching her sans-permission was impossible, due to the fact that her cheek was squished against the ottoman and her line of sight was limited to a glass case filled with cigars. Humiliation licked Y/N’s skin with white-hot heat, no doubt in her mind the scrap of lace covering her modesty was somewhat on display as she was shaped to be bent over the ottoman.

“Stop, s-stop, please. I can’t move—”

“Silenzio,” a deep, gritty voice was mere inches from her ear, the foreign word close enough to silence for her to get the hint. The record that was playing on the gramophone began to crackle, the needle scratching the label and needing to be flipped. “Stay put.”

“Like she can help it. You’ve paralyzed her,” Hoseok scoffed, trying to hide the fact that he was getting off on beating Jeongguk at their game of pool. It was looking like Hoseok would be driving Jeongguk’s Mercedes around town come morning.

Paralyzed. Y/N had not a semblance of an idea of what she had done to cause offense to Yoongi, who was carding her hair over her shoulders methodically, but all she could do was lay there helplessly. His fingertips were warm on her forearm when he draped tresses over her waist in a sensual position, even going as far as to adjust how her fingers were splayed over her hip.

“Master… master Y-yoongi…?” Y/N’s breath came out choppy, her diaphragm somewhat crushed thanks to her awkward weight distribution against the ottoman.

“Noisy,” Yoongi murmured to himself, detached. Rolling his eyes, Hoseok set his cue down, approaching Yoongi and his current model with his hands on his hips.

“If she’s so noisy, paralyze her face. You’re a complainer who hates solutions,” Hoseok watched while Yoongi gingerly stretched one of the girl’s arms out so it was hanging off the furniture.

Yoongi would go on and on about how he was capturing ‘yearning’, but to a vampire (and former buccaneer) who stole art for value, the girl was being positioned to get fucked against the ottoman. Pushing a hand through his hair, Hoseok snorted to himself. Now that he had a sufficient, consistent nutrient source, he could visit the girls at the cabaret again. It had been far too long since a woman had been under him and his mercy.

“To paralyze the face would make the subject unworthy of being painted,” Yoongi replied plainly, like it was a practiced response, and with emphasis on his words the artist ever so slightly turned the girl’s head with a loose grip on her jaw. Her eyes were squeezed shut, and pretty crystalline tears gathered in her eyelashes, eyeliner smudging perfectly. It was like Yoongi’s lucky day.

“You’re an odd–”

“Hoseok. Let Yoongi be done with it so she can leave,” Seokjin cut Hoseok off before he could start a cock fight. Jimin was already shivering with excitement at the idea of a dramatic altercation, and Seokjin caught it before he’d have to discipline him again.

“You’re an odd immortal,” Hoseok ignored Seokjin, though physically, he retreated. That was good enough for Seokjin, who kept one eye on the younger vampire returning to his rum and billiard’s game.

All the while, Y/N locked herself away in her own head. Perhaps, if she could reach some kind of meditative state, she could compartmentalize. The best she could do was focus on keeping her eyes shut so she wouldn’t have to look at the vampires for a second longer, and the sensation of tears dripping down her cheeks.

“Are you resurrecting your proclivity for lewd portraiture, Yoongi?” Namjoon commented, straightening up at the sweet scent of hopeless tears, greedily soaking up the sight across the room. “That original collection of yours remains your finest work.”

From where he was, he could see the arch of the girl’s back jutting her hips backwards, and in consequence, and the fleshy curves of her ass cheeks were just exposed enough to reveal lace between her legs. Namjoon, with amusement, knew that if he got just a little closer, he’d be able to smell her.

“I wouldn’t coin that as lewd, Namjoon, just sloppy and lacking all of Yoongi’s former risk. It must have been some time since you have lain with a woman,” Jeongguk disagreed, aware that he was toeing a very thin line between a cold scoff from the elder vampire or experiencing his molten wrath.

Namjoon, in a rare moment of mercy, hardened his expression, tearing his gaze from the apex of the acolyte’s thighs. The leverage that Jeongguk caught a perverted thought coming from Namjoon was enough, apparently. On the other hand, the youngest vampire was enjoying a morsel of information he pried out of the girl’s mind seconds prior all to himself, just for that moment: the acolyte did not mirror dirty thoughts that the coven was having. In fact, the more Jeongguk sifted through her memories, he realized with delight that she didn’t know the feeling of her own arousal– yet. Maybe Yoongi had observed that, keenly taking it upon himself to milk her confused, humiliated response.

“Give Yoongi a month. He’ll have that acolyte stripped down completely and posing face down, ass up by then.”

Electric, enticing fear zapped through Y/N at the blithe, unflinching prediction that came from Seokjin out of the blue, and the scent of it triggered a heavy spill of lust to settle over the room. Jeongguk could feel it, and he knew his elders did too– though Seokjin was the picture of nonchalance. Jeongguk couldn’t think of a time when Seokjin preoccupied himself with pursuits of the flesh over the last century, therefore hearing him speak with plain vulgarity was jarring.

“I’ll have to sit in on that session,” Jimin purred, hanging up the intercom with a grin. By then, he was aggravated with his infernal top, letting it fall from his elbows and pool to the floor in a heap.

In a flash, he was behind Yoongi, eyes sweeping over the charcoal sketch the elder vampire was working on. Yoongi’s hand moved so quickly across the paper, it was almost impossible to track. In fact, Yoongi had already sketched four different versions of the scene in front of him and used up an entire box of charcoal. Yoongi, with aggravated sigh, set his sketchbook down and tossed the empty box of charcoal across the room and into the roaring fire. Jimin, slyly, leafed through the sketches, comparing each to the actual model, a flirtatious impressed hum leaving his chest.

“You should see these, dove. If you had wings, they’d be broken…” Jimin caught her eye, his posture stiffening at the tear her teeth made into her lower lip. He knew she was incredibly frightened, though he couldn’t help it, he wanted to up the intensity; the reward was far too tempting. Turning on the charm again, Jimin started to stalk towards her with one hand on his belt.

“N-no!” Y/N whimpered pathetically, immediately thinking the worst when Jimin began to get closer. No matter how hard she tried to squeeze her thighs together, she couldn’t curl in on herself like she wanted to. “Oh, please–”

“‘If you had wings, they’d be broken’. God, is that how you made your fortune in theater and movies?”

“Hoseok, you still haven’t read Jimin’s plays? Or seen one of his films at the cinema?” Jeongguk spoke through chortles, really starting to feel the nourishment of the acolyte’s blood in his body. He felt alive again.

“Usually sleep through ‘em, or I’m getting blow–”

“Yoongi, release her from Paralysis if you’re finished. Hoseok, head to the cabaret if you wish to keep drinking and whoring,” Seokjin finally moved away from the fire, his expensive loafers clicking against the floors.

Jimin was only a few feet from Y/N, the vampire half-clothed and eager to rile her up a bit more before Seokjin could spoil the fun. To Jimin’s surprise, however, Y/N’s fear spiked acutely when Seokjin appeared, the eldest vampire kneeling beside her and blocking her view of him. With Seokjin so close, so suddenly, and fearing his status, Y/N’s tears came faster.

“Please, just please! I just want to go upstairs! I d-don’t– I don’t want to…” Y/N broke down, and with Seokjin’s request to lift Paralysis, Yoongi watched as his power left her and the girl began to shake like a newborn fawn. Seokjin pinched the bridge of his nose. “Master S-seokjin, please, I want mmph–!”

Seokjin pressed his palm over the young acolyte’s mouth, half to shut her up, half to somewhat cover up the scent of her bloody lip. It was a charged situation– one he had complete control over, of course– but keeping the peace was important to Seokjin.

It was abhorrent to him that he needed that nuisance of a little girl, one causing so much unrest, as he scanned the ruined makeup running down her cheeks. Though, the vitality thrumming through him and the rest of the coven was undeniable, thanks to her. Seokjin was about to call for the acolyte’s maids, lips dropping open, when she made things infinitely more dangerous.

Since she had never been paralyzed by Yoongi, her body didn’t know how to come down from his influence. With her desperate pent up energy, unable to engage in fight or flight, once her shivering dissolved, Y/N’s limbs began jerking. With Seokjin’s hand still over her mouth, her back arched in order to get air to her crushed diaphragm, and instinctively, her thighs snapped shut.

However, something unexpected struck through her when her legs pressed together, something she could only describe as warm and aching, and it caught her so off-guard that a strangled, confused moan left her lips and was muffled against Seokjin’s palm. A primal and unfamiliar urge had her wanting to chase that feeling, Seokjin’s surprised, wide eyes in front of her had the throb return, if not for a second– her hips squirming against the ottoman eagerly.

Studying him through watery eyes, Y/N felt like she needed to light a candle to Seokjin’s beauty, the jitteriness that came with Yoongi releasing her from paralysis causing her to seek out stability. Her index finger curled around Seokjin’s blazer cuff as if to anchor herself. It felt like minutes, but it was likely seconds, where every vampire in the room froze completely, not a whisper of sound following her muffled mew.

“Astonishing,” Taehyung broke the silence, setting his newspaper down and getting to his feet. Things took an interesting turn, for once.

“Do not,” Seokjin commanded, but a breath though still firm. Y/N fidgeted, attempting to moisten her dry lips but only managing to give Seokjin’s palm an embarrassing kitten lick– which had him recoiling and pressing his hand more harshly against her face. “Control yourself, acolyte.”

Y/N didn’t know what that meant. Sure, the raw fear was still there, vehement hate flooding her body when Taehyung entered her line of sight, but the seductive drag of his fingertip tracing over her fragile shoulder blade elicited another unsure whimper.

“P-puh-mm,” Y/N switched to pleading again, wanting to jump off the great cliff where the mansion was settled beside more than ever. Seokjin’s gaze hardened, his throat bobbing.

“Seokjin, come on. Look at her!” Hoseok was positively delighted, spotting arousal pulsing between her legs from miles away– not to mention smelling it. “Moaning and crying like a bitch in heat.”

“Enough,” Seokjin barked, though the demand was strangled.

Do not speak a word.

The eldest vampire’s voice cut through the fog in Y/N’s head urgently, and at once, he removed his hand from her face. With absence, he wiped the blood from her torn lip on his pristine pant leg, Y/N breathing heavily from her mouth now that it was free.

One word from you and I’ll leave you here with the young ones.

That was a dark enough threat from Y/N, though with mortification, she thinly whined at the thought of Seokjin making good on his promise– mistake. Bonelessly, she started to lift her torso from the ottoman, her skin hot and tacky, all while each vampire in the room tracked her every movement.

“Is she going to get sick?” Yoongi remarked with disgust, tucking his sketchbook away. He was decidedly ready to paint; and yes, it would be something to toy with the flustered acolyte, but capturing her misery would end up being more erotic to him.

“She doesn’t know what she’s feeling,” Jeongguk revealed blandly, smugly, leaning one of his trim hips against the billiards table. “She wants– probably you, Seokjin, to touch her, but she’s too dim to know that.”

“So all of that ‘purity’ propaganda about Sanctuary acolytes is true? They’re clueless virgins?” Hoseok had to swallow a great laugh, almost pitying the mortals.

“Just like the old days… Most girls had not the slightest idea what happened in the bedroom,” Jimin contributed to the conversation, an unsettling edge to his voice that had Y/N sniffling.

Jeongguk began to fish around in her head more intensely, but Y/N felt her cheeks grow hot while her thighs squeezed together in pulses. Reading the acolyte’s thoughts, he hummed wickedly at the girl wondering what was so bad about being compared to the Virgin– the revered mother the Sanctuary worshipped.

“She’s untouched,” Jeongguk revealed, Hoseok’s interest piquing sevenfold. Eyes glowing, Hoseok was standing beside Taehyung in a flash, a forearm resting on the younger vampire’s shoulder. Venom was flooding Hoseok’s mouth as soon as he caught a whiff of the wetness beginning to seep into the acolyte’s underwear, and Taehyung was thinking about all of the ways he could break her.

Again, Y/N had no idea what the vampires were talking about. Nor did she know what was happening to her body, her skin sweaty and hyper-sensitive, and she couldn’t bear to look away from Seokjin. He looked like he was thinking very hard, red eyes sweeping over her body struggling to release what was building up inside of her. It took every ounce of strength she had left, but Y/N managed to struggle off of the ottoman, rocking backwards on her bare heels to a kneeling position. All the while, the finger curled around Seokjin’s jacket turned into a fistful of desperate fabric, the eldest vampire’s breath catching in shock over her sheer audacity.

“Help, it h-hurts,” Y/N whispered, throat dry. Beginning to come to the conclusion that coming down from Yoongi’s paralysis was what was making her feel so raw with nerves, she tried to plead with Seokjin despite his threat to leave her with the young vampires– the ones looking at her like she was dessert. “Master Seokj-jin, please, I want to–”

“Fuck?” Hoseok cut the acolyte off helpfully, filling in the blank that she was unaware existed. Things were spiraling out of control, and Hoseok was so entertained by Seokjin’s patience hanging by a thread that he decided to take things up a notch– perhaps finding out if he could elicit more of her slick to ruin her underwear. “A virgin begging for cock like a slut. Soaked pussy just from a few simple touches and words.”

The foreign, husky words from Hoseok had Y/N’s pulse quickening, humiliation licking her skin. To add to her mortification, she felt something wet rolling down one of her thighs, and when she looked down between her legs, she squeaked in alarm. With her free hand, shakily, her fingers swiped through the slick thinking it was sweat, but when she brought her hand up to take a closer look at filmy strings coating her digits, all hell broke loose. Seokjin cursed, sending out seven different mental commands– with additional forceful suggestions for staff that was still working– but even that wasn’t enough, so with a borderline bone-crushing embrace, Y/N was caged in his arms and as far away from the youngest vampires as possible. Jeongguk, Taehyung, and Jimin stared hungrily at the girl, trembling like a lamb, edible.

“Hoseok, I told you if you wanted to fuck like a rutting animal, go see your whores,” Seokjin’s voice was loud, furious, and Y/N couldn’t breathe in his arms. Despite her acute fear and dislike for Seokjin, Y/N’s body reacted on its own, pressing backwards against his strong chest for protection. “Leave, Hoseok. Yoongi, this is your doing and there will be consequences. Remove the fledglings from the room. Go.”

There was no space to argue with Seokjin. His covenmates hadn’t seen Seokjin so enraged, not for decades, and before Jimin could pout and add fuel to the flames (or sink his teeth into the delicious acolyte), he was torn from the room with Yoongi’s grip around his wrist. One by one, in a split second, Yoongi collected the youngest vampires, and Hoseok was long out the door with the cabaret set as his destination.

Once the immediate threats were gone, Seokjin all but shoved Y/N out of his reach, the girl caught by someone else before she could hit the floor. Nearly collapsing into his weight completely, leather gloves slipping over her dewy shoulders, Y/N at least knew who was touching her this time. That time, too, she realized she didn’t mind Namjoon touching her. After a prolonged period of time absorbed with Seokjin’s presence, Y/N was ashamed to admit that Namjoon could steal it effortlessly. Namjoon, like Seokjin, was infuriated; Y/N could tell by the way his jaw clenched dangerously.

“Get her out of my sight before I do something I’ll regret,” Seokjin spoke through his teeth, but the volume of his demand was deadly quiet. The sound of it had a tingle rolling down Y/N’s spine, her skull still throbbing from Jeongguk sifting through her past, and Y/N thought that she might faint again. “Exercise restraint, Namjoon-ah.”

Surprise flickered in Namjoon’s eyes. Seokjin, normally, would have had him using Pain Illusion on the acolyte for her little stunt– even if she couldn’t help it.

“Hyung?”

“I have calls to make. Take her upstairs,” Seokjin pushed a hand through his short choppy bangs, and he disappeared like he never was there in the first place.

Y/N winced when Namjoon tightened his hold on her with purpose, his expression turning rock-solid. The throb between her legs didn’t grow any weaker. Namjoon’s nostrils flaring, Y/N’s fear returned when a cold grin spread across the vampire’s face, his sharp fangs on display. However, if it weren’t for the fangs, Namjoon had one of the loveliest smiles in the world, and that broke Y/N’s heart, distantly. The vampire cocked his head and misread her train of thought.

“You’re absolutely terrified of me, aren’t you?”

Y/N’s head snapped up to make eye contact when Namjoon spoke, realizing her attention was lingering on the shape of his lips. Going rigid when the vampire stooped low, he got a firm hold of her naked calves. With one swift movement, Y/N was hoisted into the air and slung over Namjoon’s bulky shoulder. The immortal speed made her nauseous, a strangled sound coming from the back of her throat, one gloved hand squeezing the arm slung over his opposite shoulder, and the other cupped over the sensitive backs of her knees. Not allowing her to recover at all, Namjoon had the girl inside of her bedroom before she could take a breath.

“Do not make me ask again, woman,” Namjoon cruelly dropped the girl from his hold only to pin her to a nearby wall by her hip. She groaned, Namjoon noting that if he applied just the slightest additional force, he could shatter her hip bone.

“I need to s-sit down… where is N-nadia?” Y/N managed to get out, at war with how to answer him and praying furiously for someone to save her. She was having a primordial reaction to everything that had happened, and it was sapping the energy out of her. Namjoon snatched up one of her forearms in annoyance, the limb like a twig under his leather gloves. “No! Ow, no, I mean y-yes!”

Y/N could not take it anymore. She was hot, cold, contorting in pain and shivering with something else. She offered the truth. Sure, she was scared, but there was something else that was nameless to her. Was it… curiosity she felt?

“No? Let me offer you some advice,” Namjoon tsked, briefly wishing he could look into her mind like Jeongguk. “Don’t lie like that to Seokjin. Next time, he’ll have me skewer you.”

Y/N flinched, remembering the sword Namjoon had strapped to his back, and the fact that he was once commissioned to cut people down. His smile returned, scenting the dread pressing down on her.

“See? Though, didn’t the butler tell you not to reveal your fear?” Namjoon ignored the venom that was pooling on his tongue, swallowing it quickly so he could keep up the taunts. Seokjin didn’t want to punish the human, but Namjoon wanted to. “Now we know what fear does to you.”

The girl was blinking at him, which had the immortal pausing. She was fixated on his mouth again, which caused a snarl to rip from behind his teeth.

“What are you looking at? Are you so consumed by lust that your brain has melted?” Namjoon paired his words with a vicious yank of her arm, the hand on her hip moving to pinch her jaw. The back of her head hit the wall, Y/N crying out and completely powerless to self-preserve. “Tell me what you were staring at.”

“I don’t want to.”

Namjoon, in all his years of dealing with acolytes, had never encountered such a stubborn one. It had something dark possessing him, the thrum of her frightened pulse a stark contrast to the song her body was singing. Then, when he realized how close he had brought her wrist to his face, Namjoon caught the acolyte’s arousal still clinging to her fingers and acted on a baser desire that he hadn’t experienced in centuries. With one last pull, the acolyte’s fingers were in Namjoon’s mouth, the girl squealing in surprise.

“What are you doing?! That’s d-dirty,” Y/N cried, Namjoon’s wet tongue curling around her digits, his gaze still menacing and unfeeling. She dissolved on his palate, and with a quiet groan, Namjoon realized that her arousal tasted just as good as her blood. “I, hngh–”

Y/N focused back on Namjoon’s lips, which is what got her in that situation in the first place. Pursed around her soaked digits, she felt one of his fangs scrape against her index finger, and she pictured his smile in her mind again; the polar opposite to the demonic expression he was wearing at that moment. Perhaps, if she told him what she was looking at, he’d finally leave her alone.

“Please! I was just admiring your smile!”

Whatever Namjoon was expecting the acolyte to say with her fingers nearly down his throat, it wasn’t that. Almost as if she dumped water over him, Namjoon’s eyes glazed over, his grip growing just weak enough for Y/N to pull her hand away from his mouth and fangs. Catching her breath, Y/N used his distraction to slip away, ducking under his arm. She knew that she wouldn’t get very far; indeed, Namjoon was quick to grab her by the back of her dress, the material tearing slightly with the force.

“What did you just say to me?” Namjoon, for the first time to Y/N’s ears, spoke softly. The vampire, appearing to be unseeing, scanned her face, and Y/N almost got the feeling that he was seeing someone else in front of him.

“I-I mean, you scare me, but when you, um. Your smile? It’s–” Y/N gulped, relieved that whatever was making her body produce what Namjoon had sucked off of her fingers was beginning to subside, pure exhaustion and defeat gripping her instead. “Beautiful. It’s beautiful, makes you less s-scary. I’m sorry if that offends you! Master Namjoon, but please, can you let me go?”

Y/N’s pleas barely had effort behind them. Bone-deep fatigue and confusion had her bedroom fading in and out of view, and all she desired was the down quilt on her bed to sink into. Soaking in her response, Namjoon released the girl, ancient memories coming back to him and making him promptly turn on his heel. He needed to come to his senses– the dim acolyte was not the woman in those memories, no matter that those precise words had only been spoken to him only once before, under very different circumstances. He was at the door before the human could collapse onto her bed, still aroused and uncertain.

“One more piece of advice, acolyte,” Namjoon, still in the same, low tone, spoke. “Rather, a warning.”

A muffled, sad little moan came from Y/N, who was turned away on her side. She hadn’t even bothered to clean herself up, ignoring the uncomfortable sensation of the air hitting the damper areas of her body and the dull agony of her fresh wounds.

“Innocence is a dangerous thing to possess around a vampire. Wise up, or you’ll be swallowed whole.”

Y/N was sick of hearing things she didn’t understand paired with threats, so she offered no verbal acknowledgement to his stupid advice. Not that Namjoon stuck around, the door shutting and leaving Y/N finally, finally alone.

Her elation over that fact was temporary. A metal tinkling sound coming from where Namjoon was just standing had her eyebrows furrowing, something heavy sliding into place resolutely. That was when Y/N bolted upright with horror, the movement opening the punctures created by Seokjin’s earlier bite.

Namjoon had locked her into the bedroom from the outside.

“You reek of cum,” Taehyung, irritated that the elder strolling into the office was late, unbathed, and had a lace bralette hanging out of his suit pants. Taehyung, bitter venom filling his mouth, stuffed his pocket watch back into the pocket of his suit vest. “Abhorrent.”

“No showers at the cabaret. Let’s get this over with,” Hoseok shrugged, not as eager to prolong a dramatic meeting of the minds after he had fucked his way through the showgirls all night.

“Sit down. I’ll make this brief,” Seokjin was all business. He spent the better part of his morning jumping down Yoongi’s throat, the artist still literally licking his wounds– tongue swiping over a bloodied– thanks to the acolyte– and torn lip.

“Where’s Namjoon?” Hoseok interrupted Seokjin, realizing the immortal that filled any room with negative energy was absent. “You’re agonizing over my lateness, Taehyung, but not his?”

“Namjoon-ah and I will talk after,” Seokjin’s temple throbbed, using a handkerchief to clean the blood from one of his rings that cut into Yoongi’s lip.

It was a gloomy, dark morning. The sun had barely even risen, so the low sources of lighting in the already moody office came from lit sconces and the fireplace. Jeongguk, by the window, tracked droplets of water coasting down the glass plane. With immortal eyes, he could detect the warps and imperfections in the hundred year old glass. It was far more entertaining than getting chewed up by Seokjin. Absently, the youngest vampire rolled up the sleeves of his cream colored sweater, caught off guard by the healthy caramel glow to his skin in contrast. He must have been walking around like a specter for too long, without a good donor.

“Yoongi has been told to keep his work to his bedroom. From now on, if he wishes to have the acolyte model, it will be contained to that space,” Seokjin began, giving Yoongi a scathing glare. Yoongi’s mind was elsewhere, the front of his button down stained with blood and muted pigments of paint.

“Well, that doesn’t seem so bad, hm? You aren’t going soft, are you, Seokjin?” Jimin, a touch tipsy from the night before and dressed in nothing but a patterned silk robe, was leafing through a first-edition copy of one of his early plays– something Hoseok collected years ago, apparently. “Hoseok! Where did you get this? You don’t even have the decency to read my tragedies, but you are comfortable stealing valuable copies?”

“Ah. That was from some gout-ridden aristocrat’s collection when we docked in Jamaica–”

“Last night will not be repeated,” Seokjin cut through the idle, infuriating chit-chat, Taehyung appearing just as relieved that the eldest was moving things along in a timely manner. “I will not allow this coven to be reduced to a pack of animals simply because of a human. I do not care if she is a tempting muse to you, an entertaining plaything, or a virgin to defile. No one is to touch the girl unless to feed.”

The silence would be considered unsettling by anybody, mortal or otherwise. Yoongi was the only one who wasn’t absolutely bewildered by the strictness of Seokjin’s order, considering he had already been briefed during his beat down. Normally, the head of the coven would let the six younger vampires toy with their acolytes as they pleased, indifferent– but not that time around.

“How are we to feed without touching her, Seokjin? Are we koi in your royal garden, waiting for you to decide when our next meal is? You had the first bite. Before now, you didn’t take issue with us having our share of fun with the acolytes,” Taehyung frowned, hands in the pockets of his suit curling into fists. “Perhaps Seokjin has decided to return to how we fed when I first joined the coven,” Jeongguk offered softly, Seokjin nodding in the slightest. A dismayed harrumph came from Jimin, who was rolling his eyes and pulling a mother-of-pearl comb through his raven hair.

Jeongguk began to remember his early days as an immortal, head tilted, and tried to flick through Seokjin’s head in curiosity. He was met with the usual iron wall that surrounded it. Seokjin raised a manicured brow, Jeongguk’s gaze returning to the window.

“So… That’s all well and good. But why are there layers to this? Yoongi can arrange her into Kama Sutra positions but we aren’t to touch her point blank?” Hoseok wasn’t exactly broken up over the fact that he wasn’t to touch the acolyte, just annoyed with the special exceptions.

“You are being dull on purpose,” Seokjin sang blandly, leaning back in his leather chair. “I meant none of you are to engage in anything sexual with her. Fledglings– and immortals with no self control, such as yourself, Hoseok– do not do well entangling themselves with acolytes such as… Y/N.”

“Such as ‘Y/N’? Elaborate?” Taehyung politely requested, leaning against the door of the office. His office, really, the one he built for his summer holidays a century ago, he noted with mild bitterness, smoothing out his tweed suit with precise pats. At wit’s end, Seokjin put his head in his hands, so exasperated he cursed in his ancient native tongue.

“Her innocence and purity draws you in like a moth to a flame, I realize that, but I’m tired of applying for new acolytes. Two things are of greater importance that deserve my attention. First, I refuse to let you all revert yourselves into baser creatures thus tarnishing our reputation, which directly affects the second pressing matter. This week, the gala we are hosting with Berwind. Everything has to go smoothly.”

“... So, we can touch her. Just not–”

“Spare me, Hoseok,” Seokjin’s voice was hoarse, strained, and he had dealt with more tumor-inducing conversations in the past 24 hours than he had in decades. “Push her around if you want, I don’t give a shit. Do not try to seduce her.”

“But she thinks we’re all so handsome,” Jeongguk murmured, half amused, half kicking the hornet’s nest. “That’s like asking us to walk around with satchels over our heads.”

“All humans think we’re handsome,” Jimin countered, bored. He’d find it an insult worthy of death if the girl didn’t revere his beauty.

“Stop whining and do as I say. You all have work to do before the gala. Taehyung, have Edmund fetch Namjoon-ah,” Seokjin snapped, the scent of mortals filling the room and making him cover his nose and mouth with a delicate palm to block it.

“Alright, ‘boss’. Let’s see how long these new rules last,” Hoseok let his fangs drip with venom. He despised being ordered around, but the benefits of remaining in the coven and under Seokjin’s protection outweighed the cons. Seokjin usually came around, especially once the human would begin to get on Seokjin’s bad side. “I’m taking a bath until dinner.”

“That means he’ll be piss drunk again,” Jeongguk pointed out, once Hoseok had ditched the room, and Yoongi slowly rose from his seat.

Yoongi had been fiddling with a filbert paint brush during the entire conversation, mind solely focused on the painting he had spent the whole night working on. As he began to excuse himself from the room, Jimin caught a hold of the tail of Yoongi’s untucked button down. Often, he’d let Jimin watch him paint; Jimin wrote screenplays while Yoongi would stretch canvases in peaceful silence. Yoongi, paying no mind to his younger covenmate, used the filbert brush to pin up his shoulder-length paint-caked locks with a fledgling anchored to the back of his shirt.

The artist was rather grateful Seokjin hadn’t torn into him as much as he could have– Yoongi chalked it up to good behavior and keeping to himself for the better half of the last century. Sure, he was agitated that Seokjin warned him to keep the Paralysis to a minimum, which was a nuisance, but perhaps it would be an artistic challenge for him. With a melodic hum, Yoongi licked the last of the blood off of his lips, eyes glowing when he and Jimin both left the office quietly.

