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phoenix-downer · 1 year

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Where I Belong Chapter 1

The Big Olive. ~1700 words. Sora/Kairi. Starts during the end of KH3/during ReMind and moves into KH4. Kairi POV. Angst, Romance, Fluff.

Chapter Summary: During their world tour, Sora takes Kairi to Thebes to visit some old friends. Meg insists the two of them take a break from cleanup duty to play hooky, and Hercules asks Pegasus to give them a ride to his villa.

Story Summary: Kairi and Sora spend his final hours at Hercules' villa, trying to enjoy the time he has left while mourning the future they'll never have. After his disappearance, Kairi struggles to cope and throws herself into her training. But when she's sent on a mission with Donald and Goofy to investigate Olympus for clues, a run-in with the Lord of the Dead just might hold the key to finding Sora.

Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 | Chapter 3 | Chapter 4 | Chapter 5

Seeing the worlds with Sora was better than Kairi ever could have imagined. She’d dreamed of this for so long that it didn’t seem real, like any minute she might wake up and it would all be over. Of course, any minute it would be over. That was why it was so important to treasure things while they lasted. And their latest destination was just as magical as everything that had come before it.

Thebes was a beautiful, bustling city, filled with larger-than-life statues, soaring columns, lush gardens, and paved streets lined with classical buildings. Its citizens were hard at work restoring their home from the recent fires and destruction, and Kairi enjoyed meeting the people here and learning more about their culture and daily lives as she and Sora helped Hercules and his fiancée Meg rebuild the city.

They were currently working on clearing a small temple dedicated to Aphrodite. Kairi and Meg swept the floors of small pieces of debris (as Pegasus assisted with his wings) while Hercules and Sora tackled the bigger obstacles. Phil barked out instructions that made everyone laugh, his knack for miscounting words a running joke with the whole group. Bit by bit, the beautiful mosaics on the floor were becoming visible again.

“So, Sora, I can tell you’re stronger than ever,” Hercules said. He lifted and set down an entire pillar like he was rearranging a wooden block, and it felt into place with a satisfying thud. “I’m guessing you found the answer to your question?”

“It’s all my trainin’, it’s finally paying off,” Phil insisted. He was lounging in the corner on a plush Hercules pillow, eating grapes.

“Actually, Phil, I did find the answer to my question,” Sora said with a chuckle. “Though not so much an answer as an entire shift in my perspective.” He glanced at Kairi and smiled. She couldn’t help but smile back, a blush dusting her cheeks because she would never get used to how her heart fluttered when he looked at her. “I know where I belong now.”

“Glad to hear that,” Hercules said, dusting his hands off. “You’ve gotta make sure you don’t take that for granted.”

“I never will,” Sora said, his voice soft and low. His hand flickered in and out of existence, and he quickly shoved it into his pocket. Kairi felt like someone had stabbed her in the gut but pretended not to see what had happened. He still hadn’t admitted he was fading away, and she wanted him to tell her on his terms.

Meg frowned and took the broom away from Kairi’s hands. “Enough cleaning for now, we can handle things from here. You two need to play hooky for the rest of the day.” She looked at Hercules, and Kairi noticed the way his pupils dilated and how his entire attention was focused on her. “Wonderboy, whaddya say we let them romp around the villa? I think they could really use a break from all this boring cleanup duty.”

“Oh! Um, that’s fine, yeah, that’s totally fine. Please, make yourselves at home. I’ll have Pegasus take you there.”

Kairi gave Meg a grateful look. She was happy to help their new friends, but her time with Sora was running out, and she wasn’t sure how much longer they’d have together. Meg smiled and winked, then tossed Kairi’s former broom to Phil.

“Goat-man, get up and make yourself useful,” she said. Phil complained loudly and stomped his hooves, making them all laugh, but he did as Meg asked.

Pegasus dutifully clopped into position and used his head to gesture at his back. Kairi gulped. She’d ridden a horse with a saddle before, but Pegasus didn’t have a saddle or reins, plus he had those big old wings. How was she supposed to get on his back?

Sora smiled softly. “Here, I’ll help.” He put his hand over hers and moved it to Pegasus’s mane. “Grab a tuft of his mane like this, then skip to get a little momentum. You’ll throw your right leg up and use that momentum to get the lower half of your body up. Then you’ll grab his withers to help you pull the top half of your body up too.”

“If I fall, you’ll catch me, right?” she asked, gripping onto Pegasus’s mane for dear life.

“Always.”

She looked at him, her heart racing, then took a few deep breaths. “I can do this.”

“You can do this. I believe in you.”

She nodded, his faith giving her courage. She did what he said, skipping and then throwing her right leg up. Pegasus dutifully shifted position when she under-calculated her momentum and overshot how far she needed to go, but between his help and Sora’s help, she managed to mount successfully.

“See?” Sora said, smiling proudly as she straightened. “That wasn’t so bad, now was it?”

She shook her head. “I’m always learning new things when I’m with you.”

He looked at her in a way that made her so flustered she had to look away, her face as red as her hair. He kept looking at her like that, and it was so much that her heart couldn’t handle it.

Hercules looked at Meg like that, too.

“Hang on, I’ll join you,” Sora said. “Scoot back a little, okay?” She did what he said, and a moment later, he gracefully mounted Pegasus and settled in front of her, grabbing tufts of Pegasus’s mane.

“But what will I hold on to?” she squeaked, realizing there was no easy way for her to grab onto Pegasus’s mane from her current position.

Sora turned his head and grinned. “Me.”

Gulping, she wrapped her arms around Sora as Pegasus broke into a trot, then a lope, then a gallop. She’d be more flustered by how close she was to Sora, by how her chest was pressed into his back, if she weren’t scared witless and holding on for dear life.

Then they weren’t on the ground anymore, and her stomach lurched as they rapidly ascended. She squeezed her eyes shut and tried to fight the waves of nausea descending on her as the wind whistled past them.

“Kairi, open your eyes,” Sora called back to her.

“Ungh, I’m gonna be sick,” she moaned.

“Trust me, it’s worth it.”

She took a deep breath, then peeked at their surroundings. The steady thump, thump, thump of Pegasus’s wings was soothing, and Sora was right. The view was absolutely worth it. All of Thebes plus the surrounding countryside unfolded beneath them, brilliant greens and lush fields and mysterious forests and winding rivers. In the distance was Mount Olympus, and Kairi marveled at how beautiful this world was, how different it was from Destiny Islands and Radiant Garden.

And best of all, she was getting to experience this with Sora. Now that she was feeling more comfortable, she rested her head on his shoulder and sighed happily. They were so close to each other and it felt really, really nice. She felt him stiffen a little at the increased contact and then melt under her touch.

She wished she could see his face, see how he felt about this, but then again, it might make her so flustered she had to look away again. Maybe touching him like this at first would help them feel more comfortable doing more later.

No, what was she thinking. There would be no later. All they had was now.

Presently, they began to descend. Below them was a sprawling villa with verdant walled gardens, elegant buildings with tiled red roofs supported by sprawling columns, and fountains and pools filled with beautiful blue water. This must be Hercules and Meg’s home. It was right by the ocean, and the sparkling sea glittered up at them. The villa got bigger and bigger till at last Pegasus glided to a smooth, easy landing by the foot of a tall stone staircase. They were on a paved garden path near a rounded seating area, and one of the fountains enticed them with its cool waters.

She, Sora, and Pegasus were all panting, Pegasus from carrying two people on the journey, Sora from doing all the difficult parts of riding him, and Kairi from the thrill of it all.

“Kairi?” Sora asked. “Mind if I dismount?”

“I wish I didn’t have to let go of you,” she murmured, her face red. She was sad their wonderful flight was already over. Yet another ending on the path to their final separation.

“It’s only temporary,” he promised, and she relented and released her grip. He dismounted and then helped her down, his touch gentle and strong at the same time.

She wobbled a little when her feet made contact with the ground, and he was quick to wrap his arms around her to steady her.

“Thank you,” she said, resting her hand over his heart. They were both breathing heavily, and Sora licked his lips. Their faces were so close that he could lean forward just a little further and kiss her. Her heart hammered in her chest. He had this look in his eyes that she’d never seen before, and a thrill went through her. She closed her eyes and tilted her head, imagining what it would feel like to kiss him at long last—

Pegasus neighed loudly, startling them apart.

“Sorry, thanks for the ride, Pegasus!” Sora said, his face bright red as he rubbed the back of his neck. An overly cheerful smile was plastered on his face, like he was really embarrassed and was trying to hide it.

“Yes, thank you,” Kairi quickly added. Maybe she’d just imagined Sora had wanted to kiss her. She’d caught him by surprise, that was all.

Pegasus whinnied appreciatively, then took flight again. Kairi and Sora watched until he became just a small figure in the sky, no bigger than a toy horse. Sora turned to her, a soft smile on his face. He put his hands behind his back in that delightfully charming Sora way of his and tilted his head.

“Well Kairi? We have this entire villa to ourselves for the rest of the day. What do you wanna do?”

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A/N: The prompt for this fic was provided by Aquafolia, who requested a story based on the following quote from Hercules during KH3 in regards to why he gave up immortality to be with Meg: “I’d have to be apart from the person I love most, and that life would be empty.” She also suggested Sora and Kairi explore Thebes together as well as a few later plot points 👀 ✨ Thank you for providing the prompt and a basic framework for the story 🙏

Thank you also to Liv for reading through the story, providing suggestions, helping me stay motivated, and providing helpful feedback as always ❤️ I really enjoyed bouncing ideas off of you and hearing your thoughts. Thank you for always being so supportive of my writing, it really means a lot 🥺 ❤️

Also, the instructions for mounting a horse bareback are from this YouTube video. I just thought it would be really fun for Sora and Kairi to get to ride Pegasus together, but he doesn’t have a saddle or reins, so reality ensued and I had to do a little additional research. And I also rewatched the actual Hercules movie, pausing to take screenshots and make notes about character dialogue and world details to incorporate. It was a lot of fun and gave me a deeper appreciation for the movie and for how Kingdom Hearts has incorporated various details from the movie over the years. As I was watching the movie too I was like “wait a second, I don’t know that Hercules’ villa has really appeared in Kingdom Hearts yet at all (unless the garden-y areas in KH3 count), it’s so beautiful and I’d really like to feature it,” and thus the end of this chapter (and the next chapter) was born.

Also, the title is taken from one of the lyrics in Hercules’ song, “Go the Distance,” since his search for belonging is such a core part of his character arc, and he finds that place of belonging with Meg. Wink wink nudge nudge I wonder how that will apply to this story 🧐 😉

As always, thank you for reading!

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caratmagic · 3 years

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—jung wooyoung—

contains: arguing, pretty offensive words, explicit content

word count: 2.3k

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Enemy Territory 🌻chapter 4🌻

You hate that you find yourself dragging your feet slowly—yet quietly— to Wooyoung’s door. Hoping that the noises you hear from behind it aren’t those of pleasure.

There’s an exchange of them chatting, audible enough to hear but not enough to make out the words. As if snooping like this wasn’t enough, you press the shell of your ear against the door. Using the frame of it to steady your body from making any unnecessary movements or noise.

A rustle. Then several more. You think you hear the sheets move.

They’ve stopped talking.

More silence, then a loud thump onto the floor.

Your heart races out of your chest and you have a hard time picturing what could possibly be going on inside Wooyoung’s room.

Footsteps hurry to the door and before you could get more than halfway down the hall, Wooyoung’s body peeks out from behind his door.

“Snooping on me now?” He scoffs with that annoyingly charming sneer. “I thought we were supposed to stay out of each other’s business? Now look who’s breaking their own rules.”

You shut your eyes tightly while your back faces your ex.

Fuck.

A breath quickly fills your lungs as you turn around in efforts to compose your expressions. You’re somehow confused as to why he was suddenly wearing a shirt.

“I— I was just about to knock and ask you what type of meat you wanted to grill, you idiot.” Your mouth moves faster than your thoughts and you’re so glad that your brain was quick enough to pull something straight out of your ass. “I didn’t want to… interrupt.”

Wooyoung holds the door open slightly for you to catch a small glimpse of the girl politely seated at the edge of his bed. Blinking curiously at you with a content smile on her face, although her tears still stain her cheeks. “It’s not even noon yet y/n, I’m smarter than that to start having rough sex knowing that you’re in the apartment.”

This thought somehow makes your stomach turn and not in a pleasant way. You didn't want to imagine Wooyoung like this with someone else. Yet, an image of him bare and in his sexual glory flashes across your mind and for a second you forget that you aren’t single. You forget that you have a neglectful boyfriend who likes to have sex with you once a week then proceeds to avoid you until the next weekend arrives.

Does Wooyoung have sex often when I’m not around? Did he have to use the word ‘rough’? Do they have rough sex together?—

Why was the thought of Wooyoung having sex with someone else more distressing to you than the entire problem of your boyfriend literally using you as a weekend booty call?

Not a single soul should know why, because the reality of it all is that: One, Wooyoung is single. And two, you are not.

So you had no right to be bothered about it.

Right?

“Uh. Right,” You subconsciously mess with the tips of your fingers to think of what to say next since you didn’t expect that his comment would throw your mind into a loop. “Just text me when you’ve, um, decided what you want. I’ll head to the store now since you’re busy… so you’ve got 20 minutes to make a choice.”

“No need to wait 20 minutes for me to text you, y/n,” Wooyoung slowly pulls his lips into a gentle smile. A smile that sets off a million bursts of fireworks through your chest. “You already know what kind of meat I like to grill.”

Instantly you blink away the feeling—or at least try to ignore it. “People change. Just wanted to ask in case you had a change in taste.”

Wooyoung presses his lips together before nodding his head slowly. Clearly catching your composure and deciding not to point it out due to the guest on his bed. “Uh, nope. My tastes are constant, y/n.”

The worst part of it all is, your conversation was being monitored by a ditsy flower, just waiting for Wooyoung to come back and take care of her… You hated it. Everything about this set up.

Now, heading out of the apartment to get groceries seemed like a much better idea to you than twiddling your thumbs to wait for Wooyoung’s pretty guest to leave.

“I’ll head out then.”

Upon grabbing your purse and your keys, you curse at yourself mentally for getting caught snooping. Even scolding your heart for causing your mind to lose control of your emotions.

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

It had only been half an hour since you left to get ingredients for the meal with Wooyoung, yet a familiar vehicle pulls into the apartment complex parking lot.

A few flights up and your boyfriend is back at the front of your door. Sure to himself that your car has left and that you’d be gone for a while.

San punches in the code of your apartment door. When it opens, a girl stands on the other side peering up at San with a shocked expression.

“Oh hey, It’s y/n boyfriend.” She smiles before turning to Wooyoung who, at the moment, keeps a straight face.

They had finally completed their 30 minute rant session, where she comes to him for help with her loneliness. Which was a topic to talk about for another time since Wooyoung felt like it wasn’t even his place to do it for her— also, considering he’s rejected her multiple times to be something more than her emotional support friend.

He never felt like a new relationship was something he needed.

As far as relationships are concerned, Wooyoung has enough on his plate to deal with considering the ugly truth he’s recently discovered. And of course, his unsettled feelings for his gorgeous ex.

“What are you doing back?” Wooyoung asks San, holding the door open for his emotionally unstable friend.

“Uh, coming to see my girlfriend??” San exchanges an offended glare at Wooyoung.

“Oh, I thought you already had your fill for her last night… What happened? Fell asleep before you could finish the job?” Wooyoung’s words are calm yet sharp like knives. Attacking San with precision as he tilts his head in accusation. “She’s out getting groceries.” He adds.

“You know,” San narrows his eyes, striding to level his face right in front of Wooyoung’s. “You have a lot of nerve thinking you can have any say in our relationship considering you’re her fucking ex.”

“We only broke up because I decided to switch colleges last minute without telling her.” Wooyoung doesn’t back down. He’s aware that his choice was the reason why the two of you broke up and that he should’ve told you sooner he wasn’t going to go to the same college as you guys had planned. “At least I never snuck out of bed after having sex with her.”

San scoffs at the gall. “Don’t act like you fucking know me.”

“I don’t.” Wooyoung shifts his weight and sticks his hands into his jean pockets. “But I know every part of y/n way better than you do. Every. Single. Part.”

San’s hand clenches into a fist and right before he draws it back to swing at Wooyoung. The girl awkwardly standing beside them in the threshold of the door raises her voice. “Hey, as much as I like the drama, I kind of have work so if I can just pass through…”

San doesn’t steer his eyes away from Wooyoung as he takes a step to the side for the girl to get around his body. Too peeved to realize that he was blocking the door.

“…I’ll see you later, Wooyoung. Thanks for helping me out again.” She waves before disappearing into the hall.

San huffs through his nose. It’s upsetting to him that Wooyoung doesn’t even seem the least bit affected by the situation. “Why aren’t you packing your shit? Isn’t this your last week?”

As if his train of thought derails, without even waiting for an answer to his own questions, San pushes past your ex and heads straight into your room.

Looking for what he left so recklessly before sneaking away that morning.

Wooyoung, with his hands still in his pockets, calmly follows San. Watching your boyfriend’s frantic search for whatever he’s misplaced.

Since Wooyoung respects your privacy, he stops right at the entrance of your room. “Did you wait for y/n to leave the apartment?”

“What the fuck are you talking about?” San tosses a pillow off your bed. Not sparing a single glance at your ex.

“I don’t know,” Wooyoung leans against the door. “I mean, if I had something to hide, I guess I’d want to wait until she was gone too.”

San stops completely. His heart drops to his stomach when he turns to your ex standing in front of your room. “What the hell is that supposed to mean?”

Wooyoung shrugs with a playful smirk etching onto his face as one of his hands pulls something out of his right pocket. “You tell me.”

There. What San was looking for.

His phone.

“Where did you find that!?” San yells as he practically dives for it.

“Ah, ah, ah.” Wooyoung shoves it back into his pocket. Placing his hand in front of himself defensively. “Question is, why are you so upset?”

San swallows and processes quickly before clearing his throat. He couldn’t understand why his palms were so sweaty. “It’s—Because it’s fucking mine! Hand it over!”

Wooyoung shakes his head, angling his body away from your boyfriend. “It can’t be yours.”

“Are you fucking mad?” San yells again. Smacking Wooyoung’s arm away from the position he’s guarding his pocket. “Of course, it is. It’s my phone!”

“No, no, no.” Wooyoung’s stupid, playful smile begins to boil hate into San’s veins. “This can’t be your phone.”

“I’ll drop kick that fucking smile off your face, you son of a bitch, give me back my phone!”

“Dude,” Wooyoung chuckles, loving how riled up your shitty boyfriend is getting. “I swear this phone has got to be someone else’s… because when I saw it on the couch, ringing at 4 am, someone named Eunji was calling to ask if her ‘daddy’ was still going to—and I’ll quote her on this, “Rearrange my guts like you always do on Saturday nights.” And you're telling me you’re certain that this is your phone?”

The reality settles into the air and San realizes that he’s been caught cheating on you… by your ex.

This is when Wooyoung’s twisted smirk turns into an angry scowl. He’s disgusted that you found a man so indisputably vile and unloyal.

“You really think you’ll get away with this? Lying to y/n like this and fucking her once every week just to make up for how shitty a person you are?”

San’s gaze falters to the floor and he snatches his phone from the unguarded pocket of Wooyoung’s jeans. “What are you gonna do, huh? Tattle-tail on me?” He shoves it into his back pocket, scoffing. “She’ll never believe you. She hates you.”

“Even if she does,” Wooyoung turns on his heels and enters into his room across the hall. “She’ll wish you were dead after figuring out that you leave her in the mornings just to be in some other woman’s bed the very same night.”

San follows Wooyoung a few steps into the hall. “You wouldn’t dare tell her.” He spits.

An exasperated sigh paired with the front door swinging open, startles the two men away from glaring at one another.

*********

After 30 minutes of shopping, you head home.

The entire time in the parking lot, you were gathering the courage to talk yourself into confidently walking back into your house.

So what if he was having sex? You have sex all the time with San while Wooyoung stays in the room across the hall from yours.

How is coming back home knowing that he’s having fun with a woman be any different?

Equality at its best example for it. You remind yourself as you exit the elevator.

To your dismay, You were unpleasantly greeted by a very voluptuous woman with intruding questions as to why you were going to enter into her boyfriend’s home.

You push past the nuisance at your front door. Sighing as you lazily drop the groceries onto the floor.

You can only assume that this other girl— an entirely different girl compared to the one from this morning—is Wooyoung's little problem.

This boy must be cheating… What a waste. “Taste’s are constant” my ass.

You pray that Wooyoung’s ditsy girl toy from earlier this morning has left. Though you liked witnessing drama, you didn’t want to see two girls fight over your ex. “Wooyoung? I think you have a guest.” You call out as you take off your shoes.

To your surprise, Your boyfriend is staring at you from the hallway— eyes wide and stunned.

Wooyoung steps out of his room to stand in the hall next to San. A flat smile sets on his features as he stares at you and eunji. “I won’t need to…” He seems to be talking to San when he speaks. “Next time, set a better password on your phone. You never know who’ll scroll through your messages and send people your girlfriend’s address.”

This confuses you. Immensely. More so, when San’s face drains of all color.

“Baby! Who the hell is this girl?” Miss voluptuous checks your shoulder as she rushes past you. Headed towards Wooyoung with her arms stretched out.

What rattles your world from it’s axis isn’t that Wooyoung doesn’t hold her, it’s that the girl doesn’t even look at him. She doesn’t even acknowledge that Wooyoung’s standing there.

Instead,

She’s all over your boyfriend. Calling him “baby’ and glaring at you as if you were nothing more than a disgusting insect.

No, no… I must be dreaming.

“Sannie, who the hell is this girl and why is she coming into your apartment?”

[ chapter 5 >> ]

#wooyoung #jung wooyoung #wooyoung imagines #wooyoung smut #wooyoung x reader #ateez #ateez imagines #san imagines #ateez x reader #ateez smut

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elphiej · 3 years

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Be My Light - Chapter 4: The Mad Leader

*Genre: Mafia, angst, eventual smut, slow burn

*Warnings: References to violence, minor assault,

Author’s note: First off, I’d like to send a special Thank You to someone who was a huge inspiration to me and to this story. This is the chapter that really started it all and I was inspired by @bangtan-sonyeonddaeng ‘s mafia reaction series. She is a fantastic person and was one of the first people I showed this Be My Light to when I was too scared to post it. She is a beautiful soul and wonderful writer. Thank you for the push.

Another Big thanks to my editor for sticking with me all this time and into the future. And, of course, to all the people who are reading, commenting, and reblogging this. I can’t tell you all how much is means to me. Thank you all and I hope you enjoy this next installment of Be My Light. (P.S. I have a thing for RM in a long trench coat.)

Tag list: @lolalalooo @bangtan-sonyeonddaeng, @barbikatherine , @mrsfortune1306 , @lovesick-heart0 , @iamnamjoonsbxtch , @deathkat657 , @deeepvibes , @sugamonster22 , @weiinihao, @hemmofluke , @rainbow-zebra-unicorns , @joyfullyobsessed , @elvencantation ,

Chapter 4: The Mad Leader

You stared at the cell phone clutched in your hand, your mind spinning with so many questions. Who were those people? Why did talking to this ‘RM’ make you feel like something bad was coming? With that deep, serious tone, were they just as dangerous as the man with the cane? And what kind of normal person calls themselves ‘RM’? Agust was already on the edge of interesting and odd as it was. Scanning over the still lit screen, you wondered what other names were in the contact list. Other than ‘God of Destruction’, the last few calls you could see without going through the device belonged to ‘Mochi’, ‘My Favorite’, and ‘Worldwide Pain in my Ass’. Based on those names, you couldn’t begin to imagine who was gonna match those names.

It was safe to assume that this RM guy was concerned about the man in the suit trying to finish the job. The hospital had a good security team but you thought it best to talk to Doctor- Henry- to see if more could be done. Your hand paused as it went to put the cell phone back with Agust’s things; if RM or any of the odd named voices tried to contact you for an update, they would most likely call that, instead of trying to navigate the hospital switch board. Figuring it was the best option, you placed the phone safely in your scrub’s pocket as you moved to the bedside for one last check on the patient. Agust hadn’t moved again since right before the phone call and was still as could be. The monitors were all reading normally. There was a blood transfusion line in his arm to help replace what he had lost, along with another IV pushing fluids and medication. You adjusted his arm to make it more comfortable for him once he woke up.

“I’ll be back to check on you as soon as I can,” you said as you fixed his blankets. “Please, try not to do anything until I get back.”

You slipped out of the room and pulled the door shut behind you. There was an anxious feeling that crept back into your gut, the same one you felt when you had first heard the gun shots ring out from the silence of the construction site. Your mind had so many thoughts and scenarios running through it that you felt overwhelmed. Things like, ‘what if the man with the cane and rough voice came here? Would he shoot his way through the floors until he found Agust? Were you really as safe as you hoped?’ The hospital had been under a few threats but nothing had ever come from those except words. It would be best to stay as cautious as possible. You had too many friends and patients to not take your feelings seriously.

As you made your way towards your station, you were surprised to see that Henry was already there leaning over the desk with the phone pressed up against his ear. He pulled a pad of paper from the other side of the desk and started scribbling something down as he nodded and spoke in a low tone to whomever was on the other end. That saves me from having to page him, you mused. Henry did a double take towards you when he noticed you out of the corner of his eye. He beaconed you over with an urgent wave of his hand. The calm yet awkward demeanor from earlier had been replaced with a more serious one. Once you were within an arm’s reach of him, he reassured whomever he was talking to that ‘everything will be taken care of’ and hung up.

