#these cons feel so so much more difficult I’ll than they ever used to

[bagels-withcreamcheese]

Missing home once again

[wyntereyez]

GalaxyCon

I should probably post about GalaxyCon before I forget everything, huh? 

My first day was Saturday and I. Was not prepared. Most of the cons I’ve attended are fandom-specific, and can draw large crowds, but nothing compared to this. According to a news article the next day, there were some 50,000 attendees.

I’d originally only planned to go Saturday, but then Colin’s panel was announced for Sunday, so I got another ticket for then. Saturday was spent beating my way through the crowds (or, more accurate, being beaten) - and getting my photo op with Colin.

It’s been four years since I’d last seen him at Enchanted 2, and damn, he looked amazing. The op was brief, because they do thousands of photos in one day, so I barely had time to do more than say ��hi’ and ‘thank you.’ He thanked me for coming, and at that point I remembered just how blue his eyes were, and how lovely that Irish brogue is, since it’s currently very thick after being in Ireland for so long. Yup, I still swoon for Colin.

I didn’t get an autograph, but a friend did, and I hung around in line with her until were almost to Colin. His line was so long, it wrapped into the next aisle. I’m not sure the staff anticipated his popularity. And while I was in line, someone told Colin how long his line was, and he gave a little “Yeah!” and put up his arms.

Then we have the Sunday panel. I’m trying to remember as much as I can, but I know I’ll miss things. I’ll put it under a cut, since this is starting to run long.

First of all, kudos to the panel moderator, who helped rephrase questions and guide Colin so he could follow strike rules. That can’t have been easy, so good on GalaxyCon for being prepared and still being able to give us a great panel experience.

Colin was introduced as that actor from That Show, and That Other Show, and That One Movie, etc. At some point, OUAT became ‘The Thing,’ and now I want to embrace that as the show’s alternate title. Also, that would be an awesome crossover.

Anyway... We got a brief introduction, and Colin talked about how hot it was (it had been well over 90 degrees, with a Real Feel of over a hundred, on the day he arrived) and how he’d chosen to wear a suit jacket over his t-shirt and had Regrets.

He apologized for if he was difficult to understand, because he knew how thick his accent was, but someone yelled out they loved it, which he then said was why he brought it up, because he wanted people to say that.

He also said he was doing the panel because he liked having people tell him how great he was, to which the moderator had the entire crowd yell out, “You’re great!”

Then we got to the most bizarre mix of questions I’ve ever heard, and it was wonderful. Things we learned included:

- Colin owns 30 guitars, one of which belonged to Ringo Starr. He has another one that belonged to someone famous, but I can’t remember whom

- If he were a dog breed, he’d be a black Labrador retriever mix

- If he were a comic book superhero (the comic part is very important) he’d want to be Batman. He wanted to be Superman once, but now he wants to be Batman. He earned a blue candy for this, which he promptly put in his mouth with predictable results. Dude, don’t eat candy when you know you’re gonna have questions, LOL.

- Voice acting roles aren’t taboo, so he talked a bit about how different it was to voice Douxie, and how different it was to do dialogue in a booth because he had to be more dynamic rather than speak normally. He also at one point did a bit of Gerry the Leprechaun for us.

- Colin was asked about his feelings on ‘Rise of the Titans.’ He said he enjoyed it, then said he trusted the writers to know what’s best for the characters. I’m not sure if that’s how he really felt, or if he’s just being careful.

- If he were two scoops of ice cream, he’d be pistachio and vanilla - the real vanilla, with the bean.

- He likes pineapple on pizza. He will accept no criticism of this.

- If that one character with the thing on his hand had a dog breed, it would be a black Labrador retriever mix.

- Something he did for The Thing was play INXS’s ‘Need You Tonight’ and did a little strut while wearing the coat. Colin demonstrated. I died.

- When asked what comic villain he would want to be, he said the Joker. This earned him a green candy. He ate it, though he also said he didn’t care for the candy. Colin, why.

- If he could have one mythical creature as a pet, it would be Cerberus. But the heads would be black Labrador retriever mixes. I’m starting to think Colin really loves his dog.

- At one point, Colin said he was having a lot of trouble with this, and that he was worried he’d say the wrong thing. The panel mod assured him that he was doing well. I felt bad for him, because yeah, this can’t have been easy.

- Colin was asked what his most ridiculous phobia is. Colin answered that he fears NOTHING. Except panels.

- When asked if he still talks to people from The Thing, he said a very firm but teasing NO - then proceeded to list a number of people that he does, in fact, talk to.

- Then there’s the beard... at the end of the panel, he said he can’t talk about it, but there’s a reason he has the ‘stupid beard.’ He really doesn’t like it, and it’s kind of hilarious that thanks to the strike, he’s kinda stuck with it for an indeterminate period of time.

And that’s all I remember. If you have more, please add to this post!

[oblongblockofsteel]

Broken Doll Part 3

SUMMARY “You’re a blank omega, right?”

That question has been asked too many times in his life. Not that it had ever been Trelawny's choice to even BE blank. It's his greatest wish to bond, to feel connected, but when he bonds with Arthur Morgan, it's more pain than he ever bargained for.

There’s a modest mansion nestled in the rough little valley of Willowbrook. It was impossible to see from the road and had remained almost undetected for years. According to Trelawny’s sources the property had enough valuables to make a duchess blush, and he and his compatriots aimed to alleviate these wonderful people of that heavy burden.

‘Wonderful’ being a rather subjective term, his sources were also quick to share rather strongly held opinions of these people.

‘Peculiar’, ‘odd’, ‘strange’ was often used by the polite.

‘Fucking insane,’ from the more honest.

Trelawny despised going in blind, and so he had persuaded Arthur to rather take things a bit more methodically this time around. They were to watch the house for three days to pinpoint routines, determine how many people lived there, and possibly find out who these people actually were.

Arthur and Trelawny set out early that next morning. Charles and Javier would head off later in to small town nearby to see if they could pick up any more information. Trelawny would prefer to be plucking the brains of sheriffs and barmen, but he opted for a few days in the countryside this time. Besides, if his con was to work on these, he really shouldn’t be seen too much in town. Once Arthur and Trelawny had determined the variables, they were to meet Charles and Javier by a crossroads where they’d discus the plan further. Simple, easy as can be.

And of course Trelawny would be acting as distraction and right in the firing range as per usual.

He never really minded it. He quite enjoyed being the center of so much attention; it fed the ego enough for at least a few weeks. As a performer by nature, he really couldn’t be anywhere else but on the stage. No matter the size of it or the type.

The ride was quiet, the horse’s hooves soft against the dew-soaked earth as they cantered over the wet mud. Trelawny in a rare moment enjoyed the silence, taking the time to think of possible distractions and the problems which might occur during the heist.

His appaloosa tossed his head a few times, more frisky than he first thought. So, when they turned the corner to take the main road he egged him on a bit, taking Arthur past with a bright laugh. Arthur, of course, did not take to that kindly and quickly sped up, coming up from the side. Trelawny lay low on Gwydion’s back, feeling the muscle and bone shift and pound beneath him. He heard a sharp whistle just as they reached a hill and like a shot, Arthur and Boadicea shot past them and reached the top a good length ahead of them.

“Ya really thought you could beat Boa?” he asked panting and patting her arched neck.

Trelawny laughed again, “Perhaps on a dull long stretch of road you can beat us, Mr Morgan. But give us a road with sharp turns and all manner of obstacles, and Gwydion will show you how it’s done.”

The little appaloosa tossed his head as if in agreement and Arthur snorted, shaking his head.

“I’ll believe it when I see it.”

Trelawny laughed and they continued onwards.

They reached the small mansion by midafternoon. Surroundings hills and forests made it difficult to see if you didn’t know where to look. It was as dilapidated as he expected. The estate around it had become over grown with weeds, the plants and garden unkempt and unruly. But even without binoculars, he could see a stable full of horses, a man walking down a path to what he assumed was a greenhouse.

There was life, and treasure to be found. Jewels if his sources were good – which they always were - a whole stack of jewels hanging behind a portrait in the main bedroom.

“You sure about this?”

“Have I ever been wrong?”

Arthur huffed, “Wrong? No. Unlucky? Hell, yes.”

“Let’s hope my luck has turned.”

Arthur snorted and turned Boa away from the house, “Let’s go find us a spot.”

They quickly set about scouting the area. They were looking for a spot that was both secluded and free of too much traffic. Some of these areas could be quite busy and they wanted to avoid them as best they could to avoid suspicion. They discussed possible pitfalls of the area, noting homesteads that were too close for comfort or trails hidden between the trees that hinted at possible traffic.

They finally settled on a cramped forested area, obscured from view but with a high ridge on the site which would be perfect for Charles to take out a few men with his bow if need be. But just before starting their vigil, Arthur noted a woodcutter’s camp only around thirty yards from the road. They packed up and moved on.

It would be dusk before Arthur finally settled on a spot: a slight ridge far from roads with a perfect view on the mansion hidden between trees and bush. A long stretch of river hugged the short hill close from the east, cutting in between the house and the hill and a rock face rising up behind them, meant they would not easily be spotted if they kept low. They scouted the area for a good hour but found no settlements, farmsteads, homesteads nor well-hidden woodcutters or trail.

“This should do very nicely,” Trelawny agreed, plopping down on a rock overlooking their target directly.

“You tired of looking, old man?” Arthur’s smile was downright mischievous.

Trelawny took off his hat and wiped at his forehead, “Not all of us can be boorish gorillas with more brawn than brains, Mr Morgan.”

He snorted, “I’ll go get us a rabbit, can you start the campfire?” he paused, then turned back and with a downright mischievous smile said, “Do you even know how?”

Oh that little snip. Taking a long drag of his cigarette, Trelawny stood up and walked straight towards him scratching at his chin with an idle hand.

“I rightfully don’t know,” he said, voice taking on a slight sing-song tone. “I haven’t done it in a while, I do so love living the high life, eh, Mr Morgan?”

“You sure do.” He crossed his arms, as if waiting for something. And Trelawny so hated disappointing people.

“Well now,” he raised a hand with a closed fist, and looked straight at Arthur, “Do you think this will work?”

Bright yellow sparks clapped right in Arthur’s face, he took a wild step back and nearly stumbled to the ground in his haste. “Fuck, Trelawny!”

He laughed right from his belly, and Arthur, despite his surprise failed to hide his own grin. “Go get us some dinner, my dear boy! I believe I can figure out a blasted campfire.”

“I think you just might,” he agreed, jumping on his mount, Arthur tipped his hat the man took off into the field.

Shaking his head, Trelawny e went to gather some sticks for the fire. He had only done so years ago while travelling with a Circus. They’d been kind, they taught him magic, and showed to him that he could survive, that he could be more than he ever thought he might be. Mostly, he remembered Bryan…

A love nurtured through wild adventures and constant laughter. A kiss in the dark, an embrace that turned into more, the sharp sting of a bite, and the painful disappointment of a bond unformed.

His hand paused, turning its journey away from a stick to settle instead on his neck. Bryan had, at least not abandoned him as the others had. Over twelve bites and not a single one would take. Not even his dear Deirdre, whom was now married to the owner of a mine up in Saint Denis.

Frederick was his name.

He sighed heavy and deep, and quietly gathered a few more sticks for the fire, pushing away his misery.

Thoughts of bonding brought up thoughts of Arthur and his impending marriage. He wondered what it would be like for the Alpha to be shackled to a Beta. Shackled might be a rough a term, but many Alpha’s felt incomplete in beta marriages.

Was that the reason the lad was so uncertain?

“Josiah!”

Oh dear, I’ve lingered for too long. Grabbing around three more sticks he popped up and hurried back to camp.

“On my way, dear boy!”

Arthur, silhouetted by the dipping sun, spun to him, his expression tight with worry, “Thought something had happened.”

Josiah held back the urge to roll his eyes, “I am fine, Arthur. I’ve been taking care of myself since I turned fifteen.”

“Sure,” he shrugged, “But anything can happen.”

Trelawny glanced up, a sharp reprimand on his tongue, but Arthur’s demeanor made the words curl up and die. His stood; hands on his hips, head bowed a little, and shoulders hunched and so clearly worried.

“True,” he said instead, “But I’m fine,” he touched his arm and Arthur’s smile widened a little, soft with relief.

The evening came alive with the barks and caws of nightlight. Trelawny leaned back against the rock, taking long delicious drags from his cigarette.

“Arthur…” he ventured.

“Mm?” Arthur, hat tipped low was leaned against a tree; hands crossed over his stomach and head bowed.

“Have you ever been bonded?”

The head tilted up, revealing wary eyes.

“You asked me so many questions last night that I thought it only fair to ask you in turn.” He took another long drag and kept his eyes on his companion, examining his reaction. Arthur’s expression softened a little, his lips pursed under the hat then with a heavy sigh.

“No.”

“Truly?” That was surprising, “I’d have thought you’d have at least one sweetheart by now!”

He chuckled and shook his head, “Nah, not yet.”

“Oh? I find that hard to believe.”

“Believe it.”

“Especially,” he continued, ignoring his response, “Seeing as you were so adamant to know how to court a lady when you were but eighteen years old.”

The nightlife sounds crept back in. The stark shriek of an owl piercing the night and punctuated the absolute silence from his partner. Arthur sat forward, his face falling into shock.

“You remember that?”

Trelawny laughed, “Of course!” he said, “How could I not? Young Arthur marching up to me with a face carved of stone and asking pertinent, deliberate questions about how to court a lady.” Trelawny laughed, “And after you had your fill, you had nodded and marched off only to ignore me for a whole of three months!”

Arthur buried his face into his hands, “Ahh damn, I thought you’ve have forgotten about it. That was just…” he cleared his throat.

“Endearing?”

“Stupid,” he muttered pulling his face out his hands, “Just beyond stupid.”

Trelawny shook his head, “Not stupid if it was sincere,” he stared at Arthur, “Was it?”

“What?”

“Sincere?”

In true Arthur fashion he rubbed the back of his neck and smiled, “Yeah, I guess. But I never asked them though.”

“Why ever not?”

“Chickened out.”

“A shy Alpha? Now there’s a thought.”

Arthur reached over and punched him lightly in the shoulder, “Shut-up!”

Trelawny laughed.

For the rest of the evening, they sit around the small fire, chatting about anything and everything, Trelawny truly enjoyed Arthur’s company, his smile and laugh, and that wonderful shyness that cropped up from time to time. Endearing really was the best word to describe the man.

The rabbit was delicious, the company even better, and he went to sleep with a lighter heart.

[spathscrafts]

Since I was taking glamor shots of my wares for next weekend, I figured I'd throw this on and take some glamor shots. It's my first time cosplaying as a woman! Hanako Koyanagi from #wotakoi! There are a few small details left to finish up, but it's done and I'm so proud! Sports coats... sports coats are the single most difficult thing I've ever made. They are so much more difficult than you (me) would think. If you say otherwise I have the right to smack you with a fish. But now I can make welts like a champ. Plus! I like a good sports coat! I feel empowered in a sports coat and I can wear it to work and it FITS and there is NOTHING like having clothes that fit. I can't stress that enough. Something made for you and your body change your brain and your just so much more confident. It's why I do what I do! I love cosplay that I can use outside cons. Like this one! Though I'll never wear the skirt again (not a pencil skirt person), at least it's the right length! https://www.instagram.com/p/Clu4OIetVRx/?igshid=NGJjMDIxMWI=

[anime-rambles]

“Welcome Home Omega”

Pairing: Alpha Bakugou x Alpha Kirishima x Omega Reader

Type: ABO Dynamic, SFW  

Word Count: 2700+

A/N: I’m new to all this, but I dreamt about this the other night and really wanted to share this with everyone. I have a tone more to write, so please follow along and any feedback would be hugely appreciated. Thank you so much.

Summary: Omega y/n returns home to her pack after so many years aboard being a successful hero, now they fear begin rejecting by her pack and more importantly her alpha’s.

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

“Everyone please welcome to the stage, the one you’ve all be waiting for, Pro-Hero Shadow…” a loud voice spoke into the microphone as I waited backstage. Once my name was called, I left the spoke I was hiding in and joined them. The crowd was screaming and shouting, holding banners of my name and posters with my face. This was something I didn’t expect to happen when I returned home to Japan from my many years abroad. I smiled towards the women on stage, already determining her as a beta.

“Welcome Shadow, to your first ever hero-con” She spoke to me looking in my direction. I brought my mic to my face,

“It’s so good to be here, look at all these people wow.” I smiled towards the crowd. The cheering began again.

“So shadow, how are you feeling being back in Japan and being high on the hero board, especially as an omega…” she continued on looking at me, this was something I was used to.

“It feels so good being back, I left Japan 6 years ago after I graduated with my friends/pack members from UA, which many of you know...” I waited for the screaming to stop before I continued. “I was faced with two choice really, be a omega hero that would only get 2 years in hero work before being forced to stop by the hero commission or I could leave my pack and go to America and have a really good hero career helping other omegas reach their potential and then come back home, I think you can guess what I chose” I said, and turned to the interviewer waiting for her reply.

Being an omega in Japan and America is very different from each other, especially in hero work. In Japan, you get an unspoken max of 2-year work and then often omegas go to desk jobs in hero agencies. In America, you can be a hero no matter your 2nd gender but the chance of being taken seriously as an omega is very slim and was something I worked hard at. During my time in America, I created an omega hero agency and left it all to the very capable hands of my sidekick, frostbite. It was my time to come home, I need my family back.

“So, tell me, does you pack know your back?” She asked with smile in her eyes.

“I mean, yes and no. Our pack is a big one and it was created when we were back in school. The time that I left, I had an agreement with the unmarked alphas that I would not contact them at all, but to know I was safe, I was only allowed contact with the omegas. So, they know” I replied, laughing slightly back.

“So, a lot of alphas in your pack, how does that work?” she pushed for an answer.

“I can’t really say, our pack dynamic is private, so I won’t tell you who or what position everyone is but, we have a main alpha who us our leader, they have a second and then we have one alpha that doesn’t really care and then one alpha who gave up their position years ago.” I replied smiling hoping she would not ask any more questions about the pack.

“That’s fine, tell me about your work as a hero omega and how difficult is” She asked again. This is something I could talk about openly. I took a deep breath and began to speak about the importance of separating your 2nd gender, from your workplace, and they it does not define you. Yes, you can still have a timid nature but do not let it halt your growth as a strong independent person. That if you want to be head of heart surgery you do it and tell those Alphas/ beats to shove it, its your time to shine. I continued until I felt the interviewer wanting to ask another question.

“Although I’m strong, I would not have gotten to where I am today without my pack, in public they treat me like a hero, not an omega. I mean it didn’t take long to do bu…” I went to say but was cut off.

“What do you mean, didn’t take long?” she interrupted. I hesitated for a bit, and then looked out into the crowd.

“Okay, I really should not be saying this, but he won’t mind. Okay so when our pack was created, I was never allowed to do anything, and it really annoyed me. So, when our first Alpha was being chosen, I kind of challenged Pro-Hero Dynamite…. And won.” I replied looking out into the crowd and everyone started cheering.

“Since then, I was treated like a person, not an omega. Well not in public, in private we still use the proper greetings.” I smiled and turned to the interviewer again.

“Wow, you are amazing. We all know your now number 5 on the hero board, can you remind everyone your quirk again.” She asked gesturing to my hands. I look down and noticed the black sut coating my fingers. I nodded and began to explain. I can create my own smoke from my body and ignite it. From this smoke I can create solid weapon and if I have enough smoke in the area, I can tell a person’s movements. I do have a drawback; the smoke uses up the oxygen from my blood and can make me pass out or it stains my skin with black smoke.

The interview continues and eventually is opened to fan questions, near the end of the questions. I notice the back wall starting to fill up with tall dark figures, already guessing that my pack got word I am here. Excitement rises through me, and I find it hard to sit still.

“Well, I think the cats out of the bag your home, Shadow” the interviewers says to me gesturing to the back wall. Light shines to the back wall, standing there when their arms crossed is Pro-heroes Dynamite, Red Riot, Deku and Chargebolt who is waving crazy towards me. I laugh to myself, locking eyes with Bakugou lowering my head slightly.

“I guess so” I reply, and the cheering slowly dies down.

 ************************************

While sitting at my signing booth, listening to some amazing stories from fans. I hear my name being called the curtain behind me. I have a break from the fans for a second and approach the curtain.

“Hello, little omega.” The voice says, as I instantly know its Bakugou. I smile to myself, wanting to rip the curtain away and wrap my arms around his neck.

“Hello Bakugou, don’t move the curtain, I can’t look at your right now” I say honestly.

“Okay, at least put your hand through the curtain, Kiri’s here to.” He replies nudging the curtain. I sigh, it’s been 6 years and I can barely hold myself together with he thought of being back with my family but being a hero right now is what I need to do.

“Okay, but only quickly I have to get back” I whisper, and slowly put my right-hand backwords them. Instantly I can feel like touching my hand and kissing it.

“Can’t smell you omega, how come?” Kirishima asks.

“Stupid American pheromone blockers, I’ll take them off later at home, promise.” I say and pull my hand back to finish quickly and get back to my family and quickly as I can. I can hear both alphas walk away, and I pull my hand to my chest.

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

Hero-con is over, and I can finally come home. After we all graduated, everyone pulled their money together and we bought a huge house together which allowed all of us to live together as a pack. Before I left, I entered a relationship with Bakugou and Kirishima but now I do not know if they still want me in a dynamic with because they’ve been an Alpha/Alpha relationship for 6 years. I don’t’ even have a room anymore, Denki took it when I moved to America. There might be room, I think, Midoriya (A) and Todoroki (A/O) have a room, Sero (B) and Mina (B) have a room, Shinso (A), Jirou (B) and Denki (O) all have separate rooms even though they are together which leaves Bakugou (A) and Kirishima (A) who have the biggest room. I could always share with Denki until I find a new place, I say to myself as I knock on the front door.

I wait patiently, until the door is opened revealing a very excited Denki. Practically jumping on the spot.

“Y/N YOU’RE HOME.” He shouts while throwing himself into my arms. I hug back, I breath him in and tears start to fill my eyes.

“Oi sparky, you know the rules. She needs to follow the greetings as she’s been away for so long.” Says Bakugou with his arms crossed. I enter the house and look around seeing everyone in their groups. I cannot believe I am home.

I quickly great Mina and Sero first, presenting our pack mark and then onto hugs. Next, I go straight over to Shinso, presenting my neck to show I am not a threat to his omega or beta. Which he simply nods and as these dynamics, Shinso does not really care for. I great Jirou and then great Denki properly by touching our noses together. I approach Midoriya next as he used to be the main Alpha who brought us all together, I greeted him the same way as Shinso but instead Midoriya threw his arms around me puling me into a hug.

“Please never leave again, Bakugou’s been impossible” He whispers into my ear. I laugh looking over his shoulder to a very anger Bakugou. I turn to Todoroki who is half Omega/Alpha, I greet him the same way as Denki, I know he prefers that greeting than the alpha one. Its finally time to see if they still want me. Kirishima is practically beaming at Bakugou side. I approach with my head down; I can feel everyone’s eyes on me as I approach him. As he is lead Alpha, I must wait to see what he will do.

“Still can’t smell you omega.”  Bakugou announces loudly.

“There’s a pheromone implant in my neck, Alpha, see you can feel it.” I reply, taking his hand to my neck. In American you are not allowed to use pheromones in public, so for hero work you must use an implant to block it. Bakugou feels my neck and I can tell he is not happy. He grabs me by my neck, slamming me on the wall behind him. Everyone runs forward but Kirishima stands forward stopping them. Telling them it must happen and that Bakugou won’t hurt me, much.

With his claw Bakugou cuts into my neck to pull the impact out, I do not make a sound and only look at him in the eye. It must be done, and I know he will not hurt me. Once the implant is out. Bakugou lends forward and breathes me in. He hesitates, and calls Kirishima over. Kirishima looks between the two of use and breaths me in.

“Oh, y/n, you should’ve come home sooner.” Kirishima says, pulling me towards him for a hug.

“Please, Bakugou, get rid of the rest they can’t see me like this.” I whisper.

“Oi, extra’s don’t you have a party tonight. Your hotels have your clothes, now get lost.” Bakugou calls out, looking at them all. No one moves.

“NOW!” Bakugou yells, using his alpha voice and everyone leaves.

As soon as the door closes, I start to cry. Six years of being all alone hit me at once, yes it was my plan to be a strong hero, its hard to do it without your pack or alphas.

“The first sign of your omega depression, you should’ve come home little one.” Kirishima says whispering into my hair.

“How could I, I would’ve let you all down and all other omega’s out there without a voice, so what I had to go through omega depression….. more than once.” I say back looking up into Kirishima’s eyes. Bakugou stands beside us, looking slightly smaller.

“Bakugou, go run a bath,” Kirishima calls out and Bakugou follows his orders.

“Wait, what’s going on. Bakugou what are you doing” I ask, looking confused. Bakugou leans over the stairs to look at me.

“Kirishima’s the Alpha now, we’ll the others haven’t picked up on it yet because we haven’t publicly fought, but he’s been the main Alpha for a while now, I can’t be number one all the time now can I.” Bakugou replies with a smile. I look to Kirishima who still holds me but is beaming with love as he watches Bakugou. I try to pull away from his arms. It is stupid why did I think this would work. They do not want me anymore, I just know. Kirishima noticed how I suddenly changed but decided not to say anything.

“Let’s get you cleaned up and smelling natural.” He says, picking me up with no issues. He climbs the stairs and I place my head into his scent gland in his neck. I notice that neither him nor Bakugou do not have a claiming mark yet. Once we reach the top of the stairs, I see my old bedroom door and ask Kirishima to put my down, he walks ahead to the double doors at the end of the hallway. Which is their room.

“I’ll only stay for tonight, and then I’ll find somewhere else to live, I don’t even have a room here anymore.” I say to Kirishima which makes him freeze.

“Silly omega, come here.” He replies, gesturing me to follow. I start to hear the water running in their private bathroom. Kirishima opens the door and lets me enter the room first.

The first thing I can smell is the strong smell of Alpha but slowly a familiar smell enters, I look around the room and see my stuff. Things that I had left behind, my paintings, photos of the three of use. The queen size bed with three sets of pillows, big enough for all of us. I look around and notice a curtained canopy hiding something. I look to Kirishima who leans on the door frame by the Bathroom and nods. I breath in again and noticed the familiar smell but I am not able to pinpoint it yet.

I pull back to curtain and freeze. “Is that m..” I say unable to finish as I look down, tears filling my eyes. Bakugou comes out of the bathroom and leans on the opposite side to Kirishima. I look at the two of them and then look down at my old nest, they kept it, they really kept it. I can’t speak, only cry. Bakugou comes over to me and hold me bringing me towards the bathroom. Kirishima entered first. He began to undress and tied back his long hair, He entered the bath first, as Bakugou began to undress me as my emotions were betraying me at his moment. There was nothing sexual about this moment, it was about Alpha’s taking care of their Omega. Bakugou lifted me and lowered me into the water to sit in Kirishima’s lap, he quickly undressed and joined us.

I started to calm down, feeling I could now speak. “So, you mean, you have forgotten me, and you still want to be with me.” I ask looking down at my hands. Kirishima wraps his arms around me more and places his head into my scent gland breathing me in, tickling me slightly.

“Of course, silly omega, we’ve wanted you since the day you knocked me on my ass.” Bakugou replied leaning in to kiss me.

[solemnly-mischievous]

rivalry (d.m. x reader)

You and Draco Malfoy have a rocky relationship, at best. It'd be better to describe it as a rivalry. But all it takes is a bit of fire from your end to finally make him snap.

(AKA: I just really wanted to write an enemies-to-lovers trope for my first fic.)

A/N: Hi! First fic. Hope you like it. :)

Contains: Degradation, slight edging, d/s elements, slight dub-con (but not really; full consent is clearly given), light humiliation

Word count: 3.9K

-----

Normally, Defense Against the Dark Arts would be your favorite class. The spells you learn are fun and useful; Professor Lupin is always a plus, and most importantly, you’re good at the subject—so bloody good, you’ve bested even Hermione and Harry multiple times.

But lately, you’ve been finding yourself dreading the lessons. So much, in fact, that you were half-considering asking Hermione to hex you just to get out of your afternoon class.

Why? It’s a pretty easy answer when you got down to it.

Draco Malfoy.

You’d had an ongoing rivalry with the git since third grade. He’s been terrorizing you and your friends, mostly because of Harry, but along the way the two of you had begun building a personal vendetta.

(He probably hasn’t quite yet forgiven you for hexing him so badly he’d had to stay in the Infirmary for weeks, and you certainly haven’t forgiven him for causing your friends so much grief over the years.)

This year, you’d thought you could try your best to avoid him, with your upcoming N.E.W.T.s and all. But DADA had other plans.

Professor Lupin had begun experimenting with mixing up partners for class—it was, after all, a very hands-on class—and had apparently decided that cross-house interaction would build bonds and skill. His exact words were, “If they’re your friend, you’re gonna go easier on them. In the real world, you never know who you’re fighting with—or against.”

So he’d randomized the name list. You, being Gryffindor, knew immediately you wouldn’t be with any of your closest friends—but you hoped that perhaps you’d be paired with Cedric, or Luna, or anyone but—

“Your partner is Draco Malfoy,” Professor Lupin informed you when he got to your name, and you immediately make to protest.

“Her?” a voice came just as you complained “Not him”, and the students parted to reveal Draco himself, glaring daggers at you and Lupin.

“Yes, her,” Lupin replied, unruffled. “Now, pair up, everyone. We’re practicing Stunning today.”

That day, you’d fucking limped out of the classroom. Not to say Draco had gotten it easier—he could barely stand after you Disarmed, Stunned, and hit him with a nasty stinger hex just for the sake of it. (You’d gotten detention, but it was worth it.)

Today’s your second class with Malfoy, and you’ve never wanted more to be able to commit violent actions in your life.

“Please,” you whisper to Hermione as your group enter the DADA classroom. “Just one hex. I won’t even go to Pomfrey. No witnesses. You could just Petrify me, if that’s more to your liking.”

She sighs. “I’m not going to Petrify you.”

“’Mione,” you say, scandalized. “I thought we were friends.”

“Pair up, everyone,” Lupin calls out. Your friends shuffle away and you close your eyes, already getting a headache from the thought of—

“Well, well.” That fucking smarmy voice. “If it isn’t Potter’s little friend.”

“If it isn’t Daddy’s boy,” you snap, opening your eyes and glaring at Malfoy, who already has his wand out. “Bugger off, Malfoy.”

“Afraid I can’t do that.” Draco’s eyes narrow. Clearly, he’s as displeased with the situation as you are. “What are we doing today, then? Can’t wait to knock you down a few notches. Star of the class, my—”

“Patronuses!” Professor Lupin announces from across the room, and your heart soars—Patronuses, you could do that. Harry, months earlier, had taught you how to perfect a corporeal form in exchange for tips on his Astronomy essay. He isn’t here today—maybe you could be the only one in the class to do it.

Lupin continues, “Yes, the Patronus—an essential in the world of Defense magic. We’ll be starting with just the simple basics of it. A strong flick of the wand, and the words ‘Expecto Patronum!’. Say it with me, everyone.”

You chorus the words obediently along with the class, Malfoy’s snort of derision not going unnoticed.

“Good. Good, good, now—the key to the Patronus is to think of a happy memory. It has to be strong. Remember, Dementors feed on misery—it’s the only way to keep them away. Now, go practice. I’ll be walking around to see if there’s any problems.”

“Expecto Patronom,” Malfoy repeats in a mocking voice once the classroom starts filling with the chants of fellow students. “Doesn’t Potter know how to do that one? Heard he can do a deer. Pretty weak animal if you ask me—”

“A stag,” you correct. “And it’s Patronum, not Patronom.”

He glares at you again. “Think you’re so smart, don’t you?”

“Certainly smarter than you are.” You glance at him. “Though that’s not saying much, is it?”

You give Fred Weasley, who’d circled around to hear the conversation, a not-discreet fist-bump.

“Alright then.” Malfoy spits out your last name, trying to provoke you. “Let’s see you do it.”

“You try,” you suggest, hiding your smirk. “Unless you’re too scared.”

Draco grits his teeth. Unwilling to back down from a challenge, he brandishes his wand. “Expecto Patronum!”