Though, Jimin was quiet for other reasons. Like Hoseok, Jimin was a spiteful vampire. The young acolyte already proved to be the brightest spark of entertainment he had seen from humanity since Old Hollywood, the excessive comparison floating around in Jimin’s lofty mind making Jeongguk dread the upcoming few days. With that, Taehyung and Jeongguk considered themselves dismissed, Seokjin only getting a moment to recover from the theatrics before launching into somewhat of a show himself.

“Namjoon-ah, come in, please,” Seokjin, hand still dragging over his face, hadn’t the slightest explanation for Namjoon’s lapse in judgement the previous night. The sting of betrayal from somebody who quite literally died for loyalty, sacrificing his very soul, was so strong it had even Seokjin’s chest tightening.

The doors swung open, Namjoon’s powerful strides bringing him into the office in less than three steps. Unfortunately, the human girl that was ushered into the room behind her had Namjoon freezing, carmine eyes narrowing.

Y/N, who had been scrubbed utterly raw by her maids that morning as per Seokjin’s request, was currently entirely under Seokjin’s influence. From the moment her eyes opened at dawn, Seokjin could sense her panic from the bedroom above her– and to prevent any further nonsense, he mentally Compelled her to be nothing but his temporary puppet. Namjoon, as if he sensed he’d be in some hot water that morning, had his sword strapped to his broad back, his large gloved hands settling over the leather belt strapped around his hips.

“Hyung. I felt you were too lenient on her,” Namjoon began, the picture of confidence. It elicited a low chuckle from Seokjin, torn between being too fond of Namjoon and ready to exact his punishment without mercy.

“Okay, little acolyte. You can sit now,” Seokjin released Y/N from his spell only after she absently perched on a seat on the opposite side of the mahogany desk. Sucking in a deep breath, he waited for the girl to start babbling stupidly.

“OH! You,” Y/N’s fingernails cut into the upholstered chair she sagged into, one hand shooting up to the back of her neck urgently, her outrage focused on her former mental captor. If Jeongguk’s power crushed her skull, and Jimin’s bruised her marrow; Seokjin melted her very spinal cord.

“You too, Namjoon-ah, sit.”

Namjoon’s jaw worked, Seokjin staring at him through his dark curtain of eyelashes and waiting for him to ultimately obey. He always did.

“I did what I thought had to be done. She’s completely unharmed,” Namjoon impulsively came up with a half-baked excuse, Seokjin pausing with a cocked head in his palms to remember that not so long ago, Namjoon was one of the fledglings too.

“What!? Not true! Y-you! He! He locked me into the room!” Y/N exploded, pointing angrily at Namjoon like an unruly child.

“I know.”

“You’re angry I locked her in? We do that to all of the acolytes,” Namjoon scoffed, suddenly wishing he had just shown the human to her early grave when she cursed at him under her breath.

“I’m angry that you went over my head. This is unlike you, Namjoon-ah,” Seokjin projected the scene of Namjoon taking the acolyte’s soaked fingers into his mouth into his mind, from Namjoon’s very own perspective. Namjoon swore, thinking Jeongguk deserved his neck wrung for daring to use his maddening mind-reading on him.

“Excuse me. Did you just say you lock in all of the acolytes?” Y/N spluttered, body sagging into the chair even further when she realized Seokjin didn’t care she was imprisoned overnight. She was ignored by both vampires coldly.

“You’re going to punish me.”

“No.”

“No?” Namjoon leaned back in his seat, settling an ankle over the opposite knee, again drilling holes into the side of the human woman’s face with a glare. None of the arousal that clung to her the night before was evident, just a cocktail of edginess and despair. “Then what, Seokjin? I’ve proved my loyalty. Perhaps I had too much to drink.”

“You’ve proved your loyalty,” Seokjin repeated in agreement, rising from his seat with his hands clasped behind his back. “Which is why I’m giving you a new task. Around the clock.”

“Okay,” Namjoon drew out the syllables of his response, Y/N wiggling in her seat like she wanted to bolt. Why was she even there? When Namjoon thought he knew Seokjin’s every move, he was proven otherwise time and time again. It must have been instinctual for an eternal crown prince to keep his subjects on their toes.

“The gala we’re hosting for Edmund Berwind is just the first of many this winter,” Seokjin began to slowly pace around the intimidatingly masculine office, Y/N comparing him to a lethal black snake circling its next meal. “Last night aside. Besides myself, Namjoon-ah, you hold the most power in the coven. This winter I have to play politics and I will not have time to make sure this acolyte stays alive in order to sustain us.”

Y/N shuddered, not needing to be a vampire to feel the electric tension steadily climbing to a fever pitch. Namjoon, pearly dust coating his tongue from grinding his teeth so intensely, fiddled with the hilt of his sword, eyes liquid red.

“What do you need from me, hyung?” Namjoon stared at Seokjin’s back, turned to him and the acolyte by a large bay window. Namjoon wondered if Seokjin was taking any pleasure in drawing things out.

“Namjoon-ah. Since you seem to take a particular interest in the little girl, I imagine that to a vampire with weaker restraint, she’s a duck sitting in a pot of potatoes and leeks,” Seokjin began, head turning slightly so Y/N could gape at his flawless side profile– his lips, nose, and long lashes were highlighted by early morning light.

“Particular interest–?”

“You’re to be her bodyguard.”

Again, there was a ghostly silence, one that Seokjin relished in. The girl was still somewhat loopy from him controlling her all morning, but Namjoon’s outright shock had Seokjin humming.

“Bodyguard? Seokjin hyung, you know I respect you. Jeongguk was a former bodyguard. He is more suited for the job. I do not want to be near this woman,” Namjoon protested sharply, unaware that that was the precise reason Seokjin selected playing bodyguard as punishment for Namjoon. Y/N, in similar fashion, recoiled and clutched her roiling gut.

“Jeongguk is the youngest fledgling,” Seokjin quickly replied, as if Namjoon was daft to even suggest such a thing. “Jeongguk also has the mind of a stunted teenager. He has tenderness that lingers. He cannot be tasked with something like this, not yet. You are to watch the acolyte and make sure she is not only protected from our guests, but the rest of the coven as well.”

“This is a test.”

“This is a warning, Namjoon!” Seokjin hissed, spinning around. “Remember yourself. Wake up, and do your job. Give me her bedroom key.”

Seokjin, in a blur, was standing above Namjoon, a palm dangling in front of the younger’s face. Namjoon’s fangs flashed, digging around in the pocket of his slacks, and offered up a gilded skeleton key with grave reluctance– almost like it was his death sentence. Smart enough to realize that she had absolutely no irons in the fire to protest, Y/N numbly watched Seokjin fashion a necklace for Namjoon out of a fine spool of wire produced from the desk, one with the key to her bedroom dangling as its grand pendant. Namjoon, still as ever, held his breath when Seokjin dropped the necklace over his head.

“Take her to the Sanctuary to pick out acolytes for Saturday evening. Bring Jeongguk to weed out the weak of mind,” Seokjin upped the ante by sending Namjoon on an errand with the acolyte, the addition of Jeongguk monitoring his thoughts no doubt sending Namjoon into murderous rage. “Keep your hands to yourself and your mouth shut, acolyte. Go.”

Dismissing the two, Namjoon’s power crackling like electricity over his knuckles, Seokjin leaned a hip on the desk, plucking up the landline receiver. Y/N’s mouth was agape at the mention of the Sanctuary– the run-down Gothic cathedral a place she never knew she could miss, but did, desperately.

While processing the possibility that she might get to see her friends once more, even if it was just to give them a proper goodbye, Y/N was yanked upwards by the back of her sweater. Namjoon had a fistful of her wool collar in his glove-clad fist, the vampire so enraged by his newly appointed ‘job’ that he didn’t even have words of malice in his vocabulary to spit back at Seokjin that could encapsulate it.

“I can walk,” Y/N righted herself with a scoff, shockingly cognizant despite everything that had already happened the first hour she was awake. Namjoon let go of her sweater, his striking face twisted up in disgust, tearing from the office like his heels were on fire.

Y/N adjusted the fit of her sweater, swallowing down her trepidation. Many things became clear to her, as she eyed Seokjin speaking to someone on the phone in a lilting foreign language. First and foremost, she had just become the most well-protected acolyte in the nation with Namjoon as her bodyguard. Second, Seokjin had not only inadvertently confirmed how necessary her well-being and survival was to not only the entire coven, but to himself as well. Y/N accepted that fear would always be there, and she’d endure moments of humiliation like she had the night prior. She’d experience pain and psychological torment. But she’d survive.

“아니, 창덕궁은 아니고–” Seokjin’s eyes flashed, angry that the acolyte was gawking at him like a dolt and not following her newly appointed bodyguard. He lowered the phone from his lips slightly, snarling a threat. “Get going, little girl, before I bite you again.”

Scowling, Y/N cupped a palm over the punctures he left in her neck, barely covered by the cut of her sweater’s collar. The vampire was still barking into the phone when one of the staff members began to shut the office doors behind Y/N, his voice carrying into the hall.

“내 생각에는 경복궁이 우리의 필요에 더 잘 맞을 것 같아요–”

The grand wooden doors cut off Seokjin’s dulcet tones effectively with a hollow clang, and paired with it, three maids surrounded her in a flurry of winter hats and coats to bundle her up.

“Oh, Nadia–” Y/N gasped, a friendly face appearing before her at long last. Her maid fastened a pair of fur earmuffs over Y/N’s head securely. “Please tell me you’ll be coming along on this errand!”

“Afraid not, Miss. Typically, I would join you, but with the gala preparations this week, I must send you with a list to take to the market. The masters will accompany you on the way to the Sanctuary,” Nadia gestured to the large ballroom overlooking the sea, dozens of staff members on their hands and knees scrubbing the marble floors. “You’ll have a merry time at the market this time of year, Miss. I’m sure the masters will treat you to a hot drink.”

Y/N thought diamonds raining from the sky seemed more likely than Namjoon or Jeongguk willingly purchasing her a treat, the latter of the two vampires unfortunately coming into her view when Nadia led her to the mansion’s front door. Y/N hadn’t seen the youngest immortal since Yoongi escorted him from the billiard’s room the night prior. Y/N’s heart was doing something funny in her chest at the sight of him, like it was taking dips and tumbles in the cavity, Jeongguk’s cream-colored sweater giving the vampire an almost innocent appearance.

“Nadia, don’t you have a scarf for the acolyte?” Jeongguk ignored the desperate desire to use Telepathy on Y/N, who was reluctantly waddling over to him with a pout on her small mouth. “It’s important for human women to keep their thyroid warm in the winter.”

Y/N coughed back an incredulous laugh, not believing for a single second that Jeongguk truly gave a rat’s ass about her thyroid. If anything, the comment gave her the creeps, shattering the angelic image he was falsely projecting.

“Yes Master Jeongguk, I have this cashmere–”

“Give it to me, Nadia,” Jeongguk cut the maid off, crooking a finger at Y/N and beckoning her forward. He snatched an oversized scarf from Nadia with graceful finesse, wrapping the material around his palms.

Y/N was at the point, so early in the morning and already tired of games, that she simply slouched her way to the captor summoning her without putting up a fight. Besides, Namjoon was probably around the corner, and Y/N knew she was pretty much invincible with him as her ‘bodyguard’. She could endure some teasing from Jeongguk, she told herself, as she anxiously focused on the faint scar on one of his cheeks.

“Here you go,” Jeongguk was murmuring pleasantly, beginning to wind the scarf around Y/N’s neck. While stiff, she maintained her composure, not wanting Jeongguk to get the best of her when he started tucking the ends of the scarf into her coat’s collar. “All bundled up, there you go.”

“You don’t have to do that.”

Y/N’s cheeks burned, sincere words coming from Jeongguk tainted by a condescending cadence. Without thinking, she brushed his knuckles away from her jawline, Jeongguk snickering and limply dropping his hand to his side.

“Developing an attitude problem now that you’ve become Seokjin’s princess?” Jeongguk stooped, his large doe eyes sparkling with youthful mischief. It made Y/N’s heart act up again. “Even Namjoon’s to be waiting on your hand and foot. Pretty nice setup, huh?”

“Isn’t it too early for this?” Y/N squinted, backing up several paces so Jeongguk’s sweet breath wasn’t wafting over her face anymore. “Sure, I have an attitude. Wouldn’t you?”

“You know, you’d make a fairly interesting immortal,” Jeongguk crossed his arms over his chest, broad back resting against a solid pillar by the front door. Y/N couldn’t hear it, but Namjoon was tearing up a training room in the basement just below their feet, picturing the martial arts foam dummy down there was the acolyte he was eviscerating with his sword.

“That… sounds like a threat. Or a death sentence,” Y/N squeaked, never considering the possibility that she herself could be turned. Jeongguk’s face split into a grin, picturing the girl frozen in time forever, pure and skittish, her eyes like rubies.

“It’s two sides of the same coin, Y/N. It’s a threat, and it would be a death sentence,” Jeongguk, all but purring, watched the wheels turn in her head. She was confused once more, her weight shifting from foot to foot. While the fledgling enjoyed her nervous response to his presence, he realized, with a frown, that the acolyte seemed to find him the most approachable amongst the coven members. He’d have to change that, swiftly. “Don’t you know how vampires are made?”

“I don’t wish to know,” Y/N quickly shook her head, striding to the grand front door in order to get a move on with the dreaded errands. Besides, Jeongguk looked far too eager to describe something unpleasant.

“Well, to start. We’d have to drain you of almost all of your blood,” Jeongguk disregarded her, not that Y/N was surprised, her fingernails scraping against the front door when thunderous footsteps pounded up a stairwell just beyond Jeongguk’s shoulder. “You’d be dying. Before you’d take your last breath, however…”

“We’re going,” Namjoon stormed by Y/N and the taunting fledgling, Y/N gulping audibly when she saw the sweat rolling down his temples and the unsheathed sword in his grasp.

Finding it the perfect opportunity to leave Jeongguk and his gory stories in the dust, Y/N made haste after Namjoon, the length of her coat’s skirt collecting dust and moisture from the previous night’s storm.

“Get in the back,” Namjoon jutted his chin towards the cushy black sedan she remembered seeing the day she met the vampires, the car already running and filling the air with silky looking exhaust.

Clamming herself up, Y/N obediently slid into the back seat of the sedan when Namjoon yanked the door open for her, a mew of awe leaving her when she landed on the soft leather booth. Taking in the cabin, Y/N traced over the vents closest to her, the glossy wood buffed to a bright shine.

“Oof–” Y/N grunted, a heavy object tossed over her lap. With a shriek, she shoved Namjoon’s sword off of her and onto the floor, relieved that it was sheathed but horrified that she was anywhere near it. Namjoon slammed the door shut, cutting the chill that was coming from outside, the sheer force of the action jolting the car around.

“Put that on the seat next to you. If you had any idea how much that was worth, you’d be kneeling on a chapel floor until you bled,” Namjoon was suddenly in the seat directly in front of her, not even turning to make eye contact when he addressed her.

With trembling hands, she lifted the sword, the scabbard made of a black lacquered wood, urgently placing it as far away as she could. There was a blood red tassel hanging off it, the strings somewhat frayed with time, and engraved inscriptions along the sides of the scabbard that Y/N could not read.

“Hoseok fucked with my seat again,” Jeongguk dropped into the driver’s seat, his fast movements a blur as he adjusted his mirrors. “You never let me finish, either, Y/N.”

Y/N wished she could go back in time and smack herself for insisting on the vampires calling her by her actual name. Something about a deadly creature knowing and using that particular intimacy felt wrong, Y/N nervously biting her lip as Jeongguk turned to pull out of the carport. Flashing his fangs at her, Jeongguk paid no attention to Namjoon burying himself in some boring book about martial arts to distract himself, the girl shrinking into her scarf for feeble protection.

“When you’re drained, taking your last breath… one of us could either kill you or wait for you to die,” Jeongguk switched the radio on, quiet hip-hop pulsing through the expensive speakers in the cabin. “Then you have to be fed.”

“What are you even talking about? How can you feed me if I’ve been murdered?” Y/N narrowed her eyes, wondering if Jeongguk thought she was slow.

“One of us would feed you immortal blood, and it would revive you as an immortal yourself. A fledgling,” Jeongguk went on as if she hadn’t poked holes in his tale, the iron gates at the front of the property swinging open to a wintery, meticulously paved street.

“Why on earth would we ever turn that pest?” Namjoon murmured blandly, the sound of his leather gloves rustling against the pages of a book again sparking Y/N’s interest. It appeared that Namjoon never actually took those gloves off, for some elusive reason. “Can’t we carry out this task in silence?”

Jeongguk chuckled, but knew not to push his luck. Namjoon was one toe out of line from taking his frustrations out on bystanders at the market, which would be a pain to clean up. He settled into his seat and rolled down the windows, his skin sensitive to the elements with the acolyte’s blood nourishing it. As cool rain ran over his forearm, Jeongguk smirked to himself– it was only a matter of time until Jimin would be requesting pints of the acolyte’s blood to dump in his nightly bath. He was ripped from his thoughts of Jimin bathing in a marble pool of crimson when the girl actually dared to speak, almost mocking Namjoon’s final comment.

“Why on earth would I ever want to be turned? I’m already chained to you for the rest of my human life. To be trapped with you in immortality would be an eternal hell that I would have no escape from. Not even death would be kind to me.”

“Hosting parties here in the winter is something I never envisioned during construction,” Taehyung wound the silver chain to his pocket watch around his wrist, a line of maids brushing by with armfuls of holiday decorations. “It was intentionally designed for summer parties, keeping outsiders out.”

“You’ve mentioned that before, Master Taehyung. Especially during the winter holidays. You must detest them,” Edmund managed to keep up with his immortal employer by breaking into a near jog, scratching down a list of to-do’s as he went. The old butler had a weight lifted off his shoulder that morning, the acolyte off-property and out of the lion’s den, at least for a while.

“The loggias open to the lawn and gardens. They’re useless in the winter. We should be hosting in the New York townhouses,” Taehyung continued to complain, using the butler as a sounding board.

“Shall I order the evergreens today?”

Taehyung sighed, his delicate nose wrinkling up as he imagined the sappy, pungent smell of Christmas trees permeating through his estate. From where he was in the great hall, he could simply tilt his head just so, and with vampiric vision he could make out every brushstroke painted onto the ceiling fifty feet into the sky. Similarly, his hearing picked up every whisper from the servants in the hall, their heartbeats, and the continuous ticking of his pocket watch. Passing a hand over his gelled curls, Taehyung resumed his lap around the first floor.

“I suppose. I cannot believe Seokjin put me on decorating duty. He can be such a… prince,” Taehyung frowned deeply, mulling over how he had managed to get himself in that spot.

Sure, Taehyung was still a ‘fledgling’, but he was older than Jeongguk, who was actually permitted to take the acolyte on a trip to town with Namjoon. Classic Seokjin, showing favoritism for both the youngest vampire and the second-in-command. It made Taehyung want to spit venom onto the floor, but he always considered himself a gentleman, so he swallowed it down with a wince.

“Like the holidays, Master, you seem to detest town, too,” Edmund, with mild amusement, made sure to prioritize Taehyung’s preferences for the decor– if he didn’t follow the businessman's directions to the letter, there would be cruel and unusual punishments. “Perhaps he was sparing you from the throngs of people asking for your audience.”

“Do not kiss my ass, Edmund,” Taehyung peered down through his thick lashes, hands stuffed in his pockets. There was no bite to his words, Taehyung actually appreciating Edmund’s discreet and meticulous work over the years, but he still had to maintain his immortal authority. “Seokjin picks punishments that create a slow torture, ones that unravel a person. I didn’t do too much to offend this time, but I still have to handle ‘festivities’ when I’d rather focus on the business.”

“I heard…” Edmund’s cerulean eyes darted around the hall before he and the fledgling reached the secluded grotto beneath the marble staircase. “Namjoon has been appointed as a sort of bodyguard to the acolyte.”

“Wherever did you hear that, old friend?” Taehyung grinned maliciously, stooping to get a good look at the elderly human. After years of being worn down without losing his mind, Taehyung didn’t mind that Edmund possessed an agenda, as long as it wasn’t conflicting with his own. “Eavesdropping again?”

“Simply trying to get up to speed on how things will be working from now on,” Edmund, even with his years of service, always preferred to deal with the vampires when they had recently fed, their appearances closer to humans than the ghoulish, starving versions of themselves. Presently, Taehyung appeared like a healthy young man that stepped forward in time from the Gilded Age. “You don’t mind filling me in, do you?”

“Namjoon cannot tolerate humans, especially ones that lack the intelligence of the world. Being a bodyguard to one is the ultimate punishment for him, so he must have royally fucked up somehow. Jeongguk is the only one who knows how Namjoon fucked up other than Seokjin, which is why he’s driving Namjoon around. Insult to injury. That, and Seokjin is testing Jeongguk’s self-control, which will wear thin quickly.”

Taehyung knelt on one knee, dipping his hand into the chest pocket of his vest. Using a Prussian blue handkerchief, the silk slippery when he used it to polish a spot of marble making up the basin of the grotto beneath the main staircase.

“Forcing Yoongi to paint without Paralysis is torture for him. Being barred from playing his little games is no doubt leading up to a spell of hysteria from Jimin,” Taehyung folded the handkerchief with care, then tested the febrile water bubbling in the grotto with a satisfied hum. “As for Hoseok… Well, he escalated things with his vulgarities last night. Seokjin’s response was to send him to local churches to keep up on our donations.”

“Which leaves dealing with the cabaret to you,” Edmund, though considered to be ‘old’ for a human, was quite sharp. Taehyung hated many things: tardiness, interacting with extroverts, dealing with party planning, but most of all, Taehyung despised lowly human perversions.

“Come sundown I’ll be at a cattle auction hosted in a brothel,” Taehyung grunted, straightening up and trying to hide his surprise that his limbs moved so fluidly. “No use in fighting it. Seokjin is manipulative, but it is how we have stayed powerful for so long.”

“Manipulative? That is one of the kindest ways you have described me in decades, Taehyung,” Seokjin, melting into the crooks and nannies of the vast estate, made his presence known, the head chef cowering behind the eldest vampire. “You’ve hardly finished coordinating decorations. You wouldn’t have to traipse around the red-light district after sundown if you lit a fire under your ass.”

“Are you implying that I’m lazy?” Taehyung scoffed incredulously, Edmund excusing himself to ‘order the evergreens’. “The greatest businessman in history. Lazy?”

“The greatest businessman in American history. You still brag about your achievements like a petulant child of nepotism,” Seokjin glanced at the clipboard the head chef was holding with trembling hands, pointing at something and clicking his tongue. Taehyung felt his skin rippling, like Glamor was trying to turn him into a demon with leathery skin. “Leave the rest to Edmund and just go to the cabaret now.”

“Hoseok usually handles the cabaret. What am I even supposed to be negotiating in that cesspool?”

“You’re supposed to be picking out entertainment for the lecherous variety of guests that will be here this week. Must I spell it out for you?” Seokjin was out of sight as soon as he was in it, ordering the chef around again. “Has anyone unpacked the crates of liquor yet–”

Taehyung’s face split into a disbelieving grin, a rough chuckle tearing through his chest. There were days Taehyung longed for Seokjin’s power and influence, and moments where reality struck him. With his skin still threatening to take on the appearance of something otherworldly– beyond his control– could Taehyung even wield the power it took to head a vampiric coven properly?

Glancing around the grand summer home he painstakingly designed for himself a lifetime ago, Taehyung sighed as he began to transform himself into a man who no one would recognize in the streets. Not only a widely known vampire in town, but the businessman who put Newport, Rhode Island on the map many years ago, Taehyung morphed into the perfect replica of the young man handing him his car keys– who stumbled sideways in shock when he saw a clone of himself staring back.

Gentle, fuzzy orchestral music played loudly enough to have bottles of turpentine rattling against each other, Yoongi groaning from behind the wet canvas he was agonizing over. A pile of discarded palettes sat at his feet, unsatisfactory swatches of colors smeared all over the plastic heightening his aggravation. No matter how hard he tried, he couldn’t get the shade of the acolyte’s hair just right.

“On the average day, I admire your process. Judging by appearances, you’ve deviated from that process. Where am I to sit, your lap?” Jimin returned from his ‘break’ from writing in Yoongi’s bedroom to take a leisurely two-hour long bath, dressed in his typical satin attire.

Yoongi, out of pure frustration, launched a palette knife across the room and out of the half-cracked bay window. It was true: at least fifteen canvases in various sizes were tossed about the room, paint still tacky and smudged, the fabric tarp protecting the Oriental carpets caked was in pigments, and not even Yoongi’s bed– where Jimin typically lounged to pen down his screenplays– had a free spot where a box of supplies didn’t occupy. Yoongi himself looked like a trainwreck, long glossy hair gathered into a ragged knot at the back of his head, reeking of paint thinner, and clothes basically destroyed by the mediums he was using.

Jimin, slightly mournful that his silk pajamas were going to be ruined, dropped himself onto one of Yoongi’s thighs, raising an eyebrow at Yoongi’s agitated expression. Usually, he would have pushed Jimin off by then, too wrapped up in what he was painting to endure Jimin’s flirting. Blinking, Jimin turned his head, leaning forward on Yoongi’s thigh to get a look at the painting causing the older vampire so much grief.

His work was as fine as ever. In fact, Jimin had half a mind to smack Yoongi across the face. Of course, the painting was of the acolyte, but it portrayed her taking a sip from a champagne flute during the previous night’s dinner. The colors were vibrant and lifelike, and the acolyte was so well depicted that Jimin could imagine the girl stepping out of the canvas. Yoongi even managed to capture how beautiful the ruby necklace Jimin picked out for the acolyte was, which made Jimin spring up from his perch and place his hands on his hips.

“You’re being ridiculous. How could you possibly be unhappy with that portrait?” Jimin accused, the cloud over Yoongi’s head darkening. “The hair isn’t right,” Yoongi murmured, plucking up another tube of paint to lighten the tones on the top of the acolyte’s head, where the chandelier picked up on her natural highlights. “I can’t get it right without her here.”

“Well, she’s playing with others right now. It’s not your turn,” Jimin snarked, finding the notebook he was using for his latest screenplay under an old smock Yoongi only used to wipe paint from his hands. “Besides, is she Botticelli’s Venus? How complicated can her hair color possibly be?”

“You were too preoccupied with how her tits spilled out of the top of her dress to notice her hair,” Yoongi went for a petty low blow, which was unlike him. Jimin paused, clutching his notebook to his chest and studying his elder for a moment.

Jimin always thought Yoongi was beautiful, but when Yoongi found a new muse, he glowed and took on something angelic. However, that particular time his glow was dimmed, thanks to Seokjin’s restrictions on Yoongi’s access to his newfound muse, and stress brought on by perfectionism was extinguishing the light almost completely.

“You haven’t been this neurotic about details since the portraits you worked on for Marilyn Monroe, and that acolyte is nowhere near that level of femme fatale,” Jimin cocked his head, perturbed that Yoongi wasn’t giving him the time of day. He couldn’t have that. “Yoongi, put the blasted paint down.”

With practiced ease, Jimin used a stronger dose of Hypnosis on Yoongi than he did the acolyte. Yoongi, promptly, felt his filbert brush clatter to the ground, a gritty purr coming from the artist. He didn’t have the patience to entertain Jimin that day, but it seemed Jimin had other ideas, pushing the palette out of Yoongi’s grasp and using a crooked finger to tilt his chip up.

“Release me, Jimin,” Yoongi narrowed his eyes, his ancient bones aching from Hypnosis wrapping around them. “You do not need to Hypnotize me to gain my attention.”

“Clearly that’s not the case,” Jimin snapped, letting go of his elder covenmate and withdrawing his power slowly. “You’re completely consumed. She’s your latest muse.”

Jimin watched, with an almost human interest, blood pool in Yoongi’s cheeks. When a vampire has fed, within moments the mortal blood revives the stagnant vampiric blood– black in color– and the immortal’s body is restored to its height of health. Essentially, the mortal and vampiric blood become one; the blush across Yoongi’s cheeks was something Jimin had not seen in at least fifteen years. It was worse than he thought.

“I would not go that far… muse…” Yoongi looked away, out the window and towards the sea. “No. Just a new subject to paint.”

“Sure,” Jimin scoffed, bored suddenly. With a huff, he meanly pushed a stack of sketchbooks off of Yoongi’s bed with a bare foot, collapsing on his side and cracking open his leather bound manuscripts-in-progress. “I have no issues admitting the acolyte has inspired my work. You know I’ve suffered from a block lately. Your stubbornness vexes me.”

“If it ‘vexes’ you so much, go entertain yourself with the girl’s maids. Pick out her wardrobe for the week and leave me in peace,” Yoongi retrieved his paint brush from the floor, using featherlight pressure to diffuse the harsh lines making up a lock of hair on the acolyte’s head. “Turn down the music while you’re at it.”

“Cold,” Jimin grinned, one of his fangs piercing through the cap of his pen once he brought it to his mouth. “Turn the music down yourself. I’m comfortable now.”

