#Next wednesday will be the FINAL SURGE.. but after that...? Well.. who knows

[jame7t]

Tbh the group you have going for surge wednesdays is really good, you all play off each other really well and make the streams extra fun. If possible it would be really cool to have them stay for whatever game/games you do after surge 2

Did anyone else hear that? It was like... Some sort of frightening Echo from 2012... Must've been the wind

[maggie-004]

(Un-) Lucky coincidence – 15

Jenna Ortega x Fem reader

Summary: After an eventful day of hiking, bonding, and a bit of awkwardness, Y/N, Jenna, and Toni enjoyed a heartwarming evening filled with laughter, love, and genuine friendship, cherishing the unique connection they shared. The day ended with a profound sense of gratitude and contentment as they drifted off to sleep, knowing they were lucky to have each other in their lives.

Everything in Cursive is German

Warnings: Fluff

Words: 4500

"That's it, the stream is over, wow," Toni exclaimed, her excitement still palpable even after hours of streaming. I grinned, feeling a sense of accomplishment and joy after such an incredible day. "Yeah, it was amazing," I agreed, sharing in her enthusiasm. "But now, let's get this place cleaned up." With the camera turned off, we shifted into cleaning mode, ready to tidy up after the eventful stream. We started by disassembling the setup, carefully storing the extra cameras, wireless microphones, and other equipment. As we worked, Toni chatted about how much fun she had during the stream and how grateful she was for her supportive community. I couldn't help but feel a surge of pride for my friend, seeing her passion and dedication shine through. "You were fantastic today, Toni," I said, my admiration evident in my voice. "Your energy and charisma on stream are unmatched." Toni beamed at the compliment, her cheeks slightly flushed from the excitement of the day.

“Next year, you need to join me way earlier," Toni said with a mischievous grin, reminiscing about the joyous stream and the chat's excitement when Jenna and I appeared on her stream. "My chat loves you both, and they were buzzing the whole time while you were asleep today. They kept asking me if I could go down and wake you up!" Toni giggled, imagining the playful chaos that might have ensued if she had actually gone to wake us up on stream. I chuckled, picturing the scene, and replied, "Well, that would have been quite the wake-up call! But seriously, I'd love to join you for a longer time next year if everything aligns perfectly. It's been an incredible experience so far, and I'm sure it would be even more amazing with more time together." I said, my eyes sparkling with excitement. " If my filming schedule for Wednesday is over by then, and there are no other conflicting commitments, count me so in I'd love to be a part of your streams again and maybe even try streaming myself from here." Toni's face lit up with delight at the thought. "That sounds fantastic! I can already imagine the fun we'll have together”. As we finally managed to get the mattress out of her Streaming room and back in place in her room, Toni and I collapsed onto the bed in a fit of laughter. The exhaustion from the long day mixed with our playful antics had us both in stitches. "Who would've thought a simple mattress could cause so much trouble?" Toni said, wiping a tear of laughter from her eye. "I know, right?" I replied, trying to catch my breath. "I guess we should add 'moving heavy mattresses' to our list of unique skills." Toni grinned, "Absolutely! That's definitely going on my resume." We laughed even harder at the absurdity of the idea, and the room echoed with our joyous laughter. Eventually, our giggles subsided, and we found ourselves lying side by side on the bed, catching our breath. "You know," Toni said, her voice a little softer now, "I'm really glad you came here. This whole week of streaming has been incredible, but today's stream was the cherry on top." "I'm glad too," I replied sincerely, turning to look at her. "Your friendship means the world to me, and being here with you has been a dream come true. Your community is so amazing and welcoming, and I can see that they love you very much." Toni's cheeks flushed with a mix of happiness and gratitude. "And I can see why they love you too. You brought so much fun and energy to the stream, and they couldn't get enough of it. You're a natural entertainer, Y/N." I blushed at the compliment, feeling a warmth spread through my heart. "Thanks, Toni. I've always loved making people smile and laugh, and being on your stream gave me the perfect opportunity to do that on a bigger scale. You know, I do stream a little while myself now, but I only ever did DJing streams and as you know without showing my face. However after my identity got leaked I showed my face but today’s stream was a first for me, doing stuff that isn’t my usual content, and actually talking so much with the chat, it truly was amazing, thank you for this opportunity” I said with a smile, feeling a sense of accomplishment and newfound confidence. "No need to thank me, Y/N. You did this yourself, and you did it brilliantly. I'm so proud of how you handled everything, and your connection with the chat was evident. You should definitely consider exploring the 'Just Chatting' and 'React' categories as well. I'm not saying you can't DJ anymore; you're incredible at it. But you genuinely have the charisma and talent to be a fantastic entertainer in other areas too," Toni said with genuine admiration in her eyes.

After our heartwarming deep talk, the clock struck 1 a.m., and we decided to head downstairs to join Jenna. As we entered the living room, the soft glow of the lamp illuminated Jenna sitting on Toni's couch, lost in the pages of a book with her iconic headphones on. I couldn't resist the opportunity to surprise her. Quietly, I snuck up behind her, wrapped my arms around her, and planted a sweet kiss on her cheek. "Hey, beautiful," I whispered with a playful smile. Jenna looked up with a mix of surprise and delight, setting her book aside. "Hey, you two. I see you've finished cleaning up the streaming room," she said, giving me a warm hug in return. "Yep, all done," Toni chimed in, taking a seat next to Jenna. "We were just talking about Y/N's amazing performance in today's stream." "Oh, I bet it was fantastic. I wish I could've watched, but I was so engrossed in this book," Jenna said, holding up the novel she had been reading. "No worries; you can always catch the VOD later," I replied, leaning in to give her another gentle kiss on the lips. "So, what are you two lovebirds planning now?" Jenna just out on a teasing grin, towards Toni

" would you guys like to go into my Whirlpool?" Toni asked, as if it was the most ordinary thing to have a Whirlpool in her home. My eyes widened in surprise, and I couldn't help but exclaim, "Wait a minute, hold up, you have a whirlpool?" Toni grinned mischievously, enjoying our reactions. "Yep, I got it a few days ago. It's up on the roof. The view from up there is incredible, especially at night. It's so relaxing to soak in the warm water and gaze at the stars." Jenna and I exchanged glances, both of us clearly intrigued by the idea. "That sounds amazing," Jenna said, a hint of excitement in her voice. And you, Y/N, what do you think?" I considered it for a moment, imagining the luxury of a rooftop whirlpool with a breathtaking view. "I'm definitely up for it," I said, smiling. "It sounds like a fantastic way to unwind after today's eventful stream." Toni jumped up, her enthusiasm contagious. "Great! Let's do it then. I'll go get some towels for us." She hurried off to grab the towels, leaving Jenna and me to talk excitedly about the unexpected twist to our evening. A short while later, we found ourselves on the rooftop, following Toni to where the whirlpool was located. The night sky was clear, dotted with stars, and the city lights below created a beautiful backdrop. It was indeed a sight to behold. The whirlpool was inviting, steam rising from the warm water, and the bubbling jets adding to the sense of relaxation. We changed into our swimsuits, wrapped ourselves in the towels Toni had provided, and stepped into the soothing embrace of the whirlpool. As we settled in, letting the warm water ease away the tensions of the day, we laughed and chatted about anything and everything. It felt so effortless being together, like we had known each other for a lifetime. The friendship between Toni, Jenna, and me had grown so strong over time, and moments like these only strengthened our bond. Toni had set up some soft music nearby, and its gentle melody added to the overall serenity of the experience. We leaned back, looking up at the stars, each lost in our thoughts, yet still connected by the shared moment of tranquility. "You know," Jenna said dreamily, breaking the silence, "this is exactly what we needed. A little escape from the world below” I nodded in agreement, feeling grateful for these cherished moments. "It's incredible how life brings us together in unexpected ways," I said, glancing at Jenna and Toni. "I'm so thankful for both of you." I said in a soft voice. Toni smiled warmly. "Right back at you, Y/N. You've brought so much joy into my life, and I'm beyond happy to have you as a friend." The whirlpool turned out to be a magical addition to an already unforgettable day. As the night drew on, we finally emerged from the warm waters, wrapping ourselves in towels once more.

As we found ourselves back in Toni's cozy living room, a sense of tranquility settled in with the late hour. Toni, always attentive to our needs, brought some water for herself and handed us each a glass with a warm smile. But despite her efforts to stay awake, a gentle yawn escaped her lips, betraying the fatigue she must have been feeling after the day's events. "I think I'll head to bed now," Toni said with a soft chuckle, her eyes glancing affectionately at Jenna and me. "Don't stay up too late, okay?" she added, her voice tinged with a playful tone. "We won't," Jenna replied, mirroring Toni's smile. "Thanks again for having us over and for the keys." Toni nodded, her expression showing a mix of fondness and understanding. "Of course, you're always welcome here," she said sincerely. "And speaking of the keys, Y/N, I left them for you on the kitchen table. The address for the hike tomorrow is already on your phone, and there's a spare key for the house next to the car key." "Thank you, Toni," I said gratefully, touched by her thoughtfulness. "You really didn't have to do all this." "Oh, it's no trouble at all," she replied, waving off my gratitude. "You two are important to me, and I trust you completely." As Toni made her way upstairs, Jenna and I exchanged a knowing look. There was no hiding our feelings for each other, and Toni had picked up on it long before we had even confessed. But rather than making us uncomfortable, her acceptance and support only strengthened our bond as friends. "Okay, then," I said, turning to Jenna. "Shall we call it a night too?" Jenna nodded, standing up with a stretch. "Definitely. It's been an incredible day, and we have an exciting hike to look forward to tomorrow." We made our way to the guest room, and as Jenna settled in, I lingered in the doorway for a moment. "Hey," I whispered, wanting to convey how much she meant to me. "I'm really glad you're here with me." Her eyes softened, and she reached out to take my hand, gently pulling me closer. "Me too," she whispered back. "Today has been amazing, and I'm so grateful to have you in my life." With a tender smile, I leaned in to press a soft kiss on her forehead. "Goodnight, Jenna." "Goodnight, Y/N," she replied, her voice filled with warmth. The guest room was cozy, and the soft, rhythmic sound of waves crashing against the shore could be heard faintly through the open window. With my chest pressed against Jenna's back, our bodies molded comfortably together under the warm embrace of the blankets. The day's excitement and adventures had left us pleasantly exhausted, and as we lay there in each other's arms, our breathing began to sync, a natural harmony that mirrored the connection between our hearts. The sound of the waves acted like a lullaby, lulling us into a peaceful slumber. As I gently kissed the back of Jenna's neck, she let out a contented sigh, and I smiled against her skin. There was something so comforting about being this close to her, feeling her warmth, and knowing she was right there with me. Feeling the rise and fall of Jenna's breath against my arm, I closed my eyes and allowed myself to be engulfed by the serenity of the moment.

The sun was slowly rising on the horizon, casting a warm, golden glow across the tranquil sea that surrounded the tiny island. It was a new day, and the whole night had been as peaceful as ever with my two closest people, Jenna and Toni. As I woke up to the gentle sound of waves, I couldn't help but smile at the beauty of our surroundings. I leaned over and kissed Jenna on her forehead, whispering a soft "good morning" into her ear. She stirred, her eyes fluttering open, and returned the smile with a sleepy but affectionate expression. I decided to let her rest a bit longer and got out of bed, making my way upstairs to the bathroom for a refreshing shower. Feeling the warm water cascade down my skin, I connected my phone to one of Toni's speakers, playing the music from yesterday's stream. The lively beats filled the bathroom, and I couldn't help but dance along to the rhythm as I washed away the last traces of sleep. After my invigorating shower, I returned to the guest room to find Jenna still in bed, snuggled under the covers. She was such a non-morning person, and coaxing her out of bed had become a familiar morning ritual. I playfully tugged at the blankets, urging her to wake up. "Come on, sleepyhead, the day is waiting for us," I teased. With a playful groan, Jenna finally emerged from the cozy cocoon of blankets, her hair tousled and eyes still half-lidded. Despite her initial reluctance, I knew that once she fully woke up, she would be just as excited about the day's adventures as I was. As we got ready for the day, I couldn't help but reminisce about the time when I had to transform myself into a morning person. It happened when I started nursing school and began working at the hospital. Early mornings became a necessity, and I had to learn to be up and ready at the crack of dawn. Looking back, I realized that it was one of those transformative moments in life that had shaped me into who I am today. It taught me discipline, time management, and the value of embracing the quiet beauty of the early morning hours. And now, as I stood on this island with Jenna and Toni, I couldn't have been more grateful for those lessons. As the morning sun bathed the island in its soft glow, we all gathered in the kitchen to prepare breakfast together, sharing laughter and stories as we cooked. The aroma of fresh coffee filled the air.

Toni's peaceful slumber gave us the perfect opportunity to slip out quietly without disturbing her. She had already filled us in on all the details for the day, and we were excited about the adventure that awaited us—a beautiful hike in the mountains. Meanwhile, Toni had plans to spend the day with some of her streaming friends. After relishing the delicious breakfast together, I decided to leave Toni a short note to express my gratitude once more for letting us borrow her car. It was just a small gesture to show her how thankful we were for her hospitality and the amazing time we were having on this island getaway. With the note left in a visible spot, Jenna and I headed outside, ready to embark on our hiking adventure. I took the driver's seat, adjusting it to accommodate my taller frame. As I started the car, Jenna asked me if we could play the DJ stream from yesterday, even though it was a bit different from our usual music taste. With the lively beats of techno and hardstyle filling the car, we set off towards the mountains. The scenic drive was breathtaking, with the morning sun casting a warm glow over the landscape, and the winding roads leading us deeper into the heart of nature. As we drove, Jenna and I chatted and laughed, the excitement of the day ahead evident in our voices. We arrived at the starting point of the hike, where a well-marked trail led us into the dense forest. The air was crisp, and the scent of pine surrounded us as we ventured deeper into the wilderness. Nature's tranquility enveloped us, and the only sounds were the rustling of leaves underfoot and the occasional bird song. The hike was both invigorating and calming, with every step bringing us closer to the breathtaking vistas promised at the summit. Along the way, we stopped to capture photos of the majestic scenery and made unforgettable memories together

As we reached the peak, the view took our breath away. The sun hung high in the sky, casting a warm golden glow over the landscape. We found a comfortable spot to sit, and I spread my jacket on the ground for us to rest upon. From this vantage point, we could see the majestic mountains rolling into the distance, the city nestled amidst greenery, and the vast expanse of the glistening sea. Time seemed to slow down as we sat there, completely immersed in the beauty that surrounded us. The world below felt like a painting come to life, and the grandeur of nature left us utterly speechless. Every moment felt like a treasure, etched into our hearts forever. Jenna and I sat side by side, our hands intertwined, fingers softly caressing as we gazed out at the breathtaking panorama. In the presence of such magnificence, we felt an overwhelming sense of peace and contentment. We shared loving looks, our eyes reflecting the depth of our emotions. Our hearts beat in sync as if they were dancing to the same rhythm, and every smile exchanged was like a promise of everlasting love and friendship. With a gentle touch, I brushed a strand of hair away from Jenna's face, and she leaned into my touch, her eyes sparkling with affection. We leaned in closer, our foreheads touching, finding solace and comfort in the connection we shared. As time seemed to stand still, we spoke softly, our voices carrying the weight of dreams, hopes, and aspirations. Amidst the grandeur of nature, we discovered an even greater beauty in the simplicity of our love. With the world sprawling beneath us, it was as if we were in our own little bubble of happiness, where nothing else mattered but the bond we held. As the hours passed, the sun began its descent, casting an enchanting orange and pink hue across the sky. We wrapped ourselves in Jenna’s jacked, holding each other close to ward off the evening chill. The stars started to emerge, one by one, adding their brilliance to the already mesmerizing night sky. Hand in hand, Jenna and I soaked in the serenity, feeling a profound connection to nature and each other. On our way back down, we shared stories of our past, and everything in between. Time seemed to slow down, allowing us to savor every moment of this magical journey. When we finally returned to Toni's house, the sun was already set .Toni hadn't returned yet, but we knew she would have had an incredible day with her friends. As the day's adventures came to an end, Jenna and I found ourselves pleasantly exhausted.

The soothing sound of the sea outside seemed to beckon us to relax and unwind. We exchanged knowing glances, silently communicating our shared desire to wash away the weariness of the day together. With a playful grin, Jenna suggested, "How about we take a shower together? We could save time, and it might be fun." Though the idea thrilled me, I felt a surge of nervousness. It would be the first time we'd see each other completely naked, and the thought made my heart race. But I trusted Jenna completely, and I knew that taking this step would only strengthen our bond. "Sure, that sounds lovely," I replied, trying to sound more confident than I felt. We made our way to the bathroom, a hint of bashfulness lingering in the air. As we stood before the inviting warmth of the shower, our tiredness seemed to melt away, replaced by a sense of comfort in each other's presence. The tension between us was undeniable as we undressed, our eyes occasionally glancing at each other. But there was also an air of excitement and vulnerability, knowing that this shared moment would deepen our intimacy. Jenna stepped under the cascading water first, and I followed suit. The feeling of the warm droplets on my skin was soothing, but the feeling of Jenna's eyes on me was electrifying. As we stood there, our bodies exposed to each other, we shared a silent moment of appreciation for each other's beauty, inside and out. "You're so beautiful," Jenna whispered, her voice filled with genuine admiration. A blush painted my cheeks, and I couldn't help but return the compliment. "And you're absolutely stunning." As the water enveloped us, we began to relax, allowing the tension to fade away. We moved closer, our bodies naturally gravitating toward each other. Our hands intertwined, fingers tracing delicate patterns on each other's skin. It wasn't just about the physical closeness; it was the emotional connection that made this moment so special. The trust we had in each other, the love we felt, and the knowledge that we were vulnerable in front of one another only made our bond stronger. We took our time, cherishing each touch, each caress, and each kiss as if time stood still. There was no need to rush; the world outside seemed to fade away, leaving only the two of us in this intimate haven.

As Jenna and I left the bathroom covered only in Towels Toni came back home, of course, her timing is undeniably perfect, I thought ironically to myself. Toni's amused expression didn't help our embarrassment. "Well, well, well," she continued teasingly, "look at you two, all cozy and towel-clad. I leave for a few hours, and you decide to have a private beach resort moment without me?" Jenna playfully nudged me, and I couldn't help but chuckle nervously. "It's not what it looks like, Toni," I stammered, trying to find the right words. Toni raised an eyebrow, a mischievous glint in her eyes. "Oh, really? Because it looks like I interrupted something pretty intimate." Jenna interjected with a laugh, "It was just a shower, Toni. We were tired after the hike, and we thought it would save time." "Uh-huh, sure," Toni teased, her grin widening. "I bet that's what you call it these days – 'saving time.'" My cheeks felt like they were on fire, and I was grateful for the towel covering my body. I knew Toni was just having fun, but it didn't make the situation any less awkward. Toni finally relented, seeing how embarrassed we were. "Okay, okay, I'll stop teasing. It's all good, seriously. You two do your thing; I won't judge." Jenna gave her a playful glare. "You better not, missy. We're just tired, and this was purely practical." Toni raised her hands in mock surrender. "Hey, I get it. No judgment from me. Anyway, how was the hike? Did you enjoy the view?" “Well, I think we should get dressed first, and afterwards we can talk all about today shall we?” I chuckled still red as a tomato. Toni laughed heartily at my suggestion, "Oh, come on, you don't want to keep the towel look for the rest of the evening?" I shook my head vigorously, "No, thank you! I think I've had enough towel moments for one day." Jenna joined in the laughter, playfully teasing me, "Don't worry, Y/N, you look fabulous in a towel. But yeah, I agree with you. Let's get dressed first." With that decision settled, we each retreated to our respective rooms to change. As I stood in front of the wardrobe, I couldn't help but think about how the day had taken an unexpected turn – from hiking in the mountains to enjoying a somewhat awkward moment with Jenna, and now to a delightful evening with my two closest friends. Once dressed, we reconvened in the living room, and Toni prepared some snacks for us. The conversation flowed effortlessly, just as it always did when we were together. We talked about the hike, sharing funny anecdotes and memorable moments. Toni recounted her time with her streaming friends and all the exciting plans they had for the future. As the evening turned into night, we found ourselves gathered around the fireplace, the warmth adding to the coziness of the atmosphere.

“So tell me how was the hike? Did you enjoy the view?" "Oh, it was incredible," I replied. "The view from the peak was breathtaking. You were right; it's a hidden gem." Toni beamed with pride. "I knew you'd love it. I'm glad you two had a great time. And now that you've had your 'private' shower, I guess you're all refreshed and ready to hang out." Jenna laughed, "Yeah, I suppose we are. But seriously, thanks for letting us use your car and your house. We had an amazing day." Toni waved it off. "Anytime, really. I'm happy to share this place with you both.” As we all headed downstairs, the awkwardness of the moment began to dissipate, replaced by the warm camaraderie that defined our friendship. We spent the evening laughing, chatting, and sharing stories, cherishing each other's company.

As I lay in bed that night, with the gentle sound of the sea as the backdrop to my thoughts, I reflected on the wonderful day we had. It might have started with a bit of awkwardness, but it ended with an abundance of love and laughter. And that, I realized, was the true magic of our friendship – the ability to be ourselves, no matter the circumstances, and to know that we were surrounded by genuine care and acceptance. With a contented smile on my face, I drifted off to sleep, knowing that I was incredibly lucky to have these two wonderful people in my life.

[avengersassemble-fics]

Stark Legacy

part 01/?? "the only person"

master list

word count 4.3k

an: :3 welcome to a new fic bc idk how to control myself

WARNING: this part does depict alcohol usage, and mentions of other substances a character uses to cope (though nothing is explicitly mentioned).

“An unemployment and housing crisis skyrockets to higher levels as people still struggle to adjust and accommodate the population we had years ago. Streets are littered with people seeking hope-”

“According to world economists, the surge in loan denials is leading to an unprecedented end, leaving the experts scrambling for a way to get the economy back on track, also claiming that the Global Repatriation Council may be asking for too much-”

“Protests break out across Switzerland as support for the group known as the Flag Smashers rises, with the Global Repatriation Council denying any comment on the matter, as well as refusing to comment on the rumours that the newly titled Captain America is investigating the matter-”

“What can we expect from Stark Industries now that Tony Stark is no longer with us? Pepper Potts, while having led the company in a positive direction prior to the Blip, has had no new developments over the last six months. With these newfound challenges the world is facing we’re left to wonder.. Who is going to step up as the ingenious mind behind new innovation? Will the youngest Stark continue on in the steps of father and brother, or are we seeing the end of the Stark Legacy?”

Click.