A thin, wispy light appears at the end of his wand—weak, but clearly visible. Classmates around you murmur as they notice it, and Professor Lupin beams as he sees Draco’s doing. “Very good, Draco! A fantastic start.”

Draco flicks his wand smugly and the Patronus charm dissipates. He smirks, shooting you an expectant look.

You take out your wand, feeling its familiar grip, and you close your eyes. You recall the memory of a weekend in Hogsmeade with your friends, drinking Butterbeer as you stroll through the snowy village, pointing out the shops and people. Unconsciously, you smile.

“Expecto Patronum!”

Light blazes so bright you can see it under closed eyes, and you open them to find a glowing golden retriever prancing out the end of your wand. It bounds around in the air joyfully, leaving a trail of light where it leaps, and circles the classroom, eventually coming back to you and wagging its tail.

Professor Lupin is grinning, utterly delighted as he takes in your Patronus. Calling your name, he exclaims, “That is phenomenal—you’ve learned fast. Very impressive job!”

You smile back, and your Patronus glows lighter in response. You quickly call it off, the light being a bit too much, and the rest of the class passes by in a haze of awed murmurs and classmates asking your advice on their spellwork. You become so preoccupied, you don’t even notice Draco’s unrelenting stare on your back.

The class ends fast, the bell tolling to signify the start of what would be a study period for you. As students trail out of the classroom, chattering happily, Professor Lupin calls you over.

“Listen, I want you to know that what you did today was truly impressive,” he says, seriously. “I assume Harry laid out the groundwork, yes?”

You nod. He smiles. “You and Harry both are very accomplished students, then. But truly—I doubt many Aurors could’ve managed what you did today.”

“Thank you, Professor.” Your words are sincere.

“My pleasure.” Professor Lupin shoots you an apologetic look. “Now, I’m terribly sorry, but I have off-grounds business to attend to—would you mind setting the classroom to rights? I’m afraid I had to push the desks and chairs back for our class, but I don’t have time to put them back. I’ll write you a note, if you—”

“Oh, no, Professor, don’t worry, it’s a study period. I’d be glad to help.”

“Thank you,” he says, relieved, already heading out the door. “Thank you. I’ll see you tomorrow, then. I’ll bring chocolate to compensate!”

“Goodbye, Professor!” you call, and he echoes it, and then he’s gone. You look around the classroom, seeing all the desks in the back, and you crack your knuckles. Time to get to work.

“Well. Quite the teacher’s pet, aren’t we?”

Merlin’s fucking beard.

“Bloody hell, Malfoy,” you mutter, turning around to find him leaning against the classroom doorframe. His blond hair glints silver in the sunlight, and his entire outline—his uniform, his stance, his dark gaze—is just… honestly, unfairly attractive.

So maybe your first impression of Draco Malfoy, years ago, wasn’t that he was a self-entitled git. Maybe, just maybe, you’d thought he was the prettiest boy you’d ever seen.

And maybe that feeling never went away.

Not that you’d let him know that.

“What are you doing here?”

“Study period.” He starts walking towards you, shutting the door behind him. “Couldn’t help but be curious as to what Lupin wanted with you.”

“What’s it to you?” you snap. Malfoy doesn’t reply.

“Why do you insist on being so difficult?” he asks instead, and you blink.

“Me?” you splutter. “Difficult? Fat lot of sense that makes, with you fucking insulting me at every move I make—”

“As I recall, our first interaction was you hexing me in third-year.” Malfoy sounds amused.

“You pushed Harry into the lake,” you snap at him. “You bloody well deserved it.”

Draco laughs. “Good times.”

“Malfoy, what the bloody hell are you doing here?”

“You’ve got quite a mouth.”

“My mouth is also capable of jinxing you three ways to Friday, so I suggest you leave me alone, yeah?” Your fingers twitch towards your wand in preparation, and he only looks on with derision.

“I’m just frightened,” Malfoy sneers. You barely notice him slipping off his rings, pocketing them. “Potter taught you that Patronus charm, didn’t he?”

“What’s it to you?”

“Nothin’. Just wondering what else he taught you.” A vengeful mood seems to have taken Draco. “You seem to hang out with him an awful lot.”

“It’s called having friends,” you snap right back. He looks as though he’s about to retort, but you push on. “Unfamiliar with the concept? Wouldn’t be surprised. Crabbe and Goyle don’t seem like the best conversationalists, are they? Just a couple of goons. Wonder why you don’t have better friends. Friends you can actually talk to who operate with more than one braincell.”

“Shut—”

“Maybe it’s because no one wants to be near you,” you continue, years of pent up frustration spilling out in a vitriolic spiel. “Because you’re a miserable bastard who doesn’t know how to be happy, aren’t you? You drive everyone away and then you go after more because you’re lonely and sad and fucking pathetic—”

“Shut up,” Malfoy repeats with a vehemence.

“—and it’s too fucking late to repair the damage you’ve done—”

“Shut up,” Malfoy snarls, and you stare into his narrowed eyes.

“Fucking make me,” you snap back, and he lunges.

You’re pinned against the wall of the classroom, Malfoy’s wand to your throat and a hand fisting your robes to render you immobile. Draco flicks his wand, ever-so-slightly, and you hear the classroom door lock with a wordless spell.

“Malfoy,” you whisper, but he cuts you off.

“Shut the fuck up or I swear you’ll bloody regret it,” he hisses.

“Draco,” you begin, and he curses.

“Fuck it.”

Gripping your robes, he leans in and kisses you.

It’s rough and demanding and you think he’s trying to hurt you, with how much his teeth scrape against your bottom lip and bite down gently, but you’re not pulling away, he’s not pulling away, and you find yourself leaning into the kiss, arching up to meet him—

He breaks away and looks at you, smirking.

“If I’d known that’s what it would take for you to shut your bloody mouth, I’d have done it years ago.”

“Let me go, Malfoy,” you say shakily, but even as he loosens his grip slightly, you show no sign of moving.

“If you’d wanted to leave you’d have Stunned me long ago,” he states, truthfully. Your wand is fully in reach. You know how to do wordless spells. And yet you let him kiss you.

“Shut up,” you grumble, still not moving.

“I think, perhaps,” Draco murmurs, glancing down at your body, “you’re enjoying this.”

“No,” you argue, and his wand digs into your neck—not enough to hurt but enough to register.

“Shh,” Draco hushes, almost condescendingly. “Be quiet, now. That’s a good girl.”

Involuntarily, you shudder at his words. They made your legs weak, and you fight off the urge to audibly whimper—what the hell’s gotten into you?

Maybe he won’t notice. Maybe he hasn’t noticed.

Of fucking course he notices.

“Oh?” The shit-eating smirk on his face is enough to make you glare absolute daggers at him. “Don’t give me that. You shivered. You liked it.”

“Shut up,” you say again, with no real strength.

“Don’t you want to be my good girl, sweetheart?” he teases cruelly, and you have to close your eyes to fight off the blush. It doesn’t work, and your face grows hot with embarrassment and arousal.

“Dear me,” Draco says mockingly. “What happened to the spitfire from minutes ago, hm? Still feeling like saying those words to me? Still feeling like being bad?”

Inadvertently, you shake your head.

“Who’s pathetic now?” he mocks, grinning, letting his wand trail a cold path down your neck, over your collarbone, until it rests on the top button of your uniform. “May I?”

The question sounds mocking, but he meets your gaze and you know he’s honestly asking for permission. And you give it to him, nodding, even as your blush deepens. Draco undoes your buttons, one by one, with tiny flicks of his wand, until your shirt is fully unbuttoned and you’re exposed to his gaze.

Draco shoves his wand into his belt and pushes your bra out of the way with an almost laughable urgency, getting a full, appreciative look at your breasts. “So fucking pretty,” he murmurs. “Shame they belong to such a fucking headache, hm?”

You grumble some sort of an insult, and Draco pinches a nipple, which shuts you up effectively. “That’s what I thought.”

His hands trail down to your skirt, and instead of undoing the button he leans down and scoops the fabric up. “Here, be good and useful and hold this for me.”

The indifferent praise and the degradation combined has you obeying immediately, hoisting your skirt up and baring yourself to him, which only adds to an eddying swirl of shame and arousal pooling in your gut. Draco looks at you, stares, really, and it’s with a predatory grin that he reaches over to caress you through your panties.

“Soaked,” he observes, sounding both amused and satisfied. “You always get off this much to being treated like a right slut, then?”

“Draco,” you whine, bucking your hips up into his almost phantom touch. “Come on.”

“Is that how we ask nicely?” Oh, this bloody git. You’ll never be able to look at him again—he’s going to be so fucking smug around you.

When you don’t answer, he withdraws his touch completely, and you make a sound of protest. “No, no, please.”

“Go on.”

“Please touch me,” you try, but it’s hard to focus when you’re so goddamn wet you’re soaking through your panties.

“Not quite,” Draco muses. He’s palming himself through his trousers, and the sight turns you on impossibly more. “Come on, then—convince me.”

“Draco, please touch me,” you beg. One of your hands drift down to your panties but he slaps it away immediately, shooting you a warning look. “Please!”

“Touch you where?” He wants you to say it.

“Touch my cunt, please, Draco, fuck, I’m so wet it hurts,” you beg, and it’s true—you’re aching with arousal, and if he doesn’t touch you within the next few seconds you think you really just might combust. “Please, please touch me, I’ll be good, I’ll do whatever you want, just touch me.”

“If only the school could see you now,” he sneers, but even he seems to break his self-control and he tugs your panties down harshly, all but ripping them off. “Baring yourself to me and begging to be touched like a whore.”

“I’m not—oh,” you gasp, his fingers pressing into your cunt immediately and his thumb working on your clit, sending waves of pleasure so potent you almost double over. His fingers are long and thin, which is why he can press two in without preamble, and the stretch is barely noticeable.

“You’re not what? A whore?” Draco laughs. “Please. Look at yourself.”

“’m not,” you insist, but you clench around his fingers at his words and he raises an eyebrow.

“I think you’re lying.” He presses a third finger in and you whine, little sounds of pleasure escaping your lips as he works you open. “Quieter, now, or I’ll have to gag you.”

You bite your lip, and Draco thumbs your clit as a reward and incentive. “Now, tell me what you are. Be truthful, or I won’t fuck you. I’ll leave, leave you here with your shirt hanging open and your skirt up, the doors wide open. Maybe the next bloke who stumbles in might help you.”

Your eyes widen—he wouldn’t. But his gaze is dead serious. “Say it.”

“I’m a whore,” you breathe, and he thrusts his fingers into you, hitting that right spot. “Draco!”

“Say it louder,” he orders, angling his fingers and curling them.

“I’m a whore,” you moan out, bucking your hips upwards—you’re close, you’re so close. “Draco, I—”

He stops moving, and his other hand pinches your clit harshly. “No.”

You let out a gasp of shock and hurt, reeling from the denial and pleasure. “But—”

“You’re not fucking coming until I say so,” Draco hisses, undoing his belt and pushing his trousers down. “And I’m not saying so until I properly fuck you into a bloody wreck.”

His cock is already hard, and he positions himself right at your entrance. You can feel him, his tip pressed against your wetness, but not pushing in. “Draco—”

“I think,” he muses, and you want to scream, “one day I’ll drag you into a broom closet. Fuck your throat so hard you won’t be able to talk for the day. You’ll look pretty, don’t you think?”

“Please—”

“Or I’ll bring you back to my dorm, so I can fuck you until you’re screaming yourself hoarse,” Draco says thoughtfully. “Your dorm works. So long as I can ruin you.”

“Malfoy—”

“Because it’s just so—” and he pushes into you in one swift movement, fucking into you immediately with a fast and rough rhythm, “—fucking nice to see you being a slut for me.”

“Fuck!” You grind your hips along with his rhythm, feeling the tightness of your cunt around his cock, and you clench as he hits your sweet spot with the right angle, almost shaking with the pleasure that it gives you.

Draco groans your name, fucking you brutally as he chases his own release, already pent-up from the teasing and the sight of your wrecked state. “’m gonna come on your tits, would you like that? Get it all fucking messy, maybe get some into your mouth, get you fucking ruined?”

“Please, please, fuck, please let me come,” you plead him, feeling your impending orgasm barrel towards you—you couldn’t last, you can’t fucking last—

“Fucking hold it,” Draco snaps. “Hold it like a good fucking girl, you understand?”

You let out a mournful sound, but you nod—yes, I’ll be good, I’ll be good, please—

“Salazar, I’m fucking close,” Malfoy breathes into your ear, his voice rough and strained. “You feel so good, love, so bloody tight.”

“Please,” you whimper, not even sure what you’re pleading for at this point. Draco exhales shakily and curses, pulling out and pushing you to your knees with such a force that you drop down, your skirt being the only padding.

“Wh—?” you try to ask, but Draco is already pumping his cock and then he’s coming all over your face, some of it dripping down to paint your breasts as he’d promised. Draco leans down to gather some release on a finger and pushes it into your mouth, eyes darkening as you suck and swallow around it.

“Good girl,” he praises, and you almost come right there.

“Draco, please,” you beg, still on your knees and still absolutely fucking desperate for release that he’s been denying you for the past half hour. “Please let me—”

“Alright, spread your legs, c’mon,” Draco guides, and you obey and then he’s there, thumb rubbing steady circles around your clit and two fingers pushing inside you once more. You whine and grind into his fingers, his touch, hips following his movement as he pushes you closer—closer—

“Fuck!” you sob as he senses your impending orgasm and stills his hand. “No—no, why?”

You sound like a petulant child and Draco laughs at you, and it’s an unfair move and a mean sound but it somehow turns you on even more. “I’m just messing, sweetheart.”

Fuck you, you badly want to say, but somehow you feel like that won’t get you what you want.

Draco starts moving again, his fingers gaining speed, and the sound of them pumping in and out of your soaked cunt sounds delightfully dirty. You’re quickly pushed to the edge again, and amidst your pleasure you eye Draco distrustfully.

“Please,” you whisper, and he smirks at you.

“Well, since you asked so nicely.”

And he thumbs your clit and you’re coming, gasping with the pleasure and shaking as he eases you through it. His fingers don’t stop moving, even after your orgasm has faded, and you squirm in discomfort as he overstimulates you.

“Stop—please—”

“Promise me you won’t be a bloody pain again,” Draco levels at you, and you want to glare back but his fingers curl inside of you and you yelp with pleasure and pain. “Promise me, or I’ll keep going.”

“I—I won’t be a pain,” you mumble, trying to squeeze your thighs together to get rid of his touch, but he perseveres, flicking your clit mercilessly.

“Say you’ll be good.”

“I’ll be good,” you manage, so close to sobbing from the frustration. “Please, Draco, I’ll be good, be good for you, please stop.”

He relents and you feel him draw his hand back. You close your eyes and you hear him tug his trousers back on, buckling his belt. You feel strangely empty without him—without his fingers, his cock, his touch.

Draco produces a handkerchief from his pocket and wipes the sweat, drool, and cum off your face, helping you button your shirt back up as well. “You alright?”

“Never better,” you reply, opening your eyes to see him staring at you in concern, all traces of the cruel tease earlier gone. Outside, the sun is setting, casting orange hues into the classroom, and you suddenly remember. “I—oh, bloody hell, I have to arrange the desks for Lupin—”

“I’ll do it. Stay here.”

Draco stands up and takes out his wand, flicking it twice in quick succession. A wordless spell. As you watch, the desks and chairs slide back to where they used to be, neatly arranging themselves in rows.

You’re impressed as he comes back. “What spell is—hey!”

He’s flicked his wand once more and torn your panties clean off your legs.

“Draco—what in Merlin—”

“A souvenir.” Malfoy smirks, stuffing your soaked panties into the pocket of his trousers. “And payment for the desks.”

“You’re a bloody prick,” you say, leaning your head back against the wall.

“Careful now, love. Remember what you promised.” Draco’s tone is playful, but warning. “I’m a man of my word, so you should choose yours carefully. Next time I won’t be as gentle.”

Caught off-guard, you can only nod obediently, which seems to please him. But you can’t promise you won’t slip back into old habits the very next day. Whatever the case, one thing was clear—there would almost certainly be a next time.

------

Requests & asks are open! Here is the guide on requests, if you'd like to check that out first. Hope you enjoyed!

[incomprehensiblelentils]

Bering and Wells Reunion Panel Transcription (4/17/2021)

This is from the ClexaCon Virtual panel with Joanne Kelly and Jaime Murray, with Dana Piccoli as moderator and Mark as ASL interpreter. I spent around six hours on this and there were really only a couple of brief bits I couldn’t make out - I tried to make this as thorough as possible even though the audio quality was iffy at points and there was a lot of overlapping talking. I also included all of the ums and uhs in the interest of thoroughness so sorry if that gets annoying. Let me know if I’ve gotten any screen names wrong.

Content notes: brief discussion of on-set injury, allusions to homophobia from higher-ups, discussions of hostile workplace experiences due to gender, brief discussion of the ovarian cancer subplot, Jo misgenders Mark once and then corrects herself.

Dana: And I think we are live! Hey everyone, welcome, welcome, this is day 2 of ClexaCon Virtual. So glad to be here with you for our Warehouse 13 Bering and Wells panel. What a great video! I believe that was Mal that made that. Fantastic work! [They showed a fanvid prior to the panel on the stream.] Uh, I want to take a second to introduce Mark, our ASL interpreter. Thank you so much for being here, Mark. Well, I know that the Bering and Wells fandom is still going strong and, um, I’m so excited to be able to present this panel to you today, so without further ado, let’s get started. It’s been seven years since we last embarked on the wonderfully quirky world of Warehouse 13 and we’re thrilled to have not one, but two of the show’s stars here with us, Bering and Wells in the flesh, please welcome Joanne and Jaime!

Jo: [laughs] Hi!

Jaime: Hi guys!

Dana: Hi!

Jaime: Oh my goodness, I was tearing up watching that, that was just...

Dana: It’s so good, right?

Jaime: And Mal made it, of course, I mean just, the fandom is so amazing, that we have a fan who made that amazing movie, and I’m sitting here... were you tearing up, Jo?

Jo: Yeah... [laughs]

Dana: She’s like, I can’t talk right now!

Jaime: Aww.

Jo: Yeah, it’s, you know, it’s like, it’s like a, a wormhole, it’s like going in a wormhole, really, to see that put together in that way, and just, that somebody did that is, um, crazy, wonderful.

Jaime: Yeah.

Dana: When, when we are in person in, uh, in, in Las Vegas, I’m often backstage with the actors as they see these videos maybe f- for the first time, and your reaction is the reaction that everyone has. They all get teary, they all just like hold onto each other, it’s, it’s really sweet and wonderful.

Jaime: Oh my gosh, I, I wish I could go back in time and like, we film more of it and, and enjoy it more, because sometimes when you’re in it, you’re just going so fast and, you know, you don't even realize the meaning of, of, of what you’ve created until you see it through the eyes of the fans and what it meant to them, and then I, I wish I could lean into it more. [laughs]

Dana: Well, we’re certainly gonna get into that. [laughs]

Jaime: [laughs]

Dana: Alright, well, let’s kick things off! Uh, as of a we- a week ago, I was prepping to interview Jaime, and then suddenly the heavens opened up, and what was one became two. [they laugh] Joanne joined the party! How did this crazy kismet even happen?

Jo: I’m trying this new thing where I say yes. [laughs]

Jaime: [laughs] Well done!

Jo: Thanks. [laughs] Um, it’s a new thing I’m trying. Um, Jaime texted me and she’s like, I'm doing this thing, we had talked about it, I think the last panel we did at Dragon*Con maybe?

Jaime: Yeah.

Dana: 2018.

Jo: And she had told me about ClexaCon and I was like, that, because I really enjoyed that panel that we did, it felt, you know, I think one of the reasons, and I think that the work between us is, and I look at it now and I’m so touched because I, and I also just think the world of Jaime as an actor, I think she’s brilliant and her choices are so clean and-

Jaime: Ditto.

Jo: -full heart forward, like I, I’ve always been a fan of what she bought, and just personally on set I was in a, it was a very male environment, and Jaime came and I was like, oh my god, like, someone to talk to, someone who cared, and she took care of me, like she really - so I just, I don’t know, when she reached out I was like, of course, yes, yes.

Dana: Like it’s in two days, sure! Let’s, let’s go!

Jaime: We missed each other as well. It was also an opportunity to hang out, like, we missed each other!

Jo: Yeah.

Jaime: We had this flurry of texts of like, checking in with each other, and what-

Jo: What have you been watching? what are you doing?

Jaime: Yeah.

Jo: Where are you?

Jaime: Yeah, so.

Dana: Oh, that’s amazing! So you’ve maintained this really wonderful friendship since, since the end of the show.

Jo: Yeah, I mean, actors are nomads and we’re very sort of, I feel, Jaime, I don’t know if you feel the same way, but it’s like those friends that you have that you don’t see forever, but when you see them you fall back into a rhythm automatically, there’s never, it doesn’t feel push or pulled, it’s just, it’s just nice.

Jaime: I, I think also for us, um, I think there’s a sisterhood as well, you know, I think that, you know, Jo just touched on it. You know, often in a cast there’s, um, it’s changing and it’s evolving all the time, and this was seven years ago, and it was seven years before that, it started, so like fourteen years ago-

Jo: Oh my god. [laughs]

Jaime: But there’s, ninety nine point five percent of the people behind the camera are men, the majority of the parts are often men, or it’s, it’s male and women, but the men have the more heroic bits and the funnier lines and you’re kind of struggling with that and you’re glad to be working so you’re kind of making good and making it okay, but you’re kind of like, you know, getting feels, and, you know, as, as Joanne said, it, you know, you’re laughing at dick jokes when you don’t find them particularly funny- [all laugh]

Jo: Like wow! Oh! [sarcastic thumbs up]

Jaime: And so when I came in, I saw Jo - I had been on shows, like I was on a show called Hustle, I was the only girl in the cast, and then everybody, uh, behind the camera was, um, all men. Um, on Warehouse we had one female writer on some episodes, um, we never had a fe- uh, um, a female director on anything or a producer-

Jo: No we had, we had Tawn- [presumably about to mention Tawnia McKiernan] we had two fem- we had a few, but we were-

Jaime: No- no- not on my, not on my episodes.

Jo: Oh, on yours.

Jaime: But it was just like, I came in and I saw Jo and I understood, and I knew what her experience was, and so there was this kind of kinhood, this sisterhood, and I think it, it’s not a male-female thing, but it’s, it’s a minority and majority thing. When you’re in a minority and the majority is doing something, you either have to get down with the program and go with that flow, or you get kind of fe- you feel like you’re difficult or annoying to everybody. And I kind of came in and I just was like, oh like, I get it, it’s hard, and I’m gonna give this woman, like, my, my energy and my love and, so it was-

Dana: So you were like I- you looked at Joanne and you were like, that is someone I can smash the patriarchy with!

Jaime: [laughs] Yes.

Dana: Let’s do it!

Jo: No, I read a lot of books [laughs] when we weren’t filming. I would like get on my chair and just be like this. [mimes holding book in front of face]

Jaime: Yes!

Jo: [laughs] Like I’m doing this now, I’ll see you guys when we’re rolling again, you know, it was really- and, but also, you know, it’s so, and it is changing, it’s changing and evolving in a really, um, at a wonderful rate, but also I would get so excited to be in a scene with another woman that wasn’t about a man, you know, or that we weren’t- uh, it was just so nice to have girl-girl scenes. That never happens, it hardly ever happens. Like, the majority of scenes that you do are about love or acrimony with men, um, and it’s so nice to have a relationship with a woman that’s, um, sort of reflective of how relationships with women actually are. Um, I’ve been, I shifted into writing because of frustration with just not reading stories that I felt were reflective of our, my experience as a woman, you know, that sort of, um, and I think that Bering and Wells sort of in, I mean, that’s when that ship turned for me, as well.

Dana: Well ho- hold that thought, we are, we are going there!

Jaime: And, and also because it wasn’t, it actually wasn’t written. Um, there was, in a way we were able to steer that ship, and then we’d already kind of given a road map for the way this energy was, so it wasn’t written in the conventional way. Like, even like, when a, when a, when a, when a woman will have a love interest it’s, it’s often written by men and it’s o- often in a conventional kind of way, whereas our relationship, at a time before people were even kind of, uh, exploring this that much, um, now, now much more, thank god, it’s more, more inclusive. But it was more kind of, um, uh, complicated than, than maybe would’ve been written about, so it was given more nuance, yeah.

Jo: You mean like, do you mean like actual relationships? [laughs]

Jaime: You what? Say that again?

Jo: Like actual relationships! [laughs]

Jaime: Yeah, yeah, yeah. [laughs]

Jo: You know, that don’t come in and you have a “where they start and where they finish,” like that we, oh, we know where they’re gonna end up so we’ll just gonna-

Dana: Right, right.

Jo: -move them around like chess pieces. It was actually an energy that Jaime and I created, and the story sort of evolved from that energy as - it was inside out as opposed to outside in, which I think made it a real relationship.

Dana: Well, so my friend Dorthy Snarker, she once said that HG and Myka’s storyline has been main text pretending to be subtext, which feels really apt to me.

Jaime: Yeah!

Dana: So at what point-

Jo: Very smart.

Dana: What point in the show did it really click with the two of you that this connection that HG and Myka shared was something much deeper?

Jo: Jaime just had, Jaime, you just explained this very coolly in, in, um-

Jaime: One of our chats.

Jo: Yeah, yeah. Why don’t you speak to this, why don’t you take this?

Jaime: Well, well, first of all like I said, there was like kind of this sisterhood when I came in and, um, Jo, uh, Jo wasn’t like, like it wasn’t like I came in and she was like hey let’s be friends. I came in and she was behind a book, and she wasn’t particularly accessible, and she wasn’t, like, she was a bit grumpy, you know. And so I was like, my personality type is like, how do I crack this nut? [laughs] How do I make this woman love me? [laughs] This is the most unaccessible woman-

Dana: That explai- Jaime that explains a lot! [laughs]

Jaime: This is the most unaccessible women on the set, the mo- the most unaccessible human to me. How do I make her fall in love with me? So it’s like partly my narcissism-

Jo: [laughs] Jaime Murray in a nutshell, everyone!

Jaime: -and my ego, um, so I was kind of winning her over off set, and then, you know, as she was opening up to me and, you know, she was kind of telling me about some of the challenges she was coming up against, I was like, yeah, that’s, that’s not fair, and yeah, I completely get that, you know. So we were kind of like having that kind of journey, I’m like, like, I’m like, oh no, you’re not crazy, everyone else is crazy! Like, let’s smash the patriarchy!

Jo: [laughs]

Jaime: And then, and then unfortunately, um, Jo hurt herself really badly doing a stunt, and, um, you know, there’s no time to hurt yourself on a film set, and there’s no time to take time and, and kind of heal your back or anything like that. So she was taking some pretty strong painkillers and she was working through it, and I had spinal surgery, I, I know what back pain is like, it’s, it’s the worst. I mean, it’s literally everything, you know, you feel like an old person. And so I was, um, taking care of her as best as I could, and we had the scene, and it was the scene in the street where, I, I think it's the first scene that, where I get the grappler out-

Dana: Oh, the grappler.

Jaime: And I shoot it into the air and I put my arm around her and we shoot up-

Dana: We’re very familiar with this scene. [laughs]

Jo: [doing grappler motion] [laughs]

Jaime: Yeah, so, so it’s like, it had like, physicality, and also it was a really, um, we always laugh that Toronto has about five seasons in one day, so you’ll like start shooting the scene and then suddenly there’s a, like a snowstorm! Bright sunshine!

Jo: Then it’s sunny! Then rain!

Jaime: Torrential rain, wind - and it was one of those, and we had to move to a new location, we were really behind in the day, and she had this one pice of hair that kept on like blowing in her face-

Dana: Oh, I know where this is going, Jaime. [laughs]

Jaime: And she was, the thing was, she was like, also these painkillers-

Jo: I was like, I can’t even see with the hair, I was like, I was hopped up on so many painkillers...

Jaime: Yeah, she was hopped up, she was like, I can’t even get my hair out of the way!

Jo: I think I actually called that day, it was the only time where I was like, guys I can’t work anymore, like, I literally, the doctor was like, you need to rest and I’m like I can’t. And the first AD came over to me and he was like, you’re gonna have to say stop, because nobody is gonna stop the filming, and I didn't wanna do that because you don't want to be the person that, that loses the day.

Jaime: That’s part of it, isn’t it? You’re, you can’t be, you can’t have any vulnerability or be a woman in any way, any shape or form on a film set. [laughs]

Jo: Yeah.

Jaime: So I knew in the morning, and so I’d been like trying to take care of her and had, had like this experience of having spinal surgery, so I was like caretaking as much, as best as I could. I’m a Cancerian as well, so it’s in my nature.

Dana: Sure.

Jaime: And, um, and we‘re in this scene and we’d had to kind of cut so many times, and this hair just kind of-

Jo: [laughs]

Jaime: -came over her face like this, and I just lent forward and on my line I just moved the hair out of her, um, face and put it back, and there was this, this look of genuine-

Jo: [laughs]

Jaime: -surprise and shock in her face because we hadn’t rehearsed it and, and, and you know, we rehearse everything, and then, and then Joanne, what did you say that you-

Jo: I said I had this feeling, you know, when she did that I was like, oooh, um, what’s happening? [laughs]

Dana: [laughs]

Jaime: What are these feelings I’m having?

Jo: I did not expect all these feelings.

Jaime: Someone is being nice to me in this hostile world!

Jo: I was like this is so, it was like, pink light came up and there was glitter all of a sudden, and a unicorn in the back and, um-

Dana: Yep.

Jaime: They were really good drugs, you can’t, they’re illegal now, you can’t get them now cause they’re illegal now, but-

Jo: [laughs] No, no! But that point I’d say that the storyline really developed from inside out, you know outside, it was actually something, she did something that made me respond in a certain way, and as an actor you have those openings and you can choose to go, you either close them, like if, if I don’t like an actor [laughs] and someone does something, I might go like, no, I don’t wanna gonna go with that- [laughs]

Jaime: Yeah.

Jo: -and change the track, but because I love Jaime and, and that happened, I sort of just was like I’m gonna go with this energy and see where it leads. And so it was a very organic, and it took me completely, and I had not expected it, it took me completely- but I liked it, so I started, then that...

Dana: So you are the reason, you two are the captains of the Bering and Wells ship. You made that happen!

Jaime: Yeah.

Jo: Yeah.

Jaime: But also I felt like HG, you know, she came from an era when the suffragette movement was, um, happening, and she was active in that, however, she had to write under her brother’s name, um-

Dana: Yeah.

Jaime: And as a woman, you know, she couldn’t be even open about her brilliance and she had to let her dimwitted brother take credit for it, and then she was frozen. So she was an activist before her time and suddenly she’s waking up in a world where there’s this dynamic woman, gun-toating woman kind of using her wits and brainpower and like, god bless Pete [laughs] but he was a little bit, like, she was the brains and the brilliance, and often he would be kind of like, you know, taking the credit for it or like having the girls flirt with him, and I just felt like if I grow up, if I woke up from, you know, a dream of, of being a suffragette and I woke up and I saw Myka, surely I would be more fascinated-

Jo: [laughs]

Jaime: -by this woman who is everything that I had ever wished to be, so I started playing off this fascina- I was fascinated by her. Pete was just as stupid as my brother. [laughs]

Jo: And I do have to say, I do have to give the showrunner Jack Kenny credit here too, because Jack really let us run with it and started to lean into it, and the writers were all very accepting, so it was, and, and Jack particularly, you know, we had a lot, we had our creative differences, but he was really generous in this storyline with us, like I think, he gave us a lot of rope to play with-

Jaime: Yeah.

Jo: And it was interesting rope, because they never-

Dana: It was attached to a grappling hook is what it was!

Jo: Yeah, and they never, like what i really loved about it is the never like put it on the nose it was always very elliptical, we always had room to breathe, um-

Jaime: Well partly I don’t, I think that it was, it was, it’s funny to talk about it now because it doesn't seem that long a- long ago, but it-

Jo: But it was so long ago...

Jaime: -it was unusual-

Jo: For that.

Jaime: -for the genre and for the audience that we were going for to, to actually go there, um,

Dana: Yeah. Seven years ago, you’re absolutely right. Things have changed tremendously, and especially in the last five years.

Jo: Yeah, yeah.

