#do you know how humiliating it is to be recorded against your wishes while people shout slurs at you? | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

matryosika · 1 year

Text

Pairing: Changbin x Reader

Wordcount: 12,944 words.

Includes: Fem!Reader, babysitter!Changbin, MILF!Reader. Age gap between characters (male character is said to be 24, whilst reader's age is not explicited but there's an 11 years gap between the two). It's kind of an important topic throughout the plot, but it's not the main topic. Alcohol consumption. Smut warnings under the cut.

Author's Note: Finally, I finished this Changbin fic I've been work for an embarrassing amount of time. I had fun writing this, but right in the middle I kind of started questioning my existence and I started feeling conflicted about how I was portraying everything. I'm not sure if I'm satisfied, but I had a good time so I guess that's what counts. I know for a fact that there are a couple of grammar mistakes and misspelled words. I promise I'll fix them all soon. In the mean time, enjoy! Also, as usual, please remember that english is not my first language.

If you wish to support my work further, you can leave a reblog/ask/ comment. I also have a ko-fi, in case you want to (and are able to) leave me a tip. As a broke, college student I will highly appreciate it (the job hunting it's definitely not going anywhere, anytime soon. I'm doing my best though!). As I'm based in México, even a dollar helps me tons.

Smut warnings: Perv!Changbin, panty sniffing, jerking off to the smell of used underwear. Non-consensual recording in the beginning (but not really, you'll find out why). Dirty talk, mentions of masturbation (f. and m.), oral sex (f. and m. receiving), mentions of spit/drool, brief pussy slapping, overstimulation, impregnation fantasies (but it's not explicit between the characters), very mild humiliation/fantasies regarding humiliation, consensual recording of sexual activities, unprotected sex, creampie. Changbin talks lot about reader's ex-husband during the smut part so bear with him, it's his ego talking.

“You saw what?!”

Myeong’s high-pitched voice attracts a couple of stares from other people at the café, and you sulk into your spot at the sofa. If there's one person you trust in this world, whole-heartedly, it's her —your friend is good at keeping secrets, but she is not that great at being discreet.

Even so, she is the only one you can talk to about this. You didn't even tell your therapist yet, afraid you might get confronted in a not-so-friendly manner.

“Keep your voice down,” you insist, kicking her leg with your feet underneath the table. The short haired hisses and curses under her breath, but she doesn’t complain. Part of her feels like she earned it by being so loud. “And don’t make me repeat it again”.

“He did not,” Myeong’s eyes embody true shock as she stares right into you, her lips slightly parted while there's a blank expression all over her face. It starts regaining its true colors once her eyebrows quirk, and the corners of her lips turn into a hysterical smirk. “He did not!”

“Yes, he did,” you sigh, brushing a couple of strands away from your face before guiding the white, coffee mug to your lips, “And it’s all video-”.

“Shut up,” Myeong’s hand flies to her mouth and she covers it, repressing any urges to scream or laugh out loud. “You’ve got to be kidding me!”

“I’m not,” you shrug your shoulders, “and it wasn’t just one video I found”.

Myeong smacks her palm against her thigh, offering you a warm but teasingly smirk, “this might be the greatest day, ever”.

“This is not okay, Myeong,” there’s a lump in your throat that doesn’t go away, not even with all the sips you’ve taken from your coffee as of right now. The words are caught up in your throat, and you're afraid you might spill them if your friend spins the conversation to the wrong direction.

“How is this not okay?” The amusement in her eyes tells you that she is definitely watching the issue from another perspective. A perspective you know well, but that you no longer share, “he is clearly into you, I bet if you ask him to sleep with you he would do it right away, without thinking it twice”.

“He is a college student,” you emphasize, “and he is barely 24”.

“So?” Myeong cocks an eyebrow. “It’s not illegal, is it?”

You roll your eyes.

“No, it is not illegal,” your friend smiles proudly when you prove her right, but her smile fades away as you start talking, “but it feels wrong”.

“You’re so boring sometimes, you know,” your friend snorts, taking a sip from her green tea. “When was the last time you got laid?”

“Does it matter?”

“Yes, actually it does,” the conversation is slowly spinning towards you, and you don’t like it. At the same time, you can’t help but answer every question Myeong has, hoping to get some clarity out of the dilemmas she is putting you through. “If you can look into my eyes and promise that your sexual life is satisfactory enough right now, I will let this go”.

Had you been a hell of a liar, you would've done just that —stare into her eyes and blatantly lie. But is it more embarrassing to lie about having a great sexual life and get caught, or admitting it has been practically non-existent ever since your divorce?

Your silence and crestfallen gaze speaks for themselves, and that sparks curiosity in Myeong.

“Because you do… have an active sexual life, right?” A group of older women passes by your table and stares judgingly, which prompts you to shush your friend. Her blank expressions turns into amusement again, and she pokes her tongue through her cheek. “Oh, my God!”

“Look, I don’t need it, okay?” You're not a good liar, but the frustration and the rising heat on your cheeks prompts you to talk without thinking. “I don’t fuck these days and I totally don’t care”.

“What a day!” Myeong scoffs with mirth, “and it is barely nine in the morning”.

You pick at the hems of your blazer and don’t dare to look at her, at least not until she regains her composure.

“Oh my God,” she sighs again, taking a sip from her tea. “No, I see it, you definitely look like you haven't had sex in ages”.

“My sexual life is not up for discussion today,” you cut her short, rising your hand to catch the attention of a waiter not that far from your table, wanting to get another coffee refill. “But I really need to figure out what to do with the other thing I just told you about”.

“You’re such a prude,” your friend chuckles softly, “you can’t even say his name or address the situation as it happened —you caught him jerking off with your underw-”

“Don’t,” you stop her, glaring at the waiter that's just approaching you. He gets to your table and offers you both a bright smile, before asking if you need anything else. You hand him your coffee mug and ask for another refill, to which he nods compliantly.

You wish you could have elongated the time of his presence near you, to save you from Myeong's accusatory interventions, but there was little you could do when another table called him. After, the mischevious smile in your friend’s lips appeared again.

“So you caught Changbin jerking him in your bedroom, rubbing himself with a pair of your used panties,” you nod quietly, biting the insides of your cheek. There's something crude about the way she puts it, but that's exactly what happened. “What are you going to do about it? Fire him?”

“Yeah,” you agree, and furrow your eyebrows when Myeong shakes her head in disapproval. “Isn’t that the obvious thing to do in this situation?”

“You said he was great, though”.

“He is great at babysitting,” you let out a frustrated sigh, brushing your hair away from your face, “he is so accessible, and Jihun adores him”.

“And you’re still going to fire him?” Myeong asks with a look of disbelief.

“Isn’t that what I am supposed to do?” The sudden raise of your voice attracts a couple of stares, to which Myeong responds with a friendly smile. You quickly mutter a quick sorry to your table neighbors and other passerbys, and lower the volume of your voice. “The idea of not firing him just doesn't make any sense”.

“Alright, let’s say you fire him,” Myeong takes a deep sigh and leans back against his seat, “do you already have someone in mind for the job?”

You chew on your bottom lip as you shake your head.

“If you’re going to fire him, you better start there,” your friend rightfully points out. “Once you have a new babysitter, then you can fire him. If not, you’re at risk of being left empty-handed”.

“Yeah, but-” you hesitate. The idea of having to look for someone else to take care of Jihun it’s incredibly overwhelming. What if you can’t find someone like Changbin all over again? What if you end up stuck with a shitty, irresponsible babysitter that Jihun might not even get along with? “God, I just don’t want to fire him”.

“Then don’t!”

“But-”

“Jesus, you’re so complicated,” Myeong huffed, taking one last sip of her tea cup before putting it to the side. “What is so wrong about him jerking off in your room? That he did it with your dirty underwear?”.

You keep quiet for a second, which your friend takes advantage of to continue ranting.

“I mean, that’s a little bit nasty, but is it weird of me to say that it’s kind of hot too?”

“It’s a perverted behavior,” you murmur under your breath, but Myeong picks it on very clearly.

“It turned you on and you know it,” she scoffs. “We have going at this for over an hour, and not once I’ve sense any kind of disgust from you when you talk about it. You’re scared, and awkward, and probably confused, but disgusted? I just don’t see it, no matter how hard you try to portray just that”.

Damned be Myeong, who knows you a bit too well for your own liking.

“What were you thinking when you saw those videos?” the short-haired asks you, stretching her arms and placing both palms on top of the table. “Or better yet, what did you feel?”.

She doesn’t know, you tell yourself, but the heat rising up to your cheeks and the sudden throb between your legs betrays you. Myeong might not know what you thought or felt, but you do —no matter how much you try to repress or deny it, the ghost of your hand trailing from your tummy to your aching core is still there.

“Nothing,” you reply, not daring to share the truth.

“Nothing?” Myeong challenges you, “you mean to tell me that it didn’t spark anything inside you?”

It sparked everything inside you, but you couldn’t get yourself to admit it. The whole situation makes you feel silly, and you can't understand why.

“Alright,” she exhales, scratching her head. “I’m going to be pretty straight forward with you”.

Myeong isn't known for her tact, so you're preparing in advance for whatever it is that she has to say. Whether you want her blunt honesty or not, it is perhaps what you need to get yourself out of this dilemma, “shoot”.

“We’ve been friends for what? 18 years?” you simply nod, unsure where this is going to take her. “We went to college together, we finished our majors and graduated on time. I was there on your wedding day, and the day Jihun was born. I was also there the day you decided to get a divorce”.

“Thank you for the quick trip to memory lane,” you joke.

“What I’m saying is that we have known each other for years, I obviously can tell when you’re lying,” she cocks her eyebrows and gives you an accusatory look, but continues on with her speech. “I also can tell how much you’ve changed since that useless marriage of you, and I hate it. You’re far from being the confident woman I once knew”.

“What does that has any to do with the Changbin situation?” A nervous smile peeks through the corners of your lips.

“Please,” she spits, “it has everything to do with it”.

She keeps quiet for a second and stares at you long enough before continuing, almost as if she's trying to get answers from you telepathically. Not that she needs them.

“What are you so scared of?” Myeong queries. Whether she asked it as a rhetorical question or not, you do have an answer of your own. A bunch, actually. “Why did you stop being a woman, and got stuck with the role of a divorced, single mother?”

You know it wasn't her intention, but the stinging feeling of your tears pricking in the corner of your eyes tells you that she has hit a weak spot. Something you weren't expecting to talk about on a Thursday morning during breakfast at a fucking café downtown.

“I know you like him, Changbin,” the way she stitched those words together makes you feel eerie, but the statement is not far from the truth —you don't picture a long life together, and you don't necessarily want anything serious, but you still like him. You're attracted to him, and you've known that for a while now. “It’s really obvious”.

“How come?” The question is stupid, but you really ought to know why.

“I’m your best friend,” she smiles triumphantly, “I just know”.

Your cup of coffee it’s getting empty, and there’s only a couple of minutes before 10. You invited Myeong to grab some breakfast in hopes of finding a solution to your conflict, yet a ton of more questions were awakened.

You can’t tell if that is a good thing or a bad one.

“It’s obvious he feels attracted to you too,” Myeong tells you, getting you out of your own thoughts. “Perhaps it wasn't the best way to find out, but you can clearly tell he has a thing for you”.

“So?”

“So,” she exhales, grabbing her purse from the side of the table. “Do with that information as you please. Jesus, woman, I can’t solve every single one of your mind riddles for you!”

“You’re saying I should tell him?” you rush to ask before she stands up. “You know, about the videos”.

“I’m saying: do whatever the fuck you want for once,” Myeong smiles. “If you want to get fucked by him, go ahead. If you don’t, then you don’t and that’s it”.

“You’re not helping me,” you huff, crossing your arms against your chest while leaning back.

“No one will be able to help you if you don’t let them,” with a tilt of her head, and her lips pressed together in a straight line, Myeong chooses her next words carefully. “What happened with Kyungho doesn't have to keep on taking tolls in your life, especially in your womanhood”.

She extends her arm on the table and looks out for your hand, holding it carefully while giving you a reassurance gaze.

“It’s difficult,” you exhale, fixing your eyes in the way she rubs your hand with her thumb.

“I know,” the short-haired nods. “But you too deserve to have fun, to meet people and feel desired. It is not wrong, you know?”

After your divorce, picturing you with someone became impossible. At first, and for obvious reasons, you didn't feel like putting yourself out there. You had way too much on your plate at the time to even consider dating, and the idea never really crossed your mind. Your work and Jihun occupied most of the space in your mind and concerns, and there was very little room for you and your needs.

As you got a hang of everything, you started to realize the pitch feeling of dissatisfaction inside your chest —there was something you were missing, and you couldn't quite pinpoint exactly what it was.

Love, with Jihun and your loved ones you had plenty. Money, just enough to live a pretty decent life.

But sex? There was nothing there to tell.

“I’ve got to get going,” Myeong murmurs, squeezing your hand one last time before sliding her chair backwards, “don’t get into your head too much, alright?”

“I can’t promise you that,” you tell her, standing up from the sofa while grabbing your purse while giving her an unapologetic smile.

The rest of the day you’re spending it thinking about your conversation with Myeong earlier, and the videotapes you found the night before. Most of the things she said are lingering in your head, presenting itself one after the other, like a hook of an essay meant to capture your attention and lure you into all that reading the rest.

She gives you a soft pat on your head and returns the smile, her warmth giving you some sense of comfort, “just try”.

You don’t want to read the rest of your own thoughts. You don't want to acknowledge them, nor deal with them, but Myeong’s voice is still ringing loud and clear in your ears.

What were you thinking? What did you feel? Had you been brave enough, you would have told her everything, from the very start and without gaps. You would have told her about the way your heart started to race as you realized what was hapenning in the tapes, how you stood awake all night watching them, examining them, touching yourself to them.

Now that you think about it, you're not any better than him.

Paperwork is accumulating at the edge of your desk, but you can't begin to care. Time is passing, but you’re still stuck in last night without being able to move forward or backward. Your mind is latched to the sight of him throwing his head back while he wraps your underwear around his cock, the way he starts increasing the movement of his wrist once he is close. Your mind is latched to everything you saw, and all the tiny details you might have missed.

The dates of each footage spin in your head, trying to find a pattern but, at the same time, making no sense. There is, however, a common denominator every single time —Changbin only visits your room when the apartment was empty. It doesn’t happens too often, though, but it has happened a couple of times in the past months. For instance, that April morning you took Jihun to his doctor’s appointment and forgot to inform Changbin, who showed up to your apartment right on time, but found it empty.

It had been a rabbit's hole, the stupid CCTV you haven't gotten rid of despite not being useful anymore. Before yesterday, you didn't even remember you had it —it had been Kyungho’s idea, to install a closed-circuit television system after a spate of burglaries at the apartment complex. At the time, you didn't protest because you thought it was convenient. But, eventually, the burglaries stopped.

After that, the system never came in handy until Wednesday, when you thought you had lost a usb with important work documents. You looked for it everywhere —the living room, the kitchen, the bathroom, and even Jihun's playroom.

“You know, kids love small, shiny things,” Myeong had told you over the phone, trying to ease your frustration, “maybe he took it and it’s hidden somewhere in between his toys, I don’t know”.

After a relentless search, and an agonizing feeling of having screwed up, you remembered the CCTV. Although its purpose was to surveill and not precisely find missing things you took a leap of faith —you were too desperate to find it, that the idea didn’t seem too crazy.

So you sat down and searched for the date in which you last remember ever using the USB. Tuesday, this week. You thought doing some home office was a good idea, so you took your stuff home and, after pouring a glass of red wine, you laid down in your bed and started reviewing some documents you have to deliver on Friday.

A glass of red wine became two, and soon you found yourself feeling sleepy. You could clearly see in the CCTV footage how you packed your things, placed your laptop inside your bag, took the glass and bottle of wine to the kitchen and returned to keep on getting your stuff ready for the following morning. Then, some frames of you walking towards one of your drawers, opening and closing them right away.

Perhaps you had been too sleepy, and the alcohol ingested did its thing, but you found the USB right there, where the footage showed it —inside one of the drawers. You smiled triumphantly as you packed the device where it should have been, inside your bag, and returned your attention to the television screen in front of you. What a useless purchase, you thought as you saw the amount of videos stored, but felt glad nonetheless about it becoming in handy.

You could have stop right there. And really, you should have.

But one thumbnail in particular captured your attention. It dated from Wednesday, last week, and it showed you an image of a man walking inside your room, the same 3 frames repeating themselves over and over again.

Wednesday, last week, had been the parent-teaching meeting at Jihun’s preschool. It took longer than expected, so Changbin had to wait at your place for around 20 minutes before you came home. The timestamp in the bottom right corner of the thumbnail confirmed so —it had been recorded at 12:06 p.m., when he was by himself.

Said footage lead you to look for another.

And another.

[18:01 p.m., You: Do you think I can have a word after your shift today?]

And at one point, you didn’t know who had sunk lower —Changbin, for what he did, or you, for liking it.

[19:23 p.m., Babysitter: Sure. Is everything alright?]

[19:41 p.m., You: Yeah, there’s just something I want to discuss with you]

Myeong's words still resonate inside your mind and, as you park your car outside the apartment complex, you realize you don't have a plan. You had been brave enough to let Changbin know there's something you want to talk about, but you didn't think anything further from it. You just don’t know how to bring the topic up, because there is a lot to explain from your side.

“Yeah, I have cameras all over the apartment and I saw you getting off to my used underwear,” you rehearse, but even the choice of words sounds extremely creepy. You're glad the windows of your car are rolled up, because if any passerby hears you they would’ve give you a perturbated look.

You take a deep breath, grip the steering wheel of your car and go at it again. “Listen, Changbin, I found some videos- fuck!”.

You feel conflicted, and guilty. And a part of you makes you want to believe it is because of the whole CCTV issue, that you should've told him beforehand when he started working with you. But, prior to this week, you didn't even remember it. You didn't avoid telling him out of mischief, but because it was so irrelevant it never cross your mind.

However, the other part of you knows it is because of what you did watching those tapes. You know about the pooling wetness in your underwear as you remember the images of Changbin stroking himself, wrapping your used underwear around his cock and fucking himself with it. You know about the countless times you made yourself come last night while thinking about him, about how good he smells and how much of a gentleman he is.

You know about your attraction towards him, and that is something you can deny to everyone but yourself.

After not being able to find the correct words to use tonight, you leave your car and walk towards your apartment with frustration penting up inside of you. Because, really, what was the worst thing that could happen? Him, quitting his job? At some point, you voted for that solution to this situation. So the more you think about it, the more you expose yourself —the worst thing that can happen is nothing at all.

You take one last deep breath before typing the password in the keypad of your door, and the first thing you're welcomed with is a delicious smell you're not used to.

“I’m home,” you announce, hanging your bag and blazer on the coat rack. These days you're not greeted by Jihun as you usually were. Now that he started his second year at kindergarten, he wakes up earlier than usual and, therefore, goes to bed early too. His absence doesn’t surprise you tonight, but the fact that Changbin isn’t sitting at your living room as he usually does, do. “Changbin?”

“Right here, Miss,” a voice from the kitchen speaks.

You find him standing in front of the kitchen stove, not facing you, wearing some thight jeans, a light blue shirt and your white apron. In the dinner table there's a plate and a glass, along with a bottle of wine you can't quite recognize. Did he bring it himself?

“What is this?” you ask. There's not irritation or annoyance in your voice, but rather confusion and curiosity.

The corner of his lips rise in a soft, proud smirk. One that you can’t capture due to the position he is in. “Dinner,�� he tells you, maneuvering a couple of kitchen utensils on his pan. “I figure you might be hungry, and so I decided to cook some dinner for you”.

Static, you stare at his back for endless seconds until his voice brings you back to reality yet again.

“I cooked us some bibimbap, Jihun was craving some,” Changbin explains. “There were a couple of leftover ingredients”.

“Oh,” you murmur, walking cautiously towards the dining table, “you shouldn’t have”.

“It’s no big deal,” Changbin reassures you, getting your dish ready.

You watch him as he moves around the kitchen, and that conversation with Myeong comes back to your mind —he is a college student, 11 years younger than you are. But the more you look at him, the more he doesn't look like one.

His facial features, the way he walks and carries himself. The way he talks and expresses his thoughts, his voice, his gaze... Everything is so appealing to you. He is even more of a man than half men your age, you often think.

“Almost done, Miss,” he tells you, and the title which he uses to address you suddenly weighs heavy on your mind.

“How was Jihun today?” you ask, clearing your throat and preventing any other thoughts from resurfacing.

“He was good,” Changbin walks towards the table and offers you the dish, not without pouring a bit of wine on your glass. “I helped him with his homework, and he asked me if he could watch television afterwards. We spent almost all day at his playroom”.

“Thanks,” you mutter under your breath as he sets the table ready for you. “Is he already in bed?”

“Yeah,” he replies. “I hope the dinner is good by the way”.

You give him a quick smile, and thank him again. The dish looks great, and it smells just as good, but you can’t get yourself to take one bite from it. Or at least not when you’re this nervous.

So you decide to start now.

“Changbin,” you sigh, feeling even more conflicted about such gesture. His name it's all that's needed for you to capture his attention, which you do almost immediately. “Please, sit down”.

He follows compliantly, taking a seat right in front of yours. You're not quite sure how to begin, but you go for it anyways.

“What’s going on?” he asks you, with an innocent smile that gets a little under your nerves. “What was the thing you wanted to discuss?”

You clear your throat and eye the glass of wine in front of you. Silly move, a part of you thinks once you chug it down in one sit. You look nervous, and he can tell. Ironically enough, you're not the one who should be in such a state. You weren't caught doing something wrong, and your job wasn't at risk. So why do you feel cornered, just like he is supposed to feel?

“How do I even say this,” you mumble to yourself, exhaling the sweet taste of wine. It tastes nothing like the ones you usually consume, but it is nice. You know it isn't yours, but you don't dare to ask him the reason behind this odd, unexpected gift. “Jesus”.

He looks at you with empty eyes, that seem to be trying hard to figure out what's going on inside your mind.

“Look, I’m just going to say it like it happened,” Changbin is sitting right in front of you, but it seems as if you’re engaging on a conversation alone with yourself. You hardly recognize his presence there, only fixing your eyes to the now empty glass of wine. “And I know I should’ve told you this when I first met you and hired you as Jihun’s babysitter, but I didn’t because I completely forgot about them and I honestly didn’t think much of it”.

There's a short silence between the two of you, one you use to organize your thoughts, and then continue.

“There’s a CCTV system in the apartment,” you say, without beating around the bush. Saying it out loud, for you, sounds like a shocker, but Changbin doesn't seem fazed at all. “There’s cameras on every room, and they have been there for a while now, longer than you have been working for me”.

After you tell him that, he leans back against his seat and his body relaxes, almost as if he was expecting something else. Something worse.

As if what you’re just about to say isn’t wrong enough.

“I saw some stuff,” you confess, still not daring to look at him.

You hate how this whole interaction is being. You hate how small you feel, even though you're the one calling him out, the one supposed to be in control. You hate how he looks at you, with that heavy gaze of his that secretly whispers an I know what you did. You hate how the eleven-year gap does not cross your mind because in front of him you feel so defenseless.

You hate how you can't even scold him for what he did because you didn't dislike any second of it.

Changbin smiles after a couple of seconds in silence, finding amusement in the way you get flustered as you try to keep your speech going.

“I know about the cameras,” he tells you, and your nervous countenance suddenly drifts into one of confusion. “I’ve known for a while. They’re not hard to spot”.

There's rage within you, probably because of how much time you invested being nervous just for him to shrug it off so lightly.

“Oh,” you blink a couple of times, still in awe.

It takes you a while, but the realization hits you. If he was aware of the CCTV system the whole time, that means…

“Then you know what I saw,” it’s not a question, it’s an affirmation. Hostility lingers in your voice, but that is not enough to alarm Changbin, who licks his lips and tiltes his head at you with a serious deadpan.

“Miss,” he tells you. “What did you see?”

You gulp loudly and finally get the courage to look at him, with an incredulous expression that calls out his cynism. “Do you really want me to say it out loud?”

Another silence dawns up on you, and you're not quite sure how to follow the conversation without his participation, as he isn't really saying anything. So, to save you time and awkwardness, you just let the words freely fall from your mouth.

“I saw footages of you, inside my room,” you spit, seeing if that is enough to get a reaction from him, but realizing you failed again. Not that it surprises you, so you just keep going. “I saw everything, every video there was. I don’t- I’m not sure why I did it, but I did”.

You're reminded of Myeong, again, and how she asked you to do whatever the fuck you wanted for once.

“So, why?” you ask, staring deep into him. You’re not angry, nor disappointed, you also don’t seem grossed out, so Changbin smiles triumphantly. He has gotten away with it. “If you knew there was cameras, why risk doing that knowing I could easily find out?”

“Because I wanted you to find out,” he simply replies, as if the answer wasn’t completely obvious to both parties.

“Yeah, but why?”

“I wanted to end up right here,” Changbin explains, leaning against the table while placing both of his elbows on it. “With you, confronting me about it”.

You look at him in disbelief, trying to give his answers some sense but failing miserably.

“You’re not thinking about firing me,” he continues, looking for your gaze underneath your shock. “It would’ve been the first thing to say”.

It seems as if the roles have been reversed, and you're now the one who isn't speaking, despite you being the one who initially brought the topic up.Right now you want to listen to him and try to understand what he is meaning with all of this, so you stay quiet.

“So if you’re not firing me, what is it that truly you wanted to discuss?”

The soft smirk he offers you makes you feel dizzy, and you find yourself holding your breath. As if a deep exhale it's going to betray you, to sell you out and reveal your deepest fantasies.

And quickly, you realize can’t fulfill Myeong’s promise, because you’re already too far gone inside your head.

“It was- not okay,” you sigh. “You’re just- way too young for me. I have an exhusband, and a child. I’m a fucking mother, Changbin”.

“So?” he asks you with one of his brows slightly raised. Defiantly, intimidating, ready to prove you wrong. “Does that mean I can't find you attractive?”

The sudden confession makes your heart feel as if you were on top of the roller coaster, despite Myeong bringing the possibility to the table earlier today.

“You shouldn’t,” you cut him short. “There’s nothing I can offer you. You should seek women your age”.

“But I want you,” he makes it very clear, with no hesitation in his voice. There’s a table between you two, but it is not enough of a barrier to prevent you from feeling him close. “It’s you who I think about when I jerk off, not them”.

There’s another silence that accompanies the realization sinking. Changbin is attracted to you, and he does jerks off thinking about you. You shouldn’t feel flattered, but you do, and it’s dangerous.

It has been a while since someone lusted after you like this.

“Changbin,” you swallow thickly, but not even that small amount of saliva does anything to ease the dry feeling in your throat. “You’re too young”.

He gives a smile that hides cockiness behind it, almost as if he wanted you to bring that up.

“I can treat you better than men your age, in every way,” the tip of his tongue grazes against his cheek in an arrogant manner that don’t really hate. The attitude looks good on him. “Even better than your exhusband”.

The heat is rising up to your cheeks, and it feels awkward. Your thighs are squeezing together, too, and you pray for him to not notice any crevice of all that you are trying so hard to hide.

“I don’t think it’s a good idea to keep talking about this,” you mumble, standing up from your seat while he does the same. “Go home, and I’ll see you on Monday”.

“So you’re really not going to fire me,” Changbin murmurs, dangerously approaching you. “Hm?”

You’re too close to spit it out. To give in, tell him that he can do with you whatever he wants. You’re too close to break in front of him, just like he is to pressing his body against yours.

“No,” you inhale, anticipating the contact of his hand against your hips.

“Is there a good reason behind such a decision?”

You swallow thickly, and think about how long it has been since the last time you felt someone’s body against yours —it has been ages, to say the least.

“I-” you can’t think straight. The mere touch of his hand against your clothes, and his deep gaze staring right through you is enough to overwhelm you. “Jihun likes you too much, I can’t- I don’t want to hire anybody else”.

“And you?” Changbin asks you, tilting his head. “Do you like me?”

What is the point of resisting? Now that his lips are too close to yours, and you're aching to feel his hips pressed against your body, you no longer care about anything you did a couple minutes ago. You like Changbin. You like his body, his gentleness, his sympathy. You like how attractive and confident he is, how he stares at you, how he desires you.

You like him. Isn’t that enough to give in?

“Just admit it,” he whispers, his hand reaching out to caress your cheek, “and I’ll take care of the rest”.

“What’s going to happen if I do?” you ask him, nibbling at the skin of your lower lip.

“You know what is going to happen,” Changbin scoffs, so softly it sounds like a melody rather than a teasing laugh. “Didn't the videos gave you enough hints about how desperate I am for you?”

You're not used to him being this straight-forward. Maybe you are a prude, because the way he is talking to you right now is making it difficult to hold the eye contact, and it's making your skin warmer.

Changbin is quick to pick up on that, on the way you can hardly look at him while he speaks, and the way you swallow thickly with each words that leaves his lips —he makes a mental note to remember it later.

“Tomorrow,” you tell him and, for the first time tonight, you feel the air actually getting to your lungs. “Jihun is spending the weekend with his father”.

He smiles cockily against your lips, leaning in further to place a quick peck on them. A quick peck that leaves you craving for more, that makes your chest feel heavy and your limbs numb.

“See you tomorrow, then”.

You can’t stop eyeing your phone screen, thinking that staring at the clock for too long will prevent it from letting time pass.

You've given in. And there's no turning back.

It’s 18:41. And it has been 18:41 for the past hour or so. The seconds are passing excruciatingly slow, and that does nothing to ease your anguish.

You tried to catch up on all the paperwork you left undone yesterday, went and lunch somewhere else rather than the company’s cafeteria to kill some time, and even texted Myeong asking her if she was busy because you wanted to talk to her. Myeong hasn’t texted you back yet, but the two other activities weren’t enough to distract you from the inevitable.

18:41, still. Anticipation is killing you, what have you gotten yourself into?

You can't shake off the feeling of his lips against yours, no matter how minimal and quick the contact was. It wasn’t a kiss in all the sense of the word, it was just a peck. Yet that is enough for your mind to keep on repeating the moment on loop, making you feel the pressure on your lips, despite him not being anywhere around you right now.

You glance at your phone screen again.

18:42. You swallow thickly.

The sudden buzz of your phone inside your hand makes your heart skips a beat, and you hold it right against your chest. Please let it be Myeong, you pray, feeling a pit in your stomach and the sudden sensation of having to visit the restroom. Please let it be Myeong.

[18:42, Myeong: Just got out of a meeting. What’s up?]

[18:42, You: I’m meeting Changbin after work]

Not even two seconds after pressing the sent button, your phone is buzzing repeatedly and Myeong's image is being shown right at the center of the screen.

“What?!” Her squealing is what welcomes you after you pick up the call. She screams so loud you have to move your phone away from your ear, allowing her to scream as much as she wants without compromising one of your senses. “Oh my fucking God!”

It takes her a while to regain her composure, but she gets there. After panting and letting out sighs of amusement, Myeong gives you the word.

“I’m nervous,” you admit. “I’m so fucking nervous, I feel like a teenager”.

“Of course,” Myeong sighs, and you don’t have to see her to know she is probably smiling. “Isn’t that expected? It has been a while since, you know, you put yourself out there”.

“Yeah, I know,” you murmur, biting the skin around your nails. “But God, I feel so pathetic”.

“Once you're being dicked down you're definitely going to forget that feeling, don't worry,” your friend jokes with a teasing chuckle, and you huff under your breath. “Or you can ask him to make you feel that way even more, if you’re into that”.

A quick train of thoughts passes through your mind, but Myeong's voice snaps you back into reality again.

“You don't have to feel nervous,” she continues. “It’s just sex. It's not like you haven't had it before”.

“Why am I even making such a big deal out of this?” You let out a frustrated sigh, and lean back against your office chair.

“You’re getting too much into your own head, again,” Myeong scolds you. “I’m praying he can get you out of there”.

“We’ll see,” your lips press into a thin line, and the thoughts that were pushed away by Myeong resuface again. “I have to go, my desk is a mess and I need to tidy it up before I leave”.

It’s part true, your desk is a mess. But you don’t think you can organize it in under 10 minutes, let alone do it while thinking about Changbin. So your say your goodbyes, hang up and stare at the glass doors that lead to your office for a bit too long.

What is Changbin like in bed?

You didn’t ask him, but it’s rather obvious he has a couple experiences of his own. You have some too, but none of them are worth telling —just normal sex, with a little bit of foreplay and, luckily, some cuddles in the end. Nothing wrong with that, but your experiences weren't nearly as fascinating as some you've heard over the past years.

The clock on your phone screen captures your attention, and you realize you can't dwell in your own thoughts too much.

18:58.