Silence filled the blue colored cottage that was tucked away at the end of the street in Ransdorp. Though dim and lifeless inside the cottage, outside the sun shined while birds chirped away happily and the sound of children playing echoed through the air. But inside the cottage, all alone, someone stood and tossed a television remote back onto the couch that was once occupied. They shed the blanket that had been wrapped around their shoulders all night while listening to all the different news reports, and entering a small bedroom and dressed in the dark. It was a Wednesday afternoon, and after shuffling through the cottage to grab a few things, the back doors were pushed and locked open, and a breeze blew through the house.

You squinted as you put a sun hat on and oversized sunglasses, overlooking the green oasis you had worked on every day for the last six months. Pushing away the thoughts of what the news had been saying, you stepped down onto the wooden patio that lined the back door and carried a hefty packed bag with you to the garden you had planted. You set the bag down and kneeled into the soft grass, and got to work on picking on fresh vegetables to use for your dinner later. Lucky for you, the soil was perfect here.

So… How have the last six months been for you?

Well the garden was a distraction your neighbor had suggested after finally catching you one day while throwing out a bag full of alcohol bottles you had consumed. You could see her take a second glance over your disheveled appearance, but she ignored it for the most part (which thankfully she did, you were a little sick of people telling you how to feel at the time). Naturally, instead of working through your problems, you distracted yourself from them.

But in all honesty… It’s been hard. Maybe it was selfish of you to think so, but you felt like you had been dealt one of the shittiest hands from the universe. The pressure from the world after… After Tony’s death was suffocating. As more paparazzi followed you around, the worse that anxiety had gotten. With that newfound attention, you had also been summoned by the United States government to attest for your time as a HYDRA agent. Lucky for you, in some way, they dropped any serious charges due to your restraint under the program, but sentenced you to weekly therapy sessions (since SHIELD had denied to disclose your mental capabilities). To your knowledge, Bucky Barnes had been offered a similar deal. The therapy lasted all of a month before you… Negotiated your way out of it, and returned to this safe place.

You drowned yourself in drinks and other activities after leaving New York, which in turn made your black-out episodes reappear, which had become evident as the photographed wall in your second bedroom started to be crossed out fast. You couldn’t help but twitch at the thought, and steered clear of that subject. But as of five months ago, you were all but cut off from all things Avengers.

Everyone had gone their own separate ways for the most part. Wanda was off the radar, Sam had gone and gotten a contract with the Air Force, Clint got his family back, Rhodey was some top notch Air Force guy (you didn’t really know what he was up to nowadays), Thor was gone offworld, Scott was making up for lost time with his family, and Bucky… Well, you didn’t know much about that situation either. Sam had tried to reach out after everything, but in one of your drunken states you threw your phone in the Weersloot river. You didn’t need a reminder of that day, or those few weeks even.

You never played the message Happy had given you from Tony. You never had the courage to do so, and you had it tucked away in your room safe and sound. Honestly? You were starting to think you never would be ready to hear what Tony had to say to you before he died. You just couldn’t bear to hear it, never would… Because if he even mentioned someone’s name you didn’t know how you would react.

When you started to think about Steve, you picked up a drink to take your mind off it. You had yet to come to terms with him leaving, because it still hurt like the day it happened.

Losing Tony was the worst thing that could’ve happened in your eyes. He was your family, though Pepper and Morgan had become your family too, Tony was the last piece of your family you could hold onto. The last shred to the past you fought so hard to remember and cherish, and now him and that part of you was gone. He was your everything. He always would be.

But Steve? Losing Steve wasn’t something you had ever even considered. While Tony was your soul, Steve was your heart. Despite everything you two had been through, the feelings hurt and the years it took to make it back together, Steve always had your heart. He was the man you wanted to fall asleep with and wake up to. He was the man you talked about growing old with, what life would be like if he gave up the Captain America mantle, he was supposed to be your future...

And then he stayed in the past, and left you here confused. Hurt. Alone.

You lost the two people you had left in the world. Your heart and your soul. And it was the most devastating blow you had ever felt… Everyday you wondered how someone comes back from something like that, if it was even possible.

Your thoughts were interrupted when a hefty softball landed in a thud in your garden and smushed one of your little tomatoes. You blinked at the sight before grabbing the ball and looking up to see the familiar short boy next door pulling himself up on the fence that separated your yard from his, and you grabbed a rag from your bag and wiped the softball off.

“Je vernielt in zijn eentje mijn tuin, weet je,” (You’re single-handedly ruining my garden, you know) you said to the boy and looked up at him through your sunglasses.

“Vergeef mij,” (Forgive me) he said and rested his head on his hands to watch you finish wiping his ball off. “Mijn vader wilde niet met mij spelen” (My dad wouldn’t play with me).

You stopped wiping for a moment and could see the sad look in the kids face. You smiled softly and stood, making your way over to the fence and handing him his ball back, though his expression didn’t change.

“Vraag het me de volgende keer dat je wilt spelen, oké?” (Next time you want to play, come ask me, okay?) You told him, and the smile reappeared on his face and he gave you a nod. You ruffled his hair as he jumped back off the fence and played once again. You went back to your bag, now full with vegetables, and picked it up to head back inside. You had a sweet pasta recipe to try tonight, and you think what you selected should work great-

You stopped in your tracks right before the back door. You lowered your sunglasses and lowered your gaze to the ground as you tried to focus on the sound in the air, the shift in the environment. You may have been slightly hungover but the presence was not hard to miss. You straightened your stance and gripped your sunglasses in your fist.

“Sam?” You called out. At first there wasn’t any rustling, but after a few moments you heard your back gate unlock and creak open, and that’s when you could hear the extra set of footsteps. You slowly turned around to face who had finally tracked you down, and were met with Sam Wilson… And Bucky Barnes in tow.

“What are you doing here?” You more so asked Sam. The pair glanced at one another and Bucky nodded his head at his partner in crime (God, you could just tell they were up to something) and Sam shoved his hands into the jacket he had been wearing.

“We came to see you, check in on how you’re doing,” Sam said. You chuckled a bit, and shook your head.

“That’s bullshit and you know it,” you called him out. “What are you really doing here?”

“We need your help,” Bucky said. You bit your tongue and looked them over, maybe just a little curious as to what was going on. Just a little. “We stumbled onto something that I think you may have some information on.”

You hummed to yourself for a moment, thinking it over. Truthfully, the last thing you needed was whatever this was. So you shook your head and shrugged your shoulders. “I’m afraid I can’t help, but thanks for thinking of me.”

You turned your back on them and stepped up a couple steps into your house, and was all but ready to close the door to the world and close yourself off from Sam and Bucky, but Bucky took a step forward.

“There’s more super soldiers out there,” Bucky said in a serious tone. You stopped in your tracks, gripping onto your door for a few moments before looking back out to the pair. Bucky was watching you intently, in a stare you had only seen on him once before (which you didn’t want to recount at the moment). There was movement near the fence, and your eyes darted there to see the neighbor boy peeping his head over to see what was going on. When his gaze met yours, and you gave him “the look” he disappeared just as quickly as he appeared, and you looked back at the pair standing in your yard and against all better judgement, motioned your head behind you. Understanding your cue, Sam led the way inside, and you shut the door quickly behind Bucky.

You moved around the burly super soldier and brushed past Sam to set your bag of veggies in your kitchen. You had to take a moment to compose yourself before facing the duo who had been watching you intently. “Okay.. Go on. What do you mean there’s more super soldiers?”

Sam grabbed something from his pocket, a phone it looked like, and pulled something up before handing you the device. You hesitantly took it and looked down at the phone, where a video began playing of the recent Gasel Bank heist. You watched as someone got beaten to the ground, but what was astonishing was the sheer strength the masked person showed. Captivated, you carried the device into the living room and plopped down into the cushions of your sofa and watched more footage, this time up close from what you could guess were Dumb and Dumber who moved to hover over you.

“We were hoping you might know something,” Sam said. You handed his phone back to him which he graciously accepted, and you tapped your fingers together in thought before looking over at Bucky.

“What makes you think I know anything?” You asked. Bucky seemed to huff in annoyance at your questioning him, in all honesty you just wanted to hear him say it.

“You and I both know what went into the replication of that serum, your program especially,” Bucky said. You felt a lump form at the back of your throat and you casted your eyes downward. “You were still there after me… Did they perfect Stark’s serum?”

You looked back up at his question, and you held his gaze for a moment. You couldn’t believe this was how your day was turning, and you were pissed that he of all people were bringing up your past, like you volunteered for any of that shit.  You lightly bounced your leg as you fought to remember what you had known.

“HYDRA had been unsuccessful in using my father’s formula of the serum again, even after you managed to escape their hold,” you started. You swallowed the lump in the back of your throat and leaned back into the couch, averting your gaze from Bucky to the floor as you searched your memory. “They brought in a scientist, but it wasn’t my op, and it was on a need to know basis. The only reason we knew they started the research again was they started taking people from the Phantom program to test the serum on.”

“Phantom program?” Sam asked.

“That’s what they called us,” you mumbled. “All of us were deemed dead so… It was only fitting.”

“Did the scientist perfect the serum?” Bucky asked. You shrugged your shoulders and met his look again.

“Didn’t think so,” you answered honestly. “So if there’s serum still out there, he has to be your guy. Though I can say I didn’t see any kind of sign of that activity when working with SHIELD.”

“But it’s a start,” Sam nodded and Bucky looked his way. The two started sharing odd glances, and you watched in confusion. Sam suddenly looked your way and motioned around. “Think you could spare some time and do this mission with us?”

“Sam-” Bucky began to say as a warning, but you chuckled a bit which made him stop.

“I don’t do this anymore,” you told them as you motioned between them.

“Come on (Y/N),” Sam tried to reason as you stood up and walked your way back into the kitchen and opened up a cabinet in search of tonight’s bottle of wine to go with dinner. “I get that you’re going through it, I really do, but-”

Just as you managed to select the perfect medium-bodied red wine, Sam had come up beside you and took the bottle out of your hand. “This isn’t going to help you.”

“Yeah Sam and what is?” You asked while crossing your arms. “Because right now the only thing that would help me out is to see my brother again but guess what! It’s not going to fucking happen! It’s just me, here, and all by myself. All by myself…”

Your words trailed off as a heaviness grew in your chest. The atmosphere in the room was a lot more stuffy, and you would rather curl up and disappear then let Sam (and Bucky) see you cry. But here you fucking were, with Sam seeing the tears build up in your eyes and the look he gave you, you wanted to be mad but the only thing that you could seem to feel was just sad. You blinked back the feeling and took a glance back at Bucky, who stood in your living room and averted his gaze. You looked back at Sam, and put on the best front you could.

“You’re welcome to stay for the night, someone can take the bed in my room and someone can take the couch, but tomorrow? We go our separate ways again,” you said in a low tone. Sam’s look at you was… Disappointment. Before the sentiment could settle on your already guilty conscience you turned around and grabbed your keys and a peacoat and stopped at the front door. “Help yourselves to whatever you need.”

With that, you pulled the door open and just as swiftly shut behind you. The cottage walls shook for a moment before settling to a silence inside. Sam looked down at the bottle in his hand and set it back onto the counter before looking Bucky’s way, who still looked annoyed.

“What?” Bucky defensively asked when he noticed Sam’s stare. Sam shook his head at him and pushed the wine bottle to the back of the counter.

“You pushed that too hard,” Sam said, to which Bucky scoffed.

“Me? You’re the one who asked her to join us which, by the way, where did that come from?” Bucky questioned as Sam came back to the living room and sat down on the couch. Sam leaned forward with his arms on his legs and rubbed his hands together.

“Take a look around Robo-cop,” Sam emphasized and Bucky let out an annoyed sigh. “You’re seeing what I’m seeing, right?”

Bucky looked around at your surroundings. He wouldn’t peg it as chaotic, but he also couldn’t pin it as put together. There were personal touches here and there, but it didn’t feel like you belonged here. Bucky wasn’t blind to what was going on here, but he also didn’t see how that pertained to what Sam was suggesting.

“Sam, we came for some information, we got it, so why don’t you tell me what you’re trying to say,” Bucky replied. Sam rolled his eyes and leaned back into the cushions.

“We let her come here, by herself, even knowing how devastated she was after Tony died,” Sam explained. Bucky’s eyes darted to the floor at the memory of him following you out to that shed the day of Tony’s funeral, and the empty expression your eyes held. “Hell, we don’t even know how she felt about Steve. We should’ve been here for this. And that makes us shitty friends.”

“Ah, I wouldn’t say we’re friends-”

“Oh I’m sorry, who's the one that said she owed you a favor?” Sam asked and Bucky shrugged his shoulders.

“I did, but that doesn’t mean-”

“Nah ah,” Sam cut him off and Bucky rolled his eyes. “If you two owe one another favors, then your friends.”

“That’s sound logic, Sam,” Bucky sarcastically said.

You tossed your glass bottle of whatever the hell it was you drank earlier into a trash can on your way back home. You pulled your keys out of your jacket pocket and jingled them around until you found your house key and hipped quietly. Your cottage was just in view and all the lights were out. You grumbled to yourself as you neared, forced to remember what had happened earlier in the day (and boy did you work hard to forget that Sam and bucky were at your lace haha). You stumbled up the two steps to your door and used the wall to steady yourself, before quietly shoving your key into the door and pushed the door open.

It took a second to adjust to the environment, but the whole cottage was pitch black, besides whatever light from the moon managed to filter in. You carefully walked around the couch and glanced down at who occupied it, and when you saw Sam peacefully asleep you then looked at the door to your room and shuddered at the fact Bucky must’ve taken residence in there. You huffed a bit, and pulled a spare blanket out of a basket and moved to the back door. When you finally got outside and shut the door to not disturb your guest you tossed your blanket onto the patio sofa you had and kicked your shoes off.

After shedding yourself of your peacoat and plopping down on the hard cushions, you inwardly cursed the two men inside. You were doing just fine before their arrival, you had a schedule of self loathing and drinking then sleeping that they were interrupting. You just weren’t looking forward to the repercussions of tonight’s sleep. You laid back across the sofa and looked up at the sky, though nothing was there anymore. Or at least there wasn’t anything you could see.

Let’s be honest here. The reason you had turned to drinking was because of the fuzzy feeling you got after awhile. Your mind got to drift to something else besides the memories of your past, like… what to drink next, or in this case, is that a star or an airplane? It made the moment more simple, it made you forget who you were until you woke up again. That didn’t mean you didn’t resent yourself for your actions, but you just added that to the list of reasons why your endgame was the best resolution. You just weren’t ready to tell anyone what that endgame was.

Your gate creaked and you tilted your head to look in that direction. You could barely make out the figure as they neared, Bucky’s face became more clear. You looked back up to the sky and shook your head a bit to yourself. Bucky came to a stop close to you, and sighed a bit.

“You should go inside,” He said quietly.

“You should just leave me alone,” you quipped back to him. Though you couldn’t see it, Bucky rolled his eyes at your drunken response. You suddenly felt a lot more sober, and you turned your head to face him. “You had no right, you know.”

“What are you talking about?” Bucky asked and you huffed.

“You had no right to bring up the Phantom program. I didn’t tell anyone about that, not even Tony,” you admitted to him. Bucky bit his tongue and looked up at the sky for a moment to collect himself. “I didn’t want anyone to go digging into the extent of that.”

“I didn’t know,” Bucky admitted. You blinked at him as he caught your gaze again. “Look… I’m sorry.”

You fell silent before letting out a small sigh and adjusting yourself to be a little more comfortable, your head finally starting to feel dizzy again. But Bucky wasn’t ready to settle this, he shifted his weight and turned to face you.

“Why are you doing this to yourself?” Bucky asked. Your eyes fluttered back open and you looked over at him. He had taken a step closer, and hovered over you, and you raised a brow.

“What are you talking about?” You asked him this time.

“The drinking,” Bucky pointed out. You huffed and turned your head in the opposite direction into the cushions, and Bucky rolled his eyes. “It’s not going to help you know.”

“Yeah and how would you know?” You asked and looked back at him. Bucky leaned down to get in your face, and you tried to move back from him.

“Because I’m probably the only person who really knows what’s going on in your head.”

You bit your tongue, and Bucky backed off. In a bit of a daze, you plopped back down onto the cushions and pulled the blanket you brought out up to your chin. Bucky rolled his eyes at you shutting him down, and he moved to the door to go inside. The sooner the morning came and Sam and he could leave, the better for him.

“I never blamed you, you know,” you said in a light voice. Bucky stopped in his tracks and looked over at you. Your eyes were closed, and you were breathing evenly. Bucky retracted his hand from the door knob and took a couple steps closer. He needed to hear that again.

“What did you say?” He asked. You stirred a bit, but didn’t answer him. Carefully, Bucky used his gloved hand to touch your shoulder, and give you a small shake. When you still didn’t say anything, Bucky sighed and looked between the door and you and cursed in his head.

Bucky carefully slid an arm under your shoulders, and then hooked his other under your legs. He hoisted you up into his arms and into his chest, and your head rolled into his arm. Bucky shook his head at it and carefully brought you back inside, and past the couch, and pushed your room door open with his foot. Bucky sat himself on the edge of your bed and balanced you in his lap with one arm, and pulled your blankets open with a free hand. When he finally got you into your own bed, he took the blanket you had outside from you and tossed it onto his shoulder, and pulled the blankets on the bed onto you. Bucky stood from your bed, and before leaving the room he took a final glance at you as you stirred just slightly.

Bucky closed your door, and walked back towards the couch and settled himself onto the floor. As his back met the floor, he couldn’t help but wonder if you meant what you said, about not blaming him for what happened. One thing he did know was he meant what he said. Bucky stared at the door to the second room in the house, and he shook his head.

If there was one person he truly wanted to make amends with, it was you. After all, you were on his list of names.

- - - - - - - - - -

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[floralseokjin]

⤑ made-up love song drabbles

First date: Seokjin’s POV

kim seokjin x reader warnings; none! words; 2,196 words

↪︎ read the series here / and drabbles here

Seokjin felt like a drink. It was nine o’clock in the morning, so absolutely out of the question, but it didn’t stop him from craving it. Whiskey. Definitely whiskey. Nana’s PA had just been to pick up Arin for the weekend – Thank God. Finally she would be able to spend time with her mom after a month, which he was over the moon about, and selfishly, that meant his date with you could go ahead. Even if he was so nervous he could throw up. 

Work had been a great distraction for the past two days but once he’d woken up this morning the realisation had dawned on him. He was going on a date tonight. His first in a decade. He still couldn’t believe he’d actually gone through with it and asked you to dinner. He’d faced his fears, possibly made a fool of himself and shared too much about his personal life in the process, but you hadn’t seemed to mind at all. You were so easy to talk to, it was refreshing. He’d felt brave for the first time in months – years.   But it still didn’t stop him from being on pins as soon as he’d opened his eyes this morning. 

He’d showered early, just after Arin had woken up and then he’d helped her get ready for the day too, allowing her to eat her breakfast in front of the television as he tried to swallow down his bowl of porridge too. It tasted like cardboard – but then again, it might have been his cooking. Misook usually made the food around her, when he wasn’t dining out or ordering take out of course. 

Arin had noticed his strange mood straight away. Obviously. 

“Daddy, what’s wrong with you this morning?” She’d asked, looking over at him warily before hesitating. “I am spending the weekend with mom, right?”

“Of course you are, sweetie” he’d rushed, shaking away the  surge of anger he’d felt. It pained him to know she was always expecting the worst lately. “Your mom just text me to say Jia is on her way.” 

She’d smiled then, her face lighting up and he couldn’t help but match it, his nerves disappearing for a while. That was until he was left all alone, the house now empty and silent. He eyed the bottle of whiskey on the kitchen counter (where he’d left it after his small nightcap last night) and shook his head. He should drop you a text, just to check in and see if you were still on for tonight. He needed to find out what time to pick you up anyway. He probably should have messaged you the day before, he panicked suddenly, worrying his bottom lip between his teeth as he pulled his phone from his sweatpants pocket. Oh well, there was no time for regrets, that’s what his father always said. 

It took him at least ten minutes to figure out what to say. His first draft sounded too cheerful, too false, he was trying way too hard and had added an examination point. His second was too formal, fifteen years of sending business emails back and forth obvious. He settled on something in the middle – he hoped.  

Unknown (9:32am)  Hi Y/N,  It’s Kim Seokjin, Arin’s father. Just wondering if you still want to have dinner tonight? If so, please let me know and I will send through the restaurant details. We can decide on a time for me to pick you up.  Regards, Seokjin 

Only, reading it back after he hit send he began to second guess himself. Of course you knew who he was, his confidence might be lacking a little right now but he knew he wasn’t totally forgettable. What an idiot. Not that he could do much, there was no turning back. He’d committed. 

He busied himself with a bit of Saturday morning cleaning while he waited for your reply, and by that he meant straightening up the pillows he and Arin had been sitting against earlier. When he returned to the kitchen, your message was waiting for him. 

You (9:43am)  Of course, send the details. I trust your taste! 

See, exclamation points suited you. It was cute. He could just imagine you saying it in person, your dazzling smile, maybe that little giggle you’d made a few times on Wednesday. He felt something warm in his chest as he got lost in his thoughts, nerves easing once again. You were excited for tonight, he told himself.   Maybe you were even just as nervous as him possibly… 

He spent yet another few minutes composing his reply. A lot more casual this time, signing off with just his name. He didn’t always text like this, Namjoon could vouch for him, but he didn’t think you were both quite there yet. He wanted to show his best self after all. He wanted to impress you. He wanted to make you like him as much as he liked you. 

Seokjin (9:50am)  The sudden pressure… The restaurant’s name is KIM. I hope you like it. Is 7 alright to pick you up? I made reservations for 7:30.  Seokjin 

In truth, this restaurant was one he co-owned with his brother. Seokchul was the executive chef and they were both very proud of how successful their business venture had become. He knew taking you to such a place might seem like a cop-out – or worse, a brag – but that wasn’t the case at all. He wanted to treat you in a place that meant a lot to him. He could have chosen multiple restaurants, he was a regular at quite a few and could easily get a great table, but see, that did seem like he was showing off and he did not want to give you that impression at all. It was the complete opposite of his personality. KIM was a good choice, he was sure of it, and it helped that his brother didn’t work weekends, so there was no risk of bumping into him. Although, he had let him know about the date (and had begged him not to spill to their mother). 

You (9:52am)  I will. 7 sounds perfect. I’ll send through my address. See you later! 

You followed up with a Google Maps link to your home, and he sent a quick thank you – sans his name this time. With a quick sigh he pocketed his phone again, it was time to get on with his day. He had some paperwork from yesterday to complete by Monday morning so he should probably make a start. He stopped to order a light lunch at midday, ate it as he scrolled through his very limited social media before getting back to it. 

He called it a day around 3pm, a call from his mom interrupting his flow. He spent an hour talking, their weekend phone calls were habitual by now and he enjoyed them immensely.  He loved his father of course, but their conversations mostly revolved around work. Despite stepping down as CEO three years ago, he was still a vital member of the company, and Seokjin continued to consult him at every opportunity and lean on him for support when things got stressful. With his mom, she was the woman he could still be a kid around. They could talk about anything and everything, but for her own benefit he left out his plans for tonight. He knew what she was like, she’d get way too excited and overwhelmed and before long she’d be sobbing down the line while simultaneously asking to meet you. She’d been wanting him to meet someone new for so long, much like Mrs. Shin. It was a surprise the two women weren’t conspiring behind his back. 