“Good,” he said, placing a hand on your shoulder, “I need you to help me.”

“Henry, about that John Doe patient. I was able to talk to someone close to him. I think we may need to alert the security team about- “

“I’ve already talked to them. The hospital is going on alert for any suspicious activity entering the hospital. And we are actually moving the patient to one of the private units upstairs. I just got off the phone with the director and we’ve got everything worked out for you so you’ll be safe,” he said over his shoulder as he started walking down the hall.

“Wait, what does that mean? What do you mean by worked everything out?” You took extra long steps to keep up with his brisk pace.

“The same person who demanded higher security for that patient requested that you be kept with him as his private staff until otherwise. Which means you’ll be in the secure ward with him in case anything happens. It’s gonna be for the best. You were the first one with him and it’s gonna be more comfortable if he doesn’t have to get acclimated to someone else after all this. Don’t worry, we’ve got it worked out with Jax already.”

Henry led you back into Agust’s room and made fast work of disconnecting him from the machines that surrounded him. He pulled the IV bags down and placed them on the bed by the still form. Meanwhile, you were frozen at the end of the bed, feeling dizzy from how fast he seemed to expect you to understand what was happening. This wasn’t the first gang related case you had been assigned to since starting at Mercy, nor was it the first gunshot case; why did this sudden change to the routine make you feel ever more nervous? Never had you moved a patient into a secure wing designed from more severe or quarantined patients before just because someone had requested it. Henry called your name to shake you from your thoughts and motioned you to move to the side of the bed as he unlocked the wheels of the gurney and pushed the bed from the wall. As you helped guide it from the room, you couldn’t help but feel the tension grow.

“So, I am just supposed to stay locked up in some room like a prisoner? And be someone’s private nurse? What about the rest of my patients here? I can’t just leave Amber to tend to them all alone. We are short staffed as it is,” you mentioned as you navigated everyone into the elevator at the end of the hall.

Henry hit a button and the elevator started to move. He leaned close to look you in the face, his eyes filled with seriousness. “Listen, Y/N, I know this is strange but you just have to trust me. I don’t know all the details but someone particularly important has to be involved to make the director so quick to comply with whatever they asked. But no matter what, your safety is my priority, maybe a bit more than my patients. I’m sure the director thinks that too. Whoever it is must just want to make sure this guy has the best care possible. And when he gets here, he’ll probably want to hear from you what happened. And if whatever gang did this does try anything, I don’t want you to worry because no one is going to get to him or you. Only the director, you, and I will have access to this room or know where he is. Apparently, the man the director talked to said he would have a way to get a hold of you and prove his identity to gain access. I know how you are, Y/N, you are a great person. That’s why you’re so good at what you do. But don’t think that you are inconveniencing anyone; Jax has already rearranged everything and made some calls. I really need you to think about yourself now. And what is best is for you is to do what I am asking and not over think this right now.”

Henry was being so sincere that you couldn’t find the voice to make any arguments. You gave him a weak nod and tried to take what he said to heart. As Amber had pointed out before, one of your qualities was that you put others well before yourself. Hence, why you were in this predicament. As the doors opened onto the new floor, you promised him that you would try.

The door opened onto a floor where the more severe, long term patients were kept. This floor could, also, be used for quarantining or the more delicate of patients. At the moment, you knew it had only a few occupants: a coma patient, a patient suffering from extreme burns, and someone from the psych ward that needed more focused attention. To enter this ward, you needed a key card, making this more isolated than your full and frantic floor. Henry commented there was no record that Agust had been moved in any of the files. And if anyone tried to look him up, it would be like he never existed. The person who had called to make all this happen had said he’d contact you and that he and his colleagues were to say they were here to perform community service if asked by anyone else. Apparently, they deemed it as security protection. Henry had you swipe your ID to gain access to the floor and you made your way down the silent hall to the vacant room Henry had staked out for you to stay in. The room was bigger than the one you were used to on your floor. There was a small couch across from where the bed was to go, a private bath off near the entrance, and even a TV in the corner. There was, also, a small recliner near where the head of the gurney was to rest. You imagined you’d be there most of the time. Henry helped you set everything back up in the room and did a quick check on the patient after he was secured in his new residence.

“Hopefully, he’s gonna wake up a bit soon. He’s reacting well to what I’m doing,” Henry commented as he checked Agust’s pupils constrict as he shined his pen light in them. He gave some instructions about his IV and transfusion processes. He gave you a quick run down of the floor in case you needed anything. “Until he wakes up, I guess feel free to do whatever in here. It can be like a mini vacation. You know, if you ignore all the weird stuff happening. You can watch some TV or order some food. The mysterious man said to spare no expense when it came to our patient or you. I promise by Friday this will be all over and we can go out and talk about nicer things. Okay?”

Before you could stop yourself, you felt your cheeks get hot and you turned your eyes to the floor. This was not the best place for this, but you knew Henry did it to only ease the anxiety you were feeling. He was almost too perfect. Henry promised to check in once he had finished his rounds as he left from the room and pulled the door shut behind him. You heard the security lock click into place, knowing it would only open from the inside or if you had an ID card. You allowed yourself to drop into the recliner, allowing everything to wash over you. Paranoia was thick in the air as you tried to make sense of everything. Henry was right; whoever these people were they must just want to talk to you and this was easier than scouting the halls. But the thought did very little to chase the nervousness away. Your hands started to rub together out of tension, squeezing your fingers, cracking your knuckles one by one with your thumbs. You took a few deep breaths as you tried to force yourself out of the impending panic. Your eyes looked over at the bed. You tried to remind yourself that you needed to keep it together and be strong for him. Then your eyes landed on his hand. You remembered when you were hiding behind the counter when the man with the cane was getting closer and closer. And when Agust had reached over and squeezed your hand. In that moment, he gave you reassurance with such a small gesture, not thinking of himself. You remembered how genuine it felt. It’d be nice if you could do that now, you thought with a weak smile.

Instead, you settled for forcing yourself to think of something else. You read through his charts, tapped through some news on your phone, and tried to people watch out the window behind the couch. The afternoon sun had started making its way towards the horizon; how quickly the day had ended up flying by. You had decided against turning on the television for now, thinking how awkward it would be for him to wake up to you watching some trash TV show. You tried walking around the room to get a sense of where you’d be staying for the foreseeable future. But all of that only killed twenty minutes and you were still stir-crazy. There wasn’t much you could do for Agust at the moment, except allow him to rest without you trying to hold his hand or anything else.

Suddenly, there was a buzzing in your pocket; it was Agust’s phone. You were a bit ashamed at how quickly you reached for it. There was a new text message. It was from a new named contact: Sunshine. The preview of the message said, ‘To Miss Nurse’, making your assumption that the people on the other end would have expected you to keep the phone on you correct. And since it was addressed to you, you didn’t feel too bad about opening the phone again. You swiped open the text and tried not to scroll anywhere higher into their previous chats.

- Sunshine: To Miss Nurse. if you see this, please take good care of our Hyung. And if he gives you any trouble, tell him I said to behave. RM should be almost there. He tends to speed.

There were a couple silly emojis next to it that made you smile. Surely, they can’t be bad people if this is how they communicate. They must be close friends. Though, you still wondered how they had gotten the director to do all this. Maybe there was someone else doing all of this? You shook your head and typed a quick message back, so not to have them worry.

- I’ll take good care of him. That’s my job.

You really hoped Agust didn’t mind you messing with his phone. Though, you figured it was better to ask for forgiveness than permission in this scenario. There was no response which made you think that it was all he needed at the time. Gazing at the clock on the phone, you had wasted thirty minutes in the room so far. You thought of your backpack in the locker room a few floors down and some of your things at your stations that you could pass the time with. Since Agust was secure here, you thought it may be a good idea to gather some things to help you waste time until this RM shows up. It was unlikely that Agust was going to wake up yet, and you could be fast so he wouldn’t be alone for long. You slipped the phone back into your pocket and rose from the chair, heading for the door. You cast one more look at the still figure in the bed before dimming the lights and pulled the door shut behind you.

You set off at a brisk pace for the elevator and took it down a few levels to where the staff locker room was kept. You raced in, pulled your bag from your locker, and left before anyone noticed you. You were sure since the director had put the whole hospital on alert that everyone was making rounds to keep eyes everywhere. You hoped grabbing your stuff from your station was just as easy; you weren’t sure about how to explain why you had suddenly deserted your station. Amber wasn’t there but you could hear her and Jax talking loudly from a back room. You wanted to talk to your best friend, to help ease some nerves and have her tell you exactly what you needed to hear. But you didn’t want to wait around or take her away from her new workload. You pulled open the drawer where you kept some personal items, incase of slower work days, and shoved them into your bag. You froze when your fingers hit against something that you knew, instantly, should not be in your bag. Peering into the opening, your eyes locked onto a metallic, black, studded object that you had seen earlier that morning.

The gun Agust had placed in your hand.

How did that get in there? You didn’t remember grabbing it unless it had happened in the chaos of the EMTs and police rushing to assess the situation. Well, if you weren’t already anxious, this just made it worse. Let’s just add this to the ever-growing list of stupid things I’ve done today, you berated yourself. You brought a potentially loaded gun into a hospital. You needed to get back up to the room and get this out of your possession. Maybe when this RM got there, he could take it from you. You pulled the bag shut and slugged it over your shoulder, trying hard not to think about it.

You moved away from the desk and down the hall towards the elevator. But as you stepped into the silent hall with all the doors closed, one was not closed as it had been when you left; the room where Agust had been. And there was someone looking inside. There was a man, tall and stocky, and dressed in a simple navy uniform. He wasn’t a part of the hospital staff and you didn’t think he was there to clean the room with the lights still off. Trying to stay as unnoticed as you could, you took longer strides towards the end. As you passed behind him, you peered beyond him into the pitch blackness of the room to just make out another figure lurking there. He wasn’t dressed in the same way as the man in the door. He was in darker colors that you couldn’t make out and wore what looked like a fedora on his head. What caught your attention as you passed, was the small peek of icy, blue hairs that were just visible on the side. A deep grumble that sounded from the room made your breath catch in your throat, and made you stop in your tracks. It sounded so familiar to the sadistic voice from this morning. The man with the cane had gotten into the hospital?! How, they upped security measures, hadn’t they? Maybe it was your imagination playing with you with all the stress. Not wanting to stick around to figure out if you were right, you tried to get away before they had noticed you.

But, sadly, you weren’t that lucky.

“Excuse me, nurse. Perhaps you can help me.”

You felt your whole body stiffen as the voice was all to clearly the one that had stalked you from beyond the counter. The voice that dripped with crazed malice and venom as he called out for Agust, that had taunted and tried to lure him out. The voice that you were sure would haunt your dreams. It was the man with the cane, though he didn’t have it now. As you turned, he looked nothing like the half-crazed man yelling and destroying things around him. He looked almost normal, save for the fake smile he had plastered across his lips. He was no longer dressed in the light blue suit and fur coat you had caught a glimpse behind the counter, but in a simple dark blazer and trousers. The man who lingered in the doorway had come to stand next to him as they walked up to you, dressed in a police uniform. His uniform cap was pulled low to obscure his face, though you could see bruising and swelling through the shadows. Both of them gave a slight bow to you.

“Allow me to introduce myself. I’m Inspector Taop, this is officer Chen. We are here following up on a patient that was supposed to be brought here. I’ve been looking everywhere, but no one has an answer for me whether he is here or not. And I haven’t seen a single worker on this floor.”

He had never seen you at the scene so you knew he didn’t recognize you, or could see that you didn’t believe anything that was coming out of his mouth. That would help you, you decided. You took a deep breath and tried to hide the fear and nervousness. Just act normal. Try to stall until someone comes around.

“Sorry, officer, we’re a bit understaffed as it is. What can I help you with?”

“I’m looking for a patient that was brought here. Gunshot victim, a young man, brought in this morning?”

“Can you be a bit more specific? We are a hospital. Do you know how many young men we have come in here with some kind of bullet wound? I had six this month.”

You saw the smile slip and irritation rise in those cold eyes. He cleared his throat, trying to hold on to his polite composure. “This one would have come in this morning. There was a shooting downtown. He would have had multiple gunshot wounds. One nurse said he was brought in by ambulance this morning, but then another said that they found no record of him. And the last person I talked to sent me here. Please, this is very important.”

“Can I see your badge, sir?” He looked completely off guard by the question. You, also, seemed confused. It had just jumped out of your mouth before you realized it. But it seemed like the right thing to ask. You continued, “There’s been a threat made to the hospital, you see, and I need to make sure that everything is in order. I would get in trouble if I gave such information about any patient to an imposter.”

You could see the wheels in his head turning. But you didn’t expect him to nod his head, understandingly, and reach into his pocket to hand you a leather, bifold wallet. Was this psycho really a police officer? How could someone so vile be in law enforcement? You thought back to what little memories of your father that you had lingering in the back of your mind and couldn’t begin to imagine him doing anything like what this man had done, no matter how bad of a criminal they were. Before you could think, your body seemed to act on it’s own again and opened the wallet and your eyes started to dance across the metal shield. You weren’t entirely sure what you were looking for at first. Until your eyes caught it and something clicked in your mind. It was a fake, but an exceptionally good fake. Anyone else would have just taken it at face value but something in your mind flashed and screamed that this was a fake like the smile still on the ‘inspector’s’ face. In the reaches of your memory, you remembered running your fingers over your father’s badge, memorizing every detail. And you still did that when you were stressed out; you still had his badge and it was currently in the front pocket of your bag. And you seemed to recall your father teaching you how to identify a real badge from others.

A sudden anger took hold of you that seemed to spur on some brave part of you. You closed the wallet and handed it back to him, keeping your face neutral to hide that you were even more sure of his act. Maybe it was the dishonor to officers like your father, or that he was trying to get to the boy you had risked a lot to save. And your hard work was not going to waste. “I’m sorry officer. But like I said, we have a few patients that could fit your description. None on this floor at all. And if the other nurses said they have no record of him, I’m not sure what I can do for you. Besides that, if we did have a patient come in with multiple gunshot wounds, I imagine that they’d need extensive surgery and wouldn’t be conscious to answer any questions you could have. And with no guardian to act in their place until they are awake to consent to a line of questioning about a traumatic experience, I can’t let you go any further. You should know that, Officer.”

The smile was wiped from the man’s face. The uniformed man’s eyes got wide at your declaration and they shifted towards his leader in panic. Taop, or whatever his real name was, straightened up and took a step towards you. He towered over you and the energy radiating from him would have intimidated you into submission. Just like with your ex. But you needed to protect Agust. In any case, all you needed to do was scream and someone would be alerted. There wasn’t much this asshole could accomplish without being found out. But he continued to advance until he backed you up against the wall. Even still, you never broke eye contact with him.

“I don’t think you understand the situation of this, little girl,” he said, rage tittering on the edge of his voice. “There are some really dangerous people and it would be a shame if you got caught in the crossfires. It’s in your best interest to answer my questions and tell me what I need to know.”

“Then bring a warrant,” you challenged.

His hand collided with the wall next to your head, making you jump. His face was so close to yours now, and there was the crazed man you remembered from this morning. Your heart was in your ears. He, suddenly, took a deep inhale then another before tilting his head to the side. “What a brave little girl. Tell me, where were you this morning? Something tells me you may be exactly who I need to talk to.”

“Hey, back off her!”

Both you and the man turned to look down the hall towards the elevator towards the source of the deep voice that had interrupted the line of questioning. The doors of the elevator were opened and from them stepped a young man with platinum white hair. His eyes were haunting and strong, like a dragon woken from his peace. He was exceptionally tall, taking long strides towards the scene. You couldn’t help but let your eyes take in the man who was coming to your rescue. Dressed in a dark trouser and a white buttoned up shirt gave him a classic handsomeness, and a long black coat with a hood drawn up that accentuated his height. As he approached, he slid the hood down and swiped his hand up to push the stray white hairs from his face. If you weren’t terrified, you would have appreciated how handsome he was. You glanced back at the man caging you; his body tensed as the newcomer walked up but his face never showed.

He let out a sigh and a small smile reappeared, but it was not the same he had tried to charm you with. It was one of arrogance. “Ah, Mr. Kim,” the inspector said, not moving from his position, “how nice of you to drop in.”

“You’ve got some nerve,” the handsome newcomer said, his tone low and smooth.

“What for? Being too formal? Do you not like me using your surname? I’m not sure which name you prefer now; you change names so often, it’s hard to keep up after all this time.”

“You’re one to talk. What name are you going by now, officer? Here to investigate a fraud? Or are you here to put yourself into more trouble?”

“Such a negative attitude. Officer Chen and I are here on official business,” the detective flashed his badge at the so named Mr. Kim. “And this nice young lady was willing to help me out with some information. Isn’t that right, Little Girl?”

“It sure doesn’t look that way coming from the elevator. I think you need to take a step back,” Mr. Kim ordered with a strong but suggestive tone that made you question what kind of power someone as young looking as him could possess.

The fake detective made no sign that he was planning on heeding the newcomer’s words to move from your personal space. His eyes shifted from Mr. Kim back to you. His stare bore into you sharper than claws and made your breath catch. You weren’t sure if he was trying to scare you into agreeing with him or just threaten you. But Mr. Kim was having none of that; he gave the older man’s shoulder a hard shove and wedged himself in the space between you to keep you away from the other man. Mr. Kim reached a hand behind him and placed it on your arm, to keep you secure behind him and to give you some reassurance that he was not going to hurt you. You couldn’t help yourself, as you fisted your hands into the back of his coat and peered around his massive frame.

“You always have to play savior, don’t you Rapmon?” The way he had said the name made it seem like he was trying to strike a nerve in Mr. Kim. But the other man gave no sign that he was bothered. “You make it seem like I was doing something unseemly to her. You and your broken boy scouts always turn things difficult. Speaking of, where are the others? Maybe they could answer some questions for me. There’s one in particular I’m interested in seeing. I’m checking up on a victim from a shooting downtown. Just making sure he’s doing alright.”

“You’re really committed to this bit, aren’t you Choi? Oh, sorry- what name are you going by today? It’s so hard to keep track, isn’t that what you said?” Mr. Kim tilted his head to the side, eyes twinkling with a mischievous shine.

“What a nuisance you are. I’m just trying to get information to make sure things go well. Though come to think of it, your boys may not know much. Word was that the victim was all alone. Left all by themselves, bleeding and hurt in such a dangerous situation. What kind of friends would let someone knowingly go into that situation alone? Now, I’d really like to finish my conversation with the little lady, Rapmon.” When Choi, as you figured his name actually was, took a step towards you, Mr. Kim moved the both of you to keep you behind him and further away from the other. “Well, since you seem hellbent on keeping me from doing something so simple, I could always ask you. Though to be honest, your being here may have answered my questions.”

“My being here answers nothing,” Mr. Kim challenged. “Unlike you, I am here to do good for the community. And it’s a good thing I came by when I did. You’re already on thin ice after all the trouble you’ve caused. Imagine what would happen if you caused any problems while on Hallowed Ground. If you were to hurt anyone staying or working here, you would have more than my family looking for you. The rest of the Families would be looking to teach you a lesson. Imagine what most of them will think when they hear about the deceit you pulled this morning. After what I witnessed, you can be sure I’ll have eyes monitoring this place. You will not go against the Accords.”

“Don’t you lecture me about the Accords, you psycho. I’ve been around just as long as they have and lived them. I taught them to you.”

“And yet, you only follow them when they suit you. Just like your leader and his before him. But things are different now. They are gone, and your hold is slipping. I have enough pull now to ensure Accords are followed. And if you want to make a further spectacle of yourself, I’ll gladly show you I’m not that kid anymore that you ordered around. You saw what my boys can do when pushed. Try me.”

Choi started to laugh, eyes shining in disbelief at the younger bossing him around. As you peered around Mr. Kim’s frame, you saw him go to say something to officer Chen, but couldn’t form the word. He raised his hand towards the white-haired man, but let it drop with a growl. Whatever look was set upon the elder made him rethink his next move. He settled for raising his hands in a surrender and jerking his head towards his companion to tell him they were leaving. It surprised you that he was giving up so easily after how he had acted towards you. You weren’t sure what Mr. Kim meant by accords and families, but it was more than obvious that it meant something to them. Glancing up at your protector, his face remained locked in the same stern and serious mask he had when he had appeared. His eyes, perfectly lined and accentuated with makeup that only made him more intriguing, followed the pair as they turned down the hall.

But before they could get too far, Choi stopped. He turned enough to gaze at the two of you over his shoulder, the dark and manic gleam from that morning flashing like a warning sign. He chuckled before his teasing and taunting voice that had called out to Agust filled the hall like glass shattering. “Look at how far our little maniac has come. Really living up to the title of Mad Leader, aren’t you? He thinks he’s so big and strong that he can just order me around and act like a knight in shining armor to the weak. The Mad Leader’s trying so hard to put up a front, to hide who he is, to hide the other side of the looking glass. But lest he forget, I know things he wouldn’t want others to know. And I seem to recall,” Choi turned fully around and took a full stride back towards Mr. Kim, “you had an issue with places like this. You don’t enjoy being here. Are you falling down the rabbit hole? You even have an Alice this time it would seem. So tell me, Mad Leader, are the walls closing in on you yet? Are you feeling anxious?”

You could feel Mr. Kim tense up at the name ‘Mad Leader’ each time Choi said it. He took a deep breath, trying to ground himself. He gave you a polite push away from him before fixing Choi with a glare that made officer Chen startle. You could almost feel the air change as he stepped up to be nose to nose with the thug.

“Since you can’t seem to remember my name, asshole, let me spell it out for you. It’s RM, R to the M. And I’m a motherfucking monster. Keep pushing me. I dare you. You hurt one of my boys. You better pray that he makes it out of all this ok. Or you’ll see just how ‘mad’ I can get.”

Chen seemed to realize that something bad was building as he took hold of his superior and pulled him away from RM, newly identified. Choi kept the taunting smile spread across his lips as he allowed Chen to lead him away. Before he got too far, he looked over at you and gave a nod, “We’ll be in touch, Little Girl.” And then he disappeared from the floor, leaving you in the presence of RM. You can’t say you had expected this person to belong to the voice on the other end of the phone, but it would seem like that was the theme of the day. The tall man took a few deep breaths and ran his hand through his white hair before turning back to you. The serious mask he had worn had slipped away and was more approachable. He straightened his clothes before returning to your side.

“I’m sorry you had to see that,” he said, “But he shouldn’t be back. He talks a good game but he knows when he’s out done. Did he hurt you?”

You shook your head. “I can’t believe he got in. The hospital is on lock down.”

“Well, he’s been around a while. He has his ways. Now that he’s gone, I was hoping you could help me. I’m looking for a nurse called Y/N.” You locked eyes with him and gave him a nod of affirmation. He gave you a smile, showing off a pair of dimples in his cheeks that made him much more innocent and sweeter than the man who had gone nose to nose with the monstrous thug. “That’s a coincidence. Nice to meet you. Can you show me where to go?”

“Prove that you’re who you say you are,” you said, taking a step away from him. Despite that you were sure he was the one you had talked to, it seemed like nothing was safe. He looked at you for a moment, before coming to a conclusion. He reached into his pocket and pulled out a cell phone before letting his finger glide across the screen. A moment later, Agust phone sounded off in your pocket. He glanced over at you with a bemused look as you pulled the phone out and saw the screen lit up with a notification.

- God of Destruction: It’s me.

“Sorry,” you said, feeling embarrassed by your sudden suspicion, “but after that guy flashed a fake police badge at me, I just wanted to be sure. Thank you for coming and for helping me. Are you Agust’s brother or a friend?”

RM’s eyes narrowed when he heard you say Agust and gave you a strange look. His eyes seemed to dance about you, as if he was trying to figure something out. But as quickly as it appeared, the look disappeared and he smiled again. “We usually call him Suga. Only people who don’t like him call him Agust. I don’t think he’d want you calling him that. Can we go see him now? We’ve been worried about him.” You nodded and motioned him to follow you back to the elevator. As you waited for the doors to reopen, he leaned over and whispered, “Don’t worry, I won’t tell Hyung you had his phone.”

“What? Does he have some embarrassing things on here,” you joked.

“Maybe,” came the reply and heard RM chuckle as he allowed you to step into the elevator.

You hit the button for the floor that they moved Agu- Suga to, the doors slid shut, and the lift jolted to a start. As the sound of the mechanisms filled the space, you caught a glimpse of the tall man flinch. It seemed odd, seeing as he had just faced off against the most frightening person you had ever seen. The taunting words he had said to RM before leaving came to mind, about not liking it in a hospital. It wasn’t uncommon for people to have bad experiences related to hospitals, so you tried to brush it off. Once you had made it to the secure floor, you led him down the hall. You explained that the floor was only accessible to a few people and how they had followed the directions as specified to the director. The entire time, RM listened very intently, eyes never leaving you. He was the picture of professionalism and sincerity. You swiped the two of you into the ward, and he held the door open for you as you led him down the hall to the room. As you neared the room, you wondered if you were going to survive the present of two very handsome men. Hopefully, the rest of his friends that you heard over the phone were somewhat average.

As you both entered the room, RM came to a stop in the threshold of the door, his eyes staring at the bed. You could see the worry and panic that you had heard over the phone slip across his face. You reached out and touched his arm. He looked at you with an almost innocent gaze, like he was questioning if it was alright to get closer. You gave him a nod and he was beside his friend in a flash. He looked as if he was debating to reach out to Suga, as if he were made of glass, but settled for taking hold of his hand. RM let out a breath and looked relieved to have finally seen his friend. From your place at the edge of the room, you could see how much one meant to the other and all worries about them being as bad as Choi disappeared.