Jaime: And, but I think that Jack and Drew, they were kind of excited about what we were doing, but actually, you know, we weren't sure what the network would say or what the advertisers might think, and so, um, you know, I’m really proud of the work that we were able to, to say-

Jo: Yeah.

Jaime: You know, being the first in some ways.

Jo: It’s interesting, you know, like Jaime texted me, she sent me this video and I was looking at it and I was just so proud-

Jaime: I sent you Mal’s video, I sent you one of Mal’s other videos.

Jo: She’s wonderful, so like shoutout to her!

Jaime: Yeah

Jo: That’s, yeah, it was gorgeous, and I was really proud of the work, you know, after, it’s, you create these things in a bubble and, I haven’t se- I haven’t seen Warehouse, I never watched it. [laughs] so I’m always very surprised to see these videos, it feels like I’m cracking open-

Jaime: And I want to say as well, you know, when we say we haven’t down and watched all the shows, or you know, in some peoples’ cases, many of the shows, you know, it’s, it’s not because we don’t love the show and we don't love the work that everyone else has done, done, it’s actually a lot of actors don't watch, um, their own work. It’s, if, if you’ve ever heard your own voice on an answer phone or something and you're like, who’s that? Oh my god, that’s me!

Dana: [laughs]

Jaime: Like, so when you see yourself on TV or screen it’s like that on crack, it’s absolutely terrifying, and, and you’re like oh my god, like behind a pillow, like-

Jo: Filled with self loathing and despair. [laughs]

Jaime: Yes.

Dana: That’s okay.

Jaime: Which is a work in progress, I’m trying to deal with that now.

Dana: Well, when, at what point did you realize that queer people were actually starting to flock to the show to support this direction with these characters?

Jaime: We, we didn't know, we didn’t know-

Dana: No?

Jaime: Well, we, um, I, um, Jo’s not on social media so I don’t know when she knew, other than maybe when I told her. I saw replies on twitter-

Jo: Comic Con.

Dana: Somebody didn’t like hire a plane and like, around the area with like, a Bering and Wells forever…?

Jo: I, I remember, I remember going to Comic Con, for me because that’s’ when I had the fan interaction, um, because I wasn’t on Twitter-

Jaime: Yeah, there were fans that told us.

Jo: And, and, uh, a lot of the women, I remember being asked some very specific questions during panels, and, you know, there's a lot of guys who like to talk at those panel so I didn’t get to talk a lot but I made it quite, I, I made it quite clear about how important that storyline was to me and it, it, I realized very quickly that it was important to a lot more women than me. I didn’t really realize, too, that storytelling wasn’t represented in that way, at that point, you know. I didn’t feel that. I didn’t feel like that was a groundbreaking choice, to choose to be attracted to a woman in a scene to me is life, it’s how I live my life, I, I’m you know, I don’t have those, I’m not in a box [laughs] and it so when I realized, it was a eye-opening moment. I’m like, I’m like, wait, wait, this is, this is something new that’s not being done?

Dana: You guys were kind of on, you were like right here [miming going up a hill or mountain] and then shortly after Warehouse, it started going like [woosh noise of going down the other side of the hill] and this wave of representation started happening.

Jaime: Well, ev- even in Warehouse, there was an openly gay character in, in Warehouse.

Dana: Right, yes!

Jo: Yeah, yeah, there was Aaron.

Jaime: But it’s been, it’s been incredibly, um, powerful for, for, for, for me, um, you know, I I, think that a lot of people, some people are like oh my god, you know, I wish I could go back to my childhood or my teenage years, I, you could not pay me anything for, I would not go back to my teenage years for love or money. It was, it was a incredibly painful time for me, um, and not a particularly happy time for me, and, um, you know, just awkwardness, you know, all the stuff that, you know, all the stuff people feel in their teens, all the bad stuff I felt in my teens, so when I’ve spoken to people at conventions, um, and they've’ spoken to me about, um, Warehouse having, and our relationship in Warehouse having a positive effect for them in their teen, in their painful teenage years, it’s, it, it, it can bring me to tears, because i- if I could have imagined having kind of that, some kind of impact when I’d been a teenager maybe I wouldn't have been so miserable, but, um, I’m really humbled by it. it’s really lovely.

Dana: Yeah, you, you most certainly have had a tremendous impact on a lot of peoples’ lives and I’m so glad that you are able to take that and keep it in your heart.

Jaime: Yeah.

Dana: Speaking of this kind of sea change of the last few years, do you think that if Warehouse had been airing now that things might have ended differently? Do you think that maybe that subtext really would have been pulled much more into main text?

Jaime: You’d know better, Jo.

Jo: I...don’t know the answer to that question, um, perhaps, actually, absolutely! It’s twenty twenty-

Jaime: If we were writing it, maybe.

Jo: I mean, that’s what I’m trying to do. [laughs] Um, yeah, I think so. Maybe we would have been able to lean more into that storyline, um-

Jaime: Maybe we would’ve had a, be a stronger voice in shaping the narrative there.

Jo: It, yeah, I mean, Jack was, Jack was great about it, but it, it was a different, it was a different era. I think now is, is really a beautiful time for storytelling in the sense that it is really becoming so much more inclusive and we have representation, which, I mean, seeing ourselves represented in stories is how we understand ourselves in the world, and that’s, it’s so important, you know, it’s so important where we’re going, um, and I wish there could have been more of that in Warehouse, but I’m glad there was what there was.

Dana: Yeah.

Jaime: I, I, I also think that, um, you know, it’s changed so much in just such a short space of time, but particularly in the last couple of years, like, women were always, um, portrayed like, like, women always had to be perfect and kind of cute, and, you know, there had to be kind of something attractive or charming about them at all times, you know, and so we always had to put a bow on a woman to make her acceptable. And one of the things that I’m really loving is, you know, that women can be flawed and they can still, you can still love them and, you know, one of the things that always stun- stunned me is that I’ve been so welcomed into a community of kind, inclusive, um, you know, powerful activist, um, women, uh, um, and I’m like, why do these amazing women even like my characters when I’ve played such, um, a bad character, and it’s like-

Dana: But, but we love that! Queer women love a villain!

Jaime: Well, it’s like, flawed characters, and it’s like, and then recently I watched this show called, um, I hate Suzie Pickles [actual title of show: I Hate Suzie], um, there’s a show called, um, uh, I May Destroy You. They’re British shows, actually, both are.

Dana: Oh, yeah, it’s so good.

Jaime: And they, these are complex, um, women who make bad choices, and they self sabotage and they do things that are kind of frowned upon in society, and yet I love them, these women, and it’s like, if I can love these women for all their flaws, then maybe I'm okay too. And I think that we, we have to allow women to be flawed and lovable instead of just being cute little heroines that kind of support men at all times. I mean, it’s changed so much, that’s kind of, like the old, the old order of what it used to be, like, but yeah, it’s exciting.

Dana: That happe- That was what was written in my yearbook! Just, Dana Piccoli, flawed but lovable.

Jaime: Ah! [laughs]

Dana: So I totally, I totally can appreciate that.

Jaime: Was it that? Was it- that would be the best!

Dana: [laughs] I love that.

Jaime: Flawed and lovable, not but.

Dana: Oh yeah, yes, flawed and lovable, sorry, sorry. That’s, that’s what, that’s where I went wrong in the yearbook.

Jaime: Exactly.

Dana: Uh, J- Jaime. A lot has been made of this, the apples scene.

Jaime: Yes.

Dana: Do you think I smell apples is basically saying “I love you”? Were you, what do you think that Helena was trying to express at that time?

Jaime: I, I, I think that it was, um, a sense of, uh, acceptance, and, um, and, and, and, and, and love, I mean, uh, because Helena had always been such a, kind of a troubled character in so many ways and she had kind of, um, these struggles and this darkness and these mental health issues and I think that “I smell apples” was a, a, a wa- wa- was, she, she’d kind of come to the light, you know, she, she had, had kind of accepted herself, and it was such an altruistic act of love, she was sacrificing herself in order to save the others, that it was true love, like she’d overcome the darkness. So it was, uh, I, I, I, I, love that, uh, moment, yeah, that kind of-

Jo: I know we wanted, uh, one of the most beautiful definitions of love onscreen is recognition of your soul in someone else.

Dana: Mhmm.

Jo: That’s really what happens, and I thought that when Jaime did that, there was a very beautiful, I mean it’s sort of like Romeo and Juliet. You see this moment of, and we talked about it earlier, that energy, that to me is that. what that is-

Jaime: Yes.

Jo: -the scene is, “I smell apples.” It’s these two people who see each other in each other and are profoundly connected, whether, in whatever way that it is, it’s just a profound connection, you know, and so often we find boxes to put these connections in, you know, as humans, we want to make sense, we want to make logic of them, you know, which is, I think, um, why storytelling suffers in the representation, because you want to define what a thing is and kind of, um, the most beautiful things about some of the most special relationships is they, they're beyond what you can say they are, they’re beyond categorization, they are, you know...

Jaime: I, I, I definitely think that, although it wasn’t written in that way, I mean, if you actually go back and look at the footage, I’m saying “I love you” to, uh, uh, HG is saying “I love you” to Myka and Myka is is let-

Jo: I only think that’s what she was saying.

Jaime: -letting, letting it land.

Dana: Confirmation, folks! Confirmation, um, everyone!

Jo: In here. [points to head]

Dana: Write it in your vows, write it now in your vows!

Jo: Dana, you’re funny! [laughs]

Dana: Thank you!

Jaime: But wh- when, when did I come back and I was like, married to, what-

Dana: You, you weren't married, you were with a gentleman, and he had a, a young child and-

Jaime: And he was a bit of a drip as well!

Jo: And the house was very suburban, that’s all I remember was, I like walked into this house and I was like-

Jaime: That was, was that, I don’t really know the chronological, um, ordering, but like, I had like a ponytail, and I had a, possibly-

Jo: You were probably like driving a minivan.

Dana: You were teaching, you were teaching, weren’t you?

Jaime: Cause wasn’t I [indecipherable]

Jo: It’s okay, Jaime, I [indecipherable]

Dana: You were like in Phoenix or something.

Jaime: Yeah so, so what was that, after a bit I, so like “I smell apples” was the ending of my character, right? So like that, was that after a bit-

Dana: Right, and then you got rev- you were brought back-

Jaime: Right.

Dana: And then you kind of disappeared for a bit.

Jaime: Yeah, yeah, yeah.

Dana: Yes. Yeah, um-

Jaime: Yeah.

Dana: The, um, the, the, uh, the fans [laughs] were, um, confused by that, were like what?

Jaime: I d- I’m confused, I’m confused! [laughs]

Jo: Not just the fans, not just the fans.

Jaime: Well, I actually, um, I, I, I really want to go back and see that scene, um, I, I feel like you came to, I don’t, I was living in like suburbia-

Dana: Mhm.

Jaime: And, and didn’t you come to-

Jo: I don't remember.

Jaime: -the house and I, I think you came to-

Jo: I remember that horrible house though, because it was like, it… [makes disgusted face]

Jaime: It was so weird and I was like hello, I’m kind of like a completely different woman!

Jo: It was like very Stepford, I like, I walked in and, I don’t know why Myka was so accepting, I would’ve taken a baseball bat to the house, gonna be like, we’re leaving!

Jaime: So, so, so, so, I, so I, Jack, so Jack, Jack-

Jo: Get out of here, you drank the Kool Aid!

Jaime: I remember Jack was there and I was like, um, uh, oh, like this, like, like this doesn't work because of this and this doesn’t work because of that, and I was having a little, kind of like a creative difference with him, and, and he left for the day, he left for the day, and I really want to go back and see that s- that, that scene, because I remember I was asking him if I could, yeah, I know it’s, it says this but could I play it like this? And I do- I remember he didn’t want me to for the storyline, but I remember he left. [laughs] So I’d love to go back and see, I, I remember think- feeling like I was quite naughty, that I actually got away with it, but, uh-

Dana: Oh, I am loving all the subversive shit that was happening behind the scenes. [laughs]

Jaime: Yeah. [laughs]

Jo: Do you remember the park bench as well? Remember that scene, it was-

Jaime: Oh, yeah, a bench.

Jo: Wasn’t that a bench?

Jaime: Oh, that was a love scene, that was a love scene.

Jo: That was a, yeah, we really went for that one. [all laugh]

Jo: Everyone was like, what? And I’m like, well, we’re doing it. Might as well!

Jaime: [laughs] And we’re in like, Toronto, and everyone behind the camera, like, they’re very blokey, and it’s not in the script, and then they're like, “oh I didn’t, they’re, they’re, oh I didn’t see that coming!” [laughs]

Jo: They were like, what are you guys doing? We’re like, we’ll figure it out! [laughing]

Jaime: Exactly! We’re just doing our own thing. [laughs]

Dana: Oh, a little, a little mutiny, a little bit! [laughs] Well we, we, we’ve ha- we’ve had such incredible conversation so far, and I have so many fan questions for you, and if we were onstage everyone would get to come up to the mic-

Jaime: Aw.

Dana: -and ask you questions, but I do have a bunch of questions that were sent in, um, so I do want to get to your fans, because your fans are so integral to keeping this like-

Jo: That’s why we’re here.

Dana: -story alive. Uh, let’s see here. Let’s kick it off. Alright, so wellsbering wants to know, what personality traits do you share with your characters?

Jaime: Well I think, I think that, um, I, uh, definitely always get cast as the baddie for whatever reason, but then I think that, um, really the quirky mess that I, I, I morphed into is basically me. [all laugh]

Jo: I like that answer, that’s great. Um, I, uh, am very A-type when it comes to certain things, and Myka very much, I’m very like, flowy, Myka wa- didn’t flow, but there are certain parts of my life where I’m not flowy around. My work is one of them, writing is another one. Um, and I’m very afraid of letting people down. I think that’s why I've been, I was te- telling a lot of the people that I was talking to today that, you know, the reason I didn’t do this a lot when the show was on, I couldn’t understa- i was like, why do people wanna meet me? They're gonna meet me and be disappointed.

Dana: Ohhhh.

Jo: Yeah.

Dana: I think everyone thinks that though, I think that’s very common.

Jo: I think tha- yeah, I think that’s the human condition, right?

Dana: Yes.

Jo: Um, but, but I think Myka and I share that sort of reserve, you know, that thing where you’re like I don’t, no, don’t get too close. I’m like a Monet, stay back. [laughs]

Jaime: And I, I think that was part of the chemistry as well, it’s like, you have that kind of like, you know, protectio- protective-

Jo: Yeah.

Jaime: -kind of like, edge. And so it’s like, if, I think that i- in a way, the gift that we had by it not being written for us is, if had been written we would’ve, the characters would’ve made each other, um, accessible to each other far too quickly. It was like the slow burn of, Myka could be quite prickly, and my character was completely messed up so it was kind of like, this kind of like energy between them where they were kind of like, you know, like working each other out, feeling each other out-

Jo: Is there? Is there an energy there?

Jaime: And then the laughs were well earned, and the smiles, and the deciding to work together was well earned. There was a, a lot of suspicion around each other, and when they opened up or they kind of let their guard down, it was hard earned, and and it was like, you know, something you would wanna rejoice at.

Jo: Yeah, aw, I love that.

Dana: Um, okay, so this is from mayberrycosplay, uh, you may remember mayberrycosplay, I believe one of them dressed as HG at a con, uh-

Jaime: Oh!

Dana: -but they wondered-

Jaime: I’ve seen a few HGs.

Dana: You’ve seen a few HGs.

Jaime: [laughs]

Dana: This is for Jo about, uh, Myka’s experience with ovarian cancer and, uh, like, how the awareness of this silent killer of women, like how that storyline, what that storyline meant to you and how it felt to portray that?

Jo: I was really nervous about that storyline, you know, anything that has affected people and their families and, and it’s always, I, you know, difficult territory to walk as an actor, especially in a show like Warehouse where there's so much happening on such a grand level that I’m like, are they going to pay attention to this? Are they going to really honor a storyline like this? was my concern, you know, like very often things like that are added like, uh, it’s like putting a robot arm on a story, and you're like oh, and by the way, there’s ovarian cancer! And so I was really, you know, concerned about showing up for that and, and, and and serving it in a way that people understood and, and could identify with that, you know, it’s such a catharsis, that’s what I think it’s supposed to be. Um, so it was, uh, I, the fans told me I pulled it off, that’s the only way that I know.

Dana: Well it meant a tremendous amount to, to mayberrycosplay and so that’s why they, they sent that in because it, it really affected them because of their own personal-

Jo: Yeah.

Dana: -you know, family journeys and such.

Jo: Well I’m so, so, thank you, I mean, I’m still wondering, you know, I worked really hard to make sure that was in there. We’ve all lost somebody to cancer, we all know what that’s like, we all know- I mean, I mean, I certainly have, to feel a lump and be like [does the Home Alone face] you know. I have two friends right now who are going through it, so I try to honor it in the best way. I- it’s one of the things that makes me want to be an actor, uh, that I think is so special about it is that you get to tell stories that people, it’s a group catharsis, you know, so I’m glad that, glad they think I, the only thing that, if they think I sh- I showed up then... [laughs] yes, good, good, good.

Dana: Um, let’s see here, cloxy813 wants to know what was your favorite, favorite scene to film together?

Jo: Probably the heaving bosoms scene. I was excited for the heaving bosoms scene, which was all like [mimes placing gun to forehead] kill me!

Jaime: [laughs]

Dana: Hashtag heaving bosoms scene.

Jo: It was so hot that day, I remember my tank top-

Jaime: So hot, oh my god, it was like-

Jo: It was like, my tank top, I would like look down and find, I was like, my boobs are out, um. [laughs] I just saw him sign, them sign, um.

Jaime: We were by that lake, I just wanted to dive in there. It was-

Jo: Yeah, yeah, yeah, but I loved, I loved, I loved doing that scene, I have to say. And, and the chess scene, I remember that.

Jaime: Oh yeah.

Jo: I remember that very well. Um, I really enjoyed my work with Jaime because I, as I said, you know, there’s not a lot of scenes that are two women just being women. It was so, it was like a breath of fresh air and so I, I wasn't, I was, uh, you know, a lot of the times Myka was there to witness Pete-

Jaime: Or, or, or to laugh, or to kind of laugh and sigh at his super funny jokes.

Jo: The funny jokes... um, so, so it was so nice to not ha- be in a scene from that point of view. So often women are are written as accessories-

Jaime: Yeah.

Jo: You know, and, and this was a storyline where I felt like she was a whole person and I could be like a whole, real person, I didn't have to be like-

Jaime: I, I, I, I, I was on a show called Hustle and there was a character on it called Danny Blue, and he had all the funny lines, and one of the refrains that I had was “oh Danny. Oh Danny,” where every time he said something cheeky or naughty or a joke I’d go “oh Danny,” and I remember just being so excited to get the job, but then after awhile like me saying “oh Danny” really wore thin, especially as off camera I feel like I was more witty! [laughs] In that space I was much more funny, but all the funny was written for him, and I was going “oh Danny.” So when I came in I really, I kind of, um, you know, I knew the frustration of playing the, kind of, you, you know-

Jo: Straight man.

Dana: The “oh Danny.”

Jo: -if you were playing, right, right, the brainiac, uptight brainiac, and Pete had all the funny lines, so obviously we were in a lot of scenes with the rest of the cast and keeping the story going, but I felt as though all the character stuff that we had as, as women came from the scenes when we were on our own, and obviously that first scene with the grappler, um, you know, was, it was kind of the first scene where I’d been playing kind of like a little, kind of kind of like sneaky little looks and curiosity and fascination with this woman-

Dana: Yeah, we noticed.

Jaime: And, but, but, I, but, it wasn’t until the grappler scene that I thought that, that i was starting to get this, kind of, this chemistry going, and then there was a scene, do you remember the scene where I didn’t know how to work a computer or open it, it was like a, I was like a monkey-

Jo: Yeah [laughs] yeah.

Jaime: I was like a, it was like, I didn’t know what this is, we were-

Dana: Well, I mean in, in f- in fairness you had been in bronze for a long time.

Jaime: -we were in like a stu- a student room, a student's room, it was-

Jo: Yeah, we were at the college, we were at U of T.

Jaime: And, and. and we’d, it was the first time we’d deci- you’d, you’d kind of begrudgingly decided that we could work together, and HG was kind of a little thrilled, and you were a bit begrudging and-

Jo: Yeah.

Jaime: There was all, we, we still had to, ‘cause like, in sci-fi there’s a lot of storyline and exposition and kind of fantastical stuff, which is super fun, but actually as actors you really get excited about the character stuff and there was always just this great character stuff whenever we were on our own with a scene-

Jo: Yeah.

Jaime: -um, because we didn’t have to worry so much about servicing all the other characters, we just serviced each other.

Dana: Well, you know, there are only two kinds of queer women. It is thrilling or begrudging, it’s one or the other. [all laugh]

Dana: They fit perfectly in there.

Jaime: I mean maybe that’s why it resonated so well, and maybe it was the reason it was so great, that it wasn’t written, because you had these two kind of like, kind of sli- slightly spiky kind of like flawed women, kind of like o- one, you know, one not particularly into the other at all, you know, so-

Jo: It was interesting, I still remember, I still remember receiving that energy and receiving that stuff and realizing, sort of plotting, cause I’m like, how long would it take Myka to figure this out?

Jaime: [laughs]

Jo: Seriously, I was like, cause, Joanne is not her,, I’m, you know, I’m wasn’t in the box that she, I always thought, Jack’s like, you’re exactly like that character, I’m nothing, I’m not- [laughs] I mean there’s a part of me that’s uptight but there's a part of me that’s most definitely not, so I was like how, and I really wanted to do the discovery of it within her, the like, this, the, this feeling started, and then her sort of, and M-Myka to me as a character as a whole was always somebody who was afraid, this is somebody who was always very scared of everything and presented themselves in this very [mimes acting stuffy and uptight] way because there was so much going on here [gestures to heart] and it was slow in the five seasons, I really wanted her to like, you know, relax and start laughing and not be so, and I was like, there’s a certain amount of wonder that was like-

Jaime: Endless wonder.

Jo: -ohhhh, ohhhhh, ohhhh, like you kind of see her, one of the things about that journey is you start to see her discover sort of herself and her own feeling surrounding that, which I thought was really special.

Jaime: And also you, um, you, you kind of ended up, you, you know, HG was kind of like a tricky character and she was always one step ahead, um for, that first season, but then when she started to fall apart, you were the one that kind of put her together, and then I felt like there was also this humor introduced, this lightness introduced to your character through the humor el- elements-

Jo: Yeah.

Jaime: -and the surprise, which was, um, really lovely for your character.

Jo: Yeah, I, I think for m- for me, you know, it was a decision I made like in season two that I k- she had to evolve and grow and sort of, um, I couldn’t, I was, I was, I was like, I can’t keep coming to work and putting a giant stick up my ass [laughs] like we’re doing, like I need just to like expand her and go towards her relaxing and really finding, I think for her the big thing was always finding connection, you know, this-

Dana: Sure.

Jo: -we, we see in the beginning of the show is, it’s very cut off, very isolated, very like, and I, she lost her partner, that was, when I read that script, immediately I was like, this is someone who’s so scared of losing people again that she’s never gonna let anyone else in, and that was sort of like my understanding of her. And when Jaime came on, it was such a great way to explore that, Myka opening, you know, as feelings developed, her opening, you know-

Dana: Well, that, the growth, the character journey that both of your, your characters went on, I think that is what makes the show still so enduring to fans, like why they feel so connected to it, because we do, we saw that journey, you know, both of you had your own journeys to go on and you somehow managed to cross, cross paths, and it may not have ended the way fans had wanted it to, but we still go so much out of it.

Jo: I’m so glad.

Dana: I wish it was endgame, but what can I do?

Jaime: We, we, we need a spinoff show for Jo and I, we, we need a spinoff show.

Dana: Okay, yes, the spinoff, okay! You need to talk about that because-

Jaime: Who do we need to talk to to make that happen?

Dana: I got in a lot of trouble on Twitter yesterday for not asking a spinoff question, uh, what, like, what would a spinoff look like between between HG and Myka?

Jo: I think it would be have, to be now, which we-

Dana: Yeah.

Jo: And we’d have to get her, there’s no ponytails in this story, there’s no suburbs, there’s no fucking ponytails, um, no-

Jaime: I won- I won- I wonder if, um, it could be now, but, or, I wonder if I, I had to come in for a mission and then I actually pulled you back into my time, that might be an interesting way to turn it on its head.

Dana: Ooh, Jaime Murray, there we go!

Jaime: If we both had to go back-

Dana: I love me some period.

Jaime: -into my time or you know what made me think that [she does the Jaime Murray hair flip™] what I-

Jo: [laughs]

Jaime: I saw that, I saw that ne- The Nevers-

Jo: I miss that hair flip!

Jaime: -the, the, the a- the adverts for The Nevers on HBO, and I’m like that is the HG Wells spinoff right there, and I was like super fucked that I wasn’t in that, and then I read that Joss Whedon was a consultant and I was like [inaudible] really bad, so, but, anyway I think that that’s what we should do. I, I’m also obsessed with that time period.

Jo: I mean, yeah, and also like it was real, yeah-

Jaime: It was the beginning of ps-

Jo: Yeah.

Jaime: -psychology, of like Tesla, of of like different thoughts, there was like, they were like spiritual, um, kind of scientists and atheism and there was all it this opportunity for change, which actually wasn’t taken, but it was actually, it’s super interesting right at the time, there was suffragettes-

Jo: Also a fish out of water for me would be so wacky, because I’m a fish out of water too, alright.

Dana: I’m curious if yo all saw the Saturday Night Live sketch the other, uh, last week with, uh, lesbian period drama-

Jaime: Oh!

Dana: -and how, how every lesbian, like anything that features lesbians now has to be- [laughs]

Jaime: Well have you e- have you ever-

Dana: -it’s like the Edwardian or, like the Edwardian times.

Jaime: Have you guys read Sarah Waters, do you know this?

Dana: Oh, of course!

Jaime: Like, so, and maybe that is actually what helped me get to HG Wells, but I loved those books when-

Dana: Oh, they’re so amazing.

Jaime: -I was growing up and I feel like we should make those o- we should remake one of those b- Jo, you’ve got to read those books, and then-

Jo: I’m writing it down! I’m taking notes!

Jaime: Oh, it’s amazing.

Dana: You two would be amazing in her most recent one.

Jaime: She writes these amazing Edwardian, Edwardian kind of wanton lust and then there’s like, like the vervain or whatever, that kind of drug that they used to take back then-

Jo: Opium?

Jaime: -so it’s like slightly, kind of like psychedelic, oh, it’s amazing, yeah, she’s amazing.

Dana: [laughs] Well, we unfortunately are out of time, and it’s been so much fun to talk to the two of you, and I, I love the love that you have for your characters, for your friendship, for the fans, uh, it’s, it’s so lovely to see, and thank you so much for making this work in your schedules, I know you’re both super busy doing your own projects, um, and I want to think Mark. Mark, you’re amazing, thank you so much for, for interpreting.

Jaime: Thank you, Mark!

Jo: Thank you, Mark!

Dana: Um, do you have anything you want to end with, to say to the, to the Bering lesbians out there?

Jaime: Well, first of all, I want to say that, um, if anyone sends me messages to, you know, pictures or anything that that Jo needs to see, I’ll make sure that Jo, Jo gets it, ‘cause she’s not on social media, and I’ll, I’ll share stuff with her so that she can kind of know the love from the community.

Dana: Yeah, great.

Jo: I think, um, I’m actually gonna try to put together a newsletter because I’m trying to get my shows made and I could use this community, you know, to help-

Dana: Oh, we will support you to the end! We will march off that cliff with you.

Jaime: I could help you make a Twitter account, just for our community.

Jo: I don’t wanna do Twitter, I wanna do a newsletter. [laughs] I don’t wanna, I don’t know how many characters are in it, but it’s not enough. [laughs]

Jaime: But Jo, Jo, you have to actually read some of the fanfiction. The fanfiction is epic.

Jo: I have a book that I got, somebody wrote a book-

Jaime: Unbelievable, oh my god.

Jo: -like a novel.

Jaime: They’re brilliant, these people are brilliant, like best fans ever.

Dana: There is some really incredible work out there.

Jaime: Well, do you want to-

Jo: I just wanted to say thank you to everyone, um, you know, I don’t do these very often, and just like, the outpouring of love, like just the connection, I really appreciate it, I’m so grateful, so thank you.

Jaime: Yeah, it’s such a beautiful community. I feel really proud to have been welcomed into it and, uh, very grateful.

Dana: Well, we’ll hope to see you another time, and thank you all who turned in to this panel. [Jaime blows kisses]

Jo: Thank you.

Jaime: Bye, guys.

Dana: Do you smell apples?

Jaime: Bye, Jo, I love you so much.

Jo: Do you smell apples? I love you too. [blows kiss] I’ll talk to you soon.

Jaime: Yes, I’ll see you later. Bye bye, darlings.

Jo: Bye.

[yandere-daydreams]

Title: Angelic.

Pairing: Yandere!Diavolo/Reader.

Word Count: 3.8k. 

Synopsis: You like being an angel. You’re proud of it, of your wings, of your faith, of all you’ve done to earn your place in the Celestial Realm. Diavolo doesn't mind your current state, of course not, he loves every part of you. He just thinks some modifications may need to be made, before he can love you properly.

TW: Violence, Kidnapping, Prolonged Imprisonment, Non-Consensual Touching, Blood, Possessive Mindsets, Slight Dehumanization, and Mentions of Non-Con.

Michael used to say only the bravest angels earned their wings.

It was part of the reason they were so rare, after the Celestial War, after Lucifer and his brothers took their wings and distorted them into leathery, spiked, perverted evidence of their new, tainted loyalties. You didn’t have to be the toughest angel, but you had to be devoted, you had to be dedicated beyond a shadow of a doubt, and you had to be brave enough to put that dedication on display. You were just a messenger, a servant to much more deserving candidates, but you still had a pair sprouting from your shoulder blades, just heavy enough to give you a reason to straighten your back, whenever you started to lose faith in your divinity. You’d earned them, and you were proud. You’d managed to keep them, and you had no plans to give them up.

Only the bravest angels had wings. That meant you were a brave angel.

It meant you could be brave enough to survive Diavolo, as long as you had your wings.

They were warm, too, forming a soft, white shell around your upper body, helping you to block out that unignorable chill that came hand in hand with the Devildom. It’d been a temporary discomfort in the past, something you could brush aside whenever you were asked to carry a letter to the Demon Lord’s castle or invited as a make-shift ambassador in the absence of a proper representative, but after days trapped in the domain, your shining sun replaced with layers of stone and rock, there was little you could do to escape it, and Diavolo seemed hesitant to offer his aid. His kindness had stopped at a silk gown, black and thin and just teetering on the edge of purposefully sheer, the fabric fine enough to slip through his fingers as he toyed with the hem, perched on the edge of your bed, edging closer despite your obvious attempts to melt into the headboard.

He said you’d have your own space, your own room, that he wanted you to feel comfortable enough to welcome him in willingly, when you were ready. He said he would give you time.

Obviously, he’d been lying, and you weren’t quite why you’d ever bothered to believe him.

The silence was tense. There’d been a greeting when he came in, a gesture of good will you hadn’t returned, but if Diavolo was bothered, it didn’t stop him from smiling, a simper tugging at the corner of his lips as he glanced towards you, attempting to catch your eye while you glared at the sheets. That didn’t stop him from speaking, though, attempting to clear the air and only making the atmosphere more poluted, as a result. “I take it you don’t care for my hospitality.”

His tone was light, jovial. Less of an attempt to coax you into a comfortable lull and more of a genuine fondness, regardless of whether or not the object of his affection returned the sentiment. “I don’t want to…” You wanted to go home. You wanted him to undo whatever spell he’d cast on the door and the windows and all the other exits that wouldn’t open, no matter of how many times you slammed yourself against them. You wanted him to let you go, but he wouldn’t. He’d already done enough to prove that, just by coming to you so happily. “I just don’t like it here.”

He dropped your gown, humming as he let his touch drift to your thigh, instead. You only pulled your legs closer, your wings tightening around you, attempting to provide another layer of reassurance. It was a futile pursuit, but still, you could appreciate the effort. “You’re cold?” There wasn’t a point in trying to avoid conversation, so you didn’t try, just nodding as he scanned over you. His skin was warm against yours, but unpleasantly so. Like taking a step too close to an open hearth and letting the heat become searing, rather than soothing. “It gets easier, with time. Angels usually have a difficult time adapting, but you’ll get used to it. And if you don’t…” He paused, his grin growing just a bit wider. “There are plenty of ways to speed up the process.”