No, he’d keep it a secret for now. If things went well tonight, then possibly his mother would get to find out. He wasn’t getting his hopes up though – or at least he was trying not to. 

It was just after four when he got off the phone, too early to start getting ready just yet, so he sat in front of the television and tried to concentrate on a series he’d recently started. (It wasn’t going well. He was on about one episode a week out of a nine season TV show.) It was no use though, the nerves were rearing their ugly head again. 

He decided to choose his outfit. Seokjin wasn’t much of a thinker when it came to fashion, he just grabbed whatever he saw first that morning, but tonight he wanted to at least put some effort in. After much deliberation he decided on a navy two piece paired with a white dress shirt. It wasn’t over the top, he thought, but nice enough to make that impression that was so very important to him. He kept his hair simple. He’d managed to squeeze in a haircut yesterday so it made things easier, but upon closer inspection in the mirror he noticed those pesky grey hairs of his glittering in the sunlight. He grimaced, worried now. He didn’t know your exact age yet, but it was obvious he was a few years older than you. He was no spring chicken, especially with those wrinkles around his eyes. He had been called handsome all his life, no stranger to it, but right now he was dubious. 

He pushed his trivial concerns away and concentrated on the next decision. What car he would take. He didn’t want to go too flash – again with the showing off thing – so the Aston Martin was definitely off the cards. He hadn’t actually driven that one much, going through some sort of so-called midlife crisis when he’d bought it straight after his divorce, so he made a mental note to take it out next weekend. He decided on the Mercedes convertible (roof on, of course). It seemed like a suitable choice, not too flashy at all really. He didn’t want to run the risk of putting you off him or overwhelming you with showy displays. He was well aware of the differences between your lifestyles, not that he cared at all, but it didn’t stop him from understanding. The things that seemed slight to him could very well be enormous for you. He didn’t want to make you feel uncomfortable in any way, shape or form. 

Shit, on second thoughts maybe his restaurant was a bad idea… 

.

.

Seokjin was always punctual, he prided himself on it, but tonight it made him nervous. He’d said 7 but it had only just gone quarter to. He couldn’t very well stay in the car for fifteen minutes, you’d spot him out the window, so ever so slowly he opened his car door and stepped out, his heart thudding against his ribcage. He was sure he noticed his hand shaking as he closed it behind him. He was such a mess it was embarrassing. 

You lived in a nice little neighbourhood, it seemed quiet, and he admired your pots of flowers in the patch of garden you had as he made his way up the path that led to your front door. He took a deep breath before ringing the doorbell, adjusting his suit jacket as he waited for you to open up. It’s fine, Seokjin, he told himself. It’s just dinner. You’ve done much scarier things in your life. Pull yourself together, man. 

A few seconds later the door opened in front of him and you came into view, looking as beautiful as ever. I’m fucked, he thought immediately. 

“Hi,“ he forced himself to say as he smiled. He was probably staring but he couldn’t help himself. You looked stunning, your dress deep red in colour and incredibly flattering. His throat felt dry and he swallowed quickly. 

“Hey,” you greeted back. 

“You look beautiful,“ he couldn’t help but awe, hoping he wasn’t stepping out of line with his compliment. 

"Thank you,” you smiled almost shyly. It was adorable. “You look…really good.“ 

He couldn’t help but burst out laughing at that, aware the sound was probably highly unfaltering, but he couldn’t help it. "I’ll take it. Thanks.” He tilted his head to the right then, composing himself. “Are you ready to go? I’m a bit early, I know. Sorry about that." 

He really couldn’t tear himself away from your beauty, but luckily you didn’t seem to notice, busy nodding as you clutched your purse to your side. "I, uh… I would invite you in to kill time but my best friend’s embarrassing.” Your voice raised as you continued, your head turning slightly down the hallway. 

He raised an eyebrow, a little confused, but he guessed said best friend was in the house somewhere? He smiled and shook his head. “It’s fine.” 

As you stepped forward, a breath of a chuckle slipping from your throat, he moved to the side, outstretching his arm to let you lead the way. You accepted with a brief nod of your head, your gazes catching for a split second. God, you were gorgeous. 

His nerves might have eased a tad, but his heart was still beating just as fast – if not more.  

Written 2020 - 2021. Please refrain from posting my work elsewhere. No translations allowed. © floralseokjin 2021

[violetsoju]

page 30彡★

kageyama tobio · fluff · 3.2k

a/n: came up w this idea based on a tiktok vid of this trend that randomly popped up on my feed (which i can't find anymore T_T) do let me know if you enjoyed it! ❤️

“Hey, Tobio.”

The mop of raven hair doesn’t look up to you, eyes fixated on the jiggly onsen tamago on top of the curry tonkatsu.

“There’s this new trend going on.”

He hums in response, fingers gripping onto a pair of wooden chopsticks, manoeuvring the fragile soft lump towards the spoon. Just a few more steps till being cradled snugly in the deep end of the cool ceramic spoon.

“And we’re gonna learn the moves and film it right here after this.”

His fingers twitch. One of the long pointy chopsticks loses its cool and stabs the tamago right in the core, streaks of yellow bleeding across the crisp golden brown tonkatsu. Its counterpart desperately tries to put pressure on the wound to stop the bleeding, but too much yolk has been lost, and more jabs were made in the frantic rescue mission. Not even the string of ‘shit’ muttered could save the day. So long, dear onsen tamago.

You’re finally met with piercing blue eyes glaring at you.

“No. And look at what you did to my onsen tamago.”

“You should’ve scooped it up with your spoon instead of pushing it with your chopsticks. Common sense much?” You thank the waitress for the hot steaming tempura udon. “Plus, you’re supposed to break the yolk and coat the luscious essence over your rice, unless you’re a freak and eat it in one go.”

Kageyama’s scowl softens when a piece of fried tempura lands in his bowl in exchange for a piece of tonkatsu. A glint of delight gleams in the two pair of eyes at the first bite of delicious food, taste buds tingling in satisfaction.

It’s a rainy Wednesday night. And rainy nights call for warm comfort food to make up for the gloomy wet weather brought by the pitter patter parade of fat rain droplets. So after a spontaneous text message, here you are, with an old close friend of yours, inside a small cosy shop hidden in an alleyway without any prior arrangements.

“And let me repeat myself. I’m not going to do any dumb dance trends with you again.” Kageyama restates his point firmly.

“Come on, you had so much fun the last time! Even Tsukki sent a good job sticker in the group chat.” You reason.

“You mean he enjoyed seeing me almost tripping over my feet.”

“That was the highlight, to be honest.”

He smacks your chopsticks away with his at your attempt to snag another piece of tonkatsu, not giving in into your pout.

“Anyway, I was just kidding. You’re in luck this time because it’s not a dance trend.”

Kageyama raises an eyebrow at you suspiciously, tilting his head to ask you to continue on.

“This time it’s a trend where you grab your nearest book, turn to page 30, and the first sentence will describe your love life. Interesting, isn’t it?”

“Just when I thought you’ve outgrown these ridiculous nonsenses.”

“Says the one who still insists on drinking a box of strawberry milk before matches.” You jab your chopsticks towards his direction accusingly.

“That’s different because it actually works. And it’s good.” He counterattacks by returning your gesture.

“I hate to say this but, point taken.”

He triumphantly snickers as you sigh in defeat.

“Aren’t you curious on how my love life is described?” You question, blowing off the steam from your spoon full of udon.

Kageyama chomps on another piece of pork cutlet, unamused at your question. “If you’re generous enough to share, I’d be honoured.”

“‘He smiles’”

“What?”

“That’s the first sentence on my page 30. ‘He smiles’.” You reply matter-of-factly, taking a sip of your hot green tea.

“What’s that even supposed to mean?” His brows knit in confusion, hands momentarily forgetting the spoonful of curry rice in hand.

“Use your imagination, Tobio. Awaken your romantic cells.” You gesture with your hands dramatically, earning a deadpan look from the boy seated across you.

“Does it mean whoever’s smiling is the love of your life? Or someone who’s always smiling?” Kageyama rests his cheek against his left knuckle, trying to connect the dots together.

“Well-“

“Wait a minute! Don’t tell me it’s Suga-san. Because if it is, I won’t allow it because Suga-san is way too good for you.”

He yelps as you not-so-accidentally dip your chopsticks stained with broth into his green tea.

“Shush, we both know how much Suga-san adores me. And everyone else.” You smugly take another bite of your fried tempura as he frowns in disgust after drinking the now broth infused green tea.

“I guess it’s feeling of love at the sight of his smile? Like feeling all warm and fuzzy seeing him smile.”

“Is there someone who makes you feel that way with their smile?”

You swirl the udon with your chopsticks mindlessly for a moment. “Maybe there is.”

You look up to the pair of blue eyes staring back at you, holding the intense gaze firmly, neither side backing down to break the tension.

“Do I know him?” Kageyama falters, a hint of anxiousness cracks in his voice.

“Since when were you so interested in my love life?” You laugh awkwardly, hoping to conceal your nervousness.

Despite the surrounding bustling chatter, the world suddenly falls painstakingly silent, with the irregular beats of two young hearts thumping deafeningly and out of rhythm.

The raven-haired boy succumbs first, looking back down to his half empty bowl. You continue swirling your bowl of udon, mentally slapping yourself at your answer and cracking your head to come up with something to save the mood.

“Well, I could help to scan him for you, if you want. Boys know boys better after all,”

You snap back up to look at the boy seated across you, eyes not meeting yours. This is a surprise.

“Plus, you can save the tears and snot to yourself because I might not be free to attend to your midnight crying sessions. If it really happens.”

A surge of warmth radiates throughout your body at his words. Definitely not from the hot bowl of udon.

Kageyama still has his eyes on the bowl before him, looking anywhere else but you. He tries to keep himself busy by scooping more rice, groaning as he further destroys the onsen tamago, unaware of the faint blush painting his cheeks. Definitely not from the hot bowl of curry, too.

“Don’t worry, he isn’t a jerk. I’m sure you’ll like him too.” You chuckle, adjusting your chopsticks to pick up more udon.

Oh, Kageyama Tobio, what exactly should I do with you.

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽.* :☆ﾟ. ───

Scroll. Refresh. Switch apps. Repeat. Sigh.

You’ve been stuck in this constant loop for the past hour. Instead of getting much needed sleep for the next day, you subject yourself to the chains of the device held in your hand, despite the drooping eyelids and strained arm muscles.

What’s so fascinating about social media anyway? If it’s not friends or random acquaintances posting sinful food pics of ootds, it’d be someone ranting about either their work or love life, or memes you’ve already seen before. Sometimes you wonder if you’ve been casted a spell by social media.

Crying out a yelp as the gadget lands right in your face at the slip of your hands, you massage your nose bridge and forehead from the impact, grimacing in pain. It’s not easy being a slave to social media, huh.

Tossing your phone to the side, you roll over to lie flat on your back, sprawled like a star fish on your bed. A long sigh escapes your lips, eyes staring blankly at the bare celling above. Maybe you should really call it a day.

A beep from your phone tells you otherwise.

Tobio [23:17]

I did it. You owe me one box of strawberry milk.

[23:18]

IMG_20210402_961222

You immediately plop yourself up to sit cross-legged on your bed, tapping on the notification to open the message. As expected of Kageyama Tobio, it was a full-page picture of a book, with a small number 30 on the top left-hand corner. But unexpectedly of Kageyama Tobio too, the page wasn’t from those volleyball books or magazines stacked in the corner of his room. Looks like the mini ramble session you gave him on the way to the metro station worked.

“I know volleyball is the love of your life too, but we’re talking about your actual love life here! So no volleyball books or magazines, go rummage Miwa-san’s book shelf for one random romance novel. Just one. She’ll thank me for taking care of your love life.”

Sliding both your thumbs outwards on the screen to zoom in, your lips press together to form an ‘o’, brows arching in fascination at the first sentence.

She knows.

Interesting.

Your fingers dance across the screen swiftly.

me [23:20]

Ohhh interesting. See, it’s exciting, isn’t it?

Tobio [23:21]

I guess so

me [23:22]

Do you think it describes your love life well?

To actually imagine Kageyama Tobio having something that he loves as much as volleyball is, an odd and foreign feeling.

Tobio [23:24]

I’m not sure tbh

me [23:25]

Well spill the tea so I can help you analyse it

Tobio [23:25]

No

You swear you would throw punches at him if he was beside you now.

me [23:26]

Tsk tsk, so who’s the girl you’ve been hiding from me

Tobio [23:27]

Since when were you interested in my love life?

The use of your own words against you has you clicking your tongue in amusement.

You were contemplating between a civil or sarcastic remark when a new message bubble pops up.

Tobio [23:29]

But do you think she knows?

me [23:30]

About what?

Tobio [23:31]

Nvm, forget what I said

Seriously? This conversation is by no means, ending like this. You tap on the video icon on the right-hand corner of the screen hastily.

It takes a few rings for the familiar face to appear on screen, face a little too close to the camera, brows furrowed, lips pursed.

“What the heck, do you know what time it is?” Kageyama huffs in annoyance, running his fingers through his dishevelled black hair.

“Says the one who sent me such juicy information at this hour.” You bend your legs up, resting your hand on your knees for a better angle.

He throws his head back exasperatedly, muttering something inaudible along the static noise from the speakers, resting his head on a wooden frame you recognise. He still hasn’t changed his bed that he has long outgrown, complaining about soreness in his legs and arms that dangle off the edge every night.

“How do you expect me to go to bed with you hanging me like this? You have the worst timing ever.” You raise your hands in protest.

Kageyama buries half of his face in his palm. “I shouldn’t have listened to you.”

“But you get a box of strawberry milk from this! It’s worth it.” You gesture a finger gun to him knowingly.

He moves two fingers away from his face, peeking to see you through the screen like a child. Heaving a long, heavy sigh, he shifts his weight to sit up properly, half of his face still cradled in his palm.

“So, ‘she knows’, huh. Back to your question. What do you think she knows?” A tinge of excitement and fear bubble up your throat.

Kageyama avoids your gaze, looking to the side. “Well, I mean, about my, er- my feelings, I guess?”

“You mean your heart.”

The sentence has his eyes back on you, vivid blue eyes clouded by the shadows of dimly lit room.

“Yeah, uhm, well, I guess.” His voice trails off.

“Well, have you told her before?” You keep your voice steady.

“No, of course.” His words come out like a whisper.

“Then how is she going to know without any words or actions?” It comes out like a blunt statement, but somewhere deep down, a wave of relief washes over you.

“But I’m always there for her. Whenever she needs me, wherever she is, I try my best to be there for her,” Passionate flames ignite across the vast blue ocean. “I know something is on her mind when she bites the insides of her cheeks, when she flicks the tip of her thumb with her index finger constantly, or when she plays with the piercings on her ears. I’m not one with words, but I stay by her side when she needs me to, listening to her rambles or vents, or wiping away tears that stain her cheeks soft like mochi.

“I set notifications the night before to give her morning calls during her exams or important days because she tends to snooze the alarm on days like these. I always have extra band-aids ready on hand because she always somehow cuts and hurts herself, which hurts my heart too. Heck, I even learn ridiculous things that would be the death of me just for her, because nothing compares to the sparkle in her eyes when she flashes her precious smile, brighter than the sun that takes my breath away every time. I-”

Kageyama stops midway, face painted with horror as if he just let out a million-dollar secret. Panic flares in his eyes, mouth agape in incredulity as his body rigids, dumbstruck with terror by what rolled off his tongue so smoothly. You wonder if the line got disconnected because he turned into a static image, with a full-blown flustered look on his face.

You wave at the screen. “Tobio, you still there?”

It takes a few seconds for the raven-haired boy to snap back to his senses and regain his composure, coughing awkwardly in attempt to calm himself down. Small patches of blush blooming furiously on his cheeks peek out from his hands covering his mouth.

He looks cute.

No, he’s cute.

He’s always been cute.

“I- Er- Ye- Yeah, I’m still here.” Kageyama struggles to find words from his tad-larger-than-average vocabulary vault that has seem to disappear into thin air.

“Gosh, breathe Tobio, breathe. Come on, take a deep breath with me. One, two, three.”

He exhales deeply at the count of three with eyes shut close, hoping that all his jitters have been expelled away in the air.

“There you go. Feel better now?” Your lips tug up gently as the boy on the screen visibly relaxes, shoulders loosening from the tension, face free of creased lines.

He opens his eyes slowly, blinking a few times to adjust his vision before returning a soft smile to you. “Yeah, I do. Thanks.”

“Anytime.”

A tranquil silence blankets over the both of you. This time, the steady beats of two young hearts thump in tune like a metronome. Two young souls gaze at each other, basking in the calmness and comfort of the sincere warm smiles that felt so much like home; but too proud to admit they were like lovesick fools, brushing off the feelings that were screaming loudly to be heard, feelings that they were afraid to face.

“Do you think she knows?” It’s a genuine question, one that takes a mountain high of courage to come up with.

“I’m sure she does.” It’s a genuine answer, one that takes a of couple hundred meters of might to emerge from the deep ends of the sea to come up with.

And you both hope that you’re on the same wavelength.

“So back to square one. Who’s the girl?”

“None of your business.”

“Another piece of crap from you and I’ll leave without you at the metro station tomorrow.”

“Sorry.”

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽.* :☆ﾟ. ───

When you reach the designated exit of the metro station the next day, a pair of eyes as blue as the day immediately catches your attention among the crowd, feet shuffling on its own accord towards them. As if there was a detector sensing your presence within him, the owner of the beautiful pair of orbs turns to you, raising a hand in greeting.

Kageyama gives you a smile, a smile that says, ‘I hope my smile makes you feel warm and fuzzy’.

You smile back at him, with a smile that says, ‘I hope you know that I know your heart’.

It’s hard to shake off the pride to be damned, but the two lovesick fools find themselves discarding it slowly, bit by bit with each step taken, together.

【☾】

Kageyama is a creature of routine. He always has his day planned out in detail and hates it when it doesn’t go according to plan, or when something pops out of the blue. But there are a few which he can make exceptions for. So when he receives your text asking for dinner after his training session, he agrees in a heartbeat.

He felt his heart sink deeply in his guts when you said there was, indeed, someone who made you feel warm and fuzzy with their smile. But who was he to have his say when his status was merely just a close friend?

Miwa thought he had lost it when he barged into her room without notice that night, scanning her bookshelf for novels, specifically of the romance genre. It was more nerve-wrecking than retaking exams back in high school with Hinata while flipping through the pages, and it didn’t help much when he finally found the particular page, with the first line inked in black staring back at him in doubt.

He doesn’t know why he sent the picture of the page to you. What exactly was he expecting?

Worse, he doesn’t even know why he started blabbing about how he was always there for you, how much he cares for you, and how much you mean to him. It all just came out so naturally that he could actually score an A+ for impromptu speaking.

But when your eyes were filled with concern while calming him down instead of making fun of him or pestering him for more, something flutters in his mind. Maybe it was from the rush of adrenaline from before, or maybe it was his heart that had leaped out from his chest taking over. He brings up the question once again, with more confidence this time.

He knows you’re not one to lie with your eyes. And he sees the kindness and honesty in them.

A ray of hope flickers in him.

So today, Kageyama musters up every ounce of courage he has, and tells himself it’s now or never: to close the gap he has longed for so long between two hands that swayed side by side. Instead of retreating his hands away when they brush against yours, he curls the tip of his fingers with yours delicately, as if your fingers would melt at his touch.

He hopes that he made the right decision.

And when your fingers curl back, intertwined with his, he knows he has made the right decision, and that his question has been answered.

She knows.

And the fact that he’s the one behind the smile that makes you go all warm and fuzzy, he swears it feels like he could run for miles and miles without running out of breath, soaring even higher than the clouds in the skies. None of the perfect sets he has set in his lifetime could compare to the satisfaction and bliss he was feeling right now.

Because you had set his life ablaze the moment fate brought the both of you together, and you’re his end game.

[vennilavee]

poisoned apples

pairing: levi x reader- grad school/boxer au summary: you tell your parents about levi and they aren’t too happy. so you do the logical thing and break up with him.  word count: 4039 warnings: blood, fighting, angst, oc’s family is very annoying (her family is against her and levi being together), levi is lowkey creepy for like 1% of this story, SMUT AT THE END (18+) a/n: another installment of perpendicular heavily inspired by the first gen experience and dating...enjoy. and ty to @bbygrgu​ for catching when i made dad a mafia boss by accident

The first time you had told Levi that your parents wouldn’t approve of him, he had shrugged it off. What did it matter, anyway? He’s never known you to care very much about what other people think.

But your parents’ approval was different.

You’ve always been the apple of their eye, their youngest princess who could and would do no wrong. Even when you kept your grades up in high school, when you were the picture perfect daughter- they didn’t know what you were up to. You had maintained your image of innocence until the moment you could move out for college.

They didn’t know what you were up to behind the scenes in college. And now, in graduate school.

They didn’t know that you smoked with your boyfriend, that your boyfriend had split knuckles from boxing more often than not. But they also don’t know that your boyfriend works two jobs to support his sick mother, that he’s in the top ten percent of his masters in computer science program and will surely have a job lined up after graduation.

They don’t know that you love him. They don’t know how much he loves you- how he’d walk the ends of the earth for you. How he’s your pillar, your person. They don’t know that despite the cold steel of his eyes, he has the biggest beating heart of anyone you know.

Because you haven’t told them. You know your parents better than anyone- that they’ll judge him before they know him. 

You’ve been together officially for the better part of nearly a year. And officially, it’s been a little longer. Levi can tell when something’s on your mind by this point- from how your pout turns a little thoughtful and your eyes are far away.

He wraps an arm around your shoulders and rubs your upper arm. “What is it?” Levi asks quietly.

“Huh?” You ask, breaking out of your reverie and turning your gaze towards him. A fading bruise sits on his jaw, and you thumb the area around it tenderly.

“You’re quiet today.”

“Maybe I’m just tired.”

Levi raises his eyebrow at you, as if to wordlessly say “really?”

You’re silent for a few moments before sighing and leaning into his chest. “I think I want to tell my parents about you.”

Levi will never pressure you about things like that- he knows where he stands with you and you know where you stand with him. But he won’t deny the small upturn of his lips.

“I’ve already met your mom and your uncle,” You continue softly, “I think I’ll tell them.”

You’ve told Levi about your parents before- about how you had to secretly and cleverly maneuver through the invisible rules they had you under. How you still find trouble spreading your wings. How most of your childhood was mainly you being told not to bring trouble, that your parents had it hard as it was-

“Always knew it.”

“What did you know?” You roll your eyes at him.