“Is he going to be ok? What did they do to him,” RM asked, never taking his eyes off his companion.

“Dr. Na took good care of him,” you said, reaching for the file at the end of the bed. “He was shot twice, once in the shoulder and on his left side. The gunshot wound on his side appeared to be at close range and the bullet went through. Thankfully, there wasn’t much damage done. The bullet was lodged in his shoulder, but Dr. Na was able to remove it and mend up some of the damage. We’ll know more when he wakes up, but he should have full range of motion after some rest. He, also, has some bruised ribs and a slight concussion. Along with bruising and defensive wounds pretty much everywhere. He, also, lost a lot of blood. He’s in the middle of a transfusion now. But he is responding well to everything and we believe he should be waking up soon. With enough care, patience, and support, he should make a full recovery in no time. Which is amazing; when I found him, I was worried with how much blood he had lost that he may have had a harder road to recovery.”

RM flicked his eyes over to you. “You found him?”

“They must not have told you. I was on my way to work when I heard the gunshots. I was the first to find him and get him to safety.”

RM looked like he wanted to ask more questions, when a soft groan came from the bed and drew the attention. Suga took in a deep breath and his body shifted as if fighting to wake and identify the voices. After a tense moment, his body relaxed and his eyes opened slightly. From the edge of the bed, you could see the glazed and shiny effects of the medication still trying to hold him in the state of unconsciousness, and realized he may not fully be aware of what is happening. But you were sure the presence of RM had drawn him out enough to give them a sign that he was okay. RM called out to his hyung softly, drawing Suga’s attention as he gazed about the room.

“Hyung, hey, can you hear me?”

Suga’s eyes fully landed on RM. It seemed as if he was fighting his way to recognition before he gave a small, drugged smile back. “Joon,” his voice sounded exhausted and stained.

RM laughed. “Yeah, Hyung, it’s me. You’re gonna be okay. You’re safe.”

“Joonie, I think I’m dead. I saw an angel.”

The whitehaired man reached out and ran his fingers, gently, through his friend’s hair. “No, Hyung, you’re only tired. That bastard messed you up but you’re gonna be alright now. Why don’t you go back to sleep? The boys and I will be here when you wake up.”

“Oh,” Suga said, almost sounding disappointed as the drugs started to drag him back to oblivion, “too bad. It was a pretty angel. Prettier than Jiminie and Hyungie combined. But don’t tell them I said that.” And just as fast as he woke, Suga went silent and still again.

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rattlesnek · 4 years

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PHYREXIAN PRÆTORS RANKED BY FUCKABILITY

The five compleat rulers of New Phyrexia each represent a color of Mana, and their machinations and turf wars are legendary. But which would be the best in bed? As far as I know, I am the first to undertake such a daring assessment. Below, I rank them from least to most fuckable.

5. Jin-Gitaxias, Core Augur

I know twinks are all the rage recently but frankly this guy is just too sharp. There's no part of him that I would like to touch. As the head Phyrexian scientist I think he'd rather rearrange my guts surgically than seductively.

4. Vorinclex, Voice of Hunger

Points for being the most fleshy of all the prætors, but Vorinclex is obsessed with domination which is not my vibe. He definitely fucks (evolution is his whole deal) but I imagine you're equally likely to get eaten. Not to mention the size difference.

3. Elesh Norn, Grand Cenobite

This ranking may confuse some because Elesh Norn is widely considered the sexiest praetor and has lots of fanart. No matter how snatched her waist is though, she has porcelain skin. I imagine it would feel a bit like trying to bone down with a bathroom sink. Also, she's an extremely power-hungry religious fanatic and so loses points on personality.

2. Urabrask the Hidden

Urabrask surely has the best vibes of all the prætors since he's mostly interested in freedom. He had enough empathy to shelter Mirran survivors. He's also close to human size and kinda thicc. Finally, the risk of tetanus is kinda sexy, but the burning hot gas vents aren't.

1. Sheoldred, Whispering One

The enormous spider monster for a lower body would seem to be a turn-off, but Sheoldred can actually slither out into a more naga-like form. She speaks only in whispers which is pretty hot, and you don't even have to bring lube because her body is covered in oil. I only need to hear 11 words from her: "Our cause will ripen in the fertile flesh of the unworthy."

#i spent my whole lunch break on this so yall better appreciate it #mtg #new phyrexia #elesh norn #urabrask #vorinclex #sheoldred #jin-gitaxias

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readysetstarker · 3 years

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sorry for taking so long in updating this fic, everyone. life just sort of happened, and it didn’t stop happening for a while. thank you to everyone who still keeps up with this fic, for your patience and understanding.

a new thing you’ll notice with this chapter is that i’m no longer including a tag list. simply put: the amount of names on the list were beginning to overwhelm me, and it was near-impossible to keep up with people when they changed their usernames. sorry, loves. i hope y’all enjoy this chapter!

warnings: peter is 19. phone sex, edge play, masturbation, vibrators. short chapter, sorry, lol.

—

"For the last time, Stephen,” Tony growled, thumb and forefinger digging so hard into his eyes that he was seeing fireworks, “I am not going into detail about my ‘second job.’”

Tony swore he was a glutton for punishment. Had to be, to continue agreeing to meet Strange for lunch and get harassed about his night gigs. They had agreed to meet in the campus commons since both of them had a class to teach in an hour, but unlike Strange, Tony found nothing appealing about the college kitchen’s food. A black coffee suited him just fine. Even if it meant he was a little peckish over his next course.

The lack of food was probably what made him sound so cranky when trying to shut Strange down. No, he wasn’t going to entertain Strange with stories of weird or rude clients, wasn’t going to tell him which agency he worked for, and was absolutely not going to share his number so Strange could critique how he handled phone calls.

He was going to have to make a physical reminder for himself to reject lunch invitations from Strange for the rest of his life, or at least until his teaching career was over.

Once he had blinked past the initial blurriness that followed from massaging his eyes, he glanced up to find Strange scowling at the stack of lab reports he was grading. Tony had heard him making a few mumbled comments about how rushed most of them had been, and his input of It’s almost finals week, go easy on them was immediately followed by a frown and narrowed eyes in his direction.

And then Strange had so casually asked him about his “phone gig” and fought a smirk when Tony glowered.

“I just asked,” Strange responded while quickly scratching down a comment in red. A few quick x-es across a graph and he looked up from across the cafeteria table towards him. “And I did tell you I was curious.”

“Why do you even care?”

“Maybe I want to get into it.”

“Don’t bullshit me, Stephen.” Strange did smirk at that, or was he smirking at the obscene amount of red writing on the last paragraph of the lab report? Tony was grateful they had graduated together. “You’re doing this to torture me.”

“A little of both,” Strange admitted. He closed that lab report and moved onto the next one. The big question mark near the top page made Tony’s stomach flip, and he needed to look away. “And genuinely want to know what about your relationship with Mr. Parker made putting your job in jeopardy worth it. Maybe it’s because I’m not you, I don’t see the appeal.”

“Sure, but maybe that’s because you haven’t seen him when he’s turned on his camera and has a pillow between hi—”

Strange pointed the end of his pen at Tony, holding it like a knife. “God damn you, Stark, I’m the boy’s teacher! At least for another two weeks. Watch your mouth.”

“You asked.” Tony shrugged and picked up his half-eaten burger for a bite.

Strange closed his eyes, shook his head, and sighed. “Why have I put up with you for all these years?”

“My guess is that I have so much blackmail material on you, you’re worried I’ll release your attempt at a home-made sex tape with your then-girlfriend that you emailed to our entire groupchat.” Tony shrugged when Strange looked away to continue grading papers. “Hey, Stephen. Honestly, I appreciate your discretion with this whole...thing.”

Strange flipped to the second page of his student’s report. He tapped the end of his pen against the paper.

“You’re stupid, but you’re not a complete idiot,” he answered. Tony snorted into his coffee. “If shit hits the fan, though, I want a promise that you won’t be bringing my name up. I don’t want to be more involved in this than I already am.”

Tony silently agreed and took a sip of the shitty coffee in his cup. It held the same gritty consistency of the instant stuff Tony and Strange used to drink when they were younger. It had to be the cause for his lifelong insomnia, but the sweet siren-song of caffeine was too strong for him to resist. He’d even debase himself to drinking whatever this was.

“So, what are you going to do about it?” Strange asked. He capped the red pen and set it aside along with his completed grading. “Sure, the break will give you some reprieve, and some much-needed time off. But January will be here soon, and you’ll have to be prepared to deal with this when you come back.”

Tony nodded and drummed his fingernails on the tabletop.

“I’ve actually kind of handled it already,” he said. The coffee was still warm, although it was teetering on the edge of room temperature and beginning to sour. He grimaced and slid the cup closer to the center of the table. “Actually, that’s a lie, the kid was the one who made the decision.”

Strange’s brow rose. “Did he talk some sense into you?”

Tony nodded. “He said the job was more important, which, good on him. He’s right. So, whatever we had over the phone is done with, and he’s agreed not to go running to our dear Brucie Bear about it.”

Strange muttered a few words to himself, mostly in praise of Peter. A good head on his shoulders, which Tony had to agree with. It was the best and safest option for both, even if Tony found himself missing his favorite client when nights were particularly slow. He just had to remind himself what the university would do to him if he so much as thought about Peter in the wrong way.

That, and another painful swallow of the dining hall coffee in front of him helped keep his head.

The topic of his relationship with Peter finally died off. He and Strange began discussing other plans, such as the faculty Christmas party, what they planned to do for their holiday breaks, and whether or not Strange would finally have the guts to propose to Christine. (Unlikely, Tony thought, but that didn’t stop him from pestering Strange about it.)

He left back for his lecture hall in good spirits. Until an email notification came up on his phone. Would he be able to properly train and teach with a TA if he got a no-contact order against Flash Thompson?

—

Another slow night. Tony hated these, when there were no assignments to grade, no more emails to answer, and no movie or show interesting enough to sit through for a few hours before bed. His final exams were already written, proofread (thanks to his two new TAs), and finalized. Hell, he had already printed them out and had them sitting in a folder on his desk, waiting for the Wednesday they would be taken.

Damn him and his need to be prepared.

There was nothing to occupy his time with besides cracking open a new bottle of scotch and opening up his second line for calls. He had even taken an early shower and rubbed one out, leaving him soft for the few calls he did get in the past two hours.

His night was beginning to wrap up early, and he considered the idea of getting an extra hour of sleep when his phone went off, and he greeted the caller after a quick swallow of liquor.

“Hey there, baby. You’re up awfully late.”

There was a feminine giggle on the other line. Tony took another sip of scotch and cleared his throat.

“I’m just so bored,” the caller confessed, her voice high but quiet. Almost a whisper. Tony imagined her platinum blonde and twisting her hair around her finger. She was probably biting her lip through another giggle. “Nothing fun enough to keep my interest. But I bet you can keep me entertained.”

Tony chuckled and set his scotch on his coffee table. “Baby, I’ll give you one hell of a ride. Help pass the time a little bit. What sounds fun for you?”

The woman on the phone giggled to herself, then sighed. Tony wondered if she was sitting on her couch the way he was, leg propped up in an easy position to touch herself, or if she was lying in bed with a silk kimono undone and falling off her arms. He could hear the faint buzz of a vibrator in the background. A low setting, enough to keep her interested until things revved up.

He heard shuffling and a light squeak. Definitely a bed, probably with a mattress that needed replacing.

“Mmm,” she hummed, “my boyfriend’s been working late so many nights. He doesn’t have time to worship me like I deserve.”

“Well, that’s just criminal.” Tony sipped at his drink. He let the liquid sit and burn on his tongue before swallowing. “Why don’t you lie back, baby, and let me give you what he can’t. Would you prefer my tongue, or my fingers first?”

Another pleased sigh, followed by the sound of the vibrator turning up a notch. “Oh, yes,” she moaned. “I want your tongue, Daddy, please.”

Tony’s cock throbbed between his thighs. He began to reach for himself without a second thought, then stopped himself as he felt his fingertips along his trapped length. What was he, a teenger?

“Well, how could I deny such a sweet, polite little thing.” Tony let his free hand lay on his thigh. “Lean back and let Daddy take care of you.”

Tony wasn’t used to most of his partners taking the lead, but he did rather enjoy listening to the way the woman ordered him around the way she wanted her pussy eaten. If Tony put his “tongue” where she didn’t want it, she would forcefully rearrange him, or make him slow down if he sped up too quickly. It was entertaining, if nothing else.

But God, she was doing things to him that he really wasn’t expecting. Mostly, in the form of calling him “Daddy.” Nothing else she did riled him up as much. Each moan of the word had his dick twitching and growing until the fabric of his sweatpants had darkened where his head pressed against it.

Honestly, truly, Tony hadn’t wanted to get off more than once tonight.

Against expectations, Tony found himself shifting in his seat until he could get his sweatpants down to his thighs. His cock twitched in the cool air of the room, free and still leaking where it fell to rest against his stomach. Tony wrapped a hand around his shaft and locked his fingers just beneath the head.

The vibrator on the other end kicked up once more, with the woman begging to be fucked. “Enough teasing, enough of your fingers! Please, Daddy, want you in me.”

Daddy again. A steady drip of pre-cum leaked over Tony’s fingers. He allowed himself a few slow strokes. Just enough to keep the throbbing at bay. He could take care of himself later, once this call was over.

Unfortunately for him, his caller was insistent on dragging out her pleasure. The vibrato went down a notch, with her asking him to “slow down.” Tony agreed, made a comment about edgeplay, and was answered with a moan. She wanted to take as long as she possibly could with it.

More orders. Speed up, slow down, use his fingers instead of his dick. Tony played along well enough, but the repetition was beginning to bore him. He could only pretend to eat her out for so long before his attention began to wane. How long did she expect him to keep this up? He supposed the payout would make up for the monotony of it.

If this is what her so-called “boyfriend” put up with every time they fucked, it was no wonder to Tony that she had to turn to a stranger to entertain herself.

The rhythm of her demands never seemed to change; start slow, work her up, getting her vibrator working loud enough that Tony could hear it over her moans, and then she would suddenly turn it back to a gentle rumble and demand Tony “finger” her instead. After a few moments where she would regain her composure and slip away from the edge of her release, she’d kick everything up again. Wash, rinse, repeat.

If Tony could be honest, he was growing bored.

He let his mind wander while she took control of the situation. He gave his input when prompted, a few chuckles and a lewd comment here and there. Enough to keep her entertained while Tony idly rubbed himself and delved into one of his own fantasies.

Instead of an older woman on the other end of a phone line, Tony imagined himself sitting in his office on campus and successfully having a face-to-face conversation with Bruce while a young student sat on their knees and swallowed him down. Nothing he would dare attempt in real life, but the potential excitement in the fantasy was enough to keep him engaged.

Maybe, Bruce would get onto him about class averages, or a student complained because a snappy comment landed a little too harshly. Maybe, there were suspicions of him having an inappropriate relationship with a student, and Bruce wanted to ask him about it before the rumors reached the dean’s ears.

That would be incredibly hot, lying right to Bruce’s face while a student wrapped their lips around him.

Tony could see it. He could lie right to Bruce’s face in this scenario. No, no, Brucie Bear, you’ve got me all wrong. I would never do something so heinous. I respect myself and my students too much to ever get entangled with them.

In his head, Bruce believed him and said he would intercept the rumors before Tony’s reputation took a hit too big to come back from. Tony could grin and thank Bruce for his loyalty and trust, all while digging his fingers into pretty chestnut hair and pulling his student so far down his shaft that they have to work to keep their gagging silent.

And at the turn of Bruce’s back, Tony could look down at the student beneath him. Watch them pull off with drool sliding around their lips and down their chin, meet those pretty brown eyes as they look up at him and moan out a ragged, Daddy…

Tony gasped when his orgasm hit him, ropes of cum splashing over his fingers and shirt. He squeezed himself as the waves of it crashed over him. His thighs were shaking, and his chest ached as though he had run a marathon.

In his ear, pure silence. Not even the faint buzz of the woman’s vibrator. Did she finally come, and waited for him to do the same? Not that he really meant to, he would have just lied to her if she asked.

He expected to hear a dial tone.

A scoff, instead. She had taken offense. Did she want him to wait for her? God, he’d be waiting all night if that happened. Would show up to work the next morning a sleep-haggard, semi-caffeinated zombie.

Tony was going to apologize, maybe offer her a refund since his orgasm could have ruined hers. She spoke before he got the chance.

“Who the fuck is Peter?”

Tony hung up. He almost considered throwing the phone out the window, or tossing it into the fireplace and watching it burn. He settled for shutting it off for the night and hiking his sweats back up over his hips. He buried his face in his clean hand and cursed, loudly and harshly, at himself.

The rest of his night was spent in guilt, thinking of the fantasy that got him off and the customer that would surely be leaving a complaint about him. He washed his hands, changed his clothes, and buried his second phone in the back of a kitchen cabinet so he could begin working on forgetting that the phone call ever happened.

#starker #ironspider #peter parker x tony stark #my work #phone sex au #nff

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quickspinner · 3 years

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Guard My Heart - Ch 2 Bright as Ever

Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 | Chapter 3 | Chapter 4 | Read on AO3

“It looks so great, Marinette!” Tikki squealed and Marinette sat back on her heels and looked up, smiling as she rubbed a forearm across her forehead.

“It really does,” Marinette agreed, her voice slightly muffled by the mask she was wearing to filter out some of the paint fumes. She laid her paintbrush carefully aside and looked up. “How’s it going up there?” she asked, and dodged a glob of black paint just in time. “Careful,” she scolded, scrubbing at the spot with a rag even though she had a drop cloth on the floor for just this reason.

“My apologies,” Wayzz said above her, moving so that his paintbrush was hovering over the paint can and not Marinette’s head. “You startled me. I am almost done.”

“Good,” Marinette smiled, and resisted the urge to tell him to hurry up. Wayzz was careful, which was why she had selected him to help her with this final stage, filling in the last of the narrow curlicues and flowers she had roughed in days ago. His care came at the price of speed, though, and sometimes his slowness made Marinette want to scream.

It was still more efficient to have Wayzz filling in the upper portion than for Marinette to get up on a ladder to do it, and the kwami was so happy to be helping that she didn’t have the heart to rush him, so she throttled down her impatience and walked out to the middle of the room to spin a slow circle and take it all in. She’d had most of the kwamis in here helping at one time or another, because this would be their home as well and she wanted them to feel some ownership and investment in it. The walls that surrounded her were now a soft pink, with her signature flowers in darker pink and black at all the corners and coordinating scrollwork anywhere that seemed too empty. Framed photographs from her portfolio were stacked in a corner and covered with a cloth. She’d hang those tomorrow, once the paint was dry. The back wall that they were finishing up now had her flower design on a much larger scale, framing the little sales counter. Fixtures and clothing racks were all shoved to the center of the room at the moment, but now that the painting was done, she could start getting that arranged. She wasn’t ahead of her plan by any means, but she was on track.

She noticed a shadow against the paper covering the shop’s front door just before there was a rap on the glass. Marinette waited for Wayzz and Tikki to zip out of sight, and then went to answer it. She was pretty sure she recognized the silhouette, and sure enough, Luka’s friendly grin greeted her as she opened the door.

“Hi,” he said, a little sheepishly. “I’m trying to move a table and I could use a hand. Would you mind coming over when you have a second?”

Marinette smiled. “I have a second now,” she said, stepping out and checking her pocket for her key before she let the door close behind her.

Luka chuckled and tapped the mask Marinette was still wearing, and she blushed beneath it. “Oh. Right.” She took it off, embarrassed as she rubbed at the lines she was sure it had left on her face. She opened the door again and dropped the mask back inside, knowing that one of the kwamis would retrieve it for her.

“You could just prop the doors open,” Luka suggested as they walked over to his space.

Marinette huffed. “I don’t like being watched while I work,” she replied, which was only half a lie. It was true she didn’t especially want people looking in on her while she was contorted around, potentially with her ass in the air, trying to find a good position to do what she needed without leaning into wet paint. Mostly, though, she didn’t want the kwamis on display for any passers-by.

She smiled a little as Luka held the door of his own shop open and motioned her inside. It had a more industrial warehouse feel, with exposed beams in the walls and ceiling, and low voltage lighting strung over the crowded space. Marinette wouldn’t have been at all surprised to find out the multicolor slat wood flooring had come from the Liberty (it hadn’t, Luka had laughingly assured her when she asked, but he had picked it because it reminded him of home). Really, the whole place felt like the Liberty, and Marinette loved it, right down to the friendly, grinning cement turtle statue sitting by the door. The thing was knee high to Luka and while one couldn’t exactly call him pretty, his shell twinkled with embedded pieces of mosaic tile in many colors, and there was an air of mischievousness in his grinning face that made Marinette smile back every time she saw him. He looked exactly like the kind of thing Anarka would go wild for, regardless of the fact that he was incredibly, impractically heavy. She couldn’t imagine what shipping him had originally cost, and Luka’s story of actually getting it to its place by the door had left Marinette giggling uncontrollably. She was positive from the look on Luka’s face while he told the tale that it was never moving from that spot unless someone both bought it, and was willing to carry it away.

The whole shop was full of fun, eclectic things like that, as well as some more valuable antiques. Marinette loved it, and could picture in her mind the type of customer Luka was likely to bring in. She hadn’t told him that she’d already started a few sketches for his branding, based around a stylized boat. It had taken her a few days to get over the fact that he’d named his shop Second Chance Antiques and Curiosities . She had nearly laughed in his face when he told her, and that would have been really hard to explain. She’d managed to hold it in until she was alone, and then she and Sass had had a good laugh over it.

“Sorry I have to keep asking for your help,” Luka grunted, as they both took an end of the table he needed moved and shifted it. “I thought I had a plan, but there’s just so much stuff, I keep having to rearrange.”

“It’ll be easier when you get some customers in here and get some of this stuff—oof—out of your hair.” Marinette sighed as they set the table down in the area Luka had cleared out for it. “Maybe if you used the bigger pieces as sort of...display cases for some of the smaller stuff?” she suggested, stretching her back slightly as she looked around.

“Yeah, maybe,” Luka sighed, giving her a smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes. “I’m sure I’ll figure it out eventually.”

Marinette put her hand on his arm and rubbed it gently. “You will. We’ve both got a lot of lessons to learn, but we’re both adaptable. We’ll make it happen.”

Luka made an affirmative noise, but sighed again.

“Luka,” Marinette said gently, and he looked at her with that same not-quite-there smile.

“I’m okay. Freaking out a little, but I’ll manage. I’ll be fine once the shop opens and things start happening, it’s just...the waiting is getting to me, I guess. It’s not like I don’t have a thousand things left to do to get ready, but...I don’t know, I’m not explaining myself well.” He looked away from her, and ran his fingers through his hair. It was hanging loose today, and the blue looked bright and fresh. He must have done a touch up for opening week, she thought absently, reaching up to tuck a lock behind his ear. His eyes darted to her with something like surprise and she drew her hand back quickly, self-conscious.

“You won’t know what the right choices are until you can get people in and see their reactions,” Marinette suggested, and the smile he gave her was real this time, real and grateful, and she smiled back. “You’re better at reading people in the moment rather than predicting people you don’t know—o-or at least you used to be—so I can see how you’d be frustrated trying to do this without any way to get feedback.”

“You’re not like that,” he muttered, smile falling as he looked back at the shop and sighed. “You’ve probably had a vision and a plan since before you signed the contract.”

Marinette bumped her shoulder against his. “You’re not me, though. It’s okay to do things your way, and not mine. Opening week is important, but it isn’t everything.”

Luka grinned at her, and Marinette felt her shoulders curl under his knowing look. “It caused you physical pain to say that, didn’t it,” he chuckled.

Marinette scoffed and folded her arms, and then muttered, “Maybe.”

Luka laughed and put his arm around her shoulders, giving her a little squeeze before letting his arm drop. “Thanks for the pep talk, Marinette.”

He was smiling now for real, and it didn’t fade, and Marinette felt unreasonably proud about it. She opened her mouth to say something, though she had no idea what, when Luka’s phone beeped a familiar tone. He frowned and pulled it out of his pocket, checking the akuma alert. Marinette leaned over without thinking to look as well, dread curling in her gut even as her heart pumped faster.

“It’s not nearby,” Luka assured her, and Marinette sighed, and then her eyes widened and she jerked back a bit as she suddenly realized how she was crowding him.

“Well, that’s a relief,” she said, quickly, backing up. “I should—”

“Watch out!” Luka was lunging forward before she even registered her calf hitting something hard, and he grabbed her arms just as she pitched backwards with a yelp. “I got you,” he said breathlessly, as he braced his feet and pulled her upright. “Sorry, that scared me,” he said, letting go of her quickly, his hands moving to tug the tail of his shirt nervously and nodding at the glass-top coffee table she had almost fallen into. “You could have really gotten hurt. Please be careful.” He grinned sheepishly. “At least until I get this place a little more organized.”

“Luka.” Marinette stepped forward and hugged him, and though his arms wrapped immediately back around her, she felt herself blushing, the feel of a man’s body against her instead of a half-grown boy’s suddenly forcibly reminding her that they weren’t teenagers anymore. “Couffaines don’t do organized,” she teased, keeping her head down so he couldn’t see her embarrassment. “Stop trying to make it look like you think it’s supposed to, and do it your way. It’ll be fine, and you can adjust from there.” She let go quickly and straightened without looking at him.