Right. You’d almost forgotten. It wasn’t enough for him to just have you. It wasn’t enough for him to just keep you trapped here, against your will and so far from your natural element.

He needed to make you a monster, too. Something just as demonic and just as disgusting as he was.

You were thankful your face was hidden. He wouldn’t have taken it kindly, if he caught the way you grimaced at his suggestion. “I mean, I don’t like it here, Diavolo. It’s not just the cold. I don’t like being underground. I don’t like not being able to leave.” He wasn’t an oblivious man. He knew what he’d done, he knew how you felt about it, but for whatever reason, he refused to acknowledge your rejection. You couldn’t expect him to be kind, but you could expect him to be reasonable. “I don’t want to be a demon, or a fallen angel, or whatever you plan to turn me into. I’m just… I’m not supposed to be.”

“That’s one of the wonderful parts of having power, isn’t it?” It was a chuckle, a breath of a laugh. “I can help you change. With my assistance, you could be something greater than what you are, now. You could be a ranking demon, a name known and feared in—”

“Your servant.” You didn’t bother letting him finish. He was touching you, and you wished he wasn’t. The sooner this ended, the sooner he might stop. “I'll be your servant. Just as I’m Michael’s servant, now.”

Diavolo didn’t bother trying to deny it. “You'll my lover, as well. Isn’t that worth losing a few feathers?”

“I’m sorry, I just…” You didn’t want to be his lover, or his servant, or any role he had to offer. You wanted to be a messenger. You wanted to live a life you could be proud of, you wanted to feel the sunlight on your wings, and you didn’t want to give that up for the first crazed prince to take an interest in you. You didn’t want to give up your wings. Not to him, and certainly not for a prize so undesirable.

Your head lulled to the side, and for the first time since your arrival, you let yourself smile as you spoke.

“I like being an angel.”

~

Michael used to say only the most faithful angels earned their wings.

Only the most faithful, only the most trusting, only the least likely to be led astray by awful rumors and mortal temptations, by all the urges that’d drove so many of your brothers and sisters to abandoning the Celestial Realm entirely, trading it in for more forgiving terrains. You trusted Michael. You trusted every cherub, every seraph, every throne, every angel. Before, you’d trusted them to guide you, to correct you when you were in the wrong, and now, you trusted them to save you, to come for you, to do something to bring you home and as far from Diavolo as you could possibly be. You trusted them. You trusted them with your life, let alone your freedom.

And, you trusted that Michael had a good reason to wait so long to rescue you, too.

You were starting to lose track of how much time had passed, since you’d been abducted. It felt like two weeks, maybe three, but with Diavolo’s sporadic schedule and no sun to dim or brighten, you really didn’t have a way to be sure. His paperwork didn’t help, sprawled across his desk, all messily written notes and correspondences too personal to need dates or signatures. You looked regardless, doing what you could to search through the mess from your awkward position on his knee, your wings folded stiffly against your back. It had to be here. You knew it’d be here, you just had to—

On the corner of his desk, a letter with its envelope still sitting on top of it. A letter you didn’t remember delivering.

A letter with Michael’s insignia pressed into its torn surface. The insignia you’d dedicated your life to. The insignia you’d continue to dedicate your life to, as soon as you got away from Diavolo.

It would’ve been better to stay quiet. It would’ve been better not to say anything at all. It would’ve been smarter, but your mouth was already opening, your lips already moving, and before you could stop yourself, the question you’d been dying to ask was already spilling out. “Does he know?”

Diavolo hesitated, the constant scrawling of his quill going silent. Even then, he took a moment to answer, his tone suddenly much more patronizing than it had any right to be, for such a simple question. “Darling,” He started, his hand falling to your hip, rubbing circles idly into your side. “Michael’s a smart man. I’m sure he’s realized where you are, by now.”

“I know.” Michael had to know. You couldn’t take a step out of line without earning a lecture for your ‘disobedience’, most days. “But, you’re lying to him, aren’t you?” It was more of a hopeful thought than an accusation. Something you just wished he’d be kind enough to tell you, rather than honest enough to disregard. “He doesn’t think I’m… He doesn’t think I’m here like this, right?”

There was a pause, and his hand stopped moving. 

This time, he didn’t try not to laugh.

It was an awful feeling, his chest pressing against your back, just the hint of his weight forcing you to slouch as his lips ghosted over the dip of your shoulder, warm breath fanning over your skin at every chuckle, every wistful sigh, every painful word you couldn’t beg him not to say, not without losing your dignity, too. “What do I have to lie about?” You shuddered as he kissed you, the gesture fleeting, but no less repulsive. If Diavolo noticed, he didn’t seem to mind. “I’m taking care of you. You’re housed and fed and looked after, and you could be entertained, if I trusted you to wander out of my sight. He’s aware of my feelings for you, and if he asked, I’d be happy to tell him all about my stubborn little dove and spoiled you’ve become, with me.”

‘If he asked’. You were used to the way he talked about you – like a pet, like something to be adored and cooed over and cared for, but you’d be lying if you said something didn’t crack inside of your chest at that, at the implication that Michael hadn’t asked, not yet. It could’ve been a tactic, a strategy to guide Diavolo into a false sense of security. It could’ve been part of one of the many ‘greater plans’ your superior had always been so endeared by.

That, or he just didn’t care. It wasn’t like you were the only messenger in the Celestial Realm.

Diavolo must’ve caught your worried frown, the half-hearted, distracted glare you couldn’t seem to completely suppress. His next kiss lasted longer than his first, lingering against the nape of your neck. Temptation, poorly guised under the pretense of comfort. “Angels are fickle creatures, Michael especially. You’re dear to me, you know that, but I can’t say everyone is quite as emotional.”  He gave you time to respond, but you didn’t take the opportunity. You didn’t have anything to say, not when he got like this. “It might be a little less painful if you—”

“I like being an angel,” You snapped. It didn’t have anything to do with Michael, or his approval, or whether or not he cared that you were stuck in the same frozen, sunless hell he’d sent you to, trapped by the same devil he’d insisted that you see day in and day out despite your complaints, despite the lasting touches and the prolonged visits and that awful, possessive glint in Diavolo’s eye, when he looked at you. You didn’t care about Michael, not when it came to this. Not when you already knew what you were. “I’m an angel. I’ll always be an angel. I’ve never wanted to be anything else.”

It was the truth, but Diavolo only sighed, your wings straining not to lash out as he pulled you closer. Straining not to protect you, however necessary their service was beginning to seem.

“We’ll see.”

~

Michael used to say only the strongest angels earned their wings.

Strong in will, strong in mind, strong, whether or not you had any place on a battlefield. Out of all Michael’s compliments, it was the rarest, saved for soldiers and generals and magicians of the highest order, communicated in sparse bits of praise you felt lucky just to overhear. Maybe if you’d ever gotten your second pair, he would’ve said it to you, too. Maybe if you’d ever sought to be more than a messenger, he would’ve thought you were worthy of it. Maybe, if you escaped on your own, he’d smile and place a hand on your shoulder and celebrate your strength, your wings, your perseverance, you.

Maybe, if you escaped soon enough, you’d still want him to.

In your defense, it’d taken you a month just to get this close to the outside world, just to be able to see the Devildom beyond the walls of Diavolo’s castle, albeit still restrained to a balcony. It was brighter than you expected, the landscape below glowing with floating lanterns and glinting streetlights, ancient estates and modern stores standing side by side, a testament to the contained chaos of Diavolo’s domain. It was beautiful, even if you must’ve seen it a hundred times before. It was breathtaking, if only because it wasn’t the same stone and mortar, the same bedrooms and offices and grand ballrooms too empty not to come off as uncanny. You haven’t even asked for it, not unprompted.

It was a gift. It was a reward for your good behavior, not unlike your wings.

You pushed the thought out of your mind as soon as Diavolo’s armed wrapped around your waist. You’d wanted your wings. You’d worked for them. You’d never wanted this.

Still, you didn’t push him away. You wanted more time to take it in, another minute of feeling that humidity against your skin, another second of breathing fresh air. As long as you got that, you could ignore his unnatural body-heat, the feeling of his lips against the side of your neck, trailing towards your jaw while you bit back your usual complaints. That was his reward, for being such a considerate captor. He got to touch you, actually touch you, and for once, you had a good reason not to fight back.

Your wings had never liked to listen to logic, though. Despite your grit teeth, your white-knuckle grip on the low guard-rail, your right wing still plastered itself to your side, wrapping around you protectively while its twin hovered behind Diavolo, at your side, caught between the urge to push itself between you and a perceived threat and your commands to relax, fall back, do something that didn’t make your shoulders ache and your spine cramp every time you shifted. Fortunately, Diavolo seemed unfazed, only bothering to brush your wing away when it bumped against his back, reacting to every nip to your jaw, every brush of pointed fangs against your jugular.

He barely pulled away to speak, his voice coming out muffled. “I’m starting to think you don’t trust me.”

“I can’t really control them,” You mumbled, your grip growing impossibly tighter around the guard rail. Diavolo was pulling you closer, now, his hold not quite crushing, but still as suffocating as it’d ever been. “I… I think I’m just nervous. They start to get fidgety when I’m on-edge, y’know?”

There was a laugh, a peck the corner of your lips. You couldn’t stop yourself from flinching back. It wasn’t the most intimate thing he’d tried, it wasn’t even the most invasive, but the fact that he felt comfortable trying at all wasn’t a good sign. “Are you still scared of me, my love?” It was a question, but he didn’t give you time to answer, only tugging you towards him, his knee slipping between your legs as you were forced to face him, abandoning your railing and your only source of stability, in the process. “I think I’ve been kind, and you must see that I’m being patient. I’ve trying to be gentle with you, despite how cold you’ve been, since I took you in.”

A hand dropped to your thigh, and your vision tinged black around the edges. He must’ve been able to feel your pulse racing, but he didn’t seem disturbed by your sudden anxiety. “Only because I haven’t given you permission to be anything but gentle, yet.”

Something sparked in his eyes, a dark sort of fire. “I don’t need your permission for everything, you know.”

For once, you and your wings were in agreement.

It helped that he wasn’t expecting it. You’d always been passive when it came to action, too timid to fight back in any meaningful way, so when you lashed out, when you wedged a strong wing between his body and yours and shoved, he was caught off-guard, letting you go out of instinct alone. You didn’t bother trying to subdue him. He was a head taller than you and twice as strong, but you were faster, you were frenzied, and whatever he might’ve expected, it couldn’t have been what you did next. In the space between one second and another, you were on top of the railing, struggling to keep your balance as your wings stretched to their full length for the first time in weeks. You felt a hollow throb, a pang of discomfort, but you weren’t deterred. You needed to get out of here. You needed to fly. You couldn’t leave his kingdom, but as long as you left him, you’d be alright. You wanted to fly. You had to fly.

But, as soon as you’d jumped, a fist wrapped around your ankle, and you were thrown back onto the balcony before your wings could do so much as flap.

It hurt. More than anything, it hurt, from the new crack in your ribcage to the spot where something shattered in the arch of your left wing. You curled into yourself instinctively, a faltering whimper turning into a broken scream as Diavolo’s foot caught the bend of your fractured wing, still fluttering pathetically in an attempt to aid you. “I’m trying to be nice,” He snarled, but he didn’t sound angry. He sounded disappointed, exasperated, tired of you and your refusal and how little he seemed to respect either. There was an airy, exhausted chuckle on his part, then a ragged sob on yours. “Would it really be so awful to be with me? Have I really done something monstrous enough to deserve this?”

Yes. It was, he had, yes. That’s what you wanted to say, what you meant to, but your tongue refused to form the words. “I d-don’t—” You slurred, instead, only to be cut short by your own hitched cry. “I… I like being an angel, I don’t wanna— I can’t—”

“I know.”

His heel pressed into your wing, blood seeped from matted feathers, and something hot and agonizing shot from your injury to your brain. Like lightening. Like liquid mercury. Like fire.

You didn’t even have a chance to close your eyes before the world went dark around you.

~

You used to say you’d rather lose your head than your wings.

It was one of those stupid, short-sighted things people liked to say when they were feeling bold, when they were safe, when they’d just gotten something new and shiny and hadn’t grown tired of showing it off. Sometimes it was an arm, some days your legs, and when you were feeling particularly brave, you’d say your heart, despite how useless your wings would probably be without something so vital. It might’ve been different if you were ever actually up against a threat that wanted to take one or the other, but it still would’ve been your choice. That was what you were stuck on, really. You thought you’d get to choose.

But, you hadn’t.

Diavolo must’ve grown tired of letting you make the wrong decision, all while he tried to be so helpful.

You felt hollow when you woke up, lying on a bed you’d never seen before. Lighter than you should’ve been, sliced open and carved out, missing something necessary and warm and filling. Your throat felt dry, your eyes stung, and when you tried to roll onto your side, when you tried to move at all, it felt like every tissue, every tendon, every cell in your body was trying to tear itself apart. The pain was all-consuming, and it only seemed to get worse as you shrunk into yourself, your arms wrapping around your sides and your wings following—

Oh.

It was kind of funny, how long it’d taken you to notice.

You didn’t have to look. You kept your eyes shut, a cracked sob slipping past your lips as you tried desperately to move your wings, to lift them, to flap them, to do something beyond digging your nails into the sheets and cursing, panting, waiting for anything. The pain dimmed, numbing into something distant, something unimportant as you tried to push yourself up, but a strong hand clamped around your shoulder before you could make any progress, not forcing you to lay down, but urging you to, not giving you another choice. 

That seemed to be a trend, lately.

You tried to thrash. You tried to struggle, but Diavolo just clicked his tongue, the mild sound of disapproval serving as your only warning before he sat up, an arm soon thread underneath the small of your back and the bend of your knees, lifting you into his lap without the option to pull away. “Please, try not to move.” As always, he was gentle, hushing your weak protests before you could think to vocalize them. “Your wounds are still healing. It’d only be more painful if you tore your stitches, and the mess—”

“What—What did you do—” You were stuttering, stumbling over your words, but it didn’t matter. You were desperate, and you needed to do something. “I can’t… Why can’t I feel my wings?”

There was a slight pause, the smallest hesitation. You swear, you could feel his smile burning into you, as he started to speak. “You said you wanted to be angel, my love.” It was a crime, how soft his voice was, how tenderly he held you. A captor masquerading as a caretaker. A demon as a doting lover. “But, I couldn’t have you trying to fly away. Consider this a compromise, an alternative to keeping my little songbird locked in a cage.”

You might’ve preferred a cage. A cell, a prison, a chain around your ankle, anything over the strange dissonance that came with having half of yourself ripped away and discarded. But, Diavolo hadn’t given you the choice. Michael hadn’t saved you, and now, after you’d been damaged so severely, you doubted he ever would.

You liked being an angel. You really, really liked being an angel. You’d never wanted to be anything else.

You just weren’t sure if you could be an angel, without your wings.

[caiuscassiuss]

oppa! | ot7 (I)

Description: Being raised by a caring yet distant father, a close, tight-knit family is the one thing you have craved in your short life. After your adventurer father remarries a rich woman, you’re stuck with seven new brothers. Seven very hot, very different men. This is not what you meant by family.

Arc 1: Stepbrother Introductions

Genre: OT7 x Female!Reader | Brother’s Conflict AU | stepbrother au | fluff | slice of life (For this chapter: PG 13) WC: 15k Warnings: swearing, dub-con (??). In later chapters there will be explicit mentions of depression, panic attacks, thoughts of suicide, self harm, and graphic smut.

Chapter 1: Enter the Oldest Type, Jin!

Fiddling with the charm on your phone, you looked down at the blue text bubble that spelled out the address of what might possibly be your home for the next few years.

You had googled the place as soon as you got home, expecting it to be a random apartment somewhere and boy oh boy, you were wrong. First, the house (not apartment) was on the outskirts of Seoul, on one of the hilly inclines overlooking the Han River. Second, the place where it was located was expensive.

Your eyes nearly bulged out of your head when you saw the housing prices of properties nearby on this popular real estate app. Sure, your father was a celebrity adventurer with his own cable show and so you were used to a certain amount of comfort, but this type of wealth was way beyond your league. Who was this woman that your father married, Jesus Christ?

On the Google streets view (you swear you aren’t weird), you saw the place had at least 2 gates to get through and your father hadn’t told you of any code or given you any pass to get through. You had a feeling if you tried to go in there blind, you would be immediately detained by the police.

Biting your lip, you paced on the fluffy carpet that felt like a dream. Your father was gallivanting off in some remote corner of Nigeria, so he was bound to have no cell service there. You knew no one in the family— much less how to contact them so you could meet up for a coffee or something. It would seem rude not to do something…

Your apartment doorbell buzzed throughout your apartment. Folding your arms over your chest, you shivered as you walked towards the doorway. You had turned up the Air Conditioner too high to ward off the muggy Seoul heat and now it was freezing inside your apartment.

“Hello?” you asked in to the intercom.

“Hi, is this Y/N?” a masculine voice asked at the other end.

You frowned and shifted your weight on your other leg. You don’t recall expecting any guests today.

“Excuse me?” the man asked again after you refused to respond.

“Hi, sorry, who is calling?” you said politely.

“I’m Seokjin, Seoyeon’s son. I’m your, uh, new brother?” he said haltingly, his voice raised at the end.

Gasping softly, you felt your mind pile up with questions and questions until it was spinning. How did he get here? How did you know who you are?

“Oh! Uh, yeah, please come on up.”

You pressed the button to allow the elevator to go to your location and you heard a bright “Thank you!” before the intercom shut off.

You zoomed around your apartment like a psychopath, picking up spare pieces of clothing and putting the dishes in the dishwasher. Your apartment reeked of mild depression, suppressed anxiety, and the beginnings of an unhealthy reliance on take out and that was not the first impression you wanted your newfound brother to have of you.

Putting your hands on your hips, you scanned the now clean apartment. It looked like a moderately adjusted human lived here.

Good timing indeed, as your buzzer sharply rang throughout the apartment. Taking a deep breath, you grasped the door handle and pulled it open.

Your lungs really said “Bye, sister!” and decided to quit working as soon as you saw this man. You couldn’t breath because standing in front of you was one of the most beautiful men you have ever seen in your life.

He was tall, taking up the entire doorway with his height. A dash of neatly groomed, brown hair graced the top of his small head and big eyes peered at you curiously above a strong nose and a pair of big, pouty lips the color of strawberries.

The second thing you noticed about him after his overwhelming beauty was his navy scrubs and the large badge attached to his pocket that read “Kim Seokjin; Pediatric Doctor at Seoul National University Pediatric Group”. You’ve seen people in scrubs and they were, favorably said, unflattering but on this man… he looked like he stepped out of a catalogue.

“You’re Y/N, right?”

Speechless, you nodded.

His entire face lit up with a grin. “Oh, that’s a relief. It’s fantastic to meet you, I’m Kim Seokjin. You can call me Jin though.”

Your voice decided to be nice and start working. You held out a hand and he reciprocated with a handshake. “Hi, I’m Y/N. It’s really nice to meet you. Please, do come in.”

He took off his sturdy shoes politely at the doorway and you retreated further into the hallway of your apartment.

You shivered again through your thin top and crossed your arms. God, you were going to have to raise the temperature. It felt like a fridge in here.

Jin turned around with a smile on his face before his eyes went wide. His eyes flickered down your body and quickly flickered back up to your face.

“I’m sorry if this is a bit sudden,” he started, red climbing up his neck and rising up to his cheeks. “I—” His eyes flicked down again before staying resolutely at your face, despite his very red cheeks.

Did you have a stain on your pants or something? You cast your eyes down at yourself and—

Oh.

Your very regrettable decision of turning your A/C up resulted in stiff nipples poking out from your thin top. To make matters worse, your crossed arms emphasized your breasts.

You felt yourself going red as an unflattering squeak left your mouth. Pulling a cardigan from behind the couch (there goes your good first impression), you quickly threaded your arms through the sleeves and covered your chest.

“I am so sorry—”

“It’s alright!” he said, his voice unwieldy. Jin’s eyes widened again as he realized the meaning of his words. “No! I mean— ugh,” he groaned, burying his face in his hands.

You giggled as you saw his mature composure crack in front of you. 

“I must seem like a pervert,” Jin groaned. “Here I was, hoping to come off as a cool older brother, and I just,” he shook his head. “Forgive me.”

The awkwardness defused, you laughed again, ultra conscious of your chest. “Please don’t worry about it! I had hoped to make a good first impression as well but look at me! Pulling clothing out of furniture.”

He snorted and you both started laughing, filling up your once silent apartment with sound. 

As the laughter died down, you offered him a seat on your couch. He gladly took the invitation, throwing in a joke about being on his feet all day.

“Yeah, I’m sorry to barge in all of the sudden. I didn’t have your contact information— only your address and I realized that you had no way to get to our house. So, here I am,” he grinned, eyes forming cute half crescents.

“I actually have to thank you for it,” you said, setting down a glass of water in front of him. “I was thinking of going to your house myself but I saw the security around it and I knew I’d probably get detained or something.”

“Well, it’s good that it all lined up so well,” Jin commented. “I better introduce myself, don’t I? I’m just a pediatric doctor with the SNU pediatric group and 26— the oldest of all of us. I was born in Gwacheon and moved to Seoul to attend university.”

You smiled softly, despite your unease at his use of the word “just”. “A pediatric doctor? That’s very nice. What made you want to be a doctor?”

Jin’s smile grew strained and you saw his broad shoulders tense up. 

Feeling like you wanted to hit yourself over the head, you threw out your hands in apology. “I didn’t mean to—”

He shook his head. “Please, don’t worry about it. It’s a common question. I chose this specific profession over the OR or surgery because, as a child, I knew someone who was injured a lot and I couldn’t help them at all.” He grimaced, but pasted on a very good smile. His eyes were crinkled at the edges, his head tilted upwards, but you could see through it. “Now I can, yeah?”

“I get what you mean,” you said sympathetically. You were often sick as a child too, and it was… difficult, when your father was off scampering across half the world. 

Jin straightened up in his seat and lost that faraway look in his eyes, zeroing in on you. “What about you, Y/N? You’re college-age, yeah?”

“Yes, I’m 21 and attend Yonsei University as a junior. Although it’s not as exciting as wanting to be a doctor, I want to be a counselor one day,” you told him, your eyes cast down “I want to help people.”

“That’s really admirable, Y/N. If you ever need any help getting an internship or opportunity, I know some counselors and I’d be more than happy to facilitate a meeting,” Jin smiled warmly at you.

A blush infused your cheeks. “I, ah, thank you. I actually work as an operator on Crisis hotline right now, but I’ll definitely need all the help I can get.”

“Of course! You’re my cute younger sister now.”

“I’ve never had a sibling, I’m very excited to have seven older brothers now,” you grinned.

“Yeah! About that,” he coughed awkwardly, “— are you considering moving in with us? Your father told my mother that you would be moving, but I wasn’t sure if you were completely willing?”

You nodded. “I’m considering it. I’d like to meet everyone first, however. Just to get used to your personalities.”

“Completely understandable, all seven of us can be,” he paused, “—a lot. However, if you’re up for meeting a few of us, I can take you to our house for a visit. I can drop you back and everything.”

“That’d be lovely.”

He waited patiently for you as you locked the door to your apartment, carefully watching you as you stepped into the elevator.

“Where did you park?” you asked, craning your head upwards to look at him. “I hope you weren’t forced to park on the street, it can be very expensive.”

He shook his head. “I found the visitor parking, it’s all good.”

The doctor led you through the underground parking, weaving through cars and concrete beams with ease until you stopped in front of a bright white car with a silver trident in the middle of its grill. Eyes wide, you knew what this car was. Your dad had admired Maseratis for the longest time, and this one looked to be very new.

Jin gestured to the white Maserati, looking unfairly suave in his scrubs and next to his fancy car. “Hop in.”

Next Chapter: Press [ X ] for the Mature Type, Namjoon! 

Chapter 2: Enter the Mature Type, Namjoon!

Jin was a model driver, driving carefully on the streets of Seoul. He looked both ways before crossing an intersection and took slow turns. However, it amused you how he hissed at the console as it beeped to warn him if there was a car or curb too close to him.

However, as you looked out the window, the streets got quieter and the houses a whole lot bigger as you crossed into a residential part of Seoul. You were driving parallel to the Han River, and you saw many people doing water activities or boating to cool off in the hot September weather.

Jin slowed down as you entered an avenue lined by trees and you could see a guardhouse at the end of the picturesque street. However, the two of you avoided the guardhouse completely and took what was presumably the resident’s entrance, where he passed by easily with a scan of a barcode on his tire.

“Do you drive, Y/N?” Jin asked, one elbow resting casually on his open window and the other on his lap.

“No, I never really had time to learn.” More like you never had someone to teach you.

“Okay, so we’ll just need a resident pass for you,” Jin muttered to himself, eyes focused on the street.

He drove through large, green spaces with the occasional building speckling the landscape. You gripped your purse harder. Green spaces unencumbered by large buildings blocking the view were rare in Seoul, the cost of natural land so astronomically high only wealthy business people or very famous celebrities being able to afford places like this. You gulped. Their family was definitely out of your league.

The car stopped in front of a very modern looking townhouse and the garage opened, Jin driving into what seemed to be a much more expansive parking garage under the house. However, instead of boring concrete and fluorescent lighting, sandy colored marble and warm lighting lit the space as you descended through the underground.

Biting your lip as Jin backed in his car easily with just one hand steering the wheel, defined forearms catching your attention, you mentally smacked yourself. He’s your brother, for god’s sake!

You froze up as the doors started to lift up like wings on a butterfly, but relaxed. This level of wealth would definitely take some time to get used to.

He placed a warm palm on your shoulder, his fingertips reaching your collarbones, as he guided you to the entrance, up the dimly lit stairs and to a large, wooden door.

“I wish I could’ve taken you through the front door since it’s much more impressive,” he sighed, and pushed the wooden door open with a thumbprint scanner. “However, welcome to our humble abode.”

An abode it was, but humble was it not. You were only on the ground floor, but the ceilings were very high and you were surrounded by many floor-to-ceiling windows. The main theme of the building was warm marble and dark, rich wood with jewel tones interspersed between.

“Woah,” you breathed out. “You guys have a lot of space.”

“Yeah, “ Jin grimaced. “We kind of need it when some of us like to roughhouse and tend to break things.”

You laughed as he then guided you towards a spacious living room, a large window overlooking the Han River and greenery.

“Sit tight, I’ll get us something to drink,” Jin said, his voice getting fainter as he strode to a room off the massive living room.

Ankles crossed together, you peered at the large room. At first, it looked neat. Everything was in its place and perfectly coordinated by the eye of an expert designer. However, you could see the signs the place was well-lived in. The wear-and-tear of the orange and beige blanket emblazoned with an H that was thrown over the chair of the couch, the mess of wires from various gaming consoles, and even the small depressions on the pillows. 

A shelf of colorful books framed the huge TV and you stood up, perusing them. You expected the books to be typical, non-offensive living room books with dust on the covers but to your surprise, the books on the shelves were well loved with their cracked spines and rounded edges. Tracing over your fingers over the books you whispered the titles to yourself.

Candide, Crime and Punishment, The Metamorphosis…

“I’m sorry, but who are you?”

A deep voice echoed behind you and you jumped in surprise. Whirling around you saw another tall man with neat ash blond hair, glasses neatly perched on his straight nose with a pair of fierce eyes peering out from behind the frames. His charcoal suit was well-fitted to his body and his build reminded you of a tiger; sinewous muscles cording his arms, back, and thighs and tensed, ready to jump into action.

A nervous smile crawled up your lips. “I’m Y/N L/N. Are you one of my new brothers?”

The man relaxed minutely but the fierceness of his eyes did not subside. “I am. I’m Kim Namjoon, it’s a pleasure to meet you Y/N.”

He strode across the room in long, confident strides and took your hand. His handshake was strong and you tightened your grip in response, narrowing your eyes at him. His right eyebrow quirked, but he said nothing as he turned his attention to the bookshelf.

“So, what caught your attention here?” He murmured, tenor voice traveling the length of your spine and stroking your sensitive skin. “Is it… this?”

He pulled out a copy of Pride and Prejudice by Jane Austen, obviously less worn than the rest.

A smirk tugged at your lips. “No, not that one.”

He stared at you longer, before crossing his arms over his powerful chest. “Oh? Enlighten me, then.”

With nimble fingers, you pulled out a red, slim novel and handed it to him. You carefully tracked his reaction as he took it from your hands, face and eyes saying nothing. He ran a thumb over the agonized face on the cover, and you felt a shiver go down your arm at the sheer sensuousness of it.

“Clockwork Orange,” he breathed out. “Interesting. Are you a Lit Major?”

You continued to stare at the bookshelf, feeling his eyes boring holes into your face. “No, I’m not. I’m majoring in psychology.”

He hummed, eyes tracing the rough artwork of the novel’s cover. “I liked psychology, but at that point I was already double-majoring. I majored in philosophy and business, which are not as different than they seem.”

“Are you out of university, then?” you asked, trying to keep your tone casual.

Namjoon nodded affirmatively. “I’m 24, but I matriculated at SNU when I was 18. I run a conglomerate group now.”

Trying to keep your mouth from falling open in shock— what kind of twenty something year old owned a large business, much less a conglomerate— you nodded coolly.

“Given or made?” you questioned, an edge in your voice. Something about Namjoon made you want to test him, to prod at him constantly.

His fierce eyes turned to you and they blazed. 

“Made.”

Your lips lifted upwards, minutely, until you heard a clinking of glasses.

“Y/N? Sister-dearest? I got you— oh!”

Jin stopped in shock at the sight of you two seemingly huddled together in front of the book case.

“Do you two know each other?” Jin asked, absolutely bemused, as he set down a pitcher and some glasses on the coffee table.

“We don’t,” Namjoon answered. “However,” he wrapped an arm around your shoulders, “—I can see we’ll get along nicely.”

You did not get the same impression, but you digressed. He was one of your brothers now. Another factor was that one of his biceps, even though it was hidden inside his suit jacket, looked like it could strangle you.

Jin continued to stare in suspicion, before shrugging his wide shoulders and settling down on the couch.

“So what were you chatting about then?”

“A couple of books I had on the shelf. Y/N has some interesting taste,” Namjoon commented.

Jin snorted into his water with lemon. “Oh, ew, now I have two bookworms as siblings? Reading was the worst part of university. I liked all the practical stuff.”

“Sometimes I can’t believe that rational parents would let you near their kids,” Namjoon retorted, helping himself to a glass.

“And I can’t believe some women come near you,” Seokjin replied heatedly.

The two of them stared at each other seriously before breaking out in guffaws, hiding your expression behind your glass of water. This was such a weird dynamic and it was only two of them. Well, the best you could do was adapt the situation.

Just like you always had.

Next Chapter: Press [ X ] for the Rough Type, Jungkook! 

Chapter 3: Enter the Rough Type, Jungkook!

As the three of you chatted about yourselves (apparently, some of the brothers were biologically Seoyeon’s children or were adopted), Jin’s eye caught the clock behind you and his eyes widened.

“Oh dear, it’s almost 6 o’clock,” Jin fretted, leaping up from the couch. “Everyone should be arriving home soon– excuse me,” he said as he retreated into the kitchen.

“Ah, I guess that means I should get going,” you said apologetically to Namjoon, standing up and straightening your ruffled skirt.

“Please, stay for dinner,” Namjoon smiled, gesturing for you to take a seat.

“Yeah, Y/N, stay for dinner!” Jin yelled from the kitchen.

“I mean, if you’re sure…” you trailed off, hoping you could stay. You felt too lazy to cook for yourself tonight.

“Please do, we hope to see you a lot more around here,” Namjoon said, warm smiling at you.

The security system dinged, signalling a door had opened within the house. Namjoon’s ears perked up.

His eyes flew towards the doorway. “That must be Taehyung or Jungkook, coming in. They’re usually the first to arrive.”

You wondered why both of those names seemed familiar and a heavy door slammed shut.

“Jungkook-ah! Your new sister is here! Come and greet her, you punk!”

The footsteps thud to a halt at the foot of the steps and you spin around in your seat.

In the hallway, a buff man in a loose-fitting white t-shirt and grey joggers stood in front of you. In almost humorous contrast to his hulking, muscled body, the cutest face with big eyes and pouty lips you have seen peered at you.