“You’re naughty,” Levi smirks, “You put up this pretty princess persona. But I know you. You’re smart and vicious and not afraid to get dirty.”

“You sure? You know it’s nothin’ to me if you wanna wait,” Levi murmurs, nose in your hair.

“Yeah,” You nod, “I think it’s about time. I… want them to know you.

“I love you,” You say almost shyly and Levi drops a slow kiss to your lips in response.

And that’s that.

Needless to say, the next time you saw your parents a few weeks later you were planning on telling them about Levi. Nerves seized you- despite your attempts at convincing yourself that they’d be happy for you- that you’d found someone who loves you wholly and completely…. You can’t help but think that something is about to go wrong.

It’s over dinner that you’re planning on telling them. Your older brother and older sister are in town as well, and are helping Mom with setting the table as you wash the pots and pans.

This is where you grew up, and yet you’ve never felt so uncomfortable.

Once there are five plates of hot food and glasses of water in front of your parents and your siblings, you take a deep breath.

“I have something to tell you,” You say clearly, resisting the urge to pick at the hem of your brown corduroy skirt.

Four pairs of eyes turn to you curiously and expectantly.

“I’m seeing someone,” You say, your voice a little less confident than before. Mom gasps excitedly, bringing a moment of relief to your senses. Your siblings stare at you unnervingly, as if they can see right through you. Dad only looks at you with wide eyes.

You don’t know what to think.

“Tell us about them!” Mom says eagerly.

“Umm… well,” You stammer with heated cheeks, “He treats me well. We go to the same school, he’s doing a masters in computer science…”

That makes Mom and Dad’s eyes light up. You roll your eyes. Still, your siblings say nothing.

“Show me a picture,” Mom demands, stretching her hand out for your phone. Desperation for her approval clings to your heart like a synapse that never stopped surging. 

“He looks oddly familiar…” Mom murmurs with narrowed eyes, “Do you know him? Where do I know him from...” She turns her head to your brother and sister. 

They’ve never been particularly good at lying. Or rather, this time- they just didn’t want to. 

“That’s the guy,” Your sister says, not meeting your eyes, “The one we saw her with. The one we told you is in a fight club-”

Your jaw drops, and no noise comes out of your throat. Horror lines your tongue and you have to squeeze your nails into your palms to stop panic from flooding your veins.

But your brother is shameless and always has been. He looks you dead in the face, something cruel spinning in his irises and says, “His name’s Levi. Ackerman. We saw-”

“So you’re spying on me now?” You hiss, the full weight of their actions not quite hitting you, “You both don’t have anything fuckin’ better to do?”

Mom gasps at your language. You scoff at her, throwing a nasty look her way. She deflates only slightly- because she’s never seen such a look on your face before.

“You’re our baby sister,” Your brother says, and you stand abruptly from the table, pointing an accusing finger at him. “We only want you safe.”

“I don’t need your concern!” You hiss at him, eyes narrowed to slits and flames licking your words.

“If it wasn’t for us, you’d be parading around with a washout who boxes illegally! You should be thanking us,” Your sister says, returning your fire.

“No,” You seethe as tears of frustration spring into your eyes, “He treats me well, he’s so good to me. He respects me, isn’t that what matters?”

Before anyone can counter you-

“Enough!” Dad bellows as he stands from his seat. The heat in your belly extinguishes, but only barely. You tear your blazing eyes away from your siblings and to your father, about to scream right back at him. 

“If this is true,” Dad continues, “If this Levi boxes illegally-”

“He doesn’t have money either, Dad,” Your sister supplies. 

“Oh my god,” You screech, “You’re such a-”

“If this is true, you won’t be seeing him anymore. I don’t want to hear about this again. And if you think about seeing him behind our backs… we’ll know. And you won’t be getting that tuition money for school anymore.”

You’ve never hated them as much as you did right at that moment.

Your heart hasn’t felt the same since you were home that weekend. It’s been a few days, and you haven’t reached out to Levi yet.

You need to break up with him, you know it. You won’t risk your education on him, no matter how awful it is for your parents to very much blackmail you with it.

It hurts that you don’t have their approval. 

You’re delaying the inevitable. So when Levi shows up to your apartment on the following Wednesday with your dinner from your favorite Thai restaurant, you feel your heart shattering already. 

“Hey, princess,” Levi says smoothly, dropping the food to the dining table and trying to pull you into his arms for a kiss. You turn your cheek at the last minute, not able to look him in the eye. 

Levi immediately knows something is wrong- you’re never this silent. Your hands are pressed against his chest, almost holding him away from you. 

In the last year and change that he’s known you, he’s never known you to reject his touch. Not like this.

“What’s wrong?” Levi asks, cradling your cheek. Your lips are parted, a shaky exhale expelling from them. Your eyes are a little red and puffy.

You’ve been crying. You’ve been crying and he had no idea.

“Levi,” You mumble in a small voice. As if you’re trying to memorize the way his name feels on your tongue.

“Princess,” Levi replies, worry beginning to creep into him.

“I told my parents about us,” You mumble, the confession adding to the tension of the room, “And my brother and sister.”

He stays quiet, waiting for you to continue.

“I can’t… they said I can’t be with you. They said they won’t help me with school if I’m with you,” You mutter, feeling foolish as the words slip from your lips, “They don’t want me to be with you.”

Levi steps back from you exactly two steps and it feels like he’s plunged a knife into your chest. The loss of his touch echoes in the emptiness of your hands. You cross your arms across your chest unsurely. He stares at you in silence for a few deafening moments. Your ears might bleed from the silence.

“So what are you saying?” He finally asks after a minute.

“That I can’t be with you. I-I’m… I’m breaking up with you, Levi,” You finally muster out. Unshed tears sit in your eyes and Levi is too in love with you to resist comforting you when you’re this distressed- even if you’re breaking up with him and breaking his heart.

Levi gathers you in his arms and thumbs away your falling tears. You broke up with him, and he’s comforting you- the thought makes you choke out another sob.

You both stand like that for a few minutes, your tears staining his black coat. The silence between you both is palpable and suffocating. 

The only viable option you see is letting him go. But you don’t want to, god, you don’t want to- not when this man is your other half. When he’s your best friend, your favorite person, not when he gives meaning to the word love. 

Levi finally speaks.

“I won’t tell you what to do. But just know I’ll treat you right and you’ll never feel caged with me,” Levi murmurs, tendrils of adoration tinting his words, “I love you.”

He presses a long kiss to your forehead before leaving your apartment. His kiss feels unfamiliar, and when your knees buckle and you’re on the floor, a sobbing mess, you realize why-

It tasted like goodbye.

One month. Two month. Then three.

You’ve never been the girl helplessly in love. You’ve never been the girl who wouldn’t be able to get by without the reciprocated love from your lover. You’ve never been the type to spiral recklessly. You’ve always been fine after breakups and dates that had gone sideways.

You can live without Levi, but you don’t want to.

But loving and losing Levi hurts worse than any kind of pain. You see him everywhere on campus- a tuft of silky, black hair here, a glance of a similar looking backpack there… You even think you see him at the coffee shop that you met him at. If you were stronger, you’d avoid that coffee shop altogether. But you don’t want to let go of the memory of your first time meeting him, and you don’t want to let go of the opportunity to watch you both in your mind’s eye.

Everything reminds you of him. Everything brings tears to your eyes. You’re just a stupid girl in love with a man you can’t have.

You haven’t spoken to your siblings since that day, despite their many attempts to reach out to you. Texts, claiming that they were just looking out for you and that they loved you, went unanswered by you.

You can’t bear to speak to them. You think if you’d ever muster the courage to reach out to him again… You wonder what you might do. A small part of you hates that your family still has this grip over you- that you’re in love with a man who respects and loves you and protects you, and because they don’t approve- you can’t be with him.

You hate it. You hate that you succumbed to it. You hate that you hurt him- the heartbroken kiss he had given you has been replaying in your mind every day. Every night.

It still hurts as if it’s fresh, as if three months haven’t gone by since you broke up with him. You often wonder what Levi is doing-

After all, he hadn’t put up any type of fight for you. But you don’t allow those thoughts to get very far. It’s not like you had positioned it as something to discuss. You had made the final call and pulled the trigger on your relationship. 

It was because of you. Was it worth it? To break up with him? For your family’s perceived happiness?

The questions leave a dull ache in your heart. You feel as if you’ve been spoiled with his love, and you had carelessly ripped his heart into shreds.

Today, you’re walking to one of your exams in your building and you swear you catch sight of Levi’s hair in the atrium of the building. But it’s gone as quick as it comes. And you head inside, putting thoughts of Levi behind you to focus on your exam.

Levi has been distracted for the last three months. Even if it doesn’t show- even if he’s doing spectacular in school, even if he’s on a new win streak in the boxing ring- his mind is almost always elsewhere.

His mind is always on you. What are you doing? Do you miss him? Is your relationship with your family improving? Is it worth it?

He’ll never tell you what to do, or what decisions to make. He only wants you to make a decision with no regrets, if that decision is truly what you want.

But damn, he wonders if you regret this decision. Levi has always been good at compartmentalizing- he lives by the same philosophy. Make a choice with no regrets. He’ll never regret following your lead and giving you what you want.

But what if you hadn’t wanted it? And what if… he hadn’t wanted it either?

Levi sees you more and more in the last month or so- showing up to places that you both used to frequent as a couple and places on campus. The coffee shop, some of your lecture hall buildings. He remains in the background, as a shadow. Only to catch a glimpse of you. Are you happy? 

Your eyes are sullen, your smile dimmed. But he’s sure nobody can tell. Because you’re good at that- being the perfect princess.

He feels like a ghost in his own life. Is this living?

Levi has to move on. He loves you, his love for you still burns as bright as it did months ago. But he has to move on.

Erwin tells you that there’s a boxing match tonight. It’s the finals of whatever the equivalent of playoffs in the boxing world is-

“He’d like it if you were there,” Erwin says, voice uncharacteristically soft.

“So he can tell me himself,” You say somewhat bitterly, “We’re not...together anymore.”

You choke.

“You and I both know he won’t tell you himself. Not when you broke up with him.”

“So it’s my fault then?” You exclaim. Erwin only watches you with wary, calm eyes.

“I’m only telling you what’s true. You don’t have to come, but he’d like it if you were there.”

Over the last few weeks, really since the first night without Levi, regret has been settling in your bones. Had you made the right decision? Was it worth it, to be this unhappy? Just to maintain harmony with your family? You think if you hadn’t rushed to break up with him, you could have talked about it. Levi has always been level-headed, almost too level-headed (like the way he had just accepted you breaking up with him). 

You think you could conquer anything with Levi standing next to you.

You can’t stay away. So you’re in the stands of the ring, watching Levi warily. He looks good- he’s bulked up a little. But you can see the lines of weariness beneath his eyes. 

You still ache for him. You are still his. Seeing him this close only solidifies what you already knew. 

You are undisputedly his. And he is yours.

Watching him, throw punch after punch, and sidestep jab after jab… All for his mother. To support his family. 

Tears well up in your eyes. You want to be part of his family. The epiphany hits you like a freight train- but it’s a welcome one. 

You want to love him the way you know how. You want him to love you.

You wait in the locker room for him, anticipation surging up your spine as you pace around the locker room.

Erwin looks like he’s got a stick up his ass, and Levi doesn’t hesitate to mention it. Levi rolls his eyes and walks into the men’s locker room.

But nothing prepares him for the sight he sees in front of him.

It’s you. 

It’s you, sitting on the bench, looking as pretty as ever. Gold hoops hang from your ears, a sunflower yellow blouse with the top three buttons unbuttoned and a plum colored skirt hugs your hips.

You bite your bottom lip, tearing through your skin mercilessly. Your heart slams right out of your ribcage. His eyes are narrowed at you, drinking you in. 

He’s a man dehydrated and you are his oasis.

Before you can whisper his name, he beats you to it. “Why are you here?” Levi asks sharply. His voice is flat, but you can hear the undercurrent of anger in his voice. Hurt masked by anger.

“Yeah, I missed you, too,” You mutter, standing up from the bench. You keep your distance from him, feeling the iciness in his glare. “Erwin told me you were fighting today. Somethin’ about the playoffs. Just...wanted to see you.”

He quirks a thin eyebrow at you. “Wanted to see me three months later?”

You immediately get defensive, “It’s not like you were dying to see me, either.”

A flicker of annoyance, “And what’s that supposed to mean?”

“You just let me go- you could’ve… You could’ve fought for me! You just fuckin’ let me go,” You exclaim in frustration, tears pricking your eyes.

“Don’t- you picked your family,” Levi says harshly, “When we could’ve figured it out together, you chose to be alone. Don’t put that on me.”

“I didn’t know what else to do! I thought I was doing the right thing,” You hiss, tears falling down your cheeks openly now. You’ve never been good at hiding your feelings from Levi. “You just let me go. As if the last year meant nothing to you-”

“The last year meant nothing to me?” Levi asks, his voice perfectly level. He takes a few steps closer to you and your breath hitches.

Your head is spinning. He hasn’t been this close to you in months- and yet it feels like no time has passed. 

“I love you,” Levi says quietly, “We would’ve figured it out. If the last year meant nothing to me then, this,” Levi darts out, grabbing your hand and pressing it to his bare left pec, “Wouldn’t be yours. It’s always yours, princess. But damn, baby. It hurt.”

“Levi,” Your voice is strangled, in pain, “I’m sorry, my love-”

“You made a choice,” Levi says pointedly, “Do you regret it?”

“Yes,” You breathe, “But I’m scared for us, for you-”

“We’ll figure it out,” Levi promises, cradling your face in his rough hands. He catches your stray tears with his thumb and presses his forehead to yours.

“I missed you,” You choke out with a sob, “So fuckin’ much. I’m sorry, I hurt you. I hurt us. I love you, I love you, I love you. I know we have so much to work through. But I love you, and I believe in you.”

“Let’s go home,” Levi mumbles, resisting the urge to drop kisses to your forehead, your cheek, your lips.

“Will you let me love you,” Levi rasps, cupping your cheek as he rocks into you slowly. The head of his cock brushes against your walls prettily, as if no time has passed since the last time.

He belongs here, inside of you like this. You mold to him and he molds to you.

Levi squeezes your waist, dipping his head for a harsh kiss. He kisses you as if he’s loved you for a thousand years, and he’ll love you for a thousand more.  He peppers soft kisses to your face and you moan into his touch, notes of his name escaping your lips.

“I love you,” Levi grunts as he rolls his hips into yours in movements of honey.

He’s not usually this talkative. But he knows you both need it. Levi sucks a mark, then another, over your tits and you tug your hands through his hair.

“Baby,” You whine, “Wanna give you everything...Love you, I love you, fuck, I’m sorry I hurt you-”

“You are everything,” Levi says, his nose in your neck, “Gonna give you everything, princess. Fuck-”

Levi nearly loses his rhythm at the gush of wetness that floods his cock. He groans and looks between you both, at the way his cock pushes into your wet pussy. This is where he belongs, in between your soft thighs.

You take Levi’s hand in between yours and squeeze. You think you could stay like this forever, with him moving so unhurriedly above you. His hips melting with yours, the broad expanse of his back pliant under your nails.

“Be mine again,” You beg, “Please, baby, be mine again-”

“Will you let me love you,” Levi asks again, gazing deep into your eyes.

“Yes, yes,” You moan, “Like that, baby- fuck, o-oh- Levi…” You wrap your legs around his waist, pulling him even closer to you as your tits brush against his glistening chest. You see the moon gazing at you through his irises.

You want everything, and he is everything.

You’re boneless in his arms, tucked into his side with the sheets covering your bare body. A leg is thrown over his waist and you rub mindless circles over his chest as he holds you close. Not wanting to let you go. 

Your breaths are soft against his warmed skin. Your eyes are still puffy, from crying but Levi always thinks you’re pretty. 

And having you in his arms, in his bed, after three months is an added plus.

“I meant it,” You mumble sleepily, “I love you.”

“What about your family?” Levi asks, squeezing the hand resting on his chest.

“I don’t know,” You say shakily, “I’m scared. But wanna figure it out with you. For you, it’s worth it. For you, everything is worth it.”

Levi only answers you with a soft kiss that makes your toes curl. He doesn’t know what tomorrow might bring, but he has you today. After this long, he has you for today. 

And tomorrow will come, the sun and moon will rise separately, but you’ll get through it together.

tags: @simpingmaize​ @captainchrisstan​ @bbygrgu​ @alrightberries​ 

[winetae]

wall to wall (m.) 02

— female reader x hoseok

— smut, porn star!au

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

— 19.7k 

… 

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

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

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

part 01 | part 02 | part 03

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Unfortunately, all good things must come to an end.

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

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

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

“Shit, sorry!”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Since you last dicked me down, goes unsaid.

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

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

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

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

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

“You don’t—”

“My treat.”

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

It’s that easy.

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

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

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

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

Your eyes meet.

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

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

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

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

“Oh.”

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

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

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

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

An awkward silence ensues.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Next time.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I was with Hoseok, actually.”

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

You contemplate ending the call.

Begrudgingly you concur, “Yes. That one.”

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

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

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

“How so?”

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

“Wh- Are you serious?!”

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

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

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

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

Seokjin understands and empathizes with your excitement more than anybody.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

It’s just that...the timing is bad.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

.

.

.

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

Director Ryu vehemently protests.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Hey, Hoseok.”

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

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

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

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

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

“You changed up your hair.”

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

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

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

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

Your smile becomes stiff.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Hoseok’s features soften.

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

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

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

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

“...So, you dance?”

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

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

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

“Here’s a recent one.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Well... I guess I—”

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

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

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

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

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

“Is something on your mind?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Someone behind you gags dramatically. “Absolutely sickening.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

His gaze sweeps over the clipboard sitting in his hands.

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

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

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

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

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

“Yep.”

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

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

“Oh! Yes, that sounds fine.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Do you feel any pain anywhere?”

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

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

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

Your brows lift. “Oh. Sure, why not.”

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

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

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

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

A shudder runs down your spine.

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

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

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

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

“Hmm...”

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

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

“Yeah… I can definitely feel it.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“But it isn’t enough, is it?”

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

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

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

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

“Ah!”

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

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

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

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

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

“Is that...a bad thing?”

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

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

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

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

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

“Just - Just once…”

“Look at me.”

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

“You’re telling me the truth, right?”

“Yes! I’m not - I wouldn’t lie.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You flinch, your face impossibly hot.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Um, what does this massage entail exactly?”

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

You pretend to mull it over.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You blink curiously back at Hoseok, feigning ignorance.

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Shall we begin?”

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

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

You moan your assent. “More than.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You loosen up well.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

His crude remarks make your body flush with heat.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Your lower body clenches as his words wash over you.

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

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

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

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

“Shit.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“What is?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

It’s quite frankly obscene.

You’ve never felt more turned on.

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

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

“Okay. Two holes down, one to go.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You slut.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Oh yeah?”

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

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

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

You bask in the afterglow for a few minutes longer than you usually would. Hoseok makes no move to leave either, even if logic dictates that you’re both better off washing up instead of letting the mixture of sweat, cum, and oil dry on your skin. You know from experience that it’s hard as fuck to clean up once it hardens - not to mention it stinks.

“Babe!”

You’re roused from your peaceful state of mind as your boyfriend approaches. He’s smiling but one side of his mouth looks stiff. He hands you a towel, eyes trailing down your figure, and suddenly you feel self-conscious. You hurriedly wrap the fluffy material around you, eager to hide the cum still dripping out of your swollen cunt and the red marks littered over your body from Hoseok’s rough treatment.

It’s not - you’re not ashamed. You never are. It’s just - you don’t want to hurt Jimin. Even if it does come with the job, it can’t be easy for him to see his girlfriend getting fucked by someone else.

“That was so good! You did great. The camera really loves you. I can’t wait to see how the final cut turns out,” Jimin compliments and you preen despite yourself, conditioned to suck up praise. “Are you hungry?”

Just on cue your stomach lets out a grumble.

Jimin’s eyes crease into crescents as he smiles. “I knew it. You’re always famished after a scene. It’s a good thing I booked a reservation at our favorite restaurant, right?”

You nod, thankful yet again that you have such a caring and thoughtful boyfriend. “I’m famished now that you mention it.”

Hoseok observes the exchange silently and his presence makes you embarrassed for some reason. Maybe not embarrassed but - something. You can’t put a name to the emotion.

“Um, I’ll see you around?” You say as you gather to your feet. Jimin is instantly by your side, his hand wrapping around yours tightly. “It was nice working with you again! Thank you for your hard work.”

Hoseok’s lips quirk into a half-smile. He’s still eyeing the both of you in a strange, intense kind of way and the scrutiny makes you fidgety. You try not to make your desire to flee the scene too transparent.

“It’s always a pleasure. I look forward to working with you again.”

The words he utters are tactful and diplomatic - nothing like the carefree familiarity he’d showcased minutes prior. You don’t blame him, given the circumstances.

You shoot him an apologetic look as you turn away to leave. To your relief, Hoseok doesn’t appear dejected or offended. Just - curious, maybe? Pensive? Like he’s in the middle of solving a complicated and intricate puzzle and that puzzle involves you.

The idea scares you. Mostly because you yourself don’t know what he’ll find.

As soon as you’ve rounded the corner, Jimin excuses himself. “I have to finish helping the guys. There’s still some equipment to put away. But we’ll meet out in the back like last time?”

“Sure.”

He kisses your cheek and scampers away.

Seokjin is waiting for you in the next room over. He’s holding a water bottle, your favorite silk robe, and a dark chocolate energy bar. You’re so sweaty that it feels silly to wear the robe but you shrug it on anyway, knowing that Jimin will feel better if you’re not parading around the set naked.

Your stomach rumbles loudly and it’s only then that you realize the extent of how fucking hungry you are. Non-stop sex sure is tiring, you note while ripping open the energy bar with your teeth. Seokjin calls you a savage under his breath but those types of comments are so commonplace that it’s easy to tune him out.

“God, I could kiss you right now,” you say after swallowing down a mouthful of granola. After eating spinach exclusively for the past three days, the sweetness on your tongue tastes like a slice of heaven.

“Not with that mouth, you won’t.” Seokjin narrows his eyes. “I know where it’s been.”

Still high from your mind-shattering orgasm, you giggle and pretend to kiss him just to watch him squirm. It’s not until much later, after you’d washed up as best you could with the help of baby wipes, that you check your phone. You respond to a text or two before finally checking your social media page out of habit more so than anything else.

.

(2) new notifications

JHOPE94 has followed you!

JHOPE94 has mentioned you in their story.

.

It’s the same account Hoseok had shown you earlier in the day. You follow him without much thought, grinning to yourself when you read his bio “hope on streets and in the sheets ;)”, and click on his Instagram story.