It was diverting to bicker with Yoongi, who usually behaved like a mute hermit living in the mountains– the artist could stoop to a level of sarcasm that Jimin perfected before he even became immortal. Yoongi grunted noncommittally, only breaking away from his canvas for a moment in order to slam the radio off, built-up strength in his limbs due to Paralysis begging to be used.

Yoongi couldn’t remember what it was like to work without Paralysis. In the beginning, when Yoongi was a young, human man, he took any menial job he could to keep him off the streets of Tuscany. Not once, prior to meeting his mentor, did Yoongi allow himself the luxury of dream of being a fine artist. He was too busy exterminating vermin that often holed up in his ramshackle one-room thatched-roof mud hut while he was selling fruits in an open air market to have dreams. Yoongi shook out his arms and legs, the sounds of Jimin scrawling his loopy cursive over parchment grating on his delicate ears.

“Are you writing a play or a movie script?” Yoongi mumbled, jealous that Jimin’s creativity seemed to be flowing like a babbling brook. The jealousy spiked when Jimin flipped through his notebook, revealing that he had written what seemed to be two different productions already– Paralysis started to stiffen Yoongi’s own body spitefully.

“Actually, I wrote a ballet and a short horror film. Working on something more classical now, a novel… think Mary Shelley…”

“You wrote a ballet,” Yoongi confirmed flatly, Jimin giggling and setting his pen down to tease an obviously envious Yoongi. “When was the last time you even danced ballet, let alone create a show?”

“Just because you’ve stopped dropping by during my practice times, doesn’t mean I’ve quit, Yoongi,” Jimin, in a singsong voice, rolled over on his stomach to kick his legs in the air, already envisioning complicated choreography and elaborate, decadent costumes gracing worldwide stages. “Enough of this. Take a walk, you’re distracting me.”

Jimin, with glee, returned to his manuscript, loving that he could gloat. Sure, a part of him– a part the size of perhaps a grain of rice– that felt bad for Yoongi, but it was so overshadowed by centuries of immortal narcissism that Jimin didn’t even realize that part of him still existed.

“You’re the eldest fledgling, but you behave like the youngest. Disgraceful. Messy,” Yoongi changed the subject, kneeling to the floor by the bed. Face level with Jimin, Yoongi tilted his head. “Hedonistic.”

“I’m a vampire, Yoongi,” Jimin didn’t spare his elder a glance, and even though he was writing at a nearly impossible to see speed, no ink stained his sturdy fingertips. “Maybe you should lean into your nature like you used to, and you’ll paint something actually worth viewing.”

“You’re suggesting I ignore Seokjin’s orders.”

“Since when have you obeyed them? Seokjin gives you a rather long leash because you’re boring. He gave you an out. He doesn’t care if you Paralyze the acolyte, he just wants it contained to this bedroom. If anything, that should excite you,” Jimin put down his pen, fangs on display when his mischievous smile returned. With a manicured nail, he scraped umber pigment off of Yoongi’s cheek, directly below one of his eyes.

Yoongi considered this, letting the fledgling remove paint from his face and hair, something dark and twisted steeping into his system. Jimin was absolutely right, and it pained Yoongi to admit that to himself. Since when had he been so idle?

“Jeongguk accused me of lacking risk…”

“Normally, I’d tell you not to listen to that cretin. But the point remains,” Jimin curled his lip up in disgust, picturing the brute youngest fledgling, who had none of the artistic proclivities he and Yoongi shared.

Yoongi seemed to be processing things, his eyes almost wine-colored as he stared at Jimin. At one point, there was a time Yoongi couldn’t stop painting him; the round false innocence of his cheeks and lips, his graceful dancer’s figure. It then dawned on him, his entire expression brightening, which had Jimin halting his task of removing Yoongi’s turpentine-soaked oxford shirt.

“Sit in next time. Model with her,” Yoongi grasped onto one of Jimin’s wrists, his sharp nails cutting into the fledgling’s creamy skin. A trickle of blood, a shade of pinot noir, slid down his wrist bone: the shade of Jimin and the acolyte entwined.

“Oh?” Jimin’s grin only widened seductively. “There’s the risk that made your fortune.”

Reinvigorated, Yoongi let Jimin shrug off his grip, the playwright dragging his tongue over the crescent-shaped cuts marring his perfect skin. As Yoongi stood, his shirt dropped to the floor, his chest the only part of his body spared from paint splatters.

“After the gala, when Seokjin is less concerned with appearances to the outside world, we’ll see how a session goes,” Yoongi turned, raking a hand through his filthy hair. Under his nose, Jimin was slyly using the callbox to fetch a staff member to run another hot bath. “Just the three of us.”

Yoongi frowned at the idea of Jimin inviting Hoseok– who enjoyed partaking in some of Jimin’s twisted, sometimes perverted, games. Sniffing indignantly, Jimin got the message loud and clear.

“Well, Hoseok can–”

Jimin was swiftly shut down when Yoongi was hovering over him again, his wrist recaptured. Body loosening deliciously when Paralysis washed over him, Jimin watched Yoongi plant a large palm beside him on the bed, trapping the fledgling in place.

“Just the three of us.”

Yoongi repeated himself firmly, squeezing Jimin’s wrist enough to have his breath catch, and without a smart retort, Yoongi smirked at the blood flowing from his cuts. Almost like he was consummating a grave, corrupted promise, Yoongi wrapped his lips around the wounds he created, sampling both the fledgling and the human girl as if it was the fountain of youth. Outside, thunder cracked down over the glacial sea, disguising blissful, selfish sighs.

“Miss? You seem distracted this afternoon,” Juliana’s voice is what cut through the fog, Y/N absently gazing into the polished silver mirror.

Her cheeks had filled out with the consistent rich foods she was being fed around the clock. There was no attention paid by her to the butterfly needle sticking out of her arm, drawings now a daily– sometimes twice daily– occurrence. Y/N suspected that the blood bags were delivered bedroom to bedroom like room service, and though she hated needles, her maids drawing her blood was much better than teeth in her neck.

It had been a couple of days since her outing with the two vampires, and Y/N felt herself moving through her life like a mechanical part of something much larger. It was the afternoon of the great ‘gala’ that the coven was throwing, which meant Y/N was roused from her bed prior to sunrise for a hasty breakfast before being manicured to perfection.

It was a miracle, but the vampires had mostly left her alone after she had returned from the Sanctuary with Namjoon and Jeongguk. With convenient bags of her blood for them to feed on, it really wasn’t necessary for the coven to interact with her. In fact, other than Namjoon’s constant presence lurking in her shadow, the only other vampire she had to speak with was Seokjin, who gave her a detailed list of how to behave at the gala.

Y/N didn’t know why she even had to be present during the event. She would have much preferred holing up in her bedroom with perhaps a book all night. Wincing when Juliana pulled the needle from her arm, Y/N cleared her throat, eagerly spreading a soothing ointment over the injection site.

“Miss?”

“Hm?” Y/N shivered, fingers twisting into the fur blanket draped over her lap. Y/N had become intimately familiar with the vanity she was sitting in front of; sometimes, she swore she saw spirits in the silver mirror. “Sorry?”

“I mentioned that you seem distracted. Perhaps anticipation for the gala? The decorations look glorious,” Juliana was merry, all of the staff was, but it hardly rubbed off on Y/N. She had never been to any kind of party, and not knowing what to expect had her stomach turning.

“Oh… yes. Anticipation,” Y/N lied, drawing the corner of her mouth up into a half-smile. Dressed in only a silk nightgown, Y/N too consumed by her anxiety to bother covering up her nipples peeking through the fabric, she was spun around on her stool. Her bed was littered with gowns, all shades of cream or off-white. “What am I wearing?”

Another thing Y/N got used to, much like Namjoon keeping close tabs on her even if he wasn’t physically present, was Jimin picking out her clothes. Not just outfits for dinner, but her daily attire as well, down to the jewelry and shoes. Y/N no longer had much agency at all, and that was revealed to her when she was taken to the Sanctuary.

Two Days Prior to the Gala

Y/N had a lump forming in her throat when Jeongguk pulled his car into the Sanctuary’s gravel drive, the stone cathedral exactly how she remembered it just a week ago. Her legs were still cold from walking around the market, where she was treated like a ball-and-chain by the two vampires in the front seat. She was correct, earlier: there were several stands serving hot chocolate to the wealthy citizens of Newport, but neither Namjoon or Jeongguk offered to purchase one for her, even if it was to stop the chattering of her teeth.

Jeongguk was sent into various shops by Namjoon, who remained by Y/N’s side on the cobblestone sidewalks. At one point, while Jeongguk was inside a flower shop ordering centerpieces, Y/N strayed all but three feet away from Namjoon to take a look at a stall selling roasted chestnuts. It had been a mistake: Y/N was yanked backwards promptly, and the rest of the time spent at the market involved her being led around like a dog on a leash– Namjoon dragging her by the scarf around her neck.

In a blur she could hardly understand, Y/N was toted from the backseat and began to chase after Namjoon before he could choke her with her own scarf. The Sanctuary was unchanged, and though it had been just shy of a week, Y/N took in the sights of the front drive like it was brand new to her. Instinctively, when she spotted Mrs. Sloane at the entrance, Y/N flinched sharply into a solid body beside her– Jeongguk– and at that moment, she didn’t know who she’d rather be left alone with.

“I–I thought vampires could not come onto Sanctuary grounds,” Y/N breathed, thinking of Meredith and how horrified she’d be to know that two wolves were amongst the lambs.

“Quiet, AB-. I see you continue to flap your gums despite the honor you were bestowed,” Mrs. Sloane greeted Y/N in the only way the old woman probably knew how: nastily. While Namjoon simply copied the stone gargoyles beside the entrance, still, Jeongguk snickered at Y/N’s scolding. “Good day, Masters. It has been some time since we have had the pleasure.”

Y/N wanted to bust a gut like a rabid hyena. Jeongguk appeared increasingly smug, puffing out his chest importantly, while Namjoon simply adjusted the fit of his leather gloves.

“We’ve gathered a group of acolytes for you to choose from for your gala.”

Y/N’s friends and acquaintances. With a wobbly lower lip, she and the two vampires were led to a detached office building beside the Sanctuary, where only wardens were permitted to enter.

“You believe that moronic propaganda? Did you think we’d burst into flames stepping foot on sacred ground?” Jeongguk leaned forward, his voice floating over Y/N’s shoulder, the hair on the back of her neck standing on end. Promptly ignoring him, Y/N edged closer to Mrs. Sloane of all people. Though Mrs. Sloane had treated her like livestock, she still had her humanity.

The room the three of them were led to was quite large, perhaps the size of a gymnasium, and it was apparently treated like a storage room. There were boxes of incense and votive candles stacked everywhere, as well as phlebotomy equipment. Jeongguk, with amusement, rifled through a box of tourniquets.

“Bring them in,” Mrs. Sloane barked towards an open door, the acid in Y/N’s stomach steadily climbing up her throat when she heard shuffling.

A handful of acolytes, mostly from the AB+ group, were pushed into the room hastily in a rush of white linens. The sight of the bleached and starched clothing Y/N used to wear day in and day out had her feeling dizzy, and if things couldn’t get any worse, an acolyte no older than seven was part of the group as well.

“The acolyte beside you is the only one in the area with AB- blood. We’ve brought in all of our AB+ and B- typed acolytes, for your choosing. The head of your coven requested how many–?”

“Fifteen.”

Just one word was the first thing Namjoon uttered since they arrived, and the sharpness of his tone had even Mrs. Sloane stiffening. Y/N, helpless, squirmed in place as the acolytes she had lived with for years stared at her like a Hollywood star. She must have been something to behold; dressed in a fine designer coat, matching cashmere mittens and scarf, and well groomed and fed. Y/N didn’t realize how starved for nutrients she truly was, as she noticed the lack of color in the other acolyte’s complexions, the thinness of their cheeks.

“Remove the children from the room,” Namjoon crossed his arms over his chest, his sword tucked into the crook of his elbow. “Feeding on children is a waste of time and energy.”

“Yes, Master,” Mrs. Sloane snapped her fingers, and Y/N sagged in relief when four acolytes under the age of eighteen were escorted back to safety. “Now… how will you select the group of fifteen?”

Namjoon’s jaw clenched, lips pursing, as he scanned the line of humans cowering in fear and awe. None of them had the same perfume-scented blood Y/N had, but Namjoon was expecting that. He really didn’t care either way which acolytes were picked, it wasn’t like Namjoon himself was going to be feeding from them.

“I have an idea,” Jeongguk, who Y/N temporarily forgot was even present, dropped a pack of blood tubes onto the concrete floor and stepped forward. Trying not to budge, Y/N’s breath caught when Jeongguk hummed and looked her way. “Y/N, you go ahead and pick them out of us.”

Y/N’s mouth fell open. Jeongguk wanted her to select people she grew up with for hordes of vampires to feed on at a party? Once aware that the coven she was placed with held little humanity, it was revealed that they had none. Jeongguk’s expression was positively delighted, taking in Y/N’s abject horror.

“Go ahead, AB-,” Mrs. Sloane encouraged, her tone dripping with either jealousy or spite. Y/N thought if Mrs. Sloane wanted to serve vampires so badly, perhaps she should have taken her career to the cabaret. “Make haste. These acolytes have work to do, unlike yourself.”

“I cannot choose,” Y/N breathed, the twinkle in Jeongguk’s eyes brightening when she shrunk backwards. The acolytes in front of her began to murmur, as disobeying orders from a vampire was a serious offense. “Please, don’t make me…”

“Very well,” Jeongguk grabbed her by the shoulder, making her look directly into his soulless eyes. Y/N knew what was coming before Jeongguk even entered her mind, her skull starting to pound as he sorted through memories. “Warden. We’ll take the thirteen healthiest in this room.”

Y/N’s lower lip was wobbling again, noises all around of people being shuffled to and fro.

“That’s two short–”

“Find me the acolyte Joseph. Y/N will be pleased to see him at the gala, no? And…” Jeongguk held up his hand to cut Mrs. Sloane off, eyes narrowing playfully when he found what he was looking for. Y/N frantically began to shake her head and chant ‘no’, but it was far too late. “The pretty blonde girl with the princess curls. Meredith.”

The memory had Y/N’s anxiety spiking acutely. Agonizing for days over the fact that her inability to fulfill Jeongguk’s request resulted in putting her friends in danger, she hardly got much sleep. Juliana meticulously hid her dark circles behind a skin tone matched concealer, and despite the inner wars she was fighting, Y/N’s appearance was sparkly and flawless.

Skimming a hand over one of the gossamer dresses laying on the bed, nausea reared its ugly head. The cream color of the garment had her thinking about the uniforms of the acolytes. While Juliana was busy comparing the gowns to one another, Y/N began to pace slowly, trying to come up with some elaborate scheme to save her friends. When contemplating escape routes and disguises, Y/N got a whiff of sea salt and cedarwood. A pleasant smell, yes, but one Y/N had just begun to associate with a particular immortal.

“Are you trying to pace your way through the floor, ma chérie?” Hoseok was in her doorframe once more, and apparently Seokjin had managed to convince him to wear a suit. It was the most dressed up Y/N had ever seen him, and she hated to admit to herself that he looked good in pressed black pants. “Why aren’t you dressed?”

Y/N looked down, her silk nightgown skimming her thighs and hugging parts of her body too closely. Swiftly, she wrapped her arms around herself to shield from Hoseok’s greedy roaming eyes. Hoseok loved to act falsely concerned about Y/N and her well being, but Y/N quickly found out that all Hoseok was was a drunken lech. In fact, once Y/N got over the size of the watch on his slim wrist, she saw the bottle of rum he was taking swigs from.

“Do you not like the dresses Jimin picked out for you? How rude,” Hoseok tore his gaze from the swell of the girl’s hips to get a look at the gaudy gowns littered around the room. Turning up his nose, he scoffed at the selection. “It’s like he’s trying to turn you into Dracula’s bride.”

“I hate the color white,” Y/N blurted out, her maids all stopping what they were doing to gape at her. During the handful of incidents when Y/N dared to complain to the vampires, staff was not around. “The acolytes. We always had to wear white linens. I never wish to wear the color again.”

“Do you?” Hoseok purred, setting his rum onto one of her nightstands. Running his tongue over his fangs, Hoseok found the human girl’s terrible filter entertaining. “Then don’t wear white. Simple as that.”

“What?” Y/N stopped pacing, gawking at Hoseok like he grew a second head. He couldn’t be serious, Y/N’s brief astonishment washing away into suspicion at a hat’s drop.

“Don’t wear white, chérie. There’s a storage room in the basement stuffed with gowns flown in from every fashion capital in the world, all tailored to your size. What color do you want to wear?” Hoseok liked to play with his food, and the sickly-sweet tablespoon of hope directed towards him from the human girl was enough to keep up the ‘nice guy’ act.

“Are you toying with me?” Y/N saw through the act, drinking in his sharp jawline and alcohol reddened cheeks. “Won’t… Master Jimin be upset?”

“Jimin will survive. He’ll pout, but he can’t help his melodramatic tendencies. So pick a color, Y/N,” Hoseok grew impatient, the friendly act starting to become forced.

Y/N, still processing the unnatural consideration from Hoseok, studied the vampire. He was just as handsome as all the others, in an almost elvish way, his features angular. Truly, he was a vision– even down to his sun-weathered hands. Her mind then went to colors, but all the vibrant hues dancing through her mind made her frown.

“Black.”

“Fitting,” Hoseok shook his head, snapping his fingers. “Juliana, fetch the girl her black dresses. The rest of you, get rid of anything remotely off-white in her closet. Happy, chérie?”

“Why do you talk like that?” Y/N spoke through the flurry of her maids tripping over their feet to fulfill Hoseok’s request, the vampire’s drawl odd to Y/N’s ears.

“Are you referring to my accent?” Hoseok raised a brow, plucking up his bottle of rum again. “I’ve spent centuries in New Orleans, pet. I believe humans call it a Southern drawl.”

Y/N nodded without understanding. The furthest south Y/N ever went was Little Compton, which was still in the state of Rhode Island. Taking a swig of his rum, Hoseok smirked as the beginnings of trust in him began to form in the acolyte’s head. Before she could go completely schoolgirl on him, Hoseok began to take his leave with a threat filling the air.

“By the way, chérie. I believe you’ve forgotten I can predict your every move. You will not successfully take yourself and your friends away from here tonight. I can Track you to the ends of the Earth.”

Despite the fact that it was November, Y/N ended up selecting a sleeveless, short floaty dress made of chiffon. The garment was unlike anything she had ever seen, rippled fabric attachments slipping over her elbows, and it displayed some of the parts of her body she was growing fond of: her legs and chest. After Hoseok’s reminder that she was trapped, instead of cowering in fear, Y/N decided to play the game.

It was futile to try and escape. It was dangerous to try and help her friends. What Y/N could do was exploit some of the weaknesses of the coven– hence the sultry dress– and keep one eye on her friends during the gala, if possible. Wrapping her hand around the banister she was guided to by Juliana, Y/N took a moment to look down at the bustling, decked-out great hall.

Pine trees studded with multicolored lights outlined the hall, and the empty room was transformed into a festive holiday party. Cocktail tables were placed, candles and trays of libations placed on top, and there was an orchestra clumped in one corner of the room playing lively music. The fires roaring had the room feeling quite toasty, but the sight of dozens of vampires milling around in finery has a shiver rolling down her spine. With the cursory glance, Y/N did not spot Sanctuary whites, which had her heart sinking. Clearing her throat, Y/N rolled her shoulders back and began her descent down the red carpeted staircase.

Mingle, but do not say anything moronic. Eat, drink, dance. Do not cause any kind of scene. Do not let vampires touch you outside of the coven. You are here as an accessory. Do not embarrass us.

Seokjin’s voice entered her mind, Y/N miraculously not tripping down the stairs in her stilettos, turning her chin to the side. Near the center of the room, Seokjin was speaking to a vampire that physically appeared to be in his late forties. His short hair was swept off his forehead, and he was in a fine tuxedo that Y/N had no doubt cost a small fortune. A strong hand pinching a champagne glass, Y/N watched him actually smile at the vampire he was talking to, but the grin never quite reached his carmine eyes.

“Oh! Thank you,” Y/N was approached by a staff member almost as soon as she reached the bottom of the stairs, handing her a glass of bubbly. In one go, Y/N drained the flute, and it was replaced with a fresh one straight away. Glossed lips wrapping around the glass, her eyes narrowed when Jimin started slinking towards her. “Here we fucking go…”

“Dove, that’s not what I chose for you,” Jimin cocked his head, the buttons on his shirt loose and revealing his jutting collar bones. “Though… this is quite the choice, too.”

Jimin dragged his eyes up and down the girl’s figure, which was softer and curvier than it was just a week ago. Mouth filled with venom, Jimin giggled and threaded an arm through the girl’s, reveling in her stiffness when he started to pull her through the crowd.

“That there is Sarah Berwind. She’s the guest of honor’s wife,” Jimin pointed to an elegant female vampire, dressed in a midnight blue gown. Her silvery blonde hair reminded her of Meredith, though when the vampire turned her head, there were kohl-lined red eyes giving her a reality check. “Over there, a few artists Yoongi invited. Yuki, the lovely woman in gold, she made her fortune in jewelry…”

Y/N didn’t particularly care about any of the vampires Jimin was pointing out. Her focus was solely on finding her friends, to somehow protect them from excessive harm. She knew Meredith was probably beside herself. Her attention was stolen when Jimin came to a stop, near the edge of the room. Jimin had led her straight to Yoongi at the edge of the cleared dancefloor. Y/N blamed Yoongi entirely for Seokjin assigning Namjoon to her as a bodyguard. The artist was listening to a gangly looking vampire, Yoongi’s long hair glossy under all of the lights.

“So this is your newest source of inspiration. Bellissima,” the gangly vampire drank her in, Y/N’s skin crawling as his eyes lingered over her breasts. “I hear you are to begin modeling with Mr. Park here.”

Y/N was lucky she had been practicing her poker face all night. She had not a semblance of an idea of what the vampire was talking about, but the thought of sitting with Jimin for hours in various poses made her want to vomit into a passing by champagne bucket. Yoongi’s expression was stormy when she didn’t reply right away, Y/N translating the look into a warning.

“Yes, sir. I can hardly wait,” Y/N lied, her voice high and sweet. Yoongi, stone faced, thought the girl was laying it on too thickly, but the dolt of an immortal beside him bought the lie instantly. Fledglings. “When are we to start modeling, again, Master Yoongi?”

“Wow. Your coven still has acolytes using titles?”

“Our coven is old-school, and that’s the way it should be. That’s all, Damien,” Yoongi waved a hand, the vampire Damien sucking his teeth but getting the hint. He disappeared into the crowd. “You do not have to be a sarcastic little bitch, acolyte.”

“Excuse me?” Y/N squeaked like she was slapped, Jimin laughing and stroking the back of her head.

“Your behavior tonight is being watched. I suggest you hold your honeyed tongue,” Yoongi’s voice was gruff and low, and Y/N could feel it in her chest. Before she could respond, the music cut off, and someone was clinking a knife against a glass.

“Welcome to The Breakers. The orchestra has composed a waltz for tonight, and I’d like to invite you all to the dance floor,” Seokjin, the perfect picture of geniality, addressed the partygoers. “As the designer of this estate, Taehyung Kim will be leading the dance, accompanied by our coven’s acolyte.”

Y/N’s head swiveled like a barn owl’s, dozens of pairs of vampiric eyes were on her. Seokjin’s wicked smile finally reached his eyes, knowing Y/N would be mortified by the spectacle. The silence deafening, Jimin’s arm was replaced, that time by an arm clad in familiar tweed. Taehyung, with his shiny gelled waves, peered down at her impassively.

“I do not know how to dance the waltz,” Y/N panicked, knowing that every immortal in the room could hear her strained whisper into Taehyung’s ear.

“You will,” Taehyung murmured darkly, and Y/N’s spine went rigid when a new skill was downloaded into her head from Seokjin. If Seokjin could simply Compell knowledge into her head on a moment’s notice, what else could he make her believe?

In the center of the dance floor, Y/N knew exactly how to stand, effortlessly collecting Taehyung’s broad palm, her free hand sliding up the lapel of his grey jacket and resting over his sluggishly beating heart. Like he had done thousands of times before, Taehyung slung his forearm around the small of Y/N’s back. Without further ado, the orchestra struck up a swelling, vibrant tune, and they were off. Y/N didn’t even have to think as her feet moved in time with her partner, maintaining eye-contact as they danced across the floor. In mere seconds, couples of vampires joined the two of them, so at the very least, Y/N wasn’t the complete center of attention.

Taehyung was one of the most elusive vampires, aside from Yoongi. In fact, she had spoken to Taehyung the least during the week she had spent at The Breakers, mostly because he was often away on business or walking the grounds of the estate by himself. Though undead, his palm was warm against hers, and Y/N slotted her fingers between his just to feel how her blood brought him back to life. He moved gracefully, leading them around the dance floor, all while drinking in every inch of her face.

“Where are my friends?” Y/N asked after a few moments, on edge that she hadn’t seen a single human aside from staff since the evening began. For all she knew, Meredith or Joseph could have four vampires latched onto them while she danced with the devil.

“What’s the point in telling you? Nothing you do can change their fate,” Taehyung’s baritone voice was flat, punctuating his point by dipping Y/N low to the ground. He was so close to her face, Y/N could see that his eyelids were different from one another.

“Then there’s no harm in telling me where they are. I simply want to say goodbye,” Y/N argued, slightly breathless when Taehyung pulled her back up. One of her long, pointed nails traced along the handkerchief tucked into his breast pocket.

“I thought you were told not to weave fallacies. You continue to believe you can outsmart us,” Taehyung spat back quietly, the fact that they were quite close to the wind section of the orchestra disguising his words from other guests. The set of the human girl’s mouth was firm and unbudging, Taehyung somewhat respecting her for digging her heels in. She might look meek and mild, but the acolyte had a strong moral compass– a death sentence. He decided to throw her a bone. “The acolytes are in the library, the cabaret girls were placed in the music room. Seokjin doesn’t want you near either of those rooms tonight.”

“He seems preoccupied schmoozing with the ‘guest of honor’,” Y/N couldn’t even see Seokjin, but the last time she did, he was still chatting away with the graying vampire named ‘Berwind’. “If there’s nothing I can do to protect them, afford me the decency to apologize to them.”

“Apologize? Isn’t it a great honor for you holy rollers to even be in the presence of vampires? With that logic, they should be kissing your feet for the opportunity to be here.”

“Obviously, that’s not the case. While I might still hold onto the hope that I can outsmart one of you, you hold onto the belief that acolytes end up at Sanctuaries on their own volition.”

There was a count of eight where Taehyung and Y/N stared each other down, flawlessly in sync as they waltzed. She spoke no more, nor did Taehyung, for the remainder of the song, dewy sweat coating her skin from both the undivided attention and exertion from dancing. When a final note of a viola rang out into the air, Y/N held her breath as they bowed to each other, Taehyung brushing his lips over the back of the girl’s hand reluctantly.

“Do what you want, but reap what you sow.”

Taehyung evaporated like smoke. His duties were carried out, he played the game. Decorated, played nice, and danced with the human girl. Whatever happened after that, Taehyung couldn’t find it in him to care.

Meanwhile, arms still extended and molded to Taehyung’s shape, Y/N was left entirely by herself, by the grace of God. It was comical, really, how she was able to scamper from the dance floor, clinging to the walls and feeling her way to the library. Another song was already beginning, mortal vital fluid and liquor intoxicated vampires elegantly swaying in throngs. Peripheral vision caught Jeongguk pouring his champagne flute over the décolletage of a short, dark skinned vampire woman, his fingers tangled in her silken braids and his tongue dragging down the skin of her throat.

Jittery, Y/N was halfway to the library when she heard something quite queer. A muffled, high-pitched sound coming from the front entrance of the mansion had her freezing. The foyer had twin doors on the right and left: the ladies’ reception room, and the male counterpart directly across. Ice crystals formed in her gut, the sounds growing more agonized. It was a chorus of voices wailing, Y/N ducking into a hallway that connected to the foyer in order to find the source of the sounds. Not a soul was in the foyer, not even the human boys that handled valet, Y/N’s knees knocking together when a particularly horrendous female scream pierced her ears.

“HELP, PLEASE! OH GOD, PLEASE! DON’T KILL ME!”

Y/N’s skin flashed ice cold. Of course, she stupidly sprung into action, her stilettos falling off in the process, darting towards the gentleman’s reception room. She was human, after all. A desperate cry for help could not be ignored.

“N-NO! NO, NO, YOU’RE NOT SUPPOSED T-TO, YOU! YOU, YOU–”

Y/N pushed the heavy door open, bewildered, not understanding the sight in front of her at all. It was like the most horrific nightmare her brain could conjure, but it was real, it had to be. Her subconscious never considered something so evil.