He looked familiar to you and you bit your lip, trying to figure out where you had seen him. Oh wait! Charger guy!

“Jungkook! You’re in my Calculus class, right?”

“Yeah…” he whispered, looking at you like he saw a ghost.

“It’s so funny that you’re here. It’s nice to meet you as my brother,” you grinned at him, tilting your head to the side.

He nodded mindlessly, frozen at his spot in the hallway.

“Jungkook? Are you good?” you prodded.

Namjoon snorted as he kept on typing into his phone. “Jungkook can’t speak to girls, so he gets frozen like this from time to time. Hyung, you fix him.”

“I’m cooking, you dolt!”

“And I’m trying to earn money so I can provide the food. Go.”

Jin shot you a look, as if exclaiming “look at how I’m treated around here!”, and dusted off his hands. Striding over to a frozen Jungkook, Jin poked Jungkook’s very built chest.

Jungkook still didn’t move and Jin pursed his lips. He poked him again. “Yah! Why aren’t you working?!”

The youngest brother broke out from his trance and looked at Jin seriously. 

“No.”

“Pardon?” you asked, wondering if you misheard.

“No.” Jungkook shook his mass of black, shaggy hair and ran a tattooed hand through it, looking in disbelief at the ground. “No, no, no, no, no no.”

Your slight smile is frozen on your face and you feel your shoulders tense up and, nervously, you look to Jin.

“Jungkook—“

“Fuck!” He threw his hands in the air. Jungkook pointed a finger at you, a line creasing at his forehead. “I did not sign up for this! Fuck!” 

Spinning around, he marched back into the hall and you could see the powerful muscles in his back tense through his thin t-shirt.

“Well…”

Jin, with his hands rubbing his temples, sighed heavily and deflated at the counter. “God, I’m sorry about that Y/N. I don’t know why Jungkookie is acting like that; he’s normally really amiable and nice.”

You laugh softly, trying to defuse the awkward tension that had settled around the kitchen. “Jin-ssi, please don’t worry about it. It’s a huge shift in his life and some people are going to take it harder than others. It’ll take some time, but I’m sure he’ll get used to me being his sister.”

Namjoon scrutinized you with hooded eyes. “You’re very kind. I hope my brothers don’t take advantage of it.”

Your grin cracked a bit. “We’re family. I don’t mind.”

—————

Jungkook would not come down from his room, despite the hilarious mix of threats, blackmail, and aegyo Jin tried to coerce him down with.

You could hear Jin rapid-fire lecturing Jungkook outside Jungkook’s bedroom door and Namjoon sighed, his temples in his hands. 

“Hyung, just give up. The kid’s being moody again.”

Jin acquiesced with ill grace, throwing in a last good “You punk!” up the stairs. He stomped down the carpeted stair well, retying his apron and set to reheat many of the things.

“See if I feed him tonight, that ungrateful brat…” Jin hissed, moodily chopping some screen onions.

Namjoon leaned towards you and beckoned your ear towards his and you obeyed, curious. His scent wafted towards you, yet was not as punchy as a normal cologne. It was subtle and musky, carrying notes of old books and bergamot. Perhaps it was a lotion?

“Jin says that all the time, but will leave him leftovers anyways,” Namjoon whispered into your ear, making you unconsciously shiver. “He’s too much of a pushover.”

You snorted as Jin came out of the kitchen with a dish in hands. “Yah, what was that, Namjoon?”

“Just commenting on how good your food is, hyung,” Namjoon replied coolly and leaning away from you.

Jin glanced suspiciously at Namjoon, before setting down the dish. You gasped, immediately getting to your feet.

“Oh, I’ve been such a rude guest! Can I help in any way? Set out the dishes or something?”

The apron-clad doctor clutched his heart, and wailed, “Look! My cute dongsaeng! Finally, a member of this household that is kind and offers to do their part!” Jin’s voice got progressively louder as he directed his voice up the stairs.

You muffled your laugh with a cough, and turned to Jin again. “Jin-ssi?”

Jin shook his head, clicking his tongue as he directed you to stay in your seat. “No, sweetheart, you’re a guest. Joonie-ah, set out the plates.”

Namjoon got up to get the plates, but as he did, his phone buzzed. Namjoon’s forehead creased as he looked at whatever was on his screen.

“Hyung, Taehyung-ah won’t be here today. Apparently his shoot on Jeju is lasting over night.”

Jin sighed, bustling around the kitchen. “How about Hoseok? Yoongi? I know Chimmy is out of the country right now.”

Taehyung, Hoseok, Yoongi, Chimmy, you memorized in your head. These were the four brothers you had yet to meet.

Namjoon snorted and put down the silverware, forks and spoons tinkling brightly. “You know Yoongi— he’s like a stray cat. He’ll be here when he wants. As for Hoseok, I think he might’ve just fallen asleep at the studio.”

“I’m sorry Y/N, I wish I could’ve introduced you to our other brothers,” Jin apologized. “Now, you’re just stuck with us two grandpas.”

You shook your head. “I’m just happy I could have dinner with you guys. Thank you for inviting me over.”

Jin watched you with a fond smile and Namjoon contemplated you carefully again.

Everything was set out and the three of you dug into Jin’s delicious food.

“Jin-ssi, this is very good. Your food tastes delicious. Did you put brown sugar into the sauce? It really rounds out the taste,” you complimented.

“I haven’t heard a compliment from these ungrateful brats about my cooking for 10 years,” Jin sighed dramatically. “Such a cute dongsaeng.”

Namjoon shook his head at Jin’s immature antics. “I might as well introduce you to Jungkook, since he elected not to do it himself.”

“You seemed to know him from university, yes?” Jin asked.

Nodding, you dabbed your mouth with a napkin. “I know of him, yes. He’s in my calculus class? Although, I feel like I might’ve had him in some of my core curriculum classes.”

“Jungkook is at Yonsei for a technology degree, although at first he was reluctant to go to university,” Namjoon revealed. “He wanted to be a Pro-Gamer and streamer full-time, but Seoyeon, Hyung, and I convinced him to get a degree.”

“He chose technology because he wants to combine his passion for gaming and technology into something in the future,” Jin continued, taking a sip of his water.

“That’s a very smart move of his,” you said politely. You wondered why Namjoon referred to his mother as ‘Seoyeon’. Maybe he was one of the adopted ones?

“That brat upstairs might look like he just screams at the monitor and works out, but he’s much more,” Namjoon reflected.

———- 

When you were cleaning up, you felt bad that Jungkook hadn’t had dinner yet. That man must need like four square meals a day and tons of snacks to keep up his bulk.

“Jin-ssi, Namjoon-ssi, I’m going to deliver some food to Jungkook. He must be hungry,” you called out, scraping some of the food onto a plate.

“You don’t have too, Y/N, he usually sneaks down to get something from the fridge,” Namjoon said as he typed furiously on his phone.

“Don’t worry about it, I want to help him,” you grinned, climbing up the stairs.

Namjoon mumbled something suspiciously like, “You’re too kind for your own good” but you had already gotten to the second landing. Stopping in front of Jungkook’s door, you knocked.

“Jungkook-ssi?” you said when no one responded. “You must be a bit hungry, so I just got a plate together for you.”

Complete radio silence. 

Exhaling sharply through your nostrils, you pouted and bent down to set down the plate next to his doorway.

“Well, if you change your mind, I put it next to your door. I’ll be going now!”

You strode down the hallway, making sure your footsteps trailed off. You hid behind a corner, making sure to conceal yourself completely.

After waiting a few minutes, you were sure he wasn’t going to come out  but his door clicked open and Jungkook emerged in a grey-blue hoodie. He took a surreptitious glance around the hallway before his eyes found you behind the corner.

Blushing, you decided to wave at him. To your surprise, instead of scowling or ignoring you completely, Jungkook’s face turned tomato red as he hurriedly gathered up the plate and slammed his door.

You scratched your head. Maybe he was shy or something.

Next Chapter: Press [ X ] for the Bright Type, Hoseok! 

Chapter 5: Enter the Bright Type, Hoseok!

“So, how were your brothers? Nice? Weird? Ugly?” Hyerim pestered as you walked by the subway.

You bit your lip. “Um, really different?”

Hyerim fixed you a look.

“Okay, so I met three out of the seven yesterday. The oldest one— his name is Seokjin, but I call him Jin— is 26 and he’s a pediatric doctor. The other one—”

“Wait, Seokjin?” Your friend squinted at you. “Does he happen to work at SNU Pediatric Group?”

Blinking, you turned to her. “Yeah? How the hell did you know that?”

Hyerim let out a half strangled scream as you stepped down the stairs of the station. You were instantly surrounded by dozens of power blue ads with a purple suit-clad man in the middle, perhaps in the middle of a hip trust, all reading Happy Birthday in aesthetic cursive.

“Hoe! He’s my brother’s fucking doctor, I can’t believe this!”

Your eyebrows nearly touched your forehead. “Shit, really?”

“Yes! Holy shit, did you not listen to me complaining to you about how hot he was? And now he’s your fucking brother? The star must’ve aligned for me! This must mean the rest of the brothers are good looking!” Hyerim squealed.

“Does Jongin not exist anymore?” you asked as you both swiped your subway passes.

“Shhh, just because I’m off the market doesn’t mean I don’t get to look,” she giggled, her pony tail swishing back and forth.

You shook your head, amused at her antics, and continued.

“Anyways, the other brother I met is some fancy-schmancy businessman. Namjoon-ssi is 25? 24? He’s older than me but graduated from college when he was just 18.”

Hyerim’s eyes took on a perverted light and she simpered underneath her hand. “Oh? Am I hearing of sugar daddy material?”

You squawked and hit her shoulder. “Hyerim, stop! These are my brothers, not matches on Tinder!”

“I don’t care, you need a boyfriend— even if it’s a secret and taboo one,” Hyerim said, pushing her hair off her shoulder.

Rolling your eyes, you sat down in a seat next to her. “Anyways, the boys invited me to dinner again tonight in hopes we’ll catch more of the boys in the house. Jin-ssi says trying to get them all in one place is like waiting for a blue moon— it’s very rare.”

“So are you going straight there or going home to change?”

Shaking your head, you gestured at a laminated white pass in your hands. “I wanted to get there early today so I can go home early. Jin-ssi drove me home last night and I don’t want him to be caught in rush hour traffic again.”

Hyerim peered at the pass in your hands. “Hannam the Hill? Hey, doesn’t Han Hyo-joo live there? The actress from Brilliant Legacy?”

Shrugging your shoulders, you leaned into the hard plastic seat. “I don’t know. Probably? All I know is that the place where they live is very ritzy and takes like two security gates to get into.”

“Okay, they’re all sugar daddy material then,” Hyerim commented. She ducked to avoid a hit over the head and you huffed, crossing your arms.

“Stop, they all do pretty well for themselves and I heard my stepmother is some fancy businesswoman from a well-to-do family. They’re just my family now.”

“The train is approaching Yangwon station. I repeat the train is approaching Yangwon station,” the bright voice announced over the intercom.

“Oh, that’s my stop,” you remembered. 

“Wait, you said you met another brother. Who is he?” Hyerim asked as she patted her nose with a compact.

The train slowed to a stop and you got up.

“My other brother is Jungkook. The one from our Calculus class? The streamer?”

Smirking, you dramatically walked away and heard Hyerim’s shriek of disbelief as you stepped onto the train platform.

————— 

“I’m sorry, what?” you asked the guard in disbelief.

“I’m sorry ma’am, but your visitor pass has expired,” the security guard said calmly, eyes scanning you detachedly. Like you were another crazy female.

You were going to kill Jin. Forget his awesome jajamyeon, you’ll bitch-slap both him and Namjoon into another dimension.

“Are you sure you can’t just let me in? Like, call the house or something,” you asked desperately, hands crumpling the visitor pass.

The guard looked like he desperately wanted to roll his eyes, but he picked up his corded phone.

“Building 10, yes?” he asked boredly.

“Yes.”

He waited for the call to be picked up but after several rings, no one picked up.

“Apologies ma’am, but no one appears to be at the house. If you’re done, I’d like to ask you to leave and come back later,” the man said with an air of finality, and turned back to his station and looked at the 6 monitors surrounding his desk.

Your mouth open, you were aghast at his lack of sympathy. He could’ve at least offered for you to let you wait! It was nearing sun down and the boys had invited you to dinner again, and it would be rude to be late.

You don’t even know why they needed this much security. Sure, Namjoon was the CEO of a large conglomeration but wasn’t as high profile as Samsung’s chairman or someone crazy like that. It wasn’t like one of your brothers was a high-profile celebrity, right?

Standing on the sidewalk and looking like an idiot, you decided to call one of your damn brothers. Huffing, you flipped open your phone and selected Jin’s contact. After several rings, the call picked up.

“Y/N?”

“Hi Jin-ssi, sorry to bother you right now. I’m sure you’re busy right now,” you apologized, accidentally meeting eyes with the security guard who stared at you suspiciously.

“You’re fine! Is everything alright?” Jin asked, his voice tinged by concern.

You bit your lip as the security guard raised an eyebrow and picked up his phone, his eyes not letting go of you the entire time.

“I’m trying to get to the house, but the guard told me the visitor pass expired,” you explained, breath hitching as the guard spoke rapidly into the phone.

Jin swore over the phone, the sound muffled as he moved his phone away from his face.

“I’m so sorry, Y/N, Namjoon and I were so sure it was still active. Sit tight wherever you are, I’m texting one of the boys to get you through the gate. Hoseok is about a few minutes away from you.”

“Um, I don’t mean to rush,” you said, eyes widening as the man gestured to get out of the guardhouse, “— but I think the guard is about to detain me.”

“Goddamn security,” Jin hissed. “I’m calling the guard office right now, I am so sorry.”

He hung up and the guard continued to advance towards you, and you grasped your phone a bit tighter. The summer humidity suddenly pressed into your skin, slipped between your waistband and collar to make you sweat. Your eyes flickered to the station. No one was in the guard office to take Jin’s call so you steeled for yourself for what was about to be an ugly confrontation.

“Ma’am, I firmly ask you to leave the premises before I am forced to—”

“Y/N!”

The guard and you turned in the direction of the sound, and you saw a man in a bright yellow windbreaker and black sport shorts somehow jogging towards you in socks and sandals.

“Y/N,” he said, out of breath, as he stopped in front of you and the security guard. He held out a hand as he put his hands on his knees, trying to catch his breath.

“Hoseok-nim,” the guard bowed in respect, “Do you perhaps know this young lady?”

You got a good glimpse of him as he lifted his head and tennis cap. He pulled down his white mask and you saw his pointed nose, unfairly smooth skin, and sharp chin. You sobbed inwardly. Did all of your brothers miraculously get the luckiest scratch off tickets for the genetic jackpot? The man grinned at you and nodded in affirmative at the guard.

“Yes, I do,” Hoseok said, straightening up.

“I’m sorry, the young lady did not have the proper credentials to enter. My apologies.” The guard continued, speaking to Hoseok as if you did not exist.

Hoseok’s happy expression vanished and his brows furrowed. “Please, don’t apologize to me. My sister looked frightened. My brothers and I would appreciate it if you treated her a bit more politely.”

You hadn’t even noticed how frightened you were as you felt a drop of sweat roll down your temple and the shivers stop.

“I apologize, young lady,” the security guard said, taking off his cap and bowing politely. You smiled tightly and accepted with grace, gesturing for him to get up.

“That being said, we haven’t had time to get her resident pass processed. I’d like to add her to a list of visitors so a mix-up like this will not happen again,” Hoseok said seriously, staring down the security guard underneath his tennis logo cap and eccentric outfit. It almost put a smile to your lips, to see a beefy man in a suit and tie nearly cower under a boy at least half his age and centimeters shorter than him.

“Of course. Hoseok-nim, young lady,” he bowed, and the security guard scurried towards the office.

Hoseok turned towards you and his face brightened, rounded cheeks pulled upwards. “Hi Y/N, I’m so sorry for this mess,” he said, eyes shining with regret.

“I completely understand,” you placated. “You’re… Hoseok-ssi, right?”

He beamed. “Yes, I’m Hoseok. I’m 24, the middle brother. Please, call me oppa, we’re siblings now!”

He slung an arm over your shoulder and you couldn’t help but beam along with him. His bright energy was so infectious and immediately warmed you to him, drawing you into his orbit.

“It’s nice to meet you,” you replied, smile tugging at your lips. “I’m Y/N, 21 years old.”

“I’m so excited to have a cute younger sister,” Hoseok confessed as he walked you through the streets towards the house. “I was always jealous of my friends that could take care of their younger sisters, even though they acted like they were annoyed by them.”

You grinned more brightly. “Me too. I’ve been an only child all my life and having seven new brothers is very exciting to me.”

“You might want to take that back when you’ve met all of us,” Hoseok laughed. “You’ve met Jin-hyung, Namjoon-hyung, Jungkook-ah, right?”

Nodding, you spoke, “Yes, I have. Jin-ssi and Namjoon-ssi are very nice to me, but I don’t think Jungkook-ssi liked me very much…”

Hoseok waved it away. “Don’t worry, Kookie-ah doesn’t socialize well with girls. Or people. It took him ages to warm up to us after he got back from his grandparents.”

“Kookie-ah?” you asked curiously.

“Yes,” Hoseok grinned as he turned you onto a familiar street. “It’s our nickname for our youngest. He’s too cute not to tease.” Hoseok frowned as he remembered something. “Even though he is taller than me now.”

Hoseok was pretty tall himself, and you were starting to think that if you all took a family photo one day you’d look like the dwarf in the middle. Namjoon, Jin, and Jungkook just towered over you.

“On the other note, what do you do, Y/N? I’m curious about what my younger sister does.”

“I’m a university student at Yonsei, Hoseok-ssi,” you coughed, still not comfortable calling anybody oppa. “I’m studying psychology so I can be a counselor.”

“Yonsei? So my dongsaeng is a smart nut, I see,” Hoseok teased. “Did you know Jungkook before you met him as your brother?”

You shook your head. “I saw him around, but I only knew of him. What about you, Hoseok-ssi? What do you do?”

“I’m a dancer,” Hoseok announced, the house getting closer in view. “I’m part of this dance group, Neuron. We travel to perform and compete in competitions.”

“That’s awesome!” you clapped. “You must be very persistent. I tried ballet when I was younger and it was a disaster.”

“I haven’t heard that before,” Hoseok said, looking curiously at you. “Most people have told me I must be very talented or pull girls easily. But you’re right, I worked very hard.”

“What can I say?” you shrugged. “I just see through people.”

Hoseok guided you up the front steps of the doorway, fumbling through his pants to get his key. As he unlocked the front door, you heard the rumbling of a car going through the streets.

Going at least 100 kilometers per hour, a metallic blue Lamborghini skidded to a halt in front of the house. The weird doors stretched upwards and you saw both Jin and Namjoon emerge from the car.

“Y/N? Baby? Are you alright?” Jin asked worriedly, running up the front door.

“I’m good, Jin-ssi,” you comforted but he ignored it, taking your face in your hands and tilting your head to his view.

“Aish, those damn security guards!” Jin complained, clutching you to his chest and turning to Namjoon. “It’s your fault! Why did you give her that pass! She could’ve been detained! Put into cuffs like—like a criminal!” he ended dramatically.

Namjoon looked flabbergasted. “Me? You’re the one who got it!”

As the two descended into bickering, you peered at Hoseok from in between Jin’s arms. Your eyes screamed save me!

Hoeseok helpfully pried you from the still arguing doctor’s arms.

“Sorry about that, Jin is a bit protective over all of us— he practically raised us. We call him our mom sometimes,” Hoseok revealed, getting you into the house and leaving the now huffing and puffing duo on the doorsteps.

Next Chapter: Press [ X ] for the Moody Type, Taehyung! 

Chapter 7: Enter the Moody Type, Taehyung!

As you entered the house, the faint strings of what might be a Daniel Caesar song flowed throughout the house.

“Oh goodie, Taehyung must be here!,” Jin clapped, setting down his keys on a hook near the door. 

Namjoon snorted. “He’s the only one of us that listens to this moody shit.”

Through drought and famine, natural disaster, my baby has been around for me.

A door slammed somewhere on the ground level, and the click clack of heeled boots echoed like muffled gunshots on the marble of the house.

Kingdoms have fallen, angels be calling, none of that could ever make me leave.

Turning the corner, your heart stopped.

Leaning on the wooden doorway was the most heart-breakingly beautiful man you’ve ever laid eyes upon. His dyed ash-grey hair was messy around his face, but behind his bangs peeked half-lidded eyes shaped like tear drops. A strong nose and pink lips, like the petals of a flower, were parted open as he stared through you.

“Oh? Is this our new sister?” he said softly, his gravelly voice filling the hall.

You grinned uneasily, fighting off the urge to cover yourself with a blanket or something. It wasn’t that his gaze was improper; those mercurial eyes just seemed to look through you.

“Taehyung, meet Y/N. She is our stepfather’s daughter,” Jin said carefully, eyes flicking between you like a tennis match.

It’s not fair, you thought. His clothes shouldn’t even match. The silky sleeveless tee had a paintbrush stroke across the chest and was bunched into baggy canvas pants covered in paint. It should’ve made him look like those wacky tube inflatables near car dealerships yet he looked like he walked out of a magazine.

“It’s nice to see you, Y/N,” Taehyung nearly whispered, head tilted to the side like he was evaluating a particular interesting museum installation. He made no move to shake your hand or embrace you.

“And you too, Taehyung-ssi,” you replied, bowing politely. He inclined his head.

“Well, I better get back to my red room. My pretties are coming along nicely,” Taehyung pronounced matter-a-factly, spinning sharply around to disappear into the dimly lit hall.

Namjoon face-palmed. “Well, now it sounds like he has a kinky sex dungeon. He just sees the world a bit differently than us, that’s all. It took some time for us to interpret his words when he came to us; for example, his pretties are his photographs.” The businessman looked suddenly pensieve. “Perhaps that’s why he’s so good at what he does.”

“Oh? What does Taehyung-ssi do?” you inquired, feeling like a strong breeze had swept into the room and left as suddenly as it came. You know that feeling? Where your skin tingles in the aftermath, your lips are suddenly dry, and like you could be knocked over the lightest touch.

“He’s a magazine editor, Y/N-ah,” Hoseok grins, putting down his heavy dancer bag on the couch carelessly. “It’s this really new-age, artsy magazine with a cult following. Maybe you’ve seen it? I think he named it something cryptic like ‘V’.”

“I’ll look into it, then,” you beamed, hoping to diffuse the weird tension that had settled on your shoulders.

———- 

Hoseok excused himself to take a shower and Namjoon had to take an important phone call, so it was just you and Jin left.

“Well, I know us five are at least here, and I know Jungkook is due to arrive soon from the gym. However, I don’t know if someone is going to drop by so I just leave an extra plate in the fridge just in case,” Jin said, stroking his chin.

“So, what’s on the menu today?” you asked playfully, taking a seat on the barstool.

Jin ruffled through the fridge, the fluorescent light highlighting his casual t-shirt. “Well, with what we have in the fridge, I can make some Chap-Chae and perhaps Kimchi Jjigae. However, we’d have a lot of chicken left and we need to eat it soon. Hm…”

“Jin-ssi, I know a good chicken recipe. Dakgangjeong? It’s this crispy fried chicken slathered in sweet and spicy sauce.”

The doctor frowned for a moment, leaning against the countertop.

“Is someone allergic? Or doesn’t like Chicken?” you asked worriedly, biting your lips.

Jin shook his head and chuckled. “No, everyone really likes fried chicken here. I’m just trying to remember if we have the ingredients.”

“That’s a relief, because it’s one of my favorite comfort meals.”

Opening the pantry, he bent down to look for something. “I think we do have everything here, thank goodness,” he grinned at you as he got up. “Do you cook a lot?”

“Yup, it’s my hobby,” you revealed, washing your hands at the sink. “I had to learn how to give myself food as a child.”

“Okay, awesome! You get started on the chicken and I’ll do the other dishes,” Jin said brightly, putting some ingredients on the table.

“Sounds good to me!”

You probably weren’t meant to hear it, but Jin giggled underneath his breath, “I have a sous-chef now.”

————

You put the finishing garnishes on your chicken and stepped back. The glaze looked very savory underneath the kitchen lights and dipping your finger into your glaze pot, it also tasted very good as well.

By the looks of it, Jin had finished with his two dishes. Wiping his hands with a towel, he put his hands on his hips and yelled, “Children! Get down here to eat, you punks!” 

As soon as you set down your plate of chicken, a multitude of footsteps resounded throughout the house.

Namjoon strode in first, only in a white shirt and trousers, and nodded coolly at you. The man looked very attractive out of his form-fitting workwear, and you wish your gaze hadn’t lingered on his tan, exposed skin.

Hoseok and Jungkook came in second, rough-housing with each other in the doorway before taking their seats. Hoseok greeted you brightly but Jungkook stared at you without a word before averting his gaze.

Finally, V came into the dining room in a more casual outfit of an oversized shirt and lounge pants, but still exuded an air of effortless grace. He grinned at everyone and plopped down into his chair.

“Alright everyone, eat up!” Jin fussed, setting down the steaming hot bowl and plate he was somehow carrying. You trailed after him with your dish grasped with both hands, hoping you wouldn’t accidentally trip and spill your hard work over the very expensive carpet.

You had to lean over Jungkook to place your chicken in the middle and you heard a startled “eep!” from beside you.

“Jungkook-ssi, are you alright?” You asked, sitting down in your seat next to him.

He nodded wordlessly, his ears red and gaze intensely focused on his plate. Running your eyes over him, you shrugged and grabbed your chopsticks.

The whole family dug in, loud and boisterous as people argued over which cut was better and devolved into personal attacks. Something warm curled up in your chest and warmed your cheeks, hoping to constrain the ridiculous smile that threatened to split your face. Is this how family looks like?

Watching Jungkook engage Taehyung in a very one sided conversation about the benefits of eating a certain part of the meat versus the other was very different than your empty apartment and lukewarm food.

“Wah, hyung, you’ve really outdid yourself with the chicken,” Hoseok gushed as he took a big bite of your chicken. “Please make it for us more!”

Jin chuckled, and set his chopsticks down. “I didn’t make it, so you’d have to ask her if you want more.”

Namjoon, with a strange light in his eyes, gestured to the nearly empty chicken plate with his chopsticks. “You… made this?”

Nodding in affirmative, you took a sip of your cola and cleared your throat. “Yes, I hope you guys liked it.”

Jungkook choked on his water and Jin rushed over to roughly pat his back. “Breath Jungkookie, breath!”

Hoseok yelled in delight and took out his handphone. “My cute little sister made this for me? Wow, my friends are going to be so jealous!” he grinned, snapping a few nice pictures of your glazed chicken.

Jungkook recovered at this point and was trying to fend off mother-hen Jin. “Hyung, I’m fine! I swear! You don’t have to baby me!,” he whined, cheeks red. “Besides, it was probably a bone or something.”

Your oldest brother huffed and sat back roughly into his seat, muttering something about ungrateful kids, while you tried to roll Jungkook’s comment over in your head. Bone? You used boneless chicken?

Deciding to push it away from your mind, you discreetly glanced at your cell phone and realized it was nearing 8 o’clock.

“Oh dear,” you muttered, catching the attention of the men at the table. “It’s almost 8 o’clock and I need to get home to water my plants,” you fretted.

As if on cue, a crack of thunder shook the table and you heard the rain start to hound at the windows and walls.

“Well, I be-leaf they’re getting watered,” Jin commented, cleaning up the last parts of his plate.

Staring at him in disbelief, you started to giggle and soon you were clutching your stomach with how hard you were laughing. 

“Did she like his shitty joke that much?” Jungkook whispered not so discreetly to Namjoon, who looked a bit weirded out himself.

“I’ve- I’ve never met a man with such awful jokes,” you laughed, wiping a tear from your eyes. “But I can’t help finding them so funny.”

The doctor aha-ed and pointed at Jungkook. “See? My jokes are so bad that they’re good!”

Snorting in disbelief, the youngest brother leaned back into his chair with his arms crossed over his built chest. “She’s our sister, she’s obligated to,” he murmurs sulkily. He sneaks a peek at you and you giggle at his adorable moodiness, to which he reddens and avoids your gaze.

Namjoon looked worriedly out the window, quickly turning on the news with his phone.

“— strong windstorms and rains are going to be surrounding Seoul overnight—”

“I can’t, in good conscience, let you go back home in this weather,” Namjoon stated, eyes flickering between you and the loud weather outside.

You hesitated. You were kind of worried for Mr. Ukyo, your cute succulent on the porch. “I—”

“Y/N, please,” Hoseok begged. “What kind of brothers would we be if we left you alone tonight? Stay in. We have a guest room with all the stuff you need.”

“I… okay. Thank you guys,” you smiled uneasily.

Hoseok laughed and patted your back as he got up to put his plate away.

“Sleepover…” Taehyung mumbled as he passed by you. On his way out the door, he gave you a boxy smile that tugged at something in your head.

Next Chapter: Press [ X ] for the Cool Type, Yoongi! 

Chapter 7: Enter the Cool Type, Yoongi!

“Hi, my cute dongsaeng!” announced Hoseok as he strode into your guest room. “I come bearing gifts!”

You grinned at your exuberant brother as he danced through your doorway, having a pile of stuff in his arms.

“We usually don’t have guests over, but sometimes our mother stays at the house and now we have a bunch of, uh, woman stuff,” Hoseok coughed.

“Thank you, Hoseok-ssi,” you said, moving to sort through the items.

“Call me oppa,” Hoseok whined.

Namjoon peeked through your doorway and saw Hoseok pouting at you, and instantly wacked the back of his head.

“Yah, you literally just met her today. Let her grow more comfortable with us first,” the businessman scolded, before turning to you.

“We have some t-shirts and shorts that don’t fit Jungkook anymore but please don’t tell him that we kept his childhood items,” Namjoon shook his head, a smile tugging at his lips. “I got you a toothbrush and toothpaste, plus some face products.

“You’re really kind, I feel like I’m in a hotel,” you joked, moving to plug your phone into the wall outlet. The place felt like your hotel suite suddenly got upgraded. This guest room was bigger than your entire living room and everything was so nicely decorated, you couldn’t help but gawk like a tourist at the fancy light fixtures and furniture. Maybe if you broke a vase you’d have to work in a host club...

“Ah, really? That’s nice to hear,” Namjoon said, sitting down in an armchair near the window overlooking Seoul and the Han River. He steepled his fingers together, tilting his head at you. “However, if you moved in, this room would be yours.”

Your slight smile turned slightly downwards and Hoseok, sensing the change of mood easily, turned over and whacked Namjoon over his head.

“Who’s the one going too fast now?” Hoseok retorted, before plopping down on the chair opposite of Namjoon.

“No, no, you’re fine, Namjoon-ssi,” you acknowledged. “I just… I don’t want to intrude. Plus, the amount of testosterone in this building…” you trailed off.

“Y/N-ah, we just met you but we already know you’d be a good fit with our family,” Hoseok said, smiling softly at you. “Seriously.”

“I don’t want to seem overbearing and I know you’re very independent, but the idea of you living alone worries Jin-hyung and I,” Namjoon confessed, wringing his hands and looking towards the window. “What happens if there is any emergency? Or you got sick? It’d be hard for us to take care of you.”

Tears welled up at the edge of your vision and your mouth twitched downwards. Quickly pressing a hand to your mouth, you averted your eyes from the boys.

“Y/N-ssi, what’s wrong? Are you alright?” Namjoon asked worriedly, getting up from the armchair.

You waved him away, discreetly wiping your nose. “I-I’m fine, Namjoon-ssi. Really. I’m just really emotional all the sudden, that’s all.”

“Y/N-ah, are you sure?” Hoseok piped in concern, craning his neck to see your face.

A hand thrust some tissues in front of you and you took them gratefully, dabbing at your eyes.

“I- I just…” you sucked a breath in, and turned towards the fretful pair of brothers. You suddenly beamed at them, eyes crinkling into crescents and grin splitting your cheeks despite the visible tear tracks on your cheeks. “I’ve never had someone care for me. Thank you.”

The two boys felt their heart stutter at the surprisingly vulnerable confession from the ever-polite yet distant you. They shared a look.

We’re in trouble.