Despite knowing the password to the door keypad, Changbin waited for you to let him know you were already at the apartment to finally show up, wearing some tight jeans, and a plain black t-shirt.

Technically, you can leave your office now.

Upon arriving home, you opted for taking a shower and wear much more comfortable clothes.

They aren’t sexy, nor luring. They are just your regular pijamas, ones that make you feel comfortable and aren't as awkward as those work skirts that makes you feel like your stomach it's all the way up to your chest.

They are just your pijamas, but Changbin’s gaze and the soft smirk that peeks from the corners of his lips tells you that he likes them.

“Do you want some wine?” You ask him, just as he follows you around the living room.

He gets the sense that you might need a glass, so he agrees. You grab the bottle of wine he brought yesterday, along with two glasses, and join him in the couch, sitting right next to him while leaving the stuff on top of a small coffee table. Not having a whole table as a barrier feels kind of weird now, and you sigh loudly when you take into account how close you really are from him.

“Thank you, by the way,” you mumble, pouring him some wine. “For the dinner, yesterday. I ate it after you left, it was really good”.

He offers you a soft smile, and you hand him the glass. Is this too formal? you start thinking. Why would I be drinking some wine, on a Friday afternoon, with the college student who babysits my son?

But then again, you’re about to get fucked by him too. So moral questionings doesn’t really matter this time.

“You’re welcome,” Changbin coos. “I’d be happy to cook something else for you another time”.

Another time, the words resonate in your head over and over again. Will this happen another time, too? What will things be like on Monday, for example, when he shows up for work? Will things be weird, or will he be casual about it? What happens if you soon realize it was a mistake?

You’re getting too much into your own head, again, so you clear your throat and shake your head.

“Is everything okay?” he asks you, his lips tinted with the cherry color of the wine. The sight makes you want to lean in and kiss him again, to taste the sweet flavor off his lips, but you’re not brave enough to make the first move.

“I’m just nervous,” you admit, staring at the glass between your hands. “It’s weird that we both know why you are here”.

Changbin lets out a soft scoff.

“And?”

“It feels odd, you know?” You lick your lips. “I don't know what to say, or where to begin. I'm not rushed to get into it, it's just... I don't know what the fuck to do”.

“You don’t need to do anything,” he reassures you, taking one last sip from the wine before putting his glass on the table again. “Why don’t you leave everything to me, hm?”

You gulp loudly and nod, unsure of what that means. But either way, you feel relieved.

He places his hand on your naked thigh, and then guides it a little bit further up. It’s a suggestive touch, but not obsecene —still, you feel your breath hitching. You don't even bother to try and hide your reaction, because the proud smile in his face tells you that he noticed it.

“Come here,” he whispers, guiding his available hand to softly grip your chin and turning it to face him. He doesn’t give you time to process the action, and just crashes his lips into yours. It starts like a peck, but when you part your lips and invite his tongue in, it turns into something else.

Changbin smiles against your lips, again, a proud smile. You can feel his soft scoff when he does so, right before losing yourself in the kiss. A kiss that tastes like wine and mint, that is making your thighs squeeze together even with his hand almost in between them, and that has you gasping for air when you realice you’re running out of breath.

He lets go of you to breathe, but kisses you right after without losing any time. You don’t get to complain because you’re dying for him to kiss you again, so you just take all his lips are offering you.

“You have no idea how many times I’ve fantasized about this,” he murmurs in between kisses. The hand that was forcing your head against his suddenly leaves the sides of your face and travels all the way to your hips, and you instinctively shift your position on the couch until you’re on top of him.

He kisses you one last time on your lips before descending to your neck and chest, peppering kisses all over your naked skin and nibbling at the flesh of your most sensitive spots. You latch your fingers against his dark locks, pulling him in further as you arch your back.

“Changbin,” you sigh, closing your eyes. He hums in response, and you continue, “it has been a while since I’ve been with someone”.

He smirks proudly against your skin and his cock gets even harder; there is something enticing about you being too unfamiliar with sex these days. Knowing that your ex husband, who you utterly despise now, was the last man to ever touch you, turns him on in unimaginable ways.

He has confidence in knowing that probably no man has ever made you feel the same way he is going to make you feel tonight.

“I don’t know why I am telling you this,” you exhale, your body instinctively grinding against his. You can feel some pressure between your legs, and you get wet just by knowing he is hard. Are you really this touch starved?

“You can tell me anything you want,” Changbin smiles, looking up to you with quite a gaze you hadn't seen before.

You whimper when you feel his lips too close to your breasts, and suddenly the clothes you’re wearing feel too uncomfortable. Not only that, but you take him at his word and your mouth starts talking on its own, without your brain knowing about it. Without making any sense.

“I touched myself,” you sigh, looking down on him while he sucks the naked skin of your flesh. “When I found the videos, I touched myself while watching them”.

He let out a quiet chuckle, and his cock twitches at the sudden confession.

“Did you come?” his voice is low, and raspier than it usually is, “watching me stroke my cock with your underwear?”

You swallow thickly, loud enough for him to notice it. That makes him bring back the mental note he made yesterday, when he realized how receptive you are to dirty words.

“I bet you did,” he continues, and you feel your skin getting warmer with each thing he says. Not only that, but the way he is groping your ass and hips isn't helping you in keeping quiet.

“Y-yes,” it’s all you can answer before your words get muffle with your whines, and your hips acquire a pace of its own against his. “Fuck”.

“What where you thinking while watching those videos?” He removes one strap of your tank top and lets it hang around your arm, placing a kiss on the place that was occupied by it just now. “Tell me”.

There were plenty of thoughts roaming around your head as you watched every video, but there was one that predominated over the rest.

“I was thinking about you, eating me out,” even saying those words out loud makes you feel flustered, but you really can't begin to care. For some reason, the way he is looking at you just makes you want to tell him more, let him know about all the things you've thought. “I was- really, just thinking about having your face between my legs, kissing me and just- you know”.

His gaze darkens when you tell him that, and the fabric of his jeans against his crotch starts being unbearable. He can't spend any more time without knowing how you actually taste and smell, other than those used panties he has jerked off to.

At the same time, though, he wants to take his time with you. He doesn't want to rush anything. He doesn't want to jump straight into it. He wants to savor it, just like he spent doing it the past months when all he had was your underwear and the faint smell of cologne you always left around the apartment.

“Yeah?” he purrs in a way that makes your whole skin get cover in goosebumps. He sounds so good when he is aroused, you wonder if he sounds this nice when he is being pleasured.

“Yeah,” you sigh. “I want- that”.

He stops himself for a while, and looks directly into your eyes.

“Do you want me to taste you?”

You nod almost immediately, and you think it's pathetic but Changbin finds it endearing how desperate you are. You really haven’t been touched in a while, he thinks.

“But first,” he guides his hands to the hems of your tank top, and he pulls it up higher as a way of motioning for you to take it off. You follow compliantly and raise it over your arms, discarding it somewhere next to the couch.

Changbin stares at your breasts, and then makes eye contact with you. He holds a teasing gaze that is making you look away timidly.

“Pretty,” he whispers, tracing the lace with the tip of his index finger. “You wore this for me?”

You know he doesn't mean to embarrass you, but the way he is bringing it up makes you feel shy. What else were you supposed to wear? The sports bra and high-briefs you wear on a regular?

His fingers graze against the hems of the short’s waistband and he pulls them down slightly, only to find a pair of laced panties that match the bra. He chuckles softly, but cockily, and that only makes your skin get even hotter.

“Of course you did,” he murmurs, with such a teasing tone that you're not sure if you like it or you hate it. “What else have you done for me, hm?”

You stare at him while he sneaks a hand inside your pijamas, between the fabric of your shorts and your underwear. Two of his fingers come in contact with your clothed pussy, sliding them along your slit while he quietly groans.

“All of this?” he asks you, getting his hand out of your shorts. His fingers are glistening underneath the dim lights of the living room, and you’re surprised at how wet his digits are —you can’t recall a moment in which someone has made your body react like that. “Just for me?”

He loses no time into guiding said fingers into his mouth, he loses no time guiding said fingers into his mouth, wrapping his tongue around them and sucking them off while letting out a soft groan. There's a faint taste of you in them, but it is not enough. Nothing will ever be enough other than tasting you himself, to drag his tongue against your pussy and have you coming all over himself.

So, with a quick movement, he switches the position yet again and sits you right on the couch, kneeling in front of you while he drags your shorts and underwear off of you.

No matter how many times Changbin fantasized about this sight, none of those thoughts compared to the real you. The one in front of him right now, with his legs spread and his cunt soaked.

“Fuck,” he murmurs quietly and, for a second, fear fear washes upon him. What if he gets to finally taste you, and he loses control of himself? What if he comes in his pants right there? He is nearly about to come untouched, and he fears that your taste might trigger his release.

He wraps both of his arms under your thighs and pull you closer to him, making you slide against the couch in a much more comfortable position for you both.

“Is this what you thought about when you were touching yourself?” Changbin asks you, feeling his breath too close to your core that you’re desperate to pull him against it. “Having me between your legs like this?”

You nod eagerly, anticipating the contact of his wet lips against your pussy. He is so close, you can practically feel his nose brushing against your clit.

“Please,” you whimper, your hips grinding ever so slightly against nothing.You’re desperate for his touch, and he is just as desperate to touch you.

He looks at you, and then at the sight in front of him. Never in a thousand years Changbin thought he would have you all for himself. You, the woman of his wildest dreams, the mother of the kid he babysits as a side gig.

Changbin would be lying if the whole age gap situation didn't turn him on even more. It's not particularly the reason why he got so fixated on you, but it was definitely something that he couldn't ignore. You being older than him only fueled his desire to pleasure you, to prove to you that he is better than every man you can think of.

However, he thinks you're conflicted by it. The age gap. You were so reluctant to fall into his charms that you thought it had everything to do with the fact that he was way younger than you. Which partly, it was.

But truth is that the whole thing turns you on too, despite you trying to deny it to yourself.

“You smell so fucking good,” he whispers underneath his breath, digging his finger tips on the flesh of your thighs. Your heart is going at a thousand miles per hour, and you are impatient to feel him against you. So impatient you latch your fingers onto his hair, and guide him even closer to you, until his nose finally makes contact with your sensitive bud.

“Please,” you beg weakly, one more time.

And the next thing you feel, is his tongue lapping at your slit while the tip of his nose presses against your clit even harder, making you feel a weird but pleasant stimulation by doing so.

“God,” he groans against you, gripping your legs harsher. You can hear him moaning and hissing against your pussy, devouring it, licking and kissing every inch of it. He is kind of messy with it, but you adore it. “You taste- fuck, you’re so good”.

You arch your back against the couch, tightening your legs on either side of him as much as the grip he has on you allows you to.

“I want you to come all over me,” Changbin tells you, spitting all over his fingers and your pussy. “Show me how much you’ve thought about this”.

He then sinks his middle and ring finger inside your cunt, feeling your warmth and the way your walls clench around him. You’ve fucked yourself with your fingers, countless of times. But they can’t compare to the way his feel, how much thicker they are, how better they fill you up.

“Shit,” you murmur, furrowing your eyebrows and closing your eyes when Changbin’s tongue makes contact again with your clit, licking it and softly sucking on it while his fingers. “Just- like that”.

The noise his fingers make every time he thrusts them inside you, and your moans combined with his only send you closer to the edge, reminding you who is the man between your legs and how deliciously he is wrecking you.

“Who would’ve thought we were going to end up like this, hm?,” Changbin groans, staring right at you while sucking on your clit. “With you practically grinding your pussy against my face in the living room of your apartment?”

You moan at his words, and keep on bucking your hips against him.

“Did your ex husband ever did this for you, right here?” he asks, and when he feels you clenching almost aggressively around his fingers he realices he’s just discovered something. “Did he taste you like this?”

Because of his job babysitting Jihun, Changbin is fully aware who Kyungho is. They know each other personally, and you've seen them engage in small talk every time Kyungho comes to pick up Jihun to spend the weekend with him.

You don’t see the point in thinking about your ex husband right now, but you find it hot when Changbin is the one to bring his name up.

“No,” you whine, gripping his hair with one of your hands while the other grasps the edge of the couch. “He didn’t”.

“Was he good?” Changbin asks, tilting his head at you. “Was he better than me?”

You shake your head, desperate to come, “n-no”.

“No? He wasn’t this good?” There’s a cocky tone in his voice, and you love it. You love how confident he is getting now that the topic is on the table, and because of how honest you’re really being. It is definitely true —your ex husband wasn’t this good at eating your pussy.

“No!” you gasp, feeling your orgasm getting closer and closer with each word that falls from his lips.

“Who would’ve thought,” he chuckles lowly, offering you a tempting smile, “that men your age can’t make you feel like I can”.

“F-fuck, Changbin,” you feel a spark of electricity that starts on your core and drifts all the way to your feet, making you tremble underneath his hold. You’re almost there, but for some reason you’re trying to hold it in.

As if you wanted to live in this feeling forever, in the sight of Changbin’s dark eyes staring right at you with a desire that you haven’t been able to find anywhere else, in any other man.

“Come for me,” he tells you, fucking you even faster with his fingers. “Make a mess, I need you wet for my cock”.

Him and his fucking dirty talk. It leaves you with no time to process anything, as you’re now coming undone for him, riding his fingers and grinding your hips against his palm while you try to hold tight to the couch, doing everything you can to endure the stimulation.

“Don’t run for me,” Changbin groans, forcing your legs open and holding your right in place. “I know you can take it”.

A sharp, painful moan escapes your lips and your body jolts right in its place, with him still between your legs. Waves and waves of pleasure wash upon you, debilitating you and making you feel dizzy. This is the hardest you've come, ever, and there's no doubt of that.

“C-changbin,” you whine, matching the slow pace of his thrusts with the movements of your hips. You're descending now from your high, and you're again looking forward to feel that ecstasy again.

“Look at you,” he murmurs, smearing your wetness with his fingers. He gives you a soft slap to your pussy that makes your body shakes, and he smiles at how overstimulated you are. “You’re so wet, my cock is going to slide right inside you”.

Your pussy clenches around thin air at the idea.

“N-not yet,” you tell him, and kiss him when he hovers over you to place a peck on your lips. He kisses you deeply again, fucking your mouth with his tongue, allowing you to taste your own orgasm from him.

“Not yet?” Changbin purrs, biting your lower lip and pulling it just enough for you to whine.

“I want to suck you off”.

As desperate as he is to bury his cock inside you, who is he to say no? It’s comically how it all happens too fast, but in the blink of an eye you’ve already swaped positions and he is now sitting on top of the mess you made on the couch, with his legs spread and his jeans unbuckled just enough to free his clothed bulge.

You kneel in front of him, and your pair of curious hands trace the silhouette of his erection over his underwear. With ease, you lower his clothes and free his hard cock, that is already leaking with precum and it’s warm to the touch. There are several, prominant veins that start at the base and fade right near the tip.

Fuck, it’s making your mouth water.

“Good enough?” he asks you, cockily. Perhaps you’re giving yourself away by the way you stare at him like it’s the first time you ever see a cock —it might be, because you can’t think of any other that’s just as appealing as his.

You just nod and grab it by the base, gripping it tightly while you guide your mouth from the top and all along it. It’s taking him a lot of effort not to bust right then and there, with your lips wrapped around his tip while your hand squeeze the base and part of his testicles.

“Swirl your tongue,” he purrs, brushing a strand of hair away from your face. “Get it nice and wet, remember I’m fucking you with it later”.

Like Changbin, you prefer it messy. So you do as he asks you to, you spit on it and smear your own drool all over its length, not caring if you make a mess in the middle.

“You said it's been a long time since you've been with someone,” he groans, kicking his head back and closing his eyes. “But you're still so good at sucking cock. You didn't forget about that?"

It catches you by surprise, but you find yourself getting wetter at the comment. He is not necessarily implying anything, but the tint of humiliation it carries makes you aroused.

“I like that,” you gasp, breathing for air after having all of himself inside you. “I like it when you talk to me like that. It makes me feel kind of humiliated and I like it”.

It isn’t a shocker that his words have an effect on you —yesterday Changbin noticed how weak you are for dirty talk. However, it is a shocker how you trust him with that information, indirectly asking him to do it more.

“Aren’t you full of surprises,” he chuckles.

Perhaps this conversation should’ve taken place earlier, when you two were having a glass of wine. You decided to just go for it, without talking about preferences, likes or dislikes.

It’s not too late to get to know each other, you think. Even when his cock is deep inside your throat and he already made you come once tonight.

“I’m just figuring it out,” you tell him, smacking the tip of his cock against your tongue. Had it been any other time, or any other setting, you probably wouldn’t have had the courage to talk openly about this. “There’s a lot of things I wish to try”.

His eyebrows are furrowed, and his half-lidded eyes are staring right at yours, with his lips parted and a couple of quiet groans escaping through them.

“Tell me about them,” he groans, grabbing a fistful of your hair.

You stroke him softly, coating all his length with your drool and his precum. You can feel his cock twitching inside your fist, and you can also feel how his body spasms every time you squeeze him a bit too hard. You can tell he is close to coming, and you truly wouldn’t mind.

The thing is, you can’t wait to feel him inside you. So you wish to edge him just a bit because there’s something you want.

“Creampies,” you murmur, smiling shyly, while jerking him off. “Not just… creampies but- I want you to come inside me. Watch how it leaks out, knowing it was you who did it”.

You know you’ve hit a weak spot in Changbin when his hips buck against your fist, and he lets out a quiet whimper that shows just how needy he is for you.

He has thought about it, an insane amount of times. But Changbin isn’t in it just for the sake of a creampie, no. He wants to fill you up, completely. To hear you begging for his release, to wrap your legs around his waist and prevent him from pulling out.

Would that be a bit too much to bring up the first time you fuck?

“I can’t wait to be inside you,” he whispers, caressing the sides of your face before putting his thumb inside your mouth. “I want to fuck you right now”.

He stands up from the couch and you follow, feeling a bit confused about the sudden movements. You spent the past half hour or so sucking each other off in this couch, you thought you’d be fucking there too. But it seems as if he prefers a true bed over a couch, and you too, so you don’t say anything.

“This angle is better, right?” Changbin asks you once you’re in your room.

“Huh?”

“The camera,” he replies, grabbing you by your hips and pulling you closer to him. “its placed right above the television, in front of your bed isn’t it?”

You blink a couple of times, trying to understand what he’s all about. Perhaps you're too dizzy from your orgasm and the way his taste lingers on the tip of your tongue, but you're not following him. Still, you nod because he is right —the camera is right in front of your bed.

“I want to fuck you in front of it,” Changbin murmurs, and when the realization hits you can feel your knees going numb. “I want you to go back to this tape when you feel like having my cock inside those holes of you, and I want you to touch yourself watching us”.

You swallow thickly and feel your nipples hardening against his chest, whimpering when you feel the slightest stimulation.

He gives you one last kiss before guiding you into your bed, laying down as you watch how he strips for you.

The way his muscles keep on flexing as he takes off his clothes is hypnotizing. You can see every inch of his soft skin, every curve, every flexed part that demands your attention. You want him to fuck you while he’s hugging you tightly, to trap you between his arms and not allowing you to move.

You want him to use his strength to overpower you, to pin you down and fuck you mercilessly against your own bed.

A bed that you once shared with your ex husband, a bed that will now remind you of that time you fucked with a college student, way younger than you.

“Come here,” he whispers, grabbing your legs and just sliding you over the bed. He then crawls on top of you, positioning himself between your legs while you spread them wide open for him.

God, how much your body turns him on.

“You don’t want me to-”

“No,” you shake your head, wrapping your arms around his neck when he leans over you. “Please don’t use a condom”.

He bites his lower lip when he hears those words from you, and his mind spirals again into this silly fetish of him. Impregnation.

“You’ve wanted this all along, don’t you?” Changbin asks you, pressing his forehead against yours. “I’m sure this isn’t the first time you think about me fucking you raw, letting me come inside you”.

Embarrassingly enough, it isn’t.

“I thought you said yesterday I was too young for you,” he pouts, pressing the tip of his cock against your entrance. Again, you shouldn’t feel aroused when you’re reminded about the elephant in the room, but you are. “Do you still think the same?”

“Jesus,” you sigh, pulling him closer to you. “Don’t remind me”.

“Why not?” he teases you, leaving quick pecks on your cheeks and jaw. “You can’t accept the fact that it’s me who is making you feel this good? Someone that apparently is too young for you, but just made you come harder than your ex husband ever did?”

Again, you grind your hips when he says that.

“I’m starting to think you like me bringing him up,” he chuckles. “Every time I say something like that, you get more desperate”.

“It’s- not that,” you try to explain, arching your back against him. “I don’t- know why it turns me on when you say things like that. When you remind me is you who’s between my legs, someone who is not supposed to”.

“Someone who is not supposed to?” he murmurs, leaving a trail of kisses from your cheeks, along your jaw and into the crook of your neck. “Miss, I know we've thought about this since the day you hire me for the babysitter position”.

The low tone of his voice, and the way he whispers such things against your ear is making you go insane. You need him inside you, and you need him to stop talking if you wish to elongate your orgasm as much as you can.

“Or are you going to deny it?” You don’t answer, which only proves him right. “Don’t go around saying we shouldn’t be fucking, because that’s something you’ve wanted since we met”.

It's only after he finishes when you feel a harsh, sharp thrust of his hips around you, and a sudden stretch that's both painful and pleasant at the same time. He sinks his hips against yours, and his cock bottoms out inside you.

“Fuck,” you groan, digging your nails deeper into the flesh of his biceps.

“You know, that pussy of yours did a good job at coming,” he groans through gritted teeth. “It slipped right inside”.

You moan at his words and spread your legs further, wrapping them around his hips. Changbin gives you a couple of times to get used to his girth, and only starts moving when you ask him to.

“It feels so-,” you want to speak, but it’s practically impossible —you’re too distracted by the feeling of his cock stretching you out. “Shit, you feel so hard inside me”.

“I bet all the other dicks you've had before didn't fill you right,” he groans, thrusting his cock iinside you. “but don't worry, you can have mine whenever you feel like having something worthy between your legs”.

You love how cocky he turns in bed.

“Right there,” you gasp when his cock reaches a particular spot inside your pussy. That spot, that no one but you and his fingers has found before. “Fuck, f-fuck, right there, right there”.

He keeps fucking you for a couple more minutes until he starts feeling your walls clenching around him, similar to when he was fucking you with his fingers. He knows you’re close, and there’s nothing he wants more than for you to come all over his cock.

“I can feel you squeezing my cock,” Changbin hisses, forcing your chin to face him. “Don’t tell me you’re about to come again”.

“S-shit,” you cry. “Yes, f-fuck I’m so close”.

“Already?” he asks you, holding your chin firmly. “Is my cock that good?”

You don’t know what to answer, but his cock it’s the best you’ve ever taken. So maybe yes, his cock is that good.

“And to think that you almost reject me,” he murmurs, his dark, half-lidded eyes fixed on yours. “Now you don’t care that I’m younger than you, do you? Because every time I remind you of it, you clench even harder around me, practically begging for my cum”.

You moan loudly, shamelessly. He is right, and he has been right all along.

“I didn’t think you would give in to me,” Changbin groans against your skin, “but I can’t believe all it took me was to jerk off with your underwear for you to realice that you wanted me”.

It’s embarrassing. But nothing far from the truth.

“I’m- close,” you whisper, feeling the rush of pleasure spreading all over your body. “Please- keep, keep fucking me like this”.

“Open your eyes,” he tells you right after leaving a wet kiss on your cheek. “I want you to look at me when you come”.

It’s difficult when the pleasure is too overwhelming, but you still try.

“If you close them, I’ll pull out,” he wanrs you. “And I know that’s not what you want, so you better look at me while you come. I want you to remember who made you feel this good”.

It doesn’t take you long to reach your orgasm, especially after all the things he said. You grasp onto his shoulders tightly, while your body trembles violently underneath him.

You try so hard to keep your eyes open that they end up rolling to the back of your head, but that sight only makes Changbin’s cock spasm inside your pussy just at the same time you clench around him. He is getting really close, and the way you’re moaning and crying for him is only pushing him further to the edge.

“Look at me,” he demands, right after you’re done reaching your high and collapsing onto the bed. Your arms are still wrapped around his neck, and your legs around his waist. You don’t want him to pull out, you want him to fill you up, to give you all that he has been saving for you.

You stare at him with dazed and glossy eyes, waiting to feel his warmth spreading all along your tummy.

You need him to come inside you, and you need him to know how badly you want it.

“Please,” you beg, grabbing both sides of his face with your hands. “Please come inside me, Changbin”.

The overstimulation is becoming painful, but you’re willing to overcome it as long as he rewards you in the way you want to be rewarded.

“Promise me you’ll keep it all inside you,” Changbin says, his skin glistening in sweat while his dark locks stick to his forehead. “If it leaks out, I’ll fuck it back inside you again”.

“Yes,” you moan, arching your back and pressing your chest against his. “I’ll keep it inside me. Please, just- come for me”.

It’s your weak pleas what really triggers his orgasm. That, and the promise you just made. How you’re willing to keep it inside you, even while knowing the risks of it.

He comes a lot, you can feel it even inside you. He groans, and pants as he comes off his high, hiding his face in the crook of your neck while he tries to stabilize his breathing. You’re still sensitive from your previous orgasms, and feeling him buried deep inside you while he shoots his sticky arousal isn’t doing any favors to the painful overstimulation, but it feels good.

It makes you crave more of him. Even when he is still inside your pussy.

It feels nice to be full. And you wonder when you’re going to get the chance to be fucked by him again.

“Fuck,” Changbin sighs, Pulling out of you delicately, trying hard not to stimulate you further. You whine when you feel the sudden absence of him, and he gives you a cocky smirk. “Miss me already?”

You get up with your elbows and arms against the mattress as you stare right down to you crotch. You can't see it, but you can feel his cum leaking out of you, staining your bed sheets.

“Thought I made you a promise,” you smile, teasingly. “Your cum is leaking out, and I don’t see you fucking it back again”.

You’re surely going to be the death of him, but he has fantasized about you for so long that he is conditioned to get hard any time he sees anything that has to do with you.

Good thing he has great stamina.

And that he is going to fuck you sooner than you’d expect him.

#stray kids smut #skz smut #kpop smut #changbin smut #seo changbin smut

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yandere--stuck · 3 years

Text

The god of sleep has no dreams of his own. When Hypnos sleeps, it grants him the opportunity of visiting those of others, drifting along as on a gentle river. It’s comforting. Shards and glimpses of lives that aren’t his own, of people and places that won’t ever mean the same to him, the visions indirectly threaded by his fingers. There are far too many dreams for him to make, which is why most aren’t. He brings them to sleep, and their bodies do most of the work.

Regardless, it is his domain. Every mortal needs to sleep, whether they like it or not, which makes him an inevitable part of their life. A third of every human’s day rests in his hands. As payment, all he wants to do is observe, to be in their company. (Hypnos likes humans. They don’t notice him in sleep, or worship him in their days, but he doesn’t mind. It’s easier to handle being ignored when it’s not their choice, when it’s impossible for them to notice him, rather than his mom’s cold eyes passing through him like he’s a sliver of mist.

At least when he’s among the dreams of the living, he’s less alone. There’s no judgement, but no praise either.) With how many mortals and dreams there are to go around, it’s rare for him to visit more than once. Though it’s much rarer for anyone to take note of him. Most people aren’t aware they’re dreaming while doing so, being swept along by their dreams instead of having control, but you’re not one of those. You’re blessed with lucidity, morphing bits and pieces of the experience as you go. Most importantly...

You see him. You laugh. “Well, I didn’t think I was lonely enough to make up some guy to keep me company… Guess you learn something new every day!”

In one motion, you pinch his chin between your fingers and pull his face towards yours. He lets out a surprised noise, at the fact you can touch him in the first place, and the movement itself. And it’s a high and squeaky sound, one that makes him want to curl up in his blanket and slip from this dream to the next. You make no comment on it, only smiling wider.

“Ooooh, your eyes are golden! So pretty… Glad my subconsciousness has good taste, at least.” You add the last part to yourself, laughing again.

You don’t think he’s real, just some made up character of your dream. It’s no surprise you aren’t aware that you can’t dream about someone you’ve never seen before. For now, he’s glad to have you believe that. It’d be more humiliating if you knew a god was making such a fool out of himself, heat rising to his face. His tongue is limp in his mouth. When was the last time someone called him pretty? Had anyone ever called him that, and touched him so carelessly? You save him from the burden of speaking up first.

“What’s your name? Do you have one?”

He hesitates. If you knew who he was, you wouldn’t treat him the same anymore. “I don’t! But, um-!“

Hypnos knows and accepts what others think of him, knows that he’s no good at his job or much else, but if there’s one thing he would excel in, it would be here. He straightens his back a bit from its usual slouch, the tips of his feet grazing the ground as he floats. “I’m here to make sure you’re going to have a grand old time, you know? I know aaaall about having fun in dreams! Why, you could call me an expert! At your service.”

He does this stupid little bow, and immediately regrets it. You laugh, but not at him, and people don’t usually find him this entertaining, he thinks, and if you keep this up, it will become one of his favourite sounds.

“Alright, mister dream expert,” You say with a grin. “What did you have in mind?”

He helps you float like he does, and assists you at conjuring up whatever idea pops into your brain. Hypnos expected you , but that’s not all you do. You try to ask him questions about himself, even if you supposedly don’t think he’s real, and you actually listen. And when you tell him about yourself in return, he does the same. It’s fun, he’s having a good time, and he’s disappointed when he’s jolted awake because of someone walking too close past him. He’ll have to apologise for suddenly disappearing next time. (Next time? Does he want there to be a next time?)

Hypnos makes a habit out of visiting you. You’re not always aware you’re asleep, sometimes your dreams are the same as any other human’s. He savours those days too, at the insights into your life it offers him. However, it’s most enjoyable when you look at him with bright eyes and talk to him, and laugh at things he says and joke around at this side. There’s a warm tightness in his chest around you, he’s happy, he is, but also impossibly nervous to mess up and have your smile turn into a sneer. It’s surprising you even still want to be around him, if past experience is anything to go by, he isn’t any good at not annoying people. But you’re different. You haven’t insulted him at any point, either! You must really be some blessing.

Hypnos thinks he likes you. A lot. He’s never thought of it before, whether this is allowed or not. Never considered the possibility of forming a close bond through dreams. Hypnos decides that it is, and who would he even ask, isn’t he the deity of sleep? He’ll make his own rules, number one being that it’s totally a-okay to have dream friends! That you visit and think about all the time and spend all your time thinking up new fun ideas for! And sometimes you scratch their name into the margins of your lists while zoning out! He’s getting off track. (And, well, this all seems more like a problem exclusive to him…) What he wants most is to have you down here with him, to touch you and feel something, to have you around while you’re awake and asleep.

But to do that... It would be an offense to all sacred rules to meddle directly with the path the Fates had set out for you. Perhaps they’ll have some mercy on him for being family. Either way, he’s going to falsify your cause of death in the records. He's tired of being a bystander in your life. Hypnos doubts whether you can even remember him when you wake up. He isn’t exhausted in his normal way however, it’s no tugging at his eyelids or yawns hidden behind an open palm. This hurts. It’s an ache, an empty hole beyond his ribs. Your warmth needs to fill it, he’s sure. He wouldn’t be able to stand and watch as your life blossomed, how you would inevitably love someone else, be happy and forget about him all together. (It’s unfair. He's never had anyone that wanted be anything of his. Not a friend, not family, not a lover. And now you’re here, the first to not see him as a disgrace, and now he should let himself be stopped by some old rules?) Because compared to what someone right there with you could give, what did he have to offer? If he believed everyone else, he had nothing of worth to give anyone. All he had was this love, what he thinks is love. But you laugh with him, you seem happy, and what he knows of human life is suffering. So many terrible deaths, so many unresolved emotions, so many wishes that never came to be.

Hypnos could save you from it all. You would never have to worry about anything again. But he knows how much humans fear death: It’s reflected so often in their worst nightmares, after all. The last thing he wants to do is scare you.. How surprised you’ll be at suddenly finding out he’s real, not just a figment of imagination!

He’s giddy. The two of you could have be together forever! (And if you didn’t love him back, why would you smile at him like that? Why did you always say you were happy to see him return? He has neither experience in friendships or relationships, but he shares those sentiments, so you must love him too. Otherwise… He doesn’t want to think about it .)

So he visits you. Hypnos floats above your bed, watching down upon you. He caresses your face as you rest, watching you through lidded eyes. You called him it first, but you’re pretty too. He doesn’t care about your hair being a mess, or the dried drool on your chin, or how you lay in a weird position, legs and blanket all tangled up. Your soft breaths are adorable, and he wants to coo at you, to make your face turn warm instead of his.