There was a young woman dressed in a fringed flapper dress, crouched and cornered on the floor and trembling so hard Y/N thought she was seizing. That, and she was nearly doused in crimson blood, shielding herself from the vampire standing over her, his foot crushing her ankle bone with a sickening crunch. The woman shrieked horribly, the whole floor covered in streaks of crimson. That wasn’t even the worst of it. Not even three paces away was a messy heap of limbs, limp and useless.

Delicate, white-blonde curls matted with blood. A dimpled smile ironed out into a slack-jawed scream of desperation. White linens now permanently stained with clots of gore, motionless and skin nearly blue. Tossed in a pile, mangled and drained, were Meredith and Joseph, open-eyed and dead.

The scream that came from Y/N was molten core in origin. It pierced through the merriment of the holiday party like banshee’s wail, the last piece of Y/N’s heart exploding into pieces. Joseph’s beautiful amber eyes were glassy and unseeing. Meredith’s hand was weakly curled around Joseph’s stained shirt sleeve. Nothing but the sound of her own screams registered to Y/N.

What happened next, Y/N would never be able to get out of her mind. By the time her howling brought the orchestra rooms over to a startling halt, the vampire tormenting the young cabaret worker had Y/N pinned to the wall by her throat. It was Edmund Berwind, the moustached ‘guest of honor’ who had drained her two closest friends dry, stinking of liquor and death. Crushing her vocal chords, Y/N’s screams turned into choked barks, her nails scraping fabric wallpaper from behind her.

“Aren’t you sweet, honey? I’ve heard–”

Y/N didn’t get the chance to hear what else Berwind was about to taunt her with. While the cabaret girl sobbed in agony, cradling her flattened ankle, Berwin was torn from her and Y/N could only collapse beside the corpses of her friends.

He entered the room like the Grim Reaper. Whooshing through the air with precision was a metallic sound followed by wet, repulsive squelching. Namjoon, in one fell swoop, unsheathed his sword and slashed forward, severing Berwind’s top half from the bottom. Arterial spurts of blackened immortal blood sprayed the entire reception room, as well as dowsing Y/N completely, the viscous hot fluid running down her face.

The body fell directly next to Y/N. Desiccated intestines spilled from both cavities of the bodies, followed by other equally ancient organs, Y/N’s skin coated with the blood of her former friends and the gore of a slain vampire. Berwind’s body was still twitching, the severed lower half contorting grotesquely while the top gushed liters of blood, gore, and tissue. Y/N was still screaming, soaking in gore, waiting for the angel of death. She hadn’t been able to spare her friends in time, and she was sure to meet her end considering how furious her ‘bodyguard’ seemed. It was all over.

Namjoon found a spare pillow set on a cushy chair, using it to mop the filthy mess Berwind made on his sword. With disgust, he used the wallpaper to clean his gloves, large streaky prints staining the walls. Weeping hollowly, Y/N stroked Meredith’s lifeless curls from her face, anticipating her momentary death. One hand slipping over one of Berwind’s eviscerated kidneys spilling onto the floor, Y/N glanced at Namjoon one last time.

“I Compelled her to avoid being touched.”

Namjoon didn’t answer Seokjin, who promptly locked the door to the reception room. Namjoon kicked the top half of Berwind’s hemorrhaging corpse, fat with too much blood, off to the corner of the room. Using his jacket sleeve to remove eviscerated organs from his face, Namjoon sheathed his sword and laughed at his elder.

“I’ll leave you to clean up the mess this time, hyung.”

Please do not repost or translate my work. Thank you!

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ghosty-writes-23 · 2 days ago

Text

Kneeling Before Her. - Leon S Kennedy.

Ghosty's Notes: okay so this was a random idea I had randomly thinking about Wife!FemReader + Older!Leon (Between Damnation & Vendetta.) also I wrote this on my phone which is something I don't normally do, but it's like 2am and I can't be stuffed grabbing my laptop, so please forgive me if their is alot of spelling mistakes.

Summary: Y/n and Leon had been fighting alot lately, but even with how much they where fighting it didn't stop them from desiring each other.

NSFW Tags: Smutty Content, Eating Out, Pleading, Body Worship, Desperate!Husband!Leon, Hope for the future, Happy Ending.

Used Pet Names: Darling, Sweetheart, Princess, Love, Good Boy, My Wife.

| ID!PROFESSOR!LEON COMING IN 2 DAYS |

!Unedited!

Word Count: 1.9k

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Thank you for all the support, it means alot❤️

-Ghosty :] ❤️🦝

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Y/n and Leon had been fighting alot recently, from small things such as dirty dishes in the sink to Y/n tripping over Leon's alcohol bottles and she had enough. Tonight was like any other night, Leon was coming home from a mission and smelt like a brewery, the pair had argued yet again, Y/n was upset Leon had come home drunk and Leon was trying to justify he wasn't that drunk yet he could barley walk a straight line, she had guested one of the staff from the bar had called him a taxi because there was no way in hell he would be able to drive in the state he was in.

Sometimes she felt as if Leon treated her as if she was dumb, she knew this wasn't what he really thought of her, but when he was drunk he would treat her as if she was an idiot and it was getting on her last nerve, there is only so much a person can take before they snap, as Leon passed out on the living room couch Y/n had thrown a blanket over him and left a bottle of water and Advil on the coffee table before going upstairs to what used to be their shared bedroom.

Leon mostly slept in the spare bedroom when he was home, it was strange feeling to feel alone in her own house even with Leon home. Shaking her head Y/n closed the door and started to get ready for bed, such as doing her nightly routine of showering, changing into comfortable pajamas, drying her hair and doing nightly skincare and brushing her teeth and taking the last of her medication for the day.

When she got into bed, she couldn't help but wonder how did her and Leon's relationship end up like this, she knew Leon had alot of trauma before they had met, he had warned her that he wasn't the most easiest person to get along with but that didn't stop Y/n, she didn't see Leon as the government agent or the weapon that most people seemed too, but just a man that had the worse timing most of the time but once he started to open up he was a complete sweetheart.

When they had gotten married Y/n and Leon had gotten married in 2006 she thought everything would be perfect, they would have a house maybe out of town, maybe a fixer upper they could do together as a couple project, like an old historical cottage that has a nice front yard where she could plant flowers, maybe have a dog or a cat.

Leon would have left the government and got a less dangerous job after he found out she was pregnant, everything was meant to fall into place, but sometimes promises are broken even by the people we love the most, this had lead Y/n to start wondering was Leon still the man she had fallen in love with and married all those years ago, or was that man gone and replaced with an drunk, anger hollow shell of his former self.

Shaking her head Y/n turned off her bedside table lamp and layed back in bed, all this thinking was hurting her brain so she decided to try and get some sleep, even if she had to force herself too.

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Later on in the night the small city apartment was quiet, the only sound was a ticking clock and the soft hum of the fridge, but upstairs their was a soft buzzing sound and muffled soft mews filtering from under the door. Y/n had her eyes closed as she worked the toy on it's medium setting, after forcing herself to sleep only to end up tossing and turning, she knew the perfect thing to put her to sleep.

It was the ultimate relaxer or so she thought, her bottom lip was between her teeth as her middle finger and ring finger where working her clit, her other hand was working the toy inside her quivering walls. She couldn't remember the last time she had to use her toy to get off, usually her fingers would work just fine but she knew her body was craving something or somebody else.

In her mind was replying the last time Leon had touched her, when her hands where gripping his pillow as her hand was buried in it, his hand was in her hair, tugging firmly but not to roughly as he thrusted into her from behind, he had come home from a stressful work day and needed to let off some steam and who was she to say no to her husband, with Leon's stamina they would at least go for 2 maybe 3 rounds.

But she was soon pulled out of her fantasy when she heard footsteps, she slowly turned off the toy before hearing a soft knock on the door. "Come in." Y/n spoke softly soon the door opened and Leon sheepishly walked in only wearing his briefs and no short, he looked more sober but their was still bags under his eyes. "Did I wake you?" Y/n asked causing Leon to shake his head as he closed the door behind himself.

"I'm so sorry sweetheart." Leon spoke as he started walking towards their old shared bed, Y/ was at a lost for words this was the first time he apologized for anything in the past few weeks, so she was a little surprised but before she could get any words out, Leon slowly lowered himself to his kneeled in front of her, his head down as if he couldn't make eye contact with her.

"I'm so sorry for being a shitty husband, I know I should have come to you, I just didn't want to burden you with my problems, I wanted to protect you from them, but instead I did the exact opposite." Leon says before he shakes his head before finally he looks up at her. "I know I don't deserve you Y/n or your forgiveness, but I will spend the rest of my life making it up to you." Leon says causing her heart to skip a beat.

"You really hurt me." Y/n started and Leon put his head down like a puppy that was in trouble, "I know princess." Leon says shamefully. "But I am willing to forgive you if you promise this behavior stops now okay, I want you to go to counseling and get help." Y/n says and Leon listens and nods his head. "I'll start looking in the morning." Leon says causing Y/n to smile ever so slightly and nod her head, maybe this wasn't the end of their marriage.

"Good." Y/n said and just as she was about to move over in the bed, Leon reached out to grab her wrist to stop her, but as he did she knew he felt her hand was wet, she saw his eyes widen slightly before he started to bring her hand to his lips. "Leo-." she tried to protest but soon his lips where around her fingers.

the warm and soft feeling of Leon's mouth on her fingers caused her to gasps softly, their was something so erotic about a man on his knees lapping and sucking his wife's juice's off her fingers, especially a man that hasn't tasted her in months. she watched Leon her thighs clenching together as his tongue gently gliding between her fingers.

But soon Leon let her finger's go with a soft pop, a string of his saliva was between her now drool covered fingers and his lips, he looked up at her she could see the desperation and the lust in his eyes, because her were probley mirroring the same look ad if she was honest she was too pent up to let this moment slip through her fingers.

"Can I have more." Leon asked his voice was more husky but still had a slightly desperateness to it. "Will you be a good boy?" Y/n asked with a small tease in her voice but Leon nodded his head quickly, instead of getting up onto the bed so he could be comfortable, Leon was still kneeling on the ground but moved her so she was sideways on the bed but her ass was on the edge of the bed.

Leon started peppering kisses down her ankle, to her legs and then to her thighs, her body was starting to warm up, her thighs clenching with every soft press of his lips, she was nearly about to put him in a headlock between her thighs. When he finally got the edge of her panties that she knew where soaked, she let out a little mew as she could feel his warm breath against her.

"Please can I taste you now sweetheart." Leon softly pleaded as he looked up at her, she knew he was pulling the puppy dog eyes but even with the bags under his blue eyes and the stubble on his face that she knew would be scratching against her inner thigh. Y/n nodded her head again biting her lips.

She could see a small smile come onto Leon's face, as his index finger hooked into the side of her panties, he then lent in and placed a gentle kiss on her aching clit and quivering folds causing a soft moan to leave her lips and her fingers to go into his dark hair. She heard Leon groan softly as he started to lick and suckle as if he was savoring every moment of this.

His name falling off her lips in sweet moans and mews, the sound filled the bedroom as she gently gripped his hair, this was what she had missed the most between their fighting, she missed the intimacy between them, the love, affection, desire, want and need for each other what they can only get for each other, it almost made tears spring to her eyes.

Looking down Y/n saw Leon's face was buried between her holds, his eyes closed as he feasted on her like a starved man, she knew she wasn't going to last long as she already felt the familiar knot forming in her stomach. "It's okay, darling you can come for me." Leon grunted against her flesh, his stubble starching against her inner thighs.

With Leon's permission she came on his tongue with a high pithed cry of his name, her back slightly arching off the bed as her thighs trembled around his head, Leon helped her ride out her orgasm before he pulled away after placing a gentle and loving kiss on her folds, his face was coated in her slick but their was a small blush on his cheeks and the tips of his ears, there was a slightly glazed over look in his eyes.

But when she looked down, saw that Leon's cock was straining through his brief's he shook his head before slowly standing up. "Tonight was about you, I'll do deal with this." Leon spoke causing her to pout slightly but she nodded his head, he gave her a soft kiss on the forehead before he headed to the bathroom that was connected to their bedroom.

Maybe this was the start of the new beginning, maybe their was hope for their relationship, Y/n could only hope and pray but this was a good start and it could only get better for here....

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©Ghosty-writes-23, 2025. all rights reserved. !I DO NOT! consent to translations or replications or reproduction of my work on any other social media platforms and or make AI Bots without my explict consent and permission.

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badathumanemotions · 2 days ago

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Hello! I don't know if you're taking requests, but if you are I'm begging for an emily prentiss × female!reader with a dom/sub dynamic involving... Scissoring (I don't know if that's how you say it, but that's how I'm going to say it) after a difficult private case involving children (which is Emily's weak point) and I thought about breeding kinks, if possible (I think it's hot involving sapphic couples). Please?

The Quiet After

Emily Prentiss x femReader

MDNI Masterlist Category: Smut CW: Normal Criminal Minds Warnings, Case Involving Children, BAU Reader, Angst, Smut, Oral Sex, Tribidism, Scissoring, Strap On, Breeding Kink, Light Dom/Sub, Comfort. WC: 7,852 *Updated* Completely missed the first section while transferring it over, sorry about that. (Not Proof Read)

The case weighs heavily on Emily. It’s in her eyes—those tired, worn-out eyes you’ve come to know better than anyone else’s. She doesn’t let it show on the surface, but you can feel it. You know her. And this case, with the kids, is getting to her in a way that’s deeper than usual.

You watch her for a moment, standing at the board, her fingers tracing the photos of the missing children. The unsub believes he’s doing them a favour—taking them to a “better” place. It’s not hard to guess why it hits Emily so hard. There’s a part of her, a quiet, secret part, that wants to be a mother. She’s told you once, during one of those rare moments when she lets her guard down, when it’s just the two of you, and she’s soft, vulnerable in ways that few people get to see.

You’ve seen the subtle changes—the way her hands linger over the files of the kids, her shoulders tightening as the day stretches on. She’s struggling, but you’re here. You’re with her. And even when the case is consuming her, she finds ways to steal small moments with you, little gestures that recharge her.

A quiet kiss behind the SUV after the briefing. Her hand slipping into yours as you walk to the next scene. The brief press of her lips to your temple when she thinks no one’s looking. It’s in these moments that you can feel her ground herself again, as if your touch can remind her that she’s not alone in this.

The board in the conference room is covered with photos of the missing children, their faces staring back at you. There are seven so far, ranging in age from five to eleven. Beneath each photo are snapshots of their lives—school pictures, candid moments from birthday parties, photos scraped from social media. It’s a cruel juxtaposition against the grim reality of their current circumstances.

“The unsub is targeting children they perceive as neglected,” Spencer explains, standing near the map dotted with pins marking the locations of the abductions. “But their definition of neglect seems warped. The children’s backgrounds don’t show significant patterns of abuse or systemic failures.”

“It’s subjective,” Emily adds, her voice sharp and focused. “They’re acting on personal judgment, deciding these kids aren’t being cared for based on arbitrary criteria—like an out-of-context moment or assumption about the family dynamic.” Her arms are crossed tightly over her chest, a shield against the emotions brimming beneath the surface.

Garcia clicks through slides on the projector, her voice uncharacteristically subdued. “This is Evan Marshall, eight years old. His mom works two jobs, so he’s often in the care of his older sister. She’s fifteen. CPS has never been involved. Teachers describe him as happy and well-adjusted.”

The photo shifts to a girl no older than twelve. “And this is Sophia Grant. Her dad is a single parent. No abuse on record, but the unsub might have seen him disciplining her in public. And then there’s Mia Lang, five years old. Her parents had a loud argument at a grocery store a week before she was taken. Someone might have seen that and made assumptions.”

“They think they’re saving these kids from a horrible life,” JJ says, shaking her head. “But in reality, they’re just ripping them away from their families.”

Spencer frowns, adding, “It’s likely that the unsub sees themselves as a redeemer, correcting what they perceive as societal failures. Each abduction reinforces their sense of righteousness. The more they take, the more justified they feel.”

A heavy silence falls over the room. The photos on the board feel suffocating. Seven children—snatched away under the guise of salvation, only to be murdered by someone who thinks they’re better off dead.

Emily’s gaze lingers on the images longer than the others. Her jaw tightens, and you can almost see the turmoil brewing beneath her composed exterior. This isn’t just another case for her. It’s personal in ways she hasn’t fully shared with anyone but you.

Later, during a quieter moment, you find her standing by the SUVs in the parking lot, her back to the building. Her fingers worry the strap of her holster, a nervous habit she doesn’t even realize she’s doing.

You approach slowly, your footsteps pulling her from her thoughts. She looks up, her expression softening slightly when her eyes meet yours.

“Hey,” you say, your voice gentle as you step closer.

She doesn’t speak immediately, but she doesn’t resist when you slide your hand into hers, offering her an anchor.

“I hate this case,” she finally admits, her voice barely above a whisper. “It’s not just the kids. It’s the way the unsub thinks they’re doing the right thing. That they’re justified.”

You nod, squeezing her hand lightly. “It’s awful. But we’ll find them, Emily. You’ll find them.”

Her jaw clenches, and for a moment, you think she’s going to argue, but then she exhales a shaky breath and nods. “I hope so,” she murmurs.

Her hand tightens around yours, grounding herself in your touch. It’s a stolen moment, brief but powerful, as she lets herself lean into you. The team doesn’t need to see this—the way she recharges herself in the quiet moments you share.

“You okay?” you ask softly, your free hand brushing a strand of hair from her face.

Her eyes meet yours, and though the exhaustion is clear, there’s gratitude there too. “I will be,” she says, her voice steadier now.

You stand there together for a little longer, the weight of the case momentarily lighter between you. It’s enough to remind her—and you—that she’s not in this alone.

The tension in the room was electric as the team pieced together the final parts of the unsub’s profile. Spencer’s rapid-fire monologue laid out the psychological motivations, each word building up a picture of the unsub.

“The unsub’s fixation stems from a personal history of perceived neglect,” he explained, his hands moving animatedly as he spoke. “They’re projecting their own experiences onto these children and making judgment calls based on fleeting observations. The perceived neglect—a single-parent household, a sibling as a caretaker—is triggering their need to intervene.”

“They’re likely observing the children over time,” JJ added. “The unsub is targeting families that seem chaotic or unconventional from the outside, but these are often normal, loving homes. They’re misinterpreting moments—like a parent raising their voice in public or an older sibling looking overwhelmed—as signs of neglect.”

Emily’s arms were crossed tightly, her jaw set in a way you recognized. She was focused, determined, and more emotionally invested than she’d ever admit in front of the team.

“What we’ve seen so far suggests they’re escalating,” JJ added, her voice heavy with concern. “They’ve gone from abducting children every few weeks to every few days. If we don’t move fast, there’s going to be another victim.”

“Garcia, do we have anything on their potential location?” Hotch’s voice cut through the discussion with its usual authority.

Garcia’s fingers flew across her keyboard, her eyes scanning through reams of property records, utility bills, and work schedules for any anomaly that might point to a suspect. “I’m narrowing down properties owned or rented by individuals with ties to these areas," she said, her voice tense but determined. "I’m looking for someone whose daily routine brings them into contact with children in these areas—a school bus driver, a delivery person, someone who works near parks or schools. Those interactions might be how they observed the kids." She glanced at the screen. "Cross-referencing every property associated with individuals fitting the profile within a fifty-mile radius of the abduction sites. Hang tight, my loves, I’ll have something soon."

Moments later, her screen lit up with a match. "Okay, I’ve got something. George Lyman, 38 years old, works as a postal carrier in the targeted areas. His route regularly takes him through neighbourhoods where each of the victims lived. He’s single, no criminal record, but… oh." Garcia paused, her tone shifting. "He has a history of child protective services reports from his own childhood. His parents were flagged multiple times for physical and emotional abuse, but every time George ran away, he was returned to them. There are records of repeated visits by social workers, but nothing was ever done to remove him from the home.”

Emily’s face darkened. “So he sees himself in these kids, believes he’s saving them.”

Hotch nodded. “That fits with the profile. What else do we have on him?”

“He rents a farmhouse just outside town,” Garcia continued. “It’s isolated and matches the description of the type of location we’ve been looking for. I’m sending you the address now.”

You caught Emily’s eye across the room. The exhaustion in her face was mirrored in your own, but beneath it, you saw the same resolve. You gave her a small nod, and she returned it—just a fraction, but it was enough to steady you both.

The drive to the farmhouse was tense. Emily sat beside you, her leg bouncing with restless energy. She’d barely spoken since the briefing, and you knew better than to press her. Instead, you let your pinky brush hers on the console between you, a silent reassurance. She glanced at you briefly, the corners of her mouth twitching in a ghost of a smile, before turning her focus back to the road ahead.

The farmhouse loomed in the distance, its silhouette stark against the darkening sky. The team split into pairs, surrounding the property. You were with Emily, your weapons drawn as you moved toward the back entrance.

“Ready?” you whispered.

She nodded, her jaw tightening. “Let’s do this.”

The door creaked open under Emily’s firm push, revealing a dimly lit interior that smelled of damp wood and decay. You swept the first room together, clearing it quickly before moving deeper into the house. Upstairs, muffled voices and a child’s cry sent a chill down your spine.

Emily held up a hand, signalling you to pause. She leaned toward you, her voice barely audible. “They’re up there. We need to be careful.”

You nodded, your heart hammering in your chest. Together, you ascended the stairs, each step deliberate and silent. At the top, you found yourselves in a long hallway, the sound of the child’s cries growing louder. Emily gestured to the farthest door, and you both moved toward it.

Hotch’s voice came through your comm. “We’ve cleared the lower level. The house is empty except for one suspect. Any sign of the child?”

Emily responded quietly, “We’re about to breach a room on the second floor. Stand by.”

You reached the door and exchanged a glance with her. This was it. Emily counted down with her fingers, and on three, you burst into the room together.

The room was small, its walls covered with old wallpaper curling at the edges. A man stood in the center, his grip tight on a terrified boy’s arm. The child, no older than eight, was trembling, his tear-streaked face pale with fear.

“FBI!” Emily shouted, her voice commanding. “Drop the weapon and let the boy go!”

The unsub’s eyes were wild, darting between you and Emily. He clutched a knife in his free hand, the blade trembling as much as his fingers. “You don’t understand,” he said, his voice cracking. “I’m saving him.”

“Saving him from what?” you asked, keeping your voice calm. “He needs his family. Whatever you think you’re doing, this isn’t the way to help.”

The unsub shook his head violently. “No one cared about me! No one ever cared! They won’t care about him either!”

Emily took a slow, careful step forward, her gun still trained on the man. “George, listen to me. You’re scared, and you’re hurting, but this isn’t the answer. Look at him—he’s just a child. You can’t make him go through what you did.”

For a moment, something flickered in George’s eyes—hesitation, maybe even regret. His grip on the knife faltered, his hand trembling. But then, in an instant, he pulled the boy closer, the blade pressing against the child’s neck.

“Stay back!” George screamed, his voice breaking. “Don’t make me do this!”

Your heart raced as you saw the terror in the boy’s eyes. Emily’s voice remained steady, though you could hear the edge of desperation in it. “You don’t have to do this, George. Put the knife down, and we’ll talk. No one else has to get hurt.”

The standoff stretched into agonizing seconds, every muscle in your body coiled and ready to move. You caught Emily’s eye, and she gave the slightest nod—silent confirmation of the plan forming between you.

In a swift motion, Emily fired, her shot hitting George’s shoulder with pinpoint accuracy. The knife clattered to the floor as George cried out in pain, his grip on the boy loosening. You didn’t hesitate, lunging forward and pulling the child into your arms, shielding him as Emily rushed to subdue the unsub.

“It’s okay,” you whispered to the boy, your voice gentle as you held him close. “You’re safe now. We’ve got you.”

The boy clung to you, his small hands gripping your shirt as he sobbed uncontrollably. You crouched on the floor with him, your body positioned protectively between him and the rest of the room.

Emily secured George with practiced efficiency, her jaw tight as she snapped the handcuffs into place. She glanced over at you and the boy, her expression softening ever so slightly when she saw you murmuring reassurances to him.

The rest of the team arrived moments later, the tension in the room finally breaking as Hotch and Morgan took over. Emily walked over to you, crouching beside you and the boy.

“Hey,” she said softly, her voice a stark contrast to the authority she’d wielded moments ago. “You’re safe now. Can you tell me your name?”

The boy hiccupped through his tears. “E-Evan,” he managed.

Emily smiled gently. “Evan, you’re so brave. We’re going to take you home, okay?”

He nodded, his grip on you loosening just enough for Emily to brush a comforting hand over his back.

As the team began to clear the scene and escort George out, you stayed with Evan, his small frame still trembling against yours. Emily stood, giving you a brief but meaningful look before stepping away to help the others.

You held Evan a little tighter, feeling the weight of his fear and relief as if it were your own. In that moment, nothing else mattered but making sure he felt safe.

The boy, Evan, was safely in the hands of the paramedics now, his sobs slowly subsiding as he clung to one of the responders. The team had the unsub secured, and the farmhouse was already being cleared. You felt a wave of exhaustion wash over you as you watched them lead Evan to safety, but it wasn’t over yet.

“Good job, everyone,” Hotch said, his voice steady, even in the aftermath. “Let’s wrap this up.”

The drive back home was quiet, the weight of the case still hanging heavy in the air. You sat beside Emily, your fingers brushing occasionally, the small touches speaking volumes. She was focused on the road, her jaw tense, but you could see the weariness in her eyes. You didn’t speak, neither of you needed to, but your proximity was a comfort—a grounding force amid the chaos of the case.

By the time you made it to your shared apartment, the evening had settled into a quiet calm, but the emotions of the day were far from gone. You both stepped out of the SUV, the cool night air feeling sharper now as it hit your skin. Without a word, you walked side by side into the building, up to your apartment, and inside.

The door clicked shut behind you, and just like that, the quiet of the apartment surrounded you both, cutting through the exhaustion that clung to your bones.

Emily didn’t say anything. She simply kicked off her shoes, then reached for you, pulling you into a tight embrace. Her arms were strong, but there was something softer about this moment—more raw than you’d seen in her before. It was as if she couldn’t bear to let go of you, even for a second.

Then she leaned in, her breath warm against your cheek. Her kiss took you by surprise—intimate and urgent. It was as if she was trying to erase the horror of the day with the press of her lips to yours. You didn’t resist. You couldn’t. Instead, you melted into it, letting the heat of her touch seep into your very soul.

Her arms wound around your waist, pulling you closer, until there wasn’t an inch of space between you. Your hands found their way to her hair, tangling in the soft strands as the kiss grew deeper, more desperate. It was a kiss filled with fear and anger, but also with a fierce love and a need to be connected—to be human.

Without breaking away, you both stumbled into the bedroom. The door clicked shut, cutting off the outside world, leaving just the two of you. You didn’t bother with the lights, the moon casting enough of a glow through the windows to navigate the room. Her hands were everywhere—on your neck, your back, sliding down to your ass—and you could feel the urgency in every touch, as if she was trying to claim you as her own.

Emily’s strength was surprising as she hoisted you onto the bed. You felt your breath hitch as she looked down at you, a wild hunger burning in her gaze. You could see the need etched on her features, the same need echoing in your own chest. It was raw, animalistic, and you craved it like a drug.

Her hands moved to the buttons of your shirt, deftly undoing them one by one. Each button released cool air against your skin, causing goosebumps to break out. She took her time, kissing each inch of exposed flesh as if she were worshipping it, her lips leaving a trail of fire in their wake. The fabric parted to reveal your bra, and she took a moment to simply look at you, her eyes darkening with desire.

Emily’s fingertips danced along the lace, tracing the edge of your bra before gently pushing the fabric up to reveal your breasts. She took one nipple into her mouth, her tongue swirling around it in a slow, tantalizing dance that had you arching off the bed. The sensation was exquisite, and you couldn’t help but moan, your hands fisting in the sheets. Her other hand found its way to your waistband, and she began to unbuckle your belt with an agonizing slowness that made you want to scream in frustration.

Her kisses travelled down your torso, each one more urgent than the last. She kissed your stomach, her breath tickling the sensitive skin, and you felt your abs clench in anticipation. As she reached the button of your pants, she paused, her eyes meeting yours. You nodded, giving her the silent go-ahead, your body aching for her touch.

Your pants fell away, revealing the simple cotton panties that were already damp with need. Emily’s gaze was intense, her pupils dilated with desire. Her hand reached out, tracing the waistband of your underwear with the back of her fingers before she hooked them and slowly began to pull them down.

Her eyes were focused as the fabric slid over your hips, exposing the wetness that had gathered between your legs. You watched her face, the hunger in her expression unmistakable. It sent a thrill through you, a heady mix of desire and power, knowing you could do this to her.