“I have to, um, go finish my painting before it all dries out or...something,” she said quickly, making sure she watched where she was going this time as she walked away from him, face burning. Stupid, why had she done that? Sure, they were friendly, and yeah, they’d fallen fairly easily into something like their old friendship. Luka had clearly meant what he said, about the way friendships come and go, and he seemed perfectly ready to let her take back her place in his life, and it was so easy to just go with it...

Not exactly her old place, she reminded herself firmly. That was hardly to be expected. He’d always been touch-oriented though, and had been touching her shoulder or her arm or her back just as casually as he ever had, so maybe the hug wasn’t a big deal to him. He probably hugged his friends all the time, and it’s not like he knew that she didn’t. Besides, she used to, and she probably would, if she still had friends—real friends. And Luka was a real friend, so there was nothing wrong with hugging him, especially when he was clearly so worried about whether he could pull off this new business venture. She was freaking out over nothing, surely. She could comfort him; he’d do the same for her—he had done the same for her, so it was her turn , after all, especially being the more experienced when it came to business and marketing, so...

Marinette rushed through the door of her shop and locked it quickly, and then put her hands over her face and shrieked into them.

“Marinette,” Tikki said sympathetically, flying up from her purse to pat her shoulder.

“I know,” Marinette mumbled. “Okay, um...I don’t think I can leave in spots just now without being seen so...let’s go out the back and try that alley a couple blocks over.”

Transformed and with her mind focused on the goal, she followed the general direction of the alert, and then the screaming, to a fancy restaurant on the roof of a high-rise. Chat was already there, crouched in the remains of the outdoor dining, clearly regrouping.

“What’s up?” she asked, landing next to him.

“This restaurant’s nearly impossible to get a table at,” Chat said grimly, with none of the joking humor he would have used once. “Big snob energy. Guess they snubbed the wrong person today. Best guess is the akuma’s target is the maitre’d or the manager, unless there was some random civilian that was especially rude. Looks like your standard entitled rich lady to me, though, so I’m betting on a beef with the restaurant.” He glanced at her. “You got here pretty quick today.”

“I’ve made some changes in my personal life,” she said carefully. “I’m hoping it’ll give me a little more freedom and you won’t have to wait for me so often.”

“Not like I have anything better to do, but I’m not complaining,” Chat grunted. “Give me the plan and let’s go.”

Ladybug sighed to herself. She had always wished he would take this job more seriously, but something had changed in Chat when they took Hawkmoth down, and while he had improved somewhat since then, clearly he’d been having one of the bad days before the akuma struck. Grim and cynical wasn’t an especially good look on him, and it worried her.

No time to worry about that now though. “Distract and evacuate,” she said. “We need to get the civilians out of there. Hopefully in the process we can figure out which one it’s specifically targeting.”

“Works for me.” Chat launched himself forward, ready to go as always, and Ladybug moved only an instant later.

The akuma was obnoxious and destructive, with heeled shoes that could shatter concrete and a banshee-like scream that left Ladybug’s ears ringing even after the cure. Ladybug winced as she looked back at the trail of destruction. Chat just flopped on his back on the rooftop.

“Could’ve used some backup for that one,” he muttered.

“I’m sorry, there was no opening,” Ladybug panted, putting her hands on her knees. “I was afraid to leave.”

“Not blaming you,” he said, with a hint of his old humor in the half smile he managed as he turned his head to look at her. “Just saying. We could really use a hand more often.”

Ladybug made a neutral noise. She didn’t disagree with him, but…

But, but, but. There was always a but. But the rules . But identities . But it was her responsibility.

“Ladybug,” Chat said, the smile falling away as he watched her expression. “I really didn’t mean it that way.”

“I know,” she said, her voice coming out a tad too high. “It’s fine.” She held out her fist to him and he rolled over on his side to bump his against it. “I gotta get back.”

“I’m just gonna lay here for a while,” he muttered, and Ladybug sighed, reaching down to ruffle his hair affectionately.

“Don’t stay out too long, Kitty.”

“Yeah, yeah, beep beep. I got it.” He waved his ringed hand at her and then flopped back down to the roof. “Don’t worry, I don’t plan on getting stuck on top of this building.”

Ladybug huffed a laugh, and tossed her yoyo.

She transformed a couple of streets away, and glancing at the time, she went up to the apartment instead of back into the shop. Several pairs of large eyes in small faces peeped out as soon as they were sure it was her, and came to circle around her.

“I finished the pieces you asked me to,” Wayzz told her

“We cleaned up the paint and sealed the cans that were left,” Pollen piped up.

“That’s great,” Marinette said with a tired smile, giving them each a cuddle. “Thanks so much. I don’t know what I would do without you.”

“It is the leassst we can do,” Sass observed mildly, bringing a damp cloth to her. Marinette took it gratefully.

“Where?” she asked, and wiped at the spot Sass patted. The cloth came away smeared with flecks of half-dry pink paint. Ugh, did she have that on her face the whole time she was talking to Luka? How embarrassing. She handed the cloth back when Sass nodded that she was clean.

“I should go finish,” Marinette sighed, but instead she sat down on the couch.

“You should eat first, Guardian,” Pollen told her, hovering. “And rest. There isn’t much left to be done. You can finish it tomorrow.”

“She’s right, Marinette,” Tikki piped up, perching on Marinette’s shoulder. “You can finish the paint in the morning, and it’s on the other side from the dressing area, so it won’t keep you from getting the curtains up over there or any of the other things you had planned.”

“It’ll just delay everything by a couple of hours,” Marinette sighed, slumping on the arm of the couch. “I’ll see how I feel after dinner. I’d rather finish it tonight if I can.”

“Then you’d better go make dinner before you fall asleep on the couch,” Tikki giggled, and Pollen agreed, tugging at Marinette’s fingers.

“It won’t do for you to be skipping meals!” Pollen scolded.

“All right, all right,” Marinette giggled, getting up. “I’ll make dinner.”

The kitchen in her apartment was separated from the living room by a small but usable breakfast bar, so Marinette hadn’t bothered to get a separate table. Instead, she lined up the kwami’s plates on the inside edge and pulled up a stool on the other side of the counter to sit at her own plate.

She was just finishing up, her thoughts already running on the next things she had to do, when she was distracted by the muffled sound of...a guitar. The kwamis paused in their chatter, and Marinette sat with her fork halfway to her mouth, listening. After a moment she smiled. “It’s Luka,” she murmured. “His apartment probably mirrors ours, so his kitchen and living room must be on the other side of this wall.” Her eyes widened slightly in alarm. “If we can hear him, he can probably hear us if we get too loud. I can pass some noise off as the tv or the radio, but we’ll have to be careful.” The kwamis nodded, but Marinette shot pointed looks at Xuppu, Orikki, and Ziggy in particular. They all made faces at her, but nodded along with the others.

Everyone was quiet as she finished her meal, smiling as she listened to the wandering guitar. “It’s nice,” she observed to no one in particular. “It’s been a long time since I heard Luka play.”

It was funny, the effect it had on her. She could feel her shoulders sliding down, and a pleasant calm seeping into her. Had he really made such an impression all those years ago, that she responded so easily to the sound of his guitar even now? She took her dishes to the sink and stood a moment, laying a hand over her heart, and for a moment she heard a different song,

When she took a breath, though, instead of the scent of metal and river wind, the scent of lemon dish soap filled her nose and brought her back to the present. She smiled at the kwamis, who had busily stacked their little plates next to the sink and were filling it with water and soapsuds.

Right . All of that was a long time ago, and they were different people now. Still, maybe sometime soon she could come to one of his gigs and hear him play for real, and not through a wall. Though...it was kind of nice, knowing she was the only one who was hearing him right now. She wondered if he knew she could hear him.

The tune changed, took on a little more purpose, and Marinette smothered a giggle. No, she doubted he realized she could hear, because he probably wouldn’t be caught dead playing Love Me Like You Do with an audience, even if he did give it a bit of a metal makeover.

She’d have to let him know. Eventually. When she could think of a way to tell him that wouldn’t make him think he had to stop.

She hummed quietly along as she and the kwami finished washing the dishes.

“Are you going to go back downstairs?” Tikki asked, tilting her head.

“Mmm...no,” Marinette decided. “There’s still plenty to unpack and put away up here, and you’re right. I can finish the shop in the morning.”

The next few days were a blur of hard work as opening day got closer and closer. The shop was coming together, and Marinette took comfort in, for once, being able to get everything just right, without anybody telling her it should be different, or complaining that she was too fussy.

It was exhausting, though, and led to some pretty silly late night giggling with the kwamis as they tried to get her to rest before she made herself totally delirious.

The day before opening, she walked into Second Chance with a box in her hands, trying not to giggle openly.

“Hey, Marinette," Luka greeted, looking up from where he was loading up some display shelves near the counter.

“Wow, Luka, it looks great in here,” Marinette said, looking around.

“You were right. When I stopped trying to be strategic and just put things in where they felt like home, it all came together. I’m still not sure it’s the best arrangement, at least it feels comfortable. ” He looked much more relaxed, and his smile was easy and true.

“I think that will work the best for you in the end,” Marinette smiled. “The right customers will like it, and the ones who don’t, well.” She patted the big cement turtle on the head. “Probably aren’t looking for the kinds of things you’re selling anyway.”

Luka chuckled. “Fair enough. What can I do for you, Marinette?” He slid the case closed and stood, turning to face her.

Marinette bit her lip, and then held up the small box in her hands. “Well, I...maybe stayed up a little late last night, and I got kind of loopy, and then instead of going to bed like a smart person, I...did something silly. And if you hate it you can say so and I’ll walk right back out and we don’t ever have to speak of this again.”

Luka raised his eyebrows. “That sounds a little dramatic. What, did you make me a lace nightie with matching slippers?”

Marinette burst out laughing. “Okay, you’re right, that would be sillier,” she giggled, setting the box down carefully on a nearby table. “No, it’s not for you actually.”

“Not for me?” Luka put his hand to his chest. “I’m hurt.”

Marinette giggled again, pulling some things out of the box and turning away from him. “You might not be when you see it.” Impulsively she added, “Turn around.” Luka did, and Marinette hurriedly went to work.

“Okay, you can look now.” She was barely holding back laughter, and when Luka turned around his mouth dropped open.

“You’re kidding me,” he said, covering his mouth with one hand as he approached, trying to smother his laughter. “Marinette. Oh my God.”

The cement turtle now sported a pair of Eiffel tower sunglasses the exact match to the ones Marinette had made for Jagged years ago. He had a choker of studded leather around his long neck and another cuff around one ankle, and Marinette had hung a guitar made of cardboard and purple glitter on him as well.

“Tada!” she said, throwing out her hands. “He’s a rock turtle, Luka. Because he’s, you know, rock, I mean I know he’s concrete but it still counts. So now he’s a rock turtle for real.”

“I think those paint fumes are getting to you,” Luka laughed, and then threw one arm around her neck and kissed her forehead before letting her go. “I love it, thank you. It’s amazing.”

“He can be your mascot,” Marinette giggled, unreasonably pleased and trying to resist the urge to touch her forehead. He’d done that the way he used to do it to Juleka, after all, and how touch-starved was she, that she kept dwelling on every little gesture of affection he made? It was Luka, after all, and he was just like that.

But he was smiling, wider than he had in days, and it gave Marinette a sense of accomplishment that more than made up for her tiredness.

“Ready for the big day?” Luka asked as he crouched to examine the turtle’s new guitar.

“I think so. Yeah, I am.” Marinette brought her hands up and rubbed her arms. “It feels like I’m going to jinx it, saying that. Like one of those dreams I’m always having where I walk into a class or a client meeting and realize suddenly that I forgot to cover half of what they asked for in my presentation, and I forgot my bra on top of it.”

Luka laughed, rocking back on his heels to look up at her. “Seriously?”

Marinette rolled her eyes. “All the time. Even my subconscious won’t cut me any slack.”

Luka shook his head. “Marinette, if that ever happened to you in real life, by the end of it you’d have them convinced that they didn’t need all that stuff anyway and wearing bras would immediately go out of style.”

“What,” said a dry voice, “the hell did I just walk in to?”

Marinette’s head whipped around to look at the door, and her mouth dropped open at the sight of the tall, slender woman standing there with her arms loosely crossed and an amused smirk on her face.

“Hey, Jules,” Luka said, getting up and turning towards her with his arms out. “You made it.”

“Of course I did, idiot,” Juleka mumbled, but Marinette saw her hide her smile in Luka’s shoulder as she hugged him back. Then, to her mild surprise, Juleka peeked over his shoulder. “Hi, Marinette.”

“It’s really good to see you, Juleka,” Marinette said warmly. “You look fantastic,” she added, as Juleka came to take her hands and exchange a bise.

“I have good stylists,” Juleka shrugged. Her hair was still long, but the purple was gone and it was pulled back into a shining French braid, leaving both her amber eyes bare to stare at Marinette. Her makeup was perfect and Marinette remembered that Juleka was a cosmetics model now. Of course she always had to look her best in public. “Luka told me you were opening your own place. I can’t make the opening, but maybe...maybe I could make an appointment to come take a look?” There was something in the old Juleka in the way she asked that question, a slight curl of her shoulders and drop of her head, and the way she pinched one thumb and forefinger tightly together at her side.

Impulsively Marinette said, “Why don’t you just come over now? Everything’s set up and you can get first pick if there’s anything you like. Not that you should feel like you need to buy anything,” Marinette added hurriedly. “Just, if anything catches your eye or—okay I’m shutting up now, you probably don’t even have time, it doesn’t have to be now—just, whenever is good! If you want.” She closed her mouth abruptly before she could trip into another line of babble.

Juleka smiled, her head tilting slightly as if she were still peeking through that curtain of bangs. “I’d love to come over now, if that’s okay.”

“Really?” Marinette brightened, embarrassment forgotten. “Awesome! I’d love to have your opinion on—well, everything, to be honest.”

“I can’t wait to see it.”

“Oh sure,” Luka mocked, and Marinette jumped a little, looking at him. “You said you were coming to see me, but really you just wanted a sneak peek at Marinette’s clothes. I see where I rate.”

“As long as we’re clear,” Juleka huffed, and walked out of the door. Marinette stood gaping like a fish for a moment, and then followed her, shooting Luka an apologetic look over her shoulder.

“I’m sure it won’t take long,” she said, but Luka, smiling, just rolled his eyes and waved her on.

Juleka didn’t exactly gush; she was too collected for that, but her quiet smile and nod of approval as she looked around was more encouraging than a flood of compliments. “It has good energy,” she murmured. “Very you. Gives a sense of your brand from the beginning. I like it.”

“Thank you,” Marinette smiled, sincerely grateful.

“It looks like a lot of work.”

“It was,” Marinette sighed, “But it’s so worth it to see it come together. It’s scary to be doing this all my own, but at least I can make things exactly the way I want them.” She pointed out the curtained dressing rooms, and the pedestal in front of the (very expensive, even second hand) full-length three-way mirror. “I’m planning to do alterations and fittings as well,” Marinette explained, “On anything, not just my clothes. In a limited capacity, of course, so that I still have time to keep the shop stocked. I’m actually hoping to bring in lines from a couple of other independent designers—people I met in school that have an aesthetic that will fit in with mine, just to broaden the range of what I can offer, but...well, I kind of wanted to open with my own things first.” She smiled ruefully and wrinkled her nose. “I don’t want to drag anybody down with me if I go under in the first month.”

Juleka laughed, and Marinette smiled at the sound of it. “I’m sure that won’t happen,” Juleka assured her, still smiling. “These pieces are gorgeous,” she added, motioning to the photographs on the wall.

“It’s nice to see you happy,” Marinette said without thinking, and then bit her lip.

Juleka seemed to freeze for a long moment, and then she took a long breath that reminded Marinette of Luka. “It’s been a long time since we’ve seen each other, hasn’t it,” Juleka said quietly, that slight curl in her shoulders again. “I—I’m...sorry, that we gave you such a hard time back when we were kids. I...understand better now. This is a tough industry and you have to be dedicated and motivated to succeed. I’m sorry that we...well, I don’t think any of us meant to be holding you back, but I understand how it might have felt that way to you.”

“Oh…” Marinette said lamely, looking away and moving to fiddle with the nearest garment rack. “I didn’t—I mean, I felt bad that I had to bail on you guys so much, but I didn’t feel that way. I just thought, you know, you guys were right and if I wasn’t being the kind of friend you needed...it was okay. You’d have every right to be just as mad at me for choosing my career over you even at such a young age. I was ditching you a lot, and...I could have done things differently. Handled it better.”

“You had a life beyond school and beyond us,” Juleka insisted, folding her arms uncomfortably. “It was wrong of us to try and take that from you. I don’t know, maybe we felt guilty that we weren’t working as hard, or something, but...we could have made it work. We always made exceptions for Adrien because he was working a career outside of school. We should have at least extended the same courtesy to you. Especially when it was obvious even then how talented and driven you were. You’ve got what it takes to really make it, and it was wrong of us to get in the way of that when we should have been cheering you on.”

Marinette’s hands stilled for a moment, and it was her turn to take a slow breath. She felt a twinge of guilt, because Juleka of course didn’t know the whole story. It hadn’t been wholly for the sake of her future career that she’d bailed on her friends so often, and it hadn’t been determination to drive forward at all costs that had caused her to stop trying so hard to meet her friends halfway. Her reasons had neither been selfish nor noble. She just hadn’t had the energy to keep up the front any longer.

But she couldn’t explain it now any more than she could then, so all she could say was a quiet, “Thank you, Juleka.” She took another breath and lifted her head, trying to smile. “You really don’t need to apologize, though. I never held anything against you guys. Besides, we were kids.” Juleka relaxed a little, though she still held herself a bit stiffly.

Time to change the mood. Marinette rallied her spirits and put the most genuine grin on her face that she could muster as she faced Juleka. “Come on,” she said brightly, moving over to one of the other racks and gesturing enthusiastically for Juleka to follow her. “I have some things that I bet will look great on you.”

They already had several outfits laid aside for Juleka to purchase when Luka knocked and came in the door, the little bell Marinette had hung over it chiming cheerfully.

“Hi Luka,” Marinette smiled, looking up from where she was laying another dress across the sales counter. “Sorry, I guess we took up more time than I realized. Did you get bored?”

“Just wondering if my sister is still going to buy me dinner,” Luka grinned. “I’m starving here.”

“Then hurry up and die so we don’t have to listen to you,” Juleka called from the dressing room.

“I’m wasting away slowly ,” he called back. “I’ll continue to exist on spite until you feed me.”

“Do you need any help, Juleka?” Marinette asked, trying to keep her giggles out of her voice.

“No, I think I’ve—there. Oh, I like this one, Marinette!” Juleka pushed the curtain aside and stepped out.

“Hm, needs a little tailoring, but only a little,” Marinette said, eyes fastened on the garment, as Juleka made a slow turn. “Let me just—” She stepped over with a couple of clips in her hand and took the slack out of the dress in a couple of key places, clipping it in place. “There. And of course I can adjust the hem if you need it, but I think this length is pretty good on you actually. What do you think, Luka?” She turned and blinked at the look on his face as he stared at his sister. He looked...happy, but his face was crinkling up in a weird way that she didn’t understand.

“You look beautiful, Juleka,” Luka said, and had to clear his throat.

“Don’t you dare,” Juleka warned, tilting her head and narrowing her eyes. “Don’t you dare get mushy on me again.”

“Better,” Luka continued, as if she hadn’t spoken. “You’re poised and confident and...I’m just so proud of you. Five years ago that dress would have overpowered you and now look at you.”

“You’re not going to cry again, are you?” Juleka asked, rolling her eyes.

“I might,” Luka said, and his voice did sound a little thick. “There’s nothing wrong with that.”

“I swear he’s cried at every single one of the photo shoots I was dumb enough to bring him to,” Juleka grumbled, giving Marinette a look of longsuffering.

Marinette giggled as she stepped close again and adjusted a clip. “He loves you.”

“He’s a sap,” Juleka groaned.

“There’s nothing wrong with that,” Luka and Marinette said in unison, and Juleka snorted.

“You two are made for each other,” she muttered, and then looked back with concern when Marinette somehow got the web of her thumb pinched in the clip and yelped.

“Fine, I’m fine,” she said hurriedly, fixing the clip. “There. Take a look.”

She helped Juleka up onto the pedestal in front of the three-way mirror, and Juleka sighed. “I love it,” she said, glancing at the two dresses and the suit that were already on the counter. “I better not try on anything else though. It’d be a pain dragging Luka’s corpse out of the shop, and I’m going to go broke if you pull out any more perfect outfits. Can you check me out for these, and we can make an appointment for the tailoring later?”

“Sure! Give me just a second.” Marinette gave her a sheepish smile. “The POS system is new and it might take me a minute to figure it out. Actually you’re doing me an extra favor by letting me try this thing out before I put it through its paces tomorrow.”

“Hey, can I take a look?” Luka asked, moving around the counter at her gesture. “I still haven’t settled on one yet. I’ve got some ancient thing a buddy loaned me, but I’m hoping I can upgrade in a few months.” He leaned on the counter next to her and grinned. “I’m not above profiting from the months of research I’m sure you did before settling on one.”

Marinette giggled, shoving him with her elbow. “Off the counter,” she ordered. “You have no idea how many practice runs I had to do with the resin to get good enough to do a project this size.”

“I can tell,” Luka said, straightening. ”It looks really cool.”

“You’ve really made the shop yours in such a short time,” Juleka said, looking at the countertop. “Everything about it just screams Marinette.”

Marinette blushed, and picked up the tablet, tried to focus on walking Luka through the steps of the POS system, explaining the features that had made her go with this system as he leaned close to watch. He smelled different than he used to, she thought absently. Not so much sunscreen and fresh air and teenage boy. He wore cologne now, pleasantly subtle, and only noticeable when he was close like this. It was a more mature scent but it suited him.

“And then Juleka can put her card in here,” Marinette said, pointing to the slot in a stand on the counter. Juleka did so, and after a moment the machine beeped. “And...there we go.” She showed Luka the screen.

“Huh. Do you use it for inventory management much?” Luka asked, leaning one hand on the counter next to her as he watched her navigate the menus. She jumped a little when her shoulder brushed his chest, but he didn’t seem to notice.

Marinette cleared her throat. “W-well like you, I don’t really have standard inventory, everything is unique, so it’s a bit more work to keep the system updated, but—uh—” He was looking at her and not the screen, attentive, and Marinette’s thoughts began to scatter.

“Shameless,” Juleka sighed, shaking her head, and they both looked up at her. She smirked at Luka, and Marinette felt her face redden though she couldn’t have said why.

“Me?” Luka said innocently, straightening away from Marinette and putting his hand on his chest. Marinette was surprised to see his ears were red, and it only made her feel more flustered.

Juleka snorted. “I can’t believe you’re taking advantage of Marinette like this, you lazy jerk. I bet you cheated on your tests at school too.”

“I sat next to Dingo ,” Luka reminded her, rolling his eyes. “Believe me, I wasn’t the one cheating.”

“Whatever,” Juleka rolled her eyes. “So can we go now? I thought you were so—” Her lips curled in a smirk. “Hungry. Or was it thirsty?”

“I’m ready when you are,” Luka said quickly, coming back around the counter. “Thanks, Marinette.”

Marinette moved quickly to get a garment bag and package up Juleka’s purchases. It was Luka, though who took them from her with a warm smile. “Congrats on your first sale,” he told her with a wink, and Marinette felt that blush again.

“It’s hardly her first sale,” Juleka pointed out, picking up a small stack of Marinette’s business cards from the holder on the counter and slipping them into her pocket. “She’s been selling since collége.”

Luka rolled his eyes toward the ceiling. “First sale from your first shop—first brick and mortar shop,” he hastily corrected, when Juleka opened her mouth again. “Juleka, you’re such a pain.”

“I’m just saying, if you’re going to compliment a girl, you need to be accurate,” Juleka smirked, as Luka began shoving her toward the door. “Good luck with your grand opening, Marinette,” she called back. “I’ll pass your info around the next time I’m in the studio!”

“That would be great. Thanks for coming by, Juleka!” Marinette called, waving.

“Why do you have to make everything weird?” she heard Luka mutter as he pushed the door open for his sister and nearly shoved her out of it.

“It’s not my fault you just are weird,” Juleka retorted, and gave Marinette one more wave before the door closed behind them. “Especially around—” The door cut her off, and Marinette turned and buried her face in her hands, not at all relaxed by the giggling that began in several hidden corners of the shop.

“Traitors,” she mumbled, and took a deep breath.

“It’s okay, Marinette,” Pollen said kindly, coming to light on her arm. “You should be proud!”

“Yes!” Tikki agreed, popping out of Marinette’s purse and coming to sit next to Pollen. “That was your first client consult for your brand new shop! And it went amazing! Four outfits!”

“And you impressed Luka,” Mullo pointed out, emerging from one of the garment racks. “He seemed to think you were very knowledgeable. ” The kwami giggled and poked Marinette’s blushing cheek. Marinette swatted at him, pouting, but he just phased through her hand with a toothy grin.

“Luka just needed some information,” Marinette countered, ignoring the snorting giggles that came from all three kwamis. “And Juleka was just being nice. “Though...I suppose she could have been nice without spending quite so much money,” she conceded. “It’ll be great for business if she wears the clothes, too...she works in exactly the kind of circles where word of mouth will be really valuable.” Marinette picked up her tablet and smiled as she punched up her sales history, and looked at the transaction there. “Well...I guess this does make us official, doesn’t it.” She held out her fist and Tikki, Pollen, and Mullo bumped it all in turn. “Come on, let’s get back to work and see how much we can finish up. I want to try and take it easy tonight. I can’t show up at the big opening looking like death.”