You’re surprised to learn he’s one of those people who uploads multiple pictures about just about anything - his Starbucks’ coffee cup with JAY written in black sharpie, several mirror selfies, a snapshot of his shoes, pictures of the film crew setting up the scene. You click through the pictures, a little flummoxed by the random collage, and pause when you get to the picture you’d been tagged in.

It’s you. Squinting, you realize that he must have taken the candid picture in passing. You’re sitting in the hair and makeup chair, the makeup artist applying a layer of gloss on your lips. The row of lights that border all around the vanity mirror give your figure a halo spotlight effect.

JHOPE94 : not in heaven but i saw an angel today :))

.

.

[evening-starlight]

Warm Beers

Taglist is OPEN! DM or comment to be added :)

All Works Master List

Warm Beers Master List

Posting Schedule: Monday, Wednesday, Friday

This takes place before season 1

16

Word Count: 1498

    "Come on, Kenzie," Kiara whines through the phone. She had been begging McKenzie to come hang out with the group for the past twenty minutes. "I haven't seen you in a week. This isn't like you. So what's really going on?"

    Kenzie rolls her eyes and continues to pace around her room. How was she supposed to explain to her friends that she has nothing against them as a whole, but particularly one that's bled into the entire group? "Nothing, Kie. I'm fine," Kenzie lies. She didn't think she had the strength to put up a front and pretend that JJ being anywhere near her wouldn't hurt.

    "Shut up, Kenzie. I know you better than that. Is it about JJ?" Kenzie huffs and feels a surge of anger course through her. Of course, Kiara was clueless about JJ's crush on her. She was smart, but Kiara was the second most oblivious person in the world. Next to JJ. "You can talk to me, Dude."

    "If I promise to come to hang out with you, will you fucking drop it, Kie?" Kenzie relents, not wanting to get into it with Kiara over the phone. Or ever. Kiara agrees with a triumphant noise. "Fine. I'll be over in, like, twenty, okay?" The girls hang up, and Kenzie goes to change out of her pajamas.

    Unbeknownst to McKenzie, she was on speakerphone. Pope, John B., and Kiara planned a stupid, teenage idea to get the two friends to admit their feelings. "Okay, you two go get JJ and bring him here in fifteen. Walk by the back window when you're here so I can start my end," Kiara instructs, shooing the two boys away. This was probably the stupidest idea they ever had, but it had to work.

    McKenzie walks into the chateau cautiously, looking around for the specific person she's been avoiding all week. "They went out to get drinks," Kiara calls from the kitchen, holding two sodas in her hand. She hands one to Kenzie and sits on the couch. "What do you want to do while we wait?"

    This was uncomfortable for both girls. But extremely different reasons. Kenzie didn't want to sit so close to the girl who stole her favorite person's attention. Who held JJ in such captivation that sometimes JJ would forget Kenzie even existed. Kiara was anxiously waiting for her slow friends to get her other, even slower, friend. She felt kind of bad that she was practically trapping her best friend, but it was for Kenzie's own good.

    "I don't care," Kenzie mumbles, pulling her legs into her chest. Kiara turns on the TV just as she sees Pope jump up to look in the back window.

    "So, are you finally going to talk about what's going on with you and JJ?" Kiara prompts shortly after, avoiding looking at Kenzie. She sighs and shakes her head.

    "I thought you were going to drop it, Kie?"

    "I was, but you look," Kiara pauses, looking for the right word. "Forlorn." Kenzie can't help the bitter laugh that passes her lips.

    "Forlorn, Kiara? Of course, I'm fucking upset. But I don't want to talk about it. Especially with you," Kenzie snaps, standing up from the couch. "I'm going home."

    Kiara jumps after her grabs her arm. She won't lie; not having Kenzie talk to her hurt. They were best friends and shared everything. "Please. I can't help you if you don't talk to me."

    Kenzie rips her arm out of Kiara's grasp and glares at her. "I don't want your fucking help, Kie. You're the reason this is all happening," Kenzie yells, throwing her hands up in distress.

    "What are you talking about, Kenzie? What did I do? Let me fix it," Kiara says, voice strained. Maybe this was all about Kiara and had nothing to do with JJ, and now the boys are hearing everything. This was definitely their worst idea ever.

    "Nothing. That's the thing. You have done absolutely nothing wrong, so I can't fucking hate you for taking JJ," Kenzie yells again, tears threatening to fall. She knew her anger wasn't directed at Kiara, but she was here, and she was perfect in every single way.

    "What are you saying, Kenzie? You're not making sense," Kiara pleads. Kenzie groans and turns her back to Kiara, running her hands through her hair before she turns back to her friend. Kiara looks concerned and worried, like a saint she is. While Kenzie looked borderline murderous.

    "God, you're both so fucking stupid. He likes you, Kiara. JJ looks at you like you put the sun in the sky and the way John B. looks at Playboy Magazine. He watches your every single move and laughs at every stupid joke. And the saddest thing is I don't blame him," Kenzie rants, arms moving wildly as her voice stays raised. "You're perfect, Kie. In every single way. You're funny and smart, and you care about everyone so much. So, of course, JJ would love you," Kenzie continues before lowering her voice.

    "And I know we're not together. I know that. But it doesn't stop it from hurting, Kie. I was finally able to admit that I liked him, and I can't believe I was so fucking blind to the fact that he didn't like me back," Kenzie's voice cracks, the tears pooling in her eyes starting to fall. "And I fucking hate talking about stupid shit like this because it's pointless. I'll cry it out at night, and everything will go back to normal. I just need some time, Kiara."

    Kiara pulls Kenzie into a hug, letting her cry into her shoulder. "I'm so sorry, Kenzie. If it's any consolation, I was rooting for you two. I was willing to overlook the rule," She jokes, causing Kenzie to laugh. Kiara pulls her away and looks at her friend in the eye. "The boys will be back soon. If you want to leave, you can. But I know they miss you too."

    Kenzie sighs and wipes her tears away. "I'll go clean up. I guess I miss the idiots too." Kiara laughs with her and pats Kenzie on the back as she walks towards the bathroom. Once the door closes behind Kenzie, Kiara rushes out onto the patio.

    JJ stands in shock, looking blankly at the door. "I didn't know you guys were out here," Kiara lies. John B. shakes his head.

    "JJ figured it out. No need to lie," He explains, looking at his still shocked friend. "I can't tell if that's a good reaction or a bad one." JJ's mouth opens and closes like fish gasping for air, trying to find the words.

    "I know," He starts, moving to look between his friends. "that I should be mad that you tricked Kenzie. But honestly, I can't think of anything but talking to her when she gets out here," JJ gushes. His cheeks tint pink, and he smiles at the thought of it. It was honestly very uncharacteristic of JJ. He had no idea what he was going to say or do. But the need JJ had to touch Kenzie grew with each passing moment.

    The gang laughs and spread across the deck after they high-five on a job well done. The ball was officially in JJ's court. JJ stands against a pillar and casually talks with his friends while they wait for Kenzie.

     She walks out a few minutes later, nose pink and sniffling with a polite smile on her face. JJ pulls her attention to him with a slight wave, only to be shorted when Kenzie avoids eye contact. The hammock sinks as Kenzie settles herself into it, joining the conversation around her.

    The sudden nervousness nearly knocks JJ off his feet as he walks towards Kenzie and the hammock. He's sat next to her so many times before. So why is his heart racing like a bullet train at the thought of her next to her? JJ's cheeks heat up, and his hands grow clammy as Kenzie locks eyes with him. "Can I sit?" He asks, voice weak and shaky.

    JJ clears his throat and scratches the back of his neck. He was practically shaking as he stood there waiting for an answer. Kenzie nods. "Yeah, sure. I have to go get my drink anyways," She says, getting off the hammock and nearly sprints into the house.

    Kenzie thought she was ready to face him again. To pretend everything was normal and she wasn't breaking inside. But she couldn't. Just looking into JJ's perfect blue eyes made her stomach lurch and caused tears to brim her eyes. She takes a deep breath when the door closes behind her to ground herself as best as she could. If she could, Kenzie would stay in the living room all night to avoid JJ. But that wouldn't be fair to the rest of her friends. So, she grabs her soda can and walks back out to the porch.

Taglist: @queenofallhobos @x-lulu @gwenlovesharrystyles @gviosca​ @cognacdelights​ @sugarcoatedjj​

[yeojaa]

“i love you.”  read:  6:45 pm.

drabble inspired by this post that @hobi-gif​​ tagged me in.  i'm a sucker for misunderstandings, y'know?  also, this is unedited and not proofread.  xoxo

pairing.  jjk x f!reader.  rating.  general.  tags.  a bit of dumb angst due to misunderstandings, some fluff to make up for it, mentions of drinking/alcohol, idiots in love. idk.  wc.  1.9k.

“So, you’re shooting bourbon at 7:30 on a Wednesday why, exactly?”

How Yoongi manages to keep the judgment out of his voice, you’ll never know.  Maybe it’s a bartender thing - some skill you acquire over time, like an achievement in a video game. 

Charisma:  +30 Listening:  +20 Interest:  0

“Because he replied ‘hella’ when I told him I was in love with him.”  You think if it weren’t so funny (and embarrassing and bruising to your ego), you’d have a hard time repeating it.  Instead, it cuts off the edge of your teeth in a melodramatic wail and you knock back your fourth shot in not very long at all. It burns on the way down, igniting your insides in a very different way than you’d like. 

Luckily, the bar is packed - it’s freshman night! - and your cry is lost in the crowd, eaten up by the awful din that seems to only exist in college bars.  It’s only you and your favourite bartender that hear it and for that you’re grateful. 

“You’re not serious.”  From the look on his face, you know he believes you.  Has to, because he knows the culprit behind your heartache. 

“Do I look like I’m joking?”  You deadpan before waving your liquor-laden wrist in a lazy circle.  “Another, bar wench!” 

It’s not that funny but between the alcohol that’s buzzing in your veins and lighting you up like a goddamn Christmas log to the humiliation that’s burning its way through all your sensibilities— well, you can’t help it.  

You’ve always resorted to humour when you were hurting. 

“I think you should slow down.”  He means well - you can see it in the narrowing of his eyes, the way his mouth tilts just enough to make you feel like a kid in front of the principal - but you don’t want well.  You want more.  Need it.

For a split second, you feel a wave of emotion.  It crests and threatens to swallow you whole, dragging you seven thousand miles beneath your own misery.

You swallow it down as best you can, tasting salt water and the sea when you tug a rough hand through your hair.  It aches a little where your rings catch, threading silver through silk.  “Yoongi, c’mon.”  You ignore the way his name slurs out of your mouth, trapped between wet lips that don’t quite move like they should.  “I’m fine.  Please.”  The desperate edge to your plea tells him enough - that you’re well on your way to having too good of a night, inebriation playing at the sidelines of your vision.  You play it off and shift in your seat, sneakered feet kicking this way and that to right yourself.

To his trained eye, you’re about two minutes from slipping backwards off the worn leather stool.

“Can I call someone at least?”  He’s meeting you halfway, begrudging and a little worried. 

“I’m fine!”  It shoots off your tongue, a rocket to the moon.  You don’t want to come down.

He sighs once, a sharp inhale of breath through his nose.  He’s got that look on his face - the one that tells you you’re going to owe him one.  You think that might be better than returning to your dorm, empty-handed and heavy hearted.  

“Please?”  

Amber liquid finds itself in your shot glass again and you’re quick to snatch it up, worried that Yoongi might dump it the moment he has a chance to consider how he’s indulging you.  You swallow it greedily, as if it isn’t pooling uncomfortable heat everywhere it hits - down your throat and around the sides of your mouth.

“Take it easy,”  comes a voice - an achingly, devastatingly familiar voice - to your left.  It steals your breath - tugs it out of your lungs in the same instant your heart heaves out of your chest.

Jeon Jungkook’s grinning that megawatt smile at you, dimples on full display.  His hair’s a little damp and more than a little messed up, sweeping across his forehead in that way that makes you want to run your fingers through it.  Shoulders are swathed in soft cotton and plaid, the navy blue and grey pattern a stark contrast to the blinding white of his tee shirt.  

He looks so good you want to eat him up.

Instead, you jolt like you’re about to lose the contents of your stomach.

Hands - both his and yours - dart out.  Yours grip the sticky booze-stained bartop;  his seize your elbows, steadying you easily.  You try to ignore the way his palms burn heat across your skin. 

“You okay?”  He says it so sweetly, as if he hadn’t just shattered your hopes and dreams into a million little pieces less than an hour ago.  He says it like he always does, with affection painting his words and stars in his eyes.  Even in the dim light, they’re mesmerizing, constellations swirling in his irises.

You have to make a conscious effort to tear your gaze away, redirecting your - admittedly fuzzy - stare to the speck of lint on his collar.  It honestly doesn’t help much, because like this, you can see the trail of ink that drifts past his neckline.  Swirls of black work that make up the roses that span his shoulders, capping each segment of bone prettily.  

He repeats himself when your silence stretches too long for his liking, a tattooed finger rising to tap gently along the ridge of your jaw, thumb sweeping just so across your chin.  “Hey, baby.  You good?”

A part of you wants to live in the way that sounds.  You’re a sucker for pet names and while you’ve heard this one once or twice (or a hundred times), it coils itself like a cobra around the organ in your chest, poised to ruin you.  One wrong move and you’d be paralyzed on the ground.

“What’re you doing here?”  You finally manage, tearing your roving eyes from the patterns you know lie beneath cloth.  

It’s not the smartest move - because you’re distracted by his stupid handsome face again.

“Well, you didn’t answer my text so I got worried.  Checked your Snapchat and saw you were here.”  It comes so nonchalantly, like he hadn’t just discovered you drowning your sorrows in cheap whiskey.  

“I didn’t answer your text?” 

You can see Yoongi lingering at the edge of your periphery, hand paused around a glass that he’s in the middle of passing off.  You wonder how crazy you must sound, or if you do at all.  Maybe just pathetic?  You don’t want to think about it too hard.  

“You said ‘hella’ to my confession!  What am I supposed to say back to that?”

“What’re you talking about?”  It’s Jungkook’s turn to take the title of village idiot, big doe eyes widening to the size of saucers.  You want to smack the expression off his face - would, too, if your heart didn’t also clench pitifully at the thought of hurting him.  

You think he might be backtracking when he retreats a hairsbreadth, releasing you in the same moment his other hand dives into the front of his too-tight black jeans.  The denim strains against his thighs, muscle and sinew flexing when he transfers his weight enough to allow him to yank his phone out of his pocket.  Said device is in your face in the next instant, glaringly bright screen making you shy away.  

Who the hell kept their brightness at 100%?

“Hey - look at this.”  He sounds stern as he continues to wave the sleek black iPhone before your eyes, seemingly unaware of the fact that you can’t damn well see a thing with him constantly moving it.

“Stop!”  You snap, finally, drink-addled hands snatching it out of his hands when he’s still twirling it like the most annoying wacky waving inflatable arm flailing tube man in existence. 

With the phone in your own two hands, you peer down at the screen, trying to make sense of what you’re looking at.  There’s definitely your last two texts - you cringe at the sight of them, blue bubbles bursting your own - but there’s a slew of others beneath it and they’re all delivered, the read receipt mocking you. 

You nearly yeet the phone across the room when, after two or three read-throughs, you grasp what he’s said.  “You want to date me?”  The words fumble on their way out, knocking into each other in a way that’s equal parts drunk-girl and stupefied-crush. 

“That’s what I said, isn’t it?”  He’s got that shit-eating grin of his lighting up his face, sweeping sunshine and daisies into every corner of his expression.  It’s at complete odds with the way his mouth twists and turns, flat of his cheek rounded by the tongue he presses into it.  You’re both awestruck and turned on all at once.  You feel like you might short circuit or maybe that you already have.

It’s the only explanation for the way you’re surging forward - because you’d never do it otherwise, unless you weren’t in control of your own stupid body - and all but throwing yourself against him.

As if he anticipates it, he receives you like a bed you’ve been away from for too long, broad palms sweeping across the backs of your thighs as you cling to him like a koala.  Your cheeks burn white hot and steeped in something - love, lust, a mixture of both - and you hum comfortably against the column of his throat.  The sound is returned tenfold, echoing from his cavernous chest like the happiest cat in the world.  It shakes your entire body, so closely pressed to him that you can feel every vibration that runs through all five feet, ten inches of him. 

“I’m guessing that’s a yes?”  His words lose themselves in your hair, breath warm against the shell of your ear as he squeezes you tight.

You give him his answer in the press of your mouth, parted and a little sloppy, more tongue and teeth than technique.  You swallow the laugh that builds, devouring it like a kid in a candy store with the intensity of your adoration.  “Hell-a yes.”

The way he grips you in response, laughter rolling off him in intoxicating waves - because you’d happily get drunk off the sound - fizzes excitement through your limbs. 

“You’re never going to let that go, are you?”  Both of you know the answer to that question, the knowledge passing silently between you.  

You smirk;  Jungkook mirrors it.  He surges forward for another kiss and you’re meeting him halfway, slanting your mouth greedily across his.  He relents for the briefest moment - lets you savour the gentle brush of his lips, the soft pass of his tongue - before he’s taking all he can get.  He’s licking over your teeth, laving hotly across every inch in a way that makes your head spin.  

“Get a room!”  It comes from your right, somewhere just behind you. 

“We should take their advice, baby.”  He coos, breaking away just enough for you to gulp in lungfuls of air.  His lips are the prettiest shade of red, kiss swollen and slicked with spit.  

At any other time, you might be ashamed - you can only imagine how you look - but here and now, fueled by the knowledge of reciprocated love and the pleasant warmth of liquor, you couldn’t care less.  So you kiss the boy you love, eager and with hands trailing the expanse of his back.

“Let’s go.”

[slowly-writing]

The Blink of an Eye

Natasha Romanoff x Daughter!Reader

Word count: 2532

Requested by anon: Can I request a nat x daughter!reader where r is adopted and discovers she has powers but tries to hide it from nat because she doesn’t think she’d be a good avenger? love your writing ♥️

“Y/n, come on!!! We’re gonna be late!” Peter’s voice startles you as you’re brushing your teeth. You glance at your phone and your eyes go wide. If you don’t leave in the next five minutes you’re totally screwed.

“I’m coming!” you yell back, sprinting out of your bathroom. You stumble a bit and somehow end up halfway down the hall. You pause for a second, looking between the bathroom door and the place you’re now standing. It’s a solid five yards but you don’t have time to try and figure out what the hell just happened. You have to get to school.

“Finally. You’re gonna get us detention,” Peter grabs your hand and tugs you to the door.

“It’s really not that big of a deal, Peter,” Wanda is trying to stifle her laugh as the three of you make your way to the garage.

xxxxx

“Romanoff, that was amazing. It may even be a new school record,” your gym teacher tells you as you finish running the mile.

“Wait what? What was my time?” You’ve never been the fastest kid in class. You probably could be, but you hated running so you never really tried. You normally just keep it to an easy jog, or so you thought as you glance over your shoulder and notice you’ve left Peter in the dust. That shouldn’t have happened.

“5:32. I don’t think I’ve ever seen a high schooler run that fast, what’s your secret?” he asks, leaning closer to you as if you wouldn’t want the class to hear you, but they’re all still trying to finish their run at least a hundred yards behind you.

“It must just be all the training I do with my mom and her team,” you say with a shrug and a fake smile. You don’t train with your mom’s team. This doesn’t make sense.

Over the next few days you have more of what you can only describe as glitches. Random bursts of speed when you run that put you on the opposite side of the room faster than any human should be able to move. Now that you know what to look for you can see the world blur by you as you run. It doesn’t happen all the time and you have no idea how to explain it. People don’t just magically obtain superpowers. In your experience it was usually with the assistance of hydra, and the occasional radioactive spider but you haven’t gotten any bug bites recently and you don’t like the option that leaves you with.

Your memory of life before being adopted is hazy at best, a few flashes of people whose relation to you you can’t place and some doctors offices. A four year old found alone half a mile outside of a recently destroyed hydra base is nothing too suspicious. It was in a crowded community full of individuals who got caught in unfortunate circumstances. It wasn’t rare to find people living on the streets but when Natasha found you all alone she knew she couldn’t just leave you there. It seemed innocent enough at the time, but if you find out you came from within that hydra base? Well they might not see it as a coincidence anymore. Besides in your opinion, you’d be a crappy superhero so it’s better if nobody finds out. Yeah, you’ll just hide it. That’ll work.

xxxxx

It did not work.

Every day that passed you found it harder and harder to keep your secret. It seemed your powers, if you could even call them that, just kept getting stronger. And let’s just say you weren’t getting the hang of them anytime soon.

“Y/n, dinner!” you hear your mom call from down the hall and you jump up from your desk, you’ve been starving recently, maybe it has something to do with the new powers. You run for the kitchen, momentarily forgetting how bad of an idea that is. You see Clint walking in front of you and you panic. The world starts moving in slow motion as you realize you can’t stop. You turn a bit so you’ll miss him, digging your heels into the floor to try and slow down. It isn’t very effective and rather than you stopping yourself, you stop when you slam into Tony’s bookshelf, knocking it and all the books to the floor as you skid across the common room with them.

“Oh my god!” Tony yells, jumping several feet in the air at the noise

“Y/n are you okay?” your mom asks as she quickly makes her way over to you. You pull the books off your chest and sit up, smiling sheepishly at the group of avengers standing in front of you.

“Yeah. I just uh...tripped. Sorry about your books Tony. I’ll clean them up,” you wince as you look at the mess you caused.

“We don’t care about the books-”

“I care about the books!” Tony cuts in and Steve rolls his eyes before continuing.

“We care about you,” he finishes with a pointed look at Tony who nods.

“Oh uh, yeah. We care about you more. But I also like the books…” he trails off quietly.

“Yeah, I’m fine. I guess I’m clumsy,” you say with a shrug, pushing yourself up and stacking the books out of the walkway. Your mom looks at you and you can tell she doesn’t quite believe you, but she lets it go for now.

This isn’t gonna work for much longer.

xxxxx

“Y/n wake up! We have to go!” you wake up to Tony’s screaming and you jolt upright. The first thing you notice is there’s a haze of smoke throughout the room and it’s really warm.

“What’s happening?” you ask, wiping your eyes and trying to make sense of what’s happening.

“There was an explosion in the lab. The fire suppression system is down and the whole place went up, it's spreading and we need to get everyone out now,” he pulls you up from the couch and starts leading you out of the compound. As you’re both hunched under a cloud of smoke you can’t help but think for the hundreth time how stupid the floor plans of this building are. Tony wanted his lab close to the living quarters so he could get there quickly when he got inspiration in the middle of the night. You’ve lost count of how many times his lab accidents have woken you up at 3am and now your room is about to go up in a cloud of smoke.

“Thank God,” you mumble to yourself as you get outside. Glancing around you see Clint, Steve, and Bucky all doubled over on the lawn.

“You guys good?” Clint calls over.

“Yeah, you? Where’s everyone else?” you get nervous seeing less than half of the residents outside.