The thought of his brother seeing you and taking your soul makes him uncomfortable, he wants this vision of you to be only his.

Your eyes crack open with a little groan and before you have the chance to struggle or cry out, he presses a kiss against your forehead, forcing some of his raw power into your frail, mortal body.

It shouldn’t hurt. He asked. Your form was never meant to take godly powers, it’s too overwhelming, destroying you from within, and you go limp within a second. It’s like you fell asleep. A sleep so deep you will never awaken again. (i know hypnos doesn’t govern dreams his sons do but i had an Idea,, hope u enjoyed!!)

---

(THIS IS ABSOLUTELY INCREDIBLE OH MY GOSH!!!!! You're so talented, this is written so beautifully, it's amazing!!!!

I LOVE THIS SO MUCH!!! SORRY IT TOOK SO LONG TO POST!!! I've had a busy past few days ^^; I also hope it's okay that I had to edit it, or it'd be a big block of text, hehe. Thank you so much again!!!! 💚💚💚)

#yandere hypnos #hypnos x reader #yandere hades game x reader #hades game x reader #hades x reader #yandere hades game #hades game #yandere hades x reader #yandere hypnos x reader #yandere hades #yandere greek gods #yandere #long post #hades #submission

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hogwartsfirebolt · 3 years

Text

A ticket to ruin (or Do Not, under Any Circumstance, agree to pretend you're dating your boss, oh my god)

It’s becoming increasingly clear that I’ve made a mistake, though it would be inaccurate to say I didn’t see it coming. As remarkably skilled as I am at self-deception, this particular lie is outrageous even for me.

And maybe I chose this, but what was the alternative? There was nothing else to be done.

That’s also a lie. I did not have to. I agreed freely, of my own volition, and was not coerced, even if Harry’s pleading eyes and lovely smile made it feel inevitable. He’s my boss, but it was me who said yes.

It feels as though the newspaper burns through my fingertips when I pick it up at the corner shop after breakfast. The lady selling it squints at me, possibly recognizing me from that godawful photograph that’s been everywhere today, the one that looks like every single one of my dreams and is, consequently, my worst nightmare.

“Potter’s new beau?” The headline reads. It could be worse. It is worse, online. When I checked this morning, Twitter was saying “Potter caught snogging a member of his crew,” which is at least true, and it was also saying, “Potter in love?” which is without the shadow of a doubt the worst thing I have ever read in my life.

If life has taught me anything, it’s that everyone buys their own ticket to ruin.

With the newspaper tucked underneath my arm, I make my way into the office, taking time to school my features into something that doesn’t feel like I’m wearing my heart all over my face, but it’s useless, when the whole world knows.

And, oh god, I don’t want to, but I take a peek at that photo again and grit my teeth so I don’t let out the shriek crawling up my throat. Shame and I, we go way back, made acquaintances when I was very young, but somehow this feels like every humiliating experience in my life thrown into a jar, shaken, and let out to swarm my chest.

The Photograph. “Potter’s new beau?” the headline screams. Harry, with his distinct hair, the leather jacket, the self-assured stance. And me by his side, shockingly pale, gazing up at him in what can only be described as motherfucking adoration. I look elated at having his attention on me, I look smitten.

If he’s seen this, Harry must be thinking I’m the actor of the goddamn century. He’s lucky he doesn’t have to live with the knowledge of what I was feeling in the moment depicted in The Photograph. Lucky he doesn’t know that, when he said, “I can see a pap, come here, let me kiss you,” my heart leapt, somersaulted, cartwheeled, backflipped, did a handstand with swinging feet.

The second picture shows the actual kiss, but thank god for small mercies, because my back is to the camera. I don’t know what I looked like at that moment, and I definitely never want to find out.

I fold the newspaper again when I step out of the elevator and into the open floor of the Harry Potter Management Offices. As soon as the Juniors spot me, the entire floor goes dead silent. I can practically read the he’s fucking our star as a collective speech bubble above their heads, and wish fervently for death as I make my way to the very back of the office, into Harry’s favorite meeting room.

He’s there, of course, and looks up with a smile so blinding I have to stop myself from stepping back from it.

“Morning, D, have you seen this?” He points at the different newspapers and magazines he’s laid out on the table, sounding supremely amused. “It worked, huh? This one’s my favorite.” He picks up an article with The Photo covering the entire front page, and a headline that says Potter, the heartbreaker, back in the game.

I clear my throat to avoid screaming.

“Yes, it worked.”

“This should get the label off my back for a bit, at least until the deal is settled and I’m back at the studio to record No Dwelling.” He stops, locks eyes with me, and I’m taken back to that moment one week ago, when he asked for the favor, and then, upon getting an I’m only your assistant for an answer, said I was one of the people he trusted the most in the world. “Do you think we can go out again today? Maybe for drinks in Soho? Paps always hang around that new bar, Fuel.”

I swallow. “I’m not sure I’m free.”

“Well, are you?”

Of course I am free for him, all my time is for him. I still take out my cell phone and make a show of checking my calendar before nodding. “We can go after your photo shoot for the Hermès fragrance. That’s at four.”

“Ah crap, I’d forgotten about that.” He makes a face, pursing the lips I know the feel of against mine and runs a hand through the hair I know the texture of against my fingers.

It’s been four days. I’ve made the worst mistake of my life.

“Let’s cancel,” he whispers, leaning close to conspire. I want to pull away; I want to lean so much closer that I disappear into him.

“We’ve canceled twice,” I murmur somehow, though I have no conscious idea of where I’ve left my voice, and if I’m answering it’s only out of three years of practice at having this heart attack of a man next to me every waking moment. His eyes shine, as they do every time he’s playing instigator with me.

“Come on, Draco, let’s go to the market. We can buy sandwiches, get our picture taken while we hold hands or something.”

I’ve been given a deadline to correct my public image, Harry said that fateful day, I promised the label that I could prove that the girl who claims she’s having my baby is a scam, but I don’t know how to.

He said, I think if we pretend we’ve been dating for a long time, that could distract them and give me an alibi. Will you do it? Please say you’ll do it.

He is the most convincing man I know, a force of nature made up of ridiculous good looks and charm that should be punishable by law. I didn’t even think to say no, even though the self-preservation alarms were going off in my head, saying, you absolute fucking idiot, you can’t do this, you’re in love with him.

But here I am, doing it, and he wants to play hooky as if we were in school.

He must see something in my face because his splits into the earth-shattering grin that throws entire stadiums into a frenzy when he flashes it in the middle of a show. “Awesome, text the representative, and let’s go.”

Still, I try. “What makes you think I’ll do that?”

“I want you to?” It’s not even a question, with that smug cock of his eyebrow. He knows exactly what he’s doing.

I’ve always known I’m buying my own ticket to ruin. With Harry, it almost doesn’t matter the outcome. Every second spent near him makes me burn bright with a light-soaked joy that seems pulled right out of a poetry book.

It’s worth it, the ruin. Even if I get one kiss, even if it’s for the cameras, even if I’m only ever his assistant, even if it never happens again. It’s him, and it’s worth it.

I text the representative.

This is my gift to @peachpety for the Wheel of Drarry Exhange. My dear peach 🍑💖, I had so much fun creating this for you, I really hope you enjoy it!!! Infinite thanks to @fw00shy for the beta and the convo about celebs ✨

#drarry #drarry fic #draco malfoy #harry potter #mine #mywriting #wheel of drarry mini exchange

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hawks-soup · 3 years

Text

A Day with your Friends

A/N: Baby’s first smuttle (and fic) please be gentle. Also this is based off @libiraki boys! She is a writing inspiration to me.

Word Count: 2.5k

Warnings: Degradation, Humiliation, Misogyny, Dubcon/Noncon.

Pairings: Hawks / Shigaraki / Dabi x Reader

You should have known, really, you should have.. but it never failed to surprise you on how purely disgusting and sick-minded the people you hung around could be. Sure they were villains, murdered people, did petty small and large crimes, everything bad in the sense.. But you’d think being a part of their little gang would give you some relief from their behavior. Treat you with a bit of respect since you were team members ya know? “Pft Awee, c’mon doll we were just joking, don’t get your panties in a fucking twist!” Dabi rasped from across the room, snickers of delight joining his.

How wrong you were, but again, you knew and was used to it by now.

_______________

“It was just a little pinch doll.. Didn’t mean nothing by it, just having a bit of fun is all. Right Shiggy? Bird boy?” Dabi purred out to you, Hawks comments of agreement following suit and a grunt from the leader himself.

“Oh I’m sure she liked it.. Just too flustered to admit it. Wouldn’t wear such revealing clothes around us if she didn’t want us to touch her.” Came Shigaraki’s low tone, nursing the drink he was given by his two male partners, who’d already finished off theirs.

Now Dabi and Shigaraki were one thing to deal with together. If anything Shiggy dear would roll his eyes and just ignore his burnt partners jabs at teasing you, never caring to give him the satisfaction of knowing they were on good enough terms to help torment you.. But with Hawks joining the team and hanging around the two, it’s like Shiggy was opened to the idea that messing with you was actually pretty fucking fun with the two playing with you.

So now, he joined in the fun of making nasty remarks and grabbing at you like they did. Pulling at your shirt, tugging your skirt up, pinching any exposed skin.. Really, you wish he’d turn back into the hermit that stared at you every once in a while he once was and leave Dabi to being the only one that preyed on you, cause at least by himself he got bored. Now there were 3 of them on your heels. And whenever you’d complain to Kurogiri - hell even AFO whenever you got the chance - they gave the simple answer of ‘boys will be boys, little one.’ They are dealing with that time in their life ‘no they weren’t, they weren’t fucking teenagers popping boners whenever a girl breathed their way’, and they aren’t doing much harm are they? It’s typical for a guy to pick on the girl he’s attracted to, let them be and just try to deal with it.

“Come on baby bird.. We didn’t mean anything by it, come back to us.. I’ll let you sit on my lap and we can have an exclusive fan meet right here~.” The perverted bird brained male purred. You could hear a whistle after it, and assumed Dabi. Hawks.. Was interesting. Sometimes he came off as that billboard hero and would show some compassion, but flushed it right down the toilet when he got too comfortable. Who would have known he was a gross pervert along with the rest? Making sexual comments and too comfortably rubbing at an exposed skin you could offer. And with the way Dabi egged him on, he started to cross boundaries like smacking at your ass, and on the worst of days, using his feather to pull down your skirt whenever given the chance. You could have sworn you heard a camera shutter, but the bastard was quick enough to put away his phone before you could press him on it. But still, you couldn’t help but keep your rose-colored glasses on to the fact he was your favorite hero.. Or at least your hero crush. While you didn’t like heroes, you had to admit you were like any other girl who saw an attractive guy that could give an award winning smile. A little star-struck you could say.

“Yeah doll, come sit on his lap. Aren’t you a fan? This is a pretty big offer here. Hell, I’ll let you even sit on mine after.” “As if. And if you three are done, I’d like to leave now.” You made your way out the kitchen to ‘throw away some trash’, but was really an excuse just to get away from them for a moment without them stopping you. You didn’t dare go back over to them though, opting to stand against the doorway of the kitchen that peered into the living rooming where they all sat. They’d pressured you into joining them at Dabi’s place to ‘hang around’ and ‘get to know your favorite hero crush’, and in your naiveness of believing their words of letting you hang around and fan over Hawks - despite your working in partner of villain status - you fell prey to being trapped in the run down apartment with them making sure you didn’t escape.

“What?? Awe com’on we just got here! Don’t run away yet little girl.” Dabi gave a fake pout. “I promise we won’t touch you anymore, feather. Just come back okay?” That charming smile and soft pat to the empty space on the couch between the two of them after. Shigaraki has yet to speak, more so one to get handsy rather than talk the talk like the other two.

“I.. don’t know. Do you guys promise to behave?” “We promise dove, just come back.” “We’ll be good dollface, let’s get back to having fun.” Naive at best, you poor fool.

_______________

Hands all over you, you just knew it would happen but it was your fault really for going back. Your shirt lifted up to expose your chest and skirt way over on across the floor after being carelessly tossed away.

“You dress like this just to get us to notice you, don’t ya?” Too hot hands rubbing the pebbled nips as you were forced onto his lap, legs spread over his to leave you open for the rest.

“Fuck little bird, you always let them do this to you? And I thought I was special. Guess you are nothing but a common whore for us to play with like they say. You aren’t even in my lap, some fan you are.” Fake disappointment in his tone, but really he was enjoying rubbing at your clothed slit. Trying to wiggle his fingers into the sides of the fabric and get to your petaled flesh. Sitting right beside you both and pressed up as much as he could be. Shigaraki was near your legs - you could tell - breathing hard against your knee as his rough hand smoothed over your leg, the other rubbing your sock covered toes. “She’s nothing but a slut, bet she want’s to fuck her way to the top like the leech harlot she is. She’s always coming into my room, she wants me to do something to her.” He rasped, now licking at your knee with his wet tongue. He was drooling and it started to soak your socks.

“I’m just checking on you like Kurogiri as-a-AH! Stop!” Dabi’s fingers pinched harder, his other now yanking up at your panties to make them wedge into your pussy and between the lips. “Damn ain’t that cute. Bird brain, take a picture for me won’t you?” “Already on it my friend.. Fuck, you have a cute pussy. I can’t wait to use it. I bet you’re fucking tight, even with you being a little whore and all.” Shutters of the camera clicking every few seconds, telling he got a few and at different angles. His free hand spreading at your lips, tugging the tightened fabric over to the side, and even pressing his fingers to the entrance. Making sure to capture every move he made. “N-no guys seriously stop! I don’t wanna do this anymore! I wanna go home, please!” You cried, tears starting to leak down your cheeks the more violated and humiliated you felt. You didn’t like this feeling, your body may have been responding but god did this feel so wrong. You felt sick to your stomach.

“Don’t cry, aren’t you glad your favorite hero is giving you such special attention? You wear the cutest clothes around me, you wanted me to touch you.” “She wears these clothes everyday around us. She’s a little kitty in heat I bet. Besides, it’s your fault really. You should know better to hang around men all by yourself dressed like this.. Really, you want this I can tell.” Dabi purred into your ear, his grip and grabbing getting rougher now.

Your soft pleas of ‘no’s’ were ignored when you felt a finger dig it’s way deep into your slick heat. You cursed yourself for enjoying how the thick fingers explored and stretched you, deep humiliation bubbling in your tummy at their laughs and enjoyment from your embarrassment. You didn’t like this… You wanted them to stop and let you go. You needed a bath to wash away their touch.

“Your body knows what it wants. You’re such a dedicated fan aren’t you? You’re doing so good for me baby bird. Being our little slut, just for us only.” Hawks praise.. Felt so good. It ran shivers all up and down your body, causing you to mewl the more his big digits squished into your heat. Gods you couldn’t stop crying though, your brain knowing how fucked up this was. Even though your body felt pleasure, you still felt so dirty and wrong. The ‘stop’s’ and ‘no’s’ didn’t end though, your brain knew better than to give in to what your nerves felt.. This didn’t feel good, and you couldn’t help but turn away and shut your eyes, hoping for it to be over soon.

“Hey you fucking creep, be useful and hold the camera. Record her or something. Add some content to that spank bank you got on your computer, ya?” Dabi grunted behind you, bucking his hips up to steady you more firmly against his chest, causing that leathery bulge to buck against you. While one hand remained tormenting you poor tender tits, the other ran down to your cunny, rubbing at your little clit and adding more stimulation to the already thrusting fingers of Hawks.

“Fuck off asshat. Don’t got a spank bank..” Shigaraki mumbled from below, but snatched the camera from Hawks hand anyways and turned on the record function. Though even then he was still licking at your legs and rubbing his red-tipped member with his free hand, leaking pre-cum all over his hand and your foot. Was that camera truly angled? He didn’t know nor care, he just wanted to fucking cum. Assholes probably wouldn't send this to him anyways. “Better not be fucking shaky cause you can’t stop beating your meat, fucking virgin. Don’t wanna hear your desperate breathing either so keep it down.” Dabi teased, using his foot to kick at Shigaraki’s side with a laugh. And from the red tinting the pale cheeks, he knew he had gotten to him like always. “Fucking shut UP!” “What!? You’re the creep jacking it to her fucking feet when you got a perfectly wet cunt in your face! The hells wrong with you, ya’ nasty bastard?”

“Can you both shut up and focus on that task at hand, giving my fan the spotlight. Looks like she’s close to… That right birdy? Gonna come for me… for us? You been dressing up like this to get our attention right? And now look at you, you got it and so much more~.” My how his fingers felt good, and you hated it. They had been nothing but perverted freaks towards you. Having their dirty gazes upon you and their hands fleeting on your clothes and body whenever you got within arm's reach of them. Only for your body to betray you in this way, what the hell was wrong with you..? Even with the rising knot in your stomach, you still hated the feeling.

“Come on sweet thing, let go for us.. Give us a show.” Dabi whispered in your ear, that that’s all it took paired with their stimulating fingers to ruin you. The spasm in your hips interrupts caused you to buck a little and gasp but cutting yourself off with the bite of a lip. You didn’t want to give them the satisfaction of hearing you cum along with seeing it. “Nngh!” The feeling is unfair, unable to stop the jet of liquid that shoots out from in between your legs as you curl and uncurl your toes, trying hard to close your legs but your own body not allowing it.

After having a moment to let your body somewhat settle, your hazy eyes looked down at the mess you made. Due to Shigaraki being in the line of fire, your fluids had gotten all over his face. He looked stunned for a moment, his body freezing up like a deer caught in headlights. You were a little worried that maybe he was angry, but once you felt the warm seeping into your socks you could tell he stiffened up cause he came… from humping your fucking feet. And to add onto it, your cum directly targeting him pushed him over the edge in a sudden pace he didn’t set.

Your eyes then flicker up to the two degenerates holding you at hearing the sound of coos, “Oh my, would look at that, little one just squirted.” Hawks teased, thankfully moving his fingers out of your sopping cunt onto your tummy, giving it soft grazes of affection. Dabi on the other hand wasn’t feeling as loving, giving you abused pussy a wet slap which caused you to jump. “Cumming all over him, and we’re the ones doing all the work.” Dabi tsk’ed, giving Shigaraki a sneer before kicking him again. “Enjoying it asshole? I hope you savor that, it’s the only time you’ll have a bitch squirt on you.” Which in turn caused Shigaraki to hiss at him and swipe at his leg that narrowly pulled away. He didn’t bother to respond though, not trusting his voice to come out without a stammer. He had to admit, the warm liquid on his face felt fucking hot, and after a quick swipe of his tongue, it tasted good.

All it took was for you to try to squirm your way out of Dabi’s lap to snap them all back to focusing on you. Shigaraki now dropping the phone to place both hands on your knees, Dabi’s rough hands finding your hips and digging into them, and Hawks gently grabbing your chin and pulling it to his direction. Those golden orbs hyper focused on you, almost like he was looking at a piece of meat. “Oh no where do you think you’re going feather? It would be unfair to not help us get off when we helped you. Come on, be a good little fan for me? I’ll even buy you something pretty after, for being such a good girl.”

You didn’t have a choice, you knew that for sure. All you could do is give a small nod before feeling warm lips pressed to yours. “Atta girl.”

#hawks x reader #dabi x reader #shigaraki x reader #tw.noncon #tw. degradation #tw humiliation #bnha reader #oh wow im blushin a lil #these are gross mens but we love it

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mickeyhenrysgf · 3 years

Text

Pick Me

Summary: After making a tough decision, you still get to have your way with both of your boyfriends. It’s just virtual.

Pairings: Bucky x reader, Steve x reader

Warnings: smut! heavy use of daddy kink, spanking, degrading language, slight humiliation, voyeurism, unprotected sex

Your two men stared at you from across the living area. Bucky and Steve were both chosen to go on a mission but one could stay behind. Tony left it up to them. It would be a small and quick. Therefore, they didn’t need more people than what the aircraft could handle. Ever since the pandemic hit, even the avengers were taking the necessary precautions on limiting their travel. If the less could travel, the better.

You looked at both of your boyfriends in distress. They decided to leave the decision up to you. Their favorite girl. Whoever you chose would stay at home with you, while the other would go. If any one of them got hurt, it wouldn’t be your fault. Not even a scratch. They promised that the mission only consisted of surveillance and reporting.

But that wasn’t the problem. The problem was you didn’t want them to think you were picking favorites. Because, you loved them both... truly.

Steve stood up and sat on the couch next to you. “Sweetie... who do you want to stay with you?” He hummed lightly, rubbing your thighs innocently.

“She wants to stay with me, obviously” Bucky stated in a cocky tone, flashing the both of you a smile. You bit your bottom lip as Bucky winked at you.

“I-I don’t know-”

“Sweetheart. Yes you do... come on. Is it me?” Steve asked softly as he leaned in and pressed a wet kiss on your collarbone. You shuddered lightly, your hands running through his hair as a reflex.

“Woah—! Hey! You’re kissing her!” Bucky announced, standing up from across the room and heading over to you.

“Yes, she’s my girl...”

Steve’s lips found their way from your collarbone to your neck.

“Our girl.” Bucky corrected, sitting down on the opposite side as you were squished in between two super soldiers. Your boyfriends.

Bucky tucked some loose strands of hair behind your ear, as he looked at you. “Doll, one of us needs to start packing our bags. We leave tomorrow morning. Who is it?” Bucky’s lips now kissed your neck as well.

You felt overwhelmed. The two of them sending you over the edge for one little answer. It was too much.

“Listen Daddy takes such good care of you... don’t you love it when Daddy buries his face in that sweet little pussy?” Bucky whispered in your ear before kissing that sweet spot on your neck. Your toes already curling.

“Yes...” Bucky smiled brightly at your answer. He’s got you right where he wanted.

“I can hear you-“ Steve rolled his eyes. You almost forget about their super hearing. You giggled softly, your head falling onto Steve’s shoulder. His hands combing through your hair. Wonder, if they could also smell your arousal...

“And might I add, I’m the one who wrecks this pussy every morning and night. Grandpa over here complains about how tired he is” Steve stated.

“You son of a bitch”

You rolled your eyes pushing away from them both, standing up. Steve & Bucky quickly shut their mouths and looked up at you.

“I’m tired of hearing the two of you bicker over this. I just want to get over with it. So, I choose Bucky.”

The two men look at each other before Bucky breaks out into a wide smile. Steve rolls his eyes at him. He didn’t care. He knew you loved him just the same as you loved Bucky. They promised each other that whoever you chose, they wouldn’t take it to heart. Plus, whoever you didn’t choose was going to fuck you all night long.

“Thank you, baby girl, I always knew you loved daddy’s cock a little more” Bucky said playfully and Steve shoved him away, lightly scoffing as he stood up from the couch. His hands pulled you in.

“Come on, sweetie. Help daddy pack, gonna miss you...” you smiled and wrapped your arms around Steve’s neck before he hooked his arm under your ass and picked you up swiftly.

As Steve carried you to the room, you stuck your tongue out at Bucky in a mocking tone. Before you could even put your tongue back where it belonged, Bucky was jumping out his seat and slapping your ass as the three of you went to go help Steve pack.

“Baby, help! This thing is not working” Bucky grumbled as his hands tapped the laptop multiple times.

You walked over to where Bucky was sitting on the couch and sat on his lap. You giggled softly once you noticed his frustrated face.

“Whatcha tryna do ?” You looked at Bucky’s screen.

Poor Connection. The video will resume automatically when the connection improves.

Bucky sighed at the message as he wrapped his arm around your waist and kissed your shoulders.

“Video chat with Steve” he mumbled against your skin. You looked at the laptop and quickly found the problem.

“You have to turn the WiFi on, silly.” You explained and Bucky pretended like he knew what that meant. He watched in awe as you pressed a few more buttons on the keyboard. Before he could even speak, Steve’s face appeared on the small screen.

“Steve!” You gushed brightly and Bucky smiled too. It was supposed to be a surprise but technology was never his strong suit.

“Hey, baby girl...” Steve smirked slightly leaning against his chair. He was in a cabin hideout, the one thing he asked for Tony was WiFi. And well, his wish was thankfully granted.

“Now, who figured this whole video chat out. I know it wasn’t grandpa.” You laughed softly, and shook your head.

“It was our princess... of course. She’s so smart.” Bucky bragged, kissing your temple and you blushed.

“And has our princess been a good girl?” Steve questioned and you bit your bottom lip, watching the two boys exchange words.

“She sure has. Tell Steve how many orgasms daddy gave you last night...” the cool metal from Bucky’s hand sent goosebumps as it slid down your shorts but to his surprise you weren’t wearing anything underneath.

Shit. You forgot about that. Your breath hitched lightly as Bucky’s movements stopped. It wasn’t your fault. You were sore from last night & couldn’t even bear to put on underwear.

“What is it?” Steve asked again and Bucky chuckled darkly. His fingers rubbing against you folds and collecting your wetness. You shivered, your hips already bucking up into his hands. Bucky’s hard-on growing beneath you.

“Why don’t you tell daddy what’s goin’ on? Or maybe you’d like to show him...” Bucky cooed as a finger easily slipped into your hole. Your moans covered the silence in the room, your head falling back onto his shoulder. Steve already clicked the two things together.

“Daddy is touching me...” you sucked in your bottom lip and Bucky added in a second finger, stretching you wider as he groaned. You heard a belt being unbuckled and thrown onto the floor.

Then, you heard it. Steve’s grunt.

“No, you know that’s not it. Don’t start acting dumb, tell him” Bucky slapped your cunt harshly making you yelp out. Shit, he was angry now. You could hear on the other end of the video, Steve sucking in a breath and his phone moved lightly. He was touching himself.

“I didn’t wear underwear today...” you stutter through your teeth, scared to look at the camera. You felt tears welled up in your eyes from the pain, pleasure, and embarrassment.

“Did Bucky say you could act like a little slut today?” Steve challenged, pulling his cock out from his underwear & began to stroke himself slowly.

“No, daddy! I’m sorry!” Bucky laughed from the tone of your voice, instantly spreading your legs wider. Your ass grinded against his painful hard-on straining against his sweats as he continued to pump his fingers into you.

“She’s so fucking wet— I’m thinking this was her plan all along.” Bucky pulled his fingers out of you, sucking on your wetness and then shoved his fingers inside your mouth. You moaned heavily around his fingers, the taste of your wetness and his salvia evident.

“Fuck. Let me see her pussy...” Bucky smirked at Steve’s words, pulling his fingers out your mouth and you nervously looked around.

They’ve seen you multiple times, but you never used any type of cameras or recording devices during intimate moments. This was new. Bucky leaned forward and and angled the laptop to your dripping pussy.

“Isn’t this the prettiest little pussy you’ve ever seen, Steve?” Bucky narrated as his fingers ran against your folds, before spreading your lips. You felt exposed but it was erotic, especially hearing Steve’s moans on the other end. You were a moaning mess, your breath getting faster, and he wasn’t even doing much.

“You know Daddy has to punish you, right? I’m not there but Bucky is...” Bucky pulled the laptop back, showing his face and yours again. You were too nervous to actually turn your head and look at Bucky. However, as you looked at the camera, he had a smirk plastered on his face.

“Because you wanna be a slut and walk around the house with no panties, you’re going to ride Daddy’s cock for me on camera, right now” Steve demanded as Bucky quickly stood you up and slapped your ass harshly. His hands wasting no time in pulling down his sweats and boxers to expose his angry cock. It was fully hard and already had the perfect amount of pre-cum where you wanted to get on you knees and kitten lick it right off. Your legs pressed against each other at the sight.

“Daddy is not waiting all day... strip” Bucky barked causing you to flinch heavily as you quickly took off your shirt and then shorts.

“Look at my little girl, only if she didn’t act like a fucking slut— go ahead, sit on your daddy’s dick” you heard Steve speak and turned to look at the camera.

Steve was naked. Fuck. He even positioned the camera, so you could see his cock as well. You didn’t even notice how long you were staring until Bucky slapped your ass again. His arms wrapped around your waist and sunk you down. The two of you moaning out. The sudden burn caused you to wince and close your eyes for a moment.

Bucky’s lips pressed and sucked against your skin as he began to thrust up into you. His thumb flicking your clit which only increased the pleasure. “Baby... eyes up here.” Steve snapped. Bucky grabbed your jaw forcing you to look forward. Your eyes fluttered open slowly as you saw your other boyfriend stroking himself. His cheeks were flushed. Head thrown back. Abs collecting sweat. It was utter blissfulness.

“I can’t believe my baby is such a slut, You like Steve watching us fuck, huh?” You moaned, clenching around his cock in response, moving your hips to match Bucky’s thrusts. “Tightest pussy in the whole goddamn world, Fuck-!”

“Shit—! you’re going to let Daddy fuck you too when he gets home, yeah?” Steve teased, thrusting into his hand.

You nodded, your mouth opening and eyes rolling back as Bucky began to pick up the speed. “I think Steve asked you a question.” Bucky slapped your cunt once more causing you to dig your nails into his thighs.

“Yes, daddy. You can fuck me whenever you want...”

“That’s my good girl” Steve grunted lowly. “Fuck- You close, Bucky? I’m bout to cum and I need to see my pretty girl cum with us...” Bucky nodded heavily, licking a stripe up your neck, his thumb pressing down against your clit.

“Daddy... I’m close—“ you announced, turning your head to look at Bucky and he moved in, kissing you deeply. It was all tongue, teeth, & salvia which only caused Steve to become chaotic on the other end. The sound of skin slapping against each other and his throaty moans increased by the second. Steve was getting off from the show you and Bucky put on for him.

“Cum with us�� Bucky mumbled against your lips, as his thrusts become sporadic, the familiar knot in your stomach forming. With one look at Steve on the screen, you lost it, the wave crashing as you clenched and came around Bucky. Bucky was close behind, his thrusts stopping and filling you up to the brim before leaning against the couch. Steve watched everything unfold, saving himself until the last minute. And to your surprise, you got to witness as he unleashed ropes of cum across his chest, abs, and face.

“Holy shit...” Bucky announced and chuckled softly. I guess he was also watching Steve. The only thing you could hear now was the three of you panting. Bucky pressed soft kisses on your neck and shoulders as he occasionally whispered soft affirmations in your ear. You leaned back and closed your eyes, listening to Bucky’s soft voice, the two of you waiting for Steve to regain his energy.

“You’re an asshole” you heard Steve finally mumble as he grabbed a tissue and started to wipe his cum off his chiseled chest and then chin.

“Round 2, anyone?” You playfully slapped Bucky’s chest and he laughed, shrugging his shoulders. You forgot he had stamina for days. You heard the laptop beep, and as you looked closely, the battery was dying.

“Battery’s about to die...”

“That’s okay, doll. We can use our phones.” Bucky winked and you heard Steve laugh on the other end.

#bucky barnes x reader #steve rogers x reader #bucky barnes smut #steve rogers smut #bucky barnes x you #steve rogers x you

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embrassemoi · 3 years

Text

Surrounded by the Moon and Stars • 16

Pairings: Sirius Black, Remus Lupin, [F]Reader Content: Language, possible errors Author’s notes: Thanks for the support! xx (also kinda personal but I just got accpected into uni?! Crazy!)

Masterlist: Previous Chapter | Next Chapter

Chapter 16: Everything Goes According to Plan

❉───────•~❉•᯽•❉~•───────❉

January 30th, 1976

“Where’s my camera?”

“Be careful — Oi! Don’t step on me!”

“Ouch!”

“Shush!”

The squeaking of floorboards creaked throughout the small room as everyone kept on stumbling into each other, all fidgeting from excitement. That morning, they’d all woken up earlier than usual, decorating the room with streamers, leftover Christmas decor and a large banner that hung above the entrance of the doorway that read, Happy Birthday, Petals! (which was Y/N’s idea — she was very proud of the nickname). Even Mary snuck into their dorm, making everyone wear small pointy party hats as they huddled around Lily’s bed, circling her like vultures and raised their hands high. With a quiet count of three from Marlene, their hands lowered, hovering over Lily’s arms and legs, then shook.

“HAPPY BIRTHDAY!” They bellowed.

Lily woke with a jolt; her eyes flew open as she let out a scream. Her back slammed against the bed frame while Toulouse swiped at them, specifically at Marlene and hissed.

Lily’s heart hammered against her chest and she felt the small prickles of needles subside all over her body. Her hand clutched her nightgown, attempting to even out her breathing. “You could’ve given me a heart attack!”

“Happy birthday, Lils!” Mary repeated before climbing into her bed, hugging her.

She grunted at the impact as a smile replaced her features. Her eyes hopped from person to person before landing on Y/N who gave a sweet smile which had Lily blushing as she averted her eyes back to Mary.