Fiction Master Post | LBSC 2021 Exchange Collection

#quickspins #guard my heart #lukanette #endgame lukanette #lukanette endgame #luka couffaine #marinette dupain-cheng #miraculousladybug #miraculous ladybug #lbsc 2021 exchange #rated: m

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teawithkpop · 4 years

Text

[M] - PhysCom - Pt 6

pt 1 - pt 2 - pt 3 - bc 1 - pt 4 - pt 5 - pt 6

Pairing: BTS - OT7 x Reader

Rating: Mature [18+]

Length: 6.0k words

Genre: PhysCom AU - smut with dashes of angst, and a shitload of romance and complicated feelings,, uhuhu (porn with plot??)

Warnings: swearing, sex with ulterior motives, dirty talk, dom!yoongi, oral sex (male and female receiving), throat fucking, spanking, clothed sex, unprotected sex, ripping clothes, degradation, throat holding (not to the degree of choking), licking, cum play, it’s nasty it’s just nASTY

I hope you don’t all hate me after this ahahahahahaha love you guys <3

☕💕 If you enjoy this work, please consider supporting me and my writing on KoFi ^^ ☕💕

-------

We must build a brighter future for PhysComs. They are people, just like you and me, and they are severely undervalued in our society. We employ them, we rely on them, and yet, they are ignored at best, and abused at worst, with punishment and persecution waiting should they dare to speak out about the horrific injustices through which they suffer. We cannot live in this double standard. I refuse to accept it, and I urge you to open your hearts and imagine what it would feel like to be needed but shamed. To be relied upon, but to never receive recognition for your efforts. They are people, just like us. They live among us, yet they are treated like ghosts. As of now, Physical Companions are employed by most entertainment companies, but are given no benefits and no job security. They have only the protection of their own agencies and any underground communication they might have between each other. These people should be respected. They should not be forced to live in the shadows. It’s time that we acknowledge and thank these tireless workers, and provide them with some support in return for all of the support that they provide this industry.

You read over the words again and again until they become a continuous stream of overlapping thoughts, filling you with utter confusion.

What the fuck does this mean?

You look away from your ComGear and pull up the document on Namjoon’s computer again. “Jungkook!” You call out to him, your heart hammering, and the door opens enough for him to poke his head through, his eyes widened expectantly.

“Yeah?”

You hastily gesture for him to come in, your eyes glued to the screen. “Come read this. Out loud.”

He seems confused, but comes up beside you and looks over the document, murmuring as he reads. “We must build a brighter future for PhysComs…"

As he confirms by reading back to you what you’ve seen with your own eyes, your confusion heightens to a fever pitch, and you almost want to laugh at the absurdity of it all. Is this… an essay? About PhysComs?

“Wow,” Jungkook says softly, his eyes scanning the words in fascination. But when he turns to look at you, you can see that it isn’t fascination at all. His eyes contain something that stirs worry in your gut. “I, uh… I didn’t realize things were so bad for you.”

Pity.

No. No, this is bad. This can’t be happening.

Your brief feeling of ease at finally getting some answers vanishes in an instant as your mind becomes a whirlwind, spiraling down, down, down… You can see, clear as day, what will happen if Namjoon shows this essay to the other boys.

You’ll become someone they pity.

Pity is bad, pity isn’t hot, pity isn’t sexy, pity isn’t fuckable, pity means they’ll feel bad when you do your job, pity means they’ll use other sluts to lessen your burden, pity means they give you more fucking vacation time, pity means they’ll never look at you the same way again, pity means-

You don’t realize you’re short of breath until you’re gasping, hyperventilating, your knuckles white against the dark armrests of the chair.

Jungkook is beside you. He’s saying something but all you can hear is a high pitched whine and the thunder of your own pulse as it crashes in your ears, reminding you with every thump of your beating heart that you’re a failure.

You’ve failed.

You stand up, probably a little too fast, as your vision grows dark in the corners. Jungkook immediately goes to help you when you stumble, but you fend him off.

"I'm fine." You put a hand to your head, trying to force it to stop throbbing. "I don't need your help."

He seems hesitant to reply.

“Where is Namjoon? I-I need to-” Your voice trails off as stars swim in your vision. “Fuck…”

The room becomes blurry, and you feel weightless as you sink to the floor, the distant echo of Jungkook’s frantic voice fading into nothingness.

-------

“Some clients may become… misguided.” Madame paces in front of the class, checking everyone’s form and breathing as they lay on their backs at their stations, legs propped and parted as fucking machines train you all for stamina.

This is a relaxing class, despite the nature of it. After a while, you barely even notice the dildo sliding in and out of you, the whir of the machines becomes background noise. It’s a good chance to focus and meditate.

“They may come to hold… pity for you.” Madame bites on the word as she lowers her ever present riding crop, gently coaxing one girl’s legs further apart.

“They’ll think, aww, the poor little sluts are forced to be used. They’re being objectified. They don’t get a say.” You can barely see Madame’s arm from your position as she drags the riding crop along the girl’s thigh, and the girl shivers in pleasure.

“Pity is useless, girls. This is your job. You don’t pity the mailman for having to be out in the weather. Safety is key, and rules are in place for a reason. That’s why people never hire just one Physical Companion.”

The class snickers at this. The idea is preposterous. PhysComs are always hired in sets, proportional to the amount of clients they’ll be serving.

“You are never forced to serve your client. You are independent contractors. Anything you do for them, you do willingly. This is why we train. To broaden our capabilities, and make ourselves-” Here, she adjusts the setting on one girl’s machine. The dildo moves faster, causing the girl to let out a breathy moan. “-as flexible as possible for our perspective clients.”

You inhale steadily as Madame examines you, her eye keen enough to pick up every detail of your posture, every twitch of your muscles. She clicks a setting on your machine and you feel the dildo expand slightly in girth, stretching you out further.

You smile and sigh at the stretch, proud to beat your previous record for time needed to move up a size. Madame’s expression gives away no approval, but you can tell from the twitch in her lip that she finds you to be a promising pupil.

She moves on, examining the next girl in line. “Our job is to assure them. To remind our clients why we are here. When we are with our clients, we are purely sexual beings.”

The girl beside you has her hands clapped to her mouth, trying desperately to conceal her noises. You can see her legs quivering and feel a twist of pride at being one of the few people eligible for an orgasm suppressant. Until you get your Opticon implanted, it’s an excellent advantage for stamina training.

Madame returns to her post at the front of the class, her sharp gaze sweeping over each of you as she continues her lecture. “If you are pitied by your client, then you have failed to make them see you as useful. Useless toys are thrown away.”

-------

Regaining consciousness is like being pulled up from the depths.

You vaguely register the softness of a bed beneath you. You blearily open your eyes, and see someone sitting at your side, their face swimming in your vision.

“Jagiya,” Taehyung pets your cheek, his large hands warm against your clammy skin, his voice is gentle. “Are you with me?”

You squeeze your eyes shut, suppressing a groan as you shove yourself onto your elbows.

“Woah, woah,” He stops you, guiding you to lay back down. “Easy there. How are you feeling?”

You feel like shit, honestly. Your head is still pounding and there’s a ringing in your ears, though the dizziness has faded significantly.

“I’m fine,” you croak, surprised at how weak your voice sounds. You wish you had the strength to shove him off, but your hands are braced uselessly on his arms.

A quick glance at your surroundings tells you that you’re back in your bedroom. How did you get here? The memories of what you discovered begin to come back to you, and with them, your sense of urgency returns. You try to push him off again. “N-need to see Namjoon...”

Taehyung shakes his head with an air of duty. “Namjoon isn’t home yet, but he said to keep you company and make sure you don’t overexert yourself.” He rearranges your arms and tucks the blanket up around your shoulders, then reaches for something on the night table and gently coaxes a straw to your lips. “Here, have some water.”

You reluctantly take a sip. You hadn't realized your throat was so dry.

He seems satisfied, and gives a nod before setting the drink down.

"What happened?” You ask with a looming sense of dread.

“You fainted,” he replies somberly.

You squint at him. “Yeah, I meant after that.”

His face brightens in understanding. “Oh! Well, Jungkook said he tried to call Namjoon as soon as you collapsed, but he didn't answer right away so he had to leave a voicemail. Then he brought you back here to your room instead. Carried you the whole way.”

There’s amusement in his eyes, though you can’t imagine what he finds funny about the situation. “It was perfect timing, so I said I’d look after you until you woke up.” He smiles warmly. “And now you’re awake.”

“What do you mean perfect timing?”

His smile falters for a moment. “Because... I just got home from shopping. See?” He says brightly, gesturing to some shopping bags sitting by your door with big name brands on them.

You also notice that your door handle is broken clean off.

“What… happened to my door?” You gape at the sight.

“Oh, I guess it must have been locked when Jungkook brought you home.” Taehyung chuckles. “I don’t think an elephant could have stopped him. You had him really worried.”

Something inside you feels warm at the notion that Jungkook would care so much.

And that warmth is immediately doused by frigid guilt.

Fuck, what are you thinking?

You’ve let them get too close, you’ve let them see your struggles, you’ve let them see you as a human being, as someone to worry about, instead of a mindless toy. Namjoon has written an entire persuasive essay about the supposed plight through which he believes you’re suffering.

You’ve become too relaxed around them. Fuck, you’re sitting here letting Taehyung fuss over you, when you should be offering him your body, sucking him dry, and letting him fuck your brains out.

That document puts things back into perspective. Letting this… tentative emotional connection that you've started with them go any further could be career ruining. Not just for you, but for the rest of their PhysComs. The dozens of Secondaries they employ could be at risk for losing their jobs too, if your clients suddenly feel guilty for using your services.

And then what? The members’ sexual drives will get out of hand. They won’t be regulated, they might stick their dick into a lucky fan and end up with a pregnancy scandal to cover up, or they’ll become tired, sluggish, and distracted due to unregulated sexual maintenance, which could affect their performance.

You are a necessary piece of their daily routine, their health, their jobs.

Vacation be damned, you are not about to let Namjoon’s blind optimism put himself, the other boys, or your own career at risk. It's for his own good.

You should have deleted the damn document when you had the chance. But it would have been too late anyway. Once they see you in that light, once they start pitying you, then that flicker of doubt will linger in their minds no matter how much you try to extinguish it.

You need to remind them of your place.

Jungkook and Namjoon are lost causes, they’ve both been exposed to the document’s propaganda. But there's still that mysterious vote they’ll be having by the end of the week, presumably about your future. That means you still have a chance. If you can convince a majority of them to view you once more as a purely sexual being…

You try to clear your head, mustering your strength to serve, but before you can ask Taehyung how he wants to use your body, he speaks.

“You do so much for us, jagiya.” Taehyung keeps his hands braced on your arms, his thumb rubbing gently against your skin. “You’re always there for us. Always giving.”

Your whole body tenses. You don’t like where this is going. He’s starting to sound an awful lot like Namjoon.

Taehyung seems to sense your discomfort, because he leans closer and bestows a fleeting kiss to your forehead. “Now it’s time for you to receive.” His eyes are warm as he stares down at you, and he holds a glimmer of something secretive in his smile, like he just told a private joke.

Your confusion grows. “Taehyung… what are you talking about?”

“He’ll be here any minute,” he says by way of an answer, and gives your shoulder a squeeze. “Just relax, jagiya. You deserve this.”

“What do you-?”

But before you can question what he means and why he’s acting so strangely, your door swings open, and Min Yoongi enters.

“Here to take over,” he says, his mouth and nose still covered by the same black mask from earlier.

Taehyung looks surprised, almost shocked. “Where’s Jimin? He was supposed to-”

“Asked me to come instead.” Yoongi lifts one shoulder in a shrug. “Said something about not feeling right.”

You look between the two of them. Taehyung’s mouth flaps like a fish and Yoongi sighs, coming over to take his place. “Come on, you’ve been up here for hours.”

Hours? What time is it? You reach for your ComGear and find that it’s not in your utility belt.

“No, but Jimin is supposed to-”

Oh, there it is. Plugged in, resting on your night table. Maybe Jungkook saw that the battery was low. That boy is way too considerate.

“Why don’t you go check on him, then?” Yoongi doesn’t give Taehyung any room for argument, staring him down. “I think he went to the practice room.”

Why is it on the settings screen? Shouldn’t it still be in your emails from earlier…? Weird.

Taehyung reluctantly stands up and takes a few steps towards the door, shifting his weight with uncertainty. He looks to you, then back at Yoongi. “But she was about to ask me something.”

You put aside your ComGear, pushing away any prior thoughts to focus on your mission. “It’s okay, we’ll talk later,” you assure him with a nod, your mind whirring into action.

You have to remind five men of your place as their personal sex slave, if all goes well. The order in which you remind them of this is inconsequential. Plus it might be more effective to go for Taehyung later. He may be less eager to fuck you after nursing you back to health.

But Yoongi… you haven’t seen him since earlier in the day. Yoongi doesn't have feelings for you. Yoongi’s only ever known you as a slut, which makes him an easy target.

Taehyung doesn’t look happy about leaving, but he nods, retrieves his shopping bags from the floor, and gives both of you a final glance before shutting the door.

You wait just long enough to know Taehyung is out of earshot. Yoongi walks over to your vanity, takes off the jacket he’d been wearing and drapes it over the back of the chair, leaving himself in a plain black t-shirt and black sweatpants.

While he isn’t looking, you carefully sit up and shed your oversized hoodie, leaving you topless. Time to get back to business.

You take a deep breath and slip into your persona. It feels good to wear it again, you feel less dizzy, more focused. Ready to fuck.

“Did you miss me, Master Min?”

Yoongi freezes, his back to you. You suppress a laugh. You know you’ve caught him off-guard.

“I’m sorry?” He tugs down his face mask and turns around, only to see you in nothing but a pair of leggings, perched prettily on the edge of your bed. His eyes widen only marginally, but it’s a big reaction, coming from him. "What are you doing?"

You tilt your head to the side and cover your breasts with your hands, groping and squeezing them together. “What do you think I’m doing, Master?” You bite your lower lip, keeping eye contact with him while you feel yourself, rolling a nipple between your fingers. “You always tell me to show off my pretty body.”

Yoongi looks off to the side, averting his eyes to your actions, but the tent forming in his pants tells you he didn’t look away soon enough. “Stop fucking around. You're suspended.” He says, echoing your words from earlier in the day.

You hum in agreement, a pout forming on your lips. “Mm, but I don’t want to be.” You let out a desperate, breathy sigh. “I want to be filled with your cock, Master. I need it.”

You watch his adam’s apple bob. His weight shifts. His lips press together. Every movement you analyze for signs of weakness. It’s like playing chess.

“I know you want me, Master,” you purr, sprawling back onto the bed. You bring one hand down to your core, massaging your mound through the stretchy material. “I’m yours for the taking. No one has to know.”

"Is that what you really want?" He asks with a distinct note of skepticism.

You bristle, but try to hide your irritation. Here they go again with their fucking consent.

“Yes, of course, Master.” You mold your face into submissive desire. “It's my dream to be a good little slut for you. Being stuffed with your thick cock, pounded into the mattress, and pumped full of your seed,” you whine, grinding against your hand for effect. It feels good, better than usual, and you come to find that you mean what you said.

Sex actually sounds good right now, if you’re being honest. A good fucking might be just what you need to forget your worries, so it’s really a win-win.

You sense Yoongi’s hesitance, and you try to think of a way to convince him that you’re serious. The only off-the-clock sex you’ve had so far was with Hoseok, and that had been… far too intimate. But maybe some of the same principles could apply here. Hoseok had wanted you to want it. He’d asked you to use his name.

“Yoongi,” you breathe his name, dropping your character for just a moment. His eyes snap to yours. “I want you.”

He stares at you for a second. Two. Then he’s hovering over you, hands planted on either side of your shoulders.

“You want me?” His breath is warm and heavy, and you can see the way his pupils dilate when he looks at you.

Your heart skips a beat at his unexpected intensity. You nod, your lips slightly parted as he holds his body only inches away from you.

He seems at war with himself, his jaw working as his eyes roam down to your chest, then travel slowly back up, settling on your widened eyes, your pink bitten lips.

"Fuck it," he mutters, and surges down to crush his lips to yours.

It's unexpected. He's never shown any interest in kissing you, he's always preferred shoving his fingers in your mouth.

But you're grateful for that, because if he'd ever tried to kiss you before, you don't think you would've been able to keep your composure.

Yoongi is like fire. His lips are searing with passion, his tongue flickers and licks into your mouth. It's a stark contrast to his icy fingers as they brush against your ribs.

He's full of contradictions. His kiss is greedy but controlled. He grinds his thigh between your legs, causing you to moan, but his hands are feather light as they caress your breasts. He's fire and ice.

You feel yourself getting hotter by the minute, and all too soon, he breaks away from the kiss, leaving you gasping as he trails his mouth down your neck, biting a bruise there.

"Ah! Yoongi…" Your fingers twine through his hair of their own accord, and you're appalled at how easily you've given in to your desires. But it's all for the cause. You're saving careers.

He groans, his voice low and tempting as he kisses and licks your skin. "You really want me, princess?"

Your chest heaves as you catch your breath. "Yes. Fuck, yes, please…"

"You want me to fuck that greedy cunt of yours? Fill you to the brim?"

His words light a fire in you, and you writhe beneath him. "I want it so much, Master. Please fuck me…"

He grabs your jaw. "You're my slut."

He says it more like a question than a statement. You nod as much as he'll allow.

He drags his thumb across your cheek and dips it into your mouth. "You're mine. I can use you however I want…"

You didn't think he'd be so easy to convince. Well, mission accomplished, you suppose. One down, four to go.

You suck greedily on his thumb in answer, widening your eyes to draw him in. He hums, pressing down on your tongue and making you gag around the digit.

"Good girl." His eyes are half lidded as he looks at you. Then something changes, a sharp glint appearing in his gaze as he removes his thumb and squeezes your jaw, forcing your mouth open.

He licks past your lips in a kiss of complete dominance. Despite his control, he's gentle, savoring your taste, praising you for it between breaths.

While your mouth is occupied, his other hand snakes down to cup your heat, palming you through your frustratingly thin leggings. His dexterous fingers find your clit faster than you would expect, and he circles the pads of his fingers there intently, nothing but the thin material separating him from your skin.

You buck into his hand, though you hope he doesn't keep you there for too long. You know the ache between your thighs will only get worse with no release.

"So fucking wet…" he mutters, pulling back from exploring your mouth to lick a possessive stripe up your cheek. "Tell me how much you want me, slut. Beg for it."

"Please!" You whine, falling into the familiar routine. "Please, Master, all I want is your cock inside me! I need it, I want it so badly…"

Yoongi exhales through his nose, and soon he's up and off of you. "All fours."

This is what you're used to. The familiarity of being told what to do, knowing what's going to happen next, it makes you relax. You get in the position he asks, wiggling your ass towards him.

But Yoongi needs no encouragement. He spanks you hard, rubbing his hands all over the smooth material covering your ass. "Fuck, so juicy…"

He's silent for a moment, and his hands still. You're about to say something to provoke him when there's the distinct noise of ripping fabric behind you. Your hips jerk towards him as he tears the seam of the leggings right down your core, exposing you.

"Yoongi!"

But he's already digging in, dragging his tongue along your folds and sucking at your dripping cunt. His hands grip your ass, spreading you apart for him, and you quiver, his tongue igniting sparks as it plunges within you.

You try not to let it get to you, but the lack of constant sex must have made you extra sensetive. Every thrust and flicker of his tongue has you breathless, squirming, needing more. It was never like this before, you have to pull yourself together. Keep control.

But Yoongi seems to like your enthusiasm. He hums, and the vibrations buzz at your clit, sending tingles straight up your spine. You let out a shriek of surprise as he sucks on the overly sensitive bud and you feel yourself throb.

Fuck, he's too good at this. How did he get so good at this? Your arms give out, and you fall onto the bed, your face buried in the duvet as Yoongi fucks you expertly with his tongue.

"S-stop…" you plead weakly, trying to avoid the inevitable disappointment that will soon follow if he keeps this up.

"What? I didn't hear you use your safeword, slut." He growls, landing a warning spank on your rear ashe rises onto the bed behind you. A shuffle of fabric as he pulls down his sweatpants. "You like this, don't you? You like being exposed. Being treated like a pornstar? Dirty girl."

You do. Fuck, you do. Especially when Min Yoongi happens to be the actor starring with you.

You feel him tap the head of his cock against your ass, slide the thick length along your center. "Look at how fucking wet you are already. So desperate... pathetic."

You feel a flash of heat at his assessment. Yoongi's always enjoyed a little degradation, but his choice of words hits a little too close to home in this particular scenario for you to fully embrace it.

You cover your embarrassment with a thicker cloud of pretend. "Of course I'm dripping, Master. I'm your fuck doll. I live to service your cock..."

"Damn right, you do." He shoves into you without warning, and you gasp for real. Fuck, you've been denied dick for less than twenty-four hours, and you're already off your game? Come on, shake it off. Get in the rhythm of it.

But Yoongi sets such a relentless pace, it's impossible for you to keep up. It's as if he's got something to prove. He fucks into you so hard it hurts. You moan and try to relax, try to cling to the familiarity, but you feel a weird pressure building in your chest. It makes it hard to breathe, hard to focus.

He takes your moans and gasps as a sign to go harder, and he leans over you, pressing his chest to your back. His hand slips around your neck, holding you in place while he growls against you, his nose digging into your cheek. "Gonna fuck the living shit outta you… yeah? That's what you want? Gonna make you see stars and beg for my cock, over and over until I say so."

You moan in gratitude. You're grateful he's so easy to convince. You're his slut, and he knows it. This is where you belong. You feel happy. Safe. You smile, closing your eyes as Min Yoongi fucks into you like a freight train, and you finally get a moment’s peace from the past day’s turmoil.

He suddenly grunts, lifting himself off of you. "This cock belongs in your filthy mouth." He pulls out of you and takes you firmly by the shoulder. You hastily follow his implications to sit up.

He grabs his cock at the base and guides it to your face, nudging your cheek and spreading the coated wetness across your skin. You get a glimpse of his length - rock hard, nearly purple, and leaking - before he stuffs it down your throat. You relax, humming and taking all of him and gagging obediently upon request, just like always.

"Such a good whore, yeah… just like that," he moans, bracing his hand behind your head, grabbing a fistful of your hair. "This is how it should be, yeah?"

You hum around him in confirmation, glad that you're both on the same page.

"You're our slut. Nothing will ever fucking change that… " he starts rutting into your mouth, and you obediently let him fuck your throat.

He huffs, his voice dropping lower, “No use pretending you can be anything else.”

The change in his tone of voice is so stark, it gives you pause. You almost lose your concentration. He sounds almost... sad? Why would he be sad? Are you doing something wrong?

You redouble your efforts to please him.

"Look at you. So filthy." He praises you softly as you gurgle around him, drool starting to leak from your mouth. His roughness starts to return at the sight of you, and you beam with pride as he resumes his filthy dialogue. "This is what you want, isn't it? To choke on our dicks all day, huh? This what you signed up for?"

He pulls out to let you gasp in a breath, then shoves right back down. He does this a few more times, letting the blowjob get sloppy. You nod desperately between thrusts, assuring him of your devotion. You graze your hands over his clothed thighs, caressing him while he fucks your throat.

“Nothing else matters.” Yoongi huffs, and as his face swims back in forth in your vision, he looks resolute.

You surge forward to hold his length down your throat, swallowing around him, your nose touching his abdomen.

He groans, pulling your hair taut and holding you in place. "Yeah, that's it…. You were built for this, weren't you?"

He finally lets you come back for air, but no sooner do you take a messy gasp than he pushes you backwards onto the bed and crawls on top of you.

"Say it." He grabs you by the jaw again, and his voice is low and soft, his eyes like hot coals. "Tell me what you want."

You sputter and gasp, still reclaiming your breath, but obediently say what he wants to hear. "I want you, Yoongi. I want your cock..."

He let go of your face and hoists your legs up, bending you in half. "You're gonna get it, too," he mutters, grabbing your calves, keeping them up and out of the way as he shoves his thick cock into you again.

You moan compliantly, gasping and staring up at him. This is all going according to plan, you just have to hang on and not let your throbbing pussy distract you from the goal.

"You want to be a whore, huh?" He asks, maintaining a gravitational sort of eye contact as he slowly slides in and out of you, torturing you. "Cum for me. Cum around my cock."

You shiver and within a few moments, clench around him convincingly, letting your eyes roll back as you moan in delight.

"Cumming on command, within seconds... look at that." He braces your legs with one arm and starts rubbing your clit with his other hand as he picks up the pace. You feel a jolt as his thumb circles the little bundle of nerves, and you actually flinch.

"So sensitive." He growls, reading your mind. "What a needy cunt."

You can't form any words, the way he's kneading your clit has your head thrown back, your breath coming in gasps. It’s never felt like this.

Yoongi picks up on your arousal, and quickly gains speed, fucking you relentlessly, with little grunts of his own as he keeps you spread wide open for him, watching as your pussy takes his cock over and over again.

After endless minutes of stimulation, your core is swollen and aching, but still somehow desperate for more.

Yoongi's hips buck and stutter, and without warning, he leaves you painfully empty, clenching around nothing. His cock in his fist, he pumps himself to completion, letting his seed cover your puffy, aching pussy.