———-

The house quieted down and all the lights were turned out as the rain seemed to get louder. However, despite the busy day, you tossed and turned in the very comfy cotton sheets.

Turning on your side, you watched the rain stream down your window in awe. While the window was big, a building partially blocked your view of the Han river and the Seoul skyline. You unplugged your phone from the charger on the wall and looked at the time. 1 A.M.

For some reason, you couldn’t sleep. Perhaps it was the unfamiliar environment or the dozens of thoughts crowding your head, but you couldn’t force your head to turn off despite counting hundreds of sheep.

Letting out a frustrated groan, you untangled yourself from the sheets and set your feet on the heated marble. Padding quietly to the door, you tried your best to open and close the heavy wooden door softly.

The house seemed bigger when it was not filled by the loud voices and eclectic, varied personalities of your brothers. Clutching a throw blanket over your shoulders, you made your way down the stairwell with only the city’s lights shining through the large, floor-to-ceiling windows around the house.

Flicking the low lights on in the kitchen, you searched the many cabinets for where they kept their tea packets. You finally found a jar of chamomile tea in a corner of the pantry, turning on the tea kettle and waiting for it to boil.

Leaning against the corner, your eyes got accustomed to the dark of the living room and roved over the personal effects of the brothers. There was a large picture of all seven boys on the mantle of the fireplace with their mother sitting in the middle, however, you could not see the faces of the two brothers you had not met due to the reflection in the glass.

Could you see yourself living here? With the amiable and fussy Jin, and the mature, erudite Namjoon? Wake up every morning to see the infectiously bright Hoseok at the counter and the mercurial Taehyung floating through the house like a wraith? Even go to school with your confusing classmate, Jungkook?

The kettle whistled loudly and you took it off its burner, pouring water into a cup. Flicking off the underhead lights in the kitchen, you padded towards the living room and curled up on the outrageously soft, leather couch. Blowing on your tea, you took a sip as you gazed in wonder at the rain streaming rivers over the large, bay window.

For years, the rain had been your only friend when your father traipsed the globe. It had softly knocked at your window to check if you were okay when you were sick and playfully splashed you when you were sad. The rain sang you to sleep every night when you were young and alone, afraid of the thundering din outside.

Looking at the portrait of the seven boys, you saw a new family.

Smiling into your tea cup, your mind was made up.

A loud beep rang throughout the house and a click reached your ears. Your eyes tried to look through the darkness at the basement entrance, where a figure clad in all black emerged. Feeling a momentary panic seize your heart, your fingers tightened over your mug and you tried to think straight. This was probably your other brother, Yoongi or Chimmy.

“Oh? Who are you?” A raspy voice said, shutting the door behind him. “Are you one of my brother’s girlfriends?”

Shaking your head, you got to your feet. “No, I’m your new sister, Y/N L/N.”

The figure made an affirmative noise and removed his shoes at the massive shoe closet next to the entrance. “Ah, I see. I’m Yoongi, your second oldest brother.”

A crack of thunder shook the house and a few seconds later, bright white lightning flashed through the room and illuminated you both.

In that split second, you saw pitch black hair constrained by a headband. However, what caught your attention was his eyes. Contrasted against pale skin and fierce, arched brows, were lids shaped like the outstretched wing of a bird. He stared at you lazily before they widened minutely.

“It’s nice to meet you too, Yoongi-ssi.”

“You too,” he mumbled and bowed politely, shuffling up the stairs like a gloomy specter.

You blinked a bit at how calmly he took this into stride. Christ, were your brothers fazed by anything?

—————

“Y/N-ah. Y/N-ah, wake up!”

You groggily opened your eyes to see Jin close to your face, his brows bunched together in concern.

“Y/N-ah, are you alright? You’re on the couch.”

Straightening up you could see that you, indeed, were still on the couch. You must’ve fallen asleep while watching the rain.

“Oh, yeah, I am,” you stated, rubbing your eyes and yawning. “I must’ve fallen asleep here last night.”

Jin sat across you and looked worried. “Did something happen last night? Was the guest room not comfortable? Did—”

“Oh no, nothing like that!” you tried to say. “The sound of the rain was better here.��� 

He looked at you strangely but accepted it with a shrug of his shoulders. “Anyway, I’m about to make breakfast, why don’t you clean up a bit? I’ll wake up the other brothers.”

You nodded and almost stumbled trying to get off the couch, before Jin caught you with an arm. You turned your head to see his face uncomfortably close to yours.

“Careful,” he whispered, his minty breath trailing across your cheeks and his eyes roving your face.

You felt your cheeks heat up before you almost threw yourself out of his touch. “Yeah, um, thank you!” you yelled behind you before you fled to upstairs.

————

By the time you cleaned your face and put on a bra, all of the boys— in various states of consciousness— were gathered around the dining counter.

“Y/N-ah!” Hoseok said enthusiastically, obviously one of the more awake ones. He wore a pair of flowered pants that ahjummas usually wore and white, long-sleeved tee. “Yoongi came in last night, he’s our other brother.”

“We met last night, Hoseok-ah,” Yoongi mumbled into a large cup that, hilariously, was engraved with the words “Daddy-Size”. “I came home around 1 AM and saw her on the couch.”

“Oh, was everything alright?” Namjoon inquired politely, stretching his broad muscles as he yawned. Even his loungewear looked professional.

Smiling uneasily, you took a seat at the counter next to Jungkook, whose head was buried in his arm. “Yeah, couldn’t sleep and the city lights calmed me down,” you reassured.

Jungkook suddenly jerked awake next to you, alarmed eyes peeking through his messy black hair. “H-huh?”

You grinned at him. “Good morning, Jungkook-ssi.”

He mumbled a good morning in the direction of the ground before his eyes zoomed into something at your collarbone.

‘Y/N-ssi, i-is that my shirt?” he asked shyly— the first words he has directed towards you.

You looked at the oversized navy shirt, which you had tucked into the pair of denim shorts you wore yesterday. “I think? Namjoon told me it was one of your own.”

His gaze whipped to Namjoon and he started sputtering as Namjoon snickered, putting on a pair of thick-framed glasses.

Suddenly, Jin swore as he looked at his phone. “Sorry guys, but there’s an emergency at the hospital. I need to go,” he said rushedly, racing to the closest to put on a pair of tennis shoes. “Yoongi, cook for them!”

He shut the basement door with a slam and suddenly the house was silent.

“Yoongi-hyung, please,” Taehyung, who had emerged from some hallway, begged with a pout on his petal lips. His voice was extra raspy this morning.

The black-haired man grunted before hiding his face behind his coffee cup. You took that as a no.

“We’re going to starve,” Jungkook complained into Hoseok’s shoulder, who cooed and patted the muscled man cutely.

“Well, I can cook for us if you’d like? As a thank you for letting me stay over?” you said nervously. All eyes turned towards you and you gulped, not used to having all of your brothers’ attention on you.

“That’d be lovely,” Namjoon said, squinting at a novel he had produced out of nowhere.

“Aw, is our cute dongsaeng going to cook for us? I’m living the dream,” Hoseok sighed dramatically.

You snorted and got out of your seat. “I saw enough ingredients for what I want to cook, so just sit tight.”

The boys thanked you and some exited the kitchen towards the living room. You tried to remember where you saw the ingredients yesterday, but the kitchen was extremely big and had those weird cabinets where you had to push in a certain corner to open.

“Uh, where are the onions?” you asked no one in particular.

“Yoongi-hyung,” Hoseok nudged the still tired looking man. “Next to Jin, you know the kitchen the best.”

The black-haired sighed heavily and got out of his seat, leaving the “Daddy-Size cup” on the counter. He opened the fridge and bent down to a drawer you hadn’t seen. “Green onions.”

You took the bag and thanked, expecting him to leave the kitchen. “What else do you need?”

He stood there, eyes boring a hole through your face. Even as he was sleepy, he still looked like a cool older brother.

Scanning the ingredients, counting the things you had and didn’t, you turned back to him. “Um, I just need butter, tomatoes, and cheese.”

Wordlessly, he grabbed the ingredients and set it down on the counter next to you. Really expecting he’d leave, he surprised you by pulling out a chopping board and knife.

“How do you need the onions and tomatoes cut, Y/N-ssi?” he asked roughly, raspy voice causing the hair at the nape of your neck to rise. You shook your head. He’s your brother, for god’s sake!

“I need both diced, but slice some of the tomato into thin wedges for presentation,” you asked politely.

He nodded and washed both of the vegetables, before quickly and neatly dicing them with an experienced hand.

You broke the eggs and as you whisked the egg mixture with a pair of chopsticks, you decided to break the silence.

“How old are you, Yoongi-ssi?” 

He didn’t pause in his slicing. “25 years old. How about you?”

“21, but turning 22 soon.”

Yoongi hummed and started on the tomatoes. “Ah, that means you’re university age then. Are you attending university right now?”

Nodding, you grabbed some salt and pepper to add flavor to the omelette.  “Yeah, I’m actually attending Yonsei with Jungkook-ssi. What about you?”

“I’m a freelance producer,” he said carelessly, neatly scraping diced tomato onto a plate. “But I graduated from an arts college overseas in classical performance.”

It seemed like many of the brothers were artistically-inclined, you noted as you washed the spinach. But it amused you that this cool-looking brother of yours, with pierced ears and effortlessly stylish street clothes, could play a fancy-looking instrument.

Your step brother cleared his throat and he stepped back. “Is there anything else you need me to do?”

You looked at the finely chopped tomatoes and onions and shook your head. “No, that’s all. Thank you for helping out.”

He inclined his head and padded out of the kitchen, collapsing on the couch with his hoodie over his head.

Turning on the heat, you put the omelette mixture in the pan and waited for it to cook through. As you were gathering the other ingredients to put in the pan, a chin nestled itself onto your shoulder.

“Oh? What is this?” a deep, husky voice rumbled next to your ear.

You nearly jumped out of your skin when you saw Taehyung’s finely chiseled face so close to yours. Squeaking, you turned your attention back to the pan.

“Breakfast omelettes, Taehyung-ssi,” you replied a bit shakily, feeling the weight of his head on your shoulder and his breath puffing into your ear. “I hope you like it.”

Adjusting his bent over position, he wrapped his arms around your waist and buried his face into the crook of your neck. “I will, Y/N-ah. It’ll be delicious.”

Your face flamed and you willed the egg to cook faster, trying not to focus on how his large hands pressed warmly into your stomach.

“Hyung!” Jungkook exclaimed, barrelling out of nowhere. “Hyung, you can’t do that! Stop!” 

“Oh? Why not?” the editor asked monotonously, his lips moving over the sensitive skin of your neck. You stiffened and muffled a squeal, neary getting hot oil over your fingers. Your muscled classmate tried, unsuccessfully, to tug Taehyung’s arms from your body but for some reason, Taehyung’s hold on you was ironclad.

In the midst of Jungkook screaming in the background and the shouts of your other brothers, Taehyung sighed heavily and melted into your body. “I miss this,” he murmured.

Next Chapter: Press [ X ] for the Cheeky Type, Jimin! 

Chapter 8: Enter the Cheeky Type, Jimin!

Over the next few days, you slowly got used to the vibrant and varied personalities of the boys. The brothers were a rowdy bunch but they coaxed you out of your shell with unintentional hilarity and clumsy warmth. Even Jungkook, with your weird first meeting, took to accompanying you throughout school and engaging you in shy conversation. Visiting the house frequently, someone was always there to entertain you and coerce you into trying to move into the house.

However, as the days passed by, you saw neither hide nor hair of the mysterious seventh brother. None of the brothers seemed to be fazed. One day, as Namjoon drove you home, you decided to press the subject.

“Namjoon-ssi? Who is my seventh brother? I haven’t heard much of him,” you inquired shyly.

He hummed, leaning an arm casually against the window and driving between lanes with just one hand. Namjoon didn’t drive as recklessly as Jungkook, per se, but he seemed to think other cars were just nuisances on the road.

“I was wondering when you’d ask about that. Our other brother is not home a lot because he’s usually on tour,” Namjoon revealed in his deep voice. “He’s an idol.”

You gasped and looked at Namjoon in surprise. “You’re fucking with me.”

He chuckled, a chocolatey, rich sound that filled your ears and did funny things to your belly as he turned to exit the highway. “No, I’m not. Our little Chimmy is an idol.”

Taking out your phone, you opened up the web app. “Chimmy? Is that his name? Or does he have a stage name I need to find.”

Namjoon shook his head. “No, his name is Jimin. 23 years old, debuted 3 years ago.”

Smacking your head, you exclaimed, “Oh wait! I know him! I saw his birthday ads all over Seoul a few days ago. Wow, my brother is a celebrity, huh?” 

Typing his name into the search bar, millions of results popped into your browser. Gorgeous, fan-taken photos filled the image section and you clicked on one.

Wow. Jimin looked ethereal on stage, in a loose, white shirt and tight, black pants as he performed some sort of strenuous dance move. His plump lips, sharp jawline, and high cheekbones were still stunning in low quality photos. You were seriously starting to think your stepmother secretly paid for them from a lab. It really wasn’t fair that you, an average 4, were now related to solid fifteens. 

You clicked on a video with nearly 12 million views of him at a fanmeet event, his eyes crinkling and lips pulled up in a grin as he did aegyo for his adoring fans.

“He’s very popular, isn’t he?” you asked Namjoon rhetorically.

Namjoon snorted. “An understatement. We can’t go out in public with him unless he covers his hair and his entire face. He has security tailing him when we go to crowded places, it’s ridiculous.”

Something clicked in your head. “Ah!” you exclaimed. “That’s why you guys live there! And here I was, thinking you were all paranoid.”

His laugh filled the car again and you got a whiff of his musky cologne as he leaned over to adjust the air conditioner. “Yeah, even when we moved there a few years ago before Jimin’s popularity exploded, he had some crazy fans. Seoyeon, Jin, and I decided to choose Hannam Hill for their security.”

“You’re such good brothers,” you grinned at him. You swore you saw a hint of red beneath his collar as he cleared his throat.

“And we’re lucky we’re gaining such a good… sister.”

You tapped at your purse. “At least with my residence pass I won’t be detained now.”

The man next to you groaned and nearly facepalmed into the driver’s wheel.

“Do you have to remind me of this? I take it back, my sister sucks.”

——— 

Jungkook and you walked through the campus gates, finished with the Calculus class and exhausted after the test.

“Wait, shit, did I derive number eighteen right?” you fretted, your sweaty hands fiddling with your bag strap. “Oh my god now, I didn’t foil correctly!”

“Relax, Y/N, you did fine,” Jungkook snorted, no longer as painfully shy as he was when he first met you. You never did get why he had such a violent reaction to you at first, though.

“Easy for you to say, Mr. I-don’t-study-yet-I-still-get-A’s,” you huffed in annoyance, accidentally bumping shoulders with him.

He laughed and wrapped an arm around your shoulders, pulling you into his side. An ‘eep!’ escaped your mouth but you found you couldn’t protest as Jungkook looked down at you with the cutest, bunny smile you had seen.

“Relax, Y/N. It’s just one test.”

You sulked and crossed your arms, trying to push the heat in your cheeks away. Clearing your throat you ducked from underneath his arms. You thought you saw a flash of disappointment in Jungkook’s face, but you quickly linked arms with him so you could walk more comfortably. His eyes widened and he looked upwards, the tips of his ears a flaming red.

Ignoring several stares from your fellow university students, you walked to the campus parking lot where Jungkook had parked his car.

“Jungkook-ah? Which car did you drive today?” you asked, flushing a bit as you heard your own words. Imagine what the you from a few weeks ago would’ve said. What kind of rich bitch did you turn into?

“The silver one. The Mercedes,” he said casually but you knew he was beaming with pride. He had revealed to you, one day when driving home, that he bought this car with his streaming money and not with cash from his brothers or family. Jungkook was insanely protective of this car. 

“Gotcha.”

Throwing your bags into the backseat, he started up the car. Feeling that it was a bit hot, you decided to roll down the window. Fumbling for a hair tie in your bag, you decided that putting your hair up would be smart.

“—gry, Y/N?”

“Huh?” you asked confusion, hair tie in your mouth. 

“I just asked if you were hungry, Y/N?” he said, voice trailing off in a question as he looked up from his phone. His eyes widened at you.

“Um, not really? But if you are, I can whip us up something once we get home,” you said confidently, twisting your hair into the tie. Huh, when did you start calling it home?

“... Jungkook?”

He nervously cleared his throat as you looked at him, pulling back your hair into the tie. The tip of his ears were red and he seemed a bit flustered. Your brother fumbled with the controls, accidentally turning on the windshield wipers. Biting back a smile, you smoothed down your hair.

“Yeah, that’s fine.”

————— 

The house was silent as the two of you entered. It seemed no one was in the house today, all of your brothers very busy with their respective jobs.

“I’m going to take a shower, Y/N, “ Jungkook said as he climbed up the stairwell. 

You hummed affirmative as you threw your bag at the foot of the coffee table, collapsing into the comfy leather couch. Switching on the TV, you couldn’t find anything interesting so you settled on an entertainment channel.

“Thousands of fans crowded Incheon Airport’s International Terminal today…”

Snuggling into a sun spot on the couch, you nuzzled your face into a pillow. The warmth made you feel drowsy and you decided a quick nap was alright. Nodding off, you could hear the shower turn on upstairs.

“...as international Hallyu star Jimin arrived back in Korea …”

—————

“Oh? Who are you?”

You groggily opened your eyes to the high-pitched voice that was honey to your ears, an unconscious “huh?” coming out of your mouth. In your bleary vision, you saw lavender-blonde hair and pink, plump lips hovering above you.

The man snickered and you felt a smooth hand grasp your jaw to turn your head upwards. Your eyes focused and you swore you were still dreaming, because the face so close to yours could only be an angel’s. Ethereal eyes like a storm looked lazily down at you, his high cheekbones and narrow jaw highlighted by the warm light of golden hour.

“Are you a fan? You shouldn’t be here,” he scolded in a sing-song voice, clicking his tongue as he stroked a thumb over your chin.

You couldn’t think after being awoken from such a deep REM cycle and being near such an unearthly man, your thoughts jumbled and disjointed.

“Naughty, naughty girl,” he whispered, minty breath puffing against your face. “Well, if you’re here, I might as well make the most of it.”

With strength you hadn’t expected, he suddenly caged you into the couch— a leg between yours and the other on the floor, his hands trapping your hands above your heads. His silk shirt brushed against the exposed skin of your belly, making you shiver.

“H-hey!” you said, regaining your thoughts. “What the hell?”

He chuckled, a cruel edge to his voice as his face neared yours. “Oh, playing the innocent card are we?” His lips neared your ear and you froze, eyes wide as his plump lips brushed against your earlobe. “Don’t worry, baby girl, you’re pretty enough to pull it off.”

The man started to press a kiss at space between your ear and neck, and slowly started to trail down your sensitive neck. You inhaled sharply as his teeth and tongue prodded at your skin and he snickered, his voice vibrating against your skin. An involuntarily squeak left your lips as he bit playfully at your collarbone.

“H-Hyung?”

You both turned to see Jungkook, hair still wet from the shower, staring at you two in disbelief. His eyes were wide and his lips were opened in shock as he suddenly froze in the middle of the living room.

“Jungkookie!” the man said brightly, no trace of the breathy, seductive voice he had used to lull you into a trance. His limbs no longer trapped you as the lavender haired man sprang up and ran to the stock-still Jungkook.

“Aw, Jungkookie, I missed you,” the familiar yet still unknown man cooed as he clung to Jungkook’s broad shoulders. “It’s been so long,” he whined, lips pursed in a pout.

Still breathless from lavender boy’s attentions, you sat up on the couch and saw stars as the blood rushed to your head. Blinking to clear it away, you reached up to your neck to touch the spots where lavender boy had touched.

“Jungkook-ah?” you whispered, voice rough from lack of use. “Who’s this?”

Your classmate still stared at you in shock as lavender boy clung to him like a leech, cooing at Jungkook.

“Aw, is this your girlfriend, Jungkookie?” Angel boy said fretfully after a moment of silence. “I’m so sorry, I thought she was a fan! Forgive me!”

You cleared your throat nervously, righting your disheveled clothes and messy hair. “Look, I have no idea who the hell you are, but I am not Jungkook’s girlfriend nor your fan and either way, you should not be— be assaulting unsuspecting girls who just wanted to nap!”

“Who the hell am I?” Lavender boy retorted rudely, no longer seductive or cutesy as his eyes narrowed at you. “I live here, wench!”

“Well I’m about to, fool!” you sneered, crossing your arms.

“Jungkook-ie, call security as I deal with this clearly crazy lady!” The still unknown boy huffed, advancing towards you.

Jungkook finally got out of his trance and grabbed Jimin by the shoulder. “Jimin-Hyung, stop! Haven’t we talked about her in the groupchat a lot? She’s our new sister!”

Jimin froze and his eyebrows lifted minutely, whirling around to look at Jungkook. “Wait, what? We have a sister now?”

He looked at you differently, eyes scanning your figure disinterestedly. “Did Seoyeon—” he spat out the name like it was stale gum in his mouth, “—find another baby we didn’t know about? Another poor bastard like me?”

You got whiplash with how much he changed moods and started to inch away. Well, it seemed like your step brother was nothing like how he portrayed himself in the videos you had seen online about him. A frown pushed at your lips.

Jungkook pinched the bridge of his nose. “No, hyung, mom got married again to Y/N’s father. She’s our new step sister now.”

Jimin stayed silent before he turned to you again, his eyes mocking. A shit-eating smirk crawled up his lips. “Well, sister dearest, welcome to the family!”

Arc: Character Introductions Ended. Press [ X ] to continue?

A/N: If you’ve watched BroCon and you’re curious to who each person is based on, here’s the guide:

Jin (Doctor) = A mixture of Uyko and Masaomi

Namjoon (Businessman) = Natsume

Jungkook (Gamer/ Uni Student) = Yusuke

Hoseok (Dancer) = Himself lol he was supposed to be Subaru but i didn’t want to make him super angsty. Don’t worry, in this story he’ll be more than just his stage persona :)))

Taehyung (Magazine editor) = Louis

Yoongi (Producer) = mixture of Yuusuke’s tsundere-ness and Iori’s calmness

Jimin (Idol) = Fuuto with a bit of Tsubaki’s personality

Anyways, if you enjoyed it, please comment and reblog!!! I appreciate any feedback you may have, whether it be a sentence or a whole dang paragraph— I love it all :))) Please, if you’re doing okay, please help me pay for school through my Ko-Fi (link in my profile).

Arc II: Decisions and Settling In will be released in a month!! Comment if you’d like to be tagged :))

[gotnofucks]

What’s Your Escape

Pairing: dark!Sherlock Holmes x Reader

Summary: Sherlock could never resist a mystery, especially not one as deliciously wrapped as you.

Words: 4.5k

Warnings: Non-con/dub-con, smut, harassment, jealousy, 18+ ONLY

A/N: Spoilers for Enola Holmes

MASTERLIST

+++++

It was your duty to make sure that the young miss could escape quietly. You put extra padding on her shoes and made sure the mud outside the window was spongy. She would need something strong and long to climb down from here, so you sew together a few old curtains to make a rope and put them in the chest in her room. If she follows the plan, she will leave, and none will be the wiser. You hoped she would make it back before noon, or you’d have to answer the masters of the house why their sister was missing.

You liked living here before the brothers returned. Things used to be fun at the Holmes ancestral manor before Mycroft and Sherlock returned after their mother’s disappearance. You would have thought they will leave after bringing back Enola under their roof, but they seemed to have reconnected with their roots and to your displeasure stayed.

Eudoria Holmes had hired you as a second housekeeper after Mrs. Lane started getting up in the years. Or well, that’s the story she told everyone else. Eudoria had rescued you from a life of abject poverty, brought you to her estate and given you a roof and work. She saw in you a fire that she claimed would light the way for many women to come. You had trained with Enola since childhood under her mother’s direction, but you were more mentally skilled. While Enola could jujitsu her way out of a situation, you could read a person, manipulate them into letting you go. Together, you both made the best team.

Everything changed when Eudoria disappeared. You knew one of you had to stay here to keep an eye on the Holmes brothers, so you helped Enola escape while you stayed. You didn’t think anyone would suspect you had a hand in her daring getaway, but then you hadn’t met Sherlock Holmes before. Since the morning Enola was missing, his eyes followed you like a bloodhound’s to meat. You could feel them, the weight of his gaze heavy on you. If you would look up and catch him, he would get an irritable look on his face, like he’s stuck trying to undo a knot for a while.

You were glad when he left the Holmes Manor for London to search for his sister soon enough. His looks made you antsy and you had to bite your tongue on various occasions to set him straight. For years you had lived unrestrained with Eudoria, and suddenly being thrust back into your duties as a housekeeper proved to be more difficult than ever. More so now that Enola was back as Sherlock’s ward.

Things could have gone back to normal for it seemed Sherlock was more liberal than Mycroft when it came to their sister. Yet, he was a man of society. Intelligent as he may think her to be, he was still of the mind that she must marry a suitable gentleman, after which she could frolic wherever she wished. It fell on you to help Enola escape the Manor, to go away for a few precious hours at night to spread her wings and breath freely. You’d been doing so for nearly a month and every night your exploits had gone without a hitch.

You’d just seen her down the curtain rope, waving to her from the window as she climbed atop her bicycle and rode away into the dark. You sighed, wishing you could perhaps go too. But you owed a great debt to both the Holmes woman, and you would continue to serve them as long as they would desire.

“Would you like me to help you climb down?” Said a voice behind you and you turned suddenly, clutching the windowsill to support yourself. Sherlock leaned against the doorframe, his curls slightly mussed.

“Mr. Holmes” You breathed, heart hammering unevenly in your chest. Your first thought was that your secret was out, and Enola would be made to marry a stupid man while you’ll be thrown on the streets. He walked languidly towards you, wearing a robe that stretched over his bulky frame. For a man so huge, he carried himself with a lot of grace. Stopping a few feet from you, his eyes followed the rope that dangled out the window and a smile tugged at his lips.

“I’d wondered why she looked so tired every day, and why you spent so much time doing her laundry. The mud must be difficult to get off, hmm?” He asked, his hand pulling out his pipe from his pocket that he deftly lit and popped in his mouth.

You didn’t answer him, watching him, deciphering him. He was a mystery to you because he was so open. Unlike others he didn’t wear a mask of polite diplomacy, his disdain for things was expressed in no uncertain terms and he rarely bothered hiding his true thoughts. While you could outsmart a liar, talk a stupid person into doing what you want without them realizing, you had a hard time reading Sherlock Holmes. He had little need to lie unless it was for a case and he was certainly not stupid.

He stared at you for a long time, smoke drifting from his pipe while you refused to cower under his gaze. His lips twitched in amusement, eyes raking over your form before finding yours and he took a step forward.

“You are good at hiding I must say. Almost perfect in fact, but these eyes, they give you away. Your tongue drips with honey while your eyes burn with fire and ice. If someone knows where to look, your game will be over before it begins.”

“And what are you looking for Mr. Holmes?” You asked.

He set his pipe down before coming close enough to brush his front against yours. You stiffened slightly, feeling his hand going around your waist.

“I’m looking for a reason.” He whispered, his hand catching hold of the rope behind you as he started pulling. You stayed between him and the window ledge, staring into his eyes, his knuckles grazing your back occasionally until he pulled in the entire rope. Letting it fall on the ground, he almost bumped into you when he leaned forward to shut the windowpanes behind you. His breath was on your face and you resisted the urge to dash away from him.

“You need to leave” You said at last. Sherlock shook his head, arms resting on either side of you now. He breathed deeply, taking you in. His blue eyes, one with the slightest tinge of brown gleamed at you. Only a faint light came from the candlestand in the corner now that the windows were closed, and you saw reflected in his eyes an emotion you were entirely unfamiliar with. Desire.

He leaned forward, his one errant curl tickling your forehead and you felt his breath on your mouth. Your hands shot out, pushing against his chest.

“Leave, now.” You said, sharp and commanding.

“Make me”

You gulped, the intimacy of a man not something you were used to. He was too large to even think of physically getting away. You must, like he said, make him go away.

“I can’t get you to leave, but if you stand at the end of the hall, I can convince you to come to me.”

His eyes lit with intrigue, a most sensual smile tugging at his lips. You were doing what he loved the most. Playing a game.

“And what if you cannot?” He asked. You met his eyes head on, not an ounce of fear in yours.

“Then you can have what you so clearly want.”

You could almost call his grin boyish, an excitement taking over his features as he finally pushed away from you. He cocked his head at you, appraising you as his tongue darted out to wet his lips. He nodded, turned around and walked out of the door and stood at the end of the hall. He spread his arms as if to say, your move.

Your feet carried you across the room, measured stride that gave away nothing.

“I think the deal was for you to make me come to you.” Sherlock remarked as he saw you walking forward.

“It is” You stated before quickly taking hold of the door and pulling it shut. You had a brief glimpse of the shock on his face, then heard his feet thundering as he ran towards you but by then you had locked the door and rested against it.

His fists hit the wood and for a moment you were convinced he would break it down. But then you heard his chuckle, like he was proud to have been played as such.

“I’ll come back for you” He said aloud, and his feet retreated while you sank down on the floor. Your heart was loud in your ears and hands slightly trembling. Maybe its time you brushed up on your jujitsu.

+++++

Sherlock let Enola leave every night, giving no impression he knew what she was up to during the day. She was far too happy (and sleepy) to give it much thought and the days went by as normal. Or well, maybe not for you.

If you thought he was looking at you before, it was nothing as compared to now. He was everywhere, watching you from the corners when you cooked and cleaned. You were glad for other people’s presence in the Manor, for you feared being alone with him. Each night, the moment Enola climbed down you would shut the door to her room, sleeping there. You couldn’t risk making the journey across to your own chambers. That was a risk you weren’t willing to take.

“Mr. Kennedy would be over for dinner tonight. Make the necessary arrangements” Mycroft told you at breakfast. You nodded, dreading the extra hours of cooking you’ll have to do. Thank god Mrs. Lane was still well enough to bear most of the burden. Sherlock’s eyes as usual were on you and you wondered how no one noticed.

“Do you still have mother’s favorite infusion?” He asked you and you nodded. Eudoria will not be happy with them taking liberties with her stuff, but you weren’t about to argue. “Get me some, please.”

“Of course, Mr. Holmes” You sped away, grateful to be away from his company. You always loved the storeroom where Eudoria kept her infusions. A sweet smell of herbs along with polish permeated the air and it warmed you from within. You tinkered with the numerous jars that littered the shelves, dust coating them for they haven’t been touched in months. You were rummaging in one of the upper shelves when you heard the door behind you shut and you turned to see Sherlock turning the key to lock it.

“Are you done running away from me?” He asked, putting the key in his jacket. The room was just a small storeroom, crammed with different knickknacks everywhere. Sherlock’s body seemed to take all the space in the room, and you felt claustrophobic. He only needed to take another step to close the distance between you and you stumbled into the shelf behind you, jars clinking against each other.

“What do you want?” You asked, feeling both irritated and anxious.

“You’re smart enough to figure that out by now.” He said and took that step forward, bringing you chest to chest. You wished you’d worn a corset which would have provided an extra layer of protection. All your training with Eudoria had not prepared you for her son. He smelled like the pipe he smoked and the rich musk of ink and parchment. You tried not to breath too deeply.

“Mr. Holmes, this is most inappropriate.” You chided and he breathed out a laugh. His face neared yours and his eyes held yours in a way that you couldn’t look away if you wanted to.

“You intrigue me like no other. The restraint you have…You’re a burning match and I keep creeping closer and though you threaten to burn me you’d much rather smother your flame. Why?”

His words heated you, a tingling starting in your belly as you shook from the force of him. His finger raised slowly, very slowly to your cheek and you turned your face right before he could touch.

“How will you get out this time? What’s your escape?”

He was so smug and amused you very nearly growled at him. Your eyes took in the room, trying to see how you can get out of here. He was blocking the only exit with the key in his jacket. As established previously, physically fighting him was not an option. You thought about it and finally turned to look at him.

“I propose a challenge” You said, and he grinned like it was just what he was waiting for. “You hide that key anywhere in this room while I shut my eyes. If I find it, you let me leave.”

He leaned even closer, close enough for his nose to graze your head.

“And what if you don’t?”

“Then you can have what you so clearly want.”