When the group realized that Lily’s birthday fell on a weekend, it left them giddy and beyond excited for the endless opportunities that lay ahead of them. Not only did it leave the entire group to have a small break from their ruthless studying, but they could thoroughly celebrate the day and have enough time to spare for any last-minute plans for the surprise birthday party that night.

“Get your arse up and get ready to start the day!” Marlene declared, already trying to tug her crimson blanket away.

Lily yawned, rubbing her eyes, “Do we have to? I’m tired…”

“Come on! Life is short! It’s time we make memories,” she cried, “You never know when you’re going to die! Would you rather celebrate your birthday as a ghost or six feet under?! I, for one, will not visit your grave.”

Lily rolled her eyes, getting up with a stretch. Dorcas moved to turn on Marlene’s record player, settling a record by Nancy Sinatra as everyone continued with their usual morning routines. Lily got dressed in her favourite long sleeve lilac dress, pulling on tights to prevent herself from freezing. Mary wore her usual gold eyeshadow and wore a red jumpsuit while Marlene dressed coolly in all black. Although, Dorcas decided to stay in bed, still recovering from her nasty flu.

“You look very pretty today,” Y/N told Lily while detangling her hair from the loose braid she had it in. She took a brush and hair styler, primping her hair to Lily’s usual style and placed a headband in her hair.

“I — I, er — thanks!” She replied somewhat flustered.

“No… problem — there! Finished!” She handed Lily a handheld mirror, letting her go over her appearance. Pleased, she turned around to the group.

“So, first order of business, what did you want to do today?” Dorcas asked before going into a fit of coughs. Marlene rushed up to her side and popped off a cork from a nearby potion for her to drink.

Everyone had been slightly worried. It had been four days now and Dorcas still wasn’t recovering from the flu despite the ad of magic and potions. Thankfully today she seemed to perk up, even just a little, but they worried she was pushing herself.

“How about we just stay here, with you? We can all up a Healer and —”

“No,” Dorcas coughed again, she waved her hands in front of her, “I’ll be fine. Don't worry about me. What do you want to do?”

Lily remained quiet for a moment and Y/N assumed she was going to suggest staying in their dorm with Dorcas again, but her eyes gleamed with unusual mischief. Her eyes hopped from person to person before landing on Y/N. “I want to do a prank and I think you’ll love it.”

Everyone’s brows rose. Lily, the goodie-two-shoes prefect, Evans and pranks?! Those two do not belong in the same sentences.

“Okay…” said Mary, nodding her head despite being confused, “We’re listening.”

Lily sat down on her bed, crossing one leg over the other as she motioned everyone to sit. “Do you think it’s possible if we can dye someone’s hair? Obviously, safely,” she used her prefect voice, “But do you think we can?”

A beat went by — that was strangely out of character. What happened to the Lily they knew?

“Yeah,” Marlene begins, “What colour are you thinking?��

“Orange — bright orange with a bit of green.”

Then, Lily turned over to look at her again, a ghost of a smile appearing that told Y/N that whatever she was planning was going to be worth it — especially if Lily out of all people, was going to pull it off.

“Someone's going to be sorry for calling me Carrots.”

❉───────•~❉•᯽•❉~•───────❉

At breakfast, they arrived later than usual after they all planned out their prank. Marlene, who had been a part of too many pranks with Sirius and James, helped the most, while Y/N and Lily created a hair-changing potion using one of Dorcas’ old cauldrons — but unlike James, they stuck to a potions textbook with a reversal potion. Since it was Lily’s idea, she would be the one to slip the potion into Sirius’ drink. So, she tucked the vital into the sleeve of her dress, hidden from prying eyes.

They all huddled around her as they entered the Great Hall; their hands were pushed forward protectively, guarding Lily as if she were a celebrity being swarmed by adoring fans and they were her bodyguards. They paved her way from students while shouting:

“She’s declining photos at the moment!”

“Birthday girl coming through!”

“She’s a very busy lady! Out of the way!”

Lily kept on protesting for them to stop, hiding her face in her hands. As they reached their table, they sat beside the marauders while Lily made sure to take a seat next to Sirius. But, that wasn’t the end of Lily’s humiliation. Mary stood up, clapping to gain everyone’s attention. Once she realized what was about to happen she quickly got up, but Y/N and Sirius clapped a hand on Lily’s shoulder, shoving her back down on the bench.

They opened their mouths, singing,

“Haaaaapppppy birthday to you!” The six of them hollered before the rest of the hall caught on and started singing. “Haaaaapppppy birthday to you! Haaaaapppppy birthday dear Lily —” “CARROTS!” Shouted Sirius at the top of his lungs.

Lily kept shaking her head, blushing incredibly hard — even the tips of her ears started to turn pink. She covered her ears, attempting to muffle out the singing.

Y/N snapped a few photos of her, shoving them into her pockets.

“Haaaaapppppy birthhhhdaaaay tooooo youuuuuuuu!”

The Gryffindors and any Ravenclaws or Hufflepuffs that knew Lily cheered loudly. A few teachers, like Slughorn or McGonagall, made their way over to her, congratulating her along with a few other of her friends from different houses. Well wishes could be heard, along with a few people even handing her cards too.

Even an owl came swooping by when she had her back turned, dropping off a small package addressed from her parents and her sister, Petunia.

Swarmed and distracted, this left the group to huddle together as they leant over the table, forming a small circle of sorts. James was excluded as he sat back and drank a cup of tea flicking through the Daily Prophet.

“Operation: Lily’s birthday party,” said Marlene, “Let’s go over what our positions are for tonight.”

Mary was assigned with Dorcas to decorate the common room while Remus distracted Lily tonight during their rounds. Marlene and Sirius were in charge of drinks and snacks, leaving Peter and Y/N to bake a cake and bring any additional food.

They all quickly pulled apart once the crowd around Lily subsided. She settled back down, nodding and faking a cough. This signalled to the girls as Marlene quickly roped Sirius into a conversation about a New-Maj band he liked; Y/N talked to James about the upcoming Ravenclaw and Slytherin Quidditch match which left Mary to distract both Peter and Remus.

When none of the marauders were looking, Lily popped the corkscrew from the vital and grabbed a bowl of muffins on Sirius’ left. While she lent over, the potion poured directly into Sirius’ cup and she sat back down, smirking to herself. Y/N gave a discreet small high-five to her as they waited.

After a few minutes, parched from his talk with Marlene, Sirius picked up his goblet and tipped back the drink. He took a large gulp, wincing at the taste as he pulled it away from his face, but returned to his conversation like normal.

For several minutes, nothing happened. The girls kept quickly glancing upwards to check out his hair, but nothing: still bleached blond. They sighed, dejected that their plan hadn’t worked and Y/N nudged Lily underneath the table and gave a small smile, trying to cheer her up.

Another ten minutes went by and only then did the root of Sirius’ hair begin to tint into a bright orange colour rather than his dyed hair. This caught the girl's attention, however, the rest of the marauders who were still engaged in their conversations, did not notice as their heads were turned away from him.

His hair rapidly turned into orange as the tips were tinted green. Sirius didn’t seem to notice until James laughed, quickly turning to him to tell him a joke until his eyes widened at his hair.

“Ugh — Padfoot?!”

Sirius looked at him bewildered at his worried tone and expression before catching his reflection in James’ glasses. By now, Peter and Remus looked at him, their eyes widened, leaving the girls to force down their laughter, showing false concern.

“What the fuck?!” Sirius exclaimed, running a hand through it. She’d never seen Sirius this panicked before. More than anything, he looked shocked and even a bit… happy? No — definitely not happy. He continued to chuckle nervously before fretting over his appearance. For once, his laughter did not bother her.

Students began to take notice, pointing over at the Gryffindor table while some even began gossiping with others about the prank. As soon as the bell rang, everyone got up from their seats while the marauders surrounded Sirius, trying to help him out. The girls, on the other hand, got up and ran out of the Great Hall, practically howling.

“Oh my god! I can’t believe I just did that! I did that! We did that!” Lily exclaimed in disbelief before taking a seat down at their usual hangout near the library. “Did you see his reaction?! Jeez! I see why they pull so many pranks now!”

Y/N was about to burst into tears. That was by far the funniest shit she’d ever seen before. Marlene was in a similar boat as she clutched her side. Her stomach hurt from how hard she laughed.

“Lily! You little minx!” Mary cried as flopped beside Lily, her head dropping into her lap.

❉───────•~❉•᯽•❉~•───────❉

Their day was jammed packed. They went skating on the black lake, hit up the library, walked around school grounds which ended up in a huge snowball fight. After a bit, they decided to take a moment to separate themselves to give each other a bit of space while Lily went to find Snape.

This left the rest of the group two hours tops to themselves.

Y/N walked over to Honeydukes, buying a bunch of Jelly Slugs and a couple of other things before dashing back to the castle; she needed to wrap all of her presents and she promised to help Dorcas wrap hers too.

Before she entered Hogwarts again, Y/N took a moment to herself and enjoyed the small moment of peace around her. The soft crunching of snow, the cold breeze and the stillness — how quiet it was — there was hardly a moment since the break that Y/N had felt the comfortable peace Hogwarts had to offer.

Stepping inside the corridors, the atmosphere suddenly changed with the torches ablaze and a constant bubbling ambience that never seemed to settle.

In the distance, to her right, she could hear distant shouting and a rush of footsteps nearing. Out of nowhere, James seemed to come barreling towards her.

“Whiskers!” He yelled, sending her a fast wink as he continued to run down the corridor, making a sharp turn. Then, Marlee popped out, dashing after James.

“Marls?! What’s happening?”

“Running from Filch — get him off my trail!”

“What did you do?!”

“Told me to cover up, so I hexed him — Potter called him a rent boy!”

“Are you going to miss the party?” She yelled as Marlene’s body kept getting smaller and smaller as she ran. Y/N began to panic, without Marlene, surely things would take a lot longer than planned.

“Like hell I am! I won’t be late!”

Marlene disappeared, shortly being replaced by Filch who ran in a strange mixture of running and hopping.

“Where did they go?” He breathed, bending down and clutching his knees. “I heard them over here, where are they?”

And so Y/N decided to have some fun. “Who?”

“You know!”

“Um — you mean the one with blond hair?” “And the boy with black hair!”

“Oh! Yes, I know who… What’re their names again? Severus Snape and —” she paused, trying to think of another blond person, “Ugh — Sirius Black?”

Well, he used to be blond.

“No! The Potter boy and McKinnon! Where are they?!”

“Hmm… Oh! Oh! I think they went,” she pointed outside to the thick, cold snowy path, “That way!”

Filch didn’t even question her and ran off. Laughing, Y/N ran away from Filch; the last thing she wanted to do was face his wrath once he knew she lied.

Opening the door to her dorm, Dorcas was asleep. She walked up to grab a nearby folded blanket and placed it over her body to keep her warm before starting working.

She cleared off a table, unfolding her wrapping paper and wrapped the sides before creasing them, taping everything down with a pretty bow.

❉───────•~❉•᯽•❉~•───────❉

Nobody had seen Marlene or James for the past couple of hours — they’d even skipped dinner which caused everyone to go into a state of panic. Without Marlene, Sirius would be in a lot of trouble completing his task alone.

The common room was filled with fighting in hushed whispers as Lily and Remus were set to leave for their rounds in a couple of minutes.

“I’m going to kill her,” Mary fumed, “The one day they’re not supposed to go mucking around, they pull this!”

“How about we find them —” “And lose the little time we have now?”

Sirius, in particular, was on edge, aggravated, as he turned towards Y/N, “Why didn’t you think of saying anything sooner?”

“Because I didn’t think Marlene and James would be stupid enough to get caught! Not today!”

He closed his mouth, his lips pressed into a tight line. Even he hadn’t expected them to be that stupid either — not today.

“Everyone, shut up. All of you! Why don’t we take a moment to breathe?” Remus said calmly, effectively shutting the entire group up. In moments like these, Y/N understood why he was a prefect. He breathed in and looked to Sirius, “You can do this by yourself, can you?”

“Course not, Moony. Have a little faith in me!” Sirius gave a tenacious laugh, although forced.

Remus’ eyes then flicker to Y/N and Peter, “This shouldn’t affect you, will it?”

They shook their heads.

“Okay then, we’ll continue as planned. I’ll buy you as much time as —” He quickly cut himself off as everyone’s ears perked up. They all heard it, Lily’s footsteps. With that, Y/N, Sirius and Peter weaved their way out of the common room, walking quickly to avoid Lily and Remus from catching up to them. Unfortunately, Sirius took the invisibility cloak before she or Peter had the time to ask for it.

They sneakily made their way down a flight of moving stairs, passing several empty corridors and made their way down to the kitchens.

Once they began working on Lily’s cake, Y/N instantly knew why Peter was assigned to the kitchens.

He instructed her most of the time, telling her which ingredients or utensils to find. Currently, she grabbed a metal ladle and watched as Peter churn the ingredients, watching as they blend into a seamless, smooth mixture. She sat back most of the time, baking and cooking was never something she was great at.

Y/N rifled through the cabinets, searching for a cake tin. “Ah-hah! Found some!”

They were heart-shaped, rather than the usual circular ones. She placed them onto the counter before turning her attention to grease the pans and focus on making a couple of sandwiches.

“So,” she started, trying to make small talk, “Where’d you learn to bake so well?”

Peter went pink as he wordlessly flicked his wand; the cake tin and floated it into one of the pre-heated ovens and turned to make the frosting. “Erm — it was James’ mum, Euphemia, who taught me. She’s a great baker — honestly she’s good at everything.

“James and I grew up close to each other; we’re childhood friends. He never did fancy baking — liked cooking more and I felt bad he never wanted to help out Euphemia. So one day I offered to help and now whenever I’m at their house, I help around — like a tradition — and I do it in my spare time now. Helps clear my head.”

Just then, two house-elves popped in, each holding a cup of tea for each student. Y/N gave her thanks while Peter turned to talk to them, making them laugh and asking questions that seemingly were a follow-up from a previous conversation. A light dust of flour scattered the side of his cheek while he smiled with them. The more he spoke with the elves, the more Y/N grew fascinated.

Out of all the marauders, even beating out Sirius and James who were amongst the most popular students at Hogwarts, Peter was the most liked out of all of them, especially amongst her friend group.

He wasn’t James who at times was a bit too much and talked an awful lot. He wasn’t Sirius who was dramatic, nor was he Remus who was quiet and intimidating. Peter was just Peter — who was a bit skittish, insanely good at Wizard’s chess, bold enough to sneak into the Slytherin's common room all by himself and loved to bake, clearly was in the kitchens often enough to have full-blown conversations with the elves when most people would so much as spit on before walking away.

It spoke volumes of his character, especially since he was from a Pureblood family; bound to grow up entitled and look down to his inferiors.

She noticed Peter had quite a lot of friends, mostly women, always seeming willing to help someone in dire need whether it be listening, giving advice or comforting another person. It only made her recollect the time Peter had engaged in small conversations with her, seeking to make her feel more included. Like that one time he’d mentioned the Holy Harpies. Small, ostensibly insignificant, but contemplating it now; he'd been trying to make her comfortable — settled — welcoming her with open arms into his group; into the marauders and the girls.

Within moments, there was a newfound appreciation towards the boy.

The sandwiches they made, along with pork pies stolen, were stuffed into a bag, ready to be transported. Y/N boredly spun her wand between the length of her finger while Peter whirled around in his seat until the ring of the timer went off. The elves were already gone, zipped away into thin air as they grew tired with sleep.

Placing a cooling spell onto the cake to avoid the icing from melting off, Peter began layering on a thin layer of icing.

“What’s Lily’s favourite colour? Is it still purple?” He asked. Y/N gave a curt nod.

“Never been a fan of purple. One time I walked into my Grandmum’s room, she only wore purple knickers for my Grandad. Makes me shiver all the time — honestly, the woman traumatized me. S’pose it might be my Boggart.”

Peter also had a sense of humour.

While diligently working, she marvelled at his creation. A two-layer heart-shaped cake, decorated all in light purple icing covered the surface before Peter piped small designs and swirls onto it.

“Wow. I feel like I can barely hold my wand at times yet you —”

“My, my — what do we have here? Students out of bed?” A voice came from behind them. “Tut, tut, tut.”

The two craned their heads backwards where Peeves smiled and let out a squeal of delight.

“Peeves,” Peter began politely. He slowly set down his piping bag and put his hands up in a submissive, yet defensive manner, as if he’d encountered a feral animal. “Please — please, we’re doing something for a dear friend. Don’t get us thrown out.”

“What would happen if I told Filch about you,” the ghost responded in a saintly voice, but his eyes glimmered wickedly. He brought a finger to the side of his face, tapping his index finger to his cheek, thinking.

“What to do, what to do…”

“Psst, Pete, what’s happening?”

Nobody answered her. With Sirius gone with the cloak, it left her and Peter completely out in the open wishlist a ghost threatening them — not to mention the lie she told Filch earlier, there was no way she nor Peter were going to get out of this unscathed.

“Please,” he pleaded.

She looked at him, wide-eyed and started panicking. She repeated louder, “What’s happening? What do we do?”

Peeves then grinned largely and started doing large loops into the air. His cackling rang through the empty corridors, becoming progressively louder.

“Shit. Run.”

“STUDENTS OUT OF BED IN THE HALLWAY! I REPEAT, THERE ARE STUDENTS OUT OF BED IN THE HALLWAY BY THE KITCHENS!”

Peter grabbed the cake while Y/N swiped the bag filled with the rest of the food, piping bags and a small jar of edible decor. They ducked under Peeves, dashing out of the kitchens leaving a huge mess for the unfortunate elves to clean up the next morning.

Peeves floated behind them slowly as he watched them run. Peter ran slower, trying to make sure he didn’t face plant into the cake while Y/N urged him to run faster.

“He usually helps us,” Peter grits out, “But he’s a two-faced git! Never trust him unless you’re doing a prank! Never!”

Just then, Peter lost his footing and tripped over his feet, letting out a half-shriek, mixing in with Peeves’ evil laughter. They sucked in a sharp breath, watching as the cake flew through the air but Y/N, quick on her feet, grabbed her wand, casting a quick non-verbal charm and watched as the cake and plate froze mid-air before the plate clanked down first, the cake following and settling ontop. She ran up to it, cradling and wrapping a protective arm around it to prevent the cake from dropping again. She called out for Peter to get up before he took the cake again, this time with a shout from Y/N to not drop it, before leading her into a secret passway down the corridor.

Peeves could be heard laughing maniacally down the hall before they both could hear Filch’s footsteps running towards his shouts.

Peter maneuvered through the passage while Filch’s voice became more and more distant as they continued to hurriedly walk. Lily and Remus’ shift was going to end soon and it would be a lost cause if they didn’t make it up to the common room.

They both turned sharply, about to exit before Y/N crashed into a shadowy figure, tripping but being caught swiftly by the figure. They cradled her head to keep her from falling, but the sudden scare caused both students to open their mouths to scream, loudly.

“It’s me! It’s me!” Sirius’ familiar voice runs out, waving a hand to shush Peter while the other was still on her back. Y/N felt herself relax and erratic heartbeat to calm. She’d never been so happy to see Sirius before. Until she realized that they were still touching and they both ripped away.

Her heart spiked, and she felt oddly light headed. Soon enough, her eyes then immediately went to his hair and held back from chuckling — perhaps right now was not the time.

“I came once I heard people shouting and I figured it was you two. You okay?” His eyes darted to her at the last part.

Perhaps her eyes tricked her, that she was too tired or bumping into Sirius too hard, but it felt like he’d been making sure if she was alright. Since when did Sirius care? Although, Peter didn’t seem to notice or he’d ignored the interaction entirely.

“F-fine,” he wheezed out, “Peeves… Peeves caught us while we were decorating the cake. We’re not done yet.”

“What time is it?” She asked.

Sirius placed his wand in his mouth while pulling out a silver pocket watch from his trousers. “Ten to ten.”

“We have time then.”

Peter placed the cake down gently on a nearby ledge in the passage, causing Sirius to cast Lumos. Sirius kept a watch out, his head moving from side to side every so often as he listened for anyone or anything walking past them.

Pulling out the icing bags and sprinkles, Peter began to finish his work. He continued to create flowers as Y/N wrote on the cake (although with help from her wand), ‘Happy 16th Birthday, Lily!’ and then placed a couple of candles around.

As Peter continued to add his small touches, Y/N’s eyes drifted around, not landing on anything in particular but zoned in on the shining of Sirius’ rings. Her eyes slowly drifted upwards, studying him. The remainder of the full moon that recently passed spilled a muted milky light onto the stone floor and touched Sirius’ face. He wasn’t wearing his normal school robes but dressed in Muggle clothing. Black jeans, a nice sweater, notable messy hair and his body language was relaxed. This Sirius was tolerable, likeable even. She liked this Sirius — but perhaps it was because he finally wasn’t talking. This Sirius gave her an insight into what he was like aside from his annoying, bitchy self. Loose, wild, messy in an elegant way, confident — in his prime — looking for a thrill, sneaking around; mischief.

Suddenly, Sirius’ wand went out as he ducked down, huddling beside her and Peter.

“What —”

They met each other’s eyes, locking, as he brought a finger up to his lips which made her flicker down to look at them, quickly.

Their eye contact was brief, so brief, nonetheless, it contained a flurry of emotions too complicated for Y/N to process.

But being up close for those brief seconds, she was able to examine him — truly, for the first time. Her eyes traced over the singular scar on his face, hidden by his hair that made her wonder where he’d gotten it from. Soon the questions enclosed her mind like an overflowing river.

His small, unexpected gesture had been one of many which had been nicer and oddly thoughtful recently.

Sirius’ brain was written in cryptic code — so advanced and intertwined — too complicated for her to understand. She wanted to understand his actions.

Even if she didn’t like to admit it, Sirius had a depth that greatly attracted her. She had so many unanswered questions.

And since her brain ran a mile a minute, her emotions weren’t filled with that annoyance of ranger — no, for once she didn’t feel any kind of resentment towards him.

Maybe it was because they both had one goal in mind: Lily’s party and that working against each other during something as high stakes like this would fail a good friend of theirs. Or maybe it was that instead of her or him starting something — or maybe — maybe it was because the boy was so close to her, closer than they ever had been before. Or maybe it was the adrenaline that set every fibre of her being on fire — making her feel like honey-dipped in tea — or the odd thunderous throbbing of her heat spiking suddenly; Y/N grew warm all over.

It didn’t help that Sirius didn’t look angry either, but rather a sudden cognizance filled his gaze, looking both shocked and calm.

But quickly, she just chalked up her flurry of emotions to adrenaline or wanting to hex him — either worked.

For Sirius, he felt utter disdain as his gaze fixated on her. He was tempted to flicker down to her lips but her eyes, bright and filled with glittery stars, were enchanting. It scorned him — made his heart beat in an iambic pentameter, creating its own sonnet that would make even the most accomplished poets jealous.

He wanted to refuse her presence. Wanted to focus on anything but her.

But Sirius was a weak man. He failed. He always did.

Their eyes ripped away and they heard the familiar sound of footsteps and voices neared them as they spotted the familiar red hair and tall figure.

Their voices were slightly muffled.

“— times have changed! You aren’t a second year anymore.” Lily chimed while they walked.

Remus shook his head, instead of flicking his wand as a dozen torches lit up in mere seconds. “Whatever you say, Red.”

She swatted at his shoulder while Remus ruffled her hair, his smiling becoming genuine.

“Seriously, I support it.

“Merlin, Evans — it’s not going to happen. Look at me!”

“Not with that attitude and you look more than fine!”

Peter shifted his eight onto his other foot which made an audible scuffle. However, it was so quiet that neither she nor Sirius caught on but Remus, whose head swirled in their direction, did. He took a deep inhale, a look in his eyes, confusion melting into realization — there and gone — as if he knew they were there despite being hidden by the shadows of the night. He turned his head once more and started walking faster while Lily skipped down, trying to catch up to him.

Remus Lupin was an odd one alright.

Nobody moved until they were positive they were gone.

The entire night had been a shitshow.

“Okay,” Sirius exhaled, he felt his entire body tense up, “Let’s get out of here.”

“Do you think the cake is okay?” Y/N asked Peter as Sirius tossed the invisibility cloak over their bodies, hiding them from onlookers.

“Bloody well hope so,” he grunted, “We didn’t get caught almost three times, freeze our arse, almost get a month's detention, and probably destroyed the kitchen for it not to be great.”

Without another word, they made their way back to the common room where everyone made a fuss about how late they were. Quickly, Peter placed any last-minute designs, Mary handed everyone small party horns, Dorcas put up last-minute balloons while Y/N and Sirius helped each other layout all the snacks and drinks — this time, civilly.

“God… How’d you even get this much? Me and Peter were in the kitchens and we couldn’t even get half of what you got.”

At this, Sirius smirked before collapsing into the plush velvet couch behind him, an exhausted sigh as he sank further in. But as soon as the smirk was there, it was gone as everyone heard the clicking of the portrait open.

“Hide — HIDE!”

All the lights were blown out as they all hid behind the couches — they heard quiet footsteps — someone shuffling towards the middle — footsteps getting louder — louder — and —

Sirius lit the entire room as they all sprung up and Y/N quickly held her camera to her face and snapped a photo as everyone shouted,

“SUPRISE! HAPPY BIRTHD —” “Godric fucking Gryffindor!”

“... I’m going to KILL YOU MCKINNON! POTTER!”

Everyone groaned in disappointment at James and Marlene’s arrival before they heard the faint sounds of footsteps outside of the portrait again. Mary yanked Marlene down, shoving her behind the couch along with forcing a party hat on her head and confetti in her hands. Sirius grabbed James by his red sweater and rushed him up the stairs before getting back into place.

“Told you,” Marlene whispered into her ear, “Wasn’t going to be late.”

The real Lily could be heard as she spoke excitedly with Remus. The portrait swung open — everyone waited before she stepped inside — they put most of their weight onto their toes, waiting to jump — Sirius’ wand was about to light up the room — Y/N held her camera — Dorcas and Marlene were going to throw up the confetti —

“Why is it so dark —”

“SUPRISE! HAPPY BIRTHDAY, LILY!”

Light rushed back into the room and Lily’s face lit up brighter than the sun. Mountains of sweets were piled into bowls while a small table was lined with drinks. Sirius outdid himself, seemingly raiding Honeydukes; there was taffy, Bertie Bott’s Every Flavour Beans, Chocolate Frogs, sherbet lemon, caldron cakes — plus the food Y/N and Peter had hauled from the kitchen; sandwiches, fruit, crisp (she made the mistake of saying chips in front of James and Marlene only to then be hassled by them for it) and pork pies.

ABBA played in the background, much to Remus’ demise as her purple cake sat in the middle on a table, all the candles lit. They all ushered Lily to blow out the candles while they all held wrapped gifts, cards and small gift bags.

“You didn’t need to do this!” Lily said, although there was a thankful look in her eyes, “This is too much! Thank you!”

“Anything for you, Evans!”

“You’re lucky we didn’t bring fireworks!” Marlene and Sirius grinned.

“You would have all gotten detention —” “Stop being a goody goody, not today, Lils!” Sirius slung his arm around the redhead.

Gifts went around; Lily had gotten so many cards from other teachers and students, handmade jewellery from Dorcas, Remus knit her a sweater with hearts, Mary and Marlene gave a joint gift, Peter bought her a small yet overly fancy tea set Lily had mentioned offhandedly before, Sirius gave her a first edition books she loved while Y/N gave her the gifts she bought from that old book store. Alice had even dropped by and given her a small package before heading back up for the night.

They all smiled widely at her and were thrilled to see her so happy. Y/N lifted her camera and took an abundance of photos throughout the entire night, before shoving them into the back pocket of her pants.

By the time everyone reluctantly returned to their dormitories, it was three o’clock in the morning and everyone was beyond tired, deciding it was time for bed.

“Night,” Dorcas called out. Marlene yawned loudly before falling into her bed, muttering out another round of happy birthdays to Lily. They were out the fastest — soft snores filling the room.

White specks seemed to blur through her vision as Y/N rubbed her tired eyes. She was about to call over to Lily, say goodnight, roll over and sleep before the creaking of her bed altered her to Lily padding her way to the bed. Y/N looked up at her, confused before scouting over for Lily to slip in, under her blankets.

“Are you okay, Petals?”

“Beyond perfect,” she replied with a wistful voice, “I’m so thankful. Thank you.”

Y/N chuckled, although she was a tad perplexed, “Y’know, it wasn’t just me who helped.”

“I know, but still. This birthday feels different from all the other ones I’ve had and I can’t help but think it’s also because of you.”

Lily Evans never ceased to amaze her. “Well, I hope you mean that in a good way,” she teased.

“Obviously!”

Silence fell around them before Toulouse hopped onto Y/N’s bed and settled himself between the two friends.

Y/N’s eyes wondered to the banner: petals... “What’s your favourite flower? Surely it’s not lilies, are they?”

Lily gave a small huff of amusement and shook her head, “No. Peonies or irises. What about yours?”

“I’m not sure. Maybe I’ll just say lilies for now.” She said absentmindedly before her eyes shot open. “Shit! I forgot —” Y/N reached over Lily and opened her drawer with the pouch of Jelly slugs before placing them into Lily’s hands. “Forgot to give you these.”

There was a soft look in Lily’s eyes and something Y/N couldn’t quite place. Her friend was acting quite strange.

“It feels like I’ve known you forever,” Lily says softly, her face flushed a rosy colour.

She stayed silent for a while, at a complete loss for words. Even a slight look of confusion crossed Lily’s face.

“Yeah, you too.”

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thenovelartist · 3 years

Text

Burned Beginnings, chapter 1

Novel decided to do Adrienette April on a whim. Each post until the end of April (or such is the plan) will have 3 prompts in it.

She also discovered she’s very rusty. Bear with me here. XD

Next>>

1. AU

Marinette had thought she’d grown used to Chloe’s bullying, having to had endure it since they were little. However, with high school came a new name that became a regular part of Chloe’s vocabulary, alongside “hot” and “sexy” and “dreamboat”.

“And Marinette would never catch the eye of someone so perfect.”

Honestly, Marinette had thought she was over it, but on a particularly bad day, she’d snapped back at Chloe.

“Well, clearly he isn’t that perfect if he fawns over someone whose only redeeming quality is pretending to be pretty.”

That had led to a fire alarm getting pulled and Marinette left to blame for it. Anyone who tried to come to her defense was shut down, and Marinette had been suspended.

Which had started an all-out war.

After being stuck at home, wrongfully, for three solid days, Marinette had snapped. She’d decided that if Chloe was going to build a bonfire and poor on the gasoline that she would be there with a match. By senior year, Marinette’s record had taken a hit for it but Chloe’s reputation was in the toilet.

Marinette would take what she could get.

However, she supposed she hadn’t fully thought out the consequences. As much as she played with fire, she should have realized she’d get burned sooner or later.

And she did. Third degree.

We regret to inform you your application has been denied.

Those were words she grew tired of seeing yet came back from every school she applied to. With that in mind, she’d called up her girl friends to tell them what had happened.

“Hey, Marinette,” Alya had said upon seeing the letters. “Don’t get me wrong, I feel really bad for you. But… I did warn you—”

“I get it,” Marinette had surrendered, knowing that Alya was completely right. “You tried to warm me of the consequences, and now I’m paying for them.”

The girls had slipped into a moment of silence before Alix spoke up. “Hey, I can ask Max if he can do a little digging so you at least know why, yeah?”

Marinette had raised a brow but agreed. “Only if he’s not busy with his own college stuff.”

“Oh please, he’s too smart for college. He started up some robotics company in his free time and is already making bank on it.”

It took a week for Max to come back with a full report. Marinette had to give him props for working fast as he did.

“Hacking into the system was the first thing I could think of,” he’d explained. “In the side notes, there was mention of your attendance record and suspensions.”

“They were all wrongful suspensions,” Alix had countered.

“Doesn’t matter to the school,” Max had said with a shrug. “But even then, I thought there had to be more to this than just attendance. There were other students who had the same notes yet were accepted. So I shifted focus to digging up background on all the directors of the school. After hacking a few emails, I discovered Audrey Bourgeois happens to know a lot of directors or administration members in all the fashion schools of France. Considering the contents of most of those emails, it has become clear that Marinette was wrongfully barred from every school she’d applied to. And that there’s nothing that can be done about it because we only discovered such scandal through highly illegal means.”

“So…” Alya had begun, turning her attention to Marinette. “Where does that leave you, M?”

Marinette’s lips had pursed in thought. It was funny how things turned out, because despite her anger, she somehow had been peace with what she was faced with. “I think that the last place I want to be is in an industry full of liars and people who use their words to manipulate anyone they damn well please.”