Emily’s fingertips brushed over your inner thighs, sending shivers of anticipation through your body. You spread your legs wider, silently begging for her touch. She didn’t make you wait long. With a soft, almost reverent sigh, she reached down and parted your folds with the tips of her fingers. You gasped as she touched you, the sensation of her skin against yours sending heat through your core.

Her touch was gentle at first—exploratory. She traced the length of your slit, her fingertips slipping through your slickness and circling your clit with maddening precision. Your hips rocked upward, seeking more pressure, but she took her time, her eyes studying your reactions. Each touch was calculated, a silent exploration of what you liked, what you needed.

Then, her fingers entered you, sliding in smoothly. You bit your lip to stifle a moan as she began to move, setting a slow, deliberate pace that had you panting. Her thumb found your clit, stroking it in time with the movement of her fingers. It was a sweet agony, the anticipation of what was to come building with every second that passed.

She brought her mouth to your pussy, her tongue swiping over your clit with a gentle touch that had you trembling. She took her time, savouring every part of you, and when she finally closed her lips around the sensitive bud, you couldn’t hold back the gasp.

Her suckling grew more intense, each pull sending shockwaves through your body. Her teeth grazed you gently, not quite biting, but adding an edge to the pleasure that had you digging your nails into the bedspread. Emily’s hand gripped your thigh, holding you in place as she explored your depths, her fingers moving in tandem with her mouth.

As the tension grew, you felt your body begin to quiver. You reached down to stroke her hair, needing to feel connected to her in every way possible. She took your cue, increasing her pace, her tongue flicking against your clit with a rhythm that had your toes curling. Your breathing grew ragged, your moans echoing through the room.

Emily’s own need was palpable. You could see it in the way her hips began to rock back and forth, grinding her core against the edge of the bed. She was so focused on bringing you pleasure that she forgot about herself. But you weren’t going to let that happen.

With trembling hands, you reached down and pulled Emily up onto the bed. Her body was a warm, solid weight against you. You both needed this—needed to feel each other, needed to be close.

You began to kiss her again, but this time, you were the one in charge. Your hands moved to her shirt, slipping it off her shoulders and down her arms, revealing her bare skin to the cool air. Her bra followed, and you took a moment to just look at her—her perfect breasts, the rosy tips of her nipples standing at attention.

Your tongue darted out, tracing the outline of one erect peak before closing your mouth around it. Emily gasped, her head falling back, and you took advantage, sucking gently as you teased the sensitive flesh. You felt her hands in your hair, her nails digging into your scalp as she pulled you closer, her hips bucking against you.

Your hands moved to her breasts, cupping the soft mounds before squeezing them firmly. Your thumbs flicked over the tightened buds, eliciting whimpers that only spurred you on. You could feel her nipples pebbled against your palms, the sensation sending jolts of desire straight to your own core. Emily’s breath grew shallower, her body arching towards you as you played her like an instrument.

With a sudden, urgent need to feel all of her, you slid your hand down her stomach, over the waistband of her pants. Your fingers worked the button and zipper with surprising dexterity, given how much your own hands were shaking. You pushed the fabric down, her underwear following, revealing her bare sex.

Emily’s thighs parted slightly, an unspoken invitation that you couldn’t resist. You gripped her thighs firmly, spreading her wider as you leaned in to taste her. Your tongue darted out, lapping up the wetness that had pooled at her entrance.

Her hips jerked in response, a soft whine escaping her as you found her clit, swollen and begging for attention. You took it into your mouth, sucking gently before swirling your tongue around it, feeling it pulse against you. Her legs quivered around your head, and you knew you had her exactly where you wanted her.

Your fingers slid into her, curling slightly to hit that spot inside that always made her moan. The sound was music to your ears, a symphony of need and desire that had you pressing harder, moving faster. Emily’s breath was coming in short gasps now, her body tightening with every stroke.

The two of you were a captivating mess—half-clothed and carelessly undone, tangled together on the bed in a chaotic, feverish embrace, completely consumed by desire. Emily’s eyes never left yours as you pleasured her, her gaze a blend of passion and something deeper—gratitude, perhaps, for this brief reprieve from the horrors of the case.

Her hips rolled against your mouth, and you knew she was close. You doubled your efforts, desperate to make her cum, to show her that amidst the chaos, she was cherished, loved. You added a second finger, curling them inside her in a come-hither motion that had her back bowing off the bed.

Emily’s breath grew ragged, her eyes squeezed shut as she whispered your name. You could feel her body tighten around your fingers, her muscles clenching as the first waves of her orgasm began to crash over her. You didn’t let up, your mouth working her clit, your other hand sliding up to pinch her nipple, twisting just enough to send sparks of painful pleasure shooting through her.

“Cum for me, Em,” you murmured against her folds, the vibration of your voice sending another tremor through her body. “Let go, baby.”

Emily’s eyes snapped open, meeting yours, and you could see the need there, the desperation in her gaze. You didn’t stop your relentless rhythm, didn’t ease up on her clit. You needed her to release, to feel the shattering pleasure that you knew was just out of reach.

Then, you began to hum—a low, steady vibration that resonated against her sensitive flesh. It was all it took. Her body went rigid, and then she was cumming, her orgasm ripping through her like a storm. Her cries filled the room, her hips jerking wildly against your face as you held her through it, her muscles pulsing around your fingers.

It was a beautiful sight—Emily’s release, raw and unbridled. You felt a sense of accomplishment, a fierce satisfaction at being the one to give it to her. But even as the first orgasm subsided, you didn’t stop. You knew her body, knew that with the right touches, you could coax more from her.

Your tongue remained on her clit, flicking gently through the aftershocks. Emily’s hips rolled, and you knew she was trying to pull away, to catch her breath, but you held her firm, keeping the pressure steady. It didn’t take much—just a few more strokes before she was gasping again, her body responding to your relentless pursuit of her pleasure.

Her second orgasm hit her like a surprise attack, stealing the breath from her lungs. She bucked against you, her pussy fluttering around your fingers. You groaned against her, the vibration of your voice sending another jolt through her.

Emily’s hands were in your hair now, her nails scraping at your scalp, holding you in place. You felt the tension in her thighs as she rode the waves of pleasure, her breath coming in panting gasps. You didn’t let up, your tongue and fingers working in tandem to milk every last drop of ecstasy from her trembling body.

As the second orgasm began to subside, you slowly pulled back, kissing your way up her body. You could feel her pulse beneath your lips, her chest heaving with each ragged breath. You looked into her eyes, searching for any sign of discomfort, but all you saw was a desperate hunger that mirrored your own.

Without a word, she rolled you over, her body straddling yours. Her hands found your face, pulling it closer until your mouths collided in a kiss that was as fiery as it was tender. She kissed you as if she were trying to consume you, her tongue delving into your mouth with an urgency that was almost desperate.

Emily’s hips began to move, grinding into yours with a rhythm that was both seductive and demanding. You could feel the heat of her core against yours, the wetness of her desire coating your skin. Your own need grew, your body responding instinctively to the pressure of hers.

Without breaking the kiss, you shifted, aligning your bodies so that your clits met. The sensation was electric, sending bolts of pleasure through your core. You moaned into her mouth, your legs locking together as you began to rock back and forth.

The wet sound of skin against skin grew louder, punctuating the air with each movement. Your hips rolled together in a sensual dance, the friction building between you. The pressure was exquisite, the feeling of her body against yours setting off sparks that threatened to ignite a wildfire.

You wrapped your arms around her, your hands finding purchase on her toned back as she ground into you. Your own hips met hers thrust for thrust, each movement bringing you closer to the edge. The scent of your combined arousal filled the room, a musky perfume that was intoxicating.

Her hips picked up speed, the friction between you growing more intense. You could feel the slickness of your desire as it coated your thighs, a testament to how badly you needed this release. Emily’s breath was hot against your neck, her teeth grazing your skin as she nipped and kissed her way down to your collarbone.

You both were so wet, the sound of your bodies sliding against each other filled the room. Your clits swollen and sensitive, the constant pressure sending waves of pleasure through your bodies. You wrapped your arms around her, pulling her closer, the heat of her breasts pressing into yours.

Emily’s hands slid down to your ass, gripping you firmly as she ground her hips into yours. The sensation was overwhelming, the friction sending jolts of pleasure through your body with every movement. Your own hips matched hers, the rhythm becoming more frenzied as you both chased the peak of your climax.

“You’re so wet for me, sweet girl,” she murmured against your neck, her voice a low growl of approval. The words sent a shiver of submission that you had desperately craved. You arched into her touch, your body begging for more.

Emily’s kiss grew more demanding, her tongue delving into your mouth as if she could taste your need. You could feel the tremble in her own body, the aftershocks of her recent orgasm still resonating through her. But she wasn’t done with you yet.

With a sudden shift, she pulled away, her eyes dark with intent. “Be a good girl and make me cum one more time,” she breathed, the words sending a new wave of lust through you. You nodded, eager to give her what she wanted, eager to feel her come apart in your arms again.

“I plan on getting my strap out and breeding you tonight, sweetheart,” Emily whispered in your ear, the promise of dominance in her voice sending a thrill through you. Your eyes widened at her words, the excitement of the turn in your intimate moment making your heart race.

With a sudden surge of need, your hips bucked against hers, your body desperately seeking the release that was just out of reach. Emily’s eyes lit up with approval, her grip on you tightening as she held you in place. “Looks like you want it as badly as I do,” she said with a smirk, her voice low and husky with desire.

You nodded, unable to form coherent words as you felt the pressure building again. Emily’s own hips began to rock, her movements more deliberate and forceful as she matched your rhythm. The feeling of her clit grinding against yours was heavenly, sending waves of pleasure crashing through your body. You could feel the heat from her core, the wetness of her desire, and it only made you want more.

The sound of her moans grew louder, filling the room. They were sweet and needy, urging you to give her what she craved. You responded in kind, your own sounds of pleasure mingling with hers. Each gasp, each whimper was a symphony of desire that spurred you onward.

Her hips rocked faster, the slickness of your arousal making it easier for her to glide against you. You could feel the tension coil tight in your stomach, your legs trembling with the effort to keep up. Your body was a live wire, ready to snap at any moment.

Emily’s moans grew louder, the sound of her pleasure pushing you closer and closer to your own release. Your own breath came in pants and gasps, your nails digging into the flesh of her back as you held on for dear life. You felt her get wetter, her movements growing more erratic as she approached climax.

“Cum for me, Emily, please,” you begged, the words spilling from your mouth like a prayer. The need to hear her fall apart, to feel her body convulse with pleasure was overwhelming. She threw her head back, her eyes squeezed shut, and you knew she was close.

With a few hard, desperate thrusts, you pushed against her, the friction between your bodies reaching a fever pitch. Emily’s hips stuttered, her breath coming in short, sharp gasps. And then, she was there—her body tightening against yours, her cries filling the room as she shuddered with release.

The moment she came, you felt it—a rush of wetness that soaked the sheets beneath you. You couldn’t help but moan at the sensation, your own climax just a breath away. Emily’s eyes snapped open, and she stared down at you with a fierce hunger.

Then, she broke away, reaching for the bedside drawer. You watched as she pulled out a harness and a silicone dildo. The sight of it sent a thrill through you, a mix of excitement and trepidation. She looked into your eyes, her own alight with something primal.

“I’m going to fuck a baby into you,” Emily growls. It was a dark promise, a fantasy that sent a shiver down your spine. The words alone were enough to make your pussy throb with anticipation.

The harness was strapped around her hips, the dildo jutting out like an extension of her. She leaned over you, the tip brushing against your wetness, and you felt your body respond instinctively, your hips rising to meet it.

Emily took hold of your hips, her grip firm and commanding. You watched as she positioned the toy at your entrance. Then, with a single, powerful thrust, she plunged into your wet heat.

You cried out in pleasure, the feeling of fullness overwhelming you as she claimed you. Your eyes squeezed shut, and you couldn’t help but let your head fall back into the pillow, your body arching up to meet her. The sound of skin slapping against skin filled the room, punctuated by your gasps and her growls of effort.

Emily’s eyes bore into yours, the intensity of her gaze making your heart race. “You’re mine,” she murmured, her voice low and possessive. “You’re going to carry my baby.”

The words hung in the air, coloured with desire and dominance. It was a heady mix, and you found yourself nodding, eager to submit to her every whim. The thought of being filled by her, of carrying a piece of her inside you, was intoxicating.

“Yes, Em,” you babbled out, your voice trembling with need. “I want it—please, take me, make me yours. I want to be filled with you, to carry your baby. Make me feel it, all of it. Don’t stop.”

Emily’s eyes blazed with desire, her pupils blown out. She leaned down, her breasts brushing against yours, and whispered, “You’re going to be so full, my love. Everyone will know you’re mine, that you’re carrying my child.”

With that, she began to move in earnest, setting a steady pace that had you whimpering. Each thrust filled you completely, the girth of the toy stretching your walls and hitting that spot inside that made your toes curl. Your hands clutched at her shoulders, your nails digging in as you tried to keep up with the sensations that were crashing over you like waves.

Her hips moved in a relentless rhythm, the dildo sliding in and out of you with ease. The room was filled with the sounds of your muffled cries and the slick sound of her movements. You could feel yourself building, your body responding to the eroticism of her words and actions.

Emily lifted one of your legs, changing the angle and hitting you deeper, harder. The sudden shift in sensation had you crying out, your hand flying to cover your mouth to keep the noise from escaping. Your eyes watered as she stared down at you, her expression one of pure determination.

Then, she grabbed your wrist, her grip surprisingly firm, and pulled your hand away from your mouth. "Don't you dare stifle those pretty little sounds," she demanded, a dark smile playing at the corners of her lips.

"I want the neighbours to hear how good I’m making you feel," Emily growled, the feral sound sending a shiver down your spine. She pulled out almost all the way before slamming back into you, the force of her thrust making the bed frame shake. Your moan was loud, echoing through the apartment, and you felt a thrill knowing that anyone close by could hear the unmistakable sounds of your passion.

Her hips picked up speed, the slap of her thighs against yours growing louder. Each thrust sent a jolt of pleasure through your body, and you found yourself letting go, moaning louder and louder, the sounds bouncing off the walls.

Emily’s grip on your hips tightened as she pulled you down onto her silicone cock, the friction building between your bodies. She was relentless, her movements powerful and possessive. You could feel yourself getting wetter, the sound of your slickness mingling with your cries of pleasure.

Her other hand found its way to your throat, not squeezing but rather holding you in place as she claimed you. The dominance was intoxicating, and you found yourself leaning into it, your body begging for more.

As Emily’s strokes grew more intense, so did her words, whispered into your ear like dark promises. "You’re going to carry my baby," she repeated, her voice a mix of a command and a desperate plea. "You’re going to be so full of me, so ripe with life."

The thought sent you spiralling, your body responding in kind. You felt your orgasm building, the pressure in your core tightening with each thrust. "Yes, Emily," you moaned, your voice breaking. "I want it—want to be filled with you, to carry your baby."

Her eyes lit up with triumph at your words, her movements growing even more frenzied. She leaned down, her teeth grazing your neck as she whispered, "You're going to cum for me, aren't you?" It was a question, but there was no doubt in her tone.

You nodded, unable to form words as the pleasure mounted, threatening to overwhelm you. Emily's grip on your throat tightened slightly, a silent command to look at her as she took you over the edge. Your eyes widened as your climax approached your body tightening around the silicone cock.

"Emily, please," you managed to choke out, the desperation in your voice clear. "I need to feel you cum in me."

Her eyes darkened at the words, and she leaned in closer, her breath hot against your skin. "You want it that badly?" she whispered, her hips grinding into you.

You could only nod, the anticipation of her release almost too much to bear. Emily’s eyes searched yours, a silent question before she leaned down and whispered, "You’re going to feel every drop of me filling you up, baby. You’re going to be so full."

Her words sent you over the edge. Your orgasm was intense, your vision swimming with stars as wave after wave of pleasure washed over you. You could feel Emily’s own excitement in her tightened grip, her hips moving faster as she watched you come apart beneath her. It was as if your pleasure fuelled hers, her thrusts becoming more urgent, more demanding.

As your climax subsided, she leaned in to kiss you, her breath ragged and her eyes bright with desire. But she didn’t stop moving, the toy still buried deep inside you. The feeling of fullness remained, a delicious reminder of your shared fantasy.

Emily’s kisses grew more tender, her movements slowing to a gentle rocking that kept the pleasure simmering without letting it boil over again. Each thrust was deliberate, drawing out every sensation, making you feel cherished and owned. It was a tender domination that made you melt into the mattress beneath her.

With surprising grace, she shifted your positions so that you were both laying on your sides, the silicone cock still buried deep within you. Your legs tangled together, her hand still resting on your throat, but now with a gentle, soothing pressure that was a contrast to the intensity of moments ago. Her thumb brushed your jawline, turning your face towards her, her eyes searching yours.

Then, she leaned in and captured your lips in a slow, sensual kiss. It was a kiss filled with everything unsaid, everything felt but not voiced. Her tongue danced with yours, a dance that was both sweet and demanding.

The kiss lingered, slower now but just as intense, a way to ground yourselves after the chaos of the case. Emily’s hands slid over your back, holding you close, and you let yourself sink into her, feeling the tension in your body finally ease. The weight of everything—the long hours, the children’s faces, the endless cycle of chasing darkness—seemed to lift with each shared breath.

When the high broke, it was like coming up for air after being submerged for too long. Both of you stilled, breathless and spent, bodies still tangled together as the energy between you shifted into something gentler, softer. Emily rested her head on your shoulder, her arms wrapped tightly around your waist, as though letting go might bring the world crashing back in. Her fingers moved absently along your skin, a grounding motion more for her than for you.

You turned slightly to look at her, brushing a strand of hair away from her face. Her dark eyes met yours, no longer guarded. There was a softness in her expression she rarely let anyone see—a vulnerability reserved for you alone. It was a part of Emily she kept locked away, buried beneath layers of composure and strength, but here, in the quiet of your shared sanctuary, she let you see it.

“I needed that,” she admitted, her voice barely above a whisper, yet it carried the weight of her exhaustion. “I needed you.”

Your heart ached at the honesty in her words, and you reached out, running a hand along her arm. “I’m here,” you said simply but with conviction. “I’m always here, Emily.”

She sighed, her body sinking further against yours as though your words had given her permission to let go. “It’s just… too much sometimes,” she murmured, her voice cracking slightly. “The cases, the victims, the choices we have to make. I keep it together out there, but when it’s over, it feels like it’s all going to crush me.”

Your chest tightened at her admission. Emily rarely talked about the toll the job took on her—not with anyone else, not even with the team. But with you, she let the walls come down, piece by piece. You cupped her face gently, guiding her to meet your gaze.

“It doesn’t have to crush you,” you said, your tone soft but firm. “You don’t have to carry it alone. Let me help. Lean on me, Emily. Please.”

Her jaw tightened, and for a moment, you thought she might push back, but then her face crumpled just slightly, and she nodded. “I don’t know what I’d do without you,” she whispered, her voice unsteady. “You’re the only one I can… let this out with.”

“You won’t have to find out,” you assured her, leaning in to press a kiss to her forehead. “I’m not going anywhere. I’ve got you.”

Emily’s hand settled on your hip, her thumb brushing lazily against your skin. The tension that had held her body rigid for hours finally began to ebb. She exhaled slowly, her breath warm against your neck, as though releasing the weight she had carried all day.

For a long while, neither of you spoke, the room quiet except for the sound of your breathing. The case, the emotions, the burden of it all—it wasn’t gone, but it felt lighter now. You could feel it in the way her body relaxed against yours, the way her hand stopped fidgeting and simply rested on you, the way her breathing evened out.

You pulled her closer, holding her as tightly as she held you, grounding her in the present. “You’re safe,” you murmured softly. “We’re safe. Just us.”

Emily lifted her head slightly, her dark eyes meeting yours again. The gratitude in her expression was so raw, so unguarded, it made your breath catch. She leaned in and kissed you again—not out of passion, but something deeper. It was a kiss of trust, of love, of everything she couldn’t quite put into words but poured into you all the same.

When she pulled back, she rested her forehead against yours, her fingers tangling with yours. “Thank you,” she said quietly, her voice steadier now.

“You don’t have to thank me,” you replied, brushing your thumb over her knuckles. “This is what we do for each other. I’m here, Emily. I always will be.”

She smiled faintly, the first genuine smile you’d seen from her since the case had started. “I’m holding you to that.”

“You should,” you teased lightly, earning a soft laugh from her. It was quiet, but it was real, and it was everything.

The two of you stayed like that for a while, wrapped up in each other. No barriers, no walls, just the safety of knowing you didn’t have to face the world alone. And in that moment, nothing else mattered.

#criminal minds #masterlist #emily prentiss #emily prentiss x reader #emily prentiss smut #paget brewster smut #paget brewster #ask #request #ask box #bau reader

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rostekhorn · 17 hours ago

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Heh.

It's funny, I remember at the time that movie came out, that I thought it was over-the-top (though in a way that's normal for a comic book movie) to have the villains be actual literal Nazis (especially OG Nazis) instead of simply the U.S. security state drifting in a more and more fascist direction because that's what happens when that much power has that little restraint.

Within a couple years, it turned out that nope, when fascism comes to America, it will be literal actual-factual Nazis, complete with "heil Trump" salutes.

Similarly, I thought it was over the top that half of SHIELD were literally moles working for hostile outside forces, as opposed to, again, the security state looking more and more like its enemies because that's just the nature of the beast.

But again, within a couple of years, we had James Comey putting his thumb on the scale as hard as possible to throw an election to a fascist who'd already outed himself as a Kremlin asset.

No matter how cartoonish fiction is, reality has it beat.

Meta/Facebook worked with Cambridge Analytica and Russia to micro-target and infleunce 2016 election. No one did shit about it.

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angelfic · 10 hours ago

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theodore nott x reader

warnings — kissing, kinda pg-13, mentions of drinking/smoking the usual stuff blah blah etc etc

a/n; truly thought another theo fic written by me would never see the light of day but here we are <3 this was meant to be a tiny drabble btw I hate myself!!!! NOT PROOFREAD!

THEODORE NOTT is shy.

he doesn’t understand why people find him intimidating. well, actually, that’s not completely true. he knows that people avoid him when he’s with his friends because they’re doing stupid shit like when enzo and draco are hexing each other for fun. or when mattheo starts scrapping out in the corridor because someone looked at him wrong and blaise is egging him on.

and, okay, maybe theo will jump in at some point too. in his defence, it’s only when the other guy’s friend starts in on him first.

but his friends aside, theo doesn’t understand why people think he’s intimidating when he’s by himself. it’s not his fault his resting face is daunting.

he wishes he could change it sometimes. girls will still come up to him at parties in the common room once he’s had a couple of drinks, but at the risk of becoming an alcoholic, he can’t be that loose all of the time.

theo wishes more than ever that he could cast some sort of spell on himself when you talk to him. you share a few classes, much to theo’s delight, but it’s not like he’s taking advantage of the fact.

every time you speak to him, his brain short circuits and he feels like a piece of muggle technology being fried by the wards of hogwarts. sometimes it’ll be something small like when you ask him to pass over the pot of lacewing flies in potions and he just stares at you.

“uhm, we’ve run out of them on our table,” you explain after a few seconds of silence, giving him a little smile. you point to the ingredients and raise your brows. “so…?”

he knows for a fact that his face is set in a blank expression that probably looks pissed off, especially when he catches sight of your friend at the table next door who practically looks concerned for your safety.

but his ears are burning and he feels like someone’s electrocuted him when he finally hands over the pot without looking at you and your finger brushes against his for a nanosecond.

“thanks,” you say, sincerely, a smile still gracing your lips as he offers you a stiff nod. you act as though you just had a completely normal interaction and it has theo stressing out because what if you see right through him?

another time, you’re late to history of magic and there are two seats left. one near the front and the other next to theo. you rush over and take out your things, barely registering who you’re sitting with, but theo is hyper-aware. no one ever willingly sits next to him aside from his friends.

once you’re settled, it appears that the rush of being late has left you quickly due to the monotone voice of professor bins and instead you’re fighting to stay awake. theo would know, since he keeps throwing glances your way.

at one point professor binns drones on about known cases of dragon pox and when he starts to list the symptoms, including a green and purple rash, theo mutters under his breath to mattheo, “much rather that than having to sit here for another bloody hour.”

his eyes flick over to you, surprised when you let out an unexpected snort of laughter. mattheo, having fallen asleep on his desk unbeknownst to theo, is oblivious to theo’s comment. instead, you’re the one covering your mouth with your hand to stop yourself from laughing too hard and theo physically can’t stop his lips from quirking up. he made you laugh.

later that day, he overhears your friend apologising for not saving you a seat in class. “i can’t believe you went and sat next to nott. i’m surprised he didn’t tell you to piss off.”

you immediately shush her, and your next words make him feel like he just ran a marathon. “i still don’t know what you mean. he’s nice… and funny,” you say simply, shrugging.

he repeats the words in his head over and over until the next time you talk to him, which happens to be at a party in the slytherin common room.

outside the party, actually. theo goes to sit right outside the common room entrance with his cup and a cigarette, partly to smoke and partly to get away from some of the girls who were flocking to him and his friends after they had all had a few drinks.

he’s exhaling a puff of smoke right as you’re quietly exiting the party to take a seat next to him and as soon as he spots you, he accidentally inhales the smoke the wrong way and coughs.

“sorry,” he mutters, waving the smoke away before it can go near you. he feels stupid and decides to just dump the thing into his cup before setting it aside. alcohol makes him looser, but it doesn’t make him completely immune to you.

“it’s fine,” you smile, crossing your legs as you settle on the ground next to him. “how come you’re out here every time there’s a party?”

“too loud,” he explains, letting his head rest against the wall as he starts to feel the buzz kicking in. “that, and to get away from all my adoring fans of course.”

this makes you laugh and theo, in his tipsy state, adorns a lazy grin at the sound, not bothering to hide that he’s looking at you.

“i don’t think there was a single girl who didn’t try chatting you or your friends up in there,” you shake your head, amused.

theo swallows, noticing the way you’re fiddling with the hem of your dress and he wonders if it bothers you. he blames the vodka for making him so bold when he says, “you and your friends didn’t.”

“my friends are scared of you,” you reply, raising your eyebrows as if to ask him if he’s surprised. “they think you’re always glaring at me.”

“nah,” he mumbles, looking at you through slightly hooded eyes. the dimly lit corridor makes your skin glow in a way that has him feeling a bit in awe, and he finds himself blurting out the first thing that comes to mind. “have they considered i’m staring at you because i think you’re fit?”

he promptly wants to punch himself in the face.

weirdly enough, you don’t look taken aback. you tilt your head as if pleasantly surprised, and your lips quirk up into the ghost of a smirk. “i have to say that explains a lot.”

“how so?” he asks, hesitant to know your answer. his heart stutters when you move closer to him and get up slightly to crouch beside him. your fingers reach out to tuck some of his hair behind his ear and he freezes, utterly still.

“well,” you say softly, a teasing glimmer in your eyes. “every time you speak to me the tips of your ears turn pink.”

and then you get up and leave and theo thinks his face has gone numb. he doesn’t remember much else from that evening, but the next morning his friends are asking him why he looks like he wants to kill someone.

he doesn’t know how to tell them that the someone he’s wanting to kill is himself for telling you he thinks you’re fit.

channeling the embarrassment into something useful, he tries to focus all his energy on the quidditch match he’s in against ravenclaw.

it goes by in a blur and somehow they’ve won, and theo thanks his lucky stars that they have because draco would surely have killed him for throwing the match due to being distracted.

the others run off quickly to the common room to celebrate, and theo tells them he’ll be right there, allowing himself to linger in the changing rooms for some peace and quiet before the inevitable celebrations.

“hey.”

he spins around, still in uniform with sweat dampening his hair and his green eyes fall on you in surprise. “uh. hi. what are you doing here?” he asks, uncertainly after the events of the night before. he hopes to Godric his ears are covered right now.

“just came to congratulate you,” you say with a playful smile.

theo’s brows furrow and his shoulders involuntarily slump slightly. he isn’t sure what he expected you to say, but it wasn’t that. “oh.”

you push yourself off the doorframe and enter the room, slowly walking closer to him. he’s never been more grateful for deodorant in his life.

“and one more thing,” you add, inching closer still.

“mhm?” theo is practically holding his breath in anticipation, and when you reach out to gently touch his arm, he stiffens for a second.

“i think you’re fit too.”

a startled laugh leaves him at your whispered words and instead of saying thank you, he finds himself stepping forward to clear the air and say what he’s been thinking since the party.

“i don’t think you’re fit,” he starts, face dropping when your smile falters. “shit, no, i mean you are. fuck,” he breathes out, dragging a hand down his face.

you take in the faint blush creeping up his neck that definitely wasn’t there right after he finished the match and allow him a second to gather himself.