He pulled back and produced a handkerchief from his pocket that he offered to tie on your eyes. You took it and did it yourself. You’d rather he not touch you at all. You could hear the shuffling of his feat, slight movements to your left and then the clinking sound of metal hitting an object. He gave you the go ahead and you took off the blindfold.

You looked around carefully, examining every surface and box and jar. Your keen eyes judging what was moved from its position. One glass jar to the far right caught your eye and you almost went to pick it up before you stopped. You titled your head, looking at Sherlock who seemed to be observing you most intently. To his surprise, you stepped towards him and placed a hand on his chest, moving it until you reached the pocket in the inner lining of his jacket and found the key.

His eyes were wide, both aroused and impressed.

“How?” He asked and you smiled a little at his fascination.

“I almost went for the jar, that was the only one with fingerprints marking the dust layer. But then I noticed your jacket which had dust stain too. You dropped the key in there but put it back in your pocket, not wiping your dusty hands.” You explained.

His arms caged you before you could blink, holding your body to his and mouth at your ear.

“No, you said you’d let me leave!” You protested. His warmth was seeping inside you, smell overpowering your nostrils and you pushed.

“I have never wanted a woman more in my life. I’ll let you leave, but only because I know I will have you. Go now before I am tempted more than ever.” He released you and you unlocked the door, stumbling outside and running away without looking back.

+++++

Two months, that’s how long you held him off with the power of your brain alone. He would corner you and you would play a game of wits. Every time you had escaped, sometimes narrowly, but it all changed this night.

You didn’t know what was happening until Sherlock almost drove his fork into the tabletop. He was positively seething, eyes glaring at Mycroft’s colleague who was over for dinner. It was not until he turned those eyes on you did you understand what had him on edge. Mr. Shephardson had referred to you as ‘my dear’ and ‘sweet girl’ multiple times now, and with each new endearment Sherlock’s fist clenched harder until you worried he’ll dig his fingers in his own palm.

You shrugged away his glare and continued serving, smiling at the man old enough to be your father. It was not like you cloud go, just turn away and leave, it was your job to be kind and serve the guests. It was one of the longest dinners of your life, one that left you utterly uncomfortable and confused. The guests departed and you were left alone to clean the table. You had just started stacking the plates together when Sherlock marched towards you, a frown marring his handsome face.

“Ten minutes, my room. Don’t make me drag you” He warned and went away as quickly as he had come. You shivered slightly and moved your hands faster, collecting the dishes, and putting them in the kitchen for a wash. You had no idea what he wanted, but he was angry enough that you wouldn’t push his boundaries. You wiped the table next, legs jittery as you knew time was running out. Finally, you rearranged the chairs and put away your apron before climbing the stairs to make you way towards Sherlock’s room. You were halfway up when he came thundering down himself, almost colliding with you.

“I was just –” You started speaking but he cut you off by lifting you in his arms and making his way up. You bounced in his arms as he climbed the steps, his jaw clenched in anger.

“I told you I’ll drag you myself if you don’t make it on time.” He snarled and you were too shocked to make a noise until you were in his rooms and the door was shut and locked behind you. You had to admit you were afraid of him then, his chest heaving in anger as a vein pulsed in his temple. He stalked towards you, removing his jacket as he came and you nervously moved back.

“Mr. Holmes please –”

He cut you off again, voice sharp and so commanding your knees knocked together.

“Say my name. Now”

You gaped at him, unsure what was happening. Here you thought it would be another tedious game between you two, but the mischievous glint had disappeared from his eyes. They were dark like a thundering sky, boiling over with rolling clouds.

“Say my fucking name now!”

“Sherlock!” You yelped, your eyes wildly looking for a way out. He was not himself. This is not the man you wanted to be left alone with for even a minute. But he had different ideas and he crowded you against the wall, assuming his favorite position in front of you with his arms acting as a cage.

“Say it again.” He ordered right in your face, voice dark and slow.

“Sherlock” You whispered and saw some of his anger leave him. One of his hands reach out to tangle in your hair and pulled you forward, your lips a hairsbreadth away from his when you started struggling. “No, no Sherlock. Please don’t” you pleaded.

He was so close you could make out every detail of his face, you could taste his breath on your tongue.

“You had a jolly time smiling at that man tonight, yes?” He seethed and you shook your head. You didn’t know he’d get so angry and jealous.

“It is my job” You argued and his arm tightened around you, squeezing until you were sure you’d be bruised tomorrow.

“I am your job!” He said and pushed away from you. “Name your challenge. Tell me how you’ll escape from me today.”

From the look on his face, you didn’t think he’d let you leave anywhere. Your eyes shifted from one place to another, wondering what you could do to get away from here. Fear permeated the air, making you lightheaded. You finally spotted his small safe hidden in the corner of the room.

“If I can open that safe you let me leave.”

“And if you don’t?”

You gulped audibly before answering. It was a question frequently asked and just as frequently answered.

“Then you can have what you so clearly want”

He smiled a satisfactory smile, moving away to sit on his bed. You forced your legs to move, inspecting every inch of the safe. It was small in size, golden in colour and had a very distinctive keyhole. You surmised that the key must also be golden, small going by the size of the safe and if you looked at the keyhole carefully, it must be sleek too to fit inside.

You made a mental tally of where he could keep the key in the room. But before that, you thought about what Sherlock Holmes would keep in a safe. It must be very valuable going by how expensive the safe itself looked, and if it were valuable then he would not just leave the key laying around in his room. He had only just returned to the manor after a long absence, things had changed behind him. He was once again living with his brother who he hardly trusted. There was only one logical place he would keep the key then.

“Please stand up” You said to him and he did, coming to stand before you. You tried not to look in his eyes as you scanned his body, thinking where he might have put the key because you were sure it was on his person. He had removed his jacket, leaving him in his shirt and pants. You took in every part of him and finally plucked the pen from his pocket. On its cap was a golden clip that you broke away and took with triumph towards the safe.

You inserted the clip into the keyhole, and it entered smoothly and your grin widened. You threw a smug look at Sherlock over your shoulder and turned it, but it didn’t move. Frowning, you put more force into it and tried to turn it. It stayed stuck.

His laughter made you freeze, and you let the clip fall from your hands. You faced him ashen faced, eyes wide and fearful. He took his time coming to you, victory sparking in his eyes. You corrected your posture, hoping you have wiped away every ounce of fear from your face. You weren’t about to let him gloat over you.

“I’ve told you before, you can hide very well but your eyes are your undoing. You can’t hide your heart from me when it shines so bright from behind your eyes.”

His hand took yours and slowly slid it down his chest until it rested on his buckle.

“Right before your eyes, had you been daring enough to see.” He said and you saw on his belt buckle a golden key. You looked at him and saw heat in his eyes, heat and desire that scared you more than anything. You left behind your rational thinking and made a run for it, rattling his door before he came behind you and hauled you up by your waist, throwing your body on his bed.

“You can’t break the rules of the game. When you won, I let you leave, now that I won, I’ll take what I want.”

He climbed over you, straddling your lower half as his hands sank in your hair and finally pulled you into a kiss. His lips folded over yours, kneading yours gently before his tongue probed inside to taste you. You wiggled in his hold, his passion burning you as you tried to come to terms with the situation. He was not brutal in his ministrations and coaxed a response from you, your lips moving against his on their own. You let out a soft moan, which made him sag against you.

“I’ve waited so long to have you, to have you burn me in your fire. Tell me why, for I can’t figure it out. Tell me why you suppress the storm that I know howls inside you.”

His eyes were open, urging you to talk about a part of you that you buried under layers. His let his fingers massage your head, and you sobbed. Even pinned under him, held down with his weight, his words were heavier to bear. He wanted a reason. Your reason. Right now, in the position you were in, with your heart thumping away in your chest, you couldn’t keep it in.

“If I go out to live my life, your sister can’t live hers. I owe everything to her and Eudoria, and if I have to sacrifice all my dreams to make hers come true, I’ll do it over and over again.”

His lips were on yours before you were even done, hands working to rid you of your dress. You resisted, a protest on your tongue.

“Please, don’t. I can’t, not this way.” You beg and he pulls away but only to discard his own shirt.

“I will not wait any longer. I will make you mine, I’ll have you tonight. No questions asked.”

How he managed to remove the dress from your squirming body you didn’t know but you lay before him more exposed than any man or even woman had ever seen you. Parts of you hidden under layers of cloth for years had become bare before his gaze and he revered them with his hands and mouth. Your back arched once his mouth sucked on your nipple, causing a deep heat to pool between your thighs. You squeezed your legs closed but he pried them apart, his already huge body looking ginormous as he nestled between them.

“I am going to taste you and I will claim you. It will happen, no matter what.”

He made good on his promise, bringing you incomprehensible pleasure with his tongue on your most sensitive region, making slurping noises that could make a street woman blush. You don’t remember when you ceased struggling, when your hands pulled instead of pushed. You panted for him, ached for him.

When he entered you, it was a pain the likes of which you had never experienced before. The stretch was uncomfortable, your legs trembling as you cried. Sherlock shushed you, promising it will be better soon. With every thrust the pain lessened and when he started teasing the nub between your legs you finally moved past the pain to focus on the pleasure. You were sobbing in need, begging him for something you didn’t even know what. He knew. He saw in your eyes what your mouth couldn’t say and gave you what your body desired.

You shattered below him, falling apart in a million pieces and he gathered you back into his arms, putting you together one kiss at a time. He was nearing his limit, hips pumping into you and your eyes rolled.

“After tonight, no more escaping. You’ll be mine, completely.” He vowed and you felt the warmth of his seed fill you. You lay beneath him, sweaty and battered, tear stained face anguished at what just happened.

Sherlock pressed kisses along your throat and chest, marking you.

“You never have to smother your flames from now one. You can burn as bright as you want, you can soar as high as you want. I will make all your dreams come true. You won’t just be a housekeeper. You’ll be the mistress of this Manor. I’m going to keep you, forever.”

+++++

 taglist :

@shooting-star-love @what-is-your-wish @stanmysoul @sweeterthanthis

[itsbap]

Bang Yongguk Chronicles His Journey With ‘RACE’ In An Exclusive Interview

KHIGH: We would first like to congratulate you on your latest single ‘RACE’. How does it feel to finally make a comeback?

Bang Yongguk: I want to express my gratitude towards all the staff that helped my music to come out again to the world and I would also like to thank my fans who have been waiting for me.

KHIGH: What made you select ‘RACE’ as your comeback single? What is the message that you’re trying to share?

Yonnguk: This is a song that compares life to racing in F1. This song contains the meaning that our lives are the same as F1 sports, where we cannot finish the race if we do not stop at the pit for maintenance.

KHIGH: What was the inspiration behind ‘RACE’?

Yongguk: I got a lot of inspiration from watching F1 documentary films. I don’t actually own a car, though. Haha!

KHIGH: The music video for ‘RACE’ is so trippy and cool. Are there any fun behind-the-scenes stories while filming it?

Yongguk: I remember wearing colored lenses for the first time ever since my debut. I’m not sure if I’ll be able to wear such lenses again or not but it was a pleasant experience.

KHIGH: You were part of one of the biggest K-Pop groups and even had a successful solo career with the much-loved album ‘BANGYONGGUK’. Was it intimidating while preparing for a comeback after two years?

Yongguk: Not at all. I think I could enjoy preparing it during the break and it was a time for me to develop myself, to create more new and extraordinary music. Now I wish to tell you all my story through it.

KHIGH: We are also eagerly waiting for your next album. Are there any spoilers that you can share with us?

Yongguk: It will be a more casual album than my last studio album. I would appreciate it if you could enjoy the music itself!

KHIGH: Congratulations on also launching your own agency CONSENT! What are your plans for it?

Yongguk: My primary goal is to wrap up the Bang Yongguk albums as planned in 2022.

KHIGH: You even produced JUST B’s title track ‘Damage’ which fans loved. Is your process different when you are making music for someone other than yourself?

Yongguk: I would say making music as a producer is more exciting. The process of suggesting concepts or directions and creating music for friends is very detailed and fun. I’m also in the middle of the process to become a K-Pop producer by learning the pros and cons of it.

KHIGH: You have tried all kinds of things from producing to opening an agency and even making the documentary film ‘Breath’. What kind of projects would you like to try next that you haven’t done before?

Yongguk: Probably, movie soundtracks and acting are the projects that I’m looking forward to this year.

KHIGH: You’re known for experimenting with all kinds of genres from rock and hip hop to jazz. Would you be interested in something like Bollywood or Indian music?

Yongguk: To be honest, I didn’t get to have a chance to see much of it but I am definitely interested and enjoy learning various kinds of music from all over the world. In terms of it, both Bollywood and Indian music are very new and interesting to me.

KHIGH: You and the other members of B.A.P are still close and in touch, so what would you say if you got to have a collaboration with some of them?

Yongguk: I think we can do it together at any time!

KHIGH: Fans were touched that you still refer to yourself as B.A.P’s leader. Can we expect a reunion in the near future?

Yongguk: Realistically, I don’t think anyone can force the reunion. Each member has their own company, and we cannot just do it regardless of the business aspects. But we are still together on the ground called B.A.P.

KHIGH: They have also been eagerly waiting to see you perform live. Any plans for a concert soon?

Yongguk: Due to this Covid-19 pandemic, we are in a very difficult situation in regard to those tour projects that were being planned. I also want to go meet my fans as soon as possible. I will be praying for it.

KHIGH: Finally, any last words for your fans who were waiting so long for you?

Yongguk: I’d like to say thank you to the fans who have always been a great support to me. I will always be making great music so that I can pay back on the consistent support and love I get from fans. Love you all and thank you.

source: KHIGH 

[carelessannie]

I’d love to read starker + tiny!innocent!peter with their first time 🥺🥺🥺 a/b/o would be great too

Okay okay okay something about this really screamed crossover to me so... here’s a Starker + Tangled crossover (you can guess who is who) with omegaverse and really dirty smut

Damn, I hope you like it anon! Really just took the smut and amplified it 👀👀

Warnings: omegaverse, sex pollen, fuck or die trope and dub-con, forced heat/rut, virgin peter, and I’m just gonna add coming untouched so I can put it on my bingo card because hot damn

Here’s my bingo card, the square coming untouched for @starkerfestivals

---

Tony traces a finger up Peter’s leg, smirking when he jerks away with a huff. He loves working the pretty pink Omega into a fit— he’s so easily flustered, god— and watching his face heat up and scent turn sweet in embarrassment.

“C’mon, crazy— show me how you do the healing thing again."

Peter glares at him, crossing his arms, “Why? Why do you need to know, bandit?"

“Ooo, bandit, I like that,” Tony sprawls out on the ground, peering up at Peter through the tall blades of grass. Peter’s moving his hands, quick little motions that Tony is absolutely entranced by, and he realizes the pretty Omega is weaving a flower crown. Damn, that’s adorable. When Peter doesn’t answer him, Tony turns onto his stomach and crawls closer, “Aww— don’t be like that, pipsqueak. You don’t have to show me anything."

Peter’s face scrunches up, his fingers stilling in their movement.

“Fine."

Tony sits up taller, “Fine?"

“I’ll show you how I do it. Come here,” Peter waves him over and points to the spot right in front of where he’s sitting. They both cross their legs and shuffle until their knees are pressed together, Tony marveling again at how small and sweet the Omega in front of him is.

“Give me your hands,” he commands, and Tony obeys, curious already. It’s truly unexpected when Peter grabs his wrists, guiding Tony’s fingers to tangle in his curls. “Hold on, okay?” Peter confirms, waiting until Tony nods.

Peter releases his hands and pushes his chest slightly, backing him flush against the boulder he’s resting on. Tony’s breathing picks up, speechless as Peter straddles his lap, sliding down until their chests are flush together. Through it all, Tony cradles Peter’s head reverently, jaw dropped in awe.

With one last shuffle, Peter leans forward and rests their foreheads together. He breathes deep, placing his delicate hands on Tony’s cheeks, and starts singing— low and sweet under his breath. When his eyes open again, there’s a golden rim around his iris, and his scent is heady, strong and deep with desire.

“Omega,” Tony gasps, tugging on Peter’s curls until his head tips back, exposing the long, pale column of his unblemished throat.

“Please,” Peter begs, lips falling open in a cry of pleasure, shaking the foundation of the forest around them, “touch me, Alpha— please."

Tony flips them and pins Peter to the ground, easily slotting between his legs and fitting his teeth around Peter’s neck, growling low and possessive. Peter’s scent is thick around them, and all Tony feels is insatiable heat, low in his gut.

What the hell?

With a snap, he pulls off Peter’s neck and looks down at the tiny Omega, using a thumb on his chin to force eye contact. Peter’s eyes are hazy, still ringed gold, and his lips spread in a saccharine smile.

“What’s wrong, Alpha?” he purrs, wiggling in Tony’s hold.

“What did you do?"

Peter’s face twists in confusion, “What do you mean?"

“I mean,” Tony gestures down, to where their obvious erections press together insistently, “I know we were having some magical moments— and I know you think I’m a scoundrel— but I’m usually not this horny at the drop of a hat. What was in that healing spell, Pete?"

“I’m not... I’m not sure,” he stutters, looking up at Tony fearfully, “It usually heals and does the... the... aging thing. It’s never... I’ve never..."

Tony understands, oh god does he understand. With the most restraint he’s ever show, Tony picks himself off the needy Omega, making sure their skin and bodies aren’t touching. Peter whines, but Tony ignores it, has to ignore it.

“I’m sorry, Petey, I really am— but there’s not way I’m stealing your virtue like this. As much as I’d love to, you deserve better than a romp in the mud, especially with an Alpha like me."

Peter sits up and reaches towards him, “No! What? I need you, please Alpha—"

“I can’t do that, Peter, please,” he begs backing away further. “I’m going to take care of... this,” he motions awkwardly to the obvious tent in his pants, “over there. And I suggest you do the same. We can talk in the morning."

The last thing Tony sees as he hurries away is the broken expression on the sweet Omega’s face, and his delicate hands tearing at layers of clothes.

Tony sighs, thankful to be out of temptation’s way, as he pulls out his cock hastily.

It’s gonna be a long night.

---

Tony can’t come. It’s been an hour and his cock is purple, drooling and throbbing, with no knot and no release in sight. Every stroke is painful— not to mention the agony of hearing Peter cry just across the clearing.

He’s strong, but he’s not that strong.

The scent of Omega heat reaches him where he kneels in the dirt, and he’s up and moving without a second thought. When Peter sees him— strutting across the forest and over to the cave where Peter has tried to den himself— the Omega sobs, holding out his arms in a silent invitation.

Tony kneels next to him, scenting for hurt and distress on his Omega. He knows it’s his fault Peter is so needy, so drippy and sad, and helps him by petting his hair, shushing him softly. Their skin presses together, and Tony can feel the heat fever already.

“M’sorry ‘mega,” he growls, feeling his rutting fangs extend in preparation. Peter’s eyes are closed and he claws at Tony’s back, singing a chorus of, “Alpha, Alpha, Alpha,” that is making Tony salivate.

He turns Peter around, moving the remains of his shirt and pants to give the Omega some cushioning to rest on as he arches his ass into the air, and leans down to taste. Slick is pouring out of his Omega, ripe and untouched in his arms. He latches his mouth to Peter’s sweet lips and sucks, using both hands to hold his hips in place as he coaxes more and more of Peter onto to his tongue, into his mouth.

Peter is panting and pleading with him for “more, Alpha,” but Tony knows the sweet, virginal Omega has no idea what he’s asking for. He watches Peter’s face for discomfort as he pushes in a finger, groaning as it easily slides up to the second knuckle. Peter drops his chest to the earth and cries out, pushing back into Tony’s hand.

“More, more, more Alpha!” he shouts, tiny cock twitching adorably as his pussy desperately clutches around Tony’s finger, almost as if it’s trying to draw him in further.

With a growl, Tony shoves another finger inside, working Peter’s body with one hand and using his other to stroke himself, coating his cock in wet, Omega slick. He knows the tingling in the back of his head, the rush of aggression and hormones means he’s hitting a rut as well, but none of it matters— not with the world’s prettiest Omega writhing under him and calling him Alpha.

His fingers pull out and bring an obscene amount of slick with them, that Tony immediately uses on his cock, pumping it desperately as he sidles up behind Peter. He crouches behind the Omega, putting his hands on Peter’s waist as the tip of his cock slides in between glistening lips, bumping up against his entrance.

Peter jerks, panting, as he looks up at Tony, “Wh... what is that, Alpha?"

“My cock, ‘mega. M’gonna fill you up, make the hurt go away,” Tony can barely get the words out before he’s sinking in, breathing hard as the Omega’s velvety slick passage is stretched wide around his cock. And he’s tight— oh, fuck, he’s tight. Tony’s never fucked a virgin, never even had an Omega in heat, and he can’t stop the way his hips immediately start to thrust, pistoning in and out of Peter’s trembling body.

“Perfect, fuck Peter— so perfect for me."

Peter whines and clenches down, “So full, Alpha! Please, need more."

That’s all the permission Tony needs to pick up his pace, slamming their hips together brutally as he fucks the Omega into the forest floor. His tony body fits perfectly into Tony’s hands, and Peter keens so beautifully when the Alpha changes angles, driving down mercilessly into his sweet spot.

Peter screams, “That! Right there!” and Tony snarls, giving the needy Omega exactly what he’s asking for. He reaches around, groping at Peter’s slight waist and chest, until he can take two handfuls of soft breast— barely a handful, but still soft and alluring— and pinch down on those pretty nipples, hard.

His Omega shakes apart, wailing, “Alpha, Alpha, oh, oh— I’m gonna, oh!” before painting the ground with his release, milking Tony’s cock as he fucks him through his orgasm relentlessly. The pressure is fucking heaven, and Tony’s thrusts shorten, turning into a shallow grind, as he feels his knot expanding.

Peter’s breathing picks up, little mewling sounds escaping as Tony fucks him with his knot, working past the Omega’s oversensitive entrance with a few filthy circles of his hips.

“S’it bigger? Why’sit bigger?” Peter whines, wiggling in discomfort.

Tony shushes him, falling to his knees as the knot finally slips in with a pop, releasing load after load of Alpha cum deep into his belly. “F-fuck, Pete. Just... oh, baby just breathe, okay?” he tries soothing Peter as the smaller boy starts to whimper— loose and boneless on the ground.

It’s difficult, but Tony manages to get them situated on their sides, pulling over a bedroll to keep his perfect Omega off the dirt and earth. He wraps Peter up in his arms. He buries his nose in Peter’s curl, damp with sweat, and breathes deep.

“T-tony?” Peter turns back to look at him, precious tears clinging to his eyelashes, “What happened... to your... your...” he squeezes down on Tony’s knot purposefully, and then blushes, hiding is face in embarrassment.

This Omega is too much, Tony thinks as he groans— another wave of pleasure rolling through him, pumping more and more cum into the sweet, pure boy in his arms. “God, Pete— you’re gonna kill me. It’s... it’s my knot, sweetheart. Keeps us locked for a bit,” at Peter’s sad whine, Tony hums and pets his side soothingly, “but— with your heat, I bet I can make you come on it again."

“C-come on it?” Peter whispers, sounding overwhelmed and terrified, and Tony recoils a bit when his sugary-sweet scent turns bitter, distressed.

Oh god, “No, no baby, just rest, okay? I’ll take care of you. I promised, remember?"

Peter’s body relaxes and curls back into Tony’s arms, sighing gently, “I do. Thank you, Alpha. And then... and then we can go see the lights?"

Tony chuckles, already reaching a hand around to work Peter’s sweet little Omega cock back to hardness.

Oh, they’ll be seeing the lights alright.

[hardlyinteresting]

Risks Worth Taking 2/2

This is the second half, part 2/2 of the story, thank you to everyone who has read it! Professor!Zemo x Student reader Part 1 here The reader takes Zemo’s philosophy class focusing on Machiavelli. Posted in 2 parts because it exceeded the textbox limit. Apx 3k words.

Warnings: student-teacher relationship (the reader is of age, no real focus on power imbalance), implied age gap, consumption of alcohol, implication that the reader is sleeping with Zemo for better grades (she's not) and of course let me know if you want me to add anything else!!

Week five, he is not shocked to find she’s once again the first one in class. “Good evening,” he greets warmly, unwrapping his scarf from around his neck as he makes his way to his desk. She smiles back, “I left my paper on your desk there, I figured I’d get the pile started”. He laughs setting down his coat and bag, “Something tells me there will be few submissions for this class”.

He’s right. Less than half the class bothers to show up. Most of her peers seem to be getting a head start on winter break, at least the class is quiet she thinks content listening to Helmut summarize the most recently assigned chapters, providing historical context where needed.

“Enjoy your break Helmut,” she says softly as he shuts the lecture hall door.

“You as well. Do you have plans?” She shakes her head, “No, just reading”. He smiles, “Then I am sure it will be a good break indeed”.

The cafe is warm and cosy. She settles comfortably into her favourite booth with her favourite book and a second cup of tea.

The bell at the front door dings as a man enters in a long black coat and leather gloves. Fancy she thinks to herself as he approaches the counter to order. It's usually other students dressed in sweatpants and hoodies, the man’s put together dress piques her interest. He orders and then she watches over the top of her book as he drops a $10 bill into the barista’s tip jar. Oh, well dressed and exceedingly well mannered. She can't help but watch him as he waits. Removing his gloves he tucks them into his pockets and unbuttons his coat, she swears she can smell his cologne from where she sits; it's incredible!

“Cherry blossom tea for Helmut?” The barista calls sliding the cup across the counter.

Helmut? It isn't. Is it? He turns after saying a polite thank you, and she can feel her heart hammering as he turns and she sees his face. It is. She's not sure why she's shocked, she did tell him about this place after all. Do I say something? She wonders, weighing the pros and cons, but her thoughts are halted when she hears his voice,

“Hello,” he smiles softly, “I didn't expect you to be here--I know you pointed this place out, but I wasn't--”

He's worried he's intruding. Oh, how the tables have turned.

“No, no. It's okay! I don't own the place-- did you want to sit? You don't have to--”

He chuckles as her nerves get the best of her.

Silently he sets down his cup shrugging out of his coat, putting it over the back of the chair before sitting down.

“What are you reading?” He smiles, trying to peak at the cover.

Again, after their initial stiffness, the conversation flows smoothly, just like it had in his office. After several warm drinks, and a couple croissants ordered between the two of them it’s grown dark outside. Neither had noticed the cafe empty out slowly over the hours, the barista cleaning up for the night until she clears her throat from behind the counter. They both turn to look at her, finally noticing how quiet the shop is.

“Sorry, we’re closing now,” the barista smiles sweetly. “Not a problem. I apologise, we lost track of time. We’ll get out of your way,” Helmut apologizes. The pair collect their things sliding back into their coats and gloves. Helmut waits patiently for her to be ready to go his hand resting gently at the small of her back as she slips out of the booth and past him.

Helmut stops and puts another bill in the girl’s tip jar.

“Sorry for keeping you,” he apologises again.

Outside the winter wind is cold against their faces.

“Are you hungry?” Helmut asks.

“I could eat,” She responds. “Ever been there?��� Helmut asks pointing to the pub across the street. “I don’t know if it’s your speed. It’s not super nice or anything, but their food is decent,” she says honestly. He laughs, “‘Decent’ is better than what I can make at home by myself”.

She bites her lip thinking about it, does he want to spend more time with me?

“Okay,” she smiles as they make their way across the street.

Settled at a table, they wait for their server, she asks, “Was that a fifty dollar bill I saw you put in that tip jar?”

He shrugs, “Yes”.

He says that as if it’s normal, she thinks.

“I know you’re not from here, but you do know that’s a lot of money right?” “Yes,” he shrugs again, “But she made excellent tea all afternoon, she let us stay as late as she could and she was polite. And I have been here long enough to know that servers of any kind don’t get paid fairly. I can afford it, she deserves it”.

She feels the smile grow across her face, she considers gushing that he’s such a good person, but instead what comes out is, “I’m really starting to consider becoming a professor”.

He laughs, “I told you, it’s family money, not my facility pay”. God, that laugh, sets off butterflies in her stomach, the warm, genuine sound of his laughter.

He continues, “Before Sokovia fell, my family were royalty. I was a Baron there”. “I knew your name sounded familiar,” she sighs, “I remember hearing about Sokovia on the news. I remember your name, you were building orphanages and relief centres”.

He nods sadly, “Many of us thought we could salvage what we had left after everything. We couldn’t”.

“I’m so sorry,” she says, without thinking she reaches across the table to place a comforting hand on his arm. His hand comes to cover hers, so much larger than her own.

There’s a silence between them for one of the first moment since he sat down with her earlier at the cafe. But it’s not uncomfortable, it’s the opposite -- a silence of understanding, both parties knowing there’s nothing they can say to make things better-- they can only ruminate.

The peace is broken by a waiter coming to take their orders. “Do you drink Helmut?” She asks with a mischievous smile. “I have been known to indulge,” he confesses, his eyebrows furrowed. “Two shots of ?” she turns to look at Helmut expectantly. “Vodka,” he replies. “Two shots of vodka, and an order of cheese fries to share please,” she orders, “thank you”.

The waiter returns not before long, placing the drinks and food on the table.

She holds her shot glass up waiting for him to do the same. “Prost,” he says raising his glass towards her. “Cheers,” she responds clinking her glass into his before they both tip them back.

And that’s how their night begins.

It’s nearing midnight when they settle their bill, Helmut insisting he pay-- though she put up a good fight. “Can I walk you home?” He asks looking at her under the light of the street lamps. She nods, her face feeling warm both from his attention and the alcohol coursing through her bloodstream. Her apartment is only three blocks away, but time seems to slow down as they walk arm in arm through the freshly fallen snow. At her door they stop, she looks up at him, him down at her. Without a thought, lips meet. It’s not rough or particularly sexy, but she feels her knees go weak when his hand comes to cup her cheek, his other splayed across the small of her back pulling her closer. This kiss deepens and she clutches the lapel of his wool coat before they both pull away. “Sorry,” he mumbles. “Don’t be,” she sighs.

Then the thought hits her, “How are you getting home?” “Oh-- I was going to get a cab and go back to the cafe to pick up my car in the morning,” he explains. “Nonsense-- you can stay here,” she offers unlocking her door and stepping inside, he doesn’t follow. “Not in my bed,” she laughs flicking on the light, “I’ll set you up on the couch”. He steps inside.

In the morning he wakes to the sun shining through the window. It takes him a minute to orient himself remembering he crashed on her couch. He sits up taking a moment to look around the apartment, it’s cute. Books and textbooks and notebooks strewn about the place. It’s homey and inviting and every bit what he’d expect her space to look like. Carefully he grabs one of the open notebooks tearing out a page he writes a quick note:

Good morning, I find that I feel very sorry for having to leave before you wake. Alas, I have much to get done, and I do not wish to trespass in your home longer than needed. I am grateful for your hospitality, and even more, your company. If my memory serves correctly I must also apologise for making that advance towards you last night. It was ungentlemanly, and you are unquestionably deserving of much better. I hope you can forgive me, and that you might allow me to make it up to you. -Helmut

Week six.

“He should appear to be compassionate, faithful to his word, guileless, and devout.” Is written across the board. When she settles into her seat. She’s not early this week, rather just on time. Helmut notes the heavy rise and fall of her chest as she tries to catch her breath, he holds back a smile at the thought of her sprinting to his class. When the class is settled, he proceeds to hand back all of the submitted essays, now marked. He smiles as he sets hers on her desk, “Bravo,” he says quietly enough that just she hears it as he shuffles along to the next row of students. She anxiously flips to the last page, red pen scrawl reads 100%. Her jaw drops. There’s no way. She thinks back to the rumours she heard on campus at the beginning of the year, about how difficult a marker he is. Bullshit. Her blood boils, rage sizzling beneath her skin. She avoids his eyes for the rest of class staring down at her notebook as she notices the indents in the blank page-- indents left from where he had written her a note that morning. Her anger freezes replaced by the cold sinking feeling in her chest. All his kind words, all those moments shared-- did he really think she was just spending time with him for a better grade? What kind of handout does he expect to get from her? She scolds herself now for the little crush she’d developed-- how stupid could she be? The prince must appear to be virtuous in order to hide his actions, She remembers from her reading, a dagger to her chest as she thinks bitterly that she’s not shocked that the professor is practising what he preaches.