“Peter’s at home. Wanda, Sam, and Thor are on a mission. Banner’s still out of town, right?” Steve lists off and your blood runs cold.

“Where’s mom?”

“She’s not with you guys?” Bucky asks and you turn to Tony who shakes his head.

“No, I just grabbed the kid and got out. I figured those with military grade training could look out for each other!” Tony yells and you run through your moms schedule. You can hear them arguing about whose responsibility it was to look for her as you realize it’s Wednesday. It’s laundry day meaning she was here, and it’s the afternoon so she’s probably folding it in her room. God, you were ten feet from her and you didn’t notice.

“She’s in her room.”

“Tony suit up and get her!” Clint yells, he sounds almost as desperate as you feel.

“My suit is in the lab, send one of the super soldiers in!” Tony screams back. You can feel the heat from the fire and you don’t even want to think about what it’s like inside the building right now.

“We don’t have time for this! I’ll go,” you step forward but Bucky grabs your arm.

“We’re not letting you go in there. You’ll die!” He yells and you rip your arm out of his grasp.

“If I don’t my mom dies!” With that you take off, at a normal speed at first, but quickly speeding up until you’re a blur. You stumble a few times, running into walls and fallen support beams scattered through the walkway. You haven’t quite got the hang of this yet. Every time you hit something you can feel your clothes start to burn and char, the heat making it all the way down to your skin. You ignore the pain and keep running, you need to get to your mom. After a few more mishaps and no more than three seconds you’ve made it to your moms bedroom. When you look around you see her coughing and trying to pull a fallen dresser off her leg, but she can’t quite get the leverage. Her eyes widen when she sees you.

“What are you doing? Get out of here!” she yells, desperate to keep you safe.

“I’m here to help, push on three,” you tell her, grabbing the dresser and counting down. After struggling for a few seconds you get it off of her. “Is your leg okay?”

“I’m fine, you need to go. I’ll catch up, just run,” she tells you as you help her up but you’re not leaving her.

“This is gonna be really weird, I’ll explain it later. I’m gonna pick you up,” you wrap her arm around your shoulder and reach down to lift her.

“What’s going on. What are you-” you cut her off.

“Mom! Just trust me. And you might want to close your eyes.” you pause for a moment, taking a deep breath before taking off. There’s so much adrenaline surging through you you barely feel like you’re trying. Despite the seeming lack of effort on your part you weave your way out of the building quickly, stumbling towards the assembled group and setting your mom down.

“What the hell just happened?” Tony is the first to break the silence and you cough a few times, trying to get in a breath that no longer wants to enter your lungs.

“Is-is everyone out?” you stutter out. Your vision is starting to tunnel and you're not sure why.

“Yes. Everyone is out. Now tell us what the hell is going on!” To anyone else your mom may sound mad, but you recognize that tone of voice. She’s worried. You want to reassure her but standing is getting harder by the second.

“I’m really fast,” is all you manage to get out before your knees buckle and your vision goes dark.

xxxxx

“You couldn’t have picked another part of the compound to destroy? Our med wing is a lot comfier,” you say as you’re opening your eyes, you can hear Tony whispering to someone so you know he’ll hear you.

“So sorry to inconvenience you, your highness,” he teases back and you smile, pushing yourself and surveying the room of worried gazes.

“By the looks on your faces I’m going to assume my secret’s out?” you ask and they all nod, varying degrees of annoyance, anger, and concern appearing as you try to lighten the mood. “Great. What’s the damage?”

“You have some burns that are healing way faster than they should. You were pretty malnourished. We think whatever your powers are make you require more food. How long have you known?” your mom asks and you look at your hands. She has her face set in an emotionless mask and even after all these years you can’t tell what that look means, and that worries you.

“A month or so,” you tell her and she sighs.

“What’s the first time you remember something happening?” Bruce’s voice is gentle, ever the calm one in the storm and you replay the memories of appearing in different places in your head, trying to remember the first one.

“Five weeks ago. I was late for school and running down the hall and it was like a glitch. I blinked and I was on the opposite end. I just brushed it off as being tired or something,” you explain with a shrug.

“When you crushed everyone in the mile, that was this? Coach has been trying to get us to explain your training routine for weeks. I guess we’ll have to tell him it won’t help,” Peter says and you chuckle.

“I don’t train. Especially after I found this. Running has had some...unfortunate consequences.”

“You mean besides you being in this hospital bed?” your mom asks cooly and you wince.

“I don’t think I’d call saving your life an unfortunate consequence but to each their own I guess. I kinda meant running into book shelves and seeing everything move in slow motion. It’s pretty disorienting,” you explain softly.

“Why didn’t you say anything?” Wanda’s voice is gentle. She can feel the stress coming from you and she desperately wants to calm you down.

“How would I even start that conversation? ‘Hey guys remember that random rescue mission where you picked up a civilian? Turns out it wasn’t a civilian. Please don’t arrest me. I swear I’m not trying to infiltrate the top secret government organization you all work for, I was just created in a lab by your enemy whose sole purpose is to destroy you by any means necessary. Haha so fun, anyway what’s for dinner?’ That didn’t seem too appealing.”

“What did you think we were gonna do? We know you y/n,” Steve says and your head snaps up.

“No you don’t! None of us know anything about me anymore! What we do know is what hydra is capable of! Who knows what kind of shit they did. For all I know I have a fail safe set up in my brain to make me do their bidding at the drop of a hat! They’re your greatest enemy, and I’m just some kid you found in an alley. There’s really only one choice here,” you start off yelling but by the end your voice is barely above a whisper.

“You’re right. There is only one choice,” your mom speaks up for the first time in a while and you feel tears collecting in your eyes. “We start running tests. We see what they did to you and we find out if we can reverse it. We find out if you even want to reverse it and then we go from there. Either way you’re not alone. We’ve got you, no matter what.”

As soon as the words are out of her mouth you’re throwing yourself into her arms and holding on for dear life. It feels like the weight of the world has just been lifted off of your shoulders and for the first time in weeks you can finally breathe.

tag list: @rvgrsbrns @rororo06 @prizmix-and-friends @worlds-in-words @im-salt-but-not-salty @5aftermidnight @riotmaximoff

[jaskiers-sweetkiss]

Of Blushes and Butterflies

Pairing: Reggie Peters x Luke Patterson

Word Count: 1.8K 

Warnings: None? 

A/N: Happy holidays @penguin-writes-books! I’m your secret santa for the @jatpdaily Secret Santa event! I present you with a Ruke (with slight background willex) alive!au featuring Smart Reggie and a little bit of background Proud Dad Ray Molina. I really hope you like it!! <3

___

Luke knew he shouldn’t have left all his homework for the day after the band’s Orpheum showcase. His whole body felt ablaze with energy but none of it could be channeled towards his physics. Fortunately, he knew a certain green-eyed, dark-haired boy who was great at physics and would certainly help him out. So, he pulled out his phone and texted Reggie.

At the last second, Luke pulled his thumb away from the screen before pressing send on the message. Instead navigating to the call button. He faltered only briefly before pressing it, his breath catching in his throat as he waited to hear the boy’s soft and smooth voice.

“Hey Luke, what’s up?” Reggie asked cheerfully, picking up the phone after the first ring.

“Hey, Reg,” Luke responded, trying to fight back the heat in his cheeks just from hearing his friend’s voice.

He wasn’t entirely sure when the bassist had started making him feel so flustered all the time, normally Luke was cool, calm, and collected and Reggie was one of his oldest friends. Now suddenly he was finding himself at a loss for words in his presence, tongue tied and tripping over himself for the boy’s approval.

He blamed it on the chemistry incident. He never should’ve taken the guy’s bait while they waited for Julie to arrive for practice that day. They all knew that there was nothing but friendship between Luke and Julie and yet when Reggie and Alex had taunted him about their on-stage chemistry, Luke just had to prove them wrong. That’s how he had ended up staring deep into one of his oldest friend’s eyes, wondering how he’d never noticed the little flecks of gold and brown in them or all the tiny freckles dotting his nose and his cheeks.

“I, uh, might’ve put off my physics homework and need some help,” he answered sheepishly and he hear Reggie chuckle quietly on the other end, likely unsurprised. “D’you think you could come over?”

“I’ll be there in a few,’ Reggie responded before hanging up.

Luke flopped back onto his bed with a sigh, staring up at the ceiling dopily at the thought of the green-eyed boy on his way to him. Boy was he whipped.

___

Reggie was pretty sure Luke was going to be the death of him, but what a way to go.

He had spent his Sunday afternoon after their spectacular showcase at the Orpheum pressed side-by-side with the brunet, their backs pressed against Luke’s headboard while Reggie played physics tutor.  

He didn’t mind it. He knew everyone perceived him as the “dumb” one of the group and he understood why. He was usually the last one to catch on to social cues and he wasn’t the most observant of the group. However, Reggie was great at school and it was something he was really proud of. Science and math especially came really easy to him, enough so that he was on the advanced track for both at their high school. Ray had even started hanging his test grades up on the fridge with Carlos and Julie’s, the family practically adopting him when they learned about his poor home life. So no, he didn’t mind playing tutor to his friends. He actually really liked it, especially when it meant an afternoon spent pressed against a certain floppy-haired guitarist who only wore cutoffs.

He blamed Luke and his stupid, confident, mic-sharing chemistry for the butterflies that now swarmed in his stomach every time he saw the boy, though he wouldn’t trade that moment for the world. Their lips so close it took Reggie’s break away, and then the guy had the audacity to kiss his fingers and press them to Reggie’s lips with that cocky smirk as if Reggie wasn’t already aware he was bi.

It was with thoughts of how Luke’s actual lips might feel pressed against his own or how it might feel to thread his fingers through Luke’s hair that Reggie entered their Monday afternoon practice with running through his mind.  

Luke had traded the t-shirt he’d worn to school for one of his signature cut-offs (it was a shame the school dress code prohibited sleeveless shirts but it was probably better for Reggie’s grades this way) and his flexing biceps were on full display as he tuned his guitar. Reggie gulped before pressing forward into the studio, picking up his bass and fiddling with the tuning pegs as well, trying to keep his gaze away from his best friend’s arms. Fortunately, practice went off without a hitch, Reggie to focused on the music to be ogling Luke. It wasn’t until after practice that his brain decided to betray him.

“So, are we hanging out for a bit?” Luke asked flopping down on the couch after they’d put away all their instruments.

“Flynn is coming over in a bit so you guys are welcome to stay,” Julie shrugged, taking a seat in one of the arm chairs while Alex sat across from her.

“Is it alright if I invite Willie?” He asked, already pulling out his phone to send a text to his boyfriend.

“Go ahead,” Julie responded with a knowing smirk as Alex grinned down at his phone.

“So what’re we gonna do?” Luke asked excitedly and Reggie raised his brow at the bot.

“You have a physics lab due,” Reggie said, eyes flicking between Luke and his backpack.

“Not until Wednesday!” Luke protested and Reggie tilted his head as if to say ‘come on, man.’

“You should start working on it now, babe,” Reggie said, staring pointedly at Luke, only realizing too late what he’d let slip out.

“Did you just call me ‘babe’?” Luke asked turning to stare wide-eyed at him, both boys trying desperately to fight off the color rising to their cheeks.

“I, uh, I was just trying it out,” Reggie stammered, trying to hide the slip-up.

“I like it,” Luke smiled sheepishly and Reggie thought for sure that the butterflies in his stomach would burst out of him with how frantically they were fluttering.

“O-okay,” he responded, plopping down on the other side of the couch and burying his face in his notes to try to hide his red cheeks.

Despite sitting on the opposite side of the couch, somewhere along the line Reggie had migrated over to Luke, as if being pulled by a magnet, until they were pressed side-by-side once again. At some point Willie and Flynn arrived, the latter arriving first and forcing Alex and Willie to share the remaining armchair (though they didn’t seem to mind), but Reggie couldn’t have said when, too focused on trying to focus on his AP physics assignment and not the smell of Luke’s hair.

___

Luke was amazed that he’d been able to get any of his physics homework done with his thigh pressed right up against Reggie’s and their shoulders constantly bumping as they both scribbled down answers. He was pretty sure his mind had turned to goo, especially with how Reggie would stop working to peer at Luke’s paper when the boy stalled, unable to come up with the proper equation or solution, and would lean somehow closer to help him work it out. He was starting to wonder if he had died and was now being tortured in hell.

Reggie had just leaned forward again, giving Luke a whiff of his cologne? Body wash? Deodorant? He wasn’t sure what it was but it smelled amazing and he was trying to subtly bask in it while also listening to Reggie explaining something to him when Flynn’s phone rang.

She gasped loudly, slipping into her manager voice when she demanded, “Everyone stop what you’re doing right now.”

Luke froze, pencil slipping out of his hand and clattering onto the floor as Flynn took the call. Everybody in the room seemed afraid to even breathe as Flynn stood from her chair, beginning to pace in front of the band setup. Luke was trying to listen intently, hoping to glean any amount of information about the call from Flynn’s side of the conversation, but at some point Reggie had gripped Luke’s hand in his own and the contact was just about all he could focus on. Reggie was holding his hand.

When Flynn finally ended the call the rest of the group stood up to meet her with baited breath as she walked back towards the furniture. Even when they stood Reggie still kept ahold of Luke, their entwined hands now dangling between them.

“What was that about?” Julie finally broke the silence, giving her best friend a hopeful look.

“That was Andi Parker from Destiny Management and she wants to produce your first album!” Flynn announced and the studio erupted into surprised shouts.

The band of high school seniors had been steadily growing in popularity since it’s conception a few years back and they’d be lying if they hadn’t been hoping for this outcome after their Orpheum showcase.

“But wait, there’s more!” Flynn exclaimed. She paused momentarily, letting them anticipate her next words in silence before yelling, “Julie and the Phantoms are going on tour!”

If their reaction to the record deal was an eruption, this was an explosion of shouts and cheers as they celebrated. Luke was partially aware of Julie and Flynn embracing and Alex literally jumping into Willie’s arms but he wasn’t paying them much attention, his eyes flicking between Reggie and the boy’s hand still firmly intertwined with his. Even in the excitement of the moment neither had even thought about letting go. Luke was suddenly filled with a surge of emotion and before he knew what he was doing he had grasped Reggie’s face in his hands, pressing their lips together firmly.

It took a moment for Reggie’s brain to stop short-circuiting and remember to kiss back but when he did he did it with fervor, hoping to make up for the lost time. He brought his hand (the one that was not still firmly grasped in Luke’s) up to tangle itself in the brunet’s hair just as he had daydreamed about earlier. No. It was better than he had ever daydreamed. Nothing could compare to kissing Luke Patterson.

They only broke away when their friends erupted into cheers and wolf whistles, the two boy immediately reminded of the fact that they weren’t alone.

“Finally!” Flynn called as they pulled apart, faces flushed red. Luke started to pull his hand away but Reggie only gripped it tighter, silently assuring him that it was okay.

“Yeah, uh, I guess it has been a long time coming, huh Reg?” Luke said sheepishly, glancing shyly up at the boy.

Between the kiss, the hand-holding, and the hopeful look in Luke’s eyes, Reggie found himself at a complete loss for words, only able to nod feverishly in response. Thankfully it seemed to be enough for Luke, who grinned before asking,

“Be my boyfriend?”

Though it seemed an impossible feat, Reggie managed to croak out a “Yeah” before they were kissing again, their friends whooping and hollering in the background once more.

An album, a tour, and Luke and Reggie finally getting together. It was shaping up to be a pretty spectacular Monday.

[fanfictionaries]

The Seduction of Sirius Black - Part 2

Pairing: Hermione Granger x Sirius Black

Summary:

Hermione loves her boyfriend, but there’s just one little problem -- she’s hopelessly attracted to Sirius Black.

Warnings: Swearing, Angst, Ron bashing (sorry)

Author’s Note: Part 2 is up and now I must go and study for my exam Wednesday! 

MASTERLIST

Part 1

Her head was pounding. Pounding so hard behind her eyes that she thought she might throw up. In fact…Hermione flung her covers off of her, bolted to the bathroom attached to her room, and lifted the lid just in time to expel the contents of her stomach into the white porcelain. She heaved and heaved until there was nothing left for her to throw up, and then she heaved again for good measure. Wracked with full body convulsions, Hermione let her forehead lean against the cool porcelain of the toilet’s edge and vowed to never drink whiskey again. Why? Why had she drunk so much? Oh, right. The events of the previous afternoon came into her mind and Hermione gave another dry heave into the toilet bowl in response.

Ron. Ron was cheating on her. For how long? Was that witch the only one? Who else knew? Did Harry know? Did everyone know? Oh Gods…this was a disaster. No wonder she’d gotten so sloshed. And she was well and truly sloshed. She didn’t even remember paying her tab or how she got home. She sort of remembered getting into the house; there’d been an issue with her key, and she’d tripped quite a lot coming in and then—

Oh no.

Oh no. Oh no. Oh no. Oh no.

Hermione sat up with a gasp, a jolt of pain shooting through her head that made her groan and lay back down against the cool porcelain. It all came rushing back, her stupid drunk giggles, her blatant stares as she ogled Sirius in the hallway, her kissing him, him kissing her, his mouth on her—oh god, her hand on his—and then he’d stopped her and she’d…she’d stomped off like a petulant child! Hermione wanted to die. If she hadn’t thought the hangover was a bad enough pain to cause suicidal thoughts, then the memories of what she’d done the night before certainly were. What did she do now?

Her brain churned, slowly and painfully, certainly not operating at its usual capability. Damn whiskey. What did people normally do when they made horrible drunken mistakes? Hermione thought back to the one or two times her friends had made absolute arses of themselves while out drinking. They usually spent the next day apologizing over and over again, that is if they even—

That was it! She’d simply pretend like she didn’t remember any of it. That would put the pieces into Sirius’s hands. If he was offended enough by her actions, he’d tell her what happened (a mortifying thought), but if he was just as embarrassed by it as her, then he’d lie and say nothing happened at all. It was like a get out of jail free card, so to speak.

Rising gingerly to her feet, Hermione was barely vertical when a hard knock at her bedroom door sent her reeling back. She gasped, sending shooting pain through her skull once again, and tripped backwards, barely catching herself on the shower curtain. Thankfully, they didn’t rip from the rod, otherwise she’d have a hangover and likely a very nasty bump on her head to deal with. She had just resorted herself firmly on her feet when another, louder knock came at her door, and Hermione jumped again, cursing very loudly.

“Bloody hell!” Her pulse thumped violently in her chest and in her ears as she brought a hand up to her heart, surprisingly out of breath for very little physical exertion. She froze, staring blankly at the dark grain of her door. “Who is it?” she called out, wincing as her headache persisted. Who is it? Who did she think it was? She only lived with one person.

“It’s me, open up!”

Hermione sighed with relief at the sound of the distinctly feminine and more importantly not Sirius voice from the other side.

“It’s unlocked, come on it,” Hermione called back, allowing herself to slump against the sink as she reached for her toothbrush and toothpaste. There was a taste in her mouth she needed to be rid of, and Hermione had the sinking feel that it wasn’t just from to the amount of vomiting she’d been doing that morning.

The door swung open, slamming hard against the wall with a great thud. Hermione winced at the sound, wetting her toothbrush and globbing an exorbitant amount of toothpaste onto it.

“Sorry,” said Ginny, looking sheepish at her loud entrance as she padded into the room, arms full. Hermione spotted the contents of her arms and if it weren’t for her hungover state, she could have sung.

“Please tell me one of those coffees is for me,” said Hermione, desperately, mouth full of frothy toothpaste. She spat into the sink and washed away the frothy spit with water from the tap before returning to brutally brushing her teeth and gums.

“It is—” Ginny grinned devilishly as she set the large paper cup down next to Hermione and held up a large brown bag “—and so is one of these pasties.”

Hermione gasped, spitting into the sink, and rinsing it again before rinsing her toothbrush as well. She set the brush down on the counter and snatched the bag from Ginny’s hands. Digging deep into the grease-stained paper bag she pulled a wrapped Cornish pasty. “Is it—”

“Potato and onion, just like you like,” answered Ginny, already knowing her question before it left Hermione’s mouth.

“I mean this with all honesty and from the bottom of my heart, Gin – you are my favorite person in the world,” she handed the bag back to Ginny before taking her pasty and her coffee out of the bathroom and to her bed. She sat down heavily on the messy blankets and propped herself against the headboard before taking a deep sip of coffee. Good. So good.

“And I mean this with all honesty and from the bottom of my heart – you look like shit,” said Ginny, sitting down at the end of the bed and pulling out her own pasty.

Hermione groaned, leaning her head against the headboard, and running a hand down her face, “Ugh, I know.  It was an…interesting day yesterday.”

“Yes, I heard. Sirius said—”

“What did he say?” Hermione asked, voice sounding a bit too guilty in her opinion.

Ginny gave her a curious look before continuing, “Just that you got home late last night, pissed off your arse. He said you came stumbling in giggling up a storm. What were you drinking?”

Hermione relaxed a bit knowing that Sirius hadn’t mentioned what happened after she came stumbling in. “Whiskey—” Hermione gagged just at the thought “—and too much of it.”

“Yes, well, when you find out your boyfriends been slagging around on you, I guess a large amount of alcohol is warranted,” said Ginny pointedly, finally getting straight to the point.

Hermione sighed, her body deflating as she tore open her Cornish pasty and took a large bite. “So you know then,” said Hermione through a mouth full of potato and onion.

Ginny nodded, now giving her a pitying look. Hermione hated that look. It was the same look she got all through sixth year when Ron was dating Lavender, snogging her all around the corner every chance he got. Apparently, some things never changed.

“And…how long have you known?” Hermione hated herself for asking but she had to – for her own sanity’s sake.

“Oh! —” Ginny’s eyes grew wide “—I just found out last night. I swear. He came round to ours right after he saw you. Scared the bogeys out of Harry and me. We thought he was still on assignment. We were just sitting down to some takeout and he burst through the fireplace, tracking soot across the rug, talking about how he’d messed up. Harry nearly hexed him before we realized it was him.”

Hermione sat back, taking another bite from her pasty. She chewed slowly, a little more relaxed that she now knew the secret of Ron’s infidelity was not just a secret to her. She swallowed her bite and then asked, “So, what did he say happened?”

Ginny frowned; her eyebrows furrowed deeply. “Well…it was all sort of a jumble at first but once we got him to sit and calm down, he basically confessed to it all. He said he’d been seeing someone else…behind your back. Behind everyone’s back. He told us how he’d been getting back from assignments earlier than he said he was to spend time with her. Apparently, she works at Flourish and Blotts.”

Hermione balked. She knew she’d seen the witch somewhere before. Of course! She was the new register girl at Flourish and Blotts. Hermione had seen her before when her and Ron went in to…oh Gods, she was going to be sick again. Ginny must have seen the look on Hermione’s face because she thrust the paper bag in Hermione’s direction and scoot a bit further back on the bed. Hermione took it, giving Ginny a grateful look, but setting it aside. No, she was not going to be sick again. Instead, she took another large sip of coffee, hoping the caffeine would soon bring relief to her aching head.