“you’re beautiful,” he stammers, closing the gap between the two of you in earnest. he faintly registers the fact that he’s practically towering over you and leans down in an attempt to be less intimidating. “like, crazy beautiful. i meant to say that yesterday instead of sounding like an absolute twat, but i mean, what else is new when i’m around you-“

you cut him off by grabbing him by the collar of his quidditch jersey and pulling him down to press your lips against his in a firm, unyielding kiss. he stiffens, hands hovering uncertainly at his sides for a moment as though he’s frozen, but it isn’t long before he’s reacting, as though he’s suddenly woken up.

his hands find your waist immediately, pulling you into him and straightening up slightly to deepen the kiss, pulling you up slightly to stand on your tiptoes as your lips slot against his.

theo breaks the kiss to meet your eyes with his own wide ones, rushing out words between kisses. “i don’t think you understand just how long…” he exhales into your mouth, kissing you firmly. “i’ve been wanting to do…” he nips at your bottom lip, making you gasp. “this,” he finishes, grinning into the kiss when you melt against him.

theo takes the opportunity to reach his hands down to your thighs, lifting you up and carrying you over to the wall where he’s suddenly kissing you with a new confidence, moving to pepper kisses down your jaw and onto your neck.

you tuck a finger under his chin to lift his face up to yours where you match his grin, your lips swollen and eyes glazed over. he’s never seen a more beautiful sight.

“took you long enough.”

a/n cont.; I hate this soooo bad it was meant to be a silly little drabble and now it’s a block of uncapitalised mess but I’d put too much time into it (less than a day) so here u are I GUESS. take a shot every time I write a kiss that starts exactly that way

#theodore nott x y/n #theodore nott x you #theodore nott scenarios #theodore nott fluff #theodore nott imagines #theodore nott x reader #theodore nott fanfiction #theodore nott #theo nott #theo nott x reader #theo nott x you #theo nott x y/n

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epicbuddieficrecs · 1 day ago

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Weekly Recap | January 6th-19th 2025

I hope everyone had a good start of the year! You're getting two weeks of fics because ¯\_(ツ)_/¯ Enjoy!

Complete

Buck Naked by disasterbuck/ @disasterbuck (Getting Together | <1K | Teen): Buck turned, slicking his wet hair back, and then yelped and covered himself comically with his hands when he saw Eddie standing there. "Eddie!" he exclaimed, his face turning red. "I'm naked!" "Obviously," Eddie replied. - Eddie finds it difficult to talk about his feelings because it always leaves him far too vulnerable and exposed. So, when he finally decides it's time to tell Buck how he feels, he has a plan to get them both on equal footing.

Wish you'd ask me (If I wanna be your baby) by paleredheadinascifi (Getting Together | 2K | Teen): “So, uh, you come here often?” “Do I come here often?” Buck repeats slowly. He does come here often. As does Eddie. They both come here all the time, at the same time, together. Or, why ask someone out on a date when you can just take them on one without their knowledge? Sounds flawless to Eddie.

the long way back by jaekyu (PWP, Post-S8 AU | 6K | Explicit): Eddie and Buck get trapped in a closet. There's a joke in here somewhere.

I want you so (god must be the greatest comedian I know) by paleredheadinascifi (Post-S8A, Eddie Moves to Texas | 6K | Teen): But that’s Eddie. You knew all that. You knew we’d find him sitting alone, in his rented, unfurnished house in El Paso, Texas — equally 7 and 700 miles away from the only places he’d ever call home, the only people he’d ever call family. You probably also knew, because you’re more observant than Eddie, and I mentioned it at the start, that Eddie Diaz was in the middle of a sexuality crisis that he swears came out of nowhere. We’re gonna let him have it, because he’s going through a lot right now. Eddie is learning, as many do, that there are five stages of the sexuality crisis. When we find him sitting alone in his sad unfurnished house, he’s freshly greeting stage one.

I'll be His and He'll be Mine by xylodemon/ @xylodemon (Post-S8 Future Fic, Friends to Fiancés | 6K | Explicit) "And now, in as much as you, Evan Buckley and Edmundo Diaz, have given and pledged your love and faithfulness, each to the other, and have declared the same by joining hands, by virtue of the authority vested in me by the State of California as Deputy Marriage Commissioner, I now pronounce you spouses for life." "You're crying." "You're crying." Christopher sighs under his breath. "You're both crying."

Do I Get To Have This? by EiraLloyd (Post-Poker Game Date, Getting Together | 6K | Teen): Their missing clothes and the fact that Eddie was currently using him as a human pillow were the only evidence that Buck's memories of the night before were real. Wildly, his first thought after replaying everything in his head was, This is not good one-night stand etiquette. I should’ve left already. “You’re thinking too loud,” Eddie mumbled, breath ghosting over Buck’s collarbone in a way that reminded him a lot of dim lights and couches and I’ve wanted to do this all night. (Alternatively, Buck and Eddie hook up after the poker game in 6x13, and Buck has a hard time believing it when he wakes up the next morning.)

Hopelessly Devoted To You by scarmaddiewrites (Friends to Fiancés | 7K | Teen): “Eddie’s breath caught in his throat. He felt his heart lurch in his chest, and he didn’t know why. He had no idea what he was planning to say—Good morning, maybe, or How was your night? Something normal, something casual. But when Buck looked up at him, that grin growing impossibly wider, his blue eyes sparkling like the ocean, Eddie blurted out something entirely unexpected.” Or Eddie goes from 0-100 real quick

can't hide from you by EiraLloyd (Post-S6E12: Recovery, Getting Together | 7K | Teen): Eddie keeps smiling at his phone like a lovesick fool whenever a certain person messages him. Hen, Chimney, Pepa, and Christopher all want to know when Eddie started dating again and who his new girlfriend is. (Or, three times someone wrongly assumes Eddie is texting a girlfriend when it’s just Buck, and one time someone rightly assumes Eddie is texting a boyfriend (and it’s Buck).)

the phone keeps ringing by EiraLloyd (Post-S7 AU, BuckTommy Break-Up, Buddie Getting Together | 7K | Teen): “Took you long enough,” she says in an icy tone. Her name tag reads Dot. “Do you usually make your boyfriend wait for you overnight?” “I’m not his boyfriend,” he says, voice equally icy. “I’m the guy who drove five hours to pick him up when the boyfriend—” ditched him. He manages to swallow back the words, not wanting to air Buck’s business to a stranger, but he can’t help but think, If I were Buck’s boyfriend, this wouldn’t have happened at all. (Or, after a date with Tommy goes wrong, Buck ends up stranded in Las Vegas without a way home. Eddie makes the drive in the middle of the night because there's never really been another option.)

I Know They’ll Be Coming To Find Me Soon by scarmaddiewrites (Post-S8A Spec, Kidnapping | 10K | Teen): The day Buck is supposed to drop Eddie off at the airport, he’s doesn’t show, and Eddie takes that as a sign that their friendship was over. That just doesn’t end up being the case. Or The Buck gets kidnapped season 8b speculation fic

Love Me Most by EiraLloyd (Post-S7E5: You Don't Know Me | 11K | Teen): Or, Eddie’s not impressed that Buck and Tommy’s first date was supposed to be dinner and a movie. He thinks he can come up with something more creative, and he takes Buck on a date to prove his point. It’s a fake date, obviously. It’s not like he’s in love with Buck or anything.

🔥 Next to your heartbeat, where I should be by rainbow_nerds/ @rainbow-nerdss (Post-S8E8: Wannabes, Sexting | 11K | Explicit): Eddie’s not a complete idiot. He knows this isn’t normal. He stands in front of a mirror in his underwear, the tightest pair he owns, and he poses for a picture at an angle he’s learned flatters his ass and the curve of his thigh, to send to his best friend. He knows this isn’t what most best friends do. He also knows most straight guys don’t spend extensive amounts of time staring at men’s thirst trap accounts, or thinking about how their best friends look half-naked, but… That’s not what Eddie is focusing on right now. He’s just focusing on feeling good, following the path that sparkles with joy, and refusing to overthink it. If happiness is Buck sending a meme of a guy with a nosebleed back to his shirtless selfie, then that’s what happiness is. Eddie has spent too long denying himself to let this be what stops his journey towards loving himself. It doesn’t need to make sense. It just needs to be positive. It’s not like he’s breaking any commandments, as Father Brian would say.

🔥 Kept On Swimming by EiraLloyd (Time Loop, Tsunami | 12K | Mature): He just needs someone to know that he tried. He needs someone to acknowledge that—that he did everything he could, and—and he tried. He might’ve failed, but he tried. He tried, he tried, he tried, he tried— Eddie swallows and asks, “How many times?” Buck stares. He lived through it once; that’s normal. He lived through it twice; maybe a déjà-vu or a hallucination of some kind or even a premonition. But three times— It has to be a time loop. Surely. (Or, Buck is trapped in a time loop on the day the Santa Monica Pier is hit by a tsunami. He makes it count.)

🔥 the forms of things unknown by glorious_spoon/ @glorious-spoon (Sex Pollen, PWP | 13K | Explicit): Buck's mind goes blank: suddenly and perfectly blank like a briskly shaken Etch A Sketch, the tracks of his thoughts swept clean. Eddie's mouth is on his. Eddie's nose bumps his nose, and his stubble rasps, and Eddie is kissing him. And this is probably a bad idea. The thought surfaces briefly. This is probably a bad idea. They don't do this. They haven't talked about this. Until thirty seconds ago, he was perfectly certain that Eddie was straight.

The Elephant in the Room Never Forgets by exvichan (Post-S8A AU, Camping Trip, Getting Together | 19K | Teen): Secrets are spilled and truths brought to light when the 118 and their partners go on a camping trip. Oh, and there’s malaphors. Lots of malaphors.

🔥 the sweetest apparition by hyruling/ @hyruling (Post-S8E8: Wannabes, Eddie Moves to Texas | 20K | Explicit): Buck glances over his shoulder and smiles. “Sorry, lost in thought.” “I would be too looking at a man that handsome,” she says with a glance at his phone as they move up. “Your partner?” Buck feels his cheeks heat. What the hell – Eddie isn’t here to hear him, probably wouldn’t care anyway. It’s easier than explaining the truth to this stranger. “Yeah.” “And he sent you to do all the Christmas shopping alone?” she teases with a grin. “Oh, no he’s, uh – he’s gone.” --- Or: Eddie moves to Texas. Buck keeps accidentally telling people Eddie's dead. It goes about as well as you'd expect.

waiting for it (that green light) by pinkdoughnut (Drinking Games, Getting Together | 26K | General): “You don’t need to explain yourself,” Buck assured him, wishing more than ever that he could crawl out of his own skin. “I didn’t mean to push. I was just going along with the game—” “No, it just wasn’t meant to be like this,” Eddie groaned out finally. Buck sucked in a sharp breath, freezing in his step. “Like this?” Buck repeated carefully as he tilted his head slightly. “What… what does that mean?” - Or, Buck and Eddie finally realize they can’t keep pretending during a game of True American.

🔥 Finding Mr Christmas by JJK/@trenchcoatsandtimetravel (Canon Divergent, Reality TV, Christmas | 63K | Teen): "Welcome to Finding Mr Christmas! You’re all here chasing the same dream, to star in a Hallmark Christmas movie, and over the next few weeks we’re going to be putting you through your paces to see which of you has the most star quality and that ‘it’ factor that makes you shine above the rest." 🎄🎄🎄 An AU where Buck and Eddie meet as contestants on Hallmark's Finding Mr Christmas competition (and fall for each other).

WIP

🔥 there is no road by littleghost/ @ghostlandtoo (Post-S8A, Eddie moves to Texas | 4/6 | 58K | Explicit): Years ago, almost a full decade, Shannon had asked him to move and Eddie refused because he was trying to build a life for himself again. Eddie knows if he asks Buck, he’ll get that same refusal. Worse, Buck could say yes and Eddie would be uprooting Buck from the very life he built for himself. He doesn’t ask, and Buck doesn’t offer, and they pack up Eddie Diaz’s life in Los Angeles into cardboard boxes. Or: Eddie moves to Texas. Buck buys his house. There’s a love story somewhere in here.

🔥 Things We're All Too Young to Know by Daisies_and_Briars/ @cal-daisies-and-briars (Canon S1-S6, Divergent Post-S6 | 143/145 | 463K | Mature): This is a love story. Even if it doesn’t always look like it. Even if it doesn’t always feel like it. A look back on Eddie and Buck's lives up to now, and what led them to each other, interpreted from the current 9-1-1 canon.

🔥 Gentle On My Mind by Daisies_and_Briars/ @cal-daisies-and-briars (Canon Divergent, Shannon Lives, Buck/Eddie/Shannon | 11/? | 69K | Explicit): In which Shannon lives, tells a lie, and sends hers, Eddie's, and Buck's lives down a very different path.

🔥 Firelight by Daisies_and_Briars/ @cal-daisies-and-briars (Canon Divergent, Post-S7, Monster Eddie, HOH Buck | 8/10 | 47K | Explicit): When, in the worst of missing Christopher, Eddie suddenly finds himself having literally turned into a monster, Buck - who is also dealing with a newfound hearing loss diagnosis - is willing to do anything to protect him. Even from himself. OR: Eddie is a creature from Swedish folklore, feat. HOH!Buck

[Podfic] What's love got to do with it? by Pretzel26 // fic by ColorMeParanoid/ @color-me-paranoid (Platonic Boyfriends to Lovers | 2/30 | 10-20min | Mature): "Hear me out," Buck said. "Clearly, both of us are sick of dating other people. And we're a good fit, in pretty much every way that matters. So what if we're not in love? We don't need to be in love to be happy together." Eddie frowned. "So basically, we'd be boyfriends, without benefits?" "Yes!" Buck snapped his fingers. "Like platonic boyfriends! We'd get all the benefits of a relationship and none of the heartbreak." And maybe Eddie had finally lost his mind, or maybe it was from all the alcohol clouding his judgment, but the idea of it didn't sound half as crazy as it should have. *** After Buck’s and Eddie’s dates both end with disasters – proving once again that maybe dating just wasn’t meant for them – they decide to simply settle for each other. If there was one person in the world they'd ever trust with their hearts, it was each other. And who was a better person to date other than your very own best friend?

Podfic

[podfic] Starlight by half_bakedboy/ @half-bakedboy (Post-S7, Gewtting Together | 20-30min | General): On a rare, starry summer night, Buck and Eddie discuss what ifs and make decisions about their future.

🔥 [Podfic] rainbows have nothing to hide by slipofthetongue/ @burnthatbridge for hattalove/ @hattalove (Getting Together | 20-30 min | Teen): how is eddie diaz like kermit the frog? let buck and christopher count the ways. (Part 1 of the kermit verse)

🔥 [Podfic] Before the Night Fades by slipofthetongue/ @burnthatbridge // fic by MilenaDaniels/ @milenadaniels (Post-S4E14: Survivors, Outsider POV | 45-60 min | Teen): “I have a bottle of champagne, four champagne flutes, one engagement ring to go into one of those champagne flutes, and a note to deliver it all to table 34 with dessert,” Tomas explains, wide-eyed, throwing his hand back to the prep station where said champagne is waiting on ice next to four flutes and a small ring box. “Okay?” “Okay so there’s two men and two women and I have no idea who’s getting proposed to. I’m not even 100% on who came with who." --- Or, EddieAna and BuckTaylor double date and it ruins everyone's night.

[Podfic] We're In This Together Now by fleurdebeton // fic by kristen999/ @thekristen999 (Major Character Injury | 20-30min | Not Rated): It was like walking into the world’s more confusing chemistry lab. There were long tables crowded with glassware, cookware, funnels, propane tanks, and tubing. Industrial sized glass bottles filled with various liquids were haphazardly scattered across the room. Eddie stared while Buck cautiously walked around one of the tables. They were inside a freaking meth lab. No, they were inside a ticking time bomb. Any of the bottles or barrels could contain any number of risks. Solvents, metals, bases, acids… “Looks like someone’s seen too many episodes of Breaking Bad,” Buck whispered.

[podfic] Starlight by half_bakedboy/ @half-bakedboy // fic by ElvenSorceress/ @elvensorceress (Post-S7,Getting Together | 20-30min | General): On a rare, starry summer night, Buck and Eddie discuss what ifs and make decisions about their future.

🔥 [Podfic] Breathe by slipofthetongue/ @burnthatbridge // fic by kitkatpancakestack/ @kitkatpancakestack (Different First Meeting AU | 3-3.5h | Mature): After Eddie Diaz has a breakdown in the middle of a grocery store, he's forced to face the fact that he might not be dealing with his PTSD as well as he thought. At the urging of his aunt, he leaves to spend the summer in a small California beach town, where he meets a bright-eyed, blond-haired surf instructor who reminds him what it feels like to be alive.

Re-Read

#epic buddie fic rec #buddie #buddie fic #buddie fic rec #buddie fanfic #buddie fanfiction

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danmeicoffeecat · 3 days ago

Text

The point about how binging all the seasons together is so true.

Me and my mom watched all the 4 seasons together in Feb 2024. Although I have heard about stranger things and the hype during 2022 in yt and all, I didn't watch it then. Like, I could tell it was a show I would really love if I just gave it a watch, but still I couldn't start watching it (me and my watchlist have commitment issues).

Anyways, when we started watching, from the first season itself when Joyce went to Hopper to file for a missing complaint; the moment she said Lonnie basically bullied his own child for being queer, I was convinced about Will being gay. My mom also clocked in on it and asked.

I was still not sure about Mike's queerness. But it did stick out to me how emotional he was throughout S1 -- worried out his mind for Will, his outburst at how Will can't be dead, him staying up at the hospital waiting for Will to wake up. Similarly, in S2, wherever Will was Mike was there, giving his at most care and concern for Will's well-being.

I was so flabbergasted at how in S3, they became distant. We both were like why did they drastically change Mike's character?? His character was all over the place, at times being the same old Mike we knew then pulling 180-degree shift.

S4 beginning was also like this. Then after El was taken to the NINA project and Mike and Will start talking to each other, like really have a convo, things seemed back to normal. (I'm so sorry if this is all over the place).

But still mind you, although i did feel the chemistry between byler, I was not sure if it was just me reading to much into. My mom completely missed it, the romantic undertones.

When I started watching the different analysis vids and all, that's when I really felt, okay maybe I did clock in something substantiable.

We're planning to rewatch them again soon and wish me luck on getting my mom also aware of it.

Now about Mike and El's relationship, I remember being so irritated about it in S1, because up until that point their dynamic was so compatible as friends or siblings and this romantic twist completely took me out. But then I thought, maybe as a queer person myself, I was unable to pick upon it(lmao). S2, it was pretty clear Mike cared for El, but still didn't convince me it was something romantic. S3, I was not at all interested in their relationship. I could see Mike was not really putting much effort into the relationship as much as El. It felt like he had a gf because that's what they were supposed to do. Honestly, El not being Mike's gf really suited her character. I didn't expect them to get back together again. And ohboi that was one awkward kiss, that too not even adorable, just straight up uncomfortable. Second only to the airport-half-hug-fist-bump kinda situation.

Where I'm going with this is, although I picked up very few really sus moments while binging it, I did not fully register it. But as I liked to immerse myself with analysis vids and edits after finishing a show, I started to register those moments more clearly. My mom though, enjoyed it but completely forgot most stuff; she didn't check it out after watching. Also, she is kinda slow on clocking in on queer relationships. We were watching a series with a lesbian couple, and it took her 4eps to realise that. But kudos to her, becoz they were like side characters who were providing info and stuff to the mc; no scenes of them being physically affectionate, just domestic living-together-vibes. I'll take whatever win I can get.

So, yeah, binging all the eps together really makes it hard to pick up on stuff unless u are a really sharp viewer and is familiar with reading into subtext and cinematography.

ex milkvan ride-or-die shipper and i am convinced the majority of modern day milkvan shippers are people who didn’t watch the show until it became super popular in 2022 when s4 was coming out.

like, there is a difference between binging all four seasons of a show and having years of wait between each one.

the time between each one gives you time to reflect on what you might see next season. as a milkvan truther after watching the first 2 seasons of the show in 2018, i was super excited for season 3 because we could see mike and eleven finally be together after their sweet reunion in the s2 finale.

and then…they literally break up in the first 2 episodes 😭

all my expectations flew straight out the window. i remember sitting there like “oh…wait what?” not necessarily disappointed (probably idk i was like 13) but super confused. even when they kissed at the end i hated it because it was just such an awkward kiss omdsssss😑

fast forward 3 years then i’m 16 and in a lesbian relationship and milkvan is just not hitting any spots. can’t remember what my expectations were for them, but i hated their reunion and didn’t have high hopes for them after that. (high hopes looked at the “i love you” scene, laughed, and left forever)

it was after vol2 was out and marinated when i started to see byler for what it was, because much like milkvan itself, each new season broke down all the expectations i had for them whilst byler only thrived.

binging all four seasons completely in one go strips this kind of trial and error experience away from you, you’re less likely to have grown accustomed to the writing and predict what will happen next time. (not suggesting bingers who joined in 2022 and post cant have picked up on byler too, it’s just a bit more difficult for the average person so pat yourself on the back if that’s your experience)

hence why i see so many new milkvans claim s5 is gonna be the season where they’re finally the power couple we thought they’d be back in 2018…and they weren’t.

“they’re gonna get married and 🤫 and have superpowered babies!”…what in the muthr fokc?

the only power they ever had was the power of heteronormativity

still love their pairing, but they’d be so much more powerful as friends like they were in the beginning

#byler #byler endgame #byler brainrot #will byers #mike wheeler #i know what you're now

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violet-eng · 2 days ago

Text

🔞 See you on the other side | Thanos (Choi Subong x fem!reader)

I HAVEN'T WRITTEN ANYTHING IN A LONG TIME, VERY ASHAMED OF HOW BADLY WRITTEN OR BASIC THIS MAY BE.

Anyway, I don't know where this came from, I've had this desire for Choi Seunghyun stuck for like 10 years now, somehow I had to get rid of it. I'm still embarrassed…

Awkward plot, as always, I must add drama because if my life is full of drama then the fanfic just the same.

Summary: Fem reader has cancer, her ex is Subong, who asked her for drugs when she was working at the hospital, she gave them to him because they were for his jet lag and dizziness, but things escalate and she ends up fired and he with some sort of dependency. Anyway, they meet again in the squid game and he tries to fix everything with her because he obviously didn't forget her. And OBVIOUSLY for this first fic we have the typical and respectable BATHROOM SCENE.

Warnings 🔞🔥: mentions of cancer, SEX, SMUT, oral fem receiving, fingering. That…

In this fic, Thanos would be behaving somewhat bottom/sub? Is real life T.O.P a bottom? ask jiyong, enjoyyyyyy but not too much

〇△□〇△□〇△□〇△□〇△□〇△□〇△□〇△□〇△□〇△□

Three people down, or perhaps it was four? In situations where one's personal safety is compromised, the finer details can appear insignificant. Your hands and legs trembled, and your entire body was a nervous system susceptible to error and misstep. You felt the acceleration of your heartbeat in your throat and ears, echoing in your head, and perspiration running down your cheekbones, the salty sensation in your mouth.

Your eyes turned to the spot where a figure was jumping carefree, holding the surprise in your chest when you saw Subong in the crowd, your Subong. He looked like a hallucination, hovering among the players, jumping over the corpses with a maniacal grin… drugs… your drugs.

The daily game had reached its end. It was shocking that people had died in such a strange way, and there were many questions to be answered. However, the pain was even more overwhelming because cancer was like that: painful, unbearable without medicine, especially in the current circumstances.

'Señorita' the voice was behind you; you felt his presence, the shadow of his figure enveloping you completely, and the scent of his skin and the dye of his hair brought back precious but bitter memories. How much pain love can endure.

'Su-bong', you whispered, though you thought your voice was firm, the nuance was faint and the volume low.

'My baby! What are you doing here?"His arms abruptly embraced you, drawing you into his body, and your cheek bumped against his chest.You felt that familiar, heady feeling of being protected by him — loved.

Away from the crowd, Subong inspects your face, noticing spots of blood that are not yours and a couple of dark circles under your eyes… nothing else.

'You don't look well,' he says with a grimace.

'I need some,' you say, your breathing heavy, your eyes watering, your gaze beseeching, 'You owe me. I got them for you.'

He does not take you up on your request, nor does he attempt to argue with you, because he knows that is one of the reasons you lost your medical licence.

'Say "Aaah"'.

He brings one of his hands in front of you, a colourful pill between his fingers, and slowly touches your lower lip to make you open your mouth.His fingers enter, and your tongue takes the pill, but habit, treacherous habit, appears and your tongue tastes his fingers. A touch of what you had been.

Your eyes meet his as you both reminisce about the good times you shared during your relationship. When you two were an item, he would gently slide his fingers into your mouth, and within moments, you would be caught up in a passionate embrace, him on top of you, making love from behind while whispering a range of compliments in your ear.

'Better?' he inquires, his fingers gently tracing the lips around your mouth. You nod as the memory fades. You feel as if you've tasted a taste of normality, something you haven't enjoyed in years.

The night after games and food, you feel heavy and lethargic. You sweat and shiver, and you realise that it is a reaction of your body. You had treated several patients like this for years, and the helplessness of becoming one had made you fall into a very dark place, almost abandoning yourself.

"Bathroom" you request one of the guards, but your voice is not as steady as your gaze. The guard declines, and you consider that if you had a pen with you, you would have moved him out of your way, as you did with the insurance agent who had refused to cover your chemotherapy.

"It's urgent. I just want to freshen up" you insist, aware that in your position you can't make demands like that.

‘Hey bro, she has cancer, if it was your sister or your mother would you treat her like this?’ Subong appears at the right moment, after having watched you for a long time, “look at her, she can't even stand up”.

He places his arm around you and shakes you vigorously, as if manipulating a rag doll. His methods are deceptively straightforward, yet his success is unparalleled.Even if you had been in optimal health, he would have still prevailed.

You wash your face and pour water on the back of your neck, observing the reflection in the mirror. Your bruised features bear little resemblance to the respectable oncologist you used to be.

Subong's drugs have effectively mitigated your feelings of rejection, causing all sentiments towards the person in the mirror to dissipate within moments. Although you don't recognize yourself, you feel a sense of rejuvenation, as if returning to a state of strength and painlessness.

Subong approaches you, resting his chin on your shoulder, leaning his hands against the sink. You feel his breath in your ear and the soft brush of his lips on your neck, his kisses below your ear, at the precise spot that makes your skin bristle, reminiscent of their days together.

Subong's voice, husky and subtle, with sweet undertones, asks, "Feeling better?" The enigma that is Subong: he seems impenetrable and stoic when he raps, yet under the stage he is a sensitive and playful creature, always with a striking look and a touch of madness.

"Better," you reply, looking in the mirror and observing the closeness between the two of you, as if time hasn't passed, as if you were never done with him, as if your souls weren't on a tightrope drifting off to who knows where. You experience a sense of longing for him, the intimacy, the warmth of his embrace, the soft rhythm of his breathing, the way his lips cling to your skin without kissing you, as if it causes him discomfort to touch you, as if you were made of porcelain.

"When we make that money, I'll pay for your chemotherapy," he says. His voice is masculine and deep, rough, and his eyes are like fogged glass, intrinsically wounded by your illness as if it were his own.

"What about your debts?" you inquire, turning to him, cradling his face in your hands, him still leaning on the sink behind you.

He bends down to look at you blearily, and with a smirk, almost cartoonishly, he says, "Fuck the debt. I only care about your well-being. I'll see who I'll take his share from."

This provokes laughter from you, which you hadn't experienced in nearly a year. The corners of your lips ache, and the sensation of your cheeks expanding sends shivers down your skin.

Subong remarks, "There it is," as he touches the tip of your nose. "My girl's cute laugh." His fingers trace the contours of your lips, evoking memories on your skin with his touch, and reviving sensations you thought were lost.

He knows how to make you feel good, how to tease you, and how to be gentle because he knows your body wouldn't be able to handle it if he used all his strength.It's like when you went to the bars -the body remembers, so you move naturally from soft kisses and panting to one of the cubicles.

Your pants are on the floor, your underwear is around one of your ankles, and you are sitting on the toilet seat.Subong is skilled at rapping, which allows his tongue to glide with delight. He breathes softly as he holds his face between your legs.His fingers glide up your thighs, tracing ancient marks with his thumbs, while his tongue paints your velvety walls with his devotion.

You intertwine your fingers in his hair, your head thrown back, your eyes rolling back as the combination of drugs and his adept tongue takes hold. You hear him emit a low, throaty sound as you discreetly disengage from his grasp and press his face against yours, his nose brushing against your sensitive area.

You inhale his scent, the rhythm of your heart accelerating, and you feel the warmth of his fingers between your legs. His fingers begin to brush against your folds, and you recognize the familiarity of this touch.

"I don't think I can bear it," you whisper, pulling him away from you. Your hands are in his hair, your eyes fixed on his, which are black and smiling as his tongue wipes his chin. His tanned skin is glistening with the crystals of your juices.