That was how she ended up working full-time in her parents’ bakery. They never said a word about it, but she knew they were disappointed. Of course they weren’t mad about her still being here and working in the bakery with them, and she knew her parents still loved her more than anything.

But she knew that with as many dreams as she had and had shared with them, they were disappointed on her surrendering it all.

“Sorry, Maman, Papa,” she whispered into the empty kitchen as she plopped the baguettes she formed onto a baking tray. “Just give me a little time to figure things out. Seems like lofty dreams are a lot easier to crush than I realized.”

2. Rebellion

A son can only bear the world of their parent’s expectations for so long. He wasn’t Atlas, but after a few years of acting like him, Adrien decided to dump the globe. To hell if it broke. He’d smirk in satisfaction at his father’s disappointment.

At the very least, the fact he no longer had the weight of the world of his shoulders made the far-too-common disappointment lecture easier to bear.

His strategic rebellion had started harmless enough. At sixteen with a rapidly growing forced modeling career, he’d given his father an ultimatum: he gets to grow out his hair, or it all goes. It had been shocking the amount of power the razor in his hand had given him. It was the perfect harmless threat. His father had been furious, throwing a fit about Adrien acting like a child, but after being gaslit for so long, Adrien had finally come to realize the abusive techniques for what they were. And he wasn’t going to roll over and take it any longer.

That day had ended with Adrien being grounded but ultimately the victor of their stand-off.

After that, he’d begun ditching certain events. He’d always liked fencing, so he never ditched those lessons, but attendance for his home-school lessons, mandarin lessons, and piano lessons had all been decided on a whim. His father had hardly been pleased by this, but to Adrien, that was the point. The lectures soon washed into one another so much that Adrien could practically recite the words that roll off his father’s tongue verbatim. He’d come to realize they were strategically meant to hurt. To humiliate. And as such, he’d stopped taking them personally.

Then came the fun part.

He got earrings. Honestly, Adrien hadn’t really cared for the piercings one way or another. In one way, there were a hassle, and caring for new piercings was a pain in the butt. However, they had been worth it to see his dad so royally pissed off.

Then came the ditching of certain photoshoots. There was a reason Adrien had held off on this one for so long: he cared about the people running the shoot. There was no reason they needed to be collateral in this battle between him and his father. After all, they were just employees doing their job; Adrien didn’t want them to suffer for his rebellion. With that in mind, Adrien had planned out his absences of these photoshoots. Again, he didn’t want to drag anyone else into his mess, so he had always organized a replacement model. Shoot would always go on, just not as planned.

And that was enough to drive his father mad.

It always put a smile on Adrien’s face.

The last touch was an unexpected one. He hadn’t even thought about going this far. Yet, a friend of his not only put the idea in his head, but gave him the art to go with it.

“Is that a tattoo?”

Oh, how he wished he would have taken a picture of his father’s face. The large black cat surrounded in a green, wispy smoke that wrapped around his forearm was truly a work of art. He’d had to think carefully about this decision, but in the end, he quite liked it.

“Yeah. I’m eighteen; I can ink myself if I want to. Why? Is that a problem?”

Adrien might be wearing a cat on his arm, but the grin on his lips was downright wolfish.

Eventually, it all had come to a head and blew up in his face. Adrien couldn’t say he’d been surprised. In fact, he had been fully expecting it. He’d already found an apartment to rent and had begun sneaking most of his important things over there before his father could kick him out. So when Adrien found himself kicked to the curb as soon as he was handed his general education certificate, Adrien had been prepared.

But mostly, he was free.

What a joyous day it was.

However, now that he was free, he knew he needed a job. Not because he needed the money, per se, but because it was time he started acting like the average adult. He never got to go to school, so now, it was time to pick up a mundane, first job that everyone hated but would “serve him well later in life”. Mostly, it would just be something normal.

The easy places to apply were food shops and retail stores. He’d work one for a while before deciding what his next life step would be. Chloe had been quick to offer him a job at her father’s hotel, but Adrien was vehemently against the idea. Over the span of his rebellion, Chloe’s behavior and attitude towards him had grown notably worse, and he had a feeling cutting ties with her would be his next step in life.

In the end, he’d scored a job he definitely was underqualified for. He’d applied partly out of spite and partly because ‘why not?’ He’d heard about this bakery enough times from Chloe to know the “cruel bitch who did nothing but mercilessly harass her” lived here, and that was enough to pique Adrien’s curiosity. At a bakery as popular as that, though, he hadn’t been sure he’d get a call. And when he did, he knew he would do everything he could to present himself as a reliable and respectable man eager to work, but he never thought he’d end up hitting it off with the owner.

Which somehow ended up with him agreeing to work at Tom and Sabine’s Patisserie.

Going into that job, he swore to himself he would do what he could to prove himself worthy. He knew there had to have been better applicants, so Adrien didn’t want to disappoint the very kind owners who dared give him a chance. Soon, his days were spent working hard while covered in flour and surrounded by bread all day. Well, bread and all the sharp and hot objects in your average kitchen.

He just didn’t think that would include a wicked sharp and smoking hot young lady that happened to be his bosses’ daughter.

3. Game Night

“Mama, Papa, please go. You two hardly ever get out of the house.”

Marinette watched her maman put a hand over the mouthpiece of her phone while her papa turned to her. “But I’ll be busy that night. We have a massive order scheduled for the next day.”

“I can handle that,” Marinette quickly countered with a grin. “You know I’m a night owl, anyway. I’ll get it done, and you two can go enjoy game night with your friends.”

Her parents spared each other a glance. “Are you sure about that, Marinette?” Maman asked.

“Positive. Papa already talks to the bread too much, so he really should talk to people for a change. And while you have to deal with people all day, I know you want more than to just have short conversations filled with small talk. So please, go out and have a social life for once.”

With one last look, her parents relented. With a smile, her mother took her hand off the phone. “We’ll be there.”

Papa turned to her with a grin. “I was going to spend that time teaching Adrien how to handle those orders. I can leave teaching him in your hands, right?”

Her grin fell. Adrien Agreste. What the hell a washed-out model was doing working at her parents’ bakery was beyond her. Admittedly, over the last month she’d been working with him, the most she’d say is that maybe he wasn’t too bad a guy. Papa certainly sung his praises. But that still didn’t answer the question of why he was working here of all places. After all, he was Chloe’s friend and suspected lover.

“Don’t think I don’t see that look on your face, Marinette,” her maman chastised. She’d hung up and set her phone down already, fully giving her attention to her daughter. “No matter your personal feelings, you really should give him a chance.”

“He’s a good kid,” Papa said. “Maybe a little rough around the edges, but I can tell he really does want to learn and do his best.”

Marinette sighed. This wasn’t the first time this talk had happened. She remembered having a talk with her parents after his first interview. There were a few other people who were far more qualified for the job, but Papa said he liked Adrien’s personality and spirit the best. So in the end, all Marinette’s objections had fallen upon deaf ears.

She sighed. “Fine. I’ll give him a chance.”

With a smile that made Marinette loath to disappoint him, her papa patted her head affectionately. “Thank you, Marinette. I think you’d like him if you got to know him.”

Not likely. “I’ll do my best, Papa.”

“Really, Marinette,” her maman warned. “Unless you have a valid reason, you need to put aside your feelings for the sake of the bakery running smoothly. Can you manage that?”

Appropriately chastised, Marinette bowed her head in embarrassment. Maman brought up a good point: Marinette shouldn’t let her anger towards Adrien affect the bakery. Her parents didn’t deserve that. “Yes, Maman. I’m sorry.”

With a smile, her maman came up and wrapped her in a hug. “Thank you, Marinette.”

Marinette hugged her back. “No, thank you, Maman and Papa, for everything. I won’t let you down.”

Papa wrapped his arms around both her and Maman. “Thank you, sweetheart. We love you.”

“I love you, too.”

#miraculous ladybug #fanfiction #adrienette #AdrinetteApril2021 #AU #Marinette's kinda bitter #And Adrien's a rebel #If they're OOC I don't care #I'm writing again and just rolling with it

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barbenheimer-core · 3 years

Text

AUDERE EST FACERE !

하나. chanel : part four — 3k words

Wangja crossed the street with a bag of two steaming bowls of ramyeon and red ginseng, speeding up his pace to prevent the noodles from getting too soggy while he walked the path over to his shop where he had left Ahyeong at, sighing as he thought about the new addition to the cast.

When he had walked into his store last night, he was not expecting a stage to commence immediately upon entering the lounge.

Thank the writer (this was the first and last time he was going to say that) that their conversation and actions had already been written out, or else the shop owner would've been gawking at the new girl for the entirety of the stage.

He had been immensely startled back then; it was unusual for him to not know the timing and plot of every stage because he always made sure to check the comic that permanently resided in a small, hidden corner of his shop every single day.

But when he had browsed the comic as soon as Ahyeong had left, he had been bewildered at the sudden shift in the book's contents.

The cast page had been altered to feature four main characters instead of the original trio, and as he had turned the pages, he had noticed the new stages being inked with interactions that had never been present as of before.

To think that an already complicated web of troubling relationships had not been enough for the writer, they had proceeded to add a love square to the mix.

Wangja grimaced at his creator's choices in life. They had definitely been influenced by someone to do so if it had been so last minute.

But one thing was for sure; out of all the stories that the writer had put him in, this was by far the most interesting.

"Ahyeong-ah! I'm back!" he yelled into the air as he stepped in, his voice echoing in the shop.

The silence was his only response.

Confused, he stepped through the streamers that decorated the lounge's archway, eyes searching for the girl while he set the food down on the coffee table next to the abandoned copy of Shiver.

"Ahyeong, are you here-"

He stopped abruptly, gaze finding the peach cover of True Beauty toppled upside down on the floor in front of a shelf he swore no one would notice.

With dread in his mind, he picked it up, turning it around, only to be faced by the drawn version of the person he was looking for.

Oh no. She'd seen it.

If Gilyeong had to describe his sister at that moment, he would've said she looked like she'd risen from a grave in a zombie apocalypse movie.

She looked dead. Alive, yes, but dead.

Like someone had told her whole life was a lie.

When Ahyeong had arrived back home from wherever she had dashed off to during the morning, she had looked like she'd gone through the five stages of grief, questioned the meaning of life, and ran a marathon through the streets of Seoul by how hard she was breathing.

He had almost asked her if she was okay, but that would've come off as him being "concerned for his dear sister," as Eunjung had so uselessly put it, and he hated proving people right. And besides, Ahyeong was clearly not okay.

"Oye, grinch," he called out across the table after seeing her actions.

She looked as if she hadn't even heard him. No annoyed flinch, no irritated twitching of her eyebrow; no reaction at all. Just her mindlessly trying to eat soup with chopsticks.

Eunjung looked at her with an extreme amount of concern.

Gilyeong almost puked at the feeling of worry in his gut.

Ahyeong was functioning on auto-pilot, her consciousness having taken a backseat as the only thing that moved her was sheer muscle memory.

She couldn't even remember how she had come back to her house, however, the stinging in her legs informed her of how she had deserted the shop and ran all the way back home, much to Driver Kwon's horror.

Her head felt empty.

Being in a comic? As a bully? That had to be the most ridiculous thing she had ever heard, or read, about herself.

It did not make sense. She was quite literally a model student, with a record as clean as glass. Being reduced to the likes of a bully? Impossible.

And then the derealisation came in.

This probably wasn't real after all. Maybe it was just one big practical joke blown out of proportion.

Yeah, that was it, she concluded as she finally became aware of her surroundings, dropping the chopsticks in her hands with a confused look and picking up a spoon to continue eating her soup, unaware of the small breath of relief from across the table.

That weird paralysis thing hadn't happened since the other day anyway, so she was probably going to be okay.

TURN.

What a fucking lie, you're kidding—

The doors to the house banged open, harshly knocking against the walls and startling the occupants of the dining room.

Song Hwayoung came inside the house, immediately making Eunjung receive her in a hurry and assist her with taking off her coat and setting her a pair of slippers.

Ahyeong was panicking. Why now? The universe was being unnecessarily cruel. Her body felt like a rock, cemented into the ground. The air got colder, the lights felt different, brighter somehow, as if someone was shining a spotlight down on her family, as if a grim situation was about to ensue.

Ahyeong almost got up to greet her mother, but sat back down after seeing the subtle shake of Gilyeong's head, who hastily looked down at his empty plate after Hwayoung came to sit at the head of the table.

Her mother looked like she had been trying to bottle up her anger the whole day, and the cap was finally about to burst.

Ahyeong felt unsettled at the sudden change in demeanor. Her mother had never gotten this furious before, ever. She attempted to stand, but she was glued to her seat and could only watch as Hwayoung glared daggers at Gilyeong.

She threw a stack of papers in front of Gilyeong, who shrunk into his seat when he saw its contents.

"What is this?" Hwayoung inquired, trying her best to appear calm.

The young boy mumbled a reply in a voice so small that it was barely audible.

Hwayoung flared her nostrils, "Say it louder!"

Both siblings flinched at the volume. "My report card," the youngest said shakily.

Why was her mum flipping over a simple report card? It's not like grades mattered—

"Even I know that it's a fucking report card. What I want to know is why your grades dropped to C's and D's and why the hell you're failing in math?"

Ahyeong's eyes widened, either involuntarily or of her own free will, she didn't know. Hwayoung cursing at her brother and raging over his academic report? That was quite literally the opposite of how her mother was. Hwayoung was supposed to be the sweetest person she'd ever known, understanding and supportive through every endeavor.

For a moment she considered if her mother had been replaced by a clone of a crueler version of her. With the bullshit that was happening to her right now, the theory did not even feel that far-fetched.

At Gilyeong's silence, Hwayoung scoffed, "All of this was happening and you didn't even bother telling me? I was in a phone call with your friend's mother who told me her son had scored first place but when she mentioned how you weren't even in the top ten do you know how humiliated I felt?"

She stood up abruptly, throwing her chair back, which was immediately caught by Eunjung, and scowled at the boy, not a single trace of warmth in her eyes that her daughter was familiar with, "What an embarrassment to the Song name. At least your sister fares better than you."

With that, she stalked away, heels clicking against the marble floors as she retreated to her room.

TURN .

Ahyeong got up as soon as she could control her movements, rushing over to Gilyeong whose eyes had become red and puffy as he sniffled.

She pulled him in between her arms, and he shook uncontrollably, Eunjung watching the ordeal with downtrodden eyes, wishing she could help.

This was far beyond what she thought would happen. No, that woman could not have been their mother.

As she put her brother to sleep that night, she came to a solution.

Stepping into the elevator to reach Cloud9 Officetel's terrace the next day, her resolve strengthened.

This nightmare was ending, one way or the other.

Jugyeong was quite possibly living the worst nightmare she'd ever had.

The world was too cruel. Beauty was only on the inside, they said. What a horrible lie.

She had been humiliated beyond measure. All she tried to do was convey her honest feelings to quite possibly the only person who had ever been genuinely kind to her. She would've been fine if Wang Hyunbin had simply rejected her and decided to stay as friends. But for him and Semi to destroy her pride and self-worth like that? Because of how she looked?

She felt her eyes burning with warm tears before they cascaded down her cheeks, the cold wind at the top of the building harshly biting at her skin and rattling her bones.

She shivered.

Cold, it was too cold. What a day to die.

Jugyeong's hands hovered over her phone's screen as she stared at her mother's contact. Would her family even mourn her? Good riddance, they would probably think.

But she had to tell someone, and even if her mother was harsh with her words, she still loved her. She had to tell her the reason why she was about to jump off of a building.

Just as her finger leaned down to press the call button, the door to the rooftop opened, and Jugyeong jumped in shock, turning around to see who had come in.

She did a double-take.

Was God personally consenting to her taking her own life? Because she was pretty sure he had sent down an angel to escort her soul into heaven.

Her glasses had been abandoned on the bench she'd been sitting on from when she had been trying to wipe her tears, so she couldn't really see the person properly, but even with bad eyesight, the stranger looked almost ethereal.

They were dressed in a black dress and heels, as if they had gone to a funeral, or were planning to go to one.

They stopped upon seeing Jugyeong's disheveled self.

Was God finally being kind to her in her final moments?

Mind in a haze and not thinking straight, Jugyeong broke down yet again.

Ahyeong was startled at the girl crying in front of her. She didn't think there was going to be someone else up there other than herself.

When she looked closer at the girl who was sobbing uncontrollably in front of her, she noticed who it was, immediately taking a few steps back on instinct.

Moon Gayoung? Why was she in a school uniform— oh.

You've got to be kidding me.

What luck she had, walking right into the girl this world literally revolved around.

She felt something pulling away at her in the back of her mind, sending warning bells down her spine, saying she wasn't supposed to be there. But why?

Ahyeong's heart almost burst out of her ribcage when Jugyeong threw herself at her, clutching almost painfully at her waist and sobbing into her dress.

She froze at the sudden contact, arms awkwardly hovering over the girl's shoulders.

Jugyeong had probably not recognized her yet, because there was no way she was hugging her future tormentor just like that.

"Th-thank y-y-you for c-coming," the girl said between choked breaths, "F-for being- for being here in my—" she struggled to say the words, "—my final moments."

Ahyeong stilled at that.

By the time her words had registered, she already knew what was happening.

This was the scene from the drama, she remembered, when Jugyeong had tried to kill herself because of the incident at school.

How ironic. Ahyeong almost laughed at her situation, they were here for the same fate for almost the same reason. Both didn't like the world that they lived in.

But for the Song girl, this was a test, really. A theory she came up with in the dead of the night.

The sensation of falling, that knee-jerk reaction, and the feeling of finally waking up from your dream. That was what she was hoping for. She wasn't here to die, she was here to go back to living her own life.

But the girl who clung to her was dead set on ending things, and frankly, that was a dreadful thought.

Ahyeong had no intention of leaving her as she was, be this a fictional world or not, Im Jugyeong was a human being who deserved a lot more than she got.

"Were you going to jump?"

Jugyeong's thoughts came to a halt as the Angel asked a question, the oddly familiar lilt of her voice bringing a strange mix of foreboding and warmth in her gut.

Still shaking, she only nodded against her shoulder.

"Why?"

"Because-" she sniffled, tightening her arms around them, "because everyone hates me," her voice faded at the end, and her wobbly knees gave in, making her sink into the hard floor and dragging the person along with her.

This time, the Angel wrapped her arms around her, rubbing soothing circles into her back.

"Jugyeong, things may seem horrible for you at the moment, and you have every right to be upset over what was said and done, but it is impossible to know answers to such questions when you're so overwhelmed."

The words cut through her haziness, her cries slowly stopping as what they said registered in Jugyeong's mind.

"You don't really want to die, do you?"

It felt weird, being told such things by a stranger.

Maybe deep down she had already known, but her despair had overtaken her senses and disregarded her common sense.

"Why were you really about to call your mother?"

Because she was hoping someone would stop her. To make sure someone really did care about her despite appearances.

The Angel patted her back, and slowly pulled away, only to firmly place their hands on Jugyeong's shoulders.

"Your family's waiting."

She didn't need to be told twice.

Maybe God was kinder than she thought.

It was getting dark now.

The cold evening air nipped at her skin as Ahyeong stood on the edge, heels digging into the concrete as she gazed down below.

What a hypocrite she was, telling all those things to Jugyeong.

She'd sent her home with a taxi after their ordeal, and Jugyeong had not even looked at her once through the whole thing.

She didn't know why.

The road was buzzing with activity, cars zooming past on asphalt, people walking home on the footpaths, vendors selling seasonal goods by the side.

It seemed to be a normal day.

She wondered how the rest of their day would go if her body suddenly flopped down there.

Gooseflesh rose on her arms. All of this was too real.

She slapped herself, the stinging spreading through her numb skin and making her wince in pain.

What was she doing? Was she really about to jump off a building just to test a theory out?

What if it failed? The pain in her cheek would pale in comparison to what would happen should she fall.

And the people waiting for her back home, thinking she was off paying her respects to an old friend. Gilyeong and Eunjung would be destroyed.

Ahyeong stepped back. No, she couldn't do this. She wasn't planning on dying today. Or anytime soon really.

She'd just have to get used to living here—

TURN.

Song Ahyeong stepped closer to the edge of the building, awaiting her doom.

What the fuck!? She didn't want to die, shit, shit, shit—

The LED screen behind her lit up in hues of pink and purple, colorful shadows falling on her dress that did nothing against the frigid wind.

Jung Seyeon's face graced the billboard in the distance, an ode from the people to celebrate the day he was born, and an apology for being the reason he died.

One more step and she would fall. No, no, one more step and she'd fall—

Ahyeong leaned forward closing her eyes for the last time.

NO!

And so, she fell backward.

Wait, backward?

TURN.

Ahyeong barely registered the iron grip on her wrist before it was tugged hard, her stiletto losing its balance and twisting her foot at an unnatural angle.

She widened her eyes as her vision blurred, surroundings moving too fast, and braced herself for the impact on the rough concrete.

It never came.

Instead, she fell on the person who had taken the liberty of pulling her back, and subsequently saving her. Groaning, she raised her head, squinting against the bright light of the advertisement.

"What a relief," Suho breathed out.

The ColorBeauty commercial cast the glow of its neon colors over their faces, and as the faint melody of Seyeon's voice filled the silence in the air, Song Ahyeong knew that somehow, she had fucked up.

masterlist

#true beauty #cha eunwoo #hwang inyeop #moon gayoung #lee suho #han seojun #im jugyeong #kang sujin #extraordinary you #lee suho x reader #lee suho x oc #korean drama #kdrama fanfic #kdrama imagine #kdrama scenarios #webtoon

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mask-of-anubis · 3 years

Note

1 with Nina and Jerome 🙌

This took me so long to get to but here it is! (other asks are coming soon, I promise!)

“Nina asks Jerome to do something ‘no questions asked’ and Jerome fears the worst.”

____________________________________________

Anubis House, 9pm.

As a matter of principle, Jerome liked to stay as far away from Nina Martin and her trail of bad luck as much as possible. He learned that lesson early on, but that didn’t mean he stuck to it. He always seemed to get involved with her Scooby gang eventually, even if he didn’t mean to. They were nothing but trouble, and he had more than enough of his own.

So when his phone rang at 9pm one night and he saw her contact name, he almost chucked his phone under his bed. Against his better judgement though, he answered it.

“Is this a butt dial?” he asked, hoping to quickly communicate that a call at this time of night (when she was right upstairs, mind you) was not welcome.

“I’m cashing in my favor,” she said, cutting right to the chase.

“I’m sorry?” He raised his eyebrows.

“I need you to do something for me ‘no questions asked,’” she said.

Jerome stopped. “Absolutely not...” he started to say, but she cut him off.

“You owe me a ‘no questions asked,’” she said.

“I do not…” Jerome scoffed, but she once again interrupted.

“Valentine’s Day, last year,” she said. “Need I remind you?”

“Okay! Okay, I remember,” he said quickly. Ugh. Why the hell did he ask her of all people to help? He had hoped she would forget and never cash in, but apparently today was the day.

He couldn’t believe he was on the hook for a girl who had even more enemies and sketchy night activities than he did. It was equally likely she would ask him to help her find a nerdy signed book as a present for Fabian as it was that she would ask for help burying a body. He hoped for the former.

There was nothing he could do. A “no questions asked” was binding at Anubis. He was indebted and it was time to cash in.

He sighed. “Fine, what do I need to do?”

“Meet me in the Frobisher Library, 11pm. Bring your noise-cancelling headphones, a headlamp, and a trowel,” Nina said. The second she was done talking, she hung up.

“God dammit…” said Jerome.

____________________________________________

Frobisher Library, 11pm.

“We better not be burying a body, Martin,” said Jerome three hours later when he walked into the library and found her sitting in the dark with a heavy looking satchel over her shoulder.

“I’m surprised you actually came,” said Nina.

“Despite what you might’ve heard, I pay my debts,” he said.

He gestured to his equipment. “What’s all this for then?” he asked.

She shook her head. “I meant what I said: no questions. Let’s go.”

She walked over the bookshelf and pressed the button to make it swing open. Great, Jerome thought. He didn’t know what he expected when she asked him to meet there of all places, but he had hoped going down into the tunnels wasn’t on the agenda.

There was still time to escape. But at what cost? If he ran now, Nina would undoubtedly spill the details of his humiliating Valentine’s “no questions asked.” He really couldn’t live with that. He sucked it up and followed her inside.

____________________________________________

The Tunnels, 11:15pm.

Down in the tunnels, it was worse than Jerome remembered. Granted, the only time he’d ever been down there was when he was running for his life, so he hadn’t taken his time to peruse.

It was also freezing. He rubbed his arms as he trailed behind Nina, wondering how she wasn’t shivering.

It was true what everyone said about her; she really was unphased by stuff like this: subterranean tunnels, deadly tasks, et cetera. She’d changed since last year. She was always a bit of a daredevil, but he remembered her in the history classroom, shaking with fear, tearful at the thought of their teachers tipping the scales.

Now though, she walked past chilling stone rooms haunted by the ghosts of deadly tasks completely steady, jaded even. Speaking of ghosts, from the rumours Jerome heard, Nina spoke to spirits regularly, like it was normal. She kind of terrified him.

He was really scared of whatever she was leading him to. After all, they didn’t have the best track record in their relationship. He’d betrayed her when her life was at stake, not once, but two times. Granted, both times he didn’t know her life was at stake, but it didn’t make it any better really. Plus, Nina notoriously held grudges. He just hoped she wasn’t leading him to his doom.

“Okay, here it is,” she said finally.

She stopped in front of a dusty trap door. It looked like an ancient air vent. Jerome looked around; this couldn’t be what she meant.

She opened the hatch door and crouched down. Jerome peaked inside. It was pitch dark. He switched on the headlamp and shined it inside.

“Oh god…” he said. Behind the door was a long, dark, dusty tunnel that, for all he knew, led straight to the depths of hell. In the quiet between each of their breaths, he could hear a distant, dull roar coming from inside.

Nina tied her hair up into a ponytail. “Okay, I need the stuff you brought,” she said, holding out her hand. She strapped the headlamp to her forehead, tucked the trowel into her back pocket, and put the headphones around her neck.

“If you hear me screaming, don’t panic,” she said – easily the most alarming thing anyone had ever said to him. “I won’t really be in danger. The only time you’re allowed to come in and help me, is if you see the walls collapsing.”

“I’m sorry, what?” Jerome said. “This is insane! What the hell are you doing in there?”

“You’re on a strictly need-to-know basis,” Nina said. He dropped it. He knew no amount of questioning would make her budge.

He also knew something else: if he left right now and refused to help, she would 100% do whatever it is she’s doing on her own. That was how they were the same; they were both stubborn, sometimes to the point of self-destruction. The least he could do was stay there and make sure she didn’t self-destruct.

“Fine,” he said. He had so many bad feelings about this — about why they were here in the dead of night, about why she asked him of all people, about what was in that tunnel, and about what the hell she had in that satchel.

As she steeled herself to enter, he got his answer to the last question. The flap of her bag shifted and Jerome spotted an unmistakable flash of gold. The Cup of Ankh.

His eyes went wide. Before he could say anything, she put on the headphones and disappeared into the tunnel.

____________________________________________

The Tunnels, 11:30pm.

It was agonizing waiting for Nina to reappear. He only brought one headlamp, so he sat in the dark of the tunnels, listening to the wind pass through and rustle the dead ivy twigs and leaves on the ground.

He didn’t hear anything in the tunnel once Nina entered. He watched her crawl in, the headlamp casting eerie, moving shadows on the dirt of the cave. But eventually, Nina and her light disappeared.

His ears had never been more peeled as he listened for any sign of struggle or danger. He had no idea what she meant when she said he might hear her scream. Did she mean in pain? In fear? It didn’t even matter because she told him to stay put anyway. He didn’t know if he could do that.

For now, he listened for signs of rubble falling. What would he do if it collapsed? If she was buried alive? He shuddered. Being buried alive sounded almost as bad as his worst fear. Almost.

Thinking about it made his skin crawl. He got up to pace and walk it off.

He looked to his left and saw a long stone beam stretched over a dark pit. Light streamed in from the moon through a grate in the ceiling. He peered into the pit, but it descended into darkness. He kicked a pebble into it. He didn’t hear a sound until nearly a minute later.

“What the hell is this place?” Jerome whispered. Not only was it architecturally impossible, but it was also clearly full of horrors and death traps. No wonder the Scooby gang wasn’t afraid of his ghost stories anymore.

He kicked another rock into the pit, but while he was waiting for the drop, he heard a noise from in the tunnel. It was a distant whimper — Nina. He paused, listening for another noise.

“Ahhhh!!” Nina shrieked.

Jerome ran to the tunnel. “Nina?” he shouted. “Hello!” She didn’t answer. She didn’t scream again.

He knew what she told him. Stay there, don’t react, it’s fine. He knew something else though: she was stupidly reckless. His heart was pounding. For all he knew, she could be dying in there, all alone, and he was doing nothing.

It was normally his M.O. to stand by, let other people deal with their problems while he dealt with his. He did that all year. He saw his friends sneaking out at night, jumping at the slightest noise, clutching burning brand marks, turning pale at the dinner table — and he ignored it. Not this time.

He pushed up his sleeves, steeled himself, and crawled into the darkness.

He couldn’t see anything at all, it was totally dark, but he crawled forward. “Nina!” he called. “I’m coming to find you. And this is the worst ‘no questions asked’ ever!”

She didn’t respond. He listened hard, but he couldn’t hear her screaming. He couldn’t even hear her telling him off for coming in. Instead, he heard dripping. He crawled forward.

Drip. Drip. Drip. He followed the noise. It was all he had to go off of. He still couldn’t see Nina or her headlamp.

The drip sped up to a steady stream. He heard a babble, like the sound of a tiny stream. Where the hell is water coming from, he thought.

“Nina?” he shouted. “What the hell!” Jerome’s hand sunk into a puddle. When he pulled it out, it was covered in slippery mud. He wished he could see. He kept crawling against his better judgment, but then he felt it: water rising.

All around him, he felt freezing water seep out of the ground. A moment later, he felt a drip from above. “What…” He stopped in his tracks. The water was rising. Panic set in.

He was petrified. He didn’t know whether to turn around or find Nina. The water started to pour in heavy streams from the top of the tunnel. It soaked his hair and his clothes. It was freezing cold.

“Nina!” he shouted desperately. Please let this be a dream, he thought. “Nina!”

He pushed his hair out of his eyes but it did nothing because he couldn’t even see. His pulse pounded in his ears. He remembered when this fear started — the day at the beach, his first time at the coast. He nearly died. Alone. This time he wouldn’t be lucky enough to catch the current to shore.

He spit out water and coughed. He sat back onto his heels. The water was at his waist. “Nina!!”

Then he heard her, her voice like a dual-edged sword: sharp on one side and terrified on the other. “Jerome! What are you doing? I told you to stay —” She was cut off by a rush of water from the ceiling. It splashed into their faces.

He couldn’t see her at all, but when the water drained from his ears, he could hear her choke and cough.

“We have to get out!” she yelled. Another rush of water descended on them. Jerome tilted his chin toward the ceiling. He couldn’t stand to put his face underwater. It terrified him.

A horrible rumble moved through the tunnel. All of a sudden, Nina’s headlamp glitched back to life. She was right beside him, soaking wet and squinting in the light. The water was murky brown and nearly a meter deep. Jerome was petrified.

Nina, however, shouted, “Let’s go!” She started paddling toward the entrance. Jerome couldn’t. He couldn’t do it.

“Wait!” he shouted, but before he could do anything, he heard the rumble again and a huge wave of water descended on him from the back of the cave.

It was so powerful that it pushed him and Nina back. He knocked into the walls of the cave and flipped onto his back as the wave shoved him. He was completely disoriented, flipping back and forth, hitting the floor, suffocating from the lack of oxygen, until finally the wave dumped them out in a heap onto the cold concrete floor of the tunnels. Water flooded out in waves behind them.

Jerome kneeled on the ground, choking and gasping. His heart pounded. His skin was frozen.

“What the hell?” he shouted when he caught his breath. His vocal cords were wrecked.

He looked up at Nina. She kneeled in a heap on the ground, coughing up water. “I’m sorry,” she exclaimed. “You weren’t supposed to go in there,” she said.

Jerome laid down on the cold floor. He heard the roar of crashing waves, all in his memories.

____________________________________________

The Grounds, 11:50pm.

They walked back to Anubis in silence. With every step, their shoes squeaked and squelched with water. Jerome was freezing. He looked over at Nina; she was shaking. It reminded him of that night in the history classroom. He noticed her satchel was now empty.

“Answers, now,” Jerome said.

Nina sighed, but she didn’t argue. “I had to bury something down there,” she said.

“The Cup,” he said. Nina stared at him. “I saw it in your bag.” He didn’t ask how it survived the furnace.