“I know. I know,” said Ginny commiseratingly. “Obviously, Harry and I were furious. I had to hold Harry back from physically attacking him and the only reason Ron’s arse wasn’t hexed off his body was because my wand was upstairs. I’m…I’m so sorry, Hermione.”

“Did he…” Hermione hesitated, unsure of whether she wanted to ask her next question, but knowing she’d drive herself crazy if she didn’t. “Did he say how long it’s being going on? Are they serious?”

Ginny pursed her lips, giving Hermione another one of those pitying looks. “I don’t think you want to know…”

“Just tell me Gin. I’m going to find out either way.”

Ginny swallowed thickly before answering, “Six months.”

“Six months?!” Hermione nearly shrieked, bringing a hand up to her head when it gave a surging pulse of pain. Merlin, she needed a pain potion in the worst way. Well, that answered her second question. If they’d been seeing each other six months, then it was definitely serious. Still, six months…that was a third of her and Ron’s relationship. Thinking back she realized that six months ago was around the time Ron stopped showing her affection and started spending more and more time away on assignments.

“I’m so sorry, Hermione,” Ginny apologized again. Hermione didn’t really know what she was sorry for though. Ginny wasn’t the one who’d been shagging someone else behind her back for half a year, thought Hermione bitterly. “I just want you to know that everyone’s on your side. Harry practically threw Ron out of our flat last night and told him to not come back until he’d figured out a way to fix things and I owled mum and dad the minute he left. I told mum to let him have her worst. The bastard deserves it.”

Hermione sighed, setting her pasty and coffee down on the nightstand, suddenly no longer hungry. So everyone knew now then. Great. A small part of her had hoped she could go a bit of time in denial. She hoped she could keep it a secret for just a bit before it became a big…thing.

“I guess I should have seen it coming,” Hermione finally said. “He’s been gone so much lately, and I’ve tried to be understanding, but he’s also been pulling away. I thought it might have been something I did…something we could fix, but.” Hermione shrugged, as if to say, ‘What can you do’.

Ginny frowned even deeper before asking, “Do you still want to? Fix it, I mean.”

Hermione frowned as well, thinking hard on her answer before shaking her head and saying, “No. No, I don’t.”

Ginny seemed a bit sad at her answer – perhaps disappointed that they would no longer one day be sisters but gave her a reassuring look all the same. “I completely understand. In my opinion he doesn’t deserve a second chance. I mean, what he’s done is so vile and unforgivable! I can’t believe—”

“Ginny—” Hermione cut of Ginny’s newly rising anger, suddenly feeling very tired “—thank you. Really, I appreciate you coming over here to comfort me. I just, I think I need a bit of alone time now. The last twenty-four hours have been exhausting and I think I just need a bit of a lie down.”

“Oh—” Ginny stood, collecting the trash from their breakfast “—of course. I’ll get out of your hair. Take as much time today as you need. You deserve it. Harry already called you in sick for the rest of the week and I’ll stop by tomorrow to see if you’re up for lunch.”

Merlin’s balls – work. She’d completely forgotten about work! It was only Wednesday. Burying herself into the confines of her duvet, Hermione thanked the stars for Harry Potter. Ginny gave her a soft kiss on the forehead before slipping out of the room. Hermione’s eyes had just closed, the pounding in her head all too apparent now that it was quiet when another knock came from the door.

“Come on in,” Hermione mumbled, voice groggy now that her muscles were relaxed, and her stomach was full of pasty. Ginny must have forgotten something.

“Sorry, Ginny said you were just about to have a lie down, but I thought you might need this first.”

Hermione froze at the sound of Sirius’s voice. Steeling herself, she rolled over and looked up at the older wizard with bated breath. He looked…fine. Calm even. How did he look so calm? He made his way across the room to the side of her bed and held out a small vial of pain potion to her. Hermione sat up a little, taking the vial from him. She uncorked it and tipped it past her lips, letting the bitter liquid slide down her past her tongue and down her throat. Pulling a face at the taste, she grabbed her coffee from the nightstand and chased it, before settling back in her bed.

“Thank you,” she said, purposefully avoiding looking at Sirius directly.

“Sure thing, kitten. How are you feeling?”

“Better, but still not my best,” Hermione answered, wishing more than anything Sirius would just leave. She wasn’t prepared for this. She needed at least four more hours of sleep and maybe another shot of whiskey before she was ready for this conversation. “Did…Ginny tell you what happened?”

Sirius nodded, and then much to her despair, he sat down on the edge of her bed. Hermione scooted her legs over, putting as much space between her body and his as she could without being too obvious.

“It certainly explains last night,” said Sirius, letting out a low and breathy laugh.

Hermione felt her face go hot, and she was sure she was as red as a tomato. However, if there was ever a time to put her plan from that morning into action, it was then.

“I’m so sorry you had to see me like that,” she began, looking down at her lap as she fingered the fabric of the duvet. “I’m ashamed to say I was so drunk I don’t even remember getting home. I hope I didn’t do anything too embarrassing like puke on your shoes, or something.”

There was a brief silence before Sirius cleared his throat and said, “No, no. Nothing like that.”

“Really?” Hermione asked, looking up in surprise. Sirius looked back at her, his grey eyes open and friendly. He gave her a small smile.

“Really,” he responded. “Although if you had puked on my shoes, I wouldn’t really blame you. No need to feel embarrassed for getting a bit too drunk. Can’t say I’d do much better if I’d been in your position.”

Hermione gave a weak laugh in response.

“Now,” continued Sirius. “You get some rest.” He stood and walked towards the door. He was halfway out of the door, handle in his grasp when Hermione called out to him.

“Sirius.”

The wizard turned, giving her a surprised look mixed with, was it worry? Concern? Hermione couldn’t tell. Her tongue faltered, stuck behind her teeth as she realized she had no idea why she’d called out his name. Swallowing thickly she gave him a smile that she hoped looked natural and said, “Thank you, again.”

“Of course, kitten.”

***

“How are you feeling?” Ginny asked, that same pitying look on her face.

Her and Harry sat across the table from Hermione at a small café in Diagon Alley. Just like Ginny had promised, she arrived exactly at noon the following day to see if Hermione was up for lunch. Hermione, who’d been hiding in her room, avoiding a certain older, dark-haired wizard found that she couldn’t say no. She was going stir-crazy and as even a quick trip to the kitchen seemed like too much of a risk, she was starving as well. So, there she was, sat across from the picture of marital bliss, wondering how long it really took to make a sandwich and chips.

Harry, thankfully, wasn’t giving her the same sad look Ginny was. In fact, if she had to put a word to how he looked she’d call it ‘uncomfortable’. He was having a hard time meeting Hermione’s eyes and he kept moving his hands from under the table to on top of it, his thumbs twiddling together.

Hermione sighed at Ginny’s question, bringing a hand up to her temple and rubbing the tired, tender flesh. While her hangover was well and past, she still felt exhausted – strung out really, despite the amount of extra sleep she’d gotten. She blamed Sirius Black for that. Despite every fiber of her being telling her that Ron’s infidelity should have been the main focus of her mind, instead she’d been unable to think of anything but the fact that Sirius Black had let their little tryst be swept under the rug surprisingly easily.

“I’m alright,” Hermione answered, giving Ginny a tired smile.

She should be alright – with the fact that Sirius played along with her little alcohol-induced memory loss game. It’s what she wanted, wasn’t it? The whole reason she’d decided to lie to him was so that he would have an out. So that the two of them could pretend like it never happened. So that they’d never have to have the uncomfortable ‘We almost drunkenly shagged in the hallway’ conversation. Well, she had been drunk. What was his excuse?

“Are you sure?” Ginny asked again.

Hermione looked around the café, hoping to see their waitress coming just around the corner with her food. No such luck.

“Heard anything from Ron?” Hermione asked, surprised that of all things, she’d rather distract herself with the topic of Ron cheating on her than think about Sirius Black.

Ginny shook her head. “We haven’t heard anything, and mum says he hasn’t showed up to the Burrow, which means—”

“He’s been staying somewhere else…like his girlfriend’s place,” Hermione finished for her, her mouth going sour.

A tense silence filled the space around them at the table. It made sense that he would rather stay there than go home and face his mother’s wrath. Did the other witch know about Hermione? She wondered what Ron had told her – if he had told her anything. When she had realized who Hermione was, she seemed to remain friendly enough and she didn’t seem worried. It was common knowledge that her and Ron had been dating. It had been front page news in the Daily Prophet. So what then? Had Ron told this witch too? Had he told her that they were broken up? Perhaps someone should tell her…

“I feel like I should do something,” said Harry, breaking the silence. “I—do you—would it make you feel better if I beat the shit out of him?”

Hermione laughed. Actually laughed, fully and whole-heartedly. “No, Harry. That’s not necessary but thank you. I appreciate the gesture.”

Harry smiled sheepishly and nodded. “Alright then. Just thought I’d ask.”

They fell into a silence again and Hermione found herself looking out the café window for something to do. Her thoughts drifted back to Sirius. After lunch she’d have to go home. Usually she’d kill a few hours by going into Flourish and Blotts, but it felt a bit off-limits at the moment. Not needing any new robes or potions ingredients and having no reason stop by Gringotts, her only option was to go back to Grimmauld Place. She’d have to face Sirius sooner than later, she thought despondently. Still, maybe she could go into Muggle London if she found herself lacking in courage by the time lunch was over.

“Harry, did you have to use the restroom?” asked Ginny, bringing Hermione out of her thoughts. She looked up at the two of them across from her and saw Ginny looking at her husband with wide eyes.

“No?” Harry responded, looking back at his wife in confusion.

“No, no. I’m pretty sure you said when we got here that you needed to use the loo.”

“I think I’d remember if I said—”

“Harry. Bathroom,” said Ginny through gritted teeth, her eyes narrowing.

Harry eyes grew wide in both fright and understanding before he made a fidgeting motion, turning slight in his seat. “Right, um, yeah. I forgot. I’ll just—”

Harry stood, walking briskly through the café towards the back hallway where the bathrooms were.

Hermione watched him go, brow furrowed in confusion. Well that was odd. Looking back at Ginny, she found the redheaded Weasley girl staring fixedly at her.

“Everything alright, Gin?” she asked nervously.

“What aren’t you telling me?” asked Ginny, her tone blunt and accusatory.

“I’m not sure what you mean.” Hermione’s palms began to sweat. She couldn’t possibly…unless Sirius mentioned something. Did he?

“Hermione. I’ve known you for nearly eight years now. I know when there’s something you’re not telling me.”

Hermione chewed her lip, meeting Ginny’s sure gaze. A raging war battled within Hermione’s head as she sat in the café, the vinyl bench seat squeaking under her restless legs. Should she tell Ginny? If she didn’t, the girl would surely badger her until she did. And Hermione did really need a second opinion on her predicament – needed to tell someone or she might just go insane.

“Promise not to judge me too harshly?” Hermione asked, wringing her wrist in her hand.

“Hermione, of course I won’t judge you—” Ginny’s expression softened “—What is it? You can tell me.”

“You know how I went out drinking Tuesday night after finding out about Ron?”

“Yes…” Ginny drew out the word, her voice lilting up into a question almost.

“And you know how I came stumbling home drunk off my arse?”

“Yeah,” Ginny snorted. “I would have paid big money to see it.”

“Well, when I got home I…I…well you see I—”

“Hermione, just spit it out.”

“I snogged Sirius!” Hermione blurted the words, covering her mouth with both palms as if she could scoop the words out of the air and push them back down her throat. She glanced around her hurriedly, realizing only then that she’d practically yelled out for all to hear that she’d made out with Sirius Black, godfather to famous Harry Potter.

Ginny stared at her, wide-eyed and mouth hung open very much not unlike Ron from two nights previous.

“It—well I was drunk, and I got home, and Sirius was there, and he wasn’t wearing a shirt, you see. And I just…he looked so fit, you know? And I thought, well if Ron can go off and shag someone while we’re dating then surely, I can snog someone else now that we’re no longer dating. So I did.”

Ginny continued to stare at her in shock. Hermione swallowed thickly.

“Ginny, please say something. I’m almost positive I will go barking mad if you don’t.”

“I…I’m not quite sure what to say. Sirius? As in Sirius Black?”

“Yes.”

“Our Sirius Black?”

“Yes.”

“The Sirius Black you live with?”

“Yes.”

“Sirius Black – the godfather of my husband, Sirius Black?”

“Oh for crying out loud, yes Ginny. Sirius Black. That Sirius Black. I snogged Sirius Black,” Hermione bit, now rubbing both of her temples.

“Merlin’s beard…” said Ginny in a tone of disbelief.

“I know,” responded Hermione.

“How was it?”

“Ginny!” Hermione looked across the table at her friend in disbelief. The redhead was grinning back at her mischievously.

“What?! Inquiring minds want to know, Hermione Granger. You can’t just tell me something that juicy and not expect me to have questions.”

“Well yes, but I rather thought the questions in question would be more like ‘What were you thinking?’, ‘Why did you do that?’, ‘What are you going to do?’. Not, ‘How hot was it?’” laughed Hermione in bewilderment.

“So, it was hot then,” said Ginny, raising an eyebrow.

“Oh Merlin…” Hermione sighed, resting her head in her hands.

“Okay but in all seriousness, I do need all the details. So start from the beginning and don’t leave anything out.” Ginny leaned forward in her seat, crossing her arms on the tabletop, and looking at Hermione expectantly.

Hermione sighed, but figured she owed it to Ginny to tell her the whole thing. Except, while Ginny was probably expecting the beginning to be her stumbling through the front door Tuesday night, nearly falling ass over tits, in reality, Hermione was going to need to start much further back than that. Hermione took a deep breath and then opened her mouth and told Ginny everything.

“Wow…”

“I know,” Hermione moaned, rubbing her palms down her face once again.

They were quiet before a moment before Ginny spoke, “So how are we going to get you two in the sack?”

“What?” Hermione asked in surprise. “You mean you’re not upset with me for more or less emotionally cheating on your brother?”

Ginny shrugged. “He actually cheated on you. I think it’s pretty fair.”

“Okay…” said Hermione slowly. “Isn’t it a bit wrong to be moving on so quickly? I mean last night I couldn’t really fault myself. I was drunk.”

“You’re not still hung up on my brother, are you?”

Hermione paused for a moment, already knowing her answer before it slipped past her lips. She had loved Ron, she still loved Ron in a way. But they’d been growing apart for quite some time. His infidelity was just the nail in the coffin for their relationship.

“Not really, no,” she admitted sheepishly.

“Good,” said Ginny simply, an acrid bite to it. “He doesn’t deserve you wallowing over him.”

They sat for a moment, letting the statement marinate in the space between them. But then Hermione spoke again, unable to now stop her racing mind and worries, “You don’t think he’s a bit too old for me?”

Ginny snorted. “You say old, I say experienced.”  

Hermione’s cheeks grew hot at the implication of Ginny’s words. A flash of the night before came to mind and she knew she couldn’t say Ginny was wrong.

“Okay, well then what about Harry?”

“Merlin Hermione! Harry will be fine! He doesn’t even have to know if you don’t want him to. I’ll keep your secret and I’m sure Sirius would too if you asked. Are you trying to come up with excuses not to do this?” Ginny asked, raising an eyebrow.

“No! I just…last night he rejected me. It leaves a witch feeling a bit apprehensive,” said Hermione, looking down at her hands now clasped together on top of the table.

“Hey,” said Ginny softly, bringing Hermione’s attention up. “He turned you down because you were drunk, Hermione. It’s a pretty bloody gentlemanly thing to do. Plus, he only turned you down after he had a taste. It’s obvious he couldn’t help himself.”

“You think?” asked Hermione, catching Harry walking back across the café from the restroom.

Ginny, spotting her distracted look, turned her head and acknowledged her fast approaching husband. She leaned forward across the table and lowered her voice, “I’m positive. Sirius is clearly attracted to you. We just have to make him realize that you’re both available and willing.”

“How are we going to do that?” Hermione whispered back.

“Simple. Hermione Granger, you are going to seduce Sirius Black.”

[marvelousstevetony]

hi you’re so wonderful. Could you possibly write nose kisses + “You’ve sneezed four times. That’s not like you.” from the prompt list you posted for Sam and Bucky ♥️♥️

Omg, thank you, anon! You’re wonderful, and I hope you’ll like this small fic of sick!Bucky and a very sweet Sam taking care of him. I know this is another old prompt, but hopefully you’ll see this anyway!♥️

-----------

Sam sighs as he closes the door behind him and dumps his back on the floor. Shrugging off his jacket, he simultaneously toes off his shoes, and he nearly stumbles when his left sneaker doesn’t come as easily as the right one did. He looks down at his feet and glares at the shoe as if it had been trying to kill him.

Well, it kinda had, Sam thinks to himself. He could’ve fallen over and hit his head and he could’ve died, and it would definitely have been the shoe’s fault and not because Sam was too lazy to untie the laces and— wait. Sam stops his train of thought when he notices Bucky’s shoes are in the hallway, which they shouldn’t be. Sam is sure Buck had said that he’d be in debrief way past dinnertime.

He shoots one last glance at the potentially lethal shoe and kicks it out of his way and heads towards the kitchen to grab a drink before hunting down his boyfriend. It’s a surprisingly easy hunt, though, because Bucky is standing at the kitchen counter when Sam enters the room.

Bucky’s wearing a thick knit sweater that he’d once stolen from Steve, and his hair’s pulled into a small bun at the nape of his neck. Sam can’t help but smile into the soft, navy material when he comes up and hugs Bucky from behind, nuzzling his face between Bucky’s shoulder blades. “Hey.”

“Hey yourself,” Bucky chuckles softly and places his right hand on top of one of Sam’s, giving it a small squeeze.

“You’re home already,” Sam says gratefully. “Did debrief finish early?”

“Uh… snff! Yeah, kind of. We’re finishing up tomorrow.”

Sam hums in acknowledgement and plants a kiss on Bucky’s shoulder before pulling away to fetch a glass from the cupboard and filling it with water. He takes a long gulp of it and sets the glass on the counter, then goes to open the fridge and frowns at it when he realizes it’s empty. Or, well, basically empty, apart from milk, a couple of eggs, a few bell peppers and some other basic stuff. Not enough to make dinner out of, though.

“I didn’t think you’d be home, so I didn’t go shopping for groceries,” Sam explains when Bucky asks why he’s staring off into the fridge. “If I’d known you’d be back so soon I would’ve made you dinner, but…”

“We can— snff! We can just order in,” Bucky says. “What… snf! d-do you waahh- huh? huh… uhhUSH’ooo!”

“Bless you!” Sam exclaims and turns to look at Bucky, who’s rubbing at his nose with knuckles, eyes narrowed and mouth hanging slightly agape. He presses a bent index finger to his septum, but whether he’s trying to hold off the building tickle in his nose or coax out another sneeze, Sam can’t tell. It’s the latter that wins, because after a few hitching breaths and a final desperate gasp, Bucky yanks the collar of the sweater over his mouth and nose, succumbing to the sneezy sensation.

“huhh… uhhETCH’oo! ehhh… EIShoo! Hh! UhTSHHh’uh!”

Three strong sneezes rush over him, his shoulders tensing with the force of them, making his body jerk a little forward each time.

“Jesus, bless you, Buck,” Sam says, his tone now somewhere between protective and concerned. “You’ve sneezed four times. That’s not like you.”

Bucky sniffles a good few times before releasing his grip of the sweater and swipes at his nose with the back of his wrist instead. “Snf! Sorry,” he murmurs, voice congested and raspy. “Than’gks,” he adds when Sam pulls out a couple of tissues from the box on the counter and hands them to him.

He gives a couple of useless blows that makes him cough more than it helps clear out his sinuses, and he ends up doing more coughing and snuffling into them than anything else.

“You sound horrible,” Sam states and grimaces when Bucky draws in a breath and waits for another sneeze to overcome him. It doesn’t come though, and all Bucky is left with is an itchy and fuzzy feeling in his head, which he tries to ward off by shaking his head, then lets out a defeated, stuffy sigh. “And you look even worse,” Sam continues when he gets a good look of Bucky for the first time since he came home.

His eyes are all watery and tired looking, and the purplish bags underneath them could rival Steve’s from that time he went three days without sleeping on a mission and came home exhausted and hurt and sick. Additionally, Bucky’s cheeks are flushed the same bright red colour as his nose, which also looks like it’s been abused by rough tissue paper and the cuff of his sweater all day.

“Fuck off, Wilson,” Bucky grumbles, but there’s no fire to it, no real annoyance. Not at Sam, anyway, probably more at the state he’s in. “You’re just… snf! Just repeating what Steve told mbe all day.”

Ah. “So that’s why you’re home early?” Sam realizes. “So Rogers is the one I have to thank for getting my boyfriend all to myself on a Wednesday evening. How did he manage to convince you to go home?” He asks, impressed that even Steve could get him to resign to this monster of a cold.

Bucky ducks his head with a shy smile and rubs the back of his neck. “Said he’d walk me down to med himself if I refused to go home…”

“Buck,” Sam breathes sympathetically and comes to stand next to Bucky, who’s still leaning against the counter. Sam brings a hand to Bucky’s hair and pulls it out of the bun. He snaps the band around his wrist before threading his fingers through the long, dark locks. “He thinks you need to go to med?”

Bucky shakes his head, then clears his throat. “Ndo I— snf! He knows I hate it down there, so threatening to take me there was probably just his way to make sure I went home.”

“Hmm… He’s a smart guy.”

Bucky chuckles at that, low and congested, but it makes him smile, and seeing the way the corners of Bucky’s mouth curl upwards makes Sam smile, too.

“Alright, I’ll order dinner for us. What do you want? Italian? Good,” Sam decides when Bucky nods. “Go huddle up on the couch, I’ll come after I’ve showered, okay?”

Bucky nods again and starts to pull back a little, but Sam stops him before he can get too far away and leans in close enough to brush his lips over the tip of Bucky’s nose. Although the kiss is gentle and feather-light, Bucky nose twitches, and he has to duck his head to rub it against his index finger. When he looks back up at Sam, he has this bashful look on his face that makes him look even cuter than Sam thought possible, and if Sam hadn’t already decided that Bucky needs to relax, he probably — no, definitely — would’ve pulled Bucky into a deep, warm kiss that left both of their lips numb and wanting more. But that’s not what Bucky needs right now. Right now, he needs food, a fresh box of tissues, maybe a cup of tea later and maybe even some of the cold-medicine Sam insists they keep in stock. Just in case, he always says.

“Okay, to the couch you go,” Sam sighs and nudges Bucky’s shoulder when he feigns a pout and tries to nestle into Sam’s embrace again. Rolling his eyes when Bucky looks at him through his thick lashes, Sam pokes softly at Bucky’s side. “Stop with the puppy eyes, Barnes, and a go sit your ass down.”