"I promise to be gentle. I will make you feel good, baby." The dichotomy of sweetness of his face and the naughtiness of his fingers exploring your womanhood plunges you into an unknown territory somewhere between amusement and discretion.He enjoys seeing the way you squirm at his touch, at his fingers delving inside you and roaming over formerly dominated territory.

He swiftly locates your sensitive areas, his fingers pressing firmly into your body. His fingers disappear into your ecstasy, and you begin to rhythmically shake your hips, in harmony with the intruders testing your last reserves of sanity.

"So… ohhh-"

Subong looks at you satisfied as you begin to chant incoherently. He has always loved to please you, and that's why he has been so devoted to your body, learning every nook and cranny and experimenting with his movements to achieve the perfect reaction of your being, which is now destroyed under his fingers.

"More," you moan, gripping his shoulders with your nails, and he, your devoted instrument of pleasure, takes you to the edge of losing yourself in your own pleasure, of feeling every electric fiber of your body.

"Don't hold back."The rough voice and soft tongue are in full effect, and you can feel your body responding with heightened sensation. Your voice is almost a scream, your teeth holding back your lips, and your shoulders tensing as it reaches its peak, and then it explodes inside you. You exhale hard, your legs wrapping around his head, your hands in his hair, almost tearing out his locks.

"Shit," he laughs, as you shudder and catch your breath. "When you heal, I'll do you better. I promise." He rises to kiss you, his tongue touching the roof of your mouth, and your own taste bathes your tongue.

"How did you know I had cancer?" you know this is not the time to ask, and yet you do.He smiles over your lips as he kisses you.

"When I went to see you at the hospital, they told me you had been arrested by the police for stabbing an insurance agent during your chemotherapy," he says over you, proud as he wipes traces of saliva from your chin.

"You knew my medical license had been taken away. Why did you look for me at the hospital?"

"I wanted to beg your forgiveness. I would ask one of your old friends for her phone to call you, you would have answered them," he said, kneeling down to pull your panties up.

"I am sorry I blocked your number."

"It's all in the past," he says, smiling up from the floor and wiping his lip with his thumb. "It was good," he continues, "when we get out of here, you can unblock me."

"Do you believe we'll survive this?" you pull up your pants and escort him out of the cubicle.

"I'm not certain of anything, but if anything happens, I'll see you on the other side," he says, taking your hand in his and stroking the back of your skin.

"See you on the other side…"

#thanos x reader #thanos squid game #choi su bong #thanos #squid game thanos #thanos smut #thanos x you #thanos x y/n #choi subong #player 230 x reader #choi su bong x reader #player 230 #player 230 smut

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scoupsakakitty · 2 days ago

Note

I really love all your work. It's awesome 😍 Could you please write something like seventeen 14th member being bullied by sasaengs and the members finding out about that and supporting her?

Through the Storm | Seventeen x 14thMember | angst, fluff

The Seventeen practice room was usually full of energy laughter, voices, and music booming from the speakers. But lately, something felt off. Y/N, the group’s 14th member, had been unusually quiet. Normally someone who brought a spark to the room, she now lingered in the background, avoiding attention and speaking only when necessary.

Seungcheol was the first to notice. As the leader, he had always kept a close eye on the members, and Y/N’s behavior worried him. During a break, he pulled Jeonghan and Mingyu aside.

“Have you noticed Y/N lately? She seems… different,” he said quietly.

Jeonghan nodded, his expression thoughtful. “Yeah, she’s not her usual self. She barely smiles anymore.”

“She’s probably just tired,” Mingyu offered, though the concern in his voice was clear.

But it wasn’t just exhaustion. Late one evening, Joshua found Y/N sitting alone in a corner of the stairwell, her knees pulled up to her chest. Her phone was clutched tightly in her hands, her head bowed low. Joshua approached her carefully, his voice soft.

“Y/N? Are you okay?”

She flinched at the sound of his voice but didn’t look up. After a long pause, she finally handed him her phone. Joshua’s chest tightened as he read through the barrage of hateful messages, cruel comments, and edited photos sent by sasaengs. The words were venomous, picking apart everything from her talent to her place in the group.

“These aren’t real fans,” Joshua said firmly, crouching in front of her. “They don’t know you. They don’t know how hard you work or how much you mean to us.”

Y/N’s shoulders shook as silent tears fell. Joshua didn’t hesitate to pull her into a comforting hug.

When he told the others, their reactions were immediate.

“What?!” Hoshi exclaimed, his usual playful energy replaced by anger. “How can people say things like that?”

“They don’t deserve to call themselves Carats,” Minghao said coldly, his jaw tight.

“She’s part of us,” Seungkwan said, pacing the room. “We need to protect her.”————————————————————————————-The next day, the members surrounded Y/N in the practice room. Seungcheol stepped forward first. “You don’t have to face this alone. We’re a team, Y/N. You’re one of us.”

Woozi nodded, his voice calm but full of conviction. “You’re not just a member of Seventeen. You’re family.”

Each of the members found a way to show their support. Dino and Vernon stuck close to Y/N during schedules, making sure she felt safe. Jeonghan and Jun kept a watchful eye on social media, reporting harmful accounts. DK made a point to check in with her daily, reminding her how much she was loved.

The biggest gesture came during a fan meeting. Seungcheol addressed the crowd directly, his tone firm but caring.

“Seventeen isn’t just thirteen or fourteen people,” he said. “It’s all of us—including Carats. And in this family, we treat each other with kindness and respect.”

Carats rallied behind Y/N, flooding social media with messages of love and encouragement. Slowly, she began to heal. The hateful messages didn’t completely disappear, but they were drowned out by overwhelming support from her members and fans alike.

In Seventeen, Y/N had found not just a team but a family that would stand by her through any storm.

————————————————————————————-

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gretagerwigsmuse · 2 days ago

Note

One thing I absolutely love about Bradley and Smart Aleck is how whenever she rides his thigh, he bounces her a little, and that just makes her lose it 🫠

Like, I can see Smart Aleck sitting on his lap while in front of his friends, and him just randomly bouncing his lap and she has to take a moment before saying or doing anything. She would be a mess by the end of the night.

Also, in your Christmas party fic, Bradley mentioned using the Theragun as a vibrator. Imagine him bringing it out and just surprising Smart Aleck with it (I've never used a Theragun, I have only seen it online so I'm not sure if this is completely correct)

this took me a minute to reply to because i wanted to actually write something for you! i was actually in a meeting at work when i first saw the message preview on my lock screen and i stg i was blushinggg so hard 🤭 because my god what a delicious thought!

yes! he’d bounce her just a little, like just enough to get a reaction out of her and get a little whimper out of her. to your point i could picture them in the hard deck and it’s a big deal that she came out with them? more below!

but also the theragun would actually hurt which is something bradley would realize the second he turned his on to even the lowest setting haha. though i do think that he’d randomly be like ‘gun me’ and have her do his back/shoulders 🤭

—————-

“well, look who decided to grace us with her presence this fine evening.”

jake looked even more smarmy than usual as you and bradley approached the group of pilots and partners holding court at a corner table. at the comment, bradley’s hands tightened where they were on your shoulders. it was a bit of a crush in the bar tonight, but he had guided you over without issue.

you completely ignored jake’s comment and his follow up about slumming it that night and greeted everyone - bob, callie, and natasha, as well as sarah costigan, whom jake had presumably dragged along. sarah even tossed you a kind smile in return. granted, she was still annoying and slightly condescending, but she wasn’t that bad. at least she didn’t head off to the jukebox and queue up hall & oates’ rich girl like jake did.

you let bradley slide into the circular booth before you and then sat on the end. being mr protective, bradley normally wouldn’t like having you sit at the end of the booth, but he knew you liked the space and ease of a quick getaway with a lot of people.

and it wasn’t that you didn’t like going to the hard deck. you just didn’t like how crowded and loud it could get on fridays and saturdays, which was when bradley’s friends tended to go. normally, the group would get together at the beach or go for a hike or even to another bar or someone’s house to hang out - and you always tried to attend - but their old standby was the hard deck and those were the nights you typically skipped.

you had been there about an hour when everything took a different turn. everyone was chatting and the music wasn’t too loud yet, and you were in a good mood, which was probably helped by the fact that you were on your third cosmo and bradley his fourth beer.

but then mickey and his girlfriend, cielo, showed up, which meant there were even more people crammed into the already crowded circular booth. you got up to give both cielo and mickey a hug and then the two of them sat down on the other side of the booth. which in turn meant everyone scooted down further towards your side.

scratch that - your side was gone.

all that was left was a sliver of space for maybe one of your bare thighs to find itself plastered against the warm vinyl upholstery. bradley quickly noticed your distress and pulled you half onto his lap. he barely broke his stride, so focused was he on his conversation with bob and callie. or so you thought.

the way he had manhandled you onto his lap was done with little consideration to your pink dress - the same pink dress from your first date some eighteen months ago - and it bunched up between your ass and bradley’s jeans. you sucked in a breath.

oh.

you were still covered, still safe from any risk of indecent exposure, but oh it felt nice having your bare skin brush against bradley’s jeans. the jeans that were stretched across his big, strong, broad thighs. did he realize? did he know?

it was nice sitting on his lap; you were content, happy, warm. safe. it wasn’t something you’d ever done in front of other people before; normally, neither of you were this bold, but you weren’t yourself, it was too loud, too warm, too overwhelming in the hard deck. and bradley knew that. he knew you were fussy. he always knew when you needed to get out of your head.

a few minutes went by and you tuned into various conversations and groups, but you eventually focused back on your little group at the end of the booth with bradley, bob, and callie. they were talking about one of the the college football games on earlier because bob was a big sec fan. at one point, the boys got so animated and bradley got so into gesturing with his hands that you slipped a little in his lap. and then -

and then bradley bounced you.

oh.

he bounced you on his thigh and tightened his arms around you to keep a better hold on you.

“sorry, kid,” he muttered in your ear and then went back to his conversation, completely unaware of the whimper you let out.

oh.

that felt nice. that felt good.

you loved when he bounced you on his thighs.

you loved when he let you ride his thighs.

see bradley liked when you’d have to work hard to get yourself off. sometimes, he made it a punishment. it was torture - he wouldn’t touch you and you’d have to work for your orgasm. you’d get so frustrated.

and once you’d finally reach your peak and your cum would streak across his thigh, he’d sink his fingers - his big, strong fingers - inside your cunt and you’d ride them for another round until you’d get rewarded with his cock.

this time the whimper you let out was a little louder, but still for bradley’s ears only.

“you okay, kid?” he bounced you again.

this time your legs spread a little wider under the table and you shifted in his lap. you were getting flustered, warm. surely the sweat was building at the back of your neck, between your thighs -

“mmhmm, just slipped.” you took a huge sip of your cosmo, hoping to cool yourself down. god, this was so embarrassing. why were you getting like this? it was just a bounce. he hadn’t even meant to do it.

please don’t let him find out.

“yeah?” bradley bounced you again and your breath caught. “can’t have that - here.”

his thumbs dug into the tender flesh by your hips, anchoring you to him. you tried to shift, tried to squirm, but he wouldn’t budge.

“th-thanks.”

you took another sip of your cosmo. it was almost done, that had to be why you were reacting this way. three drinks normally made you tipsy, but not drunk, so it had to explain your flustered state and your heightened sense of arousal.

he knew. he had to know. he had to know how wet you were. how your pussy was clenching on nothing. how you wanted him to take you out of here and let you ride him in the car. maybe he’d finger you against the bronco like he did that night all those months ago?

bradley turned back to the group. “hey, why don’t you tell bob and callie about that project you’re kicking off at work?”

“oh. it’s not - it’s not really that exciting -”

“she’s lying,” bradley squeezed your hip, “come on, tell them about the projecting you’re presenting in london.”

callie gasped. “london? again? oh, i’m so jealous! how long are you going to be gone?”

“just a - a couple days. they’re scaling this project i did in the US for the EMEA market. just a - a presentation.”

somehow, when bob asked where you were staying and if you were doing anything fun while you were there, you managed to give an almost coherent answer. almost coherent.

but then you turned the tables back on the two of them and asked if they were excited for their trip to see callie’s parents in bryn mawr. you didn’t know much about the area baring the fact that mary once went out there to interview for a teaching position, but that wouldn’t have mattered anyway since you could barely focus on the last minute details for callie’s sister’s wedding because of bradley’s stupid hands.

the first time he did it, you didn’t think much of it. okay so he took a sip of his beer and fiddled with the glass before he put his hand on your thigh. it was cold, no big deal.

but then he did it again when callie mentioned the gorgeous bridesmaids’ dresses. and again when bob praised callie’s speech draft. and again when they mentioned the welcome party on thursday was scheduled around the eagles’ game.

it was cold and you could feel your nipples hardening and your breath coming in faster and god - could everyone tell? did they notice? you didn’t want them to notice, you just wanted bradley to notice.

feeling bold, you tried to trap his cold hands between your thighs, but when bradley yanked his hand away, you almost lost your balance. and what else was he supposed to do but bounce you and get you settled back on his lap. he growled a warning in your ear.

oh god. you wanted it louder, you wanted it just for you. you weren’t wearing a bra, could anyone tell? you hoped bradley could tell.

you hoped bradley bradley knew.

(you hoped daddy knew.)

the promise of what was to come was getting to be too much. you could have blamed it on the cosmos, the noise, the heat, the number of people, but it really was just one thing - bradley.

bob and callie were talking to natasha now, so it was just you and bradley at your end of the table.

“bubs?” you looked over your shoulder to meet bradley’s eyes and knew he was just as wrecked for you as you were him. “please?”

he cocked an eyebrow, looking entirely too smug. “aww sweetheart, why didn’t you just say you wanted to leave?” all the condescension did was make you want him more.

before you could respond, before you could try and say something clever, he cleared his throat and directed his next words to the entire table.

“‘think the kid and i are gonna head out.”

it only took a few moments to say your goodbyes - hugs from those who were easily able, waves to those who were not - and then you and bradley started meandering your way to the bar.

once again, after he paid your tab, bradley guided you out of the bar with a his hands on your shoulders and a broad presence at your back. you whimpered at the thought of him inside you, your big, broad, beautiful boyfriend inside you, telling you that you were a good girl for him. such a good slut for him. for daddy.

it had been a couple months since you’d first said it - said daddy - but it still made your pussy clench and your heart beat wildly.

the moment you were out in the cool parking lot, you sighed back against his chest. the pulsating music that once felt too loud was not a calming presence away from the chaos.

“atta girl, you did such a good job with my teasing.” his arms wrapped around your waist and pulled you close so you could feel how much he wanted you. “you ready for your reward?”

“yes, daddy.”

———————

half an hour later, on their way way out, bob, callie, and natasha didn’t even notice that bradley’s car was still in the parking lot even after the two of you supposedly left.

they also didn’t notice that the windows were fogged up. or that one of your sandals was on the ground by the driver’s seat door. 🤭

#bradley fic #bradley and smart aleck #bradley bradshaw x reader

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just-some-random-blogger · 3 days ago

Text

You've done it again. She's done it again. ALLIE WHAT IF I

(I FUCKING HATE THIS GIF SO MUCH I HAVE I SAY IT EVERYTIME I USE IT ITS SO BAD BUT ITS ALSO SO ME ITS AHHHHHHHHH GAGGOOOOOOO FUCKKKIINGGGGGG SHITTT)

What a way to end this. I cannot express how satisfying this was.

Ngl when say the angst tag I was like YUM I'm readdyyyyyy. I have to say though I might need to check my pulse cos I didn't flinch at the angst at all 😭😭😭 I was waiting to be kicked in the teeth but we got an anxious tick that resolved within 24 hours. Couldn't be me 😭😭😭 I'm insane I have a fic where I've been torturing YN for fucking 20+ years 😭😭😭😭😭😭 ALLIE IM NOT WELL HAHAHAHAHAHHAAH

ANYWAY I SAW THE END PART YOU WERE LOOKING FOR IDEAS AND FUCKING HELL ID LOVE TO SEE YOU STAB INTO ANGST I WANT YOU TO HIT ME WITH A STEEL CHAIR AND BASH MY BRAINS OUT UGHHHH YOU HAVE TO UNDERSTAND IM A MASOCHIST JEJSJSJDJSNSJWJSJWJNWNA IF YOU WANT STAB MY EYES OUT I WOULD THANK YOU

anyway after all that mental unwellness. IMMA MAKE SURE I DONT LOSE THIS REBLOG FUCK YOU TUMBLR 🖕🖕🖕🖕🖕

It was strange sitting in Bill’s office without him, curled up in the armchair he devoured you in, book open in your lap.

*SLOWED SOUND OF A GUNSHOT* WTF YOU STARTING LIKE THIS IS INSANE WORK WTF IS WRONG WITH YOU (absolutely nothing you're a master mind incredible amazing mwah 😘)

[...] but your mind was too preoccupied with thoughts of its writer to absorb any of it.

She like me fr

Bill had been in Cairo for 12 days, six hours, and nine minutes, every tick of the clock like a barb in your skin, leeching black, poisonous doubt into your blood.

WTFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFF THATS INCREDIBLE WORK 🫵WITCH🫵 HO IS U MAGIC HOW DOES ONE WRITE LIKE THAT DAFAQ BARB IN YOUR SKIN IS INSANNNEEEEEE

Would he still want you when he returned? Will the time away give him clarity to how insane you both were acting? Would you be reduced to a fling? No longer desirable now that you've been flung?

🧍‍♀️ are you mentally enslaved (clearly) gago ka wala pa nga inunahan mo na [tr: (curse word) there's nothing yet and you're already ahead/getting ahead of yourself] miss ma'am shut the fuck up. Disrespectfully.

The time, the space, was making you second guess yourself, second guess him.

I understand you. But also shucho trap rat. WALA PAAAAAAAA (idk how to translate this NOTHING YET)

But fuck, you wanted him desperately, the ache for him like a hole in your lungs.

GIRLLLL 🤚🤚🤚🤚🤚🤚🤚🤚🤚🤚🤚🤚🤚🤚🤚 WHEN I TELL YOU MY READING COMPREHENSION WAS ACTINGGGG UPPPP 😭😭😭😭😭😭😭

I DEADASS THOUGHT YOU WROTE SMTH SMTH FILL YOUR ACHING IN YOUR HOLE I WAS LIKE 😨😨😨 WOAHHHHHH AHHAHAHAHHAHAHAH 🤣🤣🤣🤣😭😭😭💀💀💀💀💀💀💀💀💀💀💀🤚🤚🤚🤚🤚🤚🤚

I MEANNNNN 🤣🤣🤣🤣🤣🫦🫦🫦🫦🫦🫦🫦🫦🫦🫦🫦🫦🫦🫦🫦 WHERES THE LIE I WAS LIKE GIRL WILDING BUT WHO AM I TO JUDGE SHES SO VALID 😭😭💀💀💀🤚🤚🤚🤚

NO CUZ I WAS LIKE UNPROVOKED???? BUT ALSO I MEANNNNN HE MADE YOU COME 3 TIMES SO YEAHHHHHHH KINDA PROVOKED HAHAHAH I WAS JUST SO JARRED COS IT WAS SO OUTTA NOWHERE AND I WAS LIKE ALLIE WOULD NEVER BUT IF YOU DID I RESPECT IT CUZ REAL AHHAHAHAHA

Rain was coming down in sheets, wind buffeting against your coat, but when you rounded the corner towards your flat, the bulk of a man standing in the rain in front of your door stopped you in your tracks.

BILL❓❓❓❓❓❓❓❓❓

“Bill?” You gasped, and he lifted his head, his eyes shadowed with exhaustion, copper hair pulled back in a messy bun.

HE WHAT IN A MESSY BUN??????

You launched yourself at him, completely overcome with relief, and wrapped your arms around his shoulders, burying your face into the crook of his neck.

The most normal response ever

You reluctantly pulled away and riffled through your bag for your keys. [...] Butterflies rioted in your stomach, [...]

🫵WITTCHHHHH🫵 HO IS U MAGIC HOW YOU WRITE LIKE THAT

“Missed you, little bird,” he mumbled, pressing a tender kiss to your pulse.

“You really want to talk about work? That's where you just came from, isn't it?” He said while shirking his own coat.

No. I want to eat you. I fucking hate you stupid fucking idiot fuck you in trying to be a human and you're making me into a monster. Eat shit and die

You snorted. “Really? William ‘Never-Takes-A-Day-Off’ Weasley is going to lecture me on working too much?”

☝️That part. Clocked.

“Backtalk, too? Have you forgotten your manners while I was away?” He backed you against your kitchen island, lips a breath away from yours.

What are you gonna do about it 🙄🖕 btw

“Haven't felt anything soft in days,” he mumbled, almost to himself.

Ho why is u lyin. You have a bed. They have beds in Cairo. 🙄🙄🙄🙄🤚 FUCK OUTTA HERE

“Don't make me break in!” Fred warned, knocking with a little more force. “I'd hate to do it again!”

SCREAMING CRYING THROWING UP FREDDDDIIIEEEEEE 😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭 THE WAY IS STARTED SCREAMING LIKE ACTUALLY SCREAMING WHEN THEY CAME AROUND

“Just—fuck, get in the closet!” You tried to push Bill towards your bedroom, but only managed to move him a few steps.

🧍‍♀️ why. Why. WHY. The fuck are they being so stupid???? Hello????? MY EYE IS TWITCHING

“Why did he break in before?” He asked, fighting a smile at your helpless attempt to move him.

Because we're fucking. Next weasley

Bill chuckled and walked the rest of the way into your bedroom at the same moment you heard George cast alohomora.

SCREAMING I FEEL PERSONALLY ATTACKED COS I WROTE A FIC AND DIDNT KNOW THIS SPELL AND HAHAHAHAHHAAHHHAHAHA ARE YOU ATTACKING ME HAHAHAHAHHAHHAH

“Darling, is there a man in this flat?” George asked, lowering his voice conspiratorially.

Are you a chicken? 🙄🤚 Shut the fuck up george

“You sure you know this bloke well enough to be here alone with him?” Fred asked, moving closer to the closet, the humor having drained from his voice.

🫵you🫵 know him well enough. Also, he's had his fingers inside me 😋😋😋😋

“What's his name?” George asked. “Maybe Bill’s mentioned him?”

You're not gonna believe this

“You don't even know his name?” Fred whisper-shouted, glaring at you with a strange mix of pride and concern.

WELL FRED BLABBERMOUTH WEASLEY. IF YOU ACTUALLY LET HER FUCKING SPEAK MAYBE SHED TELL YOU BUT NOOOOOOOOOOO YOURE MOUTH RUNNING LIKE A FUCKING MOTOR OH MY FUCKJNG SHIT SHUT THE FUCK UPPPP (I love you I would kiss you until your lips bruise)

“Did this prick scare you?” Fred asked, turning his attention back to the closet door.

😭😭😭😭😭😭 HES BEING SO STUPID BUT SO DARLING FREDDDD SET ME FREE SET ME FREEE

“Hey, fuckface, what are you doing in her closet?” Fred banged on the door, and you died a little inside.

THOUGHTS AND PRAYERS THE WAY I WAS SCREAMING SO BAD SO GOOD MY BRAIN CHEMISTRY HAS BEEN CHANGED AGAIN I FEARRR HAHAHAHAH

“B-Bill?” Fred stammered, taking a step back.

“You two have some fucking nerve,” Bill growled, and the twins scattered as he dashed out of the closet after them.

😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭 THEYRE SO SIBLING CODED ANAJJSJSJSKAKJHAHAAHAH SCATTERING IS CRAZZYYY WORKKK RUN WHITE BOYS RUN

“We're sorry! We didn't know!” George called, vaulting over your couch.

GEORGIEEEEEEEEE 😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭 GIMMEEEE KISSS DID THE BAD MAN HURT YOUUUUUUU ILL SAVE YOU *ROLLS UP MAGAZINE* STAY BACK 🤺 😭😭😭😭 vaulting is crZyyyyyyy

“What the fuck, y/n?” Fred shouted, diving under your bed.

💀💀💀💀💀💀💀💀 UNDER YOUR BEDDDDD?????????? 🤚🤚🤚🤚🤚🤚🤚🤚🤚🤚🤚 ALSO HOW IS IT MY FAULLTTTTTTTTTTTTT 🫵🫵🫵🫵🫵 YOU UNLOCKED MY DOOR GENIUS

Bill turned on him, throwing one of your pillows at his head. “I'm not fucking her!”

🧍‍♀️ awie ngl I thought this was where the angst was gonna start. Though she was gonna pull a Jace Wayland:

"how swiftly you dismiss our love" ughhhhhhhhhhhhh

**unrelated** I literally discovered I could insert gifs via links because of your last bill fic I was so desperate to add them cos of how good it was

“Your girl?” Bill challenged, and you groaned.

🗣️WHAT🗣️ABOUT🗣️IT🗣️ put a ring on it then if you're so mad 🙄🤚 bill Weasley marry me challenge

“Congratulations on your boning! Bye!” George chirped, apparating too.

😭😭😭😭😭😭 MY SHAYLA I LOVE HIM

“They won't say anything,” he said, smoothing back his hair.

Your honor i don't know how I feel

“Don’t say anything else. I want you to sleep on it,” he said, straightening. “Take the day off tomorrow, too. Then you can tell me what you want to do, and we'll do it.” His voice was firm, but not unkind, a tone of finality that had you nodding in acceptance. “Goodnight, love.” He pressed a kiss to your temple, then released you, apparating away before you could blink.

We love an emotionally available and level headed man. I would ruin his life

When you landed sprawled in his yard instead of standing on his front porch, it occurred to you that surprising the Curse-breaker in the middle of the night during a thunderstorm was a stupid idea, but it was too late now.

LOL GET HEXED

Bill bound down the steps, grabbing you by the throat and silencing you with a savage, bruising kiss.

HE WHAT❓❓❓❓❓❓

He hummed low in his chest, petting a hand over your damp hair. “Whatcha doin’, pretty girl?” he asked, his voice silken.

TRYING TO EATTTTT YOU???????????

“You want my cock, darling?” He asked, gently sweeping your hair into a ponytail, the strands held together by his fist.

He tsked, smirking. “I suppose I could indulge you for a bit.” With his free hand, he reached into the front his pants, freeing himself. He wrapped his hand around the base, a pearl of precum squeezing from the swollen tip.

I'm fine

“Such a good fucking slut, gagging on my cock—this what you wanted? To be pushed to your limits?” Bill clutched your jaw with his other hand, feeling the strain in your muscles, the force of him stretching your mouth wider, and he groaned, head tipping back on his shoulders. “I'm gonna mold that pretty little throat in the shape of my cock, yeah? You're mine. This throat is mine.”

Btw my sister was gagged by the way I laughed at this like the truly insane person I am

Again, you had the echo of the feeling that you were an artifact under his jurisdiction, being examined with the utmost attention, like the code to cracking you open was written on your skin.

GAGOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO LOBOTOMY THIS IS SO GOOD WHAT THE FUCKKKK

When if finally spit you back out, gasping and overwrought on the shore of Bill's bed, he was still lapping at you, his face and shirt soaked with your release.

WHY THE FUCK IS HIS SHIRT STILL ON THE FUCK THIS FUCKING MISOGYNIC PIECE OF SHIT WHAT ABOUT EQUAL OPPORTUNITIES FUCK YOU

“Good fucking girl, well done,” he cooed, withdrawing his fingers to massage the ache from your trembling thighs, his tongue dipping down to drink at the pool of your pleasure. “Twice more, now. That's my girl.”

T-T-T-T-TWICE?????? TWICE MORE??? IS THREE YOUR LUCKY NUMBER BILL. Illuminati confirmed. Im going to go booster

When you came down from the third, twitching and raw, tears leaking from the corners of your eyes, he finally relented.

CRYINF AT THIS GIF HAHAHHHAHAH

“Insatiable,” he purred with approval, shifting to slide down his sweatpants fully and kicking them off.

MEEEEE?????? 🧍‍♀️🧍‍♀️🧍‍♀️🧍‍♀️ YOURE 🫵 OUT HERE ACTING LIKE YOURE NOT MAKING ME COME 3000000 TIMES

BTW LAST TIME BEFORE MY TUMBLR GOT RUDELY EATEN. I SAID LAST TIME I FELT LIKE I FUCKING CAME WHILE READING YOUR WORK AND I DIDN'T EVEN 🌚🌝 TOUCH MYSELF HAHAAHHHAHA FR IT SO GOOD ALLLIEEEEE IDC OF THIS IS TMI IT WAS SO GOOD YOU SET THE PRECEDENT SO HIGH I FEAR

“Being balls deep in this fucking pussy, feeling your wrapped around me, squeezing my cock the way you do my fingers.”

JDJDJDJDJJSJSJ CALL ME CHICKEN COS BUCOOOOOOCKKKKK

He shuddered, a breathy moan fanning against your neck, as his control severed. He slammed his cock into you, sheathing himself completely in your depths, and you both cried out, clinging to one another as he dragged his hips back, then slammed them forward again and again. Rutting into you like a feral beast. Brutalizing every inch of your overworked pussy, your overworked mind, until you were brainless, boneless, his to claim entirely.