The class ends and he moves to collect his paperwork, sorting it back into his bag. She stays. “I’m glad you stayed behind,” he starts. “I’m sure you are,” she says sharply. Confused he puts his things down turning to face her. “Have I done something to upset you?” He asks seriously his head tilted to the side as he racks his brain for anything he may have done to make her so cross. Perhaps his note was not sufficient in conveying his apology? “Do you think I’m stupid? Or that I’m naive?” she asks arms crossed, “I’m not sleeping with you for a good grade,” she states firmly, sliding her essay back across her desk, “feel free to adjust my grade accordingly”. Is that what she thinks? His mouth goes dry, his mind and heart racing with all the different ways he wants to apologise, to tell her that she has it wrong. He approaches her, finally making eye contact with her, “Your grade will stay as it is. I mark all of my student’s work without looking at the cover pages. I have always strived to remain impartial. Your essay was marked no differently,” He explains calmly, “I would be wrong to say that I don’t hold any affections for you-- it is quite the opposite. I enjoy the time we have spent together, and I would like to continue to remain in your company; I hope to eventually find myself in your affections-- but none of this has any bearing on your grade. I am sorry that I have acted in a way where this was not clear”. Her throat clenches, oh. “I’m sorry--Oh my god--I’m so stupid!” her hand flies to cover her mouth. “You have nothing to apologise for-- I should be the one apologising,” he insists. She shakes her head standing to stand in front of him, “We’ve both been obtuse”. “I’d like to make it up to you. I’d like to take you out for dinner-- a proper meal. If you’ll allow me”. She nods her hand coming to rest on his cheek, thumb running gently across his cheekbone, “I would like that,” she says quietly, her eyes glazing at his lips, “But only after the semester is done and I’ve graduated”. “If that is what you want,” he nods understanding. She can feel him leaning in, her eyes flickering up to his caramel eyes and back down to his lips, his hand rests on her hip, but he waits for her to close the gap between them.

Last day of the school year.

She waits by the door to the lecture hall as he speaks to his class. She listens to the back and forth of conversing ideas from the students, her heart beating faster every time Helmut speaks. It takes a while for everyone to leave when the class is over, but he does his best not to make her wait too long, gathering his things as quickly as possible, he makes his way over to her.

“Maybe I should’ve taken this course, the conversation was much more lively!” She laughs. “Your intelligent thoughts would have been wasted here, my dear” He smiles shutting the door behind him, “your class needed a brilliant mind in it”.

The summer goes by quickly. Fine dining, nights in. reading during rainstorms. Nights of soft romance, followed by nights of passion. Pasts shared. Futures envisioned. In his bed the night before the new school year she rolls over to lay almost on top of him, laughing when he lets out an oof. “Old man she teases,” earning a playful pinch on the thigh from him.

She glances at his nightstand, a copy of The Prince laying there.

“And what are your personal feelings about Machiavelli anyway? You never speak about your own thoughts”

“You're so clever,” he laughs, “but you're right”.

He sighs pulling her closer. he tries to focus on his hand running up and down her arm, how soft her sweater is under his fingertips. He takes a deep breath before speaking, “every time I read it, my opinions change,” he confesses, “there was a time when I was young and stupid; thought I was invincible that I agreed with a lot of his ideals. Then I grew older, fell in love--I thought him stupid and lonely. I experienced an incredible loss--”

She squeezes his side as she hears his voice grow tense with tears, he swallows and continues, “and then I thought I understood him. I learned how to grieve and I thought him intolerable. In the end I learn more about myself than I do him”.

She smiles, “and have you read it lately?”

He nods kissing her softly, “I have”.

“And?”

“I learned to trust my instincts. To take the risks that are worth taking”

“You're kind of a sap,” she laughs, her face getting warm she buries it in his chest. Part 1 here

[animeyanderelover]

Hello again! Can I have prompt 46 with Ash? Tnx

Recently I told my friend that I had a lot of requests about him and she laughed about it. She doesn't really like him, but she gives him credit since he looks good.

Tw: Yandere themes, unhealthy mindset, unhealthy relationship, possessiveness, obsessiveness, delusions, extreme paranoia, isolation, desperation, mentions of kidnapping,overprotectiveness, mentions of self-harm, Stockholm syndrome

Prompt 46: "Can I...can I kiss you?"

It was nothing less than a miracle that someone like you existed, someone who was cleansed from all the sins of this world and the corruption of humans. You were radiating with everything Ash had wanted for this world, a world that he wanted to give to you. It was the minimum from what she should and would do for you, it was his duty as your very own guardian angel. A role he was utterly dedicated too, devoted to his very own angel who forgave him his sins every time.

It was true, you had forgiven him his crimes already a long time ago as everything around you had started to fade away and you had lost count of how long exactly you had been stuck in here. Somewhere around one and a half years would be your expectation, looking on how the seasons had changed through the large and closed windows which symbolized your loss of freedom. But you didn't mind anymore.

You only needed and wanted Ash, your guardian angel.

There was clear tension in his body, you could feel how he stiffened up under your embrace. He had never really received that sort of affection before from anyone nor would he have ever wanted it from all those worthless lives walking around freely. You were the only person he actually wanted any sort of touches from. That was how pure you were, even causing someone like him craving something and falling victim to his own desires. And it was his own fault for being so weak-minded. He didn't deserve you yet letting you perish outside would be an even greater sin. He had to keep you safe.

"My Queen...what are you doing?"

Being able to keep his composure was important in front of you, though he remembered to have failed multiple times in the past already. Severe punishment was the only thing he could think of to atone for his failures for not being good enough, for proving himself to be so incredibly useless. Even now he could feel some unhealed wounds aching a bit, but you didn't have to know about his weakness and incompetence.

You blinked slightly confused up at him when he asked you such an obvious question, but it soon turned into slight giggling that instantly plunged Ash's heart into painfully warm emotions and forced his eyes to get wet. It had taken a while until you had been able to look so happy after he had quickly rescued you from all the evil waiting to devour you. The distress he had felt back then could never be put in words and no burns, knifes and broken bones had been able to make up for what you had been suffering under. Even now it remained as a anxiety deeply stuck in his heart. But looking at you now, smiling at him and not staring with wide eyes filled with fear at him, was worth much more than his whole life could ever repay you.

"I’m hugging you. It’s just that you always look so worried and stressed over my safety and never appear to take a rest. Just now you did as well so I thought this might help you a bit. A strong hug can be more worth than thousand words after all. That’s what my mother told me at least when I was younger.”, you replied softly, pressing your face deeper into his chest with a content look on your face.

There was nothing Ash could think of for a few moments, instead he seared the scene in front of him deep into his brain, how you were currently buried into his chest, looking so happy and peaceful. So stunning and precious.

Tears were quick to escape his eyes only seconds later, his insides stirring up with warmth that stung him and yet baked him with something he hadn’t felt in so long. Comfort and peace.

This was exactly why he had to protect you with his very own life, no one was allowed to snuff out the light you carried inside of you and that was able to even share it’s warmth with him. You possessed too much kindness to understand, but normal humans only destroyed what they touched, ruining it with their greed.

He wouldn’t let them do the same to you.

He would kill everyone who would even do as much as getting too close.

He just had to guarantee that you would live.

But first of all he had to calm himself down or otherwise he might worry you even more than he seemed to have done already. The tears were quickly wiped away with his sleeves before Ash was able to look at you again, still feeling like he wanted to continue crying. His heart felt like it might burst at any moment.

“You have so much warmth and love inside of you that I don’t think I deserve any of it. You shouldn’t even be concerned about me, I merely do what I have to do as your guardian. If you were to fall victim to this damned place, I would perish as well. What use is an angel who can’t even protect their chosen one?”

Pain was twisting his voice and face a bit when he dared to imagine how a world without you would be, a world filled with grief and darkness for him. Letting his guard down would be a fatal mistake, he had seen the worst of this world and the humans and he knew that it would happen again. That was why he had to be like this for you were his heart beating outside his chest. If something were to ever happen to you...

The angel hadn't even noticed that he had already started crying again, fist tightened and body shaking whilst getting lost in fears of losing the one good and bright thing this world had still left.

"But for me you're more than just a guardian angel. You're my angel and I want you to feel happy as well. I want you to feel loved as well. You do so much for me, but I feel like I only cause you stress and uneasiness. Shouldn't you be happy because of me?", you asked him in slight protest, feeling sadness whilst seeing the man you had come to love like this again because of you. You had never seen him truly relaxed nor had you ever been able to show him your feelings. He wouldn't let you, not thinking that he deserved you.

His reaction was instant, suddenly falling on his knees upon hearing from what you had said that he had disappointed you yet again, the visible look of your sorrow only stabbing his fear deeper into his very soul.

"I-I am so sorry! I didn't know that you felt this way only because I was so selfish to only think about myself like this! I don't deserve your forgiveness and accept any sort of-"

When he felt the soft sensation of your hands cupping his stained cheeks, he abruptly stopped his rambling, trying to not choke on his own breath that had gotten irregular.

"You don't have to apologize to me. I don't want to hear you saying such things about yourself. Don't you understand? I am unhappy whenever you are like this, seeing yourself as so worthless and not deserving of my love. That's what hurts me so much. You're rejecting my feelings. I love you, Ash. And I want to know if you do too. Because if you do, please stop talking like this and behave so distantly."

Your voice conveyed every bit emotion that was going on inside of you in that moment, something that Ash noticed with widened eyes as well.

Silence was cut short by him when he realized that you wanted something crucial from him which he would gladly give you. He had never considered that you would ever consider his love as something you wanted, consider him as someone you loved. When had been the last time someone had been truly kind to him and loved him? He couldn't remember anymore.

"Of course I do. You should never doubt my feelings for you. I love you more than you could ever imagine. It's impossible to function without you.", he managed to reply with a shaking voice as he grabbed both of your hands in his own.

"Then why are you acting like this? Everyone deserves someone who loves them. Without love it's a very painful life, isn't it? That's why I am hurting as well. Let me love you and I promise that you'll be able to feel peace as well.", you muttered slightly embarrassed out, leaning your head down so your forehead could rest against his own.

Slight sobs were starting to catch up to Ash as he was staring in pure awe at you.

"Thank you. I'll be better and make sure that I won't cause you sadness anymore.", he pressed out, tightening his grip on your hands only the slightest bit so he wouldn't hurt you.

"I'm glad to hear that.", you replied with a sincere smile on your face, joy stirring your heart up just by seeing that for the first time since he had abducted you, Ash was looking relieved and less tense. He just looked extremely grateful.

"May I ask you for a favor then?", you requested with a certain idea in mind.

"I'll do anything for you.", Ash replied, sounding very emotional.

"I want to do something for you for once since you normally do anything for me."

Hesitation and clear dislike instantly shadowed his face, the thought of him asking something from you going against Ash's belief in all the wrong ways. You shouldn't have to do him favors.

"It doesn't have to be something difficult. It can be a really simple thing. Just...something that I can do for you this once. Please.", you begged slightly, seeing the angel already struggling. You knew how he felt about such things, he hated letting you do something for him and he had never done it before either. Ash saw it only upon himself to serve you which was another thing that sometimes made you feel guilty. You wanted to do more for him as well.

"Can I...can I kiss you?"

Maybe that had been more a slip of his tongue, but he had been slightly panicking since hadn't want to sadden you again nor had he wanted you to do physical work for him. It was supposed to be the other way around.

So when he had stared for a moment at your face, eyes locked on your lips, he had considered somewhere deep in his mind possibilities which he had been fantasizing about a few times before, but hadn't thought that they would actually have a change of happening.

In his opinion they were still sinful, it would take a while for him to get used to the idea that you wanted to receive physical affection and love from him. The first impulse when he realized what he had said was instantly apologizing, only to be interrupted before he could even start saying anything.

You had already leaned down to fulfill him his wish before he could take it back again.

[mypoisonedvine]

Making Ends Meet | dark!Mandalorian x reader

summary: you’re just a simple woman trying to make your way in the universe, with the universe’s oldest profession.  unfortunately for you, a new customer doesn’t plan on going easy on you.

word count: 3.2k

warnings: smut (dub con), kidnapping (?? kinda), prostitution, rough sex, pain kink, lots and lots of degradation, ooc mando being a meanie

please do not read if this content would be triggering or upsetting for you, dark fics aren’t for everyone and it is your responsibility to manage your own content consumption

If you were going to have any hope of making rent this month, you needed to book someone tonight— and not a cheapskate who’d try to stiff you after he’d already stiffed you, no, you needed a big spender, a high roller.  You needed somebody who had extra credits to throw around and wore it on his sleeve.

You needed a guy like the one who had just walked in— with beskar on his sleeve.  That’ll do quite nicely, you thought to yourself as you watched the Mandalorian cross the room to talk to the bartender.  

Seemed like he was here on business, unfortunately, from the way he didn’t even venture a glance at you or any of the other women skulking about; but then again, you couldn’t be entirely sure where he was looking with that big helmet covering his face.  It might not be the easiest sell, but you were determined to get this guy for the night— and, more importantly, his money.

Walking up to the bar with your best sultry saunter, you leaned in beside him and smiled as he turned his head to look at you.  "Hey," you purred.  "Haven't seen you around before.  We don't get a lot of new faces around here… even when they're hidden."

He didn't say anything, which was a little concerning, but his head tilted down a bit as if he was looking at your body, which was a good sign.

“What brings you to Tatooine, hm?  Business…” you trailed off as you ghosted your fingertips over his armor-clad forearm, “or pleasure?”

“Business is my pleasure,” he informed you sternly.

“And pleasure is my business,” you countered with a smirk.  Before you could say anything else, the bartender returned with a sack in his palm that he tossed into the Mandalorian’s hands, something metallic jingling inside.

“For a job well done,” he explained with a crooked, toothy smile, “as promised.”

“Payday, huh?” you noticed, your tongue darting out to wet your lips.  “Never comes often enough, amirite?”

Your quip was met with tense silence as he slipped the bag into a sack at his waist.  He turned to leave, but you reached out for his shoulder and stopped him.  

“Wait,” you requested, desperation starting to taint your tone of voice.  He spun and faced you again, and you tried to keep your body language relaxed and sensual in spite of your stress.  “What are you gonna spend all that on?”

“My ship,” he decided after a quick moment.

“Why not spend it on yourself?  You must be tired after working a long, hard day,” you sighed sympathetically, stepping a little closer.  “Why don’t you stay a bit longer and take a moment to relax?”

It didn’t seem like he knew what to do with that, and you motioned to a wide, cushioned chair nearby.  Amazingly, it worked; he walked to the chair with that swagger of his, the blaster at his hip suddenly so much more obvious with the way it swung with every step.  As soon as he sat down, you put a leg up beside him, straddling him slightly but leaving enough space to (hopefully) have him wanting more.

“You must be getting hot under there,” you smiled, making sure the double entendre was obvious.

“Maybe I am,” he shrugged.

“All this heavy armor... does it get uncomfortable?”

“I’m comfortable,” he denied.

“Good,” you purred before biting down on your lip as you rubbed his chest— or, rather, his chestplate.  “You know, I’ve heard that Mandalorians are even harder underneath the steel.”

He paused a little before he answered.  “Only in a few key places,” he finally replied, his gloved hand reaching to brush over your thigh.  You grinned, knowing you finally had him.

“Why don’t you come to my room and show me?” you suggested.

“I imagine your time isn’t free,” he observed.

“Fifty credits for an hour, or a hundred for the whole night,” you enumerated.

“That’s a little steep,” he noted with a tone of irritation.

“It’s my price,” you shrugged, “take it or leave it.”

“I’ll leave it,” he decided, shoving you back and standing up to leave.

“No, wait,” you blurted out, “eighty for the night.”

“I don’t have all night,” he informed you sternly.  “Twenty for the hour.”

“Twenty?!” you squawked.  “What kind of girl do you take me for?”

He grabbed your wrist tightly, suddenly, and pulled you into him.  “A whore,” he answered with a rough growl, “and apparently not as cheap as you look.”

You swallowed dryly, irritated by his attitude but desperate for the cash you knew he had.  “How often do you come through Mos Eisley?” you asked quietly.

“As rarely as I can manage,” he replied.

“If you pay a hundred now, I’ll be here every time you come in, for as long as you need,” you offered.  “Standing order, permanently.”

It was difficult to negotiate with someone whose face you couldn’t see: you weren’t sure if the silence was him considering it, or just watching you squirm in his grasp for fun.  

“A hundred,” he repeated slowly, “for whatever I want.”

“Whatever you want,” you nodded quickly.

“Whenever I want,” he added.

“Whenever you want.”

He let go of your wrist and you stumbled back, rubbing the sore skin with your other hand.  “Show me to your room,” he requested suddenly.

You led him back behind a few tattered curtains, past the hall and up the stairs to your cramped apartment.  It wasn't much, but the red silk draped everywhere and the incense burning in the corner certainly set the mood for the work you did.  Your door slid shut automatically behind him, and normally this is the part where he’d kiss you or you’d kiss him, but that was sort of impossible in his current state.  With an awkward pause, you waited for him to undress.

“Take off your clothes,” he instructed instead— and it was even more dominant than you expected, but you were happy to oblige as you untied the strip of fabric keeping your flowy tunic together, letting it fall off of your shoulders and onto the floor.  You didn’t have anything else on, just for the sake of simplicity, and he said nothing as he stepped forward until he was just inches away from you.

He quickly disposed of his gloves to touch you with his bare hands; his rough, warm skin over your waist and hips and breasts was a strong contrast to the worn leather, and even moreso to the hard, cold beskar.  His skin was tan, especially considering that it rarely saw the sun, and you let yourself imagine what the rest of him would look like based on that long with the subtle dusting of dark hair that extended from his arms.  Of course, in your mind, he was stunningly gorgeous, because it was more fun for you that way.  The way he spun you around quickly and forced you to bend over the edge of your bed made you realize he wasn’t as interested in your fun, though.

You yelped a little at the unexpected force, and again when he slapped your ass out of nowhere.  

“You’d better make it worth my while, after I paid a hundred credits,” he grunted.

“Of course,” you agreed quickly, looking back to see him slipping to fingers underneath the edge of his helmet.

“Don’t turn around,” he growled.  “Don’t look back.”

“Okay,” you nodded nervously as you whipped your head back to face in front of you, staring diligently at the dark red comforter beneath you, “I— I won’t.”

You heard the rustle of clothing and a sigh of relief— noticeably one not modulated through the helmet speaker.  Unceremoniously, his helmet was tossed down onto the bed beside you, bouncing and rolling a bit before it found purchase on your quilt.

Next must have been his trousers, as you heard his heavily-equipped belt fall to the floor just before the subtle little grunt you’d come to know as the sure sign that a man had freed a throbbing cock from the confines of his trousers.  He roughly kicked your legs apart, grabbing your hips and using them to hold you up as he started to grind his bare cock against your slickened folds.  You could tell by the way his shaft spread your lips that you had no chance of taking him— he was too thick, you couldn't even tell how long he was yet but he was definitely too thick.

He must have realized something similar, because he pushed you forward a bit; you realized he was looking down at your pussy, which made your face burn with embarrassment.

"Get yourself wet for me," he instructed firmly.  

You didn't think you would ever be able to get wet enough to fit him.  "How?" you asked.

"I don't care how, just do it.  You have thirty seconds."

You gasped a bit but shoved your hand between your legs and frantically rubbed your clit— it didn't really feel that good, with the pressure and fear overwhelming your senses instead of pleasure.  And he didn't make it any easier on you by literally counting each second.  You got a bit wetter, sure, and you'd already been turned on from earlier, but it was still not gonna do you much good against the monster he intended on putting inside you at any moment.

"Fifteen," he continued counting, his voice dropping so much deeper all of a sudden.  "Fourteen."

Halfway out of time already and you weren't that much more wet than when you started.  Your mind was racing with thoughts of everything sexy you could manage to conjure— his voice did help, the deep timbre reverberating right up your spine as anxious fear started to blend in with forced arousal.  You tried to focus on the ways that being fucked by a faceless, mysterious stranger was sexy, rather than the ways it was terrifying.

"Ten," he counted, his voice changing as you heard him smile— you weren't sure how you could hear it, but you could.  "There you go, I can see it now."

You whimpered a little, the sound catching in your throat as fingers suddenly teased your entrance, not quite pushing in but threatening to.  As they swirled around your folds, a lewd wet sound filled the air, mixing in with your heavy breathing and his dark chuckle.

"You hear that?" he asked, and you nodded quickly.  "Just a few seconds left, make them count."

Rubbing faster, you felt your hips start to rock of their own volition, similarly to the way your walls were clenching around nothing in search of being filled.  

"Three, two, one," he finished as you felt the thick head of his cock start to push against you.  You dropped your hand, knowing you'd need both to stabilize yourself.  "You want it?" he asked roughly.

"Yes," you answered, your voice coming out weaker than expected.

"Beg for it," he instructed coldly.

"Put your cock in me, please—" was all you could get out before the words stopped in your throat as he suddenly pushed in.  You were barely processing the first inch as he barreled past your resistance to shove the next few in.  It already felt like you would run out of room inside your body before he ran out of cock.

"F-fuck," you hissed, "slow down.  You're too big."  You hoped maybe he'd take pity on you if you phrased it as a compliment.  You were wrong.

"You're a whore," he reminded you, "can't you take it?  It's all you're good for, anyways."

That got you to shut your mouth as he thrust himself completely into you, finding the end of you easily with the head of his cock while your hands clutched the bedsheets for dear life.  You winced but managed to suppress a cry as he started to fuck you, not quite fast yet but so much deeper than your brain could process.  "Ffffuu-uuck," you stammered, the sting starting to fade but the overwhelming pressure never really letting up.

"How's it feel?" he asked, almost sounding like he could moan but holding back.  "Don't lie."

You realized, then, that he didn't want you to fake pleasure like most clients did— he wanted to see your pain, and know he caused it.  He enjoyed hurting you.  You swallowed the lump in your throat and whimpered your honest reply: "Hurts."

"Good."

His balls slapping against your clit only added to the overwhelming sensations you were trying so hard to ignore, pain and pleasure becoming indistinguishable all of a sudden.  You could tell your walls were clamping down on him as pressure built in your gut and threatened to push past the point of no return.  Your moan was so much louder than you expected it to be, broken and guttural and animalistic. 

He pulled your hair roughly, making you yelp.  “That’s right,” he instructed through his teeth, “fuckin’ scream for it.”

“Fuck!” you sobbed loudly.  

He leaned forward and it felt like his body would surround yours, somehow, especially when he reached down to roughly grope one breast and then another.  He never stopped thrusting through it all, even when his head fell exhaustedly between your shoulder blades— it was so odd to be able to feel his forehead and hair on your skin but have no idea what his face looked like at all.

The telltale signs of orgasm were arriving in your body— your thighs quivered, your voice cracked, your walls and clit throbbed with need.  It felt like you could read every detail of his cock inside your silky wet heat, like the ridge of his leaking head was rubbing up against your swollen g-spot with every thrust.  You felt as if being so full of him had forced you to vacate your mind, too, to accommodate his size— as if that were possible.  

Either he sensed your peak approaching as well, or he just had convenient timing.  "Wanna feel you come around it," he grunted.  "Can you come for me?  Or are you completely useless?"

“‘M close,” you warned him as your answer, shame sending a shiver up your spine even though you felt guilty for it.

“Then come,” he ordered, “right fuckin’ now.”

It was odd how that actually did push you over the edge, his brutal thrusts and degrading words creating a perfect storm inside you as the friction became too much to bear.  You sobbed as it wracked through you, arching your back absent-mindedly, clenching your legs together as best you could with his legs in between them.  He didn’t stop fucking you through it, which meant that the sensation built to the point of ‘too much’ extremely quickly as your attempts at begging for mercy were lost to breathless moans.  Overwhelmed, your body collapsed onto the bed limply, your hips only staying up because he held them up, like your weight was nothing to him at all.

"Yeah, just like that,” he taunted, “fuckin' come on my cock, fuck— you're just a dumb slut, huh?  You love getting fucked like the desperate, needy fucktoy you are, is that it?"

"Y-yes," you whined weakly, cheeks burning at the feeling of him using your body— or maybe it was from the head rush caused by the afterglow of your orgasm. 

"You like it when it hurts,” he posited.  “You want me to hurt you."

"Yes— don't stop, please…" you whimpered, quiet but definitely loud enough for him to hear.

“Not gonna stop,” he promised, “‘til you’re full of my come.”

“Fuck,” you groaned, voice sounding hoarse and thin.  It had been a while since you lost your voice because of a session… and since you had walked funny for a few days afterwards.  This one was definitely going to do both.

As his hips started to slam harder and faster into yours, you really hoped it was a sign that he was close; his raspy groans made you sure of it, though.  You could feel his cock swelling and flexing, incredibly, and it made you a little light-headed but it made your overstimulated walls throb around him as well.

With one deep, exhausted growl from the man behind you, a warmth began to spread through you from the inside out.  When he released his grip on your hips, you fell onto the bed with a sigh and a thud.  A hand appeared in your peripheral vision to snatch the helmet off of your bed, and it only took him a few moments to stuff his softening cock back into his trousers and magically be dressed again.  Funny how he looked exactly the same as he had half an hour ago, meanwhile you were confident you looked totally fucked-out and fucked-up.

“You’re a good fuck,” he offered a monotone compliment as he pulled on his gloves, staring down at you as you slipped your robe back on and tried to ignore the warm sticky feeling between your legs.

“You’re… intense,” you replied, chuckling a little.  “Guess I’ll see you around, then.”

He didn’t respond, or leave, but just stood there looking at you for a minute as you stood up and adjusted yourself, trying not to limp noticeably because you figured he didn’t need any more ego.  “‘Whenever I want’ only applies when I’m on this planet,” he observed suddenly, interrupting the silence, “which I try not to be.”

“You can come around as often as you like,” you explained.  You froze when he appeared behind you, reaching his arms out and caging you in against the wall the second you'd turned to face him.

“But wouldn’t it be so much more cost-effective if you were with me all the time?  On my ship?”

You whimpered a little as he leaned in closer, and you felt his gaze on you through the dark visor of his helmet even though you couldn’t see it.  “That… that wasn’t the deal,” you whispered nervously.

“The deal’s changed,” he growled, ignoring your yelps of pain as he manhandled you and pinned you to the wall by your neck before you could even try to fight back.  “Whatever I want, whenever I want,” he growled, “that’s what you said.  I’ll hold you to that.”

The leather gloves creaked softly as he tightened his grip on the sides of your neck, forcing your lips to fall into a useless gasp for air.  Your hands reached out to claw at his chest, a silent plea for release, but he wasn’t having it.  

“Whatever you want,” you barely managed to croak out as your vision started to go dark.  “Please, Mando…”

“Whenever I want?”

“Whenever, please,” you cried, tears stinging your eyes.  He let go, finally, and you crumpled at his feet.  Somehow, you’d managed to sell yourself into slavery— for a measly hundred credits.  This whole thing had begun with you needing to make rent, and it ended with you realizing you wouldn’t return to your apartment again at all.  

He didn't need to shackle or bind you to make you follow him to his ship; his power over you was nauseatingly effortless, but you weren't about to try to run from an unhinged warrior like him.  

You'd always wanted to leave Tatooine and explore the galaxy… this wasn't exactly how you'd imagined doing it, as a Mandalorian's whore, but there were worse fates.  Like being a Mandalorian's target.  And you planned on doing whatever he wanted you to if it meant avoiding that.

[dreamii-yume]

Our lovely sleeping prince birthday is almost upon us, at least when I'm writing this ask so,

Sleepy prince gets to fulfill his one absolute birthday wish on his darling he keeps in his room, (before the party or maybe when it turns midnight on his birthday or after the party while it still is his birthday)

It is WAY upon us, my Love— IM SORRY IM LATE HAHA

Warnings : Yandere | Non-Con | Non-Consensual Touching | Kidnapping | Loss of Virginity

I see Silver being a borderline delusional yandere but still quite lucid at some point. He was confused at first and don’t really mean no harm to the one he loves, but when he turned to his father for some advice, that’s when things got a little bit...Complicated.

I mean, he did have a few doubts when his father was so supportive of his dark intentions of wanting to kidnap his Darling away from everyone else in the world, he was so conflicted of himself back then too. But Lilia was all smiles and giggles, squealing about how romantic it sounded to him that he even provided tips such as shackles and chains as protective “jewelry”. His father was weird, but Silver would be lying if he says that it didn’t make him feel at least slightly better about himself. Who was he to doubt the words of his father who knew so much about the world anyway?

Silver was never one to hurt you intentionally as he understood why you acted so strongly against his advances. Even when you yell for him to let go of you or inflict some sort of damage on him in some way, his patience was impeccable. He’d unconsciously overpower you when he wants to though, his strong arms wrapping around your body, making it smaller than it really is. He’d lay his head on your lap and fall asleep without even trying, but when you try to push him off, he’d instantly cling on you so tight that it felt like you were going to break a bone or two. He wasn’t one to shy away from sexual advances either, as per the advice of his father, and his kisses always felt so messy against your mouth.

He believes that he is doing the right thing, your resistance is just another obstacle that he’s yet to tackle. You’ll come to love him eventually, he just needs you to understand that by any means necessary.

Usually, it doesn’t go too far than touching each other though, he was totally the type to have sex only after marriage. The worse that you could remember doing was to pleasure his cock with your hands, occasionally with your mouth as well when he’s feeling extra horny. You can usually make him stop whenever you felt as if he really wanted to put his dick in you and steal your virginity, because he wanted to be all romantic and save your firsts for the best part, right? He wouldn’t want to ruin such a special moment, right...? But for some reason, it wasn’t working the way you wanted it to be this time around, Silver on his birthday felt different than usual. When you heard his drive was motivated once again by his ever-so mischievous father, it suddenly made so much more sense.

“If you really wanted to do it because you love her that much, then I don’t see the reason why you are willing to hold yourself back~”

I’d imagine he’d still want to make it as romantic as possible though, apologizing for being so impatient because you were too tempting to resist. He’ll set up the mood when the moon is fully out and treating you to a relaxing bath and a filling meal prior. He’d probably reach that point where he already believes that you are as in love with him as much as he does for you by how long you’ve been confined in his room, that the reason why you’ve been avoiding sex was because you were insecure and nervous. However, you’ve doing all those lewd acts with him before, haven’t you? Sucking his cock like your life depends on it, letting him touch you in your most sensitive spots, and returned all his kisses, it’s all signs that he believed to be leading him onto this moment. Any excuses you spout out now is just nonsensical, a childish tantrum.

That’s why, he had to clasp his hand around your mouth to silence your ear-piercing scream when he pushed into you. You were tight, but wet enough for his cock to slip right through, like you were made perfectly just for him. You struggled as much as you can, but ultimately became weaker and weaker as he began to thrust into you, his tip eventually reaching the depths of your cervix. He felt bad to see tears streaming down your cheeks, he could practically feel your walls stretching to its absolute limits just to accommodate his size so he could imagine how painful it must’ve been. He could even see blood pouring out of you, Lilia said that it was normal, like it was a proof of your virginity being torn away for the first time but he can’t help to wonder if you were okay.

Silver felt good though, his cock was wrapped around your warmth like a blanket and the sensation of dragging along your insides every time he would thrust in was fantastic. It was difficult to stop and it’s a shame to his pride, but he did his best to be gentle and constantly reminded himself to apologize afterwards. He knew how you’re feeling, but swore to make you feel good and doesn’t seem to intend to stop until he fulfills that promise. This was what he wanted after all, to finally claim you as his both inside and outside was his very special birthday wish...And when he finally felt his climax forming, he did not hesitate to cum deep inside you with a powerful thrust, enough to knock your breath out.

Lilia was right, having sex for the first time was such a euphoric experience, a memory that the both of you won’t probably ever forget. He came inside for the first time without any protection whatsoever, risking the possibility of pregnancy and it’s embarrassing for Silver to admit how addictively thrilling an experience it was...But looking down at your trembling body, it seems like that it really did took a toll on you. He still hasn’t pulled out of you just yet, even though his semen was already seeping out of your stuffed hole. Did you have as much fun as he did, he wondered?

...No worries, he can just do it all over again.

You’re seem tired, but it looked like you still have a bit of strength left in you just yet. Especially when you widened your eyes in panic to look up at him as soon as he grabbed your hips again. He only gave you a gentle smile to relay his message back...He promised he won’t stop until you feel as good as he does, didn’t he~?

IM BACK DARLINGS, and I managed to calm the amount of workloads I have lol I’ll try to continue writing hornii because I am VERY- OMG.