With a small grin, Bucky heads for the living room, leaving Sam to order dinner and clean up before joining him.

Dinner arrives about thirty minutes later. They eat on the couch, cuddled up in a nest of blankets and pillows while some horrible reality show is playing on the tv. Sam doesn’t know why they’re even watching it, but it’s entertaining enough that neither of them want to sacrifice how comfortable they are to reach the remote.

Through it all, Bucky has been sniffling and sneezing into the tissues Sam brought with him to the couch, and by the time Sam’s going to make tea, the box is empty.

“Umb, Sam? Do you snf— snff! Do you thin’gk you could mbe sombe more tissues?” Bucky asks as his eyes begin to glaze over, lashes fluttering wildly before he pushes a crumpled tissue against his nose and gives into the sneezes. “H’uhh… UhhIShoo! Oh… snf! Heh—? ehh… ehCH’sshh! EISHh’oo!”

“You’ve really got the sniffles today, don’t you?” Sam jokes as he gets to his feet, but his voice is warm and fond.

“Shud up, Sam,” Bucky huffs. “Just get me the damn tissues, will ya?”

Sam holds his hands up in surrender and laughs. “Alright, I’m sorry. I’ll get you tea and tissues,” he says and comes back with a new box of Kleenex and a steaming cup of tea five minutes later. He put the cup on the coffee table, and drops the box of tissues onto Bucky’s lap before dropping himself right down next to Bucky, holding his arms out for Bucky to cuddle into to, and how could Bucky reject such an invitation?

Within a few seconds, Bucky is settled in good and close in Sam’s embrace, Bucky’s head resting against Sam’s chest. It’s nice like this, Sam thinks. It’s nice that they can have this, that they let themselves have this. And in this instant, Sam’s gaze wanders over Bucky screen-lit face, letting himself dwell in the stillness and bliss of the moment. It’s simple, but it’s perfect, and suddenly an overwhelming sense of home surges through Sam, a feeling that makes his breath catch in his chest. When Bucky looks up at him with questioning blue eyes, silently asking him if he’s alright, Sam just smiles and gently cups Bucky’s jaw in his palm, angling his head in just the right position for Sam to lean down and place a kiss right on the bridge of Bucky’s nose.

[jamestrmtx]

The Bebop Blues - [Animal Crossing | Tom Nook x Reader]

[Gender-Neutral Reader | Slow Burn + Tragicomedy]

Part 2 of 10 | Oh My God, They Were Business Partners

[Previous] | [Next]

Rating: PG

Updates: Twice (to thrice) a month on Wednesdays

• • •

Friend.

The word feels off, yet he dismisses that feeling when reminded of what it implies.

He wasn't one of those guys.

...Or was he?

Tom sighs and proceeds to wear a jacket for tonight regardless of how little he felt the need for it. He wasn't taking any chances this time, and much less considering it was them who would be singing tonight. The thought of spending another moment together at the beach makes his face warm and his heart race. Those feelings are fluttery enough to make him feel young -- like a teen experiencing their first love.

"Ready to go, Tom?"

His heart takes a leap and he has to gather all the strength necessary in order to not display any shock. He harrumphs, checks himself one final time in the mirror, and turns around, greeted by a smiling face. "Yes," he blurts out, awestruck. He presses his tail against the counter to hide the fact it's wagging just like a puppy's and controls his nose to keep it from twitching like a bunny's. "You look wonderful, by the way," he adds, finally gaining some courage. "The colour compliments you well."

"You think so?" they ask, grinning and doing a full three-sixty to show him their outfit, mainly composed of a sharp-looking (dress/tux) and fitting shoes, both with a colour opposite to their skin tone. An accessory clings onto their head and an umbrella of equal elegance tops off their look, despite mostly being used to shield them from the rain. They close the umbrella and step inside, setting it down next to the terminal when he suggests them to. "I forgot to buy some shoes that matched with my other outfit, so I had to improvise!"

"...You look lovely, still," he mutters, words hardly a whisper and further difficult to hear when thunder crashes nearby.

"What?" they ask, smiling and raising an (in-game non-existent) eyebrow. "I couldn't catch that."

"We should wait until the rain stops a bit more," he says, squinting his eyes to direct a smile back at them. "Would you like to stay for some tea?"

As if jinxing the situation, Tom sees them pull out a napkin and sneeze into it, though it's evident they try not to be caught by him based on how stealthy they are about it. They went as far as to look away and make the sneeze as quiet as possible, amusing to him, but likely not so much to them. Still, he goes in favour of their wishes and doesn't say anything about it. "Sure -- That would be nice."

He nods and gestures for them to follow him over to his desk.

"There's a spare jacket over there," he says, pointing with his eyes and nose to a corner of the room, where a few items lay hanging on the wall. "Feel free to use it if you're cold."

"Thank you."

Though he can't see their face now that he has his back turned to them, Tom feels his chest warm up with the tone they've just used. It's a happy one, with a hint of surprise hidden in it. The thought makes him wonder if he'd caught them by surprise, yet he again reminds himself that he's still their friend -- getting ahead of himself would do him no good.

With that reminder, he goes back to working on the tea.

First, Tom takes the boiling water from the kettle and pours equal amounts on two cups. Then, he takes two tea packets and puts them in, these instantly sending a subtle, herbal aroma in the air. The process is topped off by some honey, a pinch of sugar, and a mint leaf. The scent calms his busy mind a bit, though it doesn't last for long when he takes a quick glance back at the human the moment he hears their footsteps and fabric shift as they slip the jacket on. Rain drops hitting the roof create a lullaby and prompt him to check on how the line for karaoke's going so far. No more than two people can be seen waiting in line: one a villager and the other a tourist. The two entertain themselves through some small talk, but there's no denying by the look on their faces that they're not so hopeful over the rain ceasing anytime soon.

Tom shakes his head and lets out a breath when he realizes he's trying to buy himself time to avoid messing up further around the human. After a whole year of knowing them, it felt strange being alone with them now, as it made him too awkward for his own good. To fight against that, he picks up both tea cups and turns around, almost dropping them when he sees the state they're in.

(Y/N)'s dozed off on his office chair and manages to look peaceful in spite of being in such a cramped space. They have his jacket zipped all the way up, and they have their head tilted to the side, cuddled up against the hoodie as faint snores leave their mouth, chest rising and falling with each one. It's a sight for Tom's sore eyes, but it ends quickly once another thunder crashes -- louder than the first one.

The sound makes them wake up with a jolt and face him with wide eyes. A tired look combined with their shock causes for him to worry over their well-being more than he often did, so he pushes all his doubts aside and approaches them without further hesitation. "Your tea," he says, handing them one of the cups. "It's lemon and orange, with honey and mint." He smiles when they do and tries not to flinch when their fingers graze his hand as they reach for the tea. "Let me know if it needs more sugar."

"Thanks, Tom," they reply, smile brightening. They then set the cup down on the desk and shift in their seat. Steam rises as they watch the cup and a frown manages to show on their face. Their contemplative state lasts until more lightning strikes, snapping them out of their trance. "How long was I out, anyway? The rain's still going strong."

Worried, he sets his own cup of tea down, rummages through his belongings for a mirror, and gives it to them after. "Only ten minutes or so." His hand stiffens when they grab the mirror and he finds it hard to let it go. "I don't mean to pry or intervene in anything personal, but…" He breathes in, closes his eyes, and lets his tension out with a quiet huff. "Have you been getting enough rest lately? You seem... tired today despite it being your turn to sing tonight."

Just when the man thinks he's controlled how awkward he feels around his crush, they smile again and contribute to him breaking the world record for fastest pulse.

"That's precisely why I haven't been able to sleep much these past few days." Their confession's blunt yet serene, allowing his worry to lessen as they continue with, "I practiced for a whole month -- It's... It's a shame I won't be able to sing yet, I'll admit. I've been getting ready for far too long now!"

Fire alarms ring in his mind as an idea surges through all his worries.

"Would you… Would you like to sing for me, then?" he asks, gulping tension away.

Silence stays for some time, a would-be good sign didn't the human look so taken aback by the offer.

"Of- Of course," they blurt out. "I'd love to, business partner!"

[Previous] | [Next]

• • •

I changed the schedule since I’m in the process of moving out, but updates will still be twice a month!

[yourdeepestfathoms]

Baby Mine

[Wing AU; UK Tour]

a short little thing about hybrid!Joan’s five moms hehe

This is Carly!Jane, not Lauren!Jane!!!!

EB owned by @spooner7308

Anya owned by @thenicestnonbinary

Word count: 1363

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

Anne had told her to calm down that Monday morning, but Katherine couldn’t. Cleves told her to calm down next, but that didn’t help, either. By the time breakfast was served, Katherine’s wings were jittering so much that she accidentally flung them into some syrup, ruining both her neatly cleaned plumage and Cathy’s pancakes in the process.

  “Okay, love, you really need to take a breath.” Jane said, gently grabbing Katherine’s shoulders. “It’s okay. Everything is okay. Calm down.”

Katherine closed her eyes and tried to take a breath, but then a car honked from outside and her crest shot straight up in alarm. Jane sighed. 

  “You’re going to run yourself ragged.” Jane said.

  “I’m fine when I’m with her,” Katherine said, resettling her crest. None of them needed her to specify who she was referring to, they all already knew. “Something just doesn’t feel right.”

  “Let me guess,” Anne said, “You feel it in your feathers?”

Katherine ruffled her wings and glared at her cousin. “No.” She snapped. “You wouldn’t understand. I just need to get to the theater and then I’ll be fine.”

Aragon tittered. “If you say so.”

Katherine fluffed her feathers and grumbled something. Usually she was actually quite calm during her nesting season, but today was different. She was unusually broody, like her hormones were surging more than normal.

When the time came to finally leave, Katherine burst out of the apartment and flew to the theater in record time. She practically threw the front doors off its hinges when she ran inside, looking around wildly for her chick.

  “Joan?” She cried. “Darling? Joan, where are you?”

What if something had happened to her baby? What if she had gotten hurt? What if she was dead? Oh, she knew she should have come in sooner--

  “Kat?” Joan came out from inside a room, ears twitching.

  “My baby!”

Katherine lunged at the little hybrid, whisking her up into her wings, which were thick with mammary feathers. Joan squeaked, then giggled, pressing against Katherine in a way that made Katherine’s heart flutter.

She had a daughter! Never in a billion years did she think she would have her own chick, but she did! She was a mother!

  “My pretty girl,” Katherine clucked, cupping Joan’s face. She stroked the barn owl feathers on her chick’s cheeks, and Joan began to coo, pressing into her palms. Katherine’s tail feathers wagged happily; she couldn’t help it!

  “Is it nesting season again?” Joan asked.

  “You know it,” Katherine answered with a chuckle. She opened a wing around Joan and began leading her to her dressing room. “I love you, Joan.”

Joan blushed shyly. “I love you too, Kat.”

---

On Tuesday, Aragon woke up with the scales on the undersides of her wings soft and a feeling of agitation and protectiveness surging through her. She nearly maimed her blanket when it got caught on her tail, and then just about stuck her claws in Anne’s eyes when Anne bumped into her in the kitchen. She kept growling deep in her throat, and smoke seemed to be endlessly flowing from her nose and nostrils.

And then she arrived at the theater and saw Joan and everything clicked into place.

  “Good morning, little dragon,” Aragon greeted the small hybrid. She unfolded one wing around Joan and pulled her in close.

  “Good morning, Catalina,” Joan greeted back. She pressed into Aragon’s warm wings. “Your wings are so soft!”

Aragon chuckled lightly. “Are they? I didn’t notice.” She tugged Joan in closer so she could wrap her other wing around her, too. “Well. I think you should stay right here. With me.”

Joan giggled. “I think you’re broody.”

  “And I think you’re my hatchling,” Aragon retorted, slightly miffed. She twined her tail with Joan’s fluff ball-tipped one. “So you have to do what I say. And I say you stay in my wings. Which is where you belong.”

There was another tiny giggle. “Okay.” Joan nuzzled into Aragon’s warmth. “I like that plan.”

---

Vespers didn’t go through nesting season, but Jane woke up Wednesday morning with a strong maternal feeling flowing through her. She assumed that it was because she had had a dream about Edward, but the feeling didn’t go away for the entire day.

After the show concluded and everyone was leaving, Jane noticed that Joan was still working. She entered the dressing room, making sure to knock on the doorway to alert the girl of her presence. Although their relationship had become better, Joan was still very nervous of her, so she didn’t want to unnecessarily scare her.

  “O-oh, Jane,” Joan turned to her, ears erect, wings tense, tail curled in close. “Umm… Hello.”

  “Hello, dear,” Jane greeted her kindly. She stepped closer, slowly but surely. Joan was so small…the perfect size for her wings. She opened one. “Have you ever been swaddled by a Vesper before?”

Joan shook her head.

  “Come here. Let me show you.”

Joan hesitated, looking anxious.

  “I won’t hurt you, sweetheart,” Jane said in a soft voice. “I promise.”

Another moment of hesitation, and then Joan got up and slowly shuffled over. When she was closer enough, Jane swaddled her securely in both of her wings. Joan gasped.

  “This is what it’s like?” She whispered.

Jane chuckled. “It is. Nice, huh?”

  “Mhm…” Joan mumbled, nuzzling into her chest. “I like this. I like it a lot. It’s so warm and tight and nice.” She sighed softly in pleasure. “Thank you.”

---

  “Oof--”

EB peered down at the little hybrid now stuffed in her wings. Joan blinked up at her in visible confusion.

  “EB?” Joan squeaked.

  “You will not speak a word about this.” EB said, looking forward again like nothing had happened. She fluffed the mammary feathers under her wings and raised her chin haughtily. “And if anyone asks, this never happened.”

---

Anya, for one, was shocked when she woke up Friday morning with the undersides of her black kite wings fluffed with thick, warm mammary feathers. In an instant, she knew why this had happened.

  “Oh god,” She said to her empty bedroom. “I imprinted.”

And now she was going through the broodiness of nesting season.

She had been a mother, once. Her babies had been two lovely bundles of fluff, a Northern goshawk Avem and a little brown bat Vesper. But she never got to watch them grow up, never got to watch them fly for the first time or even take their first steps because her husband, a hard-as-nails hoary bat Vesper, had thrown her out simply because of her religion. So she never really got to go through the stages of motherhood.

Was this her second chance?

It was strange in a way. She never expected to imprint on a hybrid of all avians. Not that she was complaining.

When she saw Joan at work that day, a strange itching sensation burned throughout her wings. Her feathers ached to brush against the tender body of a chick, so she, as inconspicuous as possible, walked over to Joan and unfurled a wing around her back. The touch was light, casual, but it wasn’t enough, not for the broodiness.

Joan jumped in surprise at the touch. “Oh! Anya! H-hi!” She wiggled her ears, tail flicking like a curious cat. “Did you need something?”

  “No,” Anya said as normally as possible. She inched her wing in closer, almost getting it to wrap around Joan’s shoulder, trying to play it cool when really it felt like her feathers were on fire. “Nothing. I’m good. Just wanted to say hi.”

  “Oh,” Joan said, then nodded. She then noticed Anya’s wing trying to get around her and stepped back into its fluff.

In an instant, the fire went out and relief surged through Anya’s veins. She swept her wings fully around Joan, hooding her even though she thought she didn’t know how. Clearly she did. Must have been a hen thing.

  “You’re soft,” Joan said. 

  “You’re adorable,” Anya said, laughing slightly. Maybe this wouldn’t be so bad after all.

---

Five avians sat in a room, all glancing at each other.

  “So,” Katherine began. “How did we all manage to imprint on the same fledgeling?”

[the1918]

evanstan. abo. mpreg sebby and mildly overbearing chris would be absolutely fantastic.

I know this ask is from a long time ago when I was taking prompts to pick an mpreg fic to write (which I am writing��� recovering!Bucky A/B/O). But I was having some Thoughts about this and kind of ended up with an alpha!Chris x omega!Seb head canon and I’m very happy about that because there is honestly not enough Evanstan A/B/O in the world? (Preface: This head canon is completely independent of my ‘normal’ Evanstan RPF stuff)

warning: fluff and smut ahoy!

Alright so Chris Evans puts a baby in Sebastian Stan let’s do this:

It’s a huge moment when they finally get that positive pregnancy test...

They’d been trying for a worryingly long time and Seb had become convinced that they waited too long, that he was almost 40 now and he was too old to carry a baby.

I’m picturing a lot of Chris laying on the praise and comfort through the shared disappointment of all those negative tests, a lot of “no, no baby you’re perfect, I just need to do more next heat, need to knot you up even better next time, okay?”

Chris is so proud and ecstatic when it finally happens that it all kind of funnels into arousal and he goes and sweeps a crying Seb off his feet like he isn’t a fully grown man, lays him down in their bed and rips off Seb’s clothes without hardly taking his own off.

He presses Seb’s thighs into his chest and fucks his husband like that so he can rub hands all over his still-flat belly and let his mouth run away with “can’t wait to see you all big with our kid, with my kid” and “wish I could put another in you right now, just like this, just like this, just take it”.

The first trimester is kind of hell for them both, and not just because Seb’s got the absolute worst morning sickness.

To be honest I absolutely lol’d @ ‘mildly overbearing’ in the prompt because who are we kidding? Chris would be intensely overbearing until Seb finally has to tell him to tone it the fuck down.

Chris is constantly telling Seb to take it easy and swooping in literally anytime he sees Seb trying to move an object that weighs more than 10 pounds, which is all well and cute and a little charming at first... but then they end up in a massive shouting match the day that Chris implies Seb should quit weight training completely. Massive. Seb tells Chris that he “could never understand how hard it is for an omega actor to keep on muscle between jobs, to be worried you won’t ever get another alpha role or even a beta role because of how hard you have to work just to pass,” but then he keeps going and he ends up saying a lot of things that he doesn’t mean and Chris knows he doesn’t mean them but Chris cries anyways, and that makes Seb cry. The whole thing ends with them on the floor surrounded by medicine balls and holding each other, Chris apologizing over and over and over because he “wasn’t tryna control you, baby, I’m so sorry,” Seb promising to talk to his obstetrics doc how he can maybe adjust his weight routine to be safe for their growing baby.

Other times Chris definitely deserves the cold shoulder, but sometimes Seb is just feeling irritable. He takes to shutting himself away in the bedroom and blasting the song from ‘Never Ending Story’ until he calms down.

The whole first trimester Chris is practically vibrating out of his skin with the itch to tell his family but he can’t yet, Seb wants to wait, which Chris understands and respects but it is so, so hard for him. When they finally hit the 12 week mark and Chris gets to tell them, his mom just smiles and says, “Oh, sweetie, I smelled it on him weeks ago,” and she hugs them both.

Oh my goodness... when Seb starts showing in the second trimester?!?

The night that Seb first looks in the mirror and actually notices a bump, Chris is on their bed reading a script. Seb comes out of the master bathroom, one hand rucking up his over-sized sleep-shirt and resting on his tummy, grinning from ear-to-ear with his eyebrows knitted together adorably with something like awe and a sweet kind of heartache, reaching out for Chris with his other hand and softly saying, “Look, alpha...”— and Seb never calls him that, outside of the deepest throes of heat. The sound of the word and the sight of his omega with his baby growing inside makes something deeply primal surge through Chris so fast and sharp it feels like whiplash, and it comes out as a proud growl.

Seb had known for years how much Chris was dying to finally see him like this, to see him “all pretty and bred up ‘cause of what I did to you”... but oh, god, it’s so much more than he could have ever expected.

The thing is that it’s not just the baby bump Chris is obsessed with. He tries to hide it from Seb but Seb sees it, the way that Chris’s gaze gets all heavy and dark when he starts to notice Seb’s thighs and ass thickening up with fat instead of just muscle. He starts getting handsier every time Seb is around, finding excuses to grab and cup and feel every curve on Seb’s pregnant body.

When they have sex Chris is nothing short of worshipful (if not more than a little possessive). He will lick and kiss every square inch of Seb’s skin before telling Seb to lay back with his ass on the edge of the mattress, and then he’ll hold Seb’s legs up while Chris stands and fucks down into him, practically begging when he tells Seb to put his hands on either side of his own swollen belly, to touch, to stroke around all that struggling skin, to “show me where you keep her safe, show me-- yeah, that’s right, am I the one that put that little girl inside you? Yeah, that was me? Tell me sugar, say it, say ‘Daddy, you--’” 

Sometime in the middle of the second trimester Seb’s hormones make him go from ‘miserable and bitchy’ to something more like ‘fat and happy’ and that mood magically sticks around for the third trimester, even when his ankles start to swell up.

The baby is due in March so that means that Chris gets to spend the entire last trimester taking pictures of Seb bundled up in chunky maternity sweaters and scarves while he looks out over the snowy Massachusetts hills, nose a little pink, cheeks flushed, smiling wide and looking happy and perfectly adorable.

Speaking of pictures-- Chris takes so many of them that Seb almost starts to get annoyed, but then Chris tells him how he just wants to “make sure our little girl knows how gorgeous her mama was when she was growin’ in his belly, she’s never gonna get to see it like I did,” and Seb can’t help but smile. Chris captures that one on film, and he loves it so much he gets it framed.

Seb. Nests. He goes crazy with nesting. Their home was definitely decorated by professionals when they moved in but over the course of his pregnancy Seb slowly starts to make it more personal, starts to buy things from antique shops that catch his eye, purchase art and photography and really soft blankets that strike him as something their home just... needs. There are no professionals present when he and Chris paint the nursery themselves and get paint all over the hardwood floors.

Baby Girl Evans comes into the world very, very early on a Wednesday morning, just after midnight.

Sebastian labors for 18 hours, the first half of which are spent at home while they wait for Seb’s contractions to speed up. Chris knows better than to start freaking out and try to drive Seb to the hospital too early, but it’s a close thing; he wants to freak out. Seb passes the time watching the Food Network on the couch and trying to keep his mind off the pain. He stops trying to time the contractions himself after the first two hours, when he notices Chris press a button on his watch every time Seb starts wincing and breathing extra deep.

The hours fly by and before they know it Seb’s body is saying it’s go-time. Chris stays by Seb’s head the whole time, at Seb’s insistence. He covers Seb’s sweaty forehead and hair in kisses and he murmurs praise and encouragement and tells Seb he’s “so good, so perfect, making our little girl and bringing her into the world so we can love on ‘er forever, so perfect, thank you,” and the majority of the time Seb doesn’t even try and swat him away.

Her first little cry is angry and piercing. It’s the most beautiful thing either of them have ever heard. 

Seb’s mom says she looks like the spitting image of Sebastian. Chris’s mom says she looks just like Chris. Neither Chris nor Sebastian really care who she looks like, so long as they can keep kissing her dimpled chin and staring into her blue eyes.

...

lmao wut gross

masterlist [x]