It's fine I'm fine totally not thinking about getting fucked silly by bill Weasley hahah you're so crazy

“Come for me, love. Give it to me,” he growled, his free hand dipping down to work your clit, his thrusts growing rougher by the second. Tearing you apart on his cock.

HAHAHHAHAH ITS FINE IM SO NORMAL FUCK YOU I HATE IT HERE

“Fuck yes,” he huffed, breath hot and heavy against your neck. “Gonna paint this cunt white. Make you mine.”

Bill sank in his teeth into your neck, bottoming out while his cock kicked inside of you, fulfilling his promise and painting your insides with his release. You collapsed onto the bed, scattered pieces in the swallow of space, half-there with Bill as he fucked you both through it, kissing at your neck and muttering praise, and half-gone, a disembodied soul floating on a river of bliss.

FUCKING YOU THROUGH IT OVERSTIM MY BELOVED INSANITY GO BRRRRRR

Slowly, you returned piece by piece until air slammed back into your lungs and you were gasping, shivering, clinging desperately to him.

“Sh, sh I’ve got you. You're alright,” he shushed, shifting on the bed to fold you into his chest, raining kisses over your forehead and temple. “You did so well, my love. I'm so proud of you.”

Mdjiskskksskk PRAISE KINK GO BRRRR FUCKKKKKKKK I NEED A CIGARETTE (DONT SMOKE)

Allie.... Hand in marriage 💍💍💍 this was so good. I fear I've been too spoiled. The second one haunts me. I fear I will never experience a high like that ever again in my life. I'm not saying that because im shitting in this one ARE YOU KIDDING ME FRED AND GEORGE STOLE THIS FIC This is so sweet I FEAR IM SIMPLY SO SPOILED I JUSY I HAVE TO TELL YOU THAT MY BRAIN IS LITTERALLY CHANGED I KEEP GOING BACK TO THAT SECOND ONE FUCKK SHIT FUCKKK

MAKE NO MISTAKE THIS IS INCREDIBLE NO LOOSE ENDS I COULD NEVER IM A MESSY MESSY GIRLLLLLL BUT NOT AS MESSY AS BILL'S GIRL FFUCKKKK THAT SHOUKD BE MEEEEEE

Anyway I'm going to manifest bill Weasley in my bedroom now

Love care

Magic Lessons p.3 | B.W.

feat. Bill Weasley x intern!reader

SUMMARY: Bill returns from Cairo, but doubt began to creep into your mind during his absence, dredging up old wounds for the both of you.

CW: MDNI 18+, smut, mischievious twins, pleasuredom!Bill, angst angst angst angst, mentions of Fenrir’s attack and the war, mentions of divorce, some rough oral and piv, slight breeding kink, possessive!Bill, fluffy HEA

AN: this is now a completed series! yay!

part one | part two | masterlist

It was strange sitting in Bill’s office without him, curled up in the armchair he devoured you in, book open in your lap. You'd been trying for an hour to decipher his notes on a particular curse, tracing the small, angular letters with tired eyes, but your mind was too preoccupied with thoughts of its writer to absorb any of it.

Bill had been in Cairo for 12 days, six hours, and nine minutes, every tick of the clock like a barb in your skin, leeching black, poisonous doubt into your blood.

Would he still want you when he returned? Will the time away give him clarity to how insane you both were acting? Would you be reduced to a fling? No longer desirable now that you've been flung?

The time, the space, was making you second guess yourself, second guess him. What you were doing was reckless. Stupid, even. Risking the future you'd imagined for yourself since you were a first year at Hogwarts. You’d be a stain on Bill’s impressive career, and the thought of him eventually coming to resent you, regret you, for possibly ruining a decade of hard work…it made you physically ill.

Could you do that to him? To yourself?

But fuck, you wanted him desperately, the ache for him like a hole in your lungs. You found yourself spending longer and longer hours in his office, craving his presence, his aura, and the sanctuary of his space was the closest you could come to replicating that.

You sighed and set the notes aside for the night, the sun having set some hours before. With unhurried movements, you packed up your belongings and tidied his office on the off chance he returned the following day. You wanted it to be presentable for him, leaving no evidence that you'd been holed up there for nearly two weeks, besides the stack of completed work.

You took the Floo Station to the nearest one by your flat like you always did, ready to wash off your makeup, get into your pajamas, and order some Chinese food. Rain was coming down in sheets, wind buffeting against your coat, but when you rounded the corner towards your flat, the bulk of a man standing in the rain in front of your door stopped you in your tracks.

It took less than a heartbeat for you to realize who it was.

“Bill?” You gasped, and he lifted his head, his eyes shadowed with exhaustion, copper hair pulled back in a messy bun.

He took a step towards you. “Sorry, I—”

You launched yourself at him, completely overcome with relief, and wrapped your arms around his shoulders, burying your face into the crook of his neck. “You're home,” you whispered, relaxing fully when his arm looped around your waist, holding you tightly against his chest under the safety of the umbrella.

“I'm home,” he sighed, nuzzling into the top of your head. He smelled of train cars and petrichor, with lingering traces of cologne applied hours earlier, and you wanted to breathe it like air. “Can we go inside?” He asked, settling his hand on your hip with a soft squeeze.

“Yes! Merlin, sorry,” you giggled, a twinge of nerves in your stomach at the thought of having Bill inside your little flat.

You reluctantly pulled away and riffled through your bag for your keys. Bill's arm slid around you from behind, pulling you back against his chest as he nosed into the curve of your shoulder. Butterflies rioted in your stomach, your hands growing so clumsy to nearly dropped your key while you inserted it into the lock.

“Missed you, little bird,” he mumbled, pressing a tender kiss to your pulse.

“I missed you too,” you said, leaning your head against his. You managed to get the door open and Bill released you so you could move inside, and he closed the door behind you both, collapsing the umbrella and setting it by the door. “So, how were things in Egypt?” You asked, hanging your bag on the hook.

Bill slid your rain-soaked jacket off your shoulders, down your arms, his touch feather light, and hung it up as well. “You really want to talk about work? That's where you just came from, isn't it?” He said while shirking his own coat.

You flushed, embarrassed that he saw through you so easily. “It is,” you admitted. “And as long as you're alright, I don't want to talk about work.”

He smirked, reaching out to cradle your face in his hand, the other settling on your hip. “I'm perfect now, love. Although, we’re going to have a discussion about your work-life balance.”

You snorted. “Really? William ‘Never-Takes-A-Day-Off’ Weasley is going to lecture me on working too much?”

“Backtalk, too? Have you forgotten your manners while I was away?” He backed you against your kitchen island, lips a breath away from yours.

“No, sir,” you hummed, barely suppressing a grin as days worth of pent up desire came surging forth, your pulse racing between your legs.

He sighed, breath fanning against your cheek. “Merlin, you sound so pretty.” His hand on your hip moved around your back, pressing your bodies together. “Haven't felt anything soft in days,” he mumbled, almost to himself.

“Take me to bed?” You asked, brushing an escaped strand of hair from his face and tucking it behind his ear.

“Thought you'd never ask,” he chuckled and scooped you up into his arms—

Knock knock!

“Open up! We brought pizza!” The twins serenaded through the door, and Bill swiveled his head to look at you.

“Oh fuck, I completely forgot.” You squirmed and Bill set you back on your feet, though he didn't relinquish his hold. “We planned a movie night.”

“Tell them to bugger off,” he huffed, bending down to kiss your neck.

“Bill, that's rude!”

“Don't care,” he muttered, lapping at your pulse, and your mind began to drift, lost in the feeling of him.

“We’re getting soaked out here!” George called.

“Don't make me break in!” Fred warned, knocking with a little more force. “I'd hate to do it again!”

“Again?” Bill's head snapped towards the door.

“Just—fuck, get in the closet!” You tried to push Bill towards your bedroom, but only managed to move him a few steps.

“Why did he break in before?” He asked, fighting a smile at your helpless attempt to move him.

“I locked myself out! I'll get rid of them, just, please get in there!” You pushed your shoulder into his sternum, peddling your legs like cartoon character.

He sighed, taking a step back and nearly sending your sprawling onto the floor. “Ten minutes.”

“Thank you!”

Bill chuckled and walked the rest of the way into your bedroom at the same moment you heard George cast alohomora.

The twins barged in, wands raised as if you were in peril.

“What took you so bloody long?”

“Why are you just standing there?”

“Whose coat is that?”

“I, actually, um—” you wracked your brain for an excuse.

“Darling, is there a man in this flat?” George asked, lowering his voice conspiratorially.

“Uh—yes!” you whispered back. “I met him at work and we hit it off. I'm sorry, I forgot about our plans.”

George scoffed, a teasing smirk on his face. “So you'd rather have a shag then hang out with us?”

“Y’know, if you needed to blow off a little steam—” Fred started when something crashed in your closet, making the three of you jump.

“Is he…in your closet?” George raised an eyebrow.

“No, no! That's, uh—”

Fred pushed past you, striding into your room.

“Fred!” You snapped, trying to grab him, but he batted your hand away. “Just please, go.”

“You sure you know this bloke well enough to be here alone with him?” Fred asked, moving closer to the closet, the humor having drained from his voice.

“What's his name?” George asked. “Maybe Bill’s mentioned him?”

“It’s, uh—”

“You don't even know his name?” Fred whisper-shouted, glaring at you with a strange mix of pride and concern.

“No, I do! He, uh—”

“Are you okay?” George asked, his brothers concern reflected in his face. He placed a steadying hand on your shoulder. “You're shaking, love.”

“Did this prick scare you?” Fred asked, turning his attention back to the closet door.

“No! Merlin’s sake, please just go! I'm fine!”

“Hey, fuckface, what are you doing in her closet?” Fred banged on the door, and you died a little inside.

Silence echoed around the flat.

“Open the door, mate,” Fred ordered, and George pulled you a little closer to his chest.

More silence. You had no doubt Bill had apparated, and the twins were about to think you were insane.

“Three, two—” Fred yanked open the door, revealing his older brother standing in the middle of your closet, his arms crossed over his chest. “B-Bill?” Fred stammered, taking a step back.

“You two have some fucking nerve,” Bill growled, and the twins scattered as he dashed out of the closet after them.

“We're sorry! We didn't know!” George called, vaulting over your couch.

“What the fuck, y/n?” Fred shouted, diving under your bed.

“Would it kill you two to mind your own fucking business?” Bill dragged Fred out by his ankles, his little brother desperately clawing at the ground.

You'd find it funny if it weren't for your secret being out, the very thing that kept you up every night for the last two weeks.

“You're the one fucking our friend!” George shouted, effectively diverting attention from his twin.

Bill turned on him, throwing one of your pillows at his head. “I'm not fucking her!”

Fred scurried behind your bedroom door. “Then why are you here so late!”

“And hiding in like a ghoul in the closet!”

“Can we just calm down—” You tried.

“I just got back from—come here, you little shit! I just got back from Cairo and needed to check in with her—George!”

“Bullshit!” Fred countered. “You're fucking our girl!”

“Hey!”

Bill froze, turning his head to peer at Fred, pillow aloft.

“Your girl?” Bill challenged, and you groaned.

“See! I knew it! Oh fuck—” Bill chucked the pillow at Fred and he apparated at the same instant, the pillow flying right through where he was standing and landing on your bed.

“Fucker,” Bill bit.

“Congratulations on your boning! Bye!” George chirped, apparating too.

Bill sighed, turning to you.

“Couldn't keep your cool, huh?” You asked, crossing your arms over your chest.

“They won't say anything,” he said, smoothing back his hair.

“I know, it's just—” Tendrils of anxiety wrapped around your throat, tightening until you were silenced.

“What, love?” He asked, taking a careful step towards you, sensing your mounting anxiety.

“What are we doing? This is—”

Bill was quiet for a moment. “You said you wanted this,” he murmured, a sharpness around the edges of his words.

“I do!” You cried, frustrated with yourself. “But that doesn't mean we should be doing it. Bill, if it got out that you were screwing your intern, your career would be over. And so would mine, before it even started. I mean, hiding from our coworkers, from your family, it’s just…”

His jaw flexed, shoulders squaring. “So you want to end things here? Go back to before we—” he scrubbed a hand over his face. “Is that what you really want?”

Tears burned your eyes, nausea churning in your stomach. “I don't know—”

“I don't believe you,” he growled. “The way you look at me, the way you were holding me not even ten minutes ago—” his voice cracked. “I don't believe that you want to end this.”

“Maybe it isn't what I want, but it's what we should do. You know that, Bill,” you said through the lump in your throat, voice pinched and small. “We need to stop before this goes too far.”

He looked like you'd slapped him. “What do you mean ‘too far’?”

You turned away from him, tears coming in earnest now. He stalked into your bedroom and caught your elbow, spinning you back around.

“Tell me what you meant,” he pleaded, pulling your hands away from you face, your eyes wet and puffy with tears.

“You know what I meant!” You shouted, yanking your hands out of his grip.

“So even with the potential for…that, you’re still going to end this?” He asked, his voice low. “That isn't worth it to you?”

You couldn't answer him, you arms wrapped around yourself as you trembled, biting back the sob on the tip of your tongue.

“Answer me,” he repeated, softening his voice.

“What if you resent me? What if you—” your voice fractured, brittle with shame and fear. “What if you regret me?”

He leaned down, forcing you to meet his eye. “There's a lot of things I regret on my life,” he said, barely above a whisper. “But I never thought I would get the chance to love someone again, not after Fenrir. Not after the war, not after the divorce—” he drew a shaky inhale.

Guilt dogged at you, and you opened your mouth to speak, but he pressed on.

“There's nothing I wouldn't risk to have that chance again. I would give up everything, my career, my house, all of it. And regardless of what happens between us, I'll never regret you.” He cupped your face again, and this time you allowed him, eyes swimming with unshed tears, your heart mending and breaking all at once.

“Bill, I—”

You were left stunned and alone in your torn apart bedroom, reeling from Bill’s words. Growing weak, your knees folded beneath you and you collapsed onto the floor, a sob bursting from your chest.

Such a coward, you scolded yourself. Of course he's worth the risk.

You wanted or rush over to Shell Cottage and tell him, beg him to forgive you for being so stupid, but he told you to sleep on it. To be sure of whatever answer you gave him. So you shirked your work wear and climbed into bed, squeezing your eyes shut, and prayed for sleep to take you swiftly.

It didn't. You laid awake for hours, until finally, at two o’clock in the morning, you couldn't stand it any longer.

You pulled on your lucky pair of jeans and jumper, washed away your smudged makeup, and apparated to Shell Cottage.

Bill wrenched open the door, hair rumpled and dressed only in sweatpants, his wand aimed at you, green wisps of magic dancing at the end of it. Thunder rolled overhead, a crack of lightning making you jump.

“Bill,” you gasped, stepping into the light of his front porch, and he nearly dropped his wand.

“Y/n? What the fuck are you—”

“I'm sorry about what I said.” You jumped headfirst into your apology, needing to get it out before it drowned you. “I was scared and stupid and I didn't mean it. I want you, no matter the risks. I can't let you—I can't let this go by without trying.” Tears will spilling down your cheeks again, mixing with the rain, your words coming out in hiccuping gasps. “I'd never forgive myself for being too cowardly to try.”

Bill bound down the steps, grabbing you by the throat and silencing you with a savage, bruising kiss. He kissed you the way a drunkard takes to a keg, ravenous and greedy. You could taste whisky on his tongue, smoke on his breath, but it only made you kiss him harder, open yourself wider for him to devour.

“Inside,” he gruffed when you broke the kiss to breathe. “Now.”

You obliged, hurrying up the slick steps with him on your tail. The cottage was cozy and dimly lit, a fireplace roaring in the corner and the moon serving as the only illumination. There were books everywhere, piles of blankets and shelves lined with trinkets, art hung on every wall.

Taking advantage of your distraction, Bill scooped you up bridal-style, one arm notched under your knees, the other around your mid-back. You gasped in surprise, but quickly settled into the warmth of his chest, leaning your head against his bare shoulder to kiss along his rain-damp clavicle.

“I told you to sleep on it,” he murmured, carrying you across the living room and up a set of stairs.

“Couldn't,” you hummed, licking a jagged scar on his shoulder. “Not without fixing things.”

“Neither could I,” he said, nudging open a door with his foot and carrying you across the threshold. It was his bedroom, decorated with even more of his findings and a giant four-poster bed made of solid wood, the quilt a thick woven masterpiece that you only got to admire for a second before he was dropping you onto it and shirking your wet clothes.

He paused, muttering an incendio to light the fire place, and you sat up, head level with his sternum. Hesitantly, you kissed a long his abdomen, tracing the dips and swells of his muscles, his scars with your lips.

He hummed low in his chest, petting a hand over your damp hair. “Whatcha doin’, pretty girl?” he asked, his voice silken.

“Nothin’,” you mumbled, licking along one his scars, growing bolder as he placated you with scalp scratches. “Wanted to touch you.”

He chuckled. “Been wanting you to touch me—” he groaned when you shifted your body to lay down on the bed, kissing along the grooves of his hips, teasing the edge of his waistband with your fingers. “Baby, you don't have to—”

You cut him by licking a stripe over the hard bulge of his cock, feeling it twitch and swell through the fabric. You nearly moaned at the feel of him, thick and long and warm, and your pussy purred, fluttering around nothing.

“You want my cock, darling?” He asked, gently sweeping your hair into a ponytail, the strands held together by his fist.

You nodded, looking up at him through your lashes.

You caught the salty morsel with your tongue, kitten licking the underside of him. He tasted fucking divine, velvety smooth and masculine, and your jaw fell open on its own accord, eager to take more of him.

“Such a good girl,” he cooed, feeding the first few inches into your mouth before retreating, patting your tongue with his cockhead when it chased him past your lips. “Fuck, look at you. So eager to please.”

He eased himself back into your mouth, holding still so you could move at your own pace, bobbing your head in slow, sloppy movements, savoring the heavy feel of him on your tongue.

Soft, breathy moans spilled from his lips, his hand tugging a bit harder at your roots. He started moving you up and down his length, his hips rocking forward, thrusting gently into your mouth. You moaned around him, fisting the sheets below you as a flood of arousal made you pussy throb.

“Oh, darling. You want me to be rough, don't you?” He hummed, pulling his hips back until just the tip rested on your tongue.

Your eyes lifted to his and you nodded the best you could. Please, please use me.

“Your safe word is ‘hex’, okay?”

You nodded again, pleading with your eyes.

He thrust back into your mouth, his fist keeping your head in place as he forced his cock as deep as it could go. He set a punishing pace, fucking your face with every ounce of the brutality you knew he kept locked up right in his chest, hidden from the world.

Now, hidden from everyone but you.

You both needed to let go of control, to surrender to the truth in your heart, and with each other, it was starting to seem not only possible, but safe.

You could only whimper, taking every savage thrust like it was a gift from god. More than happy to worship at the altar of Bill Weasley.

He withdrew suddenly, leaving you gasping for air, a thread of drool on connecting you. He craned your head back, lifting you until your hands left the mattress, back bent like a doll.

“This is it now, you understand? I won't go back.” His voice was rough with intensity, eyes shining with sincerity, vulnerability despite his hold on you.

“This is it,” you repeated, shuffling your knees underneath you and reaching for him. He loosened his hold so you could wrap your arms around his neck, molding your tender mouth against his in an attempt to convey what your were feeling, how much you needed him.

He kissed you back harder as thunder boomed above you, tongue twining with yours, and low groan loosened from his chest. He released you fully, sliding his hands down your back and scooping you up by your thighs, guiding your legs around his waist.

He held you aloft for a few moments, basking in the heat of the kiss, but it wasn't long until you were squirming in his hold, trying to create more friction between your bodies as desire blazed under your skin, raging like the storm outside.

In a quick movement, he broke the kiss and dropped you back onto the bed, sprawled on your back. Before you had time to process what happened, his rough hands forced your thighs apart, revealing the puffy, drippy state of you. One of his hands slid up to part your folds, exposing your sensitive bundle of nerves to the cool air of the room.

Again, you had the echo of the feeling that you were an artifact under his jurisdiction, being examined with the utmost attention, like the code to cracking you open was written on your skin.

Bill saw you down to the soul, and it terrified and exhilarated you in equal measure.

“You're perfect,” he murmured, moving to ease his middle finger inside of you, curling his knuckle to prod that gooey spot inside you and draw a moan from your lips. “The most beautiful curse I've ever had to break.”

“Bill,” you whined, hands grabbing at the sheets, hips trying to rock against his hand, needing more.

He smirked. “Seems I've already broken you, needy little thing. Haven't even gotten started.” He leaned down, laving his tongue over your clit before sucking it between his teeth, and you keened, vision tunneling as bliss washed over you. The relief so palpable it brought tears to your eyes.

He added a second finger, setting a slow but intense pace, stretching and molding you with his fingers, his mouth messily slurping on your clit to keep you loose and moaning beneath him. Pleasure signed every nerve, burning through your muscles like lactic acid, eating into your bones until they were gelatinous, a puddle of simpering goo on Bill’s bed. He was doing just enough to elicit pleasure but not enough to make you cum, and it was starting to make you desperate again, bucking your hips against him in search of more.

“Hush,” he scolded, swatting at your inner thigh when you opened your mouth to beg. “You'll be begging me to stop coming soon enough.”

You couldn't tell if it was a promise or a threat, but either way, you snapped your mouth shut, a fresh wave of arousal making your pussy clench around his fingers.

He took some mercy on you though, and picked up the pace with his fingers fucking you with his hand while he kissed up your stomach, leaving a trail of slick from his chin over your stomach to your tits. He guided a pert nipple into his mouth, lashing it with his tongue before sucking hard, and your back bowed off the bed as you cried out for him.

You tangled your fingers into his hair, urging him closer, and he obliged, bathing your tits with his lips and tongue, using his teeth to elicit sharp gasps of pain before soothing the sting with pleasure. Your orgasm began to build, winding like a gear in your low belly until you were barely able to breathe, every scrap of energy drawn to the apex of your thighs.

“Merlin, your tight, love,” he murmured against the side of your tit, kissing his way back down between your legs. “Ready to come for me?”

“Please, Bill—fuck, please,” you mewled, dragging him by the hair to your needy clit.

“So pretty when you beg,” he purred, swirling his tongue just around your clit, careful to avoid direct contact. “Who does this pussy belong to?”

“You,” you immediately answered, trying to chase his tongue with your pelvis. “I'm yours, Bill.”

He grinned. “That's right. Mine.” With that, he fastened his lips around your clit and sucked hard, curling his fingers against your g-spot at the same moment, and something inside you gave way. You came with a scream, bliss bursting through like a tsunami and dragging you under.

It filled your mind and soul, an endless torrent of bliss drowning you in its bottomless depth. When if finally spit you back out, gasping and overwrought on the shore of Bill's bed, he was still lapping at you, his face and shirt soaked with your release.

You shook your head, feeling like a wrung out sponge, but sure enough, Bill has to ratcheted back up in no time, screaming his name, clenching around his fingers as you came a second and third time. It was like magic, the way he coaxed your body into doing what he wanted, even when you thought you couldn't. Playing you like an instrument, drawing whatever song he wanted from your body.

When you came down from the third, twitching and raw, tears leaking from the corners of your eyes, he finally relented.

“Did so well, darling,” he cooed, easing his fingers from you and licking them clean. “Are you alright?” He asked, resting his cheek on your thigh as you caught your breath.

You nodded, grasping at his hair again to pull him up your body. He obliged with a chuckle, letting you crash your mouth to his in a desperate, messy kiss, your essence on his tongue making your head spin even more.

“Fuck me, please,” you mumbled into his mouth, wrapping your legs around his waist and tugging him fully onto the bed.

“Insatiable,” he purred with approval, shifting to slide down his sweatpants fully and kicking them off. He grasped himself, sawing through your drenched slit with a groan. “This was all I could think about in Cairo,” he rasped. “Being balls deep in this fucking pussy, feeling your wrapped around me, squeezing my cock the way you do my fingers.”

“Please, baby. Need you so bad,” you whined, rocking your hips in time with his.

“Need doesn't begin to cover what I'm feeling.” His voice was a strained growl, a primal sort of plea, and it drew another whimper from your chest. “You remember your safe word?” He asked, nearly trembling with effort of not burying himself to the hilt.

You nodded. “Yes, sir.”

“Feels even fucking better—shit, baby. So fucking tight and hot, so wet f’me. My perfect little cunt takin’ me so well.”

You could only moan and nod, eager as a bobblehead. “Yours,” you parroted, digging your nails into his shoulders.

“Mine,” he gruffed, yanking your head back by your hair so he could ravish your neck with his teeth and tongue.

You were so sensitive from before that you could already feel that knot tightening a fourth time, making you flutter and clench around him as he railed you.

“Come for me, love. Give it to me,” he growled, his free hand dipping down to work your clit, his thrusts growing rougher by the second. Tearing you apart on his cock.

Nothing else would ever satisfy you the way he was, he was molding you into the shape of him, ruining you for anyone else. No one could please you the way he did, understand your body so viscerally, so completely, that it bowed to him before it did you.

He owned you mind, body, and soul, and you wouldn't have it any other way, because you knew that you owned him too. Like a lion on a leash.

“Come with me, come with me,” you cried, your trembling body trying to meet him thrust for thrust.

“Fuck yes,” he huffed, breath hot and heavy against your neck. “Gonna paint this cunt white. Make you mine.”

“Yes, yes! Fuck, Bill, I’m—” You came so hard you couldn't even scream, your mouth falling open as pleasure exploded from your center, a bomb detonating in the depths of your soul.

Slowly, you returned piece by piece until air slammed back into your lungs and you were gasping, shivering, clinging desperately to him.

“That was—” you panted, feeling the race of his heart under his skin, in perfect synchronicity with yours.

“I've never felt anything like that,” he murmured, nosing into your hair and taking a deep breath. “Like you.”

“Me neither.” You wrapped your arms around his middle snuggling closer. “You're a madman,” you chuckled, and you felt him smile.

“Only for you.”

You were quiet for awhile, the room filled with the sounds of your laborers breathing, the onslaught of rain on the roof, the pop and crackle of the fire.

“I'm sorry for leaving like that before,” Bill whispered, breaking the drowsy quiet. “I didn't trust myself to not lash out…” his voice trailed off, his hands tightening a bit around your body, like he was scared you'd pull away from him at the reminder of before.

“Thank you for trying to protect me,” you responded, lightly tracing the scars along his back, and tension in his body melted.

“Nothing’s going to hurt you, especially not me,” he said, lifting his head to look into your eyes, his dark irises so soft and sincere. “You really think you could fall for me?” He asked, bumping your nose with his.

“I think I've already started,” you whispered, bashful, and he beamed, catching your lips in a light, languid kiss.

“I know I was supposed to be the one teaching you…” he murmured against your mouth, kissing along your jaw, down your neck. “But you've opened my eyes so much, helped me learn the lessons I was avoiding—” his voice caught, and he buried his face in your neck, holding your naked body pressed against his, not even air separating you. “I feel like I can be the man I want to be with you,” he confessed, pressing a kiss to the bite mark he'd left along the curve of your throat. “Like I don't have to hide anymore.”

“You're mine too,” you whispered, and he loosed a breathy sound, almost like a whine, and held you even tighter. “And I want you exactly as wild and stubborn and clever and complex as you are.”

Bill shifted upwards, catching your final words with his mouth, moving purposefully, indulgently, against yours. Saying everything he couldn't express with words, and your heart was so full it started leaking from your eyes, tears snaking down your cheeks and getting caught in the kiss.

He moved his lips to catch your tears, shushing you softly. “I'm yours,” he said, pecking your lips again. “And I have those good-for-nothing jackasses to thank for it.”

You burst out laughing, flopping back onto his pillows. “They're going to be so damn smug.”

Bill groaned, burying his face in your tits. “Worth it when I get to show you off and crush their dreams.”

“They'll live,” you giggled, combing your fingers through his hair.

Bill's alarm suddenly blared from the side table. “Silencio,” he barked, and the clock fell silent once again. “We're calling out,” he mumbled.

You nodded, sleep already starting to tug at you, your limbs going heavy on the mattress. “As long as the boss says it's okay.”

He huffed a laugh. “Good thing he's a pretty laid back guy.”

You rolled your eyes behind closed lids, and hummed in agreement. That was a lesson for another day.

Thank you so much for reading and supporting this series! This is the last part of the core series, but I'm considering doing a few extra drabbles that go along with it (let me know if there's anything in particular you want to see!)

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#bill weasley #bill weasley fic #bill weasley x reader #bill weasley fanfiction #bill weasley smut #FOR FREE IS INSANE I FEEL LIKE I SHOULD PUT MY HEAD INTO A WOOD CHIPPER

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