"Yeah, yeah, that's it…" he grunts, using his cock head to smear his release along your folds.

You start to relax, trying to overcome the disappointment your body feels at getting frustratingly uselessly stimulated.

But before you know it, Yoongi is lining himself up with your entrance again. "You thought we were done?" He chuckles darkly, using his cock to collect cum around your entrance, then he sheathes himself to the hilt with a low groan.

It feels so fucking good, you can't think straight. You cry out, your body desperate and screaming for more but knowing it's not enough, and it'll never be enough.

"Yeah, you want it deep inside you, don't you, you little cum slut?" He mutters, shoving his fingers into your mouth, and you're grateful that he's muffling your embarrassing noises.

"Gonna fuck you like the worthless little whore you are," he barks, ruthlessly slamming into you, and you moan with every thrust.

You would have said something if you still had an ounce of coherent thought in your brain, but the sensations are quickly taking over. Your whole body is wound up, desperate for something. His fingers reach down to rub hastily at your swollen clit and your vision blurs, your pulse pounds in your ears - are you going to faint again?

No.

You peak.

A scream catches in your throat, broken and gutterel as pleasure takes over your entire body, coursing through you in waves, lifting your body off the bed, convulsing, throbbing through you, inside and out.

It feels so good it hurts. You want to stay in this moment, extend it for as long as possible, but you know there's something wrong. Your mind is so addled, you're scared, terrified, before you even remember why.

You shouldn’t be capable of climax. Something’s wrong.

Yoongi keeps fucking you, grunting as you clench around his cock, but you're clawing at him, begging him to stop, tears leaking down your cheeks. Something’s wrong.

He realizes you aren't moaning anymore, but wailing. Sobbing. Something's wrong. He pulls out of you, shouting to be heard above your panic. He looks scared. Guilty.

Just then your door bursts open, and Jimin enters the room with a shout, quickly followed by Taehyung.

“I’m sorry! It’s my fault-” Jimin’s eyes fall to your compromising position, Yoongi’s dick still out, your leaking core exposed, and claps a hand over his mouth. He looks like he might cry. “Oh no...”

Taehyung’s mouth falls open, and he appears too alarmed to speak, apart from a very small, “Fuck.”

“What the fuck are you talking about? What’s your fault?” Yoongi’s shouts at Jimin and Taehyung are drowned out by the rush of blood in your ears as your shoulders shake from dry sobs. Your eyes flash between the two younger members, their guilty expressions, and you remember your private conversation with Jimin just yesterday.

"There is a way to turn it off, in case of emergency side effects. But I can't just turn it off for fun. You have to understand that.” You rest your hand on his shoulder again, hoping he now comprehends the reason for your earlier outburst. “It's a part of my job."

"I understand. Sorry,” he says, giving you a small nod. He twists his mouth to the side, chewing over the revelations. "That must really suck. Not being able to cum."

He’s the only one you’ve ever told.

“I’m sorry! It’s my fault-”

Your ComGear. The settings.

You're too shocked, too betrayed, too sore to get up on your own. You feel some of Yoongi’s release drip down your leg, and a robotic voice fills your mind, drilled into you from the hours of safety lectures you’d had to sit through during training.

… If at any point the user experiences orgasmic sensations before, during, or after sexual activities, then this may be a sign of malfunction in the Opticon Miracle Implant, rendering the user susceptible to sexually transmitted disease and/or pregnancy. Side effects of a malfunctioning Opticon Miracle Implant could become severe, or in some cases life-threatening, if left untreated. Please consult your local physician and refrain from any sexual activity until the Opticon Miracle Implant may be examined by a specialist.

They’re all shouting now, and you feel your throat constrict in horror at the implications of what just happened. The words get caught in your chest, bubbling up with your mounting fear, and finally fall from your lips in a raw cry for help.

"Someone call an ambulance!"

#bts #bts smut #bts x reader smut #bts ot7 smut #bts smut fic #bts x reader #bts fanfiction #bts ot7 #bts fanfic #bts ot7 x reader #bts fic rec #yoongi smut #yoongi x reader #jungkook x reader #taehyung x reader #jimin x reader #thank you all for enjoying physcom! <3

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kagayamasthighs · 4 years

Note

Yo, I just want sakusa to rearrange my guts. Like I know this man is HUNG(he has a size kink don’t fight me)

gjkghfhfdj yES!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! i feel this so MUCH???? it is 4:45 AM and i’m too sleepy to properly write anything but!! I really wanna do a drabble abt sakusa’s size kink now

aaaaaa just... imagine struggling to take him in and you’re just??? dripping and he gets all fake mad, telling you how pathetic you are for making such a big mess when he’s not even all the way inside of you yet aAAAAAA

...

he probably has a really pretty dick too... you think it’d have a couple cute little freckles on it? aaa that’d be adorable dfjkgfdgDGFDJBGBNGDL

#haikyuu smut #i am p a r c h e d #omg #sakusa #anon friends #Anonymous

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averykedavra · 4 years

Note

20. Do you have a favorite fanfic or author? If so, tag them/post a link and share the love!

!!! An excuse to recommend my favorite fics and authors? Don’t mind if I do! Here’s a top fourteen list of some great fics and a top nine list of my favorite authors, in no particular order! Because I had way too many. (Plus I’m bound to forget a million good ones, so take these with a grain of salt!)

1. chivalry is dead by Uncrowned_King! There really wasn’t another option. After Roman disappears into the Imagination, the other Sides come to look for him, and find several Romans fighting for ownership of the land. My all-time favorite Roman angst, with some beautifully written worldbuilding and my favorite OCs ever and a plot twist that sent me reeling. With some cute DLAMP, too! What’s not to love?

2. Breathe Out by Odaigahara! This is darker than I usually read but so, so worth it! Set pre-canon, Virgil and Janus team up against the other dark sides and find their feelings go beyond platonic after a relationship of convenience becomes something more. It’s a WIP and I don’t know where it’s going yet, but I’m really intrigued and the writing is incredible!

3. The Black Hole Group Chat by Greenninjagal! Definitely my favorite comfort fic. After Logan accidentally joins a group chat and is forced into sticking around, he finds himself making his first friends--but past feelings and present conflicts threaten to tear apart the first place they’ve ever felt comfortable. So good, so funny, makes the most of the texting medium, and I always cry at the end.

4. Monsters of the Subconscious by Quarantinevibes! Ohh, everything by this author is fantastic which goes for all of them. After PoF, Janus visits the Imagination to apologize. Instead, him and Roman are sucked into the Subconscious, a wild land full of mysterious dangers. They must team up to escape, and come to terms with their feelings for each other. Some wonderfully soft Roceit, hilarious comedy and incredible action, and great emotional moments!

5. the feelings in my headspace rearranged by mutemelody! Some canon divergence for the soul. Anxiety doesn’t have a name, and after the AA arc, has to make his way through acceptance and love. Canon turns on its head, old friends make a reappearance, and through it all Anxiety has to find his own identity, nameless or not. Gosh, this fic is incredible--the writing is stunning, the plot is amazing, and it’s some of the best Virgil angst I’ve ever read.

6. There’s a Word For That by plumcat! I cannot recommend this fic enough. Roman, a Slytherin, has been pining over arguing with Patton, a Hufflepuff, since the beginning of time. But with the Quidditch match coming up, his two annoying best friends relentlessly teasing him, and Patton himself spending more and more time with Roman, Roman has to figure out what he really wants and who he wants to be. This fic is hilarious and makes me feel feelings and please, please read it.

7. (i’d never) want once from the cherry tree by ace_corvid! Prinxiety! And a Youtuber AU that really takes advantage of the medium! Virgil and Roman are two of the most popular creators on YouTube and their fans have been begging them to do a crossover episode. The collaboration goes surprisingly well, but it’s one thing to explore a relationship, and another to do it when the whole world is watching. So cute, so hilarious, has some amazing art as well, and I just highly recommend it.

8. double down on the paradigms by remrose! Here’s a lovely college AU! Logan is doing his best to pass his classes, and everything is going fine, despite his roommate Virgil’s concerns about his late study nights and compulsive behavior. Then he meets Patton, and every wall Logan’s constructed slowly begins to crumble. To show how much I love this fic, I have not stopped thinking about it, even though it’s the only one on this list I’ve only read once. It stuck with me that much and hey maybe I should reread it, hold on--

9. In a Tizzy by coconutcluster! Cute fluff, so wholesome, much love. After Logan finds out that Roman gets flustered at compliments, he enlists the other Sides to test this theory. But Roman gets upset when he thinks they’re playing a joke on him by being nice. The writing is great and it’s a fantastic pick-me-up on a bad day! Just so full of nice wonderful feelings!

10. Communication Issues by WaeRose! Analogince! The alternative title that I cut out says it all! After Logan and Virgil find Roman crying in his room, they make an effort to spend more time together as a group. But platonic feelings quickly become non-platonic, misunderstandings abound, insecurities rise, and they’ll have to learn how to communicate their feelings if those feelings could ever lead to a relationship. The writing is incredible, the second-person POV is done expertly, and the characterization is top-notch!

11. a heart he couldn’t control by codevassie! Prinxiety that tore me into a million pieces. Roman traded away his true love’s life to save his brother from a witch, but when he actually meets said true love, he begins to regret his choice. Now Virgil is trapped once again with the witch, Roman is on a rescue mission, Patton and Logan are hiding something, and Janus is definitely not who he seems. Once again, this AU hurts me, and the incredible writing makes it a gut-punch! It’s a WIP but I love where it’s going and need to catch up on it but shhh

12. Another Goddamn Hero Story by rosesisupposes! I’m a sucker for a superhero AU and this one is stellar! Logan and Virgil are a hero team, trying to subdue Patton and Roman, the most famous villain duo in the city. But nobody’s exactly who they say, everyone’s not quite sure which side is right, and past wrongs are coming back to draw new blood. It’s endgame LAMP and the romances are built perfectly! Supervillains Royality is amazing, the action is incredible, and the plot twist blew me away!

13. Hurt, and How We Grow Past It by Jinx72! Another comfort fic of mine, by one of my all-time favorite authors! After Deceit visits the Imagination and lights a fire larger than he intended, Roman is left injured while the other Sides try to put the pieces back together. Old grudges come to light, new bonds are forged, and they all fall in love slowly while all simultaneously being extremely insecure. The characterization is incredible, the writing is top-notch, and the DLAMP is heartfelt and wonderful!

14. Eucatastrophe by arealsword! I added this one last-minute because it’s incredible and deserves to be on this list! The writing is incredible, the world-building is top-notch, and the plot manages to be coherent and incredible while throwing me for a loop every other line! It creeped me the heck out, but I’d expect nothing less from the author of Pick a Side. I’m not even gonna summarize this one because that’d spoil the fun, but suffice it to say, Thomas gets kidnapped by faeries and things get interesting very fast.

And now for the authors! (I chose authors who I didn’t mention above, but all the ones I already talked about are hella good, check them out too!)

1. @/sleeplessinstarbucks. You want good losleep content? Here. You want good QPR content? Here. You want good content in general? Here! Lia has amazing hurt/comfort, beautiful writing, and stellar characterization. I binge their writing every time I get bored. If you want your heart to be warmed, this is where to go!

2. @/theeternalspace. Okay, so Acantha is the Royal of Long Fics. Every one of theirs is a winner! They’re an expert at plotting and characterization, and I’ve been sucked into every one of their many AUs. Plus their writing is godly! And did I mention there are so many chapter fics on their Ao3? If you want a bunch of bingeable emotional rollercoasters, head on over here!

3. @/whenisitenoughtrees. Cat...how. How do you do it. See, Cat writes the best one shots. Their writing is incredible and they’ve written some of my all-time favorite short fics! Their characterization is always on point, and their dialogue always lands, and did I mention their writing is just so deliciously readable--you feel like they chose every word carefully to make it pack as much of a punch as possible. If you want some incredible one shots, this is your writer!

4. @/tulipscomeinallsortsofcolors. I mean, I couldn’t not include Violet. LAOFT is still my favorite series of all time and deserves all the attention it’s got! They’re the expert at well-done short fics that serve a longer narrative, giving everything an almost episodic structure. Plus, their fluff is the fluffiest and the best, and their angst hurts me deep within my soul, so they’re double-powerful! If you want standalone fics or a complex, emotional series, check them out!

5. @/impatentpending. Elena, our writing god, our Deity, which all other writers must respect. Every fic of hers is top-tier, from short to long, and she’s unrivaled at plotting and worldbuilding! You’ll get sucked in to every world and story she creates, and she’s an expert on letting the stories linger. I’m still thinking about Powerless and Monster and it’s been almost a year. If you want expertly crafted stories that leave you in emotional pieces, she’s got them.

6. @/ironwoman359. A classic choice here! She’s got it all--incredible one shots, great characterization, and a big enough master list for basically any ship to be found! She also writes some of the best hurt/comfort in the genre, so if you’re a fan of bad things that lead to good endings, there’s always something to read. If you want a large catalog of fantastic stories, she’s your gal!

7. @/caffeinatedcryptid. You may have seen El’s fantastic art on tumblr, but have you read their incredible stories? If not, you’re missing out! They’ve got several spectacular one shots already written, and each one of them broke me in their own special way. Their writing style is incredible and their characterization is fantastic. If you want longer one shots with well-thought-through plots, head over there!

8. @/astronomical-bagel. Astro, our Lord of Roman Angst, always ready to punch me in the gut with feelings! Act One, Scene Three still hurts me to this day. They’re always ready to turn anything into Roman angst (or any angst, check HDABST) but they’ve got some comfort in there as well! A little bit. Somewhat. Yeah. If you want to be emotionally destroyed, you know who to call.

9. @/green-writes-sanderssides. Green’s fics were some of the first I ever read in this fandom, and they’ve stuck with me to this day! They're an expert at the fluff-angst balance and causing all sorts of Emotions. They’re currently working on an incomplete LAMP fic that just completes me. But I digress. Green is spectacular! They’ve got wonderful canon-verse fics that explore the characters and their relationships expertly. If you want amazing fics with fantastic characterization in-canon, stop by!

And that’s all of them! Again, there are tons more I didn’t get to mention, but these are just a few I love! Congrats if you read all the way to the bottom, I know it was a lot--I just get really excited when I can compliment my favorite writers! Anyway, check them out if you want, I highly encourage it!

#sanders sides #fic recs #sanders sides fic #sanders sides fic recs #tw long post #long post #asks and answers #ask game #anon

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moonlit-jeno · 4 years

Text

love sick (m.)

Chapter 4- Jaemin

pairing: nct dream ‘00 line + reader

chapter warnings: smut, masturbation

words: 2.2k

summary:

“Me? What about you? You’re the one sleeping with her, for fuck’s sake.”

“I’m not sleeping with her! We’re just- sharing a bed.”

notes: this chapter is kinda filler but i also needed to fully set up the dynamics so

masterlist | prev | next

You’re laying on the couch when Jaemin walks into the living room and he instantly tries to soften his movements so that he doesn’t wake you. A closer look shows him that you’re awake and staring blankly at the ceiling. He looks closer.

“Y/N?” You jolt and turn towards him with wide eyes, relaxing when you see that it’s just him. “You okay? Jaemin hates how cute you look when you sit up, sleepily stretching your arms over your head and arching your back to stretch your stiff joints. He averts his gaze when your shirt rides up above your belly button, thighs on full display thanks to your tiny, tiny shorts. “Yeah. I was boarding up the windows earlier, but I got tired. Wanted to take a little break.” “Why were you boarding up the windows?” He asks, furrowing his eyebrows as he looks from you to the half-covered window. A quick scan of the room reveals that it’s the last one not covered. “The windows are glass and pretty easily shattered. If the stories you’ve told me are true, then I didn’t want to take any chances.” You explain. Jaemin shudders as the image of the man smashing his head into the windshield pops up in his mind.

He nods, scratching the back of his head. “That’s actually really smart. I can’t believe we didn’t think of this earlier.” You smile, playing with the hem of your shirt, and his heart flutters as he realizes that the compliment made you shy.

“Yeah, well. I didn’t really believe you earlier, so.” You trail off, and Jaemin doesn’t push it. He feels relieved because it means that you trust them now, but a part of him wishes you didn’t have to.

It’s silent for a moment before Jaemin clears his throat. “Tell you what. You help me make breakfast, I’ll help you board up the windows. Deal?”

You grin. “Deal.”

Jaemin wouldn’t exactly call you useless in the kitchen. You’re not a professional by any means, but you look cute with an apron on and your nose scrunched up in concentration. He watches you struggle for a moment, laughing quietly to himself, before stepping in.

“Here, hold it like this.” Jaemin places his hand over yours, rearranging the spatula in your hold. “And you’re just going to flip it like this…” He grabs the pan to tilt it back as he scoops the utensil underneath the pancakes, flipping it perfectly.

“Like this?” He lets go but doesn’t step away, enjoying the warmth radiating off of your skin and the scent of your shampoo. You manage to fold the pancake in half, batter splattering everywhere. Some of it lands on your cheek. You pout at him.

“Not quite.” Jaemin can’t hold back his giggle.

You whine in frustration. “It’s hard!”

“It’s the effort that counts.” He comforts you, carefully sliding the spatula out of your grip to save the remains. You do get very good at spooning the batter into the pan, he’ll give you that.

The two of you stand back to admire your (Jaemin’s) hard work, leaning against the counter and gazing at the mound of pancakes.

“Good work!” You high five him with both hands, lacing them together for a quick squeeze. Jaemin can’t help the way his heart squeezes as well.

“Close your eyes.” Jaemin directs you. There’s still batter on your face and he brushes it off with a gentle touch, swiping his thumb against your cheek and above your eyebrow. There’s nothing on your mouth but he uses this as an excuse to run his thumb along your plush bottom lip anyways. “All clean.”

You open your eyes and Jaemin realizes that the space between you two is much smaller than he thought. His thumb is still pressed against your lips but before he can draw it away, you’re parting your lips and letting your tongue flick out, taking the digit into your mouth gently. He swears his heart stops beating and his dick kicks as he watches you suck at the tip of his thumb. It takes all of his willpower to not imagine you in another situation, on your knees with something else in your mouth.

He draws his thumb away but his eyes stay locked on your lips and he realizes how soft they look. With your back pressed up against the counter, all he would have to do is lean down a little bit, maybe lift you up against it… “Oh, the lord heard my prayers! God is real!” Donghyuck’s loud cry snaps Jaemin out of his daze and he turns to glare at the other boy.

“What are you on about now?” You giggle and slip away from him, grabbing plates from the cabinet.

Donghyuck rolls his eyes as if it should be obvious. “My stomach was growling and now there is food. I am obviously God’s favorite angel.” “Angel?” Jeno questions, entering the kitchen and immediately ripping a pancake in half to shove in his mouth. “Is it opposite day?” Donghyuck glowers, about to retort, but Jeno shoves the other half of the pancake into his open mouth. Hyuck makes a demonic screeching noise, followed by a moan of approval. “Those are really good.” “Thanks, you’re an idiot.” Jaemin rolls his eyes, then notices that he was the first one to say that. “Where’s Renjun?”

Jeno waves his hand, his pancake flopping around as he gestures vaguely. “Greenhouse.” You take the pancake out of Jeno’s hand with raised eyebrows, setting it down on a plate before handing it back to him. “I’ll go grab him.”

Jaemin watches you leave before sitting down, ripping into the pancakes. He notices Jeno’s eyes trailing after you as well. He quirks an eyebrow.

“So what’s up with you and y/n?” Donghyuck asks, head tilted to the side. It takes Jaemin a moment to realize that he’s not talking to Jeno.

“Huh? Me and y/n?” Jeno and Donghyuck both nod. “Yeah man, you’re looking at her with hearts in your eyes.” Jeno confirms, leaning forward in his seat. “You’re totally whipped.” Donghyuck nods. “You were about three seconds from kissing her earlier.”

“Me?” It’s the only word that Jaemin can muster, looking between the two boys. He points at Jeno. “What about you? You’re the one sleeping with her, for fuck’s sake.”

“I’m not sleeping with her!” Jeno defends, grip tightening on his plate. “We’re just- sharing a bed.”

Jaemin raises his eyebrows as he corrects him. “Cuddling, Jen. You’re cuddling.”

“Fine, we’re cuddling.” Jeno rolls his eyes. “So what? Physical affection is good for you, Jaem. It’s healthy.”

“Do you like her?” The question slips out before Jaemin can stop himself, and he winces at how jealous he sounds. Hyuck watches them with wide eyes, ripping up pieces of pancake and shoving them in his mouth like popcorn.

Jeno doesn’t answer, swallowing thickly. His mouth open, closes, opens again. “I-” You walk in, Renjun in tow, and Jeno immediately shuts up. The sweet sound of your laugh fills the kitchen as you and Renjun talk, though you falter a bit at the tension in the room. “Everything okay?” “Peachy.” Jaemin says, staring hard at Jeno. Jeno doesn’t respond besides offering you a tight smile that doesn’t reach his eyes.

Hyuck changes the topic quickly, and the mood shifts back to normal. Renjun talks a lot about how you have such a ‘diverse variety of plants’ in the greenhouse and Hyuck calls him a nerd. Renjun pretends to hit him with his chair. You laugh so hard that tears stream down your face, the sight bringing a smile to Jaemin’s face. He risks a glance at Jeno. The guy won’t meet his eyes.

“Oh, I almost forgot!” You say suddenly, pausing as four pairs of eyes snap to you. “I think we should board up the windows for extra protection. I started doing it earlier, but I got tired.” A soft laugh leaves you.

“I’ll do it.” Jeno says almost immediately, sitting straight in his seat. Jaemin frowns, hating the weirdness between him and his best friend. They’ve fought before, sure, but over a girl? Never.

Jeno’s eyes shift to Jaemin’s, an almost challenging look in his eyes. Jaemin’s jaw grits but he holds his hands up in defeat. Jeno smirks.

Renjun shoots them a weird look but doesn’t say anything, turning to you instead. “That’s a good idea, but what about the greenhouse? It’s almost entirely glass, I don’t really think it’s practical to board it up.”

You shake your head. “We should just do the house. It’s where we’re spending the most amount of time and besides, I doubt anything’s going to happen in the greenhouse.” “Okay, that’s reasonable. Also, I think we should all help out.” Renjun says, glancing around the table. “We should take turns, though. Jaemin and y/n first, Jeno, Hyuck, and I second.” Jeno looks ready to protest, frowning at Renjun’s idea. “Why can’t we all just do it together?”

“It’s going to get too crowded and turn unproductive. Besides, they cooked. We need to clean.” Hyuck looks disgusted at the idea of physical labor. “I’ll be there for emotional support.” He decides, fanning himself with one hand. Renjun glares at him. Hyuck glares back.

“I’m going to go start. Jaem, are you done eating?” Jaemin has a bad feeling in his gut and he glances once at Jeno, feeling his stomach turn at the cold look in his eyes. He nods.

“Yeah, I’m done. Let’s go.”

The two of you alternate who has to do the hammering and you chatter away about anything and everything that comes to your mind. Jaemin loves how excited you are when you talk, how your face lights up and your hands start to move with your words. It defrosts the bad feeling fogging his mind and he’s laughing and smiling along with you after no time at all. Maybe he almost hits his hand instead of the nail with the hammer because he’s distracted by you. No one needs to know.

He finds himself agreeing with you about everything, nodding along with a smile because your just make everything sound so good. The light streaming in through the windows makes you look almost ethereal, bathing you in golden rays. Jaemin’s sad that they have to board the windows up, but he drinks in as much of you as he can, burning the image of how beautiful you look like this into his brain. You’re saying something about how he would look good with dyed hair now, and Jaemin’s never wanted to dye his hair before, but now he can’t fathom why not.

“Really? What color do you think?” Jaemin runs his hand through his hair and you squint at him, head cocked to the side. “Pink.” You finally decide, nodding with satisfaction.

“Pink?” You nod. “Pink it is, then. Too bad we can’t actually dye it.”

You sigh. “Maybe soon.”

Renjun, Jeno, and Donghyuck come to swap with them after a while, and you groan in relief. “FInally. This is the most exercise I’ve ever done.” You head off to shower while Jaemin waits, lost in his own mind. He likes you, obviously, and it’s obvious that Jeno does too. But he’s not prepared to lose his best friend over you, isn’t sure that he would ever forgive himself if he let that happen. Could he even be happy watching you and Jeno together? He lets out a groan, falling back against the mattress. They didn’t even get into a proper argument, for fucks’ sake.

The opening of the door startles him, but nothing shocks him more than the sight of yo with just a towel wrapped tightly around your body. “Sorry, I forgot to bring clothes in with me. I’m done though, you can go ahead.”

Jaemin swallows thickly, tries to get his mind to start working again. “Okay,” he finally manages. It doesn’t sound too strained.

“I saved you some hot water, by the way. Thank God we still have that, right?” You laugh, and Jaemin forces himself to laugh as well, finally tearing his gaze off of your figure.

“Yeah, thank God.”

He isn’t proud of how hard he gets in the shower, images of you playing in his mind like a loop. And he isn’t proud about how quick he is to give in, wrapping his hand around his cock and jerking himself almost desperately, his free hand planted against the wall for balance. A deep groan leaves him and he turns his head to muffle his sounds into his bicep.

Guilt eats at him but he can’t stop himself from replaying the scene in the kitchen earlier, imagining what would have happened if you hadn’t been interrupted. He thinks of lifting you up on the counter, of getting to feel your lips against his own. Maybe he dips down a little lower, leaves pretty little bruises against your skin before finally getting to taste you, finally getting to draw those pretty sounds out of you. You probably taste delicious, Jaemin thinks, moaning at the thought. He’s sure he would get addicted if given the opportunity.