“Then you can understand why it needed to be hidden somewhere no one would ever go looking for it,” she said. “The tunnel was part of the tasks. It shows you your worst fear.”

“No kidding,” Jerome scoffed. He looked at her, but she stared off into the distance. He couldn’t help it; he wondered what the hell she saw in there. He didn’t ask.

“I asked you to come because no one in Sibuna would have let me do what I just did.”

“For once I agree with them,” he said.

“Well, I had it handled,” she said. “I’d done it before, so I knew what I was getting into.”

“Yeah, until we almost drowned,” he stressed. Just saying the word struck fear in his heart. His skin froze all over again.

“That’s why I said to stay where you were,” she said. “I never wanted you to get mixed up in that.” She ran a hand through her soaked hair and sighed. “I’m sorry I got you into that mess.”

Jerome nodded, his version of accepting an apology.

Nina half-grinned. “Trust me, I really thought you’d be the one person on earth who would actually mind your business when I told you to,” she joked.

He cracked a smile. “Trust me, normally I would have.” But when he thought about it, he’d stuck his neck out for her kind of a lot. He realized with a shock that she had done the same for him, and she probably would again if given the choice.

“Well, Martin, after tonight I believe you owe me at least three ‘no questions asked,’” he said. She probably owed him a couple hundred actually, but he was feeling generous.

She sighed. “That’s fair,” she said.

They reached Anubis finally. They ditched their soaking shoes and socks outside and snuck in the house. Jerome shuffled off to his room, eager to rid himself of his soaking clothes and the memory of this night forever, but Nina stopped him.

“Jerome,” she whispered. He squinted at her through the darkness. “Thanks.”

“You live a weird life, Martin,” he said, his way of saying “you’re welcome.” She was the most reckless person he has ever met, but he had to admit, she had guts.

That was how Jerome learned to never request a favor from Nina Martin ever again, no matter how many embarrassing things he did on Valentine’s Day.

____________________________________________

Valentine’s Day, 2011 (one year ago).

Nina knocked on Mara and Patricia’s bedroom door, staring at the text she got from Jerome.

A second later, Jerome opened the door and stepped outside, looking panicked.

“What the hell is a ‘no questions asked?’” she asked.

“No questions!” he whisper-shouted. He grabbed her wrist and tugged her into the room.

The room was covered in pink frills, plush stuffed animals, glitter, and red hearts. A string quartet sat on Patricia’s bed. When they saw Nina, they readied their instruments and started to play.

“NO!” Jerome shouted, more desperate than angry. “It’s not her.” He turned to Nina, “Help me get rid of it!” he pleaded.

Nina’s jaw was on the floor. “What the…”

“No. Questions. Asked,” Jerome hissed.

#lol sorry for the angst in there #that always happens #i wasnt sure i wanted jerome to go in the tunnel but i really wanted to explore my hc for his phobia #sorry to this man #he should know better than to get mixed up with nina #especially after 10pm #those are her feral hours #jerome clarke #nina martin #house of anubis #hoa ask #thanks for the ask!#hoa fanfic

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joachimnapoleon · 3 years

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I'm reading a preview of Charles-Eloi Vial's "Histoire des Cent-Jours" on Amazon, in which the author mentions that when Napoleon was on Elba, he reconciled with Murat. Do you know anything about this matter?

The subject of the reconciliation between Napoleon and Murat is one of those things about which I still have as many questions as answers.

Correspondence between the two during Napoleon’s exile on Elba is borderline nonexistent; I haven’t come across any letters from Murat to Napoleon from this time, so unless there’s something locked away in the private Archives Murat in the French National Archives, it probably no longer exists.

But, there was certainly some correspondence between them. There’s really no way to know how much, but Napoleon’s Correspondance Générale contains letters to Murat during the Elban exile and also references to other letters between them made by Napoleon to Bertrand. I was surprised to learn recently--thanks to @josefavomjaaga for sending it to me from her volume of the Correspondance--that Napoleon actually wrote to both Murat and Caroline shortly after his arrival on Elba. Both letters are dated 11 May 1814; Napoleon informs both of them of his having just arrived on Elba. He tells them both of Pauline’s impending arrival and asks for Caroline to send him news through someone she trusts.

Pauline arrives on Elba, and then leaves for Naples almost immediately after; I don’t think she’s on Elba for more than a couple days before she departs for Naples. She remains in Naples for months before her return to Elba, and it’s generally believed that she served as the go-between to effect the “reconciliation” between Murat and Napoleon. It’s assumed she was sending letters back and forth between the two. How many letters? What were the contents? There’s really no way to know. Napoleon references one specific letter from Murat, in September 1814, while writing to Bertrand on 9 September:

I have received a very tender letter from the king of Naples; he claims to have written to me several times but I doubt it, it seems that the affairs of France and Italy set his head straight and make him affectionate.

There’s nothing else until the eve of Napoleon’s departure from Elba. He fires off two letters to Murat on 17 February 1815 to let him know he’s sending him a man by the name of Colonna “in order to communicate to you some important and urgent matters,” no doubt about Napoleon’s upcoming return to France. Colonna, he tells Murat, “is authorized to sign every convention Your Majesty may desire with regards to our affairs…. Your Majesty must in particular trust in everything he tells you about my attachment and the high consideration with which I remain.” The second letter from the same day thanks Murat “for what you have done for the countess Walewska,” reiterates that Colonna is coming and “will tell you some big and important things. I’m counting on you and most importantly on utmost speed. Time is pressing. My love to the queen and to your children.” An undated, ciphered letter from Portoferraio, believed to be written between 22-26 February, tells Murat that he’s just waiting for favorable conditions to make his escape: “The winds have been increasing for the last three days and have forced the English warship to move somewhat away from our shores. But it can return any moment and my brick is not capable of competing with it. If I had one of your vessels, I would leave in broad daylight and I would sink anything that stood in my way.” Murat actually does end up sending a vessel, but by the time it gets to Elba, Napoleon has already left.

So, there probably was more correspondence between them, either written or verbal--but there’s just no record of it.

It’s important to point out that Murat’s “allies” (particularly the British) were looking for any excuse they could find during this period to justify turning on and dethroning him. Proof of a correspondence with Napoleon would’ve given them all the ammunition they needed. This is where it gets interesting. Napoleon will claim later on Saint Helena that the allies “doctored” Murat’s papers (to prove there was a correspondence between the two during the Elban exile). And there is an interesting excerpt from the memoirs of Dedem, who claims that the Congress of Vienna received, via the French Bourbons, copies of letters between Murat and Napoleon, left by a careless person close to Murat. I’m assuming that this individual (whom Dedem leaves unnamed save his first initial) is M. de Baudus, former tutor of the Murat children, sent by Napoleon to Toulon as an intermediary after Murat’s defeat at Tolentino; Baudus was to inform Murat that Napoleon would not receive him in Paris, that he was to stay put for the time being under a sort of house arrest while events played themselves out (Napoleon was on the way to Waterloo), and that Napoleon blamed Murat for having “ruined” France in 1814 and having “compromised her and ruined himself” in 1815. Anyway, here is the excerpt from Dedem:

The Tuileries cabinet had sent copies of his correspondence with Napoleon, and it was on these certified copies that Joachim was tried and condemned. Well, thanks to the thoughtlessness of the Count de B… who forgot (in following the King to Ghent) all his correspondence in an armoire at the chateau, we now know that all these letters had been truncated. Napoleon found the originals with the minutes of the copies drawn up in a way which served to lose Joachim; all the copies were in the hand of M. de B… attached by pins to the letters of the King of Naples.

Dedem includes the following footnote at the end of this paragraph:

It is from a man very worthy of trust, whom Napoleon had recalled to him in his cabinet during the Hundred Days and who neither loved nor complained of Joachim, that I have these details. He assured me that he had seen and re-read the letters several times.

So the Bourbons either found enough damning correspondence between Murat and Napoleon--or altered it enough to make it look damning--and sent it on to the Congress of Vienna so they could justify removing Murat from his throne once and for all.

Now, as to the matter of how sincere the “reconciliation” between Murat and Napoleon was… that’s another story. Louise Murat’s take is that the reconciliation was more sincere on her father’s part than on Napoleon’s:

So it was not long before the reconciliation took place and, if we can affirm that, for his part, it was as complete as possible, I do not know if… we will be able to affirm likewise that all traces of the past were also erased from the Emperor’s mind.

This subject bears some remarking on the relationship between the two men in general. There was a lot of bad blood between them by the time of Napoleon’s first exile, going back years before Murat’s treaty with Austria in 1814. Murat had felt ill-used and mistreated by Napoleon since at least 1809, things had gotten downright ugly between them in 1811, and in the aftermath of the 1812 campaign Murat was increasingly resentful of Napoleon’s treatment of him. Napoleon, for his part, had been incapable of trusting Murat since being informed, in 1809, of a scheme between Fouché and Talleyrand to have Murat succeed him in the event that Napoleon died without a legitimate male heir; much of his conduct towards Murat from that time forward comes across as deliberately spiteful and intentionally humiliating. Murat was vain and proud and it took him a long time to get over these kinds of slights and embarrassments. But, he was also capable of forgiving people he believed had wronged him--for example, Murat had restored Lavauguyon to his service years later after having suspected him of having an affair with Caroline in 1811. And I personally believe he retained a certain amount of affection for Napoleon even in spite of their nearly constant quarrels, and kept hoping to find some way to regain Napoleon’s affections, which he felt he had lost without ever quite understanding why; he concludes a letter to Napoleon in 1810 with “Love me as in Poland, as in Prussia, and I will love life again.” He didn’t enter into his decision to leave Napoleon in 1814 easily, and from everything I’ve seen it seems to have been extremely agonizing for him, and the news that the Allies had driven Napoleon from his throne and into exile in 1814 devastated both Murat and Caroline.

All of that being said, there was still some amount of self-interest in Murat’s attempting to aid Napoleon in 1815, and also in his striking out against the Austrians shortly after Napoleon reached France. Caroline believed that Napoleon would eventually drive them from the throne of Naples if he managed to keep his own, and Murat himself very likely saw the reason in this, and hoped he might safeguard himself by claiming all of Italy.

For Napoleon’s part, I tend to think Louise Murat was probably right; I think he saw Murat, being the only member of his family still on a throne, as a useful tool for his own eventual restoration. There’s a footnote in Bertrand’s Saint Helena cahiers basically saying that Napoleon never gave any indication of having genuinely forgiven Murat for 1814, and I personally think that’s probably the case. In mid-April of 1815--not even a week after sending Murat a letter from Paris, assuring Murat “You can count on my attachment,” Napoleon sends a note to his Minister of Foreign Affairs ordering a report on Murat’s conduct in 1814. My guess is, if Napoleon had triumphed at Waterloo and secured his throne, Murat still would’ve found himself in a world of hurt eventually. Murat seems to have anticipated this himself; in June 1815--actually the day after Waterloo, about which he was still oblivious--he is writing once more to Napoleon--the last letter he will ever write him--basically offering himself up on a silver platter:

I have nothing more to ask of Your Majesty, he can pronounce my fate unsparingly; your wishes, whatever they may be, will be carried out. Glad to be lost for you, no complaints will be heard from my mouth, but you can dispense with sending me in the future what they want to call consolations by people named as my friends; may your ministers make positively known to me the place of my exile; I will go there without a murmur.

#Joachim Murat #Napoleon #Napoleon Bonaparte #Caroline Murat #Caroline Bonaparte #Pauline Bonaparte #Louise Murat #1814 #1815 #asks

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darkmulti · 4 years

Text

My Little Dolly

BTS

Parings: Sadist!Taehyung x brat!female reader

Genre: Smut, angst

Word Count: 4K

CONTAINS DARK THEMES!

PLEASE READ AT YOUR OWN RISK!

———

Summary: Taehyung is known as the ‘new, weird kid’ that hangs out in the basement bathroom. He is also the main target for this one girl. As he was cleaning the blood off his face, he finds a doll on the bathroom floor, and keeps it, only to figure out that there is much more to this doll.

~Hope you enjoy~

———

A/N note: Some people are triggered by warnings, therefore I will put the warnings after the under cut.

Warnings: Non consensual sex, humiliation, degradation, choking, blowjob, pet play, forced ddlg relationship, dacryphilia, physical abuse, breeding kink, ‘unprotected sex’ (wrap it up!), overstimulation, bondage, fear kink, anal, blood, masochism, cum eating, cum play, fingering, fisting

Shit. I really be exposing all my kinks in here.. whoops

——————————————————————————

It’s all fun and games until someone gets hurt.

Physically, mentally and emotionally. She brushed it off because it was ‘funny’ to others. Of course, she had no idea how it felt like, being humiliated over and over.

You can speak up for yourself, but then be known as the triggered outsider. But when you don’t speak up, they’ll step all over you, as if you’re not human. This is how Kim Taehyung felt. He often got bullied into doing other people’s homework or being the punching bag for insecure students. All because of one bitch who goes by the name, Y/N.

The ‘Princess’ of the school, who never gets in trouble for her insensitive decisions. She made Taehyung’s life a living hell. Why? You may ask. Taehyung's family recently moved in next door. The family that used to live there before them, was Y/N’s now ex boyfriend. They still would’ve been a couple, if he was still next door. Unfortunately he had to move away.

Listen, I know what you’re thinking. This is not Taehyung’s fault at all. Not even by the slightest. This is why Taehyung was confused as well. He tried to apologize (even though he didn’t do anything) but her being an egocentric person, she didn’t take his words to mind.

Now this whole backstory leads up to the current situation. The young man was preparing for his next class until the narcissistic girl showed up beside him. To his ‘luck’ they were also locker neighbors. Taehyung kept his head low and pretended to not notice her, until she spoke. “Babe, did you do my homework?” The young male scoffs, “why should I do your homework?”

“Clearly you don’t know how things go around here. But it’s okay since you’re new. Let me explain again. My father owns the school, and my boyfriend is the captain of the football team. Sweetie put two and two together.” She looks in her locker mirror and applies her lip gloss. “I’m not doing your homework. Do it yourself.”

Taehyung quickly packed his books, hoping to get out of there. “Not so fast lover boy.” Y/N pulls Taehyung onto her and kisses him. She palms the boy then pulls away. “What’s wrong with you, you sick fuck!” Y/N pushes Taehyung back and starts to aggressively wipe her lips. Her eyes scan the hallway and she sees her boyfriend around the corner. “Daddy!” She yells, unembarrassed. The girl runs into her boyfriend's arms and starts to cry on his shoulder. “Daddy! He forcefully kissed me!”

Tae grabs his books and sprints to the boys washroom in the basement. Y/N’s boyfriend followed close behind, with her still in his embrace. Taehyung wasn’t fast enough and the rest of the football team had already pulled him back before he could enter a stall. “Where are you running, TaeTae?”

The captain lets go of Y/N and punches Taehyung’s jaw. He shoves him to the ground and gets on top of him, repeatedly punching him. “WHY WERE YOU ON MY GIRL, TAEHYUNG?!” He grabs Taehyung’s collar and shakes him. “Okay daddy, that’s enough.” Y/N was startled by her boyfriend's sudden behaviour. She grabs his arm and pulls for him to let go. “Come on daddy, he’s not worth your time.” He complies and gets up. “I’m warning you Taehyung. If you look at her, I’ll snap your neck.” He kicks the man’s hip one more time before throwing his girlfriend over his shoulder and spanking her ass.

The gang leaves the male, bleeding on the floor. Taehyung rolls over to his side and chuckles at the blood. He had lost so much blood within these past few days, it was concerning. He weakly gets up and drags himself to the sink to clean up. He looks into the mirror and notices a light brown cloth laying on one of the stalls floor. He turns around and walks closer. With his left foot he kicks it over. “What the fuck?”

It was a stuffed doll with a loose button eye as well as some rips scattered all over. Taehyung picks the doll up and inspects it. It had a heart on its tummy and a snake coming up its right leg. Taehyung smiles at the doll, slightly being turned on by it. “Look at this little doll.” The doll was mesmerizing. Taehyung was completely compelled. He takes the doll and puts it in his backpack.

Meanwhile, upstairs, in class, Y/N sat on her boyfriend's lap while making out with him. Her short skirt allowed the man to spank her ass in the make out, but it only made her grind harder on him. “Daddy” she moans in his ear. “Please take me.”

“Y/N! Pay attention young lady! We’re in school!” Y/N groans and gets off her boyfriend's lap. “Sorry! It’s not my problem that you haven’t gotten laid in the last ten years of your life.” She rudely barks at her teacher. “Look, Y/N. You’re daddy might own the school, but it doesn’t mean you rule the world.”

“Be careful with that mouth. I have the power to get your ass fired within the next week.” She sticks her tongues and crosses her arms. “Y/N! OUT OF MY CLASS.” The teacher points a whiteboard marker at her and kicks her out. “Jeez I’m going.” She storms out but then peeps her head in one more time to say, “Daddy, text me!”

The teacher slams the door and she waits in the hallway. She starts walking back to her locker, only to be met with Taehyung once again. “Wow, look who’s back. Now you know not to mess with me.” Taehyung didn’t acknowledge the girl, instead kept a sly grin. “Hello! I’m talking to you.” The girl taps on his shoulder, and Taehyung looks at her. “Don’t touch me you filthy doll.”

“Filthy?” She asked, shocked.

“Oh sorry, I mean slutty.” Taehyung casually puts his books back into his locker, then puts the empty backpack on. The girl furrowed her eyebrows and huffs, “I’m not slutty!”

“Oh really?” Cautiously, he took out his phone and hit record. He then slid the phone back into his pocket and had the camera angled where you can see her signature skirt. “You really don’t think that you’re a slut?”

“Nuh uh!”

Taehyung quickly slammed her against the locker and picked her up. He tore her legs apart and started grinding his bulge on her bare cunt. Y/N moans and throws her head back. She placed her hands on his shoulders and started grinding even harder, loving the feeling. “See dolly..” he drops her back to her feet and moves away, “you were ready to take my cock.” He moves closer to her again and slides his fingers up her skirt. “You’re such a bad girl. Do you ever wear panties to school?” He slips four fingers into her, making her gasp and cover her mouth. “P-please!” Taehyung wrapped one arm around her waist and brought her closer to him. His fingers went a little faster into her while whispering, “where you running doll? I know you’re enjoying this. Don’t hide from me.”

“S-stop! This is wrong!” She stutters, but found herself loving every second. “Stop? You want me to stop?” Taehyung curls his fingers in her causing her to cry. “Fuck! I’m gonna cum!” The male chuckles and lets his thumb rub her clit. “Cum for me dolly.”

Y/N gasps as she releases on his fingers. She wraps her arms around Taehyung's neck and moans into his shoulder. He takes his finger out and strikes her to the floor. “Dirty, slutty doll. Cumming for another man? Where’s your loyalty?” He growled at her.

She stayed on the ground and cried. He was right. She betrayed her boyfriend just like that. “Stay away from me! You rapist!”

“I’m a rapist now? You never told me to stop..” Taehyung walks closer to the girl, causing her to scoot back. “You will regret what you did today dolly..” he whips out his phone and shows her the video. “Do you want me to show this to both of your daddies?” She shakes her side to side and puts her hands together. “Please, don’t!” The loverboy smiles at the sight. “Good doll.” Taehyung walks toward the girl and deliberately steps on her finger.

She quietly squeals and brings her fingers to her chest, while her other hand tries to massage it. Taehyung turns back and looks at her, “see you at home, dolly”

The man walks back to his house, which wasn’t too far from the school. He greeted his mother with a kiss on the cheek and immediately went upstairs, to his room. He places his bag on the chair and takes the doll out of the bag. “What has this little doll done with me?” Though he was confused, this doll made him feel powerful. He absolutely loved the feeling. He throws the doll onto his bed and heads to his bathroom to take a shower.

Y/N weeps her way home and doesn’t get greeted by anyone. Her parents were always busy, which is why they spoiled her. She might get a lot of attention at school, but all she truly wished for was for her parents to spoil her with love and attention. She runs up to her room and plops onto her bed, face first. She cries her little heart out and turns her head towards the window. Unexpectedly she sees Taehyung with a towel wrapped around his waist and his hair dripping wet.

She quickly sits up and wipes away her tears. Her eyes pick up the doll laying on his bed. The doll was giving off this… energy. It was unexplainable. She had this feeling that she needed that doll. Without noticing, she starts staring at it. Even Taehyung had noticed and opened his window, “dolly, it’s rude to stare at someone when they’re getting dressed.” Y/N doesn’t notice Taehyung. The doll's energy was so fascinating, she couldn’t keep her eyes off of it.

At this point Taehyung followed her eyes, and landed right on the doll. He reaches for the doll and picks it up by the neck. He looks back at Y/N to see if this was what she was looking at. But when he did, he witnessed her holding onto her throat and banging on the window. His eyebrow raised and he decided to put his theory to the test. He pinned the doll against the window and slapped it. He looks over at her again and sure enough she was historically crying. He stops and puts the doll down.

He closes his curtains and sits down at his desk. His hands pull open a drawer full of miscellaneous items. He digs around and finally finds a ball of yarn. He starts cutting them up and adding it to the dolls head, giving her hair. The entire night he put together a doll that reminded him of Y/N.

The girl hid under her covers, shaking from fear. She couldn’t sleep the whole night. Something inside her was tearing her heart. Y/N manages to catch three hours of sleep but soon wakes up. She wore a short, pink dress and light makeup. The princess didn’t want anyone to suspect that something was going on. She arrives at school and avoids Kim Taehyung at all cost. Soon the coast was clear and she quickly went to her locker, opening it up as fast as she could. But not fast enough.

Taehyung pulls her back by her backpack and shoves her to the floor. “P..please” she said under her breath. Her eyes examine his outfit. He was wearing all black, which was appealing for her doll eyes. Taehyung stands over her, marking his dominance. “Come with me dolly.” She frantically shakes her head no one backs away from him even more. “Now dolly, you don’t want me to release that video… and” Taehyung pulls the doll out and pulls its hair. Y/N hisses as she feels her hair being pulled too. “You don’t want me to pull off this hair now, do you?”

“N-n-no.”

“Then you shall follow my orders like a good doll.”

Her head lowers, but she does nod in agreement. She was about to get up, but Tae kicked her back to the floor. “From now on, you will crawl. No more walking, kitten.” She shivers and follows Taehyung to the basement on all fours. He leads her to the bathroom and tells her, “pick a stall.” She crawls into the first one and waits for him. “W-what’re you going to d-do to me?”

“I’m gonna make you feel good.” He enters into the stall and locks the door. “Strip for me doll.” Taehyung stares deep into her vulnerable eyes, but she suddenly screams out, “NO!”

“Very well then. Let me see if this works.” The doll makes another appearance but this time Taehyung started ripping the clothes off the doll. Y/N’s dress rips in half frightening her even more. “T-Taehyung, s-stop!” She sobs out. “You should’ve listened to me before.” He slaps the doll, and shoved his finger into a little rip he made in the doll's crotch. The girl screams, terrified and oblivious to what’s going on. “Throw that doll away! It’s hurting me! Please!” Taehyung takes his finger out and throws the doll to the ground. “I’m sure it’s hurting you dolly.” His hand yanks her up, off the floor and he pushes her cheeks against the dirty wall.

Without warning, he shoves his fat, long, veiny, cock into her dry, tight asshole, causing her to wail. Taehyung holds her throat and demands her to shut up. He takes her arms and locks them behind her back and starts pounding inside of her. He spits on his cock to add more lub because it took a lot of energy to move. He spreads her ass cheeks wide and shoved his whole cock into her. “Good dolly. Cry for me. Or beg me to stop.” He grunts and adds more pressure on her neck. “D-daddy, p..please stop! You’re hurting dolly!” Tears stream down her face, followed by broken sobs. “Dolly, dolly, dolly, am I your daddy now?” He asked. “Yes.. you’re my daddy.”

Taehyung takes his cock out and spanks her ass, “knees dolly.” She falls onto her knees and instantly gets a dick shoved down her throat. Taehyung face fucked the girl, who was screaming and begging for mercy around his cock. He takes his cock out, and right away the girl coughs up all the spit. “Clearly you don’t know my rules. Let me explain since you’re new.” Taehyung mocks the girl then grabs her hair and jawline, forcing her to look up. “WHEN I GIVE YOU SOMETHING, YOU TAKE IT LIKE A GOOD..” He slaps the girl then continues, “FUCKING DOLL!”

Y/N sobs louder and louder, hoping for someone to find her. The man gets out of the bathroom stall and uses her hair as a leash. He drags her to his car and drives back to his house. His parents were working, so they had the house to themselves. Tae leads her to his bedroom and tells her to lay on the bed. “N..no. I’m not gon-” Taehyung rolls his eyes and forces her onto the bed. He got on top of her and placed his knees on her arms so she couldn’t move. He cuffs her hands to the bed frame, then takes two of his belts, ties them to the bed legs, then ties them around her legs to keep them open. The girl shakes more aggressively and squirms around more. “TAEHYUNG STOP IT!” She yells out, finally finding her voice. Taehyung heads over to his closet and takes out a tie. He walks back to her and ties it around her mouth.

“No talking, no moaning, no yelling, no touching, no crying and no moving. You are now under my control. I tell you what to do and you do it. You’re nothing but a slutty doll, and I have to train you the right way.” He gives her a list of rules and a slap on her face. He strips himself then hovers over her. He stood on his knees with his cock standing proud. The boy holds her legs up to his waist and rams into her cunt. Y/N screams into the tie and pulls on the handcuff. “PLEASE YOU CAN’T DO THIS TO ME! I’M GONNA GET PREGNANT!” She pulls harder on the cuffs and tries to kick Taehyung off her by putting her feet on his chest and pushing. “THAT’S IT! I FUCKING HAD IT WITH YOU, FUCKING BRAT!” Taehyung flips her over and fists her cunt. “STOP IT! STOP IT! I’LL BE A GOOD DOLL, BUT PLEASE STOP, IT HURTS SO BAD!” She screams and cries at the agonizing pain. Taehyung stuffs her face into a pillow and slams his cock into her, fucking all the pain and anger that welled up in him, because of her. “Scream and cry all you want doll, you’ll never understand the pain you put me through.” His balls slapped against her pussy, creating a loud clap.

His cock reached her stomach, causing her to cry with every thrust he gave her. Taehyung spanked her ass over and over, wanting to hear her cry louder. He plays with her burning clit, while keeping his thrust short, but hard. “Am I hurting you doll?”

“YES! Please stop!” She desperately shouted.

“Broke my rule.” Taehyung pushes her face deeper into the pillow and slaps her ass. “When I give you something, you take it like a good doll!” He gives her another rough slap. “Fuck! You’re gonna have my baby! I’m gonna fuck my baby in you doll! We’re gonna get married, you’re gonna have my kids, and we’ll be this happy family.”

“NOO! I’M TOO YOUNG, PLEASE!”

“NO IS NOT AN ANSWER!”

Taehyung strikes her back then ass.

“AHH! PLEASE STOP HITTING ME!” She bawls. Her pussy uncontrollably clenches and throbs around his cock, indicating that she was about to cum. Taehyung’s cock pulses in her and he gives her one more full, hard thrust, followed by a spank, causing both of them to cum. She violently trembled underneath him, crying harder into the pillow.

“Y-you.. c-cummed in m-me.” She slowly lifts her face from the pillow and Taehyung could see the tears falling down onto it. “You deserve it, doll face. Don’t bully people fucking whore.”

“YOU PROBABLY GOT ME PREGNANT AND THIS IS WHAT YOU’RE LECTURING ME ABOUT?!” She tugs on the handcuffs and cries harder. “Stop fucking around Y/N, I see you taking birth control everyday.” Y/N’s eyes widen. Shit! He knew!

“Those aren’t birth control pills.”

“Then what are they dolly?”

“They’re… um..” She couldn’t answer and Taehyung automatically knew she was trying to guilt trip him. “Lying to daddy already?!” He takes the handcuffs off and shoves her to the nearest wall. Y/N couldn’t feel her legs so she fell, until the man came behind her, wrapped his veiny arm around her throat, then pushed his cock back in.

“You’re not getting away with this doll.”

He tightly holds her neck, restricting her to breathe properly. His other hand squeezes her stomach, so that she can feel the enormous cock ruining her insides. All she could do was cry. She couldn’t call for help because no one was here. She couldn’t tell him to stop, or he’ll get more irritated. So she stood there, letting him use her like a ragdoll.

Taehyung took her hands behind her back and kept jolting his hips upwards, directly hitting her gspot. “Daddy- I’m close!” She whispers.

“Hold on dolly, I’m close to.” He grunts one more time before cumming into her pussy again. Cum leaks down her thigh, to the floor, creating a little puddle. Taehyung pulls out and scopes up the cum in his hand. “Get on all fours.” Y/N slowly gets down and looks up at her daddy. Her daddy then squats down and says, “Here’s your milk kitten.” He brings his hand up to her face and she dips her tongue in the cum, drinking it like a cat.

“Good doll.” He takes the remaining cum and spills some in her hair, and face. “Look at you, covered in daddy’s cum.”

Taehyung picks her up and lays her in his bed. He lays right next to her and pulls her onto his chest. The two fall asleep instantly, and wake up the next morning.

“T-Taehyung” the girl sits up and pokes the man. “We’re gonna be late for school.”

“Shhh, we’ll take our time.” Lover boy throws his arm over her and pulls her back into his embrace. Taehyung grabs his cock and pushes it into her, while half asleep. The girl whimpers and tries her best to get away. “Taehyung- we have to go to school!”

“How many times do I-” Taehyung slaps the girl and thrust into her again, this time going fast and rough into her. He shoves two fingers along with his cock into her pussy, trying to get her to shut up. “WHEN I FUCKING SAY SOMETHING, I DON’T SAY IT FOR FUN!” The girl cums three times after Tae hit her g spot sixteen consecutive times.

She lays back, hopeless and tired. His cock kept going and she did nothing about it until he finally came in her. “I made you cum 5 times this morning. Don’t fucking test me, dolly.”

She nods her head up and down, then wipes away her tears. “I-I’m s-so sorry” she chokes out.

Taehyung gets up and grabs an oversized shirt. “Here’s your outfit” he whips it at her, afterwards locking himself in the bathroom. They both get ready, but the only problem was, half of Y/N’s ass was showing. Taehyung reassured her at home, but once they pulled into the school’s parking lot, Taehyung put a collar and leash on her. He forced her to crawl on the ground around school, and unexpectedly slammed a buttplug tail into her. Everyone had mixed reactions. Most of them were shocked, but some were laughing and taking pictures.

Taehyung wasn’t helping the girl out either. In class he made her suck him off, then rub the cum all over her face and hair. At lunch, Taehyung took her to the basement and fucked the light out of her. It was finally last period, she was sitting beside her Daddy’s feet, sucking on his finger.

“Come on dolly. Come and ride daddy for the last period.” Taehyung lifted the girl up onto his lap. He let her unbuckle his pants and take his cock out. “Sit on it dolly, ride me.” She sat on his fat tip, and covered her mouth from. “Daddyyy~ it feels good!” Her hips roll forward and her eyes roll back. Taehyung tangles his fingers in her hair, pushing her face down to his. He gives her a passionate and lustful kiss, while everyone in the room paused to watch. She started bouncing on his cock, just wanting to cum. “Daddy! Make dolly cum!” She quietly moans. The man held her smaller body and thrusted up harder and faster. “Open your mouth.” The girl opens her mouth, knowing what was coming. She loved Taehyung's saliva. It tasted amazing and was such a turn on for her little cunt. “Daddy.. I-I ahh! I-I’m going to cum again.” Taehyung slaps her ass and she releases just from that. “Daddy! I’m orgasming!” She closed her eyes and clenched around Taehyung tightly as possible, releasing all the extra fluids out of her body. A wave pushes through her body, releasing all the clenched muscle, making her cry from pleasure. “I-it feels amazing, daddy!” She pants.

Taehyung throws his head back and cums deep inside her. He pulls her onto his check and rubs her back. “Good dolly. Fucking amazing!”

The class pretends to not notice them, and focuses on the teacher, who’s gotten over it too. Taehyung kisses her dry lips, making them moist again. “My little dolly.”

——————————————————————————

Edited and still fucking horrible. Sorry guys😔✌️

#taehyung smut #kim taehyung smut #non con #yandere bts #taehyung yandere #dark kpop #kpop smut #kpop #bts smut

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cassianus · 3 years

Text

Diverting a bit from my approach to the writings of the Philokalia, I wish to put forward a few thoughts about how we often think about illness in our lives and how the Holy Fathers offer us fresh insight into the mystery of evil, sin, illness and their place in our struggle for holiness.