He thinks of his cock in your mouth, of you looking up at him with wide, innocent eyes as you choke on him, as you let him fist his hand in your hair to guide you along him. But most of all, he thinks about fucking you. Of how you would cry out his name as he pushed into you, slow and deep. How tight you would be, how fucking wet he would get you. And he’s sure you would feel divine around him, your legs wrapped tightly around his waist, your nails digging into his back as you beg, plead for him to fuck you just like that, please, don’t stop-

Jaemin bites into his bicep to muffle his moan as he comes, his mind blank of everything except for you. And as he stands there panting, watching his mess slide down the shower drain, he can’t help but feel an incredible heaviness in his gut, sick as he thinks of you and Jeno. He closes his eyes and lets the water pour down against his face, not moving until Donghyuck starts to pound against the door.

#nct smut #nct fic #nct dream fic #nct dream smut #jeno smut #jeno fic #jaemin smut #jaemin fic #donghyuck smut #renjun smut #donghyuck fic #renjun fic #x reader #00 line fic

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maatryoshkaa · 5 years

Text

young god | chapter 7

chapters: | 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | 10 | 11| 12 | 13 | 14 | 15 | 16 | epilogue |

word count: 5.5k

warnings: mentions of mental disorders, foul language, graphic descriptions of violence, mentions of alcohol

description: from jisung’s psychoanalysis to the crime investigation, nothing seems to be adding up. jisung and hyunjin have an unpleasant first encounter, and a conversation with hyunjin’s grandmother leaves you with more questions than answers. hwang hyunjin wanders the streets like a ghost, and the police are hot on jisung’s trail.

watch the trailer here!

07| seeing ghosts

You unlocked the door to your apartment and stepped in, the space as dark and cool as a tomb.

You made a beeline for your room and chucked your bag onto the desk, rummaging through your closet for a comfortable hoodie. With a relieved sigh, you flicked on your table lamp and let the warm glow soften the darkness. The sun had gone down during your walk home, the busy sounds of the city hushed by the chirping of crickets and the rustle of the evening breeze. Jisung had held your hand the whole time -- two or three of his fingers gently hooked around yours and lightly swinging back and forth as you walked.

He had waved you goodbye from the stairwell -- heart-shaped smile and all -- but even as you propped open your laptop and shuffled through your notes, the feeling of his fingers lingered on your skin. You felt the blood rush to your face as Jisung’s voice -- soft and achingly vulnerable -- echoed in your ears.

Promise...you’ll never leave me?

You slammed your notebook down with unnecessary force, violently shaking your head as if trying to fling the thoughts away. Damn it, y/n. Focus! The notes you had scribbled looked as if they were falling off the lines of the paper. With a deep breath and a light slap to your own cheek, you began typing them up.

Patient: Han Jisung

Age: 20

Memories and short bits of dialogue flashed in your mind as you read over the papers.

Session One.

Patient has undergone mandatory psychological evaluations in the past, in educational institutions.

Mentions racing thoughts, rapid heartbeat, and possibly palpitations when in the presence of the therapist. **(May simply be conversational and therefore unreliable).

Suffering from nightmares as of late; sleep problems. Appears uneasy when speaking about said problems.

End of session.

You frowned. Straightforward enough. Slightly strange, if read out of context -- but nothing that stuck out in particular. Biting your lip and shrugging, you flipped to the notes from today.

Session Two.

Questions were focused on family and childhood. Patient looked

Your fingers stalled on the keyboard, Jisung’s expression from earlier flooding your memory. How his eyes had widened like a deer in headlights’ when you’d asked about his family. And -- had you been imagining it? -- they way his voice had wavered when he finally answered. Frowning, you shook your head -- no, no. You were probably just overanalyzing things, right?

Still, you found yourself typing out the one detail that had always been nagging at the back of your mind --

Patient looks upset at any mentions of family and childhood

At this, you hesitated again. You had barely known the boy for two weeks. There were things that Jisung wasn’t telling you about his childhood, that was for sure -- but wasn’t it normal not to know everything about each other yet? And it’s not like Jisung comes from a broken family or something, you thought. After all, he did say that his mother loved --

You froze.

Slowly, as if like a ghost was whispering in your ear, you felt an icy cold chill trickle down your spine, Jisung’s hollow voice echoing in your mind.

“My mother...like I said, she loved unconditionally. Patient, nurturing, kind...everything, well, you could ever want from a mother.”

Loved?

Past tense?

Your hand shot for your notebook and you practically ripped through the pages, looking for any other quotes you had written down.

“I don’t think my family was like everyone else’s.”

“My mother’s eyes were always so...loving and caring.”

Your eyes widened, a horrible sinking feeling in your gut.

“It sounds like your mother loves you a lot, then, huh? That’s so cute.”

“Y-yeah, she did.”

“Your father?”

“I wasn’t close with him. He was never...never around, so…”

What the hell had happened to Jisung’s parents?

You barely suppressed the urge to bang your head against the table. Am I stupid? How had you not noticed what he’d been saying? What else had you glazed over and swept to the back of your mind?

You reached into your bag and pulled out your textbook, mumbling under your breath as you scanned the glossary. Mood swings. Nightmares. Anxiety. You’d read about this combination of symptoms before, hadn’t you? Sure enough, your fingers landed on the page you had been searching for.

POST-TRAUMATIC STRESS DISORDER

The words glared coldly back at you as you read aloud, “Patients who suffer from PTSD are those who have experienced or witnessed a traumatic event in the past. Any mentions or reminders of this event can trigger the patient and send them into a distressed state. Symptoms include…” you felt a lump in your throat and swallowed thickly. “Nightmares, inability to concentrate, and an exaggerated startle response at any mention of the traumatic event.”

Your thoughts immediately wandered to Jisung’s sudden flashes between moods -- his bright, blinding smiles, easily swept away by the cold, stormy look in his eyes. How he sometimes seemed so far away, expression glazed and unfocused. And now, with what he had mentioned about his family…

Jotting this down with an increasingly uneasy feeling in your gut, you continued flipping through the textbook, skimming through familiar case studies and theories. Words leapt out at you from the pages and made your stomach turn: Abusive childhood. Case study: Jeffrey Dahmer. Psychopathy. Case study: Ted Bundy.

You held your head, groaning, and slammed the textbook shut. Were you really looking at serial killer cases to compare your boyfriend with right now? If Jisung could see you, he’d probably think you were being intrusive and paranoid -- trying to diagnose someone just because a couple of symptoms matched up. You’d been lectured in class over and over again that it wasn’t your job to speculate and form baseless assumptions -- rather, that was exactly what made an irrational therapist, but...it almost felt like you were trapped neck-deep in quicksand. The more you tried to stop thinking about the secrets Han Jisung seemed to be hiding behind his dark eyes, the deeper you found yourself sinking.

It was nearly midnight by the time you finished the outline of your report, cicadas languidly chirping outside your window as you leaned back in your chair and yawned. In the end, you had included a bit of everything -- from the most harmless theories to the darkest case studies. Skimming over your notes warily, you shut your laptop and rolled into bed, completely drained. Speculations. That’s all they were -- it couldn’t hurt to write down all the possibilities, right?

You shook your head before finally drifting off to sleep, a relaxed smile on your face.

What were the chances that Jisung was hiding anything serious, anyways?

────────

Bang Chan threw another shot of espresso down his throat, not tearing his eyes from his papers. His fingers were vibrating slightly from the amount of caffeine coursing through his veins, and he swore he could feel his heartbeat all the way to his toes -- but frankly, he couldn’t care less.

He’d received the crime scene files an hour earlier -- sketches, photographs, coroner’s report, witness statements. He’d spent the better part of the night arranging and rearranging them like a madman doing a Sudoku puzzle. Everything was fanned out now, his desk looking like a filing cabinet had exploded all over it. Cold cases, his own theories, even research he’d done on the side…

And yet not a single damn thing was adding up.

Every lead Chan had gotten had steered him into nothing but dead ends. He’d never seen anything like it -- the same type of killings, occurring within the walls of what was supposed to be the safest school in the country. They had occurred at irregular intervals at first -- a handful in one month, followed by a four month period of uneasy quiet before the killer had struck again. He could count the cases off of his fingers by now; Chan had read them so many times, raking through the files for even the slightest of clues.

First, it had been an arson in one of the health sciences laboratories -- one male student pronounced dead at the scene, ghastly chemical burns having melted away most of his facial features.

Then there was the body found hanging from the rooftop of one of the dorms, skull practically crushed from blunt force trauma.

The list went on and on, small details linking what had otherwise seemed like a spattering of anonymous murders. The killer was a pyromaniac, for sure -- more than half of the deaths were fire-related -- and might as well have been related to the Hulk or something, because the rest of the victims had been killed -- seemingly -- by bare hands.

Even Minho seemed reluctant to answer his questions, and Chan couldn’t blame him -- the sheer lack of evidence found at each crime scene was embarrassing. He could hear the coroner’s exasperated voice in his head:

“No fingerprints -- the killer probably wore gloves. No murder weapon, so no DNA to sample off of, either. Heck, there isn’t even that much blood spattering to analyze, Detective.”

That ruled out the usual causes of murders taking place in Miroh Heights -- drunkards who took a bar fight too far, crimes of passion, domestic violence. No, Chan shook his head, his brain feeling like mush slopping around in his skull and making him wince. They were dealing with someone much, much more complex.

Chan had a fistful of blond hair in one hand and a cup of nearly-empty coffee in the other. What was this killer’s M.O.? Serial killers almost always had a motive, and their victims usually had some things in common. Chan flipped through the victims’ profiles, gears in his head beginning to turn again despite his drooping eyes.

Na Jangmin, Victim #1. Cause of death: Smoke inhalation and respiratory burns. Chan remembered interviewing his classmates, and being surprised at how indifferent they had been about the supposed tragedy.

“He never saw us as his classmates, you know. He’d pick on the first-years like fresh meat. They say half of the new med students dropped out because of him.”

Interesting. He flipped to the next file, tapping his pen against his lip.

Park Beomsoo, Victim #2. Cause of death: cervical fracture and asphyxiation from hanging. Found nearly decapitated and swinging from the rooftop balcony of a dorm building. What had been interesting about this case, however, was the sheer amount of date rape drugs found in the man’s system during the autopsy.

“Rohypnol, mostly,” Minho had informed him. “Along with traces of GHB -- enough to cause brain damage for life. The man was likely already knocked out for good by the time he was hanged.”

This had been baffling until Chan had investigated further, and found out about the man’s reputation.

“He’d slip pills into girls’ drinks at the club,” one of his friends had told Chan, “and was proud of it, too. All he’d brag about was how many half-conscious girls he’s taken advantage of.”

Chan exhaled with a low whistle. That couldn’t be a coincidence -- the killer had to have known about Park’s disgusting habits. So the victims did have something in common -- although it wasn’t like any case he’d ever seen before.

None of the victims had been, per se, good people. They were, interestingly -- and revoltingly -- enough, monsters of another kind. They were people who wouldn’t be missed, simply because they were hated so much already.

Huh. A killer targeting killers. Interesting. But how? And why? Did the killer have some sort of fucked-up sense of justice?

He tapped his fingers anxiously. All his hopes lay on the evidence they had collected from the Yellow Wood attacks -- but the crime lab had yet to hand it over to his team. He grimaced at the memory of the body, whose head had caved in completely and rendered the victim practically unrecognisable. How could there not be a single trace of incriminating DNA from something so...brutal? And then there was Yang Jeongin, who, as far as he knew, was still in critical condition at the hospital. If only he would wake up, maybe Chan would finally get a lead…

Chan didn’t even notice the sun beginning to rise outside of his window until the first ray of morning light pricked at his eyes, making him blink in disoriented confusion. His burning pupils flickered to the clock. 6:25 A.M. Damn it.

He kicked his chair back and threw on a wrinkled suit jacket, stuffing all his notes into his briefcase before promptly stepping out of his office. Work never ended for Detective Bang.

Chan glimpsed his reflection in the shop windows as he made his way back onto Miroh Heights’ campus, running his hands through his hair in a feeble attempt to tame his bedhead (was it even a bedhead if he hadn’t touched a bed in 48 hours?). His eyes caught the familiar storefront of Glow Cafe and he immediately steered himself towards it. Wouldn’t hurt to grab himself a fresh cup of coffee, and maybe he could look at the crime scene again with fresh eyes.

The barista -- Hyunjin, was it? -- was scrawling something on the chalkboard sign propped outside, stumbling to his feet and brushing the chalk dust off his hands when he saw Chan approaching.

“All right, Hyunjin?”

Hyunjin gave a small smile that looked more like a grimace, his tired eyes wandering behind Chan. The detective didn’t have to turn to know he was staring at the spot Jeongin had been found -- the barista looked like he was seeing ghosts. Chan took a deep breath before plastering a reassuring smile on his face, throwing an arm around the younger boy’s hunched shoulders and steering him into his cafe.

“I’m gonna need you to make me a cold drip, kid, because I feel like dea--” he caught himself, clearing his throat awkwardly. No death. No death. “Like shit. I’m feeling like shit.”

But Hyunjin didn’t even seem to hear him, wordlessly making his way behind the counter and starting the coffee machine.

Chan watched him and sighed, pulling out a chair and collapsing over a table. Seconds later, the diner door swung open, the windchimes ringing brightly as two familiar faces walked in.

“Good morning, Chan. How’s--bloody hell, you look like death.” Woojin’s eyebrows shot up when he joined Chan at the table, looking the sleep-deprived detective up and down. Behind him was Han Jisung, backpack slung over his shoulder.

Chan grimaced and checked his reflection in one of the empty glasses. Sure enough, his eyes were puffy and ringed with layer upon layer of dark circles, and his mop of dandelion hair was at the point of no return. “To hell with it. What brings you two here this early in the morning?”

Jisung and Woojin exchanged a look before Jisung spoke up, grinning his usual sheepish grin. “I set my alarm way too early and couldn’t fall back asleep, so I went out for a morning walk. We bumped into each other, and were both in need of some coffee.”

Woojin nodded, pulling out a chair for the younger student. “I take it you’re here for the same reason, Detective?”

Chan grinned. “Guilty as charged, Captain. How--”

A sudden crash rang through the empty cafe, cutting him off. All three heads snapped up to see Hyunjin standing over a broken pot of coffee, glass shards splaying all over the floor tiles and the dark, bitter liquid seeping into the crevices.

Chan jumped to his feet, holding his hands out. “Hey, you okay? Don’t move, I’ll get a mop. Uh, where do you keep your mops?” The detective’s voice trailed off when his eyes landed on Hyunjin’s face. The barista’s hands were still frozen in place, but his eyes were livid and staring straight at Han Jisung.

“Why the hell are you here?” Hyunjin was speaking through gritted teeth.

Jisung blinked. “Is...is it too early? Sorry, dude, I can leave if--”

“Why are you always interfering with the investigation? You were at the crime scene for no particular reason, and now you’re here again.” Hyunjin’s voice was getting louder and louder. “It’s pretty damn suspicious if you ask me--”

“You seem to be more of an interference than me,” Jisung replied, standing up abruptly. All childlike humour had vanished from his expression. “Rushing the investigation, hanging around the crime scenes despite not having an ounce of experience.”

“My friend is in the hospital, and nobody fucking knows why--”

“Jisung!”

All four men turned towards the direction of the voice, and saw you waving cheerfully through the window. Unbeknownst to the situation, you pushed open the glass doors and ran up to a bewildered Jisung, reaching up to ruffle his hair. “What brings you here?” You turned to Hyunjin. “Hey, ‘jinnie, I just thought I’d come early today, since I’ve been arriving late for the last couple of shifts. You know Jisung? He’s the blind date!”

You smiled at Chan and Woojin, who both nodded back but seemed at a loss for words, their gazes flickering between the two boys and you. Hyunjin’s face of confused shock mirrored Jisung’s, words finally spilling out of both boys’ mouths at the exact same time.

“This is your boyfriend?” “This is your friend?”

You blinked, taken aback at their raised voices. “I--yes? B-but--”

Hyunjin narrowed his eyes at Jisung. “So you’re the one y/n’s been talking nonstop about? Is this a joke?”

Your stared at him. “Hyunjin!” Your eyes fell on the shattered coffeepot at his feet and you yelped. “Holy frick, what happened? Hold on, I’ll get th--”

You were interrupted by Jisung shoving his chair aside with a loud bang. His expression wasn’t exactly angry, but you could see his fists and jaw were clenched so tightly they were shaking violently. “Fine. I’ll get going, then.” He looked to you, sighing. “See you later.”

You opened your mouth to reply, but Hyunjin cut you off. “No, you won’t.”

Giving Hyunjin one last long, wordless look, Jisung strode out of Glow Cafe.

When he had gone, you turned on Hyunjin, fuming. “Hwang Hyunjin, what the fuck--”

“Do you really have to date him? Him?” Hyunjin threw his hands up in exasperation.

“Why on earth are you so worked up about who I date?”

“The guy’s suspicious as hell, y/n! I have a bad feeling about him. And I don’t fucking like it.”

You sighed, reaching behind the counter for a dustpan and rag. Woojin took them from your hands and handed the rag to Chan to clean the spill, and you turned back towards Hyunjin. “Look, I know you’ve been shaken up lately. We’re all on edge, Hyunjin. Lashing out isn’t going to help.” You rubbed his back gently, and, despite his expression softening slightly, his brow remained furrowed. Exhaling slowly, you tried to change the subject. “Is your grandma awake? We should make sure she takes her medicine.”

After making Chan and Woojin a new pot of coffee, you and Hyunjin headed upstairs to the studio apartment where him and his grandmother lived. Here, the walls were made of old red brick, foggy panelled windows letting in weak strains of sunlight. Still, Hyunjin insisted it was cozy, the wooden frame bed his legs were too long for shoved against the windows, his architecture sketches and designs hanging from the walls. Down the hallway was his grandmother’s room, which Hyunjin paid much more attention to than his own -- keeping it as clean and comfortable as possible.

Hyunjin’s parents lived and worked abroad, leaving Hyunjin in the custody of his grandparents. The moment he’d gotten into Miroh Heights, he’d moved into the shop his grandmother had started, and had eventually also taken up the responsibility of storeowner once her dementia had worsened and his grandfather had passed away. Nowadays, she seldom got out of bed, Hyunjin being the only one taking care of her and keeping her company.

When you entered her room, Grandma Hwang was sitting up in bed, a newspaper in her hands. Upon closer inspection, you saw that it was the morning paper from two days ago: MURDER AT MIROH HEIGHTS, with the burnt-down flat on the cover.

Hyunjin quickly pulled the newspaper from her hands, tucking it away under his arm. “Don’t let her read the newspaper,” you remembered him telling you once, “I don’t want it to upset her. I don’t know why, but she’s started saying these strange things ever since the murders began. I don’t want her dementia to get worse.”

“Good morning, Grandma Hwang,” you smiled at her, patting her hand. She turned to you, looking as if she were staring straight through you. Hyunjin reached into her bedside cabinet for her medications. “Have you taken your medicine today?”

Slowly, the old woman shook her head, her eyes landing on the newspaper under Hyunjin’s arm. “Familiar…”

You frowned. “What’s familiar?”

She lifted a crooked finger, pointing straight at the burnt-down flat. “The old Han house...from years ago. So familiar. So...so long ago…”

Hyunjin and you exchanged a look. Are you sure she’s just rambling? You mouthed at Hyunjin, who nodded, but his expression was unsure. I’m gonna get her some water, he mouthed back, and disappeared from the room.

A few moments of silence passed as you watched the old woman, the soft morning glow smoothing out her wrinkles. Not being able to suppress your burning curiosity, you blurted, “Why--why is it so familiar?”

Her brow was furrowed in deep concentration but her eyes were blank slates, hands gesticulating meaninglessly. “Pastries...the pastries, need to deliver the pastries to all the houses. All the houses except the Hans’--” she shook her head wildly now, voice trembling. “No, no, not the Han house!”

You could feel your heart leap to your throat, a cold sweat beginning to form on the inside of your palms. Even if she was just rambling, like Hyunjin claimed, it made you extremely uneasy. “Why not the Han house?” You pressed, your own voice quavering slightly.

“Nowhere to go, my dear, nowhere, nowhere, went up in flames--” she gasped, hands clutching her face as she babbled. “So much burning, Lord help me...and...and everyone...burned to ashes...except for that tiny, little boy. Crawlin’ out--”

You heard Hyunjin clear his throat from the doorway, and the old woman’s voice faltered. He was holding a tall glass of water in one hand and shot you a look as he reached for his grandmother’s box of medications. You turned back, hoping she would continue, but her eyes were already glazed over with the fog of forgetfulness.

As she swallowed her medicine, you turned to Hyunjin. “She was talking about...about delivering pastries.”

“Mm. Back in the day, when she still used to run the store, we did pastry deliveries,” Hyunjin explained, stroking his grandmother’s hand absently as she finished the glass of water. “She used to go door to door, around the neighbourhood, handing out baskets of them.”

You nodded slowly. “Was...was there ever a fire in Miroh Heights? A really big one, like -- like a house burning down.”

Hyunjin gave you a weird look. “A fire? The deliveries stopped around 13 years ago. I wasn’t there, you know. Whatever she told you, don’t listen to her. Her memories get all mixed up.” He saw your expression and frowned. “What? Did she say something weird?”

You bit your lip, but shook your head. “No. Nothing at all.”

────────

Jisung tore down the darkening backstreets, not knowing where he was going and feeling like the ground beneath him was spinning wildly out of control. Fucking hell. He had barely sat through his classes without losing it, the paranoia eating him from the inside out like a parasite. The air was cool and damp, the sky crammed with grey storm clouds knitting together ominously.

They didn’t suspect him, right? There was no way they knew it was him.

Imagine his barely concealed panic when he’d run into police captain Kim Woojin first thing in the morning. They’d talked about his major, the weather, everything but the investigation. And Chan -- the detective had greeted him just like he always had.

It was just that damn Hwang Hyunjin.

“You were at the crime scene for no particular reason...it’s pretty damn suspicious if you ask me.”

Bloody hell.

No, no, no. He couldn’t let them find out. Everyone knew Hwang Hyunjin had been showing the early signs of post-traumatic stress disorder from finding the delivery boy half-dead in a pool of blood. There was no way they’d take him seriously.

He began limping as he wove through the alleyways, the foot he’d dropped the rock on still throbbing from the impact. He turned a corner briskly -- and slammed headfirst into a stout middle-aged man.

“I’m sor--”

“Look where you’re fucking going, punk,” the man screamed, the foul stench of liquor hitting Jisung’s nostrils and making him stumble backwards. The man was clearly homeless, judging from the state of his clothes and his matted hair. He must have wandered onto campus while the gates were still open. His milky eyes were squinty and he was swaying, an empty beer bottle swinging precariously in one hand.

Jisung lunged forward, ripping the bottle from his hands, and in one savage motion broke it over the man’s nose. The man howled in pain and Jisung raised the jagged glass again, ready to plunge it straight through the man’s open mouth -- he knew this motion well, he’d done it so many times he’d lost count--

But when he stared into the man’s bleeding eyes again, he saw a flash of your face. And he felt his entire body seize up, his arm stopping dead in its tracks.

You smiling at something he’d said. The way you’d hide your face behind your notebook when you were flustered. The smell of your hair when you hugged him tightly. The warm, familiar feeling of your skin brushing his when you ran your fingers through his hair--

The broken bottle slipped from Jisung’s hands, crashing onto the cobblestones. The man was whimpering, nose still spurting bright red blood. Jisung’s gaze flickered from one of his milky pupils to the other. Blind. He let go of the man’s tattered shirt collar, breathing hard as he turned around and did the only thing he seemed to know how to do.

Jisung ran.

Above him, the sky rumbled with deafening thunder before the clouds split open, sheets of rain pouring down on him as he stumbled down the streets. Blood was welling in his hands, crimson and sticky, and he wasn’t even sure whose blood it was anymore. All Jisung knew was that he needed to find you. He needed you by his side, to tell him it was okay, to say you would listen. To make him feel sane again.

He made it onto the main road and spotted a figure in the distance. Squinting through the rain, Jisung made out the shape of a taller man stumbling towards him. Before he could muster up the energy to turn away, the man had already reached him, hands shooting out to grab Jisung’s shoulders in a vicelike grip. Blood roaring in his ears, heart leaping to his throat, Jisung forced himself to look up.

It was Hwang Hyunjin.

Jisung immediately shoved his blood-soaked hands into his pockets, forcing himself not to yell when shards of broken glass dug and sliced into his palms. His mind was racing, running over a million possible things he could say. But Hyunjin didn’t even look down -- his gaze stayed on Jisung’s face, eyes glassy but narrowed.

Jisung realised with a start that the barista had been drinking.

Hyunjin’s face was twisted into an expression of raw, tormented grief -- the kind of sadness that could only be felt when one was heavily intoxicated. “I s-see him ev’ry time I close m-my eyes,” he suddenly choked out, and Jisung didn’t have to ask to know he was talking about Jeongin. “His c-cold hands, the pool of b-blood, the poor kid--”

Jisung tried to wrench himself from Hyunjin’s grasp, but the barista didn’t budge. This was bad. He had to get out, had to get away, before Hyunjin sobered up and recognized him--

As if he could hear Jisung’s thoughts, Hyunjin’s grip on him tightened, the barista’s voice barely a whisper. “Who are you, Han Jisung? What are you hiding?”