Often, when we are young, we do not think much about physical illness and the spiritual life. Life passes quickly as we are fully engaged in our work, studies and ministry and many of us rarely struggle with ill health except for the occasional flu or cold. But when illness does strike, in one form or another, suddenly our busy and “productive” lives can be disrupted and we are forced, as it were, to reconsider a great deal of things; not merely the meaning of health, that we have perhaps taken for granted, but the nature of our relationship with God, the depth of our faith or lack thereof, the meaning of suffering and how to engage it and not to become discourage even when we have been completely humbled by the burden of our physical and emotional vulnerabilities. When such circumstances arise, we are often unprepared for the trial - never imagining or wanting to think about the possibility of such a cross - a cross the comes to most all of us at some point. When illness plunges us into unfamiliar territory, even to the point of death, what place does it have within our struggle toward holiness? How do we pray when prayer seems impossible and when it feels as though our heart has been turned to stone? Where do we find our hope and with what faith must we enter the mystery of illness and suffering in order to know the healing touch of Christ, the Physician of our souls and bodies?

I offer for your consideration today brief excerpts from “The Holy Fathers on Illness” compiled by Bishop Alexander Mileant; in particular those thoughts from the Fathers on “Illness and Work of Perfection”. Their words offer some perspective on sickness and redemptive suffering as a means of glorifying God. There is much to say certainly about the meaning and origins of illness well beyond the purview of a simple post, but the Fathers show us in word and deed that it can be and often is a privileged way of holiness. Through thankfulness, endurance, and patience one can realize the highest form of ascetic practice and follow a spiritual path to intimacy with God. At such moments, one may exhibit no extraordinary virtue other than to suffer illness and its poverty with patience and so have this as one’s path to salvation. Thus, the Fathers’ words are full of hope and challenge:

“The desert ascetic Father, St. Abba Dorotheus, exhorts his disciples to "take the trouble to find out where you are: whether you have left your own town but remain just outside the gates, by the garbage dump, or whether you have gone ahead little or much, or whether you are half way on your journey, or whether you have gone two miles, then come back two miles, or perhaps even five miles, or whether you have journeyed as far as the Holy City and entered into Jerusalem itself, or whether you have remained outside and are unable to enter" (On Vigilance and Sobriety).

Illness helps us to see "where we are" on life's road: "sickness is a lesson from God and serves to help us in our progress if we give thanks to Him" (Sts. Barsanuphius and John, Philokalia).

No one may use illness as an excuse for resting from the labor of spiritual living. "Perhaps some might think that illness and bodily weakness hinder the work of perfection since the works and accomplishments of one's hands cannot continue. But it is not a hindrance" (St. Ambrose, Jacob and the Happy Life).

In the life of Riassophore-monk John, latter-day disciple of St. Nilus of Sora, we see how bodily infirmity is not allowed to interrupt the struggle for salvation. Riassophore-monk John was a cripple; because of this he had been compelled to leave the Monastery of St. Cyril of New Lake. Feeling sorry for himself, he shortly afterwards was standing for an all-night vigil in the deep of winter. "Suddenly he saw an unknown Elder in schema come out of the altar to him and say: 'Well, apparently you do not wish to serve me. If so, return to St. Cyril.

"At these words, the Elder struck him with his right hand quite strongly on the shoulder. Noting that the Elder exactly resembled St. Nilus as he is depicted on the icon over his relics, John was filled with great joy, all his grief disappeared, and he firmly resolved to spend the rest of his life in the Saint's skete" (The Northern Thebaid).

Even if we are bedridden, we are to continue the struggle against the passions, producing fruits worthy of repentance. This work of perfection demands that we acquire patience and longsuffering. What better way to do this than when we lie on a bed of infirmity? St. Tikhon of Zadonsk says that in suffering we can find out whether our faith is living or just "theoretical." The test of true faith is patience in the midst of sufferings, for "patience is the Christian's coat of arms." "What is it to follow Christ?" he asks. It is "to endure all things, looking upon Christ Who suffered. Many wish to be glorified with Christ, but few seek to remain with the suffering Christ. Yet not merely by tribulation, but even in much tribulation does one enter the Kingdom of God."

To those who suppose that they can only progress in the spiritual life when all else is "well," St. John Cassian replies, "You should not think that you can find virtue when you are not irritated — for it is not in your power to prevent troubles from happening. Rather, you should look for patience as the result of your own humility and longsuffering, for patience does depend upon your own will" {Institutes). Towards the end of his life, St. Seraphim of Sarov suffered from open ulcers on his legs. "Yet," as his Life tells us, "in appearance he was always bright and cheerful, for in spirit he felt that heavenly peace and joy which are the riches of the glorious inheritance of the saints."

"You are stricken by this sickness," the Holy Fathers say, "so that you will not depart barren to God. If you can endure, and give thanks to God, this sickness will be accounted to you as a spiritual work" (Sts. Barsanouphius and John, Philokalia).

Bishop Theophan the Recluse explains: "Enduring unpleasant things cheerfully, you approach a little to the martyrs. But if you complain, you will not only lose your share with the martyrs, but will be responsible for complaining besides. Therefore, be cheerful!"

In order not to lose heart when we fall sick we are to think about and mentally "kiss the sufferings of our Savior just as though we were with Him while He suffers abuses, wounds, humiliations...shame, the pain of the nails, the piercing with the lance, the flow of water and blood. From this we will receive consolation in our sickness. Our Lord will not let these efforts go unrewarded " (St. Tikhon of Zadonsk).

The patience we can learn on a sickbed cannot be overemphasized. Elder Macarius of Optina wrote about this to one who was ill:

"I was much pleased to hear from your relation how bravely you are bearing the cruel scourge of your heavy sickness. Verily, as the man of the flesh perishes, so is the spiritual man renewed."

And to another he wrote: "Praised be the Lord that you accept your illness so meekly! The bearing of sickness with patience and gratitude is reckoned highly by Him Who often rewards sufferers with His imperishable gifts.

"Ponder these words: Though our outward man perish, yet the inward man is renewed."

St. Ambrose of Milan compared an infirm body to a broken musical instrument. He explained how the "musician" can still produce God-pleasing "music" without his instrument:

"If a man used to singing to the accompaniment of a harp finds the harp broken, and its strings undone...he puts it aside and instead of calling for its notes he delights himself with his own voice.

"In the same way, a sick man allows the harp of his body to lie unused. He finds delight within his heart and comfort in the knowledge that his conscience is clear. He sustains himself with God's words and the prophetic writings and, holding these sweet and pleasant in his soul, he embraces them with his mind. Nothing can happen to him because God's graceful presence breathes favor upon him....He is filled with spiritual tranquility" (Jacob and the Happy Life).

Quite often the most God-pleasing spiritual "music" of all is produced in anonymity, by unknown or nearly-unknown saints. But such holy "melodies" are all the more sweet because they are heard by God alone. One such modern sufferer who lived an angel-like life in spite of advanced and terrible sickness was the holy New Russian Martyr, Mother Maria of Gatchina. Her story is known to us only because it pleased God to providentially arrange for one of her visitors, Professor I. M. Andreyev, to record his memories of her.

Mother Maria suffered from encephalitis (inflammation of the brain) and Parkinson's disease. "Her whole body became as it were chained and immovable, her face anemic and like a mask; she could speak, but she began to talk with half-closed mouth, through her teeth, pronouncing slowly and in a monotone. She was a total invalid and was in constant need of help and careful looking after. Usually this disease proceeds with sharp psychological changes, as a result of which such patients often ended up in psychiatric hospitals. But Mother Maria, being a total physical invalid, not only did not degenerate psychically, but revealed completely extraordinary features of personality and character not characteristic of such patients: she became extremely meek, humble, submissive, undemanding, concentrated in herself; she became engrossed in constant prayer, bearing her difficult condition without the least murmuring.

"As if as a reward for this humility and patience, the Lord sent her a gift: consolation of the sorrowing. Completely strange and unknown people, finding themselves in sorrows, grief, depression, and despondency, began to visit her and converse with her. And everyone who came to her left consoled, feeling an illumination of their grief, a pacifying of sorrow, a calming of fears, a taking away of depression and despondency" (The Orthodox Word, vol. 13, no. 3).

"Thus God has acted. Like a provident Father and not like a kidnapper has He first involved us in grievous things, giving us over to tribulation as it were to schoolmasters and teachers, so that being chastened and sobered by these things we may, after showing forth all patience and learning, all right discipline, inherit the Kingdom of Heaven" (St. John Chrysostom, Homily 18, On the Statues).”

Excerpts taken from:

Missionary Leaflet # EA30

466 Foothill Blvd, Box 397, La Canada, Ca 91011

Editor: Bishop Alexander (Mileant)

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mia-ugly · 4 years

Text

Breakable Things

Martin is big.

Not in a strapping film-star kind of way. Not tall or broad-shouldered, not a ‘mountain of a man’ or a ‘tall drink of water’ or anything like that.

Just big (a dumb, blunt, smack of a word.)

He was big as a lad, he’s bigger now. He always had the kind of body that inspired too many teachers to push him toward wrestling, football, rugby even (apparently his dad had been involved with the clubs. Apparently he’d been a fair tighthead back in the day, before he left Martin’s mum, and left Martin to gather up the pieces, cutting his fingertips on every one.)

It didn’t take Martin’s teachers or schoolmates long to realize that Martin’s size did not equate to any sort of athletic skill. And once the - inevitable rumours started circulating around Year Seven, well. Any motivation he might have had to be ‘part of a team’ was drained out of him like a tire going flat (that metaphor needs work. Doesn’t really convey the violence, try again.) His motivation left him like the air being knocked from his lungs, shove after hard shove against the lockers.

Martin is strong.

Physically. He doesn’t know why - got it from his father, didn’t he - his wide back, his thick fingers, his solid legs. He took a cricket bat to the face once - ought to have broken his nose, blackened his eyes, but it didn’t. Got in a car accident when he was seventeen, didn’t even crack a rib. Flipped the whole thing into the ditch, and his mum screamed herself hoarse when she found out, but Martin walked away from it. Physically. He walked away.

He doesn’t bruise easily. If he cuts his hand chopping vegetables, it heals quickly. He doesn’t have any scars (he has stretch marks though, all over his stomach and thighs, and for all that he is strong, he’s soft. He’s soft and he knows it, all pudding and poetry and fear, oh, fear most of all. It's pathetic how easy he is, how quickly he caves, rolls over and does whatever's asked of him.

In most situations, anyway. With most people.)

“Why don’t you want me coming with you?”

Jon is in his office, seated in front of that bloody tape recorder as always. The sight of him there is so familiar, like the negatives from a film camera. Like even if Jon wasn’t there, the imprint of him would still linger, white as a ghost against the darkness.

He doesn’t seem surprised to hear Martin’s voice. Neither does he glance up from the desk where he’s shuffling papers, gathering up books. His hands move constantly, restless and bird-boned and Martin is always looking at them, even when he tries not to.

“I don’t want you getting hurt.” Jon’s voice is low, rough with exhaustion, and it makes Martin wince. Makes him want to fuss (when is the last time the man got a decent night's sleep? Someone should bring him a cup of tea, someone should rub his shoulders, someone should do something -

He knows he has a caretaking thing. He knows it’s not - good. And the sharp ones get to him like anything, he wants to win them over in a pathetic, salivating way. It’s a sickness, but -

- but there was a point when it suddenly stopped being about Martin’s Whole Thing, and just started being about Jon.

He’ll talk to someone about it, swear. A professional, even. If the world doesn’t end.)

“It’s fine if you get hurt, though, is it?”

Jon does look up now, and Martin forces himself not to take a step back under the dark-lashed scrutiny. The heavy eyebrows, the shimmer of scars. Sometimes Jon’s skin reminds Martin of the surface of a planet, a rough and distant moon. He wonders how it is that Jon can be so narrow, so small, and still take up so much room in the Archives, and in the world, and in Martin’s big (and soft and so so stupid ) heart.

“It is my job.”

“No. This - this is not your job.” Martin struggles to put the words together in the face of this vast, ridiculous injustice. “Going off to - what? Do battle with some sort of evil, circussy death-cult, that’s not your job . You don’t get paid for that.”

Jon snorts, derisive, and Martin wishes he could be angry. It’d be easier if he was angry with Jon.

But he isn’t.

“Melanie needs you here. And I can’t be - there, thinking about -“ Jon stops. He swallows and looks back down at the scattered papers on his desk. A snowfall of horror stories, laid out neatly on Hammermill Bright White. “Worrying about you.”

(“Leave it, Martin, I’m fine just - leave me alone -” Mum smacks him away with a vein-bruised hand.)

“Because I’ll make a mess of things - is that what you think? I can help you, I want to help you-”

“I will feel better knowing you’re here.”

“And how do you think I’ll feel? Knowing you - you and, um Tim and Daisy - are out risking your lives while I’m sat on my hands, drinking tea, being useless -”

“You aren’t.” Jon’s voice is suddenly loud, as if he’s in pain. He pinches the bridge of his nose, squeezing his eyes shut. “And I don’t - I can’t - you’ll be helpful here. The Institute needs you, and Melanie needs you, and I -”

-don’t, Martin hears.

Though Jon doesn’t say it, Martin hears it.

“Right,” he manages. “All right.”

He should go. He’s going to go. But he lingers for a moment more, committing as much of Jonathan Sims to memory as he can. The angles of him, compact and rigid with anxiety. The fall of hair across his forehead, ink black shot through with grey. Thin pink lines that a blade left below his jaw, a ripple of lacy scar tissue on his hand (and Martin mostly, mostly doesn’t wonder what those scars would feel like against his own skin. On his shoulder or - or sliding down the length of his throat. At the back of his neck, tugging him into a kiss.)

Come back, come back, come fucking back. Martin isn’t religious, never one for church, but it’s as much of a prayer as he’s ever said.

“Is there something else you want?” Jon asks, terse and tired and - for one thoughtless moment he is the Archivist and only the Archivist, and Martin can’t help but gasp out a shocked, “yes.”

Jon knocks a book off the desk. It slams to the floor loud as a gunshot, and Martin flinches.

“Sorry,” he says quickly, “I’m sorry, I -”

“No, I’m - I’m sorry, I wasn’t thinking -”

“It’s fine - I know you didn’t -”

“I would never -”

“But you can.”

There’s a horrible silence, like the moment after the tape recorder shuts off, statement ends. Martin feels sick to his stomach and Jon looks like - like -

He doesn’t know what Jon looks like. Maybe that’s why he keeps talking.

“You can ask me. What I - what I want.” Heat is rushing to his face, a blush that feels like thorns. Jon just stares at him, and this was a bad, bad idea. It’s obvious, isn’t it? Jon doesn’t even need to ask the question, probably knows the whole awful story just by looking at him. “If you wanted.”

When Jon says nothing, just keeps staring, Martin tries desperately to double back.

“Never mind, that was -” He flaps his hands a bit, moving towards the door. His shoulders hunch, an old defense mechanism, useless body trying to make itself look as harmless as possible. Trying to make itself so small it’s beyond notice (it never works.) “I shouldn’t have. I can’t believe I - just - be safe. All right? That’s all I -”

“Martin -”

“That was - stupid, such a - I’m sorry, I only -”

“-what do you want?”

The words are spoken quietly. Barely above a whisper. But Martin doesn’t need to hear them - his whole body hears them, and suddenly every syllable feels golden in his mouth. Saying it out loud isn’t frightening or humiliating, it’s easy. Answering the Archivist is like falling asleep in a patch of sun-warmed grass, or gasping for air after holding your breath underwater.

“I want you to come back.” It’s honey dripping off his tongue. “I want you to come back for me. And I want the world not to end, and I want to know what your hair feels like, whether it’s soft or coarse and whether I can tell the difference between the black parts and the silvery parts just by touching them.”

Jon is absolutely frozen behind his desk. He might not even be breathing, but that’s okay; Martin can’t remember why anyone needs to breathe.

“And I want to help you. And the others. I want to matter. And I want Sasha to be okay, and I want Tim to be okay, and I want Elias to finally face some fucking consequences for once. I want to take you on holiday and - and watch you while you sleep so you know you don’t have to be afraid. I want to wake you up if you have nightmares and make you tea in the morning and bake things for you, and - and I want to kiss you, even if it’s just once. Only once, just so I know, and only if you want me to. That’s what I want.”

The sweetness ends the moment the last word leaves his mouth. Suddenly the honey is cloying and acrid, suddenly his heart is unsteady with embarrassment, skipping beats like he’s just had a shot of adrenaline. Martin chokes on a breath and slams his eyes shut against the spinning room.

“Fuck.” His voice cracks on the word, insult to injury, and he claps a hand over his mouth. “Oh God - I’m - oh God. That was -” He barely remembers what he said, which is the only thing keeping him upright at the moment. He just knows it was soft, pathetically soft. Even his fantasies are as weak as his jawline. “I’m going to - go, I’ll go. I shouldn’t have -”

“W-wait.”

Martin doesn’t want to open his eyes. But he does. Just in time to see Jonathan Sims stand up. Start to walk around the desk.

And Jon is not big. Or strong, physically. Martin knows a bit about anatomy, took a couple art classes, was always fascinated by the bones of things. As Jon steps closer, Martin can only see the breakable things about him. Collarbones, fingers, bridge of his nose. What’s that bone in the arm that everyone’s always breaking?

Humerus.

Ulna.

Jon is not strong, and he is scarred, and he is small and fragile and God he is the bravest person Martin’s ever met.

“Martin, you -” Jon stops in front of him and Martin looks down, gaze almost level with the top of Jon’s head. “You can ask me. What - what I want.”

He’s shaking, Martin can see it - and it makes him realize that he’s shaking too. He barely manages the “What -” before he forgets how to say the rest, forgets how words work (but Jon, Jon is brave.)

“I think - I would like -” Jon reaches for Martin’s hand, and lifts it to his mouth. Presses a dry kiss right in the centre of Martin’s palm.

It’s a ruining sort of softness, and Martin’s big (physically) and strong (physically) but somehow Jon knows where his weaknesses are - the loose dragonscale, the slipped disc.

(And of course, after this the world will almost end (but not quite.) After this, there will be Elias and Martin’s humiliating tears over a statement he knew damn well, a beholding that came as no surprise to anyone.

After this Jon will die.

Almost. Not quite.)

But now: Jon is murmuring, “I think -” as he leans up to kiss Martin (and his warm mouth is shocking and brief, a knife sliding home.)

But now: Jon is still shaking when their lips part, and Martin’s hands are on either side of his face, tips of his fingers settled lightly in Jon's hair (it’s softer than anything, as it turns out, and the silvery parts are softest of all.)

Their foreheads press together, both of them breathing harder than one kiss should warrant. And Martin doesn’t say any of those other things he wants, any of the white-hot words he’s scratched down on paper or typed into the notes app. He doesn’t say anything about the shape of Jon’s shoulder-blades through that thin grey t-shirt he wears, doesn’t bring up any metaphors about fading light or seaglass or breakable things that are also strangely beautiful.

Because what good is poetry at the end of the world?

“Be careful,” Martin says instead (and Jon won’t be.)

“Come back,” he says (and Jon isn’t going to. Not for a long, long time).

And hours later, standing in that empty office, Martin will see the lighter that Jon left on his desk. He will notice the black handful of ashes in the rubbish bin, and wonder what Jon was burning.

And Martin is soft. People-pleasing and pathetic and terribly, terribly in love.

But Jonathan Sims kissed him once (once) and for a moment, in that office, with a small blue flame leaping in his hand -

Martin is not afraid.

#the magnus archives #jonmartin #trying to remember how this writing thing goes #some consensual beholding between bros #Season 3 episode 117 #missing scene #homophobia cw #bullying cw

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caiuscassiuss · 4 years

Text

Birched⎮D. Sicheng (M) P.2

Description: There was something that lurked beneath that pretty boy smile of Dong Sicheng— something dark, something dangerous… something you knew you would get pulled into once you got too curious. (Or, your ill-tempered coworker turns out to be your dominant.)

Part One is HERE

Genre: BDSM/ enemies to lovers winwin! smut | romance | angst WC: 11k+ Warnings: graphic smut (dom! sicheng + sub! reader, BDSM (Bondage, Dominance, Submission, and Masochism) choking, rough sex), taboo relationship, blatant sexism, TW: mentions of an abusive relationship

(A/N: Thank you to my amazing beta @won-markiepooh-woo for helping me. This wouldn’t have been possible without you!)

Saturday February 1st, 2020

Y/N’s Apartment

10 AM HKT

The little jingle of a FaceTime call echoed through your silent apartment, and you snuggled into the sheets of your bed.

“Hello? Kun huang?”

A flash black hair and a sweet smile appeared within the view of the camera.

“Huang Gua!” you exclaimed.

Instantly, the happy smile slipped off his face and transformed into an annoyed expression.

“Can you not? We’ve been over this,” he complained.

“Oh come on! It’s so funny,” you jibed.

“It’s not.”

“You only used to eat cucumbers for years. You earned that name yourself.”

“So?” he snorted. “You used to eat shrimp chips as a kid. I don’t call you shrimp, do I?” A devious expression flashed over his face.

“Kun Huang…” you warned.

“Maybe I should start now. Right, shrimp?”

“Oh my god, stop!”

“No, shrimp. I can keep going, you know.”

“Okay, fine, fine. I submit!” You laughed.

He chuckled. “That’s what I thought.”

“So how are you now, Hendery? How’s your mom and dad? Oh my gosh, Hengwai!”

“I’m doing fine, as are mom and dad. Hengwai misses her little sister. They all want you to call them more. Sometimes I think they miss you more than me.” He pouted.

“Awww, poor baby. But give them my well wishes too! I miss everyone so much,” you said. For some reason, tears welled in your eyes.

Obviously, Hendery could tell you were about to start crying and started to panic.

“Y/N? Talk to me. Oh, you know I can’t take it if you start crying!”

He never really could. Even after many years spent together in your childhood, he was still awkward as hell around your tears.

You waved him off, swiping the tears. “I’m fine, I’m fine. It’s just so lonely around here.”

“Y/N…”

“I’m fine! I swear!”

“Literally, one word and I’m on a flight to Hong Kong. I’m not playing,” he said gravely.

“Hendery, no. Besides, don’t you have some farms to run? I would never expect you to do that.”

“One word, Y/N. Just one.” He looked you dead in the eye.

You looked away. “Anyways, how are your farms going?”

A smile split his face and his eyes sparked. “Guess who just got their hundredth farm?”

Your jaw dropped. “No way, you’re fucking joking! One hundred?! I’m so proud of you! Kun Huang!” you squealed.

“Yeah, I know right? It’s so weird knowing so many people depend on me for their livelihoods now. I get sort of scared when I sit back and think about it…”

As Kun Huang went on about his day to day troubles in agriculture, a small, wistful smile played upon your lips. Why didn’t you just stay back and fall in love with Kun Huang? It would have been so easy. Being with Kun Huang was like breathing, and you could’ve spent the rest of your life like this. No Minghao, no BDSM, and most importantly, no… him.

Dolos.

Master?

Sicheng.

You hated how smoothly the puzzle pieces fit together. Sicheng always left early on Fridays, even though he always stayed late. At office parties, he lacked a significant other by his side, even when many would drop everything if he so much as winked at them.

It was hard not to think about him. You had started to feel an increase in your heartbeat whenever you thought of Dolos before Wednesday. You had originally wanted to know who was behind Dolos’ mask and if he returned those feelings. But, fuck, he would be so mad if he found out who you were.

Not to mention, how humiliating it would be if he knew. You had staked everything on being a cold-hearted bitch when Sicheng took particular pleasure in sneering at “the inherent submissiveness” of her gender. So if he found out Dove, who liked to be slapped during sex, and her, the la dame sans merci of the company, were the same person, it would destroy any chance of credibility you may have had in his eyes.

This was all one big mess. One big, gigantic and catastrophic mess. For so long you had rigorously kept your professional and personal lives apart, but the universe had conspired against you: to make the best dominant you ever had to also be your work nemesis.

Some higher being was laughing at you, you knew it.

Sunday February 2nd, 2020

The Dong Family Villa on the Shek O Peninsula, Hong Kong

1 PM HKT

A curl of disgust twisted his lips as he looked down on the lawn party going down below him.

“Don’t you look happy, Sicheng.”

Sicheng acknowledged ChengCheng out of the corner of his eye and went back to glaring at the party in contempt.

“This is not how I wanted today to go.”

His childhood friend snorted and plopped himself down in a lawn chair, contemplating the blond haired man.

Sicheng spun around and picked up his glass of wine, downing the drink in one gulp. He settled himself next to ChengCheng with a frown.

“I just wanted to come here and fucking relax, but, no, my parents just had to use it for the fucking party. Fete. What-fucking-ever.” He exhaled loudly and ran his hands through his hair.

Chengcheng looked over the balcony railing curiously. “Looks like a luncheon to me.”

“Fuck off.”

“Christ, what’s up your ass?”

“Just some work stuff. It’s nothing.”

The brown-haired man frowned. “Then why aren’t you at Black’s then? Nothing can’t be resolved by a good fuck.”

At the mention of the club, a pained expression flashed over Sicheng’s face and his knuckles inadvertently tightened around the stem of his glass. The tension that had been in shoulders wounded itself up even more and this clued ChengCheng in.

Something other than work had Sicheng in knots. Very rarely did the blond man ever show he was angry—not even when his father lashed him as a child, nor when the family forced him to work for the company—so he was evidently very troubled by this ‘something’.

Sicheng’s phone rang and broke the silence. The man himself fished it out of his back pocket irritatedly.

“Excuse me for a moment, ChengCheng. I need to take this phone call.”

“Sicheng speaking,” he spoke as he stalked into the study.

“Hello sir, how are you—”

“Did you get the information or not?” Sicheng asked, cutting off the family’s retainer. His leg bounced, as he sat against the desk and he ran a weary hand through his hair.

“A-ah, unfortunately, Black’s doesn’t record pseudonyms digitally or on paper…”

“Fuck!” Sicheng yelled. Mr. Lau just had to be fucking careful, he thought irritably.

“... However, sir, I was able to obtain a membership list since the club was digitally updating their monthly list. I then compared it to the list from the previous month and found several missing names, indicative of them terminating their membership. I have compiled a dossier of several females that match your description of Dove and forwarded it to you.”

Sicheng quickly logged into his laptop, his blood rushing through his ears. The identity of the most perfect submissive he’s ever had could literally be sitting in his inbox right now.

With trembling fingers, he opened the attachment.

Wang Fang, age 25—

“Sir?”

The blond man glared at his phone. “Thank you for your service, Liu Wei. Goodbye.”

Wang Fang was a tall, spindly woman with a face like a horse. The policy of privacy by masks was kind to her at Black’s. However, the jaw was all wrong and he knew in his gut she was not his Dove.

He scrolled to the next page. Leila Williams, age 27—British expat, was absolutely gorgeous. But, even through the screen, she exuded an unshakable aura of self-assurance. A dominatrix, probably, so that excluded her from his search.

He went through 2 or 3 more documents; each one too plain or too ordinary to be Dove.

Y/N L/N, age XX.

Sicheng blinked rapidly, sagging into his office chair.

Y/N is—was—a member at Black’s?

The picture provided was the one from her LinkedIn profile: a professional headshot with a grey background. She was smiling tightly, coldly—just as she was in the office. The other image provided instantly tented his pants.

It was her, clearly on a night out. She was in attire that flattered her body and he could easily see himself running his hands over her. Y/N looked fucking fantastic with her unbound hair, so unlike her tight updos at the office. However, what drew his eyes was the most vibrant shade of red painted on her lips, which was parted slightly as she was laughing.

He recognized that lipstick. The same shade of firetruck red had been smeared across Dove’s cheeks many, many times. YSL Rouge Satin Lipstick—the one he told her he liked and she, like a good girl, had religiously worn.

Could that mean…?

Glancing at the side bar, he noticed there was one more page left in the dossier. Please let the next one be Dove…

His hopes were instantly deflated. Kwon Myunghee was too old and too artificial to be his gorgeous submissive.

With his heart in his throat, he scrolled back to Y/N’s page. Enlarging the picture of her laughing, he put a hand over her eyes and leaned back to observe.

Sicheng would be an absolute fool if he did not recognize that mouth. Red fuck me! lipstick on an equally fuckable mouth parted in pleasure, or screaming his name while strung up on a cross. He would be an absolute fool if he did not recognize that neck, covered in purple and red hickies or his fingermarks. An absolute damn fool.

Yet, at this moment, he would’ve given anything to be one.

He felt like the wind had been knocked out of him. Y/N was… Dove? And Dove… was Y/N?

So why did she leave? How did she end up at Black’s? Did she know? Did she end up there on purpose? Why—

Eventually, all the questions piled up in his head until he was left winded. Sicheng buried his head in his hands, pulling at his blond locks and breathing heavily. Something was bubbling in his chest and—

He started to laugh. He cackled, howled, at his shitstorm of misfortune, luck, and confusion until he was sprawled undignified on the Oriental carpet, staring up at the intricate wood carvings on the ceiling.

Monday February 3rd, 2020

Sinochen Enterprises, Chater House, Central, Hong Kong

6 PM HKT

Shutting the door to your office, you collapsed into your chair and massaged your temples.

Today was the day Mr. Lee had left the office, leaving his official resignation. The top sales officials (including an off-color, brooding Sicheng) gathered in his office to congratulate him and give him an official goodbye. What was supposed to be a quick meet-up turned into afternoon drinking when Mr. Lee pulled out the good liquor from a secret cabinet underneath his desk. You accepted a drink with a grimace, but Sicheng declined and remained uncharacteristically detached the entire time. Granted, you too were detached from the conversation, uncomfortable with the lewd retirement and mistress jeers spouted by the older sales officials as they steadily got drunker and less inhibited.

As the time ended and a consensus to leave had been reached, you thought you could escape and actually work... that was until Mr. Lee walked alongside you and stuck himself in the elevator with you.

The bastard had the audacity to grope your ass in the crowded elevator. You shivered, remembering the awful and grimy feeling as his hot breath whispered in your ear that he was available any time for a “catch-up”.

This day was a mess. You had a shit-ton of work to catch up due to that fucking meeting and you had been sexually harrassed; you were also anxious about the promotion and, on top of that, you couldn’t seem to stop thinking about Sicheng.

Huffing, you ate some red-bean bread as you powered up your desktop. This was fucking ridiculous. You knew Sicheng had noticed your odd, reticent behavior around him and this skittishness was impeding your ability to work. Well, no better way to forget about your problems was to solve other ones at work.

For the next two hours, you slogged through work emails and analytics as the sun set over Kowloon Bay. Your hair had been unbound and your blazer had been messily thrown over the back of your chair as your work progressed. Since most of the office had left by now, you figured it was safe to relax in your office.

It was night time by the time you had finished your last project and you sat back in your chair, staring at the skyline. Was this how your life destined to be? At the top, surrounded by the comforts of life, but alone?

A knock sounded at the door, jolting you out of your thoughts.

Who the fuck would be at the office at 8 PM?

“Come in.”

You caught sight of a golden head of hair slipping inside of your office and you sighed. Of course, it was Sicheng.

He took a seat unbidden and stared at you with an indecipherable expression on his face. His eyes roamed the contours and curves of your features.

You arched an eyebrow. “Can I help you with anything, Sicheng? I’m about to leave the office.”

He fought with himself inwardly, his mouth opened and closed several times before he finally settled on what he wanted to say. “I’d like to ask a question.”

You adjusted yourself in the chair. “Feel free.”

From his blazer’s pocket, he pulled out an aged sheet of paper and slowly opened it, before setting it in front of you. Sicheng settled back in his chair and steepled his fingers over his lap, the lights of the Hong Kong skyline playing across his face and making his sharp features stand out.

“Do you recognize this?”

The blood literally froze in your veins as your eyes caught sight of your handwriting in the letter, along with the tear-stains that blotched the paper and the text. Your heartbeat rose to your throat and all you felt was the blood rushing in your ears.

“Y/N?” he prodded.

You gulped and straightened out your top, your fingers trembling as you did so.

“No, I don’t. W-who’s Dolos? Why does this concern me?” you lied, stumbling a bit.

He watched you, his eyes narrowed and his lips pursed.

“Don’t lie to me, Dove.”

“I-Dove? My name is Y/N,” you replied shakily. Grabbing your purse, you hurriedly stuffed all your personal belongings in while avoiding catching his seething stare. “Excuse me, I’d really like to get home.”

His jaw clenched and his palm twitched as he saw you had no desire to come clean.

“Look at me.”

Unthinking, you ceased all movements, put your trembling hands in your lap and looked up at him. “Sir?”

Your eyes widened and you slapped a hand over your mouth; your eyes darted around the room in search for an escape. You felt akin to a caged animal as he grinned meanly, incongruous on his cherubic features.

“That’s what I thought.”