Jisung felt his heart stop. “There’s nothing--I’m not hiding anything!” He stammered, feeling Hyunjin’s dark gaze bore into his own. The blood on his hands were beginning to seep through his pants, and it took all of his willpower not to cry out in pain. There was blood on Jisung’s face, too; he could taste it trickling into his mouth with the rainwater, but he could only hope it was too dark -- and that Hyunjin was too far gone -- to see.

Just as abruptly as he had grabbed Jisung, Hyunjin let go of his shoulders, looking like he was either about to cry or throw up. The taller boy pushed past Jisung, shambling down the street and disappearing into the thick veils of rain. Jisung watched him go, a sick, hollow feeling in his gut.

Above him, the rain began to fall harder.

────────

You woke with a start to a crack of thunder, eyes snapping open and your chest heaving. Your clothes were soaked through with a cold sweat. You’d had a nightmare after going to bed early, but any recollection of it was already beginning to fade away.

There had been a killer in your dream, covered in hot, crimson blood and surrounded by endless fire. Screams and children wailing echoed in your ears, but no matter how hard you tried, you couldn’t remember the killer’s face.

On your bedside table, your phone buzzed, sending your heartbeat into overdrive. Calm down. It was a dream -- just a dream. Shaking, you reached for your phone, reading the notification that had startled you. And just like that, you blood ran cold again.

DANGER

ACTIVE SERIAL KILLER AT LARGE

10:44 P.M. AN ATTACK HAS OCCURRED ON CAMPUS. POLICE BELIEVE THE PRIME SUSPECT IS THE PERPETRATOR OF THE MIROH HEIGHTS MURDERS. THE KILLER IS STILL ON CAMPUS.

MIROH HEIGHTS IS ENTERING LOCKDOWN.

REPORT ANY SUSPICIOUS PERSONS TO MHPD IMMEDIATELY.

RESIDENTS STAY INDOORS.

You nearly dropped your phone, fumbling with it to check the time. 10:46 P.M. This was real. This was happening. Bits of your nightmare came back to you in hot flashes. A sudden burst of lightning and a rumble of thunder sent you burrowing underneath the covers, terrified tears beginning to form in your eyes. Pulling the comforter close, you pressed the Phone app and called the first person you could think of.

Beep.

Be--

“Hello?”

You let out a breath you hadn’t realized you were holding as soon as Jisung’s familiar voice filled your ears. “I-I’m sorry,” you gasped, voice trembling uncontrollably, “did I wake you?”

There was a long pause before Jisung finally answered. “No, of course not. Is everything alright?”

“I--I’m scared,” you mumbled, chewing on your lip. The sound of Jisung’s voice, and even his breathing, was already beginning to calm you down. “Did you -- did you get the alert too? There’s a s-serial killer on campus right now.”

Jisung’s legs had threatened to give way the moment he heard your voice, pressing his phone to his ear like a lifeline. Despite your voice sounding small and shaky, he felt his erratic heartbeat beginning to steady. He quickly skimmed over the lockdown notification, cursing underneath his breath. Shit. Breathing hard away from the receiver, he tried to sound as calm as possible when he brought it back towards his mouth. “Yeah, I just got it.”

Your ears strained, and you frowned -- you swore you could hear something that sounded like heavy rain coming from the other end of the line. “Are you...outside right now? Get home as soon as possible--”

“I’m home,” Jisung interrupted you, a small smile in his voice. “Bad service, yeah -- a lot of static. Probably the storm outside.” The lie tasted bittersweet on his tongue. His hair was drenched in water, dripping onto his face as he spoke. Even through the tinny phone, he felt a rush of warmth fill his hollow chest, the corners of his parched lips tugging upwards. He could almost see you curled up in blankets in your bed, hiding from the storm outside.

No, he corrected himself with a pang, you weren’t hiding from the storm.

You were hiding from him.

Jisung unclenched his fists, broken glass falling from his palms and leaving half-moon shaped cuts in his skin. You’d called him the moment you felt scared. You had trusted him. Jisung felt the water droplets sting at his wounds, his hand feeling as though it were burning away.

Who am I?

Was he the boy you loved, the one who made you laugh, the one who made you feel safe?

Or was he the depraved serial killer that sent everyone he loved running?

You heard Jisung clear his throat on the other line. “Listen, don’t be scared, okay? The killer, he -- he won’t hurt you.”

You laughed, just the sound making Jisung’s breath catch in his throat. “How do you know?”

Jisung tilted his head back, face to the sky, feeling the torrents of rain wash away the tears that had begun to well up in his eyes. With the hands of a wanted murderer, covered in blood that wasn’t his own, he pressed the receiver closer to his mouth, lips curling into a sad smile.

“I just do.”

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exorcisms-and-sigils · 3 years

Text

Chris Halliwell x OC imagine: In Conclusion, Yes (part 3/4)

(set in mid 2025.)

"You're back." Chris breathed, his disbelieved smile a solid blow to her gut.

"What about my back?"

He rolled his eyes as he laughed, then crossed the space between them. Valerie couldn't — didn't — stop herself from smiling as she met him halfway and wrapped her arms around him, as he pulled her close.

His scent of eucalyptus and musk, with hints of Purgatory embers, slammed into her, and her knees threatened to buckle. Now — now, she was home. "Hi, Pretty Boy."

"Oh, I hate that nickname." he smiled into her hair, and they pull away. Valerie choked the urge to hold his hand, to keep holding him.

"That's the point."

"I didn't know you'd be here." he threw a pointed look towards his brother, who suddenly found something interesting about the ceiling.

Valerie whispered loudly to Chris. "Call him too, and more often."

The corner of Wyatt's lips curled up, and Chris chuckled, dismissing it for later. "If you're helping, then you know what happened."

"I also know a bit of what's going to happen. If Melinda's being turned this very moment, now is our only chance to reverse the effects of the empousa blood for good, otherwise we risk her new pack leader sending her here." she turned towards Wyatt. "Projecting images of empousai dying stuns them, so they can feel fear. I'll show you my memories later."

"What, your shadows weren't enough?" Chris frowned, offended for her.

"They are, but no one gets away with hurting those girls." Valerie spoke the words as they are; one of the most understood facts throughout the magical world. Piper and Coop shared a sympathetic smile.

Wyatt glanced between his brother and their childhood friend, and struggled to hide his smug delight. "I'll go start on the supportive potions. Mom can help you improvise after you go through these again."

"I can help with that, in case Wyatt missed something."

He whirled, just as Valerie nodded. "Good point."

"Hey!"

"Alright, let's go be nerds." she smiled fondly. "Oh stop, Wyatt. Reading never was your thing. Now go. Shoo."

Wyatt jokingly groaned, leaving with the adults.

Chris took a seat, eyeing the books. "I never thought I'd see you ordering him around again."

Valerie opened a moderately thick book and sat across him, because she had to focus, or die trying. "It's all part of my master plan to be prettier in your eyes."

"Assuming you were pretty to begin with."

She threw him a playful glare that he didn't see, and telekinetically shut the book he was scanning so it bit down on his thumb.

"Ow!" Chris jumped.

Valerie laughed, letting him go. "These are everything I have on empousai; signs of presence, variations in appearance, primitive Grecian methods of eliminating them..."

His face lit up with undeniable curiosity. "Wait, Grecian? When? Where?"

She tried not to gush, or look too smug, and failed miserably on both. "Epirus, 623 B.C."

Chris scoffed dramatically, and she giggled. "Keep being salty and I won't answer the what's and the how's."

"City-states were still being invented at that time, Valerie."

She gave him a pointed look. "Salty!"

"Fine."

Triumphant, she returned to her book. Empousai that consume a woman with a menstrual impurity commonly exhibits a lesser strength than those of its kind that consume cattle, particularly sheep. In that regard, empousai that prey solely on livestock commonly assume a beastly visage with no less than four different feet, and exhibit remarkable to unstoppable mobility, as proven with the assist of Valeria—

"It's good that you're back.”

Valerie's breath hitched. Focus. She told herself, begged herself. Pretend it's anyone else but Chris.

"With your firepower, I don't think the wraiths stand a chance."

Her head shot up so fast it was a surprise she didn't pop a vein. "What did you just say?"

"You didn't know." Chris blinked, understanding. "The wraiths—"

"—and the empousai could be working together. I knew I was stupid, but not this much." She shot to her feet, passing book after book, rearranging them across the floor according to vague relativity, until she finally sat beside him.

"It's not possible because they're sworn rivals, but it's also possible because of that. Two people licking each others' bleeding wounds in the street would attract attention anywhere, but compared to wraiths, empousai wouldn't be able to plan around that on their own. They're a chaotic mess."

"Sounds familiar." Chris smiled, making Valerie grin.

He forced himself to focus on the Book of Shadows, flicking his fingers to bring it towards him. "It also makes sense because empousai can physically shapeshift, but wraiths can shapeshift and assume an astral form at the same time. No one but PJ's parents and sisters came into her room before she clawed Uncle Coop, and Mel always stays in crowded places when she goes out on her own."

"You two tell her to do that?"

Chris chuckled, "Isabel and Morgan don't deal with the same thing?"

"Shut up."

He smiled slightly, showing her the page of Astros. "The empousa I brought to Purgatory mentioned her."

Valerie skimmed. "Demon sorceress... self-indulgent desires and power.."

"Maybe not the girls directly, but we can assume that the empousai pack leader got most of that part." Chris took a photo of the page.

Valerie stood again, pacing. "I'd want to be friends with her if she didn't want you guys dead." That made him laugh.

She paced back and forth. "Wraiths, and a demon sorceress... okay, so..."

Piper entered the room, waving for her. "Valerie? Someone's looking for you outside. He said his name was Michael...?"

Valerie cursed. "Chris, hold that thought."

Chris angled his head in confusion as he and Piper watched her leave the room.

"You better hold on tight, honey." his mom muttered. "It's the new boyfriend."

He clenched his jaw, looking away. "Oh."

Piper's voice softened, and she tilted her head to read off the book. "What does 'Astros' have to do with our problem?"

Chris cleared his throat. She could've sworn he was grateful for the change of topic. "Not sure yet. I barely heard of her when I was looking for Melinda, only something about talking to an empousa pack leader. She's had her fair share of Warren witches, has the power of thermokinesis and desire projection, but we can't be too confident. This was written way back."

"Potion?"

"Right here."

She snapped a picture of the ingredients and procedure when Wyatt swiftly passed behind her, stirring half of a vanquishing potion in a steel container. "Wyatt, should you be running around with that?"

"It's okay." He telekinetically held up a curtain, and almost immediately reeled back. "That's her new boyfriend? Now I'm getting worried."

"Wyatt, don't." Chris groaned.

"Worried? I'm disappointed in her. He's not her type of guy." Piper said.

"Mom!"

"We all know her since before she learned how to walk. Do you really believe she's happy with him?"

"Is that why you're being defensive?" Wyatt turned towards his brother, a grin creeping up his face.

"I'm not—"

They heard the front door closing, and Valerie's footsteps returning. "Alright, we need another vanquishing potion, for a demon sorceress. The empousai and wraiths are being manipulated."

Piper blinked, looking between her and Chris. "Hold on, wraiths?"

#charmed chris halliwell #charmed chris #Chris Halliwell #chris perry #empousai #wraits #charmed imagine #charmed oneshot #halliwell sisters #halliwell cousins

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desiraypark · 4 years

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Much Needed Assistance (4)

“Scrambled Brain” Previous (“Tonight”) Entire Work Characters: You know at this point lol Content: N*FW; a little torture? (use of the Force to search someone’s mind); first “full” sexual experience (as in, first time giving/receiving oral and first time getting those guts rearranged); a tad bit of dirty talk; reader realizing that there might be a special kind of dip on that Supreme Leader tip *monocle emoji* Word Count: 3,029 Check out my Master List!

Per usual, you spent the remainder of the day by your supervisor’s side. But your lusty desire had turned into nervousness as the hours passed. You never had time for intimacy—or rather, you never made time. As a teenager, you sought work to help alleviate your family’s financial struggles. You did just about everything—waited tables; collected and sold junk; worked at an emporium. Next thing you knew, you were being seduced by the First Order’s promise of a better life for anyone who wanted to work for them. You became a member of their secretarial pool—and despite the destruction of damn near every base and ship they had the secretaries working on, the money was still just too good to pass up. Your family was your priority—your own future being the second. What did you want to do? You still had no clue. But too-tight shoes and a hand-me-down clothes weren’t going to be a part of it. As for romance? Nothing but a distraction, as far as you were concerned. Now, here you were about to give your body to the most dangerous man in the galaxy. You couldn’t quite answer your own question: “Why him?”. One minute you were a dedicated secretary for the First (and Final) Order, the next you were Kylo Ren’s personal assistant and private finger warmer. Had he performed one of those Jedi mind-tricks on you? Did the sudden proximity to a powerful man turn your brain into scrambled eggs? You didn’t have time to dwell on it. You had notes to take, appointments to make, and demands to follow. The Final Order had three meetings a day, and after the third—always held at seven—everyone was left to their own devices, unless there was an emergency or some major task that required overtime. Some of the leaders, like General Pryde and Captain Undilla, happily worked longer hours. The same went for Ren. He would spend the rest of his evening making plans for the next day, week, or year—depending on his mood—and he would lead himself in his own training and workout before bed. Tonight, was almost no different. With his helmet removed and face emotionless as ever, you served him a hot dinner from the mess hall and kept the ginger tea flowing as he looked over maps of the galaxy, deciding what planets he wanted to explore. Or invade. Then, you went over the minutes from the day’s meetings. When he went to the gym to train, you keyed the minutes into his datapad, as well as new appointments into his calendar. Then, you transferred the information to your own datapad. At about eleven, you drew his bath water and turned down his bed. You always had to make sure you ran his bath water at the right time, because for some gods-forsaken reason, he would only bathe in tepid water. As his bedtime came closer, you became antsier about the night, and hoped he’d forget the night’s “special plans”. You were sitting at the dining table jiggling your leg when he came in at about 11:15. His hair was drenched with sweat, his face and body red. You stood up and he walked straight to the bathroom. “Your bath is ready, sir. And all the information is in your datapad,” you said. He didn’t say anything—which wasn’t unusual. You grabbed your own datapad and your paper notepad, walked out the door, and prepared for bed with the lifting of your hair into a pineapple; a shower; the smoothing of lotion on your skin, and the slipping into your silk nightgown. You did a quick meditation and pulled your covers back. Just as you stepped into your bed, you heard the light beep of your entry keypad, and your doors opened. Ren’s silhouette filled your door frame. You swallowed and sat up in the bed.

“Yes, Sir?” “What are you doing?” he asked. “Um…going to bed, Sir…” “I’m certain I requested your presence in my quarters tonight…” “Yes, Sir.” He walked away from the door. Heart racing, you rose from your bed, left your room, and stepped out into the hallway. A Stormtrooper looked in your direction, but you quickly dropped your chin—watching the black marble floor beneath you until a threshold appeared. He stood by the door wearing only a robe and closed the blast doors behind you. Very lightly, he grabbed your chin and turned your face toward him. “You’re scared.” He wasn’t asking if you were. Your eyes fell to the floor and he chuckled. “All of the little scenarios you’ve played in that filthy mind of yours today, and now you’re scared of the real thing?” He tilted your chin some more, so that your eyes met his. “Why?” You swallowed. “I don’t know, Sir…” He stared at you for a few seconds, then suddenly, you felt a light twinge in your brain. You winced and took a baby step away from him. “Shh…” he whispered. “It’s okay…” He rubbed the back of your head, where flattened curls rose upward into a hair tie. “Hmm, I can see why you don’t know. Do you ever turn this brain of yours off?” he asked. You were too busy grimacing to answer him. “I understand…” he continued. “You’re scared of what people will say. Especially your parents. Hmm. I’ll teach you how to grow out of that…” “It hurts, Sir…” you whimpered. “I know. It’ll be over soon. I need to indulge my curiosity...” He rubbed your cheek. “And you’re scared of not pleasing me. So much conflict, sweet girl…” What sounded like genuine concern filled his last statement, and finally, he let your brain go. You tipped backward, but he grabbed you and set you straight. He looked over your face, then his darkened eyes moved downward. He fondled your left breast, then the right, and bit his lip. In your peripheral, you could see your own breasts moving up and down with each breath you took. He looked into your worried eyes. “I will teach you how to please me,” he said. He tugged at the straps of your nightgown and pulled them down. Then, he grabbed the material over your breasts, and pulled at it until the gown fell to your feet on its own accord. Your arms instinctively shot up and covered your breasts. He smirked, then tugged at your bikini underwear. “Pull these down,” he commanded. You reached for the elastic band and yanked at your underwear. “Slowly…” You slowly pulled your underwear down over your thighs; your knees; your calves, then your ankles. They nestled inside of your gown and you stepped out of your puddle of garments. You covered your breasts again, and he moved your hands out of the way. His eyes scanned all of you—your curly hair; your eyes; your lips—down to your breasts, your belly, and the fleshy mound over your thighs. “Walk to my room.” Once again, you swallowed your own saliva, and walked toward your supreme leader’s bedroom—fleshy and naked. You felt his eyes burning into you. You looked at the bedding you’d pulled back over an hour ago—untouched and welcoming. You turned around and watched him swagger into the bedroom with a stoic expression—his robe was in the main room, inches away from your nightgown. Your eyes made their way down to his underwear—and you saw the firm imprint fighting to claw its way out. You looked back up. “You look better than I imagined,” he said. You blushed and he walked to you, closer and closer until your bodies touched—but he didn’t stop. You stepped backward until you fell on his bed. Then, he laid his body down beside yours. The tips of his fingers dragged along your sternum, down your stomach, and over your mound—he rubbed his fingers over the low-cut hair that covered it. You felt your clit slowly pushing through your outer lips—aching for his touch. “Don’t be scared,” he repeated. His hand slithered back up your body and around your neck, but he didn’t squeeze. “I won’t hurt you.” Next, his hand slithered up your neck and to your chin. He rubbed his index finger over your plump bottom lip, and gently pulled it down. A menacing grin formed on his face. “I’m going to make such a little slut out of you.” A whimper fell from your lips and you gyrated against the air. Then, you surprised your own self, when you dropped your top lip over Ren’s finger. He bit his lip and pushed his finger all the way inside of your mouth—and you stroked it with your tongue. “Mmm…you’re learning already…” he looked down at you and noticed your hard nipples. He dipped downward and he flicked his tongue against your right nipple. You moaned over his finger, and he sucked at your breast—pulling in as much of it as he could. Then, he leaned over and repeated the action on your left breast. He moaned over your flesh. “How does the rest of you taste, Sweet Girl?” he asked. He pulled his finger from your mouth and dropped to his knees before you. When he pried your legs apart, you felt your stickiness separated itself—and cool air hit your glazed clit. With the same finger that was in your mouth, he rubbed your wet entrance and your clit, then he pushed his finger into your direction. You lifted onto your elbows and sucked your tangy juice off his finger.

Then, with his warm tongue, he ran a slow, long, wet stripe against your clit. You fell back onto the mattress with a sense of…relief. He licked around your clit as though he were licking an ice cream cone. The sounds of him licking, sucking, and lapping against your fleshy rose echoed throughout the room—causing you to grind against his lips. “Mmmmm…” he hummed into your pussy. “Mmmmm…” you accidentally echoed. He pulled his lips away, rubbed your thighs, and stared at his work. All four of his thick fingers rubbed against your folds, and you ground against them. “So wet for me. Am I really your first?” he asked, rubbing and rubbing—teasing is what it really was. You gyrated and whimpered. “Yes, Sir…” “Mmm…” he repeated. He licked circles around your clit but pulled away again. “Kylo. Kylo for tonight…” Your heart fluttered. “Say it.” His lips wrapped around your clit, and he inhaled like we wanted your pussy down his throat. “Mmm! Kylo…” “Say it again.” “Kylo…” you whimpered. His tongue traveled down to your slit, then back up to your clitoris, where he gave the bud one last suck—long, slow, and excruciating. Then, he rose to his feet and tugged on his underwear. From your comfortable position, you hid your excitement as you watched his long dick bounce up and down before settling in one place—pointing forward and dripping with precum. He pulled his underwear all the way down then sat down beside you, stroking his dick.

“Look,” he commanded, but with a softness in his voice. You sat up on your elbows and observed his firm dick as he stroked it. “Do you like what you see?” Desire warmed your body, slowly taking over the fear that once filled your blood. “I do…” You bit your lip and he groaned. “I like the way you bite that beautiful lip of yours…” he said with a heavy and breathy voice. You could tell that he really didn’t process the sentence before he let it out. One moment of humanity--of Kylo Ren being lost in his own pleasure. “Show me what else you can do with those lips.” Fear crept through your blood again. “Don’t be scared. I…will teach you…how to please me.” You sat up, licked your lips, and leaned into his lap. Right away, you realized that you probably wouldn’t be comfortable, so you did as he did, and got on the floor. A chill ran up your spine as your knees touched the cold marble, but you positioned yourself more comfortably, took his dick in your hand, the firm and tender muscle it was, and took the head into your mouth. You heard him shudder and felt the dip in the mattress as he rested his hands beside his hips. “Don’t be scared,” he repeated. And suddenly, he was pressing your head down. You gagged as the head of his dick hit your throat, then he grabbed your curly puff and pulled you off. “Now rub your spit all over it.” You did as you were told. Slowly, you rubbed your saliva over his dick—from the shaft to the head, and back down. You glanced up at him for his approval, and he only stared at you with a lustful—but somehow, still blank—expression. “Please me, Sweet Girl,” he said. You curled your lips over your teeth and sucked him slow—warm lips slid over his circumference, and you listened for more approval—a grunt, or a groan. “I know you can get dirtier than this,” he said with husk in his voice. “Don’t be gentle. I want your hands covered in saliva.” You didn’t know why, and you didn’t know how, but he pushed a button in you. You pulled your mouth away, took a deep breath, and pushed drool between your lips. Then, you let it fall onto the head of his dick and you stroked it over his member’s entirety—making it (and your hands) glossy. Finally, you releaxed yourself and went to work. You sucked and slobbered over his flesh as if it were your first meal in weeks—you thought about the things he did to your pussy: the flicks, and sucks, and vibrating “mmm’s”, and you mimicked him, as much as possible. Finally, you heard him moan and groan and rumble and grumble over you. He grabbed your hair once more, and gently motioned you over his head and shaft. He didn’t push you all the way down as he did earlier, but you took it upon yourself to give it a second try. You inhaled as much of him as you could, then pulled your lips away. You got a look at his balls and noticed they were looking dry. His musky scent floated through your nostrils as you licked and sucked on the sack, then, you made a warm, wet trail back up the shaft and to the tip. He took hold of your chin, making you look up at him with wide eyes. “Lay down.” You stood up and laid beside him—feet hanging over the side. But with one hand, he grabbed your legs, and rotated your body so that you were stretched vertically across his bed. He pressed his knee into the mattress and leaned between your legs. As he hovered over you, he planted kisses on your neck and your collarbone. And as he traveled back up your neck, you felt the painful intrusion through your center. You winced and inadvertently yanked your hips back, but he grabbed your thigh and held your leg up by the back of your knee. Kylo worked his inches into you slowly, lips never leaving your skin. You ached for him to kiss your lips, but he traveled everywhere but there. At a suspenseful pace, Kylo finally pushed all of himself into you. You gasped and your hands flew to his chest. He grabbed your other thigh, and just as he did with the first, held it up so that both of your legs were in his grasp. At a waltz’s pace, he stroked your soaked walls with his own soaked dick—the initial pain finally subsiding. Your hands slid down to his torso and you stared into his eyes. “That’s it…you nasty girl…” he mumbled unwittingly. He pulled his dick out and watched your juices come out with it, then he pushed all of himself back in—a lusty cry left your throat. “Is this what you think about when you go to sleep at night? My dick stretching your tight pussy open?” he asked. “Yes, Kylo…yes…” you moaned. Kylo grunted and closed your legs around his waist. Then, he leaned forward and plowed into you. You squealed and dug your fingers into his back as the sensation of a filled belly radiated throughout your entire body. Your slapping skins echoed throughout the quarters—harmonizing with your hitched screams and groans. “Fuccckkkk!” you shouted. Kylo pulled your head back to look down at you with a ravenous grin. He plowed into you--sack going slap! slap! slap! slap! against your skin. You suddenly realized how much your breasts were flopping all over the face. “There you go…” he growled. He traced the outline of your lips with his index finger. “A filthy mouth to match that filthy brain of yours. Do you want to cum on my dick?” “Yes, Kylo! Please!” He moved his hand away from your face, sat up, and rubbed your clit with the side of his thumb as his dick went in and out…in and out…in and out. Your heart started to race, as heat covered your body. As the nectar squelched from your you, images of you sitting on a throne—dressed in a red gown and dripping with jewels—flashed in your mind. Just as soon as the images came, they went—leaving you with a throbbing clit, but a scrambled brain. You came out of your daze just into time to notice Kylo’s dick over you, and ropes of his hot seed pouring over your breasts. He fell beside you, pulled your face to his, and devoured your mouth with his own. Almost like he’d put a spell on you, you closed your eyes, threw your arms around his neck, and gave his tongue a good fight with your own. The two of you pulled away from each other, both taking a moment to catch your breath. Then, you sat up, scooted to the edge of the bed, and walked out of his room and into the bathroom. You grabbed a clean washcloth and walked to the sink with it. As you wet the cloth, you stared at your reflection—cum over your tits, and your irises appearing darker than usual…

#muchneededassistance #my fanfic

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