“No—”

“You thought you could get away with this? You thought you could fucking play me?!”

You were aghast at seeing Dolos and Sicheng finally merging together in front of your eyes, and the result was grotesquely beautiful. His grin slipped off his face and twisted into a malevolent sneer. The naked fire in Dolos' gaze was finally unveiled in Sicheng’s eyes and, for the first time, you could see who Sicheng really was.

“Answer me, Dove—Y/N! Fuck, I don’t even know who you are anymore!” Sicheng shouted, running his hands through his hair while he paced around your office.

You stared unblinkingly at the bookshelf at the corner of the room. Fuck, this was all your nightmares coming true. You were going to be ruined and he was going to laugh on and on now that he knew you and Dove were the same.

“It was never supposed to end up like this,” you whispered hoarsely, tears welling up underneath your lashes.

“How was it supposed to end, huh? Fuck, you strung me along for six months—half a fucking year—”

“I didn’t fucking know, you ass! I wouldn’t have touched you with a ten foot pole if I knew who you were!” you hissed.

He laughed harshly. “You did a hell of a lot more than touch me, Dove. But after you got your fix, you pretended that this never happened.”

“You would’ve done the same, so this never did happen. Walk out right now and this will have never happened and we can go back to our normal, spiteful dynamic—”

“You’re out of your fucking mind, if you think—”

“You don’t understand, Sicheng! Can’t you see I’ll be ruined by this? That we’ll both be ruined by this? I can’t afford that!”

“So you thought to just leave me? With just a fucking letter and nothing else?”

“I didn’t know, okay! I didn’t know what to do!”

“You lied to me, Y/N. Fucking lied to my face!”

“I had to! Because you and I were never supposed to find out!”

Sicheng moved to yell, but clamped his jaw shut. “You lying, cheating, slut,” he seethed.

Your mouth trembled for a moment at the sheer vitriol that sprouted from his lips, but you stood tall. “You know what? Maybe I am. But I can live with that if you’d just fucking let it go!”

“You think I’d be able to let go of this?!” He cupped your jaw roughly and pulled you into a hungry kiss.

It wasn’t a smooth kiss—not one with even a hint of finesse. Lips smashed into lips, with tongue and teeth grappling against each other as his hands bruised your wrists.

Your back hit your desk and he swept your belongings off the desk haphazardly, letting go of your chin to lift you onto the desk with no effort.

“Forget my tongue on your skin? Forget my hands in between your thighs?” he murmured between hungry dips of his tongue. “I’ll fucking show you.”

He kissed down your neck, stopping to nip at your collarbone, and left a trail of stinging lovebites all over your shoulders. Sicheng’s hips pinned you into the desk as he popped each button of your blouse, hurriedly ripping it to the side to leave more hickies upon your chest and breasts.

You moaned as he pushed the cups of your bra down, using his wicked tone to swipe complicated patterns but never once touching your tips. Finally, he nipped at them hard causing you to squeal embarrassingly.

“S-sicheng,” you whimpered, gripping his hair as he pushed up your skirt.

The blond man carelessly pulled your underwear aside and thrusted two fingers in.

“Fuck!” you gasped, as you buried your red face in the crook of his neck.

You couldn’t see it, but you knew he was smirking smugly so your hands drifted down to his tented trousers and gripped his erection hard.

“You wanna fucking play? Let’s play, baby,” he grunted and hastily unbuckled his belt. His glorious cock sprung up in the space between your thighs.

Sicheng pushed your back down onto the desk, leaving him to tower over you. Without warning, he roughly pushed his cock into your slit.

You both groaned at the pleasurable friction. Fuck, how could you forget this? His length stretching you out deliciously? His broad shoulders heaving in exertion?

He bottomed out slowly, stilling as his hips pressed into yours. A sly smile glanced over his face as his hand drifted over your neck.

“Sicheng! You asshole, fucking move!” you said to him, thrusting your own hips weakly for effect.

His devilish smile split his angelic features, and he shook his head. “Wrong name, Dove.”

His hips pushed into yours roughly and you whined, scratching at the edges of your desk. Sicheng withdrew just as quickly and thrusted in again, watching the lust ripple upon your expression. He had missed the way your left eyebrow ticked when he brushed against your G-Spot, your nose scrunching as you clasped his shoulders. Finally seeing your full expressions fulfilled something in him that he didn’t care to reflect upon.

After deep, staccato thrusts that had you gasping for breath, he settled into a smooth rhythm. You slapped a hand over your mouth as your back bowed, thrusting your breasts up to his hungry perusal. Unable to resist temptation—the godless Tantalus he was—he settled his plump lips over your nipples, raised his eyes to yours, and sucked.

Even with your palm practically stuffed in your lips, your keen echoed around the room loudly and slick dripped down your thighs, making the desk underneath your bottom sticky and wet.

He tsked, lifting his head up and looked deeply into your eyes. A slight grin settled over his lips and Sicheng tilted his head mockingly. “Oh sweet girl, haven’t you forgotten we’re in an office?” His eyes darkened even more. “I’ll have to keep you quiet, then, whore.”

His featherlight touches on your rib cage was replaced with a bruising grasp to your throat, stealing the air out of you. His wrist settled into your collar bone and his slender fingers mimicked playing the piano, placing pressure on different parts on your throat to an unheard rhythm. The blood rushed to your ears, the dizzying sensation of it blurring your sight and distorting your thoughts. The veins on his forehand, twisting and rippling in the light, caught your vision and he moved—ever so roughly—into you.

Sicheng set a new pace, stretching your legs even wider and your head fell back onto the desk with a thunk. You couldn’t think, couldn’t breathe; you just felt the numbing sort of pleasure that radiated from your pussy.

“Fucking slut,” he gasped. “You’ve bewitched me, haven’t you? Wrapped yourself around my brain and haven’t let me so much as breathe without thinking about you.” His grip tightened around your neck. “I’ll show you.”

Suddenly, your phone on the floor rang and you both froze. He released the grip on your neck and bent down.

His back was like one of those old sketches the masters of the age practiced with, the light played upon his back and his muscles rippled under his skin—belying the power hidden within him.

“Who the fuck is Kunhuang,” he said flatly, wrath bubbling in his words.

You sat up. “H-he’s a friend. Nobody. No one.”

“See you soon, love,” he read mockingly. “Call me when you have time.”

Sicheng crowded into your space, your eyes jumping around to avoid looking at his incensed face.

“Kunhuang.” He spat like it was filth upon his lips. “You left me for him?”

Feeling his constrained fierceness and his frantic gaze, you pushed harshly at his chest and bared your teeth at him. “It’s not like that. He’s my childhood friend!”

His rage bubbled to the surface and his nostrils flared. It was all the warning you had before he suddenly took your hips and flipped, forcing a scream out of you.

Your chest and breasts now pressed against your desk. Sicheng tugged you down to his hips, lifting one of your legs to rest on your desk and exposed your core to him shamefully.

“I’ll take you from behind like the whore you are,” he stated. His rough tenor the grating upon your ears and scraping upon your skin.

He lined up and thrusted hard and you bit your lip, cheek against your deck and tears streaming down your face. It felt so good to be in his embrace, feeling every vein and ridge of his cock rub against your muscles.

Soon, you felt that feeling rising in your stomach, burning behind his eyelids as your orgasm began to build. His hands grasped your throat and he pulled, bowing your back to his chest and forcing his mouth to yours.

Teeth and tongue clashed and his cock hit this spot in you and you screamed into his mouth, tensing up beneath him as you shuddered painfully.

A grunt left him as he felt your muscles nearly strangle his cock and he only lasted a few, staccato thrusts until his vision went white.

Wednesday, February 13th, 2020

Sinochen Enterprises, Chater House, Central, Hong Kong

7 AM HKT

You purposely did not look into Sicheng’s office window as you strode briskly down the hall with a coffee in your hand.

A few days ago felt like a watershed moment, but after you two had caught your breaths, the sheer amount of emotions in the room—frustration, satiation, anger, hunger—weighed upon your lips and forced them shut. He had quickly dressed himself, not saying a word, but he casted a glance in your direction that was undecipherable and left.

You, at the moment, did not know how to feel. Hurt? Angry? Sad? But you settled upon your usual solution: ignoring that anything had happened and resuming the normal.

Alas, the fates were unkind. They neatly disposed of your plans to avoid the man when the two of you were scheduled to meet with other sales heads in the afternoon. Unfortunately, when the time came to be, you and Sicheng were the first ones there.

He studiously avoided looking at you, busying himself by opening up his laptop and flipping to a new page on his legal pad. You ignored him as well, scrolling through the latest news on your webpage. However, as the seconds ticked by, you could not resist resting your eyes upon him. It felt like a damn magnet was pulling your gaze to him.

He looked good today, from the brief glances you stole at him. Freshly shaven, his hair was styled neatly and he was in a dark green, cashmere sweater. Was this your fate? To be shamefully attracted to a man that equally repelled you?

“Interesting.”

The both of you shot a look at the door, where an unrecognizable, lanky man with a proud, straight nose was peering down upon you and swinging a plastic bag in his hand.

“Chengcheng? What the hell are you doing here?”

Completely ignoring Sicheng, he settled his lidded gaze upon you before his eyes lit up in recognition.

“So you’re the one that has shaken him, then.”

Dead silence permeated the room. He looked at the two shocked faces, both ashen. “What? Are you going to tell me I’m wrong? Please. I’d have to be deaf, blind, and dumb to ignore the way you two gravitate to each other.”

Your two quick glances that were meant to be unnoticed clashed, resulting in your eyes meeting. You both turned your eyes away.

Chengcheng snorted, as if that moment confirmed everything for him, and he chucked a bag at Sicheng.

“You forgot your lunch, remember?”

Sicheng’s jaw tightened. “Thank you.”

Once again, awkward silence reigned and ChengCheng’s eyes switched back and forth between you like a particularly exciting tennis match.

“You two need to talk. You’ll both age prematurely at this rate, with the angst you two are producing. Talk.”

He left with a wave, striding down the hall casually and stealing many of your female coworkers’ gazes.

“... He’s right, you know.”

Sicheng’s eyes flicked up to yours and he focused his full attention on you. Intensely, he contemplated you, tongue poking at the sides of his mouth.

“I agree. We can meet—” he cut himself off, looking around surreptitiously. “—at Black’s.”

You sucked your lip in between your teeth. “Fine. Neutral ground.”

He took a good, long look at you, like a man seeing water after seeing nothing but sand.

“Tonight. At 8.”

Thursday, February 13th, 2020

Black’s

7:50 PM HKT

Strangely enough, you felt comfortable despite the jittery nerves under your skin as you walked into Black’s.

The receptionist had given you a knowing look as you repeated the guest password, letting you in without question. You strapped on the standard, white lace mask and steeled yourself, opening the mahogany doors.

The club was abnormally busy; the guests and members crowded the couches and loitered on the floor. The quiet string music that could usually be heard was masked by the loud chattering of the people in the room.

“Is that you, Dove?”

You spun around to see the smiling, wizened face of Mr. Liu.

A grin broke out on your face and you took his hands. “Mister Liu! It is wonderful to see you.”

“I am happy to see you as well.” He chuckled with his eyes gleaming fondly at you. “Have you decided to visit this old man?”

Playfully, you lightly smacked his shoulder.

Mr. Liu was an important figure to you. All those months ago, when you arrived at Black’s to be screened, as a potential member and straight out of a relationship with Minghao—broken, shattered, hollow—he took one look at you and said no.

Why? You remembered asking tearfully. Am I not pretty enough? Rich enough?

He searched your pale, wan face, as if seeing the emotional scars Minghao had lashed into you, before sighing.

You shouldn’t be asking me that. Are you enough for yourself?

Confused, you had asked him to elaborate. He sympathetically replied that he could see you were entering the club for the wrong reasons. You were different, he’d said. You looked so innocent that he could not morally allow you into the club, despite the depraved patrons that gained membership. He knew, at the time, entering the club would cripple you.

So, what now? You asked, confused. He said he would keep your file open until you came back ‘at the right time.’

The ‘right time?’

You will know it when it comes.

And somehow, you did. After a few months of picking the pieces of yourself together and stabilizing your life, you had grown into a physically and emotionally healthy person. The “right moment” came and you sat in his quaint little office again, opposite of a smiling Mr. Liu as he stamped his approval.

After chatting a few moments, the volume in the room increased slightly and you frowned.

“Why is it so busy today?”

He arched an eyebrow. “Do you know what today is?”

“No?”

“Today is the evening before Valentine’s day, dear girl.”

“... Oh.”

New information in hand, you looked at the scene more closely. You could see that some couples in the crowd seemed to curl into each other, the affectionate brushes and knowing glances giving you a sick, sick feeling.

And that’s when you saw Sicheng.

Even masked, he drew attention from the members—attached and non-attached. His lean, fit form struck a figure and you couldn’t turn away from him.

He looked directly into your eyes and only a few seconds passed by as you two observed each other.

“Sicheng somehow found out, hm? Clever, devious boy.” Mr. Liu observed the dynamic much like ChengCheng earlier. His gaze was enraptured how the two of you clashed yet sunk into each other, the way two tidal waves—in a rare moment of offbeat rhythm—struck each other and subsequently merged. Push, pull, push, pull.

“Listen to him and he will listen to you. You two match more than you think,” he advised, bowed, and sunk off into the backrooms.

“Sicheng.”

“Y/N.”

Frustratingly, his face was unreadable. Nevertheless, he offered you his arm (a surprising show of manners) and he led you to a place you had never seen before.

This place was much less pristine than the rest of the club. The wallpaper was older, much more faded, and the wood looked much more worn.

This was one of Mr. Liu’s apartments.

The pair of you entered a comfortable sitting room with the lights low, to which only large candles had been lit.

He made sure you were properly ensconced into an armchair before he turned his back towards you and made his way to the drink carts.

“Would you like something to drink?” Sicheng asked, voice measured.

“A gin tonic would be wonderful.”

After carefully making your drink and pouring himself a healthy 4 fingers of bourbon, he handed your glass to you and sat down in the chair opposite of you.

Silence permeated awkwardly and you turned your eyes towards the tapestry in the middle of the room, giving yourself something to do.

“Were those feelings true?” he asked, not looking at you.

“Elaborate, please.”

“The last night…” He looked quickly at you, before turning his eyes away and clenching his jaw. “The last night we were together.”

“Ah.”

Absolutely, unequivocally. Dolos was everything you had searched for in Minghao and, while your relationship was unusual, you could not deny the string between you two.

Something burned at your eyes and you bit the inside of your cheek.

“Yes. Then and now,” you stated, opening yourself up for an attack.

His eyes widened and the twitching in his fingers stopped.

“And you, Sicheng?” you enquired boldly.

“Always,” he stated without hesitation. “It was never something as trivial as pillow talk.”

Seeing as he was on the brink of closing off, due to his rare moment of vulnerableness, you wrapped your hand around his.

His eyes shot to yours, then to your linked hands, before tightening his grip.

“I don’t know where to start,” you confessed. “I… One thing that has always been on my mind—why did you dislike me so much?”

He smiled bitterly. “Sometimes, I forget that you don’t see the way I see you. You are a smart, dauntless woman, who’s pushed all my buttons. It all just built and built upon each other until I found you—Dove—here.” He pauses. “I projected my frustrations onto Dove—you—here. But never, for a moment, doubt my feelings aren’t genuine.”

You pursed your lips. “Forgive me, but I cannot accept your accusations of me being the office slut—very rude, by the way—were without malice. You constantly pushed me down, clashed with me in the workplace and you were just plain classist.”

Sicheng’s eyes were casted down, but his grip was steady. “I will not lie. Those words I spat at you were with malice. But now, in retrospect, they were nothing more but words of immature frustration that I channeled towards you. I know that I cannot take them back and they will forever linger in the air between us, but I can apologize and recognize those words were completely unacceptable.”

He angled his body fully towards you and clasped your hand in both of his. “I am sorry for my actions. My anger was misplaced and the sentiments do not represent me anymore. I am sorry and I hope you can forgive me.”

“And then what? What do you want now, Sicheng?” An edge of desperation tinged your voice.

He smiled bitterly at you. “Everyday, the smell of you lingers and I, like Pavlov’s dog, cannot help but feel an ache in the marrow of my bones when I see your crimson red lips. Every night, when I go to bed, you are seared across the back of my eyelids and I cannot escape you, even in my dreams.” He paused. “I want you, or whatever scraps you’re willing to toss me.”

A sharp exhale left you nose and you blinked rapidly. “I don’t want to get hurt. You get off on hurting people.”

“With your consent.”

“Say I want a completely vanilla relationship,” you challenged. He didn’t flinch. “What about then?”

Sicheng clenched his jaw and held your gaze fiercely. “Anything.”

“I hate that you are all I’ve wanted in a man,” you admitted unwillingly. He hummed. “Will we be each other’s destruction? Or will we be each other’s maker?” you pondered nonsensically.

“Aren’t we already both?” he retorted.

Slowly, without releasing his hand, you rose from your chair and lowered yourself into his lap. His eyes traced your every movement. For a few, brief moments, you looked into each other’s eyes without the obsurance of a mask or the encumbrance of a workplace rivalry. Your left hand cupped his cheekbone and stroked the skin underneath his eye.

“This will be interesting,” you said.

He gave no sign of reaction, but tilted his head into your palm and closed his eyes. “After us, the flood,” he recited.

Monday, March 2nd, 2020

Sinochen Enterprises, Chater House, Central, Hong Kong

7:50 PM HKT

A secret grin tugged at your lips as you looked across the table at Sicheng, who was intensely focused on the presentation your coworker was giving. Perhaps he’d felt the weight of your gaze on him as he chanced a glance at you and gave you a small smirk.

The past month in your relationship with Sicheng was equally fulfilling and frustrating. There were times where both of you deliberately looked for a fight or misinterpreted each other, but there were also times you could shed your layers and just be yourselves with the other.

Even each fight, where you or Sicheng stormed out, or broke things, you came back to each other at the end. Pushing, pulling, pushing, pulling relentlessly. The flood, indeed.

You focused back in on the meeting and contributed to the smatter of clapter for the end of your coworker’s presentation. As he turned off the projector and people stood up to leave, Xiao Daiyu—the interim head of the Sales department—stopped you and Sicheng.

“Y/N, Sicheng, please stay back for a moment. I’d like to talk to you about Mr. Lee’s replacement.”

You and Sicheng glanced at each other and you sat back down. A while ago, you had both agreed the decision wasn’t going to break the quiet relationship you had built. It was going to be sour. You knew, when someone was chosen, things could get messy and awkward. But this… this was too good.

Daiyu sat down and put her hands together. “After much decision and going through your interviews, the CEO has stepped in and we are sorry to say neither of you are getting the position.”

You jerked your head around to Sicheng and he did the same—wild confusion and anger in both of your eyes. Both your years of loyalty and dedication are being passed over?

“Instead, we have decided to hire outside the company for some fresh intake. He may be young, but it comes to us that he’s highly recommended and would fit in with our culture well.”

A sour feeling came to your stomach and you narrowed your eyes, resisting the urge to frown. They had decided to hire outside the company? This is how they decide to reward their workers? This was betrayal.

Glancing over, you could see Sicheng felt the same. His right hand grasped the arm of the chair tightly and you could see his knuckles turning white.

“I’d like to meet him and he’s coming—” She took a glance at her watch. “—right about now.”

A knock came from the door and a head of messy black hair peaked into the room.

“Daiyu laoban, great to see you.”

No. This could not be happening to you.

The wire glasses. The tall, lanky frame that filled the doorway. The almond shaped eyes hiding behind pitch-black hair, as black his shriveled little heart.

Daiyu, like the little bitch she was, giggled. “Y/N, Sicheng, please meet your new Sales Head: Xu Minghao.”

His eyes focused on you and your world suddenly felt tilted, careening sideways while the nausea hit you all at once.

“Nice to meet you,” he said cheerfully.

You could feel Sicheng’s concern radiating from him at your ashen face and look of shock, but you couldn't even think as flashes of blood and tears and pain shuddered throughout your body.

His smile didn’t reach his eyes. “I’m pleased to be working with you!”

(”After us, the flood” or “Aprés nous, le deluge” is an expression from Madame Pompadour, King Louis XV’s lover.)

And it’s finished. Thank you. Please don’t forget to read, comment, and reblog. I love you all and goodbye.

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holdyourbreathuntilyouseelight · 3 years

Text

Hothead

Summary: Extended station scene from 1x03 between Carlos and TK, from Carlos' POV. A snapshot of how they started to mend things between them after TK had stormed out on the date that Carlos had tried to spring on him.

Rating: General Audiences

A/N: I do not pretend to know anything about the inner workings of a police station, their rules and regulations or what sort of things are contained in their reports. Tried to be as realistic as I could but apologies for any inaccuracies.I also do not claim any ownership of 9-1-1 Lone Star or the associated characters. Pretty sure they own me instead... (:

First foray into the 9-1-1 fandom but hopefully not the last!

Read on AO3 here.

* * *

Carlos was flipping through the files on his desk, making sure he had signed off on the last of them, when a familiar name being spoken caught his attention.

"TK Strand, yeah. He's a firefighter with the 126. Guess he got a little hot-headed."

"You can't keep reusing the same joke every time something involves a firefighter, Ben, seriously."

Carlos looked up from his desk to see two of his colleagues ribbing each other, all talk and no malice.

Jill was right – Ben liked to reuse the same heat-related jokes about firefighters, but his curiosity was peaked over the implication in regards to TK.

"What's that about one of the 126 firefighters? Did they get hostile at a scene we were at or something?"

The two cops looked over at him in surprise. He wasn't normally one to join in on gossip.

"Nah, he was off duty. Started a fight at a bar. Provoked two built men that were drunk off their asses. Bartender called it in after security tried breaking it up."

Carlos felt his worry double. What was TK doing? Why was he picking a fight? He knew he had freaked out on him the other day, making it clear there was a lot more going on internally than he was letting on, but volunteering to get pummeled? That had to be a cry for help.

"EMS clear him?"

"Yeah, he's fine, just some cuts and bruises. He's cooled off now; just gotta process him, give him back his shit, and do the usual stern warning that means bull."

Carlos seized the presented opportunity, hoping Ben would take the bait. "Hey, if it's that easy, why don't I take over? Your shift just ended and I owe you for staying late when I had my abuela's birthday to run to. I've finished the last of my reports from that three car pile-up earlier, so I'm free."

"Well, me and Ella were supposed to do date night tonight… yeah, all right, Reyes. He's all yours. Thanks, man."

"Of course. Have a good time." Carlos said, trying to play it off casual, like it was no big deal, even though he was itching to corner TK and ask what the hell he was thinking. He didn't need his coworkers knowing details about his private life so it was better they didn't know he knew the guy more intimately than professional overlap.

"I think you still owe Spencer, Reyes. Pretty boy is easy on the eyes, even if he is an idiot who started a bar fight." Officer Porter teased.

Carlos didn't bite; the station knew he was out, at least most of them did, so it wasn't that weird of a comment. Reacting would only make it obvious that something had gone on between them and he didn't need a lecture from the sergeant on duty about professional conduct or bias.

Ben passed over the folder on his way to his desk. Carlos immediately sifted through it, scanning the pages quickly to learn the basics of what had gone down.

Caucasian male, mid-to-late twenties, athletic build. 0.0 BAC on breathalyzer test. No abnormalities on basic toxin screen. No prior records with APD. No registered fingerprints in American database. New York driver's license – Tyler Kennedy Strand. Firefighter identification lists station 126. Charges of assault and disturbing the peace dropped by others involved. Release from policy custody with warning.

He read further through the other two men's files, piecing together that the story detailed matched what he had already been told.

Carlos looked up as another one of his colleagues led a handcuffed TK to his work desk and nodded in his direction. He accepted the plastic bag of TK's belongings from Jill and headed over to his… well, he didn't really know what they were.

He watched as TK held an ice pack to his temple, the odd cough wheezing out of him. He probably had a bruised rib or two, if not fractured, and it no doubt left his chest extra tight.

Carlos strode over and dropped the plastic bag of belongings onto the desk without a word.

TK looked up and groaned at the sight of him. "Seriously?"

Carlos grimaced as he sat down. "Austin's a small town, TK. Or should I say, Tyler Kennedy."

"Ugh." TK grumbled, eyes closed as he kept the ice pack against the side of his head.

"Bummer about getting arrested – people might find out your real name. Which marks the first actual thing I've learned about you."

Being good with his mouth, hands, and body notwithstanding…

"Isn't your processing me, like, a conflict of interest?" TK asked, a thin shred of hope clinging to the words.

It wasn't really an issue, given that Carlos hadn't been the deciding officer on charges and, technically, he wasn't even sure what their relationship could be classified as in order to consider it. If anything, it would be their definable working relationship that was the issue, but most officers in the precinct would have the same problem since they all crossed paths at one time or another on the job.

Carlos chose not to answer him, instead changing the subject. "The good news is that neither of your new friends want to talk about that little scuffle tonight…" he explained while unlocking the cuffs around TK's wrists, trying not to react when their hands brushed in the process. "…and since you blew a 0.0, we're not even giving you a drunk and disorderly."

He finally freed TK entirely of the metal, and TK rubbed his wrists, still not looking at him straight on.

Carlos pushed the bag towards him. "You're free to go."

There was a pause as TK digested that.

"And what's the bad news?" he asked as he picked up his stuff.

Carlos inhaled. "The bad news is that means you did this with a clear head." He swallowed before leaning on the desk to bring them closer together, lowering his voice so any nosy coworkers couldn't overhear. "I'm not trying to be your boyfriend, or even your friend if you're not into it, but you should probably talk to someone about why you felt compelled to do something so suicidal."

TK's eyes held so much pain as he looked back at him that Carlos had to look away. Needing something to do with his hands before he grabbed TK and refused to let go, he tossed the tissue box in front of him.

"You've got a little crud there, by the way." he added, gesturing to the side of his mouth.

TK plucked a tissue out and rubbed at the opposite side of his mouth to where the blood had piled up.

"Other side." he said, staring unblinking at the computer screen without taking any of it in. He was way too hyperaware of the man he hadn't been able to get out of his head to concentrate on the words on the screen.

TK wiped closer to the spot but still missed and didn't get the bulk of it, so Carlos sighed and grabbed a tissue of his own.

"Stop. Just… let me."

Deep green eyes bore into his brown ones as Carlos gently wiped the area, managing to get at least the worst of it. Their gaze was locked so intensely, Carlos was half-expecting sparks to explode in the air. God, he wished he could read TK's mind. There was some sort of storm brewing behind his eyes and Carlos had no idea what kind of emotion was rolling in.

He pulled the tissue away, crushing it up in his fist to stop him from saying or doing something stupid. He had already put his heart on the line enough with the man. No need to solidify his humiliation any further.

"Thanks." TK muttered, looking away finally.

Carlos didn't look at him, pretending to be wrapped up with finalizing the paperwork on the computer.

TK leaned over the desk, crossing an arm over the space between them. "Hey. I'm sorry I went crazy on you the other night." he said softly.

Carlos didn't want to reveal all of his cards, but there was no denying the thrill that rolled through him that TK was trying to apologize for what went down between them the other day. It had been eating him up inside since. And if TK was bringing it up unprompted, maybe that meant it had been bothering him too. And that he actually wanted to mend things between them.

Carlos managed to play it cool and indifferent. "I'm a cop. I'm used to crazy."

"Look, I just went through a really bad breakup. Like, nuclear bad. And then I relapsed."

Carlos had turned his body to face him but couldn't look him in the face, instead busying himself with a report on his desk. "You mean with me?"

Great, he was just a mistake. A 'relapse'. Guess that meant TK slept around, or used to, and it really had meant nothing to him.

"No. I mean with substances."

Carlos finally looked up at that. He wasn't expecting the confession, nor the way that TK was exposing himself to him right then. TK had addiction issues? Had given up substances likely due to misuse or overuse and his breakup had been bad enough to trigger using again?

Something clicked in his memory from the other night and he felt shame wash over him. "Right. Which explains your reaction to the champagne."

He had never asked if TK was even a fan of champagne or alcohol in general. He should've been more respectful and anticipated the idea that maybe TK had a poor relationship with it, or a bad experience, or just wasn't interested in it at all. No wonder he got his back up right away – Carlos had been trying to have a proper date with him but he didn't know this important thing about him. And TK was still probably pretty raw after his relapse that even the pressure to be polite would've been enough to set off some ugly emotions. That he'd have to come up with an excuse or lie, because who wanted to reveal their deepest secrets that early on?

"I'm such an idiot. I'm-I'm sorry…"

TK cut off his stammering. "No, it's fine, okay? I just… ever since I got here, it's just… it's just grey. And I just feel numb, all the time. I guess I just… I wanted to feel something."

TK's eyes were wet now, and there was nothing but heartbreaking honesty reflecting out of them.

Carlos felt his own eyes filling with moisture. He didn't know what to say. Hearing that TK had been hurting so badly, that he still was struggling so much… it broke his heart.

TK slipped his wallet and phone out of the clear bag finally and stood up to leave, heading in direction of the exit without another word. It seemed he had said all he needed to say.

Carlos couldn't let him go yet, couldn't let that be the last thing said between them tonight. "Judging by that lip, I'd say mission accomplished."

TK stared at him in irritable disbelief, the barest hint of amusement at the edges. "You really busting my balls right now?"

"Yeah. I suppose I am." Carlos replied.

He couldn't help the way the corner of his mouth lifted in a slight smirk, and he felt his heart pick up its pace when he saw TK's expression break into one of his gorgeous smiles.

TK shook his head at him in mock-disappointment. "And all this time, I thought you were too good for me."

It was clearly meant in jest, but Carlos could detect the hidden truth behind the words. He was a little too stunned to say anything to dispute it, their easy banter normally coming naturally to him but he was drawing a blank.

It wasn't until the door closed behind him that Carlos moved, and then he was crossing the station to chase him outside.

"TK! Wait."

TK turned from where he was walking down the sidewalk, his movements more ginger now than they were in the station. He likely was in a lot more physical pain than he had let on.

Carlos stood in front of him and inhaled a breath in the hopes that it would instill some courage in him.

"Thank you for telling me all of that. I know that couldn't have been easy. But I want you to know, it doesn't change anything for me. I still want to be with you. Whenever you decide you're ready. I…" He exhaled shakily, glancing down at his shoes as he tried to dig for that bravery somewhere deep inside him. "I really like you, TK. Not just because you're the best sex I've ever had. I… there's something here. I feel it when I'm around you. You're… you're special. You make me feel… so many things I don't know how to name yet."

Great, now he was rambling. Even better, making it clear how much of a lovesick fool he was over the guy. That wouldn't freak him out or anything.

He corrected his throat, trying to calm his anxiety. "Look, all I'm saying is that if you feel anything for me, I can be patient. I can wait until you're more ready. I think you're worth the wait."

TK's responding smile could outshine the sun. He wasted no time in coiling his arms around Carlos' waist and burying his face in his shoulder.

"I really like you too. And I do want to give this a shot. Just… when it has a better chance of not blowing up before it gets started."

Carlos pressed a quick kiss to his good temple before pulling back.

"For now, try to stay out of trouble, okay? You won't always be so lucky to get such an understanding cop like me processing you at the station."

TK blew out an exasperated breath that turned into a laugh. "I'll do my best."

Carlos couldn't help grinning at him, a much bigger fan of a laughing and teasing TK than a shattered and beaten one.

"I should get back. You gonna be okay to get home?"

TK nodded. "Yeah I already called a ride."

"Well, see you later then." Carlos said, not really sure how to be less awkward as he headed back up the stairs to return to the station.

"Hey, Carlos?"

He turned around. "Yeah?"

"Best sex you've ever had, huh?"

TK was sporting his cockiest grin, and Carlos wished he could kiss it off of his stupid smug face.

"You would pick that as the only takeaway from that whole speech…"

TK chuckled. "No, I remember it all. I just latched onto that because it was the same for me too."

Carlos took an extra second to process and then he felt himself flushing in pride.

TK's smile softened, no doubt reading his reaction even from several feet away. "Goodnight, Officer Reyes." he said cheekily as he moved towards the car marked with the Uber sticker that had pulled up.

Carlos could only watch as the car drove off into the night.

He felt a little bereft being apart from TK after all the honesty of the evening. Something about being so vulnerable together gave him the urge to be within close quarters, not wanting to give up the resulting rush that came with exposing your heart and having it be safe with the other person.

But Carlos knew that TK needed time. And he was willing to wait as long as it took.

For now, he returned to his desk, this time with a little more of a spring in his step.

#tarlos #tarlos fic #tk strand #carlos reyes #9-1-1 lone star #911 ls #prompt #s1e3: texas proud #canon compliant #tw: mentions of past drug addiction #tw: self esteem